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cevansbrat0007 · 2 days

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Hello, Duchess

Summary: Your first encounter with Bounty Hunter, Ari Levinson, goes worse than you ever could've imagined. Takes place directly after the events in New in Town.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Bickering, Implied Jealousy, Threats of Violence, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Special thanks to my creative consultant, @curls-and-eyeliner. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Ari’s P.O.V.

“Can’t believe this town actually has a real live bookstore.” Ari muses as he pulls up in front of the tiny, quaint-looking bookstore. “Fuckin’ wild.” Throwing his truck in park he takes a moment to survey the area, making note of the empty lot.

‘Must not do much business.’ He thinks before climbing out of his vehicle and confidently striding toward the door. Hopefully, the lack of an audience would make things flow a hell of a lot faster. Hell, if you were anything like some of the other women in this town, he’d probably just have to smile and flash his baby blues to convince you to spill your guts.

In fact, he was practically banking on it. Because this wasn’t Ari’s first rodeo – not by a long shot. He’d spent a lot of his life in and out of small towns like Bell’s Creek, which was part of the reason he couldn’t wait to bag his latest bounty and put this place, and its people, in his rearview mirror. Ari reaches for the handle on the door, only to frown when he gets a look at the sign hanging in the window that reads: “sorry, we’re closed”.

Well, that couldn’t be right.

He could’ve sworn that when he’d pressed Mrs. Turner, the First Lady of Calvary Baptist Church, about your whereabouts she’d said he’d be able to find you at your shop. Something about your preferring to work instead of resting and rejoicing on the Lord’s day.

While the bounty hunter supposed he could always try back tomorrow, he was keen to check you off his list. Refusing to admit defeat, he decides to try his luck anyway, only to be surprised when the door opens with a tinkling chime of a bail.

Confused but also now on high alert, Ari takes a tentative step inside as he looks for any sign of life. “Hello?” He calls out, finally allowing the door to swing shut behind him. Instinct has him reaching for his back pocket, checking to make sure he had brought along his firearm.

Just in case.

“Is anybody here?” He tries again, moving further into the shop. The place is clean and well lit, and boasts rack after rack of books. But what’s most impressive is that there doesn’t appear to be a speck of dust anywhere. “Look, I just came by to–”

“We’re closed!” A disembodied voice sounds from the back of the store.

“Yeah, I saw the sign, ma’am…” He clears his throat. “But I think you forgot to lock the door, so I –”

“That means get out!”

“So much for southern hospitality.” Ari grumbles under his breath as he continues on his mission to track down the owner of the voice. “Ma’am, I just wanna talk. And maybe–ahh shit!” He curses when his hip accidentally connects with a half-full rolling cart, sending several of the heavier books crashing to the ground. “Sorry!”

“Did you just break something?!” The voice suddenly screeches. “Don’t make me get my taser.”

“There’s no need for that.” Instead of picking them up, the bounty hunter hastily nudges them aside with his foot. “My name is Ari Levinson, and I’m just here to ask you a couple of questions.”

While this isn’t how the man had expected any of this to go, he’s relieved when he sees a familiar face peek at him from around the corner. A face that happened to be even more beautiful than he initially remembered. Even though it had only been a couple of hours since he’d seen you last.

Damn! It was as if the image of you in that dress taking up space at the other end of the pew was now permanently imprinted into his brain. He'd have to tread lightly here.

Otherwise things could get complicated. Fast.

Your P.O.V

“Pretty sure this is what law enforcement calls trespassing.” You sniff, craning your head around the corner to stare at the man who was taking up entirely too much space in the narrow hallway. Sure said man was easy on the eyes, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little concerned about his apparent inability to read.

“I can assure you that’s not what this is.” The lawman holds up his palms in an effort to placate you.

And although you try not to stare, it’s impossible to miss just how big they are – how rough they seemed – with just the right amount of callus. You can’t help but wonder what those hands would feel like on your bare flesh.

“Then what is it?” You ask, struggling to keep your tone short and clipped as you emerge from your hiding place. The last thing you needed was to have this man thinking you were actually attracted to him.

If anything, you considered yourself to be curious. No harm there, right?

“As I said, my name is Ari Levinson. I’m a bounty hunter from just outside Rosewell, New Mexico who also occasionally moonlights as a private investigator.” He tells you, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I just stopped by to ask you a couple of questions. And while I didn’t necessarily mean to intrude, I figured you might appreciate me taking a more delicate approach on account of your relationship with my person of interest.”

Fucking Martin Westbrook. He’d been the bane of your existence ever since you’d first crossed paths back in high school.

“I know you’re looking for Martin.” Annoyed by the very nature of the conversation, you pick up a box, hefting it onto your hip so that you can carry it out to the sales floor. “But I’m not quite sure how much help I can be.”

You brush past him, inwardly smiling when he scrambles to get out of your way. It was a subtle reminder that this was your shop. And you absolutely refused to be intimidated by him or anyone else.

“I’m sure whatever you have to say will be plenty helpful.” He’s quick to reassure you as he turns to follow the path you set. “Provided you’re honest, that is.”

“Did you really just waltz into my shop and call me a liar, Mr. Levinson?”

“I meant no offense.” Ari coughs, scrubbing a weary hand over his bearded jaw. If you were the overly presumptuous type, you might think you’d just managed to fluster the poor man.

Now feeling extra prickly, you drop the box onto the far counter of your cashwrap before turning to face your unwelcome guest. “As you can see, I have a busy day’s work ahead of me. And I was really keen on doing it by myself.” You gesture at the array of other boxes and racks placed around the store. “So if we could get a move on, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Gladly.” He gives a brief look around. “Is there some place maybe where you and I can sit and chat?”

“I’d say here is about as good a place as any.” You tell him as you step behind the counter. Bending down, you snag a bottle of cleaner, along with a couple of rags. If this man insisted on being here, then he would just have to deal with you taking care of your business. “I’m pretty confident in my ability to multitask.”

Nodding along, Ari pulls out a small notepad and pen from his back pocket. “When was the last time you saw Mr. Westbrook?”

You let out a sigh as you begin to spray down your countertops with your all-purpose cleaner. While you supposed you could’ve gone with something a little more industrial, you were partial to the way this particular brand’s products always smelled.

“I don’t know.” You shrug as you bask in the scent of rose and cedar. “Maybe three, four weeks ago.”

“Do you happen to recall the day and time?”

“No. Not really. If I had to ballpark it, I’d guess sometime around the 5th of last month.” You move to the next flat surface, spraying it down just like the last.

“You sure about that?” You try not to let it irk you when you see him take a seat on a nearby step stool out of the corner of your eye.

“As much as I can be.”

“And did Mr. Westbrook happen to give you any indication of where he might be headed?”

“Nope.”

He’d been nervous though. That much you did recall. By the time he’d come to you that night, your old friend had been well beyond spooked.

“Did he give you his reason for leaving?”

“We didn’t…” You trail off, taking a moment to scrub at a particularly stubborn sticky spot that’s marring the wood. “There wasn’t really much time for talking.” You’re so concerned with scrubbing that you miss the way the county hunter’s eyes narrow as he studies you. “He just stopped over to say goodbye.”

And to borrow all the cash you happened to have on hand – to the tune of $500. Enough for a bus ticket and a couple nights in a dirt cheap motel.

“Right.” Ari scoffs, admittedly with a bit more heat than he intends. “Not a lot of time for talking.” He pauses briefly to drag a hand through his shaggy brown locks. “Not sure why I didn’t wanna believe them.”

“Am I sensing a problem, Mr. Levinson?” You hum, tossing your rag to the side in favor of focusing on the rugs.

“I guess I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that he kept you in the dark about his plans.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “In my experience, most men like Martin tend to have loose lips around the women they’re fuckin’.”

In that moment, it’s almost as if you can feel the air go out of the room. Just who the fuck did this knuckle-dragging, mouth-breather think he was?

“Excuse me?” Those two little words are spoken through clenched teeth. You’re so taken aback by his brazen accusation that you can scarcely breathe, let alone think.

Ari simply quirks a tawny brow at you, seemingly unaware of the danger he’s just placed himself in. Did he not see how close your hand was to that damned stapler? While it was clear that folks in this town had been running their mouths, they’d apparently neglected to mention that you’d also been the star pitcher for your high school softball team.

“Apologies if I offended your delicate sensibilities, Duchess. But I’ve never been the type to beat around the bush. Besides…” The smug bastard tucks his pen behind his ear. “You have to know that people in this town like to talk.”

Fire simmers hot in your belly, as you come out from behind the register. It takes less than ten seconds for you to bridge the distance between yourself and the cocky lawman. While you might’ve been taught never to raise a hand against anyone, this man was sorely testing every last bit of your patience.

“I want to make one thing very, very clear.” You hiss once you’re finally standing toe-to-toe with the handsome interloper who, of course, makes no room to get up himself. “I have never – not even once – slept with Martin Westbrook. He’s a friend, you backwoods jackass. Something you clearly know nothing about.”

“I get the feeling I struck a nerve.”

And, judging by the newfound tick in his jaw, so had you. Except you had no way of knowing it was because he’d lost a buddy of his own a little while back.

“And I think it’s about time you got the hell out of my shop.” His piercing blue eyes fly to yours, letting you know that you’d managed to surprise him with your heated dismissal.

Good. Because this Ari Levinson fella had officially overstayed his welcome.

“Look, Duchess. I apolo –”

“That’s the second time you’ve called me out of my name, Mr. Levinson. And I’m not sure I appreciate it.” You spit as you take a step backwards with the intention of giving him enough space to stand. “Now, I’ve been nothing but amenable to your rather…invasive questions. But we’re done. So, I’m gonna have to insist that you leave.”

Before you decided he’d make a deserving candidate for death by a thousand paper cuts.

Your pulse continues to thrum in your ears as you watch him rise to his full height – an impressive 6’4 – so that he now towers over you. Perhaps if you weren’t so angry you’d be a little more tempted to allow your mind to wander a little farther into the realm of fantasy.

But not now.

Right now, in this moment, all you wanted was to watch Ari Levinson’s sculpted ass walk right out your front door.

Nodding, the now quiet bounty hunter begins moving in the direction of the entrance. Neither of you say a word as you make that quick walk. In fact, you don’t speak again until Ari’s hand is on the handle.

“For what it's worth…” He blows out a weary breath. “This wasn’t how I meant for this to go.” His eyes find yours, as if imploring you to see the truth in them.

However, instead of responding all you can do is offer up a shrug. Which he, of course, takes as an opportunity to keep going.

“It’s just…the idea of someone like you getting caught up with a piece of slime like Westbrook…” He pauses long enough to open the door and take a tentative step outside. “I guess it bothered me more than I realized.”

His reluctant admission has your stomach tied up in knots, which prompts you to ask the one question you were almost certain you’d regret later:

“And just what do you mean by that?” You do your best to seem unruffled as you awkwardly brace yourself against the doorframe.

“All I’m saying is that you’re out of his league.” Feeling even more confused, you watch as Ari’s lips curve in a faint smile. “And if you didn’t know that before, well, now you do.” His head dips politely as he turns to head towards his truck.

“Guess I’ll see you around, Duchess.” You don’t have to see his face to know that he’s grinning. “Oh, and don’t forget to lock up. Might help with all those unwanted visitors you’ve been havin.”

Ari doesn't need to turn his head to know that you're currently giving him the finger. He can feel it. And all it does it make him smile harder.

END

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vitaminseetarot · 1 day

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Poll PAC: What Your Next Birthday Celebration Will Be Like 🎂🎉🎁

Sup y'all, welcome back to another PAC reading. This time I'm doing a special 1 year/birthday/poll topic of choice themed pick a card! This is also a special one as VitaminSee now has 300 followers! Holy crap thank you for your support everyone! I haven't been able to get on Tumblr for a while, so I apologize if it seems like I've dropped from the aether. Life is starting to enter its hectic phase right now! Thank you so much for your patience. I'm waiting for life things to straighten out (lol as if life ever does) before I go ahead and offer some basic paid readings, which I hope to do in May.

This topic is for the next birthday you have coming up, whether that's tomorrow or next year. For my selection, I was recently lucky to have found the Wild Wisdom Companion book among a vast pile of discounted books. It's based on the Wheel of the Year. I thought this deck was perfect for making piles themed around the progression of the year and how our birthdays respond to the passage of the seasons. Pick whichever one of the Spring themed card you like most down below:

Pile 1 - The Unfurling 🌱 Pile 2 - The Wind 🕊 Pile 3 - The Door 🗝 Pile 4 - The Alchemist 🍾

Pile 1 - The Unfurling

Sagittarius - Expand, Level Up, Shadow, Isolation; XVII Star, 3 of Cups, XXI World, Ace of Wands, 5 of Cups

Hello, pile 1! Your birthday is going to be the start of great expansion. Your first three oracle cards spell it out so clearly! Sagittarius is all about shooting for seemingly farfetched goals and striking the target anyway. There is so much growth going on in your pile. You're probably anticipating your next chapter to be one of reaching beyond the horizon and feeling ready to do so. Ideas or wishes that seemed impossible may be coming closer to being within your grasp. Your life is ready to take it up a notch immediately after your next birthday, where things may begin to feel like they're accelerating. Don't worry about the turbulence, it's all a part of the movement. Breaking out of your comfort zone may feel scary, but something about your next birthday will set off a chain of events that will propel you to a new phase of life.

I have a feeling that many who choose this pile will be in a transitory stage of life, like you're getting ready to start college or a new job around your birthday. It's not just another year older, this next one will be extra meaningful in terms of receiving something you've been longing for in quite some time. It's something you've been greatly eager to begin. I don't any sense that you'll be looking back too much once you go forward, since you'll be thrust rather quickly in your next chapter.

But it's still okay if you're experiencing anxiety over it, even if it's something you've really wanted. Anxiety, doubt, and fear are not necessarily indicators that something isn't right for you. It's normal to get cold feet in this context. A sprout breaking from its seed shell is no small feat; it requires a great amount of momentum and motivation. Congratulate yourself for having come this far. Let your birthday be a chance to celebrate this. Give yourself the opportunity to commemorate with friends, if they wanna help give you a birthday to remember then let them. They may feel the vibe as much as you will on that day. Don't be afraid to take that day trip out to a new place you've never seen.

What's interesting about the Isolation card is that it shows two cups. There is meanwhile a Friendship card in this deck with only one cup. So I don't know if the words were swapped with the images or what, but the sense I get is that you will very likely be in good company during your birthday. They may want to take you out dancing (the Ace of Wands is reminding me of disco lights). However, even in the midst of the event, you may feel the urge to hide away from the crowd. I'm picturing someone stepping out of a house during a party. You may need to catch your breath at times in order to process the emotions you're experiencing, as you have a lot of energetic, lit up cards just before the five of cups.

Again, getting in dark negative moods is normal when you're facing a big new stage is not indicative that things will go wrong if it's something you know you're looking forward to. If you end up spending most of the day with friends, find some space to be at peace by yourself so you can even out your feelings. These intense moods will come and go on their own, so make sure to stay balanced (and not too overly caffeinated lol) on your birthday.

Pile 2 - The Wind 🕊

Third House - Communication, A New Day, Ball Pits, Family; 10 of Swords, 5 of Cups, III Empress, Knight of Pentacles, 4 of Cups

How's it going pile 2? I couldn't help but notice you have two pairs of swallows in your reading. Birds may have some significance for you, maybe you'll go birdwatching or even get a pet bird. For a small number of you, the birthday could involve a plane flight out of home for a quick trip. Could you be visiting family members? There's a lot of communication going on, for sure. Even if you're not traveling out by flight, you may have family members show up to take you out somewhere. They may be insistent on seeing you, talking to you, and spending time with you. The phone might blow up first thing in the morning with notifications and voicemail.

But I'm seeing a lot of hesitance in your tarot cards. You may be feeling tired or burned out and not necessarily in the mood to celebrate. The previous year was a doozy for you so perhaps catching up on sleep is more of your priority. Ever get the feeling of wanting to sleep because life is overwhelmed and you're like, "I give up (for now)?" and call it a day? You need to give yourself a chance to recuperate around your birthday, before during and after. Have a break so you can fully recover and receive all that the coming year has to offer you.

That means letting loved ones in your life, be they bio family or chosen family, understand that you'd rather have a small get together or a chance to rest every now and then if you're invited out somewhere. If you choose to go out, there's nothing wrong with taking it slow and easy, or doing something casual like grabbing some ice cream and sitting by the riverside to ponder the next year. Communicate your feelings instead of bottling them up in an attempt to keep up with everybody else. Don't let anyone convince you of how you should celebrate, it's your day your rules!

Others of you who have a little more energy, a little more of that "last year sucks, I need to go out and do something fun to sweat it off!", I feel like the ball is emphasized here with Knight of Pentacles beneath Ball Pits. Some of you looking for more action and noise may choose to go to a ball game, or spend time at the arcade playing pinball with friends. It could even be mini golf. Whether you are the low energy (calm) or high energy (excited) seeking type, getting the chance to have some fun is important, as long as it feels right for you.

This is the pile most likely to get some kind of surprise, be that a party (high energy) or a surprise gift (low energy). There will be a sense of being pampered. Some of you may get a larger number of gifts than you may have expected. You may receive a very beautiful gift, something you may treasure for a long time. Whatever it may be, allow yourself to thoroughly enjoy it and express that joy. Let yourself embrace gratitude, being mindful of what you have now regardless of how your last year has been and how your next year will be. For your next birthday, try to focus on the present (in both meanings).

Pile 3 - The Door 🗝

South Node - Past, Let Your Light Shine, Bubble Gum, Winter; Ace of Cups, 9 of Swords, 3 of Pentacles, XIX Sun, Page of Wands

Hey pile 3! For your next birthday, I'm definitely seeing you go outside to celebrate. There may be an actual party held outdoors, or you might choose to go out somewhere. I'm seeing parks, possibly national parks or natural trails. I'm getting the feeling of warm sunshine, the weather will likely cooperate perfectly on your day. You could be cruising through town, going from store to store (the 3 of pentacles reminds me of a mall here). Your birthday feels expansive and adventurous, ready for something new.

A small number of you may wish to engage a little bit in the spotlight, or you may be placed into a position of receiving more attention on this day. If you wish to, your birthday would be a great day to showcase your talents or passions, since I'm picking up a bit of Leo energy in this pile. With lips in Bubble Gum, you could be giving a speech? I'm picturing an actual toast, if you feel the strong urge to speak out then do so, let yourself be heard. I'm also seeing people sing for you at restaurants, so if that isn't your style, it's best to find a place to eat that doesn't do that sort of thing.

This birthday could be like your own version of a New Year's Eve celebration. Some of you may actually be born in the winter or around New Year's, so holidays and birthdays could tie in together. You're wanting your birthday to stand out amidst the traditional festivities (I've known many people born around Christmas who hate having their birthday gifts thrown under the tree, so you're not alone in that frustration!). You may get the idea of doing something out of the ordinary. Let yourself take the spotlight--it's your special occasion!

There's a message in your pile of letting old things go as you step into a new age. Old things from the year prior may still be sticking onto you, old issues from unresolved matters may pop up. They could be on the more practical side, like needing to sign something or finish a task on time. Be ready to step into the future unafraid--now is the time to shed the baggage. Your birthday can be the fresh start to a bright new trip around the sun, but you gotta give yourself that chance. If something needs to be resolved, and you got the time, tie up your loose ends beforehand so it's not weighing on you as you celebrate.

Your birthday is a threshold to an exciting new time for you. It may be like a breath of fresh air. I keep hearing "refreshed" and "invigorated", so this may be how you feel at the end of your birthday. You may do something that makes you think, "huh, why don't I do this more often?" That could be the key for you to step into something brand new. Will spending time with your friends refresh you, or going to a concert and discovering a new band that you will fall in love with as it warms up the show? Or may you desire to spend more time out in nature? Lean into what lights you up, listen to what engages you, and move from there.

Pile 4 - The Alchemist 🍾

Imum Coeli - Roots, Snow Day, Forest, Transformation; 3 of Cups, 6 of Cups, Ace of Swords, XII Hanged Man, 8 of Swords

What's up, pile 4? Your birthday is looking to be the absolute warmest and coziest out of all the piles. Many of you may identify strongly with introversion. I'm sensing a lot of you have your birthday around autumn or the cooler times of the year when most people are ready to bundle up in blankets or sit by the wood stove while awaiting the first signs of frost. Many of you may get a lucky chance to stay at home instead of needing to work or go to school, so you'll have the day off to plan out what you want to do. Others of you may desire to take time off if you have the chance to, I would go for it especially if you've been feeling the need to rest. You may live near trees or desire to be out in nature as a way to kick back.

I'm seeing someone invite a few friends over to watch old reruns of favorite shows while baking. It could be a gathering of closest friends, I'm not getting the sense that it'll be a big to-do bash. This day will be short, sweet, and simple. It's a good day for doing hobbies or spending time indulging in the gifts you were given. Some of you may rather spend time with family or those you live with instead of inviting people over. You and your family may share a special way of celebrating birthdays, I don't know of any birthday specific cultural traditions from the top of my head but you may have special rituals unique to you and your family. Either way, I get that you'll have a modest celebration that's nevertheless full of camaraderie and relaxing activities.

The description for the Alchemist card says "Allow Transformation", and you have another Transformation card. You may be doing a lot of transmuting on the inside, working through old stubborn patterns and limiting beliefs around this time. I'm seeing the ball of flame near the snow as if you're melting old self-sabotaging blockages away to make room for more growth in your coming year. This flame, this transmuting energy, is making way for the new to arrive.

The Hanged Man being tangled up in vines beneath a forest makes me think that you've been hung up on something that needs to be let go. You must prune in order to effectively grow. Too much in a small space can lead to cramming and confusion. You must deal with the thoughts tangling themselves up in your mind before cultivating the thoughts you want in their place. Changes may happen slowly on the outside, but when certain patterns are fully cleared out things can really take off.

So, for example, let's say you've wanted to sign up for a ceramics workshop for your birthday, or spend the day cleaning house (if you happen to find cleaning therapeutic). To do so, you'll need to not only free up your schedule, but free your mind of thoughts trying to convince you that you can't learn or can't clean. Perhaps it's difficult to not see the forest as just a bundle of trees. But a forest is more than trees, it's an entire system that supports itself in a perpetual cycle. Don't fill up your days with too many tasks, especially on your birthday. Pace the day with both the things you want to do and the things you have to do. The time around birthday will show you how to integrate the best of both worlds. We can have cake and eat it too, it's just a matter of pacing and doing things one at a time.

This reading has not been evaluated by the FDA to diagnose, prevent, treat, or cure any disease or infection. Please ask your physician before going online.

2024, @VitaminseeTarot ™

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spacebarbarianweird · 13 hours

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Instinct

Synopsis: Astarion and Tiriel have a very busy night after a battle and have to deal with unexpected consequences.

Tags: smut, breeding, hurt/comfort, some emotional angst It's not exactly a breeding fic since neither Astarion nor Tiriel planned to have a child, but the shameless smut ended with unplanned pregnancy. And now they have to deal with what comes next. Bonus: you will learn why Astarion calls Alethaine 'princess'

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

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Masterlist

Headcanons

Tiriel won’t let them take her home from her.

She has never had one. Always a stranger, always a wanderer, but Daggerlake became her home. A place that welcomed both her and Astarion, thanking them for saving the townsfolk from a nasty fey pact.

Ever since then, Tiriel belongs – she has had a roof above her head and friends among the townsfolk. And even Astarion can relax because the town has a vast underground part where he is safe in the shadows without having to hide.

And those bandits decided they could take it away from Tiriel?

They should have thought better!

Tiriel steps over a dead body. The fight is over and so is her rage. She single-handedly finished off a dozen of these men and women who didn’t know who their enemy was.

But her body wishes for more – more fight, more blood, more rage.

She looks around trying to see Astarion, but he is nowhere to be seen. It’s night and Astarion rushed to the surface part of the town letting the people of Daggerlake protect their homes and families while he, a full-fledged vampire, was going to show those bandits they had chosen the wrong town to attack.

Suddenly, someone grabs the fistful of her hair forcing her to gasp.

“Astarion?”

She looks at him and innate fear pierces her. They've been together for twenty years, but Tiriel hardly remembers him looking like this.

He looks like a vampire.

Like a vampire on a hunt.

His eyes glow red, and his clothes are soaked in blood. His skin feels feverish and his pupils are dilated.

Tiriel knows it’s him but she also can’t suppress her fear. He is a predator, a hunter, a vampire. Should he be her enemy, she won’t be able to protect herself.

He pulls her closer and kisses her. Tiriel feels the blood of a dozen dead enemies on his lips. His strong hands squeeze her and she knows he will fuck her right here among the dead bodies in the streets of their hometown if she allows it.

Tiriel answers him with the same passion – he wants to be a dangerous vampire? Good to know – because she can be a wild warrior girl who takes what she desires.

But Astarion isn't in the mood for being dominated, and he drags Tiriel back to their home – anyone who would see them right now would think this an assault, not a prelude to lovemaking.

Astarion pushes Tiriel behind the gate. As he closes it, Tiriel gets a sudden idea.

If he wants to be a predator tonight, she should let him play till the end.

She drops her ax on the ground and rushes inside the house – there aren't many places to hide but she is going to let him chase her. And maybe fight a bit.

“And where do you think you are going?” He growls. His voice sounds different and even scary. Nothing more intimidating than a blood-drunk vampire.

“Such a terrifying vampire needs to hunt his prey,” Tiriel laughs.

“Don’t tease me, wild girl!”

She rushes to their bedroom, but before she even manages to think about her next move Astarion jumps on her from the ceiling, pinning her to the floor.

And then he starts ripping her clothes off.

Tiriel roars and pushes Astarion with all her remaining strength. He pulls away but only for a moment before sinking his fangs in her neck. She gasps from the sudden pain but still tries to knock him down.

With every moment her movements become weaker and she finally stops resisting letting Astarion ravish her body.

He pulls away studying her face.

“On your knees.”

Tiriel abides. Her shirt is ripped and shows off her breasts.

“Good girl,” he mutters, getting rid of his own clothes. His cock is painfully hard and Tiriel cannot think about anything but having it inside her.

He approaches her, tugs her by her shirt’s collar, and pushes her to the bed. He tears the rest of her clothes off and bites her again.

Tiriel’s world shrinks to these two things – pleasure and pain.

Astarion doesn’t waste any time and penetrates Tiriel, causing her to yelp.

His thrusts are rough and so are his touches.

Tiriel, drunk with her own rage, keeps fighting back – she scratches his skin, tugs his hair, tries to push him as if he was assaulting her and every one of her movements makes Astarion wilder, rougher, scarier.

She manages to get away from under him, but he immediately presses her chest-down into the bed. Now, he fucks her from behind placing his blood-hot palm on her back.

Slap.

His palm leaves a red print on her butt and Tiriel gasps.

“Astarion-” Tiriel mewls as he leans to wrap his hands around her chest. He pierces her shoulder and keeps moving roughly.

He comes with a guttural groan and kisses Tiriel so intensely she is afraid to suffocate.

And instead of pulling away, he proceeds to fuck her again.

This time, he is very gentle and his eyes don’t glow anymore.

“Astarion!” she gasps when he bites her breasts.

“Delicious,” he mutters, licking the droplets of blood from her sensitive skin.

His second orgasm comes simultaneously with hers and she clenches around him forcing Astarion to stay inside her.

Astarion sees it as permission for the third round. He sits up and places her hips on his lap.

She squirms riding her orgasm and cries out something incoherent, but it seems like Astarion isn’t going to stop any time soon.

Tiriel has a weird feeling his heart is beating.

“Such a good girl,” he hisses. “And all mine.”

“All yours.”

Astarion moans in her ear and she feels his seed leaking down her sore thighs once again.

As it happens, Tiriel feels the world fading away, and the last thing she sees is Astarion’s red eyes.

When Tiriel wakes up, her body is sore and her skin feels disgusting. The mess between her legs has caked and the bite marks all over her body itch.

She gets up and gasps with a sudden pain – her body is covered in bruises, and she doesn't know which of them are from her enemies and which are from her lover.

Probably teasing Astarion was a bad idea.

She needs to bathe.

Tiriel puts her legs on the floor and notices her clothes folded up carefully.

And repaired.

She smiles at the thought that all these hours of her sleep Astarion was right there sewing and watching her. He loves watching her sleep. When she asked him about this habit before, he confessed that he didn’t see a point in looking at anything else but her.

Tiriel opens the door of the bathroom – Astarion sits in the hot water with a book he puts down the second she enters.

“Careful, darling, entering like that. I might want another round.”

“I can barely walk. Spare me, my lord.”

Astarion chuckles and tugs Tiriel into the bathtub.

“How much did I sleep?”

“Almost a day.”

Tiriel sits beside him and Astarion places his head on her chest.

“You know, everyone would think we should be less passionate two decades into our relationship.”

Astarion kisses her shoulder. “You are not getting any colder.”

“Oh no, you love me only for my body warmth! And what if some vampire turns me into an undead?”

Astarion doesn't answer immediately. A decade ago this joke would offend him so much he wouldn’t have talked to her for the whole day – but the nightmares and terrors of his past life have been left behind.

“Then we would lie in each other arms in front of a fireplace, forever young, forever beautiful”

She caresses his ears and he nuzzles her collarbone.

Then Tiriel looks into the water.

“How much did you drink yesterday?”

“A lot.”

Tiriel sighs and straddles his lap, feeling his hardness between her legs. Astarion doesn’t hesitate – a second later, she is already rolling her hips as his cold cock gets warmer inside of her.

“You know… You feel much better… when you are like that,” she admits. “Cold, no heartbeat. That’s more to my liking.”

Tiriel feels awful. It seems like her own body is revolting against her.

“Go to see the healer,” Astarion asks. “Tiriel, honestly, if you don't go yourself, I will drag you there.”

“Tyrant.”

“And you behave like a child! Gods, sometimes I forget I am 200 years older than you!”

Tiriel looks at him and frowns. “You are not.”

“Tiriel, you are my sunshine and my love, but your lack of cognitive abilities is beyond me. How old were you when we met?”

“Thirty-six.”

“Good. By that time, I had been enslaved for 200 years and I was turned at 39. I am more than two centuries older than you.”

Tiriel wants to say something, but she vomits again.

“I'm just sick! Aaah!”

Astarion pulls her up and slings her on his shoulder as if she were his war bounty.

Despite all her efforts, she can’t free herself and accepts her fate. Thankfully, it's rather late and most of the townsfolk are asleep, though she notices a jealous look from a baker.

“Put me on the ground.”

“Let them see what real relationships look like. You know that the blacksmith’s daughters asked me where they can find vampires like me?”

“Hope you didn't send them to the Underdark?”

“I told them I am one of a kind,” Astarion slaps her butt. “But we need to remind these people who we are.”

Astarion stays outside as Tiriel enters the healer’s hut – its owner, a halfling woman, looks at her with annoyance.

“What happened, Tiriel?”

“I am fine! My husband forced me to visit you.” Tiriel describes the symptoms. “I think I got food poisoning.”

“Food poisoning… Tell me, Tiriel, when was the last time you bled?”

Tiriel ponders. Her cycle has always been irregular –- a common thing among half-elfs. Humans are the most fertile race in Faerun, whilst elves are known to see their rare children as gifts from gods. So, Tiriel’s rare menstruations are unexpected obstacles, not something she should endure once a month.

And besides, she sleeps with an elf AND a vampire.

“I don’t remember. Maybe last winter.”

The healer hands her a tiny bundle of herbs. “Chew it. But don’t eat.”

The taste is so gross that Tiriel almost vomits again. She spews it on the floor - and the herb slowly changes its color to black.

“What’s the fuck is that?”

“Tastes like bile, doesn’t it? Oh, why do I have to go through all of this… I knew it couldn’t end well when we invited you two to stay here. You are pregnant.”

“I am… what?”

“You are pregnant, Tiriel.”

“With all due respect – my husband is a fucking vampire! I think his ability to fuck a child into anyone went to the grave along with his breathing, heart beating, and food preferences!”

“I am sure I’ve heard of half-vampires. Now go! I have more urgent patients to take care of. You know, it was a bad idea to use the innkeeper like a battering ram!”

Tiriel leaves the hut feeling as if she was just hit with something heavy.

“Tiriel?” Astarion looks worriedly. “What did she say?”

Tiriel is so scared she wants to cry. There is something inside her, something alive and growing – she can think of her husband as an elf all she wants, but right now she carries something half-dead inside her. Something unnatural. Something… that belongs to the shadows more than to the realm of mortals.

“My sweet, what is it?” Astarion demands. “What happened?”

And Tiriel confesses.

“Maybe… is it a mistake? She could have made a mistake! Gods! No, it can’t be…” He panics.

“Too much blood,” Tiriel says.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve drunk too much, remember? I could hear your heartbeat. You were almost alive…. And I…” Tiriel hesitates. “I have my period once a year. It probably was the day when I could conceive.”

Astarion shakes his head. He gets anxious. Scared. She knows this face too well.

“Astarion!” She tries to grab his hand, but the vampire is too fast. In a moment, he disappears in the tunnels. “Astarion!”

Tiriel stays alone in the streets. She sniffs and returns back home, so quiet and silent.

She can’t imagine Astarion leaving her, but she also can’t imagine herself pregnant.

Maybe he is right, the healer could have been mistaken. She needs to wait. Yes, Tiriel needs to wait.

Astarion doesn’t return in the morning. He doesn’t return the next day. Tiriel feels terrible – she can barely eat or walk. The very thought of going after her husband feels exhausting – she just wants to lie in her bed without making any coherent movement.

She also constantly cries – Tiriel tries to justify it with the feeling of loneliness, but deep inside she knows the answer.

These are the mood swings a pregnant woman endures.

Astarion has never felt so shitty and pathetic in the last twenty years.

He despises himself for his fear and doubts.

His nature demands him to run. To leave and never return. Whatever Tiriel has inside, he can’t deal with it. He can’t be a parent. He doesn't want to become one.

Two centuries of enslavement – only twenty years of freedom. And now what? Will he be stuck raising a child? Which might be born so deranged and ugly it will be barely a sentient being.

He can run. He can disappear and leave Tiriel. She is a beautiful brave woman, the moment the townsfolk realize Astarion is gone there will be a line of men and women courting her.

Even with a monster child.

He walks through Secomber, a sleepy town on the border between the Sword Coast and the High Wood. It took him two days to get here and now he tries to make up his mind.

And what if it’s not his? Tiriel is so loyal and loving, but what if she wanted someone warm, someone who didn’t drink her blood? She could have gotten drunk and picked a man for a one-night stand.

No, it’s not like her.

Astarion is just a pathetic coward who can’t bear responsibility.

He has to come back. He can’t abandon the only person he ever truly loved and who never abandoned him even in his darkest hours.

But he is still afraid. He is paralyzed.

Suddenly he hears a loud cry.

He turns around and sees a human girl, maybe four or five (he still has issues with understanding human age, always assuming someone is younger than they are). She sits on the side of the road, her dress, a tiny copy of an adult one, is dirty, and her knee is bruised. The girl sobs as tears flow down her cheeks.

A weird feeling stirs in Astarion’s undead heart. A desire to console this child, to do something to stop her from crying. She is so vulnerable, so scared… and where the fuck are her parents, or whoever is responsible?!

The door to the tavern opens and a young man rushes to the girl.

“Daddy, I’ve fallen down… and…” She cries, wrapping her hands around his neck.

“That’s all, right, princess,” he answers, stroking her back. Suddenly the man turns around and notices Astarion. “Are you looking for something?”

“What? No, I just heard the cries.”

“Well, she cries so loud she can be heard in Daggerlake. If you need a room, there is another inn on the western side of the town. We are out of beds today.”

Astarion shakes his head. No. He is going back. The sunrise will meet him in the woods and he will hide in a cave. He will be back to Tiriel in two days, begging her to forgive him.

Because he can’t live without her. And he…he wants to experience what is coming next.

“Princess… An interesting pet name,” Astarion chuckles. The girl has already stopped crying and now she watches the vampire with curiosity.

“Yeah, we are far from nobles,” the innkeeper smiles. “But she is my only daughter and who are girls to their fathers if not princesses?” with these words he kisses the girl’s forehead and enters the inn, closing the door.

Astarion walks inside the house. Tiriel is fast asleep, he can hear her breathing. The kitchen is messy – it seems like his half-elf wife was hungry all these days but didn’t have any strength to clean the mess.

Astarion comes to the bedroom and lies beside her. Tiriel opens her eyes and touches his cheek with tender fingers.

“I knew you would be back.”

“I am sorry. I was scared.”

“I was, too. But I can’t run away from what is inside me.”

“I know, love. I will never do this again”

Tiriel places her cheek on his chest. “If the child is half-undead, can I ever carry it?”

“I don’t know.”

They lie in silence holding each other in their hands.

“You know… I’ve been deprived of mortality,” Astarion says. “Everything normal was taken away from me. And yet I am here. Married. With my own house. Free to do anything I want. When I was in Secomber, I saw a man with his daughter. And you know, I just… wanted the same thing. To carry my own child in my arms. Because it’s a normal mortal thing and if so, I will be no different from that young innkeeper who calls his baby daughter ‘princess’.”

Tiriel caresses his cheek. “I need to go to that innkeeper and ask if he needs anything for returning my husband to me.”

“You need to see the girl. Such a lovely little creature,” he smiles.

“Ours will be lovely too.”

Astarion elbows up. “Tiriel… we are going to keep it, aren’t we?”

Tiriel sighs. She did think about terminating, Astarion realizes. In those dark hours when he was hiding like a coward.

“I want to keep it,” Tiriel says. “Besides… I am still a half-elf. It’s not like miscarriages are rare among my race. Let’s see how it works out.”

Astarion smiles and finally relaxes enough to meditate.

Druids hate the undead because, unlike nature, they can't change. He will prove them all wrong. His life is changing and he is too.

In the best and scariest way possible.

He puts his palm on Tiriel’s flat belly. Somehow, he is sure they are going to have a girl. -- Tag list

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Text

The Only Truth... | Part Four

The Only Truth I Know Is You Masterlist

John "Bucky" Egan x POW Flight Nurse!Female Reader

The day Stalag VIIA is liberated ought to be one of pure celebration. Unfortunately, fate has other plans in store.

Warnings: Language, Angst, Death, Blood, Brief Battle, Serious Reader Injury [gunshot wound], POW Camp Setting, SS Officers, Mental Health Struggles, References to Christianity, Reader Scars, Hospital Setting, Kissing, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Rating - 18+ ONLY.

Author’s Note: Thank you all ever so much for your patience! At last we come to the end of our tale. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 6267

-------------------------

The morning of Sunday, April 29, 1945, dawned cloudy but bright. The chill of early spring still hung in the air, your breath hanging from your lips as you ducked out into the tent to collect the clean yet still-unfolded laundry that had been awaiting your attention throughout the drama of the rainstorm. You had just managed to tuck it away into your room when Fitzgibbons arrived with a new book for you to read, a more recently published fantasy novel called The Hobbit, though you had other priorities before diving into it.

You had almost gotten away with your clandestine chores, rags folded, and three-quarters of the bandages rolled, when your former surgical technician appeared at your door, knocking on the frame with an admonishing look on his face.

“I see you’re taking it easy on your day off, Ma’am.”

Huffing in irritation at being caught, you shook your head. “I’m off my feet, Fitz, can’t we just call a truce?”

He made a non-committal noise before cracking a grin. “Actually came to ask a favor, so I’m thinking we can come to an agreement. Menzies,” his deliberate mispronunciation of the British Captain’s name made you roll your eyes affectionately, “ordered me to flush a wound using your make-shift tools and honestly, I cannot make heads or tails of what you’ve jerry-rigged.”

Biting back a laugh, you nodded quickly, well aware that your cobbled-together system was more than a little unorthodox and not at all surprised Menzies had not taken the time to ensure Fitzgibbons knew how it worked. “Certainly, let me walk you through it.”

Grabbing the laundry you had thus far folded, you made your way down the hall to collect the items from the supply desk and followed him to the bedside of a new patient. Introducing yourself warmly, you learned the man’s name was Michaels and he hailed from the frigid wilds of Canada.

“Fitz and I are going to use this here to flush that wound, alright?” You nodded to the nasty laceration on his calf, your makeshift instruments cradled in your arms.

“Sounds fine, Ma’am.” He nodded patiently, vowels clipped remarkably short in that efficient Canuck way of speaking.

“Alright so if you take this, Fitz.” You held out a funnel with a piece of tubing secured to it, watching the tech take it carefully.

The mundane calm of the morning was shattered by the sudden hum of an airplane engine, your eyes shooting to meet Fitzgibbons’ sharply moments before the eruption of gunfire.

“Everyone get down!” He shouted and you both lurched into motion to begin helping your patients from their cots onto the wooden planks of the tent platform, abandoning your instruments on Michaels’ cot.

Panic rising as you once again found yourself in a wildly unsafe place while under fire, you urged the men from their beds to get low, presenting smaller targets for the errant bullets that were punching holes through the canvas of the tent every so often. The cacophony outside only increased with the rumble of approaching vehicles – tanks quite possible given the depth of sound that carried across the camp – and you nearly tripped over your own feet in an effort to reach the last two patients who simply could not move on their own.

Heaving one, Sidhu from India, out of his cot and depositing him onto the floor, you were just sliding your arms beneath the shoulders of the last, Hernandez from Texas, when searing heat and pain punched into your side. Your arms and legs gave out beneath you instantly, your body collapsing atop the poor boy still on his cot, both of you gasping for breath. With a grunt of annoyance, you flung a hand back to your hip, eyes widening as your fingertips were quickly covered in a warm, slick fluid.

“M…Ma’am?!” Hernandez warbled from beneath you, watching as you lifted your fingers to inspect just what was going on, his face blanching at the unmistakable scarlet of blood. “Doc?! Medic!! Help!!!” He began to shriek all the words he knew to summon assistance, making you wince at the racket as you forced yourself to roll off him, crashing to the floor in a pile of uncooperative limbs.

Taking a moment to try and catch your breath, pulse rocketing at an alarming rate, you began to realize that no matter how long you lay there, things were not improving. In fact the situation was growing a lot more serious as a deep ache was settling into your right side and you could feel your clothes growing damper with blood by the second. Rolling onto your stomach, you had just begun to feebly pull yourself across the floor of the tent when the racket outside subsided momentarily, Hernandez’s cries summoning several sets of boots to run in your direction.

A great, external cheer erupted in the same moment you were lifted by many hands onto one of the recently vacated cots, Chalmers, Menzies and Fitzgibbons all hovering above you as they yanked at your shirt and pants to get at your wound. The striking similarity between your plight and that of Simms set your teeth on edge, tears brimming in your eyes at the sudden thought that this could really be it. You might very well die here in these filthy, mud-covered clothes while the rest of the camp cheered on outside.

“Keep breathing for me, Nurse. You’ve got an entry and an exit wound, you just stay with us now.” Chalmers barked firmly and you managed a brief nod despite the shakes that seemed to want to rattle your bones. “Fitz go find out if they’ve got a Medic with them – we need sulfa and plasma, and she needs an aid station and surgery.”

“Sir!” He replied before you heard his frantic footfalls leave the tent.

Menzies applied a ruthless amount of pressure to the front and back of your hip and it was all you could do not to wail pathetically at the lances of pain that shot through you. “I know, Nurse, I know. For your own good, now. Why’d you have to go and get yourself shot in the middle of our liberation, hm?”

“Libe.r.ation?” It was difficult to form the word, your mouth clumsy and filled with cotton, head buzzing with adrenaline and pain.

Your heart was beginning to lose its rhythm, stuttering and skipping beats every so often. Your medical training offered a whispered explanation of ‘blood loss’ which did nothing for the suffocating feeling of panic in your chest.

“Looks like your American Army showed up to bring you home, so let’s make sure you can get there alright?” Chalmers added firmly and you nodded again, trying to take deep breaths.

You were so close. They were right there.

What had started as a frigid day seemed to be growing colder, your fingers tips positively icy by the time you heard Fitzgibbons return, giving someone a rundown. The familiarity of it made your heart ache for a simpler time when the two of you were the ones saving people, taking them from danger to safety. Now you were the one in peril, finding it remarkably difficult to keep your eyes open. The unfamiliar face of a young man in an Army helmet came into view before you felt the sting of sulfa on your wounds.

Your left sleeve was rolled up, your nonsensical protests going unheeded as the man began to search for a vein, inserting an IV for the bottle of cheery yellow plasma – the bright color anachronistic to the monochromatic color palette that pervaded the Stalag. Bandages were wrapped tightly around your middle once more and they were just about to lift you, cot and all, when another set of heavy footfalls sounded on the floorboards.

“Jesus christ…angelfish…” Bucky’s voice was unmistakable, though anguished, and you rolled your head to the side to look at him with a weak smile.

“Bucky.” You managed to form his nickname at a volume no more than a whisper, vision narrowing in on his pinched, tight features, the normally rosy hue completely drained from his cheeks.

Suddenly everything tilted and whirled as your cot was hoisted onto the shoulders of Chalmers, Menzies, Fitzgibbons, and the Medic.

“Take the plasma, Egan. Hold it up, keep pace.” Chalmers ordered sharply and the ceiling of the tent began to blur as they rushed out into the daylight, your vision going completely white before all was darkness.

------------

The morning had seemed like any other, crowded around a small campfire trying to keep warm, trading suppositions about the end of the war with Jefferson, when the unmistakable sound of an aircraft engine had broken through the din of the camp.

“Hey Macon, that’s a P-51!” Jefferson had shouted and instantly the entire population was on their feet, cheering on the pilot as he took out on of the guard towers.

Their elation was short lived, the abrupt sound of incoming artillery sending all the prisoners into the dirt as every single German soldier seemed to open fire as one, the camp instantly an active battlefield. Bucky’s eyes strayed to the hospital tent, its canvas walls helplessly pinned between the encroaching American tanks and the defending German guards. They needed to put a stop to this from the inside before any more lives were needlessly lost. Even as this thought crossed his mind, men were falling all around him.

“Fellas! Take out the tower!” Bucky shouted as he ran for the tent where the majority of the Americans were sheltering, seeking out the homemade stars and stripes they had carefully crafted and transported from camp to camp, kept hidden from goons, just for such an occasion.

It took a few tries before Jefferson successfully came up with the flag, passing it to him quickly. Dashing through the chaos of prisoners running hither and thither through the camp, some fleeing, some fighting guards, Bucky was boosted onto the roof of the administration building. The flagpole was less than sturdy as he climbed it but as he removed the Nazi war flag and tossed it to the cheering crowd below, the guns fell quiet. Securing the ragtag American flag, watching the breeze immediately catch and fly it high, an immense feeling of relief wash through him and after taking a moment to celebrate, he pressed his forehead to the hand-hewn timber of the pole to soak in his gratitude for making it this far. Though the ragged appearance of his country’s flag undoubtedly mirrored his own.

As he carefully climbed down the rickety pole, his eyes caught on a somewhat familiar figure running frantically through the crowd toward the gate, moving against the flow of those milling around the yard, celebrating. The man’s shouts carried intermittently on the wind across the crowd and Bucky managed to pick out “Medic,” his heartrate picking up at the word “Nurse.” His stomach dropped when the word “shot” reached his ears.

“Angelfish.” He whispered and quickly scrambled his way off the roof, wincing a little at his rough landing, before he began to shove his own way through the oblivious celebrants towards the hospital.

Skidding to a stop on the threshold of the tent, he was startled to find all the patients cowering beneath their cots while you lay on one of their abandoned beds, a bloody mess surrounded by men frantically trying to save you.

“Jesus christ…angelfish…” He choked out, throat clenching painfully as your head lolled to the side, slightly unfocused eyes meeting his.

“Bucky.” Your faint whisper of his name propelled him forward, a frown settling over his features at the state of your clothes, wanting nothing more than to cover up the expanse of your abdomen and the scar on your arm – you surely hated to have that so prominently on display.

Chalmers’ sudden directive for him to manage the plasma grabbed his attention and he quickly grasped the glass bottle, holding it high as they lifted the entire bed to begin carrying you out of there.

“Just hold on, angelfish.” He rasped, heart lurching painfully as your eyes rolled back in your head, your body going slack.

Running alongside you to the gate despite the way his lungs ached, the crowd mercifully parted before their odd little group. A jeep was waiting with a stretcher strapped to the back, and Bucky watched helplessly as your unsettlingly limp form was transferred from the cot, the bottle of plasma wrenched from his fingers by the Medic before he perched atop your legs. As the vehicle took off, the Lieutenant Colonel of the armored division strode over sternly.

“How the devil did a nurse end up as a POW?” He demanded as Lieutenant Colonel Clark came to stand on Bucky’s right.

Chalmer’s sighed deeply before sharing what he knew of your story, of your arrival back in January including the fact that the Red Cross was informed through the usual process, and how you were housed separately in the hospital. As Fitzgibbons, the very same surgical technician you had earned your burns pulling out of your plane, filled in the rest of your service history, Bucky could only reflect on how little he really knew you. How short his time with you had actually amounted to be. Hell, he would not have even known your squadron number if it was not for that conversation right then.

“What a SNAFU.” The man muttered and Bucky could certainly see the resemblance of the man’s commanding officer, Patton, in him. “Well, let’s get this formal surrender over with so we can get these boys home.”

Clark nodded in return and Bucky shuffled back to sit heavily amongst the men of the 100th, waving off Brady’s look of concern. Watching the salutes and handshakes, he was completely numb, his thoughts miles away with wherever they had taken you, only able to hope against hope that their aid station was of the highest calibre.

Bucky had not resorted to prayer often throughout the war. Sure he had worn a crucifix and crossed himself reflexively when flying into a hail of flak, but conversations with higher beings had never been something he had put much stock in. Faced, now, with this gnawing feeling of helplessness, your very survival in the balance, it seemed like the only tool left at his disposal.

Crammed into the tent that night, shoulder-to-shoulder with his neighbors, he felt rusty and self-conscious as he addressed the god of his childhood Sunday school and fairly begged for you to make it. He stopped short of bargaining his own life away, but barely, before sleep overtook his aching body, the exertions of the day overtaking him.

As he found himself jostling in the back of a transport truck on his way to Paris the next day, handpicked by Lieutenant Colonel Clark to be among the first sent back to England, he could not help but feel as though he was being driven further and further away from you. It was near night by the time they pulled into the base and Bucky took his first warm shower in over a year, changing into a fresh uniform and feeling almost human. They were served white bread that might as well have been cake, with steak and eggs that were too rich for him to endure more than a few bites before he crawled into a remarkably clean bed and slept deeply, exhaustion winning out over his continuous concern for your well being.

Climbing into the belly of a B-17 for the first time in over eighteen months felt awkward and painful, the crew from the 100th consisting of unfamiliar replacements, the space feeling more cramped than it ever had as he wedged himself into the cockpit behind the pilot. The deep-seated terror he had desperately been trying to supress, his fear that Buck had not made it to safety despite their planning and the beating he had taken to distract the guards, surged to the fore of his mind. It competed ruthlessly with his anxiety over whether you were still drawing breath, the fact that he may have to face the truth of losing both of you leaving him silent and withdrawn as the plane took flight.

There was no immediate answer awaiting him at Thorpe Abbotts either, no familiar faces lining the tarmac – not even Lemmons was around, which struck him as unsettlingly odd. Making his way to the CO’s hut, his eyes at last landed on a familiar face as Herrmann emerged from one the equipment sheds.

“Hey Winks! Where is everybody? Guy comes back after a year-and-a-half and no one’s around?” He plastered on a playful smirk as the boy’s face broke out into a grin of astonishment, shaking his hand vigorously as he rushed over.

“Buck took Rosie, Douglass, Croz, and Kenny up on one of those mercy missions they’ve been practicing for, they should be back any time now, sir. Gosh it’s great to see you back here.”

Bucky’s attention immediately snagged on the first name Herrmann mentioned, finding it immensely difficult to continue listening as he exhaled half of the tension that had strangled him all the way across the English Chanel. “Good to be back, Winks. Think you can give me a lift?” He raised an eyebrow, desperate for a moment of levity.

With a quick nod, Herrmann was promptly driving him towards the control tower. The most difficult part of getting up there was making it past all the congratulatory pats and handshakes, but Bucky was able to pull off his surprise, the sound of Cleven’s voice over the radio going a long way to mending some of the deep wounds he was still sporting.

More handshakes and pats-on-the-back awaited him at the hardstand and it finally felt like he was back amongst the familiar faces of these men. He did not miss the way Cleven’s eyes were quietly scrutinizing him, however. The gratingly familiar feeling that his friend was looking right through him was undeniable as he joked and smiled with the boys who had never been imprisoned. Who had not endured the things they had. As the crowd around them thinned out, Bucky turned to watch Cleven pull out one of his toothpicks, sliding it between his molars in a familiar yet long-lost motion.

“So what you been up to since I left?” His friend asked.

Bucky swallowed and shrugged a little walking over to the jeep, Cleven immediately sliding into the passenger’s seat out of habit.

“That terrible, huh?” Cleven muttered and Bucky sighed as the vehicle roared to life.

“Ended up in Moosburg.” He started out slow, with simple facts. “Got a little hurt on the way, so Brady and Hambone took me to the hospital. Turns out there was a Nurse there, POW since January.”

The look of shock on his friend’s face registered in the corner of his eye and Bucky did not have the heart to fully face him.

“The German’s held a woman prisoner?” Cleven shook his head with a sigh of dismay.

“She got shot during the liberation, stray bullet. Medics from the armored division took her and I have no idea if she made it.” Now that he had started telling the story it all just came pouring out of him.

“You care about her more than just on moral grounds.” Cleven stated matter-of-factly and Bucky sighed as he pulled up in front of what used to be their hut.

Who knew if it still was.

“Yes.” He begrudgingly admitted, though his admission was addressed to the steering wheel.

There was a long, drawn-out silence, the incessant chirping of sparrows filling in the gap in conversation and Bucky realized he had not really heard a bird his entire time in captivity. His head snapped sharply to look at Cleven as he suddenly spoke again.

“If anyone can find someone in the chain of evacuation it’ll be Smokey.”

Bucky furrowed his brows a moment before it clicked. “Doc Stover? You think?”

Cleven shrugged. “He’s our best shot I guess.”

“Our…”

“Are you going to drive us to the hospital, or should I?”

A grin pulled at Bucky’s lips as he started the jeep back up and took a sharp U-turn, heading for the base hospital. He pretended not to notice the way his friend’s eyes lingered on the stiff movement of his body as he climbed out of the jeep – he was definitely sore but was most certainly not going to admit to it. The wards were just as populated as they had been in 1943, something he found rather infuriating. It was another feeling he tucked into a neat little package and shoved down to be ignored until a more convenient time. Or perhaps never to be acknowledged again.

Stover was easy to find, dressed in his white coat, just finishing his rounds.

“Majors, what can I do for you?” He gestured for them to follow him into his office and Bucky sank down into a chair heavily, once again ignoring another man’s assessing gaze on him.

“Well it’s an odd request really but…” He trailed off, hesitating as he smoothed his too-long hair, reflecting once again that he needed a proper haircut.

“We’re wondering if you might be able to track someone down for us. Someone who was injured at a camp in Moosburg and evacuated to an aid station.

Stover raised an eyebrow curiously. “One of your fellow POWs?”

“Something like…. well yeah, she is.” Bucky corrected himself midway through, watching the doctor’s eyebrows shoot up dramatically. “Flight Nurse from the 802nd MAES, POW at Moosburg since January of ’45, shot during liberation and taken to the aid station of Patton’s 3rd Army – armored division. Which division I don’t know.”

They watched as Stover quickly grabbed a pen and started jotting down the important details, including your name.

“How bad was she hurt?” Stover asked and Bucky swallowed tightly.

“I didn’t see it happen but there was a gunshot to her stomach somewhere. They got her on plasma quickly.” He added hopefully but Stover’s face remained grim.

“I can’t promise you anything Major Egan, it doesn’t sound particularly hopeful either, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, Doc.” He nodded, leveraging himself out of the chair with a barely concealed wince.

“And what do you have going on?” Stover stayed seated, eyeing him expectantly.

Bucky noticed Cleven had not budged either, the bastard. Emptying his lungs with a heavy exhale, Bucky put his hands on his hips and shrugged.

“Couple of broken ribs, I’ll be alright.” He replied nonchalantly.

“And how old are these broken ribs?” Stover prodded and Bucky ignored Cleven’s pointed look up at him.

“Couple weeks, I’m halfway mended, just overdid it getting in the fort to come back.”

Stover rose from behind his desk and opened a cabinet, fetching a bottle and holding it out to him. “Aspirin, to keep you comfortable. Take two every four hours as long as you need. Come back if you run out.”

Bucky accepted the bottle with a nod of thanks, the memory of you scrounging up two rare pills for him in the Stalag flooding back, furrowing his brows. The things you could have done in a place like this with limitless supply.

“Thanks again, Doc.” Cleven’s expression of gratitude pierced through his reminiscing and Bucky nodded quickly, tucking the pills into his pocket before heading out quietly.

Accommodations were procured and there was not much for him to do around base aside from rest and learn how to eat properly once more. It took several days for any news of your condition to reach him, via Stover’s connections, but when the man pulled him into his office on the morning of the May 5, he was stunned to learn that not only were you alive, but that you had been air evacuated to Redgrave Hospital just thirty minutes away from Thorpe Abbotts.

You were safe. You were close.

“Seems they weren’t quite certain what to do with her, but as she serves under the Army Air Force, they sent her to our main hospital.” Bucky realized Stover was still talking and he shot him a warm grin before grasping his hand to shake firmly.

“Well I really appreciate your help, Doc. I’ve gotta…” Bucky glanced over his shoulder at the door, desperate to make his way to you.

“Yeah, go…” He chuckled and shooed him out of his office.

No longer a squadron commander, Bucky technically did not have a jeep of his own to disappear with off base and so he was in the process of grabbing one of the stray bikes outside the control tower when Crosby emerged into the daylight, eyes squinting in fatigue at the brightness.

“Where are you off to Major?”

“Redgrave Hospital!” He replied brightly, watching the younger man blink.

“Sir that’s a good eleven miles, that’s a terrible idea with your ribs.”

Word seemed to have spread fast…

“Take my jeep, I’m not gonna need it today.”

“Croz, you are a lifesaver.” Bucky dropped the bike he had been wrangling to slap him on the back before diving into the jeep allotted for use by the Group Navigator. “I’ll be back!” He shouted, taking off in a spray of dust and gravel.

Turning onto the two-hundred-acre country estate, Redgrave Hospital, consisting of nearly forty Nissen huts, stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the trees and landscaped green. As he pulled up to the headquarters of the hospital, Bucky quickly realized that the staff there were not nearly as excited to see him. In fact, they were downright reluctant to allow him in to visit you, but assured him that while you were ‘heavily medicated and resting’ you were still ‘on the mend.’

While relief still permeated his system, it was a new agony to have you so very close and yet still out of his reach. If they were not going to permit him as a regular visitor, Bucky realized he was going to have to get a lot more creative in order to lay his eyes on you, and until he did, there would be not real peace.

------------

Moments of clarity punctured through the blackness – a blur of trees, the flurry of activity of an aid station, the masked face of a surgeon speaking to you reassuringly, the heartbreakingly familiar interior of a C-47 – but it was not until you were settled in a bed inside a hospital with four walls, windows, and nurses that true cognizance really returned to you. Casting your eyes around the sterile, white space, you noted you were situated at the end of a row and walled off from other patients with a set of privacy screens. The most striking feature of this hospital was the very stern-faced Bucky parked in a chair to the left of your bed.

As you began to stir, his eyes lifted quickly to meet yours, some of the tension easing from his frame. “Have a good rest, angelfish?” he whispered, and you furrowed your brows up at him, so full of questions. “They got you on the good stuff don’t they.” He chuckled fondly, reaching out to brush his fingertips across your cheek tenderly.

“Kick a girl when she’s down, why don’t you.” You sighed, speech slightly slurred from pain medication and the dryness in your mouth, but still capable of using his own lines against him.

His resulting grin contained all the brilliance of the sun and made you look down with a self-satisfied smirk. Your eyes immediately fell on your exposed arms laying atop the blanket, the scarring along your left forearm lain bare for all to see. Jerking your hands back roughly, you clumsily tried to shove them beneath the covers despite the warmth on the ward. Bucky’s gentle tut before his hand came to rest atop yours halted your attempt.

“Shhh, you’re just fine you brave, beautiful woman. Stay right there.” He murmured as he laced his fingers with yours, pinning your arm to rest above the blanket. “You have nothing to hide or be ashamed of.”

Swallowing thickly, you slowly lifted your gaze to meet his. “I think I’ve acquired a few more…” You sighed, the feeling of thick bandages padding your hip acutely registering as you spoke.

“Probably.” He nodded softly. “You also probably saved that boy Hernandez by taking the bullet, so I’d say they were well earned. Besides, they’ll make an excellent target for my mouth one day.”

Your soft smile transformed into a look of disbelief, your free hand rising to whack his shoulder gently. “John Clarence Egan.” You chided half-heartedly and he pressed his face to the side of your head where it lay propped up against several pillows, his heavy exhale ruffling through your hair. “We are in a hospital, and you are making inappropriate jokes.”

“Mmmm.” He hummed in agreement, stroking his thumb against yours affectionately.

“Which hospital is this, anyway?” You asked curiously, finding its curved roof and white walls lacked distinguishing features.

“Redgrave Hospital, you serve in the Army Air Force after all.” He pulled back slightly to answer.

“Redgrave…” you repeated thoughtfully. “Sounds awfully English.”

“Hit the nail on the head, angelfish. We made it.” Bucky’s lips brushed against your temple, and you smiled softly. “Despite our best efforts.” His teasing made you laugh softly, and you shook your head.

“If we’re in England, where’s the King?” You raised an eyebrow expectantly and he smirked, shaking his head.

“No King, unfortunately, but I did bring you this?” He reached behind him, pulling out a newspaper to lay across your lap.

“Victory in Europe.” You read the headline aloud, pausing a moment as the words sunk in before gasping and looking to him wide-eyed. “Truly?”

A look of solemn earnestness overtook his features and he nodded softly. “Truly. German army surrendered yesterday.”

You gulped roughly and looked back to ready to date of May 8, 1945, on the top of the paper – you had lost nearly nine days. You really had been so close, everyone had. And the fact that you were here, and others were not seemed so very arbitrary. Sighing heavily, you squeezed his hand gently.

“By the skin of our teeth.” You murmured thickly, looking up as a nurse shuffled past with a faint nod of acknowledgement before making a sharp about-face to come and check your vitals.

“How’re you feeling?” She asked you and you nodded slowly.

“I’m alright, thank you. Bit foggy but things are the clearest they’ve been in days.”

“I’m going to fetch the Doctor.” The nurse turned to eye Bucky sharply. “You’d best make yourself scarce.” She commented before continuing on her way.

“How on earth did you get in here?” You raised an eyebrow as you came to realize how unusual his presence was.

“Bought my way in with a few bottles of champagne – your flightless comrades are quite friendly if one knows the price.”

You coughed out a laugh as the comment made Nurses sound like some species of bird and his lips twitched into a smile, your eyes unable to look away from the soft, rosy skin of his mouth.

“Hey before you go…”

“Hmmm?” He turned to you, half risen from his chair.

“I don’t have the mental capacity to think of something self-deprecating right now, so can I just get a kiss?” You murmured before pursing your lips shyly.

His face transformed into a warm smile, eyes crinkling adorably at the corners as the tips of his ears flushed pink. “I always said you just had to ask, angelfish.”

Echoing his smile, you turned your lips up expectantly as he braced his hand on the pillow beside your head, leaning in to gently brush his lips against yours, drawing a contented sigh from deep beneath your breastbone. Bucky’s lips pressed closer, a tender hum rumbling from his throat just as a sharp cough sounded from the end of the bed and he slowly pulled back with a rueful huff.

“Just checking her breathing, Doc.” Bucky grinned wolfishly as the man raised an eyebrow sharply. “She’s doing great.”

“Hn.” The doctor intoned, clearly unimpressed. “And how are your ribs doing, Major Egan?”

Inhaling sharply, you looked him over quickly, the litany of his injuries flooding back to you from your sub-conscious.

“Much better, thank you Doc. Who knew Smokey was such a gossip. Well, angelfish,” he brushed his knuckles down your cheek, “guess that’s my cue.”

Nodding slowly, wondering who on earth Smokey might be, you watched him leave before your Doctor took over, running through numerous checks with you before discussing the extent of your injury and the surgeries that had been performed to save your life. It was nothing short of remarkable, what they had thrown at you to prevent your death, the conversation a very sobering one. It would be a long road to recovery, and one, it turned out, you would mostly be taking back home in the United States.

After a week or so in Redgrave Hospital, you were deemed fit enough for transport back to the Zone of Interior for convalescence and recovery in a domestic hospital. Though the sympathetic nurses had not seen fit to permit Bucky onto the ward again, they had taken a shakily written note, the loss of strength you had suffered in just over a week was startling, and promised to deliver it to him. The trip via Prestwick to Greenland, then Newfoundland, and ultimately Grenier Field in New Hampshire felt luxurious on the much more spacious C-54. You were admitted to the Station Hospital there to continue your recovery and rehabilitation, enjoying phone calls with your family instead of delayed correspondence for a change.

It took two months for you to be fully back on your feet, back to yourself. The same amount of time, it seemed, for the 100th bomb group to be repatriated stateside. Freshly discharged and clad in a brand-new olive drab dress uniform, proudly bearing your silver 1st Lieutenant’s insignia following your promotion and the ribbons from your two purple hearts, you had sweet-talked your way back onto the base. One of the more sympathetic MPs who had heard your story – admittedly there were few in New Hampshire who had not heard your story at this point – had not even protested your request. It seemed that fate saw fit to land Major John Egan in your life a second time, with Grenier Field the destination for his bomb group on their return flight.

Standing in the warm summer breeze, watching the sky for the silhouettes of their planes, it honestly felt odd to be wearing a skirt. The complexity of affixing your stockings to the straps of your garter belt had briefly made you long for the convenience of slacks, but with your properly cut and styled hair and feminine clothing you felt like an entirely new woman as you stood outside on the grass with the ground crew. Would Bucky even recognize you?

At last the distant droning of aircraft engines reached your, and everyone around you’s, ears, the shapes of B-17s multiplying on the horizon before they began to circle in for a landing. Honestly, there were so many of them you briefly doubted you would be able to find him with any manner of efficiency. Clamping a hand over your officer’s cap to hold it in place as a plane taxied onto a nearby hardstand, your eyes began to scan the crowd of men as they filtered past, surely headed for the mess hall or officer’s club. Catch a glimpse of those unmistakable ears, you stepped forward and called out to him.

“John Clarence Egan!”

His head whipped around so fast he nearly took out the man walking beside him.

“Do I really look so different in a skirt that you would walk right by me?” You teased fondly.

“Angelfish!”

His flight bag hit the asphalt with a sickening ‘crunch’ that had you worried for its contents, but the impact of his body against yours drove that thought quickly from your mind. Wrenching his cap from his head he tilted his face to nestle beneath the brim of yours and kiss you soundly. Distantly, you were aware of all manner of cheers and wolf-whistles from his comrades, but you were too busy clutching at his shoulders to truly mind.

“How did you-? What are you-? God, it’s good to see you.” He rambled before pressing his mouth against yours firmly, not even giving you the opportunity to reply.

Laughing brightly into the kiss, you became vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps approaching much nearer and pulled back slowly, smiling fondly as Bucky’s lips made as if to chase yours, but his friend’s question interrupted him.

“You gonna introduce us, John?” A tall blond man with striking blue eyes and a pair of unsettlingly symmetrical facial scars asked sardonically.

Bucky cleared his throat and stepped back, though you noted his arm slid around your waist in a rather proprietary move. You found you did not mind in the least, particularly as your fully healed wound gave no protest of pain whatsoever.

“Angelfish, this Gale Cleven – call him Buck, Robert Rosenthal – Rosie, and Harry Crosby – Croz.” He followed up by introducing you by your full name.

“He give you that nickname, too?” The one he told you to call ‘Buck’ raised an eyebrow and you laughed.

“It’s a long story….”

-------------------------

The Only Truth I Know Is You Masterlist

Tag list: @gretagerwigsmuse, @luminouslywriting, @softspeirs, @sunny747, @storysimp, @slowsweetlove, @httpsmoon, @buckysegan, @justheretoreadthxxs, @precious-little-scoundrel, @jointherebellion215, @timetowastetime8, @mads-weasley

#john egan x reader #bucky egan x reader #major john egan x reader #john egan x you #john egan fic #john egan imagine #john egan #mota fanfic #masters of the air fanfiction

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wings-of-ink · 3 days

Text

Update!

Hey everyone, just wanted to check in with you. I hope you all doing well!

Right now, I am feeling good about getting chapter 3 out by 4/30. It's a crunch for sure, but barring any disasters in the work itself or my personal life, I feel like it is doable. My aim is to get it to a point where it is release-worthy but will still need fine tuning after the fact. I generally like to edit things a couple times at least and have it play-tested, but I won't have time for all that. But, this is a work in progress, and I can always make improvements as I go. There are also a couple segments that I did not have time to add, but they're not pivotal to the story. I will add them if I find the time before the 30th (sorry to those who wanted to make a tasty cake for someone).

So far, I have gone through chapters 1 and 2 again and made some corrections to typos and grammar. I added a white hair option with some flavor text, and some other flavor text for purple eyes. The option to have your MC's hair turn grey (streaked or fully grey) from stress/illness was added, but I did not do it in the way I needed to, so if I have time, I'm going to fix that before release. I also updated some of the variable values of certain choices. A name bank was added for anyone who might struggle to come up with a name for their MC. I made all but one of them correspond to the marks. There's a wild card in there for the adventurous, lol. The codex was also updated.

Today, I am editing chapter 3. My very gracious boss encouraged me to take the day off, and I'm feeling pretty good, so I'm using this as an opportunity to get some serious work done.

If you're curious and don't mind my rambling about my life, you can read about my ordeal below!

I am feeling much better. I had a couple rough days in the past week, but mostly brought on by medication my dentist wanted me to take to stave off possible infection in a broken tooth. I had a less-than-stellar reaction to it, and it gave me insomnia and anxiety. Simply fantastic.

But, I had the root canal yesterday (got lucky and they had a cancelation so I was able to go in 5 days early). I am happy to report it was not bad at all. In fact, it may have been the easiest dental procedure aside from cleanings that I've ever had, lol. I was in and out within half an hour, and the endodontist numbed the fuck out of my mouth. The biggest pain was the drive there and back since I live so far away.

I chilled the whole day and took a glorious 2 hour nap, and have been sore but totally good. I even watched one of my favorite comfort-animes, Natsume Yuujinchou. If you are ever feeling poorly and down in the dumps or just need to relax, it is cute, a bit funny, and lighthearted - so I highly recommend it. So, all in all, I feel recharged and more than ready to see chapter 3 with fresh eyes!

Thank you to everyone who sent me encouraging messaging about the root canal. It really truly helped me show up for that appointment without feeling completely vulnerable. I was still anxious, because that is just what my brain do - I can't even see my GP without my hands shaking, lol. But, going into it knowing what your experiences have been helped so much.

Anyway, sorry for prattling! I'm going to get back to it now! ^_^

#god cursed if #asks #twine if #if wip #twine wip #interactive novel #if game #interactive fiction #gc if character development #gc if update

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xhdream · 3 days

Text

wild cherry (18+)

pairing: skater!jiseok x fem!reader x hyeongjun

genre: smut, sprinkle of fluff wc: 3.9k

summary: your childhood best friend who studies abroad comes back for the summer break. his first day in his hometown after not visiting for three years ends with a sweet unforgettable experience and an unexpected new friendship for you

contains: sub!reader, slight food play? (there’s a scene with a lollipop involved, if it sounds uncomfortable to you, i advise not reading this), unprotected sex, public sex, oral (f), dirty talk, praise kink, pet names, masturbation (m), exhibitionism, voyeurism

a/n: please, keep in mind english is not my first language, i apologise in advance for any mistakes i’ve might missed

!! this is pure fiction for entertainment purposes

There’s so much that three years can do to a person.

You realise it after you walk out through the front door and call out Jiseok’s name who’s on the other sidewalk.

He’s sitting on his skateboard, settled under a tree to hide from the July sun and waiting patiently to see you for the first time after three years.

You cross the street, and run into his arms. He doesn’t even get the chance to give you one proper look, because you immediately jump on him with the widest most radiant smile.

His arms lift you up in the air as you scream at him for not telling you that he’s decided to come back for the summer.

He only giggles into your hair which is half-wet with a sweet scent that tickles his senses. His arms stay tightly wrapped around your back.

“I just got here last night and you’re already yelling at me.” He jokes quietly, but you barely hear a word from your heart beating so fast.

His appearance can continue to change as much as it wants, but the welcoming feeling of his comforting presence will always remain the same, and you will miss it every time he’s gone no matter what.

You feel the warm breeze across the back of your thighs, and you realise the flowy summer dress you’re wearing has hiked up your body a bit too much, exposing more skin than it’s appropriate. Jiseok’s grip around your body unintentionally exposed most of your panties by bringing you in the air, and you decide it’s time to let go before any of your neighbours see it.

“Sorry for making you wait,” you speak up almost out of breath from the excitement, “but I was in the shower when you called.”

“No worries.” He chuckles, and you don’t know if it’s just you getting used to hearing it again in person, or if the sound really has changed a bit. “What’s thirteen minutes compared to three years?” He gives you an ear to ear smile as his eyes squint from the bright sunlight.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming.”

He shrugs shoulders, because the reason is pretty simple and obvious.

“I wanted to surprise you.”

You both can’t stop grinning at each other, closely observing the changes that you’ve missed during all this time. His hair has gotten longer, his figure more broad and confident, his gaze - bolder. You’ve sent many selfies in the chat, many pictures, videos and you talk on facetime often, but it’s not the same.

Not even close.

“I have a surprise for you too.” You move your hand up in front of his eyes and Jiseok gasps loudly.

“No way!” He grabs the lollipop the second he sees it. The same one you always used to buy while you were in high school and continued to buy after graduation. “Wait,” his brows fake a suspicious look, “did you know I was flying home? Do you have some psychic powers you’re not telling me about?”

“I wish,” you laugh. “I just buy some once in a while, especially this time of the year. The flavour reminds me of the good ol’ days.”

“Thanks, I missed them.” He opens his arms, inviting you in a hug again. “And you too.”

You cling onto his body, genuinely grateful to have him so close to you again. The memories throughout the years you’ve created together since you were little kids running on this same street you are standing right now, burst into your mind, but you shove them away, wanting to be fully focused on the present.

“I missed you too. More than I expected.”

“Told you it will be boring without me.”

After you back away, Jiseok accidentally peeks into your cleavage while you fix your dress, and his laughter suddenly dies down. He shifts his gaze up to your face with a coy smirk.

“You look beautiful by the way.”

It’s not only your nicely shaped breasts that he’s complimenting, but your blossomed beauty too.

“Thanks.” You respond a bit flustered because it’s the last thing you expected to hear from him.

“Oh!” He turns around. “Check out my new skateboard deck.” He lifts it in front of his chest with a proud grin. “Customised it myself.”

“I knew there was an artsy side to you.”

You run your fingertips along the colorful deck, telling him how much you like the creative design.

Jiseok hops on the skateboard, and you both take a stroll around the neighbourhood. He said he wanted to see if anything has changed since he left to study abroad, and you tell him the only difference is that a few people moved.

As the both of you chat, jumping from one topic into another, you catch with your peripheral vision that Jiseok is taking off his t-shirt. You quickly look away, but not for long because his feet speed up the wheels of the skate and he’s suddenly ahead of you with his back muscles into your face.

He used to constantly yell at you “check this out!” before doing his tricks, but now he doesn’t do it anymore; maybe he grew out of it and since he’s shown impressive skills in a few competitions he doesn’t feel the need to.

He pops ollie high in the air before groaning from the hot temperature. His shirt hangs from his shoulder, and the closer you get, the better you see his tanned skin and the abs… especially the abs.

“We should go to the skate park before I leave so you can see my newest jump. I learned something that will make your jaw drop.”

“We should,” you agree.

You don’t ask when he’s leaving. You don’t want to know just yet.

Later in the afternoon Jiseok called you to hangout, and you noticed that your heart is racing quicker with each passing minute as you wait for him to pick you up with his dad’s car.

It’s unusual. There’s no reason for it to beat this furiously for a friend you’ve known all your life.

The vehicle approaches and you sigh with relief once you sit on the passenger seat, enjoying the colder air.

“Seatbelt, please.” Jiseok glances at your chest before preparing to leave the empty street. “Hot, isn’t it?”

“Deadly,” you complain, secretly checking your reflection in the rear view mirror.

You thought it would be just the two of you, but turns out a friend of his will be joining you.

“Do you mind?” Jiseok asks, paying attention to the busy road.

His schedule currently is packed by meeting up with many hometown friends that he hasn’t seen in a long time. He does his best to squeeze in everyone in a short period of time, and you understand that.

“Of course not, it will be fun.” You reassure him with a quick curl of your lips. “Do I know him?” You ask, worried if the slight disappointment you felt is echoing in your voice.

“I might’ve mentioned him before, but I don’t think you’ve met him.” Jiseok admits after a few seconds of thinking. “I’m sure you’re gonna like him though,” he quickly adds. “He’s not like most of my friends, don’t worry.”

“I like your friends!” You turn to him with a fake expression of surprise.

“No, you don’t.” Jiseok peeps at you before fixing his gaze on the road again.

His laugh rings in the car, and you feel a wave of relief. You’re glad he doesn’t mind your opinions on most of his friends. Not that he’s here to hang out with them and invite you to come along, but when he’s done with college he may have more opportunities to travel to his hometown… You wonder what his friends are like in his current new life. Does he act the same when he’s with them or is there a different version of Kwak Jiseok that you have no idea about?

“Here he is.” Jiseok shouts through a wide grin, rolling down the window. He sticks out his hand and his friend greets him with some kind of special fist bump. “Damn, the ponytail is sick.” He exclaims after the dark haired boy settles in the back seat. “I didn’t know you’re growing out your hair.”

“Thanks,” Jiseok’s friend says. His voice is coming in a mellow calming tone from behind your shoulder. “Thought you knew.”

“Maybe I would’ve if you facetimed me more.”

His friend laughs through a sarcastic reply, and Jiseok finally introduces you.

“Hyeongjun, this is Y/N, you’ve heard about her, Y/N, this is Hyeongjun.”

“Nice to meet you.” You turn around, reaching for his hand.

He accepts it gently with a genuine smile, and that smile awes you quite honestly. As he walked towards the car you noticed he has a nice slim figure with an appearance that seems appealing at first glance, but now that you take a closer look at him, his face is charming. It makes you want to keep staring at him.

“Actually,” Jiseok’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, and you turn back around, “Hyeongjun attends the same college as you, Y/N. He’s majoring in Art.”

“Really?” You peek at him intrigued.

“Have you seen each other around?” Jiseok asks curiously while taking a left turn. He’s driving towards a nearby supermarket where you’ve decided to grab drinks and snacks for a picnic at the park.

“I don’t think so,” you mumble and Hyeongjun agrees with you.

“Figured.” Jiseok nods. “Hyeongjun would’ve remembered you.”

“Wow, I didn’t expect it to get so empty here.”

It’s midnight, and the only sounds left around are coming from your unending conversation with Jiseok and Hyeongjun. You can hear occasionally some murmurs or barking in the distance, but it seems that from now on it will only get quieter.

The multiple beer cans are sitting empty outside of the blanket on which the three of you are lazing on along with a few empty packages of snacks.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Jiseok sneaks a hand in the pocket of his pants and quickly unwraps the lollipop you gave him this morning. He puts a hand on his chest, overreacting after tasting it. “Just like I remember.”

“Wild cherry. It’s your favourite, right?” You direct your eyes on him, as you keep resting on your back. He’s sitting in front of you in one of the corners of the blanket, shirtless.

He humms in agreement, pulling out the lolly through his plump lips before showing off his enticing smile.

“But this one is even sweeter cause it’s from you.”

He hides it back in his mouth enjoying the way you attempt to look away shyly. Even in the darkness your features glimmer with a beam of light, and he can see clearly when you’re reacting to his words in a more special way.

Hyeongjun who’s sitting with his back leaning against the tree is picking out the next song to play on his phone while still drinking the remaining sips of his last beer.

He cannot help but steal shameless glances at your laying figure as you chuckle at almost everything Jiseok says. Your hair is spilling on the ground messy, but still beautiful while your naked legs move playfully left to right, distracting him with their hypnotising curves.

“Caramel apple should not come before wild cherry,” Jiseok bursts out dumbfounded.

“That’s your opinion,” you fight back. “I like it, I think it’s great.”

“Better than this?” He holds the red lollipop, anticipating your answer with raised brows.

“Maybe,” you reply, but you’re not able to say anything more after Jiseok moves closer, suddenly prepping himself over you. His lips hover over your mouth, slightly redder than their usual color, as his eyes pierce through yours which are stunned; not able to stop at just one part of his face. “What?” You ask.

“Can I kiss you so you can tell me if you still think that?”

You’ve never craved any taste so badly in your life.

“Yes.”

Jiseok presses his lips on yours, hard, yet cautiously at the same time. A burst of excitement and lust explodes in your chest the moment your mouths connect, allowing your lips to move in sync and explore parts of each other that were till now unfamiliar. Your tongues meet and the sweet flavour increases in your mouth as Jiseok’s dominates over yours.

He breaks the kiss, breathing out.

A moment later of just staring at each other somehow you find a conclusion despite the fuzziness of your mind.

“No, you’re right.” You answer, still facing him so closely. “Wild cherry is better.”

Your response provokes a smirk of pride on Jiseok’s face before it disappears from your vision. He moves lower down your body, his hands hike up your delicate dress that if you ask him, you look pretty much naked in anyway.

His palms explore your bare stomach and hips and you feel how every single place he touches starts heating up despite the normal temperature.

You spread your legs wider and Jiseok levels his face with your clothed cunt with a lollipop in mouth. He grabs it by the handle before speaking up.

“I have a feeling you’re sweeter, baby.” His thumb rubs the spot where your clit is and you sigh from how nice it feels. “Should we find out?”

You meet his heavy gaze between your legs.

“Yeah… I’d like that.”

After your permission, Jiseok moves your panties to the side, and shoots a warm thrill in your entire body through a long lick with his flat tongue. He repeats the same motion more slowly, giving you time to adjust to the feeling before he goes in to suck on your bundle of nerves, shutting his eyes in delight.

Hyeongjun respectfully ignored everything that happened a moment before this… however, he feels like it’s expected from him to watch this.

He sees Jiseok’s hands hugging your thighs as the sounds from his mouth devouring your pussy fill the silence of the deserted park. They’re so lewd and alluring. Just like the soft moans, spilling from your lips that cause his boner to grow.

Jiseok detaches from your folds, groaning from how turned on he is. The lollipop in his fingers appears closer until it bumps into your swollen clit.

“So sweet, doll.” He whispers in a raspier tone, tapping a few times with the head of the lolly. “I knew it.”

You feel him dragging the ball down your folds. The built up arousal is so much, the slickness makes it easy for half of it to slip inside your entrance with ease.

“Fuck, got you so wet for me.” Jiseok moves his dark gaze on your scrunched face, wanting to see your next expression when he pushes the rest of the lollipop into your cunt.

He smirks provocatively once you mewl with pleasure, letting him move it back and forth.

“What a needy girl,” he grunts, pulling it out slowly, “gonna cum from a fuckin’ lollipop.”

He hands you the candy all covered in your essence as soon as you rise up in a sitting position.

This is when the realisation that Hyeongjun saw everything hits you. You also just now notice there’s a new song quietly playing from his phone which apparently has his full attention, or that’s how he’s trying to make it seem.

Jiseok gives you an encouraging nod, his cocky expression with a hint of mischief tells you his imagination is running wild. He has something on his mind, and he’s excited to see you’re thinking of the same thing.

“Hyeongjun.”

Jiseok’s friend looks up at you questionably, and your lips turn up to make him feel less flustered.

“Do you want to try the lollipop too?” You ask.

He asks in return if it’s okay with you, and you respond by moving closer to him.

You guide it towards his lips and he separates them like by a command. You maintain the eye contact as you invite the sugary flavour on his tongue, but once he wraps his seductive lips around the ball which looks too erotic to you for some reason, you couldn’t control your eyes anymore. They move from his lustful eyes and remain on his mouth to watch how he sneaks out his tongue, swiping it along his lips after you pull out the lollipop.

He swallows the sweetness, and you gulp right after him - solely from the urge to kiss him. There’s a desire to find out how his lips would feel that bubbles up inside you.

“You can taste the cherry even better from her.” Jiseok calls out as if he has just read your mind.

You lean in and Hyeongjun does the same simultaneously moving his hand at the back of your neck. After your lips connect, your body flutters from an electric wave once again, but a different type - much more tender and lightweight than the one coming from Jiseok’s lips. Hyeongjun moves passionately as well, but in a graceful way like he’s worried not to get too caught up and make you fall apart, while Jiseok kisses without restraints, like seeing you fall apart is exactly what he wants.

You open your eyes and see the tip of Hyeongjun’s tongue out, not able to get enough of you yet. You gently close your lips around it, holding his neck with your two hands while his roam around your thighs underneath your skirt.

Every flinch he makes with his muscles, every breath he lets out, is as if he’s on slow motion. He wants this to last for as long as possible.

Your heart races as you suck on his wet tongue meanwhile your chin gets wet from a trail of saliva that Hyeongjun licks off after you unwrap your lips.

His hands leave your body - the opposite of his needs, - allowing Jiseok’s to grip on your hips from behind. He gets a hold of you again with an even bigger hunger that unlocks something primer in him from seeing you in this new light. So different and nasty from how your usual pure self is.

Seems like he’s not the only one who’s changed in the past three years.

“Are you having fun driving us crazy like this?” He tilts your head, running his tongue up to your ear.

Every time he touches you slightly you get the urge to moan pathetically, so you bite your lip to avoid it, at least for now.

Hyeongjun watches Jiseok peppering your skin with kisses while his fingertips make the thin straps of your dress slip off your shoulders.

“Not even wearing a bra?”Jiseok notes amused, squeezing your breasts. His erection turns more impatient as your nipples harden on the instant from the breeze. “Come here.”

Jiseok stands up, unbuckling his belt. Soon enough, his pants are open enough to free his cock, and you kneel in front of him while facing Hyeongjun who leans back against the tree; watching you take his friend from behind.

At first you couldn’t focus on Hyeongjun for a while. Feeling Jiseok sinking into you wraps your brain into a fog, unabling you to think or do anything else besides focusing entirely on his thick length going deeper and deeper.

Jiseok digs fingers in your hips while picking up a steady pace which has your moans elevating in the silence.

He shushes you to stay quiet, but his body speeds up.

“You don’t want to get caught fuckin’ in the park, right pretty doll?”

“More, please…” you whine in response finally able to take a peek at your surroundings illuminated by the moonlight. “Please…”

“Only if you don’t make a sound.” Jiseok warns you before slowing down his thrusts.

You nod obediently not letting Hyeongjun out of sight. Jiseok notices your fixed attention on him, and finds it quite intriguing.

He makes you lean back by pulling on your small scrunched dress. The fabric exposes your entire body besides just a small part of your waist. He humms quietly once you begin to move up and down his cock on your own, squeezing him perfectly with your tight walls while your nails stab his thighs as you support yourself.

“Tell me what else do you want, baby.” Jiseok runs his hands on your bare shoulders. His deep voice covers you in goosebumps.

You blink at Hyeongjun while the pleasure floods your veins.

“I… I want him to feel good too.”

“So sweet,” he coos, praising you with knuckles caressing your warm cheek. “You heard her.”

Hyeongjun doesn’t hesitate.

He unzips his jeans and the sound is enough to make your heart skip a beat from excitement. Your eyes widen in the distance, following the rushed movement of his hands.

When his slim fingers grip his shaft he starts tugging in a slow pace, imagining that the pressure around him comes from your gummy walls; that the smacking sounds from skin clashing against skin is because he’s the one kneeling behind you.

You’re bouncing on his dick; you’re making him throb and leak with desperation.

“C’mon, doll, don’t get distracted.” Jiseok speaks in a gentle manner, but you notice the slight tone of frustration hidden underneath. “Take it, c’mon.. fuck.”

He doesn’t wait for you to change your pace though, instead he decides to take matters into his own hands. He grabs your lower waist and starts thrusting against the desired spot rapidly; uncontrollably, like he doesn’t plan on ever stopping. Due to the insane amount of pleasure that shoots his core, his head falls back and his eyes roll at the back of his skull.

A warm knot forms in both of your bodies, so close to snapping, as sweat collects on different parts of your skin. It’s gliding down your forehead, neck, chest, your inner thighs along with the spilling fluids from your cunt.

Hyeongjun’s eyes are leveled with your boobs that shake every time Jiseok shoves his cock through you. As his lips open from another small moan, yours close, tucked between your teeth.

“Fuck, you feel so good… so tight and wet.”

And Hyeongjun can almost feel it too. If he keeps his eyes shut and just focus on your panting and the squelching coming from between your legs, he can really feel it. His fist speeds up, building up the intense heat inside as you whimper that you’re about to cum.

“Let it out, baby,” Jiseok grunts, his own voice shaking too. “That’s it, cum for me, good girl.”

He covers your mouth with force while his spare arm stays around you, wanting to keep his cock gliding sloppily till the climax shakes you up.

The thrill is staggering; it makes your body convulse in Jiseok’s embrace as you hold onto the arm that keeps you silent. A few muffled cries sneak out from his palm which are enough to push Hyeongjun over the edge. His cum spills all over his naked stomach in hot thick ropes and he manages to stay quiet till the end in comparison to Jiseok whose throat releases a deep groan after he jerks off, spraying your back with fluids.

Once Jiseok gives your ass a playful smack you let yourself collapse silently on your tummy.

The three of you wait for your breaths to return back to normal in the shared silence. For your surprise, it's not awkward nor perplexing. You let the minutes pass comfortably while the night summer wind finally turns colder, helping your bodies cool off.

The moon shines bright and you meet Hyeongjun’s eyes as he rests on your left side.

He smiles at you.

You smile back.

! please do not repost, copy or translate my works

#xdinary heroes smut #xdinary heroes hard thoughts #xdinary heroes hard hours #kwak jiseok smut #gaon smut #jiseok hard thoughts #gaon hard thoughts #xh hard hours #han hyeongjun smut #junhan hard thoughts #hyeongjun hard thoughts #junhan smut #gaon x reader #jiseok x reader #hyeongjun x reader #junhan x reader #xdinary heroes x reader

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muiitoloko · 3 days

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Hiii! :D I LOVE your writing!! Every day I come home from work I go to your blog to read if there is a new story🌟 I don't know if you're taking request; i would like to make a request about Frank Benson (Eye in the sky) x reader I haven't read anything about him 🥲 and I would like if you could do something fluffly❤️‍🩹 with smut💥 maybe like something about him being married to the reader and coming home after a bad day at work and he just needs to be in control and some release🔥and then the reader being comforting💖🫶

I don't know if that makes sense🙈

Title: In control

Summary: He wanted to be in control and you gave him control.

Pairing: Frank Benson × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Smut, foul language and fluffy.

Author's Notes: Hey there! Thanks a ton for the love and support! Your dedication to checking out my blog every day seriously warms my heart! 🌟 As for your request about Frank Benson from "Eye in the Sky," I'm all ears! 😎 Your idea sounds like a rollercoaster of emotions, from fluffy to smutty to comforting—it's a wild ride! 🎢 And don't worry, even if it sounds a bit wild, it totally makes sense! 🙃 I've whipped up something I hope you'll enjoy! As for Alan Rickman in that military uniform, oh boy, does he look like a sin! 😏🔥

As Frank stepped through the threshold of his home, his shoulders slumped with the weight of the day's burdens. The familiar scent of home greeted him, a comforting reminder of the sanctuary that awaited him within these walls. Yet, even as he longed for the solace of his haven, the remnants of his stressful day clung to him like a suffocating shroud.

His brow furrowed in frustration as he struggled with the keys, his fingers fumbling with the metal implements in a futile attempt to unlock the door. With a muttered curse, he finally managed to coax the stubborn lock into submission, the satisfying click of the mechanism echoing in the stillness of the evening.

"Darling, I'm home," Frank called out, his voice a weary rasp as he pushed open the door and stepped inside.

As you heard Frank's weary voice calling out from the hallway, you quickly turned off the stove and removed the pan from the fire, setting it aside. With practiced ease, you slipped off your apron and made your way to where Frank stood, struggling with his uniform.

Seeing him wrestle with the buttons of his military coat, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the man you loved. His gray hair was slightly disheveled, and the furrow in his brow spoke volumes about the weight of the burdens he carried.

"Hey there, soldier," you said softly, stepping closer to him and placing a gentle hand on his arm. "Rough day?"

Frank let out a frustrated groan, his shoulders sagging even further under the weight of his troubles. "Everything's gone to hell today," he muttered, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "I can't seem to catch a break."

You listened patiently as he vented his frustrations, offering him a sympathetic ear as he unburdened himself of the events that had unfolded throughout the day. His words painted a picture of chaos and uncertainty, a world where everything seemed to be spiraling out of control.

With a heavy sigh, Frank finally paused, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of weariness and longing. "I just... I need to feel like I'm in control," he admitted, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

In that moment, you knew exactly what he needed—to let go of the burdens of the day and be comforted by you. With a gentle glint in your eyes, you reached for the buttons of his uniform coat, your fingers deftly working to release them one by one.

As his coat fell to the floor, revealing the holsters of his gun beneath, Frank pulled you close, his hands roaming over your body with a hunger that left you breathless. You stumbled against him, the heat of his touch searing through you like wildfire as he pressed his lips to yours in a fierce, desperate kiss.

As the passionate kiss finally broke, you took your husband's hand, leading him to the bedroom with a sense of purpose. Frank followed, his steps heavy with the weight of the day's burdens.

Entering the bedroom, Frank began the familiar ritual of putting away his weapons, his movements precise and practiced. The holsters of his gun were set aside with care, each motion a testament to his disciplined nature.

But as he turned to undo his tie and the buttons on his shirt, you sat on the bed, watching him with a mixture of admiration and longing. Frank noticed your gaze and paused, his brow furrowing with concern.

"What is it, darling?" he asked, his voice tinged with worry.

You shook your head, a playful smile playing on your lips. "Nothing, love," you reassured him. "Just enjoying the view."

Frank's expression softened, a hint of amusement flickering in his brown eyes. "Flatterer," he teased, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

As Frank continued to undress, you couldn't help but notice the frustration still lingering in his demeanor. His movements were stiff and mechanical, a stark contrast to the controlled precision he usually exhibited. It was clear that the events of the day had taken a toll on him, weighing heavily on his shoulders like an oppressive burden.

You watched him silently, your heart aching with the desire to ease his troubles and bring him the comfort he so desperately needed. But as he paused halfway through undoing his wristwatch, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of uncertainty, you realized that perhaps what he needed most was not your comfort, but your submission.

You stood up, approaching him with purpose in your stride. With a gentle touch, you reached out to caress his cheek, your fingers trailing lightly along his stubbled jawline. "Let me take care of you, Frank," you whispered, your voice a soothing melody that washed over him like a warm embrace.

Frank's brown eyes softened at your words, a flicker of vulnerability shining through the steely mask he wore. He nodded wordlessly, a silent acknowledgment of the trust you placed in him as he stepped back, allowing you to take the lead.

With a sense of purpose, you reached for the buttons of your own blouse, your movements deliberate and unhurried. Frank watched you intently, his gaze filled with a mixture of desire and anticipation as you revealed the curves of your body inch by inch.

As the fabric fell away, pooling at your feet in a heap of discarded clothing, you stood naked before him, your skin flushed with anticipation. Frank's eyes roamed hungrily over your exposed form, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he took in the sight of you.

With a seductive smile, you dropped to your knees before him, your hands trailing lightly along his thighs as you looked up at him with adoration. "I'm yours to command, Frank," you murmured, your voice a husky whisper that sent shivers down his spine.

Frank's chest swelled with pride at your submissive gesture, his arousal evident in the bulge that strained against the fabric of his trousers. With a confident smirk, he reached down to undo his belt, the sound of leather sliding through metal sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through you.

As his pants and underwear fell to the floor in a heap, Frank stepped out of them with practiced ease, his arousal standing proudly at attention. He approached you slowly, his eyes never leaving yours as he reached out to pinch one of your breasts, making you moan softly in response.

With a hungry glint in his eyes, Frank caressed himself lightly, the sight of your kneeling form before him sending a surge of desire coursing through his veins. "You look so beautiful like this, my love," he murmured, his voice a low growl that made your heart race.

But even as desire threatened to consume him, Frank remained in control, his gaze unwavering as he issued his command. "Open your mouth for me, darling," he ordered, his voice tinged with authority. "I want to fuck that pretty mouth of yours today."

Eager to please your authoritarian husband, you obeyed without hesitation, parting your lips to accommodate him. Frank's arousal throbbed with anticipation as he positioned himself before you, his hands gripping your hair firmly as he guided himself to your waiting mouth.

With a sense of reverence, you took him in, your lips wrapping around his length as you began to suckle gently. Frank groaned in pleasure, his hips rocking forward as he buried himself deeper in your mouth, the heat of your tongue sending bolts of ecstasy coursing through him.

Lost in the rhythm of your movements, Frank's control began to slip, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he surrendered to the pleasure you offered. But even as his arousal threatened to overwhelm him, he remained mindful of your boundaries, his touch gentle and considerate as he guided you with a firm hand.

"Tell me if you want me to stop, darling," Frank murmured between ragged breaths, his voice thick with desire. "Just give my thigh a little tap, and I'll pull back, okay?"

You nodded in understanding, the sound muffled by the thickness of him in your mouth. With each passing moment, you felt yourself growing more intoxicated by the taste of him, the heady scent of his arousal filling your senses until you were lost in a haze of desire.

As Frank's arousal reached its peak, he couldn't hold back any longer. The controlled, disciplined soldier he once was faded away, replaced by a primal, insatiable hunger that consumed him from within. With a low growl of desire, he began to thrust into your mouth with increasing urgency, his movements rough and relentless.

Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, the heady mix of pain and ecstasy driving you to new heights of arousal. Frank's grip on your hair tightened, his fingers digging into your scalp as he used you for his pleasure, his baritone voice a symphony of sinful promises that sent shivers down your spine.

"Such a good little cocksucker, aren't you?" Frank purred, his voice thick with lust as he rocked his hips against your mouth. "Taking me like the obedient little slut you are."

His words sent a surge of heat pooling between your thighs, your own arousal building with each passing moment. You moaned around him, the vibrations sending Frank over the edge as he let out a guttural groan of pleasure.

But just as he felt himself on the verge of climax, Frank forced himself to pull back, his hand gently urging you to release him from your mouth. He groaned in frustration as he watched you obey, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on his brow as he struggled to regain his composure.

"Fuck, my little slut," he gasped, his voice thick with desire. "You're incredible at that. But I'm craving something more. Turn around and grip the edge of the bed for me; I need to be inside you now."

You nodded obediently, eager to please your dominant husband as you reached out to grasp the edge of the bedframe. As Frank fell to his knees behind you, you couldn't help but protest about his knees, but before you could voice your concern, he silenced you with a sharp slap to your ass.

The sudden sting made you gasp in surprise, a mixture of pain and pleasure coursing through you as Frank's calloused hand connected with your flesh. He caressed the spot he hit, his touch both soothing and electrifying as he leaned in close to whisper in your ear.

"Don't worry about me, darling," Frank said, his voice dripping with authority. "I'm in control here, and I know exactly what I want."

With a sense of anticipation, you held onto the edge of the bed, your heart pounding in your chest as Frank's hands roamed over your body. His touch was electric, igniting a fire within you that burned hotter with each passing moment.

As Frank positioned himself behind you, you braced yourself for what was to come, your body trembling with excitement. But before you could prepare yourself, Frank slapped your ass again, making you cry out in surprise at the sudden blow.

"None of that, love," Frank chided, his voice firm but tinged with amusement. "You know better than to speak out of turn."

You bit your lip to stifle a whimper, your arousal building with each slap of Frank's hand against your flesh. Despite the sting of pain, you found yourself craving more, eager to surrender yourself completely to his dominant touch.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Frank playfully tugged your hair and brought his mouth close to your ear. "You enjoy that, don't you, my dear?" he whispered huskily, his voice carrying a commanding tone.

You whimpered in response, your body trembling with desire as Frank's words sent shivers down your spine. "Yes, sir," you gasped, your voice thick with need. "I love it when you take control."

A satisfied smirk spread across Frank's lips as he leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "Good," he whispered, his voice a husky rasp that made your pulse quicken. "Because tonight, I'm going to make you scream my name until you can't think of anything else."

With that, Frank's hand trailed down your spine, sending sparks of electricity dancing along your skin. You arched your back in anticipation, offering yourself up to him completely as he teased you with his touch.

As his fingers dipped lower, trailing along the curve of your ass, you couldn't help but moan in pleasure. Frank's touch was electric, igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you whole.

With a sense of purpose, Frank reached between your legs, his fingers finding your slick heat with ease. You gasped in pleasure as he teased your folds, his touch sending waves of ecstasy crashing over you.

"Look at you, so wet and ready for me," Frank murmured, his voice thick with desire. "You're going to take everything I give you, aren't you, my little whore?"

You nodded eagerly, your breath coming in ragged gasps as Frank's fingers delved deeper, exploring every inch of your trembling body. You were his to command, his to please, and you relished in the knowledge that he would take you to heights of pleasure you had never imagined possible.

As Frank's fingers teased your slick heat, you let out a low moan of pleasure, your body arching instinctively into his touch. The sensation was electric, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through you as he explored every inch of your trembling body.

"God, Frank," you gasped, your voice thick with desire. "Please, I need you."

Frank's brown eyes darkened with desire as he leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "You're going to get everything you want, my little slut," he whispered, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. "But you have to beg for it."

Without hesitation, you nodded eagerly, your arousal reaching a fever pitch as you pleaded with him. "Please, Frank," you whimpered, your voice desperate and needy. "I need you inside me, now."

A satisfied smirk spread across Frank's lips as he positioned himself behind you, his arousal pressing against your slick folds. "That's it, darling," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Beg for my cock like the filthy whore you are."

With a sense of urgency, you pushed back against him, your body trembling with anticipation as you felt the tip of him teasing your entrance. "Please, Frank," you begged, your voice a desperate plea. "I need you to fuck me, now."

Without warning, Frank thrust into you with one swift motion, filling you completely as he buried himself deep inside your throbbing heat. You cried out in pleasure, your body trembling with ecstasy as he began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate.

"That's it, my dear" Frank growled, his voice thick with desire. "Take my cock like the filthy whore you are."

With each thrust, Frank's control slipped further, his movements growing faster and more desperate as he surrendered to the pleasure of being inside you. You met him thrust for thrust, your bodies moving in perfect harmony as you chased your release together.

"Fuck, Frank!" you moaned, your voice thick with desire. "I'm coming, I'm coming!"

The sound of your voice sent a jolt of arousal coursing through Frank's veins, his arousal peaking as he felt your walls clench around him in a tight embrace. With a primal growl, he thrust into you one final time, sending you both hurtling over the edge into a sea of ecstasy.

As the waves of pleasure washed over you, you cried out Frank's name like a prayer, your voice echoing in the stillness of the room. Frank's release followed soon after, his body trembling with the force of his climax as he emptied himself inside you with a guttural groan of satisfaction.

For a moment, the world fell away, leaving only the two of you entwined in a blissful embrace. With each ragged breath, you felt the weight of the day's burdens melt away, replaced by a sense of contentment and fulfillment that only Frank could provide.

After reaching the pinnacle of pleasure together, Frank withdrew from you, his body trembling with the remnants of his climax. Slowly, he stood up, feeling the ache in his knees that he chose to ignore for the moment. With a gentle tug, he pulled you to bed, wrapping you in his strong embrace.

As he held you close, Frank's chest swelled with a sense of gratitude and affection. "Thank you, my love," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "For giving me control today."

You smiled softly, running your fingers through his gray hair as you leaned in to press a tender kiss against his lips. "Anything for you, Frank," you whispered, your voice filled with love and devotion. "You know I'll always give you whatever you want."

Frank's brown eyes twinkled with amusement as he pulled back to gaze at you, a playful glint dancing in his eyes. "Well, my dear, in that case, get ready for the next round," he teased, a smirk playing on his lips.

You chuckled, a mischievous twinkle in your eyes as you playfully pushed him. "Oh, I'm always ready," you replied, your voice laced with anticipation. "But are you up for it, old man?"

Frank feigned exasperation, shaking his head with mock indignation. "Ah, the audacity of a woman," he exclaimed, his baritone voice filled with amusement. "Give me a minute, or perhaps ten. The refractory period is shit at my age."

You grinned, leaning in to kiss him once more. "I know, darling," you said softly, stroking his chin affectionately. "But I miss the times when we were young and had sex all night."

Frank's smile softened, a hint of nostalgia flickering in his brown eyes as he pulled you closer to him. "Those were the days, weren't they?" he murmured, his voice tinged with longing. "But even now, with age catching up to us, I wouldn't trade this moment for anything in the world."

You snuggled against him, feeling the warmth of his embrace enveloping you like a cocoon. "Me neither, Frank," you whispered, pressing a tender kiss against his cheek. "As long as I have you by my side, I have everything I need."

Your words trailed off as Frank's stomach let out a loud growl, prompting a blush to spread across his cheeks. He chuckled softly, a hint of embarrassment coloring his expression as he realized his hunger. "I guess I've worked up an appetite," he said sheepishly, his deep voice tinged with amusement.

You smiled warmly at him, the affection in your gaze evident as you got out of bed and wrapped yourself in a cozy robe. "Don't worry, darling," you reassured him, your voice gentle and soothing. "I'll have dinner ready for you in no time."

Frank nodded gratefully, feeling a sense of comfort wash over him as you took charge of the situation. With a contented sigh, he settled back into bed, the soft sheets enveloping him like a warm embrace.

As you left the bedroom to prepare dinner, Frank couldn't help but admire the way you effortlessly took care of him. Your love and devotion were evident in every gesture, and he felt a surge of gratitude for having you by his side.

With a sense of purpose, Frank made his way to the bathroom, his steps heavy with exhaustion. The warm water of the shower beckoned to him, offering a brief respite from the stresses of the day.

As he stepped into the shower, the hot water cascading over his weary body, Frank felt the tension begin to melt away. He closed his eyes, allowing himself to bask in the warmth and comfort of the moment, relishing the sensation of being cleansed both physically and mentally.

With practiced efficiency, Frank washed away the grime of the day, the steam of the shower enveloping him like a soothing blanket. The rhythmic sound of the water against the tiles echoed in the small space, a steady cadence that matched the beat of his heart.

As he lathered soap over his body, Frank couldn't help but reflect on the events of the day. It had been a challenging one, filled with difficult decisions and unexpected obstacles. But in the midst of it all, he found solace in the knowledge that he had you waiting for him at home, ready to offer him the love and support he so desperately needed.

With a sense of determination, Frank resolved to leave the worries of the day behind him, focusing instead on the simple pleasure of being present in the moment. The warm water of the shower was a soothing balm to his weary soul, washing away the remnants of stress and tension until all that remained was a sense of peace and contentment.

After thoroughly enjoying the rejuvenating shower, Frank emerged from the bathroom feeling refreshed and revitalized. He quickly dried himself off and dressed in fresh clothes, the weight of the day's burdens lifting from his shoulders with each passing moment.

As he made his way to the kitchen, the tantalizing aroma of dinner wafted through the air, filling him with anticipation. He found you standing by the stove, a look of concentration on your face as you put the finishing touches on the meal.

"Smells amazing," Frank commented, his voice filled with appreciation as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek.

You chuckled softly, leaning into his embrace as you stirred the pot on the stove. "I'm glad you think so, darling," you replied, your voice warm and affectionate. "I made your favorite."

Frank's eyes sparkled with delight as he caught sight of the meal you had prepared. "You spoil me," he teased, a hint of mischief in his voice as he took a seat at the table.

You smiled fondly at him, the love in your gaze shining brightly as you served him a generous portion of the delicious meal. "You deserve it," you said softly, your voice filled with sincerity. "After the day you've had, you deserve a little pampering."

Frank's heart swelled with gratitude as he took a bite of the food, savoring the familiar flavors that reminded him of home. With each mouthful, he felt a sense of warmth and comfort wash over him, filling him with a sense of contentment that he hadn't felt in days.

As you watched him eat, a sense of satisfaction filled you, knowing that you had brought him the comfort and nourishment he so desperately needed. In that moment, there was no greater joy than seeing him happy and at ease, his troubles forgotten in the simple pleasure of a home-cooked meal and the warmth of your love.

#frank benson #frank benson x reader #alan rickman #alan rickman x reader

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whitedarkmoonflower · 17 hours

Text

Dream

Pairing: Sihtric x reader (female)

Authors note: @foxyanon this is for you. Your request was absolutely amasing and I just hope I've done justice to it. 💖My warmest thanks to lovely @arcielee for beta reading, you are awsome and your comments literally made my day 😘

Warnings: angst, longing, some lowkey SMUT 18+ nothing explicit, use of she/her pronouns.

Word Count: 2,6 K

Inspired by the The Apparition by Sleep Token

Why are you never real? Whenever you appear You leave me with that grace I am trembling with fear But I know that you will disappear Just as I awake Whisper in my ear Well, I believe Somewhere in the past Something was between You and I, my dear And it remains With me to this day No matter what I do This scar will never fade

He awoke with a silent cry trembling on his lips, hands instinctively reaching to wipe tears from his wet cheeks, his breath panting as if he were drowning in his own sobs. He had dreamt of her. Again.

The sensation lingered in his fingertips: the soft touch of her palm against his, the echo of her laughter wrapping around him like a warm summer breeze on a cool evening. He couldn’t recall her face anymore. Sometimes he wasn’t even sure she was real; just a fleeting memory or fantasy conjured by the ghosts of his past, taunting him anew.

And yet from the moment he had set his foot on Dunholm’s rocky ground, he dreamt of her almost nightly. The sweetness of their shared moments intertwined with the bitter ache of longing, all overshadowed by the burning flame of guilt for having failed her, that made him wake up with a cry, forehead covered in sweat and heart racing.

Sihtric’s eyes wandered the small room, slowly adjusting to the darkness, disturbed only by the faint glow of the waning moon. With a deep sigh ripping through him, Sihtric swung his legs over the edge of the bed and pushed himself up. His bare feet brought him to the window. The rough uneven wooden floor was a constant reminder of the past times indelible from the deepest corners of his mind, of times long ago when his feet pounded the very same wooden floor, with each step carving the memory of these paths into his very being.

The dreams were too real, clinging to him with all the colours, smells and sounds, leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. A taste of remorse and longing.

Sihtric lifted his hands, shielding his eyes with his palms and gently rubbing them, as though attempting to cleanse himself of the haunting impressions left by the dream. He had seen her so clearly, the colourful images spinning around in his head.

Her hair loose and billowing in the wind, her merry laughter a bright messenger of joy as she skipped through the meadow, the gentle fingers of the rising sun caressing her glowing skin.

She was the light in the darkness, the breeze of the fresh air in his lungs. Her laughter was a thread through the haze of his crippled existence. Just as the damp earth after a rainfall carries the scent of rebirth, her aroma was that of a promise of a new beginning – a gentle mix of sweet wild berries and midsummer flowers woven into her hair.

His body and mind ached for her, longing for their fingers to intertwine as he would willingly follow her wherever she led.

And then the kiss – his very first. Fingers trembling, heart pounding against his chest like a wild drum. She leaned against the sturdy trunk of the oak tree by the river, the tranquil sound of water splashing against the sandy bank filling the air. Pressing his palm against the rough bark, he sought to steady his racing heart, drawing strength from the solid presence of the majestic giant. The softness of her pale skin thrilled him as his other hand gently touched her cheek, tenderly guiding her gaze towards him.

“I… I want to kiss you,” he whispered softly, his breath catching in his throat, drowning in the depths of two sparkling eyes, pleading for his touch.

“What are you waiting for?” A sweet, lighthearted giggle echoed around him, and he released a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding. With closed eyes, his dry, chapped lips timidly brushed against her soft ones, like a fragile whisper dancing on the edge of a sigh, like two lonely travellers adrift in the vast expanse of a starlit night, seeking refuge and salvation.

“Sihtric ...” his name rolled off her lips, mingling with a soft whimper as his both palms cupped her face, their breaths picking up.

Sihtric's fingertips traced down to his lips, pausing there. He stood motionless for a moment, leaning against the window frame, arms crossing over his chest and breath catching in the cool night air as he attempted to summon her face from the depths of his memory. Yet it remained elusive and all he found was shadows dancing in his mind's eye. A silent curse escaped his parted lips. He had long ago banished these memories, fortified them behind a wall of self assured certainty that there was nothing he could do, that it was for the best.

The mocking grin of the moon looked down at him from the height of his throne in the nightly sky. It sent shivers down Sihtric’s spine.

"I didn't abandon her, I was sent away," Sihtric whispered, the words barely audible over the night's gentle breeze. "Away... away... away..." echoed through the empty yard, his own voice a cruel taunt. "I inquired about her in the village after the fall of Dunholm, but no one knew anything.”

The sound of his fist connecting with the wooden wall shattered the serene silence of the night. The impact reverberating through the stillness like a thunderclap – hollow and darksome.

Yes, he had searched for her. A solitary visit to the nearby village where he knew she hailed from, greeted by anxious faces hastily retreating into their ramshackle homes, peering cautiously through the safety of their shuttered windows. The presence of Danes had always brought fear and uncertainty to them.

He had inquired about her at the small, dusty inn, amidst discussions of purchasing horses and timber to aid Ragnar in repairing the damaged gates. The host, suspiciously eyeing them, poured ale and swiftly pocketed the silver Uhtred had tossed his way.

Sihtric wasn’t sure what he had feared more: finding her happily married, her eyes denying him recognition and filled with fear, or discovering her waiting for him, unable to offer her anything. Nevertheless, he asked, quickly finding satisfaction in the host's indifferent shrug, as he explained that many had left in recent years due to meagre harvests, and there were no women matching Sihtric’s description in the village.

It was that one moment as they mounted their horses, Sihtric thought he heard her voice, calling his name. He cast a wary glance around the deserted square, the only sound a mocking crow's cry echoing through the stillness. He shook his head, as if trying to dispel a vision, before leaving his past behind like a worn boot—ten long years ago.

And now he stood once more in this place—Lord of Dunholm, a title that sent a shiver down his spine with each utterance. The shadows began to shift, the night's veil slowly lifting to reveal the faint glimmer of the sun lingering behind the horizon.

“I... I crave you... it's something I can't conceal... I've never seen anyone so beautiful..." his breath grew ragged, the silkiness of her flawless skin beneath his fingertips stirring an excitement unknown to him.

"Oh God," she gasped, her body arching against the soft blanket of moss and grass he had carefully laid her upon, his clumsy fingers seeking their way to her core, hungry lips stealing the soft moan escaping her.

"Please, tell me to stop," he pleaded almost desperately, voice quivering, unsure, even scared of where this journey would lead them. Yet unable to release her, unable to tear his gaze from her.

“Don’t… please, don’t stop,” a shaky moan from her parted lips forced a low groan from him, his fingers dipping in her hot tightness. “It feels so good, too good… Sihtric, please, I want to feel more of it. I have never felt anything like this before,” she whispered through panting breaths.

He had never touched anyone like this before; his limited knowledge gleaned from overhearing drunken chatter around firesides or hushed conversations in the kitchens as staying unnoticed had become almost second nature to him.

His own breathing getting more and more uneven with each quivering whimper, each soft moan leaving her lips; he watched her body responding to his touch, her breasts heaving, gaze getting glazy and eyes rolling back into her head.

She seemed almost otherworldly to him—her eyes curious and trusting, unburdened by fear or suspicion, her smile so radiant it felt like the warmth of the first sun rays in spring melting the snow of his desolation.

What had he done to deserve the gods sending her his way? A vision on an early morning, peacefully gathering flowers in the solitary meadow by the river where he had brought the horses to graze for the first time. His resort, a ray of light, piercing the dark loneliness of his soul, keeping him from drowning in it.

Each time he returned, fear gripped his heart, his eyes scanning the secluded meadow, his back against the lonely oak by the riverbank. What if she didn't come? But she always did, and his heart danced with joy, bathed in the soothing warmth of her genuine smile.

It had been so long ago. He had been just a boy, falling in love for the first time in his life.

Sihtric rubbed his sleepy eyes. Not a day passed without him believing he had caught a glimpse of her—whether in the shadows of the long corridors, the dark corners of the spacious great hall, or even his own bedroom. He knew his mind played tricks on him, yet each time his eyes seemed to capture that fleeting silhouette; he couldn't resist leaping to his feet, reaching out only to grasp empty air.

Hastily dressing in his breeches and boots, he tugged on a linen shirt while descending the stairs, snatching his leather tunic on the way out. Urged by an inexplicable force, he allowed his feet to guide him to the stables where he mounted his unsaddled mare.

"Open the gates!" his voice boomed across the yard, jolting the drowsy guards into action. They hurried to obey their lord's command, their eyes wide with surprise as they watched Sihtric spur his horse into a gallop.

The old, majestic oak tree welcomed Sihtric with a soft rustle of its green leaves in the wind. Leaning his head against the mighty trunk, he pressed his palms against its weathered bark, seeking solace and reassurance in the tranquil serenity of its solid presence, just as he had done before.

“Oh Sihtric,” she moaned, her nails digging into his shoulders, as he slowly forced himself inside her. The feeling of her tight walls gradually parting, wrapping around him and letting him in so overwhelming, he was afraid he would pass out.

Heart frantically beating against the cage of his chest, he froze, breath withheld, seeing tears pearling in the corners of her closed eyes.

“Am I hurting you? Do you want me to stop?”

A vehement shake of the head, her hips rising to meet him, was the only answer, and he leaned in, trembling lips brushing against her parted ones to kiss away the deep sigh drifting from them.

“I love you, Sihtric!”

“I love you too, and I always will,” he breathed, his hips starting to move, meeting hers with every slow thrust, breath quickening, like the rush of a rising tide.

He had never put much stock in the tales his mother whispered under the veil of night, her gentle hands pulling their only blanket tighter around him, shielding him from the cold. Stories of beautiful angels, guiding lost souls back to the light—until he encountered one. An angel in disguise, wandering the earth and plucking flowers from the meadow.

She arched her back, enveloping him in the embrace of her fragile arms, and he buried his face in the curve of her neck, drinking in her sweet, intoxicating scent, his deep moans mingling with her soft whimpers.

He had meant every word of it. Without a shadow of doubt clouding his mind, he had made a promise—a promise destined to be shattered in the days that followed, as the Norns had already woven the threads of his fate, laughing over his youthful resolve.

Tears blurred his vision as he made his way back to Dunholm. He had waited until the first rays of the sun, knowing it was futile, knowing she wouldn’t come, as it was not the right day. There had been no goodbyes, no sweet kisses sealing the promise to return—just a lonely heart carved into the thick bark of the old oak tree, the silent witness to their happiness.

The sound of a dry branch cracking beneath feet jolted Sihtric, prompting him to turn his head.

“My lord, are you alright?” a slightly concerned voice inquired, and Sihtric's moist eyes met two sparkling, mismatched pools of brown and blue.

“I... I’m...” he stammered, his own uncertainty mirrored in the growing fear in those eyes as they darted down to his chest, fixating on the pendant of Thor's hammer hanging there.

Before he could utter another word, two gentle hands released the wild flowers they were holding, allowing them to scatter to the ground as the young girl spun on her heels and began to flee.

"Wait, please! I mean you no harm," Sihtric finally found his voice, but the girl paid no heed.

Sihtric remained rooted to the spot, unable to shake off the shock that held him captive, his gaze tracing the slender silhouette as it vanished from view. Eventually, he stirred, though the girl had already disappeared into the depths of the meadow and the forest beyond.

Driven by an inexplicable compulsion, he followed. Though he didn't want to frighten her, his feet seemed to move of their own accord, propelling him forward through the thorny underbrush. Long branches reached out like bony arms, clawing at his bare skin and leaving behind bloody scratches and bruises, yet he hardly noticed. Emerging from the forest, he beheld a crooked house nestled amidst a small garden.

Approaching cautiously, Sihtric scanned his surroundings, searching for signs of life.

Engrossed in your work, you hadn't noticed anyone approaching. The weeds had begun to overtake your small carrot bed, a task long overdue for attention. A cough caught your attention, prompting you to straighten up and glance over, wondering who had ventured from the village to your secluded home.

You both just stood there, eyeing each other with disbelief and bewilderment. Sihtric shifted his weight uneasily from one foot to the other, unable to tear his gaze away from you, unable to believe what he was seeing.

Here you were—his ghost, his dream, the most beautiful face he had ever seen, his most cherished memory locked away from his consciousness due to its unbearable pain.

Your fingers released the hoe, letting it slip from your grasp to fall to the ground at your feet. Covering your eyes with your hands, hot tears streamed down your cheeks as you staggered, struggling to maintain control over your wobbly knees.

In two long strides, Sihtric was beside you, his strong arms encircling your shoulders, providing support. Torn between the desire to push him away and to melt into his embrace, you remained rooted in place, sobs wracking your body as he enveloped you in his warm presence, like a comforting blanket.

"Gods, you are here. You have always been here," Sihtric whispered, his lips grazing your hair. "My love… I… I've never stopped loving you, and I never will. Will you ever believe that? Will you ever forgive me?"

"Mom, in the meadow where you always send me to pick flowers, I met a Dane today," a girl's voice rang out, as she appeared in the doorframe of the old house, freezing in her tracks as her eyes widened at the scene before her.

"She is mine. Isn't she?" Sihtric asked, tears starting to flow freely down his cheeks, yet he made no move to wipe them away. He didn't need your confirmation.

With a soft thud, he allowed himself to sink to the ground, his knees meeting the damp earth of the garden as he buried his face into your belly, arms enveloping your frame. The fearless warrior and the Lord of Dunholm cried, unashamed of his tears, while your fingers gently stroked his hair.

Comment or write to me if you want to be added to the tag list.

Tags: @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @hb8301 @zillahvathek @alexagirlie @gemini-mama

@verenahx @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @willowbrookesblog @thenameswinter99 @ellabellabus07

@mcbuckyyyy @kirtseinw @siimonesvensson @sigtryggrswifey @ladyinred2248

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #sihtric fic #the last kingdom fic

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morningstarwrites · 3 days

Note

Hello Star! I enjoyed your newest chapter, from the gambling to the new bets and even Rosie pointing Alastor to the next step; it’s perfect! And I have been dying for you to spice it up in the upcoming chapters!!! Of course, I would still read it if you didn't, because this is your story, and I know you will still write something for us readers to enjoy. 😊

My question for you today, my dear, is: Between Alastor and Lucifer, whose POV do you enjoy writing the most?

Omg! Thank you so much, I'm so happy you liked it! And yay, look forward to the next update because I want to crank up the heat (respectfully, and still within that T+ boundary, of course).

I enjoy both POV for different reasons! I'll list it here:

Alastor POV

He's easier to write! His voice is more straightforward, and I enjoy the malice and blood-thirst that accompanies him. I like to write him as cocky but unsure, an endearing jerk, you know? And I use him as an unreliable narrator. He's constantly lying, lying, lying to himself.

Lucifer POV

He's more fun to write! I can go really wild with formatting, use weird sentence structure, throw in intrusive thoughts, oscillate between extreme awkwardness to extreme confidence. He's like really sweet and stupid yet also, very smart too, and I enjoy showing off all aspects of him!

Buuuuuuuut he's harder to write for sure.

#radioapple #ao3 fanfic #ask

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burn-gormans-eyelashes · 2 days

Text

At this point I'll just come here give my 2 cents about the "Reasons Toshiro Loves Falin" debate as I'm sure no one will read or care, I just like to elaborate my own thoughts.

The thing I feel both sides of the debate seem to miss is: Toshiro does love the things that differ Falin and Laios but that doesn't mean he has good reason to love her either.

First of all, yes, she and Laios do have different personalities, but Toshiro fails to see how very similar they actually are. He doesn't know her well enough to know that there is more in common between the siblings than meets the eye. He says she is a fascinating woman because she was contemplating a damn caterpillar, but what if he had seen her frolicking around the garden and picking crickets and wild berries? Would he still find her alluring and interesting, or loud and obnoxious - like Laios?

Also, the things he likes about her are the things that make her mild. Not her bravery, not her intellect and magical talent, not her humor or the many qualities Laios and Marcille attribute to her. But her being soft-spoken and so considerate and introspective. He likes her because she doesn't take space and that's not true. We know how rambunctious she is. How adventurous and strong willed. Once again, he doesn't know her well enough to be able to love her true self.

As someone who relies entirely too much on cues and subtleties to show my feelings instead of being open about them, I completely empathize with Toshiro's struggle with Laios. I enjoy being a Shuro Hater for shits and giggles, I think he is a well written character that brings many interesting points to the story. But he is shallow, spoiled, and insecure, and I don't think he loves Falin - he loves the idea he created of her, and that's not good for either of them.

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk.

#dungeon meshi

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late-night-vocaloid · 10 months

Text

I saw a few people saying they didn't recognize a lot of the vvv music characters and I think the reason is it's a very, very talkbank-heavy show!

A few characters are definitely new, but one reason why you might not recognize a large portion of them is that in the lineup, eight of them started out as talkbanks, seven only have a talkbank, and there's only one single character that doesn't have one.

If anyone's curious about who all these characters (talkbank or otherwise) are and how they may relate to characters you do know, I've made *unrolls paper* the promotional image into an extremely detailed infographic. The biggest icon is the engine they started out on, and the smaller ones are where they got banks after that.

Below the cut I break down the lineup, starting with Vocaloids and Vocaloid-related characters (+ UTAUS), then the singing characters from other engines (like SynthV), then the talkbank-only characters, telling you a bit about all of them.

[ID: The VVV Music Live promotional graphic—an image with all of the performing characters in boxes—with text and icons over it detailing who the characters are and which engines they’re on, turning it into an infographic.

A guide to the engines at the top reads as follows: A. Singing: 1. Vocaloid, 2. UTAU, 3. CeVIO + Voisona (branched out into talkbanks too), 4. SynthV. B. Talking: 1. Voiceroid. A few V3-V4 Vocaloids were given talkbanks on Voiceroid (Una), some lining up with their release (Yukari, Sora). You can hear Yukari talking in some older Vocaloid songs for this reason. Some Voiceroids went on to get singing banks on Vocaloid (Zunko, Akari), and some eventually got singing banks on SynthV (Maki, the Kotonohas, Tsuina-chan). 2. A.I.VOICE. You may have recently seen Gumi and Zola Project get A.I.VOICE talkbanks. 3. Made Vocaloid Zunko’s pet human, gave SynthV Genbu and his friends talkbanks, introduced WhiteCUL. 4. VOICEPEAK. Various banks. C. Singing again: 1. NEUTRINO: Zunko’s sister, UTAU Kiritan, was their first bank. 2. CoeAvatar. See post. D. Morph: 1. Voidol, 2. Seiren Voice. Additional text reads “talk engines made specifically for one/a few vocal synths (like Gynoid Talk) are excluded.”

The characters are as follows: 1. Tohoku Itako. Started on UTAU. Also on Voiceroid, NEUTRINO, CeVIO, and Seiren Voice. Has a talkbank. 2. Zundamon. Pet form started on UTAU. Human form started on VOICEVOX. Also on NEUTRINO, Seiren Voice, and VOICEPEAK. Has a talkbank. 3. Tohoku Kiritan. Started on UTAU. Also on Voiceroid, NEUTRINO, and CeVIO. Has a talkbank. 4. Tohoku Zunko. Started on Voiceroid. Also on Vocaloid 3 and 4, Voidol, NEUTRINO, CeVIO, and VOICEPEAK. Started as a talkbank. Itako and Kiritan are Zunko’s sisters, and Zundamon is her pet. 5/6. Kotonoha Akane and Aoi. Started on Voiceroid. Also on SynthV, A.I.VOICE, Voidol, NEUTRINO, and Seiren Voice. Started as talkbanks. Akane and Aoi are sisters. 7. Iori Yuzuru. Started on Voiceroid. Also on A.I.VOICE and Seiren Voice. Currently talkbank only. 8. Kurita Maron. Only on A.I.VOICE. Currently talkbank only. 9. Jashin-chan. From the series Dropkick on My Devil! On VOICEPEAK. Currently talkbank only. 10. Haruno Sora. Started on Vocaloid 5 and Voiceroid. Also on SynthV. Has a talkbank. 11. Tsurumaki Maki. Started on Voiceroid. Also on SynthV and CeVIO. Started as a talkbank. 12. ONE. Only on CeVIO. Has a talkbank. 13. IA. Started on Vocaloid 3. Also on CeVIO. Has a talkbank. IA and ONE are sisters. 14. Kasukabe Tsumugi. Only on VOICEVOX. Cousion of Vtuber Kasukabe Tsukushi. Talkbank only. 15. Kamui Gakupo. Started on Vocaloid 2. Also on Vocaloid 3 and 4. No talkbank. 16. Otomachi Una. Started on Vocaloid 4. Also on Vocaloid 6, Voiceroid, and Voidol. Has a talkbank. 17. Gumi. Started on Vocaloid 2. Also on Vocaloid 3, 4, and 6, Voidol, and A.I.VOICE. Gakupo, Una, and Gumi are Internet Co. Vocaloids. 18. Sato Sasara. Started on CeVIO. Also on Voisona. Has a talkbank. 19. Suzuki Tsudumi. Only on CeVIO. Started as a talkbank. Sasara and Tsudumi are friends. 20. Kyomachi Seika. Started on Voiceroid. Also on SynthV. Started as a talkbank. 21. Tsuina-chan. Started on Voiceroid. Also on SynthV. Started as a talkbank. 22. Hasuki Nemu. Only on CoeAvatar. Talkbank only. 23. Namine Ritsu. Started on UTAU. Also on DeepVocal, VOICEVOX, ACE Studio, and various other talk programs. Has a talkbank. 24. Hanakuma Chifuyu. Only on SynthV and CeVIO. Has a talkbank. 25. Koharu Rikka. Only on SynthV and CeVIO. Has a talkbank. 26. Natsuki Karin. Only on SynthV and CeVIO. Has a talkbank. Chifuyu, Rikka, and Karin are friends. 27. Flower. Started on Vocaloid 3. Also on Vocaloid 4 and CeVIO. Has a talkbank. 28. Kizuna Akari. Started on Voiceroid. Also on Vocaloid 4, Voidol, CeVIO, A.I.VOICE, Seiren Voice, and Voisona. 29. Yuzuki Yukari. Started on Vocaloid 3 and Voiceroid. Also on Vocaloid 4, Voidol, CeVIO, A.I.VOICE, Seiren Voice, and Voisona. Akari and Yukari are Vocalomakets’ Vocaloids. Yukari is the moon and Akari is the stars. 30. WhiteCUL. Only on VOICEVOX. Talkbank only. 31. ROSA. Only on CeVIO. Talkbank only. WhiteCUL and ROSA are Vocaloid CUL’s sisters. End ID.]

On Voiceroid and CeVIO engines

You'll see that several synths here are from Voiceroid, which is a pretty old talkbank engine. If you're interested in Voiceroid characters like Yukari and Akari, Maki, Akane and Aoi, and others, producer GYARI was making iconic and comedic songs with them before they got songbanks, and I'd definitely recommend you check them out. A couple CeVIO related notes, several characters here have the CeVIO logo by them because they have CeVIO talkbanks, not necessarily singing banks, and Voisona is CeVIO's new engine. Onto the character explanations!

Vocaloids and Vocaloid-related characters / UTAUS

Vocaloid: Zunko. Originally created to promote disaster relief in the Tōhoku region, she's since gotten Voiceroid (talking) and Vocaloid (singing) banks, as well as a 24-minute animated movie. She has a Zunda mochi (green soybean rice cake) motif.

Itako and Kiritan are Zunko's sisters, introduced as UTAUs with newer voicebanks on Neutrino. Itako dreams of restoring her power of the nine-tailed fox, and Kiritan is a gamer.

Zundamon is Zunko's pet. They recently gave them a human form and a Neutrino voicebank, as well as multiple talkbanks.

Vocaloid: Sora. One of the only V5-introduced characters. Made a good impression by having a design where she looks like a pirate as well as a pretty, flowy one. Released with a Voiceroid talkbank.

Vocaloid: IA. Started out as a Vocaloid and was later released on multiple CeVIO engines. The CeVIO Vocaloid.

ONE (pronounced oh-neh, like how IA is ee-uh) is IA's sister. She's only on CeVIO engines.

Vocaloids: Gakupo, Gumi, Una. You probably know at least Gakupo and Gumi. Una, just because she's a little more recent, is a younger, eel-themed Vocaloid from the same company as the others (Internet Co.). She also got a Voiceroid bank.

Vocaloid: flower. Famous, androgynous. Got two Vocaloid banks before recently getting one on Cevio AI.

Vocaloid: Yukari. Moon rabbit theme and lots of voicebanks. A handful of famous songs, like There's Supposed to Be a Cheat Code for Happiness and Chururira・Chururira・Daddadda! Did some talking in a few older songs because she was a decently popular Vocaloid with a Voiceroid talkbank.

Akari is Vocalomakets's other Vocaloid, with a starlight theme. She also has a Voiceroid talkbank.

Vocaloid: CUL. She isn't part of the lineup, but she has sisters who are, so I'm covering her. Another Internet Co. Vocaloid, CUL started out as the mascot for the show VOCALO Revolution, which aired interviews with Vocaloid developers and producers, and showcased PVs. Videos featuring CUL used VY1's voice before she debuted as a Vocaloid herself.

ROSA and WhiteCUL are CUL's sisters. CUL was revealed to have several sisters, each named a variation of "CUL," except for ROSA. So far, only these two have designs and banks, and currently, they only have talkbanks, although ROSA is planned to get a SynthV voicebank.

You likely know Ritsu, a VIPPERloid UTAU, who went on to get voicebanks on DeepVocal and ACE Studio, as well as several talkbanks.

SynthV characters

Tsuina-chan is an ogre hunter. She started out on Voiceroid and eventually got a voicebank on SynthV.

Seika is the district mascot for Seika, Kyoto, Japan. She was a Voiceroid who later got a SynthV voicebank.

Rikka, Chifuyu, and Karin are three high school students in a music club. Rikka's character is up to interpretation, while Chifuyu plays drums, takes photos with an old camera, and dislikes sweetness, and Karin plays bass, likes archery and cute things, and dislikes matcha. All three have CeVIO talkbanks.

Akane and Aoi are twin Voiceroid talk vocals who went on to get SynthV voicebanks.

Maki is another Voiceroid vocal who got a SynthV bank. Like Kiyoteru, she also has a band comprised of characters that don't sing.

CeVIO singing characters

Sato and Tsudumi are friends who don't have a lot of interests in common. Sato started out with song and talk banks, whereas Tsudumi started out talk-only and got a songbank later on.

Talkbank only characters

Yuzuru is described as "kind and gentle, but rumored to be scary when angered," and "maybe not human." He started out on Voiceroid.

Maron's appearance is based chestnuts and autumn themes. He's currently only on A.I.VOICE.

Jashin-chan is from the series Dropkick on My Devil! She's currently only on VOICEPEAK.

Tsumugi is the cousin of Vtuber Kasukabe Tsukushi. She's only on VOICEVOX.

Nemu, and the engine her talkbank is on, CoeAvatar, have heavy NFT involvement.

#I did this like a week ago but since the viewing period is ending and I'm about to post screenshots of these charas I was like #oh yeah I should post this first #vocaloid #voiceroid #cevio #utau #synthv #a.i.voice #voicevox #voicepeak #neutrino #if you read all this: that's wild. thanks #if you just looked at the chart: thank you it wouldn't leave my brain until I made it #thoughts

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