#please dear authors of any fanfic platform really

[fatherless-stuff]

Somebody please write a healthy AU. I'm begging you all! This fandom is allergic to happiness! I need them to be happy from start to finish!

#feyd rautha #paul atreides #dune part 2 #feyd x paul #feydpaul #paul atreides x feyd rautha #paul x feyd #please dear authors of any fanfic platform really

[pizzapottah]

young love

summary: the youngest malfoy meets the famous harry potter, not knowing that he'll be a big, big part of her life one day.

pairing: harry j. potter x malfoy!reader (no use of y/n)

word count: 4.2k

warnings: some depiction of health problems, mention of premature birth, mention of being underweight, overbearing parents (?) let me know if i missed anything!

author's note: hii! this is the first ever fanfic i post on this site, so, please be kind. english is not my first language (tell me if i missed any mistakes!) so constructive criticism is accepted and greatly appreciated! i thought of this as the first part of a series that i have in mind, so, enjoy <3

ps: yes, i changed draco's birthday for the plot. no regrets.

when you met harry potter for the first time, it obviously was on platform 9¾.

you had always been quite a weak child. born on the 1st of august 1980 after a gruesome labor and almost a month before the due date, always the smallest amongst your friends and family, often used to miss occasions and such because of your poor health. constantly coddled by your parents - more likely, your mother - who for your whole childhood dreaded the day they would have had to send you to hogwarts. 

when the day came, they both had already made peace with it. as a witch and as a malfoy, you had to go to hogwarts - or else, what might other people think? said lucius, when narcissa tried convincing him of hiring a tutor at the manor to teach at home for at least the first years. 

against all the odds, you were happy about going to hogwarts. it would have meant not having the prying gazes of your parents on you all the time, being free from all the house-elves constantly watching to ensure you didn’t faint or hurt yourself while trying to do things other children did without a struggle - and, last but not least, hopefully not being a victim of your brothers protectiveness anymore. 

draco malfoy - your older brother, born not even a year before you on the 5th of september - was a precocious child, but not the kind you were. while you were born early and always ended up being the last, he seemed to be ages ahead of you and all of his peers. he had a malice that you hadn’t quite matured yet - obviously inherited by your dear father - and was able to have a pretty mean way with words. sometimes, you feared that one day, all the sly remarks and insults that he reserved for the people that he despised would be directed to you. more often than not, he was straight up cruel rather than mean. 

but still, he was your brother, and you loved him. hogwarts probably would become the place where he could finally forget about his poor, sick sister that always slowed him down. 

so, when not even ten minutes after your parents left your kitten disappeared, you wanted to bury yourself from embarrassment. nibbles had never been the easiest cat, hating the carrier almost as much as she hated everyone but you, and it was certainly not the first time she managed to escape her cage. 

you wanted to sit down and cry. you hadn't even arrived at hogwarts yet and everything was already going downhill. you were running up and down the platform, searching for your cat, probably looking crazy while you screamed her name. draco was surely already on the train, and you didn’t want to bother him as he was probably with all his friends. 

as you ran, you slammed against a boy whom you didn’t even see - he just came out from nowhere, you swore, but still… 

‘i am so, so sorry…’ the boy was on the ground, just like you, but had a slower reaction and you managed to get up first. seeing a pair of glasses - now broken glasses - on the floor, you immediately gave them back to him, babbling a string of apologies while helping him to get back up. you kept a hold on his hand while rambling, ‘i am really sorry for your glasses, i didn’t mean to break them, i shouldn’t have been running around-’ the screech of the hogwarts express made you yelp, making you enter an even worse panic - where the hell are you, nibbles? - “i am so sorry, but have you seen my cat? her name is nibbles, she’s about this big, with grey and white fur - she’s a birman, her snout is all brown - she probably hisses at anyone who tries to approach - please, please, tell me that you’ve seen her!’

the boy was all skin and bones, wearing clothes that were clearly too big for him, with untamed locks of black hair on his head - he probably hadn’t brushed them since forever - and two big green eyes that just stared back at you. he looked at you speechless, like he never fell on the ground in his whole life and he was happy that you knocked him out. you still held his hand, waiting for an answer. ‘...so?’

‘excuse me, dear,’ a kind voice echoed. ‘is this the cat you’re searching for?’

removing your attention from the boy, you looked at the woman who spoke - a red-haired, chubby and oh-so-kindly looking woman - who was pointing to a red-haired man. he held nibbles at arm’s length, with his face covered in scratches, while behind him three boys that were clearly their sons were laughing, holding back their tears when the birman tried to scratch him again and then hissed. 

‘nibbles!’ you screeched, immediately running up to the man to grab your cat, apologizing profusely, not even knowing what to say. ‘i am so, so, so sor-’

the woman and her husband waved you off with a gentle smile. ‘don’t worry, dear, you better go now, or you won’t find a place to sit! first year, am i right? still not enough friends to keep a cabin occupied.’ 

you just nodded, thanking them again, and ran to the hogwarts express. thankfully, all your belongings had already been placed there by the house-elves that accompanied you and your family to the platform, and you could count on daphne and theodore to save you a seat. when you finally managed to sit down, you were out of breath and probably your hair looked like a mess, but at least nibbles didn’t become a stray. when they looked at you, your friends bursted out laughing, only stopping when nibbles launched at theo and tried to bite off his nose. 

the rest of the day was pretty normal - well, as normal as the first day at a school like hoghwarts can be - but when you met that skinny boy - the one with green eyes and too-big clothes - you didn’t realize that you missed a big (vital, almost) detail about him. 

the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. 

harry potter was sure he was dreaming. 

while he watched you run away with your cat in your arms to get on the train, his mouth fell open. he was certain he had never seen a girl as pretty as you, and he was also sure that yours was probably the first sincere apology he had ever heard since… well, since he could remember. it had nothing to do with dudley’s mockery sorrys, and it surely wasn’t a forced apology like the ones he had heard when he was at school. she was really sorry. probably he should’ve been mad that you broke his glasses, but at least, he had proof that you actually existed and he wasn't hallucinating. 

‘are you alright, dear? i know that all of this probably looks unbelievable for you.’ mrs weasley placed a hand on his shoulder, looking at him with a kind of worry that he imagined only a mother could show. 

harry looked at his hand - the one you held. ‘i think it’s the first time in my whole life that a girl has held my hand and has talked to me willingly.’ near them, the twins and ron bursted out laughing again.

and that same evening, when the sorting of the houses begins and harry sees you go up to the seat when another malfoy is called and ron is sprouting poison in his ear about your family and your whole lineage, he silently hopes that you get put in gryffindor - where he’s just been sorted. 

obviously, as destiny has its strange ways, it doesn’t happen. and after a minute or two of uncertainty, the talking hat places you where draco has just been sorted to. and between the claps and the cheering of the students, you go and sit next to your brother - on the slytherin table.

the second time you met harry potter - and the time you actually consider as the first time meeting him, despite him always arguing that in fact, it was not  - it was already january and five months had passed since your first encounter. you stood by the window of the library, watching your friends play in the snow, without you. 

when you and draco came back home for christmas, you first caught a cold, followed almost immediately by a high fever. the mediwizard said it probably was because of the weather, and your weak build just reacted badly to it. he recommended you to not get too exposed to the cold for the foreseeable future, and to always stay covered up. it was clear that your parents had taken that seriously.

so, now, no matter how much you beg professor snape, he won’t let you go out. your parents have been strict about this matter, miss malfoy, he said. and i can’t let an all-O student get sick, now, can i? who will answer my questions in class?

hermione granger, you had wanted to say, but didn’t. snape’s distaste for her, or any other gryffindor for that matter, was clear and plain. you were sick of always being kept behind a glass like some fragile object - people get sick, so what? during your time at hogwarts, your health got better. for the first time ever in your life, you felt like you were really healthy, as you finally gained some pounds and were no longer underweight. also, your skin took on a lively color, leaving behind your usually pale and sick incarnate. you were starting to suspect that malfoy manor was the problem. maybe it was cursed. 

though, draco never had any health problem. he could go out and play - but instead, as any other saturday, he probably was in his room, sleeping, or in the slytherin common room, talking with his friends about all the presents their parents got him for christmas.

and as you were commiserating yourself by the window, you didn’t notice a certain green-eyed boy looking at you. 

harry thought that he was wasting a saturday by spending it at the library, trying to understand snape’s assignments, but that was until he saw you. when he first noticed, he tried to not give it much thought. he just hoped that your brother wasn’t there with you. 

but as time went on, draco was nowhere to be seen. and you just stood there, propped up by the window, looking like the saddest person he’d ever seen. harry was conflicted - he knew you weren’t like your brother, or even like most of the slytherins. you always helped neville during potions, trying to alleviate snape’s hate against him, even when the professor said to him to stop slowing you down. you often offered to hermione to confront your assignments before turning them in, creating a strange friendship based on the purpose of getting the highest score possible together. you never took part in your brother’s bullying, and hermione described you as the sweetest person she ever met. ‘she always wants to apologize,’ she said once. ‘for her brother and his friends, i mean, but i don’t let her. it’s not her fault that her brother is such an imbecile.’ 

‘oh, yes,’ replied ron, skeptical. ‘kindness, a typical malfoy trait, am i right? hermione, she’s brainwashing you.’

they argued back and forth, until harry intervened. ‘i met her, once,’ he mumbled. ‘she’s nice.’

‘oh, you mean when she knocked you out on platform 9¾?’ snorted the weasley. ‘don’t be so stupid, harry, she was just searching for her ugly cat. she probably didn’t even care that you fell. besides, the scratches it gave to my dad’s face tormented him for days. he said that some of them even left a scar.’

harry frowned. ‘she apologized a hundred times - and you were laughing while her cat scratched your dad’s face!’

‘yeah, because i didn’t know it was malfoy’s cat and it would have left scars!’

‘right now, you’re being just like malfoy,’ seethed hermione, getting up from her seat. ‘judgy and full of prejudice. did you know what she said about you, and your family? she said that your parents were really nice to her and that she hopes to meet them again to thank them properly. she says that the twins’ pranks are hilarious, and that she wants to be prefect like percy one day. and she proposed to me many times to let you study with us, so that your grades could get better with our help. and do you know why i said no, ron?’ she glared at him, making him shiver. ‘because i knew you hated her, even if she never did anything to you.’ after that, she took her leave, leaving behind a red-faced ron and a really embarassed harry. 

remembering the conversations they had, harry looked at you, and thought that in the small time he had known her, hermione was almost always right - even if sometimes he didn’t want to admit it. and gathering all the courage that he had, he got up from his seat and approached you. 

‘hi,’ he said. you turned around to look at him, and gave him a smile. ‘oh, harry,’ you said. in the last few months, he visibly gained a few pounds too - that was a nice thing, you thought, because you knew from hermione that his aunt and uncle barely fed him, and you remembered how skinny he was at the platform. it seemed like hogwarts was treating the both of you well. ‘hi.’ you darted your eyes from him to the table where he was sitting, seeing the homework sprawled out on the surface. ‘were you doing snape’s assignments?’

harry scratched his neck nervously. ‘well, yes, but it’s not like i was really succeeding.’ 

you laughed lightly - a sound that made his cheeks red. ‘yeah, snape’s homework is not made for actually succeeding, really. you just have to pass.’

harry looked out of the window, frowning at the sight of your friends playing in the snow. ‘why don’t you go with them? it’s surely more fun than staying here alone. i’m here because i have to, i mean, but hermione told me you and her finished the assignment yesterday.’

you grimaced. ‘i was sick during the holidays, thus my parents don’t want me going out, now, and they even told snape, who makes sure that i actually stay in the castle. so, i’m stuck here. i like the library, so it doesn’t really matter.’ it actually does matter, you wanted to say, but you were sure that harry couldn’t care less about your problems. instead, he made a face. ‘what? can he actually do that?’ he wouldn't know, he doesn’t have parents that care about him - in the rare times where he fell ill, the dursleys barely even gave him any medicine, and always sent him to school, despite the weather.

‘well, i mean, yeah. he’s friends with my dad, and i know he can be really pressuring sometimes.’ you tried to smile at him. ‘do you need help with potions? i’m kinda sick of watching my friends having fun and doing nothing.’

harry didn’t want to bother you - or worse, give another reason to draco to make fun of him. ‘don’t worry, i’ll mana-’ seeing your pout made him stop and relent. after a brief pause, he said: ‘of course you can help me, if you want,’

that was how it started. in the weekends - mostly it was on saturdays - when the library was empty, you would help him with his homework (mainly potions, and you were quite proud of the fact that harry started to get higher scores, even if snape continuously suggested that he was cheating on his tests) and he would keep your mind off of your friends. you didn’t want to hold them back from having fun, so it was okay. 

until one day, harry came to the library late. it was already february, and probably the snow would have melted soon. it wasn’t really snowing anymore, and all the students spent their free time out in the gardens, trying to enjoy the last bits of winter. he was out of breath and had the biggest smile on his face. he said your name, ‘do you wanna go and build a snowman?’

you smiled sadly at him. ‘harry, you know i can’t. but if you want to, you can go. i won’t be mad at you for going without me.’

he shook his head vehemently. ‘no, no,’ he said. ‘i asked, do you wanna go and build a snowman?’

‘well, i mean, i would like to, but-’

‘no “buts”,’ he interrupted you, ‘go and change - wear your coat, put on a hat and other things like that to stay warm. today professor mcgonagall is keeping an eye on the students, so, we just have to bypass snape. let’s see each other in 30 on the second-floor girls’ bathroom.’

you raised an eyebrow at him. ‘why would you want to see me in a girls’ bathroom?’

he blushed. ‘do you trust me, or not?’

so you went and changed into something warmer, putting your ear warmer, a scarf and a pair of gloves in your bag. as you exited the girls’ dormitory and entered the slytherin's common room, you found yourself in front of professor snape, who eyed you suspiciously. 

‘miss malfoy,’ he said. ‘great afternoon, is it? i’ve seen all your friends out in the snow.’

‘oh, yes, professor,’ you squeaked. ‘i’m just going to the library, though. wouldn't want to catch a cold and make my parents worry about my health.’ 

he raised an eyebrow, not really convinced, but let you go easily. ‘don’t forget that professor mcgonagall also knows that you can’t go out in the garden, miss malfoy,’ he said at last. 

you barely even heard him, sprinting to the second floor and making sure you weren’t being followed, immediately entering the bathroom. thankfully, moaning myrtle was nowhere to be seen, but you found harry already there, with a bag of his own and looking pretty nervous. ‘you promise not to tell anyone about this?’

‘now, harry, why would i?’

he opened his bag and took out what was inside. your mouth fell open. ‘is that-?’

‘an invisibility cloak? yes, it is.’

you only ever saw one once, in your grandfathers house, behind a glass in one of his cabinets. he never let you or draco touch it, insisting that it was a "collection object" and it wasn’t made for "children who want to play". you knew they were very expensive and rare, and seeing that harry’s one looked really beautiful, you asked yourself where the hell he got it from. 

‘you ready to finally get a bit cold, malfoy?’

professor mcgonagall was watching the students by the window, enjoying some tea and reading a book, when severus snape slammed the door of her office open, stomping inside. ‘minerva,’ he greeted, all but happy. ‘can you tell me how miss malfoy managed to sneak under our noses and get outside?’

unbothered, she looked out of the window and saw that yes, actually, you were out in the snow, covered well, making a snowman with hermione granger, harry potter, daphne greengrass and theodore nott. ‘i don’t see the problem, severus. she’s enjoying herself and is happy with her friends. it’s the first time i see her smile this wide.’

snape raised an eyebrow. ‘yes, and i suppose, it’s also the first time you see her in the snow. out. in the gardens. where her parents specifically asked to not let her go.’

then minerva suddenly remembered - merlin, she can’t go out in the cold. the five-page letter your parents sent dumbledore where they said that their daughter couldn’t be allowed out there for ‘poor health reasons’ immediately came to her mind, and she paled. 

she got up, leaving her book and tea behind, sprinting down the stairs to get to the gardens, snape close behind her. ‘miss malfoy!’ she yelled once she got there, without even having her coat on. ‘miss malfoy, come here at once!’

she saw your friends pale, and your face fall. the snowman, by then, was almost completed. the professor felt guilty instantly. how many years has it been, since i’ve seen gryffindors and slytherins get along? 

you got up from the snow and sniffled, sad. ‘thanks, guys,’ you said. ‘that was really fun.’ 

with your head low, you went to your teachers, preparing yourself for the scolding you were surely about to get. at least, they waited until you were inside the castle to start. ‘i never thought you capable of this, miss malfoy,’ started snape. ‘putting yourself in danger, going against your parents’ wishes and the mediwizard precautions - do you want to get sick? don’t you think that if you can’t go out, it’s just for your own good-’

‘now, now, severus,’ a voice interrupted. dumbledore, who was going down the stairs and heard the commotion, looked kindly at you. ‘she just wanted to have some fun. it’s been two months from her illness, am i right? she’s taking her medicines and taking care of herself. don’t get mad at her if she wants to play with her friends; she’s a child, and that’s what children do!’

he approached him and looked at you, smiling widely. ‘why don’t you go back to your friends, miss malfoy? i’m sure they’ll be delighted to hear that from now on, you won’t need to sneak in the garden anymore to play with them - you have my permission to go out during free time.’

your eyes sparkled. ‘really, professor?’ he chuckled. ‘really, missy.’

‘albus-’ professor mcgonagall tried to intercede, ‘her parents, they are gonna be furious if they find out about this-’

‘well, they don’t have to know, now, do they?’ he sent a look at snape. ‘and even if they find out, don’t worry, i’ll take full responsibility.’ 

professor snape huffed indignantly, turning in his heel and stomping away. 'unbelievable,’ he grumbled. dumbledore looked at you expectantly. ‘now, what are you waiting for, child? you can go. that beautiful snowman needs to be finished, and it looks clear to me that your friends won't complete it without you.’

you stood up straighter. ‘i, i, thank you, professor!’ you stammered, then ran away, going back to your friends, who were all discussing with each other, asking if they should go and try to help you out or just let it be. when they saw you, they all cheered loudly, asking immediately how it went and how many points the teachers took from slytherin.

‘albus,’ murmured minerva, watching you from the window. ‘don’t you think that it’s a reckless decision? you know that severus is going to tell the malfoys. and, poor her, she’s a weak child, do you remember how lucius malfoy described her illness in that letter?’

dumbledore hummed, deep in thought. ‘that child is in perfect health, minerva.’

she raised an eyebrow. ‘are you suggesting that the malfoys are lying? and for what? to ruin their daughter’s first year? you know how much the malfoys care about their children - they’d never do that to her.’

he shook his head. ‘no, i think the malfoys worry is legitimate. they don’t understand the cause of the problem, though, i fear.’ he looked at the snowman, almost completed, and then at you, who was searching for rocks to make him buttons. ‘children are fragile creatures. you never know how what you say, or what you do, will affect them. i am afraid that the malfoys have always been too overprotective of her, not wanting her to get hurt or sick - but sometimes, the more you fear and try to avoid a thing, the more it happens. children need to play with their friends - need friends -, need to play in the sun, and even fall and get hurt, once in a while. that’s what makes children children, am i right? she’s getting more healthy day by day, and i don’t think i’ve ever seen her smile like that - though i know i’m not around that much, i’m sure you can agree with me. we both know that growing in malfoy manor certainly won’t make anyone a happier child than they already are. draco surely loves that ambient - somewhere where everyone is at his beck and call, where he is revered by the servants and can feel all the wealth of his family - but what happens when one does not see all that, but just sees a too-big gloomy house?’

he quietly chuckled, looking at you and harry. ‘and - would you look at that, minerva! look at harry’s smile.’

she looked and immediately melted, knowing the look on the boys face - the flushed cheeks, the wide pupils, the biggest smile she’d ever seen (that’s not true, she remembered, that's the same smile james potter had when he looked at lily evans) while he talked to you. ‘yes, albus,’ she mumbled, deep in thought. ‘merlin. harry really is the copy of his father, isn’t he?’

dumbledore laughed. ‘ah, first love,’ he said, amused. ‘i just know he’ll remember her for his whole life, even if she ends up not liking him.’

‘a potter and a malfoy,’ mumbled mcgonagall. ‘never thought i’d ever see it in my life. is there anything more surprising than young love?’

the divider is from @saradika-graphics! <3

#harry potter x reader #harry potter x malfoy!reader #harry potter imagine #malfoy!reader #harry potter saga #draco malfoy #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #hp fandom #pizzapottah's writing #fanfic #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #harry potter/you #harry potter/reader #harry potter fic #harry potter

[tipsydipsydo]

Der Geliebte

Pairing: Jungkook x artist! Reader

Gender of the Reader: female

Word Count: 6.4k 

Rating: 16+

AU: non idol! Jungkook x artist! Reader AU!

Genre: strangers to lovers AU; friends to lovers AU! (idiots to lovers AU!); love at the first sight! AU; soulmate to lovers! AU (kinda?); unbelievable amount of fluff; a little angst (fluffy angst!!,); tiny amount of smut (one paragraph xD)

Warnings: tiny bit of smut/some sexual tension between both of them; Jungkook is a poor shy thing and is fucking nervous around the reader all the time; teeth rotting fluff; both are so in love with each other that they’re getting stupid to not realize it; both are insecure that they’re not meant for another... just fluff, fluff, fluff and painfully obvious pining over each other! 

A/N: Hallelujah, I finally did it! After I made Sibi @borathae​ wait over three months for her Christmas + Birthday Fanfic I finished it two weeks to late for my sweetest Darlings Birthday! I am so incredibly sorry that I made you wait for such a long time and really, Sweetie, you have all the rights to be still mad at my stupid ass! Nevertheless... I love you so goddamn much and I hope the fic made at least a little bit up for it... Love you!!!! 💕 💕 

Summary: You and Jungkook met right at the first day you opened your own atelier in Seoul after you had to leave your old home behind you. You love paint canvas with landscape motives, other people just roll with their eyes when they hear that you choose such usual, almost boring things to paint. Not so Jungkook, he seems to be different than most of visitors. It’s almost like he can read your feelings through your paintings...

Status: Edited (I am sorry for any still existing errors in here!) 

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「© tipsydipsydo」

This following story is my intellectual property and belongs only to my blog tipsydipsydo.tumblr.com!

I’ll not accept any kind of reposting, stealing or using/editing my work!

That includes reposting my content on other social media platforms too, even when you link me as the original author.

Thank you.

* Jungkook’s POV * 

"In what are you getting yourself into, Jungkook?"

 I quietly ask myself as I get rid of my clothes behind the paravent and throw the dressing gown over his body which you laid out for me. My hands are sweaty, they tremble slightly and my heart beats wildly, as if it wants to jump right out of my chest. Excitement spreads throughout my body, leaving a faint feeling in my stomach and a certain blush rises in my cheeks. I still can't believe what I've gotten myself into . But... you looked at me so pleadingly with your dear and downright innocent eyes that I would have done anything for you with that look of yours. I want to make you happy, see that happy and contented smile on your lips, which always makes a whole horde of wild butterflies break out in my belly. 'Normally I was the shyness and silence in person and with you... with her, I feel for the first timesomething like peace and security. Especially when I consider how shy I usually am around women.', I ask myself and I don't really know the answer to that. But what can I do against my feelings? I don't really know, on the one hand they scare me, on the other hand they feel so exciting and new that I don't want to eliminate them at all.

I don't even know exactly when the whole thing started. In which moment my feelings for you grew, when I felt more than just fascination and admiration for you and your artwork. Six months ago, a small studio had opened in my district, your own studio. On the day of the opening I simply went to it of pure curiosity, I had always had such a weakness for art and photography.

I can still remember exactly how I stood in front of one of your works and was literally speechless and overwhelmed by this picture and all his small details. This painting represents a classic image of the countryside, which was often to be found everywhere. But this work was different. So full of small details and ornaments. It was so much more... As a viewer you can see a beautiful clearing, which is surrounded by trees and protected from too many curious eyes. The ground of this clearing is overgrown with dense and lush green grass, which from the incoming sunlight almost invites you to let yourself fall into the grass. It reminds me instantly of my carefree childhood, when I rolled in it without overthinking my actions too much and those times when I playfully wrestled with my best friends around until our clothes had grass stains all everywhere. I could almost smell the scent of wild, untamed nature. The longer I look at the picture, the greater the longing became. Maybe I could visit this beautiful place one day, together with my partner, my significant other. Playing around with each other, chasing your beloved one until you fall into the grass breathless laughing and cuddling. Maybe we could have a picnic there and feed each other with homemade sweets? 

I didn’t know that such a "simple" landscape painting could touch and awaken so much more in me, in my soul. Suddenly, such a wanderlust came over me that I gasped for air and a heavy lump formed in my throat. My whole body was tingling and my heart was literally screaming to get away from this dreadfully grey and monotonous daily routine of my boring single life, for at least some weeks. I want to go to this place, where I could draw the warm and fresh, natural air could deep into my lungs and pamper myself with homemade delicacies. Just to let the soul dangle and don’t stuck with my closely clocked work life. Maybe sleep until 10 o'clock in the morning and then maybe have a nice nap later. Enjoy the warm nights and hear the crickets chirping. This longing was... irrepressible. This particular wanderlust for nature, just to be out of the city, this longing for exactly this abandoned and untouched forest clearing literally overwhelmed me. What was it for an artist who could trigger such feelings and emotions in me?

I had been so absorbed in the artwork that I had not even noticed that a person step next to me. "Do you like the work?", asked a soft melodic voice, which spoke perfect Korean, but was pervaded by a light accent, which I could not quite assign. I flinched a little, but this bright, happy laugh gave me a tingling goosebumps all over my body. What a beautiful laugh... I turned to the person who was the owner of this beautiful voice. I was startled when I realized that the artist and owner of this studio was standing in front of me personally. I recognized her again, as I had seen a small photo of her in the newspaper article that drew my attention to this beautiful studio in the first place. Already in this picture she had radiated something so strong, colorful, cheerful and lively, which caused an excited flutter in my stomach. 

I admit, I already laid an eye on her just by her appearance. Unfortunately I always had a hard time getting to know people ever since, let alone to talk to women. And now having you, Y/N, personally standing right in front of me, made me feel fluffy and excited in my stomach. Nothing is left of this otherwise so sassy and self-confident  man that I used to be. Only a nervous and stodgy twenty-three-year-old idiot, who did not know what to say or wanted to say, now stands in front of this stunningly pretty and intelligent woman.

Her eyes sparkles like jewels, full of joy, struck me with interest and a playful smile lays on her lips. "Did you not understand my question?", she asked kindly, but nobly reserved. Immediately a rosy puff settled on my cheeks and I stuttered nervously: "Y-Yes, excuse me! I... I was just somewhere else with my thoughts and was completely surprised that they were addressing me personally.... Your works are truly unique! They still show such ‘usual’ motifs and yet they are so special because of these finely elaborated details and this passion with which this work of art was painted. They really are... Unique artworks that you do not forget so quickly. Even for untrained eyes as my owns, I can see that a talented artist has worked on it. I am very impressed by your work, especially this work here!" You could hear the honest admiration from my voice and my heart leapt as she reacted bashful to all of my compliments.

"Thank you, really, thank you so much! I really appreciate to hear such nice words like yours, even if it is rare. I am often criticized for my ‘lack of creativity’, caused by my chosen motives. I just love the rough, almost untouched landscapes of my hometown, I try to depict the ‘normal’ as something beautiful, unique. I would like to ‘really see’ what we already take for granted again. As a wonderful creation, a work of art. Nature is a wonderful example of this, or the architecture of buildings as well. Architects are also artists, although unfortunately they are not seen as such. I just want to offer the obvious things a more meaningful space again.... People like you have become rare. I have observed how you have recognized the true meaning, this beauty and aesthetics in such a ‘usual-looking’ motif. And this pleases me so much that you can read 'between the brushstrokes'. Oh... Excuse me, I always talk way too much when someone shows an interest in art or music, my personal passions. Besides that, I have not introduced myself to you yet, I am Y/N! I was obviously so pleased to see your understanding, empathetic look at this work, if you understand what I mean... Anyway... I can guess that you knew my name already, don't you? What about you? May I know your name?", asked you, beautiful artist, with her really stunning smile.

I swallowed nervously, never before had a young lady mixed my emotions so much in me. Even the picture of her in the newspaper article, which I had read out of boredom in one of my lectures, got me so emotionallyconfused. I didn't want to say it in front of my teasing friends, but I had been really excited when I set off this Friday night. And now the creator of these works of art stood before me and seemed to want to have a longer conversation with me. My heart beats to my throat and I got sweaty hands from this nervousness in my poor body. Honestly, as soon as I wasn't surrounded by my clique of friends, I automatically turned into a nervous, slightly abashed blushing and stuttering guy who behave like an inexperienced teenager. 

In private life, without my best mates by the side, I am not so confident and daredevil. After all, I always had someone who could cover my back when things get tough, while I am on my own without anyone I know. You could usually only believe and trust, not control. That's probably why I struggled with interpersonal relationships. I always overthink too much and have some struggles with my self-confidence.

And now this attractive young woman looked at me with such interest and joy, just me. I was actually the reason for her interest. A joyful and blissful tingling seized every pore, every fiber of my body. Yes, in fact it was just me! Not my best buddy Seokjin, whom I have known since childhood and always sought the attention of everyone. It was no exaggeration to say that he was perhaps a little narcissistic, but only to cover up his own insecurities. Never would I have thought that someone would manage to get this personification of self-love under control. I admired his wife for standing up to Seokjin and keeping him and his dad Jokes at bay. Believe it or not, she of all people had the pants on in the house and knew how to deal with my best friend.

My gaze glided over the figure of the person in front of me and once again I took a sharp breath. I was so nervous to face her personally, a person I already deeply admired and had quite a respect for. I simply did not want to do anything wrong, even if this charm of hers was almost tangible and paralyzed my entire brain with its function. I can already picture how my mind waved wildly goodbye to myself and went to the summer holiday in the Caribbean.

This carefree smile and these beautiful eyes harmonized wonderfully with your complexion. Your features were awake and alive, seemingly always a slight smile surrounded the corners of your mouth, which provoked almost paradoxical reactions in my body. Your smile awake countless butterflies to flutter around in my stomach, which made me quite nervous and at the same time you radiated such a sense of security and calm, as if there was no reason not to get a word out of shyness. My gaze, which I hope examined you unobtrusively enough, wandered to your hands. You had long fingers, I could really imagine how they elegantly held the handle of the paint brushes and worked on these small details extensively in such a calm behavior. Which satisfied and concentrated calmness you possibly radiated while doing that...

A small, noble clearing of your throat again tore me out of my fantasies and speculations. God, what was I today but inattentive! How rude I must have seemed to you...

"Oh, sorry... I... I have not been able to keep my thoughts together all day..." I lied to seem at least a little more credible. Nervously, I pulled on the knot of my tie to loosen it up a little before I have a circulatory collapse. Before I went here, I thought for a long time about what I should wear for this occasion. Jeans and T-shirt were out of the question, too casual and almost an insult for your atelier. A complete suit, however, seemed too overdressed to me and so I decided for a black dress pants and a dark blue dress shirt.Understanding, Y/N nodded and gave me a cheering smile, which made my body tingle again. This woman drove me half crazy alone with his friendly gestures. How could it be that this polite lady got me confused right away?!

And somehow, it gave me a frenzy to leave my secure, anonymous side as a visitor to her exhibition and irrevocably reveal my true identity to you.

"My name is Jeon Jungkook."I answered in a slightly trembling voice, hardly daring to look into her eyes and rubbing my neck unobtrusively.

* Jungkook’s POV *

If only I had guessed what would change in me, how you changed me. That so much more would develop from a pure interest and a simple formal business contact... that you want to make me one of your artworks.

I take another deep breath before I dare to step out from behind the dark red paravent. It is pleasantly warm in this room, I should not freeze, if I am already so freely clothed. My gaze wanders through the small room with the huge, floor-to-ceiling window, which floods the entire room with light. The walls of the room have been painted in a dark orange and red colors and dark wooden planks lay out on the floor. It looks so comfortable due to the warm, dark tones. The orange-yellow evening sun dipped everything into something so cozy... sensual. Somehow into even a little erotic?

Y/N wants to work a lot with the light of the evening sun in this painting, which could be a little complicated if it is not suitable or if it is cloud-covered. But if you have put something into your head, especially in relation to your art, then you do everything you can do to go through it! Also the changing forces of nature cannot stop you from trying to realize your idea. Sometimes, you’re  someone who is quickly frustrated and dissatisfied with yourself as well, especially when something doesn't work as  you wants it to. Nevertheless when it comes to your passion, drawing and painting, you don’t let your idea go away, if you want something, you’ll find a way to make it happen. These are qualities that I know all too well of myself and thus my fascination about you only grows even more. The more time we spent together and I get to know more and more sides of you, the more attracted I became to you.

Your art means a lot to you and you’re quite tough in this respect, can not be overcome by the reproaches and the crushing criticism. That’s exactly what I admire so much about you, having the courage to stand up for personal passion. When I get criticized, all too often I think about really giving up on it, so that I don't have to endure all this criticism anymore. And then I look at you. How focused you are in this moment and carefully prepare for your next project. How you adjusts you easel to the right height, let your self-stretched canvas snap into place, spreads brushes of all sizes and shapes on the small side table next to you and prepares youracrylic colours. I swallow again, as I watched this happen. I am about to become one of your next artworks.

A little uncertainly I walk towards Y/N, the thin dressing gown tightly drawn around my body... never before have I felt so naked and vulnerable. This here is something else. I feel something about it... I feel something for you. For this pretty lady, who sprays her cheerfulness around her and could conjure a smile on the lips of even the most grumpy person. This joy almost kills you, completely engrossed this person and gives you the feeling of floating. You will get the feeling of being welcome at Y/N. To be accepted, with all the flaws and weaknesses that one has. She just smiles at you so gently and lovingly and just says, it's okay. It's okay to be the way you are. Imperfect.

"It is precisely this imperfect, this contradictory and also unpredictable thing that makes us human. That makes us an individual and also interesting. If we were really all as we are expected to be, it would be boring and monotonous. The surprise is only a real gift. Each of us is a very individual gift to a very specific addressee, who is the only one who can truly appreciate this gift. Only then did the recipient find the right person as his gift... Well, if the recipient knows about his gift...", Y/N once said with such a certain look at me, when we went out to dinner together in a restaurant in the evening to clarify some details. I wanted to help her find good contacts in Seoul and help her sell her works.

I can still remember it exactly... it was a quite... extraordinary evening. I was of course once again incredibly nervous and excited. At that time, I did not want to fully realize how much I already like you. Secretly, I had observed my opposite. Your positive and friendly disposition had turned my head all around... and in addition, this beautiful body and her elegant fingers, which already haunt me in the most erotic way unintentionally in my dreams. 

I could not prevent my dream pictures from shooting through my head, which is why my cheeks turned dark red in embarrassment. These fucking fantasies in my head! My eyes stare at the cutlery as if it were incredibly interesting because I didn't dare look up. There were scenes in my mind that made my ears turn red and I would’ve loved to hide behind the menu card. Your body, which made her look like a Greek goddess.

Naked, body covered in sweat, your body shook in lust, you sit up with a wonderful moan... You are on top of me, I could admire your beautiful, almost divine body as you sat on top of me... and rode me. This breathtakingly beautiful distorted face of yours, as if all this pleasure you feel is carved in marble... lids closed, your lips, swollen from all the kissing, are slightly opened which let    your lustful whimpering escape. This grace and elegance, as you rose from me and  then lowered yourself again... as your hands glide erratically over my stomach, searching for support... you suddenly threw your head back and clenched even more tightly around my length. The addicting sounds you’ve made... it’s like the most beautiful melody in my ears... squelching noises and even more of yourjuices gushing out of your sweet, so sweet pussy when you came...

An all-too-familiar laugh tore me out of my extremely indecent thoughts, which quite relieved me at first. Until I raised my head and not too far away I recognized no one but my best friend Kim Seokjin, who made very questionable hand signals in my direction. Oh my God, no! I knew that he had recently changed his job and got accepted for a position as a chef in a new restaurant... but not in this Restaurant! He will never let me life after he found out I was on a “Date” with a woman...

Even though Seokjin was on the other side of the restaurant, I could almost feel his smirk on my own skin. Fuck it, just pretend as if you do not know each other and hit him really hard tomorrow morning in the gym where we meet up for our work out. I quickly turned all my attention back to the person sitting opposite me and tried to ignore Seokjin as best I could.

It was only at the end of the evening, when I had said goodbye to Y/N, that I realized that this meeting had much more of a date than a "business dinner". How familiar we had talked with each other... how much I had thought about licking Y/N the drop from the chocolate sauce of her lava cake from her lips... how it would be... to kiss and touch you...

A noticeable blush has settled on my cheeks as I attended our first meeting together... or even Date in this Restaurant thought back. Four months had passed since then and I suffered from longing for you. You would never see me like I saw you. The reason you wanted to draw me was simply that she needed someone as a model. In addition to landscapes and cities, you want to devote herself gradually to more other motifs. And since I have been the first inquired. Your pleading eyes made me say yes. But I know that for me you have  no more than the feelings for a casual friendship. It hurts to see how you flirt  around so casually with all those other people. I would never be the gift for you as you are for me. If only the recipient would notice that there is a given heart laying in your hands...

"Ah, Jungkook! I’m glad that you're ready!", your cheerful and melodic voice cuts through the silence of the room and you’re walking towards me with excited shining eyes. "Come~," you say and lead me to the chaiselongue, which is placed in front of the large window. The soft, orange light of the evening sun falls on the wine-red fabric of the restored chaiselounge in baroque style. The upholstery has frames covered in gold and also the lion feet on which this historic furniture stands are gilded. Everything was decorated with so many Details, it looks so incredibly elegant and luxurious. On the left side there are some cushions in the same color and an elegant design is carved on the backrest, literally inviting to get used.

"Surely you know the movie 'Titanic', right? Do you remember the scene where Jack used charcoal pencils to draw an nude coal picture of Rose as she laid on the sofa? I would like to draw you in a similar position. I hope it's okay for you if I look at you more closely without a dressing gown... i want to get an overview of your body proportions.", you say, looking me straight in the eye. I notice that you’re very concerned about my privacy and does not want to overstep any of my personal boundaries without my consent. I nod slightly at first until I get a clear yes over my lips. She looks at me silently for a few seconds before reassuring me once again that we can always stop at any time if I feel uncomfortable. Especially your patience and mindfulness of my boundaries shows me how important it is for you as well and how I actually relax noticeably. Y/N smiles cheerfully at me and I slowly loosen the belt of the dressing gown and let the last garment slide to the ground. I feel her in-depth look at me... he is not uncomfortable... only... exciting... in a few different ways.

I swallow again and lie down on the chaiselongue as instructed. You correct my arm and leg position, also rearrange all of the cushions correctly. To my own relief, you put a red cloth over my crotch area. Not that I am ashamed of anything, I am more than comfortable with you already... I just have some worries that I will get a visible problem if I constantly feel your look on my bare skin.

 "It should be able to guess something, but not be allowed to see everything right away...", she whispered with a smile, before her fingertips unintentionally glide tenderly through my happy trail. One of your last smiles are... not really to interpret. Then you return to your easel.

* The Reader’s POV *

Carefully you sit down on your old painting stool, already quite worn out on the edges and stained with the most different types and tones of colors. It had originally been dark brown. You smile dreamily when you think back that you’re used to dangle your legs around when you were a little kid because it was way too big for you back then. For eighteen years now you have exactly this stool and this easel. They had been a gift from your grandfather for your fifth birthday. He had awakened the passion of painting and drawing in you and passed his talent on to you. A certain melancholy seized you when I thought back to how you used to paint your first real picture on canvas with your new easel in the old music room in your grandfather's country house. 

It had been the old, dusty grand piano, which must have been more than a hundred years old at that time. How the country house survived all these wars unscathed, you ask yourself to this day. Perhaps there had already been something magical about it at that time, which should remain untouched. Perhaps the small estate should remain an inconspicuous symbol of hope, the hope that at some point the sun and peace will return when the unbearable suffering and sorrow of this cruel time is over. When the wars were over and all those seeking protection who had fled to this country house were able to return to their own homes again. This house, this estate you can explain your childhood with a single word. Home.

You lift your thought-lost look from your empty, folded hands and look to Jungkook. He takes your breath away every time you see him. He is so special, such a wonderful and yet you firmly believe that he has not been chosen for you, such an ordinary woman as you are. He would belong to someone else with whom he would be happy, although he is the only one who was able to understand and read your works, the language in them. It... it had been such a beautiful moment when, six months ago, he stood in your newly opened studio, so absorbed by the painting of the forest of your childhood. All the other visitors had only looked at it briefly and smiled wearily at the fact that it was again only a landscape painting, but did not grasp what the story behind this work was. Why the artist chosed this very motif, to see, to feel what the creator wanted to communicate through the work. 

But Jungkook had been different. He had given the work, your personal heart, a chance to unravel the true meaning behind it. He did it slowly, bit by bit with his eyes... grasped with his whole mind and heart and finally let himself be influenced as a whole. You could tell from his body reactions that he felt exactly what you had felt when you painted it last summer. Longing. Infinite Longing. Mixed together with melancholy, a little homesickness and sorrow to a unique emotional color. The day you painted it was the last time you saw the house in your official possession. Your grandfather had left it to you. But unfortunately you lacked money, you had to pay some debts and with the best will you could not earn the money in other ways. So you had to sell it with a heavy heart. Your beloved birth and childhood home and the associated lands, you had to sell your true home away. The picture is the only thing left of it. And Jungkook was the only person who understood what you wanted to express with the painting. Longing. My Homesickness.

When all these sensations came upon him, he involuntarily clenched his hands tightly, his chest lifted and lowered quickly, his Adam's apple hopped repeatedly. His eyes were glassy. He experienced your longing as directly as you did. He... is so special. So infinitely amiable. He... he is the only person who’s able to read your true feelings in your works. He is able to read between your brush strokes.

So today you will try him... to paint a confession of love with this act. Maybe he could read... what you feel for him. Even if you know that you will probably never see him again. Because you would not be the recipient of his love and affection. He's just too... too... gifted for a simple artist like you. He would never be your gifted person.

Your gaze glides tenderly and caressingly over his body. Trying to absorb every little detail of his body, his charisma and his character into you and let it flow into the painting. Every birthmark you want to put on the canvas and hold on. You want to show Jungkook how beautiful he is. How godlike he lies before you on this majestic chaiselongue, how masculine and muscular he is, as if he wanted to embody an Adonis. You want to paint every muscle, even the smallest visible muscle, on the canvas in a realistic manner, you want to capture the strength and security that he conveys to you over and over again and make it visible to him. And yet... his gaze often corresponds to that of an intimidated, insecure fawn, which does not dare to want to get up on his legs on his own. The fear of falling again is too big. Through this painting you want to show Jungkook what he really is, what he represents for you and what you feel for him. He is... so contradictory. He is strong, godlike, powerful... and at the same time, so infinitely uncertain, vulnerable... almost pure.

Silence enters your little studio, only the regular breathing of the other and the muffled noise of the busy world outside the door could be heard. Here... here, it feels like time is standing still for a moment for the two of you. Your shared eternity had begun.

To your happiness that it is summer right now and it stays bright for a long time. Today you take more time than usual to mix colors. You want to mix a shade that perfectly matches his skin tone. You want to get the exact color of his black hair down onto the canvas, and the perfect brown for his beautiful eyes. The evening sun and the leaves of the huge treetops in front of the large window conjure up the most beautiful patterns on his immaculate body. A game of light and shadow. It seems to you that Jungkook's body, every single pore of his body has a tiny diamond, so that he begins to sparkle in the sunlight like an infinitely precious jewel. The evening sun warms him, lays a thin layer of sweat over his body. Every detail you try to bring to the canvas, every feeling, every movement of my heart, everything you feel for him, you want to bring to this canvas. You want to make him a masterpiece. Because for you, he is the most beautiful specimen, the only true crown of the human creation.

Some black strands have come loose from his manbun and have fallen on his forehead. It looks stunning, to see him like that. I had never seen him with a messy or even completely open hair... but even now these strands loosened from the braid make his facial features look so much softer and more relaxed. In it, the adult and strong man united with a young, vulnerable, shy boy. The result is... infinitely beautiful. He possesses both sides, so he makes the seemingly inexhaustible divine human being.

His eyes, drawing his eyes with that expression in them, cost you a lot of nerves. Too often you misunderstood this infinite longing that you find in his dark, brown eyes. Again and again you have to restrain yourself, not just to get up, to go over to him... and to kiss him.

This longing look you misinterpret is as longing as you own... according to your closeness, your touch, your affection... according to your love. Because you love him. You love everything about him, his sheepish laugh, the way of rubbing his neck shyly, the way he speaks and explains his point of views about things, how he smells... just everything... every blemish he blames on himself, you think it’s like an artwork on him. He is so perfectly imperfect that you just fell in love with him.

The sun has already set and only the last pink and purple streaks could be seen in the sky, with which the past day says goodbye to the world. One last time you can hear the velvety stroke of the brush over the canvas before you finally put the brush aside. It is finished. You have given everything that is in your power, used all of your artistic abilities and knowledge to the utmost and you have incorporated everything that you feel and think about into this artwork. And what you see put a smile on your lips, but also makes your pulse rise. What will Jungkook say when he looks at it? He will see it... can he read what you feel for him in it?

With a trembling voice, you call Jungkook and look at him one last time. The last time the sight of this male beauty was granted to you. One last time.

After Jungkook has wrapped himself in the dressing gown again, he slowly comes towards you and your easel. Your heart is throbbing as if it really wants to fearfully flight and jump out of your chest. Your body gets hot and cold at the same time and suddenly your hands get sweaty, the dried color on your skin mixes with the sweat to a uncomfortable mess in your palms, which somehow makes you even more nervous. Then he stands next to you. Looking at the canvas for the first time himself. The last brushstroke is still drying.

Once again there is silence, which makes you incredibly nervous and with every second that passes, you want to follow your instinct to escape. Jungkook's pupils are dilated and blown out, whether with bewilderment or horror, you can not recognize. One of his hands shoots up his mouth, he trembles all over his body. Suddenly you hear a suppressed, throaty sobbing. Surprised and a little appalled, you look at Jungkook, who has shut his eyes tightly and presses the palm of his hand even harder on his mouth, as if he wants to muffle every sound. Tears escape the corners of his eyes. This is a reaction... which you would not have expected...

Gently, mindful of any kind of resistance, you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't sob, he doesn't whimper. He just cries. Tenderly, consolingly you hold him, without wanting to distress him. He literally presses his face into the crook of your neck. Salty tears drench your blouse, but it doesn't bother you. The reason why he had such an emotional outburst, you just don't understand. But still... it's okay. It is valid.

As he slowly calms down and his breathes becomes regularly again, he carefully lifts his head out of the crook of your neck and wipes the last tears out of his eyes dry in slight embarrassment. He slowly releases himself from your embrace until you finally stand silently in front of each other.

"What title you’ll give this artwork?", he asks softly, in a rough, throaty voice. You swallow . "It shall be called 'Der Geliebte'. ...it is german and translated it means... ‘The beloved’ ", you say barely audibly and lower your head. After this confession, you can no longer look him in the eyes.

Jungkook takes a sharp breath in and you're actually just waiting for a devastating response from him that would be like a death threat. But nothing of this happened. Instead, your chin is suddenly raised by his fingertips and you look into Jungkook's beautiful eyes. He bites his lower lip a little uncertainly,his own gaze falls on your pretty shaped lips. 

"Do you... do you allow me to kiss you?", he asks quietly... barely audible for you even though you’re standing so close to each other. He doesn't dare to look you into the eyes after such a question, he is too afraid that you deny his request. But you can hardly believe your luck, a high pitched ‘yes!’ flew over your lips and before you can control yourself, you press your own lips right onto his. They are incredibly soft and kiss you back in such a delightfully and endearing insecure and shy manner as no other could ever have done it.

Your heart beats full of joy and bliss and in your belly, the butterflies fly somersaults of all different kinds that your whole body began to tingle. Your mind cannot get a grasp of all this yet, but this... you don't need any more of it at this moment anyway.

The kiss is tender, shy and somewhat uncertain from both sides. Jungkook is very insecure and shy, but before he can escape like a frightened deer again, you put your arms around his neck and let your hands rest in the nape of his scalp. Again and again you detach yourselves from each other only for the fraction of a second to get a breath of air into your lungs in order to find each other lips again... until you stopped for a few seconds.

"I like you... I like you really, really much, Jungkook... I even dare to say that I fell on love with you.", you mutter softly against his lips. His shy, happy smile was too much for you, so you immediately kiss him again. Perhaps because of the sheer joy and maybe of the certainty that he feels the same for you, the next kiss turns into something more passionate than before...

#bts jungkook #bts fanfic #bts pov #bts fluff #kpop fanfics #kpop bts #jeon jungkook #bts friends to lovers #bts smut #bts x artist! reader #bts imagines #bts x reader #jungkook x y/n #shy jungkook #jungkook x reader #bts angst #bts scenarios #kpop smut #jungkook fluff #freinds to lovers au #soulmate au bts #fluff attack #by tipsydipsydo

[voodoo-do]

Do you have a read a story, whether it's a fanfic or just any story, and before you start actually reading it, after you read the description, you thought: " oh, what a great idea! This is going to be a wonderful story! I'm so glad I stumbled unto it!" But then you read it and you're like, "oh my God, I wish I had the idea so I'd actually writes a good version of this"? Because like, I get writing is hard, and I don't write myself ( not for lack of wanting I just can't really think of any original ideas, and I'd hate to steal ideas from somebody else) but some stories I start reading them and the author just... I guess never reads what they wrote? so they don't notice all the grammar mistakes they make, or all the plot holes are leaving, or or billion other things that I've noticed in stories that so many authors do that just make me think "dear God, I wish I'd never seen the story to begin with"?

And again, I don't write, so I know I really shouldn't be complaining about stuff like this, but just, if you're a writer and you somehow stumbled upon this post, please start reading your stories before you publish them whether it's on ao3 or Wattpad or whatever other platform you publish your stories on.

Thank you so much, as always have a wonderful day, this is been my rant of it.

#rant of the day #authors #please pay attention #if you could just re-read your works #because so many of the things that you read have so much potential they just never reach #and it really is a shame

[kinkandkreep]

I posted 262 times in 2021

98 posts created (37%)

164 posts reblogged (63%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 1.7 posts.

I added 454 tags in 2021

#aot - 65 posts

#attack on titan - 63 posts

#snk - 56 posts

#shingeki no kyojin - 55 posts

#eren yeager - 50 posts

#eren jaeger - 50 posts

#yandere - 33 posts

#oc - 30 posts

#bnha - 26 posts

#psa - 26 posts

Longest Tag: 108 characters

#you apparently got all dis money to blow and is people in the world that really could find better use for it

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

AOT Guys Wedding Suits, Venues and Rings

80 notes • Posted 2021-07-02 01:47:21 GMT

#4

How the AOT Guys Handle a Pregnancy/Pregnant S/O: Levi Edition

97 notes • Posted 2021-06-09 01:56:16 GMT

#3

Yandere Alucard Headcanons

126 notes • Posted 2021-07-29 22:35:04 GMT

#2

Aight, I did this once before, but I just saw another post about it and now I'm frustrated again, so fUCK it, I'ma say sum else about it:

Y'all, I can't stress this enough. If you are a person who writes reader-inserts, please educate yourself and understand that not every person who reads your stuff will have pale skin or the ability to blush.

The implication of the latter is my BIGGEST pet peeve when reading. And unless for some racist reason, you only write to or for what is then essentially only white people, this applies to everyone.

Y'all, it's really not that hard to be mindful of what it is you're saying regarding the appearance and physical attributes of your readers. And it's really insensitive when you just disregard taking that extra care altogether, because you can't be "bothered."

At this point, I have had to filter a number of tags and people who I know are pretty good writers for the fact that I was basically reading the same thing over and over again. It left me really annoyed and more than a little left out, and it truly is something you really can't understand or grasp the importance of unless you are a BIPOC.

And I know what a handful of you are going to say: "well, if it’s such a big deal, why don't you just look for niche content and leave the rest of us alone."

...

Baby, is your shit not a READER. INSERT?? MEANING THAT ANY PERSON WHO DECIDES TO READ IT IS THEN THE READER?? AND THAT AUTOMATICALLY MEANS THAT THERE IS NO LIMITATION ON WHAT THAT PERSON COULD POSSIBLY LOOK LIKE?? WHICH THEN MEANS THAT YOU AS THE WRITER HAVE THE RESPONSIBILITY TO TAKE THIS INTO ACCOUNT?????

Or am I missing something?🤔

I'm not listening to excuses. They way I, and many others see it, is that writing, especially fanfiction and especially reader-inserts are meant to be inclusive. At least in regards to appearance. And if uon understand that, you need to take a step back and try again.

It's really upsetting that it seems that only BIPOC readers and writers are the ones who care about this, and are then also the only ones who have to be mindful of it.

Also, please don't ignore someone if they bring this to your attention if they notice it in your writing. You can loose many a good reader being so, again, insensitive and uncaring.

Plus, it just makes you look like an asshole.🤷🏾‍♀️

I understand if it slips your mind as you write, because I know that for non-BIPOC, as sad as it is to say it, it's easy to forget that we exist on platforms like this. But we do, and we would very much appreciate if you would remember that.😊

Look, I can't make none a' y'all do nothin', at least not while I can't get my hands on ya'🙃, but please, try and recognize this as something that is important and as something that shouldn't be tossed to the wayside.

Aight, Ari out.✌🏾

157 notes • Posted 2021-01-19 23:38:46 GMT

#1

This is exactly what I was referencing in my previous posts about fandom inclusivity and the issue with blushing in fanfiction. I found this on Pinterest and it was posted by a YA author named Kay L. Moody, who, funnily enough, specifically mentioned fanfic writers in the description of this post.

Dear fanfic authors, please read over this and try to implement some of these techniques in your writing to make it more inclusive!😁

228 notes • Posted 2021-08-07 22:17:15 GMT

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[vhalyron]

Ivar X OFC Fanfic!

Pairing: Ivar x Runa (OFC)

Rating: Eventual M (Slow and Sexy)

Author’s Note: Firstly, I would like to thank each and everyone who reblogged and loved the first chapter of The Dance of Hati and Sól. Due to all of the love and support on all platforms, I feel encouraged and eager to continue writing for the beautiful Heathen Army. Secondly, I would like to apologize. Due to family issues, I wasn’t able to update weekly as I first planned thus the delay of chapter 2. But none the less, it’s finally here and I will continue to write for Daddy Ivar’s Heathen Army! Please enjoy.

A fresh blood-soaked odor filled her nostrils; twisted, decaying bodies laid out the land mass in groups of large hills. Rain echoed through the battleground. Long black hair that was tied back in thick multiple braids covered the crown of her head, arms, and legs covered by layers of thick leather and blood. Golden eyes stared blankly into the horizon that was blocked by mountains of corpses. There were no voices, no pleads for help, only silence. 

“Runa…” she turned her head to the side, acknowledging the man who called out her name but not allowing him to see her face that was splashed with blood stains. “Runa.” The male voice became more fierce as if he were angry with the female. The grip she had around the splintered axe tightened, wood cutting into her wounds. A flash of gold flickered up a the man behind her, watching as he took multiple steps closer. Looking back down at his legs, her mind questioned the ability he possessed but her mouth wouldn’t open to object. Feeling a warm calloused hand raise her chin, Runa looked up the bright blue eyes. Seconds turned to minutes as the two didn’t break the stare, rain beating against the top of their heads. He pulled closer, eyes half-lidded with lust. Runa said nothing, her free hand gripping his padded upper arm as he inched closer towards her face. She could feel the heat of his breath against her chilled skin. A long clap of thunder invaded the silence as the skies churned. When their lips met, Runa shivered as he pulled her closer, strikes of lighting scattered throughout the sky. Hands went down to her curved hips, pulling her against his heated body.

 Gasping out for air, Runa pulled away, exposing her neck to the man as he kissed down to her throat. She dropped the broken hilt of the axe, wrapping her tired arms around the neck of her lover. He let out a soft groan as her fingered ran through his slick hair, tightening his grip on her waist as he sucked the skin of her neck. Runa moaned quietly in his ear, closing her eyes until an additional crash of thunder filled the atmosphere. This time, a large blast of lightning illuminated the black sky. Her hands were left empty, the warm touch of lips disappeared as quickly as the lightning. Runa snapped her eyelids open, frantically looking around for her lover, trying to call out for him yet her mouth disobeyed to her will. Hearing a pained moan, Runa looked down to see the man, his legs bound by leather as he struggled to crawl away from her. Bright blue eyes were filled with pain and tears, sobbing as he hid his face in shame.

 Feeling her heart break at the sight, Runa inched closer, her legs bent and her arms held high as if approaching a wounded animal. “No! Don’t come near me!” His voice was broken, filled with deep sobs as his body shook due to the chilled rain. Hazel eyes never left his face, her knees met the bloody blades of grass as she dragged herself closer. Reaching out to his pale cheek, a soft smile slid across her face as the man retreated back. She sat in front of him, her body stood tall on her knees while blue eyes stared back at her face. Reaching out again, her smile widened as he allowed her hand to rest on his tear soaked cheek, leaning into her bruised yet soft hands. 

Abruptly, strong arms encircled her hips, pulling her body tight against his lap. Humiliated eyes looked into her eyes, filling her heart with sadness. Her hand wiped away the fresh set of tears, kissing his forehead softly. “I love you Runa…” chuckling at his words, Runa took his face her hands, kissing his lips. Then her mouth opened, and she spoke. “I love you Ivar…” Then, a loud crash of thunder roared throughout the battleground. Runa’s eyes snapped open.

Amund watched carefully as the rain poured down through the night sky, his hazel eyes glancing up, counting the lightning strikes that flashed in the darkness. His bare back against the wooden panel of the window, Amund shivered as a gust of wind blew against his pale skin. The queen allowed the siblings to stay in a small hut with a small group of slaves that was close to the great hall, where she and her four sons lived. The two are to start their duties by the morn, learning from the other servants and will be washed and clothed in fresh clothes. His neck knotted tightly due to the anxiety he felt growing in the pits of his stomach. With a deep sigh, he straightened his back, allowing his neck to roll slowly side to side as he pulled his leather covered legs up to lay on the window seal. 

“Brother…” Amund rolled his neck towards the soft voice that called for him, eyes half-lidded as he held out his hand. “Come.” From the shadows stood a young woman, her long hair was loose since they were both scheduled for a bath tomorrow. Wearing only a tunic that her brother had given her, Runa stood covered by a thick black blanket, concealing her round chest and hips as the ends dragged across the wooden floor. Walking over to her brother, Runa did not reach for his hand, instead, she pulled herself up to the window seal, sitting directly in front of her brother. Pulling her long legs to her chest, Runa watched as the rain smacked the mud outside, another roar of thunder interrupting the peace. 

“Why are you up?” Amund pulled his legs up as she did, using his arms to encircle them with his hands clasped together. Glancing over to her muscled brother, Runa pointed up to the sky, her eyebrows raised quickly. “Thor is vocal tonight… I was awakened by the thunder in my dream.” Not bothering to look back towards his sister, Amund nodded in agreement, taking note of the thirteenth bright strike of lightning that appeared. “And yourself?” asked Runa, her hazel eyes sliding up towards the black sky while her body let out a soft shiver. Amund didn’t respond, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of their new masters. 

Runa raised her left leg, the thick blanket slipping off her pale muscled calf as she nudged the man in front of her with her foot. Looking over at her pale foot now pressed against his clothed leg, Amund grunted giving the female a rough shrug of his broad shoulders. “Nothing that you should be worried about…” raising her foot, Runa slipped off the window seal while she yawned loud and obnoxiously. “Fine sweet brother, sulk away in your thoughts. I will sleep,” Taking a few steps forward, Runa stopped only to turn her head and look directly at her older brother. The siblings’ eyes met, a soft smile reflected on both of their faces. “Love you, Mund.” Smirking at the childish nickname, Amund nodded and turned away, listening to the soft patter of feet walking away and the shuffle of blankets in the other room. 

She deserves better than this life… another flash of lightning shined in the swirling clouds. Thor beating his hammer harshly as groans of thunder called out to their master. Quiet thoughts of escape filled the back of Amund’s mind, as they always did whenever he and Runa were sold to another master. Yet, he never acted upon them, in fear of what would happen to his sister if they caught her before himself. To see her hurt, in any type of way, was something he promised to never happen. Hopefully, Father, I can always keep my word. The thunder settled over time, the lightning strikes disappeared as the rain cooled the surface of the land. 

The sweet songs of birds awaken the people of Kattegat, slow shuffling of wagons and clucks of roosters walking down beaten paths of the village. From quiet mummers outside of the room both siblings shared, stood a young slave girl by the name of Margrethe. The queen had woken her earlier this morning, telling her to prepare two baths for the new servants that arrived yesterday. Her slender body was concealed in a makeshift dress, ‘eyes as blue as the sky and hair as pale as silver’. Or that was what the people of the village saw the slave girl as. Her sweet smile hid dark desires and the thirst for attention from the sons of Ragnar. The sex drive she had was fulfilled by each one, sometimes better than the other. Yet, none of that was the reason she was so eager for the two slaves to awaken. Margrethe was curious of the man that laid on the other side of the door. The sight of him yesterday wetten her core to no end, she could imagine his large hands on her body, taking her fiercely just as Ubbe had. Yet, he is larger than Ubbe… A quiet giggle left her lips, wondering if he really was ‘bigger’ than the second oldest prince. 

Hearing a loud groan from the other side of wood startled the girl, jumping back as a loud thump echoed. Margrethe felt her heart beat twice as fast, pale cheeks reddening as she cautiously stepped back into her previous position. Daring to step closer, a shaky breath left her soft pink lips as she pressed her ear against the door. “Oi, watch where you step!” “Wait, don’t move that’s my- OW!” “Move out of the way then!” “Damnit…Runa move!” “You move! And open the curtain!” Another crash rang against the blonde’s ear causing her to pull back with a hiss. Suddenly the door slammed open, relieving a large man, his chiseled chest covered in a massive tattoo of a large wolf devouring an armored viking. Margrethe fell back on her hands, gasping in shock as dark hazel eyes analyzed the woman. A rush of blood filled her cheeks when their eyes met, her teeth biting down on her bottom lip for dear life. There was no clear emotion on the male’s face, no sense of attraction was shown towards her, only confusion and annoyance. 

From behind the man, appeared a tall woman as she pulled his arm. Before she opened her mouth to speak, matching hazel eyes looked down at the awestruck girl sitting on the floor. Both are so beautiful. Tall and sculpted, raven hair flowing down her back while the female wore nothing but a dirty tunic. The young woman looked up at her brother in confusion, who only bothered to shrug, his facial expression clearly full of annoyance from what happened earlier that morning. “Who are you?” Reaching his hand out for the blonde to grab, Amund asked in a husky and tired voice, watching as the blonde female blushed and took his hand. Delicate skin met a rough and calloused hand as Amund pulled the girl up swiftly. Margrethe yelped, stumbling forwards into the arms of the male, causing her red face to only worsen. 

Runa leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed under her breasts as she watched the scene with a bored look on her face. The blonde opened her mouth to speak, her words merging together as she struggled while in the arms of her oblivious brother. “Let the woman go so she can talk properly Amund.” Sky blue eyes snapped over to the tall female as if angered by her interruption; something that Runa has learned to ignore when it came to women and her brother. Amund listened without objection, stepping closer to his younger sister as his arms slipped behind his back in a stretch. “W-Well,” her heart slowly started to beat normally again, cursing herself and the stranger for ruining the moment Margrethe shared with the man. “Queen Aslaug sent me here to help you both clean and dress for the morning…” Her voice was soft and slow, eyelashes fluttering as her fingers intertwined together in front of her chest. Neither of the siblings were impressed by the girl though it was Runa who was the first to introduce herself. “My name is Runa. This handsome oaf,” a soft smack against the inked chest of the man caused him to smirk, looking over at his sister with a smug look, “is my brother, Amund.” An another giggle left the lips of the blonde causing the male to twitch his upper lip in annoyance. Amund rolled his neck trying to hide the impolite gesture while the slave spoke, “ My name is Margrethe. I’m one of the personal servants for the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok.”

 Amund interrupted, his eyes half-lidded due to a headache that was forming from the eventful morning, “Where are the baths?” Surprised by his irritated tone, Margrethe bit her lip while turning her back, as she slowly stepped down the hall. Runa was the first to follow, her arms crossed behind her back as she looked over at her half naked brother and pointed her head towards the girl. Grumbling under his breath, the man followed, his hands resting on the back of his thick neck, trying to release tension. 

As the three walked down the small network of hallways lit by the windows and sporadic candle light. Runa caught up with the blonde, a friendly smile forming on her lips. “Where will my brother and I be stationed too?” Blue eyes looked up at the woman in slight annoyance, this woman was close to the height of the queen, both looked proud and beautiful with their long limbs and slim stature. Though the blonde envied Runa for her beauty, she also slightly resented her. “You and your brother? You two won’t be working together.” A rough voice rang behind, causing Margrethe to shyly look over her thin shoulder. “What do you mean woman?” Amund growled, he never enjoyed being separated from his sister, especially with people that he didn’t know or trust. “W-Well,” the slave slowed her steps, wanting to be closer to the male sibling other than his younger sister. “You both will have different duties. Runa will most likely become a servant in the kitchens while you may work with the Smiths.” 

Runa sucked the back of her teeth harshly, her hazel eyes flashed over towards the girl as she growled, “I can do just as well as Amund can with the blacksmiths.” Margrethe’s breathe hitched softly as golden eyes glared down at her body. Suddenly becoming nervous and scared, the slave tilted her head down in submission. “I-I’m sure the queen will decide based solely on your skill…” Amund looked over at the blonde, his thoughts questioning the sudden switch of emotion. She knows a way with words. Simply to keep her out of trouble. Keeping that note safely tucked away in his mind, Amund’s hand met the crown of his sister’s head. “You will be fine in the kitchens just as much as in the shop, don’t fret.” Reaching two separate doors, the slave girl walked forward. “The left is for females, the right is males. There is a set of clothes for both of you on the chair. Please wash quickly, the Ragnarssons will be waking soon…” With a quick summary of their orders, Margrethe bowed her head to the pair and quickly stepped back, glancing up to meet the warm golden eyes of Amund. Though their eyes met, Amund didn’t give her a smile or nod of thanks, he simply turned to the wooden door on the right and slipped inside. Runa sighed, her hand resting on the shoulder of the smaller girl to gain her attention. “Listen, my friend. Amund isn’t the most…attentive man. He will not notice your attraction right away.” Listening to the dark haired woman’s words Margrethe smiled sadly, her mind not taking much offense to the denial but the pang in her heart burned.  All four of the sons of Ragnar wanted her, craving her touch and attention. What’s one man compared to four? Yet…I’ve never been with Ivar nor do I want too. Margrethe took a deep sigh and looked up at the girl. “I’ll be alright, don’t worry about me.” Returning the friendly smile Runa watched as the girl turned skipping down the hallway as she nodded and smiled in greeting to the other servants who were just leaving their rooms. 

Shaking her head, Runa turned away from the scene and opened the door simply wanting to rest her aching body from the wrestling match her and Amund had that morning. Stepping inside, Runa closed the door soundlessly and slipped off Amund’s tunic exposing her round pale breasts and flat stomach. A chilling breeze filled the room causing the dark haired girl to shiver as she covered her ample chest with her crossed arms. Slipping into the lukewarm tub quickly Runa dunked her head in the water. Her mind buzzed softly, tense muscle releasing its energy as the girl slowly emerged her head from the water. Sharp golden eyes analyzed the room, it was simple and small. Four dark walls lit up by plenty of candles and three large dressers that most likely carried dresses and towels for visitors. In the back stood a small vanity, where small jewels and Kohl sat in bowls, apparently shared with the rest of the servants. There on the chair next to the vanity, laid a long blue dress, poorly done but suitable for work. Fuck. Runa glared down at the dress as she violently scrubbed her skin clean with a cloth. “Hate dresses…”

Aslaug sat quietly in the main hall, her hands resting on the arms of her chair as servants prepared the table. Plates were clattering, quiet mutters of where to put the food and chairs filled the room as all the servants opened the windows, allowing light in the dark hall. Yet nothing was said to Aslaug, her soft blue eyes glossed over as she thoughtlessly stared down in her lap. A soft voice interrupted the queen, “Excuse me, my lady?” A soft pang of pain soared across the depths of her mind causing the woman to sigh painfully as she looked towards the slave. Dark messy hair covered the young boy’s dull brown eyes, allowing him to not directly make eye contact with the royal. “Go to the slave’s hut in the back, fetch two slaves by the name of Runa and Amund. Bring them to me.” with a flick of her wrist, the slave quickly jogged out of the hall to fulfill his orders. Aslaug watched the boy leave, her eyes tracing his form out of boredom as she leaned back against her throne. 

Abruptly, a long yawn echoed throughout the social hall, catching the attention of Aslaug as she stood. Tall and board, a man slowly slipped between the curtains which separated the Great Hall from where the royal family lived. His eyes searched for Aslaug, briefly stopping a slave to take an apple from the bowl she carried and nodded in quick thanks. Slowly weaving through the mass of servants, the male’s eyes finally caught the attention of the standing queen. Matching soft eyes met, a smile forming on her wide lips as she stepped down from her throne. The man, dressed in a loose tunic and dark pants, grinned back as he left the apple on a small table next to the throne and held his arms out. The queen laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck as the man encircled her waist, holding her tightly with a chuckle. Raising her head, Aslaug kissed the rough cheek covered by hair, “Good morning, my son.” 

Ubbe pulled away, his smile never leaving his lips as he kissed the queen’s forehead, “Good morning, mother.” Though his feet were cold and his arms tired from previous activities from the other day, early mornings were something he cherished with his mother. It’s practice that is a rarity between the two yet, the quiet mornings when everyone else was asleep and the servants worked diligently is when the two can simply converse. Aslaug’s arms slipped away from his neck, walking towards the long dining table to take a seat. 

Ubbe smiled, taking a seat next to the woman with his legs spread wide apart and a half eaten apple in his hand. “How was the hunt?” his mother asked eagerly, her legs across and elbows resting on the table as she leaned closer. Ubbe sighed, scratching his chest absently. “Ivar never showed up, Sigurd was probably somewhere with that slave again. So it was just Hvitserk and myself.” Ubbe smirked, remembering the childish glee both found themselves in after hunting down the small herd of deer. Looking towards his mother, Ubbe raised his eyebrow in suspicion. “Where was Ivar, mother?” 

Taking a berry from a bowl that was neatly placed beside her, Aslaug shrugged, sliding the fruit in her mouth. “In all honesty, I thought he was with you. I hadn’t seen him all day except for the yesterday in the morn. He told me he was going to the blacksmith’s hut.” Ubbe nodding, deciding it was best to leave his youngest brother alone rather than try to look out for him twenty-four seven like his mother. He knew that the boy needed some alone time, being that mother always tried to coddle him since he was a young boy. “Speaking of slaves,” Ubbe continued, leaning closer, his elbows resting on his knees as he tilted his head to the side. “Don’t think I didn’t see you yesterday walking with the man and woman by the port.” Aslaug chuckled, rolling her eyes as she plucked another berry from the bowl and slipped it between her teeth. “You will meet them eventually Ubbe. Do they interest you?” Scoffing, Ubbe pulled away, taking a large bite of his apple and shrugged innocently. 

A cool hand slipped behind the base of Aslaug neck, causing her to jump visibly and shoot a glare at her attacker. “Hvitserk.” the queen hissed at her second older resulting in a hearty laugh to leave his lips. Dressed in a similar tunic and pants as his brother, Hvitserk nodded towards his brother and gave him a rough pat on his shoulder. “Good morning family, how are we all?” The young man asked, walking around the large table to take a seat in front of his mother. Ubbe smiled, taking a small of water that one of the slaves presented him and gulped slowly. “Simply catching up. I was telling Ubbe of our new servants.” Hvitserk’s ears perked as he sat straight, eyes searching for the new ‘facility’ members. “I didn’t know you got new slaves, where are they? Ubbe, is there a girl? Is she pretty?” The two laughed as the young man bombarded them with questions. Cupping her chin with her hand, Aslaug smiled softly, glancing back and forth between the two as Hvitserk continued to ask questions that Ubbe had no answer to.

 The quiet patter of shoes slapped against the wooden floor as the young slave from earlier entered the Great Hall, catching the attention of all of the royals. Aslaug sighed in annoyance, her mind questioned why the boy has arrived alone. Ubbe and Hvitserk, on the other hand, were disappointed, thinking this was one of the newer servants. “My queen, the slaves you have summoned are just out front.” the boy’s voice was shaky and soft, his eyes trained on the floor. “Is this not the new slave?” asked Hvitserk, free to voice his concern due to the chance of having a new playmate likely being thrown out the window. Shaking her head, Aslaug ignored her son briefly. “Bring them inside then.” Her answer was short and hostile, scaring the boy as he quickly turned around and ran to the front entrance. Hvitserk and Ubbe glanced at each other, both curious about their mother’s short temper. Before either could Aslaug sighed, “Don’t…do not worry about me. I’m just tired.” Her reasons being already known, and the reasoning behind that left the family bitter and sadden. The loss of Paris…The loss of Ragnar. 

Before Aslaug could dwell further into her thoughts, she watched as the two slaves entered the Great Hall. Pairs of golden eyes frantically looked around the building in awe, taking in the designs from the sleek dark floor to the walls decorated with flags and weapons. Soft murmurs and gasps in awe left the lips of the two, fascinated by the Great Hall. As the two slowly made their way towards the dining table Aslaug smiled, leaving her chair and made her way over to the slaves. Ubbe and Hvitserk watched carefully, their eyes searching for the faces of the new slaves yet they couldn’t yet see.

Amund nudged his sister’s arm, tilting his head towards the approaching queen as he lowered his upper half. Looking over at her brother, Runa followed his movements while her eyes lowered to the ground before she could see what was in front of her. A soft laugh rang across the hall causing both of the siblings to smile softly as their new master put a hand on their shoulders. “It is good to see you both again.” Runa was the first to stand, her shoulders straight and her lips curved into a gentle smile. “You as well, my queen.” Amund nodded in agreement as he stood upright, his lips forming a slight grin. Releasing their shoulders, Aslaug turned towards the table and waved her hand forward. “Come, I want you both to meet my oldest sons.” Ubbe and Hvitserk quickly glanced at one another, both in shock of the queen’s warm greeting for just slaves as if they were somewhat friends. 

Runa was the first to catch their attention, long, wavy hair colored black as night was laid loose across stable shoulders. The maroon makeshift dress she wore hugged every curve from her round breast to her wondrous wide hips. Hvitserk gulped, his eyes looking up to meet a pale face; eyes that held a beautiful hazel color. Her lips curved into a warm smile of greeting, her nose straight and cheeks that were colored pink from the cool weather. Ubbe and Hvitserk shifted in their seats, eager to meet their new servant. Before either could speak to the girl, a rough cough caught their attention. There right next to the tall woman, stood a large bear of a man. His eyes were dangerously similar to the goddess’s, his body large and sculpted. Wearing a dark tunic that exposed some of his inked chest, dark leather pants, and black boots. His hair was tightly braided back in a long braid, both sides of his head exposed and a short beard. Aslaug watched with amusement as Hvitserk looked away from the older man, pouting in disappointment. Yet Ubbe smirked, his eyes locked in competition with the unfamiliar man that stood between himself and the beautiful girl. “Runa, Amund this is Ubbe my oldest son. And that is Hvitserk, his brother.” Amund’s teeth bit the inside of his cheek in annoyance, leaning his head down to give them both respect only to please the queen. Runa followed suit, her eyes watching her brother cautiously. 

Ubbe leaned back in his chair, eyes shining with interest as he watches the two slaves raise their head. “So these are the new slaves, I must say mother you have made a worthy selection.” Runa slipped closer to her brother, her eyes tracing the stature of one of her new masters as Aslaug made her way to her oldest, Ubbe. Taking a seat, Aslaug ignored the hungered looks Hvitserk and Ubbe gave the youngest sibling and smiled, “Go to the kitchens and help ready breakfast. Both of you.” Nodding Amund left without a word, his eyes locked on Ubbe’s face as his lips twisted into a deep frown. Runa smiled kindly at the queen but didn’t acknowledge the men as she caught up with her brother in long strides. With the leave of the slaves, there was a moment of silence between the three. Hvitserk, obviously being the first to break it, “Mother-” “No.” Hvitserk gasped in false shock as he raised a hand to his chest. “Mother! Let me speak, please!” Aslaug and Ubbe laughed at his rehearsed actions. “Hvitserk I would watch where your eyes wonder. That man wouldn’t hesitate to knock some sense into if you keep staring at his sister.” Looking to his older brother in defense, Hvitserk let out a pained cry. “Ubbe, do you not feel my pain?” Trying his best to remain indifferent, Ubbe shrugged as he picked up his cup and drank. “I have my eyes on another Hvitserk, and you already have enough women under your finger.” Aslaug smacked her son on the arm lightly as Hvitserk let out a bark of laughter, knowing well that his brother is right. 

“Well, you can never have too many.” Aslaug rolled her eyes as her sons joked with each other, her heart warmed by their friendly jests. Before the two brothers could delve into darker conversation, Aslaug interrupted with slight concern. “Hvitserk, was Sigurd asleep in the back?”With a hum of agreement, Hvitserk stood, grabbing a handful of berries and snickered, “I’ll go and wake him up, aye?” As the second oldest made his leave, Ubbe and Aslaug gave each other a tired look, knowing the argument that was to come before the morning could officially begin. 

First, there was silence; periodically random slaves would walk in and out, placing down jugs of milk, bread, fruits, and soups. A soft crash rang from the back of the Great Hall followed by soft cursing that caused the mother and son to chuckle under their breath. Then silence again. Waiting for any hints of cursing or fighting, Aslaug sat still, the tips of her fingers tapping the wooden table anxiously.  Runa and Amund walked carefully towards the table, holding plates of thin meats and dried fruit. Holding up a hand, Ubbe signaled the siblings to stand still, his eyes calming against their questioning gaze. Aslaug looked towards the pair, smiling as she waved her hand towards the chairs, giving permission to sit. Amund slipped towards the chairs, setting aside the tray of dried fruits towards the mother and son with a nod as he pulled a seat open for his sister and himself. Nodding in thanks with a grin, Runa placed her tray of meat on the table and sat close towards her brother, her hazel eyes watching the two in confusion. Before either of the dark-haired siblings could voice their concerns a loud squeal arose from the back the Great Hall. Hvitserk rushed from behind the curtain, his hands stained dark red and head thrown back in laughter. “Wake up Sigg!” called Hvitserk as he ran towards his eldest brother, hiding behind the leather chair. 

Runa watched, her lips pulled into a large grin as a young man covered in juices of berries came into her line of sight. Wild blonde hair was dirtied by the juices and skin of berries, his face bright pink and sweaty. Raising his arm, Sigurd rubbed away the berry remains from his eyelids to see properly. Smirking, Amund’s eyes met with the snake-eyed boy, his face filled with mischief as tried his best to cover the laugh that rested on the tip of his tongue. On the other hand, Runa let out a hearty laugh, catching the attention of the three brothers with warmth all in their heart. Sigurd looked at the girl with wide eyes, a blush forming on the tops of his cheeks as he wiped the rest of the berries off his face. “Who…who is this?” Sigurd asked watching the two strangers abruptly stood as they gathered the serving plates. Before either of the brothers could introduce the newest slaves; a shallow voice called out for the slaves, the voice strained by apparent struggle. Looking towards the queen apologetically, the siblings slipped past the young man covered in berries and towards the kitchens. 

Confusion and irritation consumed Sigurd’s features as he turned back towards his family, his eyebrows furrowed together. Ubbe was the first to clarify his younger brother’s thoughts, “Mother brought new slaves into our service. Runa is the girl, the man is her older brother Amund.” The man sighed, lips pressed against the cool metal of the cup he held as if waiting for Sigurd to question him on farther. “When did they arrive?” probed on the messy blonde as he slipped next to his mother, giving her a soft kiss on her forehead in greeting. Before Ubbe could answer, Hvitserk intruded, his lips curved into a twisted smirk, “Why do you ask, brother? Does the girl interest you?” Glaring at the older blonde, Sigurd tore a dried strip of meat between his teeth. “She is a mere slave. I have no interest in what she thinks.” Aslaug chuckled, her hand cupping her young son’s face as she wiped dried flakes of berries from his brow. “After your first encounter, I’m sure she feels the same.” The eldest laughed heartily, everyone grinning at the red-faced boy who continued to pout and complain about how unfair the morning was.

The morning when on as any morning would go. The Great Hall filled with laughter and warmth, the greeting of the sunlight kissing the skin of the royal family as they all parted ways to start the day. Yet, Runa was given orders to visit closest blacksmith’s shop to deliver food. Though curiosity clouded the hazel eyes, Runa was in no right to deny her master’s wishes. So she trooped on, a cloak to protect her strong body from the harsh breeze of Kattegat while carrying a small basket of food. Reciting the orders the Queen gave her, the girl paid no heed to the glances men and women gave her as she walked down the beaten paths of the large town. 

Instead, the dark-haired woman found herself speechless as she watched the town slowly awaken. The cooing of chickens and yelping of young pups reaching her ears as her eyes watched commoners slipping out of their homes, readying themselves for a day of trading and training. Young boys and girls slipped past their tired parents, greeting one another happily and chasing balls to play with. The young woman’s heart reached out to the children, her lips stretching into a kind smile as she looked up the beautiful blue skies. The sun beat down on her face softly, giving her warmth that the girl openly accepted due to the cold air that chilled her skin. 

Turning the same corner that Queen Aslaug advised her to, Runa was met with an open hut, the scent of coal and fire breathed into her lungs as she walked towards the shop. Inside stood a man neither great in stature nor looks sharpening a blade in his soot-covered hands. Before him laid a large array of weapons from axes to arrow heads. Runa approached, her smile still graceful as she greeted the man. “Good morning, I’m looking for a man by the name of Ivar. Queen Aslaug told me he might be here?” Small gray eyes met with the girl, the dirtied man watching carefully as the woman spoke. “Boy ain’t been ‘ere since yesterday. Probably home by now.” Letting out a soft sigh, Runa shook her head. “No, I was there earlier today…thank you for your time.” Turning away, the dark-haired girl chewed her lips slowly, her mind mulling over what the Queen would do to her now that she had failed the first order given to her. 

“Oi!” Runa turned her head back, her hazel eyes flashed golden in curiosity. Slowly standing, the short-haired man raised a calloused finger towards his left. “If he ain’t home, the boy may be with his brothers in the training fields. Head out of Kattegat towards your left, ask for guidance from there on.” Smiling, the girl nodded quickly and waved her hand in thanks. Her feet moved fast, quickly walking past large crowds of men and women, her basket tightly pressed against her chest so it may not fall or ‘disappear’.

“You should have seen her Ivar. The slave was prettier than even the blonde one!” exclaimed Hvitserk as he sat on the fresh hill. Ubbe snickered, his hand twirling his blade as the eldest brother gazed in the distance.  “Why don’t you have her then, Hvitserk?” questioned Sigurd his brother from the lowest branch of the thick tree that stood behind the trio that sat. “And, for the last time, her name is Margrethe.” Hvitserk shrugged, “So what? Who cares about her name. She is a slave.” Looking at the younger blonde, Ubbe raised his eyebrow in amusement, “And what’s the name of the new-” “Runa.” Hvitserk and Sigurd spoke in unison earning a bark of laughter from the eldest of the Ragnarssons.

While his brothers quarreled and joked of the newest slave, strong arms carried themselves away from the scene, wanting to sit in silence. The young man dragged himself down the hill and past the front row of trees, bright blue eyes searching for somewhere to think in peace. Towards the left sat a large white tree, it’s large roots protruding out of the ground just so the young Ragnarsson could sit. His leather layered hands met with the dirt, pulling himself closer and closer towards his destination as the soft sound of crickets filled the void. Calloused, rough hands laid themselves on the smooth plains of white wood, his arms pulling his upper body up and throwing himself onto the root. His back leaned against the truck, pulling his crippled legs by the bounds of leather on top of the large root. There Ivar the Boneless sat, his mind set free as the crisp forest air cycled through his lungs smoothly. The silence was his friend, and apart from his brothers about the only friend that Ivar truly had. 

Soft chirping of birds soothed his tired mind. The simple breeze that caressed him gentle like the touch of a soft woman sent pleasant chills down the young man’s spine. Soft blue eyes gazed past the mass of trees and greenery that laid out before him. It was all safe here, there was no judgment to be passed, no blood to be spilled. All the man had was the thoughts that danced through his head and the symphony of nature at his display. 

Suddenly, a trembling bush caught Ivar’s attention causing the man to sit upright in surprise. His hand immediately fell to the axe that was tightly strapped to his hip; rough fingertips brushing against the sharp blade as cold blue eyes trained on the bush. The movement fastened, a loud yelp silenced the symphony as a young woman tumbled out of the bush. Falling on her backside, the mystery girl let out a long groan, her hands tightly gripping a lidded basket as her wild hazel eyes frantically looked around. 

The tips of his lips twitched to life, watching as the young female scrambled onto her feet and started to mumble under her breath, not taking notice to the man sitting only yards away. He lifted his hands onto his lap, taking in every detail of the female. Wavy black hair that tumbled down ample breasts. Her dress was form fitting for the woman, showcasing all of her curves and dips that caused his gloved hands to tingle with want. Her soft hazel eyes shined gold in the sunlight, a small straight nose and pretty pink lips that were calling his name silently.

She heard a throaty chuckle, causing Runa to snap her neck in the same direction of the sound. Clear blue eyes captured her, this man who sat stiffly against a large tree. His long legs were bound together by leather straps and buckles, his upper body covered by layered cloth and leather. He’s crippled…This is Ivar The Boneless then. Ivar’s hair shaved on both sides leaving a mop of short, dark brown hair to cover his head. His nose was straight, lips slightly thin and pale pink that was twisted into a deep smirk. His sharp jaw line and long neck craned towards her as those enchanting eyes stared her down.

Time stilled for only a moment, the two seemingly lost in each others’ eyes.  Ivar was the first to speak up, “Who are you girl?” His voice was cold, sending shivers down her spine as if Ymir himself breathed against her neck. Running her tongue against her bottom lip nervously, Runa smiled at the man out of kindness. “My…” she cleared her throat quietly, “ My name is Runa. I am under service for Queen Aslaug and her sons.” This is the girl? thought Ivar carefully, his lips curving into a grin as he eyes the girl wolfishly.

Runa felt her cheeks pinken, her eyes never leaving his as she spoke. “I was ordered to give this to the youngest son of Queen Aslaug. Assuming that’s you of course…” she gestured to the basket in her hand with a nod of her head. As if taking everything under careful consideration, Ivar lifted his leather covered hand, beckoning her forward. Tilting her head to the side carefully, Runa watched as the man before her smirked, her body stiffened under his gaze. Each step she took was measured and careful, her body shifting forward as the dark smirk only widen. As soon as she was in reach Ivar yanked her closer by her wrist, chuckling as she almost tripped forward, her other hand’s grip on the basket was vice.

Golden eyes danced carefully with the ice blue hues, her free hand now set down the basket in his lap carefully so it may not fall. Releasing her wrist, Ivar turned to the basket; having not eaten since yesterday morning due to his travels around the town and forest. The first fruit presented to him was a green apple which he snatched, taking a large bite of the fruit gleefully. Ivar chewed slowly, leaning his head back slightly in content as his cold blue eyes slid to the slave that stood quietly to his side. With a heavy gulp, the man spoke. “You have fulfilled your orders yet you still stand there.” His tone was harsh yet curious, as if surprised she had not hurried away from him already.

Runa raised her eyebrows in surprise, her voice seemingly lost as she opened her mouth but no words arose. The smirk crawled back across Ivar’s lips causing the similar pink kisses to fill her cheeks yet again. “Or do you enjoy being around your master?” asked the sly prince, his free hand now slipping around the young woman’s waist.

With a rough yank, Runa was tightly pressed to the prince’s side, her place face now a heated pink as she clutched her hands into fist out of nerve. “M-My prince…I simply await orders.” No one has made the slave feel this way, no one has held her this close unless it was her brother. Ivar chuckled, enjoying the display of emotions that the slave relieved as his hand softly massaged her hip.  “I sense that you and I will get along quite nicely. Don’t you agree, Runa?” he spoke, rolling her name slowly as if it were a sweet to enjoy.

The dark-haired girl simply nodded, her body enjoying his heated touch against her hip as her mind replayed the prince’s voice in her head. Releasing her, the prince took another bite of his apple as his free hand flicked away. “Go back to the village, I want a bath prepared for myself when I return.” Tracing her hip bone with his calloused fingers, Ivar’s eyes darkened as he looked up at the girl. “Maybe you will join me as well..” 

A deep red blush flourished on the pale skin of the slave as she struggled to answer. “I-I…Master, I feel that I-” The prince let out a sharp bark of laughter, his head shaking. “Do not fret, little one. I’m only joking.” Ivar grinned visibly showing off his canines in almost a comical way. Though slightly nervous Runa giggled softly, her hand brushing off a few loose strands from her face. Ivar studied her actions with keen interest, never had a woman shown this much enthusiasm in conversation unless for political reasoning in the Great Hall or slaves who he groped openly in front of everyone and only respond in humiliation or straight faces.

The obedience this girl showed surprised Ivar, though he refused to let it show. Ivar yanked his hand back, looking away from the young girl as he surveyed the basket in his lap. “Go, I’m sure mother will want you to help prepare for tonight.”With a soft nod, Runa smiled softly towards the man, slipping away from the prince’s side. “Of course Master.” With that Runa took her leave, taking only a few steps forward before quickly turning her shoulders. “Um…Master?” 

Ivar now had the apple core cast away on the ground, his hand holding dried meat as he raised his head. Bright blue eyes looked towards the girl questioningly. “Will I-” “Ivar!” Sigurd rushed down the hill, causing the youngest to groan as he tore a piece of meat with his teeth. “Yes, my dear brother?” Ivar’s tone was sickly sweet, his words dripping with enough sarcasm that even made Runa feel bothered. “You met the new slave. Hopefully, you were kind.” Sigurd stalked closer, light green eyes never leaving the young female as she turned to face the pair.

“Oh yes, I was acting like a true Christian.” the young prince hissed, his cold blue eyes staring daggers into his older brother. “Something you taught me. Right, Sigurd?” The snake-eyed boy didn’t answer, a deep frown set on his face as he turned towards his brother. “I won’t be insulted by a cripple.” he grumbled, puffing out his chest as he inched closer. Ivar snickered, his tongue rolling over his teeth as he leaned forward, “Oh, but this cripple is what you truly fear is it not?” Sigurd did not answer, his lip curled into a distasteful snarl as the crippled prince tilted his head forward, challenging the older brother to speak up. 

Before either could continue their petty arguing, Runa slipped towards the cripple, resting her hand on his shoulder. Ivar flinched back, his cold eyes surprised by the touch as they snapped up to meet gentle hazel orbs. “Master,” Runa drawled as her hand gave the younger prince a soft squeeze on his shoulder. “Would you like to accompany me?” Her eyes were filled with worry, making his heart reach out to her in ways he refused to truly accept.

Stealing a glance towards Sigurd, Ivar noticed the unmistaken jealousy that was deeply seeded in his eyes, making the young prince let out a breathy laugh. “No, my sweet I cannot. I will stay with my brothers here for the time being.” Ivar looked up at the girl, wrapping his arm around her waist just as it was previously, this time pulling her flush against his body as he craned his neck slightly. “Be sure to get back safely, I wouldn’t want anything happening to my pet.” His husky voice danced against her ear, making Runa’s cheeks darken as she nodded. “Y-Yes Master…” Golden eyes flashed towards the other prince, noticing the distasteful stare Sigurd towards his younger brother that made the young slave frown. Ivar pulled away, his wolfish grin laid across his face in a suiting manner as his hand gripped her hip, whether she simply enjoyed or tolerated his touch Runa wasn’t truly sure. 

Giving both of the brothers a kind smile, Runa slipped away from the prince, their eyes only meeting for seconds more before she turned away from the two and walked past the bush Ivar once saw her fall out of. I wonder what caused her to fall? thought Ivar as he shook his head, the grin now replaced with a softer smile. “You know she belongs to all of us, right?” asked Sigurd sharply, interrupting the cripple and the thoughts of his new favorite.

Ivar glared at his older brother, letting out a dark growl as he raised more dried meat to his mouth. “We shall see, brother.”

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