#tree trunk bank

[eyesearchedandfound]

Those charming souvenirs from 1960s.

A bank like this one will only bring back memories to those of us over a certain age --and for everyone else, we feel for you that you no longer find these in gift shops by the lake or the beach or the mountain trail. Make no mistake, there are souvenirs but now they usually come from China.

The old ones were usually made by hand by someone somewhat local and they always had a cute sticker applied to remind you of your visit to the Smokey Mountains, Lake George or Stone Harbor NJ.

Leaving that gift shop with a memento in hand was truly a vacation experience. And keeping them on the shelf at home to remember the fun family time was crucial for all those inevitably lonely, sad moments that come with growing up.

This one is available on my Etsy shop isearchedandfound.com.

[shotmrmiller]

sugar daddy!simon would go so hard cuz he'd need no sugar but lets his hand linger on the small of your back when standing at the register with his wallet out or grab your foot to massage beneath the table at the upper scale restaurant yall are dining at.

he doesn't push (surprisingly but hey it works for you!) you give him whatever you want, be it just your hand to hold or a chaste kiss on the cheek in thanks after carrying all the stuff he bought to your room. he spoils you rotten regardless but then the issue comes when you actually want him to touch you.

simon doesn't touch. not when you model the little slips of clothing he so generously gifted you from that one overpriced shop at the mall. not when you wear his favorite skirt, the one that got him to talk to you in the first place on the sugar daddy website. not when you invite him in for a nightcap, letting your bare legs rest on top of his while watching a movie.

he. doesn't. touch.

simon doesn't touch you even when you want him to.

keeps his right hand curled around the glass he's nursing and the other laying on the backrest of the couch when you tell him if he wants to peel off the undergarments he'd just bought you today. (a shot you don't shoot is a shot missed anyway.)

"'s not necessary," he says. "got 'em for you to wear." he hasn't taken his eyes off the screen once.

that'd sting more if you hadn't caught him discreetly palming himself outside his trousers while you'd modeled these too.

"might not be necessary but it's what i want." that gets his attention, an arrogant curl on his lip making your heart flutter in your chest.

he gives your knee a squeeze. "i've always given you everythin' you've ever wanted but this is the one thing you're gonna 'ave to work for."

work for? simon doesn't wait for you to ask what he means.

"only way i'm touchin' ya is if ya beg," he rumbles.

should've known it was too good to be true. but you've got an ache between your legs that won't go away no matter how many times you've used the rose (also another gift.) guess you'll just have to "beg".

/

your definition of begging and his are not even in the same dimension. he had shot you down when you'd said please. when you'd batted your pretty eyes at him while saying please. when you'd gotten on your knees between his legs and said please with your hands flat on the carpet.-

simon had only tapped you on the nose and said, "'s good, but not good enough."

what had been good enough was you riding his thigh until sweat slicked your skin, until your lip trembled with need, until his trousers looked like he'd spilled his drink on it while you mewled out your please's.

only then had wiped the corner of your eyes with his thumb and whispered tiny words of praise into your ear, his breath warm against it.

"wasn't so hard, was it, pet?" you'd been beyond reason at that point, core burning almost painfully hot with desire, so you'd jerkily shaken your head. anything to finally get him to touch you like how you need.

his long fingers splayed out across the back of your head, palm almost engulfing your entire head. "now tell me where you want me to touch."

he touches with clever fingers, his warm tongue, even uses his crooked nose to rub at your pearl while his thumb, spit slick, presses into the girl of your arse. having him fuck you is a whole different beast you have to tackle. if you plead for something, anything, he'll rut his cock between your thighs and come over your sticky pussy :)

[whats-in-a-sentence]

He kept slipping into deep drifts of snow, and skidding on frozen puddles, and tripping over fallen tree-trunks, and sliding down steep banks, and barking his shins against rocks, till he was wet and cold and bruised all over.

"The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe" - C. S. Lewis

[botanyshitposts]

love it when the leaves are green and then a couple trees start turning yellow and suddenly there’s a run on the sugar bank and the whole damn block is moving glucose to the trunk. we need to shed those leaves asap there’s just no time to waste

[rafeskai]

Starstruck | Drew Starkey

Chapter One

Summary: In the bustling crowd of a premiere event for Outer Banks, you find yourself caught up in a chaotic moment, lost in the sea of fans. Desperate for a way out, you stumble into an alley where fate leads you to an unexpected—and painful—encounter with Drew Starkey. What starts as a simple misstep soon spirals into something far more complicated, and your life takes an unexpected turn.

Pairings: Drew Starkey x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Author's Note: This will be another short fic!!

The city of Los Angeles had always seemed like a dream—one that was just out of reach, filled with palm trees, bright lights, and endless possibilities. You’d seen it in the movies, heard the stories, and scrolled through enough Instagram posts to feel like you knew the place by heart. But none of that had prepared you for the reality of it all—the hum of the traffic, the overwhelming buzz of constant movement, and the sheer size of everything.

It was your first trip to LA, and you had planned to move there. To experience a new beginning, a contrast from your life back in a small town in South Carolina. Your cousin, Ava had begged you to move in with her. She moved out here a few months ago to follow her dreams, chasing her career in fashion and the hustle of the city. And as much as you’d heard about her exciting life, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit nervous. She was always the one to take the leap, to dive headfirst into new opportunities while you watched from the sidelines.

You stood at the gate of LAX, your suitcase rolling behind you, looking around at the sea of strangers and travelers. It felt like the city itself had swallowed you up already, even though you were still waiting for Ava to come pick you up. The air smelled like a mix of saltwater, car exhaust, and faint hints of perfume. Everything seemed bigger, louder, and brighter than anything you were used to.

Ava had promised to take you to some cool places—maybe even a celebrity sighting or two, if you were lucky. She’d been raving about how “amazing” LA was, how everyone was so “laid-back” but also so “serious about making things happen.” You weren’t sure what that meant exactly, but you were excited to see what her new life was all about.

Finally, your phone buzzed with a text. It was Ava.

Ava: “I’m here, babe! I’ll be by in a sec. Get ready for an adventure!”

You smiled to yourself, tucking your phone back in your pocket. Your cousin always had a way of making everything sound like it was going to be epic.

As you stepped outside the airport, you saw Ava leaning against her car, a mischievous grin on her face and sunglasses perched atop her head. She waved you over enthusiastically, her curly hair bouncing as she jumped up and down.

“There you are!” she said, pulling you into a hug. “Welcome to LA, sweetheart!”

You hugged her back, letting out a small laugh at her over-the-top enthusiasm. Despite the chaos around you, her energy was contagious. It was exactly what you needed to start your adventure in this strange, exciting city. And maybe, just maybe, you’d find yourself falling for LA the way everyone else did.

Ava tossed your suitcase into the trunk and hopped into the driver’s seat, motioning for you to get in. “Alright,” she said, turning the key in the ignition. “Let’s show you what this place is really about.”

As you slid into the passenger seat and buckled up, the city sprawled out in front of you. The buildings, the people, the cars—everything was moving so fast. You couldn’t help but feel like you were on the brink of something big. This trip was going to be more than just a visit; it was going to be an experience that might change everything.

Ava shot you a grin as she pulled onto the highway. “Ready for your first adventure in LA?”

You took a deep breath, a nervous excitement bubbling up inside of you. “I think so.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The ride to Ava’s apartment was a whirlwind of sights and sounds. Palm trees lined the streets, swaying lazily in the breeze, their silhouettes framed against the setting sun. The cars zipped by, each one seemingly flashier than the last, and the billboards advertised everything from the latest blockbuster films to obscure yoga studios. Ava, ever the LA native-in-the-making, narrated the trip like a tour guide, pointing out landmarks and offering unsolicited advice.

“That’s Runyon Canyon,” she said, gesturing to a hill dotted with hikers. “Great for photos, but only go early in the morning. Otherwise, it’s hotter than hell.”

You nodded, your eyes wide as you took everything in. “Noted.”

“Oh, and you’ll definitely need to get used to traffic. Like, it’s not if you’ll sit in it—it’s how many hours of your life you’ll lose to it.”

The apartment complex Ava lived in was nestled in a lively neighborhood just outside of downtown. It wasn’t the most glamorous building, but it had charm, with colorful murals painted along the walls and a small courtyard with string lights hanging from the trees. As you stepped inside, dragging your suitcase behind you, Ava gave you a grand tour of her one-bedroom unit, which she’d converted into a makeshift two-bedroom by sectioning off the living room with a curtain.

“Sorry it’s not huge,” she said, flopping onto her bed as you set your suitcase down near the futon that would serve as your new sleeping spot. “But the location is killer, and it’s LA—no one actually hangs out in their apartment. We’ll be too busy living it up.”

You laughed, appreciating her enthusiasm even if you weren’t entirely sure you’d adjust to this new pace. The space itself was cozy, with mismatched furniture, a tiny kitchen, and windows that let in just enough light to make it feel inviting. Ava’s personality was everywhere—her collection of vintage magazines, her mood board filled with fabric swatches and fashion sketches, and an eclectic mix of candles and trinkets scattered on every surface.

That night, you spent hours unpacking while Ava filled you in on her plans for your first week. From trendy coffee shops to a thrift store crawl, she had your itinerary packed. But what caught your attention most was her excitement over the Outer Banks premiere.

“You have to come with me tonight,” she said, flopping onto your futon dramatically. “It’s going to be amazing. Red carpet, celebrities, the works.”

You hesitated, folding a sweater and setting it aside. “I don’t know, Ava. I just got here. Don’t you think I need a little time to settle in?”

She shook her head emphatically. “Nope. The best way to settle in is to jump in headfirst. Trust me, babe. You’ll love it. Plus, who knows? Maybe you’ll meet someone famous.”

You raised an eyebrow at her, but her grin was infectious. Despite your nerves, you couldn’t help but feel a little intrigued. The idea of attending a real Hollywood event was daunting, but also undeniably exciting. This was LA, after all—the city of endless possibilities.

“Okay,” you said finally, earning a squeal of delight from Ava. “But you owe me coffee for a week if this goes horribly wrong.”

“Deal,” she said, leaping to her feet. “Now, let’s find you something fabulous to wear.”

As Ava rummaged through her closet, tossing dresses and accessories your way, you couldn’t help but smile. Moving to LA was already proving to be as overwhelming as you’d feared, but with Ava by your side, you were starting to believe that maybe you could handle it.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

You’d never been one for crowds, but when Ava forced convinced you to go the Outer Banks premiere in LA, you couldn’t turn it down. You weren’t a huge fan of the show, but you’d heard enough buzz to know it was a big deal. Plus, Ava had a knack for dragging you into her wild adventures, and when she’d said "Hollywood glamour," you couldn't help but get caught up in the excitement.

The red carpet was everything you imagined and more. Flashbulbs from cameras stung your eyes as celebrities in perfectly tailored suits and dresses posed for photos. You tried to focus on the stars walking by, but it felt like the entire city was crammed into this one street, and the noise—oh, the noise—was almost too much to bear. Ava had already spotted a few friends and pulled you along, her chatter almost drowned out by the sound of hundreds of voices and music blaring from speakers.

"I need to get a selfie with Drew Starkey!" Ava shouted over the noise, practically bouncing on her feet.

You blinked. Drew Starkey? The guy who played Rafe Cameron on Outer Banks?

"Wait, wait, wait," you protested, pulling back on her arm. "I’m not ready for that—"

But she was already off, threading her way through the crowd, her phone in hand, her eyes focused on the star she was aiming for. You sighed and tried to follow, but the crowd was thickening, and before you knew it, you were separated from Ava.

You glanced around, feeling your pulse quicken as the realization hit—you were lost. People were pushing past you, and the overwhelming mass of bodies made it hard to even catch your breath. Frantically, you glanced around for some way to escape the chaos, a backdoor, a quiet corner—anything.

That’s when you spotted a narrow alleyway just off the red carpet, tucked behind a line of sleek black cars. It was quiet. It was a chance to breathe.

You weaved through the crowd, trying to stay unnoticed, hoping to find an escape route or at least somewhere to collect yourself. But as you stepped into the alley, you felt a bit of relief—until a loud bang echoed from behind you.

Before you could react, the door to a building swung open, and you stumbled backward as the metal edge caught you square in the face.

The world tilted sideways.

Everything went black for a moment, and you stumbled backward into the wall of the alley, your hands instinctively reaching up to touch your face, feeling a sharp pain shoot across your forehead. What the hell just happened?

A voice—gruff and slightly panicked—came from the direction of the door. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry!”

You groaned, blinking your eyes open, your vision swimming. Standing in front of you, looking at you with wide, apologetic eyes, was none other than Drew Starkey himself.

You didn’t recognize him at first. Your head was swimming, and your pulse was racing. But then his face registered, and you froze. Drew Starkey?

“I didn’t see you there,” he said, reaching out as if to help you, but then pulling back as though unsure. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry. I—I didn’t mean to… hit you. I’m really sorry.”

You couldn’t find words right away. Your vision swam, and you felt lightheaded, your hand instinctively rising to your forehead to feel the throbbing pain.

“Do you need help? I can get someone…” His voice trailed off, a soft edge of concern in it now. “Please say you’re okay.”

Somehow, you found your voice, though it came out more like a pained whisper. “I think... I think I’m okay. Just... I need a second.”

His eyes were full of worry, but he took a step back, glancing around as if searching for someone to help. The alley was dimly lit, and you weren’t sure if anyone had even noticed the accident with how chaotic the premiere still was just beyond the alley.

“Look, um, I don’t know how to make this better. But can I help you?” Drew asked, his voice quieter now, as if he wasn’t sure how to approach you.

You stared at him, trying to focus. This was Drew Starkey. The actor you’d just been thinking about. And you’d gotten hit in the face by a door he opened. You blinked again, still struggling with the fog in your head.

“I’m really not sure you can fix this,” you managed to say, but there was a hint of humor in your voice. The ridiculousness of the situation, how absurd it felt, wasn’t lost on you. Here you were, standing in a back alley with Drew Starkey, and you were definitely not looking your best.

Drew chuckled, though there was still concern in his eyes. “Okay, fair enough,” he said, running a hand through his hair, making it even messier than usual. “But seriously, let me at least get you a drink or something. I feel awful.”

You hesitated, blinking away the dizziness. There was no denying you felt a little bit starstruck, standing face-to-face with him. But there was something else in his eyes now—something soft and genuine. He wasn’t acting like the celebrity you’d imagined, with all the flashy confidence. Instead, he seemed... human. Worried. And kind.

"Alright," you said slowly, trying to steady yourself.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

 You hadn’t realized how badly you were shaking until Drew gently guided you toward a nearby door. It looked like a back entrance to the venue, a simple wooden door with a security keypad next to it. He motioned for you to go first, his hand on the small of your back as though to steady you, and you couldn’t help but feel your heart rate spike for reasons entirely unrelated to the pain in your head.

“Okay, okay,” Drew said, pushing open the door with a soft creak. “We’re going inside where it’s a little quieter. We can sit for a second while you get your bearings. Deal?”

You nodded, your brain still struggling to catch up. This was really happening—you were with Drew Starkey right now. The man Ava has been obsessing over. But now, here he was, acting more like a guy who’d accidentally banged someone’s face with a door than some famous heartthrob.

Once inside, you realized it wasn’t some ritzy celebrity lounge or hidden VIP area, but rather a backstage hallway with a few chairs scattered around and crew members rushing by, deep in conversation or adjusting equipment. The lights were dim here too, but it was at least a bit more peaceful compared to the madness outside.

Drew led you to one of the chairs by the wall and sat down across from you, though not too far. He was careful not to invade your personal space, which you appreciated. He looked genuinely concerned, his brow furrowed as he examined your face.

“Does it hurt? I mean, does it feel like it’s swelling or anything? I’m no doctor, but...” He trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

You winced, touching the side of your forehead again. It was definitely sore, a dull ache, but nothing that felt too serious. Yet.

“No, I think it’s just a bump. It’ll be fine,” you said, hoping you weren’t downplaying it too much. “It’s not the first time I’ve walked into a door, you know?”

Drew raised an eyebrow. “Really? That’s a new one for me. Usually, people walk into doors because they’re distracted or something, but... this feels a little more like a... targeted door.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound shaky at first but more genuine as it left your mouth. “Well, if I’d known the door was going to open right into my face, I would've steered clear.”

He chuckled along with you, but his eyes still carried a hint of concern.

“Look, I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt. I was just trying to get out of there before the paparazzi went wild. It’s been a long night.”

You could tell he was being sincere. There was no hint of ego in his voice, nothing that would make you feel like he was brushing it off because he was a celebrity—which, honestly, you might have expected in a situation like this. But Drew didn’t seem like the type.

“I’m just glad you’re not one of those celebrities who tries to act too cool to care,” you said, then realized how that might sound. “I mean, not that I thought you would be, but you know... it’s nice not to be treated like a random fan.”

He looked at you, tilting his head slightly, his expression softening. “I get it. I mean, I don’t think we’re all that different, you know? I’m just a guy with a weird job.”

“A weird job?” You raised an eyebrow, surprised by his humble tone.

“Yeah,” he said, shrugging. “I mean, I get paid to pretend to be someone I’m not for a living. How weird is that?”

You smiled. “Well, you’re pretty good at it. Everyone seems to love Rafe Cameron.”

Drew laughed, but it sounded a little forced. “Thanks, I guess. I don’t know if ‘love’ is the right word though, considering the character I play...”

You nodded in understanding. It was clear he wasn’t as fond of Rafe as most fans were. “True, true,” you said. “I mean, Rafe’s not exactly the most... well, likeable guy. But he’s interesting. He’s got layers, you know? I feel like he’s the kind of character you love to hate.”

Drew’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “Yeah. It’s definitely a challenge. But I’ll take it. It’s more fun playing a character who’s got that edge.”

The conversation lingered in an unexpected place of comfort, with the two of you talking like you had known each other far longer than just a few minutes. As you talked, you started to feel the fogginess in your head subside a little, your thoughts a bit clearer. You shifted in your chair, feeling a bit more steady.

"So, uh," Drew spoke up again, breaking the comfortable silence. "I feel like we should properly introduce ourselves now. I’m Drew, obviously." He grinned, though there was a hint of awkwardness in his eyes.

You smiled, feeling a little silly that you hadn’t introduced yourself earlier, but you were still kind of in shock. “I’m Y/N.”

“Well, Y/N, I’m really sorry again for hitting you in the face,” he said, still a little sheepish. "Maybe I can make it up to you somehow? Like, take you out for a drink or... I don’t know... find a way to help?"

It took you a moment to register the question, your mind racing. Was he asking you out? Or just trying to be nice?

Before you could overthink it, Drew added quickly, “Not in a weird way! Just... you know... trying to make it right.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I get it. I mean, a drink sounds nice—just... no more doors, okay?”

Drew's grin widened, clearly relieved by your response. “Deal. No more doors. And I’ll make sure to keep it to something a little more... calm.”

© 2024 rafeskai | All rights reserved. This fanfiction is a work of fiction inspired by characters from Outer Banks, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[hotwings0203]

Needed to get possessive alpha bakugo off my chest, ill prolly write a sequel to this tmrw cuz i got some ideas

Tw: noncon, omegaverse

thinking about childhood possessive bakugo who's pined for his omega since she joined the pack Time after time again since you were kids he'd always tried to get close to you, using a number of strange to threatening courting techniques. It was benign at first when you both were young, with him jumping up the large apple tree to get you the juiciest fruit you could never seem to reach, but when you two grew older and played together with the rest of the pack, his efforts seemed more...possessive.

He'd always single you out and force you to be on his team, following up with growling at you whenever you'd run more than a few paces in front of away from him. His sleek gold and black coat would brush up against you constantly, as if only touching you would satiate his desire for your proximity. Bloodred eyes would glare at you when you'd shyly back away at dinnertime, opting to sit away from his intense gaze.

Not like he'd let you get that far.

When it would come time for bathing with your sisters, somehow, everytime you'd be out of the loop and would end up being forced to wash yourself on your own in the cold water.

Little did you know your sisters were not-so-kindly encouraged to not communicate their congregation to you by a certain fiery alpha.

And so when everyone was by the fire, barking out laughter and telling stories of their weekly hunt, you'd sulk to the riverside by yourself, clutching your towel over your shivering body as youd sink closer in the shallow water.

You wanted to get it done as fast as possible so you could join your pack in merry-making, haphazardly scraping dirt off your paws and washing the crevices between your ears.

But as soon as you take a step towards the lush bank, you hear a heavy splash behind you.

You whip around, ears drawn back immeditaley after seeing the alpha who shamelessly follows you around like he's already claimed you.

"W-whatre you doing here? Everyone's by the..fire..." you trail off unsurely as his spiked-up wet mane shakes in laughter. His lack of concern for the reprimands he'll undoubtedly recieve for being this physically close to you send faint warning alarms at the back of your head. Usually he glowers at you and turns tail, but this is new.

"I thought the pack leaders told you to leave me alone," your lip wobbles as your tone borders on fear and indignation. Your brothers had always kept you safe from him, snarling and hiding you behind their tall legs whenever he was around. Bakugo never seemed to give up though, his own flashing teeth and sick grin mirroring their own worry pulled back from their lips.

"Yeah? But you're here though."

You swallow hard and hope he doesn't hear your whimper as you splash backwards towards the bank, but his low grumble of pleasure upon smelling your sweet fear-omones says otherwise. It proves to him that you're not as immune as your other brothers swear you are to protect yourself against him, theyre actually worried for a reason.

They know you'd never stand a chance against him.

And his muscles do ripple amid the water as he steadily stalks towards you, leering as he licks his canines and trains his eyes on your feeble form.

It seems like as fast as you flail backwards towards unseen safety, he advances twice as fast, and within seconds your back hits a hard and scratchy surface.

Bakugo chuckles a humorless laugh as you've nestled yourself in a nice, private corner away from the mainland where everyone can see you. You've backed both of you into an enormous concaved treetrunk, one that circles around 10ft and only one opening...

which you've trapped yourself in.

The roots of various plants that have grown inside this hollowed out trunk provide little cushion as you whimper and try to desperatley climb the walls.

"When are you gonna give up?"

His voice is low, raspy with mixed want and bitterness.

"S-stop, stay away from me or I'll call for h-"

"When are you gonna realize you can't escape me?" He harshly whispers right at your ear as he lunges toward you, causing you to squeal with terror.

He nips your soft ear and inhales your neck, craning his own to get a good look at the sensitive unclaimed part of your neck.

His hands grip your sides and mold the squishy parts as though they were dough, his greediness increasing exponentially as he lowers his drooling mouth to your ear and laves his wet tongue over the planes of your neck and shoulder.

You begin to shake and sob, never having been dealt with him actually touching you and being a victim to his lust. You've taken the protection of your brothers for granted, and oh how you wish you could softly howl out if you had the courage to ask for help.

But the blonde's presence itself is enough of a threat to your life and safety, that much being made clear as his hands grow claws, no doubt his physical appearance shifting from being so riled up. Your skin prick and cuts as his nails jab harder into you, his hands roaming up and down your back, feeling your hips and ghosting over the swell of your ass as well as chest.

You writhe against him which unbeknownst to you, pushes your naked chest out against his own shredded pecs, your pebbled nipples grazing his toned skin and practically making his eyes roll back in efforts not to pin you down and take you like his bitch.

"I just wanted to wash," your voice comes out pleading, and meek. You have no idea how he'll react to you being aggressive and defensive against his assault even if you had the courage to speak out against him.

"And I want to claim you as my omega," he growls directly in your ear, causing you to whine again and cower your head beneath his hounding mouth. "But I guess we'll both have to wait for what we want, huh?"

He knows you know.

You have to know.

Have to have known how badly he wants you, wants to hear your voice ring high with laughter like you do teasing your sisters, wants to hear your playful growls as you wrestle with your brothers who let you win just to see you swish your tail with prowess. He wants to feel you rest your head on his chest, wants to see you look up at him with security and ease, knowing that he's there to protect and love you.

But how can he explain that, with years of nothing but threatening looks and yards of distance between you two?

If it brings you familiarity and perhaps ease of seeing him as you've always thought to have known him, as a brute with nothing on his mind apart from taking you like an animal and conquering you, then he'll save the monologuing for later.

"After all," he heaves in the darkness of the seclusion, voicing his thoughts, "your birthday's coming up, right? You'll be of age to be claimed."

He thrusts his knee in between your trembling legs, pushing your shoulders down while following with his head and never letting his mouth rise above your unclaimed mark. You gasp as he begins grinding his knee in circles against your hooded clit, bouncing you lightly to evoke whatever sweet noises he can from your pursed lips.

You choke and sputter, suddenly grasping around his neck for leverage as you try to pull yourself up, but you're no match for him as it only serves to prove his point and enrage him from your constant rejection.

You can lie to him all you want, but your body never will.

"And trust me, little girl, when that cunt ripens for me to take, when that neck fucking sings for me to lay my mark-"

Your voice cracks into a howl as he takes one of his hands and squeezes the fat of your tit while the other spanks your jiggling ass on his knee, feeling whiplash from the onslaught of sensations.

"-I can promise you, there's no running. There's no cowering behind your brother's legs like some fucking baby, there's no using your sisters as an excuse to turn your face away from me."

Bakugo presses you tight against the wall, smothering you chest-to-chest with him and using the confined space to rut his naked erection against your thigh, his hips snapping forward and chasing years of needed release in your presence.

"I'll tie you down on my bed, face down ass-up and breed you as my bitch. I'll take you bent over and wrapped around me against every surface and floor of our secluded cave."

You blubber as you can feel yourself coming to a high, the water splashing obnoxiously at your humping against each other. In an effort to keep your pride, you try as hard as you can to grit your teeth and delay your orgasm, but he seems to catch on pretty quick.

"And then," he drops your tit and uses both hands to pry your asscheeks apart, impaling you impossibly closer down on the hard bone of his knee, your clit grating deliciously as his leg vibrates and flexes from moving you back and forth, up and down, any direction he can get your teeth to latch onto your lip and pussy clench on nothing.

"Then, you won't have to hide that pretty voice anymore. I'll get those years of silence back in exchange for your screams for help."

At this, he hugs you flush against the wall and himself as you shake from your orgasm, the water rippling at your reaction.

"So if I were you, I'd be grateful for any solitude from now on. Because you won't be getting it anymore."

[gowns]

"I look after about 700 olive trees around the valley. But I and others with groves have lost about 70% of them in the past five years. Some were taken by settlers; others have just been made impossible to cultivate.

These are our groves on our ancestral land, but we have to get permits from the Israeli authorities to nurture them and pick. Believe it or not, during last autumn’s olive harvesting, in some of my groves I was given permission to pick for only two days when it needed two weeks.

The day we started – 1 November – the settlers began their attacks. The next day I went to look to find that they had uprooted trees – some hundreds of years old. Others were cut down to their trunks with the olive branches taken."

3/5/23

[avcdgrdn]

── .✦ [ FIC ]: can i really stay here? [ part four ]

[ part one & part two & part three ]

mullet stanley pines x innkeeper reader

tags: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, sfw

word count: 1531

˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚

it took you about a half hour to get ready.

okay, maybe you spent a solid five minutes screaming into a pillow, but that’s besides the point.

descending the staircase of the inn, you emerged in the lobby, dressed up and dreamy. stan pines has spent years perfecting his poker face, but when he laid eyes on you, he couldn’t stop his jaw from dropping.

he was so glad that he gambled on a ‘yes.’

“sweet moses.” he breathed, rubbing his face with one hand before taking another good, long look at you.

“how do i look?” you carefully pushed a stray hair back into place, glancing expectantly at your flabbergasted date.

“like you fell from heaven.” a smug grin grew on his face. he was smitten. “i’d offer you my arm, but you look too perfect to touch.”

his charm was working wonders on you. you chuckled softly, rosy cheeks hinting at the feelings that raged within. “i’m far from perfect, you know.”

he held out his hand to you, his voice low. “not in my eyes, doll. i call you angel for a reason.”

you took his hand, and he led you out to where his car was parked. he made a point of opening the passenger side door for you, shutting it after you were situated and coming around to the driver’s side.

you could faintly smell the cigarette smoke that stubbornly clung onto the car, but he had totally cleaned up the interior, having crammed all his things into the trunk and scrubbed away troublesome stains. there was even a small pine tree air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror.

“i hope y’like the place i picked. it ain’t much, but i figured it’d be nice.” starting the engine, he snaked his arm around the back of your headrest, looking over his shoulder as he reversed out of the parking lot and made his way out onto the road. you could feel yourself practically buzzing with excitement and curiosity, smiling and folding your hands in your lap.

it was about a five-minute car ride, and neon lights illuminating the bustling cityscape made for a nice view. you found yourself pulling into the parking lot of one of the nicest restaurants in town. wait a second …

your brows rose. “stan, this is—”

you were cut off as he shushed you, waving his hand dismissively. “don’t even think about it. don’t worry about it. just let me do this for ya, alright?”

“but—”

his hand gently pushed your mouth shut from underneath your chin, tilting your head towards him. “it’s my turn t’ be the nice one. ya got it?”

all you could do was silently nod your head. you wanted to question how much this was costing him, but it was obvious that he didn’t want you to know that.

a moment later, you walked into the restaurant, and a waiter led you to your table. sitting down across from stan, you looked around the place, fascinated.

“you know, i’ve always wanted to check this place out, but i’ve just never had a reason to.” you smiled, returning your focus to him. “this is exciting!”

“oh yeah? huh, musta been a lucky guess.” he sighed, his eyes narrowing as he gazed at you.

the waiter came around, and you placed your orders. stanley could barely take his eyes off you the whole time, and they stayed just as glued in place after the waiter left.

“so, i’m gonna cut to the chase …” he paused, fidgeting with a fork on the table, never breaking eye contact.

“... i wanna know everything about you.”

you felt your face heat up. he was staring at you with a lot more intent than he had the last time you’d gone out to eat together.

“you do? … everything?”

“you heard me.” his tone was soft, but serious. “whatever you’re willing t' share, i’ll gratefully take.”

your heart beat louder in your chest. this man genuinely wanted to get closer to you.

“well … my mom is a schoolteacher, and my dad works for the bank.” you stroked your chin thoughtfully. “i’ve always been told i’m good at hosting people. i think that’s sort of what inspired me to open an inn in the first place.”

you continued to infodump about your life, your passions, and whatever else came to mind. stanley was loving every single second of it. he’d occasionally pipe in with a comment on something you’d said, but for the most part, he just gazed dreamily, leaning his head against one hand.

the conversation kept on going throughout the meal, and the two of you took turns talking while the other took a few bites of food. you hadn’t spent quality time with someone like this in so long—you’ve only been worried about minding the inn for the past few years—and you found that you were totally captivated by him.

you wanted to stay like this forever.

after swallowing a mouthful of food, you met his warm brown eyes with your own. “hey, stan?”

“hmm?”

“how long are you staying for?”

he paused, setting down his utensil and straightening in his seat.

“i mean … i wanna keep doing this with you.” your voice was quieter. “getting to know each other, just … talking. but … i know your stay with me is probably temporary …”

his bit his lower lip for a moment, looking down. the bill came, and he scribbled a signature, handing the waiter a few folded bills along with the receipt.

“let’s head out, yeah?”

“okay …”

the car ride back to the inn was silent, save for the ambience of surrounding traffic and the low hum of the radio. there was a certain tension hanging in the air.

pulling into the parking lot, stan put the car in park, taking the key out.

“look.”

he shifted in his seat, turning his body towards you. nervously, he reached one hand out, placing it on your arm and capturing your attention.

“i’ve been walking a tightrope for what feels like forever. and … i don’t know if i’ll get the privilege of keeping you in my life.”

your heart skipped a beat.

he took a deep breath. “i know damn well i don’t deserve you. hell, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. when i’m with you, i feel like i can be appreciated by somebody …” he swallowed a lump in his throat.

“... nobody has ever made me feel that way before.”

tears welled up quietly. he clenched his teeth, fighting to keep his composure, but ultimately failing.

“i … i had no … idea how much i needed that. how much i needed you.”

a single tear rolled down his cheek, succeeded by another … and another. he was choking the words out.

“i … know we haven’t known each other that long, but … do you … feel it, too?”

there was desperation in his voice, in his eyes.

it was as if he were asking for a miracle.

tears were already clouding your vision. turning in your seat, you gently wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace, which he quickly returned.

“i feel it too, stanley.” you murmured, biting back a voice crack as you felt the tears falling. you just squint your eyes shut. he held onto you even tighter, as if he was afraid that you would disappear.

“hah … so i’m not crazy …” he laughed weakly, sniffling and pulling his head back to look at you. his thumbs gently wiped the tears from your face. his touch was so delicate … almost reverent. “i knew there was something between us.”

you sighed quietly as he held your face, smiling upon hearing his laugh.

your next words escaped your mouth before you could process it.

“i love you.”

stanley’s eyes went wide.

“you … what?”

“i … i lov—”

you didn’t get the chance to repeat yourself, as he had leaned in and pressed his lips against your own.

stunned at first, you gradually returned the kiss, letting your eyelids shut on their own. it was sweet and sincere, as if it held the meaning of a thousand words.

after a moment, he pulled away, leaning his forehead against yours, his eyes still closed.

“i love you, too.”

he shifted closer to you, moving his head to rest on your shoulder as he pulled you into another hug.

“please … no matter what happens, please promise me you won’t ever forget about me.”

“oh, stan … don’t say that. i couldn’t forget you, even if i tried.”

his strong arms tightened around you even further. you could feel his heartbeat through the rise and fall of his chest, and it lulled you into a trance.

“... my love. mine.”

he kept mumbling vaguely into your shoulder, refusing to let go of you. you smiled to yourself, bringing your hand up to his ponytail and undoing the hairtie so that his mullet fell loose.

and for the next half hour, you ran your fingers through his hair while he clung to you like a magnet.

end

[ part five ]

author's note:

i said goodbye to my sanity in the middle of writing this chapter

also THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE ?!?!? the first three parts collectively have over 750 notes DANGGG

part five is happening. >:) lmk if you want in on the taglist

tag list: @icouldntthinkofanythingclever @seahorrorz @blustalker @hay-needle @phanmai1002 @samanthastarss @bumblingbriars @arya-eats-chips @bihexualandferal @hello-i-like-owls @blurryface505 @ryethebrokengae @skeet-2 @thisisprettymuchafanaccount @loleeness @mothie-jpg @ryoiii @ghostieballs @dinsfire24 @put-a-cork-in-it-nork

[innerfare]

Paradise

Summary: a collection of short drabbles about reveling in nature with them. Includes collecting seashells, making snow angels, picking flowers, climbing trees, cloud watching, stargazing, and more. Names in bold are those I originally built these around, but I decided to expand it to include other characters I could imagine in these scenarios.

Characters: Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Ace, Sabo, Law, Kid, Shanks, Beckman, Mihawk, Robin, Nami, Usopp

Genre: fluff

——— 

Climbing out of bed before dawn because neither of you can sleep, having a cup of coffee, and walking hand in hand down the beach, stopping to bend down and pick up rare seashells to add to the collection on the bookshelf in your bedroom, not talking much at all but simply admiring your shared bounty in the pale dawn light as the sun creeps over the horizon.   

(Robin, Law, Beckman) 

——— 

Waking up to fresh powder blanketing the ground and jumping out of bed, barely getting your boots and one of his coats on before you’re outside, romping through the snow. Falling into a snow bank with your arms out, giggling as you make a snow angel, grinning even wider when he surprises you by laying down beside you and doing the same, letting his inner child show through for a brief moment. 

(Zoro, Law, Kid, Mihawk) 

——— 

Wandering through a flower field and picking some of the more beautiful blooms that catch your eye, sprawling out on a picnic blanket in the late morning to bask in the sweet scent, enjoying the breeze as it ruffles your hair, weaving some of the flowers you picked into a delicate crown that they wear proudly while the two of you share sweet kisses. 

(Sanji, Nami, Sabo, Corazon) 

——— 

Meandering through the woods in search of the tallest, most impressive tree, him giving you a boost up to the first branch to get you started before climbing up himself, staying behind you the entire time so he can catch you in case you fall. Finally piercing the canopy and poking your heads up above the forest, his hand on your leg to keep you steady, the two of you grinning as birds fly by, basking in the afternoon sun. 

(Luffy, Ace, Sabo) 

——— 

Escaping the chaos of life and climbing a desolate hill, sharing a late afternoon snack as you stare up at the clouds and point out different shapes, saying, “that’s you,” when you see a funny one. Arguing over which one of you gets to be the dragon cloud, your argument turning into roughhousing and the two of you accidentally rolling down the hill, him laughing and kissing your cheek when he knows you’re okay and then starting the argument again. 

(Luffy, Sabo, Usopp, Kid, Shanks)  

——— 

Waiting until late evening to meet beneath a peach tree, speaking at first in hushed tones, worrying someone is on to the two of you, eventually forgetting about all of that and settling into easy conversation about nothing and everything simultaneously, him jumping up to pick a peach for you to have as an evening snack, you taking advantage of the last bit of light to carve both of your initials into the tree trunk. 

(Sanji, Sabo, Beckman, Mihawk) 

——— 

Sitting out on the deck of the ship long after everyone else has fallen asleep, climbing into their lap once the two of you are alone, both of you staring up at the sky and picking out constellations in the night sky. The conversation eventually shifting from actual constellations to the ones you two invent on the spot, with wild fables to go along with them. 

(Ace, Usopp, Robin) 

——— 

Tossing and turning in bed, waiting for the clock to strike midnight, sneaking out as soon as it does and meeting them at the spring just inland. Stripping out of your clothes and diving into the warm water with him, splashing each other and floating on your backs, losing track of time and hurrying back to the ship when the moon dips below the horizon. 

(Zoro, Robin, Nami, Shanks)

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 15

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: One more day and I'm a homeowner

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You slow to a crawl amid the retinue of carts and horses. The sun beams down relentlessly on the summer fields. As you laze in a sheen of sweat, Bryce works to tie a swath of linen over the cart in a makeshift canopy. You thank him for his effort, his own brow slick with sweat as he tugs at his mail. 

“I admit my winter’s hide is not made well for this sun,” he utters as he reaches to pet Daisy, the loyal steed tied to his new one as he rides in step with her. “Let’s hope we might reach the tundra in due time.” 

“Mm, it is rather hot,” you murmur, exhausted from the endless blaze. It’s three days thus far and many more ahead of you. 

“Little maid, cannot complain even when you should,” he tuts. 

The cart rolls on, rocking your body as the hooves clomp down on dusty grass. As the train passes over the lands, they leave a trodden path in their stead. The progress is steady but sluggish. 

The wheels creak and lurch to a halt as Bryce reins in both horses. You sit up and peer ahead, unable to see more than horse tails and overloaded carts, the helms of soldiers shining under the sun. The knight on his dark steed sits up straighter, alert as he leans forward. 

“Eh, maid, keep watch on the mare,” he tosses the reins at you as the royal party comes to a halt. 

His horse kicks up dirty as he gallops around the edge of the train. You watch him bend over the beast’s long neck and hurdle ahead of the clog of vehicles and bodies. Something is amiss. 

You wait, nervous, as other servants cluster together and wonder aloud. Soldiers mill up and down the winding retinue, themselves sharing no more than looks. You climb out of the cart and walk on your cramped legs. You stroke Daisy’s head as she huffs through her nostrils and nuzzles your shoulder. 

“I don’t know either,” you tell her softly. 

The pause stretches on and Bryce returns, his horse in a lather. He swings off and lands solidly on his feet. He looks between you and the grey mare. 

“Some hold-up, nothing to worry for,” he explains, “enough time to find some water for these beasts.” 

He takes Daisy’s reins and hands them to you, “come, there is a river near. I can smell it.” 

You peek ahead and squint. You don’t know that you believe it is nothing though you can’t find a reason to argue. You nod and tug on Daisy’s bit. 

The soldier leads you across the grass, well away from the front of the train. Others disperse to sit in the meadow and chew on their rations. You continue into the trees and the trickle of the promised water has Bryce proudly exclaiming. He weaves his way around the trunks to come upon the bank, putting his dark brown horse to drink. As the larger stallion laps noisily, Daisy lowers her head and patiently gulps up the ripples. 

“Where did you find Chestnut?” you ask. “He must be a castle horse.” 

“Aye, he was locked away in some stall. They said he is vicious. Due to be horse pie.” 

“Horse pie? But he is fast.” 

“They did not lie. He likes to nip,” Bryce warns as you step between the horse, “watch your fingers, mouse.” 

“Perhaps he only did not like being locked up,” you suggest and gently touch the horse’s long mane, working out a tangle in the hair. He doesn’t seem to notice. 

“Chestnut?” Bryce says, “you’ve given him a name of your own.” 

“You didn’t say if he had one,” you brush your hand over the fine short hairs along the horse’s shoulder. “I thought it suited him.” 

“Mm, I might call his Hellion but Chestnut is kinder, I s’pose.” 

You chuckle. The horse lifts its head and you near the river’s edge. It turns to sniff you and Bryce reaches for your arm. The horse drips water onto you as it sniffs your neck. It lifts its lip, showing its square teeth, then touches its nose to yours, turning back to the water to nicker. 

“Mm, you do have a way of taming the wildest creatures, eh,” he muses as he lets you go. “Come, I saw some berries back in the bush.” 

You leave the horses near the water and follow the soldier between the trees. As he squats to pluck out dark blackberries, you sway on your feet and glance back toward the road. 

“Why have we stopped, sir?” You ask. 

“Told ya, no matter to worry for,” he stands and offers you a handful, “be thankful for it. We’ve found a nice horde and it will do ya good to be out of the sun. And to eat.” 

You accept the bounty and frown. You know he isn’t telling you all but you know he wouldn’t do so without reason. You stand and pick at the berries, biting in hungrily as the juices coat your mouth. The soldier eats as he picks, plucking a few into his purse as well. 

“How do ya like squirrel meat?” He stands again, “I could find us a morsel for the evening fire. Perhaps a hare if I can.” 

“If you like, sir,” you accept. You chew your lip and search the trees. “Is there truly nothing wrong?” 

“I told ya not to worry,” he growls. “So don’t trouble yerself.” 

He beckons you back towards the river. You follow, not asking any more questions. It’s expected that the road won’t be easy, something just feels awry. 

⚔️

The party makes camp at the point of the delay. You return to the road as Bryce grumbles about the evening warmth. The dry heat lingers in the air even as the sun begins its descent. 

“Come, you will need look in on the queen, I’m certain,” he ties the horses to the cart and urges you along. 

You notice less soldiers as you stride through the train. It’s not so crowded as before. The missing bodies add to your uneasiness. Still, the queen’s tent has been erected and guards keep vigil right outside. You enter and find her alone. She has a veil over her hair as she taps the brim of a cup with her fingernail. 

“Alas, a maid!” She snaps as she sees you, “I’ve been calling for wine all night and those damned soldiers only bring me water.” 

“Your highness,” you back out of the tent. The soldiers do not move. 

You go to the luggage and search for a bottle. You grab one and return to the tent. The soldier at your right extends his arm before you can enter. 

“No wine,” he snatches the bottle, “king’s orders.” 

You blanch and look ahead at the silken flap. You nod and thank the soldier as he keeps the wine under his arm. You blow out between your breath and once more push through the draped fabric. 

“Your highness, there is to be no wine. The king has commanded it,” you say meekly. 

“Pardon me? Who are you to refuse me?” She stands and snarls. “My head is on fire, I need wine.” 

“Yes, your highness, but the king--” 

“I am the queen. My order is a good as his. Bring me wine. Now. You little twit.” 

You stare at her unmoving. 

“They won’t allow it, your highness--” 

A flurry of veil and skirts rushes towards you. Before you can react, a scalding heat radiates over your cheek, the force behind the queen’s slap rattling your head. You stagger back and clutch your head between your hands. 

“You stupid girl! I am the queen! You are a dumb maid!” She strikes you again, her hand glancing off your forearm, “stupid stupid twit!” 

She continues to hammer you with blows, closing her fists as she hits your shoulders and stomach. You shrink down, curling into yourself as you keep your head shielded. She huffs, tired from her assault, and twirls away. 

“I don’t want to see you unless you have a bottle in hand,” she snarls and kicks over the stool. “Go before I have you gutted.” 

You wine and stand straight, lip quivering. You turn and hold your left shoulder as it thrums. You step into the night air, aware that the soldiers could no doubt hear the queen’s fit. They say nothing and you don’t either. 

You continue through the train of bodies. You feel your cheek pulsing and your brow swelling. You keep your head down and as you reach the cart, you relieved to find it alone but for the two dozing horses. You climb up and turn towards the wooden wall, hiding against it as you hug the cushion. 

It isn’t so different from Debray, only that you don’t have Merinda to hold you, to share in your pain. You always preferred that it was you who faced the rather of the ladies. You only hope Lady Rezlyn isn’t issuing the same displeasure upon your companion. 

⚔️

The morning comes with the tweeting of birds and a distant rumble. You sit up and look towards the sky. There are no clouds to forewarn a storm. You stare into the horizon where the thunderous noise rolls over the plains. 

You see the figures on their approach. Men on horses. As soldiers rush to confront them, their alarm is eased by the wave of a familiar banner. It is the king and his party. 

Bryce grumbles as Daisy sniffs him and the coughs into his hand. He shakes his head as you lean out of the cart, watching the specks on the tapestry of green grass. You gasp as you feel him grip your wrist. 

“Eh, mouse, what’s happened to ya?” He demands as he pulls your attention back from the distance. 

You look at him and the tenderness in your cheek reminds you of the queen’s wrath. You wiggle free of his grasp and sit back against the side of the wagon. You shake your head. 

“I went to... the bushes to relieve myself, sir. I tripped.” 

He squints at you, his square jaw gritting. He stares daggers at you. You’re not a good liar but you can’t tell him the truth. 

“Tripped?” He echoes as his thick brows furrow. 

“Yes, sir, it was dark,” you say. “I’ll be alright.” 

“Mm, you look as if you were caught by a bear.” 

“Really, sir, I am well,” you put your head down. 

He growls under his breath and turns away. He fiddles around with his saddle bag before he returns to the cart. He reaches over the top, holding a folded cloth with an acrid smell roiling off of it. 

“Put it on ya face,” he demands. “It’ll soothe ya, make you a little less puffy.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

“You don’t go trippin’ no more. If ya do, ya let me know,” he scowls. 

You nod, sinking into a tense silence. You both know it’s a lie but neither of you will admit it. You put the cloth to your cheek and exhale. It cools your skin though the smell burns your nose. 

⚔️

That night you don’t return to the queen’s tent. Bryce claims there’s no need for it. She needs her sleep, as do you. It’s another lie you won’t call out. 

Several days pass in the cart. Short nights followed by sweltering days. It’s as if there is no end to the road or the heat. 

You sit on your knees, looking ahead as Bryce chews sweet leaves and spits onto the ground. Daisy’s tail sweeps behind her as she keeps a steady trot. You watch the progress with impatience, each moment feeling more and more trapped in the cart. 

“...down in Debray...” you hear a voice drift back. 

“...don’t like traitors, suppose...” another returns and you search over the carts to try to place the speakers. 

“Careful, mouse,” Bryce warns, “you’ll fall under the wheels. 

You sit back and face him, holding onto the side of the cart, “sir, what happened?” 

“What do ya mean? We’ve been riding,” he sniffs. 

“No, days ago, when we stopped. Something... in Debray?” 

He grimaces and spits out the leaves completely. He shakes his head, clearing his throat. 

“Nothing a maid needs worry about,” he girds. 

“I know, sir, my apologies. I’m only curious...” you hang your head, “I... I was raised there, is all.” 

He hums and rocks with the motion of Chestnut’s steps, “skirmish up a ways. Party on their way to the castle. Certainly, you know your former master’s deceit has bought him little good will.” 

“A skirmish?” 

“Ah, so it was, but nothing very dire. The king returned in good spirits, that rat lord—the duke with him,” Bryce explains, “course, it only suits that the lord should see to the defence of his own castle.” He chortles, “shouldn’t tell ya, maid, so ya keeps your lips sealed, but the duke meant to hide in the queen’s tent.” He shakes his head and sighs, “in the Hinterlands, them sortsa lords aren’t lords for long.” 

“Mm,” you purse your lips thoughtfully, “but... but the duke, he helped end the war.” 

“By betraying his kingdom. We didn’t come to conquer; we came to unite. Turns out, there’s more fractures than those between winter and summer. Shoulda know by Yellow Waleran’s deeds.” 

“Yellow?” You wonder. 

“Mouse, it is a lot you needn’t worry for. All I can say is a king isn’t much of one if he don’t keep his word,” he sighs, “any lord or man lacks substance if he melts like ice.”  

You look down and watch Chestnut’s legs. You slant your lips. 

“King Geralt, did he have some agreement with Waleran then?” 

Bryce snorts, “too clever. Promises. Broken promises. Deadly things.” 

You nod and hold your chin, “and King Geralt, he is a good king?” 

“Do you not know by now?” He asks with a smirk, “he is a man who keeps his word. A man who fights for his people, not for gold and a name. No good winter lord would kneel to a man built on coin. Blood, that buys crowns. It buys loyalty.” 

You lower yourself onto your bottom and draw your knees up, “for his people?” 

“You heard him say it, you summer’s blood are one with us now. Once he has his heir, it will all be set in flesh. A prince to join the realm,” Bryce says, “let us hope he comes soon. The king’s done his part, he’s fought his battles, now it is up to your queen to claim her victory.” 

[sugarushwriting]

ot7 vampire — human blood bank

s2 part 4

read other parts from main master list here

pls send ideas and requests

adult content featured, read at your own discretion

sunoo would scold you right now if he could. sunoo warned you it could be dangerous, but you were fed up with ni-ki’s attitude lately.

more menacing, rude, angry, short tempered, everything. he was like a hormonal teenage girl. probably worse.

you stayed in the shadows, masking your scent with a smell that didn’t go noticed by vampires. (thanks to your snooping around jay’s room).

you ended up following ni-ki tonight in where ever he was going. eunchae surprisingly hadn’t came with him.

your heart sped with each step you took further into the woods that ni-ki was walking towards with no care or fear.

you were careful not to make a sound, to not step on a twig, or be clumsy and fall like someone in movies. about less than a mile in, ni-ki reached a group of people his age around a bonfire.

you got as close as possible and nearly gasped at what you saw. a few guys with girls on their laps. but it wasn’t that they were horny couples. no.

the boys were feeding on these girls. were these seriously the new boys ni-ki had been hanging around?

your eyes narrowed in on ni-ki, and your jaw dropped seeing ni-ki take a seat, a girl getting comfy on his lap, before his own teeth sunk into her neck.

“what the fuck?” you whispered and went to step back but fell. “shit!”

all the vampires stopped what they were doing, the girls in a trance and oblivious to what was happening.

standing up slowly and quietly, you counted each vampire, accounting for each you saw earlier. they hadn’t moved from their spots other than their ears perking.

“probably an animal.” a blonde boy said.

ni-ki looked around, deep down, feeling off about the situation. he pushed the girl off of him. “you sure it was just an animal?”

“bunnies and deers live in the forest too, ya’know.” the blonde guy laughed, going back to his feeding.

“just sit down and finish eating. you need your energy.” another voice said. this time it was a dark hair guy with full lips from your observation.

holding your breath, you walked quietly away, trying to remember your way back out to the main road.

avoiding every leaf, twig, anything and everything that could make a slight noise.

you finally let your breath out when you saw the tree line, but yelped at a hard push, your back hitting a tree trunk.

“ow.” you whimpered. you opened your eyes, seeing ni-ki holding you close to the tree by your shoulders.

“what do you think you’re doing, sweetheart?” ni-ki uttered with a smile.

you gulped. “just going for a walk.”

ni-ki smiled smugly. “it’s dangerous for you to be out here like this.” ni-ki used his finger to play with a piece of your hair.

“then what are you doing out here?”

“i’m a vampire, i can hold my own.”

ni-ki had evidence of blood on the corner of his lip, you couldn’t help but notice. ni-ki, never taking his eyes off you, used his tongue to lick it up.

“mhm, tasty.” he laughed and moved away from you, your back still against the tree, afraid to move.

“ni-ki—,”

“come on, let’s get you home.” ni-ki nodded towards the main road.

you didn’t know why, but you were afraid to go with him. “ni-ki—,”

“i said, let’s go.” he ordered deeply.

you’ve never heard his voice go so deep before. you swallowed nonexistent water and nodded, afraid to say anything further.

walking beside him, less than 12 inches apart, you both walked back towards the house in silence.

you had so many questions, but had no way of expressing them. you felt muted.

the walk home seemed to take forever, and as you arrived, you went to run to the door, but ni-ki grabbed your wrist, fingers tightening, leaving a mark for sure.

“ouch ni-ki,”

“you are to say nothing, understood?”

you looked up at him from your wrist, nodding. “i understand.”

his hold tightened. “i’m serious. you let out even a slight peep about tonight, i will ruin you.” he threatened.

again you nodded. “i—i promise.”

although ni-ki was younger than you, he was 100 times more threatening in every way.

he smiled in satisfaction. “good.” he went to turn around, “just so you know, that musk smell doesn’t last long.”

he walked off, your guess back to finish his feeding. ni-ki was feeding on actual humans again. you felt so torn. afraid to tell on him, but feeling like a coward for keeping it in. you could be jeopardizing those girls lives.

you remembered how ni-ki was when he first fed on a human. it was bad, nearly killing the poor girl. ni-ki can’t control his hunger once he feeds. anytime he fed on you, an elder and another had to be with him just to be sure he didn’t hurt you.

you also remember his attitude and personality when he fed on human blood. he became stronger, his powers different.

could he be behind your nightmares?

“love, what are you doing?” jay asked. he had opened the front door, you unaware, which cause you to startle.

“oh, i just needed some fresh air.”

“did you try to mask yourself? you smell weird.”

you nodded shyly. “i just wanted time alone, without being followed.”

instead you did the following.

“been snooping in my room, huh?”

you rocked back and forth, innocently. “maybe.”

jay gave you a wicked smile. this time you squealed in delight, running into the house, jay hot on your heels.

“you can run, but you can’t hide from me love! i told you, you snoop, you get punished!”

you ran past the living room, past the kitchen, ignoring any of the other boys you passed.

you started running up the steps, jay calling out from the bottom. “get to my room like a good girl and i will go easy on you!”

you looked behind you for a split second, sticking out your tongue.

you ran towards ni-ki’s room at the end of the hall, shutting the door behind you, rushing to take cover in his closet, stepping over his (nasty) dirty clothes.

you squatted, and when you went to put your hand down, you felt something cold. picking it up, you found it was condom wrappers.

“ew!” you screeched, and the closet door opened. jay started laughing when he saw your disgusted facial expression while holding the unopened condom.

jay shrugged, “at least he’s being protected.” jay grabbed it and threw it over his shoulder. “we won’t need that.”

jay lifted you, throwing you over his shoulder with ease, and walked back down to his room, slapping your butt in the process.

“would’ve had an easier punishment if you would’ve just went to my room like a good girl.”

jay threw you on his bed after he shut his door with a lock. “scoot towards the edge of the bed. hands out.”

you followed the orders, jay getting duct tape out of his drawer, and taping your wrists together. your lower half fluttered in excitement.

he ripped off an extra piece, taping it over your mouth. he smirked. “bring back memories, love?”

you nodded. jay pushed you to lay on your back on the bed, pulling your body towards the middle. he placed your hands and arms above your head.

“you remember the rules. do not remove that tape from your mouth. do not move your hands from above your head.”

you nodded. jay parted your thighs, taking no time to get your pants and underwear off. thankfully he didn’t rip them off.

“actually—,” he began as he changed his mind. he pulled the duct tape off your mouth gently, only to replace it with your own underwear. “goes for the same—don’t remove it.”

jay pushed your thighs further apart, your feet resting on the bed. you were open and ready for him, inviting him to do whatever he wanted.

he took off his belt, and used it as a way to punish you. how? whipping it down on your uncovered cunt, dripping wet.

a muffled screamed came from your mouth, covered by your underwear.

“mhm, i like that sound.”

it took every willpower to not move your arms as he whipped down below 4 more times, getting harder by the last. tears appeared behind your eyelid, for both pleasure and pain.

you shook your head to signal, “no more,” with a sniffle and sob.

jay used his palm to soothe your lower half. “sorry love, but you know you get punished when you don’t listen.”

your stomach retracted with your sobs, your legs threatening to close, but jay sat on his knees in between.

his right thumb rubbed circles on your clit, as his left palm rubbed soothing strides against your thigh. his thumb soon teased your leaking hole, begging for him to penetrate.

his thumb slipped in with a tease, only to pop out and rubbed the gathered wetness of you on your clit.

you moaned behind the cloth in your mouth, your legs now trying to close for friction.

jay slapped your knee. “ah-ah, stay open for me, love.”

you opened back up, jay smiling at your ability to listen. “good girl.”

jay used two fingers now, rubbing harshly down on your clit, then pushing those two into you, your head tilting back on the pillow, his name muffled coming out your mouth.

his fingers teasingly kept a slow pace, thumb entertaining your clit. your hands gripped the bedsheet above you, your eyes closed in extreme pleasure. you tried to keep your eyes on jay, but occasionally closed them.

how did you start off this night following ni-ki, scared out of your wits, to you being on your back like a slut for jay.

and you enjoyed every bit of it.

you began to pulse your cunt, ready for an orgasm when jay pulled out his fingers. this time your groan was in frustration.

if you didn’t have your underwear in your mouth, you’d be fussing and cursing up a storm at jay.

“patience love. you’ll get to come.”

you knocked your head on the pillow in frustration. jay got off the bed to undress him self completely, reaching back up to you, to pull your shirt and bra over your breasts since he couldn’t take it off.

well he could, he would just have to rip it off of you.

his eyes bore into your body, taking in every inch of your skin. if he could, he would leave bite marks on every inch of you.

jay pulled you closer to him, as he stood at the edge of the bed, your feet resting close to the edge.

no warning, jay eased his tip in you, your body never familiar with the stretch of him or the others. while sunghoon and heeseung had length, jay, jake and jungwon were on the thicker side.

“that’s it love, take me all in.”

your body easily accepted jay, his hands gripping your waist. your hands still tied above your head. since you disobeyed him, jay wasn’t going to be gentle.

that showed when he removed himself completely only to literally slam his dick back in you, another scream muffled by your underwear.

jay took your thighs so they rested against his chest, your feet now hanging over his left shoulder.

you couldn’t describe how good he was making you feel, as you became breathless. lacking the ability to come up with words.

pummeled. hammered. pounded. forceful.

all synonyms for how jays dick was going in and out of you. his headboard knocking into the wall with so much force, you were scared it would leave a dent, maybe even a hole.

you spat out the underwear, so you could finally be vocal, punishments be damned. loud moans dropped from your lips.

jay brought his right hand up to squish your cheeks, his thumb tracing your bottom lip.

“let the others know how good daddy is making you feel.” jay growled out, this thrust never slowing down.

you were working up a sweat as if you had ran a marathon while jay had no trace of sweat on him.

your hands gripped the covers under you, as tight as you can. you may of discarded your underwear from your mouth, but you weren’t about to test jay by moving your hands and arms.

jay ended up picking you up, holding you tight and held your back against the door as he fucked into you. your hands tight between you and jays chest. your cunt began leaking down your thighs, down jays thighs and lower stomach.

“ja—jay,” you leaned your head back against the door.

“i know baby.” he whispered, bringing his lips to yours, forcing his tongue in your mouth. his hand still gripping your jaw to keep you in place, as his body pinned yours against the door.

thanks a million, jay can’t reproduce since his sperm was dead.

“jay!” you screamed at the top of your lungs as you came all over yourself and jay, leaking down both your bodies.

“fuck, i love you.” jay mumbled, giving you a sweet peck.

“i—love you,” you sighed out between breaths, your sweaty body going slump against his. jay had no issue holding you up as he took you to his bathroom for aftercare.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

as ni-ki walked back to the hang out spot, he was met halfway with sunwoo, who had a bright smile on his face.

“who was that girl?” sunwoo asked.

ni-ki played dumb. “what girl?” he was already irritated.

sunwoo scoffed. “she did a terrible job trying to hide her smell.” then, he smiled which only annoyed ni-ki. “she smelled good too. smelled sweet.”

“she’s off limits.” ni-ki bit out.

sunwoo rolled his eyes, “blah blah blah. why is she off limits? you said the same thing about eunchae and you don’t even have a thing for her!”

to ni-ki, eunchae was special. he felt a protective presence overcome him whenever he was with her.

with you, you belonged to him and his brothers only.

“my elders will rip your head off if you come within 2 feet of her.”

“how will they feel knowing you were the one who brought her to me. to us.”

ni-ki shook his head. “i didn’t bring her here. she followed me. she’s always snooping.” ni-ki could imagine the disappointment in your face of him calling you out for always snooping. he loved to rile you up.

“well, make sure she stays away. if she’s comes back, i can’t promise i’ll be sweet to her.” sunwoo taunted.

[thrashkink-coven]

hey there, would you mind telling me a bit about Lilith and your practice with her? I’ve been trying to do some research on her modern worship, offerings, and signs, but it can be really difficult to find anything that’s serious when there are so many references to her in pop culture :/

Okay so Lilith is extremely, and I mean extremely complicated.

Contrary to popular belief, “Lucifer” isn’t actually a name, but a title. The name Lucifer means “light bringer” in reference to Venus as she appears in the morning, but any “light bringer” can be considered a Lucifer. Prometheus for example, the man who stole fire from the Gods to give light to humanity, is a Lucifer. And so, there are actually many different entities that have taken the role of a Lucifer throughout history and in various different retellings. Eosphorus is the name of the deity that was revered by the Greeks as Venus, but Lucifer is a title that many different figures have taken on depending on the context.

Why do I bring up Lucifer? Because he and Lilith are very similar in that regard. Our earliest mentions of Lilith throughout history paint her not as an individual but as a species of night demon that frequently takes the form of an owl, she was known to bring crib death and miscarriage.

In the myth, Inanna and the Huluppu tree, a huluppu tree (a type of willow) is planted by the banks of the Euphrates River. The tree is tended and nurtured by the goddess Inanna, who plans to use its wood to craft a throne and a bed for herself. However, as the tree grows, it becomes infested with three troublesome creatures:

A serpent that makes its home at the roots of the tree. (What troublesome serpents have been portrayed in another mythology having to do with magical trees? HMM!)

The Anzu bird (sometimes described as a mythical lion-headed eagle) that builds its nest in the branches.

The Lilitu (a female demon or spirit) that makes her lair in the trunk.

Inanna, distressed by these creatures occupying her tree, calls for help from her brother, the sun god Utu (or Shamash). When Utu does not assist her, she turns to the hero Gilgamesh. Gilgamesh comes to her aid and, with his great strength, drives away the serpent, the Anzu bird, and the Lilitu. He uproots the huluppu tree and uses its wood to craft a throne and a bed for Inanna, fulfilling her original intention. Consider that it is a human, not the God of the sun, who helps Inanna with this problem. Interesting.

The inclusion of these three very specific creatures occupying this important tree tended to by the Goddess of love, to her dismay, are very important. Especially when he consider how Inanna’s visual depictions have been syncretized with Lilith. The idea of a serpent (perhaps a Lucifer) , an Anzu bird (described quite similarly to some depictions of abrahamic angels, specifically those like the cherubim) and a Lilith being “driven away” from this mythical tree are notable, especially because these are all symbols associated with Inanna herself.

Inanna, one of the most complex deities in Mesopotamian mythology, embodies aspects of fertility, love, war, and the underworld. Inanna's association with snakes can be seen in her connection to the underworld and her transformative journeys. In her descent into the underworld, Inanna removes one magical garment as she continues into the deathly realm. Just as the snake sheds its skin, Inanna sheds her power and identity as she descends, only to be reborn and restored.

Inanna is frequently depicted with wings, highlighting her divine nature and authority. The Anzu bird in the Huluppu Tree myth, while initially a source of trouble, also connects to the theme of overcoming chaos, which aligns with Inanna's role as a powerful deity who brings order.

Lilith, often depicted as a demoness, represents untamed feminine power, independence, and sometimes chaos. In later Jewish mythology, she is considered a night demon, but her roots trace back to earlier Mesopotamian beliefs. Her inclusion in Jewish mythology is summed up in the verse Isaiah 34:14: "Wildcats shall meet with hyenas, goat-demons shall call to each other; there too Lilith shall repose, and find a place to rest." (Hm… I wonder WHERE she will find a place to rest? Perhaps in a… magical tree?)

In Jewish mysticism, the feminine side of the tree of life is what creates the potential for evil. Even though it is the lightest, brightest, goodest form of feminine energy, for some reason, every time, disobedience pops up no matter what we do. It is an aspect of the feminine itself.

In the Huluppu Tree myth, Lilith (or a Lilitu) makes her home in the tree that Inanna nurtures. This connection reflects Inanna's association with both nurturing and taming wild, untamed aspects of the feminine. Lilith's presence in the tree also highlights the tension between order and chaos, which Inanna must navigate and control.

So what does this all mean?

Each creature in the tree draw direct parallels to the Goddess of Love herself. These can be interpreted as perversions of her divine nature, that she herself cannot be-rid of on her own. Inanna the Goddess of WAR couldn’t get an owl, a big bird, and a snake out of a tree??? Why? Likewise, why did the divinities refuse to help her? Why did she have to seek out a human specifically, to get those unwelcome guests out of her tree? And if it is so that Inanna just doesn’t really like owls and snakes, why is she represented with them (and generally just hanging out with them) so often?

Lilith, the serpent, and the Anzu bird reflect aspects of the divine mother that she herself cannot even tame. Lilith as the night owl also reflects an aspect of knowledge and wisdom, as owls can see in the dark and hunt strategically. Even though she is portrayed as an enemy of Inanna, Inanna never once can or even tries to harm her. Inanna being the Goddess of fertility, and Lilith being the demon that causes miscarriage, show that they are natural opposites, yet still derived from the same divine source, and never combative towards each other.

Similarly, Lucifer’s first ever depiction was as his role as Venus, the same astrological planet as what is associated with Inanna. In Christianity, Lucifer played the role of the serpent who convinced Eve, another archetype of divine femininity, to eat the forbidden fruit of knowledge. Interestingly enough, Lilith is never actually portrayed eating the fruit. Does she posses a divine knowledge that is inherent to her qualities as a night owl, to the point where she didn’t need to eat the fruit to have the wisdom to disobey Adam? Does she possess a knowledge that is inherent to the divine feminine force from which she was created? Is this because she was created from the divine forces of femininity itself and not derived from man, as Eve was? If this is the case, that even though Eve ate the apple, she did not become a Lilith, that stands to imply that there is an inherent quality about being derived from a human man, that repels or deflects that inherent feminine rebellious quality. Instead, being replaced with the the ability to submit.

Knowledge applied with the associations of night and mystery, create a feminine energy that cannot submit, and this is likely Inanna’s fault herself, as she very notably has a big issue with respecting any authority higher than herself, even death herself (as her big sister)

From a symbolic standpoint this tells us a couple things about Venusian energy in general.

1.) Regardless of how hard it tries to behave, it is inherently chaotic

2.) It has many faces, some of which do not jive with eachother, but even so, they continue to coexist, even if not in the same places

3.) It is a creator and a destroyer.

4.) It has a very rough time with the concept of submission.

Okay YAP fest, what’s the point?

Lilith is a great example of how the dark feminine exists within the light feminine as an inevitability. Lilith is not so much associated with war, the strategic enactment of violence., but rather the inherent unpredictability of femininity. Women both create life and snuff it, women can decide to procreate or to have an abortion. Lamashtu and Lilith respectively were invoked for abortive purposes.

And of course, Lilith’s adoption by feminist spaces as a self actualized protector of individuality and feminine rage also invoke heavy associations with Inanna as the Goddess of war. So in my interpretation, Lilith is that part of Inanna that went a little unchecked for a little too long. That combined with the themes of Lucifer’s liberation, paint a very interesting narrative about how femininity as a divine force shows up in obscure ways, perhaps even negative ways, whilst still being just as divine and inherent. To recognize Lilith as the antithesis of all of these things, is to see her as the unwavering aspect of femininity that cannot be tamed, even by femininity herself. The snake, the reborn, will always cause chaos at the root of the feminine energy. The Anzu bird, the angels, are susceptible to that same corruption. And the Lilith herself will always find a home within that feminine energy, unless of course, she is snuffed by the will of a man who doesn’t respect her. Still, she does not die, just searches for another place to rest.

Wow this was really long. SO. Lilith is the entity that embodies our biggest fears about femininity and the inherent knowledge that women posses. Women know how to create life, and women have the ultimate authority in ending it. To honour Lilith as a Goddess rather than a troublesome demon, is to recognize that even the parts of femininity that femininity herself can’t control are divine in nature. The knowledge that she possesses makes women incapable of submission. And the Gods themselves are aware of this, and do not interfere with her, because she is a Goddess herself carrying out an important function, even if it doesn’t adhere to what they might like. Basically, rebellion is an inevitability to any feminine creature that possesses knowledge. It is unavoidable.

It’s incredibly difficult to find anything about the worship of Lilith because for a long time she wasn’t given her flowers as a divinity. Even Inanna herself tried to get her to fuck off. You can honour her quite similarly to the way Artemis and Athena were worshipped, alongside Inanna or Aphrodite of course. As the dark, mysterious, yet inexplicably wise mother of demons, she is the creative force behind destruction. She’s the aspect that exists in all of these Goddesses, that most of us would rather not think about. She is a woman who cannot be held in captivity, if you tell her to procreate, she will cause miscarriage. If you tell her to obey, she will become even more rebellious. The more you repress her, the stronger she becomes. No matter how oppressed women become, no matter how subservient, so long as they have any connection to the divine feminine, they will have a Lilith inside of them.

Lilith’s representation of a succubus expands upon her associations as a woman who does what women do, (men thought women were sex objects for a long time) but not for the sake of cooperation, but for her own means. Lilith is very much a woman, capable of doing what all women and feminine goddesses can do. She simply chooses not to, similarly to how Artemis simply chooses not to procreate. The element of choice, (hello again, Lucifer) always being an option to women is, from a patriarchal standpoint, really scary for men.

So how do you worship her? Worshipping Lilith, like Lucifer, is technically paradoxical. Lucifer wants us to worship ourselves. If he accepts worship it’s because you’re using him as a metaphor for yourself. Lucifer believes in no man submitting to no God, so he won’t take on the role of the usual “authority”. Lilith is quite similar, to worship her is to worship the wise and rebellious spirit that exists in the feminine- yourself. Self honouring acts honour Lilith, just as they honour Lucifer. It’s important to remember that Lilith isn’t just rebellion for the sake of arguing, she isn’t a contrarian. She is self actualization that just happens to not go with the status quo. She does what she wants, if that pisses you off: cope. She’s not inherently against men or procreation, or even women who are submissive. She is the constant exception. The random variable that always pops up whenever we deal with feminine deities. So for me, I honour her as an extension. of every existing goddess. Within Inanna, there is a Lilith, as there is within Aphrodite, Hera, Artemis, Athena, etc etc.

Wow this was long as fuck but I hope it provided a little bit of insight as to why Lilith is so fucking confusing. Regardless of which contexts you feel are the most true, Lilith, like all deities will continue to evolve with time. Just as the narrative around Medusa has gradually changed into her being a victim instead of a monster, Lilith has shifted from being a demon that just kills babies to the ultimate personification of feminine independence. All of these interpretations are correct in the right context, you just have to figure out which context best applies to you.

OKAY if you actually read this far here’s a flower 🌹

[birdstudies]

October 29, 2024 - Dayak Blue Flycatcher (Cyornis montanus) Found on the island of Borneo, these flycatchers live in hill forests. Foraging in pairs or alone, they eat flies and other small invertebrates, usually capturing them in short flights from a perch. They build cup-shaped nests from moss and plant fibers in hollow tree stumps, against trunks, in plants growing on trees, on banks, or among tree roots. Females lay clutches of two or three eggs.

[volklana]

I've Always Been Yours. Only Yours.

Title Comes From This Song:

Idea comes from the ever beautiful mind of @whitedarkmoonflower

and I am only hoping I did your idea justice my love:

I had and idea of a fic about Sihtric rescuing a young girl when he's still a boy at Dunholm and then meeting her again in S3 or S4 setting and finding out she's noble and out of his reach, but then by some whim of fortune he has to rescue her again and finds out she hasn't forgotten him either.

Warnings: Mentions of torture, domestic abuse and slavery- if you don't feel up to reading any of those things please put your own peace first and you can always catch another of my fics soon xx

*Not proof read. Mistakes will be corrected*

The sound of the hounds baying and barking caused you to run faster and faster through the trees.

Your dress was ripped and your feet were bloodied but you ran with all your might.

You were half blinded by tears and you could barely breathe for crying but still you ran.

You were lost in the unfamiliar woodland terrain of the Dunholm surrounds and you truly feared that you would die here.

Hurtling down a thorny bank and splashing into an icy stream, you waded through the ankle deep water, passing under the roots of an upturned oak tree and clambered up onto its trunk to see if you could fit inside.

You could hear your tormentor's laughter from afar but you knew his hounds would find you long before he ever did.

“I will find you,” he shouted through the trees and you couldn’t help the sob that wracked from your bruised body.

And then the glowing eyes of one of the beasts that had been pursuing you shone under the light of the moon as it bore its teeth and began to try to lunge for you, your screams echoed into the night as two more appeared and began to bite at the bare skin of your legs.

You were pleading and scrambling, trying to pull yourself higher up the trunk of the fallen tree when a pair of strong arms suddenly grasped you and hauled you down, you were flailing in his arms trying to free yourself, but he hushed you with a gentle shake “It's okay, I’ve got you.” He took your hand and began to push you behind him as the beasts began to circle around you both, gnarling and frothing at the mouth.

He was armed with an axe and each time one of the creatures lunged he would strike out, he killed one and the others were wounded, but relentless.

One took a hold of your arm in its great teeth, biting down and tearing at the flesh and only released you once he slashed at it with his axe.

“Sihtric!” a voice suddenly emerged and you clung to the arm of your rescuer, “Hand over the girl,” he commanded and you begged him not to let you go, “Please, please please…” it rolled off your tongue like a desperate prayer and the small group of men gathered behind Sven the One-Eyed began to laugh, but Sihtric did not release his hold on you, despite how you could feel him tremble.

“You killed my best hound,” Sven tutted, “That will not go unpunished. Do not make it worse for yourself- hand over the girl. Now!” he was shouting. Furious that Sihtric had thwarted his little game for the evening, and Sihtric knew that Kjartan would indeed have him tortured for the death of the hound.

The standoff however was interrupted by the approaching sound of hooves and little glimmers of torch light and eventually Kjartan the Cruel appeared before you.

He took in the sight of you, dress torn and bloodied, great tear tracks down your face and Sihtric stood before you defensively, the dead hound lay out before his feet.

He swung his legs over the saddle and landed on the ground with a mighty thump, before he rounded on Sven, grasping him by the furs of his cloak.

“The girl was not yours to torment,” he fumed, shaking his son in his arms.

“I would not have harmed her,” Sven defended, arms instantly flying up in defence.

“She is harmed!” Kjartan roared and forced his son to look at the state you were in, shivering greatly as the adrenaline was beginning to wear off, and he backhanded his son with a force that had him stumbling back and blood rushing to his mouth.

“And you!” he spat turning on Sihtric “You killed one of my finest hounds,”

“Yes Lord,” Sihtric shivered in defeat and acceptance of what was to come and you shrieked as he was ripped from your arms and set upon by Kjartan who beat him mercilessly and bloody.

“Please, please,” you begged mustering all your strength to throw yourself forward, “The beast would have killed me.”

Kjartan swung around and for a moment you thought he was going to strike you, but the fury on his face dwindled for a moment before he spat “Better that it had. Nevertheless, you are under my protection and I will see you back to the keep.” 

He bundled you onto his horse with force before quickly climbing on behind you.

“My children continue to disappoint me,” he huffed, before he turned his horse to face one of his waiting men, “Tekil, the runt is yours to punish, see to it he never lays hands on any of my property ever again,” he spat, before kicking his horse into a gallop and you craned your neck to try and get one more glance at Sihtric, but you wished you hadn’t as Tekil and the other rider were taking turns at kicking his crumpled form on the ground.

That night his bloodied body was tossed into the out building you were kept in and you nursed him all through the night, despite your own injuries you held him all night long, terrified to let him go for fear he would not make it to the morning light. Once he woke in the night and mumbled your name and you held him tight, urging him to make it, urging him to just hang on and when he reached for your hand you allowed him to take your hand in his weak grip, brushing his soft curls out of his eyes and praying to the gods that he would make it. When you awoke the next day he was gone and your heart sank a little for it seemed you had finally found a friend in this hell on earth. 

For the remainder of your time as a hostage in Dunholm, Sven watched you from the shadows, tormenting you from afar, or following you down to the stream to watch you while you bathed but he never made another attempt on you after that night, but he wasn’t the only one who seemed to be keeping watch over you. Every night Sihtric would appear like a spectre watching you from the edges, his eyes were nearly swollen shut and each time you thought he would try to speak to you, he scarpered away before you could reach him. Your physical wounds healed in time but you woke every night screaming and sweating and the fear Sven had instilled in you on that fateful night would remain with you for years.

When negotiations were finally completed and the ransom was paid, you watched in anticipation as the hostages your father had taken were returned to Kjartan and then the great gates opened and you were instructed to follow your Eldermen out to freedom.

It was only after you had ridden for what felt like a lifetime that you glanced over your shoulder to the looming keep of Dunholm rising up like a spectre in the background and prayed to the Gods that you would never see that place again, but you would never forget the pair of mismatched eyes that had shown you the only real bit of kindness you had experienced there and in some ways you had left a little bit of your heart with him. 

Your husband was a Jarl with small holdings of land in Northumbria, he had been loyal to Kjartan in the past in the sense that he had agreed not to infringe on any of his lands and pay him taxes, and to swear his bannermen to aid Dunholm if ever it was attacked but that had all changed when Guthred was made King and took control of Eoferwic.

Your husband swore fealty to Guthred and so the events that played out over the course of the next few years meant that your house was allied to that of Guhtred’s and in time you would come to live in Eoforwic where your husband served as an adviser until the time of the his own death.

Your husband was killed in a Scottish incursion a few years into Guthred’s reign and you wept when his lands were simply given to another Jarl who had served Guhtred faithfully, you were bartered off like livestock to marry him and no matter how you pleaded with Guhtred to free you from the agreement he would not budge.

Your new husband was a cruel man, he relished in the capturing of nearby Saxon villagers to sell to the slavers, it was an endeavour that had made him an incredibly wealthy man but one that forced the bile to rise in your stomach when you would hear the women and children cry at night. Bringing back old, unhealed wounds of a young girl running terrified through the trees at the foot of Dunholm.

One night you fought him as he tried to take you and he beat you so bloody you could not walk for days, and you had made up your mind to flee at the very first chance you were able to ride again and so after a week of only being able to move from bed to relieve yourself you bribed the stable boy to ready your horse and you rode away into the night, taking only your dowry’s worth of silver with you. 

You made it precisely to the door of the great hall in Coccham before you collapsed upon its steps and the next time you awoke it was in a small cot with the lady Gisela sat by your side wiping sweat from your brow.

“Who did this to you old friend?” she asked softly, and you were spilling the entirety of what you had endured in the past few months.

You and Gisela had been friends since you were girls, your fathers, both Jarls had been great friends and distant kinsmen, so when you decided to escape the clutches of your husband you knew you would be welcomed by her. She too had known betrayal at the hands of her brother and you had hoped she would have sympathy for your plight now.

“He will come for me,” you cried, “The people are loyal to me, as they were to my late husband but they have no fealty for him, they will revolt. He needs me if he intends to rule there.” 

“Let him come,” she said with a defiant squeeze of your hand, “If he dares to come he will be met with the justice of Uhtred’s sword and nothing more.” 

You squeezed her hand affectionately, “You always were the better sibling,” you joked and she sighed , “I agree they should have crowned me.”

When you were finally well enough to leave your room, you began to eat in the Great Hall with the rest of Uhtred and Gisela’s household, sitting with her handmaidens and usually with the toddler Stiorra in your arms.

“Will you stop gawking,” Finan swiped at Sihtric who was once again more focused on you, bouncing a giggling Stiorra on your lap, than whatever it was Finan was saying.

“She’s a married woman,” Osferth interjected, “And according to Uhtred she is of nobility to the Danes.”

“So very far out of your league then,” Finan teased.

“I am the son of a Lord actually,” Sihtric swiped back in a jovial manner.

“A bastard son,” Finan cut and Osferth joined, “Aye, if that’s the case I’m next in line to the throne of Wessex.”

“Shut up you idiots,” Sihtric swiped as Finan guffawed with laughter and ruffled the baby monk’s hair in affection.

Sihtric watched you for days with a longing in his chest that he had never known before. It was as though he had dreamed you into life, or he had known you in some past life.

You were gentle and kind and he could not imagine what kind of man could have inflicted upon you the injuries you had shown up with a few weeks ago.

It was he who had found you on the steps of the Great Hall, he who had  carried you in his arms and watched as the Lady Gisela shrieked at the recognition of her friend in his arms, urging Sihtric to place you on the bed and run to fetch the healer. 

He watched you picking herbs at the edges of the village while he trained Uhtred’s household troops, he watched you as you walked hand in hand with Uhtred’s children through the wildflower meadows singing songs and telling stories, and he could not shake you from his head at night when he closed his eyes.

He wished that he could be lucky enough to run his fingers through your beautiful hair and have you sing those soothing songs to him, he wished to look after you after all you had endured, but you were forever out of his reach and he thought it was cruel of the Gods to place you within arms reach of him but never let him touch you. Very cruel indeed.

He had fetched a bowl of soup for himself and sat down on one of the long benches, eating at a pace unholy to man when he felt the wood dip as someone sat down beside him.

You smiled at him and he thought you were made from sunlight itself the way you warmed him.

“Gisela tells me you are the one who found me. I wanted to thank you for bringing me to safety,” you smiled again and he couldn’t help the shy smile that spread out across his own face.

“It was my pleasure Lady,” he replied and then his face dropped.

 “I mean it wasn’t a pleasure to find you like that.” he deadpanned, rubbing his face harshly with his hand “I just mean it was a pleasure to help.”

You laughed out loud and all of his embarrassment melted away and he laughed too, “I knew what you meant,” you giggled and he thought your laugh was like music bottled by the Gods.

But the moment was interrupted when one of Uhtred’s hounds bounded into the great hall barking, while the old kennel master rushed around trying to usher it out to no avail, everyone else in the hall burst into laughter but you had clambered up onto the bench, clinging to Sihtric’s arm for dear life.

“It’s alright,” he soothed “He is friendly and he will not bite. I will not let him harm you.” 

You were trembling like a leaf, but Sihtric finally coaxed you down from the bench when the offending hound was grasped by the scruff of his neck and marched outside, but you did not relent your grip upon his arm.

“Lady, it is gone. It cannot hurt you,” he whispered gently “You are okay, I’ve got you.” 

You bristled at the phrase, it was one someone had told you years ago, while great ferocious hounds tore at your skin.

You turned your arm in his grasp, running your fingers across the faint white scar with slightly jagged edges, the unmistakable shape of a dog bite on your forearm.

You watched as his eyes were also drawn to the scar and realisation hit you both at the same time.

“You might not remember,” you began, voice shaking.

“I remember,” he cut in, chest rising and falling rapidly “That night in the woods-”

-”You saved me.” you cried, looking up into Sihtric’s huge mismatched eyes.

“Yes,” he nodded, and for a moment you were lost in each other's eyes, your pained expressions conveying so much but neither able to speak, “And you nursed me all through that night.”

You had moved closer and closer until your bodies were touching and you unconsciously ran your hand up to cup his scarred face.

“You risked your life for mine,” you whispered and he nodded in your hand.

“And I would do it again. I will never allow you to be harmed again, not while I have breath.”

Your lips were but a hair’s width away from his and his eyes dipped down to look at them, one gentle move and his lips would be on yours.

“My husband,” you cried softly, “He will come for me,” you admitted sadly.

“And he will die before he ever lays a finger on you again,” Sihtric rushed, pushing forward to capture your lips in his and you melted into his kiss, hand firmly cupping the sharp edges of his jaw, and only breaking apart when there was a commotion in the hall, thankfully your moment of bliss seemed to have gone unnoticed. 

It suddenly made sense to Sihtric the sense of longing he had felt since you turned up at Coccham, because he had longed for you all those years ago as a boy.

He had felt it ever since you had arrived at Dunholm in chains, the only living child of the Jarl, your Father, you were taken as hostage to ensure peace and cooperation from his behalf.

He had watched you for weeks fearing that someday Kjartan would take you into the Great Hall and welp a child on you, it was however Sven who had taken an unfortunate liking to you, talking a great amount about the things he would like to do to you. You had inadvertently become his new favourite plaything and Sihtric, though he could not protect himself, had made it his mission to protect you.

He knew the moment he left the walls of Dunholm on that fateful night that he would be severely punished  for attempting to thwart Sven’s tormenting of you, and he made peace with the idea long before he even entered those woods. 

“I prayed to the Gods every night for you for years,” you admitted and his face crumpled “I never forgot what you did for me that night and what you endured on my behalf, although I fear I do not even know the half of it.”

“It does not matter,” he told you honestly “I would have endured it a thousand times over to prevent the things Sven would have had you endure.”

You took Sihtric’s hand in yours and smiled at him so purely he almost melted “They are both in Hel and we are here. We won.”

Sihtric wanted to kiss you again but he refrained, especially because Uhtred caught his attention from the corner of his eye and he knew he was needed back outside.

Sheepishly he rose from his seat, and you watched him rise.

“Might we talk again Lady, I would like to know you,” he admitted shyly, his cheeks tinged pink and you nodded earnestly.

“You will know me, Sihtric Kjartansson.”

It was dusk and the sky was painted pink and true to his word, Sihtric was waiting at the edge of the wildflower meadow when you made your way down, and you walked in a comfortable silence along the river for a while.

Being with Sihtric felt as natural as breathing, there was no need to fill silence with meaningless words, and you felt you communicated everything that needed to be said through your eyes alone. You had both suffered immensely and why shouldn’t you be allowed to find comfort in each other.

The first time you had made love to Sihtric right here on the river bank under the Summer stars you could not help but think as though the Gods had placed you in his reach twice so that you may know each other in this way, destiny is all and perhaps Sihtric Kjartansson had been your destiny all along.

“In another life I would have made you my wife,” he said brushing his fingers through your hair and you leaned into his gentle touch.

“In another life I would be proud to be your wife.”

And so it had begun the great love affair of your life with the boy who had saved you all those years ago.

But just as all good things must come to an end, the end arrived in the form of Guthred, his household guard and the man you had hoped to never see again, your husband.

“So it is King’s business to come fetch women fleeing a brutal husband now is it?” Gisela spat and Guhtred shrank a little under her venomous glare.

“She belongs in Eoferwic, she cannot stay here,” he answered as matter of factly as he could under his sister’s disdainful stance.

“You would have me send her back to a man who brutalises and beats her bloody?” she all but hissed “A friend you have known since she was a girl.”

“Venomous lies,” your husband spat and Gisela rounded on him.

“She was blackened and blue all over, she did not wake for nearly a week after her journey here, what man inflicts those injuries upon his wife?”

“I will not return, you said definitely, “In front of the Gods, in front of my King I am divorcing this man. This man has struck me more than three times. By our laws I should be demanding his life, instead I say before you and my witnesses that I want a divorce.” 

“I bear witness,” Gisela urged.

“And I,” Uhtred seconded.

“And I,” Finan chimed, followed by Osferth and when your eyes landed on Sihtric he nodded at you, “And I.” 

“I want my silver back whore,” your husband spat. “Have your divorce by all means, but I want my silver.”

“That silver belonged to my father,” you spat “You can have no claim to it.” 

Guhtred remained silent for a moment and your husband rounded on him, “My King, if you wish me to accept this farce of a divorce that is my price.”

“She keeps her silver,” Uhtred threatened rising from his seat, sword hand placed upon serpent breath’s hilt, “She keeps her silver and you keep your life.” 

“There will be no threats made,” Guthred warned, his household guard moving forward, although they had been forced to leave their weapons at the door, their advance was menacing enough.

“You are in my hall now brother,” Gisela warned, “You are not King in this country, and you have overstayed your welcome.” 

“The Lady Gisela has kindly asked you to leave,” Uhtred confirmed “And there will be no second asking.”

Guhtred had to concede defeat and to your ex-husband’s horror, he nodded at his guards to begin their exit.

“This is not over,” your ex-husband hissed as he passed you by, but you did not have heart to listen because you only had eyes for the Danish warrier with mismatched eyes that you had freely given your heart to.

“When will you ask Uhtred?” you asked softly, walking among the trees with Sihtric.

“Tonight Lady,” he promised, “He cannot mistake my regard for you,” he reasoned.

“Nor mine for you,” you smiled softly, as Sihtric took you into his arms.

“I have nothing to offer you my love,” Sihtric smiled sadly, cupping your face in his strong hands.

“No great wealth, no Great Hall to preside over and be the Lady of. Nothing but my love.”

“Then you are giving me everything,” you whispered, “Everything that matters.”

“I’ve always been yours,” he confessed, voice soft “Only yours, and I always will be.”

“They wish to speak to you my love,” he announced, but his head was downturned, “I do not believe they deem me a worthy match of you,” he said sadly, and your heart sank as you began the climb up to the great table they were sat at.

“You would refuse us this chance at happiness?” you cried and Gisela’s face softened.

“You are the daughter of a Jarl,” Uhtred offered softly, “Sihtric is a warrier, of no wealth, no land and he must travel with me wherever the need takes us, does this seem like the type of life that would make you happy?”

“Yes,” you said without missing a beat. “Any life with Sihtric is one I would choose over any life without him.” 

They were both silent for a moment and you decided to test the water further, “Have you no other objection except his lack of wealth and status?”

“None,” Uhtred answered honestly.

“Gisela, you were prepared to risk it all to be with Uhtred, with Sihtric I have never known such peace. I have had wealth and status but none of them can measure an ounce in silver to the price of peace and love that I feel when I am with him. I beg you, do not separate us for the sake of silver.” 

“You love him?” she asked you honestly and your eyes began to tear up.

“With all my heart,” you answered, your expression pleading and they shared a look, before nodding in unison.

“You may be married upon our return from Winchester next week,” Uhtred decided and you were rushing forward to grip him in an embrace that you repeated on Gisela, your tears freely falling.

Sihtric too cried when you told him their decision and that night as you lay together he called you his wife, when you reminded him you were not yet his wife, he told you honestly that in everything but name, you were to him.

They came in the middle of the night on the third day that Sihtric was away with Uhtred, the hooves outside your door were your first alert to danger, but before you could even attempt to flee, they were inside Sihtric’s hut and you were hoisted outside and flung onto the back of a horse that sped away into the night.

You were thrust onto the stony ground of a makeshift camp, your hands quickly locked in chains and you gazed up at the hard faced expression of your former husband.

“It didn’t have to be this way,” he hissed, “You should have returned my silver.”

You spat at his feet and he advanced on you “Do you know how much highborn ladies like you go for?” he teased, grasping your face hard and you tried to wriggle away from the stench of ale on his breath “I will make back all my silver, and more on you.” 

“Sihtric will come for me,” you said defiantly, and he laughed in your face.

“By the time he even realises you are gone you will be on a ship far away from these shores never to be seen again, and your name like any bitter taste will wear away.” 

You tried to retain your resolve but your stomach sank with the realisation that he was right.

“Hold her down.” he ordered his men and before you could process it you were flipped over onto your stomach in the dirt, arms pulled high above your head. The wind was temporarily knocked from your lungs and you felt the unmistakable weight of a foot on the back of your neck to keep you down and then the soaring pain of a red hot iron pressed into the skin at the top of your arm, you screamed out into the dirt below you as he pressed the iron further into your skin, your mouth filling with dirt, and when it was over and you were hoisted back up, your head lolled to the side, and you had to be held up in place as the weight of your body sagged against the men holding you up.

“Please,” you cried, “I will give you your silver.”

“Your rat boy will give me silver in ransom, the slaver  will give me silver in the morn, you have nothing left to offer me whore. The S seared onto your skin is the only value you have left in this world now. Put her with the rest of them,” he ordered and you were dragged across the pebbles to a pen with other weeping women and flung carelessly onto your back. Sihtric was the last thing you thought of before the blackness of unconsciousness took over.

The slaver did come in the morning and your former husband seemed pleased with the price he had fetched for you, and as you were hauled on board and placed near the hull of the ship you could not help but begin to weep as the coastline of England became smaller and smaller until all that remained was a dot on the horizon, your former husband’s face of cruelty and delight as you had set sail burned into your mind.

Over the next few months you tried to adapt to your new life of servitude in the Hall of a Norse Lord called Arne, whose wife took great joy in doling out punishment on you.

She seemed to be intent on destroying your face and you knew it was because her husband looked on you with desire in his great icy eyes. 

You thought about Sihtric every moment of every day. Those two mismatched eyes, one blue like icy winter mornings and one brown like the warmest honey amber, his tender touch and the way he loved you with his whole body and soul.

You never lost faith that Sihtric would come for you, and as much as  Arne’s wife tried to beat you into submission, you still watched the horizon for the man you loved more than anything, with hope in your heart that he would come and find you.

But as the months began to creep into a year, and the leaves began to turn orange and fall, a great depression took over and you stopped eating and began to be too weak to do the most arduous tasks and your Lord’s wife had taken to beating you when you could not complete a job.

After enduring another beating at her hands she said the words that caused white hot terror right down to your very core.

“A weak slave is a useless slave, perhaps you would be of better use as food for the hounds.” Death by hounds was truly your worst fear and your screams of terror and protest caused her husband to storm into the Great Hall, where he reprimanded his wife and hauled you, though you were still howling in terror outside to where a great fire was burning as people worked on the great longboat, nestled into the harbour of the lake his home was built around, he placed you gently down and thrust a bowl of soup into your hands.

“Eat,” he commanded and you began to shake your head in protest but the look on his face told you he was not to be argued with.

“I am leaving to winter in Irland,” he said after a long silence, and your eyes rose to meet his.

“If I leave you behind, my wife will have you killed,” he said it so matter of factly, it made the blood in your veins feel icy, “And I make no secret of the fact that I desire you. But I will not take you with me if you are too weak to make the crossing and so I am commanding you to eat, every day until the boat is ready to leave in a few weeks.” 

“You want me to come?” you finally spoke aloud and he nodded as though it were obvious.

“As my woman. That is your choice, come as my woman or die here.”

Your heart was thumping in your chest, these past few weeks you had made peace with the thought that you would die here in Norway, but if you could make it to Irland, perhaps there was a way you could make it home to Sihtric, even if he had moved on and married another, he would know that you didn’t abandon him and then you could die in the peace of that knowledge. 

“So what will it be?” he mused, running his hands through the length of his beard and you considered him for a moment.

“I will eat,” you confirmed because that was all you could promise him in that moment. 

The crossing to Irland was rough. 

Two of the crew perished in a storm near great rocky islands Arne referred to as Føroyar.

You were sick overboard more times than you cared to count and most days you were wet to your skin, and at night you lay huddled into Arne for warmth, but on the ninth day the Ravens took to flight and the great boat chased after until the unmistakable sight of great rocky cliffs rose up in the distance.

“Irland,” Arne confirmed, his arm affectionately around your shoulder, “The people here are ferocious fighters like none you’ve ever seen.”

“I knew an Irish man once,” you told him wistfully.

“And what was he like?” Arne chuckled and despite yourself you smiled too, “A ferocious fighter.” you confirmed. 

Arne’s cousin was the leader of Viking Dyflin, and the months you spent wintering there were spent in relative peace and prosperity. 

Sometimes Arne would take his ship and crew raiding up the rivers, but you would remain in the confines of the city. Arne had not forced you to lay with him but he did not hide his affections for you, ravishing you in gifts and silver after every successful return, although you were under no illusion that he very much believed you belonged to him, and the S branded on the back of your arm was a constant reminder of that. 

“Is he the man your heart belongs to, the Irishman?” he spoke into the darkness one night, as you lay awake staring up at the wattled ceiling.

“No,” you answered, voice barely above a whisper, “He was a Dane, and we were betrothed, before I was stolen away.”

“You will never be my woman,” he spoke after a while.

 “Many would have forced you by now but that is not my nature. I had hoped in time you would give yourself to me willingly, but I can see now that you never will, because your very being belongs to another.”

There was a sadness to his words that you did not quite understand but you were afraid to say the wrong thing in case it angered him and so you said nothing and after moments that felt like hours he finally sighed and turned his back to you, and soon after his gentle snores filled the room.

While Arne had spent the winter raiding and feasting, you had used your relative freedom in the city to plot your escape. You spent days down at the Port, overhearing conversations amongst those tending to the Longships and you learned enough to know that no trader or Norseman would take you willingly on their Longship, and if they did there would be no guarantee of your safety or promise that you would not once again be sold into slavery once it reached its destination.

You had long abandoned hopes of escaping on the Longships when a small Knarr with a small fat captain named Skagi arrived transporting goods from Frankia and your heart nearly launched through your chest when you realised he was restocking in Dyflin and heading next to Wessex. Only two things mattered to Skagi, his ship and silver, and you had plenty of silver, and after you had promised him all of it, he agreed to smuggle you on board. 

“We leave at dawn,” he hissed, “And if you are not here we leave without you.” 

As soon as Arne fell asleep that night, you gently rose and dressed and took as much of the silver as you could carry, you felt a slight pang of guilt as you made your way outside. Had you been sold to any other slaver you genuinely believed you would have lived and died in his service for the rest of your life, but Arne had been kind, he had fallen for you without forcing himself on you, he had taken you away from a life of servitude and offered you a second chance and if you had been any other girl this would have been more than enough, but you had a pair of mismatched eyes and a gentle soul were awaiting you the other side of the Irish Sea and that was all your heart desired.

As you clambered aboard Skagi threw a cloak your way and ordered you to put it on and to keep your head down.

Crossing the Irish sea was treacherous and from your small hiding space you prayed to every god you could think of to get you there safely, you even briefly considered praying to the nailed God the Christians prayed to but changed your mind when the shout cried out from the crew: “Longship! Longship ahead,” and the men began to row with all their might to try and outrun the advancing ship.

You trembled like a leaf amidst the chaos of roars to row faster and the shouts that they were catching up to your boat.

Skagi thrust a blade into your hand “Take it girl, if they come aboard they will take you.” 

You cried pointless tears, how cruel to have made it this close to Sihtric, only to die at the final push.

There was an almighty crash as the front of the Longship crashed into the hull of your Knarr, and you were thrust forward, crashing forward and splitting your lip on the wooden slot before you, and you thought it must be Arne coming to retrieve you, it had to be.

The clashing of swords around you told you their crew was now onboard your ship and you heard Skagi shouting like a traitor that there was a girl onboard to take her “Take her, take her!” he was shouting before his throat was slit and you gasped trying to push yourself further into your hiding space before you were mercilessly grabbed and the hood of your cloak yanked clean off, regaining your senses you brought your own sword down, attempting to slice down the man holding you however with a dry laugh the blade was knocked from your hand and you were grasped again before you realised that the man holding you was none other than Finan.

“It’s her,” he shouted over his shoulder “Sihtric, I have her,” and he picked you up effortlessly and passed you across into the stern of the other ship which you now recognised as Fyrdraca and into the waiting arms of the man you had been dreaming of every single night since you had been taken.

“I knew you would come!” was all you could think to say in that moment as Sihtric grasped you like his life depended on it.

He held you in his arms the entirety of the journey back to Coccham, repeating almost like a mantra to himself, “It’s alright love, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” 

That night sitting around the hearth of Uhtred’s Great Hall you relayed your ordeal from start to finish, and Sihtric never once released his hold on you.

“We tortured it out of that goat turd of a husband of yours who he had sold you to,” Finan told you proudly, “We sailed the whole way to Arne’s homestead in Norway where his toad faced wife told us he had taken you to Dyflin. We've been patrolling the Irish Sea every day since.”

“I killed him,” Sihtric said softly behind you, “Your former Husband, for what he had done to you, I put my blade through his chest.”

Gisela reached forward and took your hand in hers, “He will never hurt you again.” 

You could not believe that they had never stopped searching for you and you had no idea how you could ever repay them, perhaps you never could, but that night when Sihtric closed the door of his cabin he burst into unexpected tears and pulled you to him.

“I thought I had lost you,” he cried and bunched you to him tighter and tighter until his grasp nearly hurt, “I had only just found you again, and I lost you.”

You gripped onto his back ferociously “I will never let you go again.” he whispered into your hair before his lips were on yours and all that mattered in that moment was him.

“Sihtric,” you cried looking up into his huge sad eyes “I never gave up. I always knew you would come for me, as you have done every single time my life was in danger, you told me once that you had always been mine, but I will always be yours. Only Yours.” 

Marital bliss was the only way you could describe life with Sihtric. He provided for you in every way he possibly could and he loved you with the ferocity and tenderness that you could only describe as Sihtric, for he was a ferocious warrior but he was a passionate and tender lover.

Pretty soon, your stomach swoll and the healer confirmed that you were with child and you could not have imagined a greater happiness if you tried. 

And soon followed another babe and another and another until you joked that you were raising your own Danish horde and in time when Sihtric reclaimed his birthright on the stronghold of Dunholm, you looked out upon the woodlands where you had first laid eyes upon Sihtric and thanked the Gods for sending you the man who would save you time and time again and for a pair of mismatched eyes that looked at you even all these years later as if you were the only thing that mattered on this earth to him.

Tagging:

@canyonmoon-2 @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @whitedarkmoonflower @thenameswinter99 @foxyanon

@acdassenza @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @gemini-mama

@troyottonick @alexagirlie

a-beaverhausen nebulamorada izzydlb knight-of-flowerss

justcuriousandbored

[thestarkinternship]

Whenever, Wherever

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader: One Shot (Angst)

Summary: As Bucky's nightmares about his time as The Winter Soldier continue to plague him, there is only one person who can help him through it.

Word Count: 2.5k (No mention of Y/N)

Warnings: mention of graphic violence (we know what happened to Maria and Howard), angsty! Bucky

A/N: This is loosely inspired by the chorus of the song 'Whenever, Wherever'. I don't know, I just thought it made a good writing prompt.

Masterlist

-

“Ready to comply."

James' metal hand flexed around the accelerator of the motorcycle, giving it a tight squeeze. Its shiny edges glinted under the light of the full moon. His body moulded into the supple, leather seat like it was made for him. Still his rigid body refused to relax. The powerful engine revved as the bike shuddered to life beneath him, gearing up to go. Gas gurgled out from the exhaust, cutting through the thick silence of the quiet evening.  One swift kick up on the safety bar and the bike was now fully under his strong control.  Releasing the clutch, he sped off into the distant night.

Weaving through the inner-city traffic was effortless for him, the numbered streets mapped out in his mind. Standstill cars hummed patiently for the lazy traffic lights to turn green, but James didn't have time for that. Cutting through the backstreets of Washington, he quickened his pace. A light breeze swept his mass of dark hair back, exposing the heavy mask tightly secured across the lower half of his face. Each passing block was filled with clueless individuals too wrapped up in their own business to notice the mysterious stranger.  The city was simply a colourful blur to James as he made his way towards the outskirts of town. Skyscrapers and apartment buildings faded into quiet suburban homes. Soon enough, the buzz of the city was long forgotten, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

James' mission was clear: retrieve the new variant of the serum. Leave no witnesses. The orders burned deep into the depths of The Winter Soldier's mind. He could think of little else as he continued on track towards his target.

The glow from the city lights faded until only the bike's headlights remained. Heavy trees hung overhead, closing in on James as they cast out the moonlight. His wheels crunched over the gravel of the barren, country path. Dirt spat out behind the tyres, leaving murky clouds that hovered in the air behind him. It was a foggy view for anyone who might be watching him.

He wasn’t far off now – his target had only a mere half an hour head start. His grip on the accelerator hardened, propelling him further into the night. The motorcycle's rumble grew until it was all James could hear.

And there it was. Just a few hundred yards ahead of him was the unmistakable red burn of a car's rear lights. It couldn't have been going more than 20mph.

Now was his time.

James made a sharp right turn, barrelling himself down into the woodland surroundings. He drove down the steep bank until he was concealed from the view of the main path. The tyres bounced across the rough earth, shaking him in his seat. His thighs squeezed against the warm bike, maintaining his grip. Gently steering around the thick tree trunks ahead of him, he slowly edged the bike forwards across the rugged ground against its will. He was parallel with the target now, but it wasn't enough. James' right knuckles bared white as his desperation to overtake them grew. Glancing down at the speedometer in front of him, his jaw hardened. He could do better than that.

Just a little more.

He didn't let up until he could no longer hear the target car's engine behind him and he was alone again. Veering upwards, the bike strained under James' demanding grasp. As he reached the edge of the treeline, James finally allowed the bike some refuge as he came to a halt. He slid the heavy bike to the pine needle floor with a soft thud. James paced forwards until he got to the road clearing. Concealing himself in the shrubs outlining the road, he froze in a poised crouch.

The Winter Soldier took a deep breath and cleared his mind. He listened out for the low hums of the fast-approaching car. At first, there was nothing but the leaves as they scratched against each other in the breeze. Exhaling, James closed his eyes and allowed his heightened senses to search his surroundings.

A delicate bird song. An owl crooned overhead. The scuttle of a wood mouse, burrowing deep into the ground. And then pounding gravel.

He could just about make out the constant switch between the gas pedal and squeaking brakes as the car grew nearer.  Allowing his eyes to open, he saw long shadows form behind the trees. They stretched tall in all directions, ghostly branches curling their wicked fingers that beckoned the car forwards in his direction. The dim headlights finally broke out into the clearing ahead. James counted the passing seconds as he waited for the target to finally be in his reach.

One. Two. Three.

Springing forwards, James swiped his left arm out at the closest front tyre. A putrid, burning scent filled the air as the titanium arm sliced through the soft rubber. Vibrations rooted through the metal and spread up all the way to his shoulder. Rolling it back, he straightened himself back out. Screeching pierced his ears whilst the car rolled out of control. Tyre marks dug deep into the soft dirt as it lost its grip on the road. His eyes narrowed as the bonnet wrapped its way around a nearby tree. It finally came to a halt. A warbling alarm faded into silence, too destroyed to cry out for help. The dented metal sprang free as smoke erupted into dark clouds above him. It billowed out in the wind, travelling back towards the city James had left behind long ago.

As he approached the wreckage, he finally got a clear view of the two witnesses. A man and a woman. She was slumped back in the passenger seat, sticky blood trickling down her pale face. The seatbelt had imprinted on her fair skin, leaving a deep, maroon mark. Her shoulders were slung back into the leather, struggling to lift with each faltering breath.

The man was a different story. He convulsed as he struggled in the compressed front end of the vehicle. His hands flapped at the seatbelt as it welded itself into the trapped buckle. Rocking back and forth, his feeble attempts at escape were short lived.

Tucked away on the backseat, a shiny briefcase laid unharmed. The Winter Soldier's glare darted back and forth between that and his own reflection the window. His eyes were dark pools, his pupils dilated with greed as he locked onto the prized serum. Hard grooves across his forehead dipped down into furrowed brows. Sweat silently dripped down past his mask and onto the floor.

He watched as his metal arm flexed in the window, before colliding with the reinforced glass.  Tiny shards shattered out in every possible direction. They littered the floor and turned to dust under James' heavy steps. Cracks splintered through the pieces still clinging onto the window frame. With the barrier gone, he was brought face to face with his witnesses.

Howard Stark's pleading eyes flickered between James and his dying wife. His face softened at the sight of this shadowed stranger who just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Someone had come to save them.

"Help... my wife." His deep voice choked.

The Winter Soldier stayed silent, the only noise from the witnesses’ exasperated breaths. Howard dipped his head level to the window to get a better look at his saviour.

The hope in his voice was soon replaced by dread as he finally recognised the man standing before him. "Sergeant Barnes?"

There was no more time for games. James curled his metal fingers into a tight fist. Built up rage flowing through the titanium as he brought his heavy arm down on Howard's face.

Bucky jolted up in the darkness. It engulfed him like an endless void. Robbed of his sight, Bucky had never felt as lost as he did in that second. His heart pounded with each rapid breath, fighting to get out of his bare chest. The heavy exhales filled the quiet room. Around his neck, the wartime dog tags tinkered against each other, leaving a ringing in his ears. The chain rubbed against the back of his neck. The metal links melted into his skin with his body heat, and small beads of sweat slid down the cool metal before dropping onto the surface around him. He grasped out in the darkness, feeling nothing but fistfuls of clammy bedsheets. The cotton material swaddling his body reminded him of where he truly was. He was at home. He was safe. The nightmare was over, but disturbing images still lingered in the stiff, summer air of the hot bedroom. 

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Bucky began to make out shadowed shapes in the room surrounding him. He spared a glance at your sleeping body next to him. Wrapped up in the soft sheets, you looked so peaceful letting out faint snores as you slept blissfully unaware of Bucky's late-night turmoil. Leaning down, he planted a soft kiss on your head. Murmuring softly, you rolled over but thankfully didn't stir.

Gripping the mattress with shaky hands, he planted unstable legs on the wooden floor. Bucky inched himself off of the bed as not to disturb you. Pacing across the room to the window, he carefully wedged it open. Bucky clutched onto the window ledge, his fingertips tracing over the soft grooves in the woodwork. He focused on the patterns whilst his harsh breaths struggled to return to their normal rhythm.  A midnight breeze blew into the room, tickling along his hardened jawline until his red face cooled. The streetlamps flooded the bedroom. Distant sirens and soft chatter drifted in from the busy Brooklyn streets down below, bringing Bucky completely back to reality as relief washed over him.  

"Bucky? Are you awake?" Your tiny voice whispered out of nowhere.

He rocked on his heels to face you. Your delicate features were lit up by a sliver of moonlight that streamed in from the open blinds. Even in the low lighting, Bucky could see how your sleepy expression distorted into one of concern from the moment he turned around.

"I'm fine. I was just a little warm. I wanted some fresh air." He sighed.

Bucky steadied his agitated body. The floorboards creaked under the heavy weight of his body and mind as he made his way back towards your bed. He clambered under the sheets, sliding his body next to yours

"Are you okay? You feel flushed," worry settled in your voice as you pressed a small hand against his chest, "your heart's beating like crazy."

Bucky let out a sigh.

"You had another nightmare." You stated, rather than questioning.

"He was back. The Winter Soldier. I was him again." He whispered.

You turned until you were face to face. Reaching out in the darkness, you pulled him in close until his face was buried in the crook of your shoulder. Bucky's arms fell limp in your lap as he just allowed you to hold him.

Your round eyes drooped with sympathy. "You know you don't have to keep anything from me. I'm always going to be here for you, Buck."

Salty tears collected in his tired eyes before silently glided down his face. His body went rigid in an attempt to mask his feelings. Bucky pressed his face harder into your mass of tangles, breathing in the light scent of shampoo. His shoulders jerked with every fallen tear. He always hated it when you saw him like this.

Sitting up in the bed, you cradled Bucky's contorted face in your palms. His bottom lip quivered as he was unable to supress his upset any longer. The tears broke out into continuous stream down his face. You wiped a thumb across the bags under his eyes that had accumulated from too many similar sleepless nights, sweeping away his tears.

"Oh, Bucky," you crooned, wrapping your arms around his shaking body, "talk to me about it."

"It was the night I killed Tony's parents." His voice cracked, muffling against your shoulder.

"What happened?"

"I was trying to get the Super Soldier serum. I was back on my old motorcycle, tracking them down. God, it felt so real. I could feel Howard's skull beneath my hand. It broke under my fist. His head cracked open and there was so much blood. I couldn't get it off of me. It was trapped in the hollows of vibranium in my arm. I swear, I could feel it seeping into my body. I still can." Bucky cried.

Tongue clicking, your kind heart broke for him. Rubbing a hand up and down his back, you allowed him to weep until there were no more tears left for him to cry. Bucky's sobs eventually faded into muffled sniffles.

"That wasn't you," you reassured, "you're not that person anymore."

"I can't escape him. The Winter Soldier - he's always going to be there." Bucky exasperated.

"He took up a big part of your life," you murmured softly, "he won't disappear from you straight away, you know that right? I can't pretend to understand what you went through in those times, but I'm always going to do my best. I'm always here to listen and support you as much as I possibly can."

Bucky's face fell and he confided in his love. "I'm sorry if it seems like I'm pushing you away. You shouldn't have to do this for me, and it makes me feel guilty."

Gently, you tilted his chin up to look into his scared eyes. "Do you remember those vows we made two years ago?"

"For better or for worse." He recalled. Like he could ever forget the happiest day of his life.

"Exactly. For better or for worse. That includes your past as The Winter Soldier. No matter how long ago it happened, these feelings are bound to surface, and we've just got to work through them when they do. It'll take time, but what's time to a 107-year-old super soldier?"

Bucky's dry lips curled up into a small smile for the first time since he'd awoken. You always knew exactly what to say to cheer him up, even in the worst of times.

“I love you." He breathed.

"I love you too," you leant back into the mattress on your side, opening your arms to him, "now, come here."

Bucky obliged, pulling the warm duvet around you both. You hooked an arm under his neck, draping the other over his side in a tight embrace. Your fingertips traced the raised lettering of his silver dog tags whilst you spooned his worn-out body. Running your other hand through the soft peaks of his hair, you uncombed the knots that had gathered with his constant tossing and turning. Bucky lulled in the comfort of your soothing movements, finding peace with the gentle motion. His breathing slowed as he finally succumbed to sleep. This time was much more pleasant than the last. You lazily peppered small kisses along the back of his shoulder and neck, until your lips hovered around his ear.

"Everything's going to be okay. You're going to be okay." You whispered.

"Whenever?" He mumbled.

"Wherever. We're meant to be together." You affirmed. "I'll be there."

"You'll be near?" Bucky begged.

"That's our deal, my dear."

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the lake

lilac, chapter five

a/n: this chapter made me scream so much... both for horny reasons AND for emotional reasons...

summary: “oh my god,” you hastily spun around, droplets dancing down your spine as you turned it towards the familiar logger, “how long have you been standing there?”

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, lumberjack AU, pete castiglione era, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, slow burn, swimming in a lake, unintentional flashing, crying

word count: 2688

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There are those comforting places that you go to in your mind when you try to fall asleep. Sometimes it’s a fantasy land from a novel, but for you, it had always been this forest. 

It was frankly kind of incredible how well you still remembered everything from the winding paths to the specific swaying trees. 

Tilting your chin up, you tried to catch sight of the birds you heard chirping to each other and whistled right back at them, just as you did as a child, the action purely pavlovian, causing you to smile after realising you’d done it. 

Glancing back down at the trail ahead of you, your grin only grew as you realised what the towering tree you were now nearing was. 

There was this legend around the parts of Dunbrook saying that if you and your sweetheart carved your initials into the thick trunk of this exact tree, whose branches had a wingspan so wide that some came down to kiss the wide lake it grew adjacent to, then you’d stay together forever in perfect happiness. 

Now was it true? Probably not. But that fact hadn’t squashed your childish wish of doing it one day. 

Pressing your palm against the grand trunk, you traced a few of the scratched letters and hearts scattered about. Exhaling slowly, you felt the warm rays of the sun, streaming through the treetops above, kiss your exposed skin that poked out from the breezy dress you wore. 

Giving the bark one last little tap as a goodbye, you then bent down and plucked one of the white flowers that sprang out of the mossy forest floor, rolling it only briefly between your fingers before sliding it into your hair, right over your left ear. 

You didn’t get much further before the glistening surface of the lake became too entrancing to resist and the next thing you knew, you’d tossed all of your clothing over a low-hanging branch and jumped in. 

Giggles bubbled out of you as you swam through the mild water, swiftly twirling onto your back in order to float, peering up at the clouds as a nostalgic melody tickled your memory, coaxing you to gently hum it to the skies above. 

Though suddenly, a clatter found your ears, startling your relaxed form enough to whirl to a stance in order to find the source. 

A few logs rolled across the bank, down towards the water, though in following their trail, your hands quickly shot up to cover your chest, as you spotted the person who had dropped them. 

“Oh my god,” you hastily spun around, droplets dancing down your spine as you turned it towards the familiar logger, “how long have you been standing there?”

“Oh, fuck, I–…” you heard Pete curse, “I swear I wasn’t looking.”

Utterly mortified, you shrieked, “what are you even doing out here in the middle of the forest?”

“I live here, uhm, right over there,” you briefly glanced over your shoulder to see him stiffly gesturing to the previously undetected log cabin not too far from the water, his eyes firmly averted and boring holes into the leaves looming above. 

“Oh, fuck my life…” escaped your lungs like a muffled cry, before you peeked back at his flustered visage to shout, “can you turn around? Please?”

“Uh, yeah,” he obliged instantly, “of course,” turning his broad back to your partly submerged form.

The water sloshed around your legs as you made your way to shore, the branch where your outfit was draped over, as if it was a clothesline, curled much closer to his figure than you’d realised. 

“I’m really sorry,” you uttered as you hurried to tug your dress back over your head, “I didn’t know you lived here,” though the linen quickly darkened as it began to cling to the wetness of your skin, “I just used to come up here as a kid and back then no one lived in there,” cheeks aflame, you promptly decided to keep your arms tangled over your chest as you glanced down to discover your pebbly nipples poke clean through the now much sheerer fabric. 

“Please do not apologise, ma'am,” he cautiously turned back around, never looking at you directly as he sighed, head hazily shaking atop his shoulders, “I should have–, I’m sorry…” a desperate offer then forced its way out of his lungs, “do you want a towel? Please let me give you a towel.”

“Uhm,” you blinked, toes curling into the damp moss, “a-alright, thank you.”

“It’s just, uh,” gaze ever averted, his broad palm awkwardly tapped the top of his thigh before pointing towards his home, “inside, so…”

“Yeah…” you nodded your burning features, swiftly following his long stride as he marched up to the hut, mastering all the steps in one leap as he hurried up onto the worn porch in order to nearly rip the front door off its hinges.

Frozen just shy past the threshold, you watched as Pete determinedly darted to fetch the offered item from the bathroom, leaving your eyes to explore the interior till he returned. 

It was oddly comforting in its haphazard decor. Kinda like a vacation home you nearly never visited, everything was mismatched and simply there for the functionality of it all, yet from the raw log walls to the rays of light streaming in through the small window over the round, steel sink in the kitchenette, it all sent a warm flutter throughout your belly, evening out a bit of the frantic nerves that were jostling around in there. 

“Here,” his return managed to startle you slightly, your eyes haven been glued in the opposite direction as he came back holding out a navy towel for you to grasp. 

“Thank you,” you finally uncrossed your arms and seized the terrycloth material, offering him a sheepish smile in return. 

Leaning back against the humble kitchen counter, Pete’s eyes raked across the woodgrain of the ceiling, surely counting all of the spiral eyes that dotted where branches used to be, while you gently patted the towel over your dripping form. 

Stepping further into the quaint cabin, you bashfully found yourself asking, “so, you live here?” earning a low grunt in confirmation as you carefully took a look around, “it’s nice, cosy…” the additional words came out in a tone that made you cringe lightly to yourself.

As you finished squeezing your hair lightly in the towel, the stout bookcase, settled to the right between the sofa and the unlit fireplace, caught your wandering eye. Draping the cloth around your shoulders like a blanket, you crouched down before the hardbacks, a breathy giggle uncontrollably bubbled out of your form as you spotted the unexpected titles that filled up his collection.

“What?”

“Sorry, it’s just–,” you glanced back at Pete’s cocked head and clasped your hand over your lips, “I don’t know what I imagined your bookshelf to look like, but I definitely didn’t peg you as a lover of the classics.” 

“Hmm,” he simply hummed, the rumble too neutral for you to decipher the unspoken meaning within it. 

Turning your vision back to the novels, you ran a finger over the spine of a tattered copy of Persuasion, “kinda didn’t imagine you being a reader at all…” 

Bottom lip captured in between your teeth as you rose back up to your feet, virtually feeling the rugged man’s stare fixed on the back of your head before you heard his low timbre break the silence, “do you want a cup of coffee?” you turned to meet his gaze, “it’s not like the stuff at the inn, but it’s something.”

Taken slightly aback, a faint smile bloomed on your lips, “I’d love some,” and you pulled out one of the wobbly chairs at the small dining table. Your eyes followed his brawny form as he snatched up the thermos that already stood on the counter, hooking his fingers in the handles of two of the mugs that hung on the wall before he sat down opposite you, pouring out the dark beverage into your cup before his own, “thank you,” you wrapped your fingers around the enamel mug, the warmth radiating straight into your bones. 

Lowering the cup after taking a sip, you stared down into the murky liquid, the embarrassment still stinging in your belly as you counted the faint coffee suds settled on the surface. 

Snapping you out of your trance, Pete’s broad palm suddenly came into view, his fingers swiftly reaching out for the hair dangling by your chin. Bewilderment fogging up your features, you nearly reeled back, before his fleeting touch faltered, briefly presenting to you the forgotten white flower that you’d previously stuck behind your ear in order to soothe your slight panic.

A giggle then bubbled out of you as he placed the small floret down between the two of you in the middle of the table. Blinking up at him only seemed to make it worse, “I’m sorry, I just–,” your hands clasped your face even though you knew you’d never be able to hide your mortified flush no matter how hard you tried, “I was about to say that I feel like you’ve seen me naked, but that’s exactly what happened, so…” a laugh shook throughout your belly, “you know, it wasn’t even really my idea, or well, the swimming part was, but not the spending my day out here, that was my dad’s. He thought I needed a break, so here I am, accidentally flashing you…” 

His restless forefinger glided over the smooth surface as he held his steaming mug, “if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t really see anything.”  

Your eyes twitched, unsure if you were to believe him, “it does, a bit…” though still appreciating the gesture.

Casting your glance out the window, you watched a moment as the birch branches swayed in the wind, the rigidity porch in plain view as you spotted a forgotten mug on a long wooden bench, surely one that once contained the same beverage you sipped on now. 

“Can I ask you something?” you heard Pete enquire after a few moments had passed.

“Of course.”

Carefully, he took a second to gather the courage needed to ask you cautiously, “are you okay?”

Chuckling lightly, you rolled your eyes, “yes, I’m alright. I’m sorry to tell you, Pete, but you’re not the first ever human being to see me naked,” you waited for him to mirror your laugh, but his expression only stayed as gloom as before. 

“I wasn’t–…” he exhaled deeply before repeating, “are you okay?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” you glanced back at him, your eyes wandering over the hint of age speckled throughout his beard.

“I just, uh,” he uttered warily, “I noticed some things.”

“Things?” the tightness of your furrowed brows dissolved as you watched him vigilantly gesture to your arms, exactly where your bruises had healed not too long before, “oh… o-oh…” your voice shook slightly as the realisation settled in, “uhm… did you tell anyone else?” you heard your paranoid words filled the air, “did you tell my dad?”

“No,” his head gently shook from side to side, eyes gingerly glued to your reaction. 

“Can you maybe not tell him?” you felt your bottom lip tremble, “I never told him about it or even him before and I just don’t want him to–…” if you’d been standing up then you might have tumbled over from how your head spun, “since he never knew, it kinda feels like, every once and a while, like it never even happened to begin with. Even if it’s just for a second, I can pretend that I’m just a kid again, with my dad and that I never had to grow up and be with–…”

Tilting his head in an attempt to catch your rattled vision, he promised, “I won’t tell him.”

“Thank you,” like a dam, the tears came flooding out, “fuck, I’m sorry,” every nerve across your skin felt utterly raw, each little hair standing up in alarm, “I don’t know why I’m crying…”

“It’s okay,” you struggled to meet his gentle glance, “have you not talked to anyone about it?”

“No… it always felt weird to tell my dad about the people that I dated and then when it turned into something more, something else, then, I don’t know, I just couldn’t… and I didn’t really have anyone else in the city… or I guess I did once, but Preston,” you sucked in a painful breath as you pushed through, continuing to share, “he didn’t really like them, so at some point, I stopped talking to them all together…”

Tears collided with the wooden tabletop, leaving little sombre stains in its wake, you heard the man sitting across from you offer carefully, “if you want someone, a friend, to talk to, then know that I’m always here.” 

“Really?” you blinked up at him, raising a shaking hand to wipe your cheek. 

“Yeah,” he exhaled solemnly, looking back at you in a manner that caught you off guard by how, for a lack of better words, safe it made you feel, even amidst all the chaos.  

“Thank you,” you sobbed, “you know, he wasn’t like that to begin with, he genuinely wasn’t, I really don’t want you to think that I just have a thing for abusive assholes. He was charming. Did everything a girl could dream of for her first love. I think I genuinely loved him, he was perfect and it happened so slowly, gradually over such a long time that I didn’t even really notice that he had changed, or maybe just dropped the façade, till he was holding me down, cutting off my air supply, just because he had a bad day at the office… I even tried to break up with him a few times, but it never worked… last time I tried I ended up with a ring on my finger…”

“Does he know that you’re here?” 

“No, don’t think so. I was so hungry for a fresh start back when I first met him that I barely told him about where I grew up, just that it was in a tiny mountain town and that my dad owned an inn… I mean, not that he ever really cared about that kind of stuff… guess I was a bit embarrassed about where I came from in comparison to him. He grew up on the upper east side, had always been used to having servants and that kind of stuff around him and I very much didn’t… I remember thinking he was like a prince back when I met him. I just couldn’t believe he loved me. But he sure did, does… he was set on me, wanted nothing more than to mould me into his perfect little–…” 

Your voice broke as you caught Pete's woeful eye, “I’m really sorry that you had to meet him,” he uttered genuinely. 

Tears welling up in your eyes once more, it took you a bit before you managed to say, “yeah, me too,” forcing your eyes up towards the ceiling, you attempted to compose the uncontrollable sobs that rumbled out of your lungs, “I really hate that game of what if this thing didn’t happen or what if I learnt this lesson earlier. It never fixes anything, never makes it better. All it can do is make you even more depressed, you know?” 

“Yeah,” he breathed distantly as you wiped the corner of the towel draped over your form across your glistening cheeks, “I know exactly what you mean…” 

Bloodshot eyes, though foggy, still managed to notice the shift in his features as Pete stared down his half-empty mug of coffee, “hey,” you reached out to lightly rest your hand over where his lied on the table, “I’m really sorry too.”

Eyes flickering up to meet yours, a light crease formed between his dark brows, “for what?”

“For whatever happened to make you look at me the way that you are right now… whatever it is, I’m really sorry…”

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