#I ain't coming to a full stop when I can see from a distance that there aren't any cars coming

[pirefyrelight]

Ive been riding my bike to work for the past week or so and I've noticed a few things. One, of the two major roads that have bike lanes, both of them are shit and I have simply found an alternative route that uses sidestreets with less traffic, and two, random children on parking garage rooftops wildly overestimate my abilities.

To go into more detail on that second point:

The last stretch going to my work is a just steep enough decline that I've never noticed before when walking or driving, but am able to sail down into a pleasant breeze for about 3 blocks (baring stoplights and pedestrians). The downside, or rather the going up side of this, is that after a long day of work I might as well be climing everest biking home those first few blocks.

And of course, another thing I've noticed, is that no matter which way you're going there's a headwind.

So picture me, last week. 9 hour shift. No sitting down since I got on my bike that morning. Hot as balls but in that way it *could* theoretically be worse? In black pants and t-shirt as is dress code and I haven't gotten into the habit of bring shorts to change into yet. At the start of the summer I haven't been on a bike in at least 5 years, probably closer to 10, I am so incredibly out of shape.

So this goddamn child, this hooligan hanging out on the top of a three story parking garage, sees me battling for my goddam life, going uphill into a headwind and sweating so bad he can probably smell it from up there, calls "do a wheelie" like sir the only wheelie that's imminent from me is being blown back down the hill in such a way the front tires get caught first. The only trick doable from me right now is getting to the top without falling over.

[sanguineterrain]

hey sanne! hope you're having a good day!

love your fics soo much and i always jump up a little when i get a notification for when you post on ao3!

i have a request if it interests you! what if jay and reader get stuck in a hostage situation together? like at a bank or a convenience store or something? just obsessed with the idea of jason being protective and badass in his civilian identity!

thank you for your lovely fics! 💕

thanks for the request!

jason todd x gn!reader. mild violence, robbery, jason being cute and sweet and a little awkward as per, reader is guilty of judging jason by his appearance.

****

The bell above the door chimes as you enter your favorite convenience store. You haven't been in a while, but the older clerk still nods and smiles at you, saying hello in an accent you don't know. You greet him back.

He's a nice man, sometimes sneaking in a free pack of gum into your bag. Proof that capitalism hasn't squashed everyone's spirit yet.

Actually, you used to regularly stop here to get a treat on your walk home. Lately, though, the prices have been too steep for your meager wages.

Three dollars for a bag of chips is actually ridiculous. Are they 24K gold chips? Will they cure fear gas syndrome?

Stupid inflation.

You take a step back, thinking maybe the price will lower if you put some distance between you. Instead, you bump into someone's shoulder. You quickly back away, apologies on your lips.

Whoa.

The shoulder belongs to possibly one of the biggest guys you've ever seen. Even swallowed up in his red hoodie, he looks like he could bench press four of you. He towers over the packaged cookie display, which is what he'd been looking at before your misstep.

He's also wearing long sleeves and jeans in eighty degree weather, which is... a choice. Maybe he has an iron deficiency. You want to tell him but think better of it.

"Sorry," you say at the same time that he says, "Sorry, y'okay?"

His voice is soft and deep. You nod, and he barely glances at you before he tucks in closer to the shelf, as if anticipating for you to pass him.

Instead, you bump into the adjacent shelf and knock a couple Doritos bags to the floor.

"Dammit," you whisper.

Hoodie bends down before you do, startling you with his speed. He puts the chips back. He looks at you, and you look at him.

His face is young, nose crooked like it's been in a lot of fights. He has a scar traveling from his right eye across his face to his lip.

Never judging a book by its cover is great in theory, but this is Gotham. Judgment keeps you safe.

He's cute, though. His lips are pink and full. There's a smattering of freckles across his cheeks and nose.

But you're not about to interact with anyone more than you need to at a convenience store, so you turn around and hope he doesn't try to approach you.

And it's like Hoodie can hear your thoughts because a moment later, he goes to another aisle, leaving you alone. You relax and peruse the chips in peace.

Cheetos. Are Cheetos worth three dollars and tax, though?

Maybe just a drink.

You go to the fridges and stare, debating between a ginger ale and a Snapple when the bell above the door jingles.

"This is a robbery!"

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck.

You turn and see a guy in a ski mask with a gun pointed at the cashier. The old clerk is shaking and has his hands up. Yeah, you're never coming back here again. Overpriced Cheetos aren't worth it.

But then to your right, you see Hoodie, crouched on the ground. He gestures for you to get low. You hesitate.

"Hey," he says, as quietly as he can. "I ain't gonna hurt you. I'm gonna get us outta here alive, okay? But you gotta trust me a little. C'mere."

Hearing him speak at length, it's clear that Hoodie is Gotham-born and bred. And he's certainly not from the Heights. His drawl is thick and, dare you say, comforting. It's old-school Jersey, like you could walk into a diner and find him chatting with the retirees. The thought startles you.

What was that about books and covers?

You get low like he wants and scurry over to him. He scoots back against the last fridge and gestures for you to do the same.

"This is the blind spot for the cashier," Hoodie whispers. "I don't think he saw us, so you'll be okay here."

You nod. You can't speak. Can't move. Can't breathe.

"Hey." Hoodie tilts his head to find your eyes. His eyes are a brilliant teal. What a pretty color. "Hey, y'alright? Can you make a fist for me?"

You make a loose fist. He nods.

"Good. Now..." He checks around the shelf. It sounds like the clerk is still emptying the register. "Squeeze your fist and inhale. Then release your fist and exhale. Can y'do that?"

You clumsily follow his directions. He makes the fist with you.

"Good, good. Okay. 'S okay. Nothing’s gonna happen to ya, alright?"

You have no idea how he can promise something like that.

"When I push this shelf, run for the other side, okay? And when he's distracted, you'll leave out the front."

Your eyes fly to his in alarm.

"What?" you hiss. "Are you crazy? He'll shoot you!"

"I'm really fast," he says.

Oh, okay. He's insane too. Cool.

"Hurry the fuck up, old man!" the robber shouts. "I will shoot you."

Hoodie glares venomously in his direction. "Can't let 'im get away. Ready?"

No, not ready, definitely not ready!

He pushes a shelf with one leg. It crashes to the floor. Briefly, you wonder if he's ever crushed a watermelon between his thighs. From the size of them, he definitely could crush—

Okay, not the time.

He nudges your arm when you don't move. You book it to the other side of the store like he ordered. The robber clomps across the store, leaving the clerk.

"That was stupid, guy!" the robber shouts. "Really fucking stupid!"

Bang! You yelp and duck.

"What's stupid is your aim," Hoodie growls.

There's a few grunts and a landing punch. By the time you get up, the robber is out cold on the floor. Hoodie is disassembling the gun and unloading the chamber. Then he goes to the clerk.

"Thank you, good boy," the clerk says, still wobbly with fear. "Good Jason. So good."

Jason. A name for your savior.

"It's okay, Mr. Kourakis." Jason keeps talking, but it's not a language you understand. It's... Greek?

Just who is this guy, exactly?

Mr. Kourakis nods, shaky hands grasping Jason's forearms as he steadies himself. Jason comforts him for a moment, then gently extricates himself to retrieve the money from the unconscious robber and return it to the register.

On impulse, you take a Mrs. Fields double chocolate chip cookie from the shelf on your way to the register.

Mr. Kourakis keeps talking, obviously panicked. Jason soothes him in his rumbling voice, picking up the shelf he knocked over with one hand, like he's holding a basketball.

"Sorry, um, did you call the police?" you ask, interrupting their conversation.

Jason glances at you. "No cops. They're messy and inept. I told Mr. Kourakis that I'll take care of this."

Your brows rise. Inept? Looks like your savior has a great vocabulary too.

"And by 'take care of,' you mean...?"

He smiles a little, the scar on his lip stretching white. "Not like that. I meant that, uh, I got a buddy who knows a Bat."

Right, of course. You're four blocks from the Red Hood's territory.

Jason touches Mr. Kourakis' arm and tells him something else in Greek. Mr. Kourakis nods, then wearily flips the OPEN sign to CLOSED. He disappears into the back room after that.

"You can go," Jason says, not unkindly. He types something on his phone. Then he shuts it off and looks at you. "You hurt at all?"

You shake your head. You're still trying to puzzle him out. He's the weirdest Gothamite you've ever met.

"How do you know Greek?" you ask.

You don't know why you're asking questions. You should just take the blessing and leave.

"Study abroad," he says around a smile, like he's telling a joke that you're not privy to.

"...Right. And did you learn how to disarm a robber while you were abroad, too?"

"Nope," he says mildly. "I take jiu-jitsu classes at the Y."

You look at the crumpled robber on the floor. His mask is off and he has a black eye and a drying bloody nose. You doubt they teach that at the Y.

"Thank God for the Y, I guess," you say, turning back to Jason.

He shrugs. "Gotta defend yourself in Gotham."

No arguments there.

"Yeah. And thank you for, um. What you did back there. I got—I've never been held at gunpoint, and I guess I just... I dunno..."

Jason steps forward and makes an aborted gesture, like he was going to touch your arm. He doesn't, though, instead just nodding.

"Don't worry 'bout it," he says tenderly. "'S normal to be scared. You did great."

Jeez, is this guy a counselor? He looks too young to be doing that, though.

"You didn't seem scared," you say.

Jason shrugs, suddenly tense. "Ah, I just hide it well."

"Oh. Well, anyway." You put a few dollars on the counter and hold out the Mrs. Fields cookie. "'Least I can do is buy your cookie."

Jason's eyes widen. "I—y-you don't hafta—"

"It's really no trouble! It's all I can do to thank you. Because you really saved our butts today."

You shake the cookie a little. Jason hesitantly accepts it, then glances at your money on the counter.

"You shouldn't," he says. "This place price-gouges. Chips for three bucks is insane."

You grin. "It really is! But I don't mind. I've kinda lost my appetite, in any case. You deserve a cookie, Jason."

He blinks once-twice-three times at your use of his name. "Oh. It wasn't a big deal."

Is he serious? He can't be. "Of course it was! You risked your life for me. Thank you, seriously."

You start to back up towards the exit. Jason watches you, a mix of bewilderment and bemusement.

"Well, I gotta get home. Feed my cat." You make finger guns. God, you're lame. A good-looking guy saves your life, and you lose all sense. "Thanks again."

"Wait!"

Jason follows you outside, cookie in hand. His mouth is open like he's about to ask a question. You wait expectantly.

"Um." He swallows. "Prince Street."

"What?"

"The bodega on Prince Street. I know the owner. He's got better prices. You can tell him you're my friend. To, y'know, get a discount. Not... not that I think you're—I mean, I don't—"

You smile. Jason cuts himself off, looking a little frustrated.

"You're really sweet," you say. If you were crazier, you might kiss his cheek. "Thanks for the tip. And thanks for today. Take care, Jason."

"Yeah," he says as you walk down the block. "Yeah, you too."

[shiyosugi]

I don't wanna wake up, if you ain't laying next to me

He wants you back and he's going to prove it to you that he is serious about you.

Inspiration from THIS

Other version

No guys, I am not trying to make you all view Oliver in a bad way. This is for the sake of my ideas. Oh and i'm making the smut part as subtle as I can because... Yes.

However... After he broke up with you, he didn't seem to be interested in finding someone else. In fact, he didn't have the desire for it to. When a girl show interest in him, he just be friendly towards her and nothing more.

Oliver had many exes, possibly, and you were no better, but you were the type he liked. You didn't make the breakup a big deal; you just accepted it and moved on.

He does not want to get into any relationship after you.

He was confused himself.

He wondered why he felt full yet empty?

He never felt this way after a break up.

How the fuck did you make him think about you almost every single day?

Lucky for Oliver, you didn't bother to unfollow him in any social media so he was able to look at your Instagram stories and whatever was happening in your life even after breaking up with him.

You seemed to be doing just fine, despite being the one who was asked to break up. While he here was, the one who wanted the break up yet can't move on.

This wasn't supposed to go this way. No.

Having enough of his cravings for you, he finally decided to text you and asked you to come over to his house. Even though you didn't really want to go because you want no potential conflicts coming after you, you reluctantly went to his house.

Sitting on the couch across him, you looked around feeling awkward as his eyes wander off your body. He was happy to see you in front of him again and now, he understood why he was constantly thinking about you.

He never had sex with you.

It was not like you didn't want to but also the time you were still with him, the thought of having sex with you didn't cross his mind for some reason. Now that he was craving you and wanted you back, it crossed his mind.

Not just that, he realised that he was actually pretty attached to you, compare to his exes, you were the one that lasted a bit longer and the one he spoiled the most. He cherished you.

"You know, I have never realised how much I love you." he started as he slowly stood up and walked across the coffee table that kept the distance between the two of you.

His words made you a bit confused and intrigued so you remained silent to listen about what he had to say next.

"I spoiled you, pamper you, love you with all of my heart..." he stopped in front of you and then picked you up bridal style. "... That I didn't realise that I was actually falling for you... hard.."

You let him carried you as he walked towards his bedroom, for some reason, you weren't resisting. You would be lying if you said you didn't miss him as well.

"And I just realised that I have not yet to mark you... as mine." He whispered to you before entering his room and then put you down on his bed.

"Good thing, I started noticing this feelings of mine now and did not have sex with you beforehand." he said as he leaned down towards you, speaking in a gentle and soft voice that almost hypnotized you.

He leaned down to you even more until he felt his lips against yours. He missed this. The feeling of your lips on his. Your scent. The feeling he got when he was close to you. Having you in his arms. He missed all of it and now he was going to rightfully claim you as his and made sure you belong to him from now on.

...

He was more than happy when he found out that you never been touched in that way before, making this intimate moment even special.

His thrusts were slow yet deep, he swore you were trembling underneath him as your hands held onto his shoulders firmly. Your nails were digging into his skin and he can't help but groaned at the feeling of your nails hurting him yet he didn't mind it all.

He was too fucked up to care about the pain anyway. You were just so... tight and warm... small... soft... so innocent...

He can't believe that you were pure, untouched and ready for him.

He was ready to breed you, marking you as his and made you understood that once he did this, there was no turning back. He was far too gone.

He isn't going to let you go after this.

[almacambiondaughterofsaleos]

That Line From "Full Moon" Makes Me Further Question If He Actually Tried To Put Any Effort Making It Comfortable For Him And Stella

You know how Stolas says this tone deaf line how hurt he is Blitzo thinks so lowly of him while thinking of so highly of him (which is bs). It makes me also question if his so-called attempts to make things comfortable between him and Stella is also bs.

When I was a fan I took it at face value he did try to make it work, but these days as an anti-fan I will question this due to seeing how he tries to make himself the victim due to Blitzo rightfully calling him for his condescending and shitty treatment of him in the past. I think even though Stella is a piece of work his idea of making things comfortable was bare minimum and he was shitty at doing anything to connect with his wife and often shut off doing anything with her which led her coming to resent him for his shallow attempts. I like to think like with Blitzo his stance on his is a case of him being selectively oblivious to his surroundings and other people's feelings. And like with Blitzo he can't admit he has done anything wrong, especially trying to hide behind the excuse they were arranged. Boy, even if you are arranged you can still hurt people. Stop making excuses and downplaying your actions to make yourself the victim. You truly are the pathetic man Stella calls you out as and it ain't just mean girl banter but you truly are so pathetic you can't ever take accountability for your failures and faults.

Heck, this line could be more of an eye opener than people think when you consider back then I thought it was her being mean, but now as anti-fan I think it might merit discussion out of Stolas' biases. She calls him a boring stiff which implies he barely puts effort into having a close relationship with her and his idea of trying to make things comfortable is probably keeping his distance while doing nothing to engage with her. It could be why he calls him boring because his efforts are just bare minimum keeping any sort of engagement and just doing his best to ignore her. While it's no excuse for the abuse, it makes me think that Stolas really isn't as attentive at being a good husband to Stella and that's why she's infuriated with him over the years because she really doesn't have anything good to say to someone who keeps ignoring and pushing her away.

It's probably ultimately why she has no guilt getting him killed because this man will never say sorry for what he did was wrong so bother feel guilty about buffing him off. And frankly, she actually could relate to Blitzo in having to deal with a pompous asshole who supposedly says he's just a mistreated soul with good intentions when in reality is a selfish pos who wants to so hard see himself as a good person he erases the ton of shit he does toward people to make them pissed off and want little to do with him.

[call-sign-shark]

Day 2: Cut Your Wings || Alfie Solomons x Reader

Requested by a lovely Anon 🖤

TW: Kinktober prompt- cut, dubcon, blood, inflected pain, masturbation?, enemies with sexual tension, canonical violence, dirty talk, sexual torture, kidnapping

Words: 2K

Notes: This work is a part of the Peaky Kinktober Event you can find here. Comment on the event post if you want to be tagged in the future works for Kinktober. Also this one ain't as smutty as I thought because I got carried away by the narrative?? Shark please, that ain't the goal of Kinktober??

A grunt escaped from your lips as you desperately tried to free yourself from the heavy shackles imprisoning your wrists. You moved them back and forth, then left and right, turning your hands in every position possible, and yet nothing worked. The handcuffs were too tight for you to slip from them. Another painful moan echoed in the damp and dark room of the distillery in which the jew's henchmen had locked you a few hours ago. The cold metal bit your flesh again. "Fuck". When loud footsteps resounded behind the heavy wooden door of your prison, you swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat and prayed to God for a quick and painless death because you knew that Alfie Solomons wasn't a forgiving man. Quite the contrary, his quick temper, and frightening antics only fueled his reputation as one of the most dangerous criminals in London.

"So that's the fucking little rat my men told me about." He stated, standing in the middle of the open door, both of his hands resting on the handle of his cane and a black hat hiding one of his hazel gray eyes.

"Fuck you, fucking cunt! When Tommy will know about this y'all going to regret it!" Words passed your thoughts, spitting their venom at him and yet the man remained silent. You even wondered if he had paid attention to what you just said or if the voices in his head were louder than yours. His gaze, intense and unfathomable, was observing you attentively as if he was trying to decipher the secrets of the most unique precious stone he had even held in his palm. After what seemed to be an eternity, Alfie Solomons pursued his lips, stroked his scruffy beard, and nodded, coming to an agreement with himself.

"See, my mates here told me that Tommy Shelby had sent a few men to London, but here's the problem – He said 'men'. And not 'little girl', which is definitely what you are. A bloody and nosey little girl. Hmhm." He agreed with his own statement before walking to the dusty furniture that was leaning against one of the brick walls. Then, he took off his hat and his long dark coat, and put the cane aside before walking towards you. He stopped in front of you, tattooed arms crossed on his muscular chest. The unusual amount of greenish ink deeply engraved in his skin caught your attention for a short while, you curiously observing the pattern it formed. Of course, both Tommy and Arthur had tattoos, but not as many as the mad baker.

"Would you look at ya. Haven't you something else to do instead of following a Birmingham scumbag's orders? Like finding yourself a man or something like this, y'know. 'Cause I don't see why such a young lass like ya puts her own life into danger for Tommy fucking Shelby." As he talked, Alfie had closed the distance between you and him. He was now leaning above you, so close that his scorching breath was fanning over your skin and the hairs of his beard were almost tickling your face. "So can you tell me why? The only reason I see is that Tommy Shelby sticks his cock in you and it has magically bred some loyalty." The right corner of his full lips curled into a mocking grin when he noticed how his words had lit a fire of rage in your eyes. Bang on, he thought, "No. It's more complex than that, innit? He doesn't want you and yet you remained devoted to him in the hope that one day, maybe, he'd look at you differently. He'd look at you like a woman to fuck senseless and not a pawn of his game."

"Kill me, Solomons. Kill me now or I'll fucking cut you once I'll be out of this shit-stinking place." You hissed, baring your teeth like a cornered animal, the truth hurting you more than a gunwound. For a split second, Alfie swore you would have dug your fangs into his throat, sinking them deep until you tasted blood if you hadn't been restrained by chains and handcuffs.

"Cut me?" The baker repeated these two words, pretending to be surprised while the tone in his voice betrayed how amused he was, "And what kind of tool would you use to cut me? This?" As he said so, Alfie pulled your grey beret out of the large pocket of his trousers, holding it to have a good grip at the base of the razor blades that were sewn to the fabric. "You Peaky girl like to cut people with this right? So come on, threaten me again little bird, I dare you." He said with both of his eyebrows raised in a taunting expression.

"D'ya think you're scaring me? I'm not scared, I'm a Peaky Blinder and I'm going to make things clear again: you better kill me now because if you miss this chance, I'll fucking cut your face the next time we meet–" You didn't finish your sentence, your words replaced by a scream of pain when Alfie, without a single warning, slashed your arm with your peaky cap. Blood soon filled the gash and overflowed from it, soaking the white fabric of your shirt in a crimson stain.

"Go ahead, dove. Say it again." This time you remained silent, staring at him in horror. He had cut deep, deep enough for you to feel the sickening pulse of your own heart in the wound. Your refusal to obey led Alfie to burst into an unexpected rage. His face reddened, and his brows furrowed, casting their shadow eyes. With one strong and brutal movement, Alfie's free hand grabbed your face, his calloused fingers sinking into your cheeks until your jaw hurt. "SAY IT AGAIN AND I'LL CUT YOUR FUCKING WINGS!" He barked, a bit of spit spilled in his beard and bloodshot eyes staring at your very soul. "See, you don't stand a chance here my sweet dove. You're just a little girl playing gangsters". In an unsettling mood swing, his temper had gone quiet again.

"I'm not gonna kill you peaky girl, that would be too easy. I see your eyes, and what I see in them is that you ain't afraid of death and I reckon this is a trait I particularly fancy in someone. So what should I do with you? We might..." He made a short pause when he noticed a tiny detail he hadn't spotted before. Alfie's hazel grey eyes abandoned yours and dropped to your bosom where he could see the round shape of your hardened nipples pointing through the fabric of your shirt. Licking his lips, Alfie's iris darkened with mischief and something you never expected to witness in the eyes of an enemy – lust. An unpleasant shiver ran down your spine as the baker's smirk suddenly turned into a wicked and threatening smile, "I know, dove. I know what I'm going to do with you. Everything's clear in my mind". A sparkle of pure madness enlightened his face, just like an artist struck by inspiration. With his words followed his hand, that came meeting your trembling body. His strong palm roamed all over you, the friction it created snatching a whimper from your tight throat while you understood his obscene plans.

"No, no! Please! Alfie--" You wanted to scream but you couldn't, petrified from the moment his fingers trailed down your belly and ended their exploration between your legs. The noisy juggling of the chains you produced by struggling sounded like a melody in Alfie's ears, who hummed in satisfaction at your cunt's warmth he could feel through the fabric of your trousers. His fingers pressed a bit more against your core, shooting a wave of forbidden arousal through your entire body and making your legs shake.

"You're in heat, lil' dove." He noted with an amused tone before closing the distance between your ear and his lips. You squeezed your eyes shut at the overwhelming scratching sensation of his gruff beard against your skin and the blazing blast of his breath. The room spun as you found yourself intoxicated by the fragrance of his cologne. Musky, and with a dab of cedarwood. His scent was as raw and wild as him. "I'm pretty sure you're all wet, aren't you?" He cooed in your ear. His rough fingers, applying pressure at the exact spot where your throbbing clit was, started to rub it in slow and circular motions. As much as you hated the thought of it, his skillful caresses lit a fire of desire within you, so much that you felt your own wetness soaking your panties, "How long since a man stretched that lonely pussy?"

"Don't touch me!" You growled, but as convincing as you had tried to sound convincing you still failed judging by how Alfie's brow arched. He let out a dark chuckle. Doing the exact opposite, his fingers kept fondling your sensitive bud but this time his wet and warm tongue licked your neck just like a predator would do to get a first taste of his freshly caught prey.

"Oh I'm not gonna touch you dove." The muffled sound of your cap falling on the concrete ground made you open your eyes again. You had barely lifted your eyelids when your gaze met Alfie's other hand, who was kneading his massive bulge. As afraid as you were, you could not help but let out a soft yet needy moan "I'm not gonna touch you. What I'm going to do cannot be described, no no it can't because I don't want God to hear it. What I can tell you though is that you'll never come back to Birmingham once you'll know the feeling of my cock buried deep inside you." His words' immediate effects upon you had your teased pussy clenching onto nothing and reminding you how desperately empty you were. An emptiness Tommy would never fill, "Are you thinking about him now?"

You weren't.

Alfie didn't need you to answer, for the way you brought your hips closer to his fingers and grind against them was enough. The mad baker's mouth sucked on the sensitive flesh of your neck, pinching it between his lips to leave a bright red mark on you, claiming his newly acquired property. All these sensations soon became unbearable: the friction of your shirt against your erected tits, the cold bite of the handcuffs on your wrists, and the increasingly faster rubbing of your clit destroyed what remained of your will of fighting. Never in your life you had been touched for you had always kept your virginity unspoiled for Thomas. A stupid and fruitless devotion.

You gave in to the pleasure and surprised yourself by thinking about how big Alfie's dick looked, unable to look anywhere else.

"Don't s-stop." You muttered under your breath, your climax building as Alfie kept assaulting your sweet bundle of nerves: he was nothing but gentle with it, almost hurting you with how rough he rubbed you. With your mouth parted and your breath quickening, you felt the delightful warmth of an orgasm coming but, all of sudden, Alfie stopped.

"Enough for today. We'll see if you deserve more tomorrow." He said.

If you have appreciated what you've just read please take the time to reblog and/or comment. Your reactions are the real fuel and motivation of writers.

tags: @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @mollybegger-blog @hwangrimi @munson24 @tommyshelbywhore @devotedlyshadowytheorist @stevie75 @brummiereader @triplethreat77 @sebastianstangirl01 1 @izzy10369 @kimvolturicullen @peakyltd

[days-until-burnout]

Heyy:3

I'm the anon with the tangtho request, and I have returned with an ethubs request in maybe a modern au neighbor setting??

Your posts have become a part of my day and remind me to invest time into writing too so thank you for that <3

thank you for coming back and reading! it's a weird feeling to know people read these daily lmao and go crush that writing! ain't nothing stronger than you are<3! without further ado, your ethubs _____

📧 Day 59 -

Characters - Etho/Bdubs Words - 1,006 Time - 30 mins Content - Modern AU

Bdubs stands in front of his neighbor's door, knocking for the third time as he grows annoyed. Not only did he have to walk down to the ground floor for his mail, but then he had to walk up again after being told they might have accidentally put it in his neighbor’s pile, which they might have taken already. He had already checked with the person on his left, then the person in front, leaving him only with one more room or a potential Karen-scene downstairs. 

Truth be told, as he crosses his arms after knocking yet again, huffing with tapping feet, he has been having a horrible, no good, week. And to top it all, his set of paints might be with someone else. All he wants is to paint, just anything, a scenery, some forest, hell, even just throw paint into the canvas. It was a very, very no good week. And tomorrow, he has work. Just, great. Wonderful. 

It is almost midday on a Sunday, yet he is so ready to crawl into bed and call in sick tomorrow, staying all day in bed being miserable sounds like an amazing idea. Horrible for his schedule and everything else, but he is in no state to be making logical decisions. 

He sighs. Stinkin’ paints, he mutters to himself as he accepts defeat, unenthusiastically admitting that maybe his neighbor is not home. He knows nothing of them, having recently moved in, and by the lack of encounters, their schedules did not align at all. A little unfortunate, seeing as he gets along with the other people on the floor, but it is whatever. Win some, lose some, and now, all Bdubs really wants, is to pass out for the next four—

“Oh, something I can help with?”

Bdubs startles, blinking before shaking his head, then turns towards the voice. 

There, standing in front of him, is a guy he has never seen. He has unnaturally even white hair and pale skin, an almost faded scar running down his left eye, a black mask covering the lower half of his face. Bdubs notes, in a state of stupor, that he is wearing a short sleeve shirt and shorts with sport shoes, a gym bag slung across his shoulder. And Bdubs notes, creepily so, that he is sweaty. The muscles he can, and is, literally staring at are glistening with sweat, his eyes tracing up the arm to shoulder to the covered collarbone to the exposed neck to the mask then—

“My mail. Give it back.” He blurts out when their eyes meet, realizing how idiotic he is being. His words and his harsh tone take the strange by momentary surprise, both frozen on the spot. The stranger, a nice looking stranger, blinks then looks away, fishing for his keys in his bag before walking over, stopping a couple feet from him. 

“Uh, I need… to open my door?”

“Damn right you do!”

The guy stares at him with wide eyes, then a squint, and Bdubs steps aside, dropping his eyes in silent shame. If his internal thoughts were audible, he is sure the whole building would collapse. Regardless, he hears the keys then the lock unlocking. Slowly, he turns his face to the door after hearing some footsteps walking away. The door is wide open, giving him a direct view into the kitchen with no sight of the guy. He stays on the spot, not wanting to intrude, taking the distance to kick himself mentally. For being a creep and for being an asshole about being a creep. Not a good first meeting, and more than even, he thinks that he wants to become a full time hermit. Surely there are some jobs online, and he can get groceries delivered, and he can never show his face to the world ever again. 

The world meows. 

No. 

What?

Bdubs jumps back when something brushes past his leg, dropping his head to find an American Shorthair cat arching its back as it rubs against his leg. It meows and purrs, not at all scared of the giant. He breathes out, relaxing somewhat as he kneels down, extending his hand and the cat sniffs it. He smiles when the cat pushes its head against his fingers, wedging itself into his palm, and he takes the hint, promptly caressing and scratching its tiny head. 

“Hey, buddy, brave one, aren’t you?” He coos, and the cat replies with a purr. 

“More than someone else, it seems.” 

Bdubs looks up to see the guy walking over with a box in his hands, stopping just on the other side of the door. The shoes are gone and replaced with slippers, the bag gone, but the mask is still on his face. He grows curious about his face, which only reminds him how creepy he is being. After his earlier interactions, he has no doubt he has burnt the bridge without even finding it. 

Bdubs squeezes the back of his neck with his free hand, looking away in shame, “Sorry. Just… It’s been a rough week and I just wanted my package.”

The guy hums. 

“I’m, uh, Bdubs, by the way. Your neighbor, literally next to you. It’s, uh, unfortunate, huh?” He tries to joke, but his laugh is dry. 

“No, I don’t think so. Oreo likes you.”

He nods, looking at the cat who is now seated, staring at him with a curious look. “I, hm, I think I like Oreo too.” Gently, he gives its tiny head a final scratch before standing up, sighing as he prepares to confront him again. “Sor—”

“Oh, yeah, I’m Etho. And here’s your package.” 

The guy, Etho, passes the box into his chest, and he clumsily grabs it. Oreo meows then trots back into the apartment. Before Bdubs can say anything else, Etho gets ahead of him. 

“Well, then, I’ll see you around.”

The door closes with a click, and Bdubs stands in place like an idiot. Etho did not just wink at him, did he?

_____

ngl. i struggled to come up with an idea. my brain's been fixated on a different ask, but man, i keep fumbling the bag and missing my chance to write it ;_; anyways. ethubs

[delopsia]

Storm Warning | Rhett Abbott x Reader

Word Count: 5,100  Cross Posted on AO3 Warnings & Notes: 18+, AFAB Reader. The reader does wear a skirt in this one, pegging, outdoor sex, cunnilingus, thunderstorms, fucking Rhett while he wears nothing but his chaps, and mentions of food. Brief Summary: There is nothing quite like bending Rhett Abbott over and fucking him in the south pasture, where nobody but you can hear him.

The thing about Wabang is that you can see a storm coming from miles away. This little, middle-of-nowhere town cozies right on up to the Tetons, a grand collection of mountains that occupy a good portion of the eastern skies. But the west is unoccupied, offers a full, unobstructed view of the sky, including all of the clouds that will soon pass overhead.

Which is exactly why you should have seen that dark collection of clouds in the distance. 

You could have seen it when you peered out your window before you left. Had ample opportunity to spot the looming danger when you drove over here; these roads are winding anything but interesting. Why could your eyes have wandered into the distance at least once?

Why is it that you only noticed them once you were halfway into the Abbott's south pasture? 

Your small backpack feels like it's been filled with cement, weighing heavily on your shoulders. The breeze of the storm has yet to blow in, but once it does, you're sure you'll be regretting this short skirt. The perfect design for flying upward the moment it catches on air. 

In the distance, Rhett's truck is coming into view. That old blue pickup was clean when it left your driveway this morning, but the undercarriage now carries a generous adornment of dirt. The poor thing can never be clean for more than a couple of hours. 

It takes some more walking to find Rhett. A long way from his vehicle, down on one knee, working on the same fence he was swearing about when he left. You've never worked on this ranch a day in your life, but even you know that if there's an issue with a fence, it's the south one. 

He doesn't hear you as you approach. Absent-mindedly whistling a tune as you come to a stop behind him, so focused that he no longer registers what's going on around him. His head turns, peering off toward the same storm you were looking at as you stumbled down here. 

"Some storm, huh?" 

Rhett jolts. Twisting so fast that he falls off balance, landing on his ass. 

"The hell?" The confusion laced in his tone is strong, but he's already beginning to get up, arms opened wide, welcoming you to step into them. "How long you been back there?" 

He's warm. Always is, but you didn't expect him to be a furnace. Soft and cozy, has you resisting the urge to wrap him up tight and take him home to snuggle on the couch for the rest of the afternoon. Royal and the ranch be damned. "Thirty seconds, give or take." 

Rhett's hands wander. 

Smoothing down your waist, the rough material of his gloves catching on your clothes as they drag their way down to the edge of your skirt. There's no way he can feel what you're wearing beneath, but his brows furrow like he's caught whiff of your plan.

"Somethin' tells me you ain't out here to bring me lunch," he asks, beneath his breath. Quiet, like someone may hear him all the way out here. 

"I thought we were past the buying dinner stage?" You can feel him worming his hands from his gloves, desperate to explore. Piece together just what you're doing out here. 

A sweaty palm ventures up your thigh, roaming up to your ass. His breath catches. "Are you..." Fingers digging beneath the thick elastic, hugging your hips, pulling and letting it snap back against your skin. His head swivels, looking behind himself, then beyond your head. Looking for someone. Anyone. "Here?"

Shrugging your shoulders. Feigning innocence. As if you've stumbled up here by mere accident. "Worried someone could hear you, cowboy?"

His Adam's apple bobs, teeth sinking into that thin bottom lip. 

Gingerly, you allow your touch to wander. Greedy hands running down his sweaty back, past the thick leather of his chaps, not stopping until you can comfortably squeeze his ass. Lulls a weary grunt from his throat. 

Without a word, he leans in. Nose bumping into yours. Eyes as dark as the storm brewing in the distance. That tear in the barbed wire fence long forgotten, all in favor of leaning in, open mouth meeting your own. 

There's still seasoning on his lips from the pork rinds he's had stashed in the glove box. Strong against your tongue as his hands travel your body. Up your sides, between your shoulder blades, back down to your ass, pawing at your exposed thighs. Can't figure out what he wants to hang onto.

And you can't complain because your hands have no shame. Already tugging at his shirt, pulling it out from where he's tucked it into his jeans, and reaching beneath. Feeling the soft ripple of muscle against your palm, heaving in tune with his chest. 

"Gonna have to be quick with me, darlin'," Rhett's speaking into your mouth, "that storms fixin' to be here."

"Can you feel it in your bones, old man?" You already know the answer to that; his left shoulder aches whenever bad weather is imminent. A gift from the time he tore it up, falling off a bull. 

His chest rumbles with a deep hum, "Sure can." And there might be a follow-up sentence to that because his mouth opens, tongue heavy with a jumble of words that never make it out. Silenced the moment your palm drops to press against a rapidly hardening bulge. His bottom lip quivers, "fuck."

Isn't his face just pretty? Jaw lax, eyes closed, lost in the way you map him out through his jeans. It's hard to feel through this thick material, but you think you can feel him twitch against you when you lean in to nibble at his unshaven jaw. Worrying the skin with your teeth until it's pink. 

"Rub me a 'lil harder, doll," he breathes, voice carried by the wind, "Can hardly feel—ah."

Grinding the heel of your palm into him, up and down, relishing in the way he grows beneath your touch. God, you don't know what you did to wind up with a cowboy who is always so eager for you, but you're forever thankful for it. He's reaching down, thumbing open his buckle, and pulling his belt for you. Makes it so easy to slip your hand past his waistband, wrapping careful fingers around his heavy cock. 

His lips part with a gasp. "How?" 

You know what he's asking, but playing coy is much more fun than immediately answering. "How what?"

"Like how..." head tilts back a fraction as you draw him out of his jeans. Flushed tip already beginning to leak for you, shining in the rapidly disappearing sunlight. "In the truck?" 

"I was thinking..." Leaning in, your lips ghosting his ear as you purr into it, "Right here." 

A visible shiver rattles down his spine. Shakes his whole body with it. And he's wordless as he starts to fumble with his clothes. Leaves his shirt alone as he toes out of his boots while you slip your backpack from your shoulders, fishing out the thin blanket you packed. As you spread it out against the ground, Rhett's hitching his thumbs beneath his waistband and yanking everything down. Boxers, jeans, and chaps, all in one go. 

Only pauses once he's gotten them off one ankle, his face scrunching with a thought.

"What?" You're freezing; is someone coming?

It takes him a moment. Brows furrowed, confused about something. "Can feel the breeze on my dick," he finally says, starting to move again, "'s a real weird feelin'."

If you roll your eyes any harder, you fear they'll get stuck in the back of your head. As you roll them, though, you catch glimpse of his chaps laying neglected on the ground. Dirty and tattered from years of use, always manage to frame his ass in just the right way.

Rhett's following your gaze, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Glances back to look at your face, then back to his pile of clothes again. "Did you want me to keep them on?"

"Won't they be uncomfortable without jeans?" An indirect yes, if one were to squint, but it's a question that's been brewing in your head regardless. 

"Probably," with a half-hearted shrug, he reaches for them. Shaking them free of his jeans and slipping them back on, the leather gliding past pale legs and thick thighs like they're paid to do it. 

All that's left is his shirt, still buttoned and concealing his wonderfully broad shoulders from view. Shoulders that are so easy to grab ahold of, guiding him to settle next to you. You only mean to lean closer to see what you're doing as you fumble with the buttons, but Rhett's leaning in, and what could a few more kisses hurt?

His breath is already ragged, makes it hard to keep your mouths together for more than a few seconds at a time. Needy lockings of lips, your hands coming to settle against his nape as his careful teeth nip at you. Insistent, soothing over every nip with his tongue. His arm is winding around your waist, drawing you closer. 

And here you are, out in the south pasture, both of you on your knees, heaving chests pressed together as your burning tongues meet. Sloppy and fleeting because that thunder is rolling in the distance, and you don't have time for deepened kisses that leave your head spinning.

One of the hands resting on his nape drops to push between his shoulder blades, gently urging him to move. And oh, does he follow. Lets you guide him into the position you want him in, doesn't fuss as you downright manhandle him. 

You should have brought a Polaroid camera. Used up an entire pack of film, taking picture after picture of this. 

Rhett's cheek rests against the blanket, stormy blue eyes peering back at you, pale ass high in the air, heavy cock hanging low between his thighs. On display, for your eyes only. 

His hips squirm back and forth, grumbling to himself all the while, "Y'plannin' to just sit 'n  stare?"

"You nervous, cowboy?" Chirping as you lean down, your body curving to fit against his whilst your lips press to the sensitive space along the back of his neck. 

He grumbles, arching back into your touch. Chasing the kisses that you press to his skin. "Just a lil bit."

He's so unbelievably warm. Burning against your lips as you work your mouth down his back, licking down the bumps of his spine, feeling him squirm. One of your hands drops down, wrapping around his forgotten cock, and he jolts. 

"Sensitive," musing aloud, loosely pumping him as you press kisses to the dimples in his spine. The left one is more visible than the other, and if it weren't for knowledge gathered from previous ventures, you'd think he only had one. 

His hips wriggle forward, trying to urge you faster, "Uhuh." Only for you to let go of him in favor of dipping into your bag in search of the lube.

And oh, does he fuss.

Whining high in his throat, a soft "no, no, no, no," dancing off his tongue. Wants, needs more attention. Attention that you're not giving him. 

"Hold on, hold on," pressing another kiss to his skin, drizzling the lube over your palm, "I'm not going anywhere, baby."

Just as quickly as it left, your hand is wrapping around him again. Stroking the lubricant over his throbbing length, listening to the pleased sigh that you work out of him. You can't see what you're doing, but you can hear it. Lube squelching with your movements, audible as your thumb traces the sensitive underside of his cock head. Working back and forth. 

Rhett's hips jerk forward, "fuck."  Squirming away as you chase him down, determined to keep your thumb there, "Stop, stop, that's—shit, that's sen...sensitive." 

"Just a minute ago, you didn't want me to let go," cooing, the faintest of smiles ghosting your lips as you watch him writhe. 

You think he might buck you off like those bulls he rides every weekend. Hips thrashing side to side, babbling to himself as you work that sensitive spot over and over, "'M gonna cum if y'keep—" his own whine cuts his words short, "if y'keep doing that!"

Just like that, you let go of him entirely. 

The tips of his ears flame with crimson, spreading down his neck. Your line of sight follows, trailing down the expanse of his back, not stopping until your eyes greedily rake over his ass and thighs. Presented high in the air for you, still trembling from your sudden burst of attention. Chaps loosely clinging to his thighs, framing his ass. 

It's impossible to resist running your palm up him, feeling the soft flesh beneath your touch. So squishy and grabbable. Rhett grumbles, a deep noise you near mistake for thunder, wriggling his hips back and forth. Impatient. 

"Alright, alright," leaving his ass alone, you reach for the lube again, recoating your fingers. 

The first nudge of your fingers at his entrance has him squirming again. Wriggling away from the ticklish sensation of your index finger massaging around the thick ring of muscle there. You don't need to ask him to stop wriggling away; he'll stop once he's gotten himself over the foreignness of it all. Always needs a minute to adjust. 

And he does. Gradually stilling to a halt, pliant for you once more, as one of your fingers press in. 

"Atta boy," leaning down to press a kiss to his ass. A vague distraction as you ease into him, enthralled by how he flutters around you. It's an easy glide; he's still somewhat loose from your ventures yesterday morning when he sidled up behind you and blatantly asked if he could ride you. 

"C'n add 'nother," he garbles, cheek squishing against the blanket, as he cranes his head to look back at you. 

If it weren't for the thunder in the distance, reminding you of its presence, you'd argue. But you're short on time, and he takes this second finger so easily that you can hardly worry about hurting him. Your angle shifts, fingers crooking, massaging past a rubbery button on their next thrust in. 

Rhett jumps, an invisible bolt of lightning rattling up his back. 

In and out, your talented fingers work him open. Know exactly what to do, indirectly massaging his prostate because directly toying with it is too much for the poor cowboy. A third finger slips in just as easily as the second, feeling him stretch around you, loosening with every motion. It's enough to have him squirming back into your touch, chasing the feeling of your fingers fucking into him, breath heavy. 

"Think 'm good," he sighs, and you can't see his face from this angle, but you're sure that his eyes have long since closed. Relaxed. 

You were about to ask him the same thing, but yet, you're double-checking anyway. "You're sure?"

His head nods. "Uhuh." But he whines as you pull your fingers out of him, upset by the loss of contact. Hips swaying back and forth like he's trying to entice you into hurrying up. 

To his credit, it's working. 

There are two toys in this bag of yours, clean and safely tucked away in their proper containers. One is bright purple, sitting on the longer side, with soft ridges that easily made it one of Rhett's favorites from the get-go. But the other is jet black, not quite as long as the purple, but it's thicker, another one of his favorites. 

"You have options—"

"Did y'bring the black one?" So eager that he's cutting you off. Knows exactly what he wants. 

And so, the black one it is. 

You don't need to respond because Rhett sees it as you take it out, his foot excitedly beginning to bounce. A cool breeze blows past as you slide the toy past the ring, securing it into place. A cruel reminder of the time crunch you're on and how you really need to hurry with lubing this up. 

But soon enough, you're curling a hand around Rhett's boney hip, holding it as you tap the head of the toy to his entrance. Listening to his breath catch in his throat, watching him impatiently squirm back into it. 

"Hurry up," those blue eyes peer over his shoulder, darker than they were the last time you saw them. 

Gingerly, you press in, watching in awe at how he opens up for it, slowly stretching for the thick tip. From here, you can see how his mouth falls open, silent as the head fully slips inside. You can only imagine that this must be what he sees when he's got you in this same position. His hand scrambles for the edge of the blanket, squeezing it in his fist as you push in.

"You doing alright, cowboy?" Smoothing your hand up his back as you speak. 

"Want somethin' to hang onto," he whines, letting go of the blanket in favor of clawing at the grass. But it doesn't last, thin blades of green breaking away from the ground in seconds. Leaning down, you brace one palm against the ground, both bearing your weight and letting him grab ahold of your wrist. 

That's all he was looking for. Squeezes it as you slide the rest of the way in until your hips are flush together. Nothing left for him to take. 

You've just checked on him, but you're pressing a kiss to his shoulder and murmuring another question, "How do you feel?"

"'M fuckin..."  he's panting, needs a moment to gather his breath, "full." Another breath, and then, "Move."

Delicately, you draw back the tiniest bit, hardly moving an inch as you practically roll your hips into him. Working purely on the memory of what he does when he's in you. Careful at first, allowing you the chance to work up to those heavy thrusts that knock the air out of your lungs. 

Pulling back just a little more now, watching it disappear back inside of him. A soft noise spills out of his mouth, tiny and barely there. And you must be doing something right because he's louder on this next thrust in, squeezing your wrist a little tighter. 

On its own, your other hand presses into the space between his shoulder blades, seeking balance, pushing his chest further to the ground. Only a slight shift in your angle, and yet—

"There!" Rhett all but howls, jerking beneath you. "Fuck, fuck, right there." 

He's trying to look back at you, but every pass of this silicone cock over his prostate has his eyes fluttering shut, stormy blues rolling into the back of his head. The fringes of his chaps sway with your movements, bouncing back to tickle your bare thigh. It's such a shame he doesn't have his hat on him; you'd love to make him wear it through this.

Rhett's letting go of your wrist all of a sudden, clawing at the blanket, threatening to rip the material. Little grunts punched out of him on every thrust, fighting to keep himself quiet. 

"Let me hear you, sweet boy," you coo as you lean back, properly holding his hips with both hands now. Finding your rhythm as the thunder rumbles once more, "It's just us out here."

And he all but cries out into the open air, a dam burst. Quivering as he pushes back, meeting your thrusts, skin lewdly slapping together. Such a dizzying noise that you can feel heat blossom between your legs, growing wet just from this. The sound of him. Fuck, the sight of him.

His back covered in a thin sheen of sweat, pale skin a stark contrast to the world around him. Ass still high in the air for you, the dark silicone of this toy disappearing into his greedy hole, lube squelching. So mesmerizing that it makes the view of the Teton's overhead look like a damn joke. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he babbles, and his leg is starting to kick again; the toy rubbing directly into his sensitive prostate. Doesn't know what to do with the feeling, "More. Please—more."

Your hand disappears past his belly, wrapping around his neglected cock, swinging heavily between his thighs. Throbs as you begin to stroke him, precum dripping into your hand like a leaky faucet. "Is this what you want?" 

"Want...want..." his head thrashes, fighting for words. "Back. On my back." 

A strong gust of wind rips past as you pull out, has Rhett's hair blowing into his face as he rolls over. He's trying to push it away, but it's clinging to his cheeks, wet with... tears? Sweat?

"Rhett?" You can feel your face fall as you reach out, stroking those dark brown strands back behind his ears. "Are you...?"

His eyes are swollen. A little watery, "Jus' feel good," he smiles, his legs parting for you to fit between, "promise."

When you don't immediately move, he reaches down, taking hold of the toy and guiding it to his stretched entrance. Determined to get you back inside of him. And when you still don't move, he whines with all the impatience and frustration he can possibly muster. "Please?"

So convincing. 

Pushing into him is much easier this time around. Sliding to the hilt without a hitch, his thighs squeezing your hips, arms winding around your shoulders. Determined to keep you close as you begin to move again.

"Better?" You grunt, moving to brace your forearms on either side of his head, bracketing him in. 

"So much better," his words are rushed, head tilting back. Those tears well in his eyes once more, brought on by the pressure massaging against his prostate, over and over. 

Dull nails bite into your shoulders as you regain your rhythm, stinging, threatening to leave marks. It should hurt, but the only thing it does is make you needier. Fucking into him with a purpose, eager to see him cum all over his belly. 

"Touch yourself for me, Rhett," it's hard to tell who is panting harder, thunder booming in the distance. 

Rhett's hand falls off your shoulder, reaching for his forgotten cock, the head flushed a dark, angry red. Moans at his own touch, looking down at the sight between his legs. Your hips working in and out of him, the edge of that toy emerging only to thrust back in, his cock dribbling a pool of precum onto his belly. 

He whimpers. 

"'M gonna," head dropping back, "'M sorry—gonna, gonna cum." 

But that's what you wanted. To see the shiver emerge from his muscles as he works his own cock. To feel how he can hardly keep his legs around your hips. To hear how his breath catches and how he moans open and loud. The little oh's that you punch out of him on every thrust. Unable to hold a single thing back as he gets closer and closer. 

Leaning back a little, you look down; his hand can hardly stay around his cock. "Cum for me, cowboy." 

One. Two. Three more pumps of your hips, and his back is arching up off the blanket. Nails digging into your shoulder as he cums with a cry. His hips spasming, cum painting his hand and belly with ropes of white. Eyes shut, face lax. 

You can only fuck him through it, burning the sight behind your eyelids all the while. 

As soon as it passes, you're slowing to a halt. Not quite pulling out of him yet, not until he asks you to. But until then, your hands are free to comb through his tangled hair, scratching his scalp. His head has yet to come back down from the clouds, legs still clinging to your hips, anchoring you to him.  

Those thin lips break into a smile, eyes not quite opening yet, "I still vote that we have lunch."

"Sure," your eyes roll, "what do you want? Grass?"

One eye peeks open as if to make sure you're still there. Only to snap shut the moment you make eye contact with him. "How 'bout tree leaves?"

Lightning flashes. Thunder following in hot pursuit, booming, shaking the ground.

That's got you both moving. Rhett lets go of you, mouth falling open as you delicately pull out of him. There's hardly any time for him to adjust to the sudden emptiness, the wind whipping around you with such force that you're surprised it doesn't lift you off the ground. 

You're fumbling to put away the toy and the blanket, Rhett's wrestling with his jeans, and you're both moving so frantically that nothing is happening fast at all. You can't get ahold of the bag for the toy; Rhett's long since fallen on his ass, fighting to get his boot on.

"This shits goin' terribly," he chuckles, tugging the boot past his heel. 

As soon as you get moving, rain begins to fall. Coming down in thick, white sheets that obstruct everything in sight. Rhett's got ahold of your hand, tugging you along through the downpour, yelling something that you can't make out. Bag bouncing on your shoulders as you all but tumble down the south pasture in search of his truck. 

 You don't realize you've found it until you're halfway inside, practically throwing yourselves into the safety of the old GMC. Drenched from head to toe, the cloth seats soaking up every drop of water that falls from you. 

On the dash, Rhett's phone flashes with a storm warning. Incessant. Demanding that it be read before it allows itself to be dismissed from his notifications. 

"Damn storm," all of a sudden, Rhett's taking hold of your legs and hauling them up onto the seat, "stealin' all my fun."

Your back hits the door with a thump. "What are you doing?" 

Rhett's reaching beneath your skirt, hitching his fingers beneath the elastic of the strap-on harness. Yanks it down without warning or notice, tossing it onto his cracked dashboard. "Told you," knocking your thighs apart, leaning down onto his forearms, "'m fuckin' hungry."

And that's the last thing he says before you feel hot breath fan out over your dripping sex. He doesn't bother with pushing your skirt back, letting it fall against his face as he licks a fat, wet stripe up your folds. 

"Jesus, Rhett," gasping, reaching down to tangle your fingers in his hair. 

He hums, the noise vibrating into you as he wraps his lips around your swollen clit. Wastes no time, lavishing it with attention, smiles into you when your thighs squeeze his shoulders. "Always taste so good." 

Your hand trembles as you reach down to pull your skirt out of the way. Blue eyes flash up at you, grinning. That burning tongue travels down, lapping lazily at your entrance, pushing inside just to feel you flutter around him. Drooling as he works it deep inside, saliva dripping down onto your thighs, the tip of his nose bumping into your clit. 

"Good boy," the back of your head knocks into the window, uncaring of how the storm shakes the truck. Petting the side of his wet cheek as he squirms closer, his face absolutely buried in your pussy.

"Been wantin' this all damn day," he's speaking directly into you as he licks up, up, up, back to where you want him most. A big hand settles on your hip, forcing you into stillness, gives you no choice but to let him have what he wants. 

The thunder is nothing compared to your whimper that bounces around the inside of the cab, loud and needy, heat pooling between your legs as that tongue of his works you over. Calloused fingers nudge at your dripping entrance, two tracing the thin rim before slipping inside. Thick. Already wet from the saliva pouring out of his eager mouth. 

They push up, feeling along the inside of your pussy until they find a familiar spot that has you jumping, a bolt of lightning rippling up your spine. Spiraling into it in tune with his tongue, kitten-licking at you. His eyes have long since shut, practically smiling as you writhe.

You can hardly keep yourself quiet, panting, whining; it's so much, so fast, all at once. Hadn't had any time to prepare before he pounced on you, already sensitive and needy just from fucking him into the ground. Something is coiling, heating up, has your heart pounding away at your chest. 

"Rhett," only now do you realize you've been babbling his name under your breath, "Rhett, I'm gonna—"

"Cum on my face, doll," he's panting, words muffled by your cunt, "please, cum for me."

Without further warning, it hits you. 

Eyes screwing shut as your orgasm washes over you. Pulsing around those two fingers, thighs locking around this cowboy of yours, back arching off the door. Rhett's moaning into you, feels you convulse against him, and he's still not stopping. Licking you through it until your leg is twitching, kicking him away from your oversensitive, abused clit. 

On the dash, his phone buzzes again, insistent that you acknowledge the warning about a storm that's already here. But it's still not enough to distract from the way you both pant for breath, starved for oxygen. 

Weakly, Rhett laughs. A breathy little sound that hardly gets past his lips. "Was that too much?"

"Has it ever been too much?" Reaching out with a shaky hand, tucking his hair behind his soft ear. 

His chin is absolutely dripping. Wetter than the rest of him, if that's even possible. You can only imagine what he's seeing; your quivering legs still parted, on display for his eyes only. Even your skirt can't block his view. 

"Are you still..." God, your head feels like it's about to fall off your shoulders, "how does going to that new diner in town sound?" 

"I like the sound of that," as he speaks, you think you can hear his stomach growl, "but I can't promise I won't want a second desert." 

Now that you think about it, you're not sure which storm Rhett's phone is warning you about. Because while the angry wind rocks the truck back and forth, and hail begins to beat at the window, it doesn't quite compare to the cowboy across from you. Tired for now, too spent to go any further, but there's a spark blooming behind his eyes that suggests he's only getting started. 

Maybe it's a good thing that you didn't see that dark collection of clouds until it was too late.

[k-nayee]

Growing Pains

wc: 4.7k a/n: just know this was written YEARS ago when I was dealing with insecurity issues and such💀 I promise my writing ain't as dramatic as this

⚠𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆⚠: Eating Disorder topics such as Anorexia will be mentioned/insinuated. To those that may find this triggering, please skip to the next chapter or read with caution

Dreamer M.List

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

′𝐈 have to do this′

′I NEED to be perfect...'

Staring at the food spread across the table, I muster a smile as a plate is handed to me. Yet once I'm alone, it ends up in the trash, unseen.

'...and I'll do whatever it takes for it to happen.′

I ignore the low growls and take a sip from a water bottle, finding comfort in the temporary fullness it does to my empty stomach.

"All right guys! We gotta do some warm-ups to get our muscles ready: Arm circles, leg stretches, high knees to complete before we dive into the regular twelve count of squats and jumping jacks with five laps to wrap it all up!" The instructor's upbeat and encouraging voice cuts through the air. "And then we can start with today's dance!"

Groans of protest bubble around me, but they do the tasks anyway in order to avoid getting scolded.

I breeze through the majority of activities with ease. It wasn't until when those all-too-familiar black spots forming at the edge of my vision did I become wary.

Luckily, I managed to get rid of them or at least slow the process by slowing down my pace.

"Hey, you okay?" The worry in his tone interrupts my focus.

Offering another smile, I dismiss my body's weaking state. "I'm f-fine."

Not a moment later my legs suddenly gives out.

A pair of hands catches me in time and look into my exhausted eyes.

"Hey, I think you need to lay down. You don't look too good. Have you eaten lunch yet?"

Their worry tugs at my heart; the reflection of my gaunt face in their eyes feels like a dunk of cold water.

′Maybe this isn't right...I...I should stop.′

I almost confess—about starving myself for weeks. Hoping to get small and beautiful enough, to get what everyone told me I'm the opposite of. Th-

"Come on now! I know we joke you act like a Panda, but I didn't think you'd get tired that fast! Maybe it's time you stop eating like them before you start to really look like one!" Someone calls out, laughs echoing around.

The vulnerable expression I once had hardens into a cold, emotionless mask.

′No. I can't give up now...not when they all still see me as fat. I can't continue to embarrass them anymore.′

"Hey ignore them, they're just playing. But seriously though, you should lay down and eat something. It looks like you've been starving yourself or something...have you?"

The handsome male's concern is met with my cold glare.

"Leave me alone. You never cared then, so don't now!" I break from his hold with a sneer and start back running.

The black spots returns with a vengeance, but they only push me to go even faster. A twisted motivation if you will.

After an agonizing ten minutes, I complete the laps with nods and pats of approval for being one of the first.

My body screams for rest so I sluggishly make my way towards the seats.

Each step is heavier than the last, the world blurring into a bright haze as the sounds around fade into the distance.

′Just a bit further...′

But my body can't go anymore.

With one final step, I collapse onto the floor.

The sickening sound of my head hitting the ground causes everyone to go silent in shock as a shockwave of pain zipped through my skull.

I feel a wet warmth slowly seep against my head causing my hair to go damp.

A panicked voice cuts through the haze. "O-oh my god! Somebody help! T-there's blood!"

"Call the ambulance!"

Hands cradle my face as a light flashes into my eyes. I don't feel my pupils reacting properly.

"Hey hey, look at me. Are you alright? Just focus on me."

I open my mouth, but no words come out.

"Don't talk, conserve your energy. Help is coming," a soothing voice promises, but my consciousness is slipping away.

With the last of my strength, I want to scream, admit that I was wrong. That I should've said something.

But only a whisper escapes.

"H-h..."

My eyes roll back as darkness surrounds my vision.

I gladly accept and let it take me into its welcoming grasp with two words that I wanted to say before I'm all the way gone...

Help me.

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

It was a regular day at the band's dorm.

Jungkook was currently teaching Jin how to play a racing game after the elder had continuously begged him to.

"Press the left button."

"Left?"

"No, just flip the controller and it'll run on its own—of course the left button!"

Jin shoots him a glare. "Well damn! Actin' like it's easy for me to adjust to these types of controls like you do, oh so great Golden Maknae. Maybe tone done the arrogance a little yeah?"

Jungkook could only scoff in response with an eye roll. "Honestly, after being taught the instructions for thirty minutes straight, you'd think you'd at least know how to make the car move. But then again, if it doesn't involve food, you're pretty much stupid."

Jin's eyes widened, a mix of shock and indignation flashing across his face. "You little shi—"

"Guys we have to go now!" Their playful squabble is abruptly cut short by a frantic, wide-eyed breathless Taehyung with a grave Namjoon silently in tow.

"Now what is it-oh, my god! What happened?!"

The vocal duo's facade of annoyance immediately drops upon taking in the usually tanned male's pale visage.

Taehyung opens his mouth to say something, but his emotions get the best of him rendering him speechless and teary eyed.

Namjoon quickly wraps an arm around the idol in silent support while Jin exchanges a worried and confused glance with Jungkook.

"What happened, Namjoon? Is everything okay?" Jin asks the leader in concern, leaving the forgotten game behind in favor of embracing a trembling Taehyung.

Namjoon releases a shaky breath, the tension in the room palpable. The sound of the front door slammed echoes into the heavy silence.

"What was that?" Jungkook questions as he grabs his jacket and hat after turning off the TV, ready to spring into action

"That was Yoongi."

Tired of the useless clues and wanting to get straight to the point, Jin presses. "Okay...and why did he leave in such a hurry?"

"It's Jimin...he's in the hospital."

|

|

"We have to hurry up!" Yoongi's voice is thick with urgency, his leg bouncing uncontrollably as dread twists his stomach the closer they get to the given location.

"Calm down Yoongi, everything's going to be alright" Jin sends the tense male a small smile while trying to keep his own distress from showing.

The rapper isn't easily soothed. "That's easy for you to say! You wasn't the fucking one to hear Hoseok's voice over the phone—panicked, scared..."

"Okay, but—"

His words are cut off as they pull up to the hospital. Yoongi doesn't even wait for the car to fully stop before he bolts out the door.

Jin lets out a sigh of resignation before slowly unbuckling his seatbelt. "Come on, let's go."

"Where is he?!" The moment he's near the reception desk, any and all thought of concealing his identity from public's eye is forgotten.

The nurse, unflustered by his panic, maintains her composure. "Sir, you need to calm down and take a seat. We're—"

"Don't fucking tell me to calm down! I am not in the mood to listen to whatever useless bullshit you wanna say unless it has something to do with Jimin," Yoongi interrupts with a sharp glare, his tone bordering on hostile.

The nurse says nothing at first, only staring at him with a blank expression before a low and slow sigh escapes her.

"First of all, I work damn near eighteen hours a day getting piss, vomit, and maybe even shit on me. And I'm also forced to have a smile on my face when assholes like you come up and order me around as if I work for them. I am my own person, and I should not-no, WILL not let some pale ass skinny idol come and boss me around. So sit your ass down in the chair!" She snaps causing Yoongi's eyes to widen in shock before quickly doing what she says.

The woman shift her gaze towards the frozen onlookers who witnessed the whole scene with wide eyes.

An arched brow was all it took for them to follow along and scramble to the seats to avoid her wrath.

Satisfied with their obedience, her stern expression melts into a warm, beautiful smile that seems to make the band's hearts as she step closer.

"Now that we're all on the same page...hello! I will be at your service today. Kingly fill out this form for any future visits." she said,  voice a blend of authority and welcome.

A moment of silence pass before Jin breaks out of his daze and accept the clipboard from her.

"Um, w-we were told by one of our bandmates -Jung Hoseok- there has been an altercation with another bandmate -Park Jimin," he says nudging his head towards a silent Yoongi. "That's why we rushed, hence his behavior and actions."

"Well, I was going to tell you that the room you're looking for is number 256. Your friend Mr. Jung Hoseok already notified us you all were on the way. But I couldn't explain that due to a rude interruption," she states, giving a pointed look to Yoongi, who suddenly found the dirt at the bottom of his shoe the most interesting thing ever.

Namjoon stepped in, smoothing over the tension. "And for that, I give you his sincerest apologies. I can assure you he's normally more considerate, right Yoongi?"

Chastened, the guilty male bashfully nods and offers a quiet apology just as the nurse's phone started to ring, demanding her attention.

"Hello? Oh, Oppa!~" Her smile doubles in brightness, the group watching her becoming so captivated with the woman's sudden butterfly-like personality that no one noticed a male creeping into the building.

"Have you eaten today?" Whatever that is said on the other line causes her to pause with a gasp of shock. "No?! You need to take better careful of yourself and health. I can't have you walking around with an empty stomach...What?"

Her scolding morphs into confusion. "You can't dine with me if you're busy with rehearsals...You're not? T-then where are you?...Turn around?"

With hesitant moves, she follow his request only for her eyes to brim with tears at what—or who—awaited her.

Curious for the reason of her sudden emotion, the group's attention diverts to a handsome male causing their eyes to widen.

"Holy shit!" Taehyung's mouth drops at the sight of the very familiar face before him, "Her Oppa is—"

"Impossible...i-it can't be. You're supposed to be all the way across the world doing your tour right now," she softly says before quickly running into the open arms of Byun Baekhyun. [Hehe, Get it? Because EXO did a cover of 'Open arms'?...No?...Okay Imma stop]

"The fuck? Baekhyun is her boyfriend?! Where? When? Why? Shit better yet, how?" Jungkook bitterly questions as he watches the heartwarming scene happening before him.

"Now now, let's not jump to conclusions. Maybe he's a brother or family member. She did call him 'Oppa' after all," Jin weakly says knowing that his theory was a stretch.

Even so, the small part of him that hoped for it to be tr—nevermind...they're kissing.

"You were saying Jin?" Taehyung mumbles with a sad pout, voicing out the same the others felt regardless of just meeting the woman that same day.

"Quite a beautiful looking couple, am I right?" Jin releases a startled yelp at the unexpected voice as it cuts through the dejected air. 

Turning from the two lovebirds, they're met with a man in a white lab coat casually checking the charts on his clipboard.  "And a little word of advice: he's quiet possessive of her, so I wouldn't try anything if I were you..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Oh, where are my manners! My name is Dr. Choi, I'm the assigned doctor of your bandmate Park Jimin." Dr. Choi introduces himself with a sweet smile, continuing to review the charts at hand.

"Wait. So...so that's her...boyfriend?" Jungkook gasps in disbelief, barely latching on to anything but the word 'couple' in the doctor's previous statement.

"Fiancé actually. I believe you're all acquainted with him and his group? Um...it's EXO...yeah that's the name. Baekhyun here has been working with his idol group while she decided to go to a college that's close to the hospital. Despite how hectic both of their schedules are, they remained together. Just recently got engaged after deciding to get married once she graduates and gets her degree. Anyway back to your friend, Mr. Park...He's been asking for you. So if you would please follow me." Finishing those final words, Dr. Choi pivots and briskly strut down the hallway.

Alerted, Yoongi quickly rise from his seat and follow with the others in tow.

|

|

"Jimin!" A chorus of voices shouts as they burst through the door, startling the oldest maknae from his TV watching.

"Oh~ Hi guys~" Jimin sings out in happiness as he continues to consume the chocolate pudding in front of him.

The room goes silent for a moment as the newly entered group analyzed him with confused gazes.

"Um...w-what's this?" Jungkook exclaims, tense body expecting to see the older male laying in bed with a life support machine hooked up to his broken body.

But instead? He only sees a foot brace adorning the lead dancer's right ankle.

"What? Oh, you mean the cast right? I know it's cool, they decorated it with glow-in-the-dark stickers and markers." Jimin boasts, making Taehyung's eyes widen in awe and quickly approach for a closer look.

Jungkook follows the other maknae in curiosity while Jin and Namjoon go to a corner to check their social medias, leaving a dazed Yoongi alone in the middle of the room.

"...You're okay," Yoongi breaths out in amazement; but as he continues to chant those two words, his face once soft of worry turns into a statue of anger. "Not only did I run out of bed in sickening worry, but I also got my ass handed to me by a nurse just to find out that you're fucking okay?!"

Jimin pouts, a hint of guilt in his tone. "I mean...the fall wasn't just okay. They even said that it's one of the most severe ankle sprains they've had this entire day."

Yoongi scoffs at the response as he begins to pace along the tiled floor in hopes of calming down.

"I can't believe this! Hoseok was literally bawling his eyes out on the phone, saying you were hurt really badly and that there was blood everywhere."

It was now Jimin's turn to frown in confusion.

"Blood? There wasn't any blood. If anything the only red thing there was the fruit punch he wasted on me when he saw me fall. Which, by the way, ended up in my hair and became sticky."

Yoongi's face goes blank. "I'm...I'm gonna kill him."

"Kill who?" Hoseok's light and unsuspecting voice fills the room, everyone silent as they turn to the cheerful man holding bags of food in hand.

"Run bitch, ruuuuun!" Taehyung screams, half-joking and half-serious once seeing Jin and Namjoon stand next to Yoongi.

Hoseok looks confused as he place the food down on a table nearby.

"Huh? But I just got...back..." his words trail off, atmosphere thickening upon catching the stern looks of his bandmates.

"Oh h-hey, Jin...Yoongi...Namjoon," Hoseok quietly greets the three after letting out an audible gulp.

Jin's rebuke is swift. "Don't hey us! Why the hell were you crying and blubbering into the phone like that?! Actually made us fear for Jimin's life and think that something had actually happened to him."

Hoseok holds up his hands in defense with wide eyes. "B-but he really was in serious danger! He could've broken his ankle or leg."

"Yeah, but the way you said it made it seemed like he broke his neck. Especially when saying there was blood everywhere, when in reality it was only the red juice you dropped." Jungkook interjects with raised eyebrows.

"I was in panic and they both look very similar in the practice room's lighting okay?!" Hoseok snaps, the fear he once had quickly replaced with irritation.

Jungkook mockingly shrugs, feigning defeat. "Hey, I'm just stating facts here. But at least you're not a complete crybaby and drama queen who makes everything seem worse than what they are...oh wait."

Hoseok could only stare at the maknae before suddenly lunging towards him, only to end up being constrained by Yoongi and Jin.

"Man this bastard's been on a roll today...first me, now Hoseok. Someone needs to teach him as a lesson." Jin bitterly mumbles as he continues to keep the seething Sunshine from beating Jungkook.

"I'll do it! Just let me go, I promise it won't be that damaging. Maybe a little bruise here or there but that's nothing makeup can't fix." Hoseok pleads upon hearing Jin causing Jungkook's eyes to slightly widen at the threat.

"D-don't let him go!" The once smug male nearly cries, having already experienced how painful the third eldest of the group's hits are.

Jin looks at the shivering maknae with a smirk. "I don't know, it might be good to put you back in your place...should we let him go Yoongi?"

Yoongi shrugs, acting along with Jin as he too found Jungkook's behavior wrong. "Sure, it'll do him some good."

The two began to ominously loosen their grip on the vengeful dancer while Jungkook, on the other hand, starts to panic more.

"ENOUGH!" Namjoon's voice slices through the chaos, making everyone stop. "Jungkook, you know that's not how we treat one another, especially those older. You need to apologize."

"I-I'm sorry Jin...I'm sorry Hoseok. I know I've been raised not to act such a way towards you two. Must've gotten too comfortable." Jungkook softly voices out with his deepest sincerities.

"It's okay, I forgive you. Just don't do it anymore, I find it very hurtful when you do things like that." Jin states as a now calmed Hoseok nods his head in agreement.

Namjoon nods his head over the now mended problem. "Now that one of the situations is solved...Hoseok" the sound of his name being called out caused the male's body to stiffen.

"Y-yes Namjoon?" He cautiously questions already knowing a scolding is about to happen.

"Please wait until they inform you of the situation before you go and call what happened next time. We can't keep doing things like this okay?" Namjoon gently says, desperately wanting to go back home and rest at the moment.

A sigh of relief leaves the older of the two, happy that nothing worse came as he nods his head.

"Good now—"

Namjoon pauses mid-sentence at the sudden knock of the door, opening it to reveal Dr. Choi and the pretty nurse from earlier.

"Apologies for the intrusion. It's time for Mr. Park's vitals check. Please, feel free to wait over there," she suggests, soft yet authoritative as she dons her gloves.

Not wanting a repeat of before, the group obeys and relocate to the chairs, gazes remain fixed on the nurse and her captivating presence.

Noticing their intense entrancement, Hoseok lets out a snort.

"Gonna take a guess you all got the honor of meeting Miss Nurse there. Maybe ease up on the gazing, yeah? She's not an exhibit," he teasingly chides, sparking a wave of sheepish glances among the others.

"I-I can't help it! It's...she's just so..." Taehyung trails off, gaze lingering as he release a dreamy sigh.

"I know, I was a stuttering mess when I got here," Hoseok confesses, cheeks tinted with a rare flush as he remembers the way she giggled when he was making a fool of himself.

"Yup," Jungkook speaks up, tone heavy with envy, "Too bad she's got a boyfriend—fiancé, actually."

Hoseok chokes on his spit in surprise. "She's engaged?!"

Question answered by solemn head nods, his once bashful demeanor morphs into one of downhearted.

"Man...that's a total bummer. I was really hoping she was single. Well, maybe we can be friends if her fiancé isn't the jealous type." Hoseok muses out loud a small smile that quickly turns into a frown once he saw the others' faces.

"Really?! You've got to be kidding me! Dammit...can't meet anyone nice without being already spoken for or getting tangled up in dating rumors."

The disappointed dancer huffs, shifting his gaze causing a smile to appear. "At least Jimin's having a good time." Following where he was gesturing to, they all collectively look towards the said male.

"Look at him! Using his injury as a boost just to get closer...this is so unfair." Jungkook kisses his teeth, forced to watch idol cutely flirt—even going as far as holding her hand due to being afraid of needles, which the woman giggled at in fondness.

"Hey, remember when ____ begged us to ask the company to make a fake doctor's note about her leg being broken so she won't have to participate in that dance fitness class?" Jin lightly mumbles out trying to bring up the others sour moods.

And thankfully it did.

"Yeah, I remember! She was so pissed when the university she attended made it a mandatory course. Literally threatened us that she'll break her leg on purpose when we refused to do it."

"Ha! She wouldn't dare. We all know how much she's afraid of getting hurt."

"It's funny how she decided to stay in the class all of a sudden huh?"

"And going out more for jogs? Yeah, I've been noticing that too. She needs to start taking a few breaks."

"Maybe she wanted to get thicc like me?" Taehyung casually says as he flutters his eyelashes causing the others to scoff.

After ten quick minutes of the group talking about random things while their injured bandmate try woo taken woman with his sly attempts, the checkup was finally over.

"Alright, so far vitals seem to be in check. I'll prescribe some painkillers for the sprain. Though because of the severity of the twist itself,  he'll have to stay for the next two days in case it's something more other than a sp—"

Distant shouts and an emergency ambulance siren cut off the doctor as his pager goes off, mirrored by the nurse's tablet in hand.

A silent exchange passed between them, a prelude to the storm brewing beyond their immediate sight.

Swiftly taking a look at the noisy devices, the two exchange a look of wary realizing they were ringing for the same patient.

"Apologies, but we're needed urgently. The painkillers will have to wait," Dr. Choi's voice, once steady, now carried an undercurrent of haste as he disappeared through the door.

"I'll be back, perhaps in a few hours." Voice usually soothing, now carries a weight as she discards the medical gloves with a practiced motion before opening the door.

"Wait! What's happening?" Hoseok reaches out, concern etching his features.

The hesitation is clear in her eyes, the professional boundary wrestling with human need to share. "It's...not my place to say. Especially with surgery waiting. I'm sorry."

Before she could leave the room, Jin steps forward. "Please. We promise to keep it to ourselves, we won't tell a soul. Just...who is it?" He softly pleads.

The others murmur in agreement, just wanting to help console the family that's probably standing in the waiting room thinking the worst.

A heavy sigh escapes her, surrendering to their insistence.

"I...it's a student from Seoul's University of Performing Arts. We were told a severe head injury: traumatic blow to the head from falling against concrete during an outdoor dance warmups...there's significant blood loss. Now I'm sorry, but that's all I can say right now." Words, hurried and clipped, she disappears into the crowd of moving medical residents.

"No, wait!" Taehyung calls out as he and Namjoon try to pursue her, desperate for answers.

Looking around the hallway for the runaway nurse only to end up empty-handed in their search, Namjoon gestures back to the room with a rueful sigh. "C'mon...let's go back." 

Slowly walking back in defeat heavy in their hearts, a flash of a familiar hoodie causes Taehyung to freeze.

"No, is that...?" His voice trails of in uncertainty as his eyes narrow just to be sure.

His breath hitches in surprise, eyes widening in shock and disbelief before striding over to the huddled person, drawing puzzled looks from Namjoon.

"Taehyung? Tae-what are you doing?!" The band leader calls out as he steps from the room's doorway, gaining the other members' attention and causing them to follow.

Jungkook reaches the vocalist and pulls him back, staring at him weirdly. But the idol doesn't care, he continues to stare at the back that faces them in a trance like state.

"Tae, what are you doing? Are you insane??" Jungkook hisses, sending a wary glance over to the person hunched up in the corner crying in worry of disturbing them.

"No, t-that hoodie looks familiar see?" Taehyung faintly whispers, not wanting to believe that what his mind is making up is true.

Jungkook takes a closer look at the piece of clothing before letting out a breath.

"Look, there's plenty of hoodies that are similar to yours! You're just stressed...you can take a nap when we get back to Jimin's room okay?" The maknae assures in hopes of coaxing the older to move.

And he does. Though hesitant with every step, his eyes never leave the figure's back.

"Come on Tae, we'll eat some Panda Express. It'll help you feel better once you have a full stomach." Jin coos, gently directing the tensed idol towards the direction of the room.

But as if a tug pulled at him, Taehyung takes a step back. He looks at the faces of the others as his final decision is made.

Namjoon's eyebrows furrow in confusion at the male's expression. "What? Taeh-wait!"

Namjoon's confusion turns to alarm at younger's apologetic look, knowing he's about to do. "Taehyung! W—"

Swiftly dodging the hand attempting to grab him, he quickly jogs back where he last saw the hoodie as the rest trails after.

The chorus of voices telling him to stop were ignored.

Walking up to the person, he turns the crying person around with a tug of their hood, revealing a head of very familiar hair.

"Tae—" Yoongi's harsh voice of irritation cuts off upon seeing a tear-streaked face he immediately recognized.

"Adora!" Taehyung breaths out in relief, vaguely recalling how it was the same hoodie he gave for her to borrow but was never returned.

"What's wrong?" Jungkook softly questions the girl as her legs gave out, tears starting to well.

With quick reflexes, Taehyung grabs a hold of her, slowly bringing the troubled woman over to the cushioned chairs against the wall.

"I-I...t-they" Adora's words are in jumbled stutters, body racked with sobs making it impossible to clearly speak.

"Adora? What are you doing here?" Namjoon cautiously probes when her cries finally calms down a little.

"[N-nickname]," she croaks out as the tears resurfaced once more.

Confused dread fills up in the minds of the men around her at the mention of you as she continues to cry out her pain.

Yoongi stills with a sinking heart, fragments of past conversations piecing together into a grim realization.

"...it's a student from Seoul's University of Performing Arts. We were told a severe head injury: traumatic blow to the head from falling against concrete during an outdoor dance warmups..."

"...funny how she decided to stay in the class all of a sudden huh?"

"...going out more for jogs? Yeah, I've been noticing that too....needs to start taking a few breaks."

With frantic movements, Yoongi desperately clasp Adora's trembling shoulders.

Eyes brimming with the onset of tears, his heart feeling as if squeezed by an iron grip of dread.

"Where is she? What happened to her?"

He's answered by sobs, louder and more pained than before.

"What the fuck happened to ____ Adora!" Yoongi's voice escalates, raw with anguish as he slowly shake to the floor with cries of his own.

While everyone else looks at the rapper alarmed, Taehyung's own tears spilling over as he draws Adora into a supportive embrace.

"She's...in critical condition. They..." Her words are fragile with despair, the weight of it nearly snapping the hearts of those who heard it

"...they say she might not wake up."

[ziracona]

Playing OWB, I always knock out lobotomites because they're victims, instead of kill them. Which sucks, because I only have boxing tape on me. It ain't easy :'-) but I've had several weird what must be glitch encounters with ones that are marked hostile but quit attacking now, and my experiences got me thinking about story stuff in OWB, so a little piece from the POV of a lobotomite experiencing my Courier 6. Which is a very interesting and fragmented pov to write, but I liked doing something very different.

-

-

I see something leaving the big house.

They come one by one usually, the ones not like us. They hurt us. Always.

Everything here hurts.

So, we kill them. We stop them.

One of us makes a sound in his throat, nods towards the shape. We’re all alert with the sound, turn to look. Take out weapons.

I draw my gun. My fingers know the trigger. Know the barrel like it’s another finger. I aim at the shape. It walks towards us and pauses at the top of the stairs, sees us see it. Takes a step back.

Good. Maybe an easy fight for us then.

The man who pointed the figure out charges, drawing his spear. Another of us runs with him, saturnite fist ready. I stay back behind, and shoot.

I hit it. I see my bullet clip the shoulder. The thing cries out and falls back a step. Somehow, not hurt bad. Armor, I guess. We don’t have it. I have the dress they give at a hospital. I don’t remember what I had before.

It makes me angry, so I walk closer, keep shooting.

My companions reach it, and I see them fighting. I see the figure has a gun on their hip, a spear at their back. But, they don’t draw the gun. No bullets maybe? They hit, bare fists. Pound, pound, pound. Crack, crack, crack.

Cuts open up on them, along their face and body, their back, their hands. They jam something into their side and fall back a step, and I see cuts close like magic. They’re afraid though. Eyes big. Surely, just fists against us, we must win.

But we don’t. It fights fast, hard, and above all, with stamina. It won’t go down. Heals itself again and again somehow, and hits and hits until the leader goes down. I feel a pang of fear. The second goes down a few seconds later, a fast upper-cut from this things. Then it turns to me.

I feel real fear. But. Surely. I must win, against this? A human. Wrapped fists. Nothing else.

It meets my eyes, and I see determination. It rushes me.

Panic. I fire, I fire, I fire. I know I hit it. A bullet even grazes its head. But then it’s on me, and a fist finds my face.

Pain. Hurts, bad. I lose strength from it. I keep trying to shoot, and I hit it, even so close, but it hits me too. Crack, Crack, Crack.

I feel myself breaking down. It gets me in the head, and I’m gone.

I think ‘I have died?’

Fear.

Then I’m gone.

Only. I’m…not?

I…wake up.

Not sure when. …Later. It’s gone now.

I sit up, head aches, confused. Why? Must have thought I was dead, I guess. But, I reach for my gun. It’s gone. Stolen. But everything else is here. My cloth I wear, my head strap I can’t get off, the lighter I picked up. And…an apple?

Confused more, I feel it in the gown pocket, take it out.

Fresh. Fresh apple. Smells…good? I take a bite, because I am hungry. It tastes good too.

Amazing. Usually all I eat is meat from something killed, or maybe old spoils found. Stale chip, can of beans, or if very lucky, these cakes of falling apart breads with sugars in tiny boxes. This is fresh, like it’s not old at all. Pretty, bright red.

I eat it all. Around me, I see the other two get up too. Alive. One takes out a pear. Confused too. I think about fighting him for the pear, but I haven’t finished my apple, and he eats the pear by the time I do. The other has an apple too. We eat. We move on.

-

I see the human again, same day maybe. Later. Far away from the big dome now. It’s leaving one of the smaller houses, full of horrible things. I see it from a distance and don’t know it’s the same one. Just hear fighting. I’m with different members of the group, and they run off. I follow. We see the figure fighting off the snakedogs. It has a big fist, like a saturnite fist, but bigger. It’s punching off their heads. I don’t recognize it. Just the saturnite fist weapon, and that it isn’t one of us. I draw my gun, and start shooting. The other two rush in, hoping to get to it while some of the snakedogs are up, so it will be more overwhelmed.

It sees us coming. I watch its head snap up. See panic through the visor I can’t take off. It hurries to turn, punch a snakedog. The head comes off. Last one. Turns to face the others of my group as they reach it, and I see it let go of the fist. Drop the big, powerful thing on the ground, and swing an empty fist at the one of us with a flaming sword.

Then I recognize it. I think ‘So strange. Lost its good weapon?’ and I remember. I remember, from this morning, and I see it closer and see it has the same long blue coat on, red hat.

I am not mad by the armor this time. I am confused. Curious. Still nervous too. Have to kill it before it kills us. I shoot, watching, to see how it heals. See if it can walk off bullets more. See if it keeps hitting.

It does. Keeps taking out little white…things. Like scissors. Some of me thinks ‘that’s a heal’ but what that means? I don’t know. It is a heal though. Makes flaming knife cuts go away. Good for it, because it takes punishment I couldn’t believe. Hits back with little wrapped fists. Crack, crack, crack. Hit, hit, hit. I hear, I see. I watch my people go down.

I hesitate as it turns, bloody, and rushes me again, breathing hard. I remember to keep firing. It knocks the gun out of my hand and I look down in surprise. Blink. It hits me. I hit back. Panic now. Remember it will kill me. Hit, hit, hit, but it hits harder. I go out.

I think, ‘I died.’

But, I wake up. Again. Before me, the other two are already up. Starting to stand, and looking for weapons gone now. I look for my new gun, sad. Know the thing took it again. It did. But there’s an apple. Fresh. My pocket, again. Pink apple this time. I hold it and smell it. Think ‘where it gets the apples?’ And eat it.

So good. Even better than red apple.

The others have things too. The knife companion takes out a drink. Fights a while before biting off the cap, and drinks it. I am very jealous. Almost jump him for it. Too busy thinking. Other has apple too.

I think hard.

Wonder.

-

I see it again, going to find a new gun. On my way out, I hear guns, and I follow, careful. Haven’t got new gun for me yet. Very hard like that to stay alive.

But, there it is. Blue coat, bright red hat. Tall. I see it shooting snake dogs again. Shooting the skeletons in the suits that help us sometimes. A dog with robot legs jumps it, and it punches that one. Interesting. I am curious.

Once it leaves, I sneak up, look at the dog.

No apples…

I keep following.

I see some of us attack it soon. Another group. I think about helping, but, I want apples. I don’t want to get hit again, though. So, this is my idea.

It hits them, like it hit me. It gets hurt, bad, doing it. But keeps healing. Keeps hitting. And, it wins.

After, it breathes hard. I hear it talking to itself. Sounds like a woman, maybe. Not close enough to hear it well. It spotted me once, so I’m careful now. Still no new gun, you know? Got to be careful.

I sneak little closer though. Watch.

It puts its big saturnite but bigger fist back on, wipes blood off forehead. Walks over to the unconscious bodies it fought, and I see it take their guns, their spears. Leaves bugglegum, leaves a drink, leaves a pear. An apple.

After trading food for gun or knife, it goes on. Once it’s gone on enough, I sneak over. I pick up the stuff it left. I take the gum and put it in my gown pocket. I eat the pear. I open the drink and it hurts my teeth, but it’s worth it. So good! A part of me tastes it, and I want to..cry?

Confused, I stop walking. Look down at it. Drink a little more.

I think ‘sarsaparilla,’ but, I don’t know what sarsaparilla is. Something in me very desperate asks me to know, but I don’t remember. It’s a brown word, and a sweet word. Spicy. A tree? I try, but I know I am wrong. I sit, hold the drink. Drink it slow between two rocks, hidden safe in a shadow. Hold sarsaparilla. There is a word on the bottle. Can’t read it, but I trace it with finger. Think. Girl on the bottle—picture. I almost remember something, but…

It hurts too much. Can’t. Put head in hands, breathe. Pain goes away. I keep drinking. In head, I see a picture of a tree that isn’t there. I sit beneath it in my head. I drink this in my head too, but a different one. It’s a good feeling, but, sad.

I don’t understand why.

Tree smells. Like…sarsaparilla? Brain says ‘pine.’ Not sarsaparilla. But I can’t remember ‘pine.’ Good word. Green word.

I get up.

I keep the apple. I hold it in pocket, and take out to smell. But don’t eat. Saving it. Save the bottle too, to smell. Smells like sarsaparilla and thinking about green pine words.

I chew the gun thoughtful, and try to find blue coat again.

I find her pretty slow this time. So fast! Unbelievable. All the way across the empty, she is sneaking. I run into her—almost for real. See her slide against a wall and hold breath when I almost step on her. I don’t want punched unconscious again. Too much hurt, even for apple. Besides. I have apple. If she sees it, what if she doesn’t leave new one too? So I pretend not to see. Keep walking.

Mutter, like she did alone.

She buys it.

Very proud, I walk around a ways, then sneak back.

Hah!

Worked. Very, very well. She is sneaking off towards the big robots. NO clue I sneak after!

Hmmm…Big robots…

I am nervous. Those will shoot me. I got new gun off a box, but not great gun. Big robots sometimes shoot missiles. Besides, she won’t leave apple on big robots, so nothing to get.

Still, I follow. Too interested now.

I see her checking out already dead robot, poking at stuff. Hm. Closer, I see her wipe forehead, and past bangs, she has head marks almost like mine. But, not one of us… We would be able to tell. Can always tell.  And, she doesn’t act like…? Must be wrong?

Hm.

Some of us hear her poking around. I pull back, and watch her fight in fascination. Some of the big robots hear the commotion as she hits my people off her, and they come running too. Uh-oh, I think, because they will shoot right through us. To surprise, I see her panic too. She looks ‘uh-oh’ at them, and shoves one of us off her. She snags gun off her shoulder, big, long rifle, and shoots a robot. It falls, but two more come. I see one of us take bullets from it and stumble back. She sees too, runs towards the shot man, and moves between him and robot. I see her get shot. She takes it like she does, and shoots the robot twice. It falls. One left. But she pauses, to look back at the man. He’s alive. Confused. And hitting her with his saturnite fist. She grimaces, falls forward, misses a shot at robot, and ignores him. Shoots robot. All three of my kind attacking her are still up, and one shoots her, knocks off aim.

Uh-oh, I think, more worry in the uh-oh. She is not doing as well.

Still, she ignores the man shooting her. Takes shot at robot, using free hand to block a hit from the spear the last member of their group has. Robot goes down this time.

Bloody and relieved, she turns, frantically starts hitting them. Amazed, I watch. She takes down all three.

Bloody, barely able to stand, she huffs. Grabs a chunk of broken concrete, and slides to ground against it. Sits there, tilts head back.

“This is the worst,” she says mournful.

Tired, she raises her wrist. What I thought was another, broken saturnite fist is on her left arm. She raises it. Taps it. I hear sound come out of it. Songing.

I remember…this sound.

Been…I think a long time.

Woman’s voice, but not her, plays from the arm. Says words my ears don’t know anymore. But, says not many words. I like that. Same words keep being said. ‘Night.’ ‘Your.’ ‘We.’ ‘Where.’ ‘When.’ ‘Begin.’

I don’t remember ‘night.’ Don’t remember ‘begin.’ Don’t remember…’when, where.’ I remember ‘we.’ We is…me, plus someone else. Me and someone.

I am proud; I remember.

I never remember.

But I know ‘We.’

She has no we though, unless it is the woman with song in her wrist. Many of us, just one of her.

I listen to the song too. She sings with it, quiet, just a few words. Just the last words, holding the last one long, much longer than the song. She turns off the thing on her wrist, but holds the song word. Then sighs, lets it go.

Stands alone, looks at the bodies.

Odd expression on her face. I wonder with a strange chest feeling, from where I hide in shadows, if she will get angry and crush them under her feet.

She does not.

Takes their weapons, slower than before, wincing as she stoops. Leaves a drink, leaves a cake box, leaves an apple.

-

I follow her for the next two days.

Sometimes, I lose her. She will go in a building, and I will not do that. Too many monsters. She maybe can be shot 400 times. I die if shot 400 times. I do not want a plant to eat me. I do not want to be explosion’d by robot.

Sometimes, she is just so fast, I lose her.

But, she is very loud. Thankful for that. Never lose her for too long.

I eat a lot of delicious apples.

Always keep one on me, too, to look at. To smell.

If I find the drink that smells like green word ‘pine’ and the brown word thought ‘sarsaparilla,’ I drink it, and keep the bottle to smell, replace the last with it.

She does the same thing, always. Will kill snakedogs. Kill robots, kill suits with skeletons, kill scorpions, kill bugs. Kills robot dog if scared. Never kills us.

Don’t know why. Won’t, though. Always takes weapons, always knocks out with wrapped fists, always leaves a little gift.

I don’t know if the gift is trade, or maybe, I think, ‘sorry’? Can’t remember what it means, but it makes sense. It thinks in my head like ‘backing off’ a little maybe. It seems right?

I don’t know for sure. I keep following. Sometimes, if she thinks she is alone, she turns on the song. It is not always that song, but that song she hears the most. It’s the best, because the others are too fast with too much words. That one is slow, very few words, very short, and a word I know. I like to hear it.

A couple times, she spots me, and I have to run away. She doesn’t chase if I do, though, so no more punching. Good, because head still hurts a little from before. Girl punches hard…

Day two, late, she sees me and I run and she calls out. I keep running till I’m far, and check to see if she is watching. She is. Standing still, staring at me. I pause. She crouches, puts out her hands, palms to me. No weapon. I know her fists are weapons though. Very painful.

I watch still, interested. Look back. She calls again, soft. Motions towards herself.

I think she is trying to lure me back.

Too smart, I don’t do that. I keep running, hide.

Sneak back after a few minutes, from a side. Still, she is watching where I went, head tilted.

Strange look on her face. Sad and not sad at same time.

I think about that.

-

Third day.

I see her fight many things.

Robot scorpions (10), many of us (many), big robots (4), different kind of big robot (2), skeleton suits (forgot to count), green plant monster (2, very bad), snakedog (18 maybe).

Good day for me. Lots of food. Found a glowing drink. Maybe saw god after drinking it. Was funny again for a minute too.

Felt very happy.

I like following her. Very interesting to do. Different. I forgot about different. Different is not very safe, but is other things. Like full of food.

She is doing better. Avoids places with big robots mostly now. Sneaks more. Walks on the big pipes a lot, which makes harder to follow her because if I do, she sees me and have to hide. Still, I am better at following now too. Getting pretty skilled.

And then, she gets too close to us.

I don’t realize, because I watch her, not where she goes. But we get close to the cave. To home cave.

I don’t realize, until one of us runs past and sees me, and calls to me a sound I know. ‘Again!’ A call to fight. One of the words we remember.

I stand up automatic at the sound, then blink, see more and more of us. Not just from by me, from past too. Maybe eleven, twelve? So many. She was looking at a box, but hears us coming. Looks up and sees. Tries to run.

She can’t get past. Too many come in from the left side of the big rocks now, and there is nowhere up on the rocks to go. She doesn’t see how many are on my side yet. Starts trying to fight. We push her into a corner. I don’t realize I’ve followed until I’m at the edge of the group, watching up close as she punches one of us unconscious like before.

I am waiting for her to win and waiting for her to die. Different parts of memory both sure of outcome.

I feel nothing.

Just far far away.

Then I am shoved forward. I am close to her, watching. Right on her.

She is scared. Hits me. I fall back, surprised. Two jump her from behind with knives.

I see her heal herself, but too many of us from too many angles at once. We are winning for once.

She tries to push through and run.

Almost makes it, but one of us catches her on fire. Loses sight in the fire, loses footing. Falls. Snaps an ankle when she hits rock below. We go after her like a wave.

I think ‘she is going to die now,’ without anything beyond thought. Then I think ‘I can take all the apples off her if she dies.’

But. I don’t want them that way.

I am sure they will not taste so good if I take them off her pockets.

I am suddenly very frustrated.

If they kill her, the apples won’t be the same at all.

I push forward, push past.

They don’t fight me. We are all fighting her.

I see her struggling. Made it up to one foot. I see the gun at her hip. I see the bigger than a saturnite fist on her belt. I see the spear on her back. Still, she hits with fists. She got some of us, unconscious. But we are still five, and she is trying to heal as I get close.  Jams the little white thing into her side as I reach her. One of the others hits her so hard, he knocks it out of her side, and she cries out. Not a sound like the song. I realize she is about to go down.

She sees me.

I hit her.

She falls, covered in blood from guns and knives and bruises from fists.

I go down on top of her.

The others make sounds. Want to see what she has too. I growl at them and snap, and they back off. They are all hurt from her punches, but she only hit me once. I have my gun.

I look back down at her as they back away, lose their interest.

I try to remember death and unconscious, the way to tell. Heart tells. Heartbeat.

I pick her up from shoulders, put my ear to chest, listen. There is a sound. Brain doesn’t think heartbeat sound, but what other sound in chest is there? Doesn’t matter, I think, because sound is alive. Dead is quiet.

That seems sure to me, so, relieved, I pick up the blue coat woman, and put her over a shoulder.

We are by my home, so I turn. The others ignore me now. I claimed the body, it’s mine. We bring meat home. We bring findings. We bring anything we want.

I pass into the cave, past the graves we put outside, past some of the things we keep. Past a few of the others inside, with their own beds and memories, and special things like my apple and my bottle, but not as good.

Keep walking, far in. Find my little bed. Raised bed, like a table, but soft. I think it was for hospital once, like my cloth I wear. I tap the dolls I hung from the post by the bed. It’s nice to be home.

Set her body on the bed table. Put ear to the chest again to be sure, but it makes its not quite heartbeat sound.

Good, I think, You are alive.

That’s alright then. She will get back up and leave apples. We keep going like before. All will be good.

I felt nervous, but now I feel okay.

Still, after a few minutes, she is still quiet. I listen several times. Chest sound is going. The blood from cuts stopped, but she is not waking up fast.

With time, I get curious. Poke around a little. Don’t go through pockets, because I don’t want to know how many apples. But I remember the marks I saw once, and I push back her hair.

I am right. There are cuts around her head too. I feel for my own. Mine still hurt. She has them, like all of us, and I am excited, then confused. If…she is one of us, why can’t we tell? Why we kill her? Why she fights us? I’m not remembering. We can just tell, with each other, if they are us. She is not. Not sure how I know. But I don’t know why now.

She has our marks though, I think, confused again. Marks, but not us. Strange.

Maybe she is broken.

I can’t remember where we got marks. I try, and shudder. My head says ‘don’t look.’ It scares me. Like the answer will kill me if I look behind the corner to see it. I quit looking.

Instead, I trace the marks on her head.

She makes a sound of pain, and scrunches her face. Her eyes open. She blinks, squints, finds me above her. I tilt my head, forget to be scared of punches. Relieved it didn’t take so long to not be dead.

Behind me, I hear an angry hiss.

I turn, and to surprise, there is one of the others. He gets close, trying to look past me. Sees the girl, and snaps at me. Anger, alarm. Pushes past.

I realize to surprise he is going to grab her.

“No!” I hiss back. Grab his arm, drag him hard to the side and shove back.

He falls, and drags himself up, angry. Others hear, come towards us. See her, start to hiss and shout. Start to try to get her too. I swing at the first who comes, and hit hard with body of my gun.

“Stop you!” I warn in a growl.

She is MINE! Why are they -?!

They do not stop. They come again, try to get at her. Hiss, growl, call out. I shove one, hit another.

“Stop you!” I shout louder. Behind me, I hear the girl move. Look, and see her trying to sit up.

I worry she will hit me too.

A gun crack. I turn, see one of us with a rifle. Look back, worried, as I hear her cry. She is holding an arm. New, fresh blood. No, no, no! She was so close to dead. More hits, she dies! No more anything!

Enraged, I raise my own gun. She will not kill us. I will. I shoot him.

I hit.

The others attack me then.

I shoot, I hit, and I don’t remember. Something gets me, hard, in the head, then another.

I go down.

I think very angry, very sad, it is not fair. Can’t remember why this is cruel. It is not right though. It’s…it’s….

Gone then.

I am sure I am dead this time.

-

But, I wake.

I think, fuzzy, ‘maybe a new apple.’ Feel relief.

Everything hurt.

But, something is good too. …The ground is good. I used to know it. It feels familiar. Like I could sleep here forever maybe.

I try and open my eyes, because that seems okay.

It’s harder than I think. Eyes feel heavy, tired. Head is wrong…er, than usual. Not sure why. Everything is fuzzying, like I am dying from no water, but in a way that feels warm and good. Like dying, if I liked it.

There is light, and as eyes start to work, I see blue coat looking down at me.

I am not so worried, because I know she will just hit me and leave an apple if she notices I am not dead.

I decide that is okay. Watch, stunted, as she moves. She sees me see her then. Stops fiddling with this thing above me, and turns to face.

“Hey,” her voice is soft, like water when I am hot in the sun, cools me, “You’re okay. Just hold still, okay? I’m not gonna hurt you.”

I don’t know the words. I think ‘you’ maybe is me. But not the rest. It feels familiar though. She doesn’t talk like she will bite. I am too fuzzy to care. Just blink eyes heavy, watch her. Something is stuck in my arm I notice, and I wonder if that will hurt me, but it’s hard to feel worried. Hard to feel anything but fuzzy.

“Can’t you do anything?” she asks something behind her.

I don’t know those words. I thought ‘you’ was me. But, she is not looking now.

“Not without a brain,” comes a new voice.

I do feel panic then. She will hit and leave an apple. Anything else kills me.

I struggle to sit up so I can fight or run away.

 So hard to do, and that scares me more.

“No no!” she calls, and I know that word. Not a good one. “Hey, easy,” she says, catching me with her hands and trying to push me back down, “Just calm down.”

Her voice is soft, but I am very scared. I struggle back, trying to see the other voice. I see no one, and that is bad. Could be anywhere.

The blue coat lets go with one hand and taps the thing stuck in my arm quickly. I suddenly feel calmer, almost like I might throw up, but so fuzzy I want to shut my eyes. I try to struggle, but I forget why as the fuzziness gets heavier. After a few seconds, the blue coat’s hand lifts carefully off my chest. I can’t remember why I was getting up before, so I lay still. It seems better there.

“Look,” she says, glancing behind her again, “I will GET you a brain—the right one! But there has to be something in the meantime. He’s not brain dead! He doesn’t act routine. His pockets are full of stuff I’ve left behind. He’s been following me. They all keep keepsakes around. They’re not brain dead, not totally. The connection must at least be marginally existent for them!”

“I can’t help you without his brain,” says the same man voice before. Still, I see nobody. That seems worrying still, but not enough to move for now.

“What about you?” asks the blue coat in frustration, turning in another direction, “Switch—lights!” she adds, sounding excited, “Smart lights!”

“Oh, good idea sweetie!” comes another girl voice. Not the wrist voice, and not blue coat.

Lights switch on around me then, bright, blinding, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

And feel.

Oh my god.

Despair, and horror, revulsion, and agony, hate, terror. I am filled. I can’t speak. I can barely think and stay alive.

I remember. Things I can’t usually understand.

There was a robot. Arms and knives, whirring saws. I was held down, screaming. I remember the vices, the grips. I remember the scoop, ripping out my brain. Metal pieces screwed into my skull.

No, I think. Praying for the understanding to go away.

It stays. It plays and replays. I see other lobotomized people, I see memories of killing. Eating raw meat. Animal. Not a person anymore. Not anything.

I am shaking. I can almost remember. Half remember words, half remember feelings and thoughts. Half remember people. I know I loved them, but I can’t remember what they were, I can’t remember their faces. I see them, then forget them immediately.

I can’t remember my face. I can’t remember my name.

I remember the snapping of greymatter as my brain went out.

I remember things…I remember pieces of things.

I remember the pine tree and pine is a word, not the color green, but I can’t remember what it looked like anymore. Why I loved it.

I don’t know who I am.

“I…I’m already dead,” I whisper. I find words again, and those are them. I feel myself remember how to cry, and I do, because I feel too much despair and terror to keep inside. I have to get it out. I would eject it any way I can.

This is a person, above me. I know that now.

I see her. Try to ask for her to help me, but I don’t know how to fix me. I don’t know what to ask. I don’t know how to explain.

I try, to find the words. ‘My brain,’ I think, ‘please.’

But I can’t. I can’t find the words I think, not as words I can remember to speak. I know what happened, but human words are gone.

I’m dead. I’m a corpse.

“It’s okay,” says the blue coat woman. I see worry in her face. Her hand touches my shoulder.

I spasm with my shaking.

Terror in me, I realize the clarity I have can go away.

I lose my sanity completely.

Terrified, I find motor control and reach a hand to her and grab her arm. “Help me.”

I find words. “Help me help me help me!” I beg. Find the arm with my other hand, cling to her. Try to drag myself up to her and hold on tighter, afraid now she will leave me to be dead again. That she will turn off whatever she turned on to raise me from my grave. “Please please please! Please help me! Help me! Help me! Help me! Help me, please, please, please help me! Please help! Help me!”

I am sobbing. She is answering me, but I don’t hear it past my wails for several tries.

“I’ll help you, it’s okay! I’m going to fix you—I’ll fix you! I’ll help you,” she calls back, and I don’t know the words.

I can only think ‘Help me’—don’t forget don’t forget the words oh please please don’t forget don’t lose them they’re the only words I know to save me. I keep using them. ‘Help me help me help me.’ I am trying to climb up her arms and dig my fingers into her spine so she can’t be rid of me. So I won’t die in the cracks of the ground I’ve been living in. Terrified like I can breathe fear and it is me.

Her arms go around me and she goes down onto the bed with me, wraps her legs and arms around me, buries my head against her chest. Lays her head on top of mine. Holds tight. I cling back. Shaking. Trying to grab more and more and more, until I realize I have grabbed her finally as solidly as I can. My hands still fidget. I plead and plead and plead until I lose my unused voice. I can only hear choked, awful whispers from my throat, but still I try. Finally, past my own dying begs, I hear her making sound back.

I begin to hear it slowly, very slowly, when I can’t hear me anymore.

She clings to me, holding strong, but not crushing. She is saying, “It’s okay.” She says. “You’re going to be okay. I will fix you. I will heal you. You aren’t dead. You’ll be alive again. I promise. It’ll be okay.”

‘Alive again.’

I hear that.

I think ‘again, that’s in the song.’

‘Begin again,’ I know the words now. The meaning.

I feel some kind of clarity. Comfort. Like the song was a promise too. Like the right words.

“Alive again,” I start trying to repeat. I can’t hear myself beyond a hiss anymore, but I try. I try, I try, I try.

She must hear it somehow. She says, “Yes, alive again. I’ll fix you. I promise. It’s okay. Calm down, okay? I can heal you.”

Heal.

I think of the little white…stimpacks, I almost remember. ‘Heal.’

I think of closed cuts.

Heal.

I try to shut my eyes. Try to not cry anymore.

So tired. Maybe I will die from the crying. I worry sincerely then that I might.

“There you go,” she whispers, and her grip loosens, “It’s okay.”

I panic. “No,” I beg, opening my eyes, shaking again, trying to find her face and pull her closer to me, “No don’t go Apple don’t go please!”

I am crying again. I see her face, surprised. Pain. She must be hurt too.

“Don’t put me back please,” I weep, “Don’t make me like I was please please! Do anything! Anything! Don’t break me again, please! Please don’t!”

I think she will cry.

“I won’t.” Her voice shakes.

I am too scared to believe her.

Trembling all along my body, I tug my head against her chest again and try to hold tight to make it hard for her to go. I can’t breathe slowly, and I can’t get enough breath in my lungs. It scares me too. I am afraid it means I am already dying again. So soon.

“No please,” I whimper, “Please Apple. Please. Don’t hurt me anymore. Don’t break me again. I’m sorry. Please. Don’t break me. Don’t kill me again. Please, I want to be a person. Don’t take me away. Don’t. Please don’t. Help me. Please, please. Please. Help.”

“Okay,” she promises, not moving anymore, “Okay.”

She stays a long time. I beg, and cry, and plead. She says words I remember and words I don’t and words I half know, voice soft like the bed, and sad, worried. Kind.

She holds on to me.

I am so exhausted from begging and crying and being a corpse, I lose consciousness finally, after hours.

I’m already dead.

I was the whole time. I just didn’t know it.

-

When I wake up again, I feel heavy. Stiffness like a corpse. I am sure that is what I am now. I am afraid to open my eyes and see it. I know she will be gone. Everything is gone.

But, I open my eyes.

She is still there.

I am curled up on her, clinging. She is quiet, watching me. Awake, and still there. She did not leave me.

“Hey,” she says softly. I stare. “How are you doing?”

I try hard to remember what that means. Makes my head ache to try.

But.

…’am I okay’. I turn the sound into words into meaning. Try to go the other way and turn meaning into words into sound.

“I am alive?” I check worriedly.

She nods. “Yes.”

I think. My voice cracks. “I can stay alive?”

“You will,” says Apple, “I promise.”

I cry again. Pull myself closer to her, worried. “You help me?” I ask when I can make words.

“Yes,” she promises, arms wrapping gently around me, “I’ll help. Don’t worry. We’ll fix you up. Like new. I’m really good at medicine; I’ll make sure you’re okay.”

I try to express gratefulness, but all the words I can think of are ‘We.’ That she called us ‘we’. Me, plus somebody else. Her, and me. Not alone now. Not alone.

“We?” I manage.

“Yes, we,” she agrees, “We’re together now. You’re not alone.”

I try to believe it. Try to calm down. “Two of us?” I suggest.

“Two of us,” she agrees, and there’s something important in her face.

[ink-on-the-brink]

Obsessed Engie x GN Reader ~ Dark Nights Come With A Cost [PT 12]

Chapter Selection

Darkness had fallen on the winter roads, streetlights starting to pop on as the air temperature dropped further. The only thing keeping you warm was your thick coat and moving body, your pocketed hands a reminder that you had forgotten your gloves before you left. However this mild annoyance faded into the background as you took a deep breath in, relishing in the calm silence of the night. You wished you could see it more, though the thought of ever doing so alone felt like a death sentence in itself.

"So, how's your studies goin'?" Dell's voice finally spoke as he ended the silence.

"They are uh...well they're going. You've certainly helped if that's what you're asking," you responded naturally before taking a second to untuck your hands to blow warm air into them.

"Well that's good ta hear. Ya said you were graduatin' this year right?" He asked, his eyes turning over to you. In the distance you heard a small flutter before spotting a bird flying just a little bit past its bedtime.

"Yeah. What about you?" You asked, his face slightly scrunching at the question.

"Me? Well I ain't too sure. Was hopin' ta maybe get a few more studies in before quittin' college altogether. There's a lot ta learn y'know? Though I don't think I'd be doin' it full time. Probably just do it online or somethin'," he responded genuinely, so he was surprised to hear a small snicker from you.

"Right. Because nine PhD's isn't enough," you teased in a lighthearted but slightly mocking tone, quickly catching his attention. Upon seeing the small smirk on your face and a light roll of your eyes he found his own smile growing, seeing that you were now in a better mood than before.

"Well now a man can't know too much can he?" He retorted, only to earn a tsk from you.

"He most certainly can mister Conager. I've seen it with my own two eyes," you responded just before turning to him, a light chuckle falling from him as you did so.

"That's Dell ta you sweetheart," he quickly replied, his brain mildly short-circuiting at having let the nickname slip out. Though the poorly hidden look of minored shock on your face made it almost worth it. It was short-lived as you quickly turned back to looking in front of you. However he was surprised to hear a quiet laugh from you afterward.

"Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it mister Conager?" You emphasized the name this time, taunting him with it. A wide smile broke on his face as you did so, his eyes lighting up at the fact that you felt comfortable enough to be this playful with him. Even with this sudden joy he was also very aware that he couldn't let you get away with this. And, glancing towards the snow that laid on either side of the sidewalk, he knew just what he had to do. He swiftly dipped down, grabbing a handful of it before he stopped walking. You didn't notice for a few seconds, taking those extra needed steps away before you realized he wasn't there and, in almost a panic, you turned around.

Only to be met with a snowball to the chest.

The world paused for a moment, your mind trying to register what just happened. That was before you looked over to Dell, a wide grin plastered on his face and a second snowball in his hand.

"Oh. So we're playing dirty now huh?" You quipped.

"Well s'only fair. Considerin' I asked nicely the first time," with his grin only growing he wound up the second throw. Seeing it coming this time you ducked behind a nearby fence, the packed snow disintegrating on contact.

"Oh, what a gentleman!" You mockingly yelled before picking up a ball of your own, appearing for just a split second from the fence before throwing your newly made weapon. Disappointment was all you felt when it hit the ground.

"Gonna have ta try harder than that!" He retorted, sending another set of white flurries your way, eventually compromising your position. So you went further down the street taking shelter behind trash bins and lampposts as he continued advancing, though not without a few hits of your own. You could never have contained your joy upon having actually hit him, especially as he turned with a feigned look of shock. You found yourself laughing, genuinely full-on laughing, for the first time in years. You had never been in a snowball fight before, yet now you wished you would have grown up doing so.

As this one-on-one middle of the night snowball fight between the two of you continued he began to inch closer and closer, gaining more ground than you could keep between before, eventually, he stood only a little more than an arms length away, snowball in hand as you found yourself without one.

"Seems like you've met the end'a the line," he teased, his small step forward sending you a step back, your hands slightly raised, a pretend mark of surrender.

"Awww come on we can talk about th-" before you could finish your sentence you took another small yet unwise step backward, your balance immidiately lost on a thick sheet of ice that covered a decent chunk of the continuing sidewalk. With widened eyes Dell dropped his snowball, both hands reaching out to catch you, only to lose his own balance. It wasn't even a full second before you both met the earth while just barely managing to keep your head high enough to not hit it on the ice that you both almost comically slid down before coming to a complete stop a few feet down the sidewalk.

Silence enveloped the world for a moment, the shock running through your system before you slowly opened tightly shut eyes, revealing how he had landed on top of you. He went into an immediate panic.

"You alright?!" He asked as he pushed up just enough to not have his full body weight laying on you, leaving inches between his face and yours. You took a few seconds before you allowed a deep breath to fill your lungs, the world coming back to you. Besides having the wind knocked out of you and a bruise that future you would have to deal with, you felt relatively fine. Nothing felt broken at least.

"Yeah, just lost my breath," you finally spoke, his panic dissipating with the response.

"You okay?" You asked with slight breathlessness. He took a second to make sure but besides bruises he was also perfectly fine.

"Yeah. I think so," he answered. There were another few seconds of silence as you further caught your breath before speaking again.

"It uh...might help if you get off," you pointed out, knocking him back to reality as a look of embarrassment took hold. He quickly rolled off to which you finally sat up. You winced, another shock of panic rolling through his system at the sound. Though when nothing came from it he calmed again.

It was then that both of you turned to look at each other, smiles creeping onto your faces before being followed by at first small but soon howling laughter. The both of you shared the same moment of pure joy as if nothing in the world could be funnier than this. Surrounded by cold snow in the isolation of the night, both of you couldn't have felt happier in each other's company.

When the laughter died down and the quiet crept in, peacefulness fell. The stillness was no longer able to produce discomfort around each other. You both locked eyes, your smiles smaller now.

Staring at Dell you felt your worries disappear. Not a single thought of the past crept into your mind while around him, just the joy of the moments he always seemed to bring. And it was then you felt your heartbeat a little faster in your chest, though you quickly explained it away as a slowing of your adrenaline.

You were taken away from this peace when you lost Dell's eyes as he turned to stand. Upon making it to his feet he turned back to you, outstretching a hand.

"Best get back to movin'. Gettin' a lil' too cold out here for my taste," he suggested, his smile still visible. You took his hand to which he pulled you up almost effortlessly.

"Woah!" you exclaimed, surprised at the sudden speed that you were pulled to your feet. His smile fell back to poorly hidden worry.

"You okay?" He asked again, his eyes looking over you for any injury you might not have spotted the first time.

"Yeah no I'm- I'm fine. You're just stronger than you look," you pointed out, your eyes turned to your hands as you brushed off bits of snow and dirt, unaware of the wide grin that showed on his face at the compliment.

"Well movin' metal boxes might do that to ya" he pointed out, to which you nodded in agreement as the two of you continued on with your walk. Though there wasn't much of it left.

Less than ten minutes later the two of you finally arrived back to your apartment and as you did your reality was slowly coming back to you. A few steps away from the complex you turned to Dell with a question.

"It really is getting cold out here. You should uh, come warm up a bit. Wouldn't want you to freeze on the walk back," you offered, your eyes not looking at him even though you had tilted your head his way. Turning to you he almost immediately caught your apprehensive eyes, your wavering smile and tense posture. It was enough for him to know what you were really getting at.

"Sure. Though chances are I probably will anyway," he spoke in a flippant tone, trying to keep the mood light. Something he knew he succeeded in when you couldn't force away the small smile that tugged at your lips.

"Yeah well we can at least make sure you make it to your car as a slushy rather than an ice cube," you responded, another small chuckle falling from him.

Walking into the complex the soft ding of the elevator swiftly caught your attention, your eyes falling into a group of people filing out of it. Not recognizing any of them you continued walking, only noting their matching black clothing and baseball caps. Dell gave a passing hello to the group who didn't so much as turn to him. You were more focused on getting into the elevator though, Dell not far behind. Once he made it in you clicked the button, not noticing how his eyes narrowed towards those you had passed.

"Up we go," you whispered to yourself as the doors slowly closed, both of you soon ascending up the floors. It was quiet again and, though you weren't sure why, something didn't quite feel right. You looked over to Dell, his expression not too different than before, though you noted that he stood a little taller. You gave a smile that he returned but it did little to comfort the sudden unease that you felt. Even as the two of you left the elevator and began your short walk down the hall, silence remained.

Suddenly though you were stopped, Dell ceasing your movements as he laid a hand in front of you. To help come to a sudden stop your hands grabbed his arm, slowing the inertia of your body. Unable to move further confusion crept onto your face before you looked over to him, a suddenly serious stare consuming his features.

"Dell-?"

"Your door's open," he pointed out. Your eyes immediately turned back to the door, utter terror falling on your features when you noticed it was held slightly ajar. Your hands tightened onto his jacket as your stomach dropped. You both didn't make any other move for a long while, instead staring at the door, waiting for anything to leave. When nothing happened Dell then went to take a quiet step forward. Your sudden vice grip pulled him back.

"What are you doing???" You whisper yelled in an obvious panic. He turned back to you, now seeing the fear held in your eyes which only led to his furthering need to keep you safe.

"I'm gonna go see if someone's in there," he stated quietly, though your tightened grip didn't loosen in the slightest

"Are you insane?!? Dell what if- what if there is someone in there!? What the fuck then huh?!" Your voice held deep worry, your eyes now begging him to listen. And in those pleading eyes he found guilt bubble within him as he knew he wouldn't be able to listen. If he learned one thing growing up it was how to deal with scenarios like this and right now he either had to one, call the police (which wouldn't happen in any world what so ever) two, call someone from his family (which he truly did not want to do and would likely seem strange to you) or three, go see what it is. The third seemed like the most reasonable option. After all, it wasn't as if he was defenseless.

"M'just gonna look alright? Ya might'a just left it open on accident. I'll be right back," he tried to calm you with an explanation as he gently pulled away once again. This time your grip only gave slight resistance before you finally let go, instead watching him walk closer to your door from a few feet down the hall.

Making it to the door he situated himself to the side of it, slowly pushing it open and remaining ready to bolt at a moment's notice. The door creaked slightly, the sound almost ear-piercing in the silence. Looking in through the small opening he had made, his eyes widened at what he saw.

Flipped furniture, holes in the wall, shattered glass from sources he couldn't quite identify, flipped chairs and torn apart tables, it was all in a huge mess around your apartment. Curiosity and dread drove him to open the door further, soon finding that everything within sight was trashed, as if whoever did this aimed to leave nothing behind.

"Mary above," he muttered, catching your attention.

"What?" You asked, his head turning to you as his hand moved to his lips, his pointer finger held to silently shush you. You went silent again and so his head turned back over to the door, pushing it open the last bit out of the way and taking slow, hesitant steps in. His hand found its way to his hip as he readied himself for anything that might happen. He continued to slowly walk, staying near places he could quickly duck behind as he scanned for any sort of movement. He continued like this further into the apartment, his senses on high alert. His breathing slowed and his eyes sharpened into icy daggers as he didn't let a single crevice of place go unchecked. What felt like hours to you passed in minutes as he realized there truly was no one here. Even with that comfort his posture didn't change, nor did he let his guard down in the slightest, but he was at least sure that no one was here at the moment.

Unable to take waiting any longer, you slowly poked your head around the corner into your apartment, your jaw dropping and your stomach churning at the sight in front of you.

"What the fuck," you whispered to yourself, both fear and devastation fighting for the expression that fell on your face. Dell looked back, his eyes softening slightly as he saw you look around the room, taking in the damage that had been done. He gave a sympathetic stare. He couldn't begin to imagine what was going through your mind right now. He moved the hand on his hip to make his grip look a little more natural in hopes that you wouldn't notice or draw attention to it as he took a few steps toward you.

"Don't seem like no one's here, though I ain't sure if anyone's comin'," he spoke, the loud echo of his voice in the deathly silent room almost unbearable to his ears. You slowly began to step in, your head turning to look at what had once been your home, now lying in pieces around you. Your eyes welled with tears, the pure sense of loss and weeks of piled-on stress breaking you down further. You didn't look at him, in fact he felt almost as if you had forgotten he was even there as your eyes passed him.

As you moved you began to slowly wander into the kitchen, the heaps of glass under your feet recognized as every breakable item that had laid in your cabinets. Though among the wreck you found that your eyes drifted to the place your photo had been, only to find that it wasn't there. Instead it sat among the shattered glass, its frame ripped apart, its see-through covering lost among the piles of similar material, and the photo barely visible under certain piles of it. You slowly crouched down, carefully pushing the pile away before pulling the photo out only to notice it had been singed. The faces were burnt out, a black color covering most of what was left.

You felt the wet streaks of tears begin to fall down, the overwhelming situation taking you over. You felt almost unable to think, to even fully understand what was going on. All you could register was the destruction of it all.

After a little while Dell followed you into the kitchen, his senses still on full alert. This didn't feel safe. Even in the silence and with no current discernable threats he didn't feel at any sort of ease here. And with that feeling bubbling its way up his body, he knew one thing rather clearly.

You couldn't stay here.

"It's uh..." He started, your face staring at the photo for a second more before turning to him.

He almost couldn't talk once you faced him, the radiating pain of your expression almost silencing him.

You looked so tired. Not the type of tired you get from an all-nighter or a busy social event, no. It was a look of pure exhaustion he couldn't begin to describe. The type you would expect to see when an immovable object finally loses against the unstoppable force.

Yet somehow he was able to eventually find his words, his deep concern and general paranoia winning against his immediate thoughts of falling with you.

"It ain't safe here..." He spoke up, his body standing only a step into the kitchen. You looked back to the photo, its state irreparable and irreplaceable. You eventually sat it back on the ground, knowing that keeping it would be useless. Silently you stood, your arms held against you in a self-soothing hug as your eyes stared at the floor.

"What am I supposed to do Dell? What...what do I do?" You asked, resignation found in a now hollow tone. You were at a loss, completely and utterly defeated. You had given everything you could, there was nothing left in you to fight anymore. There was no spite or anger or even thoughts of self-preservation. You had nothing. No knowledge of when or even why the world had decided you were deserving of this, no power to fight back against it. You were a leaf of pain set to sea in a hurricane. It was inevitable you would be torn apart, your soul splayed in broken pieces the world would forever ignore. How futile fighting had seemed now, how fruitless.

It would have been less painful to have let the storm take you...

Dell didn't move, didn't speak, didn't act. Your voice had explained even when your words didn't. He could only stare as you lost yourself, asking him to solve what you had failed to. He didn't know what to say, what to feel. There was a swirl of so many meanings in your words. To choose one was to choose wrong and to remain idle was to let you fall apart in front of him- but there was no answer! No solution, no problem he could solve. There was nothing he could say, no righteous way to act.

There were only pieces.

"Y/n..." He started, hoping that any words would come to him, that his tongue knew something he didn't. He instead found that it fell dead in his mouth, vowels of answers nowhere to be found. He stepped closer, the glass on the ground further breaking at his feet. You finally looked back to him, streaks of hollow agony flowing down your face. And it was then, with nothing else he could think to do, that he slowly pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you, hoping that he could bring any sort of comfort. That somehow his arms could pull against the waves of stormy sea and find your lost pieces.

You froze a moment, your body tense under his touch. Slowly, almost apprehensively, you returned it. Your arms wrapped around him, your hands soon balling up the fabric of his clothes as you fell into him. You didn't crumble in his arms as you had done before. Not a sob left your lips as you held him. There was nothing left to crumble, nothing more to break. You could only hold on to him in hopes that he somehow held a piece of you with him.

However you didn't find yourself in his arms. Instead your focus fell onto the light smell of oil and pine that surrounded you, the texture of the worn jacket that wrapped him, the natural warmth his body freely gave to you. There was no judgment in his eyes nor annoyance in his hold. He didn't dismiss you, he didn't ask you to pull yourself together, to push your emotions back into the dark void you usually kept sealed. No, he held you. His arms didn't hang loosely or ask for anything from you. He held you. And even as the shattered glass began to resemble your lost will, he held you. He- He felt...

Safe

"S'alright...you're gonna be okay," he mumbled just as he began to rub circles on your back. You squeezed him a little tighter, trying to remind yourself that he was real. That in your desperation you hadn't just imagined such kindness. Afterward you took a deep breath, calming down from the strange state of mind you had been in only seconds ago. His words ingrained in your head, your body relaxing as you took his word for truth, his arms for comfort, his presence for safety.

"Thank you," you whispered back, a response that caused him to relax as well, knowing now that he had somehow helped, if only a little bit. After that realization he slowly pulled away, each other's hands hesitating to let go, but doing so in the end. A few tears had streaked down your face once he did, though you quickly wiped them away, taking another deep breath to further calm yourself. Silence lingered for an extra second, Dells eyes a mixture of unease and worry

"My-..." He started again, his thoughts not fully collected and his apprehension for the idea he was about to propose slowing him down a moment. But with a quick glance at the surrounding area and flashing images of your shattered state, he didn't feel like there was another option.

"My family's got a house 'bout fifteen minutes out from here. We got a couple'a spare rooms. You can stay there for the night if ya need to," he finally offered, an incredibly serious expression on his face. Your eyes once again averted from his as you thought on it, hesitance found in the moment of silence you prolonged.

Then again, it wasn't like you had anywhere else to go.

"Yeah um...If you- If you think they would be okay with it," you accepted, your answer greatly relieving to hear, though the relief didn't outshine the doubt that was beginning to grow in his chest, especially with the words you had chosen to respond with.

"Course...we should get goin' then. S'gettin' a little late and we gotta walk back to get my truck" Dell pointed out to which you nodded along.

The two of you left the destroyed apartment, standing closer to each other than you had previously. Dell looked over to you, only one thought repeating through his head as he did so.

'Ain't no one allowed ta treat you like this'

Next Chapter

[worlds-4th-best-dad]

what made u want to become a policeman?

Heh, well ain't this a funny sight? Just a few weeks ago, I helped conduct a seminar on stranger danger at a local preschool and some of the kids asked the same thing.

Given that you ain't your average five-year-old, I'll fill you in on more details on my road to the force than the sugar-coated one I handed out to them kids.

Well, that's what I would've done if Tumblr hadn't crashed multiple times before I finished it...

And I worked so hard to go into detail too...

Well, anyway, a summarized version it is then.

I really wanted to buy a Gundam model when I was a kid. I earned and saved my allowance into a piggy bank, but it wasn't enough.

I felt cheated and angry so I stole the toy from the store and ran home with it.

I showed it to my mom, who made my dad come over from his paper to see it.

Dad was happy for a bit, before asking questions and ordering me to see the piggy bank.

Dad figured out that I stole it when he felt the bank was full of money and proceeded to beat a lesson into me.

The only reason I didn't get beaten into a fine pulp was my mom breaking the heavy piggy bank over my dad's head and immediately rushing me to the hospital.

Ever since then, my mom was protective of me and my dad slowly distanced himself from us.

His distancing then turned into absences that began with a single day and turning into multiple weeks.

Me and my mom found out that my dad was never coming home when a police officer came over to our house to say that my dad died on the streets.

Apparently, his absences was for his petty theft spree since he lost his job and the money for the family was running dry.

And that's about it. Honestly, looking back on this, I really put a lot of detail in my story that could've been shorter. Can't blame a man from trying, I guess.

Anyway, the important parts of this story that made me want to become a policeman was when my dad beat me till I was black and blue and my mom saving me from entering the Pearly Gates early. I'm sure you understand what I'm trying to tell you at this point, but I'll still say it regardless.

When I was on the floor, bracing my little body from the blows from my dad, that's when I truly felt like my entire world crumbling before me. I felt many things during that harrowing experience. A lot of pain, obviously, but I also felt so small, like I can be blown away in a gust of wind. Yet, I wanted that, an escape from the ruins of my world. To get away from being the poor fool who got caught in the crossfire at the battleground that was once home.

And yet, when I thought I was done for, I heard a smash in the numbing silence and the tinkling of hope. The next thing I knew, the punches stopped and I was being carried off to who knows where before I passed out from the pain.

When I finally woke up from the pain, I was lying in a hospital bed in the Sakurami City General Hospital. My mom wasn't in the room with me, but when I rustled around the bed to get comfortable, she bursted from the door and immediately hugged me, tears in my eyes, and told me that everything was over and no one was going to hurt me anymore.

It was at that moment I knew what I wanted to be. I wanted to be someone like my mom, who risked getting herself beat up to save someone like me, a petty thief in dire need, from people like my dad, who didn't hesitate to become violent at the drop of a hat. After asking my teacher if there was a kind of job like that, they told me that sounds similar to a police officer and the rest was history.

Sorry, for the long story, but I had to get a lot of it out for you to get the full picture.

I hope my answer satisfied your question, Reisuke.

[curlysgirl0202]

WIP:

FROM THE WEST TO THE FUTURE:

The Cowboys Journey Through Time

JOHNNY RINGO AND CURLY BILL CAUGHT IN A 21ST CENTURY TIME WARP.

While outrunning a group of renegade Indians, a blinding light stabs the eyes of Curly Bill and Johnny Ringo and when the dust finally settles into reality, they come to understand they've been pushed through a time warp and become stuck in the present time. They return to Tombstone to see the town unchanged. Except that everyone is half naked (even the women) and unbelievably clean. Will they find a way back to 1881? Will they fall in love? What happens when they meet up with the other Cowboys stuck in our time? How do they find each other and what will their adventures be like?

*I'll be updating at least once a day*

"Ride, Juanito! Comanches!"

A group of renegade Comanches follow the two cowboys at full speed while Curly and Ringo rise faster than they ever have before. An arrow wizzes by Ringo's head, barely missing him and Curly hears the booming voice of the natives behind him.

Suddenly, they see a light so intense, they both cover their eyes while continuing to outrun the Indians hellbent on taking down the cowboys.

Ringo and Curly stop riding, the desert blooms look unfamiliar and strange and a few houses occupy the area.

"What the hell? Where's the desert? There weren't no houses here before!" Curly shakes his head.

Ringo feels a cold chill and looks around. Nothing looks the same. A few people move about the houses and from a distance, the boys can't tell if they're injuns or Mexicans or Union soldiers. They both back up their horses, waiting for the odd looking people to approach them and tell them they're moving on Yankee land. But no one approaches them. Curly noticed there were no horses. Not a single one. Not an animal in sight!

They ride a few more moments, trotting while scanning the desert for something familiar other than the boulders and cactus. A soft breeze whirls around them and they can hear birds singing in the Palo Verde trees, dogs barking in the distance and seeing a row of telephone poles they would swear on the Bible were not there before! The aroma fills their nostrils and the fragrant wild flowers smell delightfully different. Their horses begin grazing on some of the plush green grass that pops up in small pockets on the desert floor. The cowboys continue looking around, hoping to see someone or something familiar. But everything, even the breeze feels very different.

The whirring of a machine echoes in the distance and the two men quickly look at each other, wondering what the hell that could be. They see a man walk around one of the few houses. He wipes his head with a cloth. Then he proceeds to take a green colored hose like object and to the shock of Curly and Ringo, water flows from it. Their wide eyes lock on the scene before them and they ride a little closer. The man waves and the Cowboys wave back. Since the man looks innocent enough, the boys feel they may be able to get some information about where the hell they are.

"Where the hell are the damn Comanches?" Curly bellows. Them boys was right on us! There ain't nothin here they can hide behind! Where the hell are we, Johnny?"

Ringo continues pondering while staring with blank eyes at the scene before him. "There's no Comanches anywhere. And what was that light?"

Ringo's heart drops.

Are we trapped in hell? Did we just die?

"Who are those people?" Curly inquires, squinting his eyes from the sharp sun. Ringo shakes his head slowly. He turns his horse and begins to trot towards one of the small houses and there were only four houses that the two rustlers could see. A small child comes out of one the houses and begins running around the property.

"I don't remember any kids bein' at these camps! Hell, they ain't even dressed like injuns!"

"I don't think they're injuns, Curly. I don't even see a gun in any of them! No horses, no cows, no chickens. Where the hell are we, damnit?" Ringo brays.

"So, they ain't carrying firearms and they're living out here?"

Curly Bill and Johnny Ringo continue to watch what seems like a pleasant scene. They didn't hear the battle cries of Comanches or hear and firearms going off. They continued scoping out the area, watching from all sides. A dirt path winds towards where the houses sit about fifty yards away. Boulders frame the area and trees stand around the path.

Suddenly, two little girls approach the rustlers. Dressed in unrecognizable attire and wearing shoes that sparkle with stones.

"Who are you? Can we pet your horse?" One of the girls asks.

"Please? Our daddy said it was ok!"

"Where's your daddy?" Curly asks. "He lets you talk to strangers before he does? He must have a lotta trust in this wild country!"

The girls look at each other and giggle. "Can we pet your horse?"

"Well," Ringo begins. "Do you live at this camp? Comanches giving you trouble?"

"What are coman cheesers?" One of the girls asks. The two continue smiling.

"You see any injuns out here? Did you see some riding around here just now? There was a whole bunch of em! Did you see where they went?"

The girls look at each other and shake their heads slowly. They appear so clean and sparkling barrettes nest in their hair. Curly Bill and Johnny Ringo couldn't believe how clean the girls were.

The girls run away, holding hands and laughing. Curly and Ringo look at each other.

The men ride slowly towards one of the houses. The road changes and it's a black street instead of dirt. A man without a hat on, wearing jeans, sandals and a dress shirt without a tie comes towards them from the house. The two little girls come out from behind the house and begin running back to Curly and Ringo who still stand with confusion running through their minds. Like the little girls, he was remarkably clean.

"Hi there, fellas!" The man says. "My daughter said something about warning us about comb cheese? I apologize, they may have said it wrong." He pats his daughters on the head. One of them looks up at her father. Her blond hair up in braids and like her sister, wasn't wearing a dress. In fact, they seemed to be in their bloomers! Tight shirts with gemstones on them and butterflies and the pants they wore were above the knees. Ringo wondered how the father would let his cute daughters dress like that with wild Indians in the area. But come to think of it, there wasn't an Indian in sight.

"Have you seen any Comanches anywhere?" Curly Bill asks, looking around."

The man, who stands just under six feet starts chuckling. He puts his hands on his waist and shakes his head. "Not that I've seen. Just a few of us live here now. Where are you boys from?" The man looks inquisitively. Curly and Ringo look at each other.

"Tombstone."

"Is there a wild west show?" He wonders. "I heard it was cancelled!"

"Wild West show?" Ringo ask.

"Yeah. That's why you're dressed like that? I have to say those costumes look very authentic! Love the spurs and six shooters too. Those aren't real bullets are they?" The man asks, walking in between the horses.

Our costumes?

Ringo thinks to himself. His heart pounding and his mind racing, he finds himself at a loss for words and his confusion grows with each passing moment. Everything seems so.... Peaceful.

"Well, we don't fire these pistols at anyone we ain't got no beef with," Curly responds, his horse backing up a bit.

The man starts laughing again. "You even sound like you're from the wild west!" The man slaps his knee. This causes the two rustlers to grow increasingly uneasy. Things seem peaceful, but odd. The man seems to keep talking about them in the past tense.

"We ain't green horns," Curly remarks. "We're seasoned cowpokes and we drive cows from Arizona to Mexico or Colorado to Texas. I don't see no animals here," Curly mentions.

"Oh, I see!" The man answers. "I guess I got confused. Well! Do you ever entertain like, oh who was that guy," the stranger snaps his fingers, trying to think of the name. "Buffalo Bill!"

Ringo, trying not to sound completely aloof nods and answers, "sometimes we do pistol tricks or teach people how to rope."

"Cowboys and entertainers! I love how you talk. You do lots of shows?"

"Sure," Ringo responds.

"Can I pet your horse?" One of the girls asks. She moves closer to the boys. Her soft brown hair is pulled into two ponytails and her big brown eyes stir the hearts of the two rustlers.

"Ok," Ringo answers. Confusion on his once unreadable poker face. He and Curly keep looking at each other and then all around, growing increasingly uneasy.

"Who else lives around here?" Curly Bill asks.

"Well, I just bought this piece about three years ago. We moved from Chicago after my wife passed. Just a few homes here. Mine and three others. It's not so bad. Definitely a change of scenery from Chicago. Hotter! Well, it's nice to see other people out here!"

"Yeah, our mom got sick and she died," the girl with the brown hair mentions. "i like your horse!"

Ringo smiles. The girl with the blonde hair starts petting Curly's horse and Curly feels a sense of peace. The girls look at the rustlers with adorable faces and sweet smiles.

"As you can see this is really an up and coming community like Murrieta in California," the man continues. "Not much here now and only a few of us live here." The stranger lowers his head. He's such a friendly fellow and that intrigues the cowboys. He doesn't look like someone worried about wild Indians. "We're hoping after another five years, we'll have a real town here."

"It don't look like no boom town," Curly remarks. This causes the man to begin laughing.

"You really take your parts seriously. You'll be a hit!"

Curly's mind bends into a state of confusion so intense, he begins to feel dizzy and shakes his head as if to ward the feeling off.

"Who are you?" Curly asks.

"I'm Larry Fields and these are my daughters, Jessica and Marin."

"I'm Curly Bill and this here is Johnny Ringo."

The man claps in applause. "I've heard of them. So that's who you're playing in the show? You're free to practice your act on us!"

"What act?" Ringo asks, his face turning red with frustration. "Oh, uh.... maybe. We're hoping to meet some other boys. Thinking about heading to Texas for work."

"Cowboying is some job and it's still around I think it's great you take it so seriously. Are you just out for a ride?"

"Yes. You could say that," Ringo answers, uncertainty in his voice.

"Well, I heard the show was cancelled since some of the actors came down with Covid."

"Covid?" Curly Bill asks slowly. What in the hell is that?"

The man smiles again. "Method actors, huh? Would you like to come inside and enjoy a latte? I've never met a real cowboy before!"

A latte?

"Tombstone, that's not far from here. So you must be here for a wild west show. We've been there a few times. Watching actors play out cops and robbers dressed like the Earps and the Cowboys!"

At this point, the minds of these cowboys begin to spin into an unfamiliar dance of wonder. Why was this man talking about actors playing parts from the past?

Nothing looks like it did before and why is this man asking about wild west shows? Thoughts of what could be the cause of the sudden change in reality flood their heads and stabs at their perception. The friendliness of the strange man, the absence of animals, the cleanliness of the man and his daughters.

"Well, where do you stay when you're doing your shows?" The man asks. His hair, blonde like his daughters looks freshly washed and he's clean shaven with bright blue eyes. He didn't appear to possess the same grit they usually see in other men.

Not knowing what to say, they just nod.

"Do you want some cookies? We made cookies!" One of the girls announces. Her father smiles. Suddenly, a medium size golden retriever comes running towards them.

"Toby!" One girl shouts, turning her attention to her dog. "This is our dog, Toby."

The men tip their hats.

"Well, come on in, fellows. Let's have that latte."

Curly Bill and Johnny Ringo enter the modest, three bedroom house. Beige, lush carpet blankets the floor and a small kitchen rests to the right of the front door. A small table with six chairs sits in a corner and a vase of freshly cut wild flowers lounges on it. A painting of apples hangs over a sink that doesn't seem to have a pump, but there's clearly a faucet. On the other side of the house, a flat, black rectangular object hangs on a wall. One of the girls grabs a black contraption and the black turns to a colorful burst of wonder. A window of moving pictures race across the rectangle and music the rustlers have never heard before begins playing. Words and colors fly across this mysterious window and it feels as though they are right there.

Ringo moves closer and his eyes, like Curly's grow wide with curiosity. People move about on the screen and Curly touches it as if it's a window, but he just taps it and the people in the window don't appear to see him. Curly looks around to see who's talking and looks behind the rectangle. "Who are you? Do you know where we are?" Curly and Ringo feel like ghosts, unable to be seen by the people and even the animals in the window. Phrases burst from the weird looking people in the window and Curly Bill and Ringo can't understand because they're talking so fast. They hear bits and pieces of sentences such as:

"Fix your credit!"

"An easier way to buy a car!"

"Need a vacation? It's affordable now!"

"Suffering from insomnia? Talk to your doctor about..."

*Side effects include..."

The boys stand, their mouths agape.

"What in the hell is this?" Curly whispers. "What are they saying?" Curly feels like he's dreaming and hopes he wakes up in his comfortable and familiar cowboy camp.

"We need to know where we are!" Curly barks at the man on the window screen. "Can you hear us?" Curly shrugs with frustration and feels queasy from the constant movement on the screen. His stomach feels nauseous.

He looks into the rectangle and everything moves so quickly and the voices speak so fast, saying phrases and words that almost seemed like a foreign language.

"What the hell are they saying? Why can't they see us?"

Curly begins getting dizzy watching the screen. The boys see dogs in the window and call for them, but like the people, the dogs can't see them either. The little girls laugh.

Ringo looks over at the odd screen and can understand a few words here and there. High pitched singing fills the room and colorful orbs seem to burst and pop in the window. They cannot comprehend what the hell this device is and why can they see people and animals, while they appear invisible?

"Here we are, boys. Three lattes. Let's go in here so the girls can watch TV."

Marin, the older of the two girls brings a plate of cookies over to where Ringo and Curly are.

"We made these with daddy!" She announces as she skips back to the couch to watch the mysterious window. Ringo and Curly both take a cookie and munch it. A clean and refreshing aroma surrounds them; it's the cleanest place they've ever been in. A fresh and citrusy smell combined with the freshness of flowers floods their nostrils and fills them with comfort even though they feel they must be dreaming.

Ringo and Curly sip the warm beverage and it tastes like sweet, creamy coffee. They lick the foam off their mustaches. It's unbelievably delicious.

"What you say this drink is?" Curly asks, sipping it quickly.

"Lattes! Not too many Starbucks on a cattle drive!" Larry says, sipping his drink slowly.

Ringo was tempted to ask about this person Starbucks, but feels awkward not knowing anything about where they are.

Hell wouldn't smell this clean or be this bright!Ringo thinks.

Maybe we took a wrong turn while riding, maybe the Commanches fired a poison arrow that causes hallucinations? Maybe I'm just dreaming...

"So, when does the show start? Larry asks.

"What show?" Ringo asks.

Larry smiles. "Will it be in Tombstone?"

Ringo simply nods and both cowboys grow anxious to be somewhere else, somewhere familiar. A rough and dirty cowtown would feel more welcoming than this.

"Glad we got to meet! There's not It sure is nice meeting you both. Too bad my wife isn't here. I think she would get such a kick out of you two! She always enjoyed western movies or books about the wild west! A different time back then?" Larry sips his latte and takes a cookie.

Back then? Ringo thinks...

"I'm guessing you stay at the hotel in Tombstone?"

"The hotel is there?" Curly asks. "The Grand Hotel?"

"Sure!" Larry answers. "It's nice that Tombstone hasn't changed much. Still looks the same as it always did. It's a fun place to spend the day. My wife used to like Big Nose Katie's saloon."

"You know Kate?" Ringo asks.

"Not personally," Larry winks. "But there's a saloon named after her!"

Curly and Ringo finish their coffee, desiring more of that scrumptious drink, but want to leave and find out what the hell is happening. They stand up and head for the door. They turn and look at the odd window and spectacular bursts of pink and purple flow with strange little characters that appear like drawings that move and speak. The voices of these creatures deliver a sweet and soft sound and the music feels soothing.

Ringo sees a newspaper on the counter near the sink. He takes it and looks over at Larry.

"Oh, keep it! All nonsense anyway."

"Thank you for the coffee," Ringo says, tipping his hat.

"You're welcome. Anytime."

Curly and Ringo leave, mount their horses and gallop off. Ringo looks all over the newspaper.

"Where the hell are we, Juanito?" Curly asks, sharply.

All the blood drains from Ringo's face and he looks at Curly, his face white as a ghost.

"What the hell, Juanito?" Curly shouts.

"It's not where we are...

It's when."

Ringo's signature poker face has gone and Curly Bill can see for the first time, genuine fear in Ringo's eyes. Curly takes the paper.

"What am I looking at, Johnny?"

Ringo points to the date:

March 20, 2023...

Curly's heart sinks..

Ringo sits on his horse with a frustration so intense, he feels his heart swell and his face grows hot. He wants to ride as fast as he can, see that light and go back to 1881.

Both rustlers spurred their horses and bolted through the desert, hoping their speed could recreate that blinding light they saw just before they flew through the time warp. They rode for several minutes, slapping the backsides of their horses to get them to run at that same flight, but no light showed and the horses were getting tired.

"Shit! We're stuck here! Feels like a damn nightmare! We ain't got nothing or no one to help us! What the hell are we supposed to do?"

Both men remain quiet for several moments, taking in the reality that they are very far from home.

"I wonder what Tombstone looks like," Curly shrugged.

"Let's go find out." Ringo says, his voice is still as the air. "That man Larry said it's the same."

"Well, wouldn't that be something?"

They ride into Tombstone and feel somewhat elated that the town looks surprisingly the same. More shops have been added, but the Oriental still stands, along with the Golden Nugget and they see the famous Bird Cage theater.

"Damn, Juanito. It ain't like it used to be! There ain't hardly any cowboys here! Fact, there ain't no cowboys here. I see families. Everyone here is dressed in their damn bloomers! I ain't never seen men wearing pants above their knees and damn sandals! Hell, they ain't worried about rattlers or scorpions I guess."

"I need a drink, Bill. Clear out heads."

"Let's see what the Oriental is like in, what the hell year are we in?" Curly scratches his head.

"2023."

"Well, shit! I'm glad to see people never tore this town down." Curly says, securing his horse to the posts that still stand outside the famous saloon.

When they enter, they see more people wearing their bloomers and Curly just wants to see a man wearing chaps or boots with spurs. All the patrons begin clapping and Curly Bill and Ringo look at each other and then look behind them, wondering who the odd people are applauding.

"Hey! Here they are! You're from the wild west show!" The men start hooting and holding up their drinks. Ringo and Curly feel a bit important and feel their best strategy was to simply be honest and that they were in fact seasoned jackaroos who drive cattle since cattle driving is still around in the 21st century.

Some of the women look stunningly gorgeous. Hair that shines in the light and looks as soft as butter. Luxurious, lovely locks that flow freely. Long, delicate eyelashes frame wonderfully made up eyes that sparkle, with perfectly done make up. They also seemed to wear very little clothing and some of them were showing their legs! Curly Bill and Johnny couldn't take their eyes off of them. They appeared like goddesses sitting there, sipping wine.

Curly Bill and Ringo tip their hats and that causes the beauties to smile. They start playing with their glamorous hair and smile, showing beautiful, white teeth.

"We're so bummed the show was cancelled, but at least you're here to make our trip a little more authentic!" One of the patrons states. He stands, a little taller than Ringo, wearing a blue T Shirt with the words, "One Cool Dude." Like some of the other men, his pants are cut above the knees. The cowboys believe the weather is too much for these green horns and they don't wear tenacious shirts like cowboys do. The man's green eyes dance in the light and his eyebrows and hair appear perfectly trimmed. He's holding a bottle in his hand and standing next to a few other dudes who are dressed in similar clothing and like the man with the blue T-shirt, they look cleaner than anyone the cowboys have ever seen. Curly Bill and Johnny felt awkward and dirty standing near these clean shaven men.

Them duds wouldn't last a day on the range, Curly thinks.

Another tall man, at least wearing long pants stands and calls for the bar dog. Much to the cowboys surprise, the barkeep looked just like Milt; wearing the same white shirt and apron and he's sporting a mustache similar to theirs.

"A round for these boys!" The stranger says. "I'm Dave and you'll never pay for a drink in this town!" All the people start cheering and whistling and Curly Bill and Ringo can't decide what to do.

The man called Dave has brown eyes and a full beard that looks freshly trimmed. He's almost as tall as Curly and Ringo and looks stocky with large, muscular arms. His dress shoes look newly polished.

"I invested some dough in Tombstone real estate. I'm looking to add to this town. Bring in some more outside business. What are you boys drinking?"

"I'll take a beer and a shot," Ringo answers.

"I'll take the same," Curly grunts. They all move to the bar and have a seat on the stools. Curly looks around and can almost hear the sound of Campton Races playing in the piano while rustlers, businessmen, cattle ranchers and other types drank and played faro. Damn, if only he could see a familiar face! He closes his eyes for a few minutes and recalls moving through this crowded saloon to quench his thirst for rotgut whiskey and faro or poker. He can almost see Milt pouring drinks, cowboys getting rowdy, whores moving about, showing their merchandise, the back parlor where pretty ladies would sing and the distant sound of gunfire. One thing he didn't miss was the stench. Curly Bill can remember that ferocious odor that permeated the saloons that lacked ventilation or even insulation and so it was biting cold in winter and scorching hot in summer. And he didn't see communal towels for men to wipe their mustaches and beer foamed beards. The aroma whirls around the two rustlers and they can't imagine going back to when places like this stunk of horrific body odor, horse shit and bad whisky. The cleanliness was something both welcomed. They both wanted to take baths and have their clothes laundered, but felt awkward asking about things like that.

More half dressed people walked in and following them, a man wearing cowboy attire strode in. Curly and Ringo could tell he wasn't a seasoned cowpoke since his shirt and pants didn't sustain the tenacity of a real cowboy's duds.

"Howdy, everybody!" The cowboy declares. "Whiskey's on me!" He takes his jacket off and starts drinking with the other patrons.

Curly Bill approaches the cowboy in disguise.

"What outfit have you rode with?" Curly Bill asks.

The stranger laughs and Curly Bill and Ringo wonder why people laugh when they say certain things.

"I'm not really a cowboy. I just dress like one when I come to Tombstone. I'm not a part of the wild west show, but my girlfriend says I look cute in cowboy garb."

"Damn! Check out those guns! Where the hell did you get those? I didn't know you could buy those anymore!" One the men says. Curly Bill, who is usually never at a loss for words, suddenly doesn't know what to say.

"We've moved cattle a time or two," Curly Bill remarks.

"So, you're real cowboys?" The man in the blue T-shirt asks.

Ringo nods.

"That's awesome! I'm Chuck!" Says the green horn cowboy. "Nice to meet you both! Why'd you say you were in the wild west show?"

Curly shakes his head. "Well, we ain't! We just moved a herd of cows from Texas. We're off for a little while."

"Is that a seasonal job?" One of the women inquires, twirling her dark hair. Curly can't believe she's talking to him. But her eyes fall over the old cowboy and he swears he's never seen women so damn gorgeous. The ladies he thought were lovely like Josephine Marcus, Red or Sad Sally from the Dead End saloon. But now it seems he can't even remember what they look like. Every lady Ringo and Curly see appear more beautiful than the previous. A heavenly array of unbelievably pretty women.

Curly moves a little closer to her and the glitter makeup causes her eyes to sparkle and dance. Her full red lips part as she gazes up at him.

"Well, we don't drive during the winter months too much. But come spring, we'll be real busy again."

"Hey, what are your names?"

Curly Bill and Ringo look at each other.

"I'm Bill Graham and this here is John Ringold."

"Howdy there, fellas!" Chuck announces. "This is so fucking cool! Having real ass cowboys here!"

Ringo's face grows red.

Swearing in front of ladies!

Ringo would have liked to deck the guy for disrespecting the women, but thought better of it. They had no way of knowing what to expect and did not have a clear understanding of the social norms. People seemed friendly and jovial and relaxed. And none of them were carrying pistols.

"I'm Bob," the man in the blue T-shirt says, holding his hand out for the rustlers to shake.

"Tombstone was a wild town back in the day! Damn, wouldn't that be something to be alive back then?!" Bob sips his beer from a small bottle.

"Tombstone was queen of these boomtowns," Johnny Ringo answers. "Sho'ly a bit more refined than Dodge."

The ladies smile and giggle, thinking the cowboys are amazingly brauny.

"Yeah, I heard Dodge was like the worst place!" Bob finishes his beer and waves for the bar dog to give him another. "But, we've got some fucked up gun laws."

Curly Bill and Ringo wish the man would stop swearing, especially in front of women.

"What do you mean by that?" Ringo thinks out loud.

"We need stricter laws so kids don't get shot to death at school!" Bob shakes his head. "I'm not downing having guns, but military assault rifles? Who the fuck needs those?"

MORE SWEARING! THIS IS HOW PEOPLE TALK IN THE FUTURE? Ringo rages in his mind.

"Times sure have changed since the days of Wyatt Earp," Bob declares, pretending to be pulling a pistol. He chuckles and says, "Hey, I'm Wyatt Earp, mo fos!" He sticks his tongue out and continues his charade. "Gimme yer pistols, feller or I'll fill ya full of lead!" He looks over at Dave and a few others and they all begin laughing.

"You know about Wyatt Earp?" Curly beckons.

"Of course!" Dave shouts. "Guy was a freakin' idiot!" Dave, Chuck and Bob clink their beer bottles together.

Curly and Ringo chuckle and want to hear more about what these modern day people think of the Earps and the conflict between the Earps and the Cowboys. Curly feels amused and enjoys hearing the boys bash his old rival.

What has history had to say about us and what happened to us?

"What makes you say that?" Curly inquires.

"Going up against Curly Bill Brocious and those others! Now that guy was a force to be reckoned with. Anyone would be a fool to call out a man like Brocious. That dude was bad ass!"

Curly Bill stands with his arms folded. He flicks his tongue as he does when amused by something. He begins to guffaw loudly, causing the patrons to laugh along with him.

"You think so?" Curly grunts.

"Fuck yeah! I wouldn't go up against Brocious. That dude was so cool! Rumor was, he could shoot rabbits running from 20 yards away! I wouldn't mess with a guy like that! Too bad there's no photos of him. Just a few drawings that aren't very good!

"What about Doc Holliday?" Ringo inquires, his heart racing, waiting to hear.

"Loser!" Dave and Bob say in unison. This causes Ringo to smile and he even lets out a laugh which causes Curly to look over in disbelief. Chuck sucked back his shot and started on his beer. He laughed along with the others.

Bob holds up his hand with his palm flat and Dave slaps Bob's hand with his open palm. A gesture the rustlers have never seen, but enjoyed watching.

Bob starts walking like a refined gentleman. "Yeah, I'm Doc Holliday. I quit being a dentist so I can spend my life cheating at poker and avoiding my health!" The two men clink their beer bottles together and laugh.

Curly Bill looks at Ringo, whose eyes are wide with delight and curiosity. He laughs under his breath. He's clearly amused by the two 21st century men. He's almost afraid to ask,

"what about Johnny Ringo?"

He decides to wait.

"Another round!" Dave shouts.

Curly Bill and Johnny feel a bit more comfortable drinking with the men they just met and are eager to ask more questions about Tombstone history.

"Hey! There's more cowboys!" Chuck announces standing up and ordering more drinks for everyone.

Curly Bill and Johnny Ringo look out the window.

"I'll be damned..." Curly whispers.

Ringo looks out and his heart lifts when he sees the Clanton's, McClaury's, Barnes, Cruz, Stillwell and Indian Charlie all riding together, walking slowly through town, looking confused and out of place. They dismount and secure their horses to the posts that still stand after all these decades.

"Hold on a minute," Curly growls, finally feeling the effects of the whiskey and beer, which is the best tasting he's ever had in his life. He exits the saloon and Ringo follows.

"Ike? Billy?"

Ike and Billy turn and see Ringo and Curly and gaze upon their friends as if looking at a mirage. The other Cowboys mouths drop.

"Curly Bill! Johnny Ringo!" Ike announces.

"Hey, do you know what's going on?" Ringo asks.

Ike shakes his head.."We was being chased by them injuns! You and Ringo disappeared! We saw a light that almost blinded us boys! Next thing we knew, everything was changed!"

"We met some people along the way," Billy Clanton swoons.

"Yeah," Ike responds. "Have you seen the women around here? I saw a lady's ankles!" Ike blushes.

"Well, I saw a lady's legs and her arms too!" Stillwell brags.

Curly Bill smiles. The best part of this new world they were experiencing was the women.

"Everyone's in their bloomers!" Frank McClaury chuckles. Men wearing pants above their knees!" The men start laughing; they couldn't help but find it incredibly funny that the men dressed like that since none of the cowboys would be caught dead wearing sandals and pants above the knees!

"What about money?" Ringo asks. "We don't have any!"

"No, we do!" Ike announces. "Everything changed, even our money. Look!" Ike pulls out bills that look unrecognizable.

"What's this? Where did you get this?" Curly asks.

"Check yours!"

Curly Bill and Ringo take their money out and sure enough, the bills are modern cash. "How the hell?" Curly muses. He counts over six hundred dollars, money left from the stage they robbed.

Ringo pulls his money out and like the other boys, it's completely different. "I'll be damned...This just keeps getting stranger."

"There's the Oriental!" Billy Clanton bellows. "Damn! It ain't no different. Everything here looks the same cept folks ain't dressed. Everyone smells so damn clean!"

"We stink boys!" Curly guffaws, almost feeling like he's back in 1881. "Let's get to the hotel and see about some baths!"

The Grand Hotel still stood, except more rooms added. They enter and the hotel clerk is dressed in 19th century fashion. His mustache curls up.

"Howdy, gentleman. How many rooms?"

"About 5. We can sleep two in a room." Curly states.

Upon receiving their keys and fresh towels, they head up to their rooms. Another sparkling clean area with that wonderous citrus aroma.

A laundry area was just outside the hotel, but was filled with machines instead of large baths of hot water.

Ringo figured out to use these odd machines and the boys spent the better part of the afternoon cleaning themselves up. They also visited the barber shop and had their mustaches, beards and hair trimmed. Later that day, while the orange sun melts behind the mountains in the distance, they feel ready to experience this 21st century Tombstone.

Curly Bill walks in front with Ringo strolling right by his side. The warm spring breeze washes over them like a mid day bath and they tip their hats to the tourists wandering through the streets. The gang of Cowboys start to feel a hot blooded ache in their souls and almost wish the Earps were there to try to take their guns away just for fun!

"I'm wanting to see more ladies!" Ike whines. "Damn, these women look like nothing I ever saw!"

Billy Clanton looks over at his brother with Cheshire Cat grin and nods his head.

"Let's head to the Crystal Palace and see what those girls are like," Curly growls.

Ringo looks forward, trying to grow more acclimated like his fellow gang members. Although he too appreciated the beauty of these goddesses, his fear and guilt seem to overtake him. He can imagine the soft, sparkling liquid eyes gazing upon him, desiring to please him. But these women resembled pictures he'd seen in fairy tale books or like the China dolls he'd seen in toy stores. They appeared almost...

Untouchable.

Just to stroke their glowing skin could send Johnny into such a bath of delight and wonder and he feared he could never please or pleasure any of them.

He could see his fellow Cowboys, strutting through the streets, people giving them modern day gestures the boys didn't understand, but seemed to know the meaning behind these gestures. These 21st century people provided a friendly atmosphere and they all seemed excited about having the Cowboys around, although they had no idea these men just flew through a time warp. Ringo still entertained the thought that the Indians struck them with arrows that caused hallucinations or perhaps a very deep sleep and that soon he would awaken back in 1881.

While the sun begins to creep behind the mountains that frame Tombstone, people begin filtering through town. The Cowboys see families going in and out of the various shops and single men and women hustling about, looking for some fun. The boys seem amazed at the feeling of the town and that it appears so unchanged. The streets still dirt, are lined with new establishments and older ones. Curly Bill wondered if the Dead End saloon was still standing on the other side of Allen Street. At this moment, they didn't care; they were free from the yoke of the law that pursued them and the modern day people didn't appear to have any fear of bounty hunters and wild Indians. Everyone enjoyed themselves.

As they strolled through the 21st century town, they noticed a few greenhorns wandering around. It was clear to the boys, these dudes were never in a cattle drive. But they embraced the familiarity.

The boys enter one of the newer establishments, Big Nose Kate's saloon. They moved through the batwings just like in the old days, commanding the attention of every man and woman in the room.

A few men hoot and whistle and the women stare at the boys as if they've never seen a man before.

"Hey, it's cowboys!" One man shouts. The stranger stands just under six feet, a round face with a full beard and dark eyes. His large hand held a beer while he shook the hands of some of the other boys.

"Howdy, fellas! I'm Mike. It's so cool to have real cowboys here!" Mike finishes his beer and orders another. "What's it like being a real life cowboy?"

"It's a dirty job that don't pay well!" Stillwell remarks. "It ain't a job for no tenderfoot neither."

Mike smiles. "Let me introduce you to some other dudes.

Mike introduces the boys to a few other men.

Marcus, the tallest of the group stood a little taller than Ringo. His clean shaven face and stoic features gave him an almost regal appearance. His blond hair fell just below his shoulders and his piercing blue eyes seemed cold.

Next they met Simon, a shorter man with a stout body and his fave adorned with an uneven beard. His brown eyes danced in the light, his disposition a little friendlier.

Matt, a short fat man with baggy pants and a shirt that was not tucked in nods at the boys, his brown eyes friendly.

A few other men come in, wearing dress pants and fancy shirts that wouldn't last a day on the range. A few wore boots that looked new and did not have the tenacity of a real cowboy's clothes.

The Cowboys begin engaging in small talk, mostly answering questions about cattle driving.

The Cowboys begin experiencing hunger pangs and start asking where to find the best eating establishments. They have one more round with their newfound friends and leave the bar to find a restaurant. They strut through town while it continues getting dark. The town doesn't have the sound of pianos in various saloons, the jingling of spurs, the neighing of horses or the clinking of the blacksmith iron. In a way, they long for that familiarity and a sense of adventure, but everything in this new time period felt almost dull to them. They hadn't entertained the idea of venturing out of modern day Tombstone and the uncertainty of life in this new time period begins to weigh a bit.

What else are there we boys haven't seen? There's gotta be more in this new space.

Their focus shifts and they go into a restaurant called, "The Chuck Wagon Grill." When they enter, they see a bar similar to that of the one at the Oriental. The same mahogany wood appeared in all the bars and other establishments. Tables with black and white tablecloths and booths. The waiters all dressed in black suits and long aprons moved about, carrying trays of drinks and hot meals. People look over at the cowboys. Some laugh and others lift their glasses. The place embraces an elegance the boys aren't used to.

A stunning looking brunette, wearing a pink and black dress that showed off her curves walks over quickly. All the Cowboys take their hats off.

"Howdy, ma'am," Curly Bill says, holding his hat and feeling a tingling in his groin he couldn't resist. He still can't believe how beautiful these women are.

"Right this way, please." The boys follow her, not taking their wide eyes off her curves. The large restaurant looks busy and Curly and the others can see some people snickering at them while some of the other patrons smile.

The men are seated at a large table.

"I'll take a beer," Ike says shyly, not taking his eyes off the hostess. He can feel his face turn red when she smiles at him. He notices the curves of her breasts and imagines kissing her right there. Ike continues staring at her until Ringo nudges him. Ike snaps out his trance while the other cowboys laugh.

"Your server will be right with you," she smiles.

They all watch her head back to her station. The only man not reacting was Ringo, who once again saw these angelic beings as untouchable delights.

TO BE CONTINUED...

I've got major writer's block on this!!!

[bungajurang]

But even at our swiftest speed, we couldn't break from the concrete.

"I can't expect you to be honest or to be faithful every day 'til the end. I just need you to be always a friend. You and I were born in motion, never in one place for too long a time. And now it's the only way we know to survive" -When We Drive, Death Cab for Cutie

"Breaking is easy and hope is hard. Because some days are good. And some years aren't" -Some Days, Ira Wolf

"It's kinda like a light went off. And now you're deadset on giving me up. Talking like we're so far gone and there ain't no use stitching it up. I know the ride's rough, but try us. I'm just thinking 'bout love" -Thinking 'Bout Love, Wild Rivers

"Falling in, inch by inch. I'm not resisting. And I'm addicted tonight. Turn the lights off when you're leaving. Never going home again. Don't wait up for me, I'm not leaving" -Never Going Home, Hazel English

"Oh, my, my, my. Oh how I tried. And as we lie silently. Your body soft, so close to me, close to me. Oh, my, my, my. Oh how I tried." -Slip Away, Oh Wonder

"If I can make you feel something, I can make you feel it down to your bones. When you close your eyes at night. Would you let me run straight to you. I want to see you." -On the Corner Where You Live, The Paper Kites

"But while you debate half-empty or half-full. It slowly rises: your love is gonna drown. Sorrow drips into your heart through a pinhole. Just like a faucet that leaks. Your love is gonna drown. Your love is gonna drown. Your love is gonna...." -Marching Bands of Manhattan, Death Cab for Cutie

"But I'm stubborn. Selfish. Easily jealous at times. I'm hard to love, and I just want someone to try. I want someone, who listens when they've heard the story, and gives me enough space to breath. Someone stubborn. Selfish, and easily jealous would be fine. I won't mind if they're hard to love. I just want someone to try." -Sunscreen, Ira Wolf

"We found love on an empty page. Kill the stars above trying to fight the fade, and now my heart skips heavy underneath the waves. We are done, we are gone. 'Cause this is already bigger than love. It's bigger than you, it's bigger than me." -Bigger Than Love, Oh Wonder

"I might never stop your sorrow, fix you up good as new. But that don't mean that I can't hold you hand in mine. I might never say I'm sorry, even if I done you wrong. But I think I could be someone you like. Someone you like." -Someone You Like, The Girl and The Dreamcatcher

"Every day I wake to feel the same. And every time you ask me how I'm feeling, I just smile and tell you that I'm fine. It's hard to stay true, to myself and to you." -I'm Fine, Hazel English

"The distance is quite simply much too far for me to row. It seems farther than ever before. I need you so much closer. I need you so much closer. I need you so much closer." -Transatlanticism, Death Cab for Cutie

"Nothing lasts forever. Some things aren't meant to be. But you'll find the answers. Untill you set your old heart free. Until you set your old heart free." -Hello My Old Heart, The Oh Hellos

"I'm stepping through the door, and I'm floating in a most peculiar way. And the stars look very different today." -Space Oddity, David Bowie

"I said I would never come back. Screaming at the walls in jet black. Hurt until my words are out flat. Can I whisper it back? What a waste, what a waste. What a waste to be so alone." -Waste, Oh Wonder

"On the back of a motorbike with your arms outstretched trying to take flight. Leaving everything behind. But even at our swiftest speed, we couldn't break from the concrete. In the city where we still reside. And I have learned that even landlocked lovers yearn for the sea like navy men. 'Cause now we say goodnight from our own separate sides. Like brothers on a hotel bed." -Brothers on a Hotel Bed, Death Cab for Cutie

"And I think it's gonna be a long, long time 'til touchdown brings me 'round again to find. I'm not the mand they think I am at home. I'm a rocket man." -Rocket Man, Elton John

"Spent all my weekends pretending I was fine. Just to get you out my mind for an evening. I used to wish you would never find the one. But it's good to see you loved, let's call it even." -Happy, Oh Wonder

[littlegodzilla]

He compartido 5441 publicaciones este 2022

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323 publicaciones originales (6 %)

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#grumpy daryl turned into a softie is one of my favourite tropes

Mis publicaciones más populares este 2022:

5

Hi!

It's me again, as I said my inspiration is coming back to me again and I have a few new ideas and some requests to write and post so here I am!

This time I come with another AlphaDaryl one shot.

I hope you like it!

*

Marked.

AlphaDaryl Dixon x OmegaReader.

One shot.

Warnings: Bad language. Violence. Fighting. Marked Omega. ABO Dynamics. Smut.

Words: 5800

Summary: You and Daryl are together but you don't think that Daryl is fine with it.

Taglist: @phoenixblack89 @browneyes528 @pncnsc @lilythemadqueen @darylsgarden @srhxpci @green-eyedladywrites @xxtinasxxblog @hail-yourselves

(I can here this gif...)

"Help! Please somebody help me!" you screamed as you ran.

"Come back here, bitch! We both know you are craving it!" he trails behind you licking his lips in a lewd signature.

His scent like Alpha reaches your nostrils, choking you, your mind clouds wanting to submit to his demands, but you fought against it, you weren't going to let him bend you over. Running you managed to put distance between you, your legs were tired, but you weren't going to stop. You screamed when you felt arms lift you off the ground making you lose your balance. You kicked, scrambled and even bit him on the arm, he cursed loudly and slammed you against a wall in an attempt to block you.

"Stop the fuck, ya whore!" he shouted and hit you harder. "I'm gonna make ya mine, ya're close to yer heat."

"No! No, no, please! Somebody help me!" you screamed again in the hope that someone could hear you.

"Merle, let her go!" You heard a voice on the other side of the alley, You tried to look for where it came from. "Stop it, Merle, don't be an asshole!" you heard his voice again.

You were shaken as the newcomer pushed this Merle guy off of you. You saw them struggle, fight, actually one of them, the one chasing you didn't seem to be in his full faculties as he moved clumsily, perhaps drunk, but his instinct had dragged him to you anyway. That day you had finished your shift early, you felt you were close to your heat cycle and you didn't want to have problems with the company so you agreed with your colleagues to have those days off and they all agreed. However you didn't get very far because of that Merle who had been chasing you.

"Leave her alone!" You heard again, the other man stood next to you to protect you.

"Come on, lil'brother, don't be a pussy!" You yelled at him trying to dodge him. "She's an Omega about to go into heat and she's gonna be mine."

"Ain't gonna touch her! She ain't wanna ya to touch her, don't ya see? Get the hell out of here, Merle."

"Get the hell out of here? Who do y'think ya are to order me around, Daryl?" Daryl, that was the name of the man protecting you. "Have ya forgotten who the big brother is?"

"That's the least of it, now, Merle, get a hold of yerself and let her go." Daryl was intensifying his own Alpha instinct to try to control his brother and you felt dizzy.

"No, I'm gonna fuck her, I'm gonna give her what she needs and..."

"And then what, ya'll dump her and find someone else?"

"Exactly, we are Alphas and the Omegas exist to please us." He smiled a sickening grin and Daryl growled at his brother's words. "Get out of the way."

"No..." His hand closed around your wrist and you trembled hard. Daryl felt his instincts spiraling out of control by the minute. Merle reminded him more and more of his father every day, Daryl felt like he was losing him with each passing day, but he wouldn't let him hurt you too. He'd been through that scenario before. "Not this time."

Your eyes widened as the Alpha that was meant to save you, pulled at you, his mouth closed on your neck and his teeth buried into your skin. You cried out in pain and even felt some pleasure as his lips brushed your neck. You closed your eyes and clenched your fists, the heat, the need that was beginning to form in your stomach due to the heat began to subside, his Mark as your Alpha was beginning to take effect on you, calming you down. You moaned softly letting yourself be done, holding onto his arm. Merle's lecherous smile turned into a grimace of distaste and he glared at his brother with hatred.

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528 notas. Fecha de publicación: 4 de julio de 2022

4

Hello! I'm so glad that your requests are finally open, gawd I've waited for this day 😭❤️.

So I would like to request a Norman and Reader smut where reader is also a part of the TWD cast and her character is paired opposite Daryl's in the show and while shooting for Daryl and Reader segs scenes under the sheets Norman actually makes her come 😏🤓

Hi anon!!

Sorry for taking me so long! But I was pretty busy with my work and my mini series. I'm really sorry! I hope you are still here!

I hope you'll like it!!

Enjoy!!

≈≈≈≈≈≈

Under the sheets.

Norman Reedus x Reader.

Anon request. One shot.

Warnings: Smut. Not much plot.

Words: 3470.

Taglist: @phoenixblack89 @browneyes528 @lilythemadqueen @darylsgarden @thefemininemystiquee @green-eyedladywrites @hail-yourselves @ruinedbythehobbit @xxtinasxxblog @ravenwings73 @spenciepoo338 @b-tchymoon @minervadashwood @darylssluttt @let-love-bleeds-red

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

You're a little nervous, you've been going over the script for several weeks, but finally the scene has arrived. The Walking Dead was a great opportunity for you, even though you started in the middle of the show, but you soon fit in with the cast, everyone welcomed you as one of them, they helped you with the complicated scenes.

Your character is part of The Kingdom, at the beginning your character doesn't interact much with Daryl, your affinity is linked to Carol, your first scene together was in Shiva's cage, you were already there and Daryl hides there looking for a moment of solitude, but he is surprised to find you next to the tigress.

The idea of the screenwriters is to form a relationship with you and Daryl, at first you are not convinced, Daryl is a beloved character, but it is not something forced, little by little your bond and your shots together are more frequent and as time goes by, people are comfortable with you around the archer.

Your relationship with Norman developed as slowly as your character's relationship with Daryl. At first you would stand on the sidelines on one side of the table to eat, you would share small conversations with the group, on the other side Norman would talk to Andy and Melissa, he didn't purposely ignore you, he tended to surround himself with the people he knew and felt more comfortable with. But you couldn't help but watch him, you tried to be discreet, you admired from a distance the way he acted, how he took the script and studied it until he became the Daryl he wanted to show the world. As your characters interacted, so did you and little by little you began to trust each other, to spend more time together, you no longer sat on one side of the table, Norman made room for you near his group and even though you all talked, you felt special for being there.

A year ago your character confessed to Daryl, after all the bad things Alexandria and its inhabitants had been through, your character couldn't take it anymore and told Daryl everything she felt. Your characters shared their first on-camera kiss.

It was the first time you kissed Norman.

Since then, a year ago, you feel Norman fooling around with you more evidently than you thought, it was nothing special, he didn't have any magic phrase, or anything like that, Norman is patient, he looks at you, he smiles at you, he jokes and talks to you, he makes it natural, easy and that's what has made you crazy about him.

That's why now you're shaking like a flan.

Your characters' relationship has been well accepted, so the producers want to go a step further and show some intimacy between you and Daryl, they wanted you to have a moment of peace and passion after so much pain and suffering.

The room is set up to shoot the scene, it's the room you share almost from the moment you arrive in Alexandria, when your character gets him to let his guard down. The lighting is dim, it's hot, hotter than it usually is in Georgia, there are several cameras, but you are relatively "alone". Norman appears in the room then dressed in Daryl's clothes, hair disheveled, but he was clean, neat, which was odd to his character, but the producers are excited.

"Alright guys, let's get started, remember, you're the one who starts the action." He looks at you indicating what to do. "We all know Daryl needs that push, take it easy, don't get overwhelmed."

"Okay..." You throat clear and put your script aside then face Norman.

You stare at each other, Norman immediately takes his stance as Daryl, but before you start to speak, he slyly winks at you and your cheeks redden.

"Daryl, stop it." You ask him nervously. "We have peace again." You walk up to him, resting your hands on his shoulders.

"Ya dunno that..." He's changed his voice to the gruff, growling tone so characteristic of Daryl. "What if they come back, what if another Negan shows up, another Alpha...?"

"Stop, no, don't think about that." You hold his face so he'll look at you. "Alexandria is safe again. We can relax, a little, take care of our people... be happy." You whisper without taking your eyes off him.

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604 notas. Fecha de publicación: 15 de septiembre de 2022

3

Can you write daryl smut where the reader likes daryl but she thinks he didn't like her because there's an age gap and he's always quiet around her? Then one day she catches him touching himself while saying her name so she confesses her feelings and at first he's embarrassed/shy but the reader asks what he was thinking about and she does whatever he tells her to do.

Hi Anon!

Thanks for your request! Sorry if it took me so long!

I hope you'll like it!

Enjoy!!

Thinking about you.

Daryl Dixon (45) FemReader (25)

Anon Request.

Warnings: Smut. Handjob. Blowjob. Unprotected sex (don't do that).

Words: 3600

Taglist: @phoenixblack89 @browneyes528 @pncnsc @lilythemadqueen @darylsgarden @ruinedbythehobbit @srhxpci @xxtinasxxblog

You aren't sure why he hates you that much. You aren't sure what did you do. You try to think about something but your mind is blank.

You love Daryl.

Yeah maybe the word is too strong but is what you feel when you're around him. You feel yourself protected, safe, good. And all those feelings have been growing with the time you've spent together. Well not just with him, the group in general, but you know that what you feel for him is not a simple friendship.

You first met at the prison, you were part of Sasha and Tyreese's group and although you were initially welcomed, you stayed, Woodbury sounded ominous when Michonne showed up talking about the Governor. At first Daryl didn't trust, just like the others, as the days went by he seemed more comfortable, but you were also aware that he wouldn't let you make too much of an effort. Back then you were younger and 'frailer' than you are now, you were scared to death, you didn't know how to fight, you barely had the strength to help keep the prison fence up when the beams that held it up had to be repositioned, but you wanted to help, you always tried to be useful, even though you always ended up in your cell, with Beth, taking care of Judith.

"Go back inside." Daryl said to you one day taking some huge logs from your hands that you had managed to grab to help Rick build his farm. "They need ya more there, fix somethin' to eat, help Beth with the baby, keep an eye on Carl. Ya ain't helping us here."

This maybe have been the longest conversation you had with Daryl and it hurt. It hurt because you were trying to change and his cold, curt tone shattered your hopes. Since then you tried to stay away, alert, but distant, unfortunately his way of treating you didn't change your feelings for him. They grew stronger when the flu attacked you inside the prison and he took care of you.

"Ya can't die here." He told you by leaving you a bowl of soup in your cell, his mouth covered with a handkerchief so he wouldn't catch it.

You're not sure if he said it because he thought you wouldn't hear him because of your condition or that you would end up forgetting it, as an unimportant anecdote. When the prison fell and you were all separated for a moment you thought you would never see him or any of your companions again. You cried for days, heartbroken, until you were reunited again in Terminus, Carol had saved you and when you saw him embrace your companion like that, the pieces of your heart were not completely healed.

Now you live safely in Alexandria, you have settled in the community after Deanna has assessed whether or not you are useful to them that you can stay. Some of you have settled in well there, giving thanks for recovering some things lost from the previous world. Like hot water. But others are having a hard time accepting that this place is good, that you are safe.

Daryl is one of them.

He's constantly coming and going, he's still out hunting, he's still out exploring, he's still Rick's watchdog, and he doesn't trust the people in the community. If there was distance between you before, now a chasm has been created that you are sure you will never be able to cross.

You sigh long, tired, sorry. Carl looks at you curiously, the two of you on the porch of one of the houses the community has assigned you. You're taking care of Judith, that role hasn't changed much since you left the prison, only Beth is no longer with you to help you. Sometimes you miss her. You were good friends and her death was unjust. You know Daryl suffered a lot because of it too and sometimes you think he was in love with her, and that's why he stays away from you, because he doesn't want anything more to do with girls. Daryl needs a strong, determined woman, capable of protecting her own.

"You're more pensive than usual today." Carl's voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you smile sadly.

"Sorry, I'm having a weird day today..." You mutter looking at him out of the corner of your eye, playing with Judith who is amusing herself with your hands.

"Is it because Daryl isn't back yet?" he asks you and you feel your cheeks take on a rosy hue. "He's been on patrol for several days, but he'll be back. You know how he is."

"Y-yeah, I'm not worried, I don't..."

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663 notas. Fecha de publicación: 6 de mayo de 2022

2

Hello! Since requests are open I was wondering if you could write something like this: reader and Daryl have been dating since the prison and now they live together in Alexandria (pre Negan) reader likes to wear really girly clothes specially skirts, that drives Daryl crazy of lust because he likes her legs too much and one day while she is cooking he comes home and eats her up while she’s still wearing her skirt 👁👄👁 something like that 😮‍💨.

Hi sweetie!!

I'm here with your request! Sorry for taking so long, I hope you like it!!

Thanks for you request it was really fun to write it! I change somethings I hope you don't mind.

Domestic life.

Daryl Dixon x Femreader.

Request: @mariannambl

Era Alexandria pre-negan.

Warnings: Smut. Oral sex.

Words: 1560.

Summary: you are living in the community and things are going pretty well, you left your warrior clothes and you look more like a girl now, and Daryl can't control himself.

Taglist: @phoenixblack89 @browneyes528 @pncnsc @lilythemadqueen @srhxpci @twdeadfanfic @darylsgarden

You and Daryl started a relationship in the prison, it's true that you both had feelings for each other before, but running around, killing zombies, looking for supplies, in short; surviving, didn't give you much time to put your feelings on the table.

However at the prison you both broke, T-Dog's death, Hershel's leg, Carol's disappearance and most of all Judith. There was so much chaos and hope at almost the same time in such a small interval that you all saw saturated. Looking for food for the little baby you both threw up your feelings, it was a continuous babbling and stammering of incoherent words until you realized that you were both talking and asking for the same thing. There were many things to perfect and many walls to jump over, on both your parts, but it was worth every day to come back and be together.

However now there are new things for Daryl to adapt to. Since the Prison fell you wandered in search of a new refuge, you were separated only to find yourselves back in a community of the insane, you got out of there unscathed by the skin of your teeth and when Alexandria took you in at first you were skeptical of their way of running the community, that such a place could not exist without having some trouble. Surprisingly, they didn't discover any and you gradually adapted to the new community.

Daryl still remembers the look on his face when he saw you trying to fit in. You had abandoned your warrior clothes, your ripped t-shirts, your tough jackets, your gloves, jeans and boots for a nice spring dress that revealed your bare arms and long legs, you had washed your hair and it fell long and free over your shoulders and back.

Daryl had never felt as animalistic as he did that day.

Animal for the simple reason of wanting to touch you. Of wanting to cover every inch of exposed skin with his hands, without anyone else being able to see it or even touch it. It wasn't as if he had never seen you naked or touched you, when stability and peace were part of the daily life in prison, you two took the step to know each other more intimately, he knew every corner of your body just as you knew every corner of his, he liked to hug you or caress your legs when you were huddled in the cell you shared.

But this was different. A new feeling of need and desire came over him every time he saw the skirt of your dresses dance as you walked the streets of Alexandria. You were still warriors, survivors of a broken world, but again you had a safe place to return to and be able to have some sense of normalcy.

That same afternoon Daryl returns from a patrol with Aaron, with his new bike and a task to accomplish almost every day, Daryl feels more in his own skin again. So much peace and calm overwhelms him a little and he always needs to get out from within those walls, however when he gets home and the warmth of home and the nice smell of food and knowing he'll sleep without having to be alert, with you. He wouldn't trade that for anything. He opens the door leaving his dirty boots and crossbow at the entrance, there are no rules inside the house you share, but the hunter always tries to leave things in sight and easy to have at hand, besides he doesn't want to dirty the house with mud or viscera of the dead, which you also appreciate. Today was a good day, they found a family wandering lost and almost malnourished on the side of the road, a couple with two small children, the man immediately tried to defend his family, but when they told them about Alexandria their faces lit up with hope. Daryl feels like he has done a great deed, that he is trying to save as many people as possible. It feels good, like every living person cleans up a little bit of what once was before the world fell.

He sighs long taking off his vest to leave it on the coat rack at the entrance, he needs a shower as the heat is once again beating down on the region and although they haven't had to eliminate any Walkers, his skin is covered in fine sweat and dust from riding the bike. He is ready to climb the stairs when a new smell hits him in the nose and it's not him.

Almonds.

It's a very faint scent but still Daryl's nose detects it, perhaps because of all his years of experience in the forest his senses have always been more developed than other people's. He growls low and moves slowly towards the living room of the house finding you there, immersed in your reading, you have had a shower already, your hair is still damp on your shoulders, you are curled up with your legs folded over the couch, your summer dress clings to your chest and the skirt has ridden up to mid-thigh revealing a lot of skin on your legs. You smell like almonds.

And suddenly Daryl is hungry.

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709 notas. Fecha de publicación: 20 de marzo de 2022

Mi publicación más popular de 2022

Hey there, finally found your blog. May I have a request to you to write Daryl Dixon smut.

Era: Prison (I miss the short-haired Daryl lol)

(Geeez this gave me a weird idea after I watched Willy's wonderland)

Daryl became hot and bothered after his girlfriend (The Reader) wore the zip-up crop top that she found in the run a few weeks ago when Rick told them there was an abandoned kiddie pizzeria that Maggie was always told and the two decided to go on, as the two kept collecting the supplies as many as they could suddenly Daryl froze when he saw the sign "Fun Room" and he started to think all of his fantasies, The reader saw him decided to go and ask him if he was alright and he just nods and the two go and check that room if it was clear. Until Daryl can't take it anymore he pulls the reader close to him and kisses her, he tells her that the top she wears keep teasing him from the start and he unzips her top revealing the bare breasts that he always loved. The reader smiled and started to give him a treat like going down on him and riding him. (Sorry this is kinda weird heh)

Hi Anon!

I loved your request, I had few ideas but finally this is what's pop up.

I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I did writing it.

I hope it doesn't too late.

I have to confess that I had a lot of fun putting Daryl on the edge and imagining it was great.

As always sorry for my english!

That fuckin' thin'

Anon Request.

Daryl Dixon x Reader.

Prison Era.

Warnings: SMUT. Dirty talk. Dirty thoughts. Messing clothes. Daryl horny like a teenager.

Words: 2666

Summary: You found a zip-up crop top at the last run and this fucking thing it’s making Daryl going crazy.

Taglist: @phoenixblack89 @browneyes528 @pncnsc @lilythemadqueen @twdeadfanfic @purple-serenity @ruinedbythehobbit

Up and Down.

Up and down again.

Fuck he’s going to exploted.

You didn’t notice what are you doing, every fucking day, every fucking moment when you are nervous or bored you play with the zip of your small, tigh crop top tha you found the last week when you went on a run with Maggie and Glenn. Daryl hates that fucking thing. It's useless as hell, for Lord sake’s. You are in an apocalyptic world, you need more clothes over you than this small piece that barely covers your chest.

Up and down.

Daryl's eyes follow the continuous movement of your hand, gripping the ring head of the zipper, going up and down just enough and just enough so that the redneck can see how your breasts press against the tiny open strip, crying out for freedom, to be locked up again. Daryl can understand that you are hot, unfortunately you are in the hottest months, Georgia is having no mercy on you and in the prison, despite being a spacious place, the heat is thundering, but that is torture. He can't stop staring. It is impossible not to fix his gaze every time he hears the zipper hiss.

He stirs in his seat wanting to get some control over himself. Fuck he's not a fucking teenager anymore, he should be able to control his impulses, even more so knowing you're not alone. You've hit the road again, you've ducked into an old pizzeria looking for something to take back to the prison, maybe even find some more survivors. Maggie and Glenn are with you and Daryl doesn't know whether to thank them or curse his luck.

Up and down again.

Daryl feels a growl scratch his throat, you've shifted your position closer to one of the windows, somehow looking for a breeze that manages to ease your heat, with the glare of the sun against your skin, Daryl can perfectly see the thin layer of sweat that adorns your skin, your breasts glistening, insinuating, calling out to them. He just wants to go up there and cut your hands off, demand you stop the fuck or he'll end up sticking his head between your breasts in the end, a gentle breeze sways your hair making you sigh, Daryl feels his cock jump in his pants when he sees your nipples marking themselves on the fabric of your top. Of course you don't wear a fucking bra.

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804 notas. Fecha de publicación: 12 de enero de 2022

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[seasideretreat]

The inscrutable world

I am predisposed to think that this entire world is incomprehensible. Nonetheless, good things can come from thinking. We can discover weird truths and unravel secrets that hide in the continuity of pure existence, and this is a wise and prudent activity.

Life is hard. We can become aware of certain truths through reflection, and this allows us to grow wiser and more strong, but there's a lot of nonsense in this world that we have yet to uncover; everything is difficult, we don't know the world the way it is; or do we? I don't know.

Philosophy is not as private as people think. I feel much better when I philosophize while writing. Writing is a beautiful art, and philosophy is ideal for writing. I don't know.

Nothingness is scary. I have always thought so. However, what is being? What is reality? The thing is that we can do many things. The world is full of mysteries. I apologize for rambling, but I ain't got anything more philosophical to say. They say time is an illusion. I do get a feeling that everything is here, all at once. Darn it, I ain't got nothing to say.

Here's a thought: maybe this is a historical moment. We did something. My memory is a fascinating place. But when I think back on it, there ain't nothing there. It was a false hope. I will ramble some more. Things happen. I don't know. The world is strange. I don't know. Everything we know is weird. I don't know. I don't know anything, I just do things, but it is pointless and crazy, but maybe that don't matter at all.

This text is not long enough. Maybe I should stop trying to be exclusively philosophical and instead opt for a more laid back and conversational style. I love to talk, as any man does, and it is truly amazing to just talk and discover things about the world at the same time: for it is truly when we talk, that we discover how little we know, and at the same time how wise we already are: talking is truly transcendental; but our ideas are difficult to understand, and often we tend to veer into speculations that have nothing to do with refined and gentlemanly tastes, and the world becomes a limited and crazy thing that has nothing to do with anything; in fact, I intended to write a gentlemanly and refined book in my free time as opposed to my blogging time, which feels an awful lot like work, but I just do it to pass the time I suppose. Frankly, I spend a lot of time just staring out into the distance, which is bad, but I ain't got nothing to do and life is just passing by so fast; which can be considered consoling, I suppose, when we realize that we can just die and lose nothing, but I enjoy thinking and reading and watching television and even work has its nice sides; I enjoy drinking coffee, as many people do, and I enjoy gaming sometimes even, but right now I am writing and that's perhaps better than gaming, although I don't see it, it really doesn't matter. Anyway we discovered something: a blog can be an all right place for prolixitous speculations as well as philosophical musing. But the thing is, now I feel like it has to go on forever which would be stupid.

I'll just end with more musing then, to make it succinct. Life is truly amazing, but we must get through a lot of hard moment through meaningful reflection, and this is the essence of philosophy, perhaps, if only because we do what we can.

[the-letter-horror-lover]

Notes:

Don't forget the poll

Vote on your prompt

Chapter 10: This trip would go smoothly

Summary:

Exposition chapter (sorta) into the minds and thought process of everyone.

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Red couldn't believe what he was hearing. Was that what was eating at you? The strong and confident you that he saw all those times. Why didn't you talk about it? He then remembered what your sister had talked about.

'When ever Lilo has those kind of dreams it usually holds a little truth. She might have seen a way they could break our barrier or an entrance we overlooked. Don't argue and listen to the dream is usually my best advice.'

But what if it was just a regular nightmare? He thought when you had cried the other time it was just from the shock of it but if it's truly eating at you, how could he make you feel safe?

Gunshots were heard further in the distance, grabbing both of your attention.

"Sorry didn't want to but we got company!"

Red stood up and looked around. He saw a small hoard coming towards your group. His sockets went wide and he grabbed you by the arm. Yanking you up and carrying you on his shoulder.

"Red, what the fuck."

"sorry cheeks ain't got time ta explain."

He ran back to the car dropping both of you in the backseat as your sister took the wheel. The wheel spun in the gravel leaving you slightly dazed. You looked around to see that things seemed to be calmer. Red was sweating profusely. You thought it looked quite weird that a skeleton would sweat red but it must be related to his magic. You turned around to reach into the trunk. Rule #12 (bounty paper towels) to wipe away at the excess sweat. He let you do it although you saw his cheeks flaming red.

You smiled once you were done.

"Sorry, that might have been rude."

His lazy smile returned and he sat back with his arms behind his back.

" 'nythin' for ya doll."

He drawled out his sentence and wiggled his eyebrows. He told you both that he was due for a nap and that he would be out like a light for the next few hours. You promised to wake him up for dinner.

Once you heard him snoring your eyes met your sister's in the rearview mirror.

"So, did you tell him?"

You shrugged your shoulders.

"A bit of both. I'm scared. What if it's all true? What if this dream will also happen?"

"I'll stop, you talk."

She slowed down her pace on the highway until coming to a full stop. She pulled the handbrake of the car and put it in neutral.

"You both die. Instead of me taking the bullet it's Red that takes it. It all starts going south from there. The worst part is, I can't stop it and I keep dreaming about it."

You furrowed your brows and ruffled your hair with your hands. Your own frustration becoming too much to bare.

"Fin is probably dead. With the amount of Z's in Atlanta I'd be surprised that anything but stragglers survive. We can check if you want. We can turn around and explore Atlanta until you are satisfied."

"No!" You shouted, eyes wide with panic.

"That's even worse. What if it's the second time I saw it in my dream? What if the second time around Red steps in front of me? We can't risk it!"

She nodded and let you rant until you couldn't form words anymore. It took a little while but both of you came to the same conclusion. You had to stop thinking about it. Your dreams weren't always accurate. You couldn't let them be real.

"You know what happens anyway if I die."

"Don't. We don't talk about this anymore."

"But you'll do it."

You crossed your arms and looked outside, your sister taking this as her cue to drive some more. She wasn't that far off the mark. You truly hated the idea of death but you did feel slightly better after talking about it. Slowly the snores of Red and the car's engine lulled you into sleep.

The next time you woke up it was pleasantly after a dreamless slumber. You looked around and saw that you were the only one in the car. You got out of the car and slammed the door. Looking around you seemed to be on some kind of camping ground. Your sister was hanging clothes to dry while Red was working a grill. You wouldn't question where they got such a big grill from or the meat.

Red spotted you and grinned from afar.

"well looka that. sleepin' beaut' is finally up."

You stretched your back and turned to your sister.

"How long was I out?"

She shrugged.

"A couple hours or something like that. We let you sleep in. Thought it would be a good idea since you've been losing sleep these days."

"ya nightmares are common where ‘am from. knew ya needed da rest."

You thanked them and all of you ate peacefully. You stayed the night to sleep in the hummer and took first guard duty since you didn't think you had it in you to sleep. Stitch would take middle and Red last. You kept the fire lit so you'd have a source of light in case any stragglers made their way here. Stitch and you always have the argument but since you proposed to smoke some game meat Red had hunted for dinner. How did he even find this much meat in so little time?

It was then decided that the fire could stay lit until morning. A grill on top and the fire, a few feet above the flame and a poking stick and a smokey sauce Red had brought back from the supermarket. Blessed be the supermarket once again. Your shift was pretty quiet. One or two stragglers but mostly just the sounds of the quiet night. Soon enough it was time to switch shifts and you went to the car to wake up Stitch. You shook her slightly and she grumbled but stood up slightly. She blinked slowly before you saw her get spooked and throw a knife behind you. You finally heard the gurgling sound of an infected who had just died.

You turned around to it and then her, placing your hands behind your back and allowing her to get out.

"I told you. You loose your natural night vision when you are exposed to a bright source of light. It could have been bad sis."

She left the car and stood above its body. Rule #2 (Double tap), She had to make sure it was truly dead so she plunged another knife into his skull before grabbing the two she had used on him.

She placed her hands on her hips and whirled around to face you. She seemed to gather her words and like the pressure was slowly building up. You waited for her to blow a fuse but it never came. She just sighed.

"You should get some rest. It won't do us any good to argue this late in the night."

You looked back to her and offered a hug before climbing the passenger side and laying there. You could hear the snores of Red, you turned around to look at him and observe him. How could he just kiss you like that? It's like he didn't even care what you thought. You did like him or you think you do but that was so sudden. You didn't even get to talk to him about it after.

That wasn't fair. How could he look like nothing was wrong in this world? He had kissed you and you just let him? Why? Just so he can break your little heart after? No, Red isn't like that. Fucking self doubt, making you question the only person you've ever liked. Would he even talk about it if you asked?... Maybe you should try. You leaned over the seats and got close to his ear (?) to whisper to him.

"Hey Red. What do you think of Lilo?"

He grumbled in his sleep but it wasn't anything coherent. Well at least you were sure he was asleep. It had been such a long time since you or your sister had some alone time.

You went to check in your backpack and got out a battery powered adult toy. You hoped it didn't make too much noise but you both know it shouldn't. You turned it on and slowly rubbed it along the top of your pants. The pleasure wasn't enough so you shimmied your pants down and were now in your underwear. You rubbed it along there and the vibration was indeed stronger but you needed more.

You had enough of your panties and decided it was time they left. The toy now right flush against your clit made you shiver. You rubbed circles with it and stuffed a bit of your t-shirt inside of your mouth to prevent any mewls from escaping you.

The closer you got the harder it was to contain yourself. You wanted to moan but it just made you crave more and more release. You were about to reach your peak. Just a few more seconds, you felt it as you tighten-

...

The toy stopped vibrating. You were left with the toy in your hands and you felt completely dejected. What the hell? Was it really missing a battery so close to you finishing? You got a spare battery out from the big pack of batteries you had. You twisted it open and replaced the old battery. You closed it and turned it on.

...

Why isn't this thing working...?

You tried another battery thinking it might have been a dud.

...

Still nothing.

You wanted to throw it but you knew it made too much noise. Why did you only rely on that one? You struggled to think coherently. You just wanted relief and without a good toy that would be much harder.

...

Anger, sadness, defeat. There's only so much you could do, your climax now out of reach. It had been half an hour and you couldn't get close to it. You had to relent and stop for the night.

When you woke up you felt groggy and sluggish. You got out of the car as Stitch was still sleeping in the back seat. Your mood was sour but at least you could spend a little alone time talking to Red.

"Hey Red. How's breakfast coming along?"

He stiffened and you heard the pan sizzle but the skeleton didn't answer you. You went close to him, tapping his shoulder to gain his attention. He turned around to look at you. You saw his cheeks flushed red and his eyes darting around anywhere but to look at you.

"heya, stitch's not up yet?"

You shook your head and that seemed to appease him. He went back to flipping the skillet but there still seemed to be some tension there. You decided to be direct and ask him.

"Did something happen with Stitch?"

He looked back at you and you saw sweat beading down his skull.

"nah nothin' happened with ya sis. we peachy."

That was highly too suspicious to your liking. You tried to prod Red for an answer but he would flat out ignore any attempts you made towards it. You were fed up and that's when your sister got out of the car. She yawned and stretched herself to her full height before moving slowly towards you.

"Morning sis, Red."

She shot him a look and Red immediately tensed up. He audibly gulped and you saw him twist his collar around his neck to fidget with. That was definitely your sister's fault. You gave Red a tap behind the skull and then went to confront your sister.

"What did you do to him?"

She looked sly and just shook her shoulders.

"I didn't do anything. I just explained the rules."

The rules? The survival rules? No that wouldn't make much sense, he doesn't really follow rules. What would make her this smug and him this distanced?

...

"You gave him the talk. I can't believe that you gave him the talk!"

She just twirled a piece of her hair on her finger and sat on a trunk.

"He needs to know his place."

She gestured towards Red. He looked like he would rather be in the middle of a hoard armed with only a butter knife than deal with you and your sister's shit. You forced a smile and grabbed your sister by the scarf. You brought her face close to yours and spoke eye to eye.

"Take that back."

You yanked her forward and she just placed her hands behind her head. She was messing with you wasn't she? She wanted to see if you were serious about him. She clicked her tongue and you just threw her off you. You made sure you had your equipment on you and darted for the woods. She wanted to get a rise out of you and she sure did. Now you need to let that frustration go so you don't act rashly.

You saw a small group of zombies and darted for them. You undid the button to your knives and immediately threw one at the closest. It hit him square in the face. He went down and that's when the others got agitated. You took a second knife and threw it at a second one. This time hitting him in the neck. The black sludge of what used to be his blood leaking from the wound. They finally caught sight of you and one sprinted towards you.

You just took out your machete and swung it at the first one. You saw him fall and immediately kicked the second one so you could focus on the third one. You had priorities in this fight. Your next strike brought him down and you just plunged your machete into the skull of the second one who had fallen over. The other two were slow and you easily took them out. Your breathing was ragged but it felt refreshing to let out your pent up energy. Couldn't forget the rules though. Rule #2 (Double tap) to make sure they're actually dead.

You leaned down next to one of the trees. This was a lot to digest. Your sister was such an asshole for doing this but you know it's because she cares. Cold and calculated to a t, as always. You just didn't like to be part of her target audience. You heard leaves crunching and immediately got up, your blade at the ready. Red got out from behind the trees. He had his hands in his pockets and nonchalantly walked towards you.

He took you by the hand and started walking back towards camp. He didn't talk, he didn't whisper, he wouldn't even look at you. It was a silent agreement to just follow him or it felt like it. You were perplexed by his behavior but also quite loving the attention. It was probably his way to deal with things and you liked his thoughts on the matter.

You must not have realized how lost you were because Red wasn't bringing you towards camp. You started looking around and he kept holding your hand. You were somewhat reassured but still felt like something was off.

"Red, where are you taking me?"

He just turned around and you saw his eyes dart around a bit before they settled on looking at the ground. He had stopped moving. You looked at him worryingly.

"Red what's wrong?"

"ya what's wrong. am tryin' ta cheer ya up but ya ain't calming that damn soul of yours. it's actin' like am tryna kill it.

...

just shut up and follow me. ok?"

He mellowed down on those last words and you just marched forward with him. This time side by side. As you both moved forward you heard the sound of water rushing by. He gestured for you to keep quiet and moved some branches aside. Next to the water was a deer and her fawn. You looked in awe as Red sat back watching your face glimmer with delight.

"there's still good out 'here. ya part of it. ya sib is too but she can be... a bit calculated. i know she means well. so, let's put this behind us. go into the next part of our day, or somethin'. am not good wit' words."

You looked at him and saw some glimmer in his eyelights. Their usual lights were pretty opaque but right now they shined differently. It was like a reflection of his soul. You grabbed his face intent on making your intentions known when a gurgled scream was heard in the distance. The fauna retreating where it had come from and you and Red running back towards camp. You saw him sweating as he ran but he still followed you.

Once you reached camp it was all packed up and already in the car. Your sister standing on the hood getting a tan.

"I'm not sorry by the way. You know I'd do anything to protect you. You're always the one to go head first into danger and for a stranger like him. It irked me. I needed to see if you were serious."

She jumped off the hood of the car and came up to you. She stood there like a kicked puppy while Red looked on, not sure what to do with himself. You extended your arms and your sister jumped in for a hug. She squeezed you tightly and felt your shoulder grow wet. She did feel sorry.

She was probably scared of losing you for doing this. You patted her back and Red looked to you for his next move. You gestured towards the car and he just slowly walked towards it.

Your sister's sniffle slowly died down and you just moved her towards the back seat of the car. She climbed in and you buckled her in before joining Red at the front. He smiled at you, although a little wearily. You just took his hand in yours and squeezed it lightly. He smiled and did give you the side eye.

"when were ya gonna tell me, ya had da keys?"

"Sorry. I should have before but with everything going on I never had the chance to bring it up. You know, being shot and all."

You saw him pull a cd tray and couldn't help but stare. He chuckled and told you to pick one. So you did and decided to pick a fitting song for this trip. AC/DC, Highway to hell. Red laughed as he recognized the song. You both started laughing as you enjoyed the choice of music. You moved up the highway and continued for this long journey. Now that everyone's feelings were mostly put at ease, this trip would go smoothly.

Notes:

I promise next chapter is the prompt it shouldn't escape me anymore. ; - ;

I love all the positive comments and feedback I received on the previous chapters btw. Any comment and or ideas are more then welcomed.

Vote on your prompt

Although it looks like we might already have a winner. Can the vote be swayed?

swayed?

Chapter 11: Two girls and a skeleton walk into a sex shop

Summary:

Well according to the title of the chapter, what could go wrong? You know.

...

Nothing, right?

hehehe

Oh wait you can see my evil laugh. Never mind carry on!

Chapter Text

You have been restless for the last couple of days. It wasn't because you didn't sleep well. Luckily enough, once you talked about the nightmares they stopped. You must have worried too much. No, what was eating you up was that your toy had stopped functioning and you couldn't bring it back to life no matter how hard you tried.

One day when Red was out patrolling you told your sister. She laughed and tried her best to repair it. She was also unsuccessful. You asked if you could go to a sex shop and she told you that it would only work if you saw one ahead on the road. So now you have to patiently wait for one.

You watched the road like an hawk to make sure you'd spot the first sex shop in sight, although you hadn't been very lucky. You tapped your foot from the backseat as Stitch and Red were talking. Red was driving and he had been so engrossed in his talk with Stitch that he had missed something you spotted.

You tapped on your sister's shoulder and gestured to the side. Red caught on and looked in the same direction.

"hell nah. we ain't stoppin' 'ere."

"Yes we are!"

You both said at once. The highway exit was coming in fast and you both looked at one another quickly.

"Rule #4." (Seat belts)

Red scrambled on his seat to remember which one that was. You saw him quickly tighten his seat belt and in that same second Stitch was pulling on the emergency break. The car sheared to the side and stopped right in front of the exit. You felt the spot where the seatbelt dug into your skin but beyond that you were fine.

Red's sockets went black and he took a second to recuperate.

"are ya both tryna get us dusted?"

You shook your head, Stitch shrugging. You sighed and placed your hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry Red but I really need to go there. You understand, right?"

He looked at you and you saw him eye your breast before his cheeks turned crimson and he looked away. He took off the break and went for the exit. You smiled and thanked him. He just kept mumbling incoherently to himself. You looked at Stitch who seemed relieved with this turn of events.

Red stopped in front of the store and parked the car. He looked to the side of it and saw a few miles down the road a mall. He didn't see any undead activity outside although it looked like the mall was occupied. You'd have to do a quick in and out to prevent yourself from attracting any unwanted attention.

Red followed you both inside although reluctantly while you started browsing the shelves for a good replacement. He slowly walked down the isle of the empty looking shop. He didn't trust that this place was this clean and neither did you or your sister.

Stitch did a full round of exploration with you at her back before you both felt comfortable enough to truly explore this place. You went to the section which held most of your attention while Sitch wandered the shelves. You didn't even pay attention to Red who was ten steps back from you, sweat beading his skull as he saw you browse the toys.

You finally turned around hoping to see him or your sister and realized neither were there with you. You continued browsing and decided to call out to your sister. She poked her head from a cabin and you saw her get out in a sexy latex outfit. You started laughing uncontrollably and finally you saw the edge of Red's jacket around the corner.

"Red you have to see this. Oh my stars Stitch, why did you even try that?"

You couldn't be stopped and neither could Red who had apparently just cleared the corner and seen your sister. I guess she wanted a rule 32 moment (Enjoy the little things).

She said that everyone should get something out of this trip and you shook your head.

"Agreed but not that, please. You look ridiculous."

You heard the latex squeak and couldn't stop your laughter. Your sister asked for a better argument and you just asked her to listen to herself for a second. You saw her facial expression crinkle in doubt but she did as you said. Her expression of horror was priceless.

"It's that loud? This isn't apocalypse approved."

You hummed and saw her quickly dart for the changing room. You turned back to the shelves and finally found a toy that was similar to yours. You held it tight and quickly stowed it in your bag. As you zipped your bag, Red cleared the corner, his face a pretty red shade. You saw he had one of his hands behind his back.

You raised an eyebrow and asked him if you could help him. He nervously revealed what he had in his hands. You saw a black and red collar with a black fur trim on it. It was beautiful and for a second you wanted to humour Red.

"Red it's beautiful!"

Before he had time to answer you took it from him and put it around your neck. The colors on his cheeks turning brighter by the second.

"How do I look?"

You exposed your neck to him. You saw how he eyed your neck and you could feel how his eyes trailed on you. You decided to egg him on.

"Do you like what you see?"

You saw the sweat that was already accumulating drop down and more started replacing it. You smiled as you achieved the intended effect. Red slowly got closer to you. You saw his tongue lap his sharp teeth and your breath itched. Maybe this had been a mistake. He looked almost feral in a way and that didn't scare you, it excited you.

He grabbed you by the waist and whispered in your ear.

"it ain't nice to play wit's a monster doll. might think ya serious or somethin'."

You shivered at the contact but didn't push him away. You very much wanted this.

You heard a loud thud both of you stood and you reached for your machete. You then saw a mannequin's head fall to your feet. You looked from the second floor where your sister was laughing.

"Wanted to see if you both were too dumb with feelings to react. Glad to know you wouldn't have died."

You sighed and rubbed the bridge of your nose.

"Ahah, very funny sis."

She just shrugged and sent another one.

"They have a ton of these upstairs. Why don't we use them as target practice?"

You and Red shared a look before your sibling threw a whole body mannequin. You yelled at her but she just shrugged another one instead. As you were all talking and exchanging banter you heard the door open and saw light coming in, you and Red standing at attention while your sister was too busy throwing more stuff from the second floor.

You saw a human figure standing in the door. They looked mortified and unready to see people here. Red placed himself in front of you and growled at the intruder.

"stand back doll. ain't trustin' that one."

You readied yourself and hoped your sister would stay up there. That way at least she'd be safe in case of a shoot out. Everyone stayed still until you heard a gun shot fired from the second floor. The human immediately raised their hands up and looked back to you.

"Let's be pacifists here. There's enough of the dead trying to kill us out there. We don't need to do this between humans and uh monsters, right?"

You looked at them and you felt Red grab your hand as he made a step back. The human in front of you sighed.

"I was just here to de-stress, my dudes. I didn't mean to stumble upon more people needing it."

You looked up and saw that your sister had her sights on them. At least they couldn't get out of this alive if they tried anything. You decided to be a little reckless and took a step forward. Letting go off Red and moving in front of him.

"doll!"

"Take it easy, I got this."

You went and stood in front of them. Your eyes met theirs and you felt the tension rise. You looked at their gear and it didn't look anything like what you'd imagined a survivor would have at this point. You extended your hand.

"I'm Lilo. My monster friend is Red and the one that's making sure you'll die in agony if you try to hurt me is Stitch."

You saw their smile tighten and you felt like you had won this first battle.

"Well, I’m TK. Nice to meet… one of you so far. The other two are kinda rude.” They said, stage whispering the last part to you.

You eyed them suspiciously. They have black hair and brown eyes. They’re wearing some baggy clothing with what looks like leather sewn into it as armor, a tool belt with two large pouches collapsed shut, smaller pouches on that. They have baggy pants that also have leather on them, and are wearing sturdy looking boots. You held their hand tight in yours and brought them close to your face in one fell swoop.

"If you try anything I'll kill you myself."

TK nodded. You gave them a side eye glance and pushed them back. They gestured with their hands as they spoke.

"So what's got you all in these lands?"

You decided to put back your machete in its place and made your way out of the door, TK following you out.

"nonya."

Red was next to you and told this to TK with a threatening tone. You felt them shiver and they probably had a hard time standing up to Red. With a bit less ease the human stood in front of you. Now out in the sunlight you saw that they carried no real weapon except a small army knife on their belt.

"Come on I'm just curious!"

"Like our friend said. None of your business."

This time it was Stitch who was now standing behind you that said it. You realized that they were both very hostile towards this human. Were your senses dulling? You didn't feel like they were much of a threat. Sure, it's the apocalypse so everything can be misleading but he didn't have the aura of someone who's a bad guy.

You decided to take Red aside while your sister stared at him.

"Red what gives?"

"he ain't alright doll. he's hidin' somethin'. not sure what yet and i ain't stickin' 'round ta find it."

You sighed. You knew Red wasn't wrong and you also knew you should trust him but you wanted to try and trust this person.

"How about this? We give them half a chance? First sign that they're a bad person we get out."

Red didn't seem happy about it but he relented.

"ya better be ready to pack fast."

You nodded and went back to your sister. You saw her talk in almost a friendly manner to TK.

"I thought you didn't trust TK?"

"I don't but they are non-binary. So I guess we bonded because of it. So what's the plan?"

You explained it in her ear while TK got some death glares by your favorite skeleton. While they both head out without fighting one another you look to see that this other human didn't have a car. You raised an eyebrow at TK and asked for an explanation.

"Oh yeah, I use this to go around."

They took out the longboard that they had behind their back. You almost sneered finding this highly unlikely considering the state of the roads.

"No but seriously."

TK gave themselves a light knock on the head before climbing on top of the board. You saw the board glow a deep blue before it was lifted off the ground. You eyed the thing suspiciously and then turned back to Red.

"That's a thing?"

Red just shrugged and walked up to TK who was levitating a solid 3 feet off the ground. Red placed his weight on the side of the thing and you saw a deeper glow envelop the board before it fell altogether. TK yelping in the process.

"guess kid ain't tha' good at usin' magic."

He smiled deviously and you just knew Red had something to do with it, although you couldn't prove it.

“Rude…” TK mumbled, giving the skeleton a bit of a deadpan look. “Like, you woulda only been more obvious there if ya stated ya were gonna mess with me.”

You just smiled awkwardly not sure what this was about. You turned to look at Stitch who shrugged. Welp, you weren’t going to get any help from her. You saw how hostile Red was being to TK and you decided to intervene. Let’s hope this was subtle enough.

You took Red by the arm squishing his arm in between your breasts. You looked at him and gave him big puppy dog eyes as you squeezed a little more. Trying to get his attention.

“Sooo~, you guys doin some Master/Pet kinda thing ooor…?” TK questioned, raising a brow.

You turn awfully pale but that quickly stops as you feel the rush of static in the air. You turn to Red who’s sockets are pitch black. You still kept your arms around his and tried to reassure him.

“It’s alright Red.”

You turn to TK and give him a dead pan look.

“We were just being silly. I tried this for fun.”

You gesture to the collar around your neck. You quickly undid the buckle and took it off. You didn’t want to throw it away so you just started packing it in your bag. You saw Red deflate from the corner of your eyes.

“Ah, sorry for assuming!” TK said.

“It’s alright Lilo isn’t used to people being around us to make those assumptions. Because I wouldn’t make them.”

Said Stitch while snickering. You shoved her lightly and she just smiled even brighter.

“So… do you guys need a place to crash for like, a couple nights? I get a more nomadic feeling from you, so I won’t ask you to stay, but you guys can stay with me for a bit and restock if you need to.” TK said.

You looked at Red and Stitch. Red seemed on edge but Stitch looked oddly at peace with the idea. You knew you had to be the one to decide on this.

“We could use a good night of sleep if you don’t mind. Also we got some gas cans that need filling if that’s a possibility.”

“what?!”

Apparently Red wasn’t too happy with that answer. You went to whisper to the side of his skull.

“Just one night, after we leave. I just want to have one night where we can be safe.”

He turned to face you and you saw his tension deflate. He didn’t know why your eyes convinced him but he would follow you. You knew you wouldn’t do anything reckless and you managed to share that feeling to him.

“Alright, well, shall we get goin then? Also, can I ride with you since i'm filling your gas when we get there anyway?” TK asked, seemingly oblivious to the situation.

Stitch went up to Red and asked him for the keys. The skeleton grumbled but ultimately gave her the keys. You took him aside as Stitch and TK were climbing inside of the car. Red was still glaring at TK and you had enough. You grabbed one of his hands and flicked his forehead.

“That’s enough Red. I know we haven’t had the best experience with humans but give them a chance.”

Red looked at TK who was taking the front seat with Stitch. They seemed to be doing small talk and Red sighed.

“ya not goin’ to back from this ain’tcha doll?”

You shook your head.

“I just want to stop running for one day. Can you do that for me?”

He looked away from you and scratched the back of his skull. He mumbled under his breath and you saw him look back into your eyes.

“fine but first sign somethin’s off. am gettin’ us out of there.”

You squeezed his hand and he suddenly took a reddish tone. His skull turned ever so slowly red. You heard honking and just like that the color was gone. You smiled at him and made your way with him to the back of the car.

It wasn’t a long drive to the mall. Red stayed silent but you saw how tense he was. You were surprised to see how well guarded this place looked like. You realized this place was more akin to a castle than anything else. It had a moat, a bridge, walls and towers. It looked sort of rustic and you had never seen something like this. Usually people seemed to make due with what they have but this one camp seemed to be thriving.

There were trenches that were dug so deep you could see the zombies falling in them but you failed to see them once they dropped down. Two towers stood on either side of what was essentially a medieval drawbridge. You saw armed guards on top of the tower who were equipped with swat vests and helmets. Beyond the moat you could see farms stretching to the buildings.

Your eyes went wide as you realized that this place was a literal fortress. You saw the guards weapons be pointed to your car and Tk poked their head out the window, waving at the guards.

Instantly the guards weapons lowered, a moment later the drawbridge following and admitting the group entry. You were surprised by the organization required to make such a place work. You couldn’t believe that if you didn’t stop here you might have missed this place. Stitch seemed nervous all of a sudden and that gave you a bad feeling.

“Nervous Stitch?”

Red turned to look at Stitch, although he couldn’t see her face he could definitely feel the nervous energy around her. Why was this place making the both of you so on edge? He thought you wanted to come here. He’d like to ask you but he’d keep it to himself for now. Maybe once the three of you are alone he can see what’s bugging you.

You placed a hand on your sister’s shoulder and she turned around and looked at you. The slow drive was directed to a parking garage on site. You got out of the car and tentatively looked around. Stitch took the keys out and gave them to Red. The skeleton eyed the place suspiciously. You were all in the same boat if you had to guess, rule #22 (when in doubt know your way out).

As you slowly took the place in TK guided you back elsewhere. You followed two paces behind and you suddenly felt your sister grab your hand. You saw how she looked at you and you gave her a reassuring smile. She sighed but still marched on with you.

Walking back towards the mall's main entrance, they saw a person there with a book.

“This is the sign in. It's for if any family members or loved ones come by, they’ll know you're here.” Tk explained.

You looked at your sister who shook her head.

“We don’t need that. The only loved ones or family I have are with me, right now.”

The person manning the book smiled softly and looked up to you.

“You can just put your names here then. Don’t need to be all fancy if you don’t want to.”

You felt bad saying no to that person for some reason. You decided to put in your name as Lilo. Stitch followed suit but Red seemed hesitant. He looked up to the person and whispered to them.

“can i look in first?”

Right, maybe Red had a family. You didn’t know him that well. You decided to let him do it in peace. You went up to your sister and you saw the look she gave you. You knew exactly what it meant but decided to ignore her. Her smile turned lopsided and she sighed as she went past you to talk to TK.

Red joined you and he eyed your sister suspiciously.

“somethin’ up with ya two?”

You shook your head.

“No, I guess this place is just getting to us.”

You hesitated to tell him. You looked back at Stitch and then to Red.

“Later? Not now Red.”

TK guided you inside once in, they were swarmed by people welcoming them in. You were surprised but that didn’t compare to the amount of anxiety a certain skeleton next to you was having. Said skeleton was grinding his teeth and had both his hands in his pockets. You saw his whole demeanor change from how he usually acted. It didn’t even compare to the first time you had met Red.