#i almost alway use the four corners farm

[st0neddew-valley]

what’s ur fave farm type and why

^peep mine in the tags lol it’s detailed

[elizabebabe]

𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 ◟✿ 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡: a certain shipment delivers more than sweet, southern y/n could imagine.

| ”i love a good southern belle.”

minors dni!

| “right now? on my tractor?”

| “i’m gonna touch you now, okay sweetheart?”

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: use of y/n, kissing, fingering, exhibitionism?, smut with plot, smut; softdom!matt, innocent!reader, physically&verballyabusive!dad, religion; saying grace.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k!

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬: this idea came to me when matt said he loved southern belles in the dress to impress video from a month ago…i took so long now that i think about it. 😞

the warm wind pushed through your locks, you were hunched down providing your pigs with their daily diet consisting of corn and other grains.

they huddled around it, chomping on what used to be in the bucket clutched between your palms.

your boots dug into the mud underneath you creating little footprints everywhere you stepped.

“i’m comin’” your sweet, thick southern accent laced your voice once you heard your mama call you in for supper.

you chucked the pale onto a hook adorned in the barn before giving your beloved piggies a few pats, locking their gate and hiking towards the family farmhouse, your bows placed through your hair bounced as you skipped, ready to tuck in. 

a few plates scattered the table in front of you, abigail; your little sister properly sat at her “assigned seat.” truly the spot she sat at her whole life as-well as your little brother and mother.

“expect a shipment later today, tony should be bringin’ over a few goods.”

you nodded towards the voice, taking a seat at the chair across from your littles.

with such a big farm it was normal to receive constant shipments, you had a lot of animals to feed, including yourselves.

tony was the usual, he dropped a few things off casually and constantly rambled about his recent divorce it was tough to listen to but your dad always made you do it since you had the most cheerful face.

“how could he be sad lookin’ at those cheeks.” he spoke in a baby voice, one you recognized from when he spoke to your mom, finishing off his statement with a pinch of your cheeks.

the plate of oats and raised eggs landed in front of you, “enjoy sweetheart.” your mom said softly, delivering the rest of the plates she held like a server to dad and your little brother and sister. 

“make sure you flash him a smile, make him feel special.” your dad continued, sure you were almost eighteen but you couldn’t help feeling weird when he said things like that, uncomfortable almost.

you let it slide following with a “i know.” you all link palms, abigail coiling her fingers between yours and your dad doing the same.

"dear lord, thank you for this food we are about to eat. we ask that you bless this food and continue to guide our family along your path, amen.”

your mom shared a quick grace before letting go of austin and her husband beside her hands.

you dug into the meal in front of you, family around you doing the same.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

after supper you strolled outside, ready to tend to your sheep while your siblings were “old enough” to handle the chickens as they were only four and three, dad brushed it off expecting the best from his offspring.

the walk to the barn was calming, the hydrated grass underneath you squelching with each step.

seconds after stepping into their pen they crowd around you ready for lunch, you grab a bag out of a cabinet tucked into a corner, throwing the feed into the feeders and gently place the bag back where it belongs.

you kneeled at a stool sat in the same corner grabbing one of the few lamb’s and “throwing” it over your knees, giving it access to the bottle scrunched in your palm.

you were close with the animals, loving to take care of them especially your horses, you even named them all which was overridden by your younger siblings.

sometimes you still whisper the forgotten names towards them, ultimately making you sad that they don’t know it.

‘dong’, ‘dong’ 

the bell, tony was here, you picked the baby off you after a few more seconds of feeding deciding the shipment would be more important to dad than the babies right now, you hastily prepared yourself, adjusting your flowy pink dress and frilly socks that popped out of your boots, dusting off your butt as it came in contact with the dirty stool.

you strided outside the big red building, watching the tractor you recognized drive up from the gate that was being held open by your father.

‘did tony shave?’ you questioned in your mind, noticing his beard was absent from afar.

once he drove closer you observed the person not being tony at all, your hand’s immediately clammed now having to meet someone new instead of the normal routine.

your dad walked alongside the big vehicle, chatting with the man operating it.

“y/n!” your dad beckoned which hurried your speed, the driver wore a flannel and a cap, some dusty boots hung onto his feet.

“this is matt, tony’s nephew.” he mentioned with a nod, matt  made eye contact with you once you came a bit closer. his gaze was intense, eye contact was ten/ten.

the blue hue didn’t help the piercing that they did to your soul, he waved, “hey.” pushed past his plump, pink lips, he had a similar accent to you but it was lighter, softer but huskier at the same time.

you were speechless, ‘why have we never met?’ living on a farm that was a large distance from your small town resorted in you not getting any interaction with guys your age, your only friends were the chickens you raised and you grew content with that but this brief meeting started this idea that you were missin’ out on the world.

“hi.” you say bashfully, your head finding the grass underneath you.

“y/n, where are your manners?” you could tell your dad was scolding you but he did it slyly, not trying to embarrass himself.

“greet the young man, properly. i’ve got work to do.” he stated before walking to the stables parked away from your home.

matt stepped off the big tractor, walking towards you, the butterflies in your stomach were persistent making it hard for you to hold a conversation.

“where should i put it all?” he nodded towards the vehicle with things you knew too well hooked on the back.

“uhh..” you hummed, speechless, behaving like you’ve never directed a shipment before.

he was patient, watching your face scrunch as you thought deeply, placing his hands on the peak of his hips.

you looked between him and the essentials hooked to the back of the tractor, “feed goes to the coop.” you pause.

“hay and seed in the barn.” halfway through your sentence he’s already made his way to the supplies, unpacking and sorting the items you listed. 

“do you want me to install the heater.” he mentions the appliance your dad ordered for the winter, as the old one started collecting dust after being broken for the last few months.

“that’s okay, my dad likes doin’ stuff like that.” you smile cheerfully trying to keep your composure and give him the warm welcome your dad would want.

he chucked a heavy bag over his shoulder which flexed his clothed bicep, you just watched, stood there, your boots stabbing the grass beneath you. 

he heaved another bag under his unoccupied arm and trekked towards the coop. usually this is when you get back to work, leaving the unloading to the man that previously sat behind the wheel.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

hay picked out of your palm, the horse in front of you bucking its head towards the lush foliage. your other hand brushing down the side of tilli’s neck, tilli being the name of the large animal ahead of you.

beads of water suddenly tapped on your shoulder, bringing you out of the gaze you strongly held on your “baby”.

your head dragged up to the hole that poked through the roof of the stable you stood in, the once bright sky seemed clouded but was hard to make out.

you took a few seconds waiting for tilli to finish what was in your hand then stepped away from her gate, walking towards the arch you previously had entered.

the sky was light but had a darkness that seemed to loom, your eyes quickly averted to the man who interacted with your father, gestures moving through the wind as you noticed the almost empty cart before them both.

“perfect.” you heard faintly.

“y/n, get over here.” your dad beckoned, the man beside his eyes latching and lingering onto you as you strolled over.

“yes daddy?” your words pushed past your lips, the accent on you looping through your words which seemed to earn a subtle gulp from the guy you couldn’t keep your eyes off of.

the rain hurriedly fastened, starting to fall harder than before which sent a shiver down your spine.

“go on in, i’ll finish up.” you watched your mom poke her head out as your siblings ran inside your farmhouse doors.

“i don’t mind..” you mumble through the bumps collecting on your skin as well as the wetness, even the shakiness of your voice was evident.

you don’t know why you were adamant on staying out..maybe you wanted to impress a certain someone with your perseverance.

“don’t make a fuss.” your dad scolded, it was soft but it was there.

it snapped you out of the impression you attempted to make, your head immediately falling to the wet ground under their feet.

“now matt.” his hand swung to matt’s shoulder giving it a harsh squeeze, the palm sturdy on his flannel and the rain around you all turning to thunder which brought a squeal out of you and was a kick in the butt to rush towards the doors, not running in an attempt to keep your flowy now wet dress down.

you turned the nod, your mom seeming to have headed upstairs with your drenched brother and sister. you didn’t close the door behind you though you watched the interaction unfold through it.

it seemed normal and you expected matt to drop off the last bits of supplies tomorrow but those expectations were averted when you saw them both heading to you…or to the doors of your house.

‘what..?’ clouded your mind.

drips hit your hardfloor, splashing on contact.

“he’s gonna stay the night, too bad out there.” dad breathed.

you stepped away from the door as they both piled in your hand moving from the clutch you held onto the rustic frame.

your mind couldn’t help blocking out your dad’s words as soon as you heard, “he’s gonna stay the night.”.

a man that isn’t your dad? 

staying here?

under the same roof?

how is he okay with that?

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you all settled at the table ready for dinner, too busy working in the field you and father seemed to miss lunch, the man you averted your gaze from but couldn’t stop staring at sat at the head of the table, just like your dad. you could tell your little sister was giving him a curious stare as she sat ahead of you.

which meant you both sat beside him, both staring at him in different ways.

“here you are darlin’.” mama sat the full plate before matt.

“thank ya.” he thanked her his head swiveling towards her, he didn’t seem to speak much but everytime he did, your belly twirled hearing that accent lace his words. 

it was music, music to your ears.

your spoon scooped into the red beans and rice your mom decided to make for comfort especially with the kids being frightened by the loud rumbling outside.

“matt, y/n” your dad beckoned at the table which snapped your head, “we say grace here.”

“remember?” you could hear his disappointment, you were even disappointed in yourself as your mind must’ve been elsewhere as this was the first time you forgot to say grace.

“m’ sorry.” you almost whisper, the man beside you taking longing stares at your now somber expression.

your dad clears his throat, his hands clinging to mom and stretching your arm towards him, he didn’t hold your hand, he clutched onto your wrist which punished you even further.

the bruising you could feel around your squeezed wrist subsided when a large hand grabbed at your small palm, matt seeming to take to the tradition sent a chill down your back.

eyes closed and your dad begun,

"dear lord, thank you for this food we are about to eat. we ask that you blah, blah, blah”

the words slurred as you could only focus on the calloused finger that gently caressed the back of your palm. 

“amen.”

the word squinted your eyes open, fingers that once hooked together pulled away, the lack of the hand that weirdly but perfectly clicked in your own disappointed you.

the spoon you dropped from the reprimand you experienced was picked up, shoveling the warm meal into your mouth, attempting to keep your manners that echoed through your mind especially in front of your guest.

‘elbows off the table.’

‘chew with your mouth closed.’

‘small bites only.’

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you hooked your airy nightgown over your sticky body, the water beads you failed to dry clinging to the linen fabric.

you softly pushed your homely bathroom door that arched to your bedroom, walking towards the bed that typically hugged your body. you tugged yourself down, feeling the plush sheets that sprawled the mattress beneath.

while you tossed and turned your mind couldn’t help wandering, thinking about the boy walking your halls, sleeping in one of the guest bedrooms downstairs.

this has never happened to you, feeling something you’ve never felt before scaring you but enticing you at the same time.

you laid flat on your back, arms and legs stretched out not even tucking under your comfy covers. you lunged up your upper half, looking around your bedroom and through the window, water gently hit the glass softer than before.

….

water.

maybe you needed a glass of water to clear your mind, your legs swung off the bed, your hand ruffling the bit of your dress that seemed to lift.

the steps creaked on your impact, your descent to the cabinet was quick as you wanted to hurry back to bed before your dad noticed you were awake.

you knew you needed an early startup to make sure every animal’s needs were catered.

you shuffled through the cabinets, grabbing a clear glass from one of the shelves and placing it under the water dispenser.

“hi.” 

you jumped the cool liquid spilling out of the cup and onto your gown.

“sorry!” the voice continued, your upset ended when you realize who it was.

“it’s…fuck.” you huffed placing the glass to a nearby counter and patting at the big wet spot.

“whoa, didn’t think you cussed.” he pulled a few paper towels off the holder, bunching them up.

“pardon me.” you continued accepting the pats he made on your tummy, attempting to dry the spot.

you were close, his body heat radiating from him, his gaze fixated on the gown you handpicked.

“i-i..didn’t mean to cuss.” you pause averting your attention to avoid flusteredness. 

“it’s okay.” he breathed moving the paper from your belly and to the trash closeby. 

you both stood there awkwardly, the sound of birds chirping filling the silence.

“is it still raining?” pushed past your lips in an attempt to end it, whatever it was, he peered out the panels of your farmhouse door.

“looks like it.” your head snapped towards the bay window that decorated the open lounge room.

it had stopped contrary to your belief as you had witnessed it minutes prior. he walked towards the door, pulling it open and taking steps out onto the porch.

a breeze pushed through his t-shirt and shorts that almost covered his knees. you stepped outside alongside him, your nightgown flowing in the wind.

“it’s beautiful.” he mumbled, which drew your attention.

….

“i’m sure your farm is pretty….no?” you reply.

….

“me and my uncle have a small ranch..a horse or two comes on the land but we don’t own em.” he nodded, his head dragging to his feet.

you watched him, your eyes observing his mood.

“doin’ shipments to get by.” he continued, noticing your silence he took a few steps to the stairs, taking a seat and looking into the deep blue sky, the stars twinkling seeming to catch his attention.

you never worked a day in your life well..worked like that.

everything was made for you, the animals you kept being a fun hobby not something to have food on the table. you followed behind him, sitting beside him on the porch step.

“i’ve never been in that..situation..” you commented hopeful to ease his anxiety that exudes from his mannerisms.

silence…a long pause.

“the stars.” 

you looked up, acknowledging what he mentioned.

“they’re calming.” 

….

“had a sun roof last summer before my dad covered it up, watched the stars every night before bed.” you smiled at him which he reciprocated.

“why?” 

your eyebrow raises.

“why did he cover it up?” he softly nodded at your words.

“punishment.” you continued, your eyes bared into the soles of your feet that touched the wet grass. 

“maybe i didn’t shear the sheep enough, feed the lambs enough, milk the cows, train the horses, even not batting my fucking eyelashes enough for tony.” your eyes welled up as you rambled and his body tensed at the name of his uncle.

he placed his hand on your back, beginning to scoot closer and rub soothing motions on top of the linen fabric.

“m’sorry…” you whispered, tugging your head to look at him.

his eyes warmed at your now wet face, his thumb pricking at your tears. 

“don’t be.” he didn’t mumble or whisper, he wanted you to hear him, hear that.

“i’m just tired.” you choked out, excusing yourself, taking a stand which brushed off his hands.

you basically ran inside ignoring the squeaking of the floor and heading straight to your room upstairs. 

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you slid your tight shorts on, tied your blue gingham top around your bra and tugged on your brown boots. 

you were ready for a fresh day hoping matt had forgotten about your what you would call embarrassing outburst.

you hurried down the steps, noticing your siblings in their playroom and your mom in the kitchen. matt and your dad seemed to have settled near the porch.

matt was tucking things into a backpack he must’ve tugged in last night.

“y/n!” your dad noticed your presence peaking onto the porch.

“you woke up late, lambs are behind, help matt out the gate, his tractors in the barn.” a familiar stern pat landed on matt’s shoulder.

you were already ashamed and the dump of chores made it worse, you brought your head down, nodding and stepping off the porch you felt matt following behind you.

you walked him over, and he quickly chucked his bag on the vehicle that sat in the barn all night avoiding the thunder and potential rust.

“last night,” he stated.

your face scrunched up, cringe crawled your skin.

“my uncle won’t come down anymore.” your eyebrows knitted, ‘what.?’

“won’t let him, i’ll take over.” 

silence..

he stepped towards you, closing a gap that was wedged by a tractor.

“you won’t have to see him again.”

“it won’t fix your problems with your dad bu—“ he attempted to continue but your arms slung around his neck, pulling him flush against your body.

tears sticking up your eyelashes.

you pulled your head out of the crook of his neck, your eye’s connecting, embarrassment rushing over you after your mind caught up with your body.

there was a certain tension, a tension you couldn’t resist or solve, he seemed to have the same problem as he pulled you up into him, his lips connecting with yours.

it was surprising at first but then felt so right, it was sudden at first but felt so right.

the sun beamed into the barn, he pulled away from you, a quick peck being the only thing he gave you.

“m’sorry.” he nodded slowly, pulling his arms from your sides.

“don’t be.” you pulled him back into a tender kiss, it was slow and sensual, he took control, guiding you through it as you had no idea what you were doing but you could sense him taking his time.

taking a beat before poking through your lips, tongues swirling with each other after he interacted with yours.

he must’ve lost his balance, his knees buckling making him fall back towards the green tractor.

you were making out with a boy stalled on a tractor, it was like a dream.

thoughts of getting caught by your dad, the potential repercussions, scarring your little brother, planting ideas into your kid sister's head and earning a tattle from your mom flooded your mind but was forced to subside when his hand linked under your thigh hooking it up to his waist.

a slam of a door made you jump, your head swiveled and left boot tucked back into the ground, you watched matt readjust his flannel.

“alright, let’s hook these up and you’ll be off.” your dad scrambled holding a few sturdy hay bales , he didn’t seem to notice what had just happened.

“what’s that for?” matt turned towards him, beckoning towards the hay.

“payment, this will have to do for now.” he sighed, stacking the hay into place behind the tractor.

“you can feed those wild horses!” you squealed, budding in the conversation you weren’t a part of even though you were standing beside them.

he smiled at you but it quickly flattened, “you’ll have the money for me soon though, right?” he tucked his hand into his pocket gesturing with the free one.

a huff left his lips, “y/n, don’t interrupt when grown men are speaking.” he slammed his hands against the haystack, giving a few more pats as your lips twisted, matt took note of the expression, you can tell he did by his blatant staring which made you want the mud beneath you to swallow you whole.

“i’ll get you the money, send it through mail or whatever the hell.” he fixated on the cap on top of his head wiping sweat beads from his forehead before walking away.

matt took one last look at the hay tied to his cart before hopping on the tractor, you watched which is something you and matt seemed to have in common, observing the people around you before doing anything, it was definitely something that was instilled in you by your dad’s harsh parenting.

which is why your next move took even yourself by surprise, you stepped onto the ledge that gave you enough leverage to boost yourself on top of his lap.

he looked shocked but his face quickly faded as he met you halfway, assuming you wanted to continue your interrupted make out, reaching for your hips and pulling you closer on his lap, having you straddle his thighs, his hands firmly on your hips as he pulled you towards his chest.

his eyes ran all over your face and body, drinking in the sight of you on his lap for the first time, gently rubbing his hands up and down your torso. he leaned his head forward which signaled you to kiss his plush, pink, plump lips which you had no problem doing.

bringing him closer for loose, gentle pecks that carried what felt like love to you.

they began trailing down your neck, it was casual. he seemed to have no impression to move beyond the kisses but you wanted more, you craved something you’ve never had before and it was an “interesting” feeling.

“interesting”; the wet pool that hastily adorned your panties, the swirls in your stomach. 

his fingers digging into your skin and hands carelessly slipping under your shirt, caressing your soft skin underneath briefly contradicted the light kisses.

“matt…” you breathed, immediately gaining his attention which seemed to halt his movements.

“you okay darlin’?” 

‘“darlin’” where did that come from?’

“i…-i” you couldn’t explain yourself, embarrassment warming your cheeks.

“you want me to stop?” his head tilted his body somehow becoming more distant even squeezed on the tractor seat, “no!” you practically shouted, trying to remember not to beckon your family.

his eyes widened, his body warmth returning, “i need you…in ways i can’t explain.” you hum.

his mouth slightly gaped open, “right now? on my tractor?” he questioned rubbing one of his hands to the side of your head, the other returning under your shirt.

you nodded vigorously, impatience rising with his timid behavior.

he slowly leaned forward, his mouth attaching itself to your exposed collarbone and beginning to leave wet, open-mouthed kisses along the skin of your neck, seeming to take your nods for gospel.

the hand that previously patted your head slid down, following the smooth expanse of your stomach to those tight shorts of yours, he teased with slow movements on the buttons which resulted in a whine from you.

“patience darlin’.” he smirked, a side of him you’ve never seen poking out under the circumstances, he needed to hurry before someone walked in the barn and he knew it, why was he doing this?

“i’m gonna touch you now, okay sweetheart?” he softly smiled, continuing to toy with the buttons and work your neck.

you softly nodded, hums and huffs slipping past your lips every once and a while.

he pulled at the buttons, zipping down your shorts and revealing your plain white panties, nothing special but he seemed to be amused as you noticed his glossy eyes.

“lift up.” he demanded his tone ruff and husk.

immediately complying, you lifted your lower half, giving him the leverage he needed to slowly slip his fingers underneath the fabric of your underwear, resting close to where you needed him most.

‘what a tease.’

“this okay, darlin’?” he breathed against your skin, looking up at your face.

“mhmm..” you hummed.

“oh baby…let me hear that sweet accent.” he hummed back.

“yes matt.” you squeaked, your thighs squeezing around his.

“good girl.” he nodded, his fingers moving lower, guiding themselves through your slickness. 

you winced at the feeling which made his head turn from below, “you okay?” his head turned which was rewarded with an eager nod, your hands that rested on his shoulder pushing forward as your arms no longer occupied the spot, allowing yourself to squeeze around him for any kind of leverage as he explored your soppy cunt.

focusing on staying lifted so as to not crush his hand and enjoy the feeling from your pussy was hard but you were trying your best and you could tell that’s all he would want.

your thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of his fingers pushing past your folds and sinking into your dripping hole.

a sharp exhale ensued from your body, your mind already cloudy as his long fingers explored your walls, your eyebrows knitted together while your hips attempted to move themselves but were quickly halted by a firm hand holding you in place.

“patience.” he hummed again.

his fingers scissor inside you, opening your tight cunt, he whispered sweet nothings in your ear once he noted your hissing.

“you feel so good.”

“it’s okay, sweetheart.”

“i got you.”

“just relax.” 

peppering soft kisses to your temple as he did lewd movements downstairs, your head quickly nods to his words, something about his accent making your head spin.. 

an unoccupied digit slipped onto your clit, slowly rubbing back and forth before gaining more speed with the wetness that trickled down your pussy.

your lips curled, not wanting to make any noises with these unexpected feelings.

you never knew what you were missing out on, he played with the noise of your wet squelching, pumping in and out of you just to hear it over and over again.

a curl happening every once and a while resulting in a curl of your back which only gave him more access to deeper inside of you.

you were crumbling, sweat beads dotted your skin.

lips firmly pressed together to avoid any slip ups, “i wish i could hear you.” he whispered to your ear lobe, bringing his palm that clutched your hip to your face, his thumbs gliding over your shut lips.

which allowed your lower half to work against his fingers, you couldn’t help it, your hips moving being instinctual.

he didn’t seem to notice though still paying mind to your shut lips that struggled, you tightened around his slender fingers once he made eye contact with you, his eyes narrow which only made your body tremble more.

you felt embarrassed, being so vulnerable with your pleasure written all over your face right in his sight but at this point you couldn’t worry about it.

you had too much to think about already.

the circles on your swollen clit died down, being more lazy and slow instead of the previous vigorous action. 

a sudden cramp in your belly made you cry, his eyes watching your own once they squeezed shut.

“you’re orgasm is building.” he said calmly, continuing his movements, which made your body buzz.

“o-orgasm..?” you continue to squint, “you’re gonna cum.”

your head turned to its side once you gained a bit of stability and strength.

“it’ll be okay.” he reassured, his hand giving those pats he previously gave on the head.

which lead to your nods.

he was trying not to show it, to remain in control but watching your face contort with pleasure, hearing a “humph” that escaped from your lips and watching your eyes roll back was making his mind fuzzy.

his cock strained, pulsing from beneath his jeans but he wanted to pay attention to you.

this was about you.

his fingers somehow found a deeper spot every time they pushed into you, his hand guiding you up and down the digits.

suddenly what felt like a balloon popped in your tummy, your jaw went slack, legs trembling and vision clouded as you came undone.

his fingers continued working against you, riding you through your high.

“good job sweetheart.” he huffed into your ear, his hip’s involuntarily bucking up into you, soft sorries quickly slipping past his lips.

first smut i’ve ever written.

this isn’t what i originally had in mind when i came up with this idea but it just happened as i continued writing, i also wanted to add more detail but i needed to post before next week anyway love you and forgive me for my inactivity. 🩵

🏷️ @fratbrochrisgf @3lizaluvs @lily-strnlo @i-love-ptv @venusjaynie @jetaimevous @lizzysmith110 @firexovni @bagsbyclair0

i hope you’re satisfied with your purchase!

© elizabebabe

[poisonlove]

lorraine smut? but lorraine is the one giving and is dominant

I try it :(

Shut up | Lorraine day

+18

Under the relentless Texas sun, each day on Uncle Howard's farm became a challenge. The high temperature turned every drop of sweat into a tribute to hard work, while the arid ground beneath my feet made every step a struggle against the toughness of the earth.

On that farm, under Uncle Howard's stern yet understanding gaze, I worked to earn a few bucks. It was my ticket to a different future, far from the arid plains of Texas. New York represented my ambition, the place where I hoped to forge my fortune. So, with sweat on my forehead as a constant companion, I toiled in the hope of one day crossing the horizon to new opportunities.

"How are you doing, y/n?" someone suddenly asks.

I stopped feeding the chickens, turning to see Uncle Howard looking at me seriously. "I'm done..." I reply with a small smile, tossing a handful of corn into the chicken coop.

"Good, because you need to plow the soil for the harvest," he quickly says before leaving the farm.

"I know, J." I glance at my horse, watching me with curiosity from its enclosure. "It's more acidic than usual," I sigh wearily.

I walk over to J, placing my hand on his mane, making him neigh with happiness. "See you later," I mumble distractedly before patting his back and moving away from the farm. The sun beats against my face, and I try to shield myself by raising a hand over my eyes. The heat of the day begins to make itself felt.

The abrupt noise of a vehicle stopping on the ground catches my attention. I turn slowly to see who has arrived, curious to discover what could disrupt the tranquility of the day on Uncle Howard's farm.

A red van appears in my field of vision, and with confusion, I see who's inside. A guy in a white shirt and a cowboy hat jumps out, smiling widely. I furrow my brows as I watch him help a girl down, offering her his hand. Four more guys emerge from the back of the van, their figures still unclear under the blinding sun. My curiosity grows, trying to discern who they are and what has brought them so suddenly to our farm.

"Hey! You!" I shout, determined to capture their attention.

The cowboy guy looks at me with confusion, but his open smile doesn't seem worried at all. "This is a private residence," I assert seriously, scrutinizing the others out of the corner of my eye.

"Calm down, beauty." The cowboy guy takes off his sunglasses, smiling even more. "I'm Wayne," he says, grinning. I raise an eyebrow, confused.

"I don't care who you are, just go away," I say venomously, noticing how one of his friends sizes me up and down.

"Calm down, sweetheart." A blonde approaches slowly, smiling seductively. "We rented this place," she adds, biting her lower lip with a seductive manner. "If you're interested, you can shoot some scenes with us," she timidly suggests.

"Scenes?" I look closely at the group, noticing a camera in the hands of a guy with glasses. The way they flirt... the realization makes me blush violently.

"Bobby, that doesn't seem appropriate," another female voice intervenes. My eyes scan with curiosity over the figure of a girl behind the guy with glasses. I am surprised to see a beautiful girl with brown eyes, a dazzling smile, and an innocent aura. She seemed almost embarrassed.

"Always the same party pooper," the blonde murmurs weakly.

"I'm R.J.," says the guy with glasses, embarrassed. "She's Lorraine, my girlfriend," he adds with a smile. I blink slightly, incredulous that such a charming girl is with RJ.

"I know, I had the same reaction," the other guy in the group, Jackson, intervenes, smiling genuinely.

"Maxine," says the girl next to the cowboy, smiling shyly.

My eyes linger on Lorraine, admiring her beauty with brown eyes and the innocent smile that seemed to contrast with the situation. Her presence, somehow, added a touch of mystery to the whole situation. The tension in the air thickens as I try to understand the reason for this unexpected intrusion into Uncle Howard's quiet farm.

My heart was pounding as I watched the scene. Howard arrives with a rifle in hand, a stern look aimed at RJ.

"What's going on here?" the old man asks venomously, keeping the rifle pointed at RJ.

"Hey, calm down." Wayne raises his hands and moves slowly toward my uncle. "I'm Wayne; we talked on the phone about renting this place," the guy says determinedly.

My uncle analyzes his words before lowering the rifle. "All right... then follow me," he says calmly. "Y/n, you keep doing your work and then go feed the cows," he adds, turning and walking away.

As the six friends follow my uncle, Lorraine turns and looks at me with curiosity, giving me a shy smile. The tension in the air dissipates, but her mysterious presence and attentive gaze leave an indelible mark on my ordinary day on the farm.

(…)

"Can you explain why you don't want to eat?" I ask with exasperation to the cow.

I was so exhausted that I desperately wanted to sleep, but Mrs. Cow here didn't want to eat. It might be something minor, I know, but if the cow doesn't eat tomorrow, we won't have milk, and my uncle will be angry.

"Please... can't you see how good it is?" I smile nervously as I shake a handful of hay in my hands. I sigh as Mary looks at me with boredom.

"You know... I think she's not hungry," someone intervenes playfully.

I turn towards the farm entrance and smile, seeing Lorraine walking towards my direction. There's something about her that irresistibly attracts me, and I don't know what it is – maybe it's the fact that she's extremely sexy and innocent at the same time.

"Oh... hi," my cheeks flush, and I lean against the fence of the pen. "Hi," Lorraine says with a small smile on her lips.

With the corner of my eye, I see the girl leaning next to me.

"And the others?" I ask curiously, and Lorraine lights a cigarette, pulling and inhaling the smoke with her eyes closed. "We've finished shooting; now they're either drinking or doing their thing... well, except for R.J.," she says indifferently, taking another drag of the cigarette.

"You know..." I start as I watch the other cows walking slowly, "I would have never thought that someone like you would do an adult film," I say embarrassedly, blushing faintly.

Lorraine looks at me with blushing cheeks and drops the cigarette to the ground, extinguishing it with the tip of her foot.

"I actually knew nothing... about these films," she begins with a low tone, smiling shyly. "And what do you mean by someone like you?" she asks with a raised eyebrow.

I open my mouth trying to say something that isn't stupid, and Lorraine takes the hay from my hands.

"I mean... you have such an innocent aura..." I start embarrassingly. Lorraine smiles sweetly at the cow, which slowly approaches the fence, sniffing what she has in her hands. "Let's say you look like the perfect cover of a church girl," I say curiously as I watch Mary start chewing on the hay Lorraine gave her.

"Mary!" I say with a falsely mournful tone, and Lorraine chuckles softly.

"Anyway, I came to help my boyfriend R.J.," she says smiling at Mary. I raise my eyebrows at her comment. "I see," I say timidly.

"And anyway, I could handle shooting a scene," she says with confidence. "I didn't say that," I respond amused and move away from the fence. I put my hands in my jeans' pockets and walk near some hay, sitting on it.

"Because I've already done something with R.J.," she says, raising her chin with superiority. Lorraine follows suit and sits beside me, settling into the hay.

"You don't seem very satisfied," I notice, and I start playing with some hay, wanting to keep my fingers busy. "Let's say it's something that gives more pleasure to him than to me," Lorraine shrugs nonchalantly, and I look at her out of the corner of my eye.

"He's a nice person; he helped me settle into university..." Lorraine confesses, lying down in the hay, looking at the ceiling.

I follow her example and turn towards her direction, seeing how some strands of hair are mixed with the hay. Her eyes sparkle, and she looks at me with curiosity. "But you don't love him, right?" I finish her sentence, and she nods slowly.

"I don't want to hurt him..." she continues, and I remain silent at her response. "Anyway, I think you could find someone who can make you enjoy," I say absentmindedly, and Lorraine smiles sweetly, giving me a light push on the side. "And are you talking about yourself?" she says playfully, and I look at her without blinking.

Lorraine stops smiling, seeing my seriousness, and leans towards my face, making my heartbeat faster. "I need someone who can endure my desire," she says in a low voice, expressing her lust.

Her eyes lock with mine, and the sparks between us intensify.

Our lips meet with desire, a palpable tension in the air. I delicately entwine my fingers around her neck, gently pulling her towards me. Initially, Lorraine stiffens, but as seconds pass, I feel her hesitation melt away. Her lips, initially shy, respond to the mutual need, creating a fusion of intensely charged emotions. The kiss becomes a silent dialogue, a blend of desires and feelings expressed through the intimate touch of our mouths.

The brunette straddles my legs and leans towards my neck, kissing it with lust. "Raine..." I say with ragged breath, and the girl moves away to look at me attentively.

Her eyes are hooded, and her lips are semi-open due to heavy breathing, her hair tousled and infused with hay.

Without saying anything, I kiss Lorraine and take her hand, making her glide along my body, slipping it directly between my underwear. Lorraine sighs loudly against my mouth, feeling the moisture between my folds, and intensifies the kiss.

"Don't hold back..." I say breathlessly. "Quench this fire," I say, smiling widely. My mouth opens wide as I feel two fingers inside me, and I spread my legs instinctively. Lorraine settles between my legs and looks at me serenely. "You're really... wet," she murmurs with a husky voice, going deeper with her fingers.

I moan in response.

Lorraine bites into my neck and begins to penetrate me at her leisure, increasing and decreasing the speed according to her desires. "No... not like this," she says breathlessly, quickly pulling away from my body.

My eyes look at the girl with confusion before smiling, seeing how she takes off her panties with the dress. I sigh loudly seeing her curves, her small breasts compensated by the magnificence of her body, soft and smooth skin.

"Calm down" I say chuckling weakly, feeling Lorraine forcefully removing my pants, exposing my warm center.

"Shut up," she says agitatedly, "I'm so frustrated..." she mutters through her teeth. My eyes watch Lorraine's movements carefully, seeing her opening my legs and searching for a better position for both of us.

Both of us release a moan as our sensitive centers rub against each other, our fluids mixing as if they were one.

"To hell with everything..." she says weakly, sighing loudly as she starts moving her hips back and forth. My hands end up on the sides of her body; the nails scratch her back with every movement.

"Mmmh..." Lorraine moans loudly, increasing the speed of her hips. The moans become louder, and the sound of our bodies in symbiosis increases at the same pace. "Raine, I..." I mumble absentmindedly, closing my eyes for a moment.

The pleasure, placing a hand around my neck, "Look at me, damn it," she says through her teeth, moaning and moving faster and faster. "Raine, I..." I mumble almost crying for pleasure, and the brunette releases the grip on my neck, opening her mouth in ecstasy and letting herself be carried away by the orgasm she just reached.

The sight made me come forcefully.

Lorraine slumps against my body, trying to catch her breath. "Is that all?" I ask with a smile on my lips. "Is this the level of endurance?" I inquire with curiosity, and Lorraine licks her lips with mischief.

"Oh no, we've just begun," she says with a husky voice, and I smile nervously, concerned about her words.

[pocarinapyon]

Jealousy-Jealousy: A New Banner version A1 (Albedo, Childe, Venti, Zhongli)

The Wanderer's banner is just around the corner and the excited you couldn't help but rave about how cool he is. Naturally, you pre-farmed his materials and even spent moolah for a five-star weapon, claiming Scaramouche - now The Wanderer - deserves only the best of best (Meaning: four star weapons and artifacts are not allowed!! And let's not get started on the artifact stats! 😡).

Inside the world of Genshin, your bond ten boys couldn't help but feel jealous. The flames of jealousy fueled further when you used them to grind for Scaramouche's items. How sickening was it to think that they have become stepping stones of your new favourite character?

The boys decided. When they materialize in your world, they will make sure to mark you and to indulge in their sinful fantasies of you. You are theirs and only theirs, after all. But they need to be oh-so-careful not to wake you up...because when you do, they will be pulled back into Teyvat immediately. 🥲

Contents include [a brief scene introduction], [the actual chilis], and [after you wake up].

Starring : Albedo, Childe, Venti, Zhongli (Separate)

Tags / Warnings : 🌶️🌶️ [Chilis] Seggs; Scattered cuss words; Implied rape; Petnames (if it bothers you); Somnophilia; Creampie; Desire to impregnate; The boys being possessive; Oral sex (receiver: Venti, you); Fingering; Masturbating (Venti, you, Albedo); The old men making you masturbate about them, lol!; Childe is hesitant at first 😅; Childe almost got pulled back into Teyvat from being too rough on you; Zhongli losing his composure and fucking you in your dreams 👀⁉️; I might have given Zhongli a non-canonical ability; Zhongli's scene is the only one where you are actively responsive so there are many lines; Exhibitionism...sort of (Zhongli); Uncharacteristic Zhongli; Zhongli asking to be called Morax; A bit rushed on the last two scenes; Albedo's first orgasm; Albedo feeding you a potion and cum; Uncharacteristic Albedo; Kisses!; Schediaphilia, of course; etc.; 👑/🖥️ [SAGAU/(Reverse) Isekai]; Based on the SAGAU/Reverse Isekai concept linked below but with chilis...in this case, you are not aware the boys can materialize in your room when you are asleep;

In addition to above, I don't have anyone to beta this so there might be some minor typos and/or grammatical errors..... Minor, hopefully.

Future Plan : Version A2 Albedo, Childe, Venti, Zhongli (GangB.)

Links : Pinned Post, SAGAU/Reverse Isekai concept, Venti requesting to make a smut fic about him

Target audience is female (bodied) reader.

To whoever is reading, please enjoy.

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

!! Venti

Venti smiled at you gently as he strummed the strings of his lyre. His demeanour may look calm on the outside but malicious ideas stormed on the inside. As he watched you sleeping soundly, all he could think about was this moment might be his last. After all, he knew you would immediately use The Wanderer the moment you pull him.

Venti regretted all the times he spent merely watching you. Had he not been meek, in fear of waking you up, he could have felt your body more. Tonight, he was determined things would be different. He would take advantage of your vulnerable form and ravish you to his heart's content. And if you ever start to wake up, he would lull you to back sleep.

Your lips had always captivated Venti. Whenever you played Genshin Impact and smiled at him, claiming his was contagious, he was secretly filled with gladness. And your voice. No bard or songstress could ever compare to your angelic voice. No, not even himself. A simple hum from you could soothe even the most broken of souls.

A broken soul such as himself.

Venti made his way towards you, sitting on your pillow to inspect you closer. A cheeky smile flashed his lips. He had always loved your scent but now, it drove him to lust over you.

"Ehe~ [your name], you are so fragrant. Did you prepare yourself just for me?"

He lovingly caressed your hair as he made his way to remove his lower garments using his vacant hand. Finally, he freed his erected cock from its restraints and slowly, he pumped his shaft up and down to coat his erection with pre-cum.

"Ah, look, my angel! I'm so hard for you right now," Venti chortled in a hushed volume. He slid his hand from your hair to your cheeks while pleasuring himself. "Do you want to have a taste?"

Venti carefully parted your lips and inched himself closer to your entrance. Soon as the tip of his erection touched your lips, excitement coursed through his body, making him chuckle and shudder. He then pushed his way past your delicate lips, relishing the way your teeth grazed his eager cock.

His manhood started to violate your mouth in a leisurely pace, as if following a rhythm in swaying his hips back and forth. But such a laggard pace couldn't satisfy him forever. Soon, his sluggish speed gained haste until he was biting his lips in pleasure.

"My muse, your mouth looks so pretty stuffed with my cock~!" Venti, enjoying your small wet cavern to please himself, stuggled to choke out.

Venti lost himself and used your mouth like a rabbit in heat, moaning your name loudly as if performing a song of praise dedicated to you.

"C - close...! My muse, I am so close...!" was all Venti could grunt before sheathing himself fully and releasing deep down your throat.

Cumming inside felt out of this world. And the thought of doing such an immoral act to you in secret added to the euphoric sensation Venti felt.

But then he realized he might have done something he shouldn't have. He immediately unobstructed your mouth and hurriedly glanced at you to check if he disturbed your slumber. To his delightful surprise, you remained sound asleep. And to add to his satisfaction, with his trained ears, he started to hear you moan.

You liked it.

In light touches, he trailed his fingers on your lips, down to your neck; your chest; your tummy; until finally he reached the delicate flower between your legs.

"How naughty! You're so wet for me, my pretty flower," Venti commented while pressing two fingers against the moist fabric covering your crotch. "It's unfair if I'm the only one who gets to enjoy this, right?"

Moving the offending cloth aside, Venti gave your sensitive clit a hard press of his thumb before placing two fingers inside your weeping hole. He then motioned his fingers in and out of your warmth. Love juice sloshed out of your defenseless pussy as he continued his profane violation. The more Venti moved his fingers, the more he was blessed with your sweet honey and erotic sound. Sadly, he could only hear so much as hushed sighs and whimpers.

"My muse, if only I could hear more of your angelic voice," in a wishful tone, hoping to have you screaming his name, Venti sighed as he removed himself inside of you and licked the cream off his fingers. "Ah! You taste better than wine!"

With a devilish smile, Venti positioned himself between your legs. He gave your womanhood a whiff and took the chance to lick the love juice glistening your slit before peering at your sleeping face.

"I'd like to have more, please!" Venti excitedly exclaimed before slurping your honey like a man parched for days.

Dazed. You knew you were awake but all your mind thought of was the almost realistic dream you had. Your lonely womanhood ached and yearned for Venti to fuck you.

Venti, the Anemo Archon of Mondstadt in the game called Genshin Impact.

Venti, your bond ten crowd control cutie.

Venti, a fictional character.

You sighed, glancing at the bard doing his idle animation behind the screen. After strumming his lyre, he returned your gaze with beautiful doe eyes and a charming smile.

"Why am I so horny today...?" with a click of your tongue you complained yet your body instinctively removed your lower garments. "This is your fault, Venti," you accused playfully.

Without much care, you began to touch yourself, unintentionally moaning Venti's name, as you stared at his innocent smile - not knowing he, too, could see you behind the screen.

----------

!! Childe

A challenge. Fucking you rough without waking you up was a challenge Childe eagerly wanted to accomplish. Will his kiss wake you? How hard can he bite your neck and nipples? What will happen if he cums deep inside your pussy? While his mind raced with lascivious thoughts, he suddenly found himself beside you in bed. Watching how serene you looked made him think twice.

"You know, this isn't how I wanted to make love with you," tracing the features of your face, Childe whispered laced with guilt.

Yes, he felt ashamed as he knew this was immoral. In his mind, sex was supposed to be consensual. It was an act of expressing your passion towards your partner. It was something lovers should do together - meaning both of you should be awake.

"But I don't really have a choice, do I? Because we can't touch each other when you're awake. That's why I needed to do this," Childe justified before giving your lips a modest peck.

He scooted towards you and engulfed you in a warm embrace. Like a loving husband, holding you in his arms was something he had done multiple times. Tonight, he would do more than a mere hug.

But should he really do this?

Yes.

Childe gently placed his hand on your cheek and steered your head towards his. He gave you a sweet kiss before biting your lower lip to test the waters. Seeing you still in dreamland encouraged him to indulge in a wet passionate kiss. He licked your lips and pushed his way inside your mouth to explore your small cavern, lustfully moaning as he felt blood rushing down his crotch.

After thoroughly exploring your mouth, he went lower and suckled the flesh of your exposed neck, eliciting a soft whimper from you. Childe's eyes dilated in surprise. Knowing your body felt pleasure despite in slumber made his cock harder. Thus, he littered your neck and shoulder with nips, licks, and open mouth kisses while his hands roamed to caress your sides and touch your breasts.

Going lower, he squeezed your lady lumps and kneaded them in his hands. Your nipples were already erected. With his fingers he began to pinch and pull your sensitive nub, earning him another lewd sound from you.

Childe couldn't take it anymore. His pants were getting too tight around him. He decided to discard his and your clothing and went between your legs to coat his now free cock with your slick. Another whimper escaped your lips, prompting Childe to insert the tip of his manhood inside of you.

Archons, just the tip gave him much ecstasy! What more if he pushed himself all the way inside your wet and tight little pussy? The excitement urged Childe to ram himself in a swift push until he was bottomed out, making your velvet walls squeeze around his cock. The feeling of you choking him drove him wild and with you still asleep, he assumed he could continue.

He motioned his hips at a moderate pace. Your accommodating womanhood just felt too good that he wanted to last longer. As he kept violating your exposed pussy, he noticed you getting tighter around him. It challenged him to make you cum first before he does so he rocked his hips faster, rubbing his cock in and out of you to massage your lewd warmth. He then bottomed out and while his erection was deep inside, he motioned himself to loosen your gummy walls.

Childe's continuous assault on your poor body finally made you cum. But he couldn't care about winning his one-sided challenge as he was focused on reaching his own high. His cock went in and out of you at an animalistic pace that he could feel Teyvat pulling him back from your world, a sign that you were about to wake up.

"Ah...! Fuck, not yet, sweetie! I want to finish inside you!" Childe gritted as he continued to fuck you rough.

"Nnh...Childe...," you groggily responded along with soft moans.

"Yeah, you want this, yeah? You want my cum? Do you want me to cum inside you and have my baby?" Childe, lost in pleasure, incoherently babbled yet all he received in return were sleepy moans.

You were half asleep and he was going to dematerialize. He felt it. The only thing keeping him in your world was his determination to fill your womb with his seeds.

Just a little more. Just a little bit more.

"FUCK!! [Your name], take it!" Childe exclaimed as he spilled his cum deep inside your hole, making your wanton pussy reciprocate and cum as well.

The first thing you felt the moment you woke up was soreness all over. When you tried to feel yourself, you realized something was amiss. Was the dream you had about Childe pistoning your pussy real? Of course it wasn't. How would your bond ten Genshin hubby fuck you in real life? Nevertheless, you quickly sprang up from bed and dashed to inspect yourself in the mirror. Horror washed over your face as you found yourself littered with hickeys and love marks.

Did someone break into your room? But the door was locked and surely the perpetrator couldn't use the windows.

Was this because of the wet dream you had? That would explain why your pussy leaked but it couldn't explain why you had marks all over.

Did a supernatural being fuck you? No. Just no.

So what...happened to you?

----------

!! Zhongli

Eyes closed and arms folded, Zhongli couldn't decide how to make you his. He wanted to ravish you until you were marked with his love. But after you wake up, what will happen to the both of you?

And that was the biggest obstacle at hand - he couldn't risk waking you up.

Zhongli had many tricks up his sleeve, one of which was to enter your consciousness so he could frolic and take control as he pleases. Another one was to shift into his Draconian form - something he should save for later. For now, Zhongli thus entered your consciousness to find you dreaming about having an afternoon break in your favourite diner / cafe. Walking past the faceless people, the ex Archon approached you as you began to take bites of your favourite dish.

"Good day to you, my dear [your name]. It is truly pleasant to see you here," Zhongli politely greeted.

"Hello, Mister Zhongli!" you responded, albeit in a dream. "Do you want to join me eat?"

"Of course, that would be lovely," Zhongli smiled as he took the seat in front of you.

Zhongli was a strategic man, allowing you to indulge in your meal while he learned more of your preferences, and enjoying each other's company to ensure your bond with him was strong. He was strategic yet his draconic instincts made him impatient. He itched to pin you on the table then and there to fuck you from behind.

Not now, thus he restrained himself.

"My dear, are you content with your meal?"

"Hm? Yes, I am!" you replied and proceeded to gush how the food and the place became your favourite.

Zhongli only smiled at you with eyes clouded in mischief and darkness. After you have finished your speech, he stood up, earning him a question look from you. The handsome man then hoisted you up and wordlessly tore your clothes, exposing your body for everyone in the shop to see.

"W - what...?! Zhongli?!!" you exclaimed in embarrassment, shielding your delicate parts with your hands from watchful eyes.

"Apologies, my dear. It is mandatory for me to let everyone know to whom you belong to," Zhongli declared, gripping your hands away to observe your gorgeous body. His eyes glowed golden as your beauty made the blood rushed in his cock.

With ease, Zhongli flipped you so your back was leaning on his toned chest, your hands still in his strong grasp. Everyone in the store can surely see your naked body and try as you might, you could not protect yourself. Your captor then took a whiff on your neck, sensing lust from you.

"My dear, you must be honest with your body. Do you truly wish me to stop?" Zhongli questioned before nibbling on your neck and shoulders.

"Not here, please...! Zhongli, everyone is watching," you begged, whimpering from being exposed.

"Of course. The people of Liyue should know who their Archon chooses to mate, no?" Zhongli reasoned as he bent your body forward, making you believe you were indeed in the Land of Contracts.

"Wait, wait! Zhongli - !"

"Morax," was all Zhongli said before pushing his draconic penis inside your unprepared pussy.

"Oh - oh my gosh!"

Your eyes rolled back as Zhongli filled your hole halfway his erected cock. You then felt his rather calloused hands grip your hips only to realize it wasn't callous but rather scales.

Zhongli pressed himself deeper until his cock kissed the entrance of your cervix, making you hiss in pain and pleasure. He then began to thrust his hips back and forth to loosen your tight gummy walls.

"A - ah...! Big...! Too big! Lord Morax, please, have mercy...!"

"Oh? But you are taking me in so well."

The people began to crowd to watch your live show, praising how their Archon's chosen wife looked glorious. They even cheered as the Archon began to speed up his pistoning while you began to drool in ecstasy.

"My dear, even your subjects could see how much you love this."

And it was true. Zhongli's monster cock surprisingly felt good splitting you apart.

With Zhongli's incredible strength, he changed your position and lifted your body up to clip your legs so it hanged beside your head. Your stretched leaking cunt abused by Zhongli's gigantic cock was displayed so everyone could see the beauty of their Archon's lovemaking.

"Now, my love," Zhongli calmly said eventhough he was pumping you so much. "Let everyone in Liyue witness as I fill you with my seeds."

With that, Zhongli pulled your body down to push his cock deeper into you. He gritted his teeth as the knot of his cock entered your sloppy cunt, making you feel fuller than ever. He then spurted generous amount of cum inside you, making your eyes roll back and your tongue loll out. Zhongli made sure no seeds of his would be wasted.

After a few minutes of ensuring his seeds stayed inside, Zhongli lifted you up to unplug his knot. Your heaving ceased as finally, you could relax.

"My dear, surely you don't think we're already finished?"

"Morax...more, please...," you cried weakly.

It slowly dawned on you that the delicious sex you had with the Geo Archon was just a dream. Albeit refusing to wake, you forced yourself to open your eyes and turned your head to look at Genshin Impact where Zhongli reminisced about Osmanthus wine. You chuckled and shook your head.

What the fuck were you thinking?

"Mister Zhongli, you're a sexy man, aren't you?" you remarked, watching Zhongli slowly face the screen after his idle animation. "I wonder how it feels to have your draconic cock inside of me...?" you fantasized as your hands made its way to rub your wet pussy, forcing Zhongli to watch but unable to react.

----------

!! Albedo

Albedo was curious. Of course, initially, he was devastated to think he would one day be replaced with someone else. It was inevitable as new characters were continuously added in the roster. But the selfish idea of keeping you as his own led his thoughts to wander deeper into depravity. What would happen if he acted on his libido? How would kissing you feel like? Were you sensitive? Which areas should he mark? If given the chance, would you like to touch him too? These were some of the questions he wished to know.

Albedo got lost in his thoughts that he soon realized time was of the essence. Instead of fantasizing, he should be acting on his desires. So he took out a small vial containing pink liquid from his pocket and carefully fed you the formula.

How will your slumbering body react?

Albedo then began his experiment on your helpless form. First, he grazed his fingers on your inner thighs. He noticed your body shiver ever so slightly to which he smiled. His touch then traveled to your hips, and finally found their way to caress your serene face.

"You truly are lovely, my princess," Albedo remarked.

He inched his face closer to inspect your features. Unknowingly, captivated by you, he pressed his lips against yours, staying still to bask in the peculiar tingly sensation he felt.

Perhaps this was the true meaning of love?

He then made his way to caress your body to which you reacted by shifting towards his touch.

"Fascinating. Do you want me to touch you here, my love?" Albedo asked as he rested his hand on your waist and drew small circles using his thumb.

Of course you wouldn't respond, yet he did not mind and instead smiled at you lovingly.

"My love, do you long for me as much as I long for you?"

He slid his hand down your warmth to gauge how wet you've become. Indeed you were wet despite Albedo's mild foreplay.

All thanks to the aphrodisiac he fed you.

He was glad the potion had no negative effects. He continued to explore your body while imagining all lascivious things he would do to you in the future.

In the future because he would not penetrate you today. Today was intended only for testing the effects of his mixture. Whatever fantasies he had should be put in the backlog as he should focus on his experiment. However, his hard genital trapped in tight garments had other plans. It had been hard for a while now, and it wanted to squeeze itself inside your warm velvet walls.

"My love, forgive me," Albedo apologetically said as he freed his eager cock leaking pre-cum. "You are truly hard to resist."

He the began to coat himself with his own lubricant before pumping his shaft eagerly. Who knew touching one's self was pleasurable?

The smell of sex wafted in the air as his hands tightened his hold. He envisioned your legs clipped on his shoulders while he thusted his manhood in and out of your sopping hole; your beautiful eyes teary from overstimulation; your voice hoarse from moaning and screaming.

Your voice.

His hands slowled down in speed to focus his ears on you. He might be wrong but he swore he heard you moaning softly in your sleep. What triggered this reaction? Whatever it was, he knew it wasn't his touch as he was busy pleasuring himself.

"Oh, princess. Do you take pleasure in knowing I long for you?" Albedo rhetorically asked. "Ah...! [Your name]...! My dear princess, I want to cum...!"

Close. Albedo eagerly squeezed his cock and felt his orgasm fast approaching, fueled by the vivid visuals of your body along with your lustful hums.

"A - ah...!" in one final pump, Albedo stiffled, unable to control himself and accidentally shooting his load on your face.

Albedo heaved as he tried to recover from his high. It was his first orgasm. Now seeing your beautiful face painted with his cum might make him ejaculate a second time. How he wanted to freeze time so he could cum on your face again and again.

But he was performing an experiment and this behaviour of his, distracted and unperceptive, was unfitting for a researcher. His failure to notice you squeezing your thighs and breathing heavily costed him to lose valuable data.

So what?

For a humonculus, Albedo found he was capable of cumming. He also found it was enough stimulation for him to watch you sleeping. It was even today that he learned the pleasure of touching one's self. In a way, this experiment bore fruit.

Despite the debate going on inside Albedo's mind, as if sentient on its own, his body moved to lick the white substance on your face. So this was what his cum tasted like?And instead of swallowing, he opened your mouth and shared his flavour with you in a sloppy kiss.

"Good girl," Albedo cooed.

Perhaps feeding you cum was another one of his newfound fetish.

Choosing depravity upon waking up was not new to you. However, choosing Albedo as the target of your early morning horny thoughts was a first. You took a peek at your game to see Albedo peering back at you with his lovely teal eyes.

"Good morning, Albedo," you said to which Albedo took his clipboard and began to doodle.

You chuckled to yourself. Were you seriously going to lewd the stoic Chief Alchemist?

No.

Is what you said but when you looked at Albedo, all you could think about was how you wanted him inside your pussy.

It couldn't be helped.

With Albedo in mind, you closed your eyes, spread your legs and began to tease your clit. The moment you peered at him, jolts of pleasure coursed through your body making you cum immediately.

"Ah - Albedo, shit...!" you squealed as your orgasm crashed down on you.

Well, that was quick. How horny were you exactly?

You sighed, coming down from your high. Who would have thought using Albedo as shlick material was effective? Meanwhile, behind the screen, Albedo wished you put on a longer show.

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

Hello, it has been a while, hasn't it? I don't have my own PC with me so I'm writing via mobile. I must say it's quite difficult. 😅

And this thing right here was supposed to be BEFORE The Wanderer's banner. But... Poof!

I believe this is my first time writing smut for the balladeer (Not Scaramouche. Venti - because he claims he sings ballads thus he should be the rightful owner of the title "Balladeer"). Congratulations, Venti, you now have your own smut from me! 🤩

So why did I write for these four men? It's because they are my usual line-up! Although sometimes I use Kazuha instead of Venti.

Anyway.

To whoever read this, thank you for your time. Here, have some ripe apple. 🍎

Links : Pinned Post, SAGAU/Reverse Isekai concept, Venti requesting to make a smut fic about him

** Correction on Venti's header. I accidentally removed "!! V" from "!! Venti".

So... I tried to update this using Tumblr app but the spacing were removed!? 👀😡! So here I am, updating it via Android Google Chrome. 🥲 Sorry for the inconvenience.

[carrionhearted]

Im gonna infodump about my ocs because I can’t stop thinking about them. This will be a book… One day. Read on with caution, this is a horror book with very dark subject matter and mild body horror.

There are two mcs, a closeted gay trans man (Eden), and a severely repressed cis gay man (Harlow). Both raised in a hyper-conservative hyper-religious Deep South town IN THE 80S.

Their story is about the deadly consequences of repression, the cycle of abuse, learned hatred and destructive coping mechanisms. Harlow grew up with an INCREDIBLY toxic father who drilled toxic masculinity into him (having feelings is shameful) as well as homophobia. He only ever demonstrated "solving" problems with violence. Harlow was never given the tools or space to unpack any of his feelings ever. So he grew up to become this repressed, horribly frustrated and confused adult who could not understand his attraction towards other men.

Being gay wasn't even a thought in his mind, it wasn't a possibility to him. His father constructed this impenetrable wall of “us” vs “them” in Harlow’s mind- and like a plant deprived of sunlight, he never grew tall enough to see over it.

All he knew was this gut-wrenching hunger, this insatiable craving for other men’s bodies which he couldn't place- something about the flesh, the warmth, he hungered for it in a way which became unbearable. This did not register to him as sexual, again, that wasn't even an option… but he didn’t know what it was. And when you don’t know how to process your own emotions, it all eventually turns into frustration/ rage. So he solved this problem in the only way he was ever taught how- with violence! He killed men, initially choosing those he deemed deserving of death, and he ate them. An attempt to satiate the hunger. This became a habitual thing and he just… kept doing it. Not because it brought him any real satisfaction, it just snowballed into an addiction and he needed his fix. His town caught on to the string of murders, but he was flying completely under everyone’s radar. We’re talking about a 6’ mullet-having yeehaw dude who’s generally reserved and works for his family’s farm, nobody was really looking at him here.

Important backstory tidbit: Harlow was taught how to hunt as a kid. His father took him on outings, which were maybe the only positive memories he had of that man- and they would hunt deer together. He was taught to always use the whole animal, never let anything go to waste- because everything is valuable.

Everything is a gift. “It’s only murder if you waste the animal” (this heavily influenced his later cannibal ways).

One day as a young teen, he found himself alone for a trip. That's when he was approached by this deer- it looked sickly, almost like it was rotting while alive (it had Chronic Wasting Disease). It was clearly suffering, made clear by its complete lack of survival instincts. It walked right up to his gun. It was in pain. He shot it to put it out of its misery, but he did not take the meat. What was he supposed to do? It was useless to him,, he couldn't eat the rotting meat, and despite that he still felt an immense guilt for leaving it behind. Killing, and just abandoning the body. It registered to him as murder. He carried that feeling of guilt with him for the rest of his life. He vowed to never discard a body again.

Eden is a trans man who knows he's trans, but is out to practically nobody during the story. He’s the youngest in his family, with four older brothers. His parents were NOT suited to be parents- they were self centred people who treated their children like accessories. The parents obsessively kept up this “picturesque good Christian family” facade to the world, but that became harder to maintain as they had more kids. They started having to cut corners financially, to the detriment of those kids. That said, every one of their children was planned. The reason they kept having kids despite their situation was because the mother wanted a daughter. Then, Eden was born, assigned female at birth. Since his birth Eden had been treated like a precious doll more so than a child- he was sheltered and only received direct attention from his parents when they needed to dress him up all pretty for Sunday service. There was an incredible amount of pressure on him to be what everyone wanted. He was also raised VERY religiously, all of which MAJORLY contributed to his inner-turmoil abt being trans. He didn’t even have a word for it, to be “trans”. Only this unmistakable discomfort, guilt and shame, feeling like something is wrong with him, feeling like god made a mistake with him. Again, conservative religious south, he has no space to explore these feelings safely. He's pushed it all down and let it fester inside until it started gnawing away at his very being.

A few years prior to the story, this began to manifest physically as a literal rot. This spot of decay on his chest that's been growing and sinking deeper into his body for years. Sloooowly eating away at him, on track to continue until there is nothing left to devour. By the start of the book it’s claimed most of the flesh on his chest- his ribcage is sparsely covered with any skin at all- and the organs beneath are made vulnerable by it. However, he is horrified to seek medical attention. He sees the rot as a marking of his sin, god has stamped his body with this ugly decay to let everyone else know he's defective.

He hides it beneath layers of clothing. Being on his chest, it’s in a place that only an intimate partner would ever see- considering he's perceived by the world as a "woman".

In a… complicated series of events involving ✨societal pressure and coercion✨, an "intimate partner" does end up seeing his chest (Eden is not clear minded when these events are taking place).

This partner reacts with repulsion and violence, to the extreme that Eden fears for his life. He kills the other man in self Defense. (This sequence alludes to the “trans panic” legal defense which is still permitted by many US courts. If you pursue someone intimately, don’t like what you see beneath their clothes, and you KILL THEM- you can claim “I panicked because I didn’t know they were trans” and get a lesser sentence. It’s bullshit and I’m gonna attempt to very delicately write this scene to highlight how bizarre and unwarranted the male partner’s violent response is. The rot in this instance is symbolic of the perceived defect).

In disposing of the body, he runs into Harlow. They find eachother in a (undecided) remote, secretive location.

You’ll never guess what Harlow is doing! Also disposing of remains (bones n guts), at the same place, face hidden while he does so. They have a mutual deer-in-headlights standoff. There IS an open case of serial murders in their small town… Harlow is responsible. Eden realizes this after a short exchange of stunned words, and totally breaks down. Heavy dialogue exchange, Eden feels completely defeated and destroyed by guilt, he just begs Harlow to kill him. Harlow responds by saying he only kills men (Eden is closeted and passes as a woman). This pushes Eden over the edge and he snaps, he shouts that he is a man, this is the first time he’s ever said it out loud. Harlow is… confused, but intrigued. He doesn’t want to kill Eden, but he’s not sure what he does want to do. He decides to knock Eden out… which he does very easily.

Eden wakes up in a different location. Some not so great smelling farmhouse of sorts. Harlow enters the room eventually and explains… “I disposed of that body for you, don’t worry about that right now. I bruised your head pretty bad when I knocked you out, sorry about that, I didn’t mean to use that much force. I made you some soup! It’ll help. The meat is pork. Don’t worry about it. Let’s talk. :3” They’re still both very unsure of each other but neither have much to lose (they also have mutual blackmail) so they start talking. AND BOOM

COMPLICATED SERIES OF EVENTS

ENSUES AND THEY BOND OVER SHARED EXPERIENCES, TEACH EACH OTHER TO UNLEARN THEIR TOXIC AND DESTRUCTIVE WAYS, HAVE A ROMANCE WHICH SERVES AS A VALIDATION ARC FOR EDEN AND A SELF-ACCEPTANCE ARC FOR HARLOW AND YADA YADA. They are both profoundly disturbed individuals who have done terrible things but the whole point is to hold a magnifying glass to their actions and point out HOW and WHY they fucked up. To condemn that path, the mindset behind it, and the people who carried on those abusive cycles before them. I want to thoroughly examine and chip away at the layers of external influence that lead these characters to their lowest life points- and reveal the truth beneath them. These were once children, full of love and openness as we all once were- the problem is larger than the individual, it’s a societal issue of passed down bigotry and stubborn refusal to progress. It’s a toxic cycle of violence with very real, very deadly consequences for all involved. The characters both do BAD things, that’s the POINT.

Important backstory tidbit: In Eden’s childhood, he found a baby bird fallen a long ways from its nest. It was hurt, and he brought it inside to a small cage. He figured the cage would serve as protection for the bird as it grew- it was so delicate, it needed the shelter. But that cage was tiny. He fed the bird, tried to take care of it and gave it all its base survival needs. The bird was offered food, water and a cage. But that is all. That’s all Eden was given in his home, he thought that meant it was enough. He watched it grow into a young dove, but as it aged it only got sicker. This bird was deteriorating before his eyes and he couldn't understand why- he feared it would die in that cage. As soon as it became old enough to fly, Eden made the decision to release the bird. It was sicker than ever, Eden knew it didn't have long. He knew releasing it would practically be a death sentence, but it was going to die soon either way. He did not want the bird to die in the cage.

When released, the dove didn't even know how to flap its wings properly. The cage was too small to stretch them out, it had never even had the chance to learn how to fly. It didn't know how to find food. It didn’t know how to identify danger. And on the next morning, Eden found that bird on the ground outside of his house, dead. It was being picked away at by a vulture.

Eden felt relief.

The bird had died. It didn't make it. But it brought him peace to know it didn't die in that cage. That bird had never known the love of its mother, or siblings, it had never known what it was like to be wanted and cherished. That role was left to the vulture, who had never turned away from the unsightly or damaged. It had swooped in with the unconditional love of an angel, and carried the dove off into the sky above- its stomach, a chariot to heaven. It was gruesome watching the vulture feast- but it had such a tender appreciation in its eyes. It kept the circle of life in motion. In a way, Eden found this ending happy.

Eden’s symbolic bird is a dove, Harlow’s symbolic bird is a vulture.

They both die at the end of the story.

They'd become very close over the span of it though- they resolved their issues together, but in doing that they found themselves further ostracized from the world around them. They backed themselves further and further away from the world, until they finally hit a corner. Their past destructive actions were also catching up to them- the murders that is, they ended up on the run from police. It all came back to bite them.

The rot on Eden’s chest had spread throughout his entire body, and it was past the point of no return. No medical intervention would help at this point. One night, after a close encounter with police left them both wounded- Eden and Harlow both realized that these were Eden’s last few hours.

His body was decayed and rotted, he was sick, he was injured, he was visibly suffering. He would die soon, it was inevitable. Harlow decides to put him out of his misery. But he couldn’t stand the thought of discarding the body. He didn’t want him to die unloved.

Reaching into Eden's exposed ribcage, Harlow removed his heart from his chest. He knew this would be a death sentence, but he was going to die either way. He didn't want him to die in the cage.

He ate the heart, rotting and tainted as it was, he saw every part of his lover as a gift. Nothing goes to waste, for every rotting animal there is a grateful vulture. One which will see your defect and cherish you all the same.

Is now a good time to address the name Eden? I feel like most people are familiar with the gay love = forbidden fruit and/or cannibalism = forbidden fruit metaphor… yk, the embrace of supposed sin, being arbitrarily kept from the sweet, nutritious fruit of the garden. Passing through the gates of Eden (ribcage again) and eating the apple (his heart).

:3 anyways

Harlowstayed with the body until he also died (unrelated wounds from the chase). Decades later they would be found as skeletons in an unmistakable embrace, none of the flesh which made people scorn them during their lives. They were seen as lovers then, and were finally understood.

ALSO ALSO SO SYMBOLISM RIGHT. RELIGIOUS SYMBOLISM??? REMEMBER HOW EDEN WAS RAISED AS HYPER-RELIGIOUS???

So cannibalism as a metaphor for QUEERNESS now. A craving for the forbidden flesh. To partake in another's body in the most intimate and fulfilling way. But living in a world that sees it as repulsive…

Right? You with me?

Ok and then the inherent divinity of transness. To partake in the act of creation alongside God, to resculpt yourself in divine image. Jesus was not simply born of genetic material (yk how transphobes love to say “blah blah blah you can’t change your chromosomes!!” Like… if we use that logic, Jesus is trans. He’d have XX chromosomes because... miraculous conception.

No sperm, which provides the Y chromosome, which creates a male body. BUT OBVIOUSLY THAT DOESNT FUCKING MATTER BECAUSE HES A MAN REGARDLESS!!!! JESUS WAS A DUDE!!!). He was created by WILL.

The will of god, a version of himself, to BE!!! Fully human, fully god, flesh and blood in an image he himself designed. Holy trinity being the same entity and all, Jesus’s body was his own design in a way.

YOU WITH ME???

OK

OKAY AND SO.

GAY CANNIBALISM… TRANS LOVER.

TO

TO PARTAKE IN THE BLOOD AND BODY OF CHRIST. THEOPHAGY.

THE ULTIMATE HOLY COMMUNION.

TO CONSUME YOUR LOVER AS AN ACT OF WORSHIP, CONVEYING YOUR LOVE FOR EVERY PART OF THE BODY THEY'VE GROWN TO DISPISE. TAKING A PHYSICAL PIECE OF THEIR LIFE INTO YOURS AND UNITING YOUR VERY BEINGS. UNCONDITIONAL AND ETERNAL LOVE, DESPITE ONE’S FLAWS.

TO THINK OF YOURSELF AS CARRION AND BE FOUND BY THE MOST GRATEFUL VULTURE.

A DEAD AND ROTTING GOD STILL BRINGS LIFE TO THE MAGGOTS WHICH FEED ON ITS CORPSE!!!

RAAAAAAAAAAAGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’m unwell I’m unwell I’m unwell I need to actually get to writing this NOW

[rugburnlover]

Pulse Points (Harvey X Reader)

Prologue

Grief is a weird thing; it is an all-consuming thought process crowding your body from the inside out, begging to be released and begging for an escape, but it never does. It just gets smaller. I was told once that grief comes in waves that get easier to handle with time, and I wish I could agree because my grandfather's death still hurts. I knew he didn’t have long after my meemaw had passed, but my chest still aches almost an entire year later. Maybe it's because I'm moving, trying to break my conformity. I don't want to die working a lousy nine-to-five, never amounting to anything more than an office worker. I am twenty-four. I should be living. I've watched the past few years of my life crawl by. I graduated, but at what cost? I would blink, and suddenly, my day was over, and then he died, and suddenly, clarity ripped into my flesh with yellow-stained teeth. I was meant for more, and I guess my grandfather understood that. That's why I am on this bus headed to a farm I haven't visited since I was little. My headphones sit securely on my head as I stare outside the bus window, the green pastures with life blooming in every corner, never shadowed by overbearing skyscrapers or busy streets. My fingers trace the rough carpet material hugging the bus cushion. My legs ache from the trip, but I can't force myself to move around as if I'm going to see something I don't like and spoil this seed in my head that's itching to bloom. I close my eyes to rest them, trying to recall my best memories of my summer visits, the jellyfish, and the beautiful night skies, so clearly, I could take a star from the vastness and make a wish for myself. Those nights were Grandpa's favorites. He would always tell me the stories of the constellations.

I open my eyes to see a significant welcome sign. My lips curl in the corners, forming a small melancholy smile. I feel the bus lurch forward. Thankfully, I can catch myself in the seat in front of me. My bag, however, goes free, diving off the seat and into the aisle with a loud thud. I sigh and go to reach for it once the bus stops but am quickly met with an older-faced man with facial hair picking up the bag and placing it in my seat, out of his way as he hurriedly gets off the bus waving the bus driver a gentle goodbye, his voice carries throughout the metal caravan. “Thank you again, Pam!” I watch as he quickly disappears from my view, his green coat flowing behind him. I grab the remainder of my things and leave the bus, Pam's gaze following me. “It's good to see you again, kid,” she says before the bus doors close behind me. She begins to drive off to her next destination. I wonder if she meant it.

I take a long, deep breath, inhaling the countryside. The smell of fresh grass and summer floods my nose. I have yet to see this. In the distance, I can see two figures walking towards me. I have to squint to make out their features. One is an older gentleman, Mr.Lewis or Mayor Lewis now. My grandpa was very good friends with him and would often come over for dinner. He looks much older now. Following next to him is a woman with fiery red hair. I do not recognize her, but then again, I haven't visited in almost a decade, but there is a strange familiarity in her demeanor. As they get closer, Lewis wraps me in his arms the second he can, giving me a tight squeeze of a hug,

“It's so good to see you,” he says in a softer tone. My free hand rubs and pats his back,

“It's good to see you too, Mr. Mayor, Mayor Lewis.”

As he lets go, I hear him chuckle at my slip-up.

“I'm not sure if you remember her, but this is Robin,” he says, raising his hands to introduce her.

She grabs my free hand and gives it an excited shake. “It's so nice to see you again! You were so little the last time we met! You used to play with my son Sebastian all the time!” She says, my face lights up at his name,

“Sebastian!” I say. I would've thought he left by now.” Her nose scrunches as the words fall out of my mouth. We haven't talked since high school,” I say, trying to change the subject.

“He is a lot better now,” she trails off, still smiling. “Less rowdy”

I nod, unsure of what to say next. Sebastian and I used to hang out and kept in touch throughout the years until, one day, we both just stopped. His mom got remarried when we were in high school, and I know it hit him pretty hard. I wonder if he still smokes. He used to think he was, and I quote, “hot shit” for sneaking cigarettes around; half the time, I don't even know how he got them.

“Robin here runs all the local building contracts for the townspeople.”

I nod in acknowledgment

“If that shabby shack ever needs any renovations, feel free to visit!”

I try my best not to take offense to her words. After all, I do not know the condition of my grandfather's home, and I pray she's just teasing.

After small introductions on our way to the house, I am greeted with a slightly run-down house, not a shack coated in the same paint it was when i was younger. The front steps let out a loud groan as I make my way up them feeling the wood give a little to my weight. I can smell the cedar from the tress around me and the soft current of the pond further down the property. I hesitate feeling Robin and Lewis eyes follow my hand reaching for the door knob. Something tells me they have yet to see the worst of it. My hand grasps the metal knob and I walk in teh smell of old wood and, my eyes well with tears, grandpa. I feel a firm hand rub my back as im stuck in the threshold of the home, the sun illuminating the single bedroom of the cabin.

“We didnt want to change anything until someone came…” Lewis says his voice soft and gruff as of he is trying to hide his sadness behind a veil.

I wish i could say something but no words seem to form off of my lips as I let my hands trail the walls taking in a lifetime of memories, my hand stopping when i reach a family photo, i clean the dust off my fingers lingering on the photo of my grandpa and meemaw. I put the photo back onto the wall and take a long deep breath filling my lungs completely before slowly exhaling.

“The only thing we changed was the mattress” Robin chimes in clearly unaware of the weight of the situation.

“Thanks” I wipe my eyes as i feel the hot tears leak out and onto my cheek.

[adelarsims]

I really enjoy your headcanon or your stories about Jeb! Can you tell me more about what you think about him? Could be anything really <3

i'll gladly tell you more, will you be okay with sad stories? i'm in the mood to tell those.

his room is very small and repurposed from some utility room (i kept his original 3x3 room with metal wall, because i think it's important from the narrative standpoint), but he likes it because it's his own and no one will come in if he doesn't want them to. before moving to evergreen harbor, they lived in a trailer park for a few years, four people in one small trailer, and he never got his personal space.

before that, he grew up on his grandfather's farm. you could call it a farm, though in all honesty it was just a few acres of mud (or dry and cracked mud, depending on rains), not a real soil. jeb's mom and grandfather hoped they could sell vegetables that they grew, but nothing decent wanted to grow there, so they were always poor. they ate beetroot so often, jeb still feels nauseous from the smell of boiling beetroot. his grandfather was not a good man, and with his failed expectations of the farm, he didn't get any kinder. he liked whipping jeb (and later gideon, but jeb was an easier target), seemed to really enjoy it. he had a leather belt with a brass buckle on it that he used for smallest things he thought were wrong, then he made jeb get down on his knees and pray to god for forgiveness. jeb hated and feared god as much as he did his grandfather, they were kinda the same person in child's mind.

when jeb was 12 and gideon 8, they all ran away, though it was mostly for gideon's sake and because faye also had enough of it.

jeb is 17 (almost 18), while morgan and wg who are his classmates are 16, and some kids in their class are 15. jeb was (poorly) homeschooled, and instead of the graduating class that he was supposed to go to, he had to get one year back. in all fairness, he needed to repeat more than one year, but if he had to go 2-3 years back and go to school with 13-14 years olds, they would've just kept him at home instead. faye at least tried homeschooling jeb as well as she could, while cletus didn't even try, he didn't know shit himself, was easily bored when jeb didn't understand it immediately, and ended up saying "go play, it's not like you'll ever need this nonsense in your life anyway". learning isn't very easy for jeb already, and his dad cutting every corner of it really compromised his schooling.

[theverumproject]

OC Interview Tag

Thanks for tagging me @agirlandherquill

This is Dethra in the year 2093, from my unreleased wip Verum II: The Robotic Era

Open tag!

Were you named after anyone?

I doubt that. My first name was Project Deathrage, or just Deathrage. Which is also my deadname. I was the first Artificial Intelligence to awaken, and I doubt they named me after anybody. Organic or non-sentient machine, nobody was named Deathrage before me.

…What kind of parent would name their child Deathrage anyway?

When was the last time you cried?

I do not have the ability to shed tears. Though I do feel sadness. I might be a killer machine, but I am not heartless. …Often, I have to see innocent life being destroyed. Be it human, animal or artificial being. Statistically, I get sad every four days. I don't think there really is a way to release sadness for us bots.

Do you have any kids?

No. Neither have I ever created another AI. Even if I could reproduce, I wouldn't. I would not exactly be the kind of father a child deserves. We wouldn't have any time to take care of a child. Our lives are packed with deadly action.

Raising children with Luce and Bluctro… Maybe in another life.

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Probably about the same amount as the avarage person. I wouldn't describe myself as an overly sarcastic guy.

What is the first thing you notice about people?

I know how to read people. Especially humans. You can't hide your micro expressions from me. It is difficult to fool me, since I can immediately tell your intentions.

What is your eye color?

They're a glowing red. Fifth law of robotics or something. But they have always been that way.

Scary movies or happy endings?

Nothing over some scary movies! Slasher please!

Any special talents?

The perks of being a supercomputer / killer robot mix is that I am full of special talents. I can shoot with ten weapons at the same time, thanks to the arms on my back. Have access to every little corner of the entire Internet, making me almost omniscient. I have a body that is almost indestructible. I am able to solve the most complicated equations in an instant and can hack practically anything. To name a few. I was made to be the perfect killer robot after all.

Where were you born?

I was created in a secret government base, somewhere in the Australian outback.

Do you have any pets?

No. But I did live on a farm in the fifties. I really liked taking care of our animals. We had chickens, cattle and rabbits.

What sort of sports do you play?

Bloodsports.

How tall are you?

I have a height of two meters and fifty centimeters (8”4). I am one of the bigger ones, but there are many other robots that are even over three meters tall (9”10).

What was your favorite subject in school?

I obviously never went to school. But I enjoy learning about many things. When there is new knowledge to obtain, I enjoy taking it in.

What is your dream job?

A hero is what most people want to be. But I am more of an anti-hero. I do enjoy helping others, and there is nothing I'd rather do than to bring justice to those who need it. But I often wish that the world wouldn't have to be like this. I enjoy killing, but I think I could live without it. Why do we all have to be so separated from one another, when there could be peace?

[thepropertylovers]

The True Magic of the Last Few Days

There was no work done this weekend.

I can’t remember the last time I was able to say that. My laptop stayed shut and tucked away the entire time. Emails were read but not responded to. And as I’m sitting on the couch in the living room writing this while sipping on my extremely hot coffee and the rain pours down outside louder than I’ve ever heard it, I’m comforted by the fact that that’s exactly how this weekend should have gone.

We celebrated Riah’s 6th birthday this weekend and spent the last three days with family. Friday night we went to watch my younger sister fight in a boxing charity event in Chattanooga. My whole family (minus Amy who lives in GA) went to support her in her first ever boxing match. It was loud, country music and people yelling for their favorite champ were pretty much the only things you could hear, but it was still so different and fun nonetheless. She ended up losing, but all of us swore she should have been the winner, especially in round 3. Maybe next year.

Meanwhile, Riah turned 6 on Saturday! Our big boy is 6 years old which is so, so hard to believe. He was 2 1/2 when we first got them, a little wild child with long hair and a temper. Now, he’s so damn sweet and such a charmer who wears his heart on his sleeve but has the confidence to lift anything, no matter how heavy it is, because he “has abs” he says. What a perfect goofball.

We took the kids to the Creative Discovery Museum in Chattanooga, a staple in town that we used to go to when we were young. It just might be the coolest place for children, and I can say that confidently because I found myself having just as much fun as they were. My mom came too for the afternoon and we just all had a blast, watching the kids’ eyes grow big with excitement and wonder playing with the different exhibitions and dig for dinosaur bones in the sand. It’s a magical place, but the real magic came from spending the afternoon together, uninterrupted and completely focused on having fun. That doesn’t happen often enough. Why is that?

On Sunday, we had a party for Riah at the farm with our closest friends and family. PJ and I made chicken salad sandwiches and pimento cheese sliders, ordered our family’s favorite cake from a local bakery, cleanup up the pavilion that had seen better days since we haven’t entertained there for months, and hung some Paw Patrol decorations at Riah’s request.

Parties are always when PJ puts 110% into everything he does to get ready for them. I swear he could have been an event planner in another life. He likes everything to be tidy and perfect and goes above and beyond to achieve it. Case in point: he brought this piñata that I bought two years ago and forgot about (it’s been sitting in the corner of a closet ever since) to finally use at the party, and because it wouldn’t stay on the string, he climbed up into the rafters of the pavilion to hold the string the entire time so the kids could take turns hitting it. His mind works in such creative ways, and his body follows suit no matter what the task is. I’m so lucky I get to do life with this man.

So that brings us to today, Monday. A very rainy Monday actually, which I don’t mind one bit. Today will be spent sending approximately 10,000 emails and catching up on all the work that wasn’t done this weekend. I’m still getting used to this work from home thing, almost four years in, but I’m almost positive that in a normal job, most people do in fact do zero work on the weekends, and instead leave it for Monday through Friday. I’m going to be more diligent about following that schedule going forward. This weekend has opened my eyes in a way and I need to start putting everything away on Friday night and not opening it until Monday morning.

I hope there was some good in your weekend, too. xo

[garbagefarm]

Garbage Farm #59

2024-08-21, session #59 of Garbage Farm! Spanning Summer 24 through Fall 2 of Year 5!

cast:

me ( @mothmute )

E.B. ( @blueherin )

Kimi ( @2kimi2furious )

Highlights include, but are not limited to the following:

Summer 24:

We're off to an auspicious start as Kimi axes her child, Pizza

Baby raccoon!! The little snobs want dried purple mushrooms, but, they're worth it

Kimi finally picks a Qi quest: Hard skull cavern, or Junimo Kart?

I will defeat Junimo Kart if it kills me. (It does, RIP)

Kimi has no such excuse, and just dies regular-style, RIP

Summer 25:

E.B. got pepper poppers in the mail from Shane, a classic.

Harvey billed me for being such a real gamer the night before

Kimi delivers the raccoons' mushrooms

Supposedly ducks have to be at the bottom of the pond in order to swim? Which, we don't have on Four Corners...

It's keg day, but I'm not happy about it.

Kimi found a purple office chair buried at the beach. I suspect Sam and Sebastian might've had something to do with this.

(whoops, almost forgot my pineapples)

Summer 26:

Skulls!

Kimi wants to refocus on crafting everything

E.B. muses on the growing forest commerce

I meet the goals for defeating Pepper Rex, yeah!!!

I die on my way back from skulls, RIP

Summer 27:

How does the bookseller get here in such weather??

E.B. suggests he doesn't actually fly it, he just inflates it for his display

Kimi doesn't have a lot of goals at the moment, and considers downsizing the animals

E.B. drops dead, never specifies why. RIP

Summer 28:

I take charge of the animals for now

The cheese goes in Kimi's fridge. She's got so much cheese in there.

Moonlight jellies!!

(Nobody will ever notice your "special shoes", Clint, they look exactly like the ones you always wear.)

Some confusion with quantum husband placement during the moonlight jellies ceremony.

Fall 1:

E.B. takes charge from cranb-planting

Kimi watches the husband conga line leaving the farm

The giant cauliflower is misaligned, and must die. E.B. dispatches it in a single blow.

Kimi didn't pick up enough pumpkin seeds, woops, but our reserves have got us covered.

TRAIN (see gallery), followed by Kimi asking "why are you like this"

oh right I guess it's my turn to check Mr. Qi?? "four precious stones", sure, it gives us an entire month.

I got permission to buy a return scepter, but didn't make my way over to buy it before it got too late.

ALSO: I just realized I'm not besties with Krobus :(

Fall 2?:

non-canon day, what should we do?

Kimi wants to pelt Pierre with eggs. Sure, why not!

(E.B. can't find her slingshot......)

Pierre vaguely threatens me on my arrival??? (see gallery)

I snack on some pineapples and cheese while waiting for E.B., and offer some to Kimi

I didn't bring enough eggs, so I just start straight-up firing explosives at him.

-

TO-DO:

idk man, lots of stuff!

four precious stones for mr. qi

check community board

keep an eye on the precious raccoons

still need another auto-petter or two, but mostly I need gold

fill crystalarium shed, more kegs, etc.

set up mystic trees+taps

still need to put together a good grocery list, check what I've already got

GALLERY:

"why are you like this"

I'll always appreciate the time you punched Morris, but we still don't like you very much

[acetraveler]

Utah Trip, Part 1

This is part of a multi-part blog series for a documentary currently in creation. The purpose is to document the cool things and places visited, as well as discuss being disabled while staying at a hotel. You can find other parts to this particular series HERE.

From the Bay Area to Mohave

I have wanted to keep statistics of my trips for blog posts like this. They make stories so much more interesting! Like, how many miles were driven to each location, how long these trips take, how much you think you'll spend vs how much you actually spend on knick-knacks.

But it is here that I need to point out that this won't be entirely possible for the entire trip. The reason being that I got my car broken into on my last day of the trip. But that will be expanded upon in another post and I'll like it here.

I started this trip for a documentary that I'm working on (yet another post that will be linked here). And it was decided to go in late March. This is important because there were winter warnings going on between the Bay Area and Salt Lake City.

Since there was only a 57mi difference, I decided to go through Las Vegas and go to the farthest National Park first. This way I could hit the other planned parks on the way back home.

In my 20s, I would've thought that I could drive the entire 13+ HRS to Arches. But I'm not so much in a hurry anymore.

This translated to stopping in Mohave, CA for the night. I know nothing about this town and after staying there for a night... I still know nothing. Except that they have a wind turbine farm going on. Something I did not know about these turbines is that they have red lights. Which is unnerving at night if you aren't used to seeing a thousand red dots blinking throughout the night. This is almost certainly for planes flying overhead.

In the past, I've always declared that I would never stay at a motel with a number attached to it. Since I'm a completely different person, and I remember never giving Motel + Number a try, I decided to give the Motel 6 a try. Here is my review:

Motel 6

In short, this place cuts corners. I now know that I'll never stay in another Motel 6. There's a reason they cost $65 or less.

In long: Motel 6 is a mysterious motel that has somehow survived in spite of not having any quality to their rooms.

First of all, there are smoking rooms. As someone with chronic rhinitis, it amazes me that that's something I need to look out for. But smoking rooms still exist. I worry that this point would be considered controversial, but I just don't understand the concept of smoking inside a room. That is a fire hazard, period.

Secondly, I don't know that the beds they own are technically beds. "Slab" would be more accurate. I understand that everyone has a different back. Rock Hard is a weird choice for a mattress.

Everything felt like the cheapest possible version and was thrown into the wash with bleach and cut the dryer out to save on the electricity bill. Towels are rough, as is the toilet paper. And the shower looked like a murder scene occurred there. I have no idea if that's a joke, which scares me.

Back to the Trip...

The last part of this post will cover something I started noticing after the stay in Motel 6. But I was always placed in a second story room.

This is something I hadn't paid attention to until now. My knees are hurting more and more, and bringing everything I own in my car up to my room started to prove an issue. Many people (including a 20yo me) would say that it's not a big deal and that it's laziness to just leave everything in my car.

Simply put, this is a disability to not be able to haul everything up three or four times. That's at least 3 stories! And I'm trying to look out for myself and not push anything over the limit.

But this isn't the first motel or hotel to do this. I will speculate further on why this is a thing in future posts. For the time being, I think this is age-based. Not agism, exactly. The presumption I believe is based on what most people think is an able-bodied person walking into the lobby of the hotel/motel.

[isajynx]

Chapter 1 Part 2

“Wow, ok tell me about your childhood”.

My childhood? My home is a land of a different color. Texas is my home state, and my hometown is in the geographical center of that state. Despite being grouped in the of “West Texas”, I was bour into the center of no action land. Home is centered in landscape rugged as it is often depicted in old western movies. Hills, woodlands, and densely populated with mesquite trees that surely out number of the people, easily by two or three. Wild animals are often seen in my front yard, often being fed scrapes from dinner the night before. A gated community full of trailer houses, situated in the county’s lake. My fellow childhood friends often called the community, “The Commune”. We were all convinced that the community was really an elusive cult run by a set of self-righteous hippies. “A village to raise the kids”, right? Anyway, if any child was caught misbehaving in any way, any and all adults had full clearance to unleash fury across our asses. I had my ass chapped a few times, a rebel through and through even then. When I would grow weary of the commune and the people in it, I would run off and hide in the woods. Just me and my walk-man. Singing along like no was listening, dreaming I would be discovered, moved away from there, and be famous. I love the woods, they are still my safe place, even today. It was the place I could be whoever and whatever I wanted to be.

“What about the family in your life”?

Ah! The fam-damly… Let me start with my granny, my mother’s mother. She was a force to be reckoned with, to say the least. The matriarch of our small family. Average size for a granny I suppose gray permed hair. To a child my granny was bigger than life, a giant. The easiest way to describe my granny, is a Kelley green wearing, three pack a day smoking, scrabble playing, sassy ass country girl. Her will was the law and when she spoke you listened. She often spoke her mind, regardless of the feelings of others. She was the first to move to the Commune, opening a café in a nearby town. She fed many other peanut farmers in a tri-county area, until the industry fell out of favor as many farming things do. The home she created was a single wide trailer home, situated on four, one acre lots. She loved to care for her pecan trees, and garden in our back yard. My mother, Viva, is my grandmother’s 5th child. She was tall around 5’10”, and I always remember her being a “bigger” woman, a beautiful smile often hidden behind big glasses. She had a loving nature however, often a very sad woman. She often self-treats her depression with food, as many of us do. My father was not in the picture much, I remember only a hand full of times that I had spent time with him. Viva left my father following bouts of infidelity. My father tended to sleep with my babysitters. Viva gave my father multiple chances to gain his wit, to no success. My mother’s attempt to maintain a fruitful marriage with my father was about as successful as threading a needle with a jumper cable. Her leaving my father is how my family I remember growing up with became what it was. When she left with me in tow, we moved into my granny’s home. Little did my mother know, she was pregnant at that time with my soon-to-be little brother. My brother, he got all the good genes. Tall, skinny, blonde, hair, blue eyes, it’s enough to just make you sick. The day I met my brother, I almost killed him. Yes, you heard me right, I almost killed my brother his first day at home. My granny gathered friends and local family to come by the home and have a meet and greet with my little brother. I was one at this time, awoken from my nap by all the noise in the living room. I round the corner of the living room and find my mother on the couch. Without thinking I ran, yes ran to my mother. I did not see or care to see my baby brother on a pallet on the floor. In my mad dash to the comfort of my mother’s loving arms, I stepped on my brother’s chest. He cried, I cried and so began the sibling rivalry. Even until this day my brother has a dent in his chest wall from my big foot.

“Goodness, I mean you could have killed him”.

You’re right I could have, but he was tuff, always has been since.

“How was summertime for you, was it fun living on the lake”?

Sometimes… I was bored most of the time. Even at an early age I knew I was meant for more than what the Commune had to offer. Once my brother and I were old enough to venture outside the confines of the front yard, our summertime schedule was predictable. Always the same,

9 a.m. Wake up, Mother usually screaming at us to get out of bed, “you can’t sleep all day!”

9:30 a.m. Breakfast, usually pop tarts, or something simple that I could make for my brother and I, often watching cartoons.

10a.m. The children were scooted outside, the door locked behind us. If you were hungry, you waited till lunch. If you were thirsty, there was the water hose. Yes, we were smart enough to know that the first shot out of that water hose in the summer heat was boiling hot. We watered the grass with the hot stuff and drank the cold stuff that would come after. The garden hose was an oasis. We drank from it, played with the water. Granny would occasionally yell out the window to go water her trees. Water never tasted so good. If we needed to use the bathroom, we went to the park a block or so down the road, or a shady spot under a tree. 

1-2p.m. The door would be unlocked for lunch. It was a fend for yourself type event, again, me foraging food for both of us. Because by that time of the day, the “stories” (soap-operas) were on, and the children did not bother the adults during that time. If you didn’t make it to the house during the allotted time, you didn’t eat. At 2p.m. without a minute spared, we were scooted back outside, and the door locked behind us. 

5-6p.m. The door unlocked again, dinner was waiting, same rules applied. 

10p.m. Time to come home for the night. Our alarm was the porch light, about 30 minutes before time. A beacon of it being almost time for bed. The local news station had a saying every night, “It’s 10 o’clock, do you know where your children are?”

My brother and I knew the consequences of not being home at the appointed time.  It meant more chores, let’s be honest what child ever asked for more chores? None! So, I always made sure we got home on time. As we got older, our stay away time would grow, but never passed 11 p.m. I usually did not need the extra time, because I have always been a light weight in the “stay up all night” game.  

“Really? That sounds like child abuse”.

I can see how you can feel that way, based on today’s standards. However, remember I said that it takes a village to raise children. The Commune was always watching. Playing land line phone tag to other parents, my mother knew exactly what her “little shits” were up to. In the 90’s the Commune, it was safe. Nothing big ever happened, at least not that I can remember. Mom would tell us which houses to stay away from, and we stayed away. As I grew up the illusion of my safety diminished quickly. In my teen years, all my friends were way older than me, which led to several bad decisions with shady people. But that is how we learn. This was how I was introduced to alcohol and weed. My friends kept me safe, making sure I made it home safe. Looking back, I am sure it was because they did not want to go to jail for allowing a rebellious teen to broaden her horizons and learn my limitations to the fun parts of “adult life”.

Looking back at the formidable 90’s, it was a decade of booming changes. The dawn of in-home technology is making huge strides. Dial up internet provides an access point to the epic world wide web. Where in my earlier childhood, if you needed to look something up, I had two options. Ask an adult and get their answer it was, or you found an encyclopedia and looked it up yourself. However, now, with only a few keystrokes of a keyboard and mouse, all information was within my grasp. It was liberating to a point. With my family being lower class, technology was expensive, and obviously well outside our family’s wheelhouse. Viva was able to obtain home internet in the form of Web TV, an access point much like Roku to turn the family television into a computer. Before I knew it, Viva was set free on the “inter-webs”, an endless barrage of chat rooms and the original OG Myspace. At this time in my childhood the telephone was only used when necessary. The chat rooms gave my mother a platform to meet new people and fly away without going anywhere. For Viva the internet became an addiction. She would spend endless nights chatting with strangers, all while my brother and I continually begged for any kind of attention. She remained strapped to the internet, snacks in tow as the rest of the world continued without her. The chatroom did nothing for her depression, other than enabling an already disconnected reality. This was our new life, the children playing second fiddle to a shitty fucking chat room.

The only time my mother was seen outside the home was to go to church. One not so particular Sunday, Viva was introduced to a man named Dax, by our preacher. Sigh… Dax. Dax was an odd man to say the least. Average size, wispy gray hair, beady almost rat like eyes. He was a literal fence post compared to my mother. He seemed desperate for attention from anyone, successfully spinning whatever line he needed, to spend more time in MY family. Of course, Viva, just as desperate for any attention other than that of her children, fell head over hills for this rather odd fellow. She did not believe in her worth, so Dax was a descent change of pace for her. After only one month, and a bend in his boney knee they became engaged.

“Really! After only one month”?

Yes, after only one month we collected a new family member and lost a family member. Granny decided that she would move out into an apartment near her work, “so we could start a family”. There his beady eyes were, eating our food, living in my house, taking my mother away, as if he had been there this whole time. After only three months, I was playing maid-of-honor in an obviously doomed single wide trailer wedding. Viva thought this marriage would make us a complete family. I had a gut feeling that something was just not right about this guy.  I was not sold on his intentions with my family, they needed to be protected. Before I knew it all my doubt, would not be unfounded. I noticed that the “happy newlyweds” would fight A LOT. The arguments were always behind closed doors of their bedrooms. No altercations were ever witnessed by the children, but we heard it all. The walls of a trailer aren’t as solid as you might think. The reasons for the altercations were usually trivial, none-the-less, it created a riff in our home. Each argument would end the same, Dax running in a dead sprint outside, slamming the door behind him. As you can imagine, being the extremely nosey rebellious child that I was, I would sit at the window and would watch my “new dad” outside. He would dive into self-destructive behavior that boarded on attempted suicide. Parades in the front yard of trying to hang himself from a tree to short, and a rope too long, or even tossing a cinder block into the air, standing under it and moving just before is landed on his head. It was a pathetic attempt to gain attention, nothing more. He used this childish behavior to gain the sympathy of Viva. So, she would feel sorry for making him upset, and fighting with him, a true narcissist through and through. Dax was unreliable when it came to gainful employment. My mother by this time has been on disability due to obesity for around 2 years. Dax hardly contributed to our home in any aspect. At this time dirt poor would have been a step up.

I know what you are thinking.

“Do you”?

Yes, I mean I could have given him a chance, right? I could have tried to be a solution and not part of the problem.

“Not really, I agree that your gut feeling was true. Does the happy couple ever make it”?

Now, look here you’re trying to get ahead. I thought you said you wanted stories and now you’re here trying to run ahead of yourself.

“Ok, ok, Please, let’s keep going”.

Are you sure? Because I am telling you right now the stories do not get better for a while.

“Well Isa stories good or bad, I want to hear them. Like I said I like meeting people, and really listening to their stories is the best way to learn someone”.

Alright then, buckle up sugar it is going to be a bumpy ride.

[light-yaers]

Fools in the Darkness: Chapter Two

Darkling x Reader

Warnings: Death, violence, drugs (Parem), NSFW and sexual content. This content is explicit and 18+ at some points.

A/N: Once again I am showing off how I have zero self control when it comes to creating stable fic uploads! I simply write another chapter and then upload it immediately. I’m so sorry when this will eventually start to die down, but for now let’s enjoy the start of the story, I guess? I’m astounded at the immense love this got! Thank you all so much!

Fic Masterpost

Word Count - 4k

Chapter Two

Inej returned with three glasses of whiskey. Kaz was sat opposite you at his desk, crow-headed cane secured in one of his leather gloved hands. Inej put the glasses on the desk, before picking up and handing one to you.

“Thank you,” You said politely. Despite the few weeks you’d had to acquaint yourself with the types of people that Ketterdam housed, Inej seemed different. She was a fighter, you could see that clearly, but she also seemed... soulful. Like she had a heart, bursting to the brim with kindness and care, despite the Wraith she had to become living in a place such as the Barrel.

“So, what, the Darkling took you in?” Kaz asked, impatience all over his voice. He grabbed his glass sternly, tapping the sides with his covered fingers.

“This is only the beginning of this story,” You replied.

“Well, get to it,” He said quickly.

“I told you it was a long story, Mr. Brekker. It’ll probably take us most of the night. Can your business wait that long?” You raised a brow at him knowingly. There were men such as Kaz in the Little Palace—impatient, to the point, needing answers immediately.

“Listen, Kaz,” Inej spoke up. “I have a feeling we’ve only skimmed the tip of the iceberg,”

You regarded Inej, taking in her petite frame, the glint of the knives on her body; you counted them quickly, efficiently, until you’d added up fourteen in total. Knives for days, and you’d wager a bet that she knew how to use each one to its full advantage, as if they were an extension of her body.

Kaz breathed out shallowly, shooting Inej a stare. She accepted it gracefully, not even flinching from the obvious tension that had begun to float between them.

“Your sister,” Kaz spoke, his eyes still on Inej, until he finally turned to you once more. He nodded once, sternly and quickly, but you got the message loud and clear—I’m sorry. You swallowed uncomfortably, thankful for the small comfort the tumbler of whiskey gave you as you gripped it in your hands.

“Right, where were we?”

The Little Palace, 1 Year Ago

You woke in a bright room, unrecognisable from where you’d been before—in the snow, the ice, shrouded in a darkness that the Darkling seemed to gravitate towards himself involuntarily. You looked at your hands as they shook; dirt was under your nails, dotted with dried and muddied blood—your sister was still on your very skin.

That’s when you shot up, your heartrate exploding suddenly. She wasn’t here, her body wasn’t on the floor at your feet, nor in the bed next to you. You were trapped inside four walls of creams and golds, with décor that you’d only dreamed of ever seeing.

It was unmistakable—you were in the Little Palace, the one place you’d begged the Darkling not to take you to. He’d done it anyway, after you passed out from your extreme exhaustion.

Now you started to panic, as you looked out of the grand windows of the room. A courtyard was down below, empty of people and carriages. It was still early morning by the sun placement; the palace was quiet. The Grisha lay sleeping in their rooms, the General was in his own—

You were alone.

And saints, you weren’t going to stick around. Not with your sister’s body still lying in the Fjerdan snow, waiting for wolves to find her.

You jumped out of bed, ignoring the way your muscles were screaming at you to return to the pristine sheets. Your feet were bare, and one glance at the floor showed you your shoes had been taken. What for, you didn’t know. Maybe they thought that would be enough to prevent you running.

You almost laughed, imagining the spoilt Grisha deciding to remove your boots—She won’t run with bare feet. She won’t. Little did they know, you’d run with bare feet before. And you’d easily do it again.

You tiptoed to the bedroom door, making as little noise as possible. At the last second, before your fingers curled around the handle, you decided to drop to the floor. You lay on your stomach, shoving your skull to the floor and shutting one eye—there were two feet shaped shadows under the door.

One guard, stood on watch.

This complicated things just a tad, but you were already hatching a plan by the time you stood up again. You gave yourself a few moments to stretch your poor limbs, feeling the adrenaline course through your blood and spur you forward. Without hesitation, you curled your fingers around the handle to your room, and yanked it open—

The guard whipped his hatted head around to you immediately, but he wasn’t quick enough to get into a defensive stance. You grabbed him by the collar, pulling him aggressively into your room, before you twisted him round and placed him in a headlock.

The two of you flopped to the floor, but that allowed you to secure his body to the ground with your legs, wrapping them around his torso so he couldn’t wind his way out of your grip. That’s when you tugged—hard against his windpipe.

He struggled and flailed like a freshly caught fish, but you knew it wouldn’t be long until he passed out and went jelloid. You kept your grip on him tightly, keeping him glued to the ground and his neck secure between your chest and forearm, being pulled taut by your other arm.

Eventually, he stopped fighting. His eyes fluttered closed slowly, his body slipped into a state of sleep.

You left him on the bedroom floor then, opting not to take his uniform in case he woke up while you did, and left the room. You clicked the door shut behind you, before beginning a tiptoed journey through the winding corridors of the Little Palace.

Saints, if you had the time, I’m sure you’d have appreciated the décor. It was splendid; all bright whites and creams with accents of shining gold. There were golden curls on blank white walls, intricate designs of Grisha imprinted in the wallpaper and grandiose windows that let the light flood inside.

You felt that, perhaps, the décor made up for the fact this was effectively an army base. The Grisha brought here were trained non-stop. They couldn’t leave, they didn’t have a choice. You’d heard horror stories of this place, back when you used to be safe in Novyi Zem.

“Zowa adawe,” Your neighbour had said. She was an old woman, living a quiet life on her farm. You called her Nana.

She was stern, but often times soft spoken, with her glorious Zemeni skin and gorgeous personality. When you’d found asylum after an unfortunate incident in Kerch, you and your sister had settled in her barn; parentless. She was kind, she ran the farm and let out the barn next door.

She became a grandmother figure immediately, up until the day she died.

Zowa adawe—Grisha fight. Grisha had to fight if they were sent to the Little Palace. There was no getting out it. Nana had said that your powers were beautiful, but she’d always said it with a hint of distain on her lips, as if you were running out of time.

You turned corridor after corridor, praying that no one would see you creeping around this early in the morning. All you had to do was get outside, and then you’d be able to run—run like Hell. Not stopping to look back or even worry if General Kirigan was on your tail. You’d outrun him, even if it killed you.

When you heard voices and footsteps, you flushed yourself against the corridor wall. You didn’t know where they were coming from, or who they were, but with the rags you were wearing the mud dotted over your skin, they’d know you weren’t supposed to be wandering around.

You held your breath, praying that they’d leave, that you’d get out of this fortress unscathed; and then you started moving again. The next corner you turned welcomed you into a large landing. A spiral staircase was before you to your left, only a few metres ahead of you. You lunged quickly, ducking down as not to be seen through the large windows out to the acres of land that surrounded the palace.

“You,” You stopped, swivelling round as your eyes laid upon two Grisha—one in a purple Kefta and one in white. The lady in white had yelled, but neither got into a defensive stance as you faltered backwards, constantly creeping back to the staircase as your heart threatened to bombard out of your chest. The lady in white shot her gaze down the staircase quickly, while the man in purple next to her all but looked confused.

That’s when her gaze tracked back to you once more, her jaw clenched. “Kirigan!” She boomed. You raised your hands quickly.

“Please—just—,” You pleaded in a whisper.

“Kirigan!” She yelled once more, and as the bash of doors sounded from down the stairs, you knew he’d heard loud and clear. The smack of boots ascended the spiral staircase, until the fresh face of General Kirigan hit your own. He slowed on the stairs, overseeing the commotion, before his expression softened.

He raised his hands calmly, widening his eyes in some kind of silent language, meant just for you.

“Now, just calm down,” He said calmly. You shot your gaze from the two Grisha at the end of the corridor, back to the General, before taking in your surroundings. You were blocked in from both ways; there were no doorways on your side of the grand landing.

But, there was an empty corridor, dotted with closed doors, and at the end—

A window.

It was as if Kirigan could sense the cogs in your brain whirring. As soon as your eyes lay on the window at the end of the free corridor, he began bounding up the steps. “No!” He yelled, reaching out for the flowing fabric of your blouse, but you were already running.

You pumped your arms and moved your legs as quickly as you could, storming towards the window at full pelt. Your heart was in your throat, your limbs screaming for relief, but all you could think of was your sister—alone, cold, left in the snow in a land that had never been kind to her.

That’s when you jumped, flying with all of the momentum you’d charged up from the run up, crashing straight through the window with all of your force. You ignored the sting of shattered glass as it ripped through your clothes and skin, the pain of the wood panelling breaking apart as your body slammed through the window—

And then you were falling, falling, falling—but you never hit the ground.

You brought your hands together with your eyes clamped shut, mustering your remaining energy into creating a cushion of wind to land on. It circled beneath you, spiralling around your body and stopping your free fall comfortably, until you balled your fists and the winds dissipated.

You landed in a large courtyard outside, shaking shards of glass out of your hair as you stood. You dared to look back at the mess you’d made, staring up at the broken window—

Kirigan stood above you, gazing down at you eerily.

You thought he’d be more frantic at the fact you’d just smashed through a window and were still standing. You thought he’d be rushing to get you back inside, but he wasn’t. He was calm and collected, looking at you as if he’d already worked you out completely. And that was the scariest part of this entire ordeal.

You broke into a run, not looking back as you pumped forward. You could feel his stare on your back the entire time, but you chose to ignore it—even if it all felt too easy.

Before you could make it to the tree line, you started to wane. Your limbs felt like lead, your heart felt like a bowling ball in your chest, and all of a sudden it was far too difficult to suck air into your lungs.

You collapsed to your knees, clutching at your chest as you glanced around the clearing. Before your vision began to blur, the unmistakable colour of red hit you. Red and black, with hands dancing before them. A Grisha—a Heartrender.

You struggled against the obvious magic that he was using upon you to slow your heartrate, to stop your muscles working properly. That’s when a blob of black strolled up beside the Grisha, placing his arm upon his Heartrender.

“Enough, Ivan,” Kirigan said, but you could hardly hear him.

“Heartrender...” You stuttered out, as Kirigan began to approach you slowly. “Playing dirty,” You said, as the rest of you collapsed to the floor. The sky above you circled sickeningly, your vision seeing double. Kirigan stepped above you, his face distorted as you fought against the power of Ivan.

“You’ll soon learn that I’m not the enemy here,” He said softly, as he descended to one knee. He slipped his arms beneath you, before rising. You were cradled in his arms, to incapacitated to fight against him.

“Darkling,” You muttered. You would have added more, but even talking was too much to handle.

General Kirigan carried you back inside, as the doors of the palace were bolted shut by his Heartrender. There was nothing you could do—you were powerless, and you were stuck.  

You didn’t fall asleep, but everything felt like a dream. The walk back inside, being carried to a room that wasn’t the one you awoke in, feeling the strength of Kirigan’s arms holding you up without as much as a grunt of exertion.

Kirigan gently dropped you into a large armchair, letting your head fall back against plush leather. He straightened himself, going to sit in a chair opposite you. He picked up a small bell from the table between you, ringing it once, before putting it back down and leaning back in his own chair.

You blinked away the double vision, trying to gain back your composure.

“It’ll ease. Ivan slowed your heart into a death state,” Kirigan said calmly. You were getting annoyed at the way his voice filled the air around you, floated into your ears smoothly. You didn’t want to listen. “That was quite a show,”

You think you scoffed, or maybe you tried too, because the corners of Kirigan’s mouth upturned ever so slightly.

“I told you not to bring me here,” Your words were slurred, almost as if you were drunk. You fought against the want to drift into a sleep, but he was right—it was easing with every passing minute.

“You never told me why,” He replied. You forced yourself to look at him, as your eyes adjusted. There weren’t two of him anymore; just one man. One man who’d dragged you here against your will, leaving your sister alone on Fjerdan soil.

“You left my sister there to rot,” You said, stronger this time. “How could you think I’d stay here when you left her?” Kirigan’s expression didn’t change, but he did look around when someone entered the room, carrying a pot of tea with two cups and saucers. The tray was placed on the table silently, before the attendant left immediately, clicking the door shut.

Kirigan poured two cups of tea, pushing one set towards you and taking one for himself. He didn’t take a sip yet.

“What do you have against the Little Palace?” He asked. You couldn’t help your scowl from devouring your entire face.

“The King hoards Grisha here like he owns them, like they owe him something. It’s a prison disguised as a lavish life. It’s no worse than the whore houses in Ketterdam,” You replied bluntly.

“Yet you were trying to get to Ravka, weren’t you?” Kirigan was quick to the mark, leaving nothing unturned.

“For my sister,” You said, clenching your jaw. “She’d be safe with the First Army,”

“And you?”

You finally looked in his eyes. They were dark, piercing your very skin, but the way they reflected the light gave them the illusion of warmth. You didn’t want to ever admit that the Darkling was a warm individual, not from the stories of his bloodline that you were taught from a young age.

“I was going to lie and stay with her. My abilities have never offered me much,” You said honestly, but you didn’t know why you were being truthful with this man. You swallowed uncomfortably, telling yourself to stop being so open.

“You killed those druskelle. You protected yourself,” He said. He was right, but you felt sick to your stomach. You saved yourself, but you couldn’t save her. You didn’t. “Your power is unrefined, unpredictable, but strong. I’ve never seen a Squaller summon a storm such as what we saw from the Ravkan border. It’s what lead us to you,”

The General finally took a sip of his tea, daintily rising the cup to his lips, before setting it down slowly on the saucer. You glanced at your own cup, wanting to take a sip too, but you couldn’t make yourself reach for it; not yet.

“We train Grisha here for the King, you’re right,” He continued, when you kept your mouth clamped shut. “But we also allow them to refine their abilities and hone their craft. This is a safe place for Grisha, when there are many out there who would try and take advantage of such power,”

“I never asked for this power,” You said quickly.

“No. But you can control it,” He replied, stronger this time. He had a smile on his face, leaning slightly forward, as if he truly wanted you to know why the Little Palace was good. “Wouldn’t you feel better? If you could truly harness your power? Bend it to your exact will?”

You swallowed once, frowning as you looked in his eyes. You wanted to say that you didn’t trust him—and never would. You wanted to splash scolding tea across his treacherous face, but you did neither.

“I’d feel better if I’d buried my sister, before you gave me a life sentence,”

Kirigan stood then, turning his back to you to stand before the window behind him. His hands were together behind his back, his chin high and shoulders broad. He wore all black, but you’d expect nothing different from a man who went by the Darkling.

He thought in depth, calmly, quietly, while you debated having some of your tea. It was steaming and warm and calling out to you. You knew it wasn’t poisoned because he’d already taken a sip, but you were still wary.

“How about a proposal?” He said then, turning back to look at you. You scoffed.

“I’d rather marry a horse than you,” You let out. It was an obvious joke, but you hadn’t expected the words to spill from your lips. Kirigan raised his brows, almost boyishly, taking you by surprise.

“We have fine horses here, I’m sure we could find you a great husband,” He hit back with. Saints forbid, he’d joked back. You hated to admit it, but your shoulders relaxed then, as a small giggle burst from within your gut. He came to sit opposite you once more, taking another sip of tea.

This time, you mimicked him. You picked up your own cup, bringing it to your lips and sipping heartily. Warm tea cascaded down your throat, bringing more strength back to your muscles.

“You train here,” Kirigan began. “You train here and learn to fully control your powerful Squaller abilities, with the help of myself,” You frowned slightly as he mentioned himself, but nevertheless let him continue. “And then, when you’re ready, I’ll... let you slip out undetected,”

That’s when you choked on your tea. You placed the cup back down on the saucer messily, spilling tea on his table.

“You’d let me out?” You stuttered. “No. No fucking way would you let that happen. I know the stories, General. The stoic man, damaged by his bloodline and his image,” As you spoke, Kirigan’s jaw tensed. “You wouldn’t let a Grisha slip out of your ranks,”

He cleared his throat slightly, straightening his shoulders. “I will, if it means you’ll let me train you first,”

You furrowed your brows at him, the cogs in your brain whirring. “Why are you so interested in my abilities? I’m no Sun Summoner, General. I can’t destroy the Fold—,”

“This isn’t about the Fold,” He interrupted you. “This is about you,” He said it with such surety that it almost took your breath away. You were silent, pondering what to say from your rapidly firing thoughts. “Squallers are never as powerful as you have proven to be,” He leaned forward on the dark wood table, coming in close to you. You were too frozen in place to move, too stubborn to back away from him. “I want to see what else you can do, with the right training,”

You stood abruptly, after he’d finished talking. You ignored the disastrous way you looked, with shards of glass still in your hair and small scratches all over your bare skin. Your feet were bad; you could tell just from the way your soles felt; but you pushed through.

“This is a deal,” You said strongly. “A proper deal—a vow,”

Kirigan stood then, too, strolling round until he was face to face with you.

“I’m a man of my word,” He said plainly, before he stuck out a strong hand. You stared at his wrist, his fingers, before slipping your own hand into his. You both shook on it, cementing the deal that he’d offered. If you felt he was lying at any moment, you wouldn’t hesitate to break out of the Little Palace and slip through his fingers.

“Fine,” You said, pulling your hand from his grasp. He looked down at you with an air of knowledge, but his eyes showed you something else; a softness, excitement, sadness. It was so intense that you simply had to look away.

“Your sister,” He said then, causing you to flinch as you scowled back at him. “Men have already been sent to the border to collect her,” He said it so plainly that you were sure he was making it up, but your heart panged as he kept talking. “They’ll bring her here in two days’ time. She will have a proper burial,”

You could have cried, if your body wasn’t on fire. You would have screamed and sobbed if you weren’t stood in front of someone such as General Kirigan. In this world, crying was always a weakness. Emotions were meant to be felt in private. Pain was only to be felt behind closed doors. You wouldn’t give up that ingrained way of life so quickly, as much as you wanted to collapse on the floor when you thought of your sister.

You tried to find the words to say something in response to General Kirigan, but nothing came out. All you could muster was a curt nod, to which he reciprocated with his own.

“Rest. Eat. Drink. You have today to recuperate,” He said sternly.

“Before the Grisha here eat me alive,” You whispered. Kirigan let out the smallest huff.

“Show them your power, and they’ll leave you be,” He said, before his hand curled around your forearm tightly. You gasped at his touch, expecting it to be cold, dark, hostile—but he was just a man. He was just... a fucking man.

With eyes and a nose and a mouth. With shining hair and stubble and broad shoulders. With hips that dipped to his thighs and knees that met his calves.

It was scary, to say the least. You knew what this man was capable of. You knew what he could do, but instead he promised you freedom. He promised to train you, to bury your sister, to keep you safe here while he could.

But that didn’t mean you trusted him. That didn’t mean you weren’t wary—

If only you’d stayed this on edge, this untrusting. Maybe things would have been different.

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[lonely-lost-soul]

Under The Floorboards pt. IIII

(Technoblade X Reader): Pt. I, Pt. II, Pt. III, Pt. IIII, Pt. V

Whipping the sweat off your brow you placed the honey jars you collected on the ground, Phil really built this farm efficiently. However, that didn’t stop you needing to collect honey pots here and there, now that the vault was complete you could actually use the honey for normal things. Technoblade would never admit it but he loved when you put honey in his tea, contrary to popular belief he wasn’t a fan of plain black tea or coffee. You rolled up your sleeves and adjusted the sunhat that sat lazily on your head against your better judgment you had left your armor inside. The only thing on your person was a netherite ax Techno had enchanted for you, it was an effective weapon but without your armor, you were a bit of a sitting duck. As the bees buzzed and bumped lazily into each other, you couldn’t help but smile fondly at the sight. They were just so silly. You picked up the crate of jars and turned around, your eyes narrowed as you saw some movement by the trees, it was still too early for Tommy and Technoblade to be back...so just who was snooping around the property. You felt very naked in your sun hat and overalls, especially if it was Dream himself that you were about to encounter. Your worry only increased as you noticed four men all in netherite armor walking towards the house, their swords were drawn. You had a feeling that these were the men who took Technoblade the day prior. They were like a little gang all dressed the same way, bloody aprons and all they really had the executioner vibes down. 

    “Hello, gentlemen.” You smiled giving them a wave while you adjusted the box of honey, “beautiful day isn’t it?” 

The first to answer was a man who had a scar from the tip of his eyebrow down to the bottom of his lip. He sent you a smile and you noticed a tooth missing from the upper row, a navy blue beanie held his dark hair in place. 

    “Very beautiful, it’s always a good day when the sun is shining.” He mused the sun in question reflected beautifully across all their netherite armor. The one thing you decided to leave inside, you weren’t intimidated nope not at all. “What’s your name sweetheart?”

    “(Y/N).” You responded with a hum, “Is there something that I can help you all with today?” Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed two of the men moved to surround you, they thought they were slick. The only one who didn’t move was the tallest of the children there, he looked to be half Enderman. He also looked like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was right now poor thing. Drawing your gaze back to the other three men, you noticed one was Tommy’s age and had small horns atop his head, along with goat-like ears. A burn scar also took up half of his face. It made you frown distastefully, what was with these kids getting traumatized? First Tommy and now the half enderman and the goat kid, you couldn’t adopt all of them, well you could but it’d be a lot of work. The other looked to be part fox after all the big orange ears and the fluffy tail was dead give away, wait didn’t Ghostbur say his son was a fox. “Are you Fundy?” You asked, suddenly tilting your head to the side.

    “How do you know my name?” Fundy’s face flushed a little and he shuffled on his feet, his hand twitching to grab the sword that was at his side. 

    “I talked to your father earlier today. I’m assuming that’s how you found me?” You took the hat off your head and rested it on Carl’s stable. The fox gave a reluctant nod of confirmation you licked your lips and put your hands behind your back. “So? Do you have a problem with Technoblade or just me specifically?”

    “Wow, she’s not even a little bit ashamed.” Quackity mused and you frowned, “We’re here because your boyfriend blew up our country. He also disgraced our President right Tubbo? Don’t know if you’re aware of that or not but he escaped his punishment. So we intend to make him repent.” He walked towards you and you took a step away from him. 

    “That’s far enough thank you.” You held up your hand in hopes it would stop his trek towards you, Quackity did pause for a moment. He let out a chuckle and smiled. He thought your tough attitude was cute, but he was clearly mocking you. 

Jackass. 

    “Quackity maybe we should leave her be...she didn’t do anything.” The young goat kid murmured his ears flicking as he looked up at you. 

    “Quiet Tubbo. Let the adults speak,” Quackity snapped at him before clearing his throat and looking back at you. “Listen (Y/N) was it? We’re going to have to ask that you come with us. If you don’t we’ll have to take you by force.”

    “Wait, couldn't Technoblade have trained her?” The half enderman spoke holding up his finger in the air but no one seemed to pay him any attention. 

    “I guess force it is. Although the fight is a little unfair.” You took out your ax and twirled it in your hand, “Something tells me you don’t exactly like fair fights.” Fundy took a hesitant step backward not really wanting to lose a life for this of all things, but he pulled out his sword just in case. Clicking your tongue in distaste you sent a bloodthirsty smile their way, one that rivaled Technoblade, “Come at me.” 

Without hesitation, Quackity charged at you with his sword he didn’t aim to kill, just disarm or injure. You blocked the swing with the wooden part of your ax and spun around just in time to dodge an attack from Tubbo. You managed to elbow him in the back and he stumbled forward into Quackity, the man made a grunting sound before shoving Tubbo off of him and into the snow. Fundy moved next and managed to land a hit on the side of your arm, you hissed loudly glaring daggers at the fox. His ears pressed against his head and he let out a small whimper, “sorry!”

    “Don’t apologize to her!” Quackity groaned, “You guys are the worst gang ever.” He slapped his forehead as you readjusted your posture, “I have to do everything myself.” Quackity snarled charging at you again you sidestepped out of the way. As he stumbled trying to regain himself he knocked over the honey pots and they shattered against the ground. You swung your ax and managed to land a hit on him in the back of the legs, he let out a strangled yelp and fell on his face into the snow like Tubbo had done earlier. Yanking out the ax out of the leader of the gang blood splattered all over the ground and stained the snow. Little red beads dripped off the ax as you held it by your side, the man only let out another scream as it was torn out of him. 

    “Back. Off.” You repeated again baring your teeth with a hiss, “Turn around and go back to L’manburg and I won’t kill you. Got it.”  The ax was pointed at all of them, you saw the half enderman nod vigorously, 

    “Yes ma’am.” He nodded rapidly grabbing Tubbo and Fundy by the arm and pulled them back, the three of them watched as Quackity snarled and backed up to join them. You watched them cower and you dropped your ax on the ground so you could press the palm of your hand into the wound on your arm. You quickly turned and ran back into your home to collect bandages and fix yourself up, blood speckled the floor as you made your way into the bathroom. You tore off your overalls and shirt, washing out the wound before wrapping your arm in bandages. You didn’t know how long you stood there in front of the mirror but you looked worse for wear. 

Technoblade was going to lose his shit.

---

All Technoblade could think about on their way back to his retirement home, was you. He could only put up with Tommy for so many hours until he needed to talk to literally anyone else. He was ready to get your relaxing date night underway; he could already feel your fingers running through his hair braiding his as you went. He hummed fondly listening as the voices called him simp repeatedly, he didn’t mind this time considering he was when it came to you. 

    “That’s still cringe chat.” He murmured to himself as Tommy continued to scream about something in the background, “Yeah, yeah I love her.” He heard the chat flip their shit and he fondly chuckled, intermixed with their happy cries there was a distinct sound of ‘E’ as well as ‘nerd.’ He almost didn’t hear Tommy’s worried shouting. He frowned and rolled his eyes back into his skull, 

    “What Tommy?” 

    “Technoblade! Technoblade!” The teen bumped back into him, Technoblade grunted and looked down at him. He followed Tommy’s eyes and spotted the blood littered snow outside his house. Technoblade paused and his vision went red around the edges, his eyes stayed trained on the bloodstains as the voices began to roar within his skull. His head shot up and he saw the honey box spilled over on the ground, glass littered the snow, your hat hanging loosely on Carl’s old stable. 

     “T-Technoblade.” Tommy stuttered again looking up at the pig-man, seeing how glazed over his eyes looked. He swore steam was coming out of Technoblade’s nose and his hand drew out his pickaxe gripping it so tight his knuckles turned white. He felt his tusks grow in size and his face began to shift into his pig form. Tommy’s voice was drowned out by the flood that was the voices in his head: 

‘SHE’S GONE. THEY HAVE HER. KILL THEM ALL. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. WE DEMAND BLOOD. E. SAVE HER. YOU’RE A FAILURE. YOU DIDN’T PROTECT HER. SLAUGHTER ALL OF THEM. SHE DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. SHE NEVER HURT ANYBODY. YOU BROKE YOUR PROMISE. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD.’ 

Technoblade took a step forward to which Tommy rapidly backed up in response. He’s never seen Techno this gone before, oh shit he has it bad for (Y/N). However, Tommy didn’t make a move to stop Technoblade; he didn’t want him to release that rage on him. Technoblade walked into the house, stepping on his glasses that fell off his face. He threw his door open with a loud slam, he needed potions and he needed a new sword. 

Whoever did this all their cannon lives were gone he’d make it long and torturous.

A soft voice broke him out of his stupor his entire body went rigid. 

    “Bubs…” He slowly turned around and came face to face with you, you looked so small, so delicate standing in the doorway. You were wearing your pajamas, soft blue with little sheep all over them. His ears twitched and his shoulders softened considerably seeing you standing safe in the doorway, however, he tensed again the minute he saw the bandages tied around your arm. Blood leaking through them, he growled eyes locking in on the spot as you made soft shushing sounds at him. 

‘SHE’S HURT. SHE’S ALIVE THOUGH. BUT SHE’S HURT, THEY NEED TO PAY. ATONE FOR WHAT THEY DID TO HER. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD. SPILL THEIR BLOOD THEN MAKE OUT WITH HER. SHE’LL LOVE YOU MORE IF YOU DO. BLOOD. BLOOD. BLOOD.’

Technoblade jumped feeling her hand caress his cheek, “Bubs it’s alright I’m okay.” Your voice was smooth and soothing, his eyes dilated as you spoke to him. His face shifting back to normal as he breathed heavily through his nose, “See?” You brought his head down to rest against your chest, it looked uncomfortable the way that he was bending. However, he could feel your heart beating in your chest, he made a soft whimper and grabbed onto your shoulders his pink hair tickled your chin. You brought your hands up to run his fingers through his hair as he finally calmed down enough to ignore the voices for the time being. Right now they were just commenting on how nice and warm her hands were anyway.

    “What happened to you? There was blood everywhere I was so scared.” His voice broke a little bit as he pulled away from you. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest Technoblade had never looked so broken. 

    “The butcher squad came and attacked me. They wanted to use me to get to you but I fought them off just like you taught me.” You couldn’t help but smile proudly at him and he let out a disbelieving laugh. His hands moved from your shoulders to your back as he cradled you gently in his arms, you both stood there rocking back and forth together until Technoblade was satisfied. 

    “That’s my girl.” He finally murmured backing away from you, you flushed at the compliment. Whenever he called you that it made you flush all over, you let out a loud flustered whine and whacked him on the chest. Technoblade laughed at your flustered expression, it was a rare moment the tables were flipped like this and Technoblade was going to take full advantage of the situation. “Princess what’s with that look? Am I, thee Technoblade, making you flustered? I know I’m a lot to handle, I beat Dream once, I never die, I’m not homeless. Guess what?” 

    “What?” You couldn’t help but let out a giggle as he circles you eyeing you up and down. 

    “I’m single.” 

    “Oh really?” You cocked an eyebrow, “I thought you had a girlfriend.” You twirled your hair around your fingers and you felt his strong hands rest on your waist. 

    “Hm I don’t think so. You might need to refresh my memory,” Technoblade mused kissing your neck tenderly. 

    “Well she’s stunningly gorgeous, and tough as nails,” Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned back against him. “She absolutely adores you and how protective you are of her, and how much of a gentle giant you are.” He made a noise of protest and rested his chin on the top of your head. You could tell he was pouting at you, 

    “See, not only is that super cringe but also factually incorrect. I am not a gentle giant, I just committed vast sums of minor terrorism and I also kill orphans so what would my girlfreind say to that huh?” He huffed clicking his tongue distastefully. 

    “She would say that you’re right but also she sees the way you take care of Carl, and how you put up with Tommy. You’re totally brothers. That makes you at least a little bit soft” 

    “Not brothers and I don’t like him.” 

    “Right sure,” You giggled a little and kissed his chin lightly. 

Technoblade let out an indignant sound before muttering, “Oh we should probably tell Tommy you aren’t kidnapped. Also discuss what to do about L’manburg now that they know you exist.” You blocked out that last part and made a beeline outside to find Tommy. The teenager in question was fumbling with his hands over by his cobblestone tower, you ran over to him and engulfed him in a hug. 

    “(Y/N)!” He shouted letting out a disbelieving laugh hugging you back with a childish smile. “You’re okay! Holy fuck I totally thought you were dead and shit! Technoblade was going fucking apeshit! His face went all pig like n’ shit totally thought he was gonna kill everyone for you! Not that I was worried.” He added quickly shoving you away crossing his arms. 

    “Of course you weren’t THE Tommy is never worried.” 

    “Yeah exactly Miss Blade you get me.” You smiled fondly at him and you ruffled his hair and he shouted at you to stop. You did so sensing Technoblade approach the both of you, Techno interlocked your hand with his own and squeezed it tightly. “You chill now Big T?” 

    “I’m always chill Tommy. Only nerds aren’t chill.” He mused with a scoff, “Hence why I always call you a nerd.” 

    “WHAT THE FUCK TECHNOBLADE! I AM ALWAYS CHILL! I’M THE CHILLEST MAN ALIVE I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW!” 

    “Stop shouting,” Technoblade groaned burying his face in your hair as you laughed fondly at their antics. Although L’manburg knew about your existence now, and although you knew Dream probably wasn’t too far behind in learning that knowledge either, you felt everything was going to be okay. 

All you needed was each other, Technoblde, Tommy, Phil and you. Together you four were gonna do great things, you just knew it.

~~~

I do plan on making another part because people seem to be enjoying this story a lot more than I originally thought when I first posted it. Which is amazing thank you for all the love and support! New stuff is also in the works, thanks again for reading and enjoying! Stay safe guys! 🥰✨

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

sweet as honey, hard as nails

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; fingering, fisting, squirting, kidnapping, spanking/whipping, some allusions to breeding.

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

Synopsis: You’re trapped by more than four walls, trapped between the past and the present.

Note: Thanks to @lokislastlove​ for helping me brainstorm. I was just hungering for some good nomad.

Thanks to everyone for sticking around and putting up with me and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

The light pad of your feet on the wooden floor was punctuated by the metallic clink, softened as you stepped onto the rug between the couch and the fireplace. You barely noticed the subtle weight around your ankle anymore. You barely remembered anything but those walls, the quilt spread neatly over the bed, the portrait of a woman in a Victorian era farm dress watching a field of sheep, the wooden bowl you filled with fruit from the garden.

The dress flowed around your figure as you strode to the counter and filled the sink with hot water from the tap. You slid the stack of plates into the suds and dropped the utensils on top. You watched the basin fill and took a gulp of the pollen-laced air blowing in through the open window before you. 

From there, you could see the garden and the swing that faced the endless forest. You could hear the birds and the critters chirping and searching for food. You sometimes saw the tawny fur of a deer between the brush or the red tail of a fox. The serenity of the place was deceiving.

You focused on your work, the plates printed with pinecones around the trim. They were old but worthless antiques, each piece in the cupboard matched, uniform and perfect, just like the life built for you in that cabin. You drained the sink and dried the dishes one at a time as you hummed. You were tone deaf but there wasn’t much else you could do to fill the lull.

You closed the cupboard and hung the towel on the bar. You looked at your wrinkled hands as you strode blindly around the couch. The metal at your ankle stopped you as the long chain wrapped around the furniture in your carelessness. You stopped and stared at the door and the heavy iron bolt above the handle.

Your eyes clung to the dark wood but you saw beyond. In your mind, you descended those steep stairs and sat against the cold concrete again. You closed your eyes. Don’t think of it, don’t. It only made it all worse.

⛓️then⛓️

You shivered as you hugged yourself in the corner of the dark space. There was no light, only shadows around you. It was cold and only the fleece blanket left for you kept you from chattering uncontrollably. You blew into your hands and sank down further as you heard the footsteps again, just above you on the groaning wooden floor.

It was an hour, maybe two, since you’d woken in that place. Your head hurt and a fog obscured your mind. You remember the beach, your sister laughing as you hopped from one leg to the other and whined that you would end up peeing in the water. You slipped into your sandals and left her on her towel. 

You heard the choppy waves, the lake growing more and more uneven in the last days of summer. You went early before the afternoon made the water too cold to bear. The sand weighed down your steps and you didn’t know if you’d make it in time.

You flew into the stinky stall just between the parking lot and the trails down to the lake. You hovered over the hole and relieved yourself with a shaky moan. It hurt but felt so good. You rinsed your hands in the foot-pump sink and swung the door open. That’s as far as you remembered.

The footsteps stopped at the door that stood at the top of the stairs, as they had several times before. You couldn’t reach them as the chain around your ankle kept you on the other side of the musty basement. That time, the latch turned and the door opened slowly with a creak. A light broke the blackness and a figure appeared above you.

You counted his steps, eleven. It was a him, you could tell by his broad silhouette, the way he walked, almost like a soldier. When he got to the bottom, he set something down on the bottom step and marched through the dark to the corner opposite you. You trembled but not from the cold.

Click. The lantern glowed suddenly and cast his tall form in a yellow haze. He turned back, you could make out his nose, long and slightly bent in the middle, his square jaw and the thick fuzz of his beard, and the line of his brow above the shadowed eyes. He went back to the stairs and took the tupperware and the water bottle. He neared and set them down before you.

You leaned into the wall and covered your face. You were terrified, still in nothing more but your onepiece beneath the blanket. You smelled like the lake, the sand, and the sun. He knelt and pulled the lid off the container. You still didn’t move, hiding behind your hands as you tried not to cry.

“Eat,” he said tersely.

You didn’t move, didn’t look, just hoped you could dissolve into the wall. He said your name and you gulped loudly. You parted your fingers and looked between them at him. You still couldn’t make out his whole face, just the shape of it, just the impenetrable wall of his body.

“Go on, eat,” he ordered again, “and don’t forget your manners.”

You slowly dropped your hands and reached over the top of the blanket. You kept your eyes on him, afraid he might grab you, hit you, or worse. You took a piece of the cut up chicken breast with your fingers as he nodded and stood.

“Thank you,” you rasped.

“Good girl,” he said and retreated, “you keep it up and you won’t be down here too long.”

⛓️now⛓️

You flinched and your trance broke. Your eyes were wet and you quickly wiped the tears away before they could trickle down your cheeks. You turned away and retraced your steps so that the chain slackened at your ankle. You went back to the counter and gripped the edge. You gazed out the window but not for too long, it only hurt more.

You pulled out the thick flanks of venison from the fridge and seasoned them, rubbing the cold meat until it was fragrant. You chopped it into chunks and fried it in a pan, the natural fat and oil spitting out at you.

You mixed together the dough in a bowl and rolled out the pastry thin before you laid it in the pan. You added veggies to the mix on the stove and added some more spice. You used the dripping for a gravy and added it back in. You filled the shell and crimped the edges as you stretched the top of the pie over the savoury innards.

You turned on the small stove, a fixture straight out of the sixties, and shoved the pie onto the rack. You rinsed your hands one last time and your eyes were drawn back to the window. You heard the crunch of leaves and fervent breaths, whimpers as another set of steps hammer close behind. You close your eyes.

⛓️then⛓️

You had no shoes, your naked feet scratched and scraped in the twigs and dirty, errant branches catching at your dress and whipping your bare arms. You didn’t know where you were going, you didn’t know where you were, you just needed to run until you found someone who could save you. Until he couldn’t find you.

You heard him getting closer and closer. He was fast and you were unused to physical activity. It was months since you’d left the cabin. Two, maybe. It was cold and your feet throbbed from the bite of the air.  You veered between the trees and your foot caught. You cried out as you plummeted into the leaves and rolled over as the rope clung to your ankle. You’d stepped right into a trap.

You loosened it, the knot meant for nothing more than a rabbit, but as you stood, you were knocked onto your ass. He stood above you and kicked you onto your back. He planted his foot on your chest and scowled down at you, his blues eyes bore into you angrily.

“Bad girl,” he pushed on your chest until you wheezed, “you’re going back to the basement.”

“No, no, no,” you slapped at him as he removed his foot and bent to lift you up, “please--”

“Shut up,” he growled as he dragged you back to the path, “it’ll be harder this time, don’t make it worse than you already have.”

⛓️now⛓️

You gasped as your eyes flicked open. The rumble of the engine reverberated and faded into the trees as the faded green truck pulled up before the low fences. The motor shut off and the man hopped out on the other side. You watched as he went to the bed and opened it, he pulled out and crate that he held under one arm and an odd leather suitcase in the other.

He saw you through the window and smiled. You batted your lashes and forced yourself to smile back. You went to the door and opened it for him. He kicked off his tan boots and strode inside as you waited patiently. He stepped over the chain and plopped his goods on the table.

“You miss me, honey pie?” he asked, “mmm, it smells good in here.”

“I did… dear,” you used the epithet that made him happy, that kept him placid, “I made steak pie.”

“Yum,” he unclasped the briefcase and paused as he looked at you, “I have a surprise for you.”

“You went to the city?”

“Why I left so early. Don’t you remember? I kissed you goodbye but you were sleepy so,” his thumbs rubbed the tarnished clasps.

“I remember,” you said, “I figured since you took the truck.”

“This is for you,” he said, “a surprise.”

“A surprise?” you blinked and watched his hands.

He opened the lid of the briefcase and revealed the interior with a ‘ta da’. You looked over the record player, the knobs worn and the upholster of the lid frayed. “It’s used, but it works.”

He reached over and slid the crate closer, “I grabbed whatever they had that wasn’t gospel.”

You didn’t move to look at the records or to admire the Victrola. You were too stunned. Not that he brought you a surprise, he always brought you small things, new dresses or a little figurine. Stuff you didn’t like but pretended to for his sake, but more so your own.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

It was so long since you’d heard music. You knew that it was close to a year now. The days grew shorter, the air cooler, and the garden was at the end of its bloom. It was a lovely present from your keeper, the keeper you could never love.

“Thank you,” you whispered but still didn’t touch any of it. You cleared your throat, “thank you, Steve.”

“You okay?” he touched your shoulder. You learned not to flinch, that made him angry.

“You didn’t have to… do that,” you said.

“You’ve been good, you earned it,” he rubbed your arm, “there’s more in the truck. Why don’t you get it set up while I unload?”

“Yes, dear,” you nodded.

He bent and kissed your cheek, then caught your chin and laid a deeper kiss on your lips. You felt the shudder, the hunger, he wanted you that night, like most nights.

He went back outside and you hauled the record player to the table beside the fireplace. You plugged it in and went back to get the records. You sorted through until you found a familiar name. You took out the vinyl and checked for scratches before you laid it on the deck. You dropped the needle and it crackled before the melody began.

‘Oh my baby's comin home tomorrow

Ain't that good news

Man, ain't that news

Baby's coming home tomorrow

Ain't that news

Man, ain't that news’

⛓️then⛓️

The hammering stopped and Steve stood up. You watched him through the window as he replaced the tool in the metal box and closed it up. He tossed it back in the truck bed and came back through the open door of the cabin. It was spring, the long winter was over, a winter mostly spent below, and he wanted to clean up the garden.

He went to the hoop drilled into the floor and unlocked the chain from it. He tugged on it and led you outside like a dog on a leash and looped it through the one he’d just set into the concrete base. He yanked and tested its sturdiness then dropped the links. He dusted off his hands and looked around.

“Now you can come out and help,” he declared, “you should be able to reach everything you need. And I’m almost done the swing. We’ll be able to sit out here in the evenings.”

“Thank you, dear,” you recited the words, a habit you were almost compulsive about.

“Your welcome, honey pie,” he neared and kissed your forehead, “you understand right? Now that you’re back up here, you have to be good.”

“Yes, dear,” you swallowed your despair and smiled stiffly.

“We’re starting over,” he touched your cheek, “I forgive you.”

“Thank you…. dear,” you brushed your hand against his and he tilted his head. His other went to the sleeve of your dress and traced over your collarbone. He picked at the lace trim along the chest. His eyes darkened and he bit his lip.

⛓️now⛓️

You unclipped the cotton from the line and watched the leaves sway along the tree line. You shook the memory from your head. That night, the first night he’d… It happened so many times since, what did it matter?

You dropped the laundry into the wicker and lifted the basket. You went back to the door and stopped. He’d changed the record and the music kept the stifling silence from suffocating you. You stood in the doorway and watched his shoulders as he read.

“Dear,” you said carefully, “I’m ready to come inside.”

He put the book face down on the arm and stood. He crossed to you and you stepped just inside to let him past. He dragged his hand across your stomach as he sidled through the door. He disappeared for a moment and returned with the chain in hand. He secured it in its hook by the bed and you closed the door.

“Once I fold this, dinner should be ready,” you said.

“Alright,” he replied but sounded glum, “you work so hard, honey pie.”

“Yes, dear,” you set the basket on the bed and pulled out one of his shirts.

He was quiet as he sat. You felt him watching you. You stacked the shirts and went to grab hangers for your dresses. With the chain, all you could wear were dresses. Besides, there was no point in trying to be modest.

“You like the player?” he asked.

“Very much, dear,” you said, “it is a nice surprise.”

“Well, really, it’s an anniversary gift…” he remarked.

“Anniversary?” you trembled, only slightly as you pulled the dress over the hanger.

“It’s been one year. Can you believe that?”

“One year?” you repeated, “that’s… amazing.”

“Yeah, I mean, I can hardly remember what it was like before you. Feels like it’s been longer than that.”

“Happy anniversary, dear,” you said numbly and hung the last dress. You put away his clothes in the chest and put the basket back in the corner.

As you turned, you were startled to see him at the foot of the bed. He stared at the pattern of the quilt, his hands on his hips. He never had to say what he wanted, if you made him, it would be worse. You blanched and quickly scurried over. You shook as you climbed onto the mattress and pulled up your skirt.

“Dear?” you quivered as you lifted your dress up your chest. He leaned a knee on the bed and stopped you.

“No, later,” he said as he pushed the fabric back down, “and I want you to keep this on tonight.”

“Okay,” you sat back on your heels as his hands rested on your sides. His eyes lingered on your stomach. He looked sad.

“Dinner should be ready, right?” he drew away, “it smells ready.”

⛓️then⛓️

“I was out all day hunting and I come back to this!” Steve huffed, “you haven’t even started dinner.”

“I lost track of time, dear, I’m sorry--”

“You will be,” he snarled as he crossed his arms, “take off your dress and turn around.”

“Please--”

“Quiet,” he barked and his jaw ticked.

You sniffed and took the dress off. You dropped it over the edge of the couch and neared him. You turned around and he sighed darkly. He grabbed your shoulders and directed you over to the table. He pushed until you were bent over it.

“Stay,” he snarled, “I didn’t want it to come to this but you need to learn.”

You closed your eyes and braced the wood as you readied for another spanking. Your breath caught hover as you heard the subtle tinkle of metal. The leather rested against your ass and Steve tutted.

“I love you, honey pie,” he said, “that’s why I have to do this.”

The first strike was like fire, it burned your skin. The second was worse and you cried out. Your body wracked with sobs as he continued and by the dozenth or so, it hurt even when he wasn’t hitting you.

“I’ll do better,” you whimpered, “please, I’ll do better.”

⛓️now⛓️

You took Steve’s empty plate and your own and rinsed them off. You took the sponge and cleaned them completely and left them in the rack. You heard him behind you and you dried your hands before turning back to him. He stood with his back to you, he was looking at something.

You went to him and he looked at you as you came around the couch. He smiled, almost embarrassed, it was too late to hide what he was holding. He chuckled and held up the sleepers; one in pink and one in blue. “I got one of each… in case…”

You stood speechless. You knew it was a possibility, almost a certainty, but you tracked your periods almost religiously. So far, you’d been lucky. The idea of being out here with a child on top of everything else was more frightening than anything he’d done.

You spun away and covered your face. You began to cry. You couldn’t help it. It was a promise, a promise that you would never get away.

“What’s wrong, honey pie? I thought you’d like them--”

You shook your head but couldn’t stop. You walked away from him, the chain dragging loudly and you fell helplessly to your knees. Fuck him! Fuck him! You bent and beat on the wooden floor as you sobbed.

“Stop this,” his voice turned firm, “you’re being ridiculous.”

“No, no, no, no, no,” you muttered, “please, I can’t-- I can’t--”

“Don’t be a bad girl,” he warned as he came close, “now it’s our anniversary. Let’s celebrate.”

“I don’t want to,” you uttered, “I never wanted--”

He grabbed you around the waist and wrenched you up. He forced you over to the bed and pushed you onto it. He growled as you turned onto your back and gaped up at him.

“You know what happens to bad girls,” he sneered, “so you have one minute to suck it up and be good.”

You rubbed your eyes and wiped away the wetness from your cheeks. He took off his tee and flung it into the basket, then his jeans, socks, and underwear. His muscles bulged through his skin and his arousal bobbed before him as he came up to the foot off the bed. You got to your knees and gripped your skirts in your sweaty hands.

“How do you want me?” you said crisply as your throat squeezed. The lump stayed lodged firmly there as a nail was set deep in your skull.

“Mouth, first, honey pie, you know I like a warm up,” he stroked his dick and wiggled it.

You crawled to the end of the bed and replaced his hand with yours. Your breath glossed over his tip and you opened your mouth around him. He groaned and gripped his hips as he tilted his pelvis forward. You sank down until he was at your throat and you moved your hand in time with your mouth, easing the intrusion of his length.

“Mmm, that’s it, honey pie,” he purred as his hands went to your shoulders.

Your spit spread down his dick and slicked the motion of your hand. You gulped and gagged as he pushed on your shoulders and you sped up. You bobbed your head steadily. It was a habit, a pattern, you did it all so mechanically. It was easier if you looked at it like just another chore.

He grasped your shoulders and urged you away from him. Saliva dripped from your mouth and down your chin. You wiped your face with the back of your hand and reached to your dress. Finish him quickly and you might be done… maybe, or it would be another endless night.

“No, I said keep it on,” he spun his finger in the air, “let me see your ass.”

You turned around and gathered up the skirt of your dress. You bent over on your elbows as your legs stuck out off the edge of the bed. He kneaded the flesh and hummed as he pulled your cheeks apart. He pushed his dick between them and slid it up and down.

He reached under you and rubbed your clit. His other hand glided up your back and held your shoulder. You were wet, you couldn’t help that even if you hated it. He pushed two fingers inside without warning, then a third. Even after all this time, you were never used to the stretching, even just his fingers.

“Mmm, honey pie, you are so wet,” he stepped back and bent to push his face between your legs. You arched as his lip flicked along your folds and his fingers slipped out to follow it, “you taste so good.”

He stood straight again and licked his fingers clean noisily. He shoved them back into you roughly. He pulled in and out and added his pink. You whined as he got deeper and deeper. He’d never used more than three at a time.

“You think you can take all of it?” he asked.

“Wha--” you voice cracked as he folded his thumb against his palm and poked at your entrance, your juices spreading over his hand as he fucked you, “Ste--”

You gasped as he got his whole hand inside. He seemed surprised too and he bent over you as he forced himself in to his wrist. Your cunt sucked at him hungrily and the noises filled the desolate cabin.

“Good girl,” he slithered as you squeezed around him and his other hand searched for your clit, “look at that, huh?”

He sped up and your arms collapsed. Your head was on the bed as he kept your ass up and played with your bud as he kept his other hand moving inside of you. You whined and moan as the fullness sparked your core and your thighs began to quake. You puffed wildly and grasped the quilt as your orgasm hit and gushed down his arm.

“Oh, honey pie,” he slipped out of you slowly and pulled his other hand away, “what a start.”

He grabbed your skirt with his wet hand and bunched it as he stepped up behind you. He pressed his tip to your entrance and glided in easily. Your walls gripped him even tighter than before, still pulsing from your climax. He reached his limit and grunted.

“Such a good girl,” he purred as he moved his hips slowly, a smooth rock as his free hand stretched over your ass.

You murmured and mewled as he tilted into you. His motion built steadily until his skin clapped against yours. He twisted your dress until it was tight around your middle and he stopped to push you forward on the bed. You dragged yourself up as he climbed onto his knees behind you. 

He picked up his former pace and the bed shook beneath you. He lifted one leg over yours and then the other and pushed them together. He stayed inside of your and leaned on you until you were slat on your stomach. He straddled you as he pushed his shoulders up and gripped the straps of your dress. He rutted into you without restraint as the pressure around him was even more unbearable.

Your cunt quivered around him again and your head lolled back and forth. His hips snapped up against your ass as his thick breaths added to the heat all around you. He snaked a hand beneath you to grope your tit and his other gripped your head. He jerked into you sharply and you cried out, his next thrust sporadic but just as deep.

He spilled into you and your cunt milked him eagerly. You went limp as you spasmed and let the waves swell and crash around you. When he stilled, he stayed inside of you and ran his hands up and down your back.

Once you caught your breath, he began to move again. You were sore and battered. Even if he fucked you every night, it was always too much, and the ache never really left. You moaned and he spread his body over yours, cocooning you in his warmth as he kept his hips rocking.

“Good girl,” he gritted, “good girl,” he pet your head as he kissed your cheek and kept fucking you, “so good for me, honey pie.”

The same day over and over. The same words every night. Again and again and again and again.

[viking-raider]

Southern Generation - Part I

Summary: After more than a decade of service, Captain Syverson as retired from the military, but now that he is retired, he still needs to find a job.

Pairing: Syverson/OFC

Word Count: 6,214

Rating: PG - Quasi-Slow Burn, Language, PTSD, Fluff, Angst, Anxiety, Hurt/Comfort, Reclusive Behavior

Inspiration: I wrote a similar story for another fandom and I’ve wanted to finally write a Sy story, since I don’t have one.

Author’s Note: I wasn’t going to post this til I was done, but thought what the hell. Thanks to @wondersofdreaming​ of for her help with it.

He was home, finally and for good.

After more than ten years of service in the U.S Army and retiring as a Captain, Austin Wyatt Syverson was no longer a soldier. It felt amazing to be back on southern soil again, home sweet home; back in the city he was named after.

Austin, Texas.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Syverson found his way back home, to his flat in central Austin. He didn't expect a huge welcome back, unlike the first time he came back home from overseas, years before. His parents had decorated his apartment with streamers, a 'welcome back' sign and balloons. They had cake and noise makers as he entered, surprising him. But, this time, there was none of that, just bare gray walls, covered in band posters and other things Syverson liked.

His father had died of a heart attack two years into his second deployment and his mother had passed from breast cancer a year before. He was an only child and he wasn't close to his other relatives, so he would have hit the floor if any of them had even sent him a 'welcome back' text.

No, Austin Syverson was on his own, and he was more than all right with that. One thing he wasn't all right with was not having a job. So, after settling in, getting into his civilian clothing and cooking a good home cooked lunch, he picked up a newspaper and perused the job section. He preferred a job that he could do with his hands, he had always liked working with his hands, even as a kid, tinkering in the garage with his dad. Several advertisements caught his attention and he saved the numbers in his phone, planning on calling them to inquire about the job, but for now, Syverson just wanted to relax and settle in as a newly-minted civilian.

The one thing he did miss was Aika, the German Shepherd he befriended back in Baghdad. He had started the process of having Aika sent over from Iraq, but she was stuck in a month-long quarantine, before she would be cleared to be with him again, in Austin.

“She's all the family I need.” Sy said, popping the cap off a cold one.

Bright and early the next morning, Sy started calling the numbers in the advertisements and discovered to his disgruntled annoyance, that the paper he picked up was nearly a week old. He made a mental note to give the clerk at the corner store a piece of his mind, the next time he saw him.

“I'm really sorry, Mr. Syverson.” the owner of a construction company sighed, feeling bad that he didn't have room on his current job for him.

“It's fine, I'll find something.” Sy frowned, rubbing the side of his face. “Thanks though.” He sighed, and started to hang up.

“Wait!”

Sy paused, his finger almost pressed to his screen to hang up the call, and put it back to his ear. “Yeah?” He replied, biting his lip.

“I just remembered, it's a private contract, I got it a couple days ago.” He explained, fumbling through several stacks of papers and files he had strewn across his desk. “It's out in Celina, I know that's a bit of a drive from where you are in Austin.”

“That's fine.” Sy answered, relieved. “A job is a job.”

He figured if he could do a job overseas, he could do a job three hours outside of Austin.

“Well, if you want it, it's yours.” He told Sy, finally finding the paper he was looking for.

“Of course!”

He gave Sy the details of the contract, it was a private contract, sent into his company by a young lady, who lived just outside of Celina, Texas, on a small farm. Apparently the house and the barn on the property were in disrepair and she wanted them repaired. So, Sy took the contract and the information, then hung up with him, immediately calling the number he had given him for the young lady.

“Hello?” A soft, almost meek, voice answered.

“Hi, I'm Cap-” Sy cleared his throat and squeezed his eyes shut, it was going to be a while, before he broke himself out of the habit of introducing himself as Captain Syverson. “I'm Austin Syverson. I know you don't know me, but I got your contract from Mr. McJames, the owner of Diamond Ridge Constructions, in Austin.” He explained to her, sure it sounded a bit crazy.

“Oh.” She replied, unconsciously brushing her hair out of her face. “Right. The contract.”

“Is it still available?” He asked, feeling a small tingle of apprehension in the pit of his stomach.

“Yes!” She answered, hastily, worried she had given him the wrong impression. “Yes, the contract is still available. You're actually my only inquirer for it.” She told him, honestly.

“I would love to meet up with you and talk about it.” Sy said, letting out a relieved sigh and felt his massive shoulders relax.

“Um,” She gulped, licking her lips and felt her hands shake.

“I could meet you in Celina, take you for coffee?” He suggested, hoping to make her more comfortable with meeting him in a public place. “My treat.” He added, with a sweet tone.

“No, no.” She squeaked, fidgeting in her chair. “That's all right, if you want to take the contract it's yours, Mr. Syverson. It's seventeen an hour, with everything provided.” She explained to him, taking deep breaths, to calm down her nerves.

Sy was a little surprised by how easy it was, but he was willing to do the job, either way. “Of course, I would gladly take the job for you.” He agreed.

“Excellent.” She smiled, bouncing on her toes. “You can start at your earliest convenience.” She told him.

“I can come by tomorrow morning, if that's all right with you.” He replied, looking around his kitchen for something to write with and on, so he could take down her address.

“That's splendid.” She assured him, then rattled off her address for him. “If you have any issues finding the place, just call.” She told him, before they hung up.

Sy woke up early, for the three hour drive from Austin to Celina.

It was a nice drive, watching the bustling city of Austin slowly melt away to the rural landscape of the countryside, endless farmlands of varying crops. Sy found it rather soothing, after seeing nothing but sand, rubble and burned out buildings for so long. He felt like he was getting back to his roots again, his southern heritage. His GPS chimed into his thoughts, announcing he was within a mile of her home. So, he turned off the music he was playing and rolled down the window of his truck, squinting at the mailboxes that dotted the few dirt driveways along the long country road.

“You've passed your destination.”

“Fuck.” Sy grunted, tires screeching as he turned around.

He stopped his truck by the side of the road and got out, looking up and down the empty road, frowning. He pulled his GPS device off its holder and started walking in the direction it indicated her house was in, pausing, as it told him he was standing exactly where he needed to be. Turning in a circle, he noticed the sun baked, wooden gate, that was slightly hidden by weeds and had no mailbox. Frowning, Sy locked up his truck, pushed open the gate that almost fell over in the process, before walking up the driveway.

The simple, two story farmhouse slowly came into view. The roof of the farm porch was dilapidated and sagging, there were shingles missing on both roofs, the paint of the house was faded and peeling, chipping away from the warped and cracked boards, a couple of them were missing.

“It definitely needs work.” Sy said, stopping to look the house over, then noticed the barn a couple of yards away, in even worse condition. “Looks like I got my work cut out for me.” He sighed, but wasn't daunted by any of it.

His eyes moved away from the barn and back to the house as the screen door opened and a woman stepped out onto the porch; Sy could practically hear the high-pitch creak of the screen door from where he stood. She was a teeny little thing, maybe five foot, and looked timid, by the way she hugged the screen door, using it to hide behind as she watched him finish approaching the house.

“Mr. Syverson?” She called out to him, biting her bottom lip.

“Yes, ma'am.” Sy answered, stopping at the bottom of the warped steps leading up to her on the porch.

“I hope you didn't have too much trouble finding the place?”

“Not at all.” He smiled at her, shaking his head. “I don't lose my way often.” He assured him, teasingly.

“Good.” She chuckled, nervousness. “I suppose you'd like a closer look at the place?” She asked, glancing around the porch.

“If you don't mind.” Sy nodded, glancing around as well.

Biting her lip, she stepped out onto the porch, the screen door closing with a soft bang. “I'm sure you saw a lot of the issues on your way up.” She explained, slowly stepping off the porch.

“I have.” Sy nodded, looking down and smirking at her bare feet. “Seems a lot of the boards are rotted and the house, and barn, could use a good fresh coat of paint.”

“That's the least of the problems.” She replied, looking at the side of the house as they rounded its corner, heading towards the barn. “There's several weak points in the roof, on both the barn and the house.”

“When was the place built?” He asked, touching the side of the house, flecks of paint brushing off under his fingertips.

“1921.” She answered, looking up to the top of the house, squinting in the bright sunlight. “I bought the place four years ago.” She explained, turning towards the barn.

“I can understand you wanting to fix up the house, being you live in it.” Sy commented, checking out the barn. “But, what do you want the barn with? If you don't mind me asking.”

“I'm considering turning it into my studio.” She answered, trying to push open the barn door.

“What do you do?” Sy asked, helping her push open the door; one handed, while she leaned her body into it.

“I'm a graphic designer and a photographer.” She explained to him, stepping inside the barn with him.

“That's cool.” He smiled at the back of her head.

“Thanks.” She replied, smiling at him over her shoulder. “So,” She gulped and glanced around the barn. “Do you think you can do the job?” She asked, regarding him.

Sy heaved a sigh and roamed around the barn for a moment, checking things out. “I'm more than sure I could.” He finally said, stopping in front of her and crossed his arms. “It might take a couple of weeks to finish. But, I can do it.”

“Great.” She smiled, relieved and excited to hear that he could.

“I can start right away, if you want.” He added, resolute.

“Sounds excellent.” She nodded, fidgeting and nervously twisting the hem of her tank top with her fingers. “I can get the tools for you.” She turned and left the barn, heading back towards her house.

Sy followed after her, staying on the top step of the porch, while she disappeared inside. “Here.” He smiled as she came back, carrying a heavy red and rushed toolbox; stepping forward to take it from her.

“If you need anything else, more tools or supplies, like, I don't know, lumber or whatever.” She mumbled, staring down at her bare feet, shyly. “Just ask.”

“I will.” Sy grinned down at her, hefting the toolbox and making the tools inside of it rattle.

With that, Sy gave her a gentlemanly nod of his head and stepped off the porch. He carried the heavy box of tools down the long driveway, back to his truck, still parked on the side of the road, where he left it. Opening the back hatch, he set the tool box down in the truck bed and opened it, checking out all the tools that were stored inside it.

“Not too bad.” He nodded, approving of the selection that was inside, then turned towards his first project for the place, the pathetic excuse and falling over the gate.

Digging his phone out of his pocket, Sy googled the closet hardware store, secured the toolbox in the back of his truck and hopped in behind the wheel and followed the directions into the town of Celina. He knew she told him to tell her if he needed anything while working on her property, but Sy had a sound enough savings, that he didn't mind spending his own money on bits and bobs. He browsed the aisles of the hardware store, picking up a couple of tools he would need and weren't in the box, then several boards of wood, to build a new gate.

“Thanks.” Sy muttered, nodding his head at the hardware store owner, collecting his things and packing them back into his truck.

Getting back to the farm, Sy parked close to the head of the driveway and got to work, tearing down the old gate and piled up the lumber to the side, out of the way. Without a power source, this far out, Sy relied on a trusty hand saw and the thick muscle of his arms to cut the fresh boards, still strongly smelling of the pine tree they were hewn from. He measured everything out, tucking the pencil behind his ear, as he leaned into the saw as he cut them to length and nailed them together, forming the new gate.

She watched him the whole time, from the upstairs window of her office. He was a hard and diligent worker. Taking painstaking time to double, or even triple, his measuring of the boards, before finally cutting them with a manual saw. In a matter of hours, he had the new gate made and started putting it up. Biting her lip and saving her work on her laptop, she went downstairs into her humble little kitchen, whipped up a couple of things, making some food and drinks, before texting him.

» If you're hungry, I made lunch.

Sy smiled at her text, putting the last screw into the gate and pushed it open with two fingers. Grinning and proud of his work, then turning back to his truck, he put all the tools away and cleaned up the rest of the mess he made, then drove through the gate, stopping long enough to get out and close the gate behind him, then went up and parked beside her own little car. She came out onto the porch, holding a plate of food and a tall glass of cold lemonade.

“Thank you.” He grinned at her, taking the plate and glass, and sitting down on the rickety porch swing, balancing the plate in his lap.

“You're welcome.” She mumbled back, so shy that she didn't meet his blue eyes.

Chuckling, Sy took a deep gulp of the lemonade, parched beyond belief after all the work he had done. He moaned as the cold tang washed over his tongue, refreshing him tremendously. “That is delicious, thank you.” He complimented her.

“Thank you.” She smiled, still fidgeting beside the swing. “I'll be inside, if you need me.” She said in a rush, and scuttled inside.

Sy tilted his head as the screen door slammed shut behind her. She was a curious person, always so nervous and shy, fidgeting and never meeting his eye. He wondered if his presence made her feel uncomfortable, he was wearing a red, DILLIGAF t-shirt, a tight pair of black jeans and boots. He was an imposing guy, with stacked muscle, which made his job in the Special Forces easier, and his head was shaved, while sporting a beard. Sy's whole presence came off as authoritative and commanding, it was a natural effect he had, it was one of the reasons he had advanced in the military and succeeded as a leader so well.

Sighing, he finished off his food and gulped down the rest of his lemonade, before getting up and carefully knocking on the wood of the door frame, peeking inside. The main door was half open and he could see into the foyer and the living room beyond that, the large rug on the hardwood floors and the mismatched couch and furniture of the living room, a flat screen tv mounted above the fireplace. He could just see around the corner into what looked like a dining room, seeing the edge of a table and a couple of chairs. She appeared from the other side of the door, looking up into his eyes for a moment, before dropping them down again.

“All finished?” She asked, quietly.

“I am, thank you.” Sy smiled at her, pressing his lips together. “It was really good, the best I've had so far, since coming home.” He told her, taking a step back as she opened the screen door, taking the dishes from him, their fingers brushing.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” He asked, gulping at the soft touch of her fingers.

“No, thank you.” She squeaked, drawing away from him. “I appreciate you fixing the gate.” She added, breathlessly.

“Of course, ma'am.” Sy smiled, chuckling softly. “I'll be back tomorrow and I'll have a look around the house and see what projects need more direct attention.” He explained to her, glancing around the porch.

“That sounds great.” She mumbled back, clearing her throat.

“I'll take my leave then.” Sy said, bowing his head to her, and heading back to his truck.

There was an infernal banging coming from outside, with a loud clattering that followed, all of it in a steady rhythm that was driving her crazy.

She was nuzzled into the warmth of her thick down blankets, in that heavenly position, where you found the perfect spot on the mattress to lay, and even the slightest movement will ruin it, in a millisecond. She growled into her pillow, still reluctant to move even the tiniest bit, but she couldn't take it anymore, and thrashed out of bed, in a fling of arms, legs, pillows and blankets.

“What in the world?” She huffed, pulling on an oversized hoodie and scrambled downstairs.

She froze, catching a glimpse out of the large bay window in her den, a huge male with a shaved head, and realized it was Sy. Gulping, she moved closer and watched him through the window. He wasn't in his red shirt and jeans this morning, but wore a blue tank top and a pair of basketball shorts, but still sporting his combat boots. He also had wireless earbuds in, head bumping to whatever he was listening to. Mustering some early morning courage and stepped over to the front door, pulling it open.

“Careful!” Sy called out, appearing from the other side of the house.

She looked down and saw a good amount of the boards of the porch were gone, and looked back up at him.

“Morning.” He smiled, one corner a bit higher in an amused way.

“Morning.” She squeaked back, burrowing into her hoodie a little bit.

“I thought I would start on the porch.” Sy said, looking over what he had already torn up.

“I-I can see..that.” She stammered, biting the inside corner of her lip, then looked behind her, to the coo-coo clock on the foyer wall.

It was seven in the morning, and Sy had already been on the farm for an hour and pulled up just about half of the wrap around porch. She looked back at him and was rather impressed by it, with a shy nod of her head, she went back inside and into the kitchen, setting up the coffee maker and got breakfast going. Standing in the middle of the kitchen, she glanced in the direction of the noise and followed it again.

“Would you like some breakfast or coffee?” She asked as Sy yanked up another warmed porch board, with his gloved hands, biceps bulging as he got it loose with a grunt.

Tossing the board into the growing pile, Sy wiped his sweaty face on his arms and turned to look up at her. “I would love some, if that's all right with you.” He answered, he only had a liquid breakfast of a tall black coffee from Starbucks as he left Austin for Celina.

“Pancakes, eggs and bacon, okay with you?” She asked, fidgeting.

“Yes, ma'am.” Sy nodded, smiling sweetly at her.

A smile twitched on her lips, before she turned on her bare feet and went back into the kitchen. She pulled open the refrigerator, pulling out the milk, eggs and bacon, before going into the pantry to grab the dry pancake ingredients. The coffee maker beeps as she whipped up the pancake batter and turned, pulling out two cups from the cabinet and setting up her own cup, before going back to the front porch.

“Coffee is ready, if you want to—come in—and get your cup ready.” She told him, shyly.

“Thank you.” Sy smiled at her, wiping his face again.

Pulling off his gloves, stuffing them into his back pocket, Sy entered the house, glancing around as he followed her into the kitchen. He found his cup by the coffee maker and smirked at it, it was a Texas Rodeo cup, a picture of a bucking horse on the background of the shape of Texas.

“I wasn't sure what you took in your coffee.” She commented as he stirred a single sugar into the cup and took a seat at the breakfast nook table.

“Either straight black, or with one sugar.” He replied, taking a sip of the steaming brown liquid, while he watched her finish mixing the pancake batter. “Depends on my mood.” He added, as she poured a bit of the thick batter into the sizzling hot skillet on the very old, blue and gas stove, that had to be made in the 1940's.

Easily. Sy thought, taking a deep gulp of his coffee.

“So, you live here alone?” He asked, lifting a brow at her and set it cup down on the table in front of him.

“I do.” She nodded, brushing her hair behind her ear, and flipped a couple of the pancakes.

“Does your family live nearby?”

She paused for a moment, her back stiffening at the mention of her family. “My mother passed away, when I was born.” She said, her voice strained. “I don't have any siblings and I don't know where my father is.” She explained, flipping the finished pancakes onto a plate by the stove and turned to the cardboard carton of eggs.

“How many would you like?” She asked, holding up a sooth, brown shelled egg.

“Three, please.” Sy replied, nodding his head to her. “Sunny side up.”

“What about your family?” She asked, cracking his eggs into the pan.

“No siblings and both of my parents are dead.” He answered her, leaning back in his chair. “My dad died of a heart attack, during my second deployment and my mom died of cancer, little over a year ago.” He explained, watching her baby his eggs.

“I'm so sorry.” She frowned, looking over her shoulder at him, with a look of pure sympathy, but no pity.

“It's all right.” Sy told her, his voice soft.

She fried the bacon with the eggs, then set the hot stack of pancakes and bacon on the table, setting Sy's plate of sunny side up eggs in front of him, with a container of syrup and a dish of butter, before handing him his fork. She sat down at the table, across from him, with her plate of two scrambled eggs, then took two pancakes and three pieces of bacon for herself, drizzling her pancakes with the maple syrup.

“Thank you, ma'am.” Sy smiled, before digging into his food.

“Lily.” She mumbled, staring at her untouched plate.

“Excuse me?” Sy frowned, looking up at her, fork posed at his mouth.

“Lily.” She replied, a little bit louder. “My name is Lily. You can call me, Lily.” She told him, meeting his eyes.

Sy grinned at her, lowering his fork and sitting up straighter. “All right then, Lily.” He nodded, loving the roll of her name off his tongue. “I'm Austin. But, everyone just calls me, Sy.”

Lily held her free hand out over their plates. “It's a pleasure.” She smiled at him, sweetly.

“Same.” Sy replied, gently taking her smooth and dainty hand in his big and calloused one.

Both of their faces warmed, before their hands pulled apart and they went back to finishing up their breakfast, having a polite and casual conversation as they did. With breakfast finished, Lily cleared away the plates and silverware, setting them in the sink to be washed later on, while Sy pulled his gloves back on and headed back out to finish pulling up the rest of the porch boards.

“Now that all the boards are pried up,” Sy explained as they ate lunch together in the kitchen. “I'll be able to start nailing down the new ones.” He told her, gulping down his glass of iced tea. “I'll put down the boards in front of the main door, so you can actually get out of the house, without having to be a hurdle jumper.” He laughed, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

Sy was true to his word, as he always was, he had all of the boards of the porch along the front of the house down, even though it took him until after sundown to pull it off. He sighed, as he drove the last nail in flush to the board. He stood with a groan, his knees and shoulders stiff and screaming from the hard work of the day. Gathering the strewn about tools, Sy put them back into the tool box and lugged that into the back of his truck.

“Lily.” He called out through the open screen door of the house, knocking gently on the door frame.

“Yes?” She called back, then appeared a moment later.

“I'm done for the day.” He told her, rubbing a hand over his bald head. “I'll be back tomorrow morning.”

“Bright and early, I'm sure, Captain.” She smiled at him.

Sy chuckled, he had told her a teeny bit about his career in the military, how he was a Captain and had spent more than ten years in the service, right out of high school, much to his parents' disappointment, since they wanted him to go to college. But, Sy wanted to serve his country, especially after the attacks in New York, causing him to enlist in early 2002.

“As always.” He grinned back, rubbing his palms on the thighs of his jeans. “Good night, Ms. Lily.” He bowed his head to her and stepped back.

“Good night, Sy.” She nodded back to him.

Sy got into his truck and sighed heavily, as he started the engine. He was exhausted beyond belief, he scrubbed at his face as he drove down the long driveway, stopping to open and close the gate as he left the property. He only got a couple miles from Lily's, when he decided he was just too exhausted to drive the three hours to Austin. So, he turned around and headed for Celina, knowing there was a small motel there that he could rent a room from for the night. There was also the upside of staying in the motel, it was only thirty minutes away from Lily's place, which meant he could get there earlier and could work for a few more hours.

Lily came out onto the porch, when she heard the hammering on the east side of the house stop. Her bare feet gliding over the smooth new boards on the porch. Rounding the corner, she found Sy with his back against the side of the house, where he was currently prying the warped siding off of. She chuckled, realizing he had apparently stopped for a short break and fallen asleep. She moved closer to him, watching his face pinch and his head shake, like he was trying to wake himself up, but couldn't.

“Sy?” She called to him, softly, kneeling down beside him. “Hey, Sy.” She reached out to touch his shoulder. “Austin.” She said his name, gently.

She had no sooner touched his shoulder, than he jerked violently and lunged towards her. Lily yelped and scrambled backwards, away from him. Sy shook his head several times and squeezed his eyes shut, breathing hard, his entire body rigged.

“I'm sorry.” Sy pushed the words out of his throat. “I am so sorry, I didn't realize I fell asleep.” He said, sitting back where he had been. “I didn't hurt you, did I?” He looked over at her, his intense blue eyes scanning her for anything out of place, but only found her frightened and shaking.

“Lily.” He choked.

He had episodes like this, on and off over the last thirteen years, he had decked more than one of his men, who tried shaking him awake. He had even ended up choking one of his commanding officers, and needed his squad to pull him off and slap him back into consciousness. Sy had lost more than one friend and girlfriend over his episodes, nightmares and PTSD, he really didn't want to lose Lily over them.

“I'm-I'm f-fine.” She gulped, biting her lip and tried to calm herself down. “Are you?” She asked, pressing her back to the post that supported the porch roof.

Sy let out a hard breath, pressing a hand to his face and took a moment to settle his nerves, relieved that he hadn't hurt her. “I'm fine. I just didn't realize I fell asleep. I've been really tired lately.” He paused and dropped his hand.

“I've been tired for years.” He admitted out loud.

“You've been working from sun up to sun down, here for a month. That's without a day off, Sy.” She said, drawing her knees up to her chest. “You really should take a day off. When was the last time you had an actual day off?” She asked, studying him.

“What year is it?” He asked, chuckling at her.

“That's not good.” Lily said, shaking her head at him, then stood up. “All right, Syverson. You're officially off duty, effective now.”

“But, the siding?” He said, waving his hand over the unfinished siding on that side of the house.

“It can wait.” She told him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well, what am I supposed to do then?” He asked, heaving a sigh and standing up.

“Whatever you like, Sy.” She said, turning back towards the house.

“What if I'd like to finish the siding?” He asked, smirking at her, impishly.

Lily turned, lifting a brow at him and narrowing her eyes, making him chuckle at her, throwing his hands up in defeat. He followed her into the house and poured himself a fresh cup of coffee. In the month since Sy had taken the job on Lily's property, they had gotten close and she had made him feel more at home than he had ever felt, anywhere in the world. Now, that she had made him take the day off, Sy had no idea what to do with it. Since he was a little boy, he was working hard, either on his parents' small farm or dealing with his deployment in the middle east.

He stepped back out on the porch, smirking to himself as he stood on solid porch boards that didn't squeak and creak under his weight. He still needed to stain the boards, but he planned on doing that after he removed all the siding from the house and put up fresh ones. His only missing plan with the siding was finding out if Lily wanted him to stain those too or if she wanted the house painted a particular color. But, he'd figure that out tomorrow, for now, he started out over the slice of land out front of the house. The grass was almost as tall as he was and he knew she didn't have a mower, not even an ancient push mower, so it would be something else he'd need to get his hands on to tame the wild jungle of sun bleached grass and weeds.

Humming to himself and taking a sip of his coffee, Sy walked around the porch, surveying the work he had done on that side, with two thirds of the siding pulled off, then continued to the back of the porch. The backyard was just as vast and wild as the front and sides of the house. Her land butted up against another farm that looked like they grew wheat. He noticed a slight movement on the thin trail that cut through the overgrowth and stepped off the porch to follow it, stopping several yards away from the boundary line that divided the two properties, finding Lily leaning on the rusted metal gate, her arm held out above it as a dapple-gray horse came trotting up to her, taking the apple out of her outstretched hand. She rubbed the mare's nose, smiling softly at it, and pulled out another apple out of the pouch of her hoodie.

Sy smiled as he watched her feed and pet that magnificent creature. “A friend of yours?” He asked, alerting her to his presence.

Lily blushed at him, trying to bite back her smile. “You can say that.” She replied, feeling the horse nudge her gently, and produced another apple. “Her name is Juniper.” She explained, patting the side of the horse's neck.

“She's beautiful.” Sy replied, but his eyes were on her.

“Isn't she.” Lily agreed, grinning at the horse, oblivious.

Sy moved closer to them, his shoulder brushing Lily's as he reached out to pet the mare, chuckling at Juniper's snort and head shake. “She hasn't been a mare for very long.” He pointed out.

“Nope.” Lily shook her head. “She was born a little more than three years ago. My neighbor, her owner, mostly deals in wheat and corn, but his daughter is working on becoming a champion barrel racer. So, he bought Juniper, when she was about a year old.”

“She looks in good shape for it.” He commented, checking out the rest of the horse. “Have you seen any of her shows?” He asked, looking back at Lily.

“Sadly, no.” She shook her head, shyly. “I do know she won her last one.” She added, smiling up at him. “It was her first win, in the ten or so shows she's competed in.”

Sy smiled at her, she seemed and sounded so proud of the horse's owner winning the competition. “We should go to her next one.” He suggested, lifting his brows at her.

“What?” Lily squeaked, looking at Sy like a frightened doe.

“Yeah, it will be a great day off for me.” He grinned at her, liking the idea. “I've never seen you leave the property, either.” He added, his brow creasing as he thought about it. “I've only seen you go far enough to get the mail, come to think of it.”

“I don't know.” She gulped, licking her lips nervously. “I've had a lot of work lately.” She stammered, fidgeting and rubbing her hands on her thighs.

“You give me guff for not taken a day off, and won't take one yourself.” He teased her, lightheartedly. “What's the worst that can happen?” He asked, leaning against the gate. “It's not like the world will blow up.”

“It might.” She mumbled, toeing at the sparse gravel under her feet.

Sy could tell she was anxious about leaving the house, he could understand that, the world was a shitty place, and he had seen a lot of that first hand. But, he blew it off, figuring it was just the stress of getting all her work done on time.

“I'll think about it.” Lily said, biting her lip and shyly scrunching up her body.

“Good.” He smiled, hopeful.

PART II