#and i just know he gets lit to hayloft

[multifandom--mess]

y'all think corey listens to mother mother? 👀

[jungle-angel]

Under The Stars In Spring (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: You and Rhett finally have some time alone so you decide to make use of the barn loft for once

Warnings: SMUT (18+ no minors allowed), breeding kink, Rhett being too sexy for his own good etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @callmemana @attapullman @bradleybeachbabe @bradshawsbaby @sebsxphia

You and Rhett practically jumped from the truck, running towards the barn and riding the high of his win from that night, his last and final ride of his career which had ended in a quick and sudden victory.

You and him slipped quietly into the dimly lit barn, all the critters having come in from the fields and pastures just hours before. Spring had officially come to Wabang and with it the warm weather which would allow you and Rhett to sleep in one of two places, either on the enclosed part of the porch or in the barn loft and it looked like the latter might just be where you ended up.

The two of you were giggling and laughing like a pair of naughty schoolkids, even as he drew you into his arms, his cobalt eyes staring into yours. You swayed against each other, filled with a longing you had only known once before. You didn't know where it came from or why it was there, only that you desperately needed and wanted Rhett.

"Sweetheart, look at me," he said, his voice deep and gravely.

You hummed as he tilted your chin up to meet his face. Yours and Rhett's eyes fluttered shut, only to be met with his warm lips pressing gentle kisses to your own.

"Want you so fuckin bad," he whispered. "M'so hot for you baby."

You reached up and gently brushed your fingertips against his cheek, shocked at how warm he was, burning even. You eagerly returned the kiss, your fingers gently hanging onto his shirt collar.

"Hayloft," you whispered in between.

"Hmmmm?" Rhett purred, brushing his cheek against yours.

"Hayloft," you whispered again. "Can't fuckin take it anymore, I need you."

Rhett laughed, low and deep in his chest as he followed behind you, right up to the hayloft. No sooner had that trapdoor shut than he pulled you into his strong arms and attacked your neck, drawing a moan from you. God it was heaven, the feeling of his warmth against yours and Rhett kissing every sensitive little spot.

"So sensitive," he chuckled naughtily.

You laughed a little before your hands gently pushed him onto the soft haypile, a cheeky look of admiration in his eyes as you straddled his lap and kissed him full on the lips. Your kissing grew sloppier and more needy as he pulled you against him, his denim clad hips rubbing against your own and in desperate need of just a little bit of friction.

"Aw fuck....." he hissed. "Gotta get this shit off."

You eagerly helped him push off his jacket, then his mint green flannel and the grey t-shirt he wore beneath, your hands roaming across his warm body, up and down his chest.

His hands roamed across your lower back, slipping up the fabric of your t-shirt to unhook your bra. He carefully pulled it off from under your shirt, pawing at your now freed breasts. Rhett pulled your t-shirt up and over your head before tossing it to the corner where his own lay in a heap.

"Oh honey," he groaned, your tits pressing against his own. "Feels so fuckin good, feelin your titties against mine."

You giggled a little before you trailed a kiss down his cheek and over his neck, ghosting across his collarbone and over his chest. Rhett sighed and moaned happily as you sucked and licked at his nipples, trailing over his sternum and down his belly.

"Wait......wait....." he said suddenly. "C'mere darlin......c'mere......"

You let your husband guide you up so that you were once again face to face as he pressed gentle little kisses to your lips. His belt clinked as you undid it, both of you freeing yourselves from the last few pieces of clothing.

"Want you to fuckin ride me," Rhett said, gently cupping your cheeks in his hands.

"You sure?" you asked with a sly grin.

He nodded before pressing another kiss to your lips.

With Rhett's guidance, you eased yourself onto his hard, throbbing cock. You gasped at how easily it slipped into your wet, aching pussy and how gently his big hands had gripped your waist.

"Easy, easy there darlin......here we go....."

You gasped at the sensation, the pleasant tingling between your legs as your hips started to rock back and forth. It hurt a little, but it was only because your husband was so big.

"Shhhhh.......sweetpea it's alright......" Rhett murmured, holding you close to his body, his hips rocking against your own, his gentle thrusts causing your stomachs to flutter. "Shhhh.......calm down now........there we go.......look at you takin me so well honey, I'm so proud of you......"

You pressed another kiss to his lips, overwhelmed by his praise. "You're too good to me Rhett," you sighed.

Rhett smiled into the kiss, taking careful pains to keep his own rhythm steady. "Shhhh darlin......." he hushed. "Wanna enjoy you........wanna feel you........there we go.......good girl.....damn honey, wanna fill you up so fuckin bad....."

You felt your legs clench and an explosion of warmth suddenly blooming between your legs, the both of you cumming at the same time. When you had both regained your senses, you helped clean each other up as best you could, snuggling under some of the barn blankets as you gently explored each other's bodies.

"You think it'll feel good to finally retire at thirty one?" you chuckled.

"(Y/n) I'm lookin forward to it," he said, pressing his lips to your forehead. "Still gotta work that teachin job at your school but it'll be worth it."

You leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips before you both fell asleep in each other's arms, the sounds of the peepers lulling you both to sleep and the moon shining in through the skylight above.

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Interlude Two: Memories

Gale Cleven × Hope Armstrong (ofc)

Series Masterlist

This story is based on on the fictional portrayal of these men from the MOTA to series.

Summary: The loss of his sister never gets any easier for Hugh but at least the occasionally letter keeps his spirits up. Meanwhile the letters for Hope only remind her of what she has lost.

December 1943, Thorpe Abbotts, England

Hugh lay sprawled across his cot, legs dangling over the side and he swung them repeatedly, knocking Rosie’s leg with each swing.

The dark haired man had sighed disgruntledly at first, glaring at his fellow pilot who seemed oblivious to his actions and read over a letter over and over. It wasn’t until an hour later when Harry entered the hut that Rosie decided to let his annoyance be known.

“For heaven’s sake, will you stop it with the leg swinging? There’s more of a draft in here than when I’m in the air,” Rosie huffed, standing from his cot and moving to sit with Harry on the opposite side of the room.

“What?” Hugh asked, turning his head, pencil between his teeth as he gawked at Rosie. “What are you on about?”

Harry’s chuckle interrupted Rosie’s next complaint, “What are you reading, Hugh?” He gestured to the crumpled piece of paper in Hugh’s right hand.

“Oh, this?” Hugh glanced down, his dark eyes trailing over his scrawling handwriting, “It’s nothing.” He sighed, rubbing his thumb over his sister's name written at the top of the page.

He’d received a letter from his parents that morning and despite a few questions regarding his own well being, they mainly spoke about Hope. Despite both the Armstrong siblings being very different in character they got along far better with each other than their own parents.

Hugh remembered the long summer days back home when they would sprawl out in the field of wildflowers behind their house, or paddling in the river that ran along the base of the hill, or the long evening spent in the hayloft, laughing or reading in comfortable silence. Hugh missed the simplicity of those days with all his heart.

He’d sent Hope a letter last week, it was brief because he wasn’t sure what to say. The relief of knowing that his sister was in fact alive and okay despite everything had been the greatest relief. Although he couldn’t imagine what she must have been going through, he knew his sister and he knew nothing could truly break her.

As he stared off into space, Hugh didn’t notice Rosie and Harry standing behind him, reading the letter over his shoulder.

“How’s Hope?” Harry asked, glancing anxiously at Rosie as they both shared the same look. They too had been relieved to learn that both nurses and Frank were alive, having seen how heartbroken Hugh had been after the terrible news they weren’t sure how much more he could take.

“She’s fine,” Hugh mumbled, closing the letter he’d received from his sister. It was dated from last month and despite knowing that she had been ‘alright’ then, he couldn’t help the anxious feeling that built in his stomach at the uncertainty of her current state.

Rosie, sensing the anxiety building in the room coughed loudly, “Well Gentlemen, shouldn’t we be heading off, I don’t really want to spend my 48 hour pass sitting around here with you sad sacs.”

Both men chuckled at Rosie’s eagerness. He’d managed to convince his two friends to join him at a jazz club in London and they had willingly obliged.

Hugh stood, grabbing his cap and jacket from their hanger on the wall. “Will there be women at this club?” He lit up a cigarette, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

Rosie rolled his eyes, “Yes Casanova, there will be women there.” He shoved Hugh lightly, sending him tripping out of the door.

“Alright, I was only asking.”

Harry grinned, watching the two men spar playfully.

“I’m telling you, Croz. You should have seen him at the flak house. Couldn’t keep his eyes off anything with a pair of legs,” Rosie dodged Hugh’s hand coming up to hit the back of his head. “I’m just saying, think he could do with some female company.”

Harry nodded, quickly grabbing Hugh’s arm before the play fight could turn into anything more, “Come on you two bachelors, let’s find you some ladies.”

December 1943, Stalag Luft III, Germany

Hope sat in silence, reading her brother's words carefully. She couldn’t believe that she finally had a letter from him, despite being a considerable few weeks out of date, just knowing that he was thinking of her made everything a little more bearable.

She clutched the page close to her chest, blinking back the tears that seemed determined to fall. Hugh had been a constant throughout her whole life, and while she was grateful he didn’t have to suffer as they did, she missed him dearly.

Rolling over on her small cot, she tugged the rough, wool blanket up to her shoulders, shivering beneath the thin material. Her eyes fell upon the other sleeping forms around the room, nestled in silence other than the soft snores from Frank.

Hope’s eyes felt heavy as they fell on Ruth, her light hair tousled and her mouth slightly ajar as she slept peacefully in John’s arms. A deep sadness fell over Hope, a heaviness that had weighed her down ever since John’s arrival and it seemed to weigh even heavier now.

Rolling over, she muffled a quiet sniff in her pillow, concealing her grief from the otherwise peaceful room. The picture of Gale and Hugh that remained by her bedside smiled back at her, their wide grins had encouraged her to drag herself out of bed each morning, and it bought comfort on nights like these. The image brought back memories from the party all those months ago: the lights, the music, the laughter, Gale’s lips against hers…

Hope pressed her eyes firmly closed, squeezing them tightly as the silent tears escaped down her reddened cheeks. For now she only had her memories and they would have to be enough.

Tags: @georgieluz @docroesmorphine @major-mads @violetdaze25 @bcofl0ve @precious-little-scoundrel @blurredcolour @artlover8992 @b00ks1ut @xxluckystrike @hockeyboysarehot @groovin2beats @kmc1989 @ginabaker1666 @hesbuckcompton-baby @beebeechaos @forsythiagalt @prettyinlimegreenboots @blueberry-ovaries

[forgottenroisin]

Edmund x Rose “We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?”

"What?" teased Rose. "Is the Prince of the Varmont Empire afraid of getting wet?"

"Terrified," responded Edmund, deadpan.

"Wait till you become Emperor. Your only weakness and I know it. Believe me, I intend to exploit this knowledge shamelessly. What a grand future for me: dancing in cloth-of-silver gowns -- at your expense, of course -- till midnight every evening, and in exchange making excuses for His Imperial Majesty any time it so much as drizzles. 'The Emperor cannot go to war today, I'm afraid. He has the headache.' A perfect excuse, no? And you will keep me in furs in exhange for this precious silence and these golden explanations."

"Yes, you're a born liar."

"Come," said Rose, hurrying to the spot where he sheltered under a lean-to. "Dance with me! It's so beautiful out here! I'll keep you safe, I promise."

"After you just threatened to exploit me? Why should I trust you?"

"Because no one can lie in the rain, of course."

"Is that so?"

Laughing, she nodded eagerly, pulling him out towards the open.

"Another golden explanation?"

"I've thousands of them."

Edmund chuckled. "You were born for politics," he teased.

"I was born for dancing in cloth-of-silver gowns till midnight in the pouring rain."

"That is a very specific life's purpose."

"And very undeniable." She released his hands. "I'll go out without you, you know, if you won't come with me."

"We'll be soaked! If I really did offer you a cloth-of-silver gown, would you stay in here where its warm?"

Rose paused, glanced around the cozy hayloft. Glanced back out towards the raging storm, the silver-shining electricity of an evening lit by sudden rain. She laughed. "What's the point of such a gown? It's much too heavy for dancing in the rain. Besides, it might rust."

Shaking his head, Edmund let her lead him out into the pouring rain.

[corrodedcoughin]

Oh man I've been listening to Hayloft by Mother Mother and it's loosely making me think of a Steddie Old West au where Steve is the son of a wealthy landowner who lives in this big house surrounded by lots of land his dad owns. And Eddie is a poor boy who lives in a tiny house on the outskirts of a local township who becomes an outlaw only because he got accused of a murder he didn't commit.

Dustin doesn't believe Eddie did it, and is determined to find him and help clear his name. He ropes Steve and Robin into helping him and Max - obviously.

Eddie ends up hiding in the hayloft above Steve's barn somehow (I can't decide whether he goes there because Steve told him to hide there, or he just picked a random barn). And Steve brings him food, and blankets, and goes up there to talk to him over the days while they try to figure out who really killed Chrissy and blamed Eddie.

They fall for each other, hard. One day, when the sun is setting, Steve goes up to the loft with some food to share and a bottle of fancy whiskey they pass back and forth. Lit only be the flickering of a lantern, Steve can't help but notice how long Eddie's eyelashes are, how soft his lips look, and how badly he wants to kiss him. So he does. And Eddie kisses him back. And they end up pressed together in the hayloft, legs tangled together and lips on lips.

And the next day Steve's parents come home. And his father absolutely cannot find Eddie or they'll both be dead. He's anxious and scared and can't go up to the barn to warn Eddie without making it suspicious.

And then I haven't quite figured out what happens after this (whether it goes the heavy angst route kr not) but I'm so tempted to try and write it?

OhhhhshitohshiojSHIT!!!!! IM LISTENING!!!! TO EVERY SINGLE THING YOU SAY!!!!

First off, fucking electric song that I completely forgot about so thank you!

SECOND!!!! This whole premise I’m absolutely losing my MIND!!!! PLEASE IF YOU WRITE IT SEND ME THAT LINK!!!! You’ve thought of EVERYTHING!!!! I honestly can’t get over this oh my god

I have a thought! So Steve went out to the barn with a lantern right? So what if it accidentally gets knocked over when Steve is leaving the barn and obviously fire in a hayloft is not a great scenario so his parents come home and the place is ablaze. His parents are shouting blue murder at Steve, calling him incompetent and careless as he just bolts into the barn because Eddie is in there! Eddie the man who makes Steve feel important and listened to and loved. Eddie who’d sell his soul to save his friends and is treated like the scum of the earth for it. Eddie. The man Steve loves.

Neither of them come out. The barn burns down and as much as the harrington’s look upset anyone close to Steve knows they are more annoyed that their property is damaged than their son being dead even though the body is never found.

Steve and Eddie escaped out of the back door, thinking this could be a new life for them. On the road. They’d have to leave their friends and their current lives, never settling in one place, but maybe they could make it work? They deliberate in their only safe place, Dustin’s basement, when Nancy wheeler (the towns woman in the know) barrels in with news they’ve all been waiting for.

Henry creel, a traveling snake oil salesman has been touring and is due to stop by Hawkins he’s been all around the area and this is his last stop. Somehow it gets uncovered that he’s been murdering people as a way to drum up business for his potions and promises. Steve and Eddie don’t have to leave town, end up being heroes because they (along with Nancy of course) round up Henry and effectively save everyone. They finally get to lead their life together and Steve’s parents move away because the town shame them for being uncaring bastards 😌

[arqueete]

I saw Spring Awakening at a local college and this one was really *chef's kiss* for someone who has seen Spring Awakening live too many times. Lots of interesting little choices and details to appreciate.

The individual performances were mostly just alright (with a few standouts) but I find that that isn't actually that important to me when I see Spring Awakening. As long as the singing is in tune, the acting is earnest and enthusiastic, and the direction feels true to the themes of the show--and I felt like this cast and crew was solid on all those points--it doesn't really bother me if it feels "amateur." (I mean, it is amateur after all and amateur theater is still fun.)

It's clear that they took bits inspiration from the original production of Spring Awakening on Broadway and the Deaf West revival (not including deaf characters and sign language--BUT I do think there may have been some sign language incorporated in the choreography of The Guilty Ones? A nice touch, if so.) There are things I love about both versions so I really enjoyed that.

The choreography for Bitch of Living was really fun. The boys all had notebooks they were writing in in the classroom scene, and then during the song they would hold up the notebooks each with a letter written on them to spell out words alongside the lyrics, like B-I-T-C-H obviously, but also I-T-C-H in Moritz's verse, or T-H-I-C in Ernst's verse, or B-U-T-T in Hanschen's, or T-I-T-S in Georg's. They also only had one handheld microphone--the one Melchior was using in All That's Known, which he pulls out and hands to Moritz, and then gets passed around to each boy. I loved this visual of this gift of angsty music being passed around.

Similarly! In My Junk, as the girls sang their solos, Melchior came out and would hold up the microphone for each, also giving them an opportunity to make flirtatious poses with him. In the latter part of the song, there was a lot of this between Melchior and Wendla. Even though in reality they don't really interact until later, I thought this was a nice connection being drawn between them for the audience.

When Wendla said that her mama said she can't go to the wedding, Anna dramatically collapsed on the ground like Wendla, you're killing me.

There was also a great bit where Fraulein Grossenbustenhalter drops a handkerchief and bends over to pick it up.

When Melchior says his, "But when you lie here..." line, it's with this mischievous sort of grin like, come oooon Wendla, I know you're not really going to go! And she smiles back as she agrees to stay. It was interesting to see their interactions done more playfully than I'm used to.

I absolutely loved this The Dark I Know Well. They really had Martha and Ilse moving around, using the microphone stand, and it felt much more like a rock number a la And Then There Were None, and I was like... hell yeah. The girls really don't tend to get moments like that in the show typically and why shouldn't they?

As the song built up in the end they had the other female characters and ensemble step out to gather behind Martha and Ilse--as well as the Adult Women. It got me thinking about the adult women in this show and their experiences with sex in that time period, even just within a typical marriage, and how that affects what they are willing or able to share with their children.

The Mirror-Blue Night featured the backdrop lit up blue but Melchior holding a yellow lantern and the boys having small yellow flashlights (I think drawing from the lit up fingers in the Deaf West version of this song), and then the hayloft was lit in this warm light as well. I thought this looked fantastic and really made the hayloft feel like this warm refuge in the mirror-blue night.

Left Behind had several interesting things going on, like the most literal representation I've ever seen of the gravesite (as a pile of dirt.) Melchior looked at Moritz's father intensely and Hanschen reached out and put a hand on his shoulder like a subtle restraint--which I do think makes sense for Hanschen's don't-rock-the-boat character.

At the end of the scene it was just Melchior and Ilse... and Moritz, who Melchior stared at until Ilse gently took his arm and lead him away. I'm not a fan of productions doing things like this. I think it's a bit too soon for us to see some representation of Moritz again--not like when we see him in Those You've Known.

It's been literally over a decade since the show added Melchior into Whispering and still every time I'm like what is happening???

When Ilse came out at the end, as she neared the end of her introduction, she reached down and grabbed a flower on a grave and held it up like she was considering how it would look in her hair. I thought this was a nice bit of whimsy leading into the rest of the cast coming out and greeting each other warmly with side-hugs and grabbing hands and spinning around and it was so... sweet and joyful. I hadn't felt emotional up until that point but I got teary-eyed then.

I had a great time. It's been several years since I saw the show live last and this reminded me of why I like it so much.

[ewebie]

The Hayloft - Chapter 6

Through all the pleasant meadow-side The grass grew shoulder-high, Till the shining scythes went far and wide And cut it down to dry. ~ Robert Louis Stevenson

Greg watched the sky change through the trees, the sun dropping closer to the horizon. It lit the clouds with dramatic streaks of vivid colour. The cool damp of the air carried a whiff of the germinating seeds, the spring creeping into the grounds. At any other time, it would be his favourite season. He dropped down on his haunches and picked up a handful of the topsoil. It was ready. Nearly twenty years of work, and this was the year.

~

The Hayloft - Ch 6

Based on a twitter/tumblr prompt ( here ), I was just going to write a one-shot and *gestures wildly*... Not terribly sorry about it though.

Alright, I know I promised this ages ago, but it took some time to get it all down on paper, beta'd, foreign languages checked, figure out how to make the hover text work properly...

The plan is to post a chapter every Friday (probably first thing in the morning -- US time). This will take through June to complete! (it's a big one). I hope you all enjoy this labor of love.

[thecoddaughter]

QSMP Characters as O My Heart by Mother Mother

Im back with another album breakdown. I really love this album and hope y’all enjoy the comparisons.

*disclaimer: I wrote this like a week ago and I don’t watch all these povs

O My Heart: Maximus

He has mentioned recently how he feels like he has lost everything and this song seems to me like a song about a heart that can never heal

Burning Pile: Foolish

“All my troubles on a burning pile, all lit up and I start to smile. If I catch fire then I’ll change my aim,” is very “The only problem going this route right now is that it could end up being a lonely road, and I'll just simply have too hold all the pain of it deep within me. But that's okay. Cause eventually it'll all pay off... I just have to be very.. very.. patient. Like we've always been,” coded.

Body of Years: Cellbit

I know next to nothing about Cellbit’s past and implied lore but the things I do know make me think of this song. A man of many horrors.

Try to Change: Quackity

At least at one point, he would say he has changed, but he is relatively consistently heartless toward the eggs, trying to get an egg as his own, pulling a stunt of some sort…

Wisdom: Slime

Vibes… also the line “And I feel useless. Don’t think I know how to do this. Once I was told but I like to fidget and miss out on good advice.”

Body: Leonarda

I feel like little explanation is needed outside of this quote “I want to become a robot so that I will never die and can always take care of my parents.”

Ghosting: Jaiden

This song feels like her relationship with Roier after the loss of Bobby. Come on, “This is why I have decided to leave your house and home unhaunted. You don’t need poltergeists for sidekicks.” She loved him (platonically) but felt like a burden and the only reason she stayed as long as she did was their child.

Hayloft: Roier and Leonarda

Am I saying this because this song is literally just “My daddy’s got a gun” repeated and Foolish loves his gun? Literally, none of the rest of the song is relevant.

Wrecking Ball: Slime (again)

Slime in his murder arc was very wreckless, poor thing. Pay attention to lines such as “You gotta wanna break the hearts of all those pretty porcelain dolls” (eggs) and “I make a fist and not a plan.” But also the ending being sweet and soft feels like JuanaFlippa resting a hand on his shoulder or something.

Arms Tonite: Tilin / JuanaFlippa

SWEEPING EDGE BUG KIDDOS! Aka this song songs like the eggs haunting Slime and Mariana. Especially with Flippa and the line “tried to escape the afterlife” cause miss girl got a second chance and died at the hand of the same person. (Added after reading liveblogs! SLIME BEING HAUNTED BY FLIPPA AGAIN EXCEPT ITS CODE AND IM GOING TO CRY THIS SONG IS SO THEM CODED!)

Miles: Vegetta

IDK guys… His house is the only one you really have to cross a desert to get to. Plus he has his family with Foolish now is pretty calmed down since the beginning of the season ‘drama’.

Sleep Awake: The Order

Baghera (aka miss extremely careful with evidence): “I throw the evidence into a trunk and drop it in the sea”

Roier (I feel like he has paranoid Cell is gonna be taken away): “I sleep with one eye on the bedroom door, the other on the cake”

Maxo (Sir is terrified of losing anyone else): “Carving away our fingerprints out of our fingertips until they're smooth”

Cellbit (enigma = royal flush in my mind, the next big break): “I sleep with one eye on my royal flush, the other on the take”

Foolish (aka mr gun): “I sleep with one hand on my 45, the other 'round my baby's waist”

Bad (Grim Reaper himself can’t let himself get sucked up into the darkness now, can he?): “I go to bed with all my lights turned on, so I don't slip away”

Forever (idk it was the last line and bro goes on solo missions it seems): “Out on the street, I keep a started car who only waits for me conveniently.”

[just-here-for-the-moment]

FRIEND!!

May I humbly request Pero Tovar and "every inch of you is the most beautiful thing God ever created."

Heat level up to you.

Thankyou!

YES!! You absolutely may request it, and I hope that you're okay with me turning it into Part 2 of The Innkeeper's Daughter, because, damn... I'm loving that man!!

The Innkeeper's Daughter, Part 2

One MILLION "thank yous" to @fandom-blackhole who let me take inspiration from This Ask for the original Anon and This follow-up Ask from me, and let me run wild with the premise of Pero Tovar falling in love with a woman who works at an inn.

The Innkeeper’s Daughter, Part 2

Part 1

Word count: 3000+

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Outline: Pero Tovar x “You” (OC cis/het female reader, “blank canvas”/no physical description/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: Reader’s first time (but this is NOT meant to be a ‘virgin kink’ fic); mature and vulgar language; euphemisms; slow-burn; Pero Tovar being super sexy and caring; kissing; vaginal fingering; oral sex/F receiving; unprotected P/V sex; a little bit of morning-after insecurity on Reader’s part

You broke the kiss and leaned your head back against the wall, breathing heavily and thoughts running wild. Pero’s face was still so new to you, up close. You were learning to read him better. His stony scowl seemed to make up the bulk of his expressions, and other than the pure hatred and anger that had twisted his face after the other man had called you a ‘whore,’ he only seemed to have a softer version of the scowl. On anyone else you would have called it a frown, but on Pero it practically registered as a glow.

You looked up into his eyes as he brought one of his broad thumbs to your cheek to sweep away a tear.

“I have to finish serving the customers. I can’t leave Father alone on a Saturday night.” You kissed him again, and then another before you found the strength to pull yourself away again. “But I want to see you tonight. After I’m done.”

Pero nodded and tilted your chin up with his calloused fingers. “Tonight. I will come to your room.” He kissed you deeply, then scattered a trail of kisses up your nose to your forehead. He pressed his lips to the top of your head and then murmured. “Until then, mi alma.”

You broke the embrace reluctantly, steadying yourself with a sigh as you walked away, smoothing your apron down. You looked back once at Pero where he stood at the end of the hall. His face looked soft, and the hint of a smile tugged at one corner of his mouth as he gazed at you. You fought the urge to abandon your post and run back to him, and you lifted your fingers in a little wave as you re-entered the barroom.

Thankfully all of the guests had returned to their own affairs, resuming their raucous drinking and eating, the bar brawl entirely forgotten. Your father looked at you with an arched eyebrow and you smiled and shook your head, reassuring him that you were fine. You busied yourself with attending to customers, tucking coins into your pockets and ferrying empty plates and mugs to the kitchen.

Your chest ached every time you inhaled, desperate for the evening to end, to see if Pero would fulfill his promise of coming to your room. You weren’t nervous, far from it - you were eager and willing and excited. You weren’t a high-born lady, required to keep her maidenhead intact in order to form an alliance with some prince. You just hadn’t had the opportunity yet. None of the young men in the village had been interesting enough for you to want to steal away to a hayloft or secluded part of the forest with. But Pero… he was different. Mysterious and well-traveled, closed-off until he had bared his soul to you in the back passage. You were ready, well past an age where you could make up your own mind, and you had said yes, grasped the opportunity to lay with a man who excited you.

You weren’t sure exactly what would happen after tonight, whether Pero would stay in the village or leave, ask you to come along with him or insist that you stay put. You dared not think too far ahead, letting your immediate tasks occupy you as the conversations of the guests flowed, filling your head with a buzz that blessedly distracted you from the clenching and throbbing in your gut.

Finally, after what seemed like eons, the last customers dribbled out of the door, laughing and shouting their way down the lane. You washed the final stack of dishes, wiped the tables, and handed Father the last of the coins from your pocket. Your beaded brow had nothing to do with the exertion of your labor, and everything to do with thoughts of the handsome Spaniard who had promised you a visit.

You fairly flew to your room at the top of the stairs, discarding your soiled apron and dress. You poured fresh water into your basin, adding a few dried summer wildflowers from the sachet in your drawer, and used part of a cake of fine soap that Father had gifted you at Christmas. It was nothing like the exquisite ointments or fancy perfumes that ladies used, but when you were done your face and body were scrubbed clean, and you were certain that Pero would be enamored of your efforts. He had noticed your dress, after all.

You donned your cleanest nightdress and then hesitated. Should you get into bed, or sit in your side chair? You decided to tuck yourself under the covers and read for a bit by the lamp. You heard no noises from the rest of the house, though you listened with eager ears, only half-attentive to your book. Time dragged on interminably. Just as you were growing a bit drowsy, you heard a tap at your door. Your pulse raced and you swung your legs out of bed, dashing the few steps to the door.

“Who is it?” You whispered.

“Pero, mi alma.”

You swung the door open, beaming up at him. You reached one hand out to take his and pulled him into the room, almost not believing that he had come. But as you closed the door and he crowded you against it to kiss you again, you sunk into the reality of it. He was here, he was real, he was yours.

You felt a sense of urgency, the desire to pull him into your bed immediately and get right to lovemaking. But you fought against the urge to hurry, tried to memorize every one of Pero’s kisses as he held you tight between him and the door, one large arm wrapped around your waist while the other cupped your jaw tenderly. You found yourself almost whimpering as he kissed you, his tongue sweeping your mouth with passion. This was heaven. If this is how men made love, you could get used to this.

At length, Pero pulled away from you, gazing deep into your eyes. “Mi alma… you are a maiden, yes?”

You nodded, feeling suddenly shy. He had guessed as much in the hall downstairs, telling you that he would show you everything you needed to know, show you how to please a man. Now that it was a matter of actual discussion, your lack of experience felt like a burden. Would you be able to please him? Would he still be in love with you if you were clumsy or awkward?

Pero tilted your chin up and spoke low, serious in tone. “I will be gentle. It may hurt at first, but after that you will feel great pleasure. I will make sure of it.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that Pero’s question wasn’t meant to embarrass you, but rather to ensure that you would be comfortable and safe. Your shyness ebbed away, replaced by a glowing pride that you had chosen such a careful man to be your first.

“I trust you, Pero. I am ready.” You smiled and leaned up to kiss him once more. He stepped back and you took his hand to lead him to your bed. He sat on the edge and you paused for a moment.

“Should I put the lamp out?”

Pero shook his head, that gentle smile tugging at the corner of his mouth once more. “No, mi alma. Leave it lit. I want to see you.”

And there was that eagerness again, your heart pounding against your ribs as Pero took your hand and pulled you to stand between his knees where he sat. He placed both hands on your hips and gazed up at you with the same expression of hunger that you had seen on his face downstairs when he professed his love in the passageway. A quiet moment stretched long and sacred between you.

Pero dropped his hands to the hem of your nightdress and lifted it, looking up at you for permission. You nodded and he pulled it higher, skating the material against your thighs and hips, until it reached your waist. You took the fabric in your hands and lifted it up and off your head, dropping it on the floor at the foot of the bed. You felt as if you should be shy, but you couldn’t find it in yourself. The way that Pero gazed at you, the way his hands stroked from your thighs to your hips to your waist, the fact that you could see his erection straining against the thin material of his trousers - it made you feel powerful and special.

Pero wrapped one of his hands around to cup your butt, bringing you closer against him. You draped your hands over his strong shoulders. He cupped one breast and brought his mouth to the nipple, licking and then suckling against you, his tongue hot against your skin. You felt desire stirring, a throbbing between your legs that mirrored your heartbeat. You tangled your fingers in his hair and moaned softly.

“Oh, Pero. That feels wondrous.”

He let go of your ass and brought his hand to your front, softly stroking your thigh and nudging your legs apart. He cupped his hand there, holding it firmly against your sex, and you nearly wailed at the sensation, the delicious contrast of Pero working his mouth at the same time that his hand was touching you so intimately.

You closed your eyes and threw your head back, feeling his fingers explore you. He stroked your center softly with his largest finger, bringing wetness forth and then pushing it back between your folds. You felt your pleasure building, something below your navel twisting itself higher. Then Pero’s finger found your sensitive bud and he began circling it, building the pressure until you felt the dam burst. You brought the back of your hand up to your mouth and stifled a moan as you felt your cunt throb and quiver, stealing your breath and sending your head reeling.

As the sensation began to slow, you felt Pero stroke you again and then insert his finger up into your folds. It felt amazing, like it belonged there. He probed you gently and then pushed it further in. You felt the breath return to your lungs and then you looked down at him. He released his mouth from your breast and placed a kiss to your stomach.

“Is this alright, mi alma? Am I hurting you?”

You shook your head. “No, Pero. It felt good. It feels good.”

He smiled and then released you. “Lay down for me.”

You lay in the center of your small bed, looking up at him expectantly as he stripped his tunic off. You nearly gasped at his beauty, his golden skin marred by scars, his broad shoulders muscled after hours and hours of fighting. And when he peeled his pants down from his narrow hips, you were astonished at his cock, bobbing proudly up and erect. You wondered again at your lack of shyness, finding only that you felt womanly, proud of the way that his body was making his desire for you so apparent.

Pero kneeled on the bed next to you and surprised you by peppering kisses across both of your ankles and shins. His soft scruff tickled your skin, and you giggled at the sensation of it.

You reached a hand out to touch his shoulder. “Pero, what are you doing?”

He paused and looked at you, "Every inch of you is the most beautiful thing God ever created." Pero laid a kiss to one kneecap and then the other, continuing his trail up your thighs. “It would be a grave sin if I failed to worship every inch of you with my lips, mi alma.”

He kissed across your belly and ribs, your arms and breasts, and finally came to a stop at your lips. When you tangled your fingers in his hair, he brought his hand once again to stroke your sex, bringing a moan from you that he matched with his own deep growl.

He pulled away and positioned himself near your knees.

“Open your legs for me. I want to kiss you there, mi alma.”

You smiled at Pero and shifted your knees apart, watching his face grow darker with lust as your legs fell open. He whispered a few words in his native Spanish and licked his lips before leaning down. The first laps of his tongue were gentle, and you watched him close his eyes in satisfaction. His tongue grew more insistent, and you soon closed your own eyes, biting your lip to keep quiet as you tossed your head back in ecstasy.

Pero worked his tongue across your sensitive bundle of nerves, pausing only to insert two fingers into you before he continued to lick you with vigor. You felt your climax building again. With a few strokes of his fingers inside of you, Pero brought you to the precipice before your pleasure overtook you, throwing you over the edge as you clenched hard around his thick fingers.

When you opened your eyes, you found him gazing up at you, lazily stroking your hip before dipping his head to place a kiss there.

He shifted himself to kneel between your legs, stroking his proud length a few times. You looked up at him through your haze of desire, reaching your arms up to circle around his neck where he leaned over you. He dipped his head to kiss you once.

“Open your legs very wide for me, hmm?”

You nodded and propped your feet wide apart, knees bent up. You felt Pero position himself against your folds, then a slight pressure as he entered you, stopping just inside. He searched your face as you took two deep breaths and nodded up at him, encouraging him to continue. He slotted his mouth against yours, tongue working deep into you as he slid his cock inside of you the rest of the way. You inhaled sharply through your nose as Pero continued to kiss you. It did feel painful, but the feeling lessened as he moved inside of you and back out.

Pero pressed his forehead against yours. “Are you alright, mi alma? The first time is the worst. After this you will only feel pleasure.”

“I’m alright, Pero,” you whispered. “It did hurt but it’s getting better. Keep going, my love.”

He kissed you again and kept his pace even, thrusting into you again and again. As the pain ebbed away you started to feel another pressure building, and this time you knew what would happen when the dam broke.

You closed your eyes and let the feeling of Pero’s cock brushing against your sensitive bud carry you into your third climax. At the first throb and clench, Pero buried himself deep and stayed there, reaching one hand down to thumb at your clit. The thrumming in your core intensified, and a deep groan issued from Pero’s throat at the feeling of you squeezing around him. This third climax was the best one yet, slow and steady, and you felt it from your scalp to your toes. You wanted it to last forever, and you were sad when it burned itself out with a whisper.

Pero kissed you deeply, then nudged your chin up with his nose to place kisses along the column of your throat.

“Better, mi alma?”

“Yes,” you whispered. “So good.”

Pero hummed against your skin and then thrust into you a handful of times more before he unsheathed himself and sat back on his heels. His face was intense, almost a scowl as he stroked himself to completion, catching his spend in his open palm.

He unfolded his legs and crossed to your basin, wiping his hand on your damp linen washcloth before coming back to where you lay on the bed.

“Do you want me to stay, or to go, mi alma?”

You sat up and reached a hand out to him. “Please stay.”

The next day dawned bright and sunny, the light from the thin curtains streaming across your face. You smiled at the warmth of it, mirrored by the warmth of Pero’s bulk pressed against your back, his solid arm slung over your midsection. Were it not for waking to his presence, last night might have been a dream.

You rolled over to face him, finding his face relaxed. You pressed a kiss to his soft mouth.

“Pero,” you whispered. “Wake up.”

He cracked one eye open and grunted at you. You laughed softly and kissed him again.

“Was I good?” You whispered to him. “Last night, I mean? Were you happy?”

Pero opened both eyes in surprise and regarded you with confusion. “Yes, mi alma. But why are you asking me that?”

You felt a bit shy but answered him honestly. “I was worried. I thought that if I was not experienced at coupling with you, that you- well… you might not be pleased, and you would fall out of love with me.”

Pero sat up and pulled you to rest against his chest. You heard his heart beating and closed your eyes. He would not be doing this if he were displeased. He would not have stayed the night with you.

“I told you in the passageway, mi alma, that I had fallen in love with you. But that was not the truth.”

Your breath caught in your throat. If that was a lie, then why had he come to you in the night? Why had he done those things with you?

Pero continued, “The truth is that I fell even more in love with you last night, when you gave yourself to me so openly and let me bring you pleasure. If you will let me, I will spend the rest of my life between your legs, mi alma. I want nothing more than to pleasure you every day for the rest of my life.”

Tears sprang to your eyes. Was he proposing marriage?

“Pero, I-”

“Mi alma, if you will have me, I want to be your husband.”

You drew your head back and looked up into his deep brown eyes. His face was the most open and relaxed you had ever seen it, the scowl entirely wiped from his visage.

“Yes, Pero. Yes.”

He released a breath you didn’t realize he had been holding, and then Pero rolled you down into the sheets to kiss you with abandon.

---

Pero Tovar character masterlist

Main Masterlist

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[wienerbarnes]

Hayloft

Pairing: 40s!Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,460

Warnings: SMUT 18+ !!!!! if u are a minor dni w this or my blog plssss, also getting caught... if that bothers anyone

SONG (Spotify link): Hayloft - Mother Mother

A/N: based off of the song hayloft by mother mother! some nice smut in a barn for yall😌 enjoy!

MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky kisses you sweetly behind the club, the jazz seeping through the cracks of the backdoors the two of you snuck out of and the cold air having no effect on  you as you embrace each other.

Bucky thinks you look like a dream in red, his arms tightening around your waist, bringing you impossibly close as he continues to kiss you deeply, tongue slipping out to tease your lips and ask for a taste. Your soft hands feel gentle and loving, one on his shoulder and the other holding his cheek, and he doesn’t want to move from this spot.

The hand moves from his cheek to his hair, a bit damp from sweat as they’ve been dancing all night, and shivers run down his spine as your nails scratch against his scalp. He pulls away from your mouth, knowing his lips are tinted red as your lipstick is a little out of place, and moves to plant wet kisses down your neck. He buries his face into your neck, sucking on the sweetest spots of your skin and you breathe out next to his ear, the sound causing his hands to grip at your waist.

He moves up and takes your ear lobe into his mouth, a hand moving lower to rest on your behind and you mumble out, “Come to my house.”

“Whenever you want, darlin’.”

“Now.”

He pauses. He pulls away slightly to meet your eyes. He imagines the implication you're making but can’t possibly believe you want him to go over to your parents house at ten at night.

“I’d be happy to walk you home, baby,” He begins, wrapping the arm that was touching your bum around your shoulders lovingly.

“We have this little barn next to the house. I want you to meet me there tonight.” You tell him.

Barn. So you must not live in the city. He’s lucky he asked to use the car tonight.

“I need to grab my friends so we can leave in her car, she’ll drop me off first. And I’ll wait for you in the barn.” You explain further.

“Okay.” He finds himself agreeing.

He knows the area where you live. Far from the city, but a nice, quiet, private area for a family to live. Something he’d like when he’s older.

He didn’t think he’d be driving miles away for a girl he’d only met tonight at the club, but he also didn’t think a war would be on the way, and who knows what’ll happen after that. He thinks he needs to start living a bit more adventurously and doing things his mother would frown upon. Like driving to dame’s house late at night and sneaking into her parents' barn to cop a feel.

He sighs to himself as the roads get lonelier and lonelier, signifying he’d be arriving soon. He feels like he’s about to lose his virginity all over again, he’s so damn nervous. He turns the headlights off and slows down as he sees the barn in the distance. The last thing he needs is to wake up your family with the purr of his engine and by shining lights through their windows.

He parks a small walk away, hiding the car underneath a tree. He shivers a bit as the wind night wind blows; you held onto his jacket at his request.

Very quietly he approaches the barn and he slowly drags the door open, slipping inside to see a few lanterns lit, illuminating you, perched up all pretty on a bale of hay. You’re in your undergarments, a silky dress that exposes your shoulders and gives him a view of your cleavage, the hem ending at the middle of your shin.

Your hair is a bit more put together than it was at the club and your lipstick is cleaned up and bright as cherries once more.

“Wow.” Is what slips out of his mouth, only realizing he said something when you giggle.

You stand from your seat and walk over to him, grabbing his large hands in your own and leading him back to where you were.

“We need to be real quiet; we can’t wake my daddy up.” You whisper.

“I’ll keep you quiet, babydoll, don’t you worry.” He whispers back, leaning down to kiss her.

Her hands raise to his shoulders as she gently pushes him down, encouraging him to sit where she was previously, and he does. She kisses him again when she takes a seat in his lap, straddling him. The dress shifts and rides up over her knees as Bucky’s hands immediately move to her hips.

He kisses you the same way he did outside the club, soft, wet lips pressing against each other over and over again, his tongue slipping between your teeth and playing with your own tongue.

His fingers inch from gripping the skin on your hips, down to your soft thighs, to the hem of the dress, moving it up slowly, almost to keep you from noticing. You pull away and your lips latch onto his neck, trailing all around the area, leaving red prints in your wake. He takes the opportunity to peek down and shakily move the dress up past your hips, exposing the thin, red underwear covering your modesty.

“Christ.” He mumbles, a reaction to the combination of the little number you have on and the feeling of you sucking a love bite onto his neck.

A giggle into the warmth of his neck, “You like?”

“I like,” He groans back, lifting the fabric higher and higher until you pull back to remove it, exposing a red bra, the lacey details on the trim and the bow in between your breasts giving him goosebumps.

“Your turn, Bucky.” You pinch at his sides, and he can’t help but plant another kiss on you.

He starts undoing the buttons on his shirt but he’s so damn nervous his fingers twitch just a little too much. You help him, soft hands glide over his rough ones, and he can’t help but take advantage and reach to grab at your hips again. He squeezes at the soft flesh under his fingers while you undo the buttons for him, only pulling away when he has to slip the shirt from his shoulders and remove the white cotton top he had on underneath.

“You’re a dream, doll, you’re so beautiful.” He compliments, feeling himself melt under your touch as your hand drag and scratch lightly across his chest, shoulders, and back.

He scoops you up and shushes you when you squeal a little too loudly - after all, he doesn’t want your daddy to wake up - and lays you down on the hay, ignoring the little twigs that poke at the both of you.

Your legs are tangled together with his as he slips his tongue in your mouth and yours in his, hands roaming each other's bodies as though it’s the first time either of you have done this before. He reaches a hand under your back and you arch it a bit, allowing him to unhook your bra and press your chest to his. He feels your hardened nipples through the fabric against his chest and he swallows as he finally tosses your bra to the side.

He doesn’t waste any time in diving down and capturing a nipple in his mouth, licking and sucking and kissing while his other hand gropes and squeezes at the opposite breast. You gasp and shiver under him, the combination of the cold, night air and the warmth of his hands and mouth making you shake and sweat all at the same time.

Switching between your breasts to ensure they receive equal love, Bucky thinks he’s obsessed. Your skin is delicious; so soft and smooth and heavenly, he could kiss it and bite it and lick all day long if you’d let him. He’s so consumed by you that he doesn’t even realize you’ve unbuckled his belt and undone his pants until he feels a small hand grasp at his shaft and begin to rub.

A small moan escapes him and you press your lips to his to quiet his noises. You keep rubbing and rubbing and rubbing, feeling him get wetter and slicker with every touch. His hands stay at your chest, but his focus turns to kissing you deeply and passionately.

Your other hand joins in his pants, reaching a bit further to caress at his balls. He can’t take it and doesn’t want to embarrass himself so early in the night, so he sits up and plucks your hand out of his pants and steps off the hay. He kneels on the ground in front of you and you sit up on the haystack, hands reaching to cup his face so as to not be away from his skin for too long.

Desperate kisses laid on his cheeks and mouth as he tugs at your hips so you’re sitting at the very edge, knees spread open for him to fit between. His rough hands hook around the hem of your underwear and tug, the sound of the stitches stretching hitting his ears and he tries to tug them down your smooth legs, your soft lips making it hard for him to concentrate.

He grabs the hands that are on either side of his face and kisses them sloppily, bending down a tad further on his knees in order to hook beneath your legs and bring them up and on his shoulders. A gasp sounds from you as he dives in, licking between your legs like it’s his last meal.

So many men at the mine and his father’s friends talk about it; about putting your mouth on a woman like this. He remembers hearing it for the first time as a teenager, blushing at the conversation but feeling proud that his father didn’t kick him out of the room, deeming him old enough to hear such topics.

They’d talk about how they loved it, how they hated it, and Bucky thinks back on his father’s friends, the ones who couldn’t stand going down on their wives, and how stupid Bucky thinks they are.

He could eat you like this forever. You taste, your smell, the way he feels your thick thighs clench around his head, the muscles flexing beneath his fingers as he keeps one hand on your thigh and the other wrapped around your stomach to keep you in place. You’re perfect.

He glances up to see you have a fist in your mouth, eyes shut tightly, using all your might to keep quiet, and it makes Bucky shiver, tingles flowing through his spine to his groin, and he moans into your heat.

As much as he’d like to feel you come in his mouth, he doesn’t think he’ll last long enough to even get inside you. He reluctantly pulls away and sloppily kisses you, half-hazardly pulling down his slacks and underwear the rest of the way down, tugging off his socks in the process.

You lay back on the hay stacks once more and he props one knee up, the other leg keeping most of his balance on the ground. He hooks your legs around his body, the limbs tangling together, tied up in knots, as he rubs his dick through your folds, slicking himself up even more.

It’s not long before he pushes in, slowly, because he hears your pained whine at his size. He hears himself moan, louder than he had intended to let out, and bites his lip to hold it in, remembering what you said about your daddy.

He leans forward, caging you in, and one of your soft hands grip at his forearm, the other scratching at his back, silently begging for him to start moving.

He pulls out almost completely before thrusting back in, moving in and out and gaining speed as he hears your gasps and moans in his ear.

Veins are bulging out of both his arms, your nails creating crescent shapes in his skin. Continuing his pace, he brings his head out of your neck where he was planting sloppy kisses and looks at your face. Eyes closed and eyebrows brought together, your mouth is open and the red lipstick you had on earlier is now almost completely gone, the tint still present on your lips. He knows where the lipstick went, he has it on his own face, on his neck, down his body, around his fingers, prints around his cock - he lets out another small moan at the thought of it.

He feels your legs tight around his own, restricting his movement, so he hooks one of your legs in his elbow, bringing it up higher and moves his own leg onto the bale of hay, immediately moving to quicken his pace, fucking you harder and faster than before.

A loud moan escapes you at the feeling of him so deep inside you, no time given to adjust, and in the moment, Bucky’s free hand slaps over your mouth, moans now muffled by his rough palm.

Little do the two of you know, it was already too late. Your daddy creeps outside the house, shotgun in hand, after being woken up by noises coming from the barn. It’s those damn cats again, he thinks. He knows it’s those damn cats, but he still needs to check.

He creeps outside to the barn, clad only in his long johns and a t-shirt, and hears the noises clearer as he gets closer.

Everything happens so fast.

Your daddy swinging open the door to the barn, the sound of a shotgun cocking, your loud gasp at being caught, Bucky’s curses as he quickly pulls out of you.

“What the hell?!” Your father screams.

Bucky doesn’t dare answer, only snatches his pants and shoes off the ground and fumbles to collect himself, simultaneously trying to make his way to the exit as quickly as possible. He didn’t even grab his underwear, his bare ass and semi-hard cock uncomfortable in his slacks from tonight.

He doesn’t focus on that feeling for too long though, not when a bullet flies past his head and into the wood behind him. He runs, one hand carrying his shoes and the other holding his pants up, not even buttoned or buckled.

“You better run, Buck!” He hears your voice call out, sounding more amused than scared, and he assumes this kind of thing has happened to you before.

Another shot rings out into the air and Bucky considers himself lucky to have missed it. Unlike you, it seems, this is his first time getting caught having sex and then being shot at.

You gave him one hell of a night to remember, though.

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Hayloft p.3

Pairing: Arvin Russell x F!Reader

Summary: Your dad brings home his new coworker, Arvin Russell, telling you that he’ll be living with the two of you for a while. While attempting to keep Arvin from seeing the disfunction of your relationship with your father, the two of you grow closer than you thought. (Inspired by “Hayloft” by Mother Mother, though that’ll really only be one chapter later on so I don’t know if it really counts…)

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, death, abuse, and sexual assault (depictions of none, though)

Word Count: 5.0k

A/N: I am so sorry for how long this took to publish! Work and school have been CRAZY!

Citation: (This is absolutely cited incorrectly but the poem included was found at this link!) https://rememberingthesixties.wordpress.com/2014/11/15/love-poems

Read the Previous Chapters!

Part 1  Part 2

_________________________________

“No! No! No! I ain’t got time for this today!” You groaned, twisting your key in the ignition only to hear the engine struggle to turn over. You were already running late to work, thanks to you misplacing your shoes, purse, and keys all on the same morning. When it was really only just you, your dad, and Arvin living in your home, it was ridiculous to be losing things as often as you did. It’s not like they were touching them. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think there was some gremlin that lived in the linen closet and hid your things to make life more difficult.

Of course, your car wouldn’t work either. What a fantastic beginning to the day.

You weren’t even sure what could be wrong with the car. It had worked just fine yesterday. There was no reason for it to suddenly fall apart on you. But alas, after several minutes of trying to start the car and checking what basic things you knew about under the hood to no avail, you gave out a groan of anger, “Damnit!”

With an angry kick of your old tire, you stomped back into the house. “Everythin' okay?” Arvin asked from the dining room table, where he sat eating a plate of toast and eggs.

“I was already running late this morning and now my stupid car won’t start,” you grumbled, throwing your purse onto the open chair and taking the phone off the receiver on the wall with more aggression than you intended. You were spinning the dial and putting in the phone number to the diner you worked at.

Arvin leaned forward in his seat, “I can take a look at it for you, if you’d like.”

“That would be great if you’re willing to but-” You began to answer but you stopped abruptly and held up a finger to him when a voice answered on the phone.

“Molly’s Diner. How can I help ya?” A woman’s voice that you recognized as your coworker Charlene asked from the other side.

“Hey, Charlene?” You asked, shooting Arvin an apologetic look for the sudden interruption. She sounded surprised to hear your greeting on the other end.

“Where you at, girl?” She questioned, the ambient wound of the busy diner in the background.

You leaned against the wall, gripping the phone with both hands, “I know I’m late! I’m sorry! My car broke down and I don’t think I can make it-”

“I can give you a ride if you need.” Arvin offered quiet enough for Charlene to not hear him on the other end but you perked up.

“Wait, hang on-” You interrupted Charlene just as she began to respond, “I can actually get a ride in.” You mouthed a sincere thank you to Arvin while holding onto the phone with both hands, feeling a slight glimmer of hope in your otherwise crappy day.

“You know what? Don’t even worry about it. You’re already so late just take the day off and get your car fixed. Just be here tomorrow, alright?” You could almost hear the way Charlene’s hand was waving dismissively from the other end of the phone.

You sighed in relief, “Thank you so much. I’ll make it up to you!” After a few brief goodbyes, you hung the phone up on the receiver.

Arvin stood up and placed his plate in the sink, “So are you needin’ a ride to work?”

You shook your head, “No, Charlene said to just take the day off ‘n get the car fixed. Thank you, though. It really is sweet of you to offer.”

Arvin only shrugged, “C’mon, after all you done for me, givin’ you a ride into town really ain’t much at all. I’d still be more than happy to take a look under your hood if you’d like.”

You blushed and tried to suppress the immature giggles that threatened to slip out at the way he worded his offer. His face visibly paled and began to stumble over his words, “‘m sorry! I didn’t mean for it to come out like that! I didn’t mean take a look under your… erm. I ain’t too good with my words sometimes. Forgive me.”

You laughed outright now, stepping forward and trying to pull his nervously fidgeting arms down, “It’s okay! You’re fine! You’re fine! I would love it if you looked under my hood.” You teased, overexaggerating the way you emphasized his words, throwing them back at him.

He rolled his eyes at you, an embarrassed smile pulling the corner of his lips upwards, before looking back down at you. It was then that you realized just how close you and Arvin were, your fingers still loosely touching his forearms where they had fallen. You looked up into his eyes - those soulful brown eyes - and found yourself wanting to know everything that they’d seen.

That familiar heat rose to your cheeks and you pulled your hands back, running them up and down the white apron you wore over teal uniform, “Well, um, I’m gonna go get changed outta this if I ain’t gotta wear it for work and then I can help you out with the car?”

Arvin’s hands found their way to his pockets and he nodded in understanding.

You had changed into a pair of jeans with a buttoned up blouse before jogging out front to find Arvin already bent over the exposed inner workings of your car. “How’s it lookin’?” You asked, slowing to a pace until you reached the car. You landed beside him, hands falling on the dirty metal as you leaned over to see the mechanics. He fiddled with a few things here and there, things that you didn’t quite understand. You were good with the basics of fixing your car. You could change the oil and fix a flat but when it came to the more complicated stuff, you were a little less well-versed.

He leaned back and wiped his greasy hands on each other, “I think I have the problem pinpointed. ‘M gonna need to head into town and get a part but it’s not a hard fix at all.”

“Thank you so much for doin’ this. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You took a few steps back as Arvin lowered the hood, letting it fall the last few inches with a heavy thud.

“Yeah, well I’m happy I can finally be some help ‘round here to you.”

You rolled your eyes, following Arvin back to the house, “Please, you are plenty of help ‘round here. More help than I’ve gotten in years.”

Arvin gave you a knowing tight-lipped smile and nodded once the two of you made it through the front door. He didn’t say anything for a moment but there was a silent understanding. “You need anything while I’m out?” He asked, changing the subject.

You shook your head, “No, I’m alright. Thank you though.”

It was rare that you actually had time to yourself. While Arvin was gone, you found yourself wandering around confused for a short while until the buzzing silence wore on your ears. You sat on the couch and pulled the radio over closer to you on the coffee table, looking over your shoulder as if someone would catch you at any moment.

This was one of your secrets that you held close to you, knowing your father would make fun of you if he ever found out. Moon River had been a favorite radio program of yours since you discovered it while tuning through the stations a year back. It was full of romantic poetry and slow beautiful music. Everything you dreamt about but knew you could never have, not while you were stuck here at least. But a girl could dream.

“Tonight’s love poem is written by Betty Hayes Albright. We hope you enjoy.

They tell me not to write of love

but what else can I write –

when love is in my heart and soul

and mind both day and night?

“You’re just too young and you can’t know

of love,” (does anyone?)

“you can’t profess such knowledge –

stick to verse and pun.”

.

They tell me that, and say love poems

are worn out through and through

but I can’t agree with them,

for me love is brand new.

Feelings in me can’t stay down,

my love for him I can’t ignore,

somehow it’s got to be expressed,

“I’ve got no lock upon my door.”

.

To those who stick to subjects

of the sky and stars, of joy and pain

I write my poems of love because

my heart’s love-blood shall never drain.

Perhaps they too shall love again.”

You sighed as it came to an end and you couldn’t help but see Arvin’s face in your mind’s eye. Love had always felt like something you could only dream of. It was a “one day when I get out of here” thought, not something you saw yourself obtaining for a long time, if ever. Now with Arvin… well you weren’t sure if you could call it love but it sure as hell was the closest thing to it you’d experienced.

Since the words were spoken, they kept swirling around your head: “When love is in my heart and soul; and mind both day and night.” Since his arrival two months ago, Arvin had been that very subject on your mind almost constantly. He was the first face you hoped to see every morning and the last one you wanted to see before bed. Your entire mood lit up every time he walked into the room, even when you were stressed from work or your father. It hadn’t been hard for you to realize that he became the lighthouse in the rocky ocean, promising solace and providing light in the storm that could be your life at times. It was hard to not fall for that.

"Never heard that one before." You whipped around in a panicked start to see Arvin standing in the foyer. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

You shook your head and tucked your hair behind your ears, "No, no, you're fine. You read a lot of poetry?" You watched Arvin shake his head and walk into the room. He stopped on the other side of the couch and you climbed up, placing your knees on the cushions and leaning over the back of the couch to look up at him.

"I don't like poetry all that much, at least the ones we read in high school… but I like that one." He looked down at where his hand gripped the back of the couch and his weight shifted on his feet.

Your eyes fell to his hands in an attempt to hide the blush that crept up on your cheeks that really had no place being there. "Yeah… me too. It reminds me that there is real love out there in the world."

A silence settled over the room as your eyes anxiously dragged up Arvin’s body till they settled on his eyes but you found yourself unable to hold his gaze. "I, erm, I got the part I need for your car." He took a step back and lifted the hand that wasn't on the couch, tossing the metal mechanism in his hand.

"Oh," you pressed yourself away from the couch and moved back to stand, "thank you for runnin’ all the way out into town."

He gave you a small smile and a nod, “It’s my pleasure. I’m gonna go see if this fixes the problem.”

***

"That should be it," Arvin slammed the hood back down and wiped his hands on his jeans. "We should take her for a drive to see if she's runnin' alright now."

You nodded, "Alright. Hop in." You took the keys from your pocket and gestured to the passenger seat. Arvin climbed in and you slid into the driver's seat, turning the key. This time, the engine started up without a problem. A big smile spread across your face, "You're a miracle worker, you know that?"

Arvin shook his head, "I ain't no miracle worker. Just good with fixin' things I s'pose."

Your feet were on the brake and the clutch when you shifted into first gear and began to peel out down the long dirt driveway. You stopped at the road and looked both ways, trying to decide which way to go. You looked to your right, the road into town, and then to the left, the way to that field that was oh so special to you. You began to gnaw at your lower lip.

Did you want to show Arvin? That little clearing by the creek had been your secret getaway since you’d discovered it three years ago. You never told anybody about it and you’d never seen anyone else there when you went so, as far as you were concerned, it was yours. Your special hide away, your paradise, your escape. But since his arrival, Arvin had become just that as well.

“You alright?” He questioned, looking over at you with a vaguely concerned expression.

You looked over at him, a nervous twist to your lips, “Can I show you somewhere special?” Perhaps it was an odd question to ask, though you hadn’t thought it was until you saw the curious and somewhat confused look dawn on Arvin’s face. Nevertheless, he nodded and, with a smile, you turned left towards the field.

It was a short but otherwise successful, trouble-free drive. You slowed down and pulled off to the side of the road into the dirt shoulder. “Where are we?” Arvin asked, looking around and seeing nothing but tall grass and trees.

With an impish smile, you turned off the ignition and looked towards him, “You’ll see. C’mon!” You threw your door open and walked around the front of the car towards the passenger’s side, hanging on the passenger door when Arvin finally opened the door to exit the vehicle.

He followed you to the edge of the brush where you walked as if you knew it like home. With minimal effort, you found the overgrown path and pulled him along behind you. The road disappeared behind the two of you as you wandered beyond the tree line, tall birch trees creating a maze that you knew by heart. The path was short and you navigated it with a sixth sense until you led Arvin to a small field. There was an imperfect circle of wild grasses beside a stream that seemingly appeared from nowhere but you knew it was that time of year when the snow started melting off the mountains. Bundles of wildflowers grew mixed in the grass. Just along the bank of the crystal clear creek water was a large dogwood tree with vibrant white flowers.

“Wow…” Arvin breathed out in amazement as he tried to take in the beauty of the place.

“Pretty, ain’t it?” You asked with a smile, the wonder in his brown eyes warming your heart. You were glad that he seemed to appreciate it as much as you did.

You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as your heart welled with happiness at his stunned reaction. He stepped in a slow circle, taking in the beautiful scenery. “It’s beautiful.”

“This is sorta my… escape from reality, I guess you could call it. I come here and I’m suddenly in a different world away from all the bullshit of life.” You reached down to run your fingers through the soft blades of grass. Arvin smirked and you looked up at him with a short breathy laugh, “What?”

He shook his head and looked down, hands buried in his pockets as always, “I think that’s the first time I ever heard you curse.”

You rolled your eyes, “I don’t do it very often. My daddy would always yell at me tellin’ me how un-ladylike it was to say bad words. Told me it made me sound ugly. I think his exact words were ‘a dirty mouth makes a dirty woman.’” Your voice dropped to mock your father.

Arvin spoke plainly, “Your pa needs to treat you better.”

You gave him a sad knowing smile and looked down at the ground, “It wasn’t always like this, y’know? I think that’s the saddest part.”

“What you mean?” Arvin asked.

You sat down on the grass, feeling the soft blades press against your skin as you sat back on your hands. Arvin followed suit, finding a comfortable spot beside you and waiting for you to continue. “When my momma was alive, he hardly ever drank. Wasn’t nothing like he is now. I think that’s the only reason I’ve put up with as much as I have. I hate seeing this miserable shell of the man I once knew but I also know that a real father wouldn’t have let himself fall into this pit - or at least stay down there long enough to practically leave his daughter to fend for herself. I just always hoped that maybe one day he’d pull through and… y’know… be my dad again.”

You laid back on the ground and stared up at the sky. The clouds passed by, white and weightless, pure and unaffected by the troubles of this world. You envied them. The way they floated along, either bringing shade and beauty to the sky or raging unapologetic storms, with no constraints as to where they could float and how they could behave… it made you wish you could be a cloud.

Arvin was silent, unsure of how to respond. He wanted to offer words of support and encouragement but he never had been too good with words. He hadn’t really been taught to talk about problems. His daddy had taught him to finish them with his fists. Finally, he sighed, looking out across the field, “I understand. I felt the same way ‘bout my daddy.”

You perched up on your elbows, “Really?”

He nodded and looked down at his leg, which he was slowly rolling side to side just to keep fidgeting in some way, “Yeah… he, uh, he changed into a totally different man after my mama died.”

You looked up at him but you could see he was trying to avoid your eyes. You rested a gentle hand on his knee, “‘M sorry, Arvin. I had no idea.”

He shook his head, “Nah, don’t be. It’s been a long time.”

“D-do you mind if I ask what happened?” You cautiously inquired but quickly added, “Of course, it’s fine if not. You just… you don’t talk much ‘bout yourself.”

Arvin took a deep breath in, “My mama died when I was ‘bout ten. Cancer took her. My daddy tried everythin’ to keep her alive but when it didn’t work… he killed ‘imself too.”

This time you were unsure of how to respond, stunned by the new information you’d just learned. “I-I’m so sorry,” you breathed out in disbelief. For some reason, you had never thought that perhaps Arvin could have had a similar childhood experience to you, like losing your mothers, but your heart went out to him.

“It took a long time for me to understand why he did what he did but I finally realized that he just loved my mama so much that he couldn’t bear to be away from her.”

“He should’ve loved you enough to stay for you.” Before you could stop yourself, the stunning but honest words slipped from your lips. You damn near stopped breathing when you realized what you said, “I’m sorry. That was out of line. I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s alright.” Arvin had been stunned by the words that came out of your mouth but he knew damn well they were only a vocalization of a thought he had had almost every day since the day his father put a bullet in his head. “I’d be lyin’ if I said I hadn’t thought the same thing before.”

A heavy silence weighed over the two of you that was only relieved by a cool breeze. “So what happened to your mama?” Arvin asked.

Your face twisted, “Labor complications. She was pregnant with my little sister. When she went into labor, things just went really wrong. She lost too much blood ‘n died. The baby died too. I think it was just too much loss at once for my daddy to handle.”

“That’s too much loss to make a child deal with on her own,” Arvin commented the same way you had earlier.

You shrugged, wavering your head from side to side. Like he’d said, you would be lying if you said you hadn’t had the same thought. “Looks like we got a lot in common.” You chuckled sadly, “I feel like I lost everyone who ever loved me. My mom, my sister, my grandparents, my dad...” Another silence settled and you waved the thought away, pushing yourself to sit up, “‘M sorry. I didn’t mean to make this all sad.”

Arvin shook his head, “You ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for.” He paused, hesitant to continue. He hadn’t talked to anybody about what happened back in Coal Creek and Knockemstiff but something was strongly compelling him to. Maybe it was a bad idea to continue but he did, “I had a sister once too.”

Your mouth fell slightly in surprise and you let out a heavy breath, “You did?” The use of the words had and did instead are have and do were not lost on you and you couldn’t help but wonder what had happened.

Arvin swallowed hard and nodded, “Yeah… she, uh, she got into some trouble with this no good preacher that came into town. She was just so lonely, reminds me a lot o' you, but when he saw that and he took advantage of her. Took everythin’ he wanted and when she got into trouble he just told her she was crazy.” He paused for a moment, the memories of his sister flowing through his head, “Found her hangin’ in the shed.”

You were dumbfounded by the story you’d just been told. Anger and sadness were clear in Arvin’s voice despite his attempt to hold on, though you had a feeling that just the way he had been telling you about it meant that he had shared more of himself than he ever intended to . You struggled to wrap your brain around the tragedy he had just shared. “What’s her name?” You finally asked after a few moments of silence.

Arvin looked out across the field again and then back at you, “Lenora.”

“Lenora,” you repeated, “That’s a pretty name.” Arvin only nodded wordlessly. Again, another pause before you continued, “You said it was some preacher that got her in trouble? What happened with that? I mean, you knew? Didn’t anyone else? Is he in jail or somethin’?”

The man tensed up next to you and shot a look towards you that was sharper than one he’d ever given you before. You shrank back ever so slightly, taken off guard by his response to your seemingly simple question. “‘M sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. You don’t have to-”

“Ain’t nobody woulda believed my Lenora if she told ‘em. You know how people see women who got babies ‘n no husband. Especially since he was the preacher…” he trailed off and you were desperate to see the memories that played behind his big brown eyes, “He ain’t gonna hurt nobody no more.”

Your brows knitted together, trying to decipher what that meant. Did he go to jail? Was he fired? Was his reputation ruined? You prayed whatever justice he got was fit for something so atrocious.

"I'm sorry you lost your sister."

"I'm sorry you lost yours too."

After a long silence, Arvin laid back beside you, his body grazing your arm as he lowered himself. The two of you rested beside each other in this new understanding of each other. As you struggled to keep your attention on the sky, your eyes frequently straying from the vast blue expanse overhead to the beautiful man to your right, you couldn't help but wonder if by some insane fantasy maybe he'd be struggling to keep his eyes off of you in the same way.

"Let's talk about somethin' less depressing," you prompted, "How 'bout girlfriends? You ever had one of those?"

Arvin’s chest rose and fell heavily as he sighed, "I ain't never had much time for a girlfriend. Didn't much like anybody in my hometown anyways. Don't think nobody liked me much neither."

You rolled your eyes and audibly scoffed, "I find it hard to believe you didn't have girls bangin' down your door for a date. You're tellin' me you ain't never went out on a single date?"

He shook his head, "Nope. I mean I kissed a girl or two back when I was younger but I never had no time for datin'. Always workin' or helpin' my grandma or keepin' Lenora safe."

You rolled over onto your side and looked down at him curiously, "Where you from anyways?"

Arvin was hesitant to answer, you could see it plain as day, though you couldn't figure why. Finally, he answered, "Lived with my mama and daddy in Knockemstiff but moved to Coal Creek with my grandma after they died."

Mentally, you wracked your mental map for any memory of those towns but found none. "I don't think I ever heard of those," you commented, lying back down.

Arvin stretched his arm up and readjusted his cap, "Not many people have unless you're from near there. Just some small towns you'd drive right through and never even notice. Knockemstiff is near Meade, Ohio."

"Oh!" You exclaimed in realization, "I heard of that one!" You giggled. You didn't live anywhere near there but you'd heard the name at least from a friend whose family was from Meade.

"What about you?" He asked.

You began tracing light patterns on your stomach with your finger, "What about me? You know where I'm from."

"You ever had a boyfriend?"

You kept your eyes staring straight up. “I tried datin’ a few boys back in high school but nothing too serious. They didn’t seem to like me much,” you admitted with a shrug. At the time, it had bothered you a little that you seemed to have a hard time finding a boyfriend but now you saw that it was better this way. Younger you had spent night after night praying for a knight in shining armor that would come and whisk you away to some beautiful new life. All they had done was run for the hills because they didn’t want to deal with your daddy… not that you could blame them. You’d learned not to depend on anybody for anything, certainly not some boy to make your life better. You’d have to do that yourself.

“I think it would be impossible for somebody not to like you.” Arvin said quietly but with no ounce of dishonesty.

You rolled your eyes and rolled over to look at him, “Your just sayin’ that.” Despite the fact you swore to yourself he was only joking, blood rushed to your cheeks.

Arvin’s head turned in the crook of his arm to make eye contact with you, “I like you.”

The sweetly joking smile you had on your face fell in shock. “W-what?” You stuttered less than gracefully.

“I mean it. I like you… a lot.” After your pause, his heart fell but he didn’t need you knowing that, “You ain’t gotta say it back.”

“I like you too,” you admitted quickly before Arvin could continue to doubt himself anymore but when you looked over at him, you could see that momentary flash of doubt in his eyes. You could almost hear his thoughts behind those big brown orbs: Nah, you’re just sayin’ that. So you decided to beat him to it, “I really do.”

A warm breeze couldn’t dispel the thickness that had been created in the air between you two as you both looked at each other, trying to decipher what the other was thinking and what on Earth you were supposed to do next. Neither of you were well experienced when it came to love or romance or whatnot but experience wasn’t needed to feel some higher power, call it God or the universe, pulling the two of you together.

You weren’t quite sure when you and Arvin had started to inch your lips closer to each others’ but when they finally met in a gentle experimental kiss, it was as if fireworks had gone off. Your heart swelled with an emotion that could only be described as longing. Breathing stopped as if the feather-light touch of his lips on yours had knocked the air out of your lungs and you found yourself unable to catch it.

Both you and Arvin were hesitant to pull back and neither of you did until there was no air left in your lungs. It was one of those kisses that left you less. Breathless, speechless, thoughtless. Just less. And yet somehow more. A part of you that you had denied being empty for so long felt like it was now filled by Arvin and, perhaps that was too much credit to give for simply saying he liked you and sharing a mindblowing kiss with you, but damn.

“I-I-I uh…” You tried to stammer out something that would be fitting but there were no words.

“You ain’t gotta say nothin’.” Arvin reached over and gently brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen into your face, “But I’ll be damned if I let you go without tellin’ you you’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”

You reached up and covered his large hand with your own, twisting your wrist so that your fingers would interlock with his, “Who ever said you gotta let me go?

__________________

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[tipsydipsydo]

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Gender of the Reader: female

Word Count: 3.5k

Rating: 18+

Genre: Angst; Fluff; Smut

AU: Historical/Middle Age! AU

Warnings: arranged + forced marriage; gender roles according to the period; sexual themes + sexual language; Praising; Body-Worship; Nipple Play; Fingering; First experience of an orgasm; Loss of virginity (unprotected Sex)

Summary: You're getting married tomorrow and you want to say goodbye to your mare. There you met the stable boy Taehyung for the last time, who's your best friend and childhood crush at the same time. You will experience a stormy night full of love and passion and you'll give the biggest proof of love to him...

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

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

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Thank you.

With a thumping heart you peep around the corner, but the cold hallway with high stone walls lies quietly in front of you, only a few candles in their stands lit up the long corridor. The servants must have finally retired to their own rooms and even the last noises in the courtyard has fallen silent. It must be close to midnight, but you couldn't sneak away earlier. The danger of being caught has been too big. But now you grab the  thin skirt of your white night gown and lift it a little bit up, so that you could walk as silently as possible along the corridor, across the courtyard to the horse stable. Light-footed you quickly put one foot in front of the other, the bright Full Moon guides you with its light the way to the stable. Quietly you open the small side door and slip in, where you’re greeted the familiar smell of horse, hay and leather. 

Here, too, the torches were extinguished late. Just thinking about what a momentous day tomorrow will be will make you sick and silent tears run down your cheeks. Tomorrow you will be your wedding with a man who was already over thirty years old when you were born and whom you didn't even really know. He was here once two months ago so that you two could „get acquainted" with each other. Theobald, as he is called, has a bald head, an ugly potbelly and with every, almost frightening smirk you could get a glimpse of yellow teeth. At your first meeting, he had already patterned you with such a disgustingly lustful look that a cold shudder ran down your back and still makes you nauseous at the thought of it. 

Your eyes are slowly getting used to the darkness, fortunately some Moonlight falls through the small ventilation hatches, so you can reach the last Box without tripping over something. Securely you open the door and gently push the butt of my beloved Grey Mare Estrilda to the side. Curiously, she lifts her big, noble head and turns a little to you. As if she knows what will happen to you tomorrow, she tenderly presses her head against your chest. Until now you had only cried quietly for yourself, but now, you bury your face in her soft, long mane and let your feelings run free. Why didn't your mother, when you were born, take action against being promised to such an old man? 

But every time you asked her, she just shrugged with her shoulders helplessly and murmured softly,"that's just how it is, Y/N. I wanted to talk to your father, but he only saw the opportunity in finally reconciling two hostile Empires. With this marriage. You have to believe me, dear. I was hoping for something different for you. That you will be happier than I am. That you can live your life more in more freedom." 

You have always been different, your curiosity, your stubbornness and your self-confidence do not correspond to the expectations one has of a daughter of the noble family. You love horses and riding, you can't do anything with jewelry, dresses out of expensive silk and velvet or perfumes. You loved to ride in the big hunt at least once a year and go hunting with your falcon Alan. You are not interested in the easy, comfortable life as the wife of a nobleman. You would much rather have helped once in the kitchen and learned how to cook a meal. But this was strictly forbidden to you, after all you are not a maid! Your wish is simply to be allowed to be as you want it to be. You do not care whether it is appropriate for a woman of your rank or not. 

Your body slowly calms down from the convulsion and one last time you take the smell of your beloved mare deep into your lungs. Because she will stay here while you return to his estate with your new husband. That would become your new home. Although the wedding party will be celebrated here... but you will spend our wedding night with him on his castle. Then you will be trapped in the clutches of a sadistic, cruel and heartless ruler. You have heard some whisperings and rumors from the other Kingdom. The thought lies like a bitter, putrid taste on your tongue and your stomach twists at the thought that you have to show yourself naked to this disgusting man. You would rather burn at the stake as a wicked whore than surrender your virginity to him. 

Suddenly, you hear the clatter of a fallen bucket and a dull cursing behind you, which is why you‘re startled and push yourself out of instinct into the darkest corner of the horse box. In vain, because the shadowy figure steps closer and opens the box door. Your heart beats fast, who is that and would he betray you for wandering around in the stable at night? But your anxious heart romptly calms down as you look into the soft and gentle face of Taehyung, the stable boy. 

"Y/N? What are you doing here, wouldn't you have to sleep since a long time? After all, tomorrow is your wedding.", the last sentence spit Taehyung literally out. A relieved smile comes to your lips when you see your only and best friend. "Taehyung...", you murmur and fall into his arms, trying your best to suppress a sob. His  muscular arms are wrapping themself around you, holding you and run tenderly his fingers through your hair. 

The first time you met was on your eleventh birthday when you received Estrilda as a birthday present and he was assigned to look after the welfare of your horse. At that time he had already been fifteen, and now, nine years later, he has matured into a handsome twenty-Four year old man. He is the only one who ever understood you and even offered to run away with him when you found out about your marriage. But you would be looked for all over the country and everything would be more like a deadly skewer, which is why you sadly but thankfully refused. Above all, you do not want to expose your beloved mother to the cruel anger of your father, he would blame her if one morning you could no longer be found. It is inevitable that you must marry this disgusting, sadistic devil, whether you like it or not. But one thing you will decide for yourself...

Taehyung's masculine smell of sweat and horse calms you down more than ever and you snuggle up sobbing at his chest, steeled muscles from the daily hard work. You let your feelings run free and enjoys the gentle caresses he gives you. He is even more against the wedding than you and you have already guessed the reason for a long time. He develops feelings for you, which would go beyond your normal friendship-relationship. This assumption triggers a gentle flutter in your stomach and you wish you could be even closer to him than you already are. You both knew it, but you have never really said it out loud. For this fact requires no words. You’re in love with each other. 

It was clear from the beginning that this fragile love has no future, and yet it feels so right, even though it is completely wrong. But he gives you the affection and attention that even your own mother could never give to you. Tonight, you want to give something to Taehyung that would belong to himcompletely alone. Nobody could ever steal it from him, this gift is irreplaceable.

It would be your virginity. If you have to marry such a cruel man, you want to give your innocence to someone who has proved to be worthy enough. Taehyung is worthy for it. 

You detach yourself a little from his chest and look up into those beautiful dark brown eyes in which you‘re threaten to drown every time. Your fingers glide up to his strong neck, through his soft, black curls and tug on them gently until he moans softly. 

“Tae... From tomorrow we will not see each other again. We only have this night left. I have already given you my heart, it will remain yours forever. But tonight I want to give you something else... My virginity shall be yours.”, you breathe softly against his lips. 

Taehyung startles and looks down at you in disbelief. "B-But Y/N...I-I could never accept something like this! Such a thing like your virginity belongs to Theo-", he rambles overwhelmed and want to turn your opinion against that idea,but you just press your lips almost violently onto his.

"No. It should never belong to Theobald. If I already have to make the marriage covenant with him, then I want to be able to decide by whom my virginity will be token!", you reply to your lover and bite him hard into the lower lip. 

He is still visibly surprised, but now your passion reaches him too and he respond with the same desire to your kiss. Your tongues find each other and starts a wild catching game. Heat rises in your bodies, reaches every pore of your body and makes this unknown feeling of pleasure pulsate through your veins. You long for Taehyung's love, one last time you want to feel his affection before you go to hell tomorrow. At least once you want to see heaven before you are banished to hell for the Rest of your life. The breath of your loved one becomes faster, he is panting, this kiss alone pushes you both in such a tremendous passion, which you have kept so forcibly hidden from each other otherwise. 

"L-Let‘s go to the hayloft...", Taehyung murmurs at your neck in a deep, hoarse voice. You nod breathlessly, you are completely overwhelmed by the feelings that a simple kiss can trigger in you if you just love someone with your whole heart. Securely, you climb one by one the narrow wooden ladder up to the hayloft and you two throw tightly wrapped up into the hay. Your lips can hardly keep away from each other. The desire and longing for Taehyung increases every moment.

"Please...", you whisper in a whimpering voice, your body feels like it's on fire and this unknown longing for union drags you into a swirl. But Taehyung wants to get to know you and your breathtaking body, trying to memorize as much as possible. He never wants to forget how you look, feel, smell and taste. The cords of your nightgown are opened unnoticed by him, suddenly you just feel the scratchy hay under you and his loving hands on your skin. 

"Beautiful.... So beautiful...", he mutters again and again under his breath. His eyes wanders over your exposed body,  blown out eyes lingering on your breasts. Taehyung admired you silently since you’ve met for the first time, you always took his breath with your beauty away. Especially the last few years he realized what kind of effect you have on him, how you’ve grown up from the little wild princess to a confident young Lady. How his own and your Body has changed of the years and with it, how his maybe not so innocent desires awakened in him. 

You are gorgeous, he can’t even describe your majestic body in words properly, you leave him speechless. You look better than in his sinfully fantasies he has at night, tossing his sweaty and needy Self around in Bed, trying to prevent those indecent thoughts about his own best friend. Well, his love of his life. He shouldn’t think that way about the princess, is he insane or something?! Still, he couldn’t reject his feelings for you, neither you could. 

You both will end up in hell, you’re doing so sinful things right now but why they’re feeling so good? Why is it a sin to have such desires, to have the need to feel so close to each other, why are you sinning when you feel so much love, desire and pleasure that you couldn’t bear it anymore? You couldn’t understand and you would never.

„My royal highness, m-may I ask if you allow me to touch your Breasts?”, stutter Taehyung out, gulping hard and biting his lower lip in desperation. He knows he would hurt you somehow through fusion of your bodies but alone the thought of it hurts him right in his heart. Taehyung doesn’t wants to be the one who’s hurting you, he wants that you’ll keep this night as good as possible in your memory. 

„O-Oh my god, Taehyung... d-don’t call me that, please just call me by my Name. ...and please, oh please touch me, I want to feel your Hands all over my Body!”, you pant out whimpering, arching your spine to encourage Taehyung in his actions. 

A deep, longing moans leaves his lips, finally touching and kissing every conceivable part of your body. For the first time and probably also for the last time in your life, you will learn what this true love is. Something of which so many Minnesingers always sing about. It feels so indescribably good that the tears are just running down your cheeks, you can’t hold them anymore, you feel too good, too loved. Only this night you want to see heaven before you have to burn in hell as a deflowered whore until the end of your life. But this one time is worthy for you to sin. A lustful moan escapes your lips as his lips enclose one of your nipples and caress them tenderly with his tongue. 

Countless whispers and pleads are falling from your slightly parted lips, you’re chanting his name like a mantra. Every noise that comes from your tongue let Taehyung‘s need to pleasure you even more grow. Almost helpless, as if you’re drowning, you grab Tae‘s strong Biceps and look up to him. Your eyes are sparkling from the tears which ran down your cheeks, the unconditional love in them is crushing Taehyung‘s Soul. 

"Oh Y/N, I love you so much... I don’t know how to express them so they would portray the pure feelings I have for you in my chest, in my soul. Please let me show you something else...", he wispers into your ear, nibbling tenderly on your earlobe. 

His other hand glides through the valley of your breasts, over your stomach down your sweet and hot center. You whine softly, you’re a little flustered, nobody touched you down there in such a way before. Almost automatically your thighs want to close again, just Taehyung’s gentle and caressing hand keep you from doing so. 

"Shhh, my precious Angel, don’t be ashamed... you’re gorgeous and so beautiful, you can’t imagine how bad I want you. You smell so delicious, you’re driving me insane! Would you like to continue or should I stop? I will do whatever you want, just tell me..", murmurs Taehyung’s low voice, you can clearly hear the tremble of arousal in it. After you took a few deep breaths to calm your oversensitive nerves, you’re spreading slowly your thighs for him. 

Taehyung‘s eyes are fixated on your face, watching patiently your facial reactions for any discomfort. Now, his hand is coming to life again and moves forward until it disappeared between your legs. His fingertips moves incredibly gentle over your soft pussy lips, slowly parting them and let his fingers soak in your lust juice. They run up and down, teasing your clit and preparing your entrance for his length. 

Waves of Lust electrify your whole Body, every fiber and nerve is pumped full of sexual desire and you’re gasping for air. You’ve never felt that way before, you have no clue what kind of sweet spot that is but you want Taehyung to touch it over and over again. 

Why does sinning feels so incredible good? You’re fallen for the devils work, you love sinning when it feels that amazing. 

"Please, please, please... Taehyung, do that again, it feels so good-", you sob out, holding on his broad shoulders as if your life depends on him. Honestly, it does. 

"Yeah? Does that feel good, my Princess? Do you want more?", rasps your beloved Taehyung. His fingers speeds up, flicking your cute little pearl with his thumb in a rapid pace now. His middle and ringfinger is pounding into your tight, pulsating channel and is stretching you open. His movement creates lewd squelching noises which makes you a little blush. The coil of lust in your abdomen grows unstoppable, you don’t know to handle this unfamiliar feeling. Your Body is shaking, whimpers and choked out whines filling the hay loft. You don’t understand what is happening, just pure unfiltered need and desire clouded your mind and you can’t think straight anymore. 

"Oh my- Oh my god, Tae... I-I am... I don’t know what is happening-"

"I know Baby, everything is okay, just let yourself go... I‘m here, I will catch you when you’re falling apart..."

It just needs a few more strokes of his thumb on your oversensitive clit until the ball of pleasure bursts open and fills every pore of your body with pure ecstasy. You can’t hold your tears of pleasure back anymore, the small and so precious diamonds are rolling out of the corner of your eye until Taehyung’s Lips are catching them. 

"Baby... are you alright? Did it felt good?", he asks quietly and rubs soothingly over the top of your thighs. Avoiding your center on purpose, he doesn’t want to overstimulate you even further.

"T-Tae... that- that felt so good... h-how did you do that? I-I can’t hold my tears back, I am sorry!" A weak sob leaves your lips and you bury your face into Taehyung’s chest. He caress you gently, whispering sweet nothings and praises into your ear, worshipping you to the fullest. Promising you to show you how you can make yourself feeling that good, teaching you how you can make love to yourself. 

After you came down from your high, you gently grab the soft baby hair in his nape and move his face towards you. 

"Taehyung, I want to feel you as close as possible, I want to merge with you, I want to make love to you- ...I want you.", you whisper and hold his face in your hands, looking him deep into his eyes. 

"Oh, I will... I will serve you with everything you wants,my Dear. Please lay down and spread those beautiful legs for me again...", he answers and smile softly at you. The sweet love names he picked for you makes your stomach flutter und the blush on your cheeks is darkening. Taehyung gives you a last sweet smile full of love before your lips meet again and he pushes into you. 

A short, stabbing pain flares through your body, but that was all. He holds still into you until you give him the permission to move. At first, it was a slow and gentle rhythm but your sweet moans and whimpers encourage him to go faster and in the end he looses all his control over his suppressed sexual needs. Making love to you in the most passionate way possible. 

He shows you the heaven on earth and love takes on a whole new meaning for you. You trust him unconditionally and he shows you that you are equal. You are an equal woman, an equal person for him. He loves and respects you. All this is the most beautiful thing you have ever experienced in your life. You have given him your virginity and he has given you a son with these wonderful brown eyes and dark curls. 

"Mother, why do you always cry when you see me? I didn't do anything today... ", asks your little six-year-old son and looked at you questioningly with those chocolate brown eyes that bring you to tears every time.

"You look so much like your father. Your real father."you say quietly.

"Did he hurt you, Mommy?", he asks with big fearfully eyes and you quickly shake your head. 

"No, not at all! H-He had been the only man who had ever really loved me...“ 

„...the only one to whom my heart will forever belong."will you bring barely audible over your lips. 

[courfeyrec]

My thoughts on the London Revival of Spring Awakening (spoiler alert!!)

I’m putting everything under a cut because I don’t want to ruin anything for people who are actually planning on seeing the show. I didn’t go full detail into everything because the post was getting quite long and there are also things I just don’t remember but I will be going back again at least once for sure (and during the actual run, not previews) so if anyone wants me to try and look out for and clarify certain details I will be very happy to. Also please note that some of what I have written might be wrong or misremembered.

First things first: I found out from looking through the programme that The Guilty Ones was gone and There Once Was a Pirate was back in.

The set was very minimal, just a set of steps that were painted with chalkboard paint and all the actors drew all over the steps and the walls throughout the show. There were holes that you could open up in the middle of the steps which were used for entrances/exits and for the desks in Latin class. There was a corridor along the top back behind glass with a door to the steps at either end. When it was lit you could see whoever was in there and it might also have been used as a crossover when unlit.

The costumes! Moritz was wearing a skirt over his trousers for the whole show, and his tie was used as a belt instead of being around his neck. All of the girls expect Thea had an element of yellow-green colour in their costume. Thea was also wearing both trousers and a skirt (or at the very least, a much longer pair of leggings that all the other girls, which had rips in the knees. I think they were like skinny jeans though?). I noticed both Moritz and Ernst had yellow shirts at different points in the show as well. Wendla has a cardigan that is always done up wrong until after the hayloft scene. Melchior helps her rebutton it and it’s done up right, and i think later in the show she lost it completely? but I can’t remeber. Ilse is the only character that doesn’t wear shoes. After his death, Moritz just wears his trousers and skirt and a black jumper, I am pretty sure that there’s a picture floating around of this costume (on twitter at least? but i don’t have twitter so I cannot look).

There were a lot of lyric changes, for example Bobby Maylor is in boxers instead of khakis. Ilse’s solo in Dark I Know Well was totally different and I can’t remember everything she sang but she did have ‘them and their beauty’ instead of me and i’m really not sure why? Wendla was also singing in Dark I Know Well (part of Mama Who Bore Me). Honestly how they did Dark I Know Well was one of the only changes that I reeeally didn’t like sorry. The added girls’ harmonies in the Touch Me solos... yes. Melchior also had added parts in Whispering but it was just backing vocals really.

The staging was amazing 400/10 even if you go to this show just for the staging it would be worth it, the choreo was still very contemporary but sooo much better than obc in my opinion. The Bitch of Living (best choreo), Left Behind (a single rose walked around the stage passed through the cast), Don’t Do Sadness/Blue Wind (very static but the emotion...), Totally Fucked (an absoulte riot there were flares and a windmachine and a literal fire - their version of TF was A Lot even aside from that, I don’t even know how to give in justice in description BUT I do wish it had been easier to tell what each character was yelling about near the end. Just because I am curious.) and Those You’ve Known (when Moritz stopped Melchior from using the razor? I cried. Also the ending position of the trio) are the ones that stood out to me the most.

A few other little things: When Melchior was packing for reform school I’m pretty sure he packed Moritz’s previously mentioned yellow shirt? Moritz was northern and Ilse was i think Welsh? and having DDS/BW with those accents was honestly a real treat. When the guys were playing the reform school boys they had black paint around their eyes and it seemed like the actor playing Georg didn’t get all of his off properly afterwards so he looked like he had very heavy eyeliner on for the end of the show it was great. During the Desdemona monologue Hanschen gave the picture of Desdemona to an old guy in the front row and then just stared at him as he jacked off which really had the audience laughing. Regarding WOYBR - ‘oh god’ ‘i know’ was so soft not at all condescending, most of the rest of the dialogue was also fine, but ‘and so you should’ was played for laughs. Melchior actor’s timing at the beginning of Left Behind was a bit off but he pulled it back well. The timing in I Believe was just kinda weird I don’t really have anything else to say on that.

Finally. In the show I went to there were some technical difficulties just beofre Totally Fucked, with the box that they used for the hayloft, Moritz’s suicide and the coffin not retracting into the floor properly, so they had to stop the show and fix it for safety reasons (and with the staging of TF it was entirely necessary and I didn’t mind at all about the show being stopped to do it). The actors were very good about it all, the guy playing the adult male parts partly stayed in character as a teacher and told us to talk amoungst ourselves. When it was fixed there was whooping and a round of applause, the actors got back into the scene no problem and the rest of the show went without a hitch.

[mldrgrl]

Broken Things 18/24

by: mldrgrl Rating: varies by chapter, rated R overall (THIS CHAPTER IS RATED R) See Chapter 1 for summary and notes

Halfway to home, Mulder stops the wagon.  The horses have started to shake their heads against their harnesses and begin to snort and whinny.  He cocks his head a bit and stares east, out into the sky for a few moments before he sets the brake and gets down from the seat.

“What’s wrong?” Katherine asks.

Mulder works to try to calm the pair of stallions hooked to the wagon, rubbing their foreheads and jaws.  “You know that article you were reading in that journal?” he asks Katherine.  “About the weather lore?”

“Yes, of course.”

“I think these boys are trying to tell us something.”  Mulder nods off to the east.  “You feel that wind?”

“A bit.”

“There’ll be rain soon.”

“Will we make it home?”

“I think we’ll be in ahead of those clouds out there.”  Mulder climbs back up onto the wagon seat and releases the brake.  “At least, I sure do hope so.”

The weather vane at the ranch is quivering, pointing to a southeasterly wind.  Melvin and Trevor are outside, moving the livestock into the barn, when Mulder and Katherine drive up in the wagon.  Richard is closing up the shutters on the house.  Jesse and Jimmy aren’t there, having left the day before for a trip out to their family’s place.  

“Go on and grab up what you can from the back of the wagon,” Mulder tells Katherine.  “I’m going to help secure things out here and I can bring in the rest when we’re done.”

“Alright, be careful.”  Katherine loads a crate to the brim with packages and goes off to the house.

It takes some time to get all the animals moved from the pens to the barn.  The goats complain the loudest about their new accommodations and they bleat and kick the walls and leap up onto workbenches and leap off, agitating the suckling pigs and making them squeal.  Trevor provides them with fresh hay and carrots and they settle down.  

Mulder goes to the stables to check on the horses.  They move about restlessly and Mulder goes from stall to stall, giving each one his individual attention for a few minutes to try to keep them calm.

“Trevor and I are going to pack some bedrolls and he’ll bunk in the hayloft tonight,” Melvin tells Mulder.  “I’ll stay here in the stables and make sure they don’t fret none when the storm starts up.”

“You don’t think we’re expecting a twister, do you?”

“Naw, I smell the rain and my knee always acts up when we’re expectin’ a doozy.”

“Just got a couple bottles of a liniment from the mercantile today if you want me to leave one with you.”

“May not help much, but I could give it a try.”

“I’ll see if Katherine can fix up an early supper and pack some things up for you.  You have your slickers and boots on hand?”

“Told the boy to have ‘em at the ready.”

“Richard staying in the bunkhouse?”

“Reckon so.”

“I’m going to latch the doors tonight, but if you need anything, I expect you to come for me.”

“I ain’t worried about nothin’.”

“Alright then.”

Mulder fills a crate and brings it to the house and then runs back to get the last of the goods.  Katherine is in the kitchen with a fire already burning in the stove and chopping vegetables.

“Leave the crates and I’ll put everything away later,” she says.  “I figured I should get a start on supper early just in case.”

“I was just telling Melvin I’d ask you to do that.  Can I help with anything?”

“Get the lamps lit?  It’s a little dark with the shutters closed.”

“I can do that.”

Mulder lights the lamps in the dogtrot and then brings one of the ones from his room into the kitchen for more light.  He sets the table while Katherine finishes cooking and he tries to help unload some of the supplies, but he can tell she tires quite quickly of instructing him on where things should be kept so he leaves it be.  He takes the bottles of liniment and the package of denim trousers.

Supper is a quick affair.  The boys barely sit and barely eat.  Katherine seems to have anticipated a swift departure and she’s packed up some tins with more than enough provisions.  At the first sound of the slight patter of rain, they’re gone like buckshot, abandoning dishware and cutlery at Katherine’s insistence and then it’s just the two of them.

“I was afraid they might break a dish in their haste,” Katherine says.  “Are they always like this when we have a storm?”

“You’ve never been in a Texas storm before, have you?  It’s not something you want to get caught out in.”

“No, but I’ve been through my share of hurricanes.”

“Then you should be just fine.”

Mulder offers to help clean the dishes so Katherine can get the goods put away.  He has his part done faster than she does and so he goes to check that none of the shutters are loose and that the back door is securely latched.  The rain is coming down steadily and hard.  He can hear it on the roof and on the porch.

Curious, he opens the front door to see what things look like.  He’s lucky that the wind is blowing away from the house and that the deluge is moving away from the door and not towards it.  There’s lightning in the distance, but he doesn’t hear any thunder.

“Kate?” he calls.  “Come take a look at this.”

Katherine emerges from the kitchen, bringing the lamp with her.  He takes it from her when she gets close enough and sets it down on the entry table.

“Goodness,” she says.  “It looks as terrible as it sounds.  Will the boys be alright out there?”

“The roof on the barn got replaced last autumn, so it should stay pretty dry.  I’ve spent a few storms out there myself and am no worse for wear.”

Katherine leans against the door and stares out at the rain.  Occasionally, the side of her face is illuminated with a quick flash of lightning.  The thunder begins to softly growl as the storm moves closer.

“I’ve never really liked storms,” she says with a sigh.

“Why not?”

“They can be so terribly destructive.”

“That’s true.”  He watches her watch the storm.  She wraps her arms around her waist and shivers slightly.  He steps towards her and brings his arm across her body to hold her elbow.  “Are you cold?”

“A little chill, is all.”

He steps even closer so that her shoulder rests against his chest and he brings both arms around her loosely, holding her sideways.  He can feel her twisting her wedding ring around her finger against his arm.

“I want to ask you something,” he says.

“Go ahead.”

“I saw how quickly you took your place in assisting the doc today with the Skinner boy.  And I may not have been conscious after my fall, but I know how you treated me during my injury and recovery.  Nursing folks seems to be something that comes natural to you.  Why did you tell the doc you couldn’t go out and help him now and again?”

She rolls her head back and to the side to look at him.  “That wasn’t in our agreement.”

“I guess I missed the fine print in our marriage certificate where it says you have to give up on your dreams.”

“My dream was to be a doctor.”

“I think you’d make a mighty fine doctor.  So, why didn’t you jump at the opportunity for some tutelage?”

“I had to leave that behind a long time ago.”

“Katherine.”

“So now it’s Katherine, if you think I’m being unreasonable?”

He moves one hand up and strokes her cheek.  “I don’t think you’re being unreasonable, I just want you to be happy,” he tells her.  “I don’t want you to ever regret marrying me the way you regret marrying Jack.”

“I don’t think you’ll ever have to worry about that.”

“No?”

She opens her mouth and is interrupted by a clap of thunder so loud that it leaves Mulder’s ears ringing.  Katherine gasps and turns into his arms with a shiver.  He holds the back of her head and tightens his arm around her waist.  The grandfather clock in the hall chimes eight times.

“What were you going to say?” he asks, when it falls silent.

Her voice trembles when she answers.  “I was going to say that...that I stopped feeling so regretful as soon as I met you.”

He can’t help but kiss her then.  He’s been feeling like that for a long time, like all the sorrow he’s been through in his life, the loneliness he’s felt, the opportunities he’s rejected to chase this dream of his, all suddenly made sense to him when he married her.  

He learns what lust really feels like in this moment.  It’s a powerful urge, to want someone so much and so badly.  It’s like something has taken over his body and makes his hands clutch her hips, makes his groin ache so badly that he has to push his hips into her belly, makes him groan into her mouth as she pushes back.  Whatever is happening he wants more of it.  Wants to rut against the door with her legs wrapped around him, wants to pull her skirts up and feel the back of her thighs in his hands, wants her hands kneading him all over instead of just his shoulders, wants his skin against her skin and nothing between them.

He has to pull away from her to catch his breath and because his heart is racing so fast his chest feels like it might burst.  Her head rolls against the door, back and forth, and then her eyes open.  She looks intoxicated, eyes dark, cheeks red, lips swollen.

“Please,” she says.  “Don’t...don’t stop.”

↭

She’s never felt this way before.  Never felt so overwhelmed with want in all her life.  She wants Mulder to kiss her again, she wants to feel his weight on her, she wants to touch him in all the places she knows are sinful and for him to touch her in the places that are too sinful to even touch herself.  She thinks that everything she was told was wicket as a girl was a lie.  None of what she feels now can possibly be wrong when it feels so right.

Mulder pulls her away from the front door and slams it shut.  She holds onto one of his hands with both of hers and follows him into his bedroom.  Her knees are shaking and her heart is pounding.  There’s an unbearable ache deep in her belly and between her thighs and it’s so unnerving for her to think that he’s the one that brought it there and the only one that can take it away for her.

Mulder shuts the bedroom door very softly and they stand before each other in the lamplight.  He’s only inches away, but it feels too far.  She breathes in the musky scent of him and sways on her feet.

“Kate,” he whispers, and catches her with an arm around her waist, hand pressed low on her back.  She gasps as a swoop of heat arcs low in her pelvis.  Is this what swooning is?

“I want to lay with you,” she says.  

“I want to undress you.”

She nods and then turns in his arms so he can undo the buttons on her skirt.  She feels him tug and pull, tug and pull, tug and pull, undoing each button down from the small of her back to just below the curve of her buttocks.  The skirt falls and she steps away from it and then turns to him again.  She helps him with the buttons on her blouse, moving up from the bottom as he moves down from her throat.  They meet in the middle and then she can shrug the shirt off, leaving her in her chemise and bloomers.

“Now, you,” she says.

He nods and pulls his suspenders down from his shoulders one at a time.  He tugs his shirt off first and then crouches down to unlace his boots.  After he kicks off his shoes, he unbuttons his trousers and pushes them free of his hips.

“I’ll need your help,” she says, leaning against the edge of the bed and pointing one foot out to him.

Mulder kneels down and takes her foot onto his leg.  He doesn’t apologize this time when he touches her ankle like he did when he helped her onto the horse.  Her foot rests high on his thigh and he looks at her as he pushes each button free.  The anticipation of removing the shoe is actually making it hard for her to breathe and it certainly isn’t helping with the ache between her thighs.

Finally, Mulder pulls the first shoe from her foot and she sighs.  He pushes the hem of her bloomers up her leg and then draws her stocking down.  She bites her lip as he softly massages her calf and ankle and then draws one hand over the top of her foot and rubs his thumb across her toes.  He brings her first foot back to the floor and then has to repeat the whole process with the other.  By the time he’s finished, she’s panting and trying not to squirm.

“I need to tell you something,” he says, massaging the back of her ankle.

“Alright.”

He doesn’t say anything for a few moments, just continues to massage her foot.  The storm outside swells and the rain splatters against the walls and the widow.  Lightning flickers through the slats of the shutters and thunder rumbles again, but it’s lower this time.

“I’ve never done this before,” he says.  “I was nearly engaged once, but we never...it was a long time ago.  What I mean to say is, if I do something wrong, if...well, if there’s something I should be doing that I’m not, you just tell me.”

She doesn’t know what to think about what he’s just told her.  It surprises her, to say the least, given her experience with men.  She also feels a pang of sympathy for him.  There are things that she hasn’t done either, though she won’t tell him of it now.  Despite having been married, she’s never seen a naked, aroused man before.  Jack would not let her look and would not let her touch him.  She’s also never been nude in front of any man.  Intercourse was always something stolen from her, something she had no participation in other than being there.  It was painful, it was unpleasant, it was beyond her control.  What’s happening now is different, and she knows it.  She doesn’t know what to expect either or what to do.  Not really.  Perhaps she should tell him she’s in the same place that he is, but she doesn’t know how to explain.

“Come here,” she says.

He stands up on his knees and then gets to his feet before her.  She slides off the bed a little and then takes his hips and has him take a step even closer to her.  She unknots the drawstring on his drawers and hesitates when the underwear loosens and slips down his hips a few inches, exposing the top of his penis.  She tries not to stare, but she can’t help it.  It’s wet and glistening and twitches slightly when she tugs at his drawers to bring them off completely.

She holds him where her palms fit nicely at the muscular dip below his hips.  Her fingers curve naturally with the swell of his buttocks.  He clenches and shifts his feet.  His hands curl into loose fists and his fingers twitch.

“Can I touch you?” she asks.

He nods quickly and then grits his teeth and swallows.  “Oh hell,” he groans when she wraps her hand around him.  For a moment she thinks she’s done something wrong, but then she looks at his face and his eyes are closed, chin dropped nearly to his chest, mouth open.  She flexes her fingers to open her hand and then closes it around him again and he sways.

“Oh yes,” he moans.  “Oh, Kate.”  Even though his penis is hard, the skin is unexpectedly soft like velvet.  She pets him lightly and then uses her thumb to stroke up from the bottom of his shaft to the top.  He grabs onto her shoulder and his knees bend a little.  

Without even thinking about it, Katherine takes Mulder’s hand from her shoulder and brings it down to her breast.  He squeezes her almost experimentally at first and then more boldly.  She gasps slightly when his thumb rubs over her nipple and the grip she has on his penis tightens a bit.  He groans and sways again only this time his hips jerk towards her and then back.

“Oh Kate that feels so good,” Mulder says.

Encouraged, Katherine continues to pet him and rub him and he groans again and then covers her hand with his and curls her fingers into a tight fist around him.  He moves her hand up and down in his, faster and faster.  His hips jerk in time with the push and pull of their hands.  He makes soft little grunting whines in the back of his throat and squeezes his eyes shut.  Blindly, he gropes for the edge of her chemise and lifts it up until he’s holding her bare breast in his hand and kneading it in time with her strokes.

“Oh, oh...oh I...I…”  Mulder’s head falls back and he bares his teeth and groans from deep in his gut.  His hips jerk forward and his buttocks clench and Katherine feels the warm rush of his seed spilling through her fingers and into their joined fists.

Time seems to come to a standstill for a few moments and then Mulder lets go of her breast and lets go of her hand and his eyes come open and his mouth rounds into the shape of an ‘o’ and then he hastily begins pulling at his undershirt to whip it over his head.

“Forgive me,” he says, wiping at her hand with his shirt.  “Oh, Kate, I’m sorry.”

“Why?  Wasn’t that what was supposed to happen?”

“Yes, but I didn’t intend to soil your hand in the process.”

“I don’t feel soiled.”

“That eases my embarrassment some.”

“Please, don’t be.”

Mulder tosses the undershirt away and then seems to realize he’s naked and moves his arms around like he doesn’t know what to do with them.  Katherine laughs and then grabs his hand and pulls him towards her.  She lays back where she is and he bends over her with his hands beside her shoulders on the bed.

“Do I get the honor of touching you now?” he asks.

“If...if you would like to.”

“Would you like me to?”

She takes a deep breath, swallows once, and then nods.  He pushes away from her and then takes her hands and pulls her back up so she’s sitting at the edge of the bed again.  He pulls the lace ties of her chemise apart and pushes the straps over her shoulders.  She shivers when her chest is exposed, sending gooseflesh up her arms.  He gazes at her openly and just the thought of him wanting her in such a way makes her nipples tighten painfully.

Mulder leans closer to her and touches the neglected breast he did not give any attention to previously.  He cups it in his hand and then bends his head and puts his mouth on her.  She is caught off guard and pushes his head away, blinking in surprise.

“What are you doing?” she asks, pulling her shoulders into her body a bit and covering her breasts with her arms.

“I wanted to...is that not okay to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“I won’t do it then.”

“You wanted to?”

“Well, yes, I...yes.”

“Okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t know.  If I ask you to stop, will you?”

“Of course.”

He says that like it’s a given that ‘please, no’ and ‘don’t’ are magic words that people just adhere to.  She knows they’re not always heard and she knows they’re not always respected.  She also knows she shouldn’t judge Mulder by the poor character of other men.  He’s proven to her several times over that he is kind and trustworthy.  She opens her arms, baring her chest again to him, but she’s trembling all over.

“Alright,” she says.  “Go ahead.”

“Are you cold, honey?”

She shakes her head no in response.  His eyes roam her face for a few moments and instead of going back to her breast he kisses her.  She responds instantly, bringing her arms up and over his back to pull him closer.  He’s warm and the sparse hair on his chest tickles her breasts when she brushes against him.  He slides his arm under her and lifts her up slightly as he crawls onto the bed.

She’s still on her back, but he’s on his side.  He moves one hand over her body, down her arm, up her arm, over her breast, around her hip, across her belly, up her neck, over her breast again, down to her navel.  

He pulls his mouth from hers and she protests with a whimper, but he starts to kiss her face and then her neck and then her shoulders and her insides start to feel like melting butter.  She’s liquidy and soft all over.  He kisses the top of her breast and the side of her breast and then the inside of her elbow where her arm is bent to hold his face in her hands.

“Mulder,” she whispers.  

“Kate,” he murmurs back.

The way he says her name makes her body flush.  She pulls his head up so she can look at him and he cocks his head a little and rubs his jaw into her hand.  He touches her face and draws his thumb over her hairline and to her ear.

“Will you take your hair down?” he asks.

“Okay.”

They have to untangle their arms a bit so she can sit up and she pulls her braid over her shoulder and unties the band keeping it in place.  She unravels the plait with the pull of her fingers and the curls spring free.

“So beautiful,” he whispers, running his fingertips over the waves of her hair reverently.

She shakes her head a little in disbelief and then lays back again and stares up at the ceiling.  She folds her arms up to cover her breasts and finds herself nervously twisting her wedding band again when she tries so hard not to.  He lays down beside her again and props himself up on one hand and then reaches over to lightly cover her wrists.

“What is it?” he asks.

She shakes her head again.  When she was younger, the other kids at school wouldn’t play with her because they thought redheads were witches.  Her brother once told her that no one would ever want to marry her because boys thought freckles were disgusting.  Her mother once told her it was a shame she’d inherited her grandmother Scully’s nose.  Jack had told her repeatedly that her body felt like a bag of bones and that it repulsed him.  

“Kate?”

“You don’t have to lie to me.  I know I’m not very pretty.”

“Not pretty?  The first time I laid eyes on you I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.”

“I was unkempt and exhausted the day you met me.”

“That does not mean you weren’t beautiful.  Who told you you weren’t pretty?  That horse’s ass, Jack Willis?”

“Everyone.”

“Then everyone is wrong.”

“Everyone is wrong, but you are right?”

“In all the time you’ve known me, have I ever been wrong?”

She smiles a little and then begins to laugh.  He smiles as well and brings her hand to his mouth and kisses her wrist.  In the hallway, the grandfather clock chimes nine times.  The rain falls as steadily as it has been with no signs of stopping.

“I’ve never done this either,” she says, and he gives her a questioning look.  She shakes her head a little again and brings his hand back to her face.  “Not like this.  I want you to keep touching me.”

“That’s good, because I really want to keep touching you.”

She leans up and kisses him this time and he kisses her back.  She shifts closer and pulls him to her so that she can bring one of her arms around him and stroke his back.  She wants to wrap herself around him and maybe stay there for a little while where she knows she’s safe.  

He touches her a little more confidently than he had before.  He’s more firm, squeezes her breast a little tighter, doesn’t hesitate to pull her hips up towards his and push his body against hers.  He’s hard again and she knows that consummation is imminent.  She’s not nervous about it and doesn’t feel a sense of obligation to go through with it.  She wants it to happen.  She’s ready for it to happen.

Mulder’s fingers brush the top of her bloomers and he blindly unknots the drawstring.  Once the stays are loose, he slides his hand inside at her hip, lightly caressing her backside before moving around to the top of her thighs.  He breaks from kissing her to look down and she watches his face as he brings his hand between her thighs.  His fingers move gently through her curls and slip easily into the natural groove there that brings him inside of her.  His eyes widen and his lips purse as though he’s surprised.

“You feel so...so tight,” he whispers.  “Will it be okay?  Will I hurt you?”

“I’ll be fine,” she lies.  It’s never not been painful.  She only hopes it won’t be this time.

He pulls his hand out from her bloomers and then she helps him pull them off her legs and just like that, she’s laid bare for him.  Unabashed, unashamed.  She opens her arms to him and when he comes down to her, she opens her legs as well.  

“If you need me to stop,” he says.  “I will.”

“I won’t,” she answers.

He moves awkwardly over her.  Bearing in mind he has no experience, she folds one knee up and rubs encouragingly at his shoulder.  She watches him fumble between touching himself and touching her and he blows out little puffs of frustration from his pouting lips.

“I’m sorry,” he says.  “I thought...I thought I would just know how to…”

“It’s alright.”  

Katherine wets her lips and then reaches down and takes a hold of him.  She shifts her hips and brings the tip of his penis to her folds and probes gently until she feels him begin to slip inside and then she stops and shifts again.  She lets go of him and then holds onto his hips as he pushes his way into her.  His body hunches over hers and he presses his head into the bed and pants into her shoulder.

“Oh my God,” he moans.  “Jesus, Kate, you feel so good.  Is this okay?  Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” she says, and it isn’t a lie.  She feels a slight sting at first, but then nothing.  Nothing but the hot velvet feel of him inside of her.  For the first time, it doesn’t feel like an invasion, it feels like a welcome home.

“I...I have to move,” he says.  “Can I move?”

“Yes, move.  Please.”

He brings his hips back, but only marginally, like he can’t bear not to be as fully enmeshed in her as he can be, and then he pushes quickly back into her and moans.  She slides her hands over his buttocks and squeezes.  His hips jerk again and he cries out her name.

“You feel good to me too,” she tells him.

“I do?”

“Yes.  Yes.”  And that is not a lie either.  He has a way of undulating his hips so that his pelvis slides against hers and she can feel something building inside her, something glorious.  Her toes begin to tingle and she feels fire in her cheeks.

“This is incredible,” he says.  “I can’t believe how incredible you are.”

“Oh!”  Something happens in the next snap of his hips.  Her chest raises up into his and her head falls back.  Mulder buries his face into the straining muscles at her neck.  She can’t take a breath, can’t say a word, can’t do a thing but claw at his buttocks as her body folds up into his.  She feels as though she’s riding a wave.  No, she feels as though she is the wave, cresting and falling and then oozing towards land.  She feels as though she’s just been released of a heavy burden that she wasn’t even aware she was carrying.

“Kate, God, oh…”  Mulder holds her tightly to him as he spills into her.  She feels the warm rush of it flood through her and she’s not repulsed, like she would be with Jack.  She isn’t eager to get away.  She wants him to stay longer, stay as long as he can.

“Don’t go,” she whispers, when he shifts above her.

“I won’t,” he says, but it’s not a promise he can really keep.  He finally has to move from between her thighs rolls to his back beside her.

They lay side by side for some time and then Mulder gets up and he goes to his wash stand.  He pours water into the basin and wets a rag and then wrings it out and pats his chest and face a few times before wetting it again and cleaning himself between his legs.  He wets and wrings the rag again and then brings it to Katherine.  She reaches for it, but he sits down beside her and cleans her thighs himself.

“Thank you,” she says.

“Should I get a nightdress for you from your room?” he asks, draping the rag over the rack at the side of the stand.  “Will you be cold?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be right back.”  Mulder goes out into the hall and turns off the lamps and then checks the door.  He brings the lamp in his room over to the bedside table and Katherine moves off the bed so he can pull the bedclothes down.  It’s apparent he expects her to stay with him tonight.  She had hoped he would ask and never thought he would just assume that is the way it would be.  She lays down and he brings the sheets over her.

“Can I hold you?” he asks, when he slips into bed behind her.

She blinks in surprise, but nods.  He turns away to put the lamp out and then lays down and brings his arm around her.  His chest is pressed to her back and his legs curl into the shape of hers.  His knees jut into the bottoms of her feet.  She lays her arm alongside his and he turns his hand into hers so that their fingers lace together.

She doesn’t fall asleep immediately.  It takes some time for her heartbeat to slow, for her eyes to droop, for the rain to lull her.  The grandfather clock chimes ten times though she hears it as though through a dense fog.  She feels Mulder move behind her, feels him lean over her and kiss her cheek, but she’s too sleepy to respond.

She thinks he might whisper ‘I love you,’ but it might be a dream.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Hello Rawr! Thank you for all the prompts, they have been so much fun to read. I finally have one to send you. How about Geralt/Eskel, fluff 40 "I want a baby". They are in Corvo Bianco and everything is peaceful and Eskel finally feels ready to try again with being a Dad.

Eskel and Geralt settle at Corvo Bianco. They’re happy, but there’s just one thing missing...

Once Geralt made himself comfortable in Corvo Bianco, it took six months for Eskel to retire from the Path and settle down alongside him. Yennefer won the sweepstake and Lambert handed over the handful of orens with an irritable grumble. One summer evening he sat with Geralt on the balcony, a goblet of red wine in his hand, sun setting behind the mountains and he just… decided. He swapped his swords for a scythe and woven basket, his armour and gambeson for linen and wool, and set to work helping Geralt build a new life. Their new life.

The vines flourished, binding in the rich, dark Toussaint soil, and produced their very first crop. They made more money than they could spend—Geralt bought some race horses to try and get rid of it all, only for the damned things to win the tournies and rake in more—and they wanted for nothing. 

Well, almost nothing.

When Eskel wasn’t traipsing, bare-footed, around the estate in search of something to fix and tend to, he spent time with the locals. His amber eyes and scarred face caused consternation at first—he was used to it—but their workforce quickly came to associate his battered visage with a kindly smile and hearty laugh. The children were particularly taken with him. They took it in turns to hitch rides on his broad shoulders, stretching up to reach the ripest apples high in the trees or clamber up into the hayloft during hide and seek, and pestered him for stories. He was the best weaver of tales that Geralt knew, and often he found himself sitting cross-legged with the children around the fire as Eskel recounted one of his contracts with wide sweeping arms, monster noises and a hushed, conspiratorial tone.

Geralt wondered what could have been had it gone differently with Deidre. Eskel never got the chance and bore the scars of his loss for everyone to see. He’d never had someone call him ‘father’, or run to him after nightmares, or rely on him in the way a child did. Uncle Eskel, yes. Ciri loved him. Perhaps as much as a father, but it wasn’t quite the full thing. Not really.

One evening they sat on the veranda, bare feet propped up on the railings with a large bottle of wine on the table between them. The sun had long set and Barnabas had lit some special candles to ward off the insects, despite their protest that it really didn’t matter, they were—“Witchers, yes, I know, Master Eskel, but if it’s all the same, I’ll light the candles,” he said, with a good-natured eyeroll.

Eskel had been brooding. It wasn’t the tense, dark brood that Geralt used to conduct in his youth, but a pensive, thoughtful brood that sometimes broke out into a small smile. A few hours passed in companionable silence; Geralt would occasionally reach over and touch Eskel’s hand, or vice versa, just enjoying the fact that they could. It was summer and he was right there. Not at the other side of the Continent, not dead, not leaving, never again.

“Geralt,” Eskel said, finally. “I want a baby.”

Regrettably, Geralt was halfway through a hearty mouthful of wine and proceeded to snort it out his nose. Eskel raised an eyebrow with an impatient twist of the lips but waited. Geralt coughed and then, eyes watering, looked over at that expectant face. “Just like that, huh?”

“No, not just like that,” Eskel placed his goblet down and folded his arms across his chest; one hand leapt up almost immediately to dab at the scars on his face. “I’ve been thinking and… I want to… I want to see what it’s like, and… I think I’d be a good father; we’ve got all this wealth and nothing to spend it on, not really. I…” 

“Eskel,” Geralt grinned, stroking the backs of his fingers down a bare forearm until the very same pondering hand dropped into his. “I get it. I was joking. C’mon, I know you’d be an amazing father.”

“And you,” Eskel said abruptly, and then looked surprised at himself. “I mean, would you—uh…? Could the baby be… ours?”

The silence was so heavy even the overactive crickets in the field below fell still. Eskel had just said the Witcher equivalent ‘I want to have your babies’ and both were mute for different reasons. Eskel from mortification and fear of rejection; Geralt from sheer, overwhelming joy and… well, just plain shock. 

“Yes,” Geralt squeezed Eskel’s hand and watched his shoulders deflate, releasing the coil of tension that had gathered the moment he spoke. “Ours. I’d… yeah, I’d like that.” 

Eskel grinned—broad and beautiful, like the sun had settled there for the night rather than below the horizon—and he leaned across the table to place the softest kiss upon Geralt’s lips before slumping back contentedly into his chair. Tomorrow they’d head into town and visit the orphanage to see the matron there. 

War had left thousands of children starving, homeless and without a single pair of caring arms to hold them or a heart that loved them. Eskel had both in absolute spades, and Geralt would gladly lend his share.

[thegoldendemon]

COUNTERFEIT.

content warning: explicit gore

    There is a man with a sack.

    The barn is dim, hardly lit. Moonlight comes and goes, obscured by clouds beyond. He’s trembling, this sack-man, bristling with anticipation for something. Ahead of him, people. Gagged and bound like pigs.

    Khada Jhin is watching.

    The sack-man fumbles with his knife, muttering. It’s oversharpened and Jhin knows it. Himself, he’s in the loft, obscured by haybales. Waiting. Sack’s pigs are simply gaping, uninterested or unconscious. Sleeping powder, strangulation—whichever, it must have been amateur. Some of them are coming to, and shuffling ensues as the sack-man begins to sweat.

    “You’re all so ugly.”

    Cold wind.

    An awake woman has the knife pointed at her and she shirks away, soundlessly crying. Sack says, “People are the worst. Dirty, dirty, dirty. Do you really think any of you were doing anything good with your lives? All you do… suck up resources, pervert nature…” His breathing labored and heavy. “I hate… I HATE ALL OF YOU.”

    Now, laughter.

    “But! But that’s why I’ve brought you all here! I’m going to make this right and he’s going to come because he has to come! I’m doing this because of the Demon! Because of Khada Jhin!”

    Lucky you must be, so Jhin might have hissed, that I am already here.

    In reality, he remains still. This tirade disgusts him, but not enough to not let the sack-man tie the noose around his neck some more, given he’s already given himself enough rope to make an expedition to the top of Tuula Mountain look like an excursion for one afternoon. Here he waves that ridiculous excuse for a knife in front of the woman, whose face bulges with the effort of struggling against her binds. Back and forth it goes, until finally…

    … it snaps in two on her head.

    Silence. Stares. Two long breaths. Muttering, and then this:

    “Huh,” Sack concludes. “I guess that’s okay. You’re fine.”

    She’s dying, of course. Blood is trickling from her forehead and getting into her eyes, mixing with dirt and tears. Now more of the pigs unconscious start to stir, taken from their stupor by the commotion. Everything becomes louder as more joins in the chorus of gaggled mourning, weeping, babbling frantic that surely must have been screaming for mercy where they aren’t just in terror.

    Behind his true face, Jhin’s eyes are like slits.

    He has a thought before it’s drowned out by the now escalating cacophony profoundly dumb in its lack of music. Louder, louder, louder. The pigs are out of key and the sack is doing nothing to stop it.

    Oh, but he yells.

    “STOP SCREAMING! Everything… everything is fine! You ugly bastards, shut up! Don’t make me get out another blade!”

    Jhin has seen enough. His hand reaches for his mask, removing it and stripping the cowl from his head. The frustration woven on his fake face goes without description. Then his hands sink into his robes, grazing on the edge of one familiar hilt.

    “I’ll—I’ll kill you all if you don’t get qui—gah—”

    Sack-man is pierced from the shoulder down, and the cacophony dies. He tumbles to the ground.

    “Troublesome.” Khada Jhin’s voice now booms over the hayloft.

    Sack offers only gurgles. Jhin slips down to the ground, landing on both boots as he towers over the now frumpy and crumpled silhouette of perhaps the ugliest beast he has yet seen in as many years.

    “I know you’re alive.” He picks up the sack by the neck. “My blade went from your shoulder and into your back. Nothing hit your vitals.”

    More gurgling, but this time, “Who… are you?”

    Jhin scoffs.

    “That’s not the question you should be asking.” He sees the rest of the pigs now, crowded into a facsimile of a circle dotted by candles and chalk, and he is growling. Uncharacteristic anger, but hardly not unearned. What farce! How would anyone dare to usurp the Golden Demon in such pathetic, pitiful, worthless—

    —but Jhin catches himself. They’re not done.

    He grabs the hilt of the blade thocked in the sack-man’s shoulder, pulling it free. Sack howls, but that’s the least amount of pain he’s about to be put through. Making sure of it, Jhin presses his own fingers inside the wound and watches callously as the skin obeyed and hewed itself shut, preventing any bleed.

    “Why…”

    Jhin’s blade about grazes the sack-man’s windpipe, but only just. Here the anger fragments on his fake face, washing over with tense serenity; impassively he remembers the dying woman and with a touch, her gag disintegrates. She spits and sputters, openly wailing with shock.

    “This is what you make,” Jhin tells Sack. Sack says nothing—he’s in the ground.

    “Please,” the woman begs. “Please save me… please save us.”

    “You will be,” Jhin says, taking on a tone foreign to him. Considerate, or perhaps concerned. “I’ll save you all once you tell me what happened. What did this mongrel do?”

    “I’m bleeding,” she whines.

    “I know.”

    “It hurts.”

    “It must.”

    She’s past the pale, and Jhin, undeterred, moves to the next down the line of pigs, doing the same to another gag as he had with hers.

    “Why aren’t you helping her?!” This old goat bleats. “She’s dying and her head is bleeding? Haven’t you seen what that madman did?”

    “You heard me,” the foreign voice answers. “I need to know what happened. You’re safe now.”

    “That madman’s still moving!”

    Jhin smiled calmly. “Not for long. Tell me what I need to know.”

    “He brought us here…” and Jhin relaxes. “We’re workers on the farm. He’s our manager. Brought us to the barn about pay and then this. Wears a sack… but we know who he is. Tenlan.”

    Tenlan, was it? It’s just Sack now. Speaking of which, he’s facing him, testing the edge of his blade—a good blade, a perfect blade, because Khada Jhin made it so—on the small of his back. Strike here and Sack would be instantly paralyzed, which Jhin has done countless times to countless others. As long as the blade reached the spinal column, which it would. The Demon, much like any artist, has voraciously studied human anatomy. Entire texts sit earmarked and well used in a lakeside cottage off Kaijn City, next to manuscripts supplied by Kashuri monks. Anatomy for which Jhin has practiced four times as much as he has read. But…

     Khada Jhin whips his blade and severs the sack-man out from its legs.

    “I’m going to tell you something,” the Demon whispers to it as it screamed and moaned, enunciated by the pigs’ collective disbelief. “Listen carefully.”

    From here, Jhin reveals his true face for all to see.

    “Ladies and gentlemen.” He holds up half the sack as he stands to full height, easily shadowing the heads of any one pig. “That which I have just excised the bottom limbs from is not your manager. Truthfully, he is not even a man. He is now a canvas, an it, and may we be joined together not to scream and cry, but to sing.”

    In his other hand, a lotus grenade.

     “Let us be its dirge.”