#people cannot anticipate your needs with their minds. they are sometimes going to ask you to be a part of things you don't wanna

[knaveofmogadore]

Kfkdks

[buwheal]

[You've Got Mail!]

You can now send your favorite salesman emails!! YAY!!

Here's some rules and information about the askbox.

First and foremost;

I will not answer every single ask. Sometimes I just cant do anything with it that will work realistically with the perimeters of the world, and I apologize!! Its nothing against you guys!!

(Unless you break the rules ofc.)

So if you dont see yours after a long while, it’s probably something that wont work, sorry! You can always send it again for a second try or send more than one ask whenever and see if that one works instead!

Besides that, here’s the rest of what you need to know!

[RULES] :

Spamton can only talk through the computer, so dont send asks that have a physical interaction!! Sorry! Thats just how i decided to set up the world/situation, and is not really anything against you guys :-)

(more of a request than a rule tbh) Preferably try to send real questions or statements. most "joke" asks are funny, but are surprisingly hard to create an in character response for. You can still send joke asks if you really want to, just dont always expect an answer X-P (i.e. asks that contain nonsense,, you can still be funny and make regular jokes, and i should probably specify that, but things that are like "you look like a worm" or smth i have no clue what to do with lol)

I know he may be a personification of spam emails... BUT DONT SPAM!!! It clogs the askbox and is a real pain!! You can send him more than one ask, though, as long as you arent repetitively sending a ton in a short burst!! Send as many as you'd like as long as they dont qualify as spam.

Dont be overly sexual or romantic, please! Even "As a joke". I dont like Spamton like that and it makes me uncomfortable, and I can't really answer that in character in a way that wouldnt provoke more of that. (You can be a flirt, but not much more than that.) Thank you!!

Be respectful and patient!! I am just one person doing everything, and this got far more popular than anticipated, so i will take a long time. I try my best to get at least one out every other day but i'll need breaks eventually!!!

I cannot give/spawn/materialize things for/to Spamton if you ask because of the way it’s set up. You are really just lines of text from a computer to Spamton, BUT... You can still do a lot if you think outside the box. or,, errr,, outside the computer. More like IN the computer. Kind of. Your words and your actions affect him and his reactions to you, so word it correctly and you can get him to do something or say something. Hes not stupid though, and he CAN usually tell when your intentions are... less.. than good.

Try not to do RP as other characters please.(Thats my job…!) I literally have no idea what to do with them and i feel bad leaving them in there :frown:

[INFORMATION] :

(Optional read :-P )

[YGM!] is technically an AU!!! not only do the events of the game not occur, but this is also set before then!

Asks are put out one a day, regardless if i have more than one, UNLESS i need to connect two(or more) to complete one event. Or i feel like it. a little treat.

I am one person doing every ask and every unique frame of art, so expect 1 ask (If youre lucky, two) maybe every other day Monday-Friday depending on my workload per day.

This is just for fun!! I am using the askbox to exercise my drawing consistency, Spamton's personality, and the way he speaks and responds to different situations! This is a way I am using to improve my understanding of him as a character, so it wont be always consistent as I am growing and learning!

Just a little disclaimer, he WILL be mean. He is a sour, nasty, grumpy, bastard and I am absolutely not opposed to him responding as such. Just keep that in mind when sending an ask if you dont want that!

If you want a common outcome, talk to other people about it! go crazy! I dont mind long threads on my posts if you want to create a plan. Infact, I can even help and tell you things occasionally!!

What you say to him DOES and WILL affect the way he responds. It is possible to regain his trust, but still a little hard. He is not a trusting person to begin with and being mean certainly doesnt help. BUT.. I am not opposed to being mean. Infact, they are quite fun to do. Either way is entertaining for me, so do as you will. YOU can choose to hurt or help him, because it’s basically always reversible in a way.

Using tone tags, while not required, are really helpful and assist me in understanding the intention in your ask if you think it may be interpreted another way! (i.e. sarcasm) :-)!!

I pick and choose asks depending on his situation, or if i have a good idea for a response, so you may need to wait a bit before i can get to yours!! Ones that i have an idea for take priority, especially when its to progress a scene. Or, alternatively, i am saving your ask for something i have planned.

I WILL reuse frames and poses to get these out faster and for my convienence :-) especially for the frames where there is no need to change his pose! So like.. dont think too hard about it lol.

Also, i prefer if you specify if the ask is for me /or/ Spamton. I do still do normal asks!! If its for me, just let me know!! I can usually tell, but most asks will be interpreted as for Spamton. I appreciate ones that start with his name before said thing is asked/stated specifically!! (i.e. "Spamton, __ __ __")

I wont be consistent with the way its answered. Sometimes it's one panel, sometimes its a couple panels, or sometimes they're animated gifs!! It varies depending on what i feel, so if youre lucky you can get a gif, lol. Those take longer usually though. Ive mostly switched to a gif format rather than multiple panels in a comic style, because its much easier to view! The animation quality can vary :-)

Thats about it!! Have fun!! ^_^

[bitter-bats-cult-of-the-moon]

Demon or Deity? Deciphering Spirits

How to Confirm That You’re Talking to a God or Goddess

You can thank St. Augustine of Hippo for this. In the early 5th century, he wrote a theological essay against Paganism titled, “On the Divination of Demons.”

St. Augustine’s mother was Christian, and his father was Pagan. He understood both sides. He wrote many philosophical arguments for Christianity, his largest being The City of God.

In "On the Divination of Demons," Augustine fought back against an Oracle predicting the invasion of Serapis's temple. He argued that demons spoke to this Oracle. He argued that All Pagan Gods are Demons in disguise. He ridiculed fortune tellers and future predictions comparing them to the circus.

Do the arguments hold some sort of validity?

While Spirits can impersonate Deities this guy can now be pushed away from the conversation.

I’ll ask that question again.

Can Spirits Impersonate Deities?

The short answer is Yes.

The long answer depends on your experience level and knowledge.

If you are not used to the deity’s signs and how they communicate or you do not know which red flags to look out for, you are prone to deceit.

Red Flags

Messages drastically change.

For example, recently you received a sign from the Goddess Hekate. She wants to work with you.

The next week, another message tells you that She does not like you. Deities rarely change their mind without good reason. Double-check the divination.

People do everything for you.  

Deities do not need to go through others to speak to you. Even if you cannot hear Them directly, deities can contact you in different ways. If someone else does a reading that sounds completely different, question it. Especially if it’s random and not requested. Do not use other people to translate things for you all the time. Spiritual journeys are personal. They are meant for you, and a lot of people get hurt this way. Other individuals love taking advantage of people using them for their own motives. Just be careful out there.

Overly negative or apocalyptic.

I've heard an unfortunate amount of people claim that the world was going to end after contacting their spirits. Why would they let go of any worshippers telling them that? Why would they give someone a sense that they are the chosen one? Question that. No one is special. We are all here for the human experience. Try dealing with that first even if you don’t want to.

The entity is trying to force you into things.

You do not need to answer spirits. A deity could ask you to worship Them. You can also say no. With years of experience, I have never heard of a deity punishing someone for not working with Them. If a message sounds like a threat, then question everything, and it’s probably best to ignore it.

How to Guarantee That You’re Speaking to a Deity

Ask the same question several times.

Use your preferred divination technique writing down all the answers to your questions. After one day has passed, repeat the same method rephrasing the questions asking the spirit again. Sometimes there are inconsistencies. Question what feels right and what does not.

Thoughts belong to whom?

Are the thoughts yours or are the thoughts external from you? Sometimes strong emotions are mistaken for spiritual signs. It’s easy to get caught up in your own head and let it take over hijacking the metaphysical exercise. Always question this. Did you anticipate a specific answer? This can also lead to derailment. It doesn’t hurt to ask again to gain confirmation. Before contacting your deity, stabilize your emotional state.

Gathering valuable resources.

Contrary to what I just said you can seek outside opinions for valuable resources. Become familiar with the deity’s information beforehand and ask about other peoples’ experiences. Just don’t let people take over the work or tell you how to think. Try to do the work yourself. Research is key.

Different techniques for you.

Try a different form of divination to see if the answers are around the same or greatly vary. This won’t hurt and it will help you learn more. Trust your instincts in spirit work. It’s okay to question things.

Protection orders.

If there is constant anxiety and worry, then do yourself the favor and put-up protection wards before spiritual communications begin. It will give you some peace of mind and it doesn’t hurt anything at all.

[decadence-divination]

The Intro To The Intro to Spirit Work

I have some anecdotes and some advice. When I was a kid, I could not figure out for the life of me why this kept happening. If I was, for example, wrestling with a really stuck jar lid. I could be fighting with it, and fighting with it, trying all the tricks, cold water, tapping it on the counter -- anything. And then the moment I hit defeat, still arguing with the jar in my hands, I would waddle over to my mom and as it was in the process of coming out of my mouth; "Can you open this ja-"

The seal would break. Holding the jar in one hand and the lid in the other, my mom would just stare at me. And that was it and I'd be like oh okay sick, thanks, the universe? This was a regular occurrence for me. It came to the point where I started asking for help out loud even if no one was home to hear me, and usually it was well received.

This is how I have been working with spirits since I was like 10 years old. I genuinely believe it's this easy, and while proclivity naturally varies person to person, I do think this is something most people experience and just don't even realize. When spirit workers complain about how vague and subtle the spirit world can be, this is what we mean. Its like if you asked someone to interact with light. Light rays are just here! Sometimes you get a a glorious view of rays beaming through a part in the clouds on a gloomy day, but for the most part it's just here doing its thing not even taking mind in what I am doing.

Working with spirits is like asking a fish about water. Water is an integral facet of being a fish. A fish struggles to identify water because its all he knows! A fish knows nothing of land as he cannot survive there. Interacting with spirits is similar to feeling your emotions while also being aware of them. They're here all the time and most people do not even realize that it's spirits they are interacting with. This is the bright side, but this is also the bad news at the same time lol. It means that without a doubt, if you're considering working with spirits, its because a spirit asked you to and something in the spirit world wants your attention. Congratulations, you are already working with spirits.

The practice, now, becomes noticing and translating what spirits have to say to you. This is where most people take a wrong turn. This is not something you can force. Think of it as a bird friend. If you move too quickly or too abruptly, you'll scare her. If your emotional world is too tumultuous and you struggle to keep it still and gentle, it will interrupt your connection. Mindfulness, self-awareness, and meditation are the bread and butter of spirit work. If you are self-aware, you can discern, "is this message coming from inside the house? Is my empathy activating? Or is this something outside myself making itself known?" The better you understand your own inner workings, the easier it is to filter out that noise.

Sometimes its helpful to imagine a spirit as a virus in your prediction. Its probably not going to be malicious like a virus but bear with me. Due to previous experience, I had no expectation that an 8 year old would be able to open this jar, but when I reached out with my voice for assistance, it didn't even need to reach another alive person before that call was received. My entire childhood, every time this happened I would freeze in shock and awe. It was weird. According to what I know of physics, it seems unlikely that this would be the course of events. But something different happened that I was not able to anticipate.

I was on vacation with a friend and we were visiting a historical Civil War cemetery in Virginia. As is customary, I brought them to greet what I understood to be the eldest grave, one of a young Black girl born a slave during the very early 1800s. The grave marker was unique, as in it seemed haphazard and makeshift. As we were taking it in, my friend pulled out their phone to take a picture. Immediately something in me turned sour, and they couldn't see me how we were standing, but I kind of grimaced. I wasn't intending on stopping them, I was content with observing. Then I watched them start to put their phone down.

The feeling I had gotten, I can only describe as, seen. The thought came into my head that, "Wait a minute, did they hear me? Does she get it?" My grimace fell and I was left almost puzzled instead. I did not feel personally attached to this thought. It did not feel like it came from inside the house. It carried the same tone as if I was standing in line eavesdropping on the people around me. Their phone came back up and she took the picture and we left.

I am completely convinced that, while unconfirmed because I didn't have any tools with me, we heard to a spirit for sure, possibly the spirit of that little girl. I genuinely felt like I had overheard two people having a conversation.

"Can I take a picture?" "No! This is my home! Be respectful!" "Oh, okay sorry." "Wait you can hear me? Well I didn't know you were cool. Maybe in that case, its okay."

I spoke to my friend about this and they said when they took their phone out, they had felt something along the lines of, "Well maybe I don't have to take a photo of everything we come across," and that's when they lowered their camera. But then they said something changed. I felt a spirit changed their mind and gave them permission. This stands out to me because we both experienced it. We both felt that energy shift. I was not upset at my friend for taking a million pictures, even if I don't relate, so I don't feel this emotion was mine. I didn't feel my friend change their mind mid-thought because, well to be honest they don't do that lol. They are not exactly the mindful type, and they don't really love having original thoughts or using their intuition.

TLDR; This is the part that I am trying to drive home. When you're first beginning, its hard to notice spirits. And then there's the phase where everything feels like it could be a spirit or a sign. Which is entirely possible! But also not every spirit is trying to get your attention or has something to say to you just like not everybody at the grocery store is immediately your best friend. Sometimes you'll bump into a spirit just long enough for you both to diverge paths without even noticing. When you don't yet know what to look for, spirits sometimes can manifest similarly to your own emotions (I'm convinced that's because this is how we interact with our own spirits on the daily, but that's another post). A feeling. The difference to look out for is it's source. If you're feeling angry and upset or sad and hopeless seemingly out of nowhere with little to no prompting, consider if its a spirit. If you suddenly feel warm compassion lying motionlessly on your bed, consider if it's an ancestor's spirit touching you. If you violently get the urge to acquire a ukulele when you've never played an instrument before in your life, maybe that's Apollo reaching out to you. If the source is murky, dig deeper.

My other take away for you is to ask. Literally ask your question out loud. "Are there any spirits here? Who are you? What's your name? Do you have a message for me? Is this tarot card even or odd? Can I take a picture? Will you help me open this jar?"

[kottkrig]

To Embrace The Shadow: Absolution (End)

Lucretia is faced with her own mistakes and what the consequences might be if she forgets why they call her the Shadow Mother.

World of Warcraft | Original Characters

Found Family

“Can you come home now?”

Zala looked up from Lucretia’s arms with misty eyes. The elf often asked to be held without any fear of her mentor's sobering presence.

“Yes, of course. I will not abandon my people, and I owe you three a lot for securing my recovery ahead of time…” Lucretia faced her anticipating audience. The men were reaching out as if she might slip away again, but they were too modest to ignore decorum as quickly as their Sister.

“First of all, you deserve an apology.”

Letting Zala go, she floated back as much as she could in their modest space. She took off her miter, which was constructed from nothing but pure energy, as was the rest of her; the Shadow Mother was the wraith of a mortality left behind. The vessel she mantled was the one her people knew best, and she let it appear largely as cadaverous as she was before her ascension. She refused to be ashamed of her undeath, which she never chose for herself. Failing her kin, however, was a result of her choices.

The trio watched as she apologized for her arrogance, for taking their loyalty for granted. She was sorry for seeing herself as above consulting them about her plans, and just expecting them to comply. Her overconfidence put them all in danger and left them to clean up her mess.

The prestige tied to her name was earned, but she was not invincible, and she was the most responsible for reminding them that neither were they.

“My greatest joy would be for you to one day walk your own ways, but I cannot let you go with the presumption that any of us are untouchable. It would violate our third and most difficult tenet, and in turn, undo the others. All three must work together.”

They stared at her in stunned silence. It certainly confirmed her arrogance.

“But I have shackled your growth, and you have every right to be disappointed with me.”

Zala was quick to accept her apology. Lucretia had a hunch that she was just exhilarated with their reunion, as their bond sometimes leaned on the familial side over simply teacher and student. It wasn’t Lucretia’s intention for Zala to become so attached that it might hurt her autonomy, and they would have to work on that. Lafayette was similar, albeit more guarded with his opinion. It was likely that he followed Zala’s initiative, as he often did choose to go with the flow and submit to a more assurant personality. Only when the following silence got too tense for him did he seem to add his own input.

“You couldn’t predict that this would happen. But maybe… maybe we should have talked more beforehand. We could have helped you prepare better.”

Lucretia agreed with him and was pleased to hear him speak his mind. She then faced Cletus and found him avoiding her gaze. She had supervised him the longest, with promises of prestige dangling in front of him–which she knew he would eventually achieve–but she had held him back for years. Perhaps she feared for his safety, or perhaps she savored having such loyal acolytes at her beck and call, but loyalty was unwise without mutual trust. It might have dawned upon him and made him hesitant. She could not blame him.

They didn’t need to forgive her, and she was hoping that they would take their time with their final decision. Receiving her humility was what they deserved. As for herself, she could handle any heat coming her way from the cult. Uppity Dark Clerics who thought she got her comeuppance were insignificant when she had the honor of seeing her students flourish together.

Things eventually started returning to relative normalcy, but Lucretia had to rethink her approach as a teacher. She decided to bring the trio aside, one at a time, and offer to loosen her grip on them. If they were to grow further, they needed to be challenged, and she could use her privileged position to advance theirs.

Lafayette’s anxiety held him back from progressing any faster than at a sloth’s pace, and Lucretia knew that she contributed to his sheltering. The living and the dead could walk all over him, and he would take it in silence instead of standing his ground. His success in reclaiming control of his sight tasted of the respect that he longed for. It was going to be a lifelong journey to challenge his fears, and he would be facing setbacks, but such were the trials they all faced as early as learning their first tenet. He often settled among the cult’s archives, where anyone who needed something had to consult an archivist. If he was taught on how to manage their texts, others were wise to respect someone who held onto occult knowledge.

Zala rambled on about a dozen things on her wishlist, but it wasn’t quite material things that Lucretia had in mind. They could revisit that matter at another time, so the two concluded that her role in preserving their grounds should broaden beyond menial labor and patrols in Deathknell. She had proven that she could plan for and journey into the unknown, and then return safely on her own. An elven ranger was exceptional for sweeping across the wilds with her silvan knowledge, and even someplace as haunted as Lordaeron needed care to maintain balance. It was her home, and she should be free to explore and nurture it. Lucretia urged her to be vigilant as the eyes of the Forgotten Shadow, and Zala eagerly swore to honor the trust put in her.

Cletus’s relationship with her had become tense. He fought harder than he should have for their sake, and was facing burnout as his only reward if he was just going back to being her eternal promising student. For one who had come so far, she still hadn’t ordained him. They both knew that his weak point was vainglory, and while power was what they all sought, every cultist had to constantly measure their capacity for it. Even the most successful of Dark Clerics weren't above remembering the tenets, or they risked falling like she had done. Cletus could charm his way forward all he wanted, but it meant nothing if he wouldn’t practice what he had been preaching in this time. Whenever he felt certain about it, Lucretia promised to be there to avow his commitment, and bow back at him as an equal.

She was self-aware enough to recognize her worries about letting go of control, knowing what it might cost a Shadow priest to be careless. She was proof herself of what rigid discipline could accomplish, but her students would never be able to breathe if they couldn’t reach above the surface. All four of them were left with scars reminding them of their trials, that they saw it through, and that there would be more trials to come. They would continue to face failure, prejudice, hatred and devastating loss, and she couldn’t always be there to protect them. What she could do was teach them how to protect themselves, and each other, until they were ready to walk their own ways. Their paths were not for her to decide for them, when such was not the will of the Forsaken.

It was challenging to adapt and persist through difficult times, and there may be endless time for any Forsaken to lead. But they were a stubborn people, and when those who reviled them as abominations kicked them down, they crawled back up and spat in the faces of their oppressors. The Cult of Forgotten Shadows sought to enhance what it meant to be Forsaken, and when to be Forsaken meant spiteful survival, they embraced the shadow that had been cast over them.

[peachyproserpina]

Okay 😅 here goes!

I’m an introverted Pisces. Definitely that daydreamer aspect applies here. Very empathetic. But socially shy and I don’t always know how to respond so I end up saying nothing so I don’t offend (which sometimes offends in its own way).

I dress pretty casually. Band tees and jeans, comfy dress pants for work. (I work in an office against my will!) doc martens if I’m going out 😅 I suppose I could be made to dress up but it would be something black probably. I always wish I would dress more nicely (like light corporate goth) but I just don’t.

I like going to see movies, mostly horror or thrillers/drama. Love Sicario, No Country for Old Men, Se7en, Aliens. I love playing video games too. Like The Last of Us, Final Fantasy, God of War. I like to read (almost exclusively thrillers/mystery) and one of my favorite books is The Exorcist. I like to write about unattainable men 😂 I like going to metalcore shows and people watching from the bar (my elderly body can’t handle being up front anymore as much as I love it). Spiritbox, Make Them Suffer, Invent Animate, to name a few bands I’ve seen semi-recently that I love.

And lastly, I will give you a funny memory. One time at summer camp, me and my friend took a canoe out onto the lake. We weren’t supposed to, I’m not sure what we were supposed to be doing but it was just us out there. Someone realized we were there and yelled at us to come back, but we hadn’t brought paddles. (Think elementary school aged girls 😭) my friend decided she would get out and swim back. I leaned over the side to join her and as soon as she let go of the side of the canoe it rammed me hard in the chest and I couldn’t breathe for the longest time. And that was the first and only time I’ve ever had the wind knocked out of me. My friend thought I was dying. lol

Okay this has been long enough (I’m sorry) ❤️

It’s not that I have been putting off this match for nearly a goddamn week but I seriously CANNOT narrow it down. I am so lost with choices when it comes to you! 

There's the obvious, Emperor Geta- the two of you are so inseparable in my mind and it’s ridiculous to even think he’d accept anyone other than you for an empress, for a wife, for a partner. Geta envies your ability to stay quiet, between Caracalla being Caracalla and the responsibility placed upon his shoulders to command a room- he wishes he could be quiet, listen and digest. Fiercely loyal to you it’s almost nauseating. The devotion he pours upon you makes newcomers to the senate question his past, the rumors of harems and lovers. No, it’s only you, it’s only ever been you for Geta. Meticulous in the way he ensures that your every need and whim are taken care of, how he works so hard to make you proud, how he would let Rome burn to the ground as long as it made you happy. That intensity he has focused on you can be alot to take, but then he is pressing a soft kiss to your cheek or a whisper of lips when you both find yourselves alone for a moment. It often leads to more…… amorous activities and the denizens of Palatine Hill know very well to not interrupt or interfere. 

Or there's the one you’ve probably been anticipating from me. Beefcake Tommy Gallagher-

Look, I know he’s got that babyface and he's maybe a lil bit of a baby himself. BUT BUT BUT hear me out. He is just so enamored with you. He’s always so polite, holding open every door for ya, getting the car, making sure you’re walking on the inside of the sidewalk, the whole 9-yards and then some. He is always asking to call, just wanting to check in everyday, it’s a flushed and mumbled confession that he loves the sound of your voice and prefers the calls. He’s just so sweet on you and never ever pushes anything too far. But this boy is relentless flowers to your job and cute little coffees dropped off whenever he can. Asks you out to lunch at least once a week if you let him and just wants to treat you so right. 

Tommy is honestly obsessed with the band tees and jeans and also maybe the way you fill out the comfy work pants. I think he’d enjoy a good horror movie, from the classics to whatever reboot the scream series is on he's down to watch. He grew up getting t-bagged by sammy boy playing halo so that really like formed his gaming habits. safe to say he stays away from anything online. He wasn’t really into metal until he started hounding you and he is always more then happy to wait in line and buy merch, or fight the crowd if there's a chance you wanna barricade. 

He’s younger, got that golden retriever energy in a 6 foot brick wall of a guy form. He can hold his own, you won’t have to worry about picking up after him or even slightly mothering him at all. He grew up under Mrs.Gallagher and working with Sam? He’s really fuckin put together. Tommys just mad about you. 

And sorry - Mystery Blorbo special Third round. 100% out of the blue but I also think Gladio Amicitia from FFXV would be a PERFECT match for you.

[blackjackkent]

Stopped by Dammon's forge to get Karlach's next upgrade!

As with their first encounter back at the refugee camp in Act 1, I think Karlach's the one really driving this and Rakha just tags along and hands over the infernal iron when asked. She is invested in Karlach getting her repairs - even Rakha is not immune to Karlach's overwheming friendliness, and Karlach has been one of those with the most influence on Rakha's own developing outlook. But she doesn't have any idea how the repair might work and is basically just following directions for whatever Karlach feels is best (and is also really preoccupied by her own shit today).

So she mostly just listens quietly as Dammon delivers his news.

"I only need one more piece of infernal iron to craft an insulating chamber that could make it possible for Karlach to--"

"--touch people?!"

"Exactly."

Rakha watches silently as Dammon takes the piece of iron they found, works it slowly and methodically into the shape he needs. She watches as Karlach pulls open her armor to slot the piece into place against the mechanism under her ribs. She watches Karlach's expression morph from hope to eager anticipation.

"There. So did it... work?"

"Only one way to find out," Dammon says with a smile.

Rakha and Karlach have discussed before how Karlach longs for a hug. Rakha cannot recall ever having given anyone a hug, and this doesn't feel like the moment she wants to start (certainly not with the mood she's in). But Karlach looks at her expectantly...

She remembers Wyll touching her sometimes on the arm or shoulder in moments of strain, and the comfort it has brought her. And mimicking that, she reaches out and lays a hand on Karlach's shoulder, feeling the muted heat pulse up through armor and glove into her palm.

Karlach relaxes visibly, sagging a little into the touch. "You feel so nice..." she murmurs.

It's not a compliment Rakha has ever been paid before. But it stands as a nice contrast to the absolutely terrible night she's had, saturated with brutal thoughts.

-----

Dammon goes on to explain that it is not all good news - Karlach will not be able to live indefinitely if she remains in the material plane. Insulation or not, the engine will eventually kill her.

Karlach's response to this news fascinates Rakha. "I never wanted to live forever," she says fiercely. "I just want to live good."

At first, after the nautiloid, Rakha's focus was entirely on survival. Now, with Sceleritas's instruction hanging coldly in the back of her mind, she is coming to grips with desires beyond that - desire to fight back, to not cede control to the beast. To choose.

To live good. She isn't sure she can say it with the open-hearted optimism that Karlach can. She isn't even sure she has a right to. And she still wants with fierce animal instinct to continue to survive and to destroy the things that hurt her and her companions.

But she files this away alongside all the other statements that have formed the pillars of her few months of consciousness thus far.

-----

"Listen," Karlach says later, "I'm never going back. If you said I could die right now or live a thousand years in the Hells, I'd choose to go out now with my freedom intact. I don't expect anyone to understand that - but I've been dealt a hand most people don't have to contemplate playing."

"I respect your decision," Rakha answers. She hears her own thoughts reflected in Karlach's words - that developing need to choose and stand against outside forces.

Karlach smiles. "Thanks, soldier. Your support means I've got one less thing to worry about. That means a lot to me. You really are the best of the best - of the best."

Rakha doesn't answer. She wonders whether Karlach would say that if she could see inside Rakha's skull where the beast urge sits, where the images lurk of all the death and destruction it wants - of Isobel bleeding from eyes and mouth, of Last Light's Harpers chewed to pieces by darkness, of Karlach's own body bursting apart in a shower of ash.

[spanner-in-the-cards]

Hello there :) I'm flora 🌺 I would like to ask you what do you see if I start my own business as a nutritionist? Like I wanna know how it goes after I start my own business you know i appreciate your effort and time and thank you! 🫶🏼🌴🌸

good day flora! really brave of you to want to get out there and pursue your goal of starting up a nutritionist business, i'm just gonna say this now. get out there and slay!!

(Future reading standard disclaimer: the cards that end up being drawn are random, and I cannot guarantee I'll get cards that'll show a completely accurate picture of your future, I can only read them cards and try my best. In any case, if the cards simply do not fall in a way that vibes with you - get out there and make the future you want to see. I love you. <3)

Reading below the cut:

usually i'd just draw them cards and dive right in, but this question looks like it's gonna need some more structure in the answer to help ya better.

spread:

challenge (one of the main challenges you'll probably face along the way)

advice (in general - not specific to the challenge stated earlier)

future experience (well, at least one aspect of it anyways)

challenge — 10 of wands (reversed): this card represents giving oneself too many responsibilities and/or tasks to handle, and the need to let go of those responsibilities and let other people handle tasks. this could suggest that a future challenge of yours in your business might be learning how to not put so much stuff on your plate, to the point of being burned out - you might constantly feel you're not doing enough, or you might simply not have the people around ya that you can delegate responsibilities to, and that's how you overburden yourself with handling your business, is what the card's sayin'.

advice — ace of swords (reversed): oh interesting! this card's about lack of clarity and dishonesty, which does often lead to miscommunication. card's a reminder that such failures of communication are quite common, especially when starting up your own business, and the best thing you really can do about all that is having understanding and patience - talk things through with people, clarify doubts (both your own and others), and remember to be transparent in your own intentions - this is how you attract similarly like-minded, honest business partners, and how you gain customers' trust and loyalty.

future experience — wheel of fortune (reversed): this card's about misfortune, setbacks and delays - pretty normal when starting up your own business actually, from what i've heard. card's suggesting that you're gonna go through the works when you start up your business as a nutritionist, and the whole process might be a lot tougher than you're anticipating. might even feel like your business is getting out of control, sometimes. sounds fucking daunting, but word of advice? do it scared. take it easy, but take it anyway, because the setbacks won't last forever - as long as you get up off the ground and try again, as long as necessary, until you come out the other side. take heart, let failure be your mentor, and keep going!! your dream is worth it as long as it still means something to you.

[vivimura]

So me and my friend were on vacation right? It’s like 11 PM we just finished dinner and minding our own business and we’re walking back to the hotel and out of nowhereee this fuckass dude in his 30s pulls up next to us in his car right? I’m thinking, okay….maybe he’s gonna ask for directions or some shit. But no bcz god hates me, he just stares at us like a damn movie villain and I’m like What the ACTUALL fuck is going on?

Then this guy’s like, ‘Yo, I know you You’re the ones who posted that video right???/728The one with the corn video… 😟like, you know what I mean.’ And I’m like Bitch what? We didn’t post anything like that so I’m like ‘ummm no wrong people not me.’ But this guy keeps going on talking about how we’re ‘big on the internet’ ahahaha bitch what the fuck and then he starts ranting about how he’s a HUGE fan and that we should hang out sometime Like…what?

At this point, me and my friend are about to fucking run but instead, we start walking a little faster and guess what? Dude is lowkey FOLLOWIng us in his car like matching our walking pace??!/)/72 and at this point I’m like ‘Is this how I die??’ So we get to the hotel swipe the keycard to get in and get to the elevator THANk FUCKING GODDD the elevator doesn’t work unless you swipe your keycard,right? So we’re feeling safe… kinda😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

We get in SWIPEEEE MH HAND WAS FUCKING SHAKINGG and as the door starts closing and bitch we peek through the crack and see this dude’s car still parked outside He gets out and then GAGGG this dude slips on the curb and falls flat on his face..LIKE he literally ate shit in front of the hotel and I cannot stop laughing and throwing up because I was trying to recover from what the actual fuck just happened but atleast we are alive

We get to our floor, lock the door, and just sit there like, ‘What the FUCK just happened.’ Moral of the story: i genuinely thought my friend and i were going to end up in a true crime podcast, keycards are a blessing, and never let some creepy dude follow you at night PERIOD.

tahnk you I needed to get that out-🍟

OH MY GOD THIS HADE ME GRIPPING MY TOES IN ANTICIPATION

AT LEAST UR OK HOLY SHIT

[cbtroofingau]

Metal Roofing: Weighing the Pros and Cons for Your Home

Re roofing Sunshine Coast means you need to choose a material that fits your home and needs. Some of what you will commonly see are metal, tiles, and shingles. It can be crucial to pick one, especially if you do not have any experience with the matter. With this, understanding the pros and cons is necessary. If you cannot decide yet, start by understanding each material, and you can begin with metal roofing:

Pros of Metal Roofing

Longevity

When people hear the word metal, they think of how long it will last them. The word alone can already mean quality and impressive lifespan, so do not be surprised if many homeowners choose this. But to ensure that you make it worth it, proper maintenance is necessary. Everything you have needs to be maintained and cared for to make them last for years. It is one way to ensure that every money you spend does not go to waste.

Durability

Metal roofing will not last long if they are not durable enough to withstand different weather conditions. The durability of metal roofing is also known to many because they are not susceptible to insects. You can have peace of mind because mildew and damage rarely occur. But even if you are aware of these instances, it is not a reason not to check your roofing every once in a while.

Lightweight

When you hear about metals, you might think that they are heavy and need to be handled by several people. However, if you carry it, you might be surprised by its weight. It is not as heavy as many people imagine, making installation easy. Metal roofing being lightweight also reduces the stress it brings to your home, keeping it safe.

Low Maintenance

Compared to asphalt shingles, metal roofing does not need excessive maintenance. Sometimes, all it needs is cleaning to ensure it will not get any damage. Cleaning them is also easy because it only requires water and a cloth. Never use harsh cleaning chemicals for your roofing or anything in your home because those can be the start of deterioration.

Improved Resale Value

If the metal roofing you have is high-quality and the installation is good, anticipate that there is an improvement in the resale value. The buyers know that it is durable enough to be used for years, making the entire home a good investment. Aside from the roof, you also need to pay attention to other parts of the home, like the bathroom, plumbing system, pool, and backyard.

Cons of Metal Roofing

Initial Cost

Since you already know about the advantages of metal roofing, it is time to understand its disadvantages. The first one on the list is the initial cost. Paying for it can be a little costly compared to asphalt shingles, considering the material and the installation.

Risk of Scratching and Denting

If you do not use the correct cleaning materials for your metal roofing, it can have scratches and dents. It happens with certain types of metals, like aluminium, because it is thin and can be sensitive to hail and falling debris. If you clean your metal roofing, ensure that you walk on it with clean shoes because those can cause scratches too. For sure, you would never want those to appear in your shelter.

Limited Colour Choices

If you are the type of person who wants to explore colours for your home, you might have a challenging time with metal roofing. There are limited colour options for this material, so check if customisation is possible. Some roofing companies do not accept colour changes because it can affect the quality of the roofing, so ask first before making a request.

Professional Maintenance

DIY and professional maintenance is okay, but it is better to leave the job to the professionals if you do not have enough experience. With roofing experts, they can immediately see if your roofing is still in good condition or not. They also have the knowledge and tools to do the job right.

Other disadvantages of metal roofing are compatibility issues and being prone to rust. The latter happens immediately if there is no proper maintenance involved.

Understanding the pros and cons of metal roofing will help you decide if it is the right material for your re-roofing. Since the service will help in the improvement of your shelter, ensure that everything you choose will positively affect the project. Weigh the good and the bad to see if you can live with them. Do not forget to consult a professional to get more information and understanding.

[somethingsomethingstarward]

actually okay so, one person asked and now we're elaborating-

because. okay. keep in mind that all of this is anecdotal, i'm not trying to make claims about every aspec/allo relationship out there

but the insane level of trust that requires? you know that there is something that this person wants, at least in theory, and you know on some level that you will probably never be able to give it to them, even if you're expected to, even if you want to give it to them. even if you did everything that people in "normal" relationships do, it would never be driven by this thing that everyone else seems to feel, that you know they feel, that you know they feel for you. they want you, and you're never going to want them.

so you have to take, on blind faith, that they genuinely do want this. that when they say they want you, they mean you, in whatever capacity you are comfortable with- that they will take as much as you are willing to give them, but, fundamentally, they want to spend time with you, whatever shape that takes. that you will never reciprocate, and they know that you don't feel the same, and there's no sadness in that because they just wanted to be around you.

so what does this mean for the ip3?

well, it means you have topaz- a negotiator with a heart of gold who is cheerfully certain about the fact that she cannot and does not feel love, who is intimately familiar with the concept of risk management and has built herself a soft place to land because nobody else would do it for her- topaz knowing that this is far too large a risk with far too small a degree and taking it anyway. topaz who has figured out at least one way to live, and then figuring it out again in order to add these two people who she does not love but wants to be around. topaz learning to mediate something that's not quite a conflict and not quite a business negotiation but is more the space between what the world thinks love is supposed to be and what she actually wants from the people around her, and redefining her terms from the ground up.

and you have aventurine- who's perfectly fine feeling desire for people but never love, who has decided that this is enough, because he can still give people what they want and nobody else has ever wanted anything more from him- aventurine having to wrestle with the concept that someone might actually want more from him, in a way that either he cannot name or fulfill (because topaz doesn't want sex from him) or in a way that he very much can name and still cannot fulfill (because ratio doesn't just want sex from him). aventurine learning to believe them when they tell him they want him even without anything else, learning to let go of the expectation that there needs to be something behind it in order for it to matter, learning to be okay with what he feels and let that be the impulse to offer them only what he wants to give.

and you have dr ratio- who seems to be so separated from those around him but loves both of them, who has always sounded so sure of himself- looking at them both, and trusting them to redefine this. ratio wanting to have them in his life and being sure of that, irregardless of the rest, and reconstructing what "love" or "a relationship" means, here, because it is just like any other field of knowledge. (and also- from personal experience, it turns out that sometimes "posessiveness" can serve a not-dissimilar purpose to "romantic/sexual attraction" in certain situations, and i like the idea of dr ratio, who for all his efforts has never been chosen by an aeon, being unquestionably chosen by these two. topaz and aventurine look at him, look at each other, and go, "ours.")

the point is, there is something about learning to believe the people in your life, when they tell you they're happy- that you don't need to bend yourself backward trying to anticipate their needs, that they are content to just be, and be like this, whatever that means. and i think there's something, to the idea of the ip3 finding contentment, like that.

hm. aspec ip3 where topaz is aroace, aventurine is alloaro, and dr ratio is the one allosexual alloromantic who's head over heels for both of them

[cwritesforfun]

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Fem!Reader: Dating Mav’s Daughter

Pete/Maverick is your Dad. He’s dating Penny. You’re a WSO because as your dad says “you have a more brainy brain than aviators.” You’ve been friends with Bob since flight training. You started dating him 1 year ago after a dangerous mission you had together and you love him. Y/N = Your Name

Y/N’s POV

I’ve been at Top Gun for 2 weeks. We’ve been practicing drills a lot today. My dad has me switch with different aviators all day, which stresses me out. I have to think like each of them thinks and anticipate how I can best help them. Everyone says they like having me fly with them, but I don't know if they’re lying or not. I’m drained from the day and want to sleep, but we’re going to the Hard Deck as a team to drink since we have tomorrow morning off.

I see my dad waving me over and I run over to him. My dad exclaims “Hey. Are you okay?” I answer “I’m just tired.” He replies “As your dad, I love you and want you to relax. As your captain, I think the team would like to have you there. I can tell that everyone is comfortable around you and I know sometimes it may seem like I push you a lot. I think you have a brilliant mind and a very friendly personality that helps in the air.” I reply “I know you mean well and you’re pushing me to succeed. I don’t think it’s too much. I can handle it.” He asks “Of course, you can, kid. You’re my daughter for Pete’s sake. Ah, see what I did there?” I laugh and he asks “So as your dad, are you and Bob dating?” I smile and answer “Yes. We’ve been dating for one year. We try to keep our relationship private because we don’t want anyone to treat us differently. How did you know?” He answers “He’s not great at hiding his feelings for you. I can also see how he gravitates toward you in a room of people and I can see him visibly relax near you. He also seems more open to sharing and talking near you. I think it’s great how you two bounce off each other’s ideas and uplift each other.” I reply “That’s really nice to hear, Dad.”  He says “Bring him over to me and Penny tonight. I want to meet him as your boyfriend.” I reply “Okay. But be nice, Dad.” He smiles and says “I always am, kid.” We hug and I leave.

After changing into more relaxed clothes for the bar, Phoenix and I head out in her car. The boys took their cars earlier. Phoenix asks “So are you and Bob ever going to do PDA at work?” I answer “No, Phoenix, we’ve talked about this. Bob and I want to keep our relationship private at work because we don’t want everyone in the Air Force world to know. Friends know and anyone who sees us out together would know, but we don’t want our love life to interfere with work.” She replies “Ugh you’re too sensible. I love you, Y/N. I told Bob to ramble today and he talked about how much he loves you. It was the sappiest and sweetest ramble that I’ve ever heard while I’ve been flying.” I reply “I did not have the same experience with Hangman.” She asks “Oh no, what did you talk about with him?” I answer “He asked about Bob’s favorite sex poses? I did not respond to that because it was unprofessional. I switched the topic to how Hangman has a lack of sex life. That really angered him and we’ve flown the best we’ve flown together today.”  She starts cracking up and cannot stop laughing until we arrive.

I notice the boys with several opened beers and a pool game going when we get there.

I walk over to Bob who smiles when he sees me. I stand between his legs and hug him. I say “My dad wants to meet you.” He replies “But I know your dad. Why does he need to meet me again?” I answer “He wants to meet you as my boyfriend.” He asks “How did he know?” I answer “He said that he sees your feelings for me on your face and how you find me in a room.” He replies “Oh, okay...” I poke him on the shoulder and ask “What’s up? What’s bothering you?” He answers “I’m sorry if I’m too obvious about my feelings. I try to hide them, but your face just lights up the room every time. I need cheering up sometimes. I know we keep our relationship private at work, but I like being around you. You’re my girlfriend, but you were my best friend first.” I smile and kiss him on the cheek. I then say “You’re so cute when you ramble about your love for me. I love you, baby. You are always welcome to be near me. I love being around you too and you make me the happiest human.” He smiles and we kiss.

Bob sighs and exclaims “Okay, let’s get this over with. Let’s go say hi to your dad.” I laugh and take his hand.

We walk over to my dad and Penny who are sitting at the end of the bar. I say “Hi Dad. Hi Penny.” They turn to face us and smile. My dad hugs me and so does Penny. I introduce Bob as Robert and my dad introduces himself as Pete. We talk about having a double date one day when we are all free. My dad asks Bob about his intentions with me and I laugh at his reaction. He just took a sip of water and just spewed it all over the seat next to my dad. Bob says “Uh sorry about that… I just …. Wow I did spit everywhere … Whew that was weird…” I notice his eyes grow panicky wide and I slide my hand over his. He tends to ramble and panic when he gets nervous. He’s so cute. I squeeze his hand as he inhales and exhales calmly. Bob continues “My intentions with Y/N… she is my world. We started as friends and we were best friends. I still remember that we only stopped being friends for one week because I insulted her to try to get in with the cool crowd. It was the worst thing I’ve done and I regret nothing more.” I reply “Babe, that’s not helping your case with my dad right now. You’ve beaten yourself up about that a lot, it’s okay. I love you and know you don’t think of me as an object to be won like those other idiots.” My dad asks “So, they were talking about women as objects?” Bob says “Yes sir. I told them the next day that I don't agree with them and why they should praise women. I went on this long rant about why we should support women and about women’s history in the Air Force. I know a lot about history, which can bore some. Those guys never wanted to talk to me again, but it’s okay because they were kicked off the mission for sexual harassment a few days after that. I’m not one for wishing karma on others, but I believe they got what was coming to them.” My dad says “I think you did what was right and that they deserved that as well. No one should ever treat women like that.” Bob replies “No they shouldn’t. I stand up for women now if I hear someone insult them... all that to say, I love Y/N and I want her to be happy. I think she’s a brilliant, impressive, beautiful, kind, loving, amazing girl. She lights up the room with her smile and personality. I heard you saw how I move to be with Y/N in a room and I have to tell you that I feel safe with her. She makes me feel safe, loved, trusted, and heard when I’m near her. She’s also my best friend and someone I can always rely on. I would love nothing more than a bright happy future with your daughter, sir.” Penny says “You are the sweetest boy. If I wasn’t twice your age and taken by Y/N, I would swoop you up.” My dad gasps and says “You didn't include me.” Penny sasses back “You haven't even asked me out properly.”

Oh snap!!! I do not want to be in this conversation right now.

I gently push Bob away back to our friends and we make it back to them.

Bob sits down and I sit next to him. I lean my head on his shoulder and he wraps his arm around me. I yawn and ask “How was your day today? I’m very tired.” He replies “I am stressed with the mission. Being on a plane with Phoenix is fun though because she thinks through her decisions more than my last partner on a mission. Why did your dad hold you back today?” I answer “He knows that I’m exhausted. He said that he’s pushing me because he knows I can succeed with the challenges thrown at me. He said that is why I switch aviators all the time. But, it stresses me out so much. I want to work well with everyone and I want to succeed as a WSO, so there’s not much I can change.” He replies “Babe, it’s stressing you. You should tell your dad to ease it up on you. Is there anything else stressing you out? I’m here for you, Y/N.” I reply “I don’t want to fail. As Maverick’s daughter, I have to succeed.“ He kisses me on the forehead and says “I love you and you’re an amazing WSO. I think you might be better than me. You’re not going to fail anyone least of all your dad. You were chosen to be at Top Gun because you are one of the best. You just have to believe it.” I reply “I may have been chosen for Top Gun, but this mission is dangerous. I want to make it back and I want to have a future with you.” He kisses me on the forehead again and says “We’ll be safe, Y/N. I know you and you’ll survive. I will too. We’ll have a future together. Speaking of, so you like me?” I laugh and he says “I’m kidding, babe. I love you and I can imagine the bright future we have. Do you think your dad likes me?” I answer “Of course. He has to.” He replies “I also wanted him to know that I respect women. If we have any sons, they will too.” I ask “Sons? Bob, are you pregnant?” He laughs and answers “No I’m not. I just love you and want a future with you.” I reply “Let’s finish this conversation after this death-defying mission we have coming up.” He smiles and we kiss.

THANKS FOR READING!!! I appreciate you. Comment with any requests or ideas:) ILY!!! 

[dorimena]

Hi, I love your work and if your requests are open would you consider the following?

Monoma is on patrol with y/n and Monoma being well....Monoma, he was horny and was teasing y/n. Not having any of this shit, she proceeds to dom the fuck out of him during patrol. She takes him into an alleyway and fucks him with a strap that she had on her already (she was already planning on something but didn’t go through with it because work is work and she’s aware that Monoma and her could take their time when they got home). She pushes him into the wall and fucks him silly. Monoma is loving it and keeps begging “Mommy fuck me more, please!”. She gives him what he wants but she tells him to be quiet or else the bystanders would fine their great Phantom Thief in a puddle of his own cum while getting fucked by his mommy. At some point two civilians hear Monoma panting and hiccuping and get concerned. Y/n keeps fucking him and reassures them that Phantom Thief is fine. He cums then and there and she tells him to reassure the civilians that he’s ok. Monoma whimpers out that he’s fine and y/n cleans him up and cuddles him in the alleyway telling him how much of a good boy he was.

(I’ve been thinking about this ever since I read your shower blowjob story. This man makes the dom in me go crazy. He’s already a whining bitch, having him be like that in the bedroom just- 😫)

Let me say that I’ve had a scene in my head almost the same as this one you sent me and I am absolutely thrilled because yessss more attention to bratty baby Monoma ٩(♡ε♡)۶

And honestly, this man is just asking for it. Bet he wants to fucked anywhere, anytime, as long as he's put back into his place. That's his kink-

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; Monoma Neito

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 3.5k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; fem!reader, pegging, mommy kink, slight exhibitionism, public sex, mentioned sex toy (butt plug), implied overstimulation, multiple orgasms, implied after care, domme!reader, sub!character

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; begging, humiliation, Monoma being a little shit, because he wanted your attention, and to rile the fuck out of you, aged-up character: Monoma is 20+

𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; I unknowingly kind of changed a few things from the ask, like the conversation between Monoma and the bystanders, but I hope you like it anon! The ending is kind of rushed, sorry about that!

𝕭𝖊𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆 𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍 𝖎𝖘 𝖒𝖞 𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐

“Now, now, y/n, you know ignoring someone, specifically the love of your life, is a crime? How else are you to beg for my love if you go on and ignore my graceful presence? Are you listening to me? At least lend me your attention.”

He’s been like this for the past couple of hours since you’ve both been assigned together for patrol. You thought it’d be a good idea, and Monoma was also excited when your boss told you both to get ready and head to the neighborhood you’re meant to keep a watch over.

The neighborhood turned out not as empty or quiet as you expected, rather close to a busy street. Some stores and restaurants seem to align themselves around this area.

You thought things would go smoothly, go even better and much quicker now that you and your boyfriend are finally patrolling together, months since you’ve transferred to this agency from your old one.

But Monoma’s been leaving any and every snide remark since you two stepped foot into the area, teasing you for any small mistake he believes should be (loudly) called out for or simply trying to mess up your way of doing things.

You don’t even want to count how many times he’s criticized the way your hero outfit currently looks on you. And no, you’re not getting insecure, but rather more… cautious.

There’s a reason why the uniform seems a bit odd around your crotch, but he doesn’t need to know that, not here, not now. Maybe until you both get home-

You trip, almost falling flat on your face if it weren’t for your boyfriend quickly grabbing you, pulling you up to your feet as he looks at you with panic before it quickly dissipates to his stupid mockery.

“See? You cannot do anything right, not without me at least. You, my dear, cannot live without me yet you still ignored me. This is what I mean when you should listen to me. Anyone would truly be grateful for having me, Phantom Thief, as their beloved lover.”

That’s it. You usually can take so much of his weird comments, but right now he’s pulling anything out of his ass at this point. (Soon you’ll see what actually comes out.)

You don’t answer, just look around to make sure no one is watching as you grab him by his stupid tie, dragging him to the nearest alleyway you remember passing by, glad it’s still pretty empty and dark enough to hide your bodies in the shadows.

He isn’t even struggling, just letting you walk him as if he’s a dog, quietly following you. If you were to turn around, you’d see the way his eyes are wide yet full of lust, his pupils dilated as he mentally cheers, thanking the gods for listening to his horny prayers of being sucked in an alleyway.

Do you know how hard it was for him to not jump you and beg you to help him? All because of how sexy you look in your hero outfit, how the small fixes and modifications bring out more of your body, the body he loves, yearns, desires, every day and night. Hopefully you don’t find his surprise before he can debut it once you guys are back home. (But unintentionally came prepared.)

He’s a complete fool for you, but you can’t know that, or else it’ll be the end of-

“Monoma Neito. You have 5 seconds to tell me why the fuck you’re being a piece of shit tonight.”

He didn’t realize his back is against a cold wall or how you’ve trapped him between your arms, the way you’re glaring at him while counting down in such a low tone, it makes his legs feel weak and threaten to buckle..

“Horny.” He barely whispers, crazed eyes never leaving your face as he stays still, trying to control his breathing and heartbeat as you scan him from head to toe, eyes finally staying in place where his boner is visible, even with how poor the lighting is.

You grin, but not your usual friendly grin or familiar flirty grin, but the ‘I’m gonna fuck you till you die’ kind of grin.

And Monoma’s both terrified yet super, duper much more hornier than before. But, with what are you going to fuck him with?

In a flash, he’s suddenly turned around, his clothed-covered chest pressing against the wall as he feels your hands make quick work on his belt, on his pants, pulling them down to rest on his thighs. He hisses and shivers when the cold air hits every exposed part of him, yet makes his dick twitch in interest.

You also free your bottom half to finally let out the strap on you’ve luckily managed to hide until now, searching your pockets for the small tube of lube you brought with you, just in case.

But when you spread his butt cheeks, you gasp in surprise with the butt plug he’s wearing, going to grab the toy as you slowly pull it out in disbelief.

Did he know?

“I-I want you to know you’re not the, um, only one to be prepared for what they want.” Monoma speaks, but in such a soft tone that it has you wondering if he’s the same person who had pestered you since the beginning of the patrol, the same boyfriend you love who has a talent for being loved and hated simultaneously by various people.

But at least he didn’t know. He simply decided to take this extra mile.

Cute. No wonder he’s such a good boy for mommy… sometimes.

“Then I guess I shouldn’t prepare you, right?”

You don’t wait for his response, not when you dispose of the toy away from you both, and you make quick work to lube up your silicone cock.

Monoma doesn’t get to ask you about the wet sounds behind him, or ask where you threw his butt plug before you’re entering him. You felt how his body jolted, his back arching enough to push his ass back more towards you.

You land a smack against the smooth skin, listening how the impact echoes in the empty alleyway and the way he whimpers in pain.

“You’re such a slut for mommy, aren’t you Monoma?”

“Yes!”

No hesitation.

Monoma usually sounds hesitant whenever you two do something new, as if he evaluates the pros and cons from anything and everything, figuring out if he’ll come out benefitted or you.

But he sounds desperate, shameless. He sounds like he’s ready to cry.

New, but not too surprising. When he wants to, he’ll always be a good boy for his mommy.

“Want to tell mommy again why you were being a little bitch tonight?”

Never mind, his hesitation came back, his mouth pressed shut as you peek at him, trying to catch a glimpse at his periwinkle eyes, wondering what’s taking him so long to answer. He answered you so easily, so quickly a few minutes ago.

You hear a soft mumble, see his lips move but no sound gets to your ears. So you spank him once more, hearing his cute squeak and the way he fucks back.

“Louder.”

“I wanted mommy to fuck me! Fuck me until I can’t walk! Fuck me until I’m just your stupid little hole! Please? I’ll-I’ll be good now, I promise!”

If anyone were to ask you just how stupid Monoma gets when he’s completely horny and turned on, this is a prime example. His usual eloquent vocabulary? Gone. It doesn’t exist once mommy’s pleasing him.

But he’s also promising about being good? Let’s see how good he’ll be then.

No more words are exchanged, just the soft desperate pants of the pretty blond and some small airy whines that leave his mouth in anticipation for what you’ll do next.

You don’t even start slow, you go absolutely feral.

He barely gets to inhale one last deep breath until you’re fucking that out of his lungs, his head turning to look back at you as best he could as his body begins hitting the wall in front of him, his clothes rubbing against the roughness of the bricked exterior of the unknown building. He lifts head enough to not get itself hit against the wall and his hands are clawing at the bricks desperately, trying to find leverage to hold on tightly, his brain struggling to catch up with how vicious yet delicious you’re fucking him.

When he does remember he’s a human who can speak words, he cries out “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” in such high pitches, it sounds like he’s singing, probably trying to continue seducing you into such a horny haze. His pent-up sexual frustration must have been infectious, with how you find yourself being merciless with him and his ass, your hips slamming into the back of his in such a brutal pace you wonder if the skin will bruise, if he’ll be able to sit or walk properly.

Probably not, but that’s the point, isn’t it?

Your baby boy wanted you to fuck the living shit out of him, so that’s what you’ll do, it’s what you’re best at doing.

Fuck the annoyance out of him so that when you guys get home, he passes out.

You momentarily forget you guys are very much still in public and even if it’s night, civilians are very much still awake and walking, either going back home or going to work, maybe hang out with their friends or find themselves a sub to fuck.

Monoma doesn’t even warn you that he’s cumming, not even his loud, prolonged whine of your name gets your attention. But with how he’s spasming around your toy, how his hips are twitching quickly in between your hands, his eyes that never left from looking at you crossing…

Yeah, since you missed that orgasm and you’re not in the mood to exactly punish him, why not fuck him some more until he can’t remember his name and only yours?

You briefly pause, the tip of the toy the only thing still inside of him as one of your hands rubs circles on his lower back and the other remains on his hip.

Through the panting, Monoma lets out a whine, one that sounds almost disappointed. Probably because he came far quicker than what either of you two expected, or because it feels like you’re pulling out already and calling it a night.

No words are exchanged as you watch him catch his breath for a bit more, memorizing how rosy his cheeks and nose look, how the blush looks like it’s on his neck while his white pupils are fully dilated, oozing his adoration for you.

When you hear him suck in a breath, whether he’s preparing a sentence or to finish pulling himself off the toy, you slam back into him, grinning like a maniac upon feeling how his whole body jumped, going back into action and having blood pump everywhere in him, mostly towards his reawakening dick.

And you slam, slam, slam, slamming into him at such a steady pace, making sure to roll your hips the way you know will make him start squealing in such a girly tone, or like a dirty pig he sometimes becomes.

And once you feel him begin to push back on you and one of his hands leave the wall, you lean forward, pushing his body more up on the wall. He’s bent too much, it’s obvious you’re fucking him doggy style. What if people decide to go through this alley?

He obeys but whines in complaint, not wanting you to stop your ministrations as he pulls himself together, standing up as much as he could as to leave his lower back still bent for you.

“Keep your hands on the wall or else I’ll leave you here like this.”

He loves it when you speak to him in such a low voice, in such a way that you know makes him want to suck your cock for days until his jaw hurts. He puts his hands back on the wall, both placed where his face is at, acting as support as he rests his forehead there. His neck hurts a bit from how long he’s been straining to look at you.

You go back to fucking him, going back to what you were doing, moaning his name repeatedly to keep riling him up, arouse him and make him start begging for you to go faster, harder, deeper, make him dirty.

And he does with loud wails, ones that have you freezing and stopping all together, slapping a hand on his mouth and whispering how he should quiet down, unless he wants to be whored to other people.

“Be mommy’s good boy and keep quiet. Unless you want someone else’s cock.”

“No! No muh-mommy! Only y-yours~ Please!” He moans, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he impatiently grinds against you, feeling how sticky his thighs are getting with sweat and some of his cum and precum, somehow.

“Mommy, fuck me more, please!” He whimpers so cutely, so pathetically, so melodically you’re sure he somehow copied someone’s siren quirk, because your head feels dizzy, your heart is beating erratically and your hips sync with the pulse, forgetting about being consistent with speed, with roughness, with how deep you reach inside of him.

Fucking him silly until he’s trying his best to muffle his screams and cries into the back of his hands pressed on the wall, his fingers trying so hard to find solace on them, to grasp the reality of him being defiled in an empty, dirty alleyway, pressed so ruthlessly against a wall he doesn’t know how exactly dirty it could be.

Monoma’s hiccuping your name until you spank him, growling softly how that’s not who you are, making him wail out “Mommy! Cumming!” in such an erotic way, you wonder if you’re fucking your boyfriend or a girl with how he’s managed to reach such an incredible pitch.

You keep going, and even when he’s done cumming, you don’t stop impaling him, and a hand goes to wrap itself around his dick, trying your best to match this chaotic fucking, hearing how he’s struggling to breath, to comprehend this painful yet electrifying pleasure.

His toes are curling in his shoes, his knees don’t stop buckling, his hips never stop trying to meet with yours, the burn of overstimulation flowing through his veins yet motivating his dick to keep going, to keep obeying, to not disappoint mommy.

Monoma’s speaking gibberish, babbling whatever nonsense and begging he could think of or come to make up, the tips of his fingers turning white with how hard they’re pressing against the bricks as he tries to not fall. He’s not sure how or why he’d fall, but with how you’re touching him, squeezing him, stroking him, playing with him, he’s ready to give into the inquiry of whether being a househusband would have you fucking him like this everyday.

It’s a weird thought, one he’s never had before, one that’s still early to even care about-

Oh my god you’re abusing his prostate!

He’s seeing stars, planets, flashing strobe lights and envisioning his uproaring third orgasm, mouth hung open stupidly as whiny sobs and strangled cries escape him, trying his best to keep quiet like you said but he can’t!

“Feels s’ good!” He slurs, once again turning his head to look at you, eyes completely wet as tears fall in graceful droplets, hair messed up and drool staining a bit of his chin.

And just as you were going to respond, you heard footsteps.

You both freeze: you’re halfway out of him while Monoma’s struggling to not let his coughing fit be heard, having swallowed his saliva far too quickly with the scare.

The sounds stop, but now you both can hear a female voice.

“Hello? Is anyone there?”

Monoma whimpers, embarrassed.

So this is how he’ll get caught and shamed.

This is the end of his career.

But you’re not having it, not with how his dick has stopped twitching and is starting to soften.

You’re not done yet, and neither is he.

“Answer, Monoma.” You harshly whisper, wiping your thumb over his hypersensitive tip, making him hiccup loudly before composing himself as best he could.

“Y-yes? It-It is I, Phantom Thief- ooh~”

Another voice pitches in.

“Phantom Thief? The Phantom Thief?!”

“Y-Yes!” Monoma squeaks out, trying to cover up his gasp as you begin to slowly fuck him, making sure to keep hitting him straight to the prostate, amused how he’s gripping his jaw, muffling his hiccups while frantically shaking his head, begging you with his eyes to no, no, please!

The two bystanders gasp, seemingly walking more towards where you and Monoma are, making you press him more into the wall, hoping the angle you’re both in and the small hiding spot is enough to keep you hidden.

“We’re huge fans of yours! But, um, are you alright? We heard someone crying.”

“Fuck!” Monoma whimpers, struggling to keep his breathing in check as you continue to move, even rolling your palm all over his tip, your other hand going to pull at one of his nipples.

“What was that?”

“N-nothing! I’m fin- ugh~”

“You… sure?”

“YES!”

Monoma yells, back arching as his head touches your shoulder, eyes rolling up this head as he’s torn between pushing back or bucking forwards, feeling his body submerged in such an intense heat, in such shame, in such pathetic desperation to cum, he’s begging you in quick hushed moans to please, pretty please, make him cum, he wants to cum, needs to cum again.

“And your fans?” You whisper teasingly, feeling how he shivers with how close your breath is near his ear.

“Fu-uck my fans-”

“Now now, that’s something you never said before. Did I fuck Monoma Neito out of you?”

And you go back with the brutal pace, not caring if the other two bystanders can hear what’s going on, not caring if they come out traumatized or probably aroused with how obvious it is that their dear Phantom Thief is getting fucked in a shady place, in a nasty place, yet he’s silently wailing and convulsing with everything you’re giving him.

Your hand soon enough gets sticky with what little cum his poor, weak body produced, his hole clenching tightly around your strap-on while his hands fly back to grasp any part of you that he could reach, which ended up being your head.

The bystanders speak again while Monoma’s busy wheezing his gratitude.

“Are you sure you’re alright? We could call the police-”

“I’m alright! ‘m fine~” He managed to sing-song, but if you heard a bit of his whimper seep from the last word, you don’t say anything, simply slow down your stroking before pausing.

You hear their footsteps slowly go back towards where they probably came from, making Monoma let out shaky exhales of relief and satisfaction, small giggles slipping from time to time as you kiss his neck, his cheek, his jawline.

And once you are certain you’re both alone again, you slowly pull out of him, helping him to turn around so that his back presses against the wall.

Until he grimaces.

“My essence is, from my deduction, splattered on this disgusting wall.”

You laugh, shaking your head as you point down to where his pants are, laughing harder when you see how his grimace turns into a face of disgust, horror, shame, surprise, arousal- wait what?

You don’t question the last one, simply letting out the last of your giggles while you search for the disinfectant wipes you tend to carry with you in your utility belt. And once they’ve been found, you make him lick your cum-covered hand first before properly passing a wipe. You hand Monoma one so that he cleans his face if needed, disinfect his hands, his thighs, anywhere he thought he needed to clean.

No, that's a lie. You took care of his thighs and pelvis, trying your best to clean the spots where his cum reached his pants before peppering a few gentle kisses around his exposed skin.

Pulling his briefs and pants up, buttoning, zipping, fasting his belts. You let out a happy sigh, fixing his hair and tie.

You then fix yourself.

“Who’s mommy’s good boy, Monoma?”

He somehow managed to chirp. “I am, mommy.”

“Then, you’ll stop being a bitch tonight, right? Mommy made sure to fuck it out of you.”

“Oh, um,” aw, he’s blushing. “I suppose…”

When you both walk away from the much-more defiled wall, you hold back an amused snort with how Monoma seems too unstable with his feet, how his legs seem to shake with every step he tries to take and how frustrated he looks with how uncooperative his body is.

You decide that chilling and cuddling in that corner wouldn’t be so bad, and considering how your shift ended minutes ago, you doubt either you or Monoma will get into trouble.

[fuchsiagrasshopper]

Saturated

Author’s Note: Here it is, the long awaited one-shot that ended up a mini story in length. This wasn’t a planned idea, just something I went with and this is the result. I know this fandom is starting to shrink due to the show ending, but I hope those of you still here are having fun!

Masterlist

Summary/Pairing: Ivar x Reader In which Ivar thinks he’s found a daughter of the goddess Rán

Wordcount: 9642

Warnings:  Language, Angst, Smut NSFW

The night was warm and still when Ivar made his way down to the stretching shore. It was a difficult trek the older he became because he had to wade through the sand that seemed to double his weight and sap his strength. After all that effort, he was reminded why he put himself through such a trial when he came into the blessed solitude. When he was a boy he had found an old fishermen's dock that was no longer used, and it was a quiet place he could go without being bothered. Sometimes he would look out at the water and imagine all the lands that were waiting for him to bring them terror and glory. When he was feeling less ambitious after drinking with his brothers, he would lie back on the creaking boards of the dock and gaze at the stars and wonder if the gods were watching in forethought.

His mother told him it was the sea that would take him from her. Her eyes would grow empty yet full of sadness, and he could only watch without being able to comfort her. Ivar wanted to journey, and he assumed his mother's vision meant that either it was by ship or drowning that he would be taken. When one entered a longboat to go raiding, the chance of a storm crashing down was always a possibility, but it was a risk worth taking for honor and legacy. He loved his mother, more than anyone, but he could not stay in Kattegat forever. His fate was out there waiting, and he needed only to extend his hand to take it.

A sudden movement in the water broke his focus and he looked out over the dock to the rippling surface. His eyes adjusted, and he thought his mind had gone when he recognized the whites of a pair of eyes staring back at him. There was a person in the water, bobbing just to their nose above the surface. At first, Ivar reached forward with his hand. They must have been frozen to the bone in the frigid sea. Kattegat's waters never warmed, even in summer.

When he looked at his hand cast forward, he felt foolish. With his useless legs, he couldn't swim. His upper body strength might support him a moment or two, but then sink and be wrapped under in the weeds before he could take a breath. He withdrew his hand only to find the eyes were no longer where they should have been.

Ivar scooted closer to the edge of the dock, searching the black water for the face he thought he saw. He rubbed at his eyes. Perhaps he hadn't slept well enough, or maybe he had ingested something spoiled during the last meal. He chose to believe his senses were sharp. They had kept him alive this long, and while trying to match his brothers no less. His eyes did another sweep of the shore before he called out, "I know you're there. You should know you cannot hide from a son of Ragnar."

His legs that dangled over the pier were parted, and a figure came straight out from the water to rest its arms on his thighs. Ivar flushed when he saw the figure was womanly. A beautiful and terrifying face, with large silver eyes, peered up at him. He had mistaken you for a woman, but you were something more. The hair that tangled down to your waist dipped into the water, and below was not a pair of legs kicking. Black scales with a pearlescent shimmer. You were one of Rán's creatures, or perhaps a daughter to the goddess herself.

"Ragnarsson," You spoke, and he was struck dumb by your voice. "Few may hear the siren's song calling."

Ivar's eyes shot to your hand as it trailed up his leg. Your nails were long, and there was a transparent webbing between your fingers. What surprised him even more than your strange claws was how gentle your touch was. It was a caress barely felt through his trousers.

"Who are you?"

You smiled. "I am (Y/N)."

"I am Ivar."

"I know you," You replied, and your sweeping hand switched to cupping his cheek. "You have your father's eyes and spirit."

"You know Ragnar Lothbrok?" Ivar asked while leaning into your touch. Your hand was warm despite the brisk waters you waded in.

"I know many faces of your home. I like to watch and learn from your people. Your father was a gazer too, but his eyes were to the horizon. You search the stars and night sky."

When you began to pull away, Ivar grabbed your hand and brought it back to his face. "Do you know my brothers?"

"I have seen them, but my song does not reach their ears. You are unique."

Ivar simpered. He could hear what his brothers could not. While they were off in barns and clearings, playing under the skirts of thralls, he was alone in the quiet of the night with a goddess. The sea had chosen him, though youngest and deformed.

"Why have you sought me out?" He asked, desperate to have his hopes confirmed.

"I wish to talk with you, and learn more of your kind. But we must always meet under darkness, for many of your people would rather hurt me than trust me."

Ivar knew why. Fishermen told tales of beautiful women taking sailors to the water, down to the sea bed of Rán's hall, never again to surface. He did not think you had the malice to do such a thing to him.

"How do I know you'll return? Is this even real?"

He couldn't help the creeping doubt from springing forth, and you flashed him a look of pity before plucking the knife from his belt. That got his attention, and he lurched forward to reach for the thing, but you held no ill intent. Instead, you pulled your hair over your shoulder and cut free a length to give to him. It was softer than any wolf pelt, and he clutched it tight to his chest.

"Giving a lock of hair to another can be one's undoing, so believe that I will return or curse me should I ever be treacherous," You said, and you slid his knife back into place before dragging your hand down his thigh. His cock gave a twitch, and your grin told him you knew. "Farewell Ivar."

You slipped back into the water like a needle through silk, and he was only able to catch a glimpse of your tail before you disappeared into the deep.

ooOOoo

Ivar went back to the dilapidated dock every night, and true to your word you would be there waiting in the water. You only approached once he took his place at the end of the pier, and Ivar would keep his legs apart so you would come rest between them. As you spoke of things unimportant, he would weave his hand with yours, playing with your fingers and the thin membrane of webbing. You would return the affections with little pets of your own, and you always left a kiss to the corner of his mouth before parting.

The lock of hair you had given to him was always with him. He had braided it together into a bracelet that he wore everywhere on his wrist. If his brothers thought anything about it, they never voiced such concerns. Ivar presumed they figured he had found his own thrall to be with, and as distracted as they were with Margrethe, they didn't dig further into his affair. His mother had noticed the thing as well, and always she would give it a long stare. Ivar always anticipated her to ask, but she avoided mentioning it as if it were a matter too delicate to speak of.

Ivar wished he could bring you to meet his family if only to brag to his brothers that you had chosen him. But he knew that could never happen. They would fear that you were a deceiver after his life, and his mother would have you killed to keep him safe. She probably would never let him near water again.

"Ivar," You called, clasping both hands on either side of his face. "Your mind is elsewhere tonight."

"Sorry," He said, looking away momentarily. "I just was thinking what it would be like to live our lives together."

"Come with me to the water," You suggested, and you gave a small tug on his arm that scooted him closer to the edge. He almost let you drag him in before he grew hesitant and pushed back.

"I can't swim like this," He said, scowling at you and then his legs.

"I will keep you safe." Ivar searched your face for any deception, but he only saw your smile. "You don't trust me?"

"I do," He said quickly. "But I…"

You heaved yourself upwards on the dock until it was just the tip of your tail whipping strokes in the water. Ivar caught your bare torso against his chest, and he flushed as your breasts pressed up against him. You were practically sharing the same air, noses brushing together as you steadied yourself in his arms. Your eyes met and you breathed a laugh that eased his previous concerns.

"We won't go far. I just want to show you that your legs aren't the burden you think they are."

You weren't pleading, and Ivar was intrigued by your suggestion. He gave you a short nod, and that was all it took for you to wrap your arms around him and haul him down into the depths. Your strength was surprising, but the admiration was banished from his mind the moment the cold water soaked straight through to his blood. He thrashed his arms, grabbing for purchase at imaginary aids that weren't there. When he tried to let out a shout, he swallowed saltwater. The sea was going to take him, just as his mother feared.

No. You were there, and you had never left. Like a spark to wood, Ivar was enveloped in a new warmth, and he floated to the surface with your arms around him. He took his first breath of air, but his throat was raw and he sputtered and choked. Your lips closed over his while he continued to cough, and it was as if you pulled all of the water out from his lungs. He didn't know if it was a real kiss, but he wore a shy grin as you pulled away.

"Breathe," You instructed. "Breathe, and look up at the stars you love."

Ivar first looked back at the shore and realized you had kept your promise. You had only taken him out far enough so his feet wouldn't brush the sandy floor. He then craned his neck up to the sky and found the familiar sight of his stars. They were the same out in the water as they were on land, a comforting thought for when he would one day sail away from home. The sky would always be there.

"Lie back and let the water hold you," You whispered in his ear from behind.

Ivar didn't know when you had maneuvered around to his back, but he continued to put his faith in you as you guided him down gently into the water. He was lying face up with his body floating across the surface weightless and free. You joined beside him, and together you shared in the silent night, bathed in the moonlight with the motion of the sea carrying your bodies. Ivar forgot for a moment about his broken legs. Drifting there beside you, he felt whole.

"You didn't answer me before," He spoke up, and you watched him with curiosity. "About us living our lives together. Is it possible?"

"There are those of my people who have given up the sea's blessing to live on land. Some may even live among your kind, though I doubt you would recognize them."

"How did they do it?" Ivar was sure even the dumbest farmer in Kattegat would have noticed a child of Rán flopping about.

"When my people choose to live a life as a land dweller, they simply have to go ashore. The blessing of the sea will fade, and in place will be a soft and weak human body, " You explained, and you turned your eyes away from him. "But the sea is vengeful and she hates those who leave her waters. Once the blessing fades, we can never return to her currents, or else we would be reduced to nothing more than foam that settles into tide pools."

If you were to be together you would have to give up everything you knew to be with him. Ivar wanted to ask this of you, but he was afraid of your answer. Being a prince as well as his mother's favored son meant he never had to work for anything. What he wanted he got, and always in plenty. If you refused him, he feared the rejection and what his reaction could be. He wasn't beyond forcing you out from the water onto dry land if it meant keeping you for himself. Better to not ask now. It was too early to demand so much from you.

He heard you shift in the water, and you were at his side again while supporting his back with your strong hands. "You don't want to ask me?"

Ivar shook his head. "Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow."

"I know you will soon, Ivar. It's in your eyes, they darken with hunger."

"What would you say if I did?"

He let out a shiver as you righted him back into your arms, holding him in your embrace that let him know you were in control. "I would say that you could also give up your life to be with me. Right now, I could take you down there, and you would never again have to worry about dragging yourself upon the land."

The idea of never having to crawl again was tantalizing, something he had always wished for, and yet...even if he was with you, he knew he wouldn't forget all that he would leave behind. He wanted to show his people he could lead and conquer better than any man, even without working legs.

"I couldn't," He murmured.

"Then it is good I did not ask, and nor will you ask it of me. We will take comfort in the joy we have now, and forget everything else."

You met his eyes with your own. Silver, just like the treasures that were brought back over from raids. Ivar refused to fluster under your gaze, even though your peering felt like a piercing dagger. He wanted to appear self-assured, and not as some young lad who needed you to hold him. He pulled you close and planted a clumsy but heartfelt kiss. Your lips were cold but your mouth was warm, and he tried to keep up with your feverish pace as you devoured everything from the kiss.

When you clapped your hands on his cheeks, Ivar could feel himself trembling, and he knew it wasn't because of the kiss. Your mouth left him, and he tried to find your lips again. You placed a finger to his mouth to stop him and gave him a shake of your head. "You are like ice. I've kept you here too long."

"Not long enough," He retorted before sneaking another kiss on you.

You laughed while gently prying him back. "You have your father's confidence."

"Good, maybe you can find out what else of his I have." He gave you his best wolfish grin.

"We'll have our time," You promised, and you secured an arm around him before starting to swim back to shore.

The water seemed to grow colder as you glided through it and by the time you made it back to the pier, Ivar couldn't control his shivering. You urged him up onto the dock, and your concern had made you grow quiet. Ivar didn't mind that you fretted over his well-being, but he missed your smile.

"How will you make it back home?" You asked while looking over him to where the edge of the town was barely visible through the treeline. It was a long way off.

"I've travelled further," Ivar excused, though he had his trepidations. His damp clothes were sticking to him, and his hair felt like grass after the thawing in spring. The cold made his muscles tighten, and he wasn't looking forward to pawing at the ground with stiff hands.

"Go now, while you have the moon's light to guide you."

"When can I see you again?" It was becoming more difficult each time he had to leave you, and his thoughts revolved around when you could be together.

"I'll come back until I feel you no longer wish to see me." You reached your hand out to him, and Ivar took it, bringing it to his chest.

"That will never happen."

What he was saying must have been madness. Maybe you were Rán's daughter, and you had him under a spell. If you did, he didn't care. He would gladly stay under your enchantment. It was a warmth all his own, and a happiness he didn't have to share or contend with his brothers over.

"Goodnight my love." You placed your lips once more on his hand before returning to the sea.

Ivar did not watch after you as he usually would. It was a luxury he couldn't afford. The desperation to get inside by a fire drove him to turn towards home, and he struggled through the terrain as fast as his dragging would get him. He only passed by drunks and stragglers that did not give him a second glance upon realizing who he was. Ragnar's youngest son, the cripple. No one important.  

He huffed his way up the stairs of the Great Hall, nudging on the doors with his shoulder until they parted. A low fire was burning in the pit, and his mother was asleep on her throne. She was still all done up from the last meal, and he realized she must have waited up for his return. His guilt propelled him forward, and he went towards her instead of his room. Careful not to wake her, he collapsed on the furs at her feet where sleep found him quickly.

Ivar didn't know how long he had been asleep, but he was startled awake by screaming. It took him a moment to realize it was his voice shouting, and he had jack-knifed into a seated position, clutching at his lower right leg. He knew he had broken a bone, and his mother, who was alert at his side, knew it as well. She called for two able-bodied guards to take him back to his room, out of sight of the thralls who had now gathered. None of his brothers were about, and he was relieved to be spared the humiliation. The weakness of his body during moments like this was only for his mother and the healers.

He was placed down onto the fur-covered palette in his room with one of the guards already off to fetch a healer. His mother was already trying to soothe his agony with her words, and as she brushed the hair on his forward she grew a frown.

"You're burning up," She said, feeling his forehead and then his chest. And your clothes are damp."

He swatted softly at her hand, frustrated with her observations but with never enough ire to cause her any harm. "Go away."

"Ivar, where do you go? All of these nights you leave my sight and no one knows anything about it." She plucked at the bracelet of your hair on his wrist before he jerked it out of her reach. "Who is this woman you see?"

"Get out, please," He begged. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes, and he didn't know if it was from the fever or the pain in his legs.

He was spared any further argument from her when the healer entered with three other thralls to assist. With soft voices, they were able to make her leave, at least until they finished addressing his fracture. Ivar would have felt awful at banishing his mother from his side if he could summon any other thought that wasn't about the hurt he was feeling.

The trek back through Kattegat had proved to be too much, but he didn't regret the night spent with you. In the water under the stars, and in your arms sharing kisses was where he wanted to be. He kept those thoughts in mind as the healer got to work on setting his leg in place, slathering it in a warming salve before wrapping it tightly in bandages.

"My Prince, you will need to stay in bed for the next few days to give the bone time to mend."

He gazed up at the rafters of the ceiling with contempt. How was he supposed to stay put knowing you were out there waiting for him? He couldn’t let the time pass and risk losing you, but he would need help.

"Go and bring me Ubbe," He instructed one of the thralls who shuffled out of the room at his request.

The healer continued to try and force some foul brew down his throat that he cursed her for at every turn of his head. Ivar knew he was notorious for being difficult to treat, but this healer had stuck through the bad times at his side. He admired her tenacity. If the situation was reversed, he would have given up on himself a long time ago.

After he had taken a large enough dose of the revolting stuff, he was left alone. The medicine made his head foggy, and he drifted in and out of consciousness while waiting for Ubbe to arrive. His eldest brother was best suited for the task in mind because he was soft when it came to Ivar's condition. Hvitserk didn't care about his legs either way, and Sigurd made a point to disparage him at every turn so he was definitely out of the running. Ivar guessed they had to all be out to the hunter's cabin. Following the commotion he had caused in the morning, one of them would have heard about it by now if they had been in town. It was nothing new really. He was used to being left behind.

Just as he was about to slip into another fitful bout of sleep, his door was forced open and in came his brother. He looked out of breath from running at least half of the distance back. Poor, gullible Ubbe.

"What happened?"

"The usual," Ivar started to explain as he forced himself to sit up. "Another broken bone."

"Mother says you also have a fever," Ubbe retorted as he took a seat at the end of the palette.

Ivar groaned. He hadn't estimated that his mother would be playing watchdog. "She got to you already?"

"She's worried about you."

"What else is new? She always worries about me," He grunted out as his leg twitched in pain.

"It's not just her this time. We all are concerned. You disappear at late hours and you're always tired. Even Hvitserk has noticed, and haven't you realized that Sigurd no longer says anything to you? For him, that's practically a defeat."

Come to think of it, Ivar couldn't recall the last verbal sparring match he'd shared with his third brother. Had his time with you sapped him of his usual energy?

"I need your help with something."

"Alright," Ubbe agreed with a nod of his head. "What is it?"

"When night falls, I need you to go down to the water. There's an abandoned dock if you follow the shoreline westward. Wait there and call for (Y/N), and tell her what has happened to me."

"Is she the woman who gave you that?" Ubbe asked while indicating to the bracelet on his wrist."

Ivar nodded as he began to twirl the thing around. It meant more to him than an arm ring. It was proof you had chosen him. "She's a daughter of Rán."

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see for yourself when you meet her." He smiled something Ubbe couldn't understand.

"Feel better, brother," Ubbe said softly as he made his exit from the room.

Ivar could feel the headiness of the brew still working, as he was pulled into visions of you. Together you danced under the moonlight. He could recall the feeling of working legs even though he'd never had a pair before. You glided with him in his arms, but Ivar could not see if it was feet you stood upon or you had somehow managed to balance on the tip of your tail. The strangeness made him privy to the knowledge it was just a dream, but he allowed himself to be carried away in fantasy regardless.

Sometimes his mother would pop inside to have a check on him. Her long hands caressing his forehead and pushing back his hair made him feel like a boy again. The worry on her face had settled now that he was no longer writhing in pain. They only shared in a handful of words while the healer continued to tend to him. It was their special connection, a bond she did not have with his brothers.

When night came and darkness fell, Ivar sat himself up against the wall and waited for Ubbe to return with word of you. It was the first time in a long line of sneaking away that he didn't escape to go find you. A strange emptiness filled him at the thought, and he rubbed at his eyes to combat the sleep that threatened to take him. He couldn’t miss the update about you because he had fallen asleep.

A thin stream of silver light poked through a cut out in the roof of his room, and he imagined you in the water beneath the stars. He wondered what your reaction would be to learning of his injury. Concern he hoped, and not pity or regret for the night they had shared.

As Ivar's thoughts began to spiral out, he was relieved from further gloom when the door opened. Ubbe had returned, and he had on a perplexed frown that furrowed his brow.

"Well, did you speak with her?" Were the first words out of Ivar's mouth.

Ubbe shut the door behind him before coming further into the room. "I called for (Y/N) and waited on that pier, but no one ever came, Ivar."

He took a moment to juggle that information in his head while Ubbe looked on with worry. You never showed. Had something happened to you? Perhaps you were riddled with guilt about taking him in the water or you had seen Ubbe from a distance but did not approach. That had to be it. His brother was a stranger who did not hear your song as he had.

"I have to go there."

Ivar threw the furs off and started to twist to the side. His broken leg protested the rapid movement, and he grunted through his struggle. Ubbe was already at his side pushing him back. He latched onto his brother's arm and tried to shove him off, but even his upper strength had waned and he ended up flopping back down like a lifeless fish.

"You can't leave this room like that," Ubbe scolded. He took a seat down beside him, preventing him from trying something foolish again. "You'll end up losing that leg entirely."

"What's that matter? I'd be no worse off than I am right down."

Ubbe sighed. "I understand you care about this (Y/N), but I don't believe she would want to see you harm yourself this way."

Ivar knew you wouldn't. That's why he had to see you again and be surrounded by your love. "You could take me there."

"We'd never make it past the throne. Mother has seen fit to have eyes on who comes and leaves your room. I think she is looking for the woman to blame."

"(Y/N) won't come here," Ivar said and he could see the confusion on Ubbe's face, but he didn't elaborate. "I've probably lost her forever now."

"If she truly cares for you, she'll still be there," Ubbe argued, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "When you are well enough, I promise I'll help you back to the dock."

Ivar knew from past experiences that it would take many moons before he'd be fully healed. His eyes closed as angry tears threatened to fall. Why had the gods cursed him with these horrible limbs? The faults of his parents should not have fallen onto him. It was a cruel fate.

When he didn't continue to speak, Ubbe must have assumed he had fallen back asleep. He crept back to the door and exited the room as softly as a mouse scuttles through the kitchen.

Once he was alone, Ivar opened his eyes and took off the bracelet from around his wrist. He held it close to his lips, feeling the silk strands as he kissed the braided band. Maybe you could sense him reaching out. He decided to keep it enclosed in his hand and across his heart. If you were calling out, he would feel you in his sleep.

ooOOoo

In the many days that went by, Ivar became more frustrated with his leg. His broken bone was mending, but not fast enough that he was allowed out of the great hall. The slow progress had him taking out his anger on everyone, and they must have felt as trapped in with him as he was feeling about being locked up.

After a brief appearance to sit down to a meal with their mother, he had not seen his brothers again. This time he could admit he was to blame, and that they made the smart decision to cut and run back to the cabin. He had made the meal as uncomfortable as he could manage out of some need for vengeance. While they were free to run about Kattegat with their thralls, he was stuck in bed with wrinkled healers painting noxious salves on his body. He couldn’t be with you, so he chose to be spiteful.

Even his mother began to show signs of being fed up with him. Her smiles were now close-lipped, and she would linger by the door when she visited to make a hasty exit. He had yelled at her only once, and it had to do with her wanting to leave him just like everyone else. Ivar knew that wasn't true, and the moment she let out an anguished sob he had apologized.

Rather than continue to hurt those around him, he knew what he had to do. His leg was well enough that he could crawl again, and if he secured it tightly in his leather bindings it should protect the bone from any trauma as he moved. He had to get down to the pier himself and find you again. The call from the sea had him more desperate for water than a man dying of thirst. No thrall or guard would dare refuse him, and even his mother would not be able to stop him from going. He was doing this for her as well, even if she wouldn't see it that way. After causing her tears, he wouldn't be the reason for any more of her sorrow.

He needed the light to travel, so he began the trek from his room when the sun had only just begun to kiss the horizon. Much of the activity in the great hall had died down once the last meal had been served, and many of the thralls had already gone off to the barn. His mother was not on her throne. Ivar smirked at his good fortune and made for the doors as fast as he was able. Once he had them nudged shut behind him, he began his descent down the stairs. It was the most difficult part of the journey, guiding his body down feet first so his leg wouldn't bounce on every step down.

By the time he had cleared the treeline, the sun had set further and shadows were popping up in every corner. Ivar was more winded than he would normally be due to being bedridden, and he was mindful that he would have to work on building back the strength he had lost. But none of that mattered now. The dock was in sight. He had made it. He went together well with the solitude of the place, and when he sat perched on the end the creaking boards welcomed him home.

"(Y/N)," Ivar called out while searching for any ripple in the water. The surface remained still as glass, and he frowned while giving your name another shout.

Perhaps it was still too young in the day. He waited for the complete pitch of night to hit while letting his mind run wild with all the things he wanted to tell you about. It would be like a reunion of two lovers, and he couldn't fathom how one could be separated from their woman while gone on raids. Of course, his mother and father detested one another's presence, so it must have come as a balm to be away from one another.

The clouds parted from the moon, and one by one the stars surfaced in the sky. He called for you again, then held his breath to listen for any break in the water. Instead, he heard the crunch of footsteps behind him, and over his shoulder, he saw Ubbe approaching.

"I figured you would try coming back soon," Ubbe said once he stood at his side. "How's the leg?"

"Stiff," He replied tersely. "What do you want?"

Ubbe took an uninvited seat beside him which caused Ivar to shift over. There wasn't nearly enough room at the edge of the dock for both of them, and the wood groaned with the added weight.

"I never told you, but I've been coming back here every night after you sent me to search for (Y/N)."

Ivar frowned. "Why?"

"Because I saw how important it was to you to get that message to her, and I wanted to help. I might not be able to take away your pain, but I will still be your legs where I can."

Ivar looked at his lap as the heat built up in his face. He never knew how to take to his eldest brother's kindness. None of the rest of them had it, but from Bjorn's mouth, it was said that he inherited it from Ragnar.

"She never came back, did she?"

Ubbe shook his head. "She must only come for you."

"I don't think so," Ivar said as he looked out at the water. "It's been too long, and I've missed my chance. I don't think she'll come back."

"If she cares for you as you do her, I'm certain she'll be back."

Ubbe's words floated off him as he gazed down at the black water. He was struck with an irrational idea to force your hand if you were near. Before his brother could react, Ivar threw himself off the dock and into the water. It wasn't deep this close to shore, but it was enough that he began to sink. Ubbe was quick to follow, and Ivar tried in vain to bat away his saving hands. He was so desperate to have you come back that he would risk drowning. What a fool.

"Idiot," Ubbe cursed as he dragged them both up onto the sand. "What were you trying to do?"

Ivar turned his head away as he coughed up water. He felt embarrassed by what he'd just done and angry that it didn't earn him anything more than soaked clothes. "You wouldn't understand."

"I don't understand, and you won't help me to," Ubbe said, and his tone lightened from annoyance to mild irritation. "I need my little brother back. The one who's smarter than me at every turn, and doesn't make me fish him out of the sea."

Ivar started to laugh. It began in a quiet snicker and grew deep from his belly until Ubbe joined him. Neither of them knew what the humor was in the situation, but Ivar felt it was better to give in to the urge. He wanted to forget you weren't there, and giggling like a child with his brother in the sand was a good way to accomplish that.

"Should we head back?"

Ivar gave his leg a tug with his hand. "The bandage has soaked through and is starting to fall off. Guess I'd better have it looked at."

Ubbe crouched down beside him and indicated for him to climb up on his back. "C'mon, it'll be faster."

For once Ivar didn't argue. He couldn’t benefit from another disagreement, and he didn't want to be in wet clothes longer than he had to. Ubbe or Floki were the two he trusted most to support him. Hvitserk had dropped him one time, and he refused to let that happen twice. Sigurd never offered.

Once he was secured up to Ubbe's height, they started back home. He chanced one last look over his shoulder for as long as the water was in sight, clinging to the idea that you would spring up from the depths. The only movement out there came from the wind and the tide.

Neither brother spoke another word, but Ivar suspected Ubbe knew he had taken that last glance. How could he not? He wasn't ready to give up on you or accept the idea that you had abandoned him. Thoughts of you being in harm came to him, and he to banish those away because of the helpless feeling they gave him. You were a daughter of Rán, and the sea couldn't hurt you. Repeating it enough times had to make it true. As they journeyed through the night back to Kattegat, Ivar clung to the hope of seeing you again, and his thoughts warmed him up and dulled the pain until he found rest.

ooOOoo

Time passed by for Ivar and the pain in his legs dulled back into its usual ache. With his bone mended he could return to training with his brothers, and hunting up by the cabin. While his physical injury may have healed, it was not so for the throbbing in his heart. He had gone for sparse visits to the abandoned dock again, with each ending in the same sorrow until he had decided to give up going back. What's more, your bracelet that he had never let out of reach had vanished one day. Perhaps you had never been real, and he had dreamed you up.

What more could the gods take from him? First, it was his legs, then his father, and recently he was drifting from his brothers due to their infatuation with Margrethe. It was his mother he looked to as his constant, but she had grown distracted by visions. It was now common practice for her to disappear to her room after the last meal, when not so long ago she would be the last to leave with a chalice of wine. All of this left Ivar alone, and his thoughts had become unbearable. He needed something to dull the noise, a distraction.

More than anything Ivar longed to keep up with his brothers, and that's when he decided he wanted to fuck a woman. He approached Ubbe with the request to convince Margrethe. She had a pleasant face, and she didn't resemble you. If she had taken three of the other sons of Ragnar, he should be no different. Ubbe appeared torn when he first asked but did agree, and Margrethe was hardly in a position to refuse.

Now that the moment was approaching, and he was being brought over to the cabin by boat, he wondered if he would be the one to refuse. From what he'd always seen, men loved to hump a beautiful woman. It's what led to his parents' affair and marriage. So what was wrong with him that as he grew closer to the destination he felt ill? Ubbe certainly wasn't sharing the sentiment. He wore a dumb grin and was humming an old song to himself.

"You're happy I'm about to lay with your woman?" Ivar asked.

Ubbe laughed. "Margrethe isn't my woman, she's still a thrall. But I am happy because this is a good day for you, brother."

The day is still young, Ivar thought with a bitterness that was ingrained in his bones. Was sex such a powerful thing that it would shift who he became? Other than to have children, Ivar never dwelled on the matter. He'd never had a lover, and the closest he had come to obtain such a relationship was with you.

The boated jilted back and forth as it hit shallow water. Ubbe tied off by a tree before coming to fetch him. He was to be carried by his brother to his first tryst with a woman. Not nearly as humiliating as crawling he supposed, but the difference was negligible.

As they passed through the threshold of the abandoned cabin, Ivar stole a look around the place. It smelt like fire and driftwood, and there was a bed that had been piled thick with furs. The flame burning in the hearth let him know that Margrethe was already there.

Ubbe deposited him down on the bed and turned to get a look at him. "I'll leave now so you can be ready for her. Relax and enjoy yourself."

Ivar swallowed. That was easy for any of his brothers, they all had working parts. A handful of times he had felt his prick twitch and stiffen, but it was never a long event and he had never dared to try to take himself in hand. It was silly, but he was afraid of his cock.

He began to disrobe with haste, not wanting Margrethe to walk in on him without his trousers and his legs exposed. Once he was free of his garments he threw the heavy furs over himself and clutched them at his waist. All he could hear was his heart pounding, and he kept his chin tucked into his chest, straining to listen for the woman in the cabin.

She came to him from behind in light, cautious steps. Perhaps she was nervous, or his trepidations had seeped into the air and spoiled the mood. Ivar resisted the urge to peek until she stood at the side of the bed. When he glanced up he saw that she wore a fisherman's net as a veil. Her features were distorted, but he could make out the subtle difference that alluded to her being anyone other than Margrethe.

"(Y/N)?" He whispered and hoped.

You lifted back the thin mesh from your face, and you put on a dazzling smile. Ivar had never seen a better sight, not the first sacrifice of spring or the storms of Thor could hold a candle up to you. You donned a crisp white gown that was cinched at the waist with a strap of brown leather, and your hair was a wild tangle of waves. He had never seen you without your sodden tresses.

You took your first step to come closer, but you lost your balance and fell onto the bed in his awaiting arms. This was where you belonged.

"Shit," You cursed, pulling back enough to look him in the eye. "I was supposed to be beautiful and graceful, but these legs are too light. If I run fast enough, I'm sure I could soar like a bird."

"You have legs?" Ivar exclaimed while pulling you onto the bed beside him with all of the strength he could summon. "Let me see."

You swung your legs across his lap, careful not to rest any weight on his thighs. He hitched the skirt of your dress up to your thighs, exposing the new flesh. His hands didn't know where to touch first. This must be the work of the gods. In place of your magnificent tail were two gorgeous limbs that he was happy to smooth his hands over. You wiggled your toes, content to observe Ivar as he studied you.

"How is this possible?"

"I told you my people can choose to abandon the sea. Now I'm a soft creature like you," You said while giving his arm a playful squeeze.

He caught your hands before you could pull away and placed a kiss on each of them. They no longer had the webbing or claws, but there was a strength to them that he could feel under your touch. "Where did you go? I tried so many times to find you, and I even sent my brother."

"You had your life up here, and I had mine below," You said as your eyes grew vacant. "When I did return to the surface, I could no longer find you. All of these things left unsaid caused us to miss each other."

"Then why are you here now, like this?"

You reached for his wrist, finding it bare. Ivar knew what you searched for. "You no longer have my precious gift. Did you think I turned treacherous?"

"I misplaced it. I would never have thrown it away, even if I thought you'd left me."

"I know," You said as you ran a hand down his bare chest and over his heart. "You were in more pain than I understood that night. The blue in your eyes."

Ivar tensed. "How did you learn about that?"

"Your mother told me."

"My mother…" Ivar knew his mouth was hanging open in question, and he snapped it shut to regain composure.

"She found your bracelet. It was her voice I could hear beckoning me to the land. She must be a powerful woman to do such a thing."

You didn't have any animosity in your voice, but Ivar couldn't help but feel angry for you. His mother had taken your life from the sea by force. He had considered the heinous deed himself for a time, but he would have never risked your resentment. What if that came to pass now that the unthinkable had happened?

Ivar couldn't keep himself from looking at you now. He wouldn't let you go a second time. "She said the sea will take me. Perhaps you are meant to stop that from happening."

"Or maybe I am the sea," You said, shifting your hips as you hovered over his lap. With a firm shove you had him down flat on the furs, and he nearly lost his air as your thighs squeezed at his waist. "Come to take you myself because I couldn't stand the thought of that Margrethe touching you."

And then Ivar realized...Ubbe had known he was taking him to you. You had been on land long enough to learn to walk and find out about his pathetic setup with the thrall. His face flushed and he turned his head to the side before feeling your fingers grasp his chin. You tilted his face back around, and he saw only tenderness.

"I know the weariness from being alone. My heart has been there as well."

"You'll stay?" Ivar knew he sounded a touch petulant, but he did not want to suffer another morning with you vanishing.

"Until the gods bring you home and the sea turns me to froth, I will remain by your side, Ivar Ragnarsson."

He didn't know who's lips touched first, but when your mouths connected, it was like being awash on the deck of a ship. You were a cool drink of water with the tang of salt, and Ivar threaded his hands through your hair. The more his hold tightened, the more it pulled him in like reeds in a marsh.

You withdrew slowly, and you held his gaze, even when he wanted to look away from the thrill of what you'd just done. With careful hands, you shed the veil from your head, and then the dress, all collecting into one pile on the floor with his garments. You were naked before him. All of your scales were gone in place of smooth flesh and pleasing curves. Ivar knew he was gaping at your breasts, how they rose and fell with each rapid breath you took. As you gave a coy grin, you peeled back one corner of the furs and slithered your way in beside him. You pressed up against his side, and his body went taut as you tangled your legs with his.

"Is this alright?" You asked while your toes brushed up and down his shin.

"Yes," He said as a puff of air escaped him.

It was stifling hot under the covers, and your hand seemed to sear his flesh as you dragged it up to his thigh. Your fingers just teased next to cock before brushing up his abdomen. Ivar shifted, his hand reaching yours to halt your motions.

Your eyes flashed to his, and you smiled with patience. "Tell me what you want."

"I…" He paused, unable to form the words, and he could feel himself losing his nerve. With a tighter grasp, he took control of your hand and brought it back down to his half-hard prick. "I just want you."

"You have me," You murmured back as your hand began to fondle his shaft. He continued to grow in your hand, and Ivar let his eyes roll back at the feeling of you working him. His cock had never been so stiff, and his free hand clutched at the furs as he tried to recognize everything he was feeling. Fluid was beginning to bead out at his tip, and he struggled to push you back.

"S-stop," He sputtered.

You pulled back with a shy expression, and you were breathing just as hard as he was. You enjoyed what you could do to him. "Are you alright?"

Ivar bobbed his head, not sure if he agreed or not with your question. "I was losing control too soon, and I haven't even touched you yet."

"Is that all?" You rolled yourself on top of him, pushing back the furs while the cold air of the room pebbled your nipples. Ivar looked up at you in awe. "Touch me then."

Your slick center was rubbing on the base of his shaft now pressed up against his stomach, and he could feel his hips give a few practiced ruts. He saw the flash of delight in your eyes, and you hummed out a moan that was as long as a horn that bellowed in war.

"I'm still adjusting to this new body," You panted. "I've never felt like this before."

Ivar felt a strong sense of pride for bringing you these new experiences along with him. Even though he lacked the skill, he had a newfound confidence that had him reaching for you. His hands felt rough and clumsy against your untouched skin, squeezing and pawing to see how much pressure to apply and where. Your breasts were soft and pliable while your backside was firm and rounded, and you leaned further into him as he grasped onto your cheeks. You placed a wet kiss in the hollow of his throat that had him moaning. He wondered if you could hear his heart racing.

"Please," He choked. "I need to feel you."

Your hand reached down between your bodies, and you pulled back to watch his face as you clutched his cock. Lining it up with your slippery center, you brought your cunt down to the hilt. Ivar was under no delusions that he would last long or immediately be worthy of infamy in bed like his brothers, but being surrounded by your wet heat, he thought he'd cum right then. As you sat up straight to readjust, he let out a gasp. You did too, only when his eyes cracked open to get a look at you, your eyes were shut and your face was screwed up in pain.

"What's wrong?"

"Is it supposed to hurt like this?" You whimpered, hands grabbing at his chest. It seemed everything about your human body was new.

"For human women, it does the first time." He wrapped his arms around you and spun you down onto the bed with himself still connected between your legs. It would be difficult for him to manage this way long, but it would be better for you this time. "I've got you."

Your eyes were blurry from unshed tears, but he could feel you relax in his arms as he began to set a slow pace. On the first withdrawal of his cock he could see a small amount of blood seep out which he regretted feeling thrilled about. You were his now, and he was yours.

The strength in your legs was unmatched, and as you grew more comfortable you squeezed at his waist with your knees. He knew his end was already in sight from the tightening in his balls and the burning in his gut. You had thrown your head back, hair tousled and mouth open to show your sharp teeth. It was the only telltale sign that you weren't a human, and he bought his lips down on yours to explore the fangs with his tongue. You teased back with little nips, and you gave a harsh tug on his hair that separated him from the sloppy kiss.

"Fuck," He breathed out, and his hips began to lose rhythm. "I can't go much longer."

You ran a hand meant to soothe down his back, but it only spurred him on. His hips snapped at a frenzied pace with his thighs smacking against yours. Nothing could stop him chasing the feeling of his release, and with a few more pumps he felt himself empty deep inside you with a profane groan. All of the strain he'd put on his arms to keep from balancing on his legs gave out, and he collapsed on top of you. Your hot skin stuck to his, and he could feel you twitch beneath him.

"Sorry," He whispered embarrassedly. He rolled off of you and his cock made a wet pop as it slipped out from your folds. "You didn't get to finish."

You rolled onto your side to look at him, still breathing fast and on the precipice of your release. "Forget that. This was about you getting to enjoy me tonight."

Ivar shook his head as he turned into you. "But I want you to enjoy me as well."

His hand dove for your core, chubby fingers fumbling around in your wet pussy that was now a mix of your blood and his cum. This was the first time he had felt a woman's warmth, and he watched your reaction as he felt around your lips and the tiny bud at the top. When he stroked over it with his thumb your legs jerked and you whined. He continued to swirl his digit around the nub while experimenting with varying degrees of pressure. You were now experiencing his love for you, and he could read what you enjoyed most with how expressive you were with your body. He settled into a comfortable pattern, and your hand shot down to join his when he hit a perfect cadence.

"Yes...there," You cried.

Ivar plunged his longest finger into your depths as you began to wither and shake. He could feel your pussy clamp down on him as you came, and he knew he wanted to feel that on his cock next time. Your eyes blinked rapidly as you started to calm, and he withdrew his hand, only to bring it to his mouth for a taste. You watched him in rapt attention.

"A warrior tastes the blood of his enemies in battle, so should he not also taste his lover's in bed?"

You brought your hands back together with his and pulled yourself against his chest. "If the gods willed it, then let it be so."

You laid in silence together, and Ivar felt your little puffs of air even out as you fell asleep. He pulled a fur over the both of you, the fire had long gone low and the night air colder. Indeed the gods must have willed it. Ivar now knew he was favored by the gods above all other sons of Ragnar. You were a daughter of Rán, and you had chosen him. His mother knew it as well, or else she wouldn't have summoned you back into his arms. In his heart, he had already forgiven her for taking the bracelet.

The sea had come to take him, and he had gone willingly into the mouth of the current. It was comfortable there, like a never-ending waterfall over rocks beating him down onto your altar. You opened it up and took him in, and now you were both drenched.

The cabin grew cold and black, and Ivar went to sleep beside you that night with the comfort that the stars still shined overhead, and that when dawn came he would not have to face another day without you.

Taglist

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[jaybird-redhood]

propinquity

wc: 2.2k

pairing: jason todd // gn reader

The first thing you think when you see him for the first time is that he has the cutest smile.

That’s a lie, the first thing you think it that he is so incredibly in shape, and it looks great on him, but the smile thing sounds better in your head.

He's moving into the apartment across from yours a month after you moved into yours. Weird, because the two people in your building closest to your age are 2 and 63, respectively.

You suppose that some wicked twist of fate must’ve brought this upon you for missing your cousin’s birthday party last week, because the guy standing across from you is crazy hot. And looking right at you. And you are in the huge neon Wonder Woman t-shirt that your best friend got for your birthday last year.

Yeah. Karma.

“Nice shirt,” the guy offers, holding in a grin. “You’re really making it work.”

“I-”

“See you around, neighbor.”

And with a shut of a door and an awfully charismatic smirk he’s gone.

The next time you see him is a week later, and this time- luckily, you think- you’re dressed somewhat put together. You run into him while unlocking your door.

"What's got you in a twist?" he asks.

"Um," you start, "I just. Ugh I have so much to do. Like 3 hours of homework, a lecture tomorrow that I cannot skip, and I'm completely out of bread and eggs and can't even you to the store until, like, Thursday at best."

Once you start rambling you can't seem to stop. You slouch against your door. You're not entirely sure why you're telling a stranger all this, but he seems to be listening, so you suppose that’s a good sign

"I get the feeling," he offers, and you look up at him. "I'm majoring in English Lit and my classes are kind of kicking my ass."

You give him a small smile, "Glad to know someone in this building is struggling as much as I am."

"Jason," he says, and he reaches his hand out to you. "My name."

You shake it and tell him yours.

As you both turn back into your respective apartments you think that he maybe isn't as intimidating as you thought.

~

The next day goes by with a really boring lecture and another 3 hours of work you need to do.

The ride home from uni isn't that long, but it's long enough for you to contemplate all the ways that your life went wrong after moving to Gotham. And, maybe as payback for thinking mean things about the city, rain that you think should belong to a category 3 hurricane starts to whip around your car 10 minutes into your drive.

Your clothes are dripping water in literal puddles by the time you get back to your apartment.

Groaning, you start fishing for your keys in your purse while walking up the last flight of stairs.

When you get to your door you stop. Right in front of it there’s a grocery bag. Picking it up and looking inside you see a loaf of bread and a small carton of milk.

You pick it up smiling.

“Jason?” you ask, knocking on his door.

No response.

You shrug and turn around. Remember to thank him the next time you run into each other; you think.

~

That next time doesn’t happen to be that long and thank goodness for you.

“You know, we really need to stop meeting like this,” he says to you.

You’re sitting on the floor outside of your door looking rather pathetic, and he’s giving you the most awful smirk you’ve ever seen. (Not that it looks bad on him though. You seem to think that nothing could really look that bad on him)

“I swear I’m usually more put together than this,” you sigh to him. “You moving here jinxed me!”

“Yeah yeah. You’re locked out, aren’t you?”

You give him your best withering I’m going to kill you stare, but it must not be working because he just laughs even harder at you.

“This is completely not my fault it’s just I lost my second set of keys like right when I moved in and then today when I got home, I accidentally left them in my car, but my second set of car keys is in my apartment so now I can’t get them out, stop laughing at me!”

“God you’re a mess,” Jason says- finally finished laughing at you and maybe taking a bit of pity on how disheveled you look. “You couldn’t call anyone to get you in?”

You shake your head.

“My friend is the only other person with a set, but they’re out of town, and our landlord is being a dick and telling me it’s my fault in the first place, so I need to deal with it. I’ve been sitting out here for like an hour.”

“All I’m hearing is that it is your fault and now you’re just moping about it feeling bad about yourself.”

You tilt your head against the door so hard that it makes you wince a bit.

“Ok fine,” he says crossing his arms.

“What?”

“Wait right here.”

He goes into his apartment and comes back out with a skinny metal thing you don’t recognize.

You look at him in confusion and he just motions for you to scoot out of the way as he sticks it in your locks and starts to pick it.

You sigh in relief.

“Thank you thank you thank you. For everything. I swear I will get my life together, so you don’t feel like you have to keep cleaning up my messes.

“I don’t mind,” he says with a small smile, “Take your time.”

And with that he opens the door to your apartment and turns back to his.

“By the way, you should really get better locks. That was way too easy.”

You make a note in your head to get that done sometime. As you’re lying on your couch that night, you’re AirDropped a photo on your phone. Saving it up you see it’s a piece of paper with neat handwriting on it: a phone number and a smiley face, Jason’s name at the bottom.

You smile too and add the number to your contacts.

~

Over the next few weeks, you and Jason start talking more, both over text and through the various times when you run into each other outside your doors.

Each interaction is better than the next, and you soon start to realize that Jason isn’t just some hot guy with no brains. He’s sweet and charismatic, has a whole wall full of bookshelves, could probably quote any classical novel by heart, has incredibly good taste in music, and best (or worst) of all, would make incredible friend material.

It’s just that as you become closer friends, you start to realize that that might not be all you want.

It’s a stupidly cold Friday morning when he texts you, and you’re covered in blankets and wrapped in sweatshirts in your bed. Movie at my place tonight?

You text back your approval and a quick be there at 6 before getting ready for classes.

The day goes by slower than you hoped.

It might be the anticipation of seeing Jason again, or more likely the hours of lectures you have to sit through, but you’re elated when your final class for the day gets let out.

The hours in between are a blur.

A blur which leads to the two of you sitting on his couch watching Romeo and Juliet together, a blanket thrown over your bodies.

You have the obligatory bowl of popcorn resting on your legs, and every few minutes Jason reaches across your lap to take a handful.

The way you’re laying half on top on him is completely deliberate, as to take as much of his body heat as possible. Your landlord had turned off heating 3 weeks prior to ‘save money’ or some other bullshit.

Jason’s not complaining though.

Once your popcorn bowl is finished and your head is in his lap, he runs his fingers through your hair absentmindedly. It might be the nicest feeling you’ve ever felt.

Throughout the movie you exchange snide comments about the plot back and forth. You start trying to say funny things whenever you can just to hear how sweet his laugh sounds to your ears.

By the end of the movie, you’re only slightly in tears, or so you tell yourself.

“Are you crying right now?” Jason asks incredulously, wearing a teasing smile.

“It’s not my fault,” you half say half moan, “Leonardo DiCaprio just has that effect on me.”

He just laughs and pulls you upright until you’re sitting on his lap.

His eyes are a shade of blue green that you’ve never seen before, although you could swear their getting greener by the second.

You watch his gaze drop down to your lips before staring you right in the eyes again.

“Can I kiss you?”

“God yes,” you tell him, and kiss him right back.

~

The next week is somewhat uneventful, even though you and Jason had been meeting each other almost every night, rotating apartments based on whose house was warmer each particular night.

Tonight is your night, and you’ve been waiting the whole day to show him the film you had rented to watch together.

The walk up to your door is easier than usual, and you have a bounce in your step that’s making you feel even more elated than normal taking out your keys to unlock your apartment.

You open your door and your bag drops. The keys clatter when they hit the hardwood, and the silence that follows is deafening.

“You’re bleeding on my carpet,” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth.

There Jason is, bleeding quite profusely, and using your kitchen counter to keep himself vertical. He’s wearing what looks to be a torn half of a domino mask and an extremely hot leather jacket.

(Not that this was the time for noticing his fashion choices, but you filed that thought away for later.)

What really catches your eye though is the huge red bat symbol on his chest, and the red helmet next to it sitting on your counter.

He shifts a little to the side before stumbling through saying, “Um, so, I know this isn’t ideal and I’m really sorry to put you in this situation, but I seriously do not feel like bleeding out tonight and-”

“Oh my god this is great,” you cut him off with. “I thought you were a hit-man!”

“Wait what.”

“Shit no that’s not what I meant- kind of, hang on we should probably stop you from dying before having this conversation.”

You walk over to him to get a better look at his wounds.

“God Jace, you look like death warmed over.”

He just stares at you.

“You have a bunch of stuff in your bathroom, right?”

At least this elicits a reaction. He grimaces in pain but gives you a nod of his head in conformation.

“Ok I’ll be right back, don’t move.”

He gives you a look that says seriously, where would I go.

3 minutes later you’re back with a needle and thread, and some sterilizing spray.

“This should be fine,” you tell him, “I took a first aid class last year with my friends and passed with flying colors according to the nurse.”

“Just try to keep them tight and neat. I trust you,” he says, and your heart pounds just a little harder.

You respond with a nervous laugh but take a deep breath and start working.

~

An hour and a half later you’re done.

The combination of pain meds, bandages, and a whole lot of stitches eventually led to you and Jason laying in your bed together, both completely exhausted.

He turns his head to face you.

“Could we maybe go back to the hit-man thing?”

“Oh uh. Well I saw a bunch of shirts covered in blood in your laundry in the bathroom, not to mention all the weirdly specific first-aid you had,” you tell him.

“And also the assorted guns and knives you have hidden all over. I guess I just assumed? But the whole Red Hood thing is so much better,” you reassure him.

“You found all my knives?”

You smile up at him.

“I love that that’s thing you chose to focus on.”

“And you’re really not mad that I didn’t tell you about the whole vigilante thing before?” he asks.

“Jay, I had already resigned myself to life forever with some shady hit-man that also happened to be incredibly good looking. Red Hood is ten times better than that. I’m not going to run away from you just because you’re incredibly intimidating and probably could kill me. I see that as an added bonus,” you say, with as much charm as you can muster without yawning.

“Just. Be careful, ok? I’d hate to make this a routine.”

He responds by pulling you closer to his body.

“I promise,” he whispers into your head. “You really to remember to get better locks by the way, breaking in was still way too easy.”

You let out a small laugh and finally you let yourself give into sleep.

[atsukashii]

Hi is it ok if I request y/n x kuroo & she/her & ☀️ & pink please?

smooth like butter, like a criminal undercover gon' pop like trouble breaking into your heart like that

✘ hey google: how do you tell if a guy is flirting with you?

✘ GENRE: fluff

✘ WARNINGS: aged up characters, bookshop au

✘ WORD COUNT: 1.9k

“I’d like to take you to the movies, but they don’t let you bring in your own snacks.”

Closing your work locker, you raise an eyebrow at the familiar six foot, raven haired guy, who smirks down at you as if he just won first prize. In cringe worthy pick up lines? Yeah he can take that medal.

“Are you calling me a snack?” You ask, adjusting the strap of your bag.

“Will you go out with me if I say yes?” Kuroo asks again, wagging his eyebrows at you teasingly, and you immediately know he’s messing with you.

“Not a chance.” Offering him a scathing glare, you spin on your heels and slip out the front door of the shop. When you’d first gotten the job at the small bookshop near your house, you'd have been ecstatic. Although you’d been less ecstatic about your new colleague who you’d never met before in your life, but had been slipping you cheesy and corny pick up lines every day for months.

You didn’t even know that there were that many ways to flirt with someone, but alas, Kuroo proved you wrong every shift. At first, you’d been a flustered bumbling mess trying to come up with a response, but as you caught on to how his hazel eyes glinted with untamed mischief, you’d decided that Kuroo wasn’t your favourite person.

That wasn’t to say that you by any means hated the guy, there was no way you could when he was literally one of the nicest people you’d ever come across in your life. He held doors open for you, and would volunteer to carry the new boxes of stock out back because they were heavy - although you had an inkling that was partly to show off. In the end, Kuroo is sweet, kind, and hilarious. But he thinks that hitting on you every day, and asking you out as a joke is also hilarious.

And it’s hilariously pissing you off.

Because somewhere down along the way, between the angel references and calling you a ‘cute-cumber’ you’d found yourself smiling at the lines. You found yourself anticipating getting to work shifts with him, just to see him and for the chance to witness the familiar rogue smile and the pure giddiness that emits from his very being.

But to him, it was a joke. And that left more than a bad taste in your mouth.

Adjusting your bag once more, you try to slide the store door closed behind you to keep the aircon inside - a stark contrast to the summer heat bearing down on you. Before it can close completely, a hand rolls the glass door to a stop and you find yourself once again looking up into hazel eyes.

“Not finished?” You snipe back, having reached your quota of fake flirting for the day. Kuroo doesn’t flinch at your tone, or maybe he just chooses not to notice judging by the smile that graces his face. Maybe, just maybe you could eventually get over him. It’s not going to go anywhere, if it was going to, he wouldn’t have waited literal months to make a move. So maybe, you can let him go.

“Oh I have plenty more for you princess, but I just thought you might want this first.” In his hand is a copy of the book you’d been reading behind the counter of your shifts. Blinking twice, you realise it’s got similar dog eared pages and a crinkled spine from continuous use - that's your book. Instinctively you peer into your bag on your shoulder, and alas, it's empty. With an empty mind, you take the item from Kuroo’s outstretched hand, and offer him a quick thanks as you try to swallow the emotion in your throat.

“You’re most welcome. Walk home safe, I'll see you tomorrow princess.” Kuroo responds with a rogue wink that has you flushing from head to toe. His knowing grin proves that was the response he was looking for, so you quickly shove the book in your back and practically run from your work - swearing that you can feel his gaze on you the whole way home.

Yeah, there’s no chance you’re going to get over him.

This is cemented on your next night shift. You stand behind the counter, your eyes glancing up from the book you’re reading to the group of teenage girls giggling amongst the young adult isle. Really, it should be an actual law for people to be as quiet in bookstores as they are in libraries.

The door opens once more, and you begin to groan internally at the thought of even more rowdy teenagers coming in, but instead Kuroo slinks through the door in all his six foot two glory. Dressed in his work shirt, some black jeans and his usual sneakers, he looks good and the bastard knows it from the raised eyebrows he shoots you when he catches you looking. You don’t reply, but instead turn back to your book, ignoring him and the gaggling teenagers who suddenly shut up as he walks past them to go to the back room. You can’t blame them as their eyes stay glued to his every movement. Kuroo walks like he was meant to carry the world on his shoulders, but instead spins it like a basketball on one finger. As if the most difficult things for him are effortless. Like a god amongst men. Okay, let's not go that far. If he ever heard that, his ego would asphyxiate everyone from here to the south pole.

“Do you like my shirt?” Kuroo’s question has you turning around before you can stop yourself, but you’re all levels of confused as he holds the hem of his shirt in pinched fingers away from his body. His shirt? It’s his work shirt…

“Uh it’s your work shirt…” You manage to mumble out, brows still furrowed, completely baffled.

“Yeah but its made of a different material.” He points out, moving closer to you, only looking up from his shirt and to you when he’s standing only a few feet away. “Boyfriend material.” His grin is actually blinding, so you’re not sure if you’re squinting from that, or from the way you scrunch up your nose in distaste at his line.

“I hate you.” You grumble, turning away and looking down at your book once more, letting your hair fall over your cheeks to hide the flush splashed brightly across them.

“Hate me? Why must you hurt me so princess?” Kuroo jokes, and you find yourself getting more and more disappointed as he grows quiet and begins to start on his own work for the shift. It’s not until you both notice the gaggling girls practically drooling on the floor at him that you decide you need to take your break.

Closing your book loud enough to startle the group of girls and the guy flicking aimlessly through a volleyball magazine at your side. “I’m going for my ten.” You offer in explanation as you try to move out back. You don’t get to even make it past the counter before there's a warm hand wrapping around your own. Kuroo’s hand completely engulfs yours in the best ways and you can’t help but gape at it as it pulls your walk to a stop.

“Are you alright?” He asks, drawing your eyes reluctantly from your entwined hands to his face, and once you spot genuine concern there, you hesitate with your response. How do you say that no, you’re not okay because would you be if the person that you liked jokingly asked you out on a daily basis for months on repeat? But never meant it?

“Yeah, I'm fine.” Kuroo doesn’t let go just yet, but instead scratches the back of his neck with his other hand nervously.

“You know, if I'm honestly bothering you, please tell me. I don’t ever want to make you uncomfortable y/n,” He offers, shame and hurt flashing brightly in his eyes - and it shocks you stupid for a few seconds. It takes you an added moment that he’s talking about his teasing. Wait, he thinks he’s bothering me? Is he?

“Kuroo, if it was bothering me I would have told you alright?” You say softly, your gaze drifting back to your hand. “I mean sure sometimes it can be a bit much but that's mainly because I'm an idiot.” Not expecting those words, Kuroo’s nerves bleed into a confused frown that has you wanting to reach up and thumb away the line between his pinched brows.

“An idiot? Princess, if what I'm saying is bothering you-”

“It’s not what you’re saying that’s bothering me, it’s the joking.” The second the words leave your mouth, you wish you could reach out, grab them, and shove them back down your throat, because the way Kuroo drops your hand as if it burnt him hurts more than you thought it would.

“Joking?” His tone is utterly perplexed, and this time, you’re the one looking back at him with confusion. A loud laugh barks from his chest and you immediately feel embarrassed for absolutely nothing. Kuroo is laughing so hard and obnoxiously that tears actually crest the corner of his eyes, and at this rate you’re ready to just walk out the door if it means you don’t have to deal with this embarrassment for another second.

“You mean to tell me, that all this time you thought I was joking?” Kuroo gets out between laughs, and you feel your stomach drop at his words. What does he mean did you think he was joking? Was he not?

Your silence is answer enough because he runs a hand through his thick dark hair and leans back on the counter behind him.

“Jesus Christ Y/n!”

“You would laugh at me after you said them!” You defend, pointing an accusing finger in his way. How could you not think he was joking when he’d laugh at you, his whole being the very embodiment of mischief when he would say his lines.

“Because your face would go red and you’d tell me I was an idiot under your breath, because it was cute!” Kuroo rebuts right back, trying once more not to laugh, and you can’t help but groan. You cannot believe that this entire time, he was actually trying to ask you out on a date. Well, you can’t fault his perseverance and tenacity.

“Kuroo,” you grumble, bridging your fingers and pressing them to your forehead in thought, just trying to calm your raging heart at the fact that this is happening.

“Y/n,” he grins right back, and you can feel him closing in on your position before you can even see him. But once you open your eyes again, letting your hands fall from your face, Kuroo’s stunning features are right up close and more beautiful than you’d thought.

“Does this mean that you’ll go out with me when I ask this time?” You really do try for your pride's sake to not flush at his words, but heat still crawls up your neck and Kuroo’s growing smile tells you that your mental attempt to stop it isn’t working.

“Yes, I will.” You say, letting the smile tug at the corners of your mouth.

“Good, I'll remember that for my new line tomorrow.”

✘ A/N: more fluffy kurro for ya day, y'all i am l i v i n g for this man rn

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