#young blades fanfic

[spacedoutman]

Concept for a younger Velvet Von Ragnar for the fanfiction because my brain is bleeding due to how much inspiration I have for this is has been so fucking long

[pascaloverx]

STARVE

FANFIC: LUCIUS VERUS X READER X GENERAL ACACIUS

Author's Note: As a test to see if this fanfic might appeal to anyone other than myself, I decided to share a preview with you all. If you enjoy it, feel free to leave a comment—I haven’t yet decided if I’ll continue writing it. The characters do not belong to me but rather to the Gladiator II universe created by Ridley Scott.

one

PREVIEW

Gladiators fighting for their lives in the most savage of manners. The savagery does not startle you; you are accustomed to it. Your late husband often had to fight, quite literally, with tooth and nail to survive. He perished as he fought, dreaming that one day you both might escape. Left alone, hollow within, you were spared by General Acacius.

General Marcus Acacius delivered you from the fate of becoming a courtesan to Emperors Geta and Caracalla. In an act of calculated benevolence, he claimed you as his concubine (concubinatus), securing your liberty through this arrangement. For this, you harbor a profound sense of gratitude each day of your life. From that moment forth, you and the General Acacius have maintained the appearance of a romantic entanglement. He graciously granted you leave to serve as an attendant to Ravi, the steward responsible for tending to the wounded gladiators.

"I have heard that you are Macrinus' new gladiator. It seems the battlefield has taken its toll on you," you remark, approaching the gladiator. Hanno—that is what you heard him called. His blue eyes fix upon you, studying you as though he seeks to unravel your very essence.

"I belong to no one," the gladiator replies, his voice strained as he winces in pain. "But I do appreciate your company. Ravi may be a skilled healer, yet nothing compares to the presence of a beautiful woman." His words are accompanied by a grimace, his arm bearing a wound, likely inflicted by the blade of a sword. Positioning yourself before him, you reach for one of the tools Ravi uses to stitch the torn flesh of gladiators. With steady hands, you then lift a cup of wine laced with opium, offering it to the gladiator to ease his suffering.

The gladiator drinks the wine greedily, allowing the liquid to trickle down his lips. "If my appearance pleases you, I suggest you focus on that," you remark coolly. "For what I am about to do will bring you little satisfaction." Without hesitation, you begin stitching his wound, prompting him to release several groans of pain.

"You seem to take pleasure in causing me pain," he mutters between groans, a chuckle escaping him despite the agony etched across his face.

"Do not misinterpret me so gravely. I take pride in being of service to the recovery of gladiators," you reply while continuing to stitch his wound. "I lost my husband to one of the games orchestrated by Emperors Geta and Caracalla. So rest assured, my dedication lies entirely in aiding you." As you work, his expressions shift, the pain visibly dulling—likely the effects of the wine and opium taking hold. Yet, his hand from the uninjured arm suddenly grips your leg firmly, near your thigh. The gesture appears unintentional. You glance at him, startled.

"Forgive me," he murmurs, withdrawing his hand swiftly, your silent gaze alone conveying your disapproval. "I believe I lost control of my actions for a moment." You offer no verbal response, but the unspoken understanding in your exchange pleases you.

"There are rumors circulating that you have come in search of something," you say, your gaze lingering on the ring adorning the gladiator's finger. "I wonder if what you seek is vengeance—or perhaps a love lost." He lifts his eyes to meet yours, as though carefully crafting the right response.

"Vengeance for a lost love," he finally admits, his voice laden with the fury of grief. "My wife perished under the command of the General." The intensity of his words is mirrored in his eyes, now burning with a hunger that seems insatiable.

A fleeting discomfort stirs within you as his words settle. You owe much to General Acacius; your life, your freedom, and perhaps even a part of your heart are tied to him. He has been nothing but an honorable man in your eyes, despite his marriage to Lucilla. A genuine affection for him lingers within you, though you respect the boundaries of his union.

"Since you do not know me, I feel compelled to warn you—should your vengeance be aimed at General Acacius, you will find no ally in me. I am among the many who will not stand idly by should harm come to him," you declare, finishing your care for his wound.

"Ah, and we have only just met, yet I seem to have displeased you already," the gladiator replies, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "But allow me to ask—if you had the chance to kill the one responsible for your husband's death, would you not take it?"

His gaze is unwavering, piercing into yours. You avert your eyes, exhaling slowly before stepping closer to him. "When my husband died, vengeance had no place in my heart," you say firmly. "I was consumed with fear—wondering which emperor I would be forced to lay with to survive, or whose entertainment I would become. Fortunately, General Acacius spared me from all those fates and ensured I was kept far from the gladiator who killed my husband." Your eyes meet his with an intensity that demands understanding, your voice steady and resolute. He listens in silence, his focus unbroken.

"Then you are indebted to General Acacius," the gladiator remarks, his tone probing as he holds your gaze. You step away, irritation rising within you, though you refuse to admit it aloud.

"You could say so—I am indebted to General Acacius. Does that make you angry with me?" you ask earnestly, taking a cloth soaked in wine and carefully pressing it against the gladiator's wounds.

"No, I do not feel anger toward you," he replies, his voice steady despite the sting of the alcohol against his skin.

"Gladiator, you are ready to fight once more. Should you suffer any wounds in the future and prefer Ravi's care, I will not take offense," you say, finishing your work.

He smiles softly, gradually regaining his composure. "My name is Hanno. You may call me that, and I would like to keep you as the one responsible for my care." Hanno says, taking your hands as if in gratitude.

"I am Y/N, since we are introducing ourselves," you reply. "And since we are being friendly, I will ask a favor of you. If you plan to seek revenge, do it properly. Confront General Acacius in a fair manner, that one of you may die an honorable death."

You hold Hanno's rough hands, hoping to appeal to his sense of reason. "I will take your words into consideration, but I cannot guarantee anything," Hanno responds, his gaze never leaving you.

"I recommend you rest before being taken to your cell. Surely, we will meet again soon," you say as you step away, gathering the healing supplies Ravi entrusted to you.

Hanno bids you farewell, settling down in a corner of the place where you had been tending to him. You leave him there, knowing he will soon be escorted to his cell. Meanwhile, you make your way to General Acacius, as he often summons you when he returns from his campaigns, and you follow him without hesitation.

"Mea domina, I have waited so long for you to come to me..." Marcus Acacius' voice fills the space around you. The setting is a private garden within his residence, shared with Lucilla.

You approach him, adjusting the stole around your body. He moves toward you slowly, holding a goblet of wine in his hands.

"I had to attend to the treatment of one of the gladiators," you speak softly, drawing nearer to him. He extends the goblet to you, and you drink from it. Then, he rises slightly and places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"I have a wound as well; I would like you to tend to it," General Acacius says, his fingers brushing lightly against his lower lip. Gently, you rise toward him, pressing your lips to his in a kiss so soft it could scarcely be called one. It is delicate, restrained—you have no desire to overstep any boundaries.

"Our charade may now conclude, General Acacius. I believe any servant or guard lingering nearby has been sufficiently convinced by our display of affection," you say, fully aware that this romantic gesture is but a performance to solidify the illusion that you truly belong to him.

"Just a little longer, mea domina," he murmurs, placing his hands gently on your face and pulling you into another kiss. This time, it is more fervent, as though he is intent on committing the feel of your lips to memory.

[sivyera]

puck and pirouette

inside out 2 riley andersen x fem!reader

a/n: i'm SO excited for inside out 2! also in this fanfic, Riley is 15+! also at the end there is a edit of Riley i found on tt, so you can imagine more how she looks like now, when she's older, credit for the edit goes to the author! also i guess this is a bit shorter fic but i still like it, enjoy

key words: rivals to lovers, secret relationship, hockey player x ice-skater

༺☆༻

In San Francisco there are lots of good winter stadions, the one where Riley played wasn't the only one, yet you and your ice-skater friends decided to take this one.

Your ice-skating practice was from 5 p.m. to 6:45 p.m., then it was hockey time.

But you and your friends always stayed a bit longer which made Riley and her team angry. But they were always 20 minutes early which distracted you and your team from practising as they were walking around, laughing and looking at you.

It was a circle of you and Riley, passing around the responsibility, arguing, giving each other mean looks and provoking each other.

Both, your and Riley's coach noticed but they though it was just a playful rivality between two young girls.

Your rivality continued even in school because to Riley's and your surprise, you both were in the same school. You sometimes left a sticker saying "i ♥️ ice-skating" on her locker, which took her weeks to wash off. In return she sometimes left her stinky socks from practise in your locker.

Or when you're doing pirouettes and she's already on the ice, she passes a puck towards you and you, in worry not to get hit, ruin the pirouette.

On the other hand when she's on the wc, you always steal her hockey stick and hide it somewhere; you always smile at her angry face when she can't find it and you already have after practice so you can leave without any aftermath.

But one time, things changed. You got sick, so you missed practice.

When she entered the winter stadion with few of her hockey friends, her eyes went immediately to the right corner of the ice, that was your favourite place. But she didn't see you there, so at first she thought you are at the bathroom but when you weren't coming after 10 minutes, she realized that you are not coming.

She though it will be perfect practice, no one will provoke her, but oh how she was wrong..

Riley and her team always came few minutes earlier and after they put their things in their hockey changing room, they went and sat on those folding chairs that were above the ice.

They were usually talking, talking about everything. About your practice, about their new dresses, about food, about everything.

But Riley was quiet. She had her head leaning against her palm, looking down at the ice, into that one right corner, your corner.

She didn't know why, but she kinda missed you. She got used to you rolling your eyes when you made eye contact with her, she got used to your evil smirk and you sticking your tongue at her when you hid her hockey stick, she got used to stealing your sleeves and blade guards. But now, now she was bored, nothing was happening.

Her friend that was sitting next to her noticed, she knew something was going on long time before. She then smirked and tapped on Riley's shoulder. "You miss her, huh?" Her friend laughed.

Riley quickly turned her head as she heard the question. It was ridiculous, she and miss you? Never.

"What!? No, my god no." Riley answered as she shook her head.

Her friend raised her eyebrow and laughed at Riley. "Yeah sure, whatever you say." Her friend continued laughing.

Riley frowned. Of course she didn't miss you. She didn't like you, she hated you, yes! Yes, she hated you. She hated your soothing voice she always heard in her head whenever she was angry. She hated your magnetizing eyes that were always looking at her. She hated the sport you were doing. She hated how elegant and gorgeous you were when you were ice-skating. She hated all of it.

At least that what she thought few days ago.

Now, here she stands with a flowers in her hands, in front of your front door. Because it didn't take her long to realize that these feelings aren't hate, but love.

You opened the door and saw Riley standing there with awkward smile that showed her bracelets.

After few extra seconds of Riley admiring how pretty you are, she cleared her throat and spoke. "Um- will you go on a date with me, please? Riley asked with a smile as she gave you those flowers she brought you.

You just smiled at took those flowers into your hands. They were beautiful and smelled amazingly.

"Yes, yes I will Riley." You answered with a smile as you gave her a quick kiss on her right cheek. That made Riley blush like crazy, her heart was pounding out of her chest but she was happy.

She finally found the courage to ask you out, to tell you that she likes you...

And it was the best decision she ever made.

"I really like y/n. She has amazing style and clothes." Disgust said as she looked at Joy who was standing next to her.

Joy nodded her head and spined in her yellow dress. "Oh yes, I love her." She said as she smiled while looking at you through Riley's mind.

"She's really kind so I liker her too." Sadness said as a small smile appeared on her face. She then went back to reading.

As Fear heard your name, he automatically nodded his head while Sadness was talking. And Anger of course had to have last word.

"Yeah, she's nice." He said as he was reading the newspaper.

[novaursa]

Crown of Fire

- Summary: Aegon didn't conquer Westeros because of the prophecy. He did it because of you. And it started as a child’s game. 

- Note: Events that transpired in this short story happened before The Broken Crown.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @fiction-fanfic-reader @fireandblood-mharmie @poisonedsultana

The sun was high in the sky, casting warm, golden light over the cliffs of Dragonstone. The air was filled with the sound of waves crashing against the jagged rocks below, mingling with the calls of seabirds that circled overhead. The children of House Targaryen played in the castle’s courtyard, their laughter bright and free as only youth could be. Visenya, the eldest, was a blur of silver hair and dark armor as she sparred with one of the guards, her movements fluid and fierce. At fifteen, she was already a formidable warrior, wielding Dark Sister as if the Valyrian steel blade were an extension of herself.

Aegon, at fourteen, watched her with his usual calm intensity, a faint smile on his lips. He was tall for his age, his face still carrying the soft lines of boyhood, though his violet eyes spoke of a seriousness beyond his years. Rhaenys, all of thirteen and full of boundless energy, had draped herself dramatically over the carved stone bench nearby, pretending to swoon at the sight of Visenya’s prowess.

But it was you, the youngest at ten, who caught Aegon’s gaze more often than not. You, with your bright laughter and infectious spirit, darting around the courtyard like a flame that couldn’t be contained. Your silvery hair whipped around your face as you twirled, a makeshift crown of wildflowers slipping down to rest lopsided on your brow. You had always been their little sunbeam, the one who could draw a smile even from Visenya’s stern lips and make Rhaenys’ endless schemes seem tame in comparison.

“Aegon, come play!” you called, running up to him and tugging at his sleeve. He looked down at you, a rare, soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he set aside the practice sword he’d been holding.

“And what game would you have us play today, little sister?” he asked, his voice gentle in a way that he used for no one else.

You grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Let’s play kings and queens!” you declared, hopping from one foot to the other. “I’ll be the queen, of course. And you all have to be my subjects.”

Rhaenys laughed, clapping her hands. “I shall be your loyal knight, Your Grace,” she said with a mock bow, her face alight with amusement.

Visenya, pausing in her training, raised an eyebrow. “And who do you imagine will be your king, then?” she asked, her tone teasing.

You pursed your lips, pretending to think deeply. “Hmm… I suppose I’ll have to marry one of the kings of Westeros.” you said, a playful glint in your eye. 

Rhaenys burst out laughing, and even Visenya cracked a smile. “Which one, little sister?” Rhaenys asked, her eyes dancing with amusement. “The fat one in the Riverlands, or the one in the North who always looks like he swallowed something sour?”

You thought for a moment, then raised your chin, mimicking the haughty tone of the court ladies you’d seen at Dragonstone. “Maybe the King of the North! They say Starks are very handsome.”

The moment the words left your mouth, you felt the air change. It was subtle, but you noticed. Aegon’s smile faltered, his eyes narrowing almost imperceptibly. You were too young to understand the depth of his feelings then, but you knew how to get a rise out of him, and his reaction made your heart beat a little faster.

“Why would you want to marry a Stark?” he asked, his voice a touch too steady. “The North is cold and bleak. You wouldn’t like it there.”

You shrugged, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “But if I’m to be a queen, I must marry someone important, no?” you said, your tone light and teasing. “Unless… unless you mean to conquer the kingdoms yourself, brother. Then I would have no need to marry anyone else. I could be queen, and you could be… king.”

There was a pause, a moment where the world seemed to still around you. Aegon’s gaze locked onto yours, something fierce and unspoken flickering in his eyes. He reached out, almost unconsciously, and brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering.

“Maybe I will, then,” he murmured, so quietly that only you could hear. “Maybe I will conquer them all. So that you’ll never have to leave.”

You blinked, surprised by the intensity in his voice. It was a game, wasn’t it? A child’s dream, nothing more. But something in the way he looked at you made your heart flutter strangely, a feeling you didn’t yet have a name for.

“Don’t be silly, Aegon,” you said, trying to laugh it off. “You can’t conquer the whole world just for me.”

But the look he gave you then was one you would remember long after, a look that promised he would do exactly that, and more, if you asked it of him.

“I would conquer it all,” he said, his voice steady, “just to see you smile.”

You shook your head, trying to hide your blush as you spun away, your laughter echoing around the courtyard. “Then I’ll be waiting, King Aegon,” you called over your shoulder, skipping away to join Rhaenys in her dramatics.

But even as you played, your words had already taken root in Aegon’s mind, planting a seed that would one day grow into a fire that would consume the Seven Kingdoms.

He watched you, his little sister, his beloved Y/N, and knew, even then, that he would do whatever it took to keep you by his side. He would break any betrothal, defy any tradition, and, if necessary, lay waste to the entire continent, just to make sure you were his and his alone.

The game might have ended that day, but Aegon’s resolve had only begun to form. And though you couldn’t know it then, your innocent words had set in motion a chain of events that would shape the history of Westeros forever.

Aegon I Targaryen, the first of his name, stood atop the hill, surveying the devastation below. The smell of smoke and blood hung thick in the air, mingling with the cries of the wounded and the dying. His armor, blackened and scorched, bore the marks of battle, but he felt no pain, no weariness. Only a cold, relentless purpose.

He had begun this conquest with fire and blood, and he would end it the same way.

The Seven Kingdoms had once seemed so distant, disparate lands ruled by petty kings and warlords, their power fractured and fleeting. Yet now, as he gazed across the smoking ruins of Harrenhal, the shattered stronghold of House Hoare, he felt the inevitable weight of destiny settle upon his shoulders. This was his, all of it, as he had always known it would be. And he would bind it together under one rule—his rule.

But even as he claimed victory after victory, his mind kept drifting back to a single thought, a promise made long ago in the carefree days of childhood.

You.

He had known since that day, when you had teased him with talk of kings and queens, that he would never let you go. He had watched you grow from the lively, carefree child who danced through Dragonstone’s halls, to a fierce young woman whose spirit shone brighter than any flame. You were his joy, his anchor, the one thing in this world that made him feel truly alive. And he would not let you be taken from him—not by anyone, not even by duty.

The other kings of Westeros had fallen one by one before him. The Reach and the Riverlands had bent the knee. The Ironborn were broken. Dorne remained stubbornly defiant, but they would come to heel in time. Yet the North… the North was different. Stark men were proud, unyielding. Torrhen Stark had sent word of his intent to negotiate, to discuss terms, and with it, a reminder of the betrothal promised long ago—a political arrangement meant to solidify alliances.

Aegon’s grip tightened on Blackfyre’s hilt at the thought, his knuckles white beneath the leather. Torrhen Stark, King in the North, dared to speak as if the arrangement still held weight, as if he could claim you as his own. The very idea made something fierce and possessive rise within him, a dark flame that burned hotter than dragonfire.

He remembered your face the day your father had first mentioned the match, the way you had looked at Aegon, eyes wide and uncertain, seeking his reaction. He had said nothing then, merely turned and left the hall, his silence a mask for the storm raging within him. He had known even then that he would never allow it, but he had let the betrothal stand for a time, waiting, biding his moment.

That moment was now.

Aegon closed his eyes, the din of battle fading to a distant hum as he focused inward. He saw your face, your smile, the way your eyes lit up when you spoke of dreams and adventures. He remembered the softness in your voice when you spoke of the future, how you had confided in him your fears and hopes. You were not meant to be some lord’s prize, bartered and traded for power. You were meant to rule, to stand beside him as his equal, as his queen.

His resolve hardened. The North would bend, just like the rest. Torrhen Stark would come before him, crown in hand, and he would kneel. But not as a suitor. As a subject. He would relinquish any claim he thought he had to you, or he would face the wrath of Balerion’s flames. There was no compromise, no room for negotiation.

The betrothal would be broken. You would not be sent away, not to the frozen wasteland of the North, not anywhere. You would be here, with him, where you belonged.

And then, when the last of the kings had bent the knee, when the Seven Kingdoms were his and his alone, he would turn to you. He would take your hand and look into your eyes, and you would see that this—all of this—had been for you.

He could already imagine the scene, the way you would look at him, the disbelief that would give way to understanding, to the same fierce love that burned in his own heart. You had resisted him for so long, pushing him away, keeping him at arm’s length even as you had grown closer to his sisters. He knew it was because of that broken promise, the shattered dream of freedom that he had taken from you. But he would show you that this was the only way, the only path that would ever make sense.

The thought of you—of your stubborn defiance, your laughter, the fire in your eyes—gave him strength as he turned back to his men. The conquest was not yet finished. There were still battles to be fought, crowns to be claimed, and a future to secure.

But soon, soon he would return to Dragonstone, to you. And when he did, he would take you in his arms and tell you the truth of it all. That every kingdom he had claimed, every battle he had fought, had been for you. That he would burn the world itself if it meant keeping you by his side.

He mounted Balerion with a fluid grace, feeling the great beast’s muscles coil beneath him, the heat of the dragon’s breath warming his legs through the scales of his armor. The conquest would go on, and he would crush any who stood in his way. But his heart, his mind, his very soul, were already set on the moment he would return to you, victorious.

He would place the crown upon your head, not as a gesture of power, but of devotion. He would marry you, not because of duty or tradition, but because you were his, and he was yours, bound together by a fire that could never be quenched.

And if anyone tried to take you from him—be it Stark, Lannister, or even the gods themselves—he would unleash hell upon them all. Because you were his queen, his beloved Y/N, and he would let the world burn before he let you go.

[ghostgirl101]

LOVE TRIANGLE BETWEEN FEYD FEYD + PAUL 🙏🙏🙏

Being In A Love Triangle With Paul Atreides And Feyd-Rautha Would Be Like This...

A/N: Exam season's over, writing season's started 🖤 sorry for the brief hiatus, but I've got some more stuff coming for Paul this winter since I haven't done proper relationship hcs for him yet, and then I'm gonna bounce around answering fanfic requests for the slashers and stuff 🙃 Keep in mind that requests are not open currently, as I'm catching up with ones already in my inbox for Dune and other dark fandoms.

Warnings: Mid violence.. it's Feyd Rautha, idk what to tell you 😐

Next Week's Fanfic: Oliver Quick being obsessed with you pt. 2 relationship headcanons 😎😎

🏜• CODEPENDENT CODPENDENT CODEPENDENT

🏜• That's the best and simplest way to describe this mess of emotions and twisted relationship that goes on between the three of you, because the two boys were drawn to you because of the simple fact that they found you bafflingly alluring and pretty by your own ways and looks, and that you seem to be the one living thing in the worlds that are grounding enough to give them some form of peace and love that's completely unattainable anywhere else.

🏜• For Feyd, most relationships are a means to an end, through using his uncle to ascend to power and watching him die like an animal shortly after, people being little curiosities in his mind before he gets bored of them and disposes of them, no hurt for him. And for Paul, whoever he's close to seems to suffer, through the loss of his mother mentally to her ancestors, fate dealing dreadful deaths to those he loves, dangers and unseen forces he can't control and can't stop.

🏜• There's a big part of Paul that would rather keep you away and at a safe distance from him and his Jihad, relocate you to another world or system where you could live peacefully until your old age, away from the curse that plagues his soul... but ultimately, that's more unbearable than facing the spiking risks of having your life changed and turned upside down by being melded into his.

🏜• Love has two very different meanings for the two boys, being one of passion, a bond unspeakable, incomprehensible, unbreakable, to Paul. And to Feyd-Rautha, it's laughable, confusing, petty, weak, for the dogs. Or so he says.

🏜• Being caught between the two of them at the same time? And both of them catching on and knowing about it?? Oh god

🏜• Just imagining you witnessing the fight between heirs, the cold-blooded young Harkonnen on one side facing off the intense, blue-eyed lost Atreides on the other. Both looking for you, at you, watching briefly for your attention and to pinpoint you in the room... before both noticing they're looking at the same person, and suddenly their grips on the blade have become bruisingly tight.

🏜• It kind of depends on what you're in the mood for: an unpredictable yandere madman who randomly stabs people who look at you too long for the excitement, a possessive wild Harkonnen who adorns you in diamond collars and beautiful black clothes, self-proclaiming you as Queen of the Known Universe. Or the lost blue-in-blue soul with eyes that go almost unnoticeably softer when they look at you, cryptic words spoken from the heart when there are any needed, who wakes you up during the long hot night in Arrakeen's palace to stargaze and lay together soundlessly, to stare at you for literal hours on end while he gets lost in thought.

🏜• Both? Difficult.

🏜• Paul can almost rival Feyd in terms of possessiveness, both young men being determined to keep what's theirs from harm, with that slight edge of darkness Paul developed after consuming the Water of Life being brought out any time the subject of you comes up - something he gets oddly defensive about before the conversation's even started. He'll interrupt them straight away if they refer to you by your first name to correct them to address you by your title, because even that level of intimacy and familiarity is too much for him to acknowledge.

🏜• While Paul rules over his Jihad and Fremen in Arrakis, you're quite literally his only source of stability left in the world, no true family left to ground him and remind him of what he lost and left behind. Any possessive and protective nature of his will always be deep-rooted in love, even if he doesn't admit it straight up. It's obvious through everything he says and does for you, to Gurney and Jessica and the whole of his court, as well as you. Even the Fremen nomads and Arrakeen dwellers would observe it any time Paul came stalking through the sandy streets to watch over his land, and you'd hear murmurs from the workers with looks of revered curiosity and wonder as they gossiped discreetly.

🏜• "My cousin went to present himself to the great court of Arrakeen Palace only a fortnight ago, and do you know, the whole meeting was closed and postponed only seven minutes in discussion! Well, his sihaya had been out of spirits, that's what they heard the maids say, and the God Emperor took off just like that, without a word. I'd almost think it rude. But Muad'Dib leads the way."

🏜• As for Feyd, everyone knows not to even look your way without accepting the high risk of a humiliating death or trial under his command and blade, something he'd want to do personally, as if it was a threat to his pride and manhood, staring him in the eyes through you. With Paul, he can practically read minds, so if men or women of the Sietches had any threatening or lingering thoughts revolving around you, they'd be in for the most uncomfortable, intimidating short lecture with a private audience to the Emperor himself.

🏜• It's hard to think that these two could form a sort of alliance together for your sake, because realistically to their characters, they very probably wouldn't. Each would fight to the death for you, and the last standing would be the one worthy of defending your honour and life with their own, proving themself the strongest and most capable of doing just that. Other than that, it's a hard time believing that they could just stifle their differences in rulership and rights to be with you in harmony, so being together as a three would take a lot of hard work and manipulation, and even then... No, it's too unbelievable. That's just realism. Sorry .-.

🏜• None of them want to feel betrayed by you, so whoever you pick above the other, choose through following your heart and your mind. If it is Paul, he'll easily fend off Feyd to his demise like he was prophesied to do when he rages in a mad fit over your shift in passion, but if it is Feyd, Paul would simply ask you both leave Arrakis and never return. It would make it a little less painful if he didn't have to see you again, and he'd wait out his mind until it stopped conjuring you in his dreams.

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Taglist (lmk if you want to be added to this for my future Dune fanfics): @milaeth @ennycutie @nckcn @void21 @leighta @williamtt33 @deathsimp @tatumrileyslover @beebumbo @the-dark-dreamer25 @lilepad @skboo @keicdcat @1950schick @reggiesmoon @velosrantipole @yoonessa @anonymjuni @saturnhas82moons @xlxnq @frickyea-guacamole19 @meowmeeps @chalklate @aoi-targaryen

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DUNE MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆ MAIN MASTERLIST

[anniflamma]

OK FINE same anon with the fanfic ask XD Thank u for your amazing Epic animatics and your beloved and daniel animatics, just literally everything. I hope u enjoy this little snippet thing

Darius, he finds, is a man of perplexing mind, body, and spirit. The same man that coldly executes his traitors is the same man with tears in his eyes when Daniel emerges from the den, that hauls him into an embrace so crushing Daniel thinks he’ll go to God that day anyway.

Darius is not a fool, but he wields honesty and sincerity as sharp as a blade, never steps away from his convictions while also allowing room for redefinition. He tears down all of Daniel’s misgivings and years of disillusionment and pain, to make room for hope in a future.

Darius is not a perfect man. But to Daniel, he is a miracle.

One that gives him many headaches.

“How has no one ever told you how breathtakingly beautiful you are?”

And one that reminds him he is far, far too old for this.

The other facet of Darius that gives Daniel constant pause and constant rumination, is how he uses his emotions. He is neither detached from them nor a slave to them. He carries them openly, not worn as an armor or exposed as a weakness, but instead carried like a tool, honed finely to use for any conquest to the answers he seeks.

So yes, Daniel is aware that while Darius means this compliment, he is goading Daniel for a specific response.

Daniel clears his throat—ignores that Darius poorly hides a smile behind his hand—and fans out a roll of parchment to look over the records with the king.

“I know I say it often.” Darius tilts his head to rest it in his fist. “Yet you always deflect and hide away from it. I cannot tell if this is aversion or if no one has ever paid you due compliment for how radiant you are. If it’s the former, I shall stop. If it’s the latter, then I must continue to rectify this at all opportunities.”

Usually Daniel would deflect, though not when Darius calls him out on it. He’s long grown out of blushing. So he rubs at the tension between his brows with a sigh.

“Don’t make such flagrant assumptions with no evidence to back them, my king,” Daniel replies, with his most level advisory tone he can muster. “I was a young man once. You are not the first.”

He doesn’t know why he entertains this, but he does know it makes his heart race when Darius’s eyes light up with intrigue. Lord help him.

“Oh? Pray tell, who?”

Daniel rolls his eyes up and slowly counts to three. “Just about all the royal courts I’ve served when not trying to kill me.”

Darius’s brows predictably raise. He is quiet for a moment, schooling his reaction that Daniel wishes he would read. “I see.”

His mouth turns, a fine line of contemplation, and then asks, “Were there advances?

Of course there were. He wonders where this will go, if Darius will rear jealousy or pride over just how many have made a point to break Daniel down into his features and not his heart.

“Dare I answer that?”

Darius’s mouth tightens. “Was their reciprocity in those advances?”

No.

Daniel looks away. “I remember being summoned here for taxes, King Darius.”

Darius hums softly.

“I apologize for overstepping. I never intended to open old wounds.”

He is so disarming, his ability to reach past ever defense and seek Daniel exactly for what he is. His sheer strength and respect for another’s state of being will always rattle him to the core. Daniel looks back to him.

“It’s alright.”

Darius studies him, unwilling to break from their eye-contact and Daniel finds himself accidentally caught in the thousands of ruminations flickering in those warm eyes.

Darius sighs and straightens up. He leans across the table, palm fanning out of the parchment so that his fingertips brush the side of Daniel’s palm.

“As it stands,” Darius murmurs. “I did not know you as a young man. Has anyone ever told you how you shine now?”

Daniel’s cheeks heat before he can remind them he is not a teenager anymore.

“I don’t need flattery.”

“I’m not.” Darius leans down closer and Daniel shivers at the suddenness of their shared body heat. “I also have no intention of advances.”

Darius plucks the parchment from the desk, and steps away from his space. Like the pull of gravity Daniel nearly follows the impossible force of him as he retreats.

He peeks over the paperwork with a glint like a sheer devil. Daniel’s mouth twitches. He bites.

“These bones are not made for initiation anymore,” Daniel supplies, and Darius’s eyes squint up from behind the scroll with a clear grin.

“I find your tongue more than persuasive enough.”

Oh, the lions were easier to tame.

Omg!! This is amazing!! And the amount of flirting is insane!

"Oh, the lions were easier to tame." AAAAAHH!

More pliz I'm hungry...

Also... WHY ARE YOU ANON! I WANNA KNOW WHEN YOU POSTING THE FULL FIC! >:(

[missviviii]

Could you please write a fanfic of mizu x reader when taigen flirts with reader and makes mizu get really jealous?

a/n: omg yes!! 🫶 i love this idea and i find it so cute! first time writing here!!

.

“Jealousy”

mizu x reader

summary: mizu doesn’t like it when taigen gets too close to you. perhaps it’s time to take things into her own hands.

warning(s): swearing

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You kind of just hopped along with Mizu after her fun little fight at the Shindo Dojo. Just a swordmaster like her, but much more open and friendly. Mizu really doesn’t get it. Why’d an angel and talented person like you hang with her? But nevertheless, your company was appreciated and at least it didn’t annoy her.

That was all until Taigen joined along. You two had known each other since you were young and through most of your time at the Shindo Dojo. Yes he was a dumbass and an utter failure, but at least he was funny and you had fun with him.

Much to Mizu’s annoyance, Taigen was awfully annoying and did not shut up whatsoever. Not to mention, he could not shut his damn mouth whenever you were around. Taigen flirted with you, made jokes that made you laugh, even wrapped his arm around your shoulder so casually when you were walking beside him. It made her feel this weird burning, hating feeling grow within her, and she always hated the smile on your face when you were with him, not her.

“What’s with the lipstick, princess?” Taigen commented as he looked at your reflection in the little mirror you brought along. You rolled your eyes, sticking out your tongue at him momentarily before you continued to apply lipstick on your lips. You let out a small giggle while Taigen continued to flirt with you. Mizu entered just then, only to see Taigen all close to you and flirting. “I might just have to steal kiss if you wear that lipstick—“

Boink! Mizu hits his head with the end of her blade, an unamused expression on her face as she pushed his face away from yours. “Move, idiot. Ever heard of personal space?” She says in an annoyed voice, forcing him to scoot his ass over so she can sit beside you. Taigen grunts, rubbing the sore spot that Mizu had hit him with her sword.

“What the fuck?! Can’t a guy just be funny?!” He grumbled, glaring at Mizu while you simply just giggled. Mizu rolled her eyes, scooting closer to you until your shoulders were touching. “Besides, im not wrong. Who wouldn’t want a kiss from the angel—“

“Alright that’s enough, Taigen. Say that again and i slice all your fingers off,” Mizu sharply said as she waved Taigen off. You cocked your head to the side, particularly amused at how protective she was being today. Taigen cursed under his breath before he very much reluctantly gave in and left.

Mizu turned to look at you, only to be met with an amused expression and a small smirk. “What’s with the look?”

“You’re jealous, aren’t you?” You hummed as you finished applying your lipstick. Mizu grumbled, trying to deny it and say it was ‘only to save your mentality from his idiotic behavior’, but you knew better.

Could you blame her? How is Mizu supposed to not be jealous when Taigen of all people gets to make you laugh and flirt with you. Or even have the slightest chance on getting a kiss from you? “I fucking hate how touchy that bastard is,” Mizu grumbled as you cupped her face into your hands. She almost melts right then and there.

Then you plant a kiss right on her lips, catching her off guard for the slightest moment. Even leaving your lipstick on her lips. Red and clearly showing that you left your mark on her. “Oh you little tease—“

Mizu regained her focus and immediately pulled you onto her lap. You straddled her, thighs on both side of her legs while your hands were wrapped around her neck while she made out with you. Her rough hands dug into your thighs while you pushed her back onto the ground.

Well, what happens next is quite obvious, isn’t it?

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[candycandy00]

hello! i just came by one of your post, and checked your profile for more. could you do a rape scenario for sukuna? it can be short, or long, anyway you prefer, no pressure <3

Smut. 18+. Rape/Noncon! This is a very brutal little fanfic! Do not read if things like this bother you! Contains blood/torture/humiliation/double penetration. All the bad things! This turned out way longer than I planned but I got kinda into it lol. Goes harder than I intended too but let’s face it: being raped by Sukuna would be a very hard experience.

You were a powerful sorceress. That’s what everyone had told you since you were a young girl. Your power dwarfed that of every other person in your large village, and so you were treated as special, almost like a deity. You had your own group of guards, whom you cherished as dear friends, and you adored the villagers who showered you with gifts. 

So when the monster Ryomen Sukuna attacked your village, you didn’t even hesitate to step in and try your best to protect it. You were a bit naive, having been sheltered by the villagers, but you were not stupid. You had heard rumors about Sukuna, and so you were aware that you probably didn’t stand a chance against him. Still, if you could only keep him distracted long enough for some of the villagers to flee into the mountains, it would be worth trying to fight him. 

He was most likely after the cache of cursed weapons and items stored there, and would probably have little interest in chasing down the people scurrying like rats. You would offer the treasures to him, but he was already in the village, already slaughtering everyone who stepped into his path. He would listen to no offers, no negotiations. So you dismissed your guards, who only left when you commanded them to guard the children as they were evacuated, and then hurried to the village square to confront Sukuna.

When you saw him, your heart nearly stopped. He was far more terrifying than you had ever imagined. It wasn’t just the four arms and four eyes, the massive height, the muscular figure. It was the aura he emitted, the crushing pressure of his very presence. Every inch of your body was screaming for you to run, or to immediately drop into a bow and beg for your life. This man was a cruel and brutal beast. He would tear you apart if you displeased him in the slightest of ways. That’s what you felt when you looked at him. 

Even so, there was something awe-inspiring about him. You understood instantly how he had brought so many villages to heel and why people were drawn to him. There was a savage beauty to him that made your heart pound furiously. 

But despite all of this, you still had to fight him. Every second you could buy was another second for the villagers to escape. 

“If it’s the cursed tools you want, you can have them,” you shouted to him from several feet away.  “Spare the rest of the villagers, and you can take them all with no resistance!”

He looked at you then, his red eyes all four sweeping over you. “What resistance?” he asked with a laugh, sending invisible blades slicing through a woman who was running by you. Her blood splattered across your robe. 

As you suspected, trying to talk to him was pointless. Battle was the only language he understood at that moment. 

So you attacked him. The fight was brief, lasting less than half an hour and consisting mainly of you evading his slashes while failing to get a solid hit on him. You got the impression he could have ended the fight instantly but had chosen to toy with you first. In the end, his slashes ripped through you, shredding your robes as well as your flesh, leaving you a bloody mess on the ground. 

As your life faded, you saw him walking toward you, and to your great surprise, he used his Reverse Cursed Technique to heal you! Not enough to restore you completely, but enough to pull you out of the dying state. You were still covered in slash wounds, but they were closing up and no longer pouring blood. You struggled to get to your feet, realizing with embarrassment that your clothing had been completely destroyed, leaving you naked and totally vulnerable before this monster. You wrapped your wounded arms around yourself and looked at him questioningly, wondering why he spared you.  

You got your answer soon enough. 

He’d dragged you into the shrine, sat down on the raised dais, and pulled your bare, cut up body into his lap. You were too terrified, and too weak, to struggle. You’d used up all your cursed energy in your vain attempt to stall him, and you’d lost a lot of blood. It was still dripping down your body in small, slow trickles.  

When he reached down with one of his four hands and pulled his own robe open, you nearly screamed. Revealed to you were two gigantic cocks, one above the other. Both were standing tall and hard. Apparently the battle, brief and one-sided as it was, had aroused him. Or maybe it had been the sight of your naked, bloody flesh. Regardless, you understood what was happening, and your only comfort was that more of the villagers would have a chance to escape while Sukuna was violating you. 

Just then you heard a commotion at the shrine’s entrance, and the worst possible sight greeted you when you looked up. Your guards, the handsome and kind hearted young men who were charged with protecting you, had rushed in. The look of horror on their faces probably mirrored your own. You could only imagine what they were thinking, finding you in this state. 

They ran forward, intending to help you, but the first one was sliced to ribbons before he got even a foot closer. The rest of them paused, but clearly were prepared to run at Sukuna again, but Sukuna’s smooth voice stopped them. 

“Take another step, and I’ll slice her up the same way.”

They all froze, their infuriated eyes watching Sukuna’s hands jerk your arms behind your back while the other two moved over your body. 

“Kneel,” he told them, and they quickly dropped to their knees. Sukuna grinned. “All of you watch.”

You turned your face to look at him. “Please, no! Just let them go! I won’t struggle!”

His haunting red eyes met yours as a wicked smile spread over his face. “I want you to struggle,” he said, and his two free hands yanked your legs apart, exposing you to your guards. 

To a man, they all looked away, but then you felt a painful slash across your shoulder. Blood spurted as you cried out, and the guards looked back up. Sukuna didn’t even have to speak the threat for your guards to understand. 

Sukuna shifted his hands so that only one of them was holding your wrists behind your back. Only one was needed. Two of them were still holding your thighs wide apart, and the last one moved down between your legs, his fingers gliding across your slit. One finger slipped between the delicate flesh and found your most sensitive spot, stroking it with agonizing gentleness. You didn’t want to feel pleasure in this situation, from an evil, sadistic man who’d murdered many of your friends, and right in front of your poor guards who were forced to watch. But Sukuna’s fingers moved masterfully, rubbing in exactly the right way to send jolts of pleasure through your entire body. 

You quivered in his lap, trying to pull your hands free, trying to close your shaking legs, but it was no use. Your struggling and fighting only seemed to excite him. 

He pressed his mouth against your ear, and said in a low, sultry voice, “For a nobody in a backwater village like this, you’re pretty strong. But that’s alright. I enjoy breaking the strong ones.”

Suddenly you felt something wet and soft moving over your clit. You looked down in alarm to find a mouth in his palm, the lips open and a long tongue protruding from it, lapping at your spread open pussy. You cried out in surprise, and then in horror when you realized the pleasure was becoming too much for you. Sukuna was going to make you cum right here in front of your guards. 

You struggled again, jerking against his grip, but it only made him laugh loudly. 

“You should be thanking me,” he said. “If I don’t get you properly slicked up, my cocks are going to rip you apart.”

You whimpered in response, tears filling your eyes. You knew what was coming, but having him verbally confirm it broke your spirit. 

You’d been avoiding the eyes of your guards. You couldn’t bear to meet their gazes. But there was one you’d been particularly close to, and you couldn’t help seeking his face for some small bit of comfort. But when you looked at him, you found his face flushed pink as he watched you writhe about in Sukuna’s grasp. 

Sukuna chuckled in your ear. “Your guards are starting to enjoy the show.” The words cut you deeper than any of Sukuna’s slashes had. These men were your friends! Some were like brothers to you! 

Suddenly Sukuna’s hand-tongue plunged inside you while his fingers pinched your clit. You moaned despite yourself, your back arching against your will. You’d never felt anything like this, and with tears of shame and pain running down your face, you came on Sukuna’s hand. 

When it was finally over, and you were a trembling mess in Sukuna’s lap, you hung your head low and sobbed. You were so ashamed of yourself for feeling pleasure, for having an orgasm from the touch of this brutal conqueror. But your torment was only beginning. 

You felt Sukuna lift your whole body up, then position the tip of his absurdly huge upper cock at your entrance. Then without hesitation, he pulled you down, roughly and quickly, impaling you. 

A scream erupted from your mouth as you felt yourself stretching past your limits, your skin slightly tearing, warm blood trickling down your thighs. Sukuna was merciless, immediately beginning to move you up and down his length with two of his powerful hands, as if you were a toy to him. You cried, you struggled, but it only made his movements faster, harsher. He was enjoying your pain, laughing at your humiliation. 

Eventually, after an unknown amount of time passed during which you almost blacked out twice, you heard his voice again. “My lower cock is feeling neglected.”

You were half conscious, but you snapped to awareness when you felt his other tip pressing into you. His fingers had slid in beside his upper cock, and were stretching you even further open, to make room. You looked back at him in disbelief. “Y-you can’t! That would kill me!”

Again he put his warm mouth close to your ear as he said, “From the moment you attacked me, you’ve been living on borrowed time. At least use your pitiful death to please me.”

You glanced out at your guards, your addled mind somehow hoping they could save you. But they were all frozen, the ones that had looked slightly aroused earlier now looked horrified as they realized what Sukuna was doing. A few of them had tears in their eyes. 

“Please send them away,” you begged. “Don’t make them watch me die.”

“But that’s the best part!” he said, the grin on his face looking slightly unhinged. 

And then, the second cock shoved its way in. You gasped first, then screamed as he sheathed it completely inside you, ripping you open in the process. As he began moving you up and down, drilling into you, the pain was blinding, maddening. You wondered if this was what giving birth felt like. 

Two of his hands were on your waist, lifting you up and down, one was still holding your wrists behind you. The fourth hand touched your face, turning it to the side so that he could look at you, so he could watch the agony in your eyes. For a moment, he wore no expression at all. And then he dipped his head closer to yours and kissed your mouth. It was a bizarrely sensual kiss, a kiss for lovers. Gentle, slow, intimate. It confused you more than anything. 

He released your wrists, but you were too weak to do anything useful with them, so they dropped limply to your sides. The hand he’d been using to restrain you slid down, and again a mouth appeared in his palm, the tongue softly circling your clit. 

You wanted to scream again, to beg him to stop. Don’t make me feel pleasure while you’re killing me! you thought. But your tortured body sought out any relief it could find, any sensation that didn’t hurt. And Sukuna’s tongues, one in your mouth and one gliding wetly over your clit, did not hurt. In fact they were the only things that didn’t. 

So your body responded. Even as his twin cocks tore through you, even as you could hear blood dripping onto the floor, you moaned into Sukuna’s mouth. Reflexively, without your permission, one of your hands moved up to touch his face as he kissed you, sliding back and into his hair. You felt him smile against your mouth, his eyes shimmering with delight. 

You didn’t want this. You could think of very few things you could want less than being violently raped by Sukuna in front of your helpless guards. But the human body does all sorts of strange things to cope, to survive. So you came, moaning and crying at the same time, your body twitching in his hands, your guards looking on in horror. 

Eventually, Sukuna’s cocks shot out massive loads of cum, first the upper one and then the lower one, completely filling you. Afterwards, he pushed you off his lap, and you landed unceremoniously in a heap on the floor, blood and cum pouring out of you. 

You were certain you were dying, and within seconds you passed out right there on the floor of the shrine. 

When you awoke, Sukuna had taken all the cursed tools your village had been guarding and left. You heard from one of your guards, who refused to look you in the eye, that Sukuna had healed you almost completely before leaving. You had no idea why. 

You also found out the majority of the villagers had made it safely into the mountains, and were now being escorted back by the guards. So even though you had gone through hell and back, you would still do it again. Your suffering saved a lot of lives, and you could live with that. 

Sometimes you wondered why Sukuna spared you, and even went so far as to heal you. Maybe it was just a whim. Or maybe he thought he might return someday to terrorize you again. Either way, you had survived. Your village had survived. 

[gwen-novella]

Ivar Ragnarsson - Nsfw Alphabet

Pairing: Ivar x female reader

Word count: 3.5K

Warnings: Smut (18+ !!!), it's a nsfw alphabet so expect all things sex, all kinds of kinks, no use of y/n

Summary: A nsfw alphabet for our favorite boy that's only soft for you. Can be read as part of TPAW.

Author’s note: I have reappeared from my hiatus. I decided to finally try my hand at writing fanfics again and thought I'd start off with something short and easy - ended up writing 3.5K words anyways. Mission failed successfully. Please excuse if my writing is a little rusty.

Please consider commenting or reblogging - it really makes my day!

(*) smár brandr = little blade

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Anyone that knows Ivar and has seen the two of you together will notice that he is uncharacteristically open, affectionate, and kind to you. Whenever this is pointed out to you, you always struggle to hide an amused snicker behind a bashful smile. If only they knew. 

The two of you lay entangled on the bed. Your left leg is thrown over Ivars midsection and your arm traces invisible shapes on his chest. Ivar is laying on his back, his left arm lays underneath your body and is stroking up and down your back. Both of your breathing has calmed by now and with the gentle hum of satisfaction in your veins you’d be perfectly content to stay like this forever. 

The almost meditative state you’re in is broken when your left hand is halted in its movements, now gently held in Ivars right. Tilting your head up to look at him, you meet Ivars gaze and the intensity in his eyes almost makes you shy away. "I treasure you, smár brandr." (*)

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Ivar doesn’t give much thought to his body. For quite obvious reasons he avoids it as much as possible. He does like his hands though. He’s quite good at using them, whether that be spinning a dagger or wrapping them around your throat. 

Ivar has also become more accepting of the rest of his body as your relationship progresses. How could he not, when you hold his face in your hands, your delicate fingers tracing his features, when you constantly compliment his strong arms and back and when you don’t even bat an eye at the sight of his legs.

When it comes to you, there isn’t a part of your body that Ivar doesn’t like. Though he has a strange fascination with your neck. Kissing it, biting it, but especially wrapping his hand around it. It’s not so much the choking itself that turns him on - but the trust you show him when you allow his fingers to slowly tighten around your throat. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Further elaborated under K = Kink, but Ivars favorite place to cum is deep inside you. "Where I belong", he’d once told you, caressing your lower stomach. However, when the night is still young and he plans to make the both of you cum several times, Ivar enjoys watching you swallow his cum.

Ivar’s sat, fully clothed, at the edge of his bed, his unfocused eyes gazing down at your kneeling form on the ground, your sweet lips wrapped around his cock. You’re sat between his legs, one hand stroking along the length that doesn’t fit in your mouth, the other underneath your skirt, drawing circles over your clit. 

You can tell Ivar is close, his breathing labored as his cock throbs against your eager tongue. His arms move from their place at his side and you’re certain he’ll pull you off him and toss you on the bed, as he does so often, but his hands find their way into your hair, gripping tightly and aiding your movements. 

"I’ll cum down your throat", he raps, sending a bolt of arousal through you, "and you won’t dare swallow until I tell you to."

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

When you and Ivar first slept together it was you who took the lead to begin with. And even though his touches became more confident and urgent throughout, they were clearly still laced with inexperience until they weren’t. 

"Your eyes snap open as you feel a finger drawing circles on your clit, looking down to see Ivar has taken one of his hands off your hips and is instead circling your sensitive nub with his thumb. How he knows to do this, you do not know, but you are thankful for it, already feeling the coil in your stomach tightening."

Ivar would rather spend the rest of his days locked in a shed with an ever-singing Sigurd than admit that he knows those things because he had watched some of his brothers with Margrethe. Looking back, he is deeply embarrassed. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

None. Well, that is if you don’t count his horrid encounter with Margrethe (which you don’t). You were the first woman he ever slept with. 

Don’t worry though, Ivar is very quick learner. Whether that includes learning alongside you, if you’re equally inexperienced, or learning from you, if you’re more experienced. If the latter is the case, expect your prior partners to have some less than pleasant encounters with Ivar.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

It very much depends on his mood. If he wants you to take charge: cowgirl. 

He’ll either sit back against the headboard or lay down flat on his back to watch you bounce and circle your hips above him. Don’t think him to be a passive participant though. Much like his eyes, his mouth and hands won’t stop wandering. His lips find their way to your neck, leaving evidence of the nights activities on your skin for all to see, sucking and biting on your nipples until they’re sore and whispering the filthiest of commands and praises.

Every tilt of your hips grinds your clit against his pubic hair, sending sparks up your spine. So caught up in your pleasure you don’t notice Ivars hand moving until it’s slipped its way around your throat, making your eyes flutter open once more. When had they even closed? 

"Look at you", Ivar groans, "riding me so well, smár brandr." Using his hand to tilt your head down to look at him, Ivar fixes you with his piercing gaze. "Mhm", he hums, "Like a goddess… or a whore." The hand around your throat tightens. 

If Ivar is in the mood to watch you squirm underneath him (which is often) he’ll take you from behind, pressing you flat on your belly and draping himself along your back. 

If anyone has given him reason to be possessive, or jealous, expect to wobble your way around Kattegat the next day. Instead of gripping your throat, like usual, his hand will grip your hair in a makeshift pony tail, either pressing your head into the pillow, or raising your ear to his lips, making sure to tell you who you belong to.

The room is filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin and your muffled moans against the furs. Ivars hips pound into yours so deeply, you’re sure that you won’t be able to sit properly tomorrow. Suddenly your head is yanked from the pillows and you feel Ivars breath against the side of your face. 

"You’re mine", he hisses. "Mine to love, mine to kiss, mine to fuck." Nibbling along your shoulder Ivar promises darkly: "Tomorrow, when you’re not able to leave this bed, I’ll kill Earl Leif… Perhaps I’ll bring him here first. Would you like that, hm? Make him watch how good only I can make you feel?" 

You don’t even remember what the foreign Earl had done to anger Ivar, your brain not absorbing anything that isn’t the drag of Ivars cock along your walls.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Ivar is a very passionate lover. As such he does really immerse himself into the act. It’s not so much that you’d call him serious in those moments, it’s just that he’s so zeroed in on you - the rest of the world could burn around him for all he cares. 

Sex is also a very vulnerable thing for Ivar. In your chambers, when it’s just you and him, he’s a very different man than the one most perceive him to be. Most people know not to intrude upon your little safe haven, at least if they want to keep all their limbs. 

Hvitserk learned this the hard way one night when in a drunken state he mistook Ivars room for his own. He had barely stepped a foot over the threshold when a dagger had already planted itself into the wooden frame next to his head.

In the afterglow of it all Ivar is probably at his most vulnerable and most relaxed. The two of you will cuddle, talk about everything or nothing at all and sometimes that includes laughing together.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

As explained above Ivar tries to avoid thinking too much about his body. As such he doesn’t groom. His medical condition however has lead to him having impeccable personal hygiene, since his legs often need to be washed, moisturized and bandaged.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Again, Ivar is a very passionate and devoted lover. Most times this will express itself in a raw, sort of untamed way. Some may label this rough - the way his hands firmly grip your hips, the firm snap of his hips and the incessant way he kisses and bites anywhere he can reach can certainly feel like it. Everything he does though is born from love, from devotion.

Occasionally, he slows. Ivars passion become gentle and sweet, drawn out like strings of honey - seeking comfort in you.

You can feel the warmth of his release coat your walls, a pleasant hum of satisfaction in your veins, not as pulsing and exhausting as you’re used to. You make to raise yourself from Ivars cock, from his lap, to cuddle up beside him, when his hands that so softly caress your hips tighten for a split second. 

"Don’t move", Ivar whispers, the first words he’s spoken since he’s entered your heat. "I want to stay like this for a while." You don’t decline.

J = Jack off��(masturbation headcanon)

Since Ivars relationship with sex started off the way it did, sex isn’t really about "getting off" itself. Don’t get him wrong, Ivar enjoys having sex, enjoys cumming, as much as any man. It’s just that he doesn’t crave for it, if it is not with you. 

Ivar doesn’t need sex - he needs sex with you. Ivar doesn’t need release - he needs release with you. If he can’t have you he doesn’t bother.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding Kink

Ivar never thought he’d be able to have kids. He didn’t even think he’d be able to fuck. When one fateful night with you led him to discover that he could in fact please a woman, sex was the only thing on his mind. For weeks you spent every night in Ivars bed, his head in between your thighs, your mouth around his length and his cock deep in your cunt. It was a comment from one of his brothers over breakfast that planted an even deeper desire into his heart. 

Ivar had teased Hvitserk for looking so tired, knowing full well his room was right next to Ivars and that Hvitserk had probably been kept awake by your squealing the night prior. It was then that Ubbe, in an attempt to prevent a fight, almost mindlessly commented: "Don’t fret Hvitserk. Not much longer and he’ll have put a babe in her belly. Then Ivars tiny room will no longer suffice and we’ll be rid of them."

Trust Kink (?)

Hear me out. Ivar’s never really had anyone he could trust completely, some he’s comfortable being vulnerable around. Likewise, he’s also never had anyone that trusted him, that willingly was vulnerable around him. And whilst it took a long time for your relationship to progress to this state, now that it has Ivar cannot get enough of it - this feeling of safety and belonging. 

As such, everything that reminds him of this, anything that is proof of this precious trust is an instant turn on for him. His hand around your throat, him caging you under his body, restraining your hands above your head, cutting your clothes from your body using his dagger… 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

As explained, Ivar does not take kindly to his time with you being interrupted. Therefore his room it is.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Short answer: You. Long answer: Also you. 

As explained above, once Ivar realized he could have sex, there wasn’t a lot of holding back on his side. He was insatiable. Though, the thing that gets him going more than anything else is the realization that not only could he fuck you, but you wanted him to.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Hurting you.

Anything beyond reddish handprints in the places he grabs you, love bites across your throat and chest and the wobble in your step the next morning is a hard no. Ivar cherishes the trust you two share - he’d never think of doing something to break it.

Sharing.

Even though, when possessive or jealous, Ivar sometimes talks about showing off how well he pleases you, it is all talk. He’d never consider someone intruding in such a vulnerable situation. Besides, you’re for his eyes only.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

"I can show you that there are other ways to please a woman too, if you so wish."

Ivar remembers you whispering those words against his lips the first time you were intimate together, gently reassuring him. After the first few times following that day, when his eagerness to feel your walls wrapped around his cock as fast as possible had slowly calmed from a raging fire to a steady flame, those words of yours kept echoing in his mind. You’d proposed it as an alternative, so technically there was no need for that now, but Ivars curiosity was peaked.

His breath is fanning over your lower stomach, Ivars blue eyes are looking up at you for guidance, between placing kisses on and nipping at your skin. 

"You told me you’d show me. I do not know how to make you feel good like this." A breathless laugh falls from your lips. "I promise to tell you if something does not feel good." 

Ivar huffs but relents nonetheless, his nips and kisses moving lower, a few of them straying to the inside of your thighs, before his tongue suddenly licks a broad stripe up your cunt. Something between a whimper and a moan tears from your throat and Ivar decides right then and there that he wants to hear that sound over and over and over again.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

As explained under I = Intimacy, Ivars love making is usually very passionate. If not fast, his thrusts will at the very least be hard and deep, hands firm on whichever part of your body he chooses to grab, his love bites just on that fine line between pleasure and pain.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He isn’t exactly opposed to the idea, it’s just that your circumstances don’t really allow for them. Between the daily bustle of Kattegat, your respective duties throughout the day and Ivars reluctance to have sex outside the safety of his chambers there aren’t really opportunities for quickies. 

It’s fine by the both of you though, you prefer to take your time anyways, especially the calm and intimacy afterwards is treasured by the both of you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Ivar is ever learning, he’s willing to try most everything you’d approach him with, so long as it doesn’t fall under his hard no’s. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

In the beginning Ivar was insatiable. Once he got you into bed you could expect not to leave it or go to sleep for quite a while. 

That is still the case, though the way you spend your time in bed has changed. The two of you used to go as many rounds as either of you could take until sleep took you.

As your relationship blossomed, it became less about sex itself and more about being intimately connected - whether that be foreplay, sex, or basking in the afterglow of it all. Rounds became fewer, but more drawn out. On the days Ivar seeks comfort, the intimacy of you laying on his chest afterwards, warming his cock, both of you speaking in hushed whispers have become his favorite part.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Since it’s the early 800s … there are no toys. The closest thing would be his daggers, perhaps some rope.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Ivar has no patience to actually tease you in terms of withholding his physical affections. He excels at making your squirm with his verbal teasing though.

You’re circling your hips above him, eyes screwed shut, clearly focused on chasing your release, but slightly overwhelmed by the pleasure all the same. A sudden pressure makes you moan out and look down to where Ivar has placed his hand against the little bulge in your lower stomach. 

"Look at that", he grins, "Look at me all the way inside you. Such a little thing, can barely fit me." A frustrated whine bubbles up in you. Ivars face morphs into one of mock concern, "What’s the matter sweet thing?" "Please..", you whimper. "Please what, hm?" 

When his question goes unanswered, the rock of your hips only growing more frantic, Ivar sits up, the sudden shift of the angle of his cock making you gasp. "Can’t even make yourself cum, is that it? Poor, dumb little thing" A quick, filthy kiss is planted on your lips, and you don’t even have the time to reciprocate before your world spins and you’re suddenly on your back.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

"I don’t growl." Ivar halfheartedly glowers down at you, you grin in return. "Oh, you definitely do."

"I do not."

Your grin grows mischievous, "Mhm, fine. I do suppose it was far more interesting how you whimpered when I li-"

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

You joined Ivar in his bed every single night, following the day you first laid together. After a while your monthly bleeding made its appearance one morning. You thought this would surely put a temporary stop to your shared nights of passion, but Ivar surprised you. 

As soon as you sit down on the edge of the bed you’re ambushed. Giggling you let Ivar lay you down on your back and eagerly welcome him into your arms once he dips down to kiss you.

As always the kiss deepens and your hands wander - yours to his hair, combing your fingers through his silky strands, whilst Ivars hands caress your sides. When his fingers slip under the hem of your dress, you draw back from the kiss and halt his hand on your thigh. Immediately Ivars face furrows and his hand lifts to hold the side of your face. 

"My moon blood started this morning", you answer his unspoken question. Ivars eyes widen and he props himself up on his hands, lifting his hips off of yours. For a second you think he’s disgusted, but your worries disappear as soon as they come. "Oh fuck - am I hurting you, smár brandr?"

Pulling his body down onto yours again, his weight and warmth actually comforting, you shake your head. "No", you reassure him, "I’m just bloody. Some women say release eases their discomfort, but it’s not exactly… appealing to most men."

To your surprise Ivar barks out a laugh. "Some Vikings we have in Kattegat then, hm? Bothered by a little blood." Shaking his head, his hand makes his way under your dress once more.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

To quote TPAW:

"Looking down at what you have just undressed, you are surprised a second time this night. For all the burdens the Gods have made Ivar carry, they sure have blessed him with a gorgeous cock. Its head is flushed a lovely shade of red, and with a length and girth that promises a delicious stretch once inside you, it was simply perfect … and hard - very much so."

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High. That’s all I am going to say. Sometimes the gods can see it all the way from Asgard.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

You’re usually asleep before Ivar is. He very much treasures just laying with you. Tracing shapes on your back, enjoying the warmth of your body next to his and watching your pleased face lowly morph into the relaxed expression he associates with you sleeping.. this is probably the most peaceful time of his day. 

Please consider commenting or reblogging - it really makes my day!

(*) smár brandr = little blade

[tuktukpodfics]

The Problem With "Dao Swords": My love-hate relationship with pleonastic translations

An essay that no one asked for.

A lot of fanfics call Zuko’s broadswords “dao swords.” As a Chinese to English translator, this phrase makes me pause every time. Here is my humble opinion on “dao swords” and other pleonastic translations:

What the heck is a pleonastic translation?

I’m so glad you asked! “Pleonasm” is a fancy term for a redundant phrase, like “black darkness” or “burning fire.”

A pleonastic translation is a phrase that puts the source language and the translation back-to-back. A common example is “chai tea” which literally means “tea tea.”

“Dao swords” is a pleonastic translation. “Dao” 刀 is the Chinese blanket term for blade. The phrase basically means “sword swords.” Sounds pretty silly, right?

Pleonastic translations are bad?

I think it depends on your audience, the text purpose, and how special the word is.

In advertising, pleonastic translations can help increase a product’s searchability. Ex: “Longjing Dragonwell tea” would appear in a Google search for either “longjing” or “dragonwell.”

Tourist destinations often use pleonastic translations to help foreigners navigate. Ex: “Nanzhan South Station” on a map helps foreigners know what the place is, but also gives them the Chinese pronunciation so that they can communicate with their taxi driver.

In literature, a pleonastic translation is a succinct way to introduce a culturally significant term without a footnote or distracting tangent. A lot of translators will sneak in a pleonastic translation the first time the word appears in a text, and then use the untranslated term alone every time after. Ex: "He slouched on the kang bed-stove. His grandmother sighed and took a seat on the kang too.”

Is "dao" a culturally significant word?

No.

Dao is a super mundane word used to describe any kind of single-edged blade, from butter knives to ice skates. It feels weird to keep such a normal word untranslated. Using the Chinese word emphasizes its foreignness. They’re not just swords, they’re special, Chinese swords. 

Yes, words take on different meanings as they pass from culture to culture. That’s how language works. But English is also a unique case. Because of imperialism. I think English speakers have an obligation to avoid exotifying every-day words.

Also, English is a global language. Chinese speakers are reading your translation, and…I dunno...“sword swords” feels off putting. Disruptive.

But I want to acknowledge the real-life culture behind the swords

Giving credit to the cultures that you're borrowing from is an A+ idea.

...I don't know how to do this in a fantasy setting.

Zuko’s swords and fighting style is based on oxtail sabers (牛尾刀）and Shaolin dual broadswords (少林双刀). @atlaculture has a very cool post on oxtail sabers. But calling his swords "oxtail sabers" doesn't work because cows don't exist in atla. Shaolin is a type of martial arts that originates from Shaolin temple in Henan, China (Shaolin itself literally means “young forest”). But you can’t call them “Shaolin broadswords," since Shaolin does not exist in the Fire Nation.

It’s quite a pickle.

Maybe just use a footnote?

So what should I call Zuko’s swords?

I don’t know.

I think you can just call them broadswords. That’s what the TV show calls them.

Dao by itself could work too if you need to differentiate Zuko's dao from Sokka's jian (double-edged blade). Readers can probably figure out what dao means from context.

If it’s not clear from context what dao means? *sigh* ..."Dao swords" it is, I guess.

To end on a happier note, here is a video of Chang Zhizhao busting some sweet moves.

[thestuffedalligator]

I have a dumb fanfic concept in my head where Zagreus gets pulled through time from Mythic Greece to Dark Ages England because some skinny young mortal squire pulled the Stygian Blade out of a rock, which is a big deal apparently.

Zag is pretty sure this is a temporary situation that will sort itself out eventually, but while he’s here he might as well help train this kid to be a proper warrior and king. He also tries to explain to mortals that he’s the son of Hades, king of the underworld, but nobody quite gets it and this is how the myth of Merlin being the son of a demon starts.

[http-paprika]

Under the Orange Sky / Phillip Graves

cowboy!au / pairing philip graves x wife!reader / wc 1027 / warnings suggestive content, nondescript mentions of nudity, allusions to sex

summery her husband has always been a stranger to her, but one day when he returns from the fields, Phillip's behavior towards her has changed.

notes here's the second poll fanfic, not as long as i thought it would be, but satisfying still. no use of y/n. the story takes place during the turn of the 20th century in western texas.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Her husband was a stranger, despite the five years she’d spent tied down to him, living in the wild of Texas, far from town, far from her parents; he stayed estranged. Leaving early in the morning before the sun rose over the jagged mountains, returning late in the evenings when she was already in bed, trying to sleep, she seldomly saw Phillip ‘cept for Sundays, on the Lord’s day of rest. Yet still on those days, he was distant from her, withdrawn, solemn, never touching, and only a few stray glances. It was hard for her to remember that charming, proud man who’d swept her off her feet, who flattered her mother and talked business with her father. 

Closing her eyes, laying her head against the back of the tub, she could hear the faint rumbling of hooves, the barking of cattle dogs, and the distinct sound of her husband’s voice. It was early, too early compared to the usual time of his arrival. The sun still hung in the sky, just below the mountains and spilling light into the washroom, remnants of dinner lay on the table waiting for him, lukewarm, and she felt her throat constrict as the sound of his footsteps heavy against the wooden floors of the home. 

The door opens, creaking on its rusty hinges, his blue-eyed gaze falls on her bare figure as Phillip approaches her. Dirty, tall, stern. Removing the black, worn glove off of his hand, it moves down and cups her chin, making her look up at him. Swallowing harshly, she fights the temptation to yank away and look elsewhere, not wanting to invoke the anger she’d seen him possess before. The feeling of his rough and calloused skin against her chin, and the deep gaze of his eyes causes a shiver to run down her spine and a low chuckle to escape his mouth. 

“Do you plan on getting ill, bathing in water this cold?” Phillip asks, removing his other glove before beginning to undo the buttons of his shirt, his overcoat hung up by the door along with his boots. His wife hadn’t even noticed that the water had turned cold around her, or the ache in her chest as she watched her husband slowly undress, folding his clothes and laying them neatly in a pile on the stool next to hers. 

Before she can finally connect the words to ask, he settles into the tub behind her. The warmth of his skin from being out under the Texan sun seeps into her as his hands move to his wife’s shoulder blades. They begin drawing tight circles with his thumbs which causes her to sit up straighter in the bath, stiff with nerves. This wasn’t unfamiliar to her, she knew Phillip’s touch, and with heat pooling to her cheeks, could remember different nights when he’d woken her up and left her sore in the morning. But it was still as strange to her as Phillip was. 

“Relax, doll.” His voice comes out cool, albeit gravely, as Phillip speaks to her. Keeping his hands fixed on her shoulder blades, he brings her back until she’s resting against his broad chest. The rosy blush stays on her cheeks and his nose presses against the crown of her head, breathing in the scent of soap she’d used to cleanse her skin and hair. Staying beneath his grasp, the rising and falling of her chest begins to slow as she realizes his actions are gentle, slow, and considerate of her. Not like before where she had the innate sensation of being a deer that’s being hunted by a coyote. Instead, it reminds her of a book she once read as a young girl, and the pink tint of her cheeks turns into a violent shade of red. 

“Didn’t I say to relax?” Phillip states, once again bringing his hand back to cup her chin so she has to turn her head to look at him. His gaze transfixed on her face, the haze in her eyes and the soft swell of her lips. The way she appeared was so heavenly, that even a holy man would find himself sinning. Pride swelled in Phillip’s chest as he acknowledged the fact that she was his, his wife, his girl. She, on the other hand, felt like the world was spinning around her as she tried to figure out what had happened to her distant husband, Phillip had never done this before. He’d never been so attentive, even when they courted and he had left her feeling dazed and confused. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” She finally gets the courage to ask, feeling stupid as the words left her mouth. There was almost a sense of adoration as his thumb grazed her lips, a desire that was not primal, but loving. 

“Like how a husband should look at his wife?” Phillip’s voice comes out calmly, yet it still sends shivers down her spine. He chuckles again, relishing in the reaction he receives, enjoying the way her face turns flush and how she looks away from him. “What’s wrong, doll? Would you rather me leave?” 

“No.” Yes, no, she didn’t know what she wanted. The feeling of her stomach tightening as his hands dip down to rest on her hips leaves her unsure and startled. Phillip’s rough lips move to her neck, peppering small, light kisses on her cool skin.

“You’re still cold, doll.” His hands run up her side, the calloused palms rubbing against her plush, soft skin, her breathing hitches as she leans back against him. Letting logic and sensibility fall to the side, her hands fall on top of his, nails grazing against the back of his hands. “Let me help with that.” 

The man behind her was still a stranger, but there was a burning desire in the bottom of her stomach to know him. To find the reason for his sudden change, to touch him, bask in the warmth of his skin, and mindlessly confess everything to him. Phillip Graves was like the sun, lighting her up and painting her skies in shades she’d never known.

[agendergorgon]

Worm Crisis Protocol

Marvel Crisis Protocol is a tabletop miniatures wargame where the heroes and villains of the Marvel universe (well, a Marvel Universe, and a fun one at that where MCU inspired pouch fest heroes are stood shoulder to shoulder with leotard clad villains fresh from the 60s) get into manic brawls and gradually disassemble all the pretty dollhouse terrain pieces you spent so long laying out by chucking them at each other, and chucking each other at each other. Worm is a webnovel about a young woman who controls bugs and has too much of an imagination. Her and her friends have some well cool powers, like smoke clouds that sap people's powers, or a mind that unravels a foe's secrets over time. And her foes! Heroes that can conjure forth any weapon, villains that can summon blades from any surface. There's a whole rogues gallery. Or there would be, if Worm's fights weren't quite as cutthroat. What if one was to make a couple custom rules for adapting some of Worm's beloved and beloathed characters to Marvel Crisis Protocol's madcap combat? What if one was to make more than a couple? Whole teams and rosters to let people field everything from the Undersiders; a bank robbing team of teen supervillains who pull together to pull off daring heists and escape certain death or capture at every turn, to the Slaughterhouse 9, America's most feared roving gang of sinister slashers only barely held together by the machinations of their mad leader. And what if it came with little cut outs of character art so you could print tokens/proxies at home? What if indeed! Anyway, me and my husband to be have been working on this for a while but it sort of fell on the way side while other projects came up. BUT! figure if I stick a big ol COMING SOON on this to maybe kick my arse into finishing the Undersiders before I make rules for yet another Slaughterhouse 9 member that I'd only have to make up an alter ego for. Any Worm fans do tell us your own headcanon names for those we don't know and I'll use the best ones in this or a fanfic. Any MCP fans do give Worm a check out for some superpowered shenaniganry in literary form. Any questions or interest do DM me it'll help with motivation. Anyway, here's a sneak peak. Thanks again to @creator-crash for letting us use some phenomenal Worm fan art in this project.

[pjo-tvs-version]

Okay so, I wrote a fanfic for the first time! It's Annabeth's pov of the Mt. St. Helens kiss!

You kiss me and it stops time

The air was hot and my hands were greasy from the sweat and grime of Mt. St. Helens. I sat, invisible obviously, trying to decipher what exactly those dog faced stubby footed and half flippered beings were doing. Telekhines, I was sure was the name of these creatures, were hammering something that looked like a blade. As I paid a little more attention, there was a huge container with a glistening liquid. I wondered what it was just when I heard someone shouting “Annabeth” and the sound of running footsteps.

Seaweed Brain of course it has to be. From the look on his face and the desperation in his voice, I figured out that something most probably had gone terribly wrong. Nothing surprising though, I got used to it after the quest for Zeus’ lightning bolt. It was one of the first few things a demigod learns. On a mission everytime everything goes wrong. A sense of irritation arose in me. Why was Percy being an idiot by just giving away our presence?

In an attempt to shut him up, I clamped his mouth with one hand and tackled him with the other hand behind the huge cauldron. All this time I forgot that I was actually invisible so I deduced that Percy most probably would have been a little shocked when an invisible being just wrestled him. He reached up, trying to find my Yankees cap most probably to find me. That was an extremely dumb thing for him to do- giving away both of us. As he removed my cap, I shimmered into existence no doubt with a scowl adorning on my face. How can this boy be this stupid?

“We're going to have company,” Percy said. He breathlessly summarised his side of the story. The Telekhines were blabbering through their snouts. We peeked over the cauldron. In the centre of the platform stood four sea demons, but these were fully grown, at least eight feet tall. Their black skin glistened in the firelight as they worked, sparks flying as they took turns hammering on a long piece of glowing hot metal.

“The blade is almost complete,” one said. “It needs another cooling in blood to fuse the metals.” “Aye,” a second said. “It shall be even sharper than before.”

“What is it?” Percy whispered. I shook my head. “They keep talking about fusing metals. I wonder—” I was thinking out loud, a distant myth tugging in my memory. “They were talking about the greatest Titan weapon,” Percy said. “And they…they said they made my father’s trident.”

Then it clicked. Of course I remembered exactly what I read about them. “The Telekhines betrayed the gods,” I said. “They were practising dark magic. I don’t know what, exactly, but Zeus banished them to Tartarus.” “With Kronos,” Percy added. A chill suddenly entered into the air amidst the heat of the forge at the name of The Lord of Time. I nodded my head, “We have to get out-.”

No sooner had I even uttered the obvious than the door to the classroom exploded and young Telekhines came pouring out. They stumbled over each other, trying to figure out which way to charge. We were in serious danger now because there were too many for me and Percy to take down. A familiar desperation was creeping in me when Percy shouted “Put your cap back on, Get out.” Just then I realised what he was intending to do - giving me a chance to escape by sacrificing himself. Curse his fatal flaw of loyalty.

“I’ve got a plan. I’ll distract them. You can use the metal spider—maybe it’ll lead you back to Hephaestus. You have to tell him what’s going on.” he tried to reassure me.

A plan? With the fear in his sea green eyes and lines of his forehead I was sure that it was a plain lie. I was not going to have any of this. How could he expect me to just leave him like that? Helplessly, I tried to knock some sense into his head of kelp.

“But you’ll be killed!” “I’ll be fine. Besides, we’ve got no choice.” Percy replied, pushing me. I glared at him, the same glare I used to win any argument against him. Each time I won and he backed down. But as I stared at his face, I was met with a determined pair of eyes daring me. As I miserably understand the odds of the mess we were in, curse my Athena heritage for that. I realise that Percy’s “plan” is the only option possible. Someone has to get to Hephaestus to tell him about the illegal residents of his forge. I registered his face. I stared into his sea green eyes, reflecting the ocean and his jet black tousled hair.

My feelings overwhelm me and I hear Janus’ foreboding words “Choose, Annabeth.” I guess because of literally everything around me and especially the beautiful face in front of me,I did something so impulsive that I couldn't even believe I did it. Before I even knew what I was doing, I grabbed Percy’s shirt and leaned forward. His breath hitched and our lips met. The heat, grime, sweat and even those wretched Telekhines disappeared for a moment. Our eyelids fluttered against each other and my eyes were shut. I pressed against his lips and oh gods was I melting.

I tried to put everything I didn't say to him, everything I ever wanted to say to him in thatone kiss. Please don’t die now because of me, please don’t die because of the Great Prophecy.His lips were salty and I ran my hands through his messy hair.

I pulled away, knowing that I should not be endangering our lives because of my unreciprocated feelings. He didn't do anything and I had a feeling that what I did was something he perhaps wouldn't have appreciated. Why, oh why, does a little part of me imagine that he too leaned in just at the second I pulled away? I was blushing for sure and my cheeks were heating up. I pulled up my invisibility cap to shield myself from the embarrassment.

“Be careful Seaweed Brain” I managed to choke out the words and I ran. But not without looking back to see his face wide open, gaping as in amazement. It lit a little glimmer of hope in me. Maybe, just maybe, he liked me too.

The metal spider was bolting into the tunnels. I sped behind it as I could afford to lose it from my sight. My heart was a bag of jumbled emotions and my brain was overwhelmed by my many thoughts. I continue to sprint, tears running down my cheeks knowing that I sealed Percy’s fate. It was my fault that I took him in this quest knowing the prophecy’s last line. It was my fault that I left him with the Telekhines knowing that they would kill him. However I hug a little tiny string of hope that he will survive now and beyond the age of sixteen too.

Just then I hear a scream. A horrible, reverberant, bloodcurdling scream. Percy’s pain and desperation was very much present and that one terrifying scream caused that little string to tear. Percy would die because of me. He would leave me as everyone has, leave me all on my own. I forced myself to run behind the spider even when my knees threatened to crash to the ground. I couldn't let Percy’s sacrifice go to waste. I continue running into the baleful labyrinth, engulfing me with its darkness.

Hope you enjoyed! It is my first fic so please be gentle. I couldn't have done it without @helpallthenamesaretakenblog assurances and @percabethlvr editing! Positive criticism is very much appreciated. The title is from the song, Say Don't Go by none other than Taylor Swift. Thank you so much!!! ❤❤❤

Also on AO3: You kiss me and it stops time

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

Another Time

Half Life Fanfic from this blog? It's more or less likely than you think, it just takes 1-4 business years.

-

When she was young and the oceans were still full, Alyx Vance dreamed of bright lights and a dark tower that touched the sky.

Her mother didn't know why she woke crying in the middle of the night. Azian fretted and fussed. She pet Alyx's hair and whispered comforts as Alyx's shining eyes locked onto her mother's smiling face and the dancing flash of her silver necklace. Her child's mind full of a grief not yet come to pass and the drowning sensation of loss. The minds that sang to hers silenced for a bit longer. Tears shed for those still alive. The absence of a chorus in a once echoing cathedral. The concrete walls of Black Mesa swallowing voices and silencing the halls of its labyrinth.

Outside their apartment, the New Mexico sun breached the horizon and painted the sky anew. Night's blues and blacks gave way to an ominous red. Workers awoke and the complex buzzed with the rising day shift. The hive fell into motion once more. Scientists and Security, and all the little people who kept the wheels turning, all the ones who got caught in the machinations and ground up in the cogs, awake and alive for the moment.

Somewhere a man in a suit adjusted his tie.

-

When she was young and the oceans were drained and left only with leeches that stripped meat from bone in seconds, Alyx Vance dreamed of two prisons. One full of light, floating in the sky, and the other on the ground, full of loud noises, the ringing of bullets and the shrieks of something she both remembered and had not yet heard.

She was older now, wearing her mother's necklace, as she raced around the halls of Black Mesa East and asking questions as quickly as her mind thought of them. D0g nipped at her heels, small and sleek with his metal paws clacking against the concrete. The passage to Ravenholm was open and she waved at the couriers making runs and delivering news.

Alyx rarely cried nowadays. It was something she prided herself on. Babies cried, or so she'd been told, and she was a big girl now. She found herself frustrated by being one of youngest, being coddled and hovered over, so she threw herself into her studies. Uncle Izzy would give her books and she would give him drawings. She was hungry for knowledge, for understanding, to speak and be listened to, to have some real power to help.

Somewhere in a lab late at night, her father rests his leg and allows him the moment to think of what could have been.

-

When she was young and brave and trusted with making the trips between safehouses, Alyx Vance dreamed of brilliant blinding pain in her body and the suffocating gulf of grief. She awoke to what she thought was the sound of helicopter blades, but silenced greeted her and her tear-stained face. Uncle Kleiner's notes on the Borealis lay on the desk in front of her and a blanket covered her back.

She moved a hand to her torso and did not pull it away with the sticky warm feeling of blood through cloth as she imagined she would.

Somewhen or where, another reality overlapping with hers, a man in a suit stands and picks up a crowbar.

[itslulabee]

Participation (Ch.2)

~

Sharing is Caring

Kili x OC, Fili x OC (Smut!!)

(part one, part three, part four, part five, part six)

Description; This fanfic is posted to my AO3 as well, it's basically just pure filth with my OC Kaia and five members of Thorin's Company, we're continuing on with Fili ;)

MINORS DNI!! smut!! back off if ur a wee one!!

AN; I stand by the headcanon that Fili eats people out like a man STARVING

Translations for any Khuzdul will be at the end! <3

~ <3 ~

“Well, what do we have here?”

Kaia squeaks in surprise at the new voice, and both she and Kili look over to find the source of the voice.

Fili stands a few feet away, leaning against a tree. He looks down at the two, head tilted slightly.

“Are we having a little tussle?”

Kili scoffs, raising himself onto his elbows.

“No.” He says indignantly, raising his eyebrows at his brother. Fili smirks, and Kili sits back to pull up his trousers, blushing slightly.

Kaia raises herself onto her elbows, looking between the two brothers.

Fili looks back to her, eyes travelling down her dishevelled form. Her skirts are still hitched around her hips, displaying her legs. Fili deeply inhales at the sight of them, before looking over at his brother.

“Well done, Kili. Finally told her you care about her?” Fili asks, his voice tight.

Kili looks at her, and gives her a small smile.

“There wasn’t much talking…” Kaia chuckles, holding Kili’s eyes as he blushed even more. “But I got the gist.”

“Ah, young love…” Fili chuckles, “What would Amad say about you defiling your lady before putting a braid in her hair, Kee?”

Kili scoffs, leaning back slightly. “Amad will be happy I at least found someone... my One. How far have you gotten with that?”

At that, Fili smiles too. He gives Kaia a significant look, and her breath hitches. Fili’s eyes travel down her body.

Kaia watches Fili, before looking over at Kili. She was shocked to hear me call her his One, but her heart fluttered at the thought. She'd had a crush on Kee since the first week of their travels, specifically since he gave her a flower with a blush on his face. And they proceeded to fall halfway down a hill. He was truly one of a king, and she knew she was falling for him. 

Fili's next words brought her back to the present.

“As long as you made her cum, I see no problem…” Fili shrugs, crossing his arms across his chest.

Kili and Kaia are silent. Kaia avoids Kili’s eyes, clearing her throat. Fili stands still, looking between the two of them.

“Wait.... you made her cum, didn’t you, Kee?” Fili asks his brother, eyebrows raised.

Kili is silent, playing with a blade of grass next to him. Kaia looks over at Fili, who is staring shocked at his little brother.

“Kili. We were raised better than that!” His disappointment is palpable, and if it wasn’t for the fact that both princes looked completely serious, this conversation would be hilarious.

“Fee, it’s no big deal.” Kaia states, sitting up. She pokes her foot at Kili, who looks at her in confusion and surprise. She shrugs, looking over at Fili.

The golden haired prince gapes at her. “No big deal?!” He says, incredulous. He walks over to the pair, crouching down.

“Lass, I know you’re used to the way of men. But, as we’ve pointed out, our ways are much different.” Fili says, seriously. “Dwarven women are precious to us. More than any gem. Making them happy is one of the most important things to us! This is why dwarrowdams have so many lovers. Satisfaction is a must.”

Kaia stares wide eyed at him, utterly confused. Both he and Kili are looking at her in earnest, expressions grave.

“I’m not a dwarrowdam.”

“If you are a dwarrows love, then you are practically one of us. You have the body of man, but your soul is made of the same stuff as us dwarves.” Fili nods.

“Now. Let us get one thing straight, ‘ibin abnâmul (beautiful gem). If a dwarf cannot satisfy his One, then she is completely within her right to seek satisfaction elsewhere.”

Kaia stares at him, confused once again. Both Fili and Kili are watching her, eyes urging her on.

“What do you mean?” She asks, breaking the silence that had grown.

“Kaia, it would be my honour to be your lover.” Fill says, taking her hand in his own.

Kaia gapes at him, before looking at Kili.

“But-”

“Please, amrâlimê.” Kili pleads, taking her other hand in his own. His eyes and words are sincere. “Let my brother take care of you.”

“You’re… you’re okay with this… your brother, becoming my lover?”

“My heart is yours, ghivashel (treasure of all treasures). After tonight, I would be honoured to put a braid in your hair, if you would put one in mine.” Kaia’s heart warms to this, and beams at Kili. The two share a soft kiss.

Fili watches the two, his own smile gracing his lips. Looking at him, Kaia creases her eyebrows.

“You wouldn’t feel weird… or inferior?” She asks Kili, searching his eyes for any sign of discomfort. But, all she finds is love.

“It is an honour to know your lady is desired, to know she is loved by many. I want you to embrace our ways. I want you to never spend a day unsatisfied.” Kili murmurs, reaching his hand up to cup her face.

He shares a meaningful look with Fili. “It would not be odd for us, as we trust each other completely.”

The brothers share a smile, before pressing their foreheads together, before Kili looks at her and winks.

“Plus, we have always shared everything.” He teased, his hand moving to trace along her bare thigh.

“But.” Fili starts, “If you are uncomfortable, or you do not wish to take a lover, or if you do not wish for me to be one of them, that is completely fine.” He brings her hand up to his mouth, kissing her knuckles. “I care for you as my brothers One, nothing will change that. Please, do not feel pressured, sweet girl.”

Kaia is moved, tears prickling in her eyes. The love she feels from both of these brothers is something she has never dreamt of experiencing. She loves them both, in equal measure but in different ways. And she desires them both... 

“I would be honoured to be yours, Kili.” Kaia says, watching as Kili beams, before turning to Fili, “And I would be honoured to have you as my lover, Fili.”

Said prince smiled brightly at her, a dimple forming underneath his moustache braids. He leans forward and presses his forehead to hers. Kili kisses her hand, and Kaia feels her whole body glowing with happiness at this turn of events.

Pulling back, the older Durin prince looks over Kaia’s body. Kaia feels herself blush, her cunt fluttering at his heated gaze.

“Now that we’ve gotten all of that sappy shit out of the way…” Fill murmurs, looking over at his brother, “Let me show you how to properly pleasure a lass.”

Kaia giggles as Fili leans forward and steals a kiss, trailing his lips over her jaw, down her neck and gently bites her shoulder.

File crawls on top of her, gliding his hands over her shoulders, and across her chest. Kaia moans as his fingers touch her breasts over her corset. Fili chuckles into her shoulder.

“Sensitive, are we?”

“Stop teasing me, you fucker.” Kaia groans. Both brothers chuckle lowly at this, and as Fili moves his head down to her chest, Kaia watches as Kili leans back on his elbows, dragging his hand lazily over his crotch. He winks at her, taking his lower lip between his teeth.

The sight of watching him fondle his growing bulge, and feeling Fili drag his teeth over her clothes nipples make Kaia whimper, clenching her knees together to get some friction to her core.

File grabs at the top of her corset, tearing it open to give him access to her tits. She gasps, arching her back. The prince damn near groaned as he eyed her heaving breasts, taking a nipple between his lips. He sucked hard, making Kaia moan and squirm below him. He flicks the other nipple with his finger, his other hand moving to shuck up her skirt even further up her body.

His skilled finger found her cunt immediately, tracing his fingers across her sensitive slit.

“Fili, fuck!” Kaia groans, bringing her fist up to her mouth to bite down on her knuckles.

“Let me hear you, badgûna (lady of my dreams). Tell me what you need.” File groaned around her breast, moving further down her to press kisses along her stomach.

“File please… I need you… touch me…”

“As you wish, sweet girl.”

Fili plunged two fingers into her, pressing into her until he was knuckle deep. She gasped and moaned low, eyes rolling back at the combined feeling of his fingers on her breast, his lips on her stomach and his digits pumping into her.

File scissored his fingers into her, adding a third as her cunt began to grip him harder. She was a moaning, writhing mess as he dropped his mouth lower. Pushing up her skirt, his golden mane disappeared between her legs.

“FILI!” She screamed, as his lips latched onto her clit and sucked, hard. Stars appeared in front of her, as an earth-shattering orgasm hit her. She went silent, unable to form words as Fili continued to suck, four fingers pumping into her pulsing cunt as she came in waves over his face.

Kaia arched off the ground, hand moving to his hair pulling hard as he overstimulated her poor clit. He sucked and licked at her like she was the elixir of life, tasting her and urging her to give him more, he himself groaning as she tugged on his scalp.

Kaia opened her eyes to look at the stars above, vision blurry as her body built up to another orgasm, painfully on the precipice.

She moved her eyes from the sky, travelling across the landscape until they fell on Kili.

He was on his knees a few feet away, slightly hunched over as he fisted his cock. He was red-faced, mouth open wide as he pumped himself hard, his cock red between his white knuckled grip. He watched her writhing body, before turning his eyes to hers.

Immediately, he let out a loud groan, staring her in the eyes as his body shuddered, his cock releasing ropes of cum onto his hand and stomach.

He slumped over, still fisting his cock as he shook.

The sight alone made her cum again. She bit her lip to stop herself screaming out again, arching her back until she could see the world around her turn upside down. Her body erupted, her muscles spasming as she fell into complete bliss.

File gently played with her whilst she came down from her high. Waves of pleasure cascaded through her body like flashes of starlight.

She loosened her grip on his hair, running her fingers through it to bring her back to reality.

“How do you feel, ghivashel?” Fili asks, resting a hand on her cheek. Kaia lifts her own hand up, resting it atop his own. She is sweating and exhausted, but her heart is filled.

Yet, she still was not completely satisfied.

Looking over Fili’s dishevelled person, she noted his half-lidded eyes and rosy cheeks. His mouth is covered in her release, his moustache braids damp. His clothes are askew, his coat pushed slightly down his arms and his shirt slightly unbuttoned, revealing thick golden hair across his pecs. Travelling her eyes further, she bit her lip taking in the bulge between his legs.

“You’re so good with your mouth, madtubirzu…(golden heart)” Fili’s eyes and smile widened at the pet name, unaware that she had taken time to learn some Khuzdul during their journey.

Kaia smirked mischieously, reaching down to grab at Fili’s erection. “…but how are you with this?”

Fili grins devilishly, leaning down to press his lips to hers. His kiss was slower than his brothers, expertly dancing his lips over her own. She continued to grope him through his trousers, and he ran his hands through her hair in response, as he growled low in this throat.

He rises up to his elbows, looking over his shoulder at his brother.

“Are you watching, Kee?” He calls.

Kaia looks over towards Kili, who is now sat reclined against the soil, trousers done up again as he watched his brother and his lover.

“I thought you were going to show me how to pleasure her, Fee, not how to tease her and act like an ass…” Kili chuckled, winking at Kaia. She bit her lip at the brotherly teasing, enjoying their dynamic.

“Big words from a dwarrow who came the second he got his end away!” Fili sniggers, throwing Kaia a wink. Kili goes to say something else.

“Too much talking , not enough shagging!” Kaia groans, glaring good-naturedly at her boys.

Fili looks down at her, mouth open in faux-shock. “Wow Kaia, you’ve got quite a mouth on you.”

“And she knows how to use it…” Kili drawls, biting his lip.

“Alright, alright. She’s right, too much talking.” Fili leans down slightly to grab her by the backs of her thighs. She squeals as he lifts her legs, bending them and pressing her knees to his chest.

On impulse, she tries to shut her knees together, but Fili slides himself between them, trapping himself against her. He grinds his hard, clothed length against her, rubbing against her clit. Kaia gasps, staring up at him with blown out pupils.

Fili smirks at her reaction, nuzzling his nose to hers in a nose kiss. They share a smile, before Fili sits back on his knees, undoing the ties of his trousers.

“You might want to hold onto something, lass…” He groans, pulling out his cock and stroking it at the sight of her splayed out for him.

His dick is beautiful. Slightly shorter than Kili’s but thicker and curved slightly. Fili grabs her hips, pulling her up slightly as he looms over her.

“…I’m not going to go easy on you.” With that, he thrusts into her fully.

Kaia screams, throwing her head back as he fills her instantly.

He starts fucking her hard and fast, hooking her knees around his arms to open herself fully up to him. He sets a pace which is harsh, pulling her up and down his length in tandem with his own thrusts.

Above her, Fili groans and pants, staring down at her as sweat beads onto his forehead. Kaia stares up at him, mouth hanging open as she takes everything he gives her.

His hips hit her own at an angle, bumping against her sensitive clit every time he thrusts into her. Kaia can feel her head spinning and the coil inside her tightening with every punishing thrust.

Fili lets go of her knees, in favour of grabbing her ankles, lifting and stretching them up to place them against his shoulders. He leans down, foldering her in half under him, hitting her at a deeper angle.

Kaia’s vision goes blurry, digging her fingers into his tunic and becoming a writhing mess beneath this beautiful dwarf.

The new position has Fili hitting a specific spot inside her over and over again, bringing her closer and closer to yet another earth shattering end. Fili holds his forehead against hers, his hot breath fanning her face and their own sweat mingling.

Movement catches Kaia’s attention to her left, and she turns her face to watch as Kili lies down next to the humping pair. He watches her face, biting his lip as she smiles at him with a blissed expression.

“My beautiful girl…” Kili murmurs.

Fili continues thrusting into Kaia, pressing his sweaty forehead into her shoulder as his thrusts became more erratic.

“Kee, play with her clit.” Fili groans, his own hands too busy with playing with her tits and grabbing her hair in a vice like grip.

Kili doesn’t need to be told twice, he reaches between them and starts rubbing her clit in figures of eight, nuzzling into the other side of her neck. One of Kaia’s hands detangles from Fili’s tunic to grasp onto Kili’s unoccupied hand, and she feels him kiss her neck.

The coil inside her tightens almost painfully, and she can feel herself on the precipice once again

“I’m- I’m going to-”

“Cum, ‘ibin abnâmu. I want to feel you cum on my cock.” Fili moans, fucking her with abandon.

“Cum for us, Amrâlimê!” Kili pants, sucking on her pulse point and rubbing his hand against her clit.

Kaia does just that. Throwing her head back and letting out a silent scream, she loses herself in her third orgasm of this amazing night.

Kili kisses up her neck, kissing her cheek, her temple, her forehead and then her nose. She looks back down at him, and he gives her a dazzling smile.

Fili lets out a groan from on top of her, and she feels how his cock pulses inside of her as he finishes, filling her up.

She drags her hand through his hair, forcing his head back to look into her eyes.

Blue eyes meet her own, equally blissed out, ones. He gives her a smile, kissing her gently before pulling out of her, causing them to both sigh.

Both brothers collapse on either side of her, taking each of her hands in their own.

Kaia feels Fili’s seed slipping out of her, covering the ground beneath her. She lets out a contented sigh, excited to have a wash soon…

-

We're all whores here :) thanks for reading, chapter three will be up soon!! First four chapters are posted on my AO3, if you can't wait!

Translations ~

Badgûna – dream girl ‘ibin abnâmul – beautiful gem Amrâlimê – love of mine