#luxurious red-orange wood

[singularitass]

Aureus Red-Orange Wood Clock

[cornsoupflavour]

Trip to Paradise (Krystal Jung NSFW Smut)

⚠️18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI⚠️

Requested, Story Beats, Story Plot by: @sunshinesmoonshines

f(x) Krystal Jung x Male Reader

Tags: 7.0k words, multiple creampies, public sex, risky sex, mentions of breeding/impreg, heavy romance

The life of a K–Pop idol is stressful, and there are times where idols would take a step back from the limelight to enjoy a little solitude away from it all. Krystal Jung, from f(x) is one such idol. The pressure to perform and pop out gradually got to her and she decided that now would be a good time to go on a hiatus and take a vacation to help ease her body and mind. Krystal was looking for more than just a holiday, however. She was on a little search for love.

Krystal had decided to take a one–month holiday in the gorgeous city of Venice, Italy. She wanted to experience its exquisite beauty, history and especially, its romance. As the days went on, she found herself slowly falling more and more in love with the city. She was checked into an authentic, Italian bed and breakfast situated near the Grand Canal. The sound of creaking of wood and the warm, flickering candlelight added to its ambiance. The whole atmosphere put her at ease instantaneously.

On her first day there, Krystal visited St. Mark's Square. The vast expanse of its piazza, dotted with cafes, tourists and even pigeons captured her heart instantly. The architecture of St. Mark's Basilica and the towering Campanile exuded a feeling of luxury. She was impressed. But it was the charm of daily life that truly captivated her. A street musician playing a moving serenade caught her attention. She stood before him for a moment, watching as he coaxed sweet melodies from his violin. She wondered if she should sample that for a song.

As the sun began to set, it casted an orange glow over the city. Krystal found herself wandering along the narrow and cobblestone streets, crossing over countless bridges that arched over the iconic winding canals. She couldn't help but feel captivated by the gondolas smoothly gliding by, their gondoliers gracing her ears with soulful Italian songs.

On one of the bridges, she saw a group of young locals. They were laughing and flirting with each other. A young man from the group noticed Krystal staring. He smiled at her, revealing dimples that pierced his cheeks. He gave her a small wave, making her flustered. She returned the gesture shyly before moving on.

She felt a slight ache in her heart, sad that she hasn't been able to truly experience the wonders of being with someone due to her job as an idol. But then again, this was the trip to attempt something like that. She carried on walking for a while before deciding she should head back to the BnB.

As she arrived at the door to the BnB, she bumped into you. Her ears perked up slightly as she took in the full sight of you. You did the same, a little taken aback by her beauty.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. Are you alright?" you asked, lightly holding her still.

"Yeah, I'm fine... I'm sorry, are you another guest here? I don't think I've seen you..." she asked, her eyes checking you out slightly. Krystal had already met all the other guests who were staying at the BnB, the one other guest that isn't you.

"Oh, uhh, no. I'm actually the owner's son." You replied, a warm smile forming on your lips. You raised a hand out as you both introduced yourself to one another. "Oh wow, you're from Korea? You must be a model or something, you're beautiful!"

The light flirt sent a red blush to creep up Krystal's cheeks. "Oh, stop it, you~" she playfully waved her hand. The dim lighting of the BnB entrance casted an inviting warmth on both your faces.

"No, really, you're a natural beauty," you said genuinely, your lips curving up into a cheeky smile. Krystal felt a surge of happiness hearing the sincerity in your voice. "But it's getting dark, please come in. I hope I'm not making you late for anything."

"Oh, no, no... You're not. But I do think I should head back to my room..." her voice trailed off a little.

"How about you show me around town tomorrow? It'll be nice having a tour guide for myself~"

"Oh? A–Alright then, I'll see you back here in the morning. Have a great rest." The two of you parted ways, both sporting a wide and warm smile on your lips. You knew the type of business your father runs would definitely attract some attractive individuals... but one as astronomically beautiful as she is? Feels like a dream.

As the night went on, the both of you felt a slight buzz. It was like you couldn't wait to see each other again despite the short interaction. You managed to put your excited selves to sleep. The next morning, you eagerly awaited Krystal at the lobby of the BnB. You stared in awe as she descended the stairs from the top floor in a form–fitting grey sleeveless dress.

"So, shall we?"

You took a moment to check her out, taking in the full sight of her glowing allure. "Y–Yeah, let's go... Wow, you are just– stunning–"

"Thank you," Krystal replied with a grateful smile.

Your sentences struggled to come out as you battled the many thoughts in your head. You managed to snap out of it a few moments later, and ushered her over to your car. Luckily for you, there won't be any check–ins scheduled for the day, so you are free to spend it with this heaven–sent individual.

Krystal sauntered over as you held the door open for her. In a slightly seductive yet graceful movement, she ducked in, taking a seat beside yours in the car. "I must say, owning a BnB in such a beautiful place... must be a dream come true."

You chuckled softly, as you rounded the car to get to the driver's seat. You inserted the key into the ignition. "Yeah, it's wonderful. I don't usually work here since my dad runs the place. But when I do cover for him, it feels like it could be my dream job."

Krystal chuckled, leaning back against the seat. "I can see why you'd enjoy this job. The BnB, the city, the people... it's all just so breathtaking."

You chose to bring her to the Peggy Guggenheim Collection to admire the beauty of Italian art before bringing her around to savour the rich flavours of Italian cuisine in hidden trattorias, allowing her to lose herself in the quieter corners of the city.

"Wow..." she gasped as she gazed upon the artworks.

You were pleased to watch her take in the art with the same fascination you have. You both wind up standing in front of a large piece, both of you unable to speak for a moment.

Krystal bites her lower lip, eyes still fixated on the painting. "It's... It's different. Not something I've seen before. But I like it..."

The two of you continued to gaze at the works before taking an adventure through the winding alleyways to let her have a taste of the most authentic of Italian cuisines. However, you made sure to hold off from some of the tastier stores to ensure she'd still have more to try later on during her trip.

Over the next two weeks or so, Krystal explored every nook and cranny that Venice has to offer with your guidance. You both went from strolling down the Rialto Bridge to indulging in gelato in the quaint Campo San Polo. You even spent long afternoons lounging in the lush gardens of Giardini Pubblici as you watched the sunset together from the quiet vantage points of Dorsuduro.

You two would go on long–winding yet engaging conversations about your daily lives. Krystal held off from speaking about her experience as a K–Pop idol as she felt a genuine connection forming between the two of you. That revelation may have brought about a positive or negative reaction, but she wasn't willing to take that risk... It was hard not to though, as she felt herself falling for you... hard.

You were falling hard too. In between those conversations, you'd find yourselves lost in each other's eyes, the chemistry between you palpable. Sometimes your fingers would touch, and you'd imagine yourself stealing brief kisses under the veil of twilight. But most often, you'd simply sit in comfortable silence, enjoying the company of someone who wasn't just beautiful on the outside but also within.

After spending two weeks together, the both of you enjoyed each other's presence despite just touring the city with each other. The odd familiarity and comfort you both shared had grown, and you both secretly yearned for more. 

Krystal bit her tongue as she waited for you to take the initiative as you did the same. Eventually, she couldn't take it. She called your phone, asking if you'd be down to visit her in her room for some games to alleviate her boredom. Little did you know, she had something else planned.

"Krystal? Hey– I– Yeah, I'd love that actually. I'll be there in a bit."

You grabbed your things and made your way over, waving to your dad on the way in. The man sat behind the counter and smiled warmly, enjoying his peace while there wasn't the issue of guests checking in.

Arriving at her room, you knocked gently on the door. Krystal opened it, welcoming you with the sight of her in a comfortable outfit of a white tank top and some pink pants. Her hair cascaded in loose, free–flowing waves. The sight took you by surprise, such a casual set of clothes and yet she still is breathtakingly gorgeous.

"Hey, please, come in," Krystal greeted with an inviting smile.

You stepped inside, your eyes momentarily roaming her figure. You weren't as subtle as you wanted to be as Krystal caught wind of that. You looked around the room as you waited for her. "Thanks for inviting me, I'll leave the game choice up to you."

"Oh, I've got something in mind. Stay right here while I get everything ready," Krystal replied, guiding you to the couch.

As you sat down, you could hear some rustling and searching happening behind you. "Hey, do you need any help?" You offered. You were met with a reassuring no. After a while, Krystal placed a deck of cards on the coffee table, along with a pair of wine glasses and a bottle of red wine.

She sat down next to you, your thighs brushing against hers gently. Krystal picked up the deck of cards. "Ever played strip poker?"

A smile tugged at your lips, and your heart raced. "S–Strip poker? Not exactly... but I'm down to give it a try," you replied, glazing at her with a slight hint of lust in your eyes.

Krystal bit her lower lip, a playful shine washing over her eyes. "Alrighty then, strip poker's one main rule is that the loser has to take off one piece of clothing. Fair?"

"Sounds good to me."

With a smile she began shuffling the cards before handing them to you to do the same. Krystal dealt them out, and you both set about plalying. The game was intense, the suspense ran rampant as card after card fell, revealing the fates of your pieces of clothing. The hours passed quickly, and the room grew warmer as you both shed more layers. Krystal's tank top clung to her curves as you sat across from her in just your boxers. The wine wasn't helping either, making you both tipsy.

"Looks like you're the current loser~" Krystal teased, her eyes lingering on your chest.

With a devious and slightly inebriated grin, you reached over and pulled her tank top off, revealing her supple A–Cup breasts partially concealed by a black lace bra. Krystal's breath hitched and her cheeks flushed a deep shade of pink.

What you did finally clicked in your mind as you stood there, mouth agape and completely shocked at what you'd just done. Eyes wide, you stared at her, unable to move or do anything else.

The game paused, with both of you locked in each other's gaze, the air was thick with an unspoken desire. A few moments later, she leaned in, her lips hovering above yours as she whispered, "I think you've made your intentions pretty clear... and I can't say I don't feel the same way... Let's just end the game here."

You nodded, a trembling exhale escaped both your lips, and finally the two of you surrendered yourselves to the passion. She stood up, and sauntered over to you, straddling your lap with a swaying motion. She claimed your lips in a fiery kiss as your hands traveled each other's bodies, yearning for the touch you've both been craving for weeks.

Your hands continued to explore each other's bodies. Her soft breasts fit so perfectly into your hand as you kneaded them. You shifted your position a little, allowing you to pay special attention to her midriff, kissing and nibbling at every inch of her skin. Krystal shivered under your touch, her moans growing louder.

"Mmmh, aahh~ Y/N, that..." she gasped, her hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer.

You slid down her body, your mouth watering to taste her. You began with small kisses near her belly button before slowly parting her legs. Her soft moans filled the room as you started to pleasure her with your tongue. You prodded and licked her pussy with your tongue, letting your taste buds take in the flavour of her honeyed core.

Krystal's body arched as she let out a guttural moan. "Mmmm, Y/N... you feel– you're doing so fucking well..."

Two of your fingers joined your tongue, teasing her, and bringing her ever closer to the edge. Krystal's body tensed, you could see her eyes screwed shut, her hand gripping the sides of your head. "Gnnnngh... Y/N... oh, fuck yes... don't you dare stop..."

You gave her insides a few more licks before withdrawing your mouth from her. She looked at you with a mixture of lust, desperation and slight frustration. Her eyes begged for you to continue. You grinned, leaving a trail of kisses along her inner thighs, all the way up to her soft and sweet lips. "Hold on, we're just getting started~" you whispered into her ear.

A smug smirk appeared on her lips as her body relaxed slightly, returning your kisses as you repositioned her onto her back. Her legs draped over your shoulders as you two settled in the missionary position. Your lips connected in a passionate and sloppy kiss as she began to reach her arm out towards the dresser.

"Wait, Y/N."

"Mmmh– yeah?" You pulled away momentarily to see she'd pulled out a condom packet.

"I know we both want it as raw as possible... and I really want you to just knock me up, but since it's our first time, let's use these."

"Oh shit, yeah– of course."

Fearing she ruined the momentum, she brought her lips to yours once more as she tore out one of the condoms. Her hands were soft and gentle as she reached in between your sweaty bodies to sheath your member with the rubber.

Before long, it was on and you were both set to begin deeper exploration of one another. Her eyes gazed into yours, never leaving yours as you slowly entered her. Krystal's eyes widened, and she let out a soft gasp.

You moved at a steady pace, your thrusts syncing with the deepening of your kisses. Krystal wrapped her arms around your neck, her legs coiling themselves around your waist, encouraging you to go harder, faster, and deeper.

"That's it– Fuck me, Y/N– Harder~" Krystal panted.

You obliged, ramming your hips into her at an even quicker pace, your tip slamming against something inside her. She wasn't calling for a stop so that must mean she's loving it. Her eyes rolled back into her head with every thrust.

Her moans grew louder as you felt her tightening around your shaft. You bit your lip as you began to feel yourself struggle with holding back. After a while, you felt Krystal was ready for a little change. With your cock still buried in her depths, you helped her move onto her hands and knees as you slammed into her in the cowgirl position. You graced her tight ass with a myriad of slaps, leaving a red patch on her cheeks.

She began throwing it back towards you, and before long, she overpowered you. She adjusted herself to ride you, reverse cowgirl style. You laid on your back as she rode you to kingdom come. She leaned forward as she threw her head back, her breasts swayed with every movement.

"NNGH– THAT'S IT– FUCK ME–" Krystal urged, her voice raspy with desire.

You leaned upwards a little and reached around her. Your hands grasped onto her perky tits and began fondling them. You pinched her nipples and rolled them between your fingers. Krystal's moans became louder and you could feel her walls tightening around you, signaling she was close to climax.

She leaned all the way back, her hands rose to her tits as she squeezed them hard. "FUCK, YESSS~!" she screamed as she came hard, coating your cock in her juices. You continued to thrust into her as she shivered and gasped.

"God fucking damn– Krystal– you're so fucking sexy... I... I love your ass–" you groaned as you squeezed her ass cheeks hard.

Her cheeks flushed with pleasure as she chuckled, "Y/N– I think from now on– I'm all yours– Just fuck me till we're both screaming each other's names~"

You complied, your thrusts becoming faster, harder, and stronger to match her words. You could feel yourself bottoming her out. Krystal eventually flopped forward onto her elbows, her pussy still impaled on your member. You could tell you were both frustrated from the presence of the condom but it had to stay on for safety.

The both of you paused for a brief moment before you helped her move back into doggystyle. You began plunging yourself into her once more, her back arching towards the bed. "God– Just like that, Y/N– You're making me feel so good~"

You could feel it, the sensation building within you. You could feel it building within her too, her walls clenching once more. You gritted your teeth as you did your best to hold back, but the sound of her sultry moans and the sight of her cute ass got the better of you. You were about to explode as she screamed out in pure ecstasy.

"YES– YES– FUCK, I'M CUMMINGG~!" her body shuddered with delight as her arms stretched out. You let out a loud grunt as you began your climax, your thrusts turning erratic and fast. As you pulled out, you flipped Krystal onto her back. She laid there, seductively, her sweaty body splayed out.

"Let me just–" she reached down and peeled the condom off your throbbing member. You stroked your shaft desperately as you brought your fingers to her pussy. Your thumb pressed against her clit while her fingers slid into her at a quickened pace. Krystal's body tensed again, her moans echoed in the room.

She returned the favour, wrapping her delicate fingers around your cock and jerked you off in a cockscrew motion. "That's it– Don't stop, Y/N– You're getting me so close again–" she whimpered. You could sense her orgasm arriving as yours did as well.

You both shared a knowing look as she pulled your face down for a romantic kiss. "Finish on my tits–" she ordered. You obliged, aligning yourself perfectly so that both of you could climax at the same time. You backed away slightly as she spread her legs out and moaned out your name.

It wasn't long before you both let out guttural moans as your orgasms peaked. Krystal drew your eyes to her tits and cleavage, giving you a place to aim your cock at. A moment later,  her chest became covered as you shot ropes all over her pretty little tits. Your fingers were clamped in her pussy as she began squirting hard.

After a while, your movements slowed and you slumped onto the floor, leaving her spread out on the couch. You brought your fingers up to your mouth, they glistened with her bodily juices. You stuck them into your mouth as you tasted her nectar.

As you peered up towards her, you could see her eyes were full of lust. Both of you were slick with sweat, your chests heaving. "Holy fuck– Y/N... You– You're incredible..."

"You were too... I don't think I've ever had sex that good–"

You both giggled, your hearts pounding, your breaths catching as you slowly recovered from the ethereal sexual encounter. Slowly, you both rose to your feet and cleaned up. Afterwards, the two of you slumped back onto the couch and embraced each other tightly. You both snuggled, sharing small and sweet kisses.

"Thank you, for tonight... It's been rough finding love like this in Korea."

"No, thank YOU for inviting me over tonight. But why's that? I'm sure there are plenty of amazing Korean men."

Krystal paused for a while, her face a little uneasy. "Hey, if you aren't comfortable with sharing, you don't have to."

"No, it's not that... it's just..."

You stayed silent, letting her have the floor.

"...I'm actually an idol... and usually it's taboo for us to partake in these kinds of relationships..."

You acknowledged her revelation, bringing her hand up to your lips to kiss it in hopes it'd help make her feel safer.

"Like those K–Pop people– the artists?"

She nodded, a small smile appearing on her lips as you kissed her ever so gently.

"Ah, I see... and you can't find love in Korea because it may negatively affect your career, got it... Well, I will say, you've come to the right place. And seeing as we've just had the most amazing sex ever, I'd love to be that little taboo lover of yours~"

Krystal couldn't help but giggle at your proposal. The genuine smile that appeared on her face spoke volumes of how much she appreciated the sentiment. You shared a loving kiss as the both of you basked in the warmth of your embrace.

The two of you continued to spend time together all throughout the night. In the morning, you made the hard decision of heading back home, Krystal playfully pouting and fluttering her eyelids. You gave her a long and loving kiss on the lips before heading out. On the way down you bumped into your father. The both of you shared a knowing look and he ensured you that the rooms were soundproof. You kept that tidbit of information in mind for the future.

And as the next few weeks went by, you shared romantic dinners to late night strolls. You both soaked up every moment, cherishing the opportunity to be together. One such opportunity was a carnival date. It was an example of your carefree bonding, and you both thought you'd spice things up a little with a challenge.

Krystal's eyes sparkled as she led you around the various attractions, her fingers intertwined with yours. "Let's play some games, Y/N. You seem like you'd be good at winning prizes."

Krystal, dressed in a grey top with a pair of sunglasses hanging from its neckline, Adidas shorts, a denim jacket, and her gorgeous brown hair down in slightly messy but still–kept waves. She was the other party in the proposed challenge. As you both go through the challenges, you emerge victorious, a mischievous grin formed on your lips.

"Well, looks like I won~ And as a reward, I want you to treat us to some ice cream and refreshments. How's that sound?"

Krystal rolled her eyes, playfully shaking her head, but relenting nonetheless. Soon, she returned with two cups of ice cream, two bottles of water and a bag of chips. "Here you go, your Highness. Please, enjoy your spoils," she said sarcastically as she handed you one of the ice creams and a bottle of water. The two of you giggled before setting off in search of a private spot to enjoy your treats.

You led her to the perfect secluded bench. Rich greenery offered the both of you privacy as you sat down. Your eyes glistened a little as you watched her get settled onto the bench, her hair cascading over her shoulders.

As you both got situated on the bench, Krystal turned to you and whispered into your ear. "So, what do you think of all this? I mean– like we both OBVIOUSLY like each other, and y'know... there's definitely something special between us... I know you said you wanted to be my little taboo secret but... shall we make it official?"

"I think we should. Or at least we should try and make it work," you responded, your voice hushed yet firm. "I promise we'll figure it all out. Besides, if things go south, you could come and stay here with me~"

Krystal chuckled as she playfully smacked your arm. She placed a sweet and lingering kiss before pulling away. "Oh yeah, you wish, right?"

You wrapped your arm around her as you both cuddled on the bench. Krystal couldn't help but blush as she felt your arm around her waist, pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss. Her surprise was evident when you began to caress her thigh. She allowed herself to let go, indulging in the moment. As your hand slipped beneath her shorts, she gasped softly, only to stifle her moan with her hand while you fingered her.

Krystal let out more soft moans as your lips continued to meet hers. The PDA intensified with each movement. Her eyelids fluttered as she tried biting her lips to suppress the growing moans. She could feel herself surrendering to you under your touch.

Your fingers moved with skill and expertise as your mouth met her breasts. She raised her denim jacket to conceal the inappropriate act as her hips began to rock against your fingers, pushing them even deeper. She felt more alive than ever, the illicitness of the act... on a public bench in the middle of the day... she could feel the adrenaline surging through her veins.

It wasn't long till her body spasmed, cumming from the sheer pleasure you brought her. But as she came down from her high, she looked dazed. She urged you to find a more hidden spot and you decided to lead her to the men's bathroom. She stood up and straightened herself out, her eyes lingering on the bulge in your pants. A devilish grin crossed her face as she sneakily entered the men's restroom with you.

The both of you shambled into a stall, your lips unable to leave the other. Inside the stall, you began to undress her, leaving her completely exposed except for ther shoes. She obediently lifted her, granting you easier access to her slit. You began pleasuring her again, this time with a combination of your mouth and fingers. The stall's soundproofing against the bustling restroom allowed her to surrender fully to the pleasure.

Krystal's moans grew in intensity, her legs quivered as you inserted a third finger. Every time you plunged your digits into her, her body reacted. The wet squelching sounds echoed within the stall. As the restroom grew busier, she tried her best to suppress her moans. Each time someone would knock on the stall door, she'd give subtle knocks back.

Seeing how ready she was, you removed your own clothes. You placed them on top of the toilet basin with hers. You positioned yourself in between her legs, one lifted over your shoulder and the other steady on the ground. You shared a look of anticipation and slight anxiety.

"This is gonna be the first time I've done it raw... Give it to me good, alright?"

"Yes ma'am~" you responded before pushing your lips onto hers. As you were both engaged in a sloppy kiss, you plunged your throbbing member into her wet entrance. The raw feeling of her insides made your legs tremble. You wanted to cum at that very moment, but you wanted to at least give her some pleasure.

You began thrusting at a desperate pace. The both of you moaned out each other's names as you felt your tip slamming against her insides. You exchanged saliva as her moans entered your ears like a harmonious tune. Krystal began to shiver and gasp as she climaxed, her juices spraying out onto the stall wall.

You couldn't help but reach down and play with her clit, licking your fingers once in a while to get her taste.

Switching positions, Krystal straddled you on the toilet seat, moving in sync with your body. Your hands gripped her waist, pulling her closer as she started to grind herself against you with a familiar desperation. You matched her rhythm, your hips leaving the seat occasionally.

"Aahh, Y/N, I'm..." she moaned softly, her voice tinged with lust.

"Mmmm, Y/N... you feel... so fucking good..." she continued, her grinds growing more insistent.

Krystal's breathing became erratic, and her movements became more forceful. The sounds of your hips slamming into one another filled the air as you nibbled on her neck. You both could feel the approaching climax.

The accidental collision of your hips with the seat sent a jolt of pleasure through her, and she couldn't help but let out a guttural groan. "Gnnnngh... Y/N... oh, fuck... don't stop..." she whimpered, her nails digging into your shoulders.

As you both approached climax, Krystal's body tensed, her movements wild and unrestrained. "THAT'S IT– FUCK ME, BABY– KNOCK ME UP–" she cried out, her voice shaking with the intensity of her pleasure.

You couldn't tell if she was serious but hearing her voice moan out like that? You couldn't take it. You took one of her soft perky breasts into your mouth as you bucked your hips upwards, burying your member in her depths before exploding, flooding her insides with your hot seed.

With a few final breaths, you both climaxed hard, your bodies quaking intensely as you sat on the toilet seat. You grabbed the sides of each other's face and started a sloppy makeout as you both let the pleasure seap out.

"Holy shit– I– Wow–"

"I know– I've never had sex in public before... but you're making me wanna do it more..."

Krystal chuckled as she leaned back, her body still impaled on your shaft. She looked at the time and realised it was starting to get late. She begrudgingly pulled herself off of you and quickly put her panties back on, sealing the cum inside her. She stood in a cute superhero pose, her perky tits jiggling with each movement.

The both of you cleaned each other up and left the restroom while no one was around. As the sky got dark, you opted to walk Krystal back to the BnB. Your father, already catching onto the brewing relationship, gave you another key for the room, allowing you to stay with her for a bit. You two walked back to Krystal's room, hand in hand, the night was still young. But you both had a long fun–filled day, and it was time to get some rest.

A few days later, the both of you found yourselves at the airport, your faces inches away from the other. She had her luggage with her as she stood there in a white button up and jean shorts. Your eyes brimmed with fake tears as you looked towards the floor, attempting to make her laugh through the sadness of the situation. Krystal, unable to hold back, chuckled before hugging you tightly.

"Aww, you're gonna miss me? I know, I know, baby... You can always come and visit me in Seoul~" she teased with a hint of sadness in her voice as she rubbed your back with her hand.

"Yeah, of course. Every chance I get, I'll be there~" you snapped out of your little fake crying fit to reciprocate the hug. Your arms embraced her tightly as you lifted her off the ground, spinning her around. As you spun, you planted a series of kisses on her forehead, cheeks and lips.

"Promise you'll come back to see me too, you know that room in the BnB will forever be reserved for you~" your sweet words touched her. The both of you couldn't help but cuddle and kiss as if no one else existed around you. Your surroundings faded into nothing as the only thing that mattered was the love you both shared.

With several hours left before her flight, you both decided to make the most of the remaining time. Krystal grabbed your wrist and brought you to the private lounge where she left her baggage at. She pushed you into the restroom and locked the door behind her. Such a bold move, what if someone saw...

She began to undress you methodically. She started with your shirt, undoing your buttons slowly and seductively, kissing your neck as she does so. She then moved to your belt, unbuckling it and pulling it off. Lastly, she undid your pants, letting them fall and pool around your feet.

"Mmmh~ That's a whole lot of man... Luckily for me, he's all mine~"

"All yours, baby–"

She gave you a desperate and fiery kiss before taking a handkerchief out from your shirt pocket and stuffing it into your mouth. "Shhh..." she whispered as she gave you a wink.

She knelt down and pushed your underwear down, revealing your semi–erect cock. She let out a small moan as her eyes remained fixated on your rod. She stood up and pulled you towards the mirror. You faced the mirror as you watched her through the reflection.

She slowly and flirtatiously undressed, giving you long looks at her ample body. You bit down on the handkerchief, reeling from the fact that you couldn't just ravage her right there and then. Well, you could, but there must be a reason she made you face the mirror right?

She removed her top, revealing her beautiful breasts. Your eyes zoned in on her nipples, almost salivating at the sight of them. They were hard nubs because of the cold restroom air. She approached you from behind as she wrapped her hands around your shaft. Your eyes widened as a muffled moan escaped from your handkerchief.

Krystal began to stroke you, her hand moving in slow deliberate cockscrews. She would occasionally spit on your cock for extra lubrication. She whispered into your ear, her hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

As her hands went into a rhythm, her grip tightened, and she started to pump you up and down. You could feel her thumb cradling your cockhead, rubbing the precum slicked head in slow and sloppy circles. Each pump became faster, a loud squelching sound emitted from your cock as her saliva mixed with your precum. Your shaft would glisten with the mixture, reflecting the fluorescent lights of the washroom.

"Mmmh~ Y/N, I bet you're gonna cum so hard for me, right? You wanna cover my delicate hands with your thick... creamy... hot seed, huh?" Krystal's warm breath tickled your earlobe, her lips grazing it. "Feel my fingers... feel them moving up and down your hard... throbbing cock... You like that, don't you?"

The sensation of her hot breath, her hand and the mirror's reflection of her had you on edge. You neared the brink of ecstasy as she increased her pace. The sound of her wrist slapping against your stomach. Her hand glided on your shaft smoothly. The sounds that were emanating from the activity were loud and erotic.

You could see her tongue licking her lips every so often through the reflection in the mirror. It was like she was staring at her favourite meal. And you liked that. You liked feeling like her beloved snack. Because in your eyes, that was what she was to you.

Her hand twisted, coaxing your cock to release more precum and increase the lubrication. You could feel her nails slightly brushing against your shaft, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Cum for me, baby~ Show me... Show me how much you'll miss me... I know I'll miss touching you... So go on, darling... Show me~"

You couldn't hold it any longer, your semen began pooling at the base of your cock. Krystal sensed it too, and without warning, her hands began moving at a furious pace. You let go. Your body shuddered and spasmed as you erupted, shooting globs of hot cum all over her hands, the mirror and the sink. Her hands kept working you, milking you for every last drop before eventually slowing to a stop.

You panted and grunted as your body trembled from the pleasure. She looked at the mess you made all over the mirror, her tongue running over her lips, a wicked grin on her face.

"Ah, how was that for a parting gift? I hope it was worth it..." her voice trailed off as she playfully pouted. She brought her hand up to her lips and licked all of your cum off her hands.

She pulled the handkerchief out of your mouth and kissed you passionately before leading you both to the toilet seat. She shedded her jean shorts. You sat down, eagerly as she mounted you, pushing your face in between her pointy tits. You couldn't help but rub your face on them, letting your tongue lick her hardened nubs.

She grinded her hips against yours, the warm wetness of her pussy smeared against your cock.

"Mmm~ Look how wet you've made me... You'll have to take responsibility for this..." she purred, her voice tinged with lust.

You were quick to tease her, sticking two of your fingers inside her. Her walls tightened and spasmed around them. You began to finger her as she continued to grind on your throbbing member. The two of you matched the other's rhythm, the sounds of hips slamming against one another filled the room.

Her moans gradually grew louder as your fingers increased their pace, moving in and out of her. Adding a third finger, you watched her body tense up as she arched her back, pulling you further into her fragrant chest. Krystal swayed, her body reacting to the stimulation as the wet squelching of her insides echoed throughout the room.

"Ahhn~ Y/N, I need–" she moaned, a guttural groan escaping her lips.

"Fuck me, Y/N– please– I want you inside me–" she begged. You looked up into her eyes as they pleaded for the chance to have you ravage her insides one last time.

You obliged, sliding your cock into her wet and warm slit. The feeling of raw penetration sent waves of shivers all throughout your body. You began bucking your hips up into her at a steady pace. You held her hips tightly as you buried your face into her cleavage. Her walls were slick, clinging onto your member.

"Krystal–" you mumbled. Her sultry voice boomed with breathy moans as you continued to bottom her out.

"Goddamn– You're so tight– I fucking love it–" you added.

She met every one of your thrusts with a matching motion, her body moved with desperate hunger. You couldn't help but nibble on her nipples and neck, leaving light marks. The both of you could feel the frenzied lust taking over.

"Fuck, Y/N– That's it, don't stop– Don't you dare, baby–" she cried out, her grip on your shoulder tightening. You slammed into her, your speed increasing. Krystal moaned louder than ever before, her voice echoing through the small restroom.

Suddenly, her body began to spasm as she came hard. She threw her head back as her body shook and twitched. You continued to slam into her, her insides clenching and releasing you. After a few more thrusts, her eyelids fluttered open as she leaned towards you.

"That's it– Fuck me– KNOCK ME UP–" she wailed, her body tensing, her movements becoming more erratic.

The feeling of the toilet rubbing against your hips increased the intensity of her climax. You felt yourself reaching your boiling point as well. You threw your mouth onto her tits, your body shivering. As you felt yourself start to shake, you connected your lips with hers.

"I LOVE YOU– I LOVE YOU– I LOVE YOU–" she moaned, her voice muffled by your rough kisses.

Your thrusts became more intense, your hips leaving the seat a couple of times. You let out a loud groan, and your cock twitched inside her. Krystal screamed, her body shaking.

"Y/N, Y/N, Y/N–" she cried out, her voice shaking.

Together, the both of you reached a powerful climax, the second or third one for her during this session. Wave after wave of pleasure surged through your entire body. You flooded her insides with your hot seed, your bodies quaking intensely.

You panted heavily as you shared a passionate kiss, your tongues dancing. The pleasure began to subside, and the both of you slowly calmed down.

"I fucking love you... Krystal... I don't think I will ever find anyone like you ever again..."

"I love you too, Y/N… But me neither... Ah shit, my flight's boarding soon..."

The both of you reluctantly got up and cleaned yourself off. You shared a long and passionate kiss before you both exited the stall, looking as though nothing had happened. You walked her to the boarding gate, right before she crossed over. With a final hug, you smiled, your tears falling down your cheeks.

"Don't forget me, Krystal... Don't let those Korean men get you while I'm gone..."

"Don't worry, baby~ I'm all yours and you're all mine... I'll text you when I land, alright?" she reassured you. You held her close. She nodded, her face contorting with sadness. With a final kiss, you both pulled away. She waved as she entered the departure area.

As you turned away, you heard a familiar voice call out to you.

"I LOVE YOU, Y/N~!"

You shedded a tear as you returned the sentiment.

"I LOVE YOU TOO, KRYSTAL!"

And with that she ran off to catch her flight, leaving you a small ache in your heart.

"I'll always love you... Krystal Jung..."

[Let me know if you want a part two or if you want me to make this a long running story. And let me know who else you'd want to see a fic about.]

[tragedybunny]

Loving Him

༺Synopsis ༻ You and Astarion are out travelling the world. Tonight you decide to spoil him with your attention.

༺Pairing ༻ Astarion x F!Reader

༺Warnings ༻ 18+ , fellatio, vaginal sex

༺Word Count ༻ 1820

Thanks to @bunnidarling for the Beta.

The sun was fading, pinks and oranges playing prelude to lavenders and indigos, then the velvety black finale of the night. A night of rest, you thought contentedly, just the two of you and this lovely little clearing you'd found to camp in. 

Normally, you would stay at what inns would have you, but you'd been between towns when daylight grew near. Just off the road through the woods you found a small, oddly shaped, clearing that was level enough so that you wouldn��t be sleeping in a mud puddle. “Do you think you can handle sleeping outdoors again, or are you too used to the luxury of a real bed?” Astarion had teased as the tent went up in the last hour before dawn. 

“I wasn’t the one who whined endlessly about it,” you shot back with a grin. Neither of you loved roughing it, but it happened sometimes on your journey across Faerûn. Thus, you’d dug your supplies out of the modified Bag of Holding that Gale had gifted you, and made camp. It was an extremely useful gift, modified into a small backpack one of you carried while the other carried a mundane pack with essentials you might want to access with ease, the Bag could be a bit tricky for finding things quickly. 

Though, you couldn’t complain as it also allowed you to indulge in a bit of luxury: a carpet spread out near your fire dappled with large cushions to lounge on, where you sat in nothing but a thin nightgown. The tent you shared bore a similar enchantment to the bag, making it larger and more luxurious on the inside, the cots and blankets disappearing easily into it as it was taken down. Tonight you’d spread out your cushion nest by yourself while Astarion tranced. It was a habit of his to wait until the last few hours before sunset, remaining awake throughout the day, either in your tent or wherever you’d found to stay. 

You were nocturnal yourself these days, staying up past dawn to visit markets that weren’t open at night and make any necessary arrangements, and finding sleep sometime after. Astarion would usually cuddle up to you until you drifted off, and then return to your side to trance. Today though, you’d had trouble sleeping and come out to enjoy the evening, watching the sunset. 

As soon as the light faded, your vampiric love emerged from the tent. It was a rare sight to see Astarion not looking perfectly put together, one only you were so regularly privy to. Curls disheveled, eyes hazy with sleep, he stood in the moonlight in nothing but a night shirt that came down to mid-thigh. “Good evening, darling,” he purred, voice thick and sultry. 

Heat came instantly to your core just looking at him. Tonight was a night of rest, such urges shouldn't go to waste. “Hello my love,” you crook a finger and beckon him toward you, a sinful smile on your lips. 

His crimson eyes light up, knowing you were up to something. Astraion’s reclaimed bodily autonomy had led you to finding ever greater physical pleasures in each other. Rising from the cushion you leaned on, you settle on your knees before him. “May I?” Your gaze peers up at him through your lashes to find his eyes already hooded and dark. 

“Go right ahead, you sweet little thing,” he invites, urging you on. If only he knew what you were thinking. 

The first touch of your lips is against his inner thigh, and you feel him shiver as they continue up his pale skin. Your teeth sink into his soft flesh in their wake, leaving little red marks blooming on him. He groans and you want to leave the kind of marks that would last, dark and beautiful, but you had other things on your mind. 

Pushing the night shirt out of your way, you reach your goal, his cock, already starting to stiffen for you. Gods, was there a more glorious sight in all the realms? You look up again, asking without words. “Don’t leave me waiting love,” he breathes, betraying the effect you were having on him. 

Grasping him in one hand, you stroke gently as your tongue darts out to lick along the sensitive underside of his member. His hitched breath spurs you on, and you lavish your tongue over him, long strokes, drawn out teasingly over the sensitive head, emerging from his foreskin. 

The temptation is too great to resist and you greedily take all of him into your mouth before long, pushing yourself as far down his length as you could without gagging. Your reward is a moan that leaves wetness blooming between your thighs. A hand tangles in your hair as you start to move, taking him again and again to your limit. 

The feel of him bumping into the back of your throat is always delicious, but you need more. You let him slide from your mouth to a disappointed sigh. “Lie down, I want you to just let me do everything,” you gesture to your abandoned cushion, “and get that night shirt out of my way.” 

“Feisty tonight,” he smiles down at you, but acquiesces to your whim. Typically, it was Astarion who took charge of your intimate moments, guiding you, instructing you, dominating you. But tonight, you want to lead, to let him simply experience pleasure. 

The night shirt is carelessly flung to the ground, leaving you with an uninhibited view of that body you’d learned to crave. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, holding back a hungry noise. Astarion settles himself down onto the cushion, his thighs spread enough to leave a perfect space for you. “You’re going to spoil me if you do all the work.”

“Hush,” you scold, pulling your nightgown over your head, and letting the cool evening breeze tingle your skin. Astarion makes an appreciative sound and you turn to find his eyes devouring and can tell he’s fighting the urge to grab and push you down to the ground and have his way with you. He’ll have to wait for that. 

You don’t leave the space he’d made for you empty for long, kneeling between his thighs and lowering yourself until your lips wrap around him and one hand encircles the base of his cock. Sucking, you work him both hand and mouth, bobbing up and down. 

No longer holding back, the night is filled with his little sounds of passion as you worship him with your mouth. Invariably, hands wrap back into your hair and he tries to thrust up, to take back control. Your free hand pushes him back down and you leave it resting on his hip, a warning you could stop if he doesn’t behave. 

Drool dribbles over the corner of your mouth as you're once again taking him to the back of your throat. The salty taste of precum tingles your tongue as you press it as hard as you can against him. The hand on his hip traces it’s way down his thigh, nails lightly skimming his skin, then back up, traipsing along his stomach, to his chest. 

In your mouth, his cock gives a little twitch. Too close, you pull off. The audacious bastard has the nerve to whine. Your hand wraps around him and you stroke a few times, not enough to alleviate what he’s feeling. “What’s the matter love?” You lock gazes with him from where you're still kneeling between his legs, daring him to try again to take the lead. 

Eyes hazy with lust, he pants, and words mix with incoherent noise. “You - absolutely maddening - tease.” 

“Should I stop?” You release him and sit back, hands resting on your thighs. 

An actual growl slips from his throat and he begins to sit, reaching for you. Hands on his shoulders, you push him back down to the cushion. “None of that.” 

How willing he’s been to play along surprised you, and it continues to as he yields, laying back down. “Just relax, enjoy this.”

Straddling his thighs, you nudge them back together, no doubt he can feel the heat and wetness of your core as it rests on him. Leaning down, you plant a searing kiss on him, lips parting and tongues entwining. Your grip still firm on his shoulders, you kiss your way down his neck, biting and sucking until a proper mark forms. His purpled skin is gorgeous and you kiss it again before moving on to leave another. Cool fingers dig into your hips but nothing more as he moans softy at your attentions. 

Hips slide over his, his cock running the length of your drenched slit. “Fuck,” he whispers, breath tingling your ear, and you can’t wait another moment. Reaching down, you roll your hips, and guide him inside you, whimpering when at last you’re filled.

Sitting back up straight, you move, hips grinding against his, and delicious friction filling you. “Gods,” you moan, he’s not doing anything and this man can still undo you. 

“My beautiful girl, you ride me so good,” fuck him and that mouth of his. “Can I touch you sweetheart, please?” 

That hadn’t been your plan, but his soft plea along with the maddening feel of him inside you crumples your will. “You may,” you barely manage. 

He doesn’t need more encouragement for his fingers to quickly find your sensitive bud and begin rubbing rough circles over it. You’re both too far gone for gentleness, and you relish the firm touch. Pace quickening, you lean down, hips moving at a brutal rhythm, so badly you want to bring him to climax, but those masterful fingers have had their way with you and soon you’re close.

He can tell by the scent, he’s told you, and the way your pulse beats, exactly when you can’t stand it anymore. “Go on love, come for me.” 

With a keening sound, you give in, clenching around him, still rolling your hips. “Astarion,” you moan, almost unable to keep moving. 

Pulling you down, he finally wrests control from you, and fucks up into you with maddened thrusts. “My love, my sweet darling girl, you’re so good to me.” He stiffens and gasps, lips finding yours as his release fills you. 

Collapsing down onto his chest, you lay there in a warm daze, Astarion’s arms wrapping around you. “This was quite the enjoyable turn of events,” you feel his lips in your hair. “Though you’ll have to try harder next time to keep in control.” 

“Do you ever shut up,” you huff and try to glare up at him from where you lay. 

“Only when you make me,” he teases only to be cut off by your lips on his. 

The two of you fall silent and rest in each other’s arms, you’ll need to gather your strength if you’re to try this again.

  

Tag list, DM to be added

@micropoe10  @writingmysanity @mxxny-lupin @azu21

 @tallymonster  @dependsonthedream @sunfire-ancunin 

@bambamwolf87 @fayeriess @lumienyx @lisrelly

@elora-the-slutty-songstress @bhaalbaaby @spacebarbarianweird

@satanicspinosaurus @darlingxdragon

[photo1030]

Leather and Lace - Chapter 24: To Know the Winter Darkness

Summary: Arthur's irritation with the gang's situation begins to take its toll on your relationship.

*A/N: Some of this dialogue is not mine, but pulled from the game.

*This fantastic image comes from @arthurs-btch

*Special thank you to @appalachiancowboy99 for being my sounding board.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter, but there are a handful of future chapters that were posted ahead of time

The cold air on your face stirs you from your restless slumber. A heavy silence lingers in the air, smothering you like a wet blanket as you lie sequestered away in the bunkhouse here in Colter. The only sound you can hear is the wind as it whistles through the gaps in the grimy, weather-beaten windows. The sides of the humble structure even shake a bit when a few particularly angry gusts of wind whip against the sides of the cabin. 

A groggy moan hisses out of your mouth as your eyes reluctantly crack open, immediately searching for the comfort of the fire in the corner. To your surprise, you are greeted by the beautiful sight of red and orange flames dancing vigorously along freshly replenished logs. Arthur must have gotten up and added more wood at some point. Your eyes slowly blink their way awake as a sleepy smile blossoms across your face, the first to do so in a long time. You roll over in search of him, but you are disappointed to find an empty half of the bed. Last night, Arthur had ridden out with Dutch in search of supplies or something, anything that may help the dire situation (that, or Dutch wanted to avoid the questioning looks of his people) and you were hoping to see him before you fell asleep. But no such luck.

While Arthur and Dutch were out looking for necessities, the rest of the gang made quick work to create a new camp here in the Grizzly Mountains. You had all worked well into the night setting up bedding, arranging supplies and sorting food, and still Arthur had not returned by the time you had drug yourself to your shared space to collapse upon your makeshift bed. Being a partner to a senior member of the gang comes with its privileges and having a room to yourself is one of them. Ms. Grimshaw put Arthur and you, Dutch and Molly, and Hosea together in one building and paired up the others accordingly. 

As the morning sun stretches its lazy fingers of light across the dusty floorboards, you bask in the peace and quiet of your and Arthur’s room. Casting your eyes about the space, it is simple and nothing luxurious by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s private. And you keep these stolen moments to yourself where you can to try to wrap your nerve-wracked brain around what’s happened since the catastrophic Blackwater job. You are still at a loss on how you all came to be here, how things could go so wrong, so fast. But what is most unsettling to you is that even those who are used to such turmoil are also distraught by it. 

But no time for such deep thoughts at the moment. Right now, the only thing you can focus on is Arthur. You want nothing more than to see him, to hear his raspy southern drawl and to put your arms around him and feel his embrace in return. It is like an addiction; you are restless and will not be able to calm yourself until you have what you need. And it is this desire that motivates you out from under the warm cocoon of blankets to get yourself dressed and groomed for the day.

It takes you about an hour to get yourself together before you open the door of the cabin, grimacing as you stumble outside, the biting cold smacking you in the face and the sun blinding you as it reflects off of the snow. Last night’s storm had settled by the early morning hours and draped everything in a thick blanket of white. Bracing yourself against the harsh wind, you rush over to the main building where the smoke plume of an internal fire floats into the brisk winter air. Your eyes dazedly watch it like a beacon as the white vapor dances and sways in a hypnotic motion, offering a sign of life in an otherwise desolate landscape. 

You push through the heavy door of the main cabin to find most of the gang already assembled, muttering and conversing in their own little social rings. Scanning over the faces, your eyes immediately seek out Arthur who is speaking with Dutch in the far corner. Relief washes over you like the floodwaters of a swollen river after a thunderstorm when you see that he is safe and sound. Just the sight of his handsome face sets you at ease as you head straight for him before you lose track of him once more.

Arthur notices you out of the corner of his eye, and when his gaze finds yours, a fragile smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. Noticing Arthur’s attention is now elsewhere, Dutch looks over his shoulder to see you heading their way. Thankfully, the man gives you a nod and a quick “G’Morning, Miss Y/L/N” before he excuses himself to leave you and Arthur to yourselves. 

Arthur takes in the heavenly sight of you as you glide over to him, leaning yourself into his body as your hands find a place along his ribs. The loving smile you offer him lets Arthur forget the problems facing the group even if just for a brief moment. He doesn’t say anything as he gazes into your adoring face. He looks beyond your ruby cheeks and worried eyes to see the love and devotion that is nestled there just for him. Arthur will often simply stare at you and smile to himself, appreciating everything about you and thanking God above for letting you into his life. For just this one fleeting, fragile moment, Arthur lets himself forget the trouble the gang is in, for you offer him that refuge, that safe haven. 

“Did you even come to bed last night?” Your voice floats to his ears with a playful chiding tone. 

“Sure did. But you were too busy snorin’ away,” he chuckles tapping your nose playfully. “I didn’t want to wake you.” 

“I wish you would’ve,” you pout. “I missed you.”

A sympathetic grin forms on his lips, those cobalt eyes sparking just right. “Thought I’d give you a moment’s peace while you can get it.”

But that thought is ironically short-lived.

“Miss Y/L/N, nice of you to join us.” Ms. Grimshaw’s harpy voice cuts into your brain from across the room. Your heart drops as you watch that spark of happiness on Arthur’s face transform into disappointment and annoyance. All he wanted was one goddamn moment with you. With a sigh, you reluctantly pull your gaze from Arthur to see the matron walking over to you. 

“Good morning, Ms. Grimshaw,” you sigh.

“While you were getting your beauty rest, I’ve been tending to things here.” Her arm waves behind her at the shivering group of sad souls. “We have a new arrival that you should probably look after.” She nods her head towards the corner and you follow her sight line to see the woman Arthur and Dutch had brought back last night. 

Your eyes settle on the fragile looking figure sitting wrapped in a blanket in front of the fire, staring blankly into the flames. 

“Oh my god”, you whisper under your breath as you quickly break away from Arthur’s presence to make your way over to her. 

Arthur sighs as he gives up your attention for another once more. But he marvels at how you float across the creaking wooden floorboards, hesitating before you slowly kneel down in front of the broken woman. His heart flutters a bit as he watches you introduce yourself to Mrs. Adler, placing your hand over hers in solidarity, a kind smile sitting upon your face to try to put her at ease. Arthur can’t make out what you are saying to her, but he gives silent thanks when her shoulders relax a bit and Mrs. Adler nods in acceptance of your help as the two of you disappear into another room, presumably for you to examine her for injuries. Your arm wraps around her, cradling her into your side as you walk. Pride swells in Arthur’s chest, knowing Mrs. Adler is in your good hands. 

Sometimes, if you’re lucky, someone comes into your life that changes everything. They raise the standards of living, make you laugh, make you see the world in a whole new light, helping you to notice things that you never did before. They make you feel like you again, that person who sometimes seems to get lost in the turmoil of life. From the moment he met you, the only thing Arthur has ever wanted in the universe is to be part of your world.

When Arthur fell in love with you, you became his weakness in a mind of unyielding hardness. When you fell in love with him, he became your strength at a time of unparalleled fragility. It is a powershift that Arthur still struggles with, trying to find his footing to understand it. You provide his foundation, his support, yet somehow leave him weightless and exposed at the same time. It was like magic the way you burst into his life, turning everything that he knew to be real upside down, making everything in life explode in beautiful, vivid color. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------

*This image comes from @rosesrdr2photos

By late afternoon, Abigail has become nervous, pacing frantically within the cabin and wringing her hands. John has yet to return to camp since before the snowstorm settled in and no one has seen him. 

Arthur lumbers into the cabin from outside, blowing his hot breath over the stiff joints in his hands, and heads over to the fire to get warm as he overhears the group talking about John. He keeps his head down and eyes diverted, though, wanting no part of whatever is brewing. 

“He’s strong and he’s smart,” encourages Tilly, trying to calm Abigail's frayed nerves. 

“Well, strong at least,” grumbles Abigail. But her head perks up when she notices Arthur has come in.

Arthur catches her out of the corner of his eye as she quickly approaches him where he stands at the fire, knowing full well what she’s about to ask. 

“Hello, Arthur. How are you?” she asks tentatively, looking at him with anxious eyes. 

He cocks an eyebrow at her, bracing himself for her yet unspoken question. “I’m fine, Abigail,” he says warily. “And you?”

“I…I need you to-”

Arthur rolls his eyes with an irritable sigh, his weight shifting uncomfortably from one hip to the other under her intense stare.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she rambles quickly, her hands still fidgeting. “I hate to ask, but…”

“It’s little John, gone and got himself into a scrape again.” The distemper is evident when the familiar scowl returns to Arthur’s face, his hands slowly clenching open and closed into fists, causing Abigail to recoil slightly, hesitant to plead her case. 

“He ain’t been seen in two days!” she cries, her tear-rimmed eyes looking imploringly up at Arthur.

“Your John will be fine. I mean, he may be dumb as rocks and dull as rusted iron, but that ain’t changing because he got caught in some snowstorm.”

“Arthur!” You shoot him a scolding look when you see how Abigail’s face wrinkles painfully at his answer. 

“At least go take a look,” pushes Hosea as he, too, joins the conversation. Always the level-headed one, he steps up to Abigail, quick to her defense. “Javier?”

The man looks to Hosea at the sound of his name being called, awaiting instructions. “Yes?”

“Will you ride out with Arthur and take a look for John? You’re the two best fit men we got. We’re all pretty worried.”

Javier nods and is quick to stand. He adjusts his coat, pulling his collar up to his cheeks. “I know if the situation were reversed, he’d look for me.” Resolution set upon his dark features, Javier grabs his gun and heads to the door, shooting Arthur a guilting look on his way out. 

With a lofty eye roll, an exasperated sigh puffs out of Arthur’s nose, his mouth set in a hard, angry line. And he slams out the door behind Javier before you can even say good luck. While you can understand his frustration, you know that Arthur is John’s best chance of survival if he is in any sort of trouble. And as time continues to crawl forward in this frigid wasteland, it is becoming more and more apparent that the situation is not looking good.

You quietly cross the room to Abigail, who hangs her head with worry. “Try not to fret about John, Abigail,” you say softly. “Arthur and Javier will find him. If anyone can, it’s them. You’ll see.” You rub your hand along her arm in comfort. But she can only offer you a weak smile in return. 

Outside, Javier and Arthur head out into the frigid, unforgiving white once again, this time in search of one of their own. As the winds kick up, they head further up the mountain, up where the air gets thinner and the snow deeper. 

As they trot along, Arthur takes this opportunity to privately ask Javier about Blackwater. He has to be careful not to sound like he’s questioning Dutch, but something just doesn’t sit right with Arthur, and the people who were there are acting cagey about it. But if Arthur is to intercept any problems heading their way, he needs to know what he’s up against. Like you had told him before, people in this gang tend to not worry too much about the swirling chaos they get themselves caught-up in as long as he’s the one taking the brunt of things. 

“So…you were there, Javier. What really happened on that boat?”

Javier shakes his head in disbelief. “We had the money and it seemed fine. And then suddenly, they were everywhere.”

“Bounty hunters?”

“No, Pinkertons. It was crazy. Raining bullets.” As the snow blows around them, Javier tells Arthur about how their group was swarmed, members were shot or lost, and that Dutch even killed a girl, an innocent bystander in the mayhem. 

“That ain’t like him, though,” murmurs Arthur as his eyes dart back and forth in shock. 

“I’m surprised we escaped at all. By the time you boys showed up on the other side of town, we were all just barely hanging on.”

Arthur digests all of this information, rolling it around in his mind. “Bad business alright.”

After an hour of trudging through the cold with no sign, they catch sight of tracks in the snow running along a deep crevice in the mountain. Encouraged by the first indication of activity, they follow along for several yards, but the two men eventually stumble upon a grizzly sight. They discover John’s horse lying on the frozen ground, its belly ripped apart. Upon closer inspection, they see tracks scattered all around in the bloody snow. 

Wolves. And quite a few of them, judging by the number of prints. It is a grim sight and Javier and Arthur share an uneasy glimpse between each other. 

Looking around, there is no sign of John. Everything around them is silent and ominous, with no indications of life. He could be anywhere. He could still be alive, but he could also be dead at this point. Arthur grabs his revolver from his side, aiming it straight up into the air and fires a single shot. He anxiously waits to see if John hears the discharge as it ricochets off of the rocky terrain, alerting him to their presence. Moments pass tensely and agonizingly slow, waiting for any response. 

And suddenly, they can hear hollering off in the distance. It’s John's voice. It’s faint, but he’s alive. Relief washes over both Javier and Arthur, as they try to figure out where he’s at. Sound bounces in every direction here and everything is coated in white, hiding any discernible landmarks. They have to be careful not to get lost, themselves. 

The men exchange calls, trying to follow John’s desperate, raspy voice, and walk down along the ridgeline until they get to a point that is too narrow and precarious for the horses. They dismount, leaving the animals behind, and proceed on foot in search of their brother. And thankfully, they spot him. 

John has himself sequestered onto a ledge, out of reach of the wolves that attacked and maimed him. He’s bloodied and shivering violently, barely conscious. Arthur and Javier make their way to the edge, careful not to slip and fall over the side. 

“Quite the scratch you got there,” Arthur teases as he looks down over John.

John gingerly tilts his head up, giving the men a good view of the deep and savage gashes across his face, cutting brutally into his eye. “Never thought I’d say this, but it’s good to see you, Arthur Morgan.” 

Arthur hops down to the ledge, crouching to eye level to take a moment to get a good look at John. “You don’t look so good.”

“I don’t feel so good, neither,” he replies dejectedly. 

A humorless chuckle huffs out of Arthur as he takes ahold of John’s arm, helping him to his feet. “C’mon. Let’s get you outta here.”

Javier reaches down, wrapping his cold yet nimble fingers under John’s arms to help pull him off the precarious ledge. It is quickly apparent that John is in no shape to walk, let alone climb down the mountain. Without a word, Arthur slings his brother across his strong shoulder and they begin to head back to the horses. They need to get John back to camp and straight to you as soon as possible for medical attention. He’s been out here in the elements for far too long and his injuries are profound. 

“I told Dutch you weren’t the right man for this job.” Arthur mocks as he adjusts John across his shoulder as if he’s hauling a deer carcass.

An exasperated sigh manages to escape John’s cut and bleeding lips. “I’m sure you did.”

The three men don’t make it very far before they spot a cluster of black and gray standing stark against the pristine white snow off in the distance.  Drawn by the noise and the scent of John’s blood on the wind, the wolves have returned to finish what they started. They sit perfectly still, silently eyeing up the men, ready to pounce at any moment. 

John lifts his head to look past Arthur at the impending threat before hanging back down despondently. They still have a bit of a walk to get back to the horses at this point and outrunning the pack is not an option. “Shit”, he mumbles and his whole body goes limp against Arthur’s broad back. John doesn’t have much fight left in him and what he does have, he needs to stay alive. 

Arthur slowly sets John down to his shaky feet, eyes never leaving the fierce pack of predators looming in the distance. “You head for the horses,” he tells Javier as he pulls his gun. “I’ll keep John’s friends off ya til you’re clear.”

Javier gives a sharp nod of understanding to Arthur as he slings John’s arm around his own shoulders and they begin to shuffle away towards their waiting mounts.

The moment Javier and John break off, the wolves lunge. The explosion of motion causes Arthur to immediately fire into the pack, taking down two of the large animals that head straight for Javier and John. Two more wolves go down in rapid fire shortly after that with painful howls echoing into the air, but it’s the last one that gets a little too close for comfort. The remaining animal comes barrelling towards Arthur, galloping at full speed, fangs bared and saliva oozing from its jowls. Arthur’s heartbeat thunders painfully in his ears as he takes aim once more, ignoring the slight tremble in his arms. The solitary wolf hurls itself at Arthur with a terrifying snarl, knocking him backwards into the snow. With a fierce yell of his own, Arthur’s gun rings true into the beast’s chest, dropping it dead atop his legs. 

As fast as a lightning strike, the vicious threat is over with, barely giving the three men time to comprehend whether or not they will all survive to make it back to camp.

Lying motionless and staring up into the icy blue sky with his eyes wide with adrenaline, Arthur tries to catch his breath as he lays in the snow, afraid to move lest the wolf still be alive. When the world stops spinning and settles back into reality, he draws the frigid air deep into his lungs, exhaling slowly out of his wind-chapped lips to steady his nerves before cautiously looking down, nudging the heap of fur with the tip of his gun. 

Arthur’s gaze drops to the sudden stinging sensation on his arm. A deep gash sits there from the wolf’s claws but it’s nothing that you can’t take care of. If he can just get his ass back to you in one piece, that is. If this is the extent of his injuries from this ordeal, he’ll make out pretty well. 

Shoving the carcass off himself with a pained grunt, Arthur rolls himself up and catches up to his companions just in time to help Javier get John situated on his horse behind him and the three of them head back down the mountain side. John slumps against his friend, silently thankful for the man’s body heat.

“Come on, John, you’ll be okay,” asserts Javier. “It’s just like a dog bite.”

“I knew a guy got bit by a dog...died an hour later,” mumbles John as he rests his forehead in between Javier’s shoulder blades.

“You ain’t gonna die,” huffs Arthur. “Not yet.” 

The horses begin to lumber their way back through the deep snow. Arthur and Javier push through the cold, trying to get back to Colter in one piece and not get lost in the tundra of the mountains. Javier is desperate to return John to Abigail and Arthur just wants to return back to you. And although they encounter more wolves along the way, fortunately this time it is not a full-on attack as before. Arthur makes quick work of the remaining pack, ensuring their safety for the remainder of the journey back to camp. 

Throughout the ride back, Javier is sure to keep talking to John, nervous as he feels his friend growing weaker by the minute, his body resting limply against him in the saddle. “You’re going to be okay, John,” Javier repeats again. “We have some shelter now.”

Despite his exhaustion, John’s mangled lips flash a grin. “Thanks for coming for me.”

“Sure. First the bullet in Blackwater, now this. You’ve had a hell of a time.” Javier nods in empathy for his good friend, thankful he’s found him alive as he’s lost enough companions in this baptism of fire. But from where he sits in his saddle behind them, Arthur carries an air of annoyance as he rides along in brooding silence on his horse. When will he be able to stop looking after ‘Little Johnny’?

“Arthur always says I’m lucky,” John manages a deflated chuckle out of his torn face as he looks behind him to catch Arthur’s eyes narrowed at him.

“Well, none of us are lucky right now,” Arthur retorts coldly. He shrugs his shoulders up around his chin when a particularly blustery gust of wind swirls through the air. “We’re going to need to come up with a better story for that scar.” 

If John weren’t half-dead, he’d spin on his brother in a heartbeat with fists raised. His teeth grit together despite the pain in his jaw. “So, freezing, bleeding, starving, damn near getting eaten to death ain’t good enough for you?!” John hurls what little energy he has left coursing through his fragile body in anger towards Arthur, his body shivering and trembling behind Javier. Why the hell does Arthur have to be on John’s ass all the time? 

“Come on, let's just keep pushing ahead”, complains Javier, becoming increasingly annoyed at the brothers’ bickering. Jesus, Arthur can be unrelenting sometimes. It’s too damn cold and miserable out, there’s no need to make it even more uncomfortable.

“See those buildings, John? That’s where we’re camped,” offers Javier in an attempt to lighten John’s spirits and distract him from Arthur’s ire. 

Thankfully, they ride the remainder of the way to camp in silence.

The three men ride into the middle of the dilapidated structures of the mining town, heading straight for the largest where the smoke floats out of the chimney. 

“Can we get some help here?” Arthur’s voice carries out over the snow as they pull the horses to a halt outside the building.

The rickety door is thrown open and Abigail comes running out with you close on her heels. A few others come assembling out as well.

“You’re alive!” The relief is apparent in her face as Abigail reaches up to lay her hands on John, confirming he has indeed come back to her. “Come on, let's get you warm.”

“Careful of his leg,” Arthur warns as John slides off the back of Javier’s horse and into Rev. Swanson’s supportive arms. As you get closer to him, your eyes quickly assess the man’s wounds, your skilled hands flitting about over his body. He’s an absolute mess. You’ll have your work cut out for you once again. But John is, in fact, alive and that is more than enough for you right now. 

You and Arthur catch each other’s gaze for a brief moment, a silent thankfulness that your beloved has returned to you as well, before you lead John inside for care. 

“Thank you, both,” Abigail says emphatically to Arthur and Javier, but her attention quickly turns to Jonn, angry for the days of worry she’s suffered. Like their whole relationship, the gamut of Abigail’s emotions runs from one pole to the other. “This is a new low, even for your standards,” she hisses into John’s ear. 

Hosea walks up next to Arthur as they watch John being half-carried inside. 

“Thank you, Arthur,” hums Hosea, knowing full well how irritable his eldest son is right now. Arthur has been moving non stop since the gang left the valley after Blackwater. He’s cold, tired, hungry and just disillusioned altogether. 

“You got any other lost maidens need saving?” Arthur retorts, his face devoid of any amusement.

“Not today,” Hosea chuckles, pulling a cigarette from his breast pocket.

Arthur lifts his head to look back at you, longing for your attentiveness, willing you to turn around once more to give him that smile of yours. But you’re already off with John. He watches as you help get John inside and the door shuts again, closing your image off from him. Like the sun setting behind the horizon, your warmth, your glow is eclipsed from his view.

With a slow exhale pushed through his nose, Arthur turns his attention back to Hosea.

 “You been talkin’ to Dutch about how we’re gonna get outta here?” 

“I was just discussing with Herr Strauss,” confirms Hosea, lighting his cigarette and drawing the smoke through his weathered lips. “When weather breaks, we’ll head east.”

Arthur’s face immediately scrunches in disgust. “East? Into all that civilization?”

“The west is where our problems are worse,” Hosea says pointedly. 

This is disappointing news. Arthur turns his angry eyes back towards the house where you just took John to get cleaned up. God, how he wants to march in there right now, grab you and head back to your room and forget about all this ugliness for just a bit. He just needs one goddamn moment alone with you to set his mind right again. But now you’re tied up with caring for that idiot. 

Deciding he’s had enough for one afternoon, Arthur trudges over to his bunkhouse, hoping that if he’s hidden out of sight, no one will ask any more favors. He sits inside the dreary, depressing cabin, stewing in frustration, his festering anger edging dangerously close to where his precious affections and love reside. He fears that he is beginning to lose that contentment in his heart that he has been working so hard to rebuild over these last few months. 

“We’ll be here freezing for weeks, waiting for the thaw to come,” he gripes as he pulls out his journal, flipping it open. “What a goddamn mess of things.”

*This images comes from @rosesrdr2photos

————————————

Over the next two days, Arthur becomes more irritable and distant, not just from the gang, but from you as well. The strain of losing Jenny and Davey and worrying over still-missing Sean and Mac weighs heavily upon his nerves. That, coupled with the constant need for warmth in the freezing cold and fending off the possibility of starvation is leaving you both frazzled. 

Dutch is leaning heavily on Arthur, even more so than before, if that is even possible. Sure, you and Arthur have had your arguments, but this is the first time he has been ugly to you. His aggravation is paramount yet he needs your presence to calm the hurricane of thoughts in his mind. 

But like Arthur, you are also being pulled in a multitude of directions. John’s injuries are severe and occupy much of your time, and there are plenty of other things to do to keep this gang going amongst the turmoil. Where Arthur is used to having your attention to himself, he now has to share you with the rest. And it is a feeling that does not sit well with him at all. 

The tension between the two of you pulls heavy on your heart. You’ve heard the gang speak of how much of an ass Arthur can be. Before you met, Arthur was known to be harsh and often difficult. Whether it was the nature of the jobs he was on or the nightmares of his past, or even his drinking, Arthur could be a son of a bitch to be around. And although you’ve seen him more than angry before, that aggression and ugliness has never been turned on you. Until now, as he is angry about everything. 

You try your best to be understanding and patient, but your own nerves are pushed to the limits, as well as his. You’ve never been in a situation such as this before and you so desperately want to turn into Arthur’s arms for him to shield you from it. But Arthur has the weight of the entire gang on his shoulders, leaving little time for comforting just you. 

You try to talk to him about it, but being faced with one more issue that he has to deal with, one more person asking something of him, ignites his fury. You’ve gotten yourselves caught up in yet another argument when his negativity rears its ugly head, testing the limits of your patience. He is being overextended by the gang’s needs and neglecting his own, as the gang must always come first. But it is leaving Arthur to be triggered by even the most minor annoyances, leaving him unbalanced and agitated. He has become focused on the continuing obstacles instead of the intended goal. 

What started as a simple statement about how your jaw aches from chattering teeth due to the cold sends Arthur into a storm of annoyance. 

“I’m sorry things can’t be all butterflies and flowers for you,” he bites back at you with a dismissive wave of his hand as you have elected to take your fight outside and away from prying eyes. 

“I never said it had to be,” you snap, trying not to raise your voice and provoke him even more as you can already see the tension in his shoulders, his face set hard as stone. “Things are hard enough right now, Arthur. You don’t need to be adding to it with your constant grumbling and complaining.”

Wrong response. 

“Come again?” His eyes shoot open, burning with anger.  “You best remember who you’re talkin’ to, woman.” Arthur’s voice settles into a low umber, making your chest tight and your heart race. 

Heat spreads through your belly as your spine straightens like an arrow and pulls your proud shoulders back to square up to his. You cross your arms over your chest, slowly inching closer to him. “Or else what?” 

Arthur would never hurt you. Ever. But he is still a man who believes in tradition. He loves your spirit, your fire. But you need to know your place. And he doesn’t appreciate your attitude in the slightest. But you won’t back down, either. 

Arthur’s jaw clenches tightly at your challenge, desperately trying to keep himself together. He’s used to getting his way when he’s angry, as that’s the very nature of his livelihood. And even though you have worked to tear down those walls that he’s barricaded himself within to see the loving and kind heart hidden there, he still has a bad temper and a mean streak that runs for miles. Arthur doesn’t need this fight right now. His hands slowly lift to settle onto his hips as he looms over you, but instead of being intimidated, you suddenly become distracted when you notice a flash of red. Your face immediately turns from sour to one of outright concern. 

“Arthur, are you alright? Your hand is bleeding.” It’s the wound from the wolf from when he brought John back. 

Arthur blinks at you, his face twisted up at the sudden turn in the conversation. “It’s fine, leave it.”

With an exasperated sigh, you try to grab his hand to look at it. “But if it isn't cleaned it could get infec-“

“I said leave it!” He barks at you, yanking his hand out of your grasp. 

The look of hurt and shock on your face instantly washes him in a wave of shame. Jesus, he can be a right ugly bastard sometimes. Afraid of saying anything else that will make this worse, Arthur abruptly turns, leaving you speechless in the snow as you watch him stalk away from you.

Several yards away, Dutch stands under the awning of the lean-to barn and observes the altercation between you and Arthur play out with a slightly amused grin on his face. When your conversation comes to an abrupt end, he slowly saunters over to you, following your gaze as you watch Arthur slam into your cabin. 

“Arthur has obligations, Miss Y/L/N. Responsibilities.” His expression carries a smugness that just rubs you the wrong way as he wraps his arm around your shoulders. “He doesn’t have time for romantic nonsense.”

It takes you a second to process what it is that Dutch has just said and you turn a disbelieving expression towards the man, stepping out from under his falsely comforting arm. “I’m not trying to be romantic, Dutch. I’m worried for him.” 

“He’s fine,” Dutch says dismissively. 

“Is he?”

Your question causes a dark eyebrow raised in your direction, his intense eyes piercing into you like a dagger. Dutch’s dark-haired crown tilts just so before he speaks, the suffocating pause most unsettling.

“You may whisper sweet words in his ear, lay next to him at night battin’ those eyes at him,” he sneers as his lips curl into a falsely sweet smile. “But you don’t know him the way I do, Y/N.”

Time stands still as the argument hangs in the air, right there on the tip of your tongue. And oh, how you’d like to give the man a piece of your mind right now. So many things race through your rattled mind as you stand there pinned under Dutch’s burning scrutiny. 

But you need to choose your battles carefully, and now is not the time. 

“You are right about that, Dutch.” You lift your chin in slight defiance. “I don’t know him the same way you do.”

You hold Dutch’s gaze for a moment, an unspoken challenge between you. You would never dream of coming between Arthur and his family. But if it means his safety, his well-being, you will sure as hell step-up to take his back. 

But the tension is promptly snapped when Mary-Beth’s voice calls to you from across the yard. “Y/N! I think it’s time to change John’s bandages.” She even waves her hand to get your attention, trying to break the spell that Dutch has you under. 

The sound of your friend’s voice breaks the precarious trance, causing you to blink and inhale sharply to collect yourself and settle the frustration bubbling deep within your stomach. Your feet remain cemented to the ground as you desperately try to resist the urge to shake the tingling out of your fingertips. 

“If you will excuse me, Mr Van der Linde, I need to tend to your other son.” 

———————

The hours of the day after your fight with Arthur tick by slowly as the night eventually drapes everything in its path in darkness. Exhausted, you exit the ramshackle building where you’ve spent a good part of the day looking after John. You’ve been painstakingly cleaning his wounds and sitting with him as he rests, keeping vigil over him and only leaving his side now that Ms. Grimshaw relieves you when she comes to sit with him overnight. His vital signs are fair, but it wouldn’t take much for him to take a turn for the worse. A bad fever could easily do him in. And after losing Jenny and Davey, you just don’t want to take any chances leaving John alone for any extended period of time. 

The evenings here in the Grizzly Mountains descend into a quiet like none other. No birds, no wildlife, no commotion of people. Tonight, even the howling winds have ceased. Were it not for the freezing cold temperature, it would be beautiful. 

Cold air gets drawn into your lungs with a bone-weary sigh, your breath a dancing wisp in front of you. Tucking your arms around yourself in an attempt to stay warm, you roll your eyes upward and the stars above catch your attention. It seems that there’s almost as many stars as there are snowflakes. The inky black vastness of the heavens that cradle the cosmic diamonds is a sharp contrast to the crystal white snow at your feet, illuminated by the moon’s full glow. The pinpricks of light are like a promise of life in the darkness, a sense of warmth springing from the cold that envelops the world. And it humbles you as you try to find your place within it.

With John taken care of and the evening chores settled, your mind relaxes as your hands rub together to create warmth, and begins to drift once again to the issues that you have been trying to avoid thinking about. 

Being chased up into these unforgiving mountains by Pinkertons, of all people, is bad enough. But that is not what is troubling to you the most right now. Your mind keeps replaying the arguments and discontent between you and Arthur since you left the valley after Blackwater. Instead of sweet whispers in each other’s ears and breathless sighs against soft skin, you two are hurling bitter, angry words at each other, causing a coldness that you are not used to.

Something feels…broken between you.

Standing out in the cold night, the tender moments that you’re used to sharing with your love seem so far away now. You think back to sitting by the fire, curled up against Arthur’s warm body, his brawny arms secured around you as his lips dance along your neck, making you shiver with anticipation. You recall the delicate conversations of dreams and tender emotions that were whispered as you stared into each other’s eyes after making love. It seems like a whole other life now. 

Where is the roguishly charming man that you fell so hard for and so deeply in love with? You have never had any illusions of what sort of man Arthur is. But you had so desperately hoped that you were past the distemperment that perpetually plagues his mind. And a horrifying idea begins to take root in your brain:  Maybe Arthur is having second thoughts about you and this whole relationship?

Suddenly, you become short of breath and your heart flutters within your chest like a panicked bird. Tears begin to prick the corners of your eyes at the very thought of possibly losing Arthur, of the thought that the life you had envisioned spending with him could be snuffed out. You bite down on trembling lips as they get pulled into your mouth in an attempt to keep from crying. 

Looking up at the silent stars once more, the only witnesses to your pain, you are starting to question if your relationship is even real. 

—--------------------

“You comin’ to bed?”

You tense up as Arthur stands behind you where you sit in front of the fire to warm yourself. You just heard him outside yelling about some damn thing or another a few moments ago before he came blustering inside fit to be tied. He looms behind you as anger radiates off of him, making you shift nervously next to Mary-Beth.  

“I think maybe I’ll stay here with the girls for a bit longer if you don’t mind,” you say meekly, pulling your shawl up over your shoulders even more as you avoid his eyes burning into you.  

Arthur pauses for a moment, lips pulled into a hard frown, his gloved fingers twitching at his sides while he has his internal fight with himself about what to do. He’s getting really sick and tired of this tension between you. And yet, he doesn’t know what to do about it. Old habits of self-damaging thinking and second-guessed opportunities continue to plague Arthur’s mind, constricting his sanity. The words he needs to say to get you to really hear him do not come. And his actions, of course, default to what he knows best:  anger. 

“Fine,” he huffs out finally as his hand waves dismissively in the air at you before letting it fall haplessly to his side. Arthur storms out of the cabin, kicking over a wooden storage barrel on his way out and letting the door slam loudly in its hinges behind him. Arthur’s exit creates an awkward silence like a vacuum in the room and the eyes of your fellow gang members cautiously shift to you.

“You sure that was a good idea, Y/N?” asks Mary Beth, giving you a skeptical look.

Your thumb and forefinger pull at the corners of your temples in an attempt to quell the pulsing in your head. “My nerves are shot as it is. If I go over to that cabin with him we’ll just get into another fight. And I don’t need that right now. He don’t need that right now.” 

The air settles into silence as the fire in the hearth pops and crackles, its heat comforting you as you slowly allow the tension to drain from your shoulders. You nod your head in assertion as the idea solidifies in your mind.

“As angry as he is with me, it’s best I leave him alone. There’s a time to vent and a time to brood. And Arthur needs time to brood right now. He’s got a lot on his plate. Then I’ll let him vent.” You give her a small smile. “We’ll be okay.” 

Mary-beth’s eyes sparkle with red and copper as the fire reflects back into her freckled face when she takes you in for a moment. “I think it’s amazing how you understand him, Y/N. Lord knows, Arthur’s a hard nut to crack,” she hums warmly. 

“I don’t know what it is, really.” Your eyes settle unfocused on the flames in front of you with a slow blink as you ponder your beloved outlaw. “He’s a pain in my ass, for sure. But I love him just the same. Wouldn’t have him any other way, to be honest. I know he can be a beast. But even the most untamed and savage of animals need to be loved.”

Mary-Beth’s breath catches in her chest, the hopeless romantic that she is, moved by your statement. For what better way is there to surmise, Arthur Morgan, fearsome outlaw of the Van Der Linde gang, than that?

Like the crocus pushing through the cold spring soil, Mary-Beth’s frigid cheeks blossom into a serene smile for you. “I suppose if you can’t explain why you love someone, then you must really love them.” 

You lean your shoulder into hers with a contented hum of agreement. It is a bit of a relief to you that someone outside of your relationship with Arthur can see the potential beauty there. 

After a few moments, you look about the room and your gaze falls upon the poor woman that Arthur and Dutch had found. You nod to Mary-Beth, affectionately patting her hand, before standing up to move over to sit next to Mrs. Adler, offering her another blanket to cover her legs. 

“How are you holding up, Mrs. Adler? You okay?”

The woman lifts her head at the sound of her name, tearing her eyes from the cup of hot coffee in her hands to look at you. “I guess,” she shrugs. “Then again, maybe not.” Her eyes go dark once more, lost in a world of uncertainty. She looks so weak and fragile sitting there wrapped up in a blanket, trying to hold onto some sort of semblance of herself.

“It takes a lot of courage to look past what you’ve been through. Believe me, I know.” You reach out to put your hand along her arm. “You can trust us, Mrs Adler. You can trust that we won’t put you through anything like that again. And we won’t let anything happen to you either.” 

“Thank you. You’ll have to be patient with me, I suppose.” While her voice is sweet enough, her vacant eyes carry a sort of detachment to them that makes your heart just ache for her. It’s the type of look that you know just one wrong word would send them pooling with tears once more. “I’m somewhere between losing my mind and finding my soul right now.” 

“Aren’t we all?” Your kind eyes glint at her with a playful mischief to them. “You’ll fit in just fine, Mrs Adler. No doubt.” 

Mrs. Adler gives you a lopsided grin, the slight tremor of her nervously bouncing leg ceasing as the knot in her abdomen finally begins to loosen its grip. 

“Is that your husband?” She lifts her chin towards the door that Arthur just pushed through, as she tries to discreetly change the subject. 

“No,” you sigh in confirmation, “we’re not married. But we are together.” 

“He seems…gruff.” Mrs. Adler teasingly gives a raised eyebrow with her simple statement, and your head tosses back with a genial cackle erupting out of your throat. 

“That’s one word for him.” A bright smile erupts across your face as you think of Arthur. “Arthur can be the devil, for sure. But he can also be as sweet as an angel. When he wants to be. And with people he likes. Which aren’t too many.” 

Mrs. Adler replies with a humorless chuckle of her own. “Ain’t that most men?” But sadly, the dark cloud returns to settle over her features once more. “Not my Jake, though. He was a dear to me. I don’t know what I’ll do without him.” Her honey eyes begin to mist again, her lips trembling woefully.

But you are quick to catch her gaze again as if looking right into her very heart. “For what it’s worth, you’ll have us for as long as you need, Mrs. Adler.”

“Sadie. Call me Sadie, I insist.” She gives you a genuine smile, probably the first since the death of her husband. “And, ‘for what it’s worth’, nobody has to understand what is between you and Arthur but you two.” 

And you and Sadie wrap your arms around each other, resting in the comfort of the other’s understanding. 

But outside in the cold, Arthur trudges through the snow, pouting and sulking as he heads back to the bunkhouse. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. Things were finally going well for him. Dutch was starting to think of “retirement”, however that would look. And the gang was making its way away from trouble, but now you are all buried so deep. 

And, Arthur has you in his life now and things are going well there, too. Things are going too well. At least they were before this shitstorm descended upon the group. He longs for the blissful moments where he can taste you on his lips and smell you in his clothing. He should have known it couldn’t last. 

It’s hard not to let the all-too-familiar bitterness start to creep its way back into his fractured heart. Good things don’t happen to bad men. This is something Arthur has always been adamant about. Like a fool he was starting to believe you when you told him otherwise. When your sweet voice floated into his ears like a feather on the wind, swirling around in his mind and nesting around his heart, Arthur was starting to think he could have a decent life with you at his side, that you could somehow build something really good together. That he could finally mean something to someone. He harbored the thought that maybe, just maybe, you could eventually break away from the gang, just the two of you, after the dust had settled and everyone in the gang was safe and out of harm's way. 

Arthur wants Tilly to find the good man she deserves and to start a family of her own; to see Mary-Beth achieve that dream of being a writer and make something of herself. He’d love to see Dutch living his best life, free and wild. Maybe John could finally get his shit together and make an honest woman of Abigail and be a real father to his boy. He prays that Hosea will someday finally be able to rest his weary bones with a roof over his head and a fire at his feet. And for himself, to have you at his side on a little homestead, living the life that only existed in his daydreams before you fell into his life. 

But all Arthur ever seems to find is hardship and bloodshed. And now, he has you trapped in the middle of all of it, the very thing that he has wanted to avoid from the beginning. And what’s more terrifying is that he’s not so sure if he can protect you from it. Arthur can’t imagine the sorrow and responsibility you must feel from losing both Davey and Jenny, knowing that you did everything you could, but it wasn’t enough to save them. 

He’s not an idiot. Arthur can sense your grief and misgivings about what’s happened. What if you finally come to your senses and decide to leave him, leave the gang at the first opportunity you get to escape the danger all around you? He certainly wouldn’t blame you if you did. 

But the thought of you leaving clefts his black heart in two. What would Arthur do if he lost you? He may as well put a bullet through his skull if he did, as there would be no use in living without you. It would be like the color drained from everything in his life. The sun would refuse to shine and air would turn rancid, burning his lungs as he tried to breathe.

When you found each other, Arthur could not get over how your broken pieces fit together so perfectly with his. How wonderous it was that together, you create one person, both halves being fused together to make a whole. And now, he fears you may be slipping away from his ever-strong grasp, losing his other half, his better half.

Arthur stops at the corner of the bunkhouse, leaning against it with his forearm. His other hand comes up to his mouth, trembling as a shaky breath exhales across his lips. His eyes furrow like a canyon with concern. 

If he could just hear the sound of your laughter, then he’d be alright. 

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

*Almost there! More drama to come, but don't worry, some fluffy goodness is coming!

Tag List: @rivetingrosie4​ @bimbo-dollz​ @pine4pple-b0i​ @redwritr​ @kuri-chans-blog​ @queer-sadie-adler​ @joelmillerswifey​ @gimmethosedaddymilkers​ @pcotarelo​ @delilah-grimes​ @maemortem​ @wistfulwisteriawitch​ @lilacxxdreams​ @mentallyillfrogs​ @absolutegeek​ @spurz​ @sophiaj650​ @uniqueclodzinevoid​ @lookingformaurice​ @pawoui​ @randomidk-123​ @yyiikes​ @eddiemetalheadmunson​ @twola​ @kmartkiddieisle​ @red-dead-simp @regwishesshehadmagic​  @rhehr241​  @earwen-x​ @akariver75​ @djennty​ @nervousmumbling​ @xliliths​ @unbotheredbeeeee​ @onnetonprinsessa​ @kittiowolf210​ @ezrynn​ @suhiss @arthurmargon​​ @codnerd1999 @queer-sadie-adler​​ @alice-vanderlinde​​ @sweetandstoned21​​ @j4llyf7sh @spooky631​​ @m0r4rx @ilovrxats​​ @i-69-urmom​​ @ddbluesie @ivuravix @nervousmumbling @sickvictorianangel @tirededuxhours @ezzythereal1 @chloepluto1306 @ivys-valentine @spiritcatcherxo @lea-khena @brccklynbaby1 @foundynnel @readingcoco @carmelamontezlikr @ultraporcelainpig @sofiaa-xcx @namesaretomainstream @miphy @cookiesandcreaminthetardis @loveheartabby @daisybvck @julialoopeezz @a-court-of-valkyries @oziozzioslo @stargazer-88 @lunawolfclaw

*I tagged people who expressed interest in the continued story. If you’d like to be added or removed, please let me know. There are a few that would not let me link, so I apologize if this doesn’t ping some people. 

[astrolovecosmos]

The Planets & Random or Obscure Associations

~Sun~

Creativity, vitality, head of state, the father, games, yellow and orange clothing, articles of value, jewelry, gold, brass, power, diamonds, citrine, topaz, jasper, amber, rhodochrosite, mistletoe, almonds, citrus, succulents, sunflowers, fevers, heart, back, spine, grapes, walnuts, rice, chamomile, frankincense, juniper, saffron, marigold, rosemary, rue, palaces, towers, luxury.

~Moon~

Eternal, cycles, silver, aluminum, pearls, moonstone, opal, selenite, chest, glands, lymphatic system, nervous system, emotions, mother, ancestors, nurture, rebirth, tides, baths, ocean, brew, boat, sap, willow trees, succulents, pale color plants, white flowers, cucumber, cabbage, lettuce, melons, shellfish, pumpkins, lakes, fountains, ports, fishponds, pools, springs, sewers, dairies, toys, reflection, blankets, objects of comfort.

~Mercury~

Communication, journal, pen/pencil, any writing tools, wings, phosphorous, mercury, agate, tiger's eye, brain, nervous system, eyes, respiration, thyroid, speech, hearing, intellect, vehicles, money, bills, paper, books, pictures, parties or social gatherings, scientific instruments, butterflies, messages, mail, hazel, mulberry, myrtle, seeds, aniseed, dill, fennel, lavender, liquorice, marjoram, parsley, valerian, hazelnuts, beans, mushrooms, pomegranates, carrots, celery, libraries, schools, markets, fairs, public spaces, tennis or badminton court, studies, banks, bowling greens, offices, blue, white, or light colored flowers.

~Venus~

Love, relating, lust, high-quality fabrics, copper, bronze, sodium, malachite, tourmaline, emerald, rose quartz, kunzite, sapphire, pastels, throat, kidneys, lumber region, art, music, aesthetics, social life, fashion, jewelry, wine, pleasure, alder tree, fruit trees, paint, ash tree, birch, pomegranates, early flowering, daisy, mint, marshmallow, meadowsweet, mugwort, plantain, tansy, roses, thyme, vervain, yarrow, potatoes, strawberries, wheat, sugar, nectarines, ballrooms, bedrooms, dining room, gardens, fountains, wardrobes, theaters, looking and feeling good.

~Mars~

Lust, conquest, desire, flaming sword, red things, fights, iron, brass, bloodstone, carnelian, cinnabar, pyrite, magnetite, ruby, garnet, hematite, muscles, reproductive organs, blood, kidneys, immunity, heat, action, arms, pepper, sharp instruments, cutlery, attacks, scissors, weapons, physical intimacy, bites, stings, scalds, burns, accidents, hawthorn, pine, thorns, cactus, aloes, anemone, arnica, belladonna, garlic, ginger, hops, mustard seed, nettles, wormwood, chives, onions, leeks, radish, rhubarb, tobacco, labs, furnaces, distilleries, bakehouses, ovens, smiths, butchers, fields, anger, passion, self-focus.

~Jupiter~

Expansion, optimism, religion, religious sites, tin, seduction, turquoise, chrysocolla, topaz, citrine, jasper, liver, pancreas, pituitary gland, sciatic nerve, excess, abundance, prophecy, philosophy, knowledge, universities, foreign travel, luggage, honey, oil, silk, fruit, distinct clothing, merchandise, horses, domestic birds, gambling, indulgence, entertainment, oak, dandelion, sage, endive, chervil, asparagus, figs, churches, temples, palaces, altars, courts, mansions, woods, orchards, winery, cornucopia, connecting with the soul.

~Saturn~

Limits, boundaries, father time, lord of death, shadows, lead, iron, steel, calcium, asbestos, sulphur, diamond, onyx, calcite, skeleton, spleen, skin, teeth, nails, joints, structure, crystallization, old age, blockage, anything dark, wool, heavy materials, agriculture, wheelbarrows, spades, farm houses and buildings, cold, laws, aspen, blackthorn, buckthorn, cypress, elm, toxic plants, hemlock, henbane, belladonna, hellebore, barley, beetroot, safflower, parsnips, spinach, deserts, woods, valleys, caves, church yards, ruins, coalpits, sinks, wells, mud, institutions.

~Uranus~

Eccentrics, mavericks, invention, genius, revolution, change, trends, disruptive science or tech, uranium, magnesium, lapis lazuli, sapphire, aquamarine, azurite, chalcedony, electricity, neon lights, plaid, nervous and circulatory system, pineal gland, chaos, violence, upheaval, astrology, steam engines, coal, machinery, coins, baths, fishponds, dangerous places, computers, magnets, quantum physics, research, welfare, humanity, hypnotherapy, railways, banks, gas, psychiatric hospitals, offices, hospitals, dispensaries, fortified places, chemicals, mingled/mingling, spirit and matter.

~Neptune~

Illusions, veils, diffuse, deception, water, oceans, mysticism, enlightenment, artistic pursuit and understanding, zinc, potassium, amethyst, fluorite, jade, sugilite, coral, aquamarine, pineal gland, lymphatic and nervous system, spine, mental processes, addiction, psychoses, disease, photography, music, substances, gas, religion, poetry, mimicry, chameleon, anesthetic, telepathy, empathy, dancing, psychic gifts, places near water, hospitals, places of healing, jeweler, painters, brewers, musicians, visionary.

~Pluto~

Power, influence, darkness, new life, what's hidden underneath, seeds, volcanoes, deep earth or ocean, bury, explosions, eruptions, abduction, plutonium, smoky quartz, obsidian, jet, pearl, deep reds, reproductive organs, the unconscious, nuclear, transformation, death, birth, rebirth, underworld, riches, earthquakes, big business, murder, detection, detective, invisibility, sneak, enforced change, hidden places, underground, drains, sewers, radioactive places, the occult, black magic, sacrifice, renew.

[amazinglyashy]

Frostbite - Prologue [Ch. 1]

Read on Ao3 Pairings: Foreseer Zayne x Reader Summary: In the Creatio Protocore, you would find an extension on the life you had all but given up on until recently. In you, the Foreseer would find a life worth living for once in his immortality. And together, you would find just how lovely and just how cruel fate could be. Tags: N/SFW, Hurt/Comfort. Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Canon Divergence, Abuse, Domestic Violence, Chronic Illness Notes: A slightly divergent retelling of Zayne's time as Foreseer and the myths and memories that flow with it. Chapters uploaded as frequently as I can. Chapter wordcount: 1,445

Prologue - You

Freezing- that would be a good word to use to describe how you were feeling right now. It was the dead of winter, with the wind howling as it bit across the rose color of your cheeks, making you wonder how long it would be before you became a frozen icicle yourself, much akin to the ones hanging down low from the trees. The nature around you was breathtakingly beautiful, you wouldn’t deny that- the trees nearly black in color from the wet of their wood in the snow coating them, the stark contrast of black and white mixed with the pale blue of ice taking form along the branches- if you had more time, you would stop and enjoy it. Maybe start a fire to add some warm oranges and red to the canvas before you while you admired the view. But you didn’t have such time, nor luxury at this moment. 

You couldn’t tell if the ground beneath you feeling like a glacier was a bad omen or not. In most cases, the danger of slipping on the tightly packed snow would be at the forefront of your mind, but right now, it was a comforting sign that the road you were traversing was commonly used. It meant if you got stuck up here, you could find help fairly easily, possibly even before freezing to death. 

Well, until you had to fork away from the main road and take a much less common way to get to your destination. 

The route you were currently using was one that branched off several times in its length, commonly leading to local villages or nearby cities for tradesmen and artisan to go and sell their wares. Farmers would also utilize the main roadway when transporting livestock or their crops in imposing wagons, though their wheels would have much difficulty on the ice and sleet that had formed since autumn had turned to winter. Their trips were far and fewer in between, but that didn’t mean they didn’t exist until spring. 

You had the lingering thought of hopefully passing a hunter somewhere along your route. You had brought some coin just in case, hoping to talk them out of a catch they may have on hand in exchange, so that you could have a bite to eat later once you were making the trip back down the mountain, huddled around a makeshift fire as you waited out the evening. 

That would be to say, if you were able to make it back down the mountain at all.

Quietly, as if on instinct, you reached up to clutch your chest as you felt a slight tendril of pain throb across your bosom. You needed to be careful, and pick up the pace. The frozen wind howling around you was dangerous for your condition, and you didn’t need to experience an aggressive flare up in the middle of an unforgiving mountain. Not when you were this close to a possible salvation. 

The area ahead of you cleared, and you could see an olden wood sign with markers and text burnt into the grain, covered in snow, but clean enough to read. You approached the gray wood that complimented the white contrast of snow surrounding it, making out a few small, nearby villages whose names you recognized from day trips the summers before now. The roadway you were on split off into three different directions, snaking to locations nearby and further away. Two of the options had paths similar to the one you had just come from- packed down snow slick with footsteps and wheel markings, the travel route being utilized faster than fresh snowfall could cover it. It was alright to walk in, with nails cobbled into the soles of your shoes to prevent a fall. Both paths promised common traffic. But the third option was quite the opposite. 

It was nearly completely powder, only packed down from more snow landing down on top of it. It looked more akin to a small, sudden cliff rising above the other pathways, like a two-foot tall wall challenging you to dare take a step onto it, not knowing if what lie beneath it was solid ground, or covered underbrush. 

Obviously, it was the one you were meant to take.

Of course, the state it’s in makes perfect sense , you thought to yourself, stepping forward to begin carefully trekking the thick climate. After all, when was the last time an official royal envoy had been sent to the Tower of Thorns anyway? Most people didn’t make it a daily habit to go and see the Foreseer. The fear of angering him or the god Astra Himself usually too much for most to bear, even in exchange for the possibility of finding out a future prophecy that greedily pertained to themselves. And the ones who didn’t fear the concept were simply too stupid to have fear of the godly and divine in the first place. You had definitely heard talk in the taverns, wild men drunk on too much ale, spilling their tales and woe about friends or cohorts going missing after a brazen trip to the tower in the mountain. Usually, it was someone who had been down on their luck, searching for a prophecy that promised better fortune in the near future. But occasionally, it was someone who wanted to grasp one of the Foreseer’s many treasures, the coin fetched for such items would be immense enough to live on for years to come, simply because of his divine name. 

That very same tavern talk was what had led you to this very moment- trudging your way as the stony spire slowly came into view, your lungs burning with every freezing breath you took. 

Yes, those who didn’t fear the Foreseer or Astra were out of their right minds, and the ones who even humored the thought of stealing something holy for their own benefit were even worse. But you were finding it harder and harder to mock them, even simply in the depths of your own mind, due to what was bringing you here today.

The Creatio Protocore. 

It was a divine relic, supposedly nestled in the center of the scepter the Foreseer used in most of his magics, knots of wood and metal curling around it as it hovered in place. It could reign destruction- leveling parts of the mountain, taking lives without an ounce of mercy from the wielder, Astra’s cruel sword and emissary, and freezing to death anyone who may speak out of line. But there were two sides to this coin- with the Creatio Protocore also capable of more than simple miracles. It could bestow life upon rot, and will tranquility on the lands surrounding. Both sides were tales you had been told, sure, but you knew the words bore some weight. You had read the scripture from the royals before and their envoys, and how the Foreseer would act when they were in his presence. 

The Creatio Protocore would be able to cure you- the ailment that scarred deeply across your chest- you just knew it. 

Not much was known about Cryoarsis, except that there were no known cures nestled among the browned, stained pages that spoke of the few known cases. And when you said few, you meant few. The amount of known cases could be counted on both hands, and missing a few fingers at that. The cases happened so infrequently, the information that spoke of the disease could be considered even rarer than the disease itself. Your deductions had found that the only possible cure would be nothing short of divine intervention. A rare miracle bestowed upon you by the gods themselves. A rare miracle taking shape, could be considered the Creatio Protocore, the main source of power for the Foreseer, and a blessing from Astra in physical form. 

So, blindly- on the basis of some tavern banter you had heard a few weeks ago and the writings you had read up on after- you were lifting your knees to your chest as you trudged your way up the last length of the mountainside you would need to reach the Tower of Thorns. The human will to live was a mighty thing, you were finding. And you knew yours was mightier than most. It hadn’t always been, but recent events transpiring had done well to change your mind, and now your only goal was to find- and take- the Creatio Protocore to cure your Cryoarsis. Even if it killed you.

Besides, you would die anyway without it. What did you have to lose, trying to go toe to toe with a demigod?

[glaciertea]

Masterlist Here

Tales the Songs Weave

Bonus: Wedding

Notes: This is from my long-fic, but can also be read as a one-shot. You do not need to know anything from that to be able to read this~

CW: 18+, Submissive Miguel, Temperature play (Ice), light bondage, oral (M and F giving/receiving), heavy teasing (Miguel receiving), praise kink, PinV, overstimulation, an overall sexy time~

Bonus Two: I Know I Don't Want Nobody Else but You

Word count: 4K

The honeymoon. The most intimate time after the wedding. The time where you and your new partner can enjoy each other's company even more, but in a different location.

You honestly didn't care if you and Miguel went on a honeymoon, but he insisted on a getaway to some fancy beach house. You were a bit surprised when he offered the beach of all places as he struck you as a person who seems to hate sand getting into places where it shouldn't be. But he really wanted to take you to this beautiful island with a private spot.

You agreed to go, and your only offer was for him to allow you to help pay for it. He tried to fight back, telling you that he had it all under control, but you told him that was his honeymoon as well, and you seriously didn't mind chipping in. He knew he wasn't going to win this argument and allowed you to give a couple of hundred dollars.

He wanted to transfer back the money the moment he received it but refrained. Asking for time off work and getting scolded by your boss for even bothering to ask because the answer was always going to be yes (you stated that you didn't want to just up and leave), you and Miguel booked everything and flew out for the trip.

The island was gorgeous. White sand with bits of red, luscious green landscapes, and the vast blue water in front that glowed at night. 

The house was stunning. It was two stories high, and there were windows seemingly all over. It was white with hints of gray, white, and seafoam green. It screamed luxurious on the outside, yet the interior held more of a comfy heart inside. With white wood flooring, open flooring, and a high ceiling, it appeared more like a cabin, but with beach-style furniture. And you both loved it.

Your favorite part of the whole place was the bedroom that led out to the balcony.

You two had an amazing vantage point of the ocean, watching the sun come up and absorb the night with its beautiful oranges and kissing golden rays. To it, retiring for the night turned the purples and pinks into dark blues, embellishing the sky with the twinkling stars and milky way dancing around the moon. There was something about the illuminating glows from both the sun and moon when they beamed through the curtains that made you feel warm and calm.

Maybe it was the breezes that would stream through, whistling a soft tune in your ears. Or possibly the ambience of the sounds of crashing waves or the tides ascending from the shore and back. 

Or maybe it was being near him.

Waking up to being entangled in each other's grasp made those emotions swirl deep. Seeing the beams hug his tan skin whether you were on the beach or in the house made you question how you were so lucky to end up with a man like him. And Miguel made sure to return the same sentiment. When you two weren't exploring the island or relaxing and enjoying each other's company, you two were all over one another. 

On the sands of the beach (Miguel made sure to lay out a huge blanket), in the kitchen, the dining room, the laundry room, even on the roof (though you were ready to get down after the first thrust). You found your bodies nearly all over the beach house and beach. 

Needless to say, hands couldn't be kept to yourselves for the first four out of the eight days.

It was all magical, and you were relishing every millisecond, but it got you thinking. You wanted to surprise Miguel. He would always catch you swooning over him if he was swimming or simply swinging in the hammock with a book that he would abandon a few pages in. He would instigate and lead you to any part of the house or wherever you were standing, and you both end up being sweaty, sticky messes.

But you wanted to throw him off track; you wanted him to sit back and enjoy himself while you savored every inch of your Renaissance marble sculpture on the runway, lover. You were going to find that way.

You and Miguel were snuggled up on the couch after coming back from a hibachi dinner that resided on the island, watching some movie, but you were barely paying attention to it. 

“Vale, has estado distraído toda la noche. Tell me what's on your mind, mi Luna.” He peppered kisses your shoulder and neck.

You bit your bottom lip and pushed your body more into his. “It's nothing. Just some prime time thinking.”

“Prime time thinking?” 

“Mhm.” You purse your lips and continue eyeballing the film.

“Mi Luna,” he said, tightening his grip and leaned in close to your ear. “Tell me what's on your mind. Now, mi corazón.”

A shiver spilled down your spine. You could restrain the temptation of wanting to give in, but you were always putty in his hands.

“Okay, fine. I'm only going to say this because you asked; it's actually been on my mind for the last day or so, and it's all I could ever—”

“Mi Luna, you're stalling.” His fingers brushed your hair. 

You figured you outwardly saying it wasn't going to help you in the slightest. Expressing your desires didn't come easy, and it amped up around him, but tonight you were going to do this. You decided to not tell but show instead.

“Meet me in the bedroom in five minutes.” You patted his chest and darted off to the stairs. “And don't come until I say, mi Estrella!”

Stunned, he listened to the bedroom door close and shut his eyes and opened them bewildered. “Uh, okay.”

He debated if he should settle more into the couch or not get more comfortable. Every second, he would wander his attention over to a nearby clock then divert it elsewhere as time purposely slowed down whenever he took a peek. He listened out and heard you moving. He took note of every step and tiptoe you made across the floorboards. When six minutes passed, Miguel had to fight with himself from jumping up and darting in the room when you finally called for him.

Not craving to prolong the wait, he sped up the stairs and into the room where you lay propped up on the pillows, your arms sprawled on the cushions and legs stretched out with one over the other. You were in a silk robe but left no room for imagination. You were only in your underwear, and a smile was gracing you.

Miguel didn't know how to react, so he allowed his body to do the talking for him. He took off his shirt and slipped his pants right off. You suspected he would try to go for it; it even confirmed your suspicion even more when he dipped onto the bed and crawled towards you with those starving eyes. 

“Mi Luna, you know I will give you anything to fill your urges.”

You shushed him and put your finger to mouth, winking innocently.

“I know, Miggy. But tonight, we're going to switch that around.”

He tipped his head to the side, trying to piece together what you meant by that, and that's when it dawned on him. “Mi corazón, are you wanting to take-”

“On the bed, and place your back on the headboard.” You rolled off the bed and stood by it and pointed at the spot where you were.

He was enticed and made his way over to get himself comfortable. Pleased, you discarded the robe, having it sink to the floor and straddled Miguel's hips. You were anticipating how far you could go. Wetting your lips, you began to roam your hands over his chest. You needed to see him squirm.

“Hands over your head.”

“And if I were to say no, mi Luna?” He gave a playful smirk and grinned harder when you rolled your eyes.

Taking his wrists, you shuffled up and pinned them above for him. “Now,” you locked eyes with him and followed his gaze whenever it went. “Webs. Let's go.”

When he didn't move a muscle, you knew you had to take matters into your own hands. Releasing him from your hold, Miguel went to lower his arms when you snatched one and planted it back on the wall. Quickly taking the free one, you angled it until it aligned with the other, firmly pressing his wrist so his web could bound it up.

“Mi Luna.”

“If you want to do things the hard way, then I can play that game too.” You repeat the process, moving his hand and shooting more to capture the other. “Much better.” You made sure to give him wiggle room on the first constrained arm, just in case.

Miguel balled his claw into a fist. He was curious to see what you had planned up. “You have me trapped. Now what?”

You kept quiet and pulled down his briefs to reveal his penis red and leaking the transparent liquid already.

“Mi Luna—ah! Oh, fuck.” 

Miguel arched his back when your tongue found the tip, lazily swirling it around. He wasn't expecting you to jump right in. You were concentrating on flicking your tongue and placing feathery kisses from the body to the base. You fondled his balls, taking a quarter of him and slobbering on it as much as possible.

He exhaled and rolled his hips along with your movements when you pulled away with a pop and pressed your hands harder to his thighs. “No. Moving.” You went back, licking the shaft before putting it back in your mouth.

Miguel froze at the command when a low growl escaped from his throat. He went back to bucking his hips, wondering how you'd punish him. That, and he was desperate to have you take more of him. His breathing grew when he found himself successful, until he heard an irritated grunt.

You removed yourself from him and glared. The dangerous look sent a shiver down Miguel's spine, but he held it in, returning his own surly gaze. He watched you sit up and move back from him to reach the edge of the bed. His eyebrows knit, examining what your next move could possibly be.

“That warning wasn't for nothing.” You stood and turned your back to him. “For that, you get a punishment.”

You make your way towards the door, and Miguel begins to slightly panic. “Mi Luna, wait!” But you were already out of the room. 

Were you going to leave him there like this? And for how long? He groaned out from the desire, his body burning with need. His eyes were locked on the door, growing more and more heated with every second that passed. He heard you shuffling around in the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets and the fridge. 

After a minute, he was ready to call out for you when you strutted back in, with a wine glass and four ice cubes in it. You sat it on the bedside stand and plucked one out. He eyed you intensely, wondering what your next move was going to be. You smirked at his expression, removed your dampened underwear, and sat across from him, making sure to keep your legs spread enough for him to see all of you.

Putting the cube to your lips, you lap at it seductively, letting the cool droplets drip on your chest down to your stomach. Miguel was fixated on the way your lips curled around the solid. He tried to control his breathing as his cock throbbed relentlessly. 

“Mi Luna...” he was already out of breath.

“Your punishment.” You moved the ice over his tip and let some drip on it. He groaned and threw his head. “Is to watch me please myself.”

You roamed it over yourself. Down your neck to your nipples. He followed your hands, ready to rip the bindings from his wrists, but kept himself at bay. He wanted nothing more than to replace that ice cube with his tongue. He was seriously jealous over frozen water; only you could get him to that point. 

You made direct eye contact; your sharp hisses and soft moans as you trailed the ice down to your needy cunt had Miguel moaning out. You rubbed the nearly melted cube over your folds and clit, making your back arch. Your free hand reached down, and you stuck two fingers in yourself. 

You made sure to scissor so he could adore every part.

“Por favor, mi corazón, por favor no hagas esto. Lo siento, pero por favor.” He begged as your pussy became wetter and wetter. 

“Miguel,” you gasped out. You kept going until it completely melted. You were glistening from your chest to your thighs, your vagina very puffy as the clit poked out.

“Mi Luna.” His voice was filled with nothing but lust and needs. “Please…”

“Now, Miguel, when I tell you to not move, do not move. Yes ma'am?” You crawled your way over to him.

“Yes.” He replied, nothing but a shaky arousal in his tone. 

You grabbed the back of his head and reeled him close to your face. “I said, yes, ma'am?”

Miguel almost came on the spot. “Ye-yes ma'am.”

“Good boy.” You placed your lips to his and went for another ice cube. You licked at it some, sucking it before moving it to him. “Lick.”

He did as he was told. You shivered when his tongue came into contact with your fingers, trying to stifle any sounds wanting to escape. You took it away when you were pleased with the size and began to pump his slick, veiny cock. It was hot and leaking out like crazy. You were a bit pleased with how well this was going. 

You went in and nipped at his neck, leaving a couple of nice hickeys for anyone to see. 

“All for me.” You purred right in his ear and placed the half-melted cube on the tip, sliding it down his length and then back up. 

You moved back to get a nice view of your treatment. Miguel thrashed at the frigid sensation, his cock twitching as you rubbed it on the swollen tip. The more pre-cum that welled out, made you more proud.

“You're doing so good.” You wickedly grinned and plopped the rest of the ice in your mouth, taking him back in your mouth all the way. 

Miguel moaned out, a string of swears in Spanish falling out. He looked down at your head, bobbing crazily, the sensations overwhelming his senses. His claws pricked his own palms, leaving indents in them.

Your whirling tongue and the slobbering made him want to cry. He desperately needed to release and wanted to buck his hips, but didn't want to endure another punishment, so he could stay still and watch your face and the copious amount of liquid spilling out from your mouth.

He glanced down when he saw you looking up at him through your lashes. The lewd sounds and the stare you were giving were enough to make him snap. 

“Ay, mierda- mi Luna- fuck. I'm going to- fuck—I'm cumming.” He groaned out, and you dug your nails into his sides, taking every drop of him.

You released yourself from him and lifted your head, mouth wide open. Miguel almost fainted from the sight, watching some of his seed drizzle down your chin before you gulped down the mouthful.

“So delicious.” You licked your lips and cleaned up the rest of your face. “You always taste so good.”

“Vas a ser mi muerte.” Miguel rested back on the headboard. You took pride in his sweaty, disheveled state, and your smile wasn't washing away.

“You doing okay, mi Estrella?” You brushed away a bit of sweat from his forehead and kissed it.

“Sí, mi Luna.” His eyes seemingly got brighter when he looked at you. “Have I told you how beautiful you are?”

“Any chance you get.” You went in for a kiss, letting him taste himself and taking the third cube. “Now for being such a good boy, let me reward you by helping you cool down and giving you something special.”

Miguel smirked and licked his lips. “What could be more special than what just happened?”

“You'll see.”

Lapping at the ice, you ran it over his pecs, abs, and nipples, circling around them before biting one of the hardened nubs. Miguel sighed out, eyes fluttering in the back of his head. It did feel nice to let you take the lead, and it really put it in perspective how kinky you could exactly get. He was certainly going to have you take charge more often. 

Nodding your head at the shine of his chest and stomach, you decided he was ready for the main course. You stood up on the bed, holding your arms out to balance, and moved your vagina a couple of inches in front of Miguel's face. You placed one hand on the wall near his arms and propped a knee on his shoulder.

“Now that you're cooled down, here's your reward.” You ran the ice over your folds. “Go ahead, Miggy. Eat me out.”

Miguel didn't hesitate on that instruction and took you in his mouth. His tongue darts in and out to taste you. He sucked and eagerly ran the wet muscle eagerly, not wanting to miss a single spot. 

You called out his name and immediately dropped the ice cube, not sure where it landed. Miguel growled out and made out with your honeyed pussy, wagging his head like a madman. You inclined more into him and the wall. Your hand gripped on his hair as you tried to maintain that balance.

Delving deeper into your core, he was letting not one drop escape from him. He worshiped every part of you; he loved the taste of you. The overflow of your moans sent him in a spiral. You bucked your hips whenever he plunged farther in.

You hissed and licked his arms, grazing the veins popping out, and felt yourself get closer and closer. You moved away and peered down at the trail of spit that was connected from Miguel's lips to your pussy. You whined and plopped back down on his wet lap from the ice you dropped before colliding your mouth into his, needing to taste every part. You sucked on his tongue, rubbing your wet folds along the tip of his cock, teasing him for your amusement, but even you couldn't take it.

“Mi Luna.” Miguel snarled, but you pretended to not hear and went to nip his neck.

The immense amount of foreplay made his dick very warm and firm. Feeling it pulsate against you had you shuddering. You brushed on him some more, receiving a jerk and bucking from the unceasing taunting. 

“Eag-eager, huh, Miggy?” You giggled when you faced him, but you weren't expecting the parlous glint in those eyes. 

You gulped. Goosebumps pricked all over your skin when Miguel freed himself from his webs, the residue floating in the air. You should've figured that him getting out of the bindings wouldn't take much of an effort. Placing his hands tightly on your bottom made you squeak. 

“H-hey! I'm supposed to be taking the lead.”

“You are, but this teasing is stopping now.” 

He forced you to take the head and stiffened his body. You bit your bottom lip and didn't move for a few seconds, and that evoked a strangled whine from Miguel. 

“Por favor, no hagas esto, mi corazón. I can't take the punishm- shit!”

You sank down on him all the way, your walls enveloping the burning cock. Squeezing his shoulders, you began bouncing in a rhythmic motion. Wet sloshes sprung from the puddle and your juices. Your voices were loud, calling out each other's names. You sharply inhaled, adoring how red Miguel had gotten. You rocked more into him, gyrating your hips to the point where he swore you were spelling his name.

An electrifying shock coursed down your back as a breathy moan left your lips. You trembled as an orgasm shook you.

“I love you, mi Estrella.” You whispered near his lips. “You okay? I wasn't too rough, was I?” 

“I love you too, mi Luna. And no, you were amazing.” He wiped away your tears and hoisted you up.

You were a bit dazed when he pinned you against the wall, placing your arms by the sides of your head and prying your legs as far as they could go. His webs flung over your body to keep you held up and sturdy. He dug his talons in and glared deep into your eyes. You were hypnotized by his lascivious red iris and whimpered his name. 

“Mine.” Miguel bit down on your neck and shoved himself in one motion.

“Yours.” You cried out as your body was going numb, the personal novacane rushing through your bloodstream, but you still squeezed every inch of him. 

“Feels amazing. Te sientes tan bien.” Miguel moaned and thrusted into your tight heat, loving every squelch and slurred speech emitting from you. 

The speed he was going was so insane that you swore you were going to fall through. He gropes your breast, pinching and pulling at the nipple; his grunts and soft groans sounded pleasant in your ears. The moonlight shined through, bathing him and complimenting his skin.

His hip bones smack into yours. The messy pool leaking whenever his balls slapped against your delectable, creamy pussy. He stroked your every inch, admiring your intoxicating face. Even though you were numb, every breech was wonderful. You were being split open, the engorged tip rubbing on your cervix, when another climax spilled out of you.

He didn't let up, dropping his head on the crown of your hair, taking in your scent. “Mi esposa, mía. Mi vida, mi galaxia, mi luna.”

Your heart was beating in your eardrums. Miguel's dick pulsed madly in you, his panting becoming irregular. 

“I love you. I love you. Te amo. Te amo.” Miguel convulsed and bit your neck once more. Shot after shot of his cum seeped deep in you, along with more of his venom. Kissing your sweaty forehead and lips, he smiled at your tousled state. “Thank you for taking charge, mi corazón.”

You struggled to give half a smirk, but the twitch was enough for him. 

“Let's get you cleaned up. Want me to open the balcony door?”

Your eyes tried their best to narrow at it, and thankfully, he understood.

“Alright. I love you, mi Luna. You go ahead and relax. You deserve it.” He tore off the netting and carried you to the bathroom before letting the salty sea and sounds croon in the room. 

You loved this man with all your heart.

• • •

Miguel scratched his head and scanned the bathroom to make sure he wasn't leaving anything behind.

The day before, you both ordered in some food, chatted, and slept all day after that intense round, deciding to use that day to merely relax and regain energy before heading back home today. 

Peeking in the shower to grab your body wash, his ears perked up to your voice.

“Miggy? We have a slight problem.” You called out. 

He strolled out to where you were facing a wall. Your hands were at your sides with a look of mild concern. “The wall.”

He furrowed his brows and followed your line of vision. “What happened to the wall?” And that's when he noticed the claw marks and cracks going from big to small decorating the light blue paint. “Ah.”

“I think we're going to lose that deposit.” You sighed and gazed up at him, smirking at his work. 

“I'm fine with losing it. And I'll do it again and again, mi Luna.” He kissed your temple then went back to packing, leaving you feeling extremely flustered and your face in your hands. 

This was undoubtedly the man you were going to spend the rest of your life with, and you weren't going to complain, not one bit.

[manfuckthisimout]

You can be Alice, I’ll be the Mad Hatter

Mad Hatter! Yoongi x f!reader

Warnings: none, all characters are of consensual age Genre: Fluff, Oneshot Word Count: 2,688 words (yikes!)

A/N: this is an expirement, I wanted reader to not quite be alice, but someone who came before and stayed in wonderland. Reader is also around 19-22. March hare is supposed to be Kookie, mouse is supposed to be Jimin. Inspired by lots of renditions of the Mad Hatter, AIWL 2010 by Tim Burton, the AIWL ballet where the Mad Hatter tap dances (I thought he was hot when I was a kid), a frankenstein's monster of Mad Hatters! It may be a little out of character for Mouse and Hare but I wanted to write in some members and I chose who I thought fit best. ANYWAY, My requests are open, hope you enjoy!

It had been a while since you first fell into wonderland. You were about 17 at the time, but you can't remember for sure, as time is unpredictable here. You had been found by the red and white queen after you fell, and the two monarchs briefly fought for your place in their court.

The white queen had won the argument, and you were swiftly placed in her court as a lady, enjoying grand balls and living a life of luxury. Through all this still, you couldn't help but feel something in your life was missing. Something thrilling, exciting.

It was when you felt this feeling that you started taking walks around the grounds of the castle, slowly evolving from just the castle grounds to the area surrounding those grounds, and then the woods around that area. One day you got lost, wandering to find your way back to where you started.

“Damn,” You mutter. It appears you’ve gotten even more lost than you were initially. You're in thick woods, no houses, paths or markers to indicate where you could possibly be. “I shouldn’t have walked this far, damn it all.” Stumbling through the woods a little more, you see the beginning of some hedges. “What’s this?” You wonder. “I’ve never seen this before. Is this the beginning of the red queen’s maze?” You press on further, the sound of faint singing getting louder as you do.

“It’s one minute until tea time Hare, take your seat so we can start!”

What in the hells? Tea time? In the middle of the woods? How peculiar.

After walking a few more hedges, there's a small opening to peek through. There’s a little gate between two hedges, a kind of window opening acting as a door as well. You take your skirts, bunching them up and crouching to get a peek over the gate.

Before you is a long table dressed with mismatched teapots and cups. The tablecloth is stained, once a brilliant white with flowers adorning it, now a more cream brown, donning lots of tea stains. Sitting at this table are three men—well, a man and two human-like creatures? One has a brown mop of hair atop his head, a pair of coke bottle glasses on his face, and two little mouse ears with a tail. He’s dressed quite meekly, a tweed brown suit vest and deeper brown slacks. The second of the three is more eccentric than the former. Two bunny ears sticking straight up from his blonde hair. He is wearing a green corduroy suit jacket, his vest a canary yellow, and he has a little pocket watch in his hands, tossing it between left and right.

The third and final gentleman is the most eccentric of them all. His hair is a bright, firey orange--a mauve hat sitting crookedly atop his head to match his equally mauve suit. His vest is an olive green, yellow striped sleeved peeking from his just-to-small suit jacket, barely held in place by his rubbed shiny copper cufflinks. He has some whimsical, informal handsomeness you think.

Oh, he's looking at you! While you were far in your thoughts observing the three men, they noticed your poorly concealed presence. "Why, Hello Madam! Fancy a spot of tea on this merry un-birthday?" The man in the hat speaks to you, looking almost through your soul with his hazel-green eyes. The other two soon follow in their staring.

"Oh! I-I..." You start to stumble over your words, "There's no need to hide behind the gate, any and all are welcome to tea with the Mad Hatter!" He stands from his spot at the table and approaches the gate, leaning over it—and your crouching form, to offer you a gloved hand and quizzical head-tilt. You take his hand, muttering a shy "Thank you.."

Ever since then, weekly walks turned to weekly teas, the hatter learning your identity and how you came to wonderland quickly into the affair. You go back to the hedge garden every week, enjoying exciting antics and ridiculous conversation. In fact, that's exactly where you're heading now.

In your hands is a picnic basket; full to bursting with jams, cookies, and cheeses—all from the finery of the white queen's castle—and your lace parasol. You take the same route you do every time—through the forest and directly to the hedges. You're always early to tea time nowadays, more eager to see only one of your three companions.

The Hatter—with his witty conversation, cooky nature, and seeming gentleness with you—hasn't failed to take a piece of you. A crush started to develop, its long spindly fingers grabbing a hold of your heart and grasping for dear life. But that's not important now, there's a very jolly tea to attend.

"You're here quite early, don't you think?" A voice from behind you says. You startle. "Oh Hatter, you scared me!" You say, swatting at him playfully as he dodges only to grap both of your wrists and hold them out in front of you both. "My apologies, dear Y/N. It was not my intention to startle you." He holds your wrists there, gazing into your eyes as you both seem to breathe in unison. "I have never noticed," He leans in, "Just how beautiful you are." You breathe a sigh, belly suddenly filled with butterflies. Your eyes flit around his face, noticing the subtle twitch of his button nose, the way his eyes shine when they look at you. He's studying you heavily, eyes dropping from you brows, to your nose, to your mouth, chin, neck, clavicle...

"What do we have here?" The Hatter's eyes shoot up, just a few inches from your now heaving busom. You snatch yourself away from him, bringing your basket protectively to your abdomen. "Hello hare," The Hatter starts, "You're just in time for tea." Hatter goes to sit in his place a the table. "Hatter-" You start. "Well, how marvelous a day it is! Mouse brought cards to play after tea!" Hare seems excited, proudly whipping back to snatch cards out of Mouse's timid hands. Mouse lets out a squeak, but quickly protests at the taking of his cards. "Hey, give those back! I found those fair and square, they're mine!"

Hare sticks out his tounge, skipping to his chair while mouse fidgets after his cards. You shake your head amused at the display, and with a chuckle, take your seat at the table. Right next to Hatter. Your eyes flick over to him, but you find he's already staring at you. His gaze is intense, and you have to look away to save your sanity.

This will be a hard afternoon tea.

"So Lady Y/N, how is court at the castle?" Mouse asks. You turn to him, smirking at the question. "Oh, boring as usual. Many less cat fights to report than last week." "A shame inedeed, I was quite looking forward to hearing if Lady Juliet tore off Madam Cathrine's face." Hare remarks, reaching for jam and a cookie to spread it on. You bring your cup to you lips, snickering into it. "Yes, that would be quite the story to hear." It's Hatter's turn to remark, still staring holes into the side of your face.

"Oh Lady Y/N, these cookies and jam are exquisite! You truly spoil us with such things." "Oh, it's nothing Hare. The queen is quite fond of me, so I get extra food easily. It's the least I could do for all of you, after letting me join your parties." "Nonsense! You're by far the best addition to our humble troupe, Lady Y/N!" Mouse seems especially determined as he says this, standing up suddenly and rushing to your side to take your hands. "Thank you Mouse, that's very sweet of you." You beam. "I've had quite enough of this sweetness, of with you mouse. Go hide away into your teapot or something." The Hatter has an icy glare and even icier words for Mouse. It seems he's somewhat bothered by the other man's display.

"Oh- I shall not hide away! I'm only telling her the truth!" Mouse argues back. Hatter stands suddenly, a teapot in his hands. "Begone you absolute creature you! I won't say it again!" He races after poor mouse in a fury, chasing him into the safety of his giant teapot at the other end of the table. He sneers at the teapot, stomping back over to his seat and plopping down into it.

"Well..." You start, eyes nervously flitting between the teapot and the Hatter. "Why don't we play some cards, yes?" Hare suggests. "It might lighten your mood Hatter!" You turn to him, eyes pleading for a yes. He looks back. "...fine. But only if I get to pick the game." "Alright!" Hare hands you the cards, and you pass them to Hatter, fingers brushing—sending a tingle up your arm.

"I choose go fish. First player with four books wins." Hatter starts to shuffle the cards, dealing the three of you six cards each. "Let's make this more interesting, hm? The player who wins gets a kiss from Lady Y/N." Hare offers. Your head whips up, face a dark flush. "Wait a minute, what do you mean a kiss?!-" "I'm up to that, how about you Y/N?" You turn to Hatter incredulously. "I say no kiss! Why me?" "Oh come now Y/N, it would only be a peck on the cheek, nothing more!"

You hesitate for a second, mulling over the suggestion. "...alright then. But only a peck on the cheek, nothing else!" "Alright then, let's play!"

You three go through 4 rounds, asking eachother if they have a card you're looking and pulling from the pool. By the end of the second round, Hare is losing. By the middle of the third, he's out of the game. "Well, I guess this is the end for me. Ill go check on mouse—poor thing must still be terrified after to antagonized him so severly. Win that kiss for me, hm?" Hare darts off to the other end of the table, opening the lid to the teapot and peering in.

"What makes him so sure you're going to win?" You remark, side-eyeing Hatter. "Says the one with only two books while I'm working on my fourth." "Hey! It's not my fault Hare had none of the cards I needed—you don't have any threes do you?" "Oh yes, blame it on the game and not your skill—no, I don't have any threes, go fish." You reach into the pile of cards between the two of you, pulling out a five instead of a three. You sigh. "I assume that's a five?" He grins. "How did you know, are you, cheating perhaps?" "Of course not, and I will take no such accusations against myself." He reaches his hand out, palm flat and eyes on yours. "Now hand me that five, and let me claim my prize."

His wording sends another tingle down your spine, as if his firey stare wasn't enough on its own. "And why should I? You didnt even ask properly." You raise your brow at him, feigning indifference. "Oh, my apologies, my Lady. Do you have any fives in that hand?" "As a matter of fact I don't. Go fish." You grin at him as he grimaces. "I may remind you that it's not a'tall lady-like to lie." You stick your tounge out at him "That isn't lady-like either. Are they teaching you any manners at that castle?" Hatter reaches for the pool, and the bastard has the nerve to pull out a five. "Well, would you look at that?" He places the five into his last book, cards askew and all over the place—if it were anyone else playing they wouldn't be able to tell who's books were who's.

Hatter turns to you, grin as big as the cheshire cat's. "It appears that I've won." You grimace. "Yes, it does seem that way, unfortunately." "Unfortunate for whom? I see this as a pure and fair win." "Yes, much like the raven and the writing desk." While you suddenly find the table and the cards quite interesting, Hatter is staring into your face. "Don't I get my prize?" "When you stop being such an arse, maybe." You glare at him. He turns to the direction of Hare and Mouse, ready to boast about his 'miraculous' win.

It's also at this time you decide to get the kiss over with, leaning into his cheek, ready to peck. "Do you hear that Hare?! I won, fair and-"

Hatter suddenly turns his head back to you as your planting your kiss onto his cheek.

Your lips touch.

His are surprisingly soft, for a madman who you've never seen take any care into his appearance.

You yank your head back just as quickly as you planted the kiss. It was only a little peck, but it was on his lips—not his cheek like you agreed.

Your eyes widen, positively mortified by what you've just done.

Hatter just sits there, star-struck.

"Oh." Hare says, he and Mouse now staring at you two. "Should we leave?" Mouse whispers. "I think we should. Um, tea was wonderful as always! So was go fish. See you two lovebirds next week!" Hare takes Mouse and scurries to the gate, disappearing behind the hedges.

You can't process much, everything besides your heartbeat fading into the background of static that's now consuming all of your senses. You've just kissed The Mad Hatter--your giant, fat crush for a month or so. You haven't even told the queen, haven't had to, she already has a way of knowing these things--let alone the man himself. And now you've gone and kissed him on the lips. Great!

You slowly come to your senses, shyly turning your head while your fingers cover your mouth. The Hatter is still staring at you, wide-eyed. He hasn't said a word since your lips touched.

"I'm so sorry Hatter, I was only trying to-" Your turn to him, starting to come up with some excuse--any excuse--anything to get you out of this mortifying situation--of course he doesn't like you, why would he, stupid girl-

"No. Don't do that. Don't pull away."

His hands suddenly hold you face, either hand holding either cheek.

"I...I want this Y/N. I know you've had a crush on me--I was going to do something about it today if it weren't for those two gits-" His eyes close, and he shakes the frustration out of his head. This man...what is he saying? He knew you were crushing on him? Do something about it? Do what? "What do you mean, Hatter?"

After a long pause, he answers. "I've had a crush on you too. I was too scared to do anything about it until now--i thought you were untouchable--that I wasn't nearly good enough for you." How silly. Two fools in love, worried that the other didn't feel the same.

The Hatter--someone you though could only see you as a friend--was standing here in a new light, gentle, caring, soft. He was baring his soul to you--and he reciprocated your crush. You, the White Queen's lady-in-waiting--the forbidden fruit he could never taste.

"Do you mean that, Hatter?" "Of course I do my lady." "Then kiss me again. I feel the same. I have for a long while." He does just that—tenderly cupping your face with one hand, your bicep in his other. This time the kiss was sweet, full of promises and whispers of love to come—how wonderful and fuflilling it would be for the both of you.

It felt right, even after you both pulled away from eachother, resting your foreheads on the other's.

"I love you, Y/N." He whispers to you, smiling. "I love you too, Hatter." You whisper back, smiling too.

"You owe me a tart from the Red Queen Hare!" You both hear off in the distance. You both chuckle. "Those two...whatever shall we do about them?" "We can worry about that later. I want to stay in this moment for as long as possible." "Sounds good to me."

A/N: That’s all folks! How cute are these two huh? This ended up wayyyyyy longer than i thought it would be lol. Hope you enjoy always! Like and reblog if you did, I would really help out my blog! Also let me know if y’all want a tag list or anything! He’s the Boss pt. 2 is on the way!

[shintaru]

Signature scent | cologne WB characters wear pt.2

pt.1, pt.3, pt.4

m.list ♡ taglist Owen Knight ~

Fragrance Family: Earthy & Woody

Scent Type: Citrus & Woods

Key Notes: Patchouli, Cedarwood, Pimento, Sicilian Lemon, Blood Orange

Fragrance Description: Charismatic and authentic, this fragrance leaves a blazing trail of seduction enveloped by a blend of spicy Chili Pepper, French Lavender, and Haitian Vetiver. A glorious olfactive journey amongst the woody and aromatic notes of the Mediterranean.

About the Fragrance: A perfume which captures the essence of the contemporary man: a king of everyday life.

Chris D’Char ~

RabanneInvictus Parfum

Fragrance Family: Earthy & Woody

Scent Type: Citrus & Woods

Key Notes: Marine Accord, Lavender, Sandalwood

Fragrance Description: Rise to greatness and unleash the epic hero within, with new Invictus Parfum by Rabanne. Blended with exceptional ingredients, Invictus Parfum is a powerful, aromatic, woody, watery men’s cologne. Fresh lavender collides with sensual black soap and addictive sandalwood in an olfactive clash for gods.

About the Fragrance: Invictus Parfum by Rabanne is an aromatic, woody, watery olfactive clash crafted for the half-god hero who writes his own legend. Clean, addictive, and exhilarating, it’s blended with exceptional ingredients. Fresh lavender is made brighter by the minerality of the hazy marine accord. The leathery facets of the soap contrast with the voluptuousness of the violet leaf. Finally, addictive sandalwood blends with carnal musk.

Harry Sheppard ~

Yves Saint LaurentMYSLF Eau de ParfumFragrance Family: Earthy & Woody

Scent Type: Citrus & Woods

Key Notes: Fresh Accord, Orange Blossom Absolute, Woods Accord 

Fragrance Description: MYSLF is a refillable fragrance with a long-lasting trail that blends sparkling bergamot and rich orange-blossom absolute with warm woods, including patchouli and musky Ambrofix™. This woody-floral men's fragrance fuses with your skin to reveal a distinct signature scent. About the Fragrance: MYSLF is the expression of the man you are, with all of your emotions and nuances. A twist on the traditional woody fragrance family with flowers. A statement of modern masculinity to celebrate your true self. Unapologetically. Proudly.

Hwangyeon Choi ~

TOM FORD Neroli Portofino Eau de Parfum Fragrance Fragrance Family: Fresh

Scent Type: Fresh Citrus & Fruits

Key Notes: Tunisian Neroli, Italian Bergamot, Sicilian Lemon

Fragrance Description: Neroli Portofino conjures cool breezes, sparkling water, and lush foliage through crisp citrus oils, floral notes, and amber undertones. Splashy yet substantive, this perfume is a vibrant reinvention of a classic eau de cologne. It‘s TOM FORD‘s homage to the Italian Riviera.

About the Fragrance: "Portofino has always been a magical place for me. There are few cities in the world that evoke such strong emotions and memories. The sounds, sights, and smells of the city are so poignant. I tried to capture this in Neroli Portofino."—Tom Ford

Sangho Choi ~

TOM FORD Oud Wood Eau de Parfum Fragrance Fragrance Family: Earthy & Woody

Scent Type: Classic Woods 

Key Notes: Rare Oud Wood, Sandalwood, Chinese Pepper

Fragrance Description: A composition of exotic, smoky woods including rare oud, sandalwood, rosewood, eastern spices, and sensual amber—revealing oud‘s rich and compelling power.

About the Fragrance: Smoky, incense-filled temples and a passion for rare, precious oud wood inspire TOM FORD‘s pioneering composition of exotic woods and spices.

"Oud Wood envelops you in rare oud, exotic spices, and cardamom then exposes its rich and dark blend of sensuality."—Tom Ford

Hyuk Kwon ~

Azzaro The Most Wanted Parfum

Key Notes: Red Ginger, Incandescent Wood, Bourbon Vanilla

Fragrance Description: A spicy and woody cologne for men that blends warm toffee, sensual bourbon vanilla, vibrant red ginger, and incandescent woods for a magnetic and fiery fragrance. This cologne is dedicated to sustainable luxury and responsible development with bourbon vanilla sustainably sourced in Madagascar.

About the Fragrance: This ambery and spicy men’s cologne invites you to release your burning energy like never before. A fragrance for the empowered and charismatic man who is ready to play and reach new heights of life.

Dedicated to @cozyunderworld @rossesnd @catsrkool @inosukehana

[meltedbluecaterpillar]

Olfactophilia

QUARTET NIGHT - HE★VENS

TW FOR SEMI SUGGESTIVE CONTENT! These are my personal headcanons on what I think the idols would wear. You do not have to agree with me. I just dislike how Broccoli always gives their character merch scents like; apple or lavender. They are adult men in an entertainment industry. They usually get promotional items so I think that they have preferences... But I also have a thing for exploring the world around me with my nose first. I hope you enjoy.

Quick explanation; top notes, middle notes, and base notes are the length of how long the scent will last when applied. Top notes; 5 - 15 minutes / Middle notes; 1 hour / Base notes; Max of 6 hours

Otoya Ittoki

God of Fire by Stéphane Humbert Lucas Unisex Cologne Around 200 USD // 29,896 Yen

I chose this particular cologne based on my personal views and how I see Otoya Ittoki. Usually for character merch he has a very delicate and gentle smelling item (lavender usually) but I personally do not think it fits him. Especially now that he is a fiery adult! Do I think he would actually spend that much on cologne? Once... If he is planning to go on a special date or he has to go to a big fancy event he will have this prepared. God of Fire has the scent of smoke and embers. Imagine a wildfire that has reduced it's surroundings to ash. Otoya is a very free spirit and he is full of energy like a burning flame. He and I also share a star sign, so I know my Aries men the best. The top notes are mango, ginger, lemon and red berries (usually this is raspberries) which gives it an upper tropical and fruity smell. Middle notes; Coumarin (a grassy smell mixed with vanilla), jasmine and cedar. Making it very woodsy! And base notes have musk (this usually means fabric, soft and clean), amber, agarwood. The base notes are the raging, smoky flames that will reduce everything above to ash.

You won't be burned by Otoya, although he is much hotter than any sun...

Ren Jinguji

Triumph of Bacchus by Argos Masculine/Unisex Cologne Around 250 USD // 37,370 Yen

Ren usually will have citrus as his scent. Oranges... But I think that is overplayed. Allow me to entice you my little lost lambs!~! This cologne is designed to seduce. And Ren is also a nepobaby so I don't think he looks at prices very much? As long as it is something he truly wants. And what he wants is to charm you out of your clo- I mean... Take you on a date... And fun fact, Bacchus is one of the twelve Olympians and he is the god of wine making, fertility, ritual madness, theater, and 'religious ecstasy'. Catch my drift? The top notes are Rum, white peach, green apple and saffron which are nice and fruity!~! Middle notes are tonka bean, patchouli, jasmine and vetiver (it's a grassy smell with wood as well). This is where the more sexy aspect starts to really kick in especially when he hugs you tightly against his chest... The base notes are tobacco, vanilla, amber, sandalwood and musk. Tobacco (natural and unburned) is actually oddly sweet so it fits extremely well to me.

Don't lose your way little lamb, the big bad wolf might lure you in... Just kidding, it's only Ren...

Natsuki/Satsuki Shinomiya

Au Lait by Alkemia Unisex Perfume 20 USD // 2,990 Yen

Le Lion by Chanel Unisex Perfume Around 325 USD // 48,581 Yen

Natsuki is our double dipper because he is a very special case. His scent is... Pure yellow. But that reminds me of extra strength cleaner which is so horrific. I like these instead! The first one is something I think he would buy because it reminds him of bouncy fresh bread. He doesn't seem interested in prices or anything like that. Just if something is small and cute. Because it isn't a luxury brand... Fans would go insane knowing this is what he wears. It has only a few ingredients which aren't really categorized. But we have wild honey, hints of brown sugar, tonka beans and creamy milk. Some reviews say it really does smell like fresh buttery bread which I adore. The next one is technically Satsuki, but still Natsuki. But please interpret this however you want. I picked this particular fragrance for many reasons , but I won't bore you to death! Honestly... A fan probably bought this and sent it to the company PO box... The top notes are bergamot and lemon. Which is very acidic and citrusy, like a sudden jolt when you inhale. Crackle even. The middle notes are labdanum(woody smelling resin from a species of rockrose) and amber. This makes it have a very inviting and somewhat... Almost animalistic... In a good way. Kind of wild and a little... Dangerous. But it lingers around because if Natsuki is wearing it there's nothing to worry about... Right? The base notes are vanilla, patchouli, sandalwood, and musk. This is where that charm really shines through for me Natsuki wise. It's delicate and masculine, still inviting and strong just like he is.

Natsuki wishes he could hold you all the time... Satsuki has other intentions...

Cecil Aijima

Oro Verde by House of BŌ Unisex Perfume 175 USD // 26,159 Yen

Unfortunately Cecil is a victim of the green apple craze. I do not think green apple suits him at all it is such a childish thing. Something I would get at Claire's. So I choose this. Which is very simple but I also do not see Cecil as someone who would wear a lot of cologne? He doesn't want to rub stuff on his skin that isn't natural so he probably dabs this on his clothes or staff will ask to put it behind his ears/on his wrists. The top notes are bergamot, cannabis, mate- LOWER YOUR PITCHFORKS! Cannabis smell when it is unburned has an earthy scent to it. Somewhat sticky and almost like fresh cut grass. When it is burned that's when you get the skunk and garlic... Okay? Middle notes are basil, watermelon, and vetiver sables (earthy like rotten log smell). This with the light scent of lingering fruit really makes me smile it has a very fresh smell which I really like. Like the scent of your skin when you sunbathe. And finally the base notes are herbals and spices (I don't want to list off all of the plants). When they say spice that actually is in reference to black pepper! Which all together is so wonderful to smell. And Cecil is a prince so of course he smells good.

The fresh scent lingers on your clothes, just as Cecil had hoped!~!

Masato Hijirikawa

Quasar Ice by O Boticárioro Masculine Cologne 50 USD // 7,474 Yen

Of course our ice prince gets something ice themed. I did not want to give Masato something expensive like the others just because I don't think he is into luxury items. I am not suggesting the others are... I am implying that he doesn't think to hard about cologne. As long as it smells nice for a meeting he won't mind. The only issue is that this is an alcohol base so he would spray it gently... Leaving a nice fade out. No dousing... The top notes are ice (this is hard to explain but it is the molecule that allows you to smell cold air), lime, sage, and cardamom. So in other words... A store bought key lime pie! I wanted something sweet for Masato since I think he is a very sweet guy, even if he doesn't look like it. The middle notes are cedar, black pepper, bourbon geranium, and lavender. This will reminisce a nice winter walk though the forest! And the base notes are oakmoss, amber, sandalwood, and cashmere. So after your frozen pie and a chilly walk, it's like you've returned to a nice cozy cabin with him at the end of the night...

To think that even Masato could wear something so romantic...

Tokiya Ichinose

Midnight by Rawchemistry Masculine Cologne/Pheromones' 30 USD // 4,485 Yen

My original choice for Tokiya was something different. However I cannot find the original scent and nor do I think it truly fits the Tokiya that lives in my mind anymore. So, I chose this. It is also not an alcohol base which I think Tokiya would like because he is overly conscious and critical of everything he eats/wears/does. And this is technically pheromones. Not cologne. So there aren't really top, middle and base notes. Just an overall scent. And that would be; lavender, orange blossoms, patchouli and vanilla. And if you didn't know... All four of these are aphrodisiacs. The usual notes used in cologne are made in fact to attract. But these all together are made with the intent to seduce if that makes sense since there are no other ingredients to note. Is Tokiya a sexual character? No. But he is designed and written to have that form of charm without directly saying it. So that is also why I chose this. He is very confident with what he does as an idol. So... He wants you to understand that without him saying it...

Maybe there is some appeal to Tokiya after all... Just kidding...

Syo Kurusu

Sahara Rose Absolute by Habibi NY Unisex Perfume 135 USD // 20,180 Yen

So... Usually Syo will have a rose scented item. Which... I personally like a lot actually. He is a character designed to not fit into most traditionally masculine stereotypes while still being very masculine. So I chose this scent because it sort of replicates what I think his actual character scent actually is and what he would like to wear. Although I regret to inform the masses that he used to drown himself in Axe body spray... Thankfully he's grown now and he knows that shit was wack. The top notes are Turkish rose, geranium, jasmine and black currant. Very floral and very delicate which is so pleasant when it lingers. The middle notes are pink pepper, saffron, incense, and agar wood. These are spicy and semi-sweet, the balance between femininity and masculinity. The incense offering a powdery-ness that makes it not overwhelming. And finally the base notes are musk, sandalwood, vetiver, and amber. Very sensual at the end, and again not overpowering. I love the balance it has personally and this one was my 'absolute' favorite.

Even though Syo is so strong... He still leaves that rose colored hue behind...

[courtforshort15]

Chapter 8

Pairing: Matt Murdock x FemReader

Word Count: 7,600

Summary: It's a Wednesday when the sky quite literally opens up above you. The Battle of New York rages around you, and the only thing that gets you through is the stranger standing next to you. Matthew Murdock is more than he seems, keeping you safe in a city that is literally crumbling around you, and even once the dust settles, his hand is the only thing you don't want to let go of.

Trigger warning: This chapter is a little dark and features the death of an un-named character. Read with caution if that might be triggering.

Chapter Index: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7

You speed up so that you’re at a jog, trying to move as fast as possible while keeping yourself upright, and though you can barely see him, you follow the blurred gray figure up ahead of you that’s moving swiftly. He takes a sharp left and disappears out of sight, so you push your legs as fast as they can go, hoping you don’t fall too far behind and lose track of him altogether. Your legs burn, the muscles straining and aching, but what’s a sore muscle in the grand scheme of things?

If you survive this, you won’t remember the sore legs, the blisters, the cut across your hand; you’ll remember the crumbled buildings, the ruined city blocks, and the fear that was so thick that it was a struggle to breathe.

Will you ever breathe the same again, secure in the knowledge that you’re safe? You’re not sure.

The smoke and dust in the city creates a brown haze, and it settles through the streets like a hot and suffocating blanket. Dodging this way and that, you keep to the side of the buildings as closely as possible, hoping that you’ll avoid being seen by the things still flying overhead, still unable to keep yourself from flinching with every crash and siren that pierces the city. 

You take the same corner Matt had taken, and it doesn’t take perfect vision to see the spilled concrete and rising flames of twisting oranges and reds that crackle and pop from where they burn just half a block down. Stumbling to a stop in the eye of a burning building, your breath hitches on a gasp. Even from the corner, you’re able to feel the heat brushing across your face, and each millisecond you stand still, it only grows in intensity.

It’s not long before you force your feet to take you closer, but you still hesitate longer than you would have liked. You’d been raised with the knowledge that fires were to be left to the professionals, to those with heavy gear and helmets and oxygen masks, but in a city that seems to be consumed by nothing but open flames, the people inside don’t have the luxury to wait for a team of firefighters to show up.

They’ll have to settle for the likes of you; vulnerable, insignificant, and completely overwhelmed.

Your spine does its best to turn to steel even as your fists clench at your side, shoving your panic down ruthlessly, and your tentative steps forward speed up back into a jog. There’s already a few people surrounding the building, digging frantically through the rubble and moving stone, wood, and brick aside to get to those who are trapped inside. It’s subtle, especially with your eyes the way they are, but you notice the second Matt becomes fully aware of your presence, his head shifting to angle towards yours ever so slightly as he helps another man pull away a large piece of stone.

You’re not sure where the other people came from - the streets had seemed deserted as you made your way to the subway station - but you marvel at every single person who has thrown their own fear and caution to the wind and jumped in at the prospect of someone else needing help. Time and time again, the people of New York have risen to another’s defense, banding together in the face of tragedy and destruction.

The scene is horrendous, something out of a twisted nightmare, blurry as it is in your limited eyesight. Brick and stone have toppled off of the building, leaving behind a large, mangled mound to sort through and push away in an effort to have access to pull people out. The front door is hardly visible with too many things blocked up against it for it to be usable. Most startling, however, is the large hole that sits around the second floor of the four story building, leaving an aching wound that surely must look worse from the inside than it does from the street.

Bloodied skin and frantic looks of terror and urgency decorate the faces of those helping to pull the chunks of debris away from the building, throwing their full weight into digging and shoving through the damage. Flames twist and pull, scorch and dance, as they burn the building from the inside out, heedless and apathetic to the sensitive skin and lungs of its occupants.

The horror of the destruction is only outmatched by the screaming.

Each cry scalds across your skin in a blaze hotter than the flames and causes you to flinch backwards, overwhelmed by the devastation and pain that oozes sharply from the wounded street, and for a split second, you consider turning on your heel and running away. You’re not brave, not entirely selfless when it comes to easing someone’s pain at the cost of your own sanity and safety, and you hate the way you hesitate when people are so clearly in need of help.

But one glance of the determination and grit on Matt’s face changes something in you, pulls you into a space that allows you to acknowledge your fear without sacrificing your desire to do good, and your feet are suddenly moving faster towards the rubble before you’ve had a chance to fully think about it.

The city may forgive your cowardice in the face of such dread and horror, but you never would.

Twenty feet in front of you, a small group of men and women shove away more debris, their faces dark with soot, and you immediately run to assist them, wordlessly jumping in and pulling brick and stone away from the door. Someone attempts to scale the large mound of debris, but he only manages to get so far up before his weight shakes some of the stone loose, sending them tumbling down. The person next to you pulls you sharply to the side as a brick flies down in your direction, and you send a brief but startled grimace their way. 

“Help me lift this,” says the woman to your right, her voice strained as she struggles to pull up a large clump of bricks that have stayed together through the strength of the concrete. You don’t hesitate this time, leaning down and sliding your hands underneath the object of ruin. The large cut on your hand protests loudly, but you ignore it, even as it feels like the newly-formed scab has ripped open under the pressure.

“One, two, three, lift,” the woman directs, words changing into a hiss as she begins to rise. The weight in your hands aches, but you struggle through it, putting all your effort into lifting it and walking a few feet to the side before dropping it. It hits the concrete with a crash, the brick finally breaking apart, but you pay it hardly any attention, following the woman back to the small section of the pile she’d been working at.

“This piece next,” you tell her, pointing at another collection of bricks, wiping a drop of sweat off of your forehead with your other arm. It seems the scab had indeed torn quite a bit, as you’d predicted, because blood is trickling down your arm from underneath Matt’s tie that is still wrapped tightly around it. The red stands out, even through the dust that lingers upon your skin, and you’re close enough to see the other woman wince.

“Are you–”

“Doesn’t matter,” you brush her off, already bending down to lift another piece. “Gotta keep going.” She drops the topic quickly, joining you at a crouch, and grunts as the clump slowly raises from the pile.

One by one, the two of you wordlessly move large pieces of brick and concrete to the side, trying to clear a path for people to get to the shattered window of the building where they can help people escape. It’s slow going for the pair of you, your efforts taxing and seemingly little in comparison to the group of men who are able to move faster. The heat around you builds, as do the cries of the people trapped inside, and it only makes you push harder.

“It feels like this isn’t going anywhere,” you remark with a gasp of air. You feel more and more discouraged by the second, the task at hand feeling far too large for your tiny hands. You hated this feeling of helplessness, even as you did everything in your power to help. The two of you shove a large piece to the side, and it falls with a groan and crack as it breaks apart slightly. The woman turns away from you, eyeing the small clearing you’ve made. 

“They’re close to clearing the door, I think,” she says. She bends over and rests her hands on her knees for a split second as she takes in a large gulp of air, but quickly straightens back up and follows you back to the side of the doorway urgently. “It’s helping, the people will be out soon. Hopefully.”

“Hopefully.”

The panic mixed with grit and determination on her face is only matched by yours, and you let it drive you forward.

As if on cue, there’s a sharp cry of relief as the top of the front door is revealed, about a foot of wood paneling finally visible behind the stone that had blocked the exit. The digging continues frantically, and the sight of it refuels you with renewed speed and strength as you move back to another piece of stone the two of you will be able to lift. 

The woman continues to look exhausted during the next two pieces you lift, face drenched with sweat and red with exertion. She’s just above middle-aged, with frail arms and wrinkles exaggerated as she frowns and groans under the weight, and her strength seems to be waning even as she does her best to work through. She’s clearly struggling even as she puts one foot slowly in front of another, and a warning bell sounds in your head. You watch with clouded vision as her form begins to lose its shape, hunching over the slab of concrete you’re moving to the side, and a flash of fear suddenly rips through you.

Her arms shake under the weight, face twisting in pain. “I can’t–”

“Don’t drop it,” you wheeze, walking backwards more quickly. Sweat continues to pour down your face, the heat of the intense labor creating a burn that slides upon your skin as it joins forces with the flames from the building. “We’re almost there.”

She wheezes, her red face rapidly increasing its shade. “I’m gonna–”

“No–” Your eyes widen with horror as her hands begin to slip, her face shifting into one of panic. Your foot is directly below the slab of brick, and instinctively you know there’s no way you can move your foot quickly enough to get out from under the brick, not without jostling her and causing her to drop it quicker. It all seems to go in slow motion, the sliding of the slab through her fingers, the beginning of its descent, and your body freezes in anticipation of the pain, one that will likely bloom viciously from the breaking of your foot.

Your eyes slam quickly shut as you tense up for the impact.

But suddenly, the brick is rising back up, the weight taken on by another force, one that even lessens its own load on you.

Eyes flying open with a gasp, you’re surprised to see Matt’s sweaty face in front of yours, mouth twisted in a frown as he lifts the brick, a quick groan slipping out. His eyes are wide open, the sun hitting them and highlighting them hazel, blindly aimed to the left of your ear as he holds up the brick. 

“Keep walking,” he tells you gruffly, pushing you gently but urgently along as he steps forward and off to the side. The woman steps out of the way quickly, and you catch the look of relief on her face. Your legs, still tense from the fear that had pierced through you, protest with every step, even as he takes the brunt of the weight. It feels like forever, but Matt finally indicates to place the slab down and out of the way, and you follow without question, grateful to let the heaviness of it go, rolling your shoulders as you stand up.

He’s directly in front of you a second later, steadying you and matching your grimace.

“You’re bleeding again,” he says, grabbing your arm and lifting it slightly, seemingly examining the blood he can’t see. “It’s as bad as before.”

You try to bring your hand back to your body, but his grasp slides to your wrist as he all but cradles your palm in his. A loud sigh escapes your lips, though you imagine it could almost be considered a hiss when he puts the slightest bit of pressure over the wound. “Can’t be helped, Matt.”

“No, maybe not,” he responds with a deep frown. His face has a few smudges of dirt on it, and his shirt can hardly be considered white at this point. “But maybe you should think about finding shelter again. I don’t want–”

You hate how tempting it sounds. “Absolutely not.”

He runs an aggravated hand through his hair. “I don’t want you getting hurt any worse.”

The smile on your mouth is as bitter as it tastes. “Everyone here is hurt, too. Including you. It’s not going to stop any of us. There’s still people who need help.”

“Fine,” he says with another frown, this one bordering on a wince, rolling his stiff shoulders before pulling slowly away. “But…just watch it, okay? You’re not helping anyone if you get yourself hurt. Don’t bite off more than you can chew.”

“Why do I feel like that’s advice you never follow yourself?”

He snorts, the sound of it abrupt and out of place in a city that’s hardly standing, already moving back towards the entrance of the building that still blazes. “I hardly–”

“Hey buddy!” someone calls out a few feet away, waving in Matt’s direction. It’s the group of men Matt had been working with when you’d arrived, and it catches his attention as soon as the first syllable is out. Matt’s head turns swiftly towards them, tilting in question. “Can you come back over here? We need help with this one.”

Matt’s nodding before the man’s already finished. He throws you one last glance, reaches out to squeeze your uninjured in a subtle goodbye, before running back to the group. His touch is missed the second it’s gone, something about the warmth of his hand acting as soothing heat that almost overpowers the flames behind you. You watch him go, his form tense and seemingly ready for whatever challenge could come his way, choosing to focus on the task at hand rather than the unfamiliar ache in your chest that he leaves behind.

That’s…not something I can focus on right now.

You eye another piece that needs moving. Its removal will help clear an easy path for those trapped to get to the end of the sidewalk and out of the way, so you grit your teeth and look up at the woman to see if she’ll be able to help. She wipes her forehead briskly and pushes a lock of red hair behind her ear, head nodding at the unasked question.

She’s ready to move again after a small breather, and you ground your teeth together to prepare for the same. You turn your back to her as you make your way over, stepping quickly around the littered debris and squaring your shoulders.

But out of nowhere, there’s a loud, piercing cry behind you, the sound nothing but a sheer whine of terror, and you whip your head around just in time to watch a quick flash of color shoot straight into the woman’s chest before she falls to the ground, the scent of burning flesh and sight of a blurred hiss of smoke rising up. 

You stare at her in horror, your own scream bubbling up and leaving your lips before you can help it.

But before you can step towards her, before you can even fully process that she’s gone, the sound of heavy footsteps behind you catch your ear, and an ice-cold chill runs down your spine. Your breath stops in your lungs, your heart beats painfully in your chest, and your skin prickles in dread.

Slowly, you turn around, unable to help yourself.

Its purple, mottled skin stands out amongst the black of the road and the white sidewalk behind it, its posture stiff as it holds the large weapon. From where you are standing just ten away, you can barely see its features beyond the sharp beak-like structure and glowing eyes that observe the group of you with unrestrained hatred and a disturbing amount of glee. 

You wish you hadn’t looked.

All efforts to clear the door have temporarily stopped, each person staring at the alien with blood-drained faces. It holds its weapon close to its chest, claw-like hands wrapped tightly around something that looks like a trigger, and it’s almost like it's deciding who to kill first. 

Swiftly turning your head away from the sight, your eyes land on the remains of the woman that lay carelessly to your side, nothing more than an empty, beaten shell that had once housed a person, and the contents of your stomach roll and speed up through your throat. You barely keep it in as tears blur your vision, a hand rising up to cover your mouth as a scream, this one silent, parts your lips viciously.

While you stare in horror at the broken body to your left, another boom of the weapon rocks the city block, and it's quickly followed by the nightmarish sound of another person falling to the ground. It’s suddenly mass chaos as people begin running and diving behind the rubble, doing their best to protect their bodies as the thing advances. Someone makes a run for it, sprinting across the street in hope of reaching shelter, but there’s another flash of light, a startled scream, and a suddenly lifeless form that slams against the pavement. 

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” you chant under your breath, making a split decision to run and duck behind a large pile of bricks to your left. It’s futile, you know, but it’s your best shot.

Sure enough, before you can make it, before you can throw yourself down to the ground, an ear-splitting blast sounds from behind you. Your body tenses up, all too aware of what’s coming, waiting for something to tear through your body, and a scream leaves your mouth before you know you’ve opened it.

But the blast doesn’t hit you, it hits the pile of bricks you’d been about to duck behind, as if the being had miscalculated slightly and expected you to be diving to the ground a split second before you actually had. You had been too slow, or him too fast, and it had temporarily saved your life. 

The brick explodes next to you, and you let out the most piercing shriek you’ve ever had slip past your lips as you do your best to cover your face. In your terror and pain you quickly lose your balance, and it’s as if the force of the blast might as well have knocked you down itself. Your head smacks crudely against the concrete, the sound of your skull crashing down nothing but a solid crack, and the sound of your scream rattles your head and ears in a way that’ll haunt you for days to come.

Brick falls down over you as you lie there, each piece nicking you on its way down, and you can do nothing but huddle in on yourself and cry until the dust seems to finally settle. 

Your vision is hazy when your eyes manage to open, and you’re not quite sure if it’s solely because of the eyes that have needed glasses for years, or if it’s because your head had slammed to the concrete with the force of a bat slamming into a baseball thrown by a major league pitcher. You’re facing upwards, and despite the heat of the raging flames around you, there’s a slight chill that brushes your skin as you lay in the shadow of the skyscrapers surrounding you.  

A large form, gleaming from the strange shine of its blotchy skin hanging from solid angles that make up its inhuman frame, steps into your limited field of vision, weapon raised with fingers still on the alien trigger. Your heart stutters, your breathing stops, and dread curls down your spine as you watch it lift its gun again. It seems to relish the look of terror on your face, finding enjoyment in your panic, and there’s nothing human about the way it looks down on you.

There’s a voice somewhere in the distance screaming your name, getting closer and closer with every millisecond, but you’re well aware that the speed of the anguished sound isn’t going to make a difference, the person still too far away to change how your story is about to end.

There’s only one person who could be screaming your name, and you’re grateful that his lack of sight will keep him from the image of your mangled and burned skin.

You look past the being in your face, choosing that your last moments be that of the blue sky behind him. It doesn’t give you any sense of peace, not really, but the blue has inspired poets and musicians and artists for thousands of years, and will do just fine for the last image you’ll ever see.

The monster in front of you lets out a warbled sound that’s both grating and groaning, no doubt communicating to whatever part of his army can hear him, and you brace for the impact. But before it can follow through, before a flash of light can penetrate your body and leave behind a shredded hole of blood and flesh, it just….

…drops.

It crumbles just to your left, the mottled gray form falling to the ground bonelessly, eyes open and mouth still twisted in a snarl. For a second, all you can do is continue to stare at the sky, far too confused to know what’s just happened. The lack of a weapon in your face does not yet ease the fear, bone and muscle immobilized from terror, and your lungs still struggle to push air in and out of your body.

The site is silent for a split second as the group of people stare in disbelief at the fallen alien, but it’s not long before the screaming and sobbing starts again, though it seems to slip past you as your brain threatens to shut off. You feel numb all over, and just for a second, you give into it.

You must drift shortly into unconsciousness because the next thing you know, Matt’s face is hovering directly over yours, his mouth opening on words that take you a few seconds to process.

“--ey, hey, you’re okay,” he says hurriedly when you shift with a groan, and you’re relieved that sound has finally come back to you. He frowns as he runs a hand lightly down the side of your face, fingers grazing over something on your left cheek that burns at the contact. The contact is jarring, and you can’t help the way you flinch as you try to sit up. 

Matt’s face is alarmed at the movement, pressing gently at your shoulder until you lay back down reluctantly. “Woah, hey. Don’t move. You need to stay down for a few.”

“They’ll be back,” you respond with a cough, struggling against the hand that presses lightly into your chest. “We should–”

“I think they’re gone,” he tells you, and you notice the new cut that’s been added to his jawline, “all of them just…it’s like they’re dead.” His voice is absolutely bewildered, his eyes wide, head shifting from side to side as if struggling to comprehend the way the street had suddenly changed. “Whatever they were, they just fell to the ground. It’s the same with the other ones in the area.” 

You don’t ask him how he knows.

The wailing and crying in the background has continued, but you pay it no mind. Your energy is draining rapidly, and you don’t have the ability to focus on much more than the man on his knees next to you.

“I–” you’re unsure of what to say at first, just as perplexed at the sudden death of the aliens. You turn your head slowly to the side, jumping when you remember the being that had fallen next to you, its blank face not seven feet from yours, mouth hanging open lifelessly. From up close you can see every ridge in its armor, every line and splotch in its face, and it’s even more terrifying up close. 

You find it hard to think even as a shudder wracks your body. “Are you sure? I don’t–”

“I’m sure.”

“Ok.” A deep breath surges through your body, the first full gulp of fresh air since you’d fallen, but you cough harshly as the air leaves, barely managing to cover your mouth with your trembling hand. “But I should still-”

A shaky hand gently pushes down on your chest again, the one that had touched you on your cheek just a few seconds ago, and your eyes widen at the bright flash of red that stains his palm. 

Blood. 

His?

No. Yours. 

“Don’t move,” he says, voice a little more firm than last time. It’s got a thin veil of steel behind it, the same one that’s been present the past few hours, something that hints at a far more forceful interior that he perhaps doesn’t let others see. The tone doesn’t startle you, doesn’t stop you, as you’re far too focused on the fact that there’s another reason to get up on your feet. How had you forgotten about the people who needed rescuing? “Just lay here for a second.”

Your tone is incessant. “Let me up. The people in the fire need–”

Matt shakes his head, and the motion is suddenly more fuzzy than it had been just seconds ago. “Everyone got out, everyone’s fine.”

Your eyebrows raise in confusion. “How–”

His blank eyes rake over your face. “You were out of it for a few minutes. I–you hit your head really hard.” He shudders briefly. “I heard it from all the way over there.”

“But–”

“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” he says as gently as he can, though he’s still incredibly blunt, “and you need to go to a hospital.”

For the third time, you move to sit up, but he stops you with a firm shake of your head.

“I’m going to pick you up. You shouldn’t be walking.” An arm reaches underneath your knees, pulling your weight closer to him, and it takes all of two seconds before you’re struggling against him.

“I’m fine,” you argue, pushing him lightly away, though he easily overpowers you. Your head continues to pound, the throb as forceful and abrupt as a loud snare drum, and it takes a second to gather your thoughts. “It’s just my cheek, it’s fine.”

“It’s not just your cheek,” Matt grunts as he finally snakes his arm again under your knees, holding a little tighter this time. He floats in and out of your vision, not because he’s moving, but because you suddenly feel like you’re swaying despite his jerky movements. “You’ve…the crown of your head. You have a gash, it needs stitches. As soon as possible.”

Oh. 

Your mouth parts in immediate shock, and without a word, your hand lifts and runs over your head, the wince on your face sharp and dramatic as the pain that suddenly flares out. Between the sting of the wound and the pounding in your head, it quickly becomes too much, and you’re very suddenly overwhelmed and having even more trouble focusing. 

“Yeah,” Matt mumbles, correctly assuming that the pain’s finally hit with full force. He lifts your arms before helping tie them loosely around his neck. You allow the movement easily as if your body has lost its ability to function with the new knowledge of just how hard you must have hit your head. 

Well…that makes sense.

“Maybe,” you begin slowly, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth, “m-maybe that’s why I feel so…so dizzy?”

Matt hisses in displeasure, something about the slurring of your words triggering his need to move faster. You let an undignified squeak as he pulls you up and straightens his back, and though before you might have wrapped your arms around his neck tighter in a split second of panic, you find your arms suddenly too heavy to move. They flop uselessly to the side as if the muscle is no longer attached to the bone, just a dead weight of torn skin and fingers that tingle.

“Where–where are you t-taking me?” you slur out, and you don’t have the energy to make your voice louder or more clear. He picks up a swift pace, and you’re unable to tell which way he is going, only that he’s walking away from the people he’d helped save from the building. No one calls out to him to return, though the tears and cries left behind are present and haunting, and Matt seems to be single minded as he takes you away from the fire that still burns behind him. “Where–”

“There’s a hospital a few blocks away,” Matt responds immediately, his body randomly jerking you to the side as steps around something. “We can…we should be able to make it there safely now that there’s nothing to stop us.”

You try to wiggle out of his hold in protest, but your body refuses to work with you, especially once Matt seemingly strengthens his hold on you. All semblance of a fight leaves you as exhaustion suddenly hits you heavier this time. “Matt, no. You can’t carry me that far, it’s not–”

“Don’t argue,” he says tightly. “Your head…you’re losing too much blood. And you’ve probably got a concussion. You need a doctor.”

Your eyes flutter shut before snapping open again. “There’s…there’s people who are w-worse off. They-they need to be h-helped fir–” Something inside you abruptly cuts off your ability to speak, tongue feeling too heavy in your mouth before you’re able to finish your sentence. Your head falls backwards, strength rapidly draining from your bruised and tired body, and you hear Matt grunt when he adjusts slightly so that your head is resting on his shoulder as best as it can. Your eyes grow heavy, the lids making a valiant effort to stay lifted even as a sense of darkness beckons you below.

“Don’t close your eyes,” he tells you urgently as he continues to pick up his pace, his steps feeling more and more jarring as he quickly turns a corner. “Stay awake for me.”

You don’t answer, you can’t, and your body continues to do nothing but sag into his. He mumbles something, something you can’t hear, the blurred lines of his lips tilting into a deep frown. 

It’s a lovely mouth, now that you think about it. You wish you’d seen a smile such as his in the life that had existed before today.

Matt continues to move, his voice soft and almost warbled in your ear, and with every step, you feel yourself floating outside of your body, whatever string that ties your spirit to your physical form attempting to snap and separate. It’s nice, almost. The feeling of dread and terror slides away, the throbbing of every inch of your body beginning to dissipate. You’re aware that bells should be ringing in your head, some alarm that tells you that your sudden emotional and physical numbness isn’t a good thing, but you’re too far gone to care.

“Sweetheart,” Matt says with a shake of his arms, trying in vain to wake you up even as you continue to slip away, “you gotta stay with me. Don’t close your eyes, stay with me. I need you to–”

But you don’t hear what he needs. The black catches up to you, forces your eyes shut, and leaves you with nothing more to cling to.

—----

Matt’s heart falls into his stomach when you lose consciousness again, though he had known this was a possibility long before your words started slurring. The thump of your heart is growing weaker by the second, fading with every drop of blood that leaves your body and soaks his shirt, and every step he takes towards the hospital feels far too slow, far too unsteady. 

Despite his fear, despite the way he trembles as your head lulls back and over his arm, Matt’s navigation is on point. He knows exactly what block he’s on, knows exactly how many steps are needed until he’ll get to the corner he’ll turn at, and even while screams and sirens tear through the bruised and beaten city, his sole focus is your safety.

His sole focus is you.

You, who had run in the opposite direction of the crowd to help him, even while people ignored him standing there by himself on that apartment stoop, nothing more than a liability in the face of death. He could have found a way to find shelter on his own, he knows that, but he hadn’t needed to, not with you there, a beacon so bright that he didn’t know how he could have missed it before.

You’d been terrified, blood circulating viciously through your system with every uneven breath and pounding of your heart, but all he could think in that moment was that he had never met someone so selfless, so…fearless.

Matt isn’t fearless now, though. He’s in agony as distress and panic roll through his system relentlessly, a deep and abrasive flaying of his nerves with every second that slips by.

He’s a city boy, born and raised in the underbelly of New York City, a place that lives and breathes tension and apprehension, so in an awful way, the anxiety he’s feeling is familiar. He’s used to it crawling up and down his spine, long before he gained and familiarized himself with his abilities, but nothing could have prepared him for this. 

Matt vaguely recalls Stick talking about the war and wonders briefly if this was what he’d been talking about, but he quickly dismisses the idea entirely. Stick’s stories had always seemed so human, and there had been no mentions of aliens tearing through the sky and beating the city, his city, into the ground.

The brick of the wall next to him suddenly disappears, indicating that the building has ended and he’s reached the end of the block, and he takes a sharp turn, feet expertly avoiding the stone and brick that lies broken over the sidewalk, no doubt from a building close by that had been devastated by the force of an explosion. The smell of fire still lingers in the air, but he’s all but numb to the world, nothing existing but his feet, his path, and you cradled in his straining arms.

He takes a second to adjust again, hoisting you closer and further up his body, ignoring the slight burn as his arms accept the weight of you in a slightly different position. Like this, your head is now closer up by his, your silken hair brushing lightly his chin, and he can’t help shudder at the feeling. 

His adjustment jostles you enough that it startles out a low moan, one that is filled with a sense of pain that he wishes he could take from you.

“I know,” he mumbles into your hair as his pace picks back up again, following the path that his head has laid out for him, filled with the angles and pressures and temperatures that only his mind is able to process. It’s a clean shot down to the hospital, just three blocks down, and Matt can’t help but press a soft and short kiss to the crown of your head in relief. “I know, sweetheart. We’re almost there.”

He walks as fast as he can with you in his arms, and each step is filled with as much relief as fear, because what if…what if he gets you there in one piece, but there’s nothing they can do?

Your heart has slightly evened out, though it’s still weak and slow, and Matt admits that he has done little more than monitor it the whole journey to the hospital, hell, the whole journey since he grabbed your hand. Two hours with you and the sound has been seared into his memory, its pattern just as familiar as the back of his own hand.

It’s only a few more minutes before Matt’s walking briskly through the automatic doors, somehow managing to focus even as the sound of broken cries swarm around him on all sides. He’s walked in through the ambulance bay, he thinks, judging by the lack of furniture for waiting friends and family and a check-in desk. The lights are fluorescent, and he can hear their loud humming, so different from the soft lighting and calmness of a waiting room. There’s so much going on around him, so many people shifting and rushing past him, the wheels of gurneys screeching across the linoleum floor, and he can’t help but be temporarily overwhelmed. 

The scent of blood is so strong it’s sickening, and Matt has to swallow down the taste of copper that floods his senses ruthlessly.

He finds himself floundering for a second, unsure of which way to walk as chaos swells around him on all sides. Your blood is soaking his shirt with every second he wastes stalling there, and it’s finally enough to push forward. He’s hardly taken a step before a man is standing in front of him, his hand outstretched to stop his movement. Matt opens his mouth to protest, unsure of the man’s reasoning and instinctively wanting to keep going, but the man cuts him off.

“I need a gurney over here,” the man calls out sharply, turning his head to the left. He sounds frayed at the edges, too, and Matt can’t help but shudder. “Now!”

Relief floods through his system, and it’s only a brief few seconds before a gurney is wheeled his way. 

“Here, put her down,” says the man urgently, lowering the rails down so that it’s easier for Matt to lean down. He hesitates for just a moment, something in him suddenly unwilling to remove you from his body, and even though he knows he needs to place you on the padding, his heart protests so sharply that it startles him.

I don’t want to let her go.

But Matt pushes the thought aside, finally placing her gently on the gurney, pulling back as the man raises the railings back up and wheels her up against a wall a few yards away. He immediately begins hooking you up to various machines, one monitoring your heart rate, the other your blood pressure. Matt is moved lightly to the side by another pair of hands as a second nurse or doctor steps up, placing an oxygen mask on a face that feels like it’s been permanently scarred with the remains of blood and tears from the day.

“What happened?” the man asks as he begins a quick exam, watching as your stats begin to populate on a screen to the left of your head.

“They…she…” Matt struggles to find the words at first, language failing him for a second as the sound of your body slamming against the pavement echoes through his head. His fists clench uselessly at his side as he tries to focus on the facts of what happened instead of the way it had caused a panic so abrupt that he wasn’t sure if he’d ever recover from it. “She…she fell as she was running. One of those things–it shot at her and missed, but she lost her balance. She must have hit her head on something because she started losing blood and eventually lost consciousness.”

The man continues his exam, not bothering to look up, which causes a strange sense of relief. Matt’s not wearing his glasses, he’s pretty sure he lost them around the time he sprinted to your side when all thought and reason left him, and while it’s the least of his concerns at the moment, he’s still grateful the man has yet to notice that he’s not making eye contact.

He’d promised to tell you everything if the pair of you survived, and he’d stand by that promise gladly, but the idea of someone else questioning his sight made his skin crawl. This was a secret meant only for him and you, now. 

“When was this?” The man pulls Matt out of his head with the question, moving your head from one side to the other to determine the level of damage. He is thorough and almost detached in his examination, brusque and to the point, but Matt detects the tremble in his hand, notes the skin that is likely too pale, and knows the man is trying to remove himself from his own fear in order to focus on those who need him. 

It’s a trait that Matt will become achingly familiar with in years to come.

“How long ago did this happen?”  

“I, uh…probably about ten minutes ago. We were a few blocks away and I had to carry her here,” Matt responds, licking his lips with a nervous tick. “Is she–is she going to be okay?”

“We’re going to have to take her up for a CT,” he responds, pulling out a chart and writing on it, his chicken scratch sliding abrasively on the paper. “I have someone who can do that for her in a few minutes. Can I get her name and date of birth for her paperwork?”

Matt freezes briefly, because of course he doesn’t know your date of birth, and he never got your last name, but to admit that he doesn’t know either implies that he doesn’t know you, and it causes him to lurch in place.

He does know you. He does. 

Maybe the day hadn’t started out that way, but he knows you in a way he doesn’t know anybody else, because what else is there to know about a person other than how they’ll react when push literally comes to shove? He knows that about you now, already knows the kind of person you are, and he hopes he’s shown you equally the kind of man he is and wants to be.

On paper you are a stranger, but his heart knows differently.

So instead, he lies about the information the doctor is requesting and gives the doctor his father’s birthday as her own, simply changing the year so that it’s only a few years younger than himself. The doctor doesn’t notice the lie and simply nods, writing it down quickly.

“First name?”

Matt gives it swiftly. It’s a name that he’ll never be able to forget.

“And last name?”

It’s out his mouth before he can hold it back. “Murdock.” 

He doesn’t know why he says it, but it’s too late to pull it back, so he adjusts his form and does his best to not give away the false statement that had poured from him so easily like wine from a barrel.

“And you are?”

Matt clears his throat. “Matt Murdock.”

“Relation?”

“She’s my wife.” The lie comes out just as smoothly this time because Matt quickly realizes the advantage of the situation. He won’t have to leave you, he’ll be able to stay by your side as you heal, and no one will question it. Watching over you has become his sole focus since the sky first opened up, your strength in the face of your fear nothing short of addicting, like you were a flame that burned only for him, and he isn’t about to leave you now.

Your blood matted hair rests lifelessly on the padding he assumes is white, and something in him is glad he can’t see the red of it staining the sheets, knowing that it’s life leaching out from the gash on your crown.

You’re still as a nurse begins stitching up the back of your head, a thin needle expertly swaying in and out of your flesh as the wound gradually begins to close. His hands hold on to the railing tightly, ears catching the beat of your heart faster than the screen can count it, and he keeps track of every stitch that’s tied off. Slowly, the blood seeping out begins to lessen as the nurse continues her work, and when she walks away, Matt’s overcome with the sudden need to touch you. His hands are dirty with blood and sweat and ash, but he reaches down anyway and pushes a lock of hair behind your ear, resting his forehead against yours in a brief attempt to assure himself of your warmth, before placing a gentle kiss and pulling away.

He’s barely standing up straight before the nurse comes up and informs him they’re ready to take you up for the head scan, and there’s nothing Matt can do except pray while the wheels of the gurney disappear down the hall.

-

[singularitass]

Aureus Red-Orange Wood Clock

[kryptid-writes]

Sabotage

After one too many failed dates, Y/N finds out the real reason Gabriel has sabotaged her love life.

(3.5k)

Warnings: Smutty smut

“Check please,” you politely ask the waitress as she passes by. 

She nods and digs the checkbook out of her apron pocket and leaves it at the edge of the table, next to your empty plates and half finished glasses of red wine. 

You were lucky enough to get a reservation at one of the nicest restaurants in the city that’s typically booked out months in advance, accompanied by your lovely date.

You were skeptical about trying dating apps, claiming “they’re for losers who don’t go outside.” But the Winchester brothers had convinced you to give it a try after the countless dates before that had ended in disaster, to say the least. Dean even helped you set up your profile, choosing the best photos on your camera roll, limited to the ones without the blood and weapons.

You had almost given up in total, on the verge of deleting the app, when you matched with a nice man named Daryll. He’s a few years older with a steady job as a physician and a luxury car. Not to mention that he’s tall and clean shaven, with rich umber skin, and a smile that could light up a room. He’s dreamy, to say the least.

“So…” He trails off with a suggestive smile, taking a meticulous sip of his drink.

“So,” you repeat, your gaze getting lost in his dazzling amber eyes. The tension hangs in the air, cutting through the sound of plates and drinks clinking, and muffled chatter from the other patrons.

“I had a really nice time tonight, we should do this again sometime.” He reaches his hand across the table, resting it on top of yours.

You blush and nod your head. “Yes, I would really like that.”

After a short debate on who will pay, Daryll insists and grabs the check, slipping his sleek metal credit card into the folder. 

The waiter whisks it away and returns shortly, thanking us with a polite smile.

You exit the restaurant with Daryll, the smell of extravagant food fading from your senses as the door shuts behind you. You stop to admire the twinkling stars in the dark summer night sky, a light breeze blowing your hair back in the wind. 

There’s an unspoken debate, as you stand shoulder to shoulder in silence. It’s been a long time since you’ve gotten this far on a date and you're left feeling rather nervous.

You bite down your nerves and decide to speak, choosing not to waste this opportunity. “You know, I have an unopened bottle of Italian Riesling back at my apartment,” you say, looking up at him with hopeful eyes. “It would be a shame for it to go to waste.”

“Riesling?” He chuckles, “Count me in.”

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

You fish out your keys from the bottom of your purse and shove it in the lock, with a light jingle, the door opens, revealing the tiny apartment that you call home. “So, this is it,” you say, inviting him in and gesturing for him to sit on the gray loveseat in the living room. 

You hope he doesn’t mind the organized clutter of your apartment. Books, paintings, and houseplants tastefully strewn throughout the rooms. Of course you had hidden away your hunting gear in a small closet, given the small chance the night ending at your place

“It’s nice. Cozy.” He takes off his jacket, hanging it on the coat rack. He takes a seat in front of the roaring fireplace, the warm orange glow illuminating the room and the burning wood giving off a pleasant aroma.

You hastily search your cabinet through the countless bottles of wine until you find the Italian Riesling you have been saving for special occasions. It must’ve been sitting there for god knows how long, but wine gets better with age, right? 

You pour the wine into two of your fanciest glasses, careful not to spill a single drop over the edge. Clicking the button on your stereo that sits on the kitchen counter, the soft sound of classical music fills the room. You pick up the glasses and take a seat next to Daryll, handing him the other one with grace.

“To us,” he says in his smooth voice, lifting his glass in the air.

“To us,” you repeat, clinking your glass in a toast and taking a sip of the wine. The semi-sweet liquid flows down your throat, leaving a dry aftertaste of peaches and grapes.

Daryll scooches closer, placing a hand on your thigh, sending a shiver up your spine. His thumb rubs teasing circles along your skin, your flesh heating up at his touch. 

It’s been a long time since anyone has touched you, let alone someone as attractive as Daryll. Your breathing becomes heavier as you try to quell your growing excitement.

“Tell me, Y/N, do you usually lure men back to your apartment with fancy wine?” He says with a flirty smile, lightly squeezing your thigh.

“Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure before. Why, is it working?” You giggle.

“You know,” he says, brushing a strand of hair out of your face, “I think it is.” He leans in close, his lips just inches from yours, the sexual tension growing by the second.

You close your eyes and lean in, desire burning in the pit of your stomach. Just before you can break the distance, you’re interrupted by the sound of blaring music and flashing lights.

You both jump back at the surprise, looking around at the once calm room turned chaotic. The swirling rainbow lights and reflections from the sizable disco ball dropped from the ceiling dances across the walls. The stereo that previously played peaceful classical music, now plays the best of 70’s disco at the highest volume, so loud that it sounds distorted and rings in your ears.

“What. The. Fuck,” Daryll yells over the music, his face scrunches up in a mixture of confusion and anger.

“I- I can explain!” You yell back, covering your ears as you desperately try to think of a reasonable explanation for the sudden madness. You’re interrupted by the feeling of something small and furry scurrying past your feet, making you gasp and tuck your feet onto the couch cushions. 

A mouse dashes across the floor, barreling directly towards Daryll, catching you both off guard as you’ve never had a rodent problem before. 

Despite carrying himself as a strong, fearless man, he runs for the door in a panicked hurry. “Look, I'm out!” he shouts with a disgusted look and slams the door behind him.

Anger surges through your body as you witness the one successful date you’ve had in months storm out the door, and you know damn well who’s to blame. You grab the stereo, ripping the plug out of the wall and smash it on the ground, the pieces scattering across the floor, halting the music mid track.

“GABRIEL, GET YOUR FEATHERY ASS DOWN HERE!” You yell, shaking with anger, and looking to the ceiling. 

“Hey sugar, you called?” The familiar voice of the mischievous archangel says from behind you.

You turn on your heels to face him. Of course he’s dressed for the occasion, wearing a stupid dress shirt with an obnoxiously loud pattern, the first few buttons undone, exposing the skin of his chest, and black bell bottom pants, with slicked back hair, and a fake mustache. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume he’d fallen right out of the 70’s.

 The way he stands nonchalantly with an amused smile on his face, leaves you fuming. “What is wrong with you! You ruin everything!” You yell, your face heating up. 

He stares back at you, seemingly amused with your little outburst, conjuring a lollipop in his hand and sucking on it. 

“All I want is one successful date! One!” You point at him angrily, taking a step closer. “First it was the nice girl from the bar that you sent to some alternate reality that definitely scarred her for life, then it was the cute mechanic that took me to the movies who, may I remind you, you released a dozen snakes on him.”

Gabriel snickers, recalling the antics that he found so enjoyable.

“And now, this!” You snap, walking forward til you’re all but a few feet away. You take a deep breath, collecting your emotions. “I get that I'm a hunter, but maybe I don’t want to die alone,” your voice takes on a melancholy tone.

His face softens, his signature cocky smile melting into a frown.

“It’s like you don’t want me to be happy,” you whisper, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill.

“Hey! That’s not true!” Gabriel snaps in an offended tone, suddenly taking this very seriously.

“Then why, Gabriel? Cause I don’t find this funny! At all!” You look up at him with pleading eyes, desperate for some kind of an answer to all this torment. What did you do to deserve this?

He stays silent, but his soft, bashful eyes says it all. 

“Oh,” you whisper, something inside of you clicking, finally connecting the dots that should have been so obvious. “Are you… Jealous?”

He scoffs, looking away, but doesn’t deny it.

“You are! You’re jealous!” You say in disbelief with a shameless smile. 

“No! I just… I just don’t think they deserve you,” he replies, trying to keep his cool demeanor he’s worked so hard to curate. “You deserve someone capable, someone who’s gonna treat you right and take care of you.” He straightens his posture and subtly puffs out his chest, which might have been effective at impressing you, if he wasn’t dressed like the long lost member of the Bee Gees.

“Someone like you?” You say, lifting a brow and stepping closer, now invading his personal space, not that he seems to mind.

“I didn’t say that.” He furrows his brows, taking a daring step forward, nearly closing the distance between the two of you.

“You didn’t deny it either,” you say with a cocky smile.

He stares at you intently, his longing eyes falling to your pink lips.

Feeling a rush of boldness, you lean in close, placing a hand on his chest and whispering in his ear, “If you want to take me on a date, you could just ask.” You pull back smiling.

His face flushes a light pink, his lips curling into a grin. “The night is still young, cupcake, how about we fix this?” He says, ushering to the chaotic room, lights still spinning and remains of the stereo scattered across the apartment.

He snaps his fingers and your apartment is restored to its former glory, this time covered in candles that illuminate the room in romantic lighting. The repaired stereo sits on your counter, soft jazz music playing. Gabriel playfully dances to the music, taking your hands and encouraging you to join him.

You smile, admiring his work and casually sway with him. He always did know a thing or two about style.

He leads you to the loveseat, skillfully pulling you into his lap. With another snap of his fingers, a tray of chocolate covered strawberries appears in front of you, as well as two glasses of strawberry champagne. 

Gabriel is notorious for his love of sugar, always snacking on some kind of candy, even in less than appropriate settings. Lucky for you, you’ve always had a bit of a sweet tooth, and being with Gabe certainly promises more of where this came from in the future.

You take a sip of your drink, the sweet taste of strawberries dancing on your tongue. You smile, maintaining playful eye contact as you swallow. “This is nice Gabe, you should’ve started with this.” You chuckle.

He laughs and rests one hand on your hip, the other grabbing a strawberry. “Now where's the fun in that?” He teases. “Open wide, sugar.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

You blush at the innuendo, but do as he says, chuckling as he guides the tip of the strawberry in your mouth. “Mmm,” you hum in satisfaction as the dark chocolate melts in your mouth, mixing with the sweet flavor of the fresh strawberry, much sweeter than any strawberry you can buy from the supermarket. 

Gabriel smirks at your reaction, taking the rest of the strawberry in his mouth, his eyes lighting up as he savors the flavor, tossing the stem aside. “You have a little something here, cupcake,” Gabriel says flirtatiously. He places his thumb on the corner of your lips, swiping a smidge of chocolate off, his finger lingering on your lips for a moment before he sucks the chocolate off his thumb, never breaking eye contact.

“Th-thanks,” you stutter, suddenly feeling hot and flustered.

“Don’t sweat it.” His eyes fixate on your lips, studying every curve. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?” He asks in a soft, caring tone.

You stare at him in shock, his genuine compliment feeling out of character from his usually sarcastic, dickhead self. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you reply.

He grins like a cheshire cat and pulls you into a kiss, catching you by surprise.

You quickly melt into the kiss, all of your frustration from your failed date melting away. All that matters right now is Gabriel, and God does it feel so right.

He pushes his tongue in your mouth, tangling with yours. The sweet flavors of lingering chocolate and strawberry mix together in the most pleasant way, eliciting a moan from you that only spurs him on.

You tangle your fingers through his golden locks, lightly tugging on the ends, earning a groan from him. You grind down onto his lap as you deepen the kiss.

He reluctantly pulls away for air, both of you out of breath. “You taste so good, sweetstuff,” he purrs, letting his hands roam from your hip and down to your thighs. “But I want to taste you elsewhere,” he whispers seductively, sending a shiver of arousal down your spine.

“Please Gabe,” you beg, desperate for more.

Pleased with your reaction, he lightly peppers kisses from your jaw, down to your throat, licking and nipping as he goes. 

You lean back, giving him access to every inch of your skin.

When he reaches your collarbone, he furrows his brows in frustration at the constriction clothes that hide your body from him. With a snap of his fingers, they’re gone.

You gasp, feeling completely exposed to him, but don’t protest.

He pulls you off his lap and kneels on the floor in front of you, sitting back on his heels. He drinks in your form, completely entranced in your beauty. “Like I said, Gorgeous.” He smiles like a kid on Christmas. 

You blush profusely, but before you can respond, he kisses down your chest and takes your nipple into his mouth. You throw your head back and bite your lip to stifle a moan, the sensation sending arousal straight to your core.

He sucks and bites, lightly rolling the bud between his teeth and tongue. Once he’s satisfied with leaving you a quivering mess, he moves his way down. He kisses from your sternum, to your stomach, and down to your hips.

Your breath hitches in your throat as he places his hands on your thighs and spreads them apart, revealing your aching pussy to him. 

“There’s the good stuff,” he says with a stupid smile that just screams ‘Gabriel’.

“You’re such a dork,” you retort playfully. 

He gives you a flirtatious smirk, before placing kisses on your knee and working his way up your thighs, painfully slow, taking his time to tease you. He maintains deep eye contact with you as he inches ever closer to exactly where you need him most.

You tremble with anticipation, your body aching with arousal, craving him in every way possible.

He kisses to the crook of your thigh, biting down playfully, surely leaving a mark where his teeth dig into your flesh. He kisses right next to your pussy, painfully close, yet not close enough at all.

“Gaaabe,” you whine, tired of his teasing. You run your fingers through his hair and lightly pull, silently egging him on.

He smirks, enjoying keeping you on edge, desperate for him. “You gotta beg for it, sugar. Tell me how much you need it,” he says in a mischievous voice

You clench your jaw. He’s the trickster, of course he would enjoy teasing you. “Please, gabe,” you plead.

He raises his eyebrow, not satisfied with your feeble attempt.

You swallow your pride, the need to feel Gabriel, taking priority over your ego. “Please Gabe, I need you so bad. Please touch me!” You beg him, pulling on his hair.

“Much better,” he purrs. He uses his grace to pin your hands to your side and spread your legs wider, keeping you in place.

You whine in anticipation, trying to grind your hips forward, but you’re completely immobilized by his grace.

He laughs, enjoying watching you helplessly struggle. Deciding to give in, he licks a long stripe up your pussy and swirls tight circles around your clit.

“Oh, Gabe,” you moan, shocks of pleasure send through your every nerve.

He wraps his lips around your clit, sucking with the perfect amount of pressure to drive you crazy. The movements of his tongue goes from planned and strategic to sloppy and passionate, lapping up all your wetness like he’s a man starved.

A string of expletives fall from your mouth as your brain goes foggy, reality and pleasure mixing together and becoming one. 

“Mm… sugar, you taste amazing, better than any candy I've tried, and I've tried them all.” He winks.

“God Gabe, are you trying to kill me?” You pant, your eyes meeting his, pupils blown wide with lust.

He scowls at the mention of his fathers name, but his expression quickly morphs into a cocky grin as an idea dawns on him. He presses his finger against your entrance, teasingly circling it, but never pushing in like you need.

“Please, no more teasing,” you pout, trying to grind down onto his fingers.

He scoffs, looking rather amused. “You have no idea how long you’ve been teasing me, sweetstuff. Seeing you going on dates with other humans, flirting with them right in front of me. This is just a taste of what you’ve put me through,” he says in a low, seductive voice. He pushes in the tip of his finger ever so slightly.

You bite down on your lip. You should feel bad about putting him through that, but all you can focus on right now is the way he’s teasing your aching cunt.

He slowly pushes his finger in to the first knuckle, before pulling out completely.

“No! Please!.. I need you,” you confess with wide eyes.

He smirks, getting exactly what he was looking for and pushes his finger all the way in, eliciting a deep moan from you. He starts slowly fucking you with his finger, building up pace until you’re a writhing, moaning mess.

You fight against his grace, desperately wanting to run your fingers through his hair and kiss him, but the struggle is ultimately useless against the overwhelming power of an archangel. 

He pulls his finger out, and you whine in disappointment that’s quickly cut off by him shoving two fingers into you, fucking you relentlessly. 

His fingers feel like heaven as that burning feeling builds in your stomach, the muscles in your body slowly tightening, reaching the point of no return. His name spills from your mouth over and over like a prayer, as your brain drowns in pleasure

He smiles, knowing just how close you are, and curls his fingers forward, pressing up against your sweet spot.

It’s all over as the coil in your stomach snaps and you cum harder than you ever have in your entire life. “Fuck! Gabe!” You moan loud enough for your neighbors to hear, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Every nerve in your body lights up, your walls spasming around his fingers as you ride out your high. 

“There you go, sugar,” he coo’s, his eyes tracing over every inch of your body, thoroughly enjoying the show. Once you’ve come down from your orgasm, a panting and sweating mess, he releases you from his grace and sucks his fingers into his mouth, his tongue licking off all your cum. “Mm, I could get used to that,” he says with a cocky smile.

“Me too,” you reply, leaning your head back against the couch.

He shuffles onto the couch next to you, pulling you into his arms. He feels a sense of peace and happiness as he finally gets to be with the human he had fallen for long ago.

Bathing in the afterglow, you feel his hard cock pressing against your ass, giving you a sense of pride and a new pang of arousal. You palm him through his jeans and he groans at your touch. 

“Woah, sugar,” he says, removing your hand. “We’ll get to that later. Trust me, tonight is far from over. But for now, you should relax. I’m here to take care of you, and if you let me, I'd like to be with you full time,” he admits, scared of being rejected.

“An archangel boyfriend? Count me in.” You smile, nuzzling your head against his chest.

He pulls you closer and hums in content.

Maybe the happiness you were searching for, has been here all along.

Masterlist

[asitrita]

HEADCANON FOR DOFFY'S AND CROCODILE'S HOUSES: Doffy would 100% live in a Spanish revival or Spanish colonial estate. It would look traditional and classic (but not extremelly rustic) on the outside, whereas the interior is a bit more modern, with classical and traditional Spanish elements, but incorporating modern fornitures and decoration, so it looks a bit more contemporary and fashionable. He may include a few 17th/18th cent. and Italian Renaissance elemets to it too, since they look rich and posh and reminds him of home (I just kinda imagine Mary Geoise to have a late 17th and early 18th cent. Spanish & French fashion and style to it, with all the Italian influences that this entails, even if the Château de Chambord that inspired Mary Geoie is from the early 16th century). I imagine his house to look something similar to these ones, but with more vibrant colours to it (more black and red too):

Villa Hibisco

Casa San Bernardo

Solvilla Real Estate

Almiral de la Font (this one's more mixed Doffy & Crocodile coded)

Nagueles mansion (a little bit of a different style, but I kinda see it too)

https://www.inspiredbythis.com/dwell/modern-spanish-home-in-la/

https://www.idesignarch.com/spanish-colonial-style-luxury-mansion-in-the-heart-of-texas/

https://homesoftherich.net/2015/09/4-625-million-spanish-colonial-mansion-in-houston-tx/

https://onekindesign.com/2019/12/20/spanish-colonial-style-estate/

For Crocodile, on the other side, I imagine a Spanish revival or colonial villa, or an Italian/Tuscan mansion, or just a broadly Mediterranean villa, but that looks traditional and a little bit rustic and rural, both in the outside and the inside. He looks classy and uses warm colours, so I think a luxurious and elegant but also rural and warm looking interior would work best for him. Doffy's house would be mostly white with black fornitures, but it would have some accents in red, and some vibrant and saturated blues and purples here and there (mostly around the pool area, maybe even some pink and green/yellow/orange) that contrast with the overall white and black scheme of the house. Crocodile would rather use overall warmer colours, beige, pale yellows, ashy browns and dark grey/black, deep dusty red and orangish, grey-ish blues and pruples, and dark greens, that combined with the use of wood everywhere would give a more rural and rustic vibe to it. Summing up, Doffy would have a traditional exterior (but not rustic looking) and a mixed interior, with more traditional and classic elements mixed with modern elements and some 17/18th cent. luxurious forniture and decoration, with a black and white plus deep red scheme, but accented with bright colours here and there; whereas Crocodile would go full traditional, rustic, and classic, both exterior and interior, with some modern and contemporary elements to it, but in a way that they completely blend with a traditional, rustic, but elegant look, and would use a more dark mutted colour palette to accent a dusty and ashy overlook (only exception a more vibrant brown classic leather armchairs). To give you an idea, this tik-tok is more or less (not exactly, obviously) what I imagine Crocodile's house interior to look like: https://www.tiktok.com/@lonefoxhome/video/7247217535681137962?_r=1&_t=8puFb1KlHpR

or maybe something like this:

https://www.travelocity.com/Orlando-Hotels-The-Spanish-Castle-West-Facing-Pool.h71546776.Hotel-Information?pwaThumbnailDialog=thumbnail-gallery

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 5

An amazing edit inspired by this story! (Cred to Cora_Line99) Harley D. Dixon's Pinterest Board! Harley D. Dixon's Playlist!

📖Chapter List.

Author's Note. This is our CDC chapter, so TW for mention of suicide in this one. It's a little graphic.

And it might be better to go in blind, but if you'd like the second TW, please check the first tag on this post.

Other than that, please enjoy reading!

Glenn exhales, "Would you look at that?"

The sun is rising.

Last night I was a dying dog and today I am Harley Dixon.

Me, Dad and Glenn are on the roof of the parked RV, watching the sky give birth to the sun, knowing that I got hundreds more sunrises waiting for me; that the worst is over, like Rick said. The morning is as fresh as peeled summer fruit, and it's all ours. I'm reminded of special breakfasts on our old porch, where my Uncle Merle and my Dad would be scooping burnt scrambled eggs into their mouths, and I'd be in Dad's lap, sipping on a box of orange juice. We had them whenever I won an award at school. I feel like I've won every award in the world.

Glenn is the one sitting next to us, now, in this new version of day-break. He fills the outline of where a ghost of a brother and an Uncle used to be. We're sharing a secret bag of old freeze-dried cherries, while everyone else sleeps. They're a small luxury, like the sun. We can make happiness out of anything.

It all feels right.

"One hundred percent mold free, this time. I swear," Glenn says, ripping the bag open and pouring me the first cherries.

"They better be," Dad jokes. "First time was free."

"Next time, you'll beat my ass?" Glenn guesses.

He looks like he's realizing his legacy is always gonna be the guy who can't make jerky.

"Damn straight."

We knock our plastic bowls together, smiling.

"To Harley."

"To Harley."

"To me!"

"What a mess this whole thing was." Glenn shakes his head, chewing. "I know I already said it, but... I'm really sorry."

"Ain't your fault you can't cook." I giggle.

"Gee, thanks." He laughs. "I guess I deserve that."

"Just learn to salt the damn meat, China." Dad says. "Then we can talk."

"Okay, okay, okay." Glenn puts his hands up, but he's still grinning. "I suck at cooking. I get it. Are Dixons always this mean?"

Me and my Daddy answer, yes, at the same time.

"Good to know." Mumbles Glenn.

"The night I got scratched," I muse, my fingers painted with crayon-red cherry juice. "You was the first person after my Dad to reach the tent."

I remember people saying that Glenn could outrun a cheetah if there were enough supplies behind the finish line. The thought makes me laugh again. When you ain't big, you gotta find other ways to elbow your way through danger. Sometimes a good brain and better legs are all you need. Sometimes people like me and Glenn get to win, too.

"I guess so." Glenn's smiling shyly. "But only because Rick was too busy reloading. And Shane was up the back. And, well, I guess— When we first got back to camp, people were saying that you were gone. That you were missing, or dead, or— We didn't know. Your Dad, he just took off into the woods. Just, vroom, y'know? Like, gone. I thought if I was gonna be like anyone, it should be him. So, I went running, too."

Dad leans over and grips Glenn's shoulder; shakes it. A gesture that says, Man to man, I respect you. Maybe even, Brother to brother.

It takes a lot to earn my Dad's respect, if you ain't his blood.

"You all looked like you was boutta faint." I snicker, 'cause it's funny now.

"W-we all thought it was too late." Glenn tries to laugh. It's been hard, I guess, bottling up that night until now. "When we first saw the tent."

I see flashes of wet eyes, and teeth, and spiders.

"I did too," I confess.

My Dad turns me around in his lap, then, and bounces his knee a little. "But I woulda never let that happen, chicken, y'hear? And I ain't never gonna let that happen. I'd have to be dead, 'fore a walker laid his hands on you." He frowns, looking me dead in the eye.

"I hear." I nod. "It was just really scary."

"C'mere, babe."

He pulls me down to his chest — his heart — and I curl up there, where I know nothin' will ever get me.

"For the record, I was about to faint." Glenn mutters.

I throw a cherry at him and he dodges it, grinning.

"I knew it!"

We all sit like this for a long while, with the sun and the rustling wheat as our friends, snacking on our sour fruit. Then they start talking again, a notch deeper, a notch outta my league. Adult to adult. I realize they must think I'm asleep — It is the ass-crack of dawn, after all — so I don't interrupt.

"I didn't mean it like that, you know." Glenn tells my Dad. "You can protect your own. I get that."

"Don't tell me what I already know, kid."

"I just..." Glenn starts, but then there's nothing.

In this long moment, I think Glenn is going to leave down the ladder, 'cause it's what anyone else would do.

People like me and my Dad — People who hoard supermarket coupons, and talk real nasty, and get called hillbillies — don't mix well with people like Glenn. People pretend there isn't, but there's an invisible cut-off on who deserves what in life, and it ends right after people who only gotta work one job. Glenn's smart, and he prolly ain't never had to go hungry to pay his water bills, not once in his life. He prolly ain't never been to jail, or snapped a squirrel's neck, or re-used the same bottle of hand soap forty times over. He's like the rest of 'em. Rick and Lori. Shane. The kids in my old classes. Their parents on parent-night. We can work well together but anything else is askin' too much.

But we're family now, right? I think Glenn might leave, but—

"Well, for what it's worth, I couldn't do it." Is all Glenn says.

He doesn't leave. In fact, I hear him settling further into his chair. It's what Uncle Merle would have done.

My Dad pauses. "Do what?"

"Look over my shoulder all the time. Worry about someone else every time I hear a gunshot. Walk around knowing I have that much to lose." Glenn sounds lost in thought, but then he surfaces. He ends his list with a simple, "Be a parent."

My Dad sighs, debating whether or not to go along with this.

"That ain't all there is to it." He eventually says.

"No?"

"Nah. It ain't some curse." Dad says. "I hear a gunshot? Sure, first thing I'm thinkin' 'bout is Harley. But that's the way it's meant to be."

"I just don't think I'd be able to handle it." I imagine Glenn gazing out at the sky. "These past few days have been stressful enough."

"Yeah, well that's why I got a kid 'n you don't." Dad's being a bit of a smart-ass. Then, he answers seriously. "You got a kid? You gotta be ready to die for 'em. But it ain't just sittin' around, waitin' to do it. It's the opposite. Every day I wake up, and I do it for her. I do everythin' I do for her. After that baby's born, who you were, what you liked doin', any plans you had — That's over. Suddenly, yer life ain't the most important thing you got, no more."

I've never heard my Dad talk like this. I wish our lives were worth the same, but I guess it don't work that way.

"And who were you?" Glenn asks, knocking back a cherry. "Before Harley?"

"A nobody. Drunk bastard with drunk-bastard friends." Dad scoffs.

"Well... That's good, then?" Glenn's guessing. "Sounds like she changed you for the better, man."

I can't imagine my Dad being anybody other than my Dad. The day I came into the world, so did he. There's nothin' before that.

"It's hard." Dad admits, prolly for the first time ever, to Glenn. "I love 'er, but it's hard as shit. Some days I wanna pull my damn hair out."

"You must have been going crazy during... everything."

"Oh, you think?" Dad jokes. "You ain't seen me fuck up that walkie?"

Glenn bursts out laughing. "It hit the RV when you threw it out the window. Scared the shit out of Dale."

I have to try really hard not to laugh. I'm meant to be pretend-asleep!

"You got any nieces, or anythin'?" Dad asks.

"No." Glenn answers. "My sisters were either too interested in their careers to have kids, or... Too young."

Glenn's sisters aren't here. Blood does everything it can to stay together. Dad taught me that. That means his sisters are both young and dead.

"That's gotta be tough, man." Dad sighs.

"No, it's alright. Sometimes I can pretend they're out there, together. Happy." He pauses. "What about you? Nieces? Nephews?"

Dad actually laughs a little. "Fuck no. Not from my side, at least. Guy like my brother ain't meant to spread his seed around. Ain't right."

Glenn starts laughing, too. "I guess not."

"Nah, Harley's my only girl." My Dad says. I feel him start playing with the end of my ponytail.

"You know, when you first showed up in camp, I thought she was Merle's." Glenn says, then quickly, "No offence."

"No shit?" Dad scoffs.

"No shit. I thought you looked too young to have a kid."

An unspoken joke makes them both laugh all over again.

"Yeah, well, I was real busy in my teen years."

I got no idea what that means, but it must be funny. Their conversation tapers from chuckling into a warm silence, and then it's just us and the sun again. It clips over a candy-colored cloud, and I can hear car doors opening and shutting, and loud yawns from down below. We're gonna be on the road again soon. I might not need a cure anymore, but we still need water, food, and walls, and the CDC's got it all. I hear someone shouting, alright, people, time to start heading out, and then a whole bunch of shuffling. The day isn't just ours, anymore.

My Dad stretches, groaning, and I pretend to be woken up by it.

He pinches my cheek. "Look who's here."

"Hey, Harley." Glenn smiles, packing up. "You enjoy the cherries?"

"Uh-huh," I smile back. "Thank you."

"No problem." He says. "There's actually some left over, if you want it."

He holds out the bag while I dig my hand into it.

I think it's funny how me, the man who made me, and the man who almost killed me are all friends, now. I learnt in science class that the more pressure you put on a rock, the more compact the molecules get. I think we're the molecules. It's bittersweet.

"Not too many." Dad warns. "You're still sick, remember? Don't want you messin' up my truck again."

"I remember," I promise, shoving a handful of cherries into my mouth. I also remember him sayin' he don't give a damn 'bout the truck.

Someone shouts out the radio channel again.

"Time to see this thing through, then." Rallies Glenn, but he looks nervous.

We say goodbye to the sunrise.

"Dad, is that—?"

"That's the CDC, alright."

We reach it by early morning. It's a monster of a building. It's like a big, white buoy in the middle of the ocean, saying, Come here, I'll keep you afloat. We ease to a stop and then we just look at it, 'cause it's all we can do. The CDC, right before our eyes. It's really there.

"It's bigger than I thought." I think aloud.

Dad just grunts, wary. "Stay close to me."

Our new walkie chimes, and Rick speaks to everyone when he says, "This is it, people. Leave your things. We're gonna walk up."

Why does the air feel so cold?

My Dad pulls both me and his crossbow out the truck, and then the whole group — one tired, beaten, hopeful force — are slowly making our way to the building. We walk through a silent field. I wish it could speak to us; tell us what it's been through.

We pass torn bags of sand and littered bullet shells. I think there's something here that we're not seeing, not yet, like a sleeping beast at the back of a cave, and when we find it, we're gonna be sorry we ever looked. We weave through big, black piles of clothes. The clothes are full, I realize. Full of hands, and legs; all white, all dead. They're bodies. They still have their human faces; they're still them, just dead, and they're studded with the bullets that the shells came from. The story tells itself, on behalf of the ghosts. They give their blood back to mother nature, dripping into the grass. I gasp. From head to toe, I go cold. My Dad shields my face, but I've already seen 'em. They're already nightmares.

Rick leads us. He leads us past trucks and barriers and blockades. Every sign the universe gives him to turn back, he ploughs through, chin up.

Maybe he's brave. Maybe he's stupid. Maybe he was designed to be both. Maybe we're walking to our deaths.

Nobody speaks. If they do, the bodies might wake up, and the graveyard we're intruding on will realize it doesn't want us here.

A crow squawks from its post on a dead soldier's helmet. If I spoke bird, I'd hear, Turn back.

We have to do this. It's what everyone's thinking, as they manage one foot in front of the other. Just one more step, and after that, just one more step. I take in the group, 'cause they ain't dead, and it's a little less awful to look at.

Morales, rifle up. Eliza, Louis and Sophia, three baby ducklings under their Mommas' shaking wings. Dale and Shane, polar opposites but in this moment, exactly the same; with their steely gaze and steady hands. Jacqui and Andrea, holding hands; two girls in women's bodies, walking through a world that wants to eat them. I catch Carl's eye. He catches mine, over the violence spread out before us. I watch him send me a thumbs up, which does nothing but turn me colder — colder than ice, colder than I've ever been — before my view is blocked for a second time, by Glenn. I'm sandwiched in; hidden, protected. I squeeze my eyes shut and hope I'll get to open them again. My Dad leads me by the shirt over the grass. I trust him.

My shoes hit something tougher, louder — Cement. Rock? Our footsteps echo, now. Are we really in a cave?

It goes double-dark, through my eyelids. Please don't leave us, I beg the sun nicely, We need you.

I squeeze my Dad's hand. He squeezes back.

Then I hear a rumble, like thunder, and I peek out from behind my Dad. It's Rick, banging on roller shutters. We all clench closer together, a fist ready to fight. Nobody does it on purpose, but me and all the other kids are pushed toward the middle. Rumble, rumble, rumble. Rick goes from one door to another to another, until he's shook down the entire row.

Guns are raised. We step back, together.

It's like knockin' on doors on Halloween. We don't know what creature's gonna answer. Maybe nobody.

"Anybody home?" Glenn mutters.

We stretch our silence for as long as we can stand it. There is no answer.

Newly determined, or maybe offended, or scared, or maybe all three, Rick beats down all the doors again like he hates 'em.

"Hey!" He calls out. "Whoever's in there, open up!"

"Nobody's here, man!" T-Dog shakes his head, but he ain't got no proof.

"Then tell me why you think all the damn shutters are down?" Rick snarls, and it's like we're in the parking lot again, and I'm scared.

And I should be.

"Walkers incoming!" Shane shouts.

Suddenly, my Dad and Glenn are whirling the other way, facing our new enemy. I grab onto the back of Dad's belt, and when I peer out between their elbows, I see one, two, six, twelve dead bodies lumbering to their feet, all dressed in military green, and dented helmets, and layers and layers of crusty black blood and loose skin. The other kids start to cry, but not me. I can't cry, 'cause I can't breathe. I hear a slicing fwip, and then one of the dead soldiers drop to the ground like the only thing holding him up were strings. An arrow marks his second deathbed.

"We can't fuckin' stay here, Rick!" My Dad's yelling. "You led us into a death-trap!"

I'm grabbing onto the back of Glenn's shirt, now, 'cause my Dad's stomping off to confront Rick and Shane. I hide my nose in my knuckles. Death-trap, I'm panicking, Death-trap. A week ago, I'd be standing here alone, but I got Glenn now. I don't know how I know that, but I do. I got Glenn.

"Glenn, I'm scared." I whine to him, and there it is, I'm crying. I think of happier things, like cherries and the sun.

"I— I know." Glenn puffs, 'cause he's scared, too. "I know."

He lets me grab his hand. It's what Uncle Merle would have done.

"Death trap or not, we're here for a reason!" Dale's arguing. "Rick made a call! We all did!"

"You want us to phase through the fuckin' doors, old man?" Dad spits. "We're stuck out here! My daughter's stuck out here!"

"Running out of time here, guys!" Jacqui's worrying.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Are those gunshots, now? Bullets are last resorts. Last resorts are only for when you're gonna die. Are we gonna—?

"Are we gonna die, Glenn?"

"No." He hurries to answer, gripping me tighter. "N—No."

"We need to leave!" A woman — Carol? — cries.

"She's right." Lori. That's Lori. "This close to the city? It's too dangerous!"

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"Fort Benning." Shane looks like he's 'bout ready to bolt, bouncin' from foot to foot. A trapped animal. "We can do it. It's still an option, Rick."

"Is it?" Glenn's shouting. "It's a hundred twenty-five miles away!"

"No fuel? Two sick kids?" Morales is shakin' his head, no, no, no. "It's impossible!"

What do we do? No, no, no. We can't leave, but no, no, no, we can't stay, neither.

"What do you wanna do, then?" Shane argues back. "What you wanna do?"

"That's it! We're done here!"

My Dad shuts the whole thing down with one angry shout, locking his hand around my wrist. He tugs me away, and for a moment, the group is tugging itself along behind us, back to the street and the cars. We're a unit again — in the wind, goin' anywhere; scared, flimsy. We take one step, and then two, and we make it all the way back to the grass, before—

"Wait!"

It's Rick.

He ain't budged. Brave or stupid? Is he nuts?

"The camera." He tells us, breathless. "It moved."

All three.

"You imagined it." Dale decides, 'cause he'll say anything to get Rick to move. "How could it have moved?"

It's a lost cause — a last-ditch attempt.

The arguing re-ignites. I hide myself again, 'cause I'd rather be anywhere else.

Rick's shouting that he saw it, he saw the camera move, and his voice hits the concrete and closes in on us, just like the field. Fwip. Bang. Bang. Bang. Each burst of noise is a ticking hand on a dyin' clock. The bodies are picking themselves up faster than we're dropping 'em. Glenn's got a knife out, now, and Shane's pleading with Rick, who's gone nuts, Man, listen, the place is gone, it's gone, it's gone, it's gone. Rumble, rumble, rumble. Fwip. Bang. Crying; shrieking, from me, from the other kids, from Lori, and Jacqui, and the air as it's cut in half by bullet after bullet after bullet. Please, we have two sick kids out here, someone's begging.

"You're killing us!" Rick tells the camera. "You're killing us!"

My Dad fists the back of my shirt and he's pullin' me away, stronger than before. I think he's saying, Fuck it, we can make it on our own; leave the bastard. This must really be rock bottom. We were on our own for weeks. He must be thinking that we can do it again. I can see Glenn struggling to decide whether he should stay with the group or follow his feet, which are already trying to run after me and my Dad. I see Jacqui doin' it, too, and then Andrea, and then Carol.

A body topples over in our path, arrow up its nose. This is chaos.

Cherries and sunlight. Cherries and sunlight.

Then—

Behind us.

A gentle rumble, rumble.

We all whip around.

The doors — They're opening. They really are.

Even Rick looks like he can't believe it. We watch them open, mouths agape, like a bunch of idiots — A portal, to another world.

At first, we think there's a catch. Nothing comes without a catch. Do we go in?

But then there's another bang, and we're reminded that we're as good as dead if we stay out here any longer. We're on the move again, but this time, we're walking into the big, white mouth of the big, white monster, praying, Please don't be worse than it is out here, please don't make us regret this. We stay close together as the doors roll back down, sealing us in. We can breathe again, but only slightly. Would I rather take my chances with the dead soldiers, or with the unknown? I'm not sure. Now it's really happening, I don't think any of us are.

"Electricity." Jacqui whispers in cautious wonder. Electricity is like a myth.

Rick nods toward an archway. "Let's keep moving."

We trickle into the belly of the beast — Down a hallway, and into a lobby with the tallest damn ceiling I ever saw. Papers are thrown all over the floor and the computers at the reception desk are all upturned, but it's pin-drop silent. It's like being in a museum for an old extinction event.

"Hello?" Rick calls out, and if there's a scary creature in here, I sure hope it eats him first. "Who's in here? Who opened the doors?"

The silence answers.

"I did."

I jump outta my skin. Dad gets himself in front of me, but I peek around his waist. There's a man at the top of the stairs. He looks like he's been here for a long, long time. Like those lonely boys in Lord of the Flies, where they'd been on an island for so long that they started going a little crazy. He's wearing a regular t-shirt. I wonder where his lab coat is, if he's a scientist. This is a building for scientists.

"What did you mean by 'sick'?" The lonely-crazy-man calls down to us. "You said you had two sick kids. Is anybody infected?"

The whole group hardens at this question. They all glance back at me. I can see our journey in their eyes.

Rick's smiling, and this time, it looks right.

"You don't know the half of it." He turns back around, chin up, like always. "No. Nobody's infected. Thank God."

Dad puts a hand my shoulder.

The scientist doesn't share the same enthusiasm.

"I'm not sure He's around, anymore." He muses, vaguely sad. Then, "Why are you here? What do you want?"

I've never been good at words, but Rick is, 'cause he comes up with the perfect answer. One he knows we'd all agree on.

"A chance."

And maybe some water. After all we been through, that can't be too much to ask. We must look like a pathetic, begging mess, 'cause that's what we are. I know I am. My hair's made outta knots and grease, just like Lori and Andrea's. We're covered in beatings from the road, like bruises from Jim's fists and eyebags from sleepless nights. We left our quarry for this. We left our fish, and our tyre swing, and we left Jim. This can't be for nothing.

The man, who stands high above us, a judging eye, takes us in. "That's asking an awful lot, these days."

All Rick can say is, "I know," and pray it works.

I think of wet eyes, teeth, and spiders while we wait for his decision.

"You'll submit to a blood test." The scientist tells us. "That's the price of admission."

A breath leaves us all.

"We can—" Rick's nodding. "We can manage that."

That's it? A blood test?

I find myself grinning, and I tug on my Dad's hand. We look at each other. He's smiling, too, just a little. We all are. The scientist doesn't know it, but he's just saved our lives. We're tired and we're dirty and we've been through Hell these past couple days, but a blood test — We can manage that. We can manage anything.

"I left one door open. If you have stuff to bring in, do it now." He says, from his perch. "Once these doors shut, they don't open."

We tell him we understand.

This place is like a magical castle.

After we give up our blood, the scientist takes us on a tour. 

Jacqui was right. We got electricity. But apparently, we also got hot water.

If electricity's a myth, then hot water is a damn hoax. I can't wait to have a shower tonight. I used to hate showers, but that's just one of them things now that I can't believe I ever hated, like spinach. I been so hungry before that I'd dream about spinach. Glenn and Lori groan like they've bitten into a big, juicy steak when they hear 'bout the showers, and we all laugh. When I ask him, the scientist says that he isn't wearing his lab coat because he only wears it to make himself look cool. He says that now that we're here, he'll have to put it back on. It makes me giggle.

I run ahead with the other kids, and we all reach a long line of doors, where the scientist says we'll be staying.

The tour is complete!

We all pick rooms to stay in and then we unpack, like we're in a hotel, and it's exciting. None of us have been to a hotel in years.

"Hey, Harley!" Sophia pops her head out the next room over, holding a bar of soap. "Look! Soap!"

I hold out mine. "I got one, too!"

Behind Sophia, Carl pops his head out. "Me too!"

And behind him, like two little owls, Eliza and Louis appear. "Us, too!"

We dash back into our rooms. Me and my Dad's room got two double beds, and I ain't never had a double bed before, so I climb on it, and I jump up and down to test it out. It don't even squeak or nothin'. Dad watches me from where he's emptying one of our back packs.

As I try touch the ceiling, I tell him, "This place is awesome!"

"Harley, come down from there 'fore you crack yer head open." He orders, like a party-pooper.

I do what he says, 'cause I don't wanna ruin the day by getting spanked. "I'm gonna have a real-life shower."

"That's right." He shakes out the yellow shirt with the dinosaurs on it. He chucks it at my head, smirking. "Get ready, then."

I grab the brush that Sophia's letting me use first and a pair of purple pyjama pants from my Dad. I take myself into the bathroom. At first, the water's like straight lava on my skin, and I yelp. Dad asks if I'm alright, and then he comes in to fix the water for me. The lava settles back down, and I scrub and wash and sud myself up until I'm almost as red as a lobster. It's the best shower I've ever had. I was getting so sick of using baby wipes and river water to wash myself. When I step out of the real-life shower, the whole room is steamed up. I draw a smiley face into the mirror just 'cause I can, and then I brush out all my hair. I smell like strawberries. I dress in my cozy pyjamas and socks.

When I come out, my Dad re-does my buttons, 'cause apparently I did 'em all wrong. I stand between his knees while he re-orders 'em.

"He said there's a games room here." I smile.

"Maybe you can scope it out after dinner." Dad says. "You gotta be hungry by now, right?"

"Oh, I forgot 'bout dinner!" There's just too many wonders to keep track of in this place! "We gotta hurry!"

My Dad loops the last button.

"Come on, come on, come on!" I nag, pulling him off the bed and out the door.

"Damn." He chuckles. "People are gonna start thinkin' I ain't feedin' you."

"I bet there's gonna be steak!"

This is the best day ever.

We reach the CDC's little cafeteria, which is in total darkness to save energy, except for a spotlight above the biggest table. Makes it feel even more special. I hear clinking forks and plates, and I think these are the two happiest days I've ever had. Me and Dad take seats next to Carol and Sophia. As potato salad — Yes, potato salad. That's almost as good as soap — and greens and meat get passed around, I'm reminded of our fish fry. My Dad is here with me to enjoy it this time, and there are walls to protect us, instead of trees. We're clean. We're safe. We're alive.

"Just tell me when." Carol tells T-Dog as she pours him some wine, while everyone is getting settled in at the table.

Carol pours for a long time and T-Dog does not say when.

People start laughing.

T-Dog gives in and goes, "Okay, when, when, when."

"Thought I was gonna be there all night." Carol scoff-chuckles, sitting back down.

When I look around, I see one big family having dinner together, and I see people I'd almost forgotten about under all that dirt.

"Hey, after the past few days we've had, I think we deserve it." Rick's smiling, holding up his hands.

"I'll say." Lori snickers.

Dale suddenly stands, glass in hand. "How about we dedicate this meal to Harley?"

Rick puts down his napkin. "I think that's a perfect idea."

I giggle under all the attention as everyone rushes to agree, finding their glasses. I hide my face behind my Dad's arm. He peels himself away, smirking, and everyone's got something to say about my red face when I'm no longer hidden. I smack Carl when he tells me I look like a tomato, and everyone's doubled over with laughter, again. It's my favorite sound ever, I decide.

Before we can toast, my Dad butts in.

"Hang on. Old man, how's about that watch you carry around?" He asks. "It got a date on it?"

"I wish," Dale smiles, "But the battery died yesterday. Why? Is there something I'm missing?"

"I reckon it's almost July, right?" Dad looks around.

Is he gonna say what I think he's gonna say?

I start grinning.

Rick nods, "I reckon so. It's probably been about a month since everything went down."

"Harley was born in July. Twenty-second. Eight years ago. Ain't that right?" Dad ruffles my hair, and I giggle, 'cause I'm just so full of happiness that I feel like I'll never be anything else again. He raises his glass; wraps a hand around my shoulders. "Close enough, am I right?"

"Absolutely, that's close enough!" Lori shouts, clapping her hands; rushing for her glass. "My God, this is perfect!"

"We got ourselves a birthday dinner, here, people!" T-Dog whoops, raising his, too.

Rick lifts his glass above his head, and it's official. "To the birthday girl!"

"To the birthday girl!"

Clink, clink, clink.

More cheering. Two toasts in one day. I must be the luckiest girl in the whole, wide world. I bump my glass of water into Dad's glass on my right, and Sophia's on my left. After the scare with the scratches, this celebration means ten times more than a regular birthday would. There's no cake here, or number-candles, but I don't need any of that to make this moment special. I got Glenn singing an off-key Happy Birthday, and I got Jacqui giggling, God, shut that boy up, and I got Sophia hugging me, and I got another year and a whole lotta more days I get to live, with everyone at this table; with my Dad. And when Rick leans over the table, I even let him give me a high-five!

"Eight." Rick raises his eyebrows at me while he sits back down, pointing at me. "Almost double digits."

"You're almost my age!" Grins Carl.

"Good luck." Lori dramatically whispers to my Dad.

He gives me a look. "Listen to me, you ain't allowed to grow any more after this, okay?"

I can't help if I grow!

"Okay, Dad." I laugh. "I promise to be eight forever."

"Good girl." He says, gulping down more wine.

"Hold up." T-Dog sticks his palm out. "This is a birthday party. You know what that means, right? We need to hear at least one embarrassing story."

"Good idea." Jacqui gasps.

Dad makes a big show of scoffing. "Damn, which one you want? I got thousands."

What a traitor!

"I mean, we have all night, here." Shane shrugs, grinning like a little smart-ass. "I'm up for a story-time. How 'bout y'all?"

"Let's hear it," Morales gestures at my Dad.

"Alright." Dad sits back in his chair, crossing his arms. I try leaning over to cover his mouth, but he bats me away, and everyone is already laughing and the story ain't even started yet. "How 'bout— Okay. Okay. Damn, this is a good one. 'Bout when she was five, we bought Harley this skateboard—" Everybody's going, Oh God, 'cause they see where this is going. "Uh-huh. We took 'er down to the skatepark near our house, and there was a bunch of other lil' kids there — 'bout her age — and I'on know how she did it, but these kids were all convinced she was this master skater who was gonna show 'em how it's done. She was coachin' 'em, I think. Showin' off her new board. End of the day, she finally goes to show 'em a trick — 'Member, first day at this damn park — and everyone's watching and—" He claps his hands, smack. "Falls flat on 'er fuckin' face, in front of all of 'em."

Ugh, why'd he have to go and tell that story?

Rick covers his mouth 'cause he's trying not to laugh, 'cause I guess he values whatever dignity I got left but Shane, he's clappin' and trying not to spit his food out, 'cause he's actually a big smart-ass. I'm laughing behind my hands, like Sophia. Glenn's resting his forehead on the table, and he's shakin', so I guess he's laughing, too. When he sits upright, he's crying, and Jacqui's gotta beat his back 'cause he's choking a little bit.

"I'm alri—" He coughs. Then he keeps laughin', which makes it worse. "I'm alright."

"Hey, I ain't even fall that bad!" I defend myself.

He chugs Jacqui's water to save himself.

"Wait—" Lori's chuckling. "Five years old?"

"Yep," Dad goes back to eating. He's satisfied with the damage he's done.

"Pretty brave for that age." Lori tells me, putting on an I'm impressed face.

"Damn, that's pretty bad." T-Dog's shaking his head. "Sorry, girl, but I'm glad I asked, 'cause shit!"

"Leave the poor girl alone." Carol giggles, quietly.

Shane looks off into the darkness, pretending there's a crowd. "Anybody got a skateboard?"

"Oh, shut up." Andrea smiles. "Settle down, or Lori's gonna have to pull that photo out."

"May I ask a question?"

We're all so isolated in this pocket of happiness, celebrating the end of our troubles, that when the scientist speaks, I think we're all a little spooked. Smiles freeze and fade. Glasses lower. Heads turn. We're not the only people in the world, we're all realizing. We'd forgotten all about the reason we came here. That's what potato salad does to people, I guess.

The conversation dies off like a guillotine sliced it in half.

"What were you going to toast to?" The scientist asks, and his voice is like a soft, chilly breeze in a forest. I'm not even sure he was sitting there the whole time. Maybe he's supernatural, and he teleported. That makes me scared. "Before you figured out it was her birthday?"

And just like that, the dinner turns awkward. 

Rick clears his throat. "Well, if I'm being completely honest, here, Harley is the reason we came out to the city in the first place. I know I told you that nobody here was infected, but there were a couple days where... we weren't sure. Harley got scratched. We left looking for a cure."

The scientist's eyes roam over to my face, but then they don't leave.

"Now we're on the subject," Shane decides to break the silence, frowning, "How about you tell us what exactly happened here, doc?"

Rick mutters, "We don't have to do this right now, Shane."

"Wait a second." Shane sighs. "You said it yourself, just now. This is why we came all the way out here, right? Figure out what happened? Put all our eggs in one basket, and uh—" He laughs a laugh that tells me nothing is funny here. "Instead we found him. We found one man, talking in riddles. Why is that, you think?"

The scientist tanks the insult. "When things got bad, people just... left, to be with their families. The rest bolted."

I remember just how shocked I was at the size of this building when I first saw it creeping up the windows. It's way too much space for one man. There must have been hundreds of scientists working in here, and now it's just a shell. A cave for a lonely monster.

"Every last one?" Shane whispers, squinting; disbelieving.

The scientist falters, for just a moment, and I can see old pains on his face. "No. Some couldn't face leaving. They... opted out."

The tables goes from quiet to silent. Opted out. I know what that means. It's another one of them things adults say to butter up the truth, and it means killing yourself. I squeak, then, like I've been kicked in the ribs. I hide behind my Dad, who cradles the back of my damp hair, but you can't hide from words once they're in your head. Suicide. Dead, but not an accident — On purpose, with pills, or a gun, or a— a— a bridge. Something snotty gets caught in my throat like a fish-hook, and I'm crying now, at my own birthday dinner. Somebody drops their fork in defeat.

"There was a rash of suicides." Mutters the scientist, immune to his own story; numb. "In a matter of days, I was alone."

"Why didn't you leave?" Asks Andrea.

Carl is crying too, now. I wish I could make him feel better, just for a moment, but I can't.

"I just kept working." Smiles the scientist, but it's not right— It's just muscles, pulling his droopy face upward. "I just wanted to do some good."

Good.

The word reaches up into the ceiling, and leaves us at the bottom, sitting in its echo.

"There is no cure here." The scientist says.

The dinner is over.

Everything comes crashing down as fast as it went flying up.

We were on top of the world just a few hours ago. We were invincible. We had the news that I wasn't going to die in our veins, and then we had hot water and soap and potato salad, and each other. We had hotel rooms and a birthday dinner. But now we just have a dead end and a long list of regrets. There is nothing here for us besides showers, lights, and ghosts. I feel like a trapped animal. I'm a hamster in a maze, going around and around and around, and I can't get out. A rash of suicides. That thing I thought was hiding somewhere, it's this, and it's out, and I'm sorry we ever looked. Please don't let it be worse than it is out here, I remember, Please don't make us regret this.

After what feels like hours, the hallways I'm running down end. I see the game room.

I run inside and corner myself under the table. A cloth hides me from the world outside, and if I pretend hard enough, I can take myself right out of here and into a nice, safe pillow fort, instead. Like the ones I used to make back home. I can be someone else. If I'm in my head, I'm not here.

But then I hear the door open, and it's just a wooden table again, and I'm in the CDC.

"Harley?" It's my Dad, 'cause of course it is. I moan into my hands, crying so hard I'm not getting enough air. "You in here?"

I don't want to be found. I want to be lost.

The cloth lifts.

"Baby, what's wrong?" My Dad asks, but I know he already knows. How could he not know?

There are lots of words that remind me of my Momma, like sunshine, and cigarettes, and the worst — Suicide.

"Get out." I tell him, using my feet to push him away. "Get out."

I should've learnt my lesson back at the quarry, on that night I hit my Dad, but I don't care. I just wanna hurt something. I'm hurting. A rash of suicides. I can't stop hearing it, and I can't stop seeing it — Over and over again, the night on the bridge. Opted out. Suicide. Killing yourself. 

Pills, guns, ropes.

Bridges.

"Baby, I know." Dad's saying, grabbing my kicking feet. "I know. Come out. I don't want you thinkin' 'bout this, so come on out."

"I can't help it!" I sob, 'cause I really can't. Something that is too big for my body is happening to me, and I can't stop it.

"H— I know. Just come out." He's begging, and now he's not just holding my feet, he's pulling 'em; pulling me, out from underneath my hidey hole and into the world, even though I want to stay in here forever. He's trying so hard to bury something that's still alive; something that has teeth and jaws, and is eating me from the inside out. He don't wanna see it, and he don't wanna hear it, and he don't wanna deal with it. I wish he'd curl up in my make-believe pillow fort, and hide from the world with me. I wish he'd understand. "You don't gotta be under there. Come out, right now."

Some days I wanna pull my damn hair out.

He's getting angry again. He's holding himself back from something very nasty that lives inside him.

"No," I'm begging him back; begging him to just listen. "No, I don't wanna come out. I don't wanna—!"

I anchor myself to the table leg. We're an unstoppable force and an immovable object, colliding head on for the first time, ever, and it's a disaster. That night at the quarry was nothing.

Furious, my Dad rips the cloth off the table and boxes of puzzles go toppling over onto the floor, breaking into a million little pieces that used to be happily fused. Newly exposed, he easily ducks under and locks his hand around my wrist. I scream, and I close my eyes so I don't have to see my Daddy like this, 'cause it ain't him anymore. He pries my little fingers off the table, one by one by one, and ow, ow, ow, it really hurts. I'm yanked away, and then he's dragging me out by the ankles, shouting—

"Stop actin' like this. You ain't a baby." I hook myself onto a second leg, and he's wrestling with me all over again. "Stop! Mind yer damn father, girl!"

I'm not a baby, but I wish I was, 'cause we were happy back then.

"Stop!" I sob, kicking at him. "J— Leav— Just leave me alone!"

"I ain't leavin' you alone — You know why?" He's seething down to me. "'Cause you need a damn spanking. That's why."

I think back to an hour ago, when I thought I'd only ever be happy for the rest of my life. What a stupid thing to think.

Don't make it any worse, his voice is warning me, from all the times he's done this before.

But it can't get any worse.

In one big pull of strength, I'm forced out from underneath the table once and for all, where I felt safe and small and alone, into the light of the game room where I feel naked, again, for all to see. My face is raw and wet and hurt, and I think one of my buttons got torn off by my Daddy when he was grabbing for me, even though he was the one to fix them before dinner, and on that night in the RV, to show me he loves me. He yanks me to my feet by the armpits, 'cause I can't stand on my own no more, and he crouches to get in my face.

"This is your last fuckin' chance, and then I'm gonna have to take my belt off." He warns me.

"I miss Momma." I whimper.

His face softens, but it's gone so quick I'm sure I imagined it. "Harley," He grinds out, "Stop this."

"You killed her!" I cry, scared, but braver than I ever been at the same time. "You made Momma kill 'erself! You made 'er jump off that bridge!"

I tried so hard to be like my Daddy, but I can't. I can't hide things like he can.

I don't care if he belts me after. I just want him to know. I want him to know that I know, and that I ain't never gonna forgive him. I'd take a thousand beatings just so I could scream the same thing up at him, until my throat bleeds, until I'm nothin' but a voice, until my Momma comes back. People who kill themselves don't wanna come back, but maybe this time, if I was a good enough girl, she might want to. I'd get on my knees, and I'd beg her, and I'd say, Please Momma, I need you. Please Momma, please. Me and Daddy can't do it on our own. She didn't love my Daddy, and my Daddy hated my Momma. He never said it, but I always knew he did. I saw it when he dropped me off at her house; how he didn't wanna leave me with her. I heard people say my Momma was sick in the brain, and that she was a bad Mom, but I loved her.

My parents might be forever separated, but on my face, they are still together. I got my Daddy's flat mouth and my Momma's green eyes. I am proof that hate can create love. I don't feel so loved right now, though. I feel like I'm nothing. I feel like when my Daddy said he loved me, he was lying.

And there it is, my Daddy's hand going for his belt, 'cause I chose to say the worst thing I could think of.

I don't wanna get beat, but sometimes it don't matter what little girls want.

"I want you to think about the way you're speakin' to me." My Dad, the same one that was crying in my baby photo, shouts in my face. "I don't know why you gotta be like this, Harley. I don't know why you gotta make me do this. You were havin' such a good day."

"I'm sorry—" I'm sayin' now. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"You shoulda thought about that before you started bringing this shit back up again. After this, never again, okay?"

He pulls me down into his chest, yanking the back of my shirt up to the base of my neck. I wait for the whip, and the burning sting afterwards.

I can take it. I'll just close my eyes and wait for it to be over.

But before it can come—

"Woah! Hey!" A man's shout. "Hey, hey! Stop!"

The whip doesn't come. I can catch my breath. 

Under my Dad's arm, the one that's in the air, poised to beat me, I see a man in the doorway. I almost can't make him out, but there he is — It's officer Shane. The room seems to slap him in the face, like he can't believe what he's just walked into. He's scared to step inside, in case the moment breaks and my Dad chooses to beat me, anyway. Shane's a bastard cop, and it's his job to save people. I never thought I'd be needing saved from my Dad. I still don't think I need saving. I brought this on myself. I wish he'd go away, so it could be over with.

My Dad stands up, his whole body clenched with muscle ready to punch.

"I'm gonna ask you put that down, man." This is the first time I'm hearing Shane's police-man voice. "And to step away from her, okay?"

I feel embarrassed.

I'm kneeling on the floor, grabbing onto the side of the sofa, tryna hide myself again. I don't belong here. I don't want Shane to see me like this. I wanna be the little girl he caught frogs with, not a ball of hurt and tears. Suddenly, this isn't a games room anymore. It's a wolf's den, and I got two of 'em right in front of me, circling each other, ready to bite. I scuttle further into the corner, like if I shrink myself enough, I can just disappear into the floor.

"You ain't askin' me shit, officer." Dad whispers, real nasty. "Ain't no rules, no more. Not so tough, now."

"I'm not gonna ask you again, man." Officer Shane warns, stepping very slowly into room.

He moves toward us, inch by inch, like a man inside a lion enclosure.

"You don't gotta." Dad spits. "Door's right there."

"You're hittin' on little girls, now, Daryl." Shane huffs that mean laugh again. "Sorry, buddy, but that's my business. Come on. Step away."

If Shane had his gun in his holster, his hand would be on it. But we left all our weapons in the bedrooms before dinner. He stretches his fingers; tilts his head. I realize he don't need a gun. He's gonna fist-fight my Dad if he don't do what he says. My Dad, sensing this, chucks his belt on top of the broken puzzles, and stretches out his fingers, too. They're one wrong word away from beating each other to a pulp.

I wanna beg 'em to stop, but my voice is burrowed somewhere deep inside my body, and I can't reach it. 

"We don't have to do this, Daryl." Shane's half-way into the room, now. When did he get that close?

"Sure we don't." Dad snarls. "You gonna hit me? Go ahead."

Shane shakes his head. "That's not somethin' I wanna do, man. But you know I will. Step away."

A hiccup I didn't give permission to leave my mouth cuts through the room. Shane glances at me. I don't know who I'm supposed to root for.

"'Step away', huh? Step away from my own daughter?" My Dad scoffs.

Shane glances from me to my Dad, and I can see him start to realize that this angle won't work on my Dad. He holds out his hand. Something about the way he's looking at me is saying, You don't have to be afraid, but I am, and I don't wanna move. I feel like this is my fault. I watch as he flicks his fingers a little, brows raised. "How 'boutchu come over here, Harley, huh?"

Dad blocks me with his body before I can even think about it. "Hey, don't you fuckin' speak to her."

His eyes are back on my Dad. "Just tryna do what's best for everybody, here, Daryl."

My Dad cracks one of his knuckles. "Nah. Nah, I don't think you are. You got it all twisted."

"Don't think I do."

"Yeah?" Dad goads, and every second, I wait for one of them to swing. I can't stand it. "What is it you think you walked in on, then, huh?"

I think my Dad's waiting for the swing, too, 'cause he's so confident that he'll win that he wants officer Shane to try him. He wants to punish him. He wants to show him what happens when you insult a Dixon, 'cause protecting the name is more important than protecting his own body. I think about the way my Dad busted Rick's cheek; How Ronnie's Momma ain't recognise him when my Daddy was done with him.

Shane must be thinkin' the exact same thing, 'cause he starts goading my Dad right back.

"I think I walked in on you beatin' the shit outta your own kid, first of all." Shane shrugs, like it ain't his fault it's fact, and he keeps going when he notices my Dad's breathing get heavy. He's enjoying this. A smile splits his face. "I think we been worrying 'bout Jim this whole time, we been worrying 'bout the wrong man. How 'bout that? You wanted us to be so focused on him, we forget about the real monster."

"That right?" Dad side-steps Shane when he reaches the edge of the coffee-table.

"Sounds right to me, man." Shane says. "Lemme ask you this, Daryl. What is it you think I walked in on?"

I wonder where everyone else is. I wonder if at any second, one of them is gonna walk in.

"It don't matter what I think." Dad shouts, suddenly, and I shriek like I've been struck by the belt. "It's my damn business. It's my damn daughter."

"Yeah, I betchu wish it was." Shane huffs out a chuckle. "Don't want your secret gettin' out, right?"

Shane's like a wriggly little worm, needling my Dad where he don't wanna be needled.

My Dad's patience finally runs out.

He rears back to swing at Shane's head, and his fist is caught and twisted, and I hear Shane grunt in pain, and this is it, so I close my eyes—

Wait.

My eyes are open. That don't make no sense. Why is it so dark? Why can't I see?

I realize that the fight has stopped, and I feel like we've all forgotten about it and are waiting for something to happen.

There's a single murmur throughout the room.

"Was that the power?"

Author's Note.

Cliff-hanger! Mwahahha.

So, obviously, the last scene in this chapter is pretty brutal. I'd like to share why I made the decision to have Daryl act this way, because it could be a shock for some.

For starters, I think it's plausible for a number of reasons. Merle being a bad influence on Daryl, his unhealed childhood trauma and how that affects how he parents his child, and his unhealthy habit of bottling up his emotions, etc.

It's not pretty, I know, and I kind of hated writing that scene, but that brings up my second point. For the sake of the themes and arcs I want to give this story, it was necessary. This story just couldn't exist if it didn't have this scene. I've got, like, three different key subplots linked to it. Maybe you can even guess what they are, because two of them have been hinted at/set up already. They're only going to get more prominent from here on out.

So that's the explanation for anybody who wanted or needed it. You'll see all this play out in the coming chapters, anyway, but I just wanted to provide this in the mean time. :)

Rant over! Phew. Everybody take a sigh of relief.

On a more positive note, everything else in this chapter was a total joy to write! These poor guys deserve some happiness 😌

Hope you enjoyed reading, and as always, please consider sharing your thoughts! Sending love :)

[neondiamond]

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Dorks in love being dorks in love, featuring two bad pick up lines and one good one.

🌻 Stable and Steady by @tommokat (496, G)

A tutoring lesson about stability with Tutor Marcel and his crush, Louis.

🌻 Team Gaelic FTW by @lululawrence (611, NR)

Just another Scrabble Game Night at the Stylinson House...

🌻 It’s a rush inside I can’t control by @beardyboyzx (764, G)

Wind is hitting him in the face as Louis runs, freely and carelessly, through the woods.

There’s no one chasing him for once, and he’s got all the time in the world to enjoy how the soil feels under his feet.

🌻 Glasgow by @hellolovers13 (859, T)

Louis' first moments with his newborn daughter.

🌻 I’ll Run (Run To You) by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed (1k, M)

What do people need after running a marathon?

Louis remembers the first time he Googled that, about 2.8 minutes after saying goodbye to Harry during a round of speed dating. It was probably a bit of a dickish move, considering he was already sat opposite another, presumably lovely, boy, but all it had taken was one look at Harry and he'd known.

🌻 Orange Blossoms by @red-pandaaa (1k, T)

Louis runs Harry a bath

🌻 It’s human to break, it’s human to fall by @larry-hiatus (1k, T)

A wobbly ladder and a stubborn Louis don’t make for a good combination, and now he’s left to deal with the painful consequences. His boyfriend Harry can’t help but be annoyed that Louis didn’t listen to him, but he quickly puts aside his irritation when he realizes something else is wrong.

🌻 Enemies to Lovers by @londonfoginacup (1k, G)

There's something happening

at Styles' place.

Louis can sense it. He's good like that.

🌻 Fly To You by @babyhoneyheslt (1k, G)

On the way to their honeymoon, Harry and Louis find out the pilot is ill. With Louis being a pilot, he offers to fly the plane there, and it turns out to make the start of their honeymoon extra special.

🌻 Were You There On That Christmas Night? By @lululawrence (2k, NR)

the one where Harry has some fears regarding the animals present in the school's nativity play.

🌻 Accomodate This by @londonfoginacup (2k, T)

Harry's a professor just trying to get proper accommodations.

🌻 Eyes So Blue, Shorts So Red by @absoloutenonsense (2k, G)

Harry isn't like any roommate Louis has had before. For one, he doesn't know what a poem is (or skee-ball, for that matter), but luckily for him, Louis doesn't mind answering any and all of his questions.

Or Alien Harry discovers poetry.

🌻 No (Birth) Control by @haztobegood (2k, E)

An unfortunate situation left Harry without contraceptives a day before his heat.

🌻 Love Is In The Air by @justahappycloud (3k, G)

When Louis gets stuck in an airport during a snow storm, he mentally prepared for his already bad day to turn into something even worse.

What he wasn't counting on was a certain green-eyed boy who would come to light candles in the dark of his bad mood.

🌻 there his charming nest doth lay series by @bottomhaztoplou (3k, T)

Louis reads poetry to Harry, his upset mate, as he nests in their bed.

🌻 Stand Not in Front or Behind by @londonfoginacup (4k, NR)

Harry Styles always knew his purpose in life was to be a pawn in an arranged marriage to assure allegiances.

He never actually put much thought into his future partner.

🌻 The Doppel Effect by @uhoh-but-yeah-alright (6k, T)

In a future where the rich and famous can use lifelike android doppelgangers to increase their reach and expand their fortunes, unauthorized use of the technology by enterprising criminals results in a sub-class of doppelgangers referred to as Forgeries.

Harry Styles lives a simple life, far from the luxurious and nefarious worlds occupied by Dops and Forgeries. At least, he's never had a reason to think otherwise. Until a mysterious stranger shows up and threatens to turn Harry's world upside down.

🌻 like a bridge over troubled water (I will lay me down) by @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed (6k, T)

Zayn loves all of his friends. He just might love Liam in a different way.

Or: a love letter from Zayn to his friends, written in 4+1.

🌻 Sink Through Your Skin by @ireallysawanangel (6k, M)

It’s tough work being a detective. Long hours on the job, grueling cases that keep you up at night, but it’s especially hard to be a detective when you’re married to a serial killer.

🌻 To A Higher Place by @ireallysawanangel (8k, E)

Louis arrives home during his break from tour just in time for Harry’s rut.

🌻 Ace of Hearts by @allwaswell16 (10k, E)

Louis Tomlinson, the alpha Duke of Yorkshire, had returned to England to stay now that he’d married and mated. But since his husband was also the omega he’d once held captive aboard his half-brother’s pirate ship, he held back from pushing Harry into parenthood.

With the Ace of Spades now docked in London, Harry spent time with his friends from the crew and remained a bit oblivious to his alpha’s deepest desires. What he was aware of was his best friend’s hurt and his mother-in-law’s wish for more than friendship with her oldest friend.

A sequel to Ace of Spades

🌻 The Princess and the Pea by @absoloutenonsense (12k, NR)

A brutal storm finds Harry and Niall seeking shelter at the nearest place they can find - a rather grand manor, with some peculiar people of the house. At least Harry has made a friend in one of the servants there.