#At least when I read I can escape into other people’s worlds

[monstermoviedean]

let's talk about the bridge.

[spnwiki links known filming locations when available. in all three episodes, this is listed as the spur 4 bridge, lower seymour conservation reserve. it may appear in more episodes, but i'm not sure.]

the bridge appears in 05x02 (good god, y'all!), 13x18 (bring 'em back alive), and 15x20 (carry on). now. do i think this specific bridge was specially chosen each time to communicate a certain message? with respect to the crew, nah, probably not. do i think you can read a pattern here? ooh, yes. tl;dr: you cannot cross the bridge. merely standing on it means the rules have just changed in a reality-bending, fucked-up-beyond-all-repair sort of way. attempting to complete the crossing is an acceptance of the new rules.

in 05x02, the bridge appears as dean and sam are driving into river pass, colorado, the town controlled by war. the bridge is broken. they drive halfway across the bridge and stop. this is the first sign to sam and dean that something is seriously wrong here. this is no normal demon hunt. this is a problem on a scale larger than they can grasp. there's a literal gap between them and the town! they have to leave the car (/home) parked on the bridge and hike in. they are entering uncharted territory.

when they do, they find people killing each other and seeing demons where there are none. war is altering reality and playing people off each other. jo attacks ellen! rufus attacks sam! the townspeople turn on ellen and dean! you can't trust anyone! but actually...you can. none of them are demons. the danger is real, but it's not what it appears. and no one has ever come across anything like this before.

so what do sam and dean learn? the apocalypse is here. there's no going back. the rules have changed. the tactics they've always used don't work, because they are in a new reality now. and they accept that. while they can't physically walk/drive across the bridge, they do complete the crossing of their own volition. they accept that their world is different now and they will adapt to it.

in 13x18, dean and ketch are in apocalypse world walking near the bridge. they see a group of angels leading a group of shackled, hooded prisoners across the bridge.

two of the prisoners are executed by the angels right there. they do not cross the bridge. they die playing by the same rules they always have. it's the apocalypse, and they'll fight, but the angels are the angels and it's tough to win as a human. when i started writing this post i thought charlie had crossed the bridge, symbolizing her entrance into a new reality. but she doesn't! the angels fly away with her, without any of them ever crossing the bridge (below are back-to-back screencaps. sorry for the lack of visual but trust me on this)

charlie doesn't fully cross the bridge. she gets halfway across and then the angels fly her somewhere else. dean is hoping she finishes crossing. if she does, it's like she's crossing into his world. maybe this charlie will be just like the charlie he knew and lost. maybe he can save her. maybe he can undo it. but she doesn't cross and he so he can't get to her!

when he and ketch eventually catch up with her at the silo and escape, charlie hears about dean's universe and chooses to stay in hers. because it's hers. charlie's reality has been fucked with, certainly, but she chooses to accept the reality she knows and stay in it (for now at least). she's not outright rejecting the new reality of parallel universes, but she's also not letting the new reality dictate her actions. it's her home, it's her fight, and she's staying. she doesn't complete the crossing.

so that brings us to. deep sigh. 15x20. dean drives onto the bridge, ostensibly in heaven. he drives about halfway across. and stops. he does not cross the bridge. he gets out of the car and hesitantly walks around the front of it. i won't show you all the screencaps but he touches the car and stays pretty close to it as he walks.

the last one is about the furthest point he walks across the bridge, give or take. he doesn't go far from the car (which is a good strong symbol of dean's reality and home). you can see there's two vertical posts in the space between him and the car. when the final shot zooms out from him and sam, they are magically further across the bridge, about halfway across, about five vertical posts away.

dean standing on the bridge means the rules have changed. his world is different now. he cannot go back. this especially works with the next scene, which is the one of the cast and crew in our world saying goodbye. now, can you say that dean dying and going to heaven is the change? sure. but he doesn't cross the bridge. he doesn't accept it. could you say that simply means he's in denial about his death and apparent ascension? i guess. "but what about sam?!" shhhh, not right now.

i think it works much better as dean recognizing there is a new and unknown reality on the other side of that bridge, and instinctively knowing that there is something wrong. that he doesn't want to accept that reality. that if he finishes the crossing, he will be accepting it and will be unable to go back. and sam just appearing out of nowhere, seemingly materializing onto the middle of the bridge without actually taking steps to cross it? somehow moving dean with him so they're both further across the bridge? well maybe that's not real. maybe that's a trick to try to get dean to cross. maybe his acceptance of the new reality will sever his connection to his actual reality - war destroying the bridge in 05x02 certainly did that for the townspeople.

i know others have talked about dean crossing the bridge as an acceptance or an ascension, i'm nowhere near the first person to come up with that. but i do want to call attention to the previous iterations of the bridge. a broken bridge sam and dean cross, only to find war beyond it, an enemy the likes of which they have never seen. a bridge charlie is nearly forced to cross, but which she's taken away from before she can complete it (which would be more likely to lead her to jump realities). and a bridge dean starts to cross, but doesn't. a bridge that appears first in dean's reality, then in apocalypse world, then in dean's heaven, and then in our world, with jensen dressed as dean saying goodbye. and nobody ever crosses that bridge. it's a false promise. you can't do it. all you can do is stand on it and hope you'll be okay, even though you can't go back.

[letstrywritingmaybe]

My Pens won last night! Which means I’m allowed to write, so I started the next chapter of the sibling verse but of course now that I’m allowed I don’t wanna do it. So I’ll be reading a book book instead

Update: call me a hater, but I do not understand Shinichi’s fascination with Holmes when Poirot exists. But I am biased for Christie’s works. I’ve only read one Sherlock novel so maybe I shouldn’t judge so quickly. Maybe I’ll write a fic about CoAi bickering over who’s better after I’ve read more.

Update 2: I did at least finish one scene of the next chapter of the sibling verse. My priority was rereading/editing my solstice event fic though, and not to toot my own horn but I love it. Then again I’m a self indulgent writer, I have to love every thing I write

[moonlight-prose]

RIGHT WHERE YOU LEFT ME

➛ 01. IN DREAMS WE REST

a/n: i've been stressed about this fic probably more than any other i've ever written. not because it's logan per se, but because wade wilson makes me want to rip my hair out. i love that bastard, but writing him feels like pulling teeth. i'm in love with this concept solely for the angst, so if you see more throughout and wonder if they will ever get a happy ending, please know i'm dead inside. enjoy!

summary: stuck in another universe and unsure of where he stands, logan expects things to even out as they always did. but when you cross his path and you have no idea who he is, he's in for a rude awakening.

word count: 5.9k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: not explicit, wade wilson breaking the fourth wall, angst, cussing so much cussing, alcohol consumption, grief, pain, a broken man pretending he's not broken, chance encounters, awkward conversations, hope.

NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

He can hear it when he sleeps.

Their screams.

The constant ring of agony that chimes out like a bell, an alarm he never set for himself. A joke once told to him in the midst of World War II, as bullets flew by him and soldiers lost their lives each second of each day. There's no escape from hell. No running from the devil that nipped at his heels the faster he went, the longer he tried to navigate a way free.

There's no escape from the memories that ate away in his mind. Multitudes of them, of the faces he once called family, the people he used to love. They were his punishment. The boulder he continued to roll up the hill, day after day after day. Until eventually...he was crushed by his own self-hatred.

"Logan." The voice whispered long enough for him to grasp who it might be, yet never louder than a mere breath of air.

He clung to it some days. Sunk his claws into what little of his past remained good and allowed it to fill him with some amount of peace. At least then he'd be able to bear this weight, this grief he could never quite name.

Something light brushed across his cheek. Tickling the skin enough to send a flare of irritation down his spine, but the dreams held him in their grasp. What came next never surprised him. He expected it at this point—longed for it. The distant pain of losing what once made him whole; the entirety of his life now defined by one single moment he could never change.

"He sleeps so sweetly. I just want to curl up in his arms and have him read me bedtime stories."

"He's not gonna like that when he wakes up."

"Zip it Al. If I wanted an opinion, I'd go see a Hollywood therapist."

A scoff echoed in the background. "No therapist wants you on their couch."

"Not true. I hear Ryan Reynolds has a great one."

"Who?"

"Not the point." The feather dusted across Logan's face again, soft enough to keep him asleep yet annoying enough to bring a smile to Wade's face. "I wonder if he's dreaming about killing bad guys. They say it's good for the soul."

"Who the fuck is they?"

Wade laughed. "Oh you know. Them. The readers. And boy howdy do they love their blood."

Every day he was forced to listen to Wade's voice became another day Logan dragged his claw through a tally mark of his sanity. "Do you ever shut the fuck up," he growled, gripping Wade's wrist until he heard the satisfying crack of bones.

"Only when I swallow."

"I'll tear your fuckin' arm off."

The smile on Wade’s face only added another tally. "Nice kitty. No need for the claws."

Anger washed across his skin in a familiar wave as he released Wade's arm, watching it go limp. Trying to kill the unkillable walking irritation was like trying to swat a fly that never quite died. It still buzzed incessantly. Until eventually madness was the only viable option of dealing with it. In his case, he seemed to be driving head on with no brakes.

Logan wasn't sure he possessed enough sanity left within him to keep dealing with this. Sleeping on the couch didn't help the way his body never rested; always stuck in that permanent fighting mode. He'd give anything to find some peace. A small sliver of it carved off the past that continued to call him—that begged him to come back and try again.

Swinging his legs off the couch, he planted a swift kick to Wade's chest that sent him across the floor. The lack of caffeine in his system left everything hazy and half coherent. If he focused he might have caught the keys thrown at him, but being exhausted and sober didn't make for a good combination with him. An empty whiskey bottle lay discarded on the floor from last night; the memories of how he passed out barely tinged on the edge of his mind.

He could recall stabbing Wade in the leg.

Nothing beyond that.

Dried blood—now an ugly brown—stained his white shirt. He nearly stripped himself of it, prepared to throw it in with whoever was washing next, but his flannel being chucked at his head caught him off guard.

"Fuck off," he snapped, stumbling to the kitchen.

Wade sighed, following him. "Get dressed, peanut. We have to go do human things today."

"Human–”

"Food," Al retorted. "We're out."

Even in a new universe, he couldn't see himself acting normal. For so long he did what had to in order to survive. Yet now...he wasn't so sure. Accompanying Wade Wilson in order to complete household chores left a bad taste in his mouth. But the thought of fresh coffee and an unopened bottle of whiskey sounded like sweet silver bells in his head.

With reluctance, he buttoned up half of the flannel before he became annoyed with the small size of the holes punched into the fabric. There was only so much he could do with the life he had now. And sometimes shit really sucked.

"Don't scratch my fucking car," Al pointed her words towards Wade, thankfully ignoring Logan's existence for a brief moment.

"Is it safe for her to own a car?"

The door shut behind him with a bang, echoing down the vacant hallway. He was surprised people actually lived here given Wade's antics. They could hear the loud mouthed fucker across the street—if the angry notes in the mail were anything to go by. He didn't bother asking if he should be concerned with any of it. Not when he had no say in how the house was run. And choosing to insert himself where he wasn’t needed, rarely went well for him.

"God no. But I give her the benefit of the doubt. She hasn't killed anyone. Yet."

He yanked the keys out of Wade's hand. "Yeah well I don't trust you either Bub."

The car didn't leave room for his legs as he squeezed into the driver's side. His body practically folded in half as he turned it over—the rumble of the engine rattling against metal. How Blind Al managed to pay for this vehicle went beyond even Wade's knowledge, and in all honesty…he was too fucking scared to ask.

Too much seemed to be happening for him to ever catch up. While this Earth felt similar to his, small things were different. And when they began to add up...he began to wonder if he was drowning.

"Turn left to merge onto the asscrack of traffic."

He barely heard the directions as he drove, his mind drifting the further they went. Part of him sensed the grief from earlier begin to claw up the back of his throat. It begged him to fall, to be swallowed whole by the darkness he'd been stuck in before. And he nearly gave in; could feel his body shift into its constant mode of fight or flight.

The steering wheel cracked under his white knuckled grip as Wade's voice became an afterthought to the war he fought in his mind. Terror trapped itself in his throat and he slammed his foot on the brakes a foot away from a parking spot in retaliation. The car lurched forward, his claws descended. A snarl rumbled in his chest the longer he sat there thinking.

"Woah..." For the first time in days, Wade fell silent. "You alright?"

Logan ripped himself free, shoving his body out of the car before he even threw it in park. He gulped in breath after breath and did his best to wait for this fucking feeling to leave his system. The nightmares only came as he slept. A constant familiar horror show after two centuries.

Yet now he was left like this. Leaned up against a car, his eyes closed shut, and heart racing.

All because he couldn't do his fucking job.

"Logan–"

He snapped, shoving past Wade and his pity that choked him with a vengeance. He didn't deserve anyone's pity. He didn't want it. But people couldn't help but hand it over unconsciously. As if they could see the layers of broken pieces beneath his false expression of strength. Logan never pretended to be okay. Why bother with something people could see right through?

He merely wanted others to ignore he was there. Walk past him, look through him, do whatever it took to pretend that him and all his tragedies weren't standing before them. Because one day he would die and fuck how he couldn't wait for that time to come.

A small hole in the wall dive bar sat in the corner of the shopping center. He barely caught sight of it. But the unmistakable scent of alcohol poured out the door as someone stumbled out—their eyes squeezed shut against the harsh brightness of the sun. He could understand them in a way.

His world didn't have sunlight this bright. Or perhaps he never noticed it ‘til now.

Maybe his body wasn't acclimated yet; unsure of what the fuck was still happening. Everything seemed to be turned up to eleven for him, yet no off switch existed.

The dark hazy glow of the interior sent a wave of calm through him as the door swung shut with a soft thud. Four people sat scattered around the place and a bartender with white and graying hair stood cleaning a glass so foggy it was probably better to throw it out. He found himself letting out a breath that'd been trapped in his chest since that morning. Finally some peace before he had to listen to Wade yap about bullshit he didn't in fact give a shit about.

"What'll you have?" the old man asked, his face screwing up in a wince as he limped towards Logan's spot at the end of the bar.

A quick glance down let him see the brace wrapped around the man's knee. "Whiskey on the rocks."

He nodded, slowly heading towards the center of the wall—a lonesome half empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the counter. Logan shifted, taking the center seat directly behind the man.

"I can't say I've seen you around before son."

He grinned, his finger tracing a random carving that'd been placed in the wood. "I just moved here. Living with a coworker."

"Coworker huh?"

The word didn't sound right to Logan, but he couldn't exactly call Wade his friend. Although they were more than people who fought together, more than men who shared blood during the same battle. That was the thing about Logan though. He'd never be able to put a label on something like that. To him...things weren't one or the other as much as he wanted to pretend they were. There was nuance to his life.

Complications which made living that much harder.

The man turned, surprised to see Logan so close, but didn't make note of it. Logan could see the gratitude in the way his drink was slid carefully to him. The small silent thank you in the bowl of pretzels placed beside it.

"You look lost."

Logan grunted, biting into the salty and dry snack. "Do I?"

"More than some of the others that come around here."

"And who comes around here?"

The man laughed. "No one as of late. You're the first young man I've seen in a while walk through those doors."

He bit back his laugh at the word young. The stories he could tell would leave the man baffled. About wars that no living person had witnessed. About when the world was far different than today—when mutants were freaks of nature and humans were far less forgiving. He could list it all and then some.

But whether or not someone would listen was another thing entirely.

"This place that old?" he inquired, sipping on the amber liquid with a contented sigh.

"Oh you bet." A weary laugh filled the space. "I bought this place in the sixties. When my wife was still my girlfriend. She almost left me because of it."

Logan huffed, his lips curling slightly. "She wasn't a fan?"

The man shook his head, tossing a cloth over his shoulder. "Still isn't. Well she...wasn't." He pressed his thumb to the worn gold band on his left hand. "When she was alive she used to host a book night. Helped bring in the men's wives. Kept them outta trouble."

"Book night huh?"

"She loved to read."

Before he could down the final sips of his drink it was topped off. Logan nodded his head in thanks, his thumb digging into the thumbprint shape of the glass. If he thought about it hard enough, he could almost see himself coming here every night. He pictured a life far different than his own, a past where he might have been happy. With someone who might have even made him smile.

"I'm not much of a reader," he replied, his voice hoarse and eyes fixed on the ice that floated to the surface.

"Ah me too," the man laughed. "I just liked seeing her smile."

A soft remark was on the tip of his tongue before an entirely new image began to take shape. The face of someone lost. Of a smile he'd known better than his own. Hands that once held his face with the tenderness of a lover—a voice that sent the hair rising on the back of his neck. He could see it as clear as he did the man.

You in all your beauty. Lost to a past he could no longer rectify.

He swallowed thickly, beating back every emotion that crawled under his skin. "What's your name?"

"Travis."

Raising his glass, he tipped it towards the man with a tight grin. "Logan." The alcohol went down with a quick and biting burn. A feeling he'd grown familiar with. One he counted on.

"Nice to meet you Logan."

"Yeah you too."

He dug out some cash and tossed it on the bar as he stood with a slight grunt. He may heal quickly but the ache in his bones still existed. As if something resisted against how his body moved with each slow shift.

Fighting meant he could ignore it.

Existing is what made it worse.

The sun practically burned his eyes when he stepped out, the heat of the day encompassing his whole body quicker than he would have liked. For some unknown fucking reason, summer here felt worse than on his Earth. Then again the alcohol didn't help. He stood in the shade of the building next to the bar, searching the parking lot for any sign of Wade.

Going into the store wasn't an option and as much as he wanted to leave the annoyance behind, he didn't want to feel like a piece of shit. That is...even more than he already did.

"Fuck," he hissed, leaning against the brick wall. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

One option would be taking a walk to work off the energy that ran through his veins. At least then he'd be able to sleep at night. And the temptation almost worked. If it weren't for the shop doors that opened to his left, effectively distracting him from the chance of leaving. He could have ignored the person, probably should have given everything he'd been through.

But then his heart dropped to his stomach as you walked out. He'd never seen you in such a soft sundress before, the off white fabric draped off your curves in a way that floored him. As if you were an angel floating by without a care in the world. You were busy shoving a small piece of paper in your purse, your face furrowed in frustration, and Logan smiled. Because he'd traced each line of that face before, he'd kissed those cheeks, your eyelids as you slept.

He'd loved you in ways that would scare a normal human.

And there you were.

"Honey?" he called, unconsciously following you quicker than he intended to. "Honey."

You glanced to the side, completely unaware of the giant lumbering man trailing after you with a soft look on his face and hope in his hands.

That alone tore him in two more than the memories from before.

"Baby, it's me."

The breeze finally went through the air, pushing the skirt of your dress a bit higher on your thighs. Except that's not what he latched onto. Your scent was different. Unlike any he'd encountered before. Honey still sweetly caressed his senses, but flowers overlayed that—peonies if he guessed. Delicious enough to have his mouth watering; his body already aching for you to be closer. To look at him in the way you used to.

He wanted to call out to you—gain your attention properly—but your name wouldn't leave his tongue. Because you were there and you finally caught sight of him and you were looking at him as if nothing bad ever happened between the two of you.

You saw him as a man.

Not a disappointment.

He willed himself to stop and breathe. Take in his surroundings; realize that you weren't who he once knew. You weren't even the same fucking person.

But before he could think straight, he'd already followed you halfway to your car. His eyes were dazed, heart nearly throttling him alive as he stood there dumbly. Waiting for you to finally speak.

"Oh..." Your heart rate spiked quicker than he expected. He couldn't find it in himself to feel bad though. "Hello?"

"Honey," he sighed, the weight on his shoulders lifting ever so slightly.

He caught the way your fingers tightened around your keys, the defense mechanism an instinct by now. And Logan realized what he looked like. A strange man standing too close for your liking. So he took a step back and gave you some space. In the hopes that you wouldn't see him as a threat. That maybe...you'd listen to what he had to say.

"Can I help you?" you asked, eyes darting around the parking lot in case you needed help.

What he wouldn't give for the opportunity to reassure you. To explain that he wasn't here to hurt you. That he'd kill himself before even laying a hand on you. Yet the correct words were lost and all he seemed to get out was an incoherent babble that had him wanting to dig his own claws into his chest.

"You smell different."

You straightened your spine, eyes narrowed into a glare he felt burn across his skin. "Look, I don't know who you are. But fuck off."

Something akin to pride flared in his chest at your tone, your words. But he couldn't show it externally. How would he explain that your fight—your fire—is what drew him to you in the first place? How could he tell you about a version of yourself you'd never know? A person he thought would be with him until his last breath exhaled into the world.

"I'm not here to hurt you." He raised his hands in an attempt to prove his point, but like your variant counterpart you were willing to bite first and ask questions later.

"Yeah. Sure asshole." The shopping bag in your other hand was lifted up, until you had a tighter grip on it in case something happened. You didn't know him. You probably never would.

But Logan had to try. He owed it to you to give it all he had this time around.

Otherwise...what was the point of living?

"My name's–" He made the wrong move stepping forward and knew it the second his boot hit the gravel. With a wince, he watched you stumble back against your car, your arm coming up to protect yourself. "No. Look I'm not gonna do anything–"

"Get the fuck away from me," you spit.

He moved back as if approaching a wounded animal—his body finally on edge in a new way. The fact that you didn't know him wasn't what broke off another chunk of his heart. He could handle that. He'd been through that.

You were afraid of him.

That realization dug in too deep for his body to heal.

That...he couldn't live with.

"WOAH hey!" He'd never appreciated Wade's irritating ass more than in this moment. He jumped between the two of you, the cart of groceries forgotten as he blocked Logan from your sight. "Step away from the nice lady wolf boy." Wade regarded you with a smile. "Hi! Sorry. This is my uncle and well as you can probably tell he's lost eight of his lives. So we're going on little old nine. And well the mind just goes to shit first."

Seconds passed by like minutes and Logan watched you visibly deflate. "Wade," you greeted him, visibly calmer than before. Logan felt his stomach twist violently at the thought. "It's good to see you. How's the job?"

"Oh yup you know. Left that. But I'm really pushing through. I've got an Etsy store where I sell miniature paintings of Michael Angelo's David's penis. So there's that."

Your laughter sent a hole through his chest and Logan bit back the growl that rose up the back of his throat. What the fuck was Wade doing making friends with you? Why were you laughing at his humor?

He couldn't count how many days he'd spent longing to hear your laugh again, the shine in your eyes that always came around when joy flooded your bloodstream. He could smell the honey off your skin, the warmth of what no doubt lay beneath your thin dress. And he wanted to rip Wade to pieces knowing that he was the one making it happen. That you were comfortable with a man who's mouth ran at a mile a minute.

"Did your sister have the baby yet?"

You brightened and Logan felt his heart stutter. "She did! A boy."

"Named Wade I hope."

Another peal of laughter had Logan's claws itching to descend as you ignored he was there. "Theo actually. A cutie."

"Aww." Wade moved closer, head bent to see the small polaroid you pulled out of your wallet. "Wow, he looks like you'd find him in a Gerber's advertisement."

Your eyes drifted up, past Wade's shoulder, until you finally caught Logan's gaze. And he felt like he could breathe. Every ounce of fear was wiped from your face; interest now creeping in as you dragged your eyes down his form. Past the slight peek of chest hair and down to how his jeans hugged his hips. Logan stood taller for your benefit, as if he needed to make a good impression.

He wanted to linger in your mind for days. Until the curiosity ate you alive.

"We're gonna go," Wade announced, after grabbing your bag and placing it in your trunk for you. "Someone has to feed the blind woman in my apartment. She tends to root through everything looking for food." He gripped Logan's arm, shoving him back a good few feet. Even as your eyes still remained glued to his face. "Glad to see the Hyundai is still working. You know you could take the fattest fucking nap in the back of that puppy. Makes you feel like an Egyptian mummy."

"Bye," you said, a dazed look in your eyes as Logan smiled in your direction. At ease with the knowledge that even in a different universe, he could still fluster you with a look.

Dragging himself away from you was hell, but Wade's grip remained unbreakable as they clambered to the car. The groceries stacked in the small backseat.

He could glimpse you driving off and suddenly the nightmare from earlier was the last thing on his mind.

Wade's back hit the wall with a crack before the door could shut properly. The groceries in their hands toppled to the floor. He barely had time to duck before Logan's claws were aiming for his head—a snarl ripping from his throat.

"What the fuck?" Wade shouted, grabbing the paper bag and gently setting it on the table. "Next time just say you need to stay home and find some joy in an empty room and your hand."

"How do you know her?"

Wade smiled, assessing the furious state of chaos Logan was now left in. The tatters of his stability falling to the floor around him. For as much as he held himself together, it certainly remained easy enough to tear him a part.

"Got an eye on someone, do we honey badger?"

Logan grimaced, running a hand down his face. "Would you just fucking tell me?"

"Let me bask in this Logan. I'm about to watch a romcom come to life and need some popcorn." He rummaged through the bag, yanking out some chips. "Salty and sweet. That'll do."

"Wade," he bit out.

"Stick with us girls, we're about to get to the good stuff."

"WADE!"

He tossed the bag to the table, eyeing the way Logan never quite settled. "I'm gonna take a guess and say we know her more than just friendly hellos."

Logan couldn't answer because his grief did it for him. He did what he could to catch his breath, to stop seeing his version of you. The disappointment on your face, the pain in your voice. You'd been so angry with him. To watch the person he loved be reduced to a screaming crying mess wasn't something he wanted to relive, but Wade's question seemed to send an avalanche toppling to the ground.

"She's..." He sucked in a breath. "On my world. I...knew her."

"Knew her? Or knew her."

He reached for the bottle of whiskey Wade threw in with the rest of the groceries and popped it open before he spoke again. "It didn't end well between us. None of it did."

Wade fell silent and Logan found himself loathing the quiet more than the sound of his voice. If he was joking Logan could ignore it. He could pretend nothing happened. That you weren't here, you couldn't be hurt by him again.

You were safe from his destructive tendencies as long as you were in another universe.

"She lives across the street." Logan's head rose and whipped to see the window that faced the building across from them. "The old uncultured shit whistles that keep complaining about WHAM! the greatest thing to happen to music. They're her neighbors. Live right next door."

"Neighbors."

Wade nodded, offering him a chip. "She found their note and angel that she is, she very sweetly threatened to get them evicted. I offered to let her borrow my katanas but was rejected like younger me on prom night. You've really got yourself a catch there buddy."

Logan didn't need Wade to tell him how fucking lucky he was. He knew that the second you walked out of that store. You were everything good in his life at one point, everything he couldn't save. There wasn't much keeping him going on his old Earth, but having you made all the suffering he went through—all the pain he endured—worth it.

If you were waiting for him at the end, he'd do it all over again.

"So you want to take a dip in that honey huh? Taste that rainbow?"

His claws would have sunk into Wade's throat if a knock hadn't sounded at the door. With a huff, he stepped into the kitchen, the bottle clutched tightly in his hand. Whoever decided to give Wade some luck was of no concern to him.

Or so he believed.

"I didn't mean to accidentally take your groceries," you laughed, handing over a overpacked paper bag.

Stuffing the bottle under the sink, he met you halfway to the living room, his eyes drinking in the sight of you still in that dress. Still delicate enough for him to rip if he tugged it right. Heat curled along the base of his spine when your eyes met his, wide and glimmering with your laughter. He felt himself crumple at the sight of your lips parting, the surprise at his size still enough to make you speechless.

"Good to see you again," he greeted you, voice low and soft.

You didn't mean to grow flustered in his presence, but something about the way his gaze devoured you within seconds left you breathless. The swooping sensation in your stomach became too much to handle. Desire and attraction weren't unknown concepts to you. But this felt like more. You could sense him right down to your bones and it scared the shit out of you.

"Oh right!" Wade scooched past you to swing an arm around Logan's shoulders. He did what he could to not stab him in the stomach. "This is Logan. My hunky new roommate."

Logan groaned. "Alright–"

"No, no it's good. You remember when I was declared basically the savior of the universe?"

Your face screwed up in confusion. Logan had never wanted to kiss someone more.

"Marvel...Jesus right?"

"I prefer MJ. Since I've got a Peter." Wade's head whipped to the side. "Suck it Tom Holland." His grip on Logan tightened. "This walking People's Sexiest Magazine helped. We're talking big claws, abs you just want to lick whipped cream off of–"

Logan's elbow slammed into Wade's stomach—crimson slowly tinting the tips of his ears. "That's enough."

"AND the Wolverine."

Surprised etched itself onto your face even further. Until you finally regarded Logan with a look he'd seen once before. Awe. When you first met one another in the halls of the mansion, you stared at him that exact way. As if you couldn't quite believe that iconic figure the X-Men made him out to be actually existed.

He couldn't tell if he liked it. Or if he'd rather you view him as a stranger.

"Logan," he said, offering his hand to you politely. Your skin remained as soft as he remembered.

Warmth bloomed in your body at the feeling of his calloused palm overwhelming yours, the scars across his knuckles old and ancient. Yet you found yourself wanting to trace them over and over, until the sight of them seared in your mind. You fought the urge to press your lips to them, etch your own mark into his skin. Something told you he wouldn’t mind.

Logan could see the intrigue on your face—the distracted gaze he wanted to keep in place. You were still curious. Still willing to learn about him. To pick him a part with soft words and even softer touches.

"Logan," you murmured under your breath, your eyes catching his. He felt his stomach leap at the sound of your voice whispering his name. Memories flooding his mind quicker than he expected. Of mornings spent in bed, your skin pressed against his. Of nights alone in his cabin—your stories lulling him to sleep.

Everything he willed himself to forget, yet could never truly let go of.

"I've got to head back." Disappointment filled your heart at the thought of not getting a chance to talk to him more. He had yet to let go of your hand and you found you liked his touch on your skin. "I'll see you soon Wade."

"Logan will be more than happy to walk you back," Wade replied, waving drastically behind your back. "Can't have you getting hurt now can we? Right peanut?"

You smiled. "I'm just across the street."

"I don't mind," Logan cut in, glaring at Wade to shut the fuck up.

"Okay," your voice was soft. Happy.

Logan would have done anything to keep it that way.

The walk back wasn't long enough for him to explain his actions from earlier, but you seemed to be just as smart as your variant self. Shutting the building's door, you turned to him—your dress fluttering in the breeze. Logan choked on his spit at the slight peek of your ass before you pushed the skirt back down around you.

"Did you know me?" You lead him to the corner, waiting for the traffic to die down. "On your Earth."

He paused, his eyebrows pulling together, and for a moment you wondered if you asked the wrong question. Wade told you bits and pieces of what happened since you last saw him, but Logan's background wasn't a discussion you tried to seek out. All you knew was that Wade acquired a new roommate. Not even a name.

Certainly not that he was Wolverine.

"Yes," Logan muttered, glancing at the change in lights.

You started to walk. "In what way?"

His hands curled into fists—echoes of his past rising to the surface. "We were...friends. You're a professor."

"A professor?" you exclaimed, a smile tugging on your lips. "Am I a mutant?"

He nodded. "You're able to bend time. Or control it." He snorted, following your lead towards your building. "I could never understand it. But Charles did."

The walk up to your apartment was silent, your thoughts filled with the new information he'd given you. And no matter how hard you tried to picture it, you couldn't see yourself as a mutant. A powerful being that held the ability to manipulate time who just so happened to be a professor. Somehow even thinking about it made you wonder why Logan was bothering to entertain this version of you. When the better one existed on his Earth.

"You said were."

Stopping at your door, he nearly knocked into you. "Hm?"

"Were friends. What happened?"

The answer he couldn't give you. The words he wouldn't even admit out loud to himself.

He felt his heart twist as if a knife slowly carved through his spleen. "We uh..." He coughed. "You..."

"I don't have to know." Grasping gently onto his arm, you offered a warm smile he felt down to his toes. A look he hadn't seen in quite some time. Logan could picture the last day you were happy in his head. Laughing with Charles in his office as you shared dinner, working on theories of your powers late into the night.

A week before they came.

"It's good to see you like this," he breathed, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek before stopping midair. "Happy."

Your eyebrows knit together. "I wasn't happy?"

"No." What he wouldn't give to take that information back, but it was out in the open, and as always—he remained too late.

"Why?" you asked, your hand sliding down to his much to his delight.

"I made you a promise." He sucked in a breath, his body begging him to start running. You'd be better off if you never knew. If you never remembered him in the first place. "I couldn't keep it."

I'll always keep you safe.

Words he refused to say again.

How could he promise this version of you that? How could he look you in the eyes and lie again? Breaking his Earth's you would haunt him for the rest of his life. He couldn't fathom doing it all over. It would kill him.

Except you weren't the person in his mind. You weren't the mutant who hated him with every fiber of your being. You were you. A continuous surprise that left his heart stuttering in his chest each time you looked his way. An enigma he found himself wanting to unravel.

"Maybe this time around you can," you said softly, letting him go with a smile as you entered your apartment, effectively opening the wound in his heart so wide there was no saving him.

Although he now knew something he didn’t know before.

He didn’t want to be saved.

[wooyoungiewritings]

Red Dress - Seonghwa x Reader (NSFW)

Summary: It's time for the annual trip to the mountains to celebrate Christmas with the Parks. That including the human version of a headache, their son - Park Seonghwa. You've never gotten along, you'd even go so far to call him your worst enemy. But something happens on the trip, something neither of you can explain. It leads both you and Seonghwa into unknown territories, but one thing is for sure. It's all thanks to the red dress.

Word count: 20.6K

Genre: Fluff (!!) enemies to lovers, smut (yall.. seonghwa in this one... WOOOH it's getting hot in here)

warnings: "Enemy" Seonghwa with fem reader (fem pronouns). Hwa's mother has passed away, calls reader "sunshine", Seonghwa is a tease and he loves it, Hwa is a D-O-M, messy blowjob, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex, aftercare (he's so sweet please), lmk if I missed anything!

This is all for fun and is not meant to represent Seonghwa in any way.

You zip your last bag, trying to gather some kind of overview. Your main luggage bags and two smaller bags filled to the brim. You made sure to pack thoroughly. It would be dreadful to forget something important while staying in the mountains, with the possibility of being snowed in.

A quick buzzing sound came from your phone, your hands grabbing it from your back pocket. You don’t even realize the deep sigh escaping between your lips as you read the name on the screen, somehow you hear the annoyance in the simple text.

Seonghwa i’m here

You type back, wanting him to elaborate.

You at the main entrance?

Seonghwa no i’m on top of the building i just landed my helicopter

yes i’m at the main entrance

You 2 minutes

You roll your eyes as you throw your phone on the bed, looking around your apartment for the last few things to pack. The next few hours are gonna be horrific, being squeezed in your car with the human version of a headache. 

Park Seonghwa.

Despite the two of you not being able to get along, your families do, and they use every possible opportunity to do things together. The annual cottage trip to the mountains for Christmas is no exception. His dad and his sister are all very nice people, watching over you like your own family. His mom was also the kindest woman you’ve ever known, but she sadly passed away six years ago due to sickness. When you were kids, everyone got along just fine. Not the best, because you still thought Seonghwa was teasing you a lot, but it was still manageable. But after his mom’s passing, your relationship with Seonghwa got even worse. 

You never spoke to him about her, because you were simply not that close, but that just resulted in you and him not getting along at all. He got more snarky, which resulted in you getting more snarky.. And now whenever you two spoke, it was always with a hint of teasing and/or mockering. 

You jug to the door as a knock echoes through your apartment, and you open up to see Seonghwa looking unsatisfied on the other side. You can already hear him complain about having to walk up a few sets of stairs, so you turn around before he opens his mouth.

“I’ll be ready in a second.” You say as you walk away, hearing him close the front door as he enters your apartment. 

“Take your time, it’s not like we’re the only ones who aren’t there yet.” Seonghwa mumbles sarcastically, loud enough for you to hear and you bite your tongue before something slips out.

You try your best to carry most of your bags to the front door where Seonghwa is waiting, arms crossed over his chest. He’s still wearing his boots and bomber jacket, not showing any signs that he’s willing to help you carry your stuff. His hair is annoyingly perfectly set, despite it being 7 in the morning like he had all the time in the world to get dressed.

“You know we’ll only be gone for two weeks, not a year, right?” He asks as you put down the bags on the floor in front of him. 

“Seonghwa, it’s 7 in the morning. Can you at least wait until the sun is up to be a pain in my ass? How are you awake right now?” You can’t stop the words from leaving your mouth when you glance at him. 

“I’m an insomniac, this is normal.” He shrugs his shoulders. 

You’re not in the mood to continue the conversation so you go back for the last bag, carry it to the front door and Seonghwa (thankfully) helps you carry the bags down the stairs and to your car. His luggage is waiting in the lobby, he probably didn't want to carry it to your floor after traveling with it to your apartment building. 

Both of your families left for the cottage yesterday, but you and Seonghwa had to wait a day to travel because of busy schedules, and at the end of the day, it was just easier to travel together. You and Seonghwa agreed to take your car to the cottage, so you walk outside where your car is parked, and Seonghwa lunges your bags into the trunk.

“Holy shit, what did you put in this bag? A dead body?” He complains and you throw in your bags in the backseat. You open the door to the driver's seat, but look back at him as he loads the trunk.

“If we’re gonna make it through this trip, you have to stop being ironic in every sentence.” You get in the car and turn it on, hurrying to heat up the vehicle. Fog leaves your mouth as you speak, and you rub your hands to create some warmth.

“Fine,” Seonghwa simply answers before closing the trunk and making his way to the driver's seat where you are sitting. “Get out.” He looks down at you with the unreadable expression he always wears, and you scoff.

“Out? It’s my car?” You state, almost like a question. 

“Yes, but I’m driving.”

“Give me one good reason”

“Well, it’s 7 in the morning and you’re not a morning person, your road rage gets 50 times worse in the morning, especially when the roads are slippery. So you should take this as me doing you a favor. Now move.” Seonghwa cocks his head towards the passenger seat, confidently standing in the door to the driver’s seat, leaning up against the car. His face is hard to read, but every word he spoke had a truth behind it. Despite you and him not getting along, you’ve grown up close together, resulting in you knowing almost everything about each other.

A deep sigh leaves you as you step out of the car, not wanting to admit how he’s right.

“You have a lot of nerve talking like you’re the one owning this car.” You say as you enter the passenger seat, getting comfortable. 

“I just want you to be my passenger princess, is that too much to ask?” Seonghwa sends you a smirk before driving the car away from your apartment complex, and you’re headed to the cottage where both of your families are waiting for your arrival. 

A couple moments in silence pass, and the city starts to wake up as the sun brightens up your surroundings. Generic Christmas music plays on the car radio, a channel that has played ‘Last Christmas’ and ‘All I Want For Christmas’ nonstop since the middle of November. 

“Is your sister coming?” You ask, looking out of the window to your side. 

“Not this year. Her boyfriend offered her to celebrate Christmas with his family.” Seonghwa’s focus stays on the road as he answers.

Seonghwa’s sister is two years older than him, but you and her have always gotten along well. One of your fondest memories with her was when you were kids and forced Seonghwa into their mother’s clothes, and you and his sister used him as a canvas to test your makeup skills. That was the time when everything was fun and everyone got (somewhat) along. 

Not like now.

“Have you gotten better at skiing or do we get that atrocious fall again?” His voice has a tease to it as he glances over at you beside him. 

“It was a year ago, and it wasn't my fault.. I’ve gotten better.” You sound confident as you look over at Seonghwa who has an eyebrow raised suspectfully. On your last trip to the cottage with the Parks, you fell while skiing, which resulted in you being unable to walk for the rest of the trip. You promised yourself to never let that happen again.

“Oh yeah? You’ve been practicing?” He has a smug smile on his lips as he talks. 

“I’m better than you, we both know that.” A smile creeps up on your lips, doing your best to annoy him. A scoff leaves Seonghwa before he presses his tongue against the inside of his cheek, and you know you said the right thing.

“That almost sounds like a bet.” He says.

“And what if it is?” You ask daringly, up for a challenge. 

Yes, you and Seonghwa knew how to bicker, but what could make you both excited was a competition. Anything from board games to extreme sports, you love competing with each other. Or hate it. Love to hate it.

Seonghwa smiles with his annoyingly straight teeth, looking over at you for a second to see if you’re serious, before nodding. “Then I hope you’re okay with losing,” He answers confidently. “What’s the challenge?”

“Who gets down the slope first. Easy.” You shrug.

“What color are we talking?”

“Black, of course.” You try to read his expression, challenging him to ride the most dangerous hill on the mountain. 

“Black? You remember the black slope on the mountain, don’t you? You wanna race down from that?” There’s something unsure about his voice, but it only makes you want to continue going through with this bet.

“Are you scared?” You tease, looking at him with a smile. Knowing Seonghwa your entire life, you know exactly what buttons to press to get your way, and when a confident chuckle leaves his body, you know this bet is on.

“Alright, sunshine, let’s do this.” He smirks, looking at you briefly.

“Anything you wanna bet?” You ask, trying to hide your excitement that he fell into your trap and agreed to this.

Seonghwa takes a few seconds to think, tapping the steering wheel before he speaks. “The loser will do what the winner says for an entire day.” He suggests. 

Somehow you expected this penalty, so you roll your eyes as a scoff leaves you. “Boring, but fine,” You say before looking over at him. “I can’t wait to make you my little puppy.” A huge smile decorates your lips at the thought of Seonghwa in the palm of your hand for 24 hours.

He has a big smile on his lips as he leans back in the driver's seat, getting comfortable. 

“Keep telling yourself that, sunshine. I already have some things in store for you.” He doesn’t even look at you while talking, but he’s wearing his confident smirk as he speaks like he’s imagining what he’ll make you do if he wins. 

You can’t wait to remove that cocky smile.

***

After a few hours of driving, you finally arrived at the cottage. There had been a delay due to some accidents on the road. The further you made it to the mountains, the slippier the roads got, resulting in a few accidents. Luckily, there were no big accidents, and you and Seonghwa made it safely to the cottage.

Your family greeted you, as well as Seonghwa’s dad.

As you mom helps you take off your jacket, she sends you the warmest smile and tells you that your room is on the first floor, which you will be sharing with Seonghwa.

“Thanks, mom.” You send her a smile back and look around the cottage. It looks the same as always. The fireplace is heating up the entire living room, and Christmas stockings for each person hanging over it, including Seonghwa’s sister and mom. There’s a smell of cinnamon hanging in the air as you grab your stuff and head upstairs to unpack. The long hallway with three doors leads you to your room, and you know your room is at the end of the hallway. You pass the closed door to Seonghwa’s room and a bathroom, already excited to have a shower in the huge shower stall. 

As you step into your room, you notice that it has the same warm tones as the rest of the house, giving off a cozy feeling. The room is furnished with a massive bed, and at the end of the room, there is a large window that provides a breathtaking view of the mountains. On the bedside table, there is a lit-up candle, adding to the room's warm and inviting atmosphere.

You throw yourself on the bed, happy to finally be at the cottage. 

This is gonna be a good trip.. hopefully

***

“Last chance to back down, sunshine.” Seonghwa looks at the slope in front of him before looking at you. A confident smile spreads on your lips, knowing you’ll win this one.

“Over my dead body, Seonghwa. I’m so excited to have you wrapped around my finger for a day.” 

It was your first official day at the cottage, and of course you and Seonghwa had to settle your little bet, trying to figure out who was best down the mountain.

“You’re a lot of talk, no bite. Let’s see how your mouth runs when you’re going to be my servant for an entire day.” He sends you a smirk. Your eyes roll back, used to these comments.

“You always claim to be a gentleman. Is this how you normally speak to girls? No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend.” 

“They wouldn’t be able to handle me. Only you can.” The smirk is still evident on his lips. “Besides, I am a gentleman. In fact, I’ll even let you get 10 seconds as a head start.”

You try to read his face to see if he’s kidding, but when it looks like he means what he says, you scoff. “You’re gonna regret that.”

“I never regret anything when it comes to you.”

You both stare into each other’s eyes for a long second, and this only make you more excited. You love winning. Even better when you win over him. 

“I’ll see you down there.” You send him one last smile before making your way down the mountain. You use your poles to help increase the speed, using every opportunity to get down the mountain first. 

10 seconds isn’t a lot, but if you use them well, this win would be even easier. Wind rushes in your ears, snow flying as you go side to side down the slope. You don’t look back, not wanting to focus on Seonghwa behind you, so you stay in your own head, doing your best to come down as fast as possible. 

You feel your legs burn in the best way, having missed this feeling.

The feeling of being free and no one telling you to stop. The wind blows faster as you move quicker down the slope, following the trail. Suddenly, you see a figure, and lo and behold, Seonghwa is next to you. You can’t see his face due to his helmet, but you bet he's sending you a smile behind the glass. He sends you a wave before he passes you on his snowboard, and suddenly he’s in the front. 

Your poles help you increase the speed even more, and you bend your knees to go even faster. Further down, you start to see the finish, and despite being behind Seonghwa, you still have a chance. He moves quick and even manages to be slightly daring on the way down, but you can take him.

You’re sure of it.

Well, that’s until a kid suddenly falls in front of you, and you quickly have to make your way around them. You make a turn, a little too sharp, and pass the kid lying in the snow. The last thing you see is Seonghwa reaching the bottom of the slope before you fall forward and roll a few meters in the snow. Confused, you lay still for a few moments, trying to gather what just happened. All you see is white from the snow until a figure comes into sight.

“Are you okay?” Seonghwa’s concerned voice suddenly speaks, and you look up to see him hurry to you. You try to move, realizing you’ve somehow lost both of your skis in your fall.

“I’m fine, ow.” A sharp pain shocks through your leg, starting from your ankle. The pain is enough to suddenly send a stinging feeling in your eyes, tears slowly forming. 

“Is this how you make me feel bad for winning?” Seonghwa tries to help you up from the snow, grabbing you under your arms.

“It doesn’t count, I fell. We should try again to see- OW!” 

Another sharp pain shocks you, even worse than before, and you give up trying to get up this way. You sit up, no visible injuries, only the pain in your ankle. 

“Can you stand up?” He asks, looking down at you. 

“I’m not sure.” 

“Get on my back.” Seonghwa moves in front of you, kneeling down so you can jump on his back. You shake your head, not wanting to admit how bad your ankle hurts.

“No, it’s fine.” You try to stand up, but wince when the pain only gets worse.

“Can you stop being stubborn and let me help you? Get on my back.” His voice is serious, and it’s clear you won’t get it your way. You do your best to get on his back without putting too much pressure on your leg, and he stands up with you. He holds you under your knees while your arms hold around his neck. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah..”

He manages to get you to a bench, and after a few moments of him checking up on you, looking for any visible damages, it’s clear that the pain in your ankle is getting worse. You (or more like Seonghwa) make the decision not to ski anymore, so he ends up carrying you to the cottage. 

You feel grateful on Seonghwa’s behalf that it’s close to the ski resort so he won’t have to carry you too far. Both of you still in your ski clothing, you know everything is heavier than normal. 

And despite you telling him that it’s fine and that you can call for someone else to help you, he acts like he doesn’t hear you and continues to carry you home. 

Not a word is said between you, he makes his way inside the cottage with you on his back. He helps you out of your jacket and ski pants, so you’re left with your long-sleeved shirt and leggings. He quickly takes off his own ski clothing before suddenly carrying you bridal style, making his way to the stairs. 

Your arm encircles his neck as he carefully walks up the stairs, ensuring your foot doesn't touch anything.

“You don’t have to do this.” You almost whisper.

“I know.” He responds, seeing the door to your room. He walks in and puts you on the bed softly. You wince when you move your ankle, and Seonghwa notices immediately. “Where does it hurt?”

“My ankle, and down to the heel.” You point exactly where it hurts, and he looks at your foot before grabbing his phone from his pocket.

“I’ll be right back,” Is the only thing he says before he makes his way out of your room and you hear him walk down the stairs. You have no idea what he’s doing or what you’re waiting for. You just use this moment to be thankful that you didn’t get hurt anywhere else.

After a few minutes, you hear Seonghwa’s voice get closer as he makes his way up the stairs. You hear him talking on the phone.

“Yes.. Alright. No, it looks a little swollen. Okay, thank you.” He appears at your door with some ice in a towel and walks closer to your bed. He sits down by your legs and places the ice on your ankle. “Here, keep this on for 15 minutes and then off for 15 minutes. Then repeat as much as possible.” 

“Who’d you talk to?” You ask.

“I called the local doctor. If it gets worse you have to do a checkup, but for now, you just have to rest. Try not to walk on your foot, so call for me if you need anything.” He looks at you briefly before standing up. You’ve never seen this side of Seonghwa before, and having him take care of you like this, is making you feel something strange in your stomach. 

You look up at him from the bed, not knowing what to say. “Thank you.” You barely whisper.

He sends you a quick and awkward smile before he turns around and walks out of your room. He closes the door behind him, and you realize you’re stuck in bed after a fall, just like last year. You sigh, annoyed that this happened, but there isn’t much you can do about it. 

Laying in your bed, you suddenly feel your eyes getting heavier. It isn’t like you have anywhere else to go, so you use this opportunity to close your eyes and take a nap. It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep, and you allow yourself to sleep until you wake up.

***

It’s still bright outside when your eyes open, but when you look at the clock on your nightstand, you realize that you’ve been sleeping for a few hours. You don’t hear a sound from the rest of the house, and you wonder if Seonghwa left or if he’s asleep as well.

There’s still a sharp pain in your ankle, the ice has melted a bit. You sigh and look around the room. There isn't much to do when you’re stuck here. But the dryness in your mouth tempts you to leave your bed and get something to drink.

You know Seonghwa said to call for him if you needed anything, but a quick run to the kitchen couldn’t cause any more damage to your ankle, right? Besides, maybe he’s sleeping, and you don’t want to wake him up.

You manage to get out of bed, limping down the silent hallway. Thankful for the staircase, it helps you take it slow and hold you as you make your way down the stairs. It does hurt when you put pressure on it, but not as much as the fall last year. 

Finally, you make your way to the kitchen. It’s a little cold down here, so you want to prepare something hot. Drinking hot drinks after skiing reminds you of when you were younger. The feeling of the warmth running through your body and-

“What part of ‘call me if you need anything’ didn’t you understand?” Seonghwa’s voice makes you jump and you look behind you to see him enter the kitchen.

“I was just getting something to drink.” You mumble, standing by the cabinet to get a mug.

“You can’t walk on your foot.” He sounds like an annoyed dad as he finds a stool and places it by the kitchen island. He cocks his head towards the stool and you sit down on it. He’s showing a very bossy side of himself, and you’re not sure how to respond to it.

“I made it down here, didn’t I?” You mumble mostly to yourself, but he hears and sighs deeply.

“It’s not gonna heal if you walk,” He makes his way to the fridge and looks inside. “What do you want?”

“Hot cocoa.”

He looks back at you. “You couldn’t have said water?” His brow shoots up, looking slightly annoyed, but you shake your head.

“You asked what I want and I want hot cocoa.” Your voice is talking at a low volume, and you’re sure that if you were a dog, your ears would be hanging low and your tail would be between your legs. Seonghwa takes a second to think for himself, watching you before another sigh leaves him. 

“I guess I’m making you hot cocoa then.” He tilts his head to the side before grabbing a mug and finding the ingredients to make you some hot cocoa. You don’t say much as he prepares it, enjoying seeing him do something like this for you. 

“I thought since I lost our bet that I was being your servant for the day.” You tease, trying to fill the heavy air with some conversation.

“Well, that was before you decided to fall and make yourself useless,” He looks back at you and sends you a teasing smirk. “Besides, I’ll just save it for another day. Don’t think I’ll forget, sunshine.” 

You can't help but smile at his teasing. Usually, you want to rip his hair out, but right now, you're actually enjoying being in the same room as him.

He’s making your hot cocoa, and you feel slightly useless, sitting and staring at him. The couch is in your sight, so you step down from the stool, but as soon as your (healthy) foot touches the floor, Seonghwa’s eyes are on you. He stares at you as you freeze, scared you’ve done something wrong.

“What?” You ask. 

“Where are you going?” He’s quick to ask back.

“To the.. couch, if that’s okay with you?” 

Seonghwa doesn’t waste a second, dropping the tablespoon on the counter, taking you up bridal style again, and walking towards the couch.

“Seonghwa, you don’t have to do this,” You know saying it won’t make him stop. He’s as stubborn as you. He carefully puts you down on the couch, raising your leg so it rests on the extended part of the couch before he runs back to the kitchen. He appears a few seconds later with your hot cocoa in hand and places it on the table in front of you. “Thank you.”

“Anything else?” He asks, standing up in front of you. You look behind him at the TV, your eyes catching the remote lying on top of a shelf behind him.

“The remote..” You point.

He hands you the remote. “Alright.. If I see you walking by yourself again I’ll chain you to the couch, understood?” He looks you deep in the eyes, and for some reason, you almost think he’s serious. 

“Yes, sir.” You say teasingly, and he scoffs at you before disappearing again with a smile. 

A smile that looks dangerously good.

***

Every year you go out to have dinner at the fancy restaurant in the city close to the cottage. But due to your little stunt on the mountain yesterday, you all had to go for dinner today, as you couldn’t possibly use your foot. But it’s already getting better, and it isn’t as swollen as yesterday, so you felt even more ready for a nice evening out.

Maybe all the carrying from Seonghwa did help after all.

It’s also a fun excuse to dress up for a night and eat delicious food, so you remembered to pack the fancy dress you bought for this special occasion. A maroon-colored dress with a bare back, dropped shoulders and it hugs your body perfectly, ending on the middle of your thighs. You look in the mirror one last time before making your way downstairs to the others. It’s fun to see your parents in their fancy attire, looking like they just fell in love with each other again. 

You smile to yourself as you look around and immediately notice a set of eyes staring you down.

Seonghwa is leaning against the back of one of the couches, adjusting the cuffs on his shirt as his gaze falls on you. You can't help but smirk in response. His eyes meet yours, and you can't resist glancing down at his attire.

He is in his black blazer with black pants, but instead of a regular button-down underneath, he is wearing something a runway model would wear. A white silk shirt with ruffles and lace is showing under his jacket, and no part of you is surprised by his choice of clothes. Whenever he can wear something a little different, he will, and he always pulls it off. 

Is he the biggest pain in the ass? Absolutely. 

Is he also very attractive? Oh, absolutely.

It’s actually irritating how beautiful this man is, but no way in hell you would ever tell him that. He knows he looks good, no need to boost his ego.

You decide to look away from him before you make yourself too obvious, as you get the sense that it’s time to leave soon. You decide to wait outside by the door as you’re waiting for the two families to leave. Suddenly, a presence is standing next to you, but you don’t need to look to see who joined you.

“Like what you’re seeing?” You ask teasingly, not even sparing him a glance.

“You look like my dream girl.” Seonghwa says confidently as he steps in front of you, looking down into your eyes.

His tall frame takes up most of the space in your sight, and you look up to meet his dark eyes. For some unknown reason you feel your heart beating faster, and it only increases when he puts some hair behind your ear.

“Really?” You manage to get out.

“I never said what kind of dream,” he says, slowly leaning in to whisper in your ear. “You’re my fucking nightmare.”

Seonghwa leans back to send you a wink along with a smirk before turning around to walk away and enter one of the cars waiting outside, leaving you behind, baffled. You almost want to laugh at how ridiculous he is, mentally cursing yourself for showing a slight reaction to his words. You brush off the feeling inside you and you enter another car waiting outside to take you to the restaurant in the city. 

You all drive for a few minutes, each family in each car, before entering the city with Christmas lights hanging everywhere. The restaurant is also decorated outside with lights, a group of Christmas carols singing on the other side of the street. 

It’s not like you’re from a rich family that goes to expensive restaurants a lot, but this was a tradition you’ve always shared with the Parks, so you would of course do it again this year. 

A male waiter follows you to your table, and you notice it’s a rather busy night, not seeing a single empty table. Christmas lights are decorating the ceiling, as well as generic Christmas instrumentals fill the air. A table for five comes into view with lit-up candles, and you find your way to the end. Your parents are busy talking with Seonghwa’s dad, laughing at something that happened before you arrived earlier today, leaving you in your own world. The waiter hands out a menu for you, and you can’t help but notice how his eyes linger on you for a few seconds, his dimples showing when you make eye contact. You can’t help but smile back at his warm eyes, feeling the heat in your cheeks. He disappears again after having handed out the menus to the rest of the table, and you look across the table by chance and notice how Seonghwa’s eyes are staring at you. 

Something you can’t read is evident in his gaze, but you choose to quickly shoot your eyes to the menu. For some unknown reason, Seonghwa is making looking at him harder than usual, and you can’t exactly pinpoint what it is. 

A few moments pass, and the waiter comes back to take everyone's orders. He saves you for last, sending you a warm smile.

“And what can I get for you, miss?” His dimples even show when he’s talking. 

“I’m torn between the smoked salmon and the scallops.. Do you have a recommendation?” You send him a smile.

“Ohh, that’s a tough one.. Personally, I would be in for salmon, so that would be my choice. But that depends on you, of course.” He smirks, trying to continue the casual talk between you. You’re too lost in your conversation with him, figuring out what to eat, to realize the piercing eyes across from you. Seonghwa’s eyes shoot between you and the waiter, for some reason feeling annoyed with him. 

You end up choosing the smoked salmon, and handing him back the menu. A wink is sent in your direction before he makes his way to the kitchen. Casual talk then spreads across the table. Mr. Park looks in your direction, wanting to hear how you’ve been doing since the last time you spoke.

“I’ve been doing very well, Mr. Park, thank you for asking.” You respond to the kind man across the table.

“That’s good! And you’re still enjoying your job?” 

"Definitely. It is a bit far away though, so my car is very necessary. But it is having a hard time driving, especially in the winter months, so I’m considering saving up for a new car or finding a job a bit closer.” You answer, your parents adding to the conversation and carrying it on. 

“Maybe you should ask the waiter what he thinks you should do.” Seonghwa says across from you, low enough not to cause any attention to him from the rest of the table, but you hear him loud and clear. 

Your eyes glare at him, but he only responds with an annoying smile. You roll your eyes, trying to focus on the conversation between your parents. 

A few moments later your food arrives, and the salmon is placed in front of you. You all start eating, and you do your best to ignore the eyes looking at you from time to time across the table. 

Giving him attention will only make it worse, you think.

“How are you enjoying the salmon, miss?” A voice speaks behind you, and you look up to see the waiter sending you another smile. Cheeks heating up again, you do your best to answer confidently. 

“It’s really good, definitely the right decision.” 

“I’m glad, personally it’s my favorite item on the menu.” He tells you.

“I totally understand why, the greens on the side really complement it as well.” You add to the conversation. The kind waiter is about to answer when a voice interrupts.

“Waiter?” Seonghwa’s voice cuts through, stealing your attention. “I ordered my steak to be medium-well, this steak is cooked medium-rare.” He points at his food, eying the waiter.

An apologetic expression spreads on the waiter's face. “Oh, I’m sorry, sir. I’ll take it back to the kitchen for you.” He sends Seonghwa the best smile he can manage, before disappearing into the kitchen with Seonghwa’s food.

“Why did you do that?” Your eyes are locked on Seonghwa, trying to speak in a low voice so you won’t draw attention.

“I just want what I ordered.” Seonghwa shrugs before bringing his wine glass to his lips. 

“There’s no need to be an ass about it.” 

A smirk tugs on Seonghwa’s lips. “Aww, I’m sorry.. Am I making it hard for your boyfriend?”

“What is wrong with you?”

"What do you mean?" He asks.

"Would it kill you to see me be just a little happy?"

A scoff leaves his mouth. “Welcome to the real world. Maybe you’ll notice how everything isn’t perfect, sunshine.”

You want to reach across the table and rip that annoying smile off his face. Everything inside of you is boiling, even looking at him is making you feel insane. It takes everything in you not to say something rude because you’re all adults here (even if some aren't acting like it) and you want this trip to have good memories. 

You grab your wine glass and gulp down the last bit before heading to the bathrooms. 5 minutes away from Seonghwa would be enough not to scream at him. 

Luckily it isn’t filled with people in the bathroom, letting you get some time to breathe for yourself. 

You knew Seonghwa had gone through a hard time the last few years since his mom died, so you somehow always had an apology for him in your head, why he was acting like he was. But he was going personal tonight, and you didn’t know why. It wasn’t an excuse to be an asshole. 

You saw the rage in your eyes as you looked at yourself, but suddenly, your attention was stolen by the door opening to the bathroom. Seonghwa’s large frame entered the room, your eyes rolling at the sight of him.

“Did I say something to trigger you?” He spoke in a low voice.

“You do that all the time, Seonghwa. Don’t act like this is any different.” You didn’t spare him a glance as you spoke, keeping your eyes on yourself in the mirror.

“You haven’t walked away like that since I said your hair looked as fried as a burnt fry at McDonald's.” He calls back to a moment a few years ago when you were also fed up with his teasing. It wasn’t even that deep of a comment, you were just not feeling it that day.

“I guess I’m not in the mood for this right now.” You respond with a lower voice. Through the mirror, you look to see if any of the stalls are taken and if anyone is listening to your conversation. It doesn’t look like it. “Also, you’re in the women's bathroom. You can’t be here.”

“Well, I upset you and wanted to talk it out.”

A part of you wants to laugh. Never have those words left his mouth.

“How mature of you.”

“I’m sorry.” His footsteps are coming closer to you, and suddenly you see him in the mirror behind you. He actually sounds like he’s apologizing, and not saying this mockingly. It catches you off guard for a few seconds, but you make eye contact with him through the mirror. He’s watching you carefully like he’s afraid to say something else to upset you.

“Didn’t think you were capable of apologizing.” You want to joke, but the air between you is too heavy.

“Maybe you’ll learn some new things about me on this trip.” He says with his hands resting in the front pockets of his pants. 

“Maybe.” You shrug, finally turning around towards him. “If anything, you should apologize to the waiter.” You can’t help but feel sorry for the waiter, having to run around because of Seonghwa.

“I don’t care about the waiter.” His voice is cold.

“And you care about me?” You say with a laugh, expecting him to say ‘no’ immediately, but when silence surrounds the two of you, you suddenly don’t know what to say. His eyes are just watching you, studying your face and it makes you feel a certain way you haven’t felt before. A feeling you can't pinpoint what is. 

“You know what this dress needs?” He suddenly says, completely changing the subject.

“What?”

“A necklace.” He looks down on your bare neck. 

You know this dress calls for a necklace, and you mentally cursed at yourself when you realized you had left your bag of jewelry on your desk. Luckily, that is the only thing you’ve forgotten (hopefully).

“I forgot all of my jewelry at home.” You shrug.

His eyes focus on your neck for a short moment before he reaches behind his own neck. Suddenly, a necklace you didn’t know he was wearing came into sight and he held it out in front of him. A silver necklace with white pearl pendants.

“Turn around.”

You shake your head. “I’m not wearing your-”

“Turn around.” He says more firmly, and you do as he says. Your eyes focus on your neck as he places the necklace on you, and you immediately notice how well it compliments your dress. Seonghwa’s warm fingers lightly touch the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. This feels incredibly intimate, especially because you notice the way his eyes roam over you.

“It was my mothers.” Seonghwa says in almost a whisper, eyes still locked on your neck through the mirror. Your breath hitches, suddenly feeling like you shouldn’t be wearing this.

“Seonghwa.. I can’t wear this.” Your fingers touch the pendant. 

“I know she would’ve loved to see you in it.” A small smile tugs on his lips, obviously thinking about his mom. You don’t know what to say. His mom was the nicest woman you’ve ever met, and you do miss her dearly. You can’t even imagine how Seonghwa feels. “She really liked you, you know.” His eyes dart up, meeting yours through the mirror. 

“I liked her too.” You send him a smile, remembering all the good times you've shared with her.

“And I know she would've chopped my hands off if she knew I made you upset. So I’m genuinely sorry.” He looks apologetic, not an ounce of teasing evident in his voice. You’ve never shared a moment like this with him, and if you were close, you would’ve hugged him and told him everything was okay. But you can’t remember the last time you shared affection with him, so you just try your best to send him a smile through the mirror.

“Thank you.” Your voice is a whisper, and he steps closer to you to remove some hair on your shoulder. This makes the necklace more apparent on your neck, and you smile at the view. “It’s beautiful.”

You just now notice how close you are to him, slightly feeling his front against your bare back. He has a perfect height when he stands next to you, and even more when he stands behind you like now. 

His eyes are all over you through the mirror, and the feeling is not something you ever expected to feel so exciting. You can’t help but look back at him, seeing how good his suit looks on him. You stare at the shirt he’s wearing under his jacket, and in this light, you notice that it’s made of sheer fabric, making it slightly see-through. 

You hate how much you’re staring, but you can’t help it. And when he’s staring back at you, the same look in his eyes, you know you’re in too deep.

The door to the bathroom suddenly opens, and a lady stops at the door, looking confused as if she didn't think she entered the right bathroom. Seonghwa looks at her and then back to you through the mirror.

“I better go.” He says above a whisper, looking down at you one last time before heading out of the bathroom. You don’t pay any attention to the lady entering, only focused on what just happened between you and Seonghwa. 

It takes you a moment to get back to your senses, but you eventually get there and head back to your table.

The rest of the dinner went differently. Every time you looked across the table, you'd meet Seonghwa's eyes. You'd both hold the gaze for longer than you'd anticipate, feeling heat in your cheeks before darting your eyes away from him.

You didn’t see much of the waiter for the rest of the night, Seonghwa probably scaring him away from your table. 

When you made it home to the cottage, you all started getting ready for bed. It was getting late, and you were getting tired as well. Coming up from the stairs, you walked towards your room, when suddenly a hand grabbed your wrist. Surprised, you stop your tracks and look to see Seonghwa appear from his room. His eyes met yours in an instant, standing close to you.

“I apologized to the waiter. Happy?” He said with a low voice. He almost sounds defeated, like he lost an important battle, but you can’t help but enjoy it a little bit.

“I didn’t think you cared about him?” You said, finding it new that he’s apologizing.

“I don’t, not in the slightest. Couldn’t care less about what he’s feeling.” He shrugged, and you wanted to roll your eyes before he spoke again. “But I’m trying to do the right thing here. Even if I was just making him do his job, I could’ve been a little nicer. I’ll admit.” He kept the eye contact and the soft grasp around your wrist, making you focus on him.

A smile spreads on your lips. “Should I get used to this? You apologizing? Because I kinda like it.” You tease. He scoffs, looking down at you with the same look in his eyes as earlier. The one where he studies you to the smallest details, somehow making you nervous. 

“A little dangerous starting to like something that has to do with me, don’t you think?” He teases back, a smirk growing on his face. The dimmed light in the hallway makes everything seem slightly more intimate, and with the way you’re feeling when he’s looking at you like this, you know you have to keep your shit together. 

This is Park Seonghwa. 

Yes, he has helped you with your ankle and whatever.

But you’d never be able to actually get along. You’re built to argue with him. Tease, mock, pick on, just like he does with you. The two of you don’t know any better, but somehow, looking at him right now, you can’t do that. You don’t even know what to do, because you’ve never felt this way when looking at him. 

And it’s a brand new territory.

His free hand raises, and you do nothing but wait to see where it lands, when he suddenly traces his finger from your jaw and down to your neck. You feel the necklace move under his touch, suddenly reminded that you’re wearing it. 

“Oh, the necklace.” You put your hands behind your neck to take it off, but Seonghwa shakes his head, taking your hands down. 

“Let me.” He says, and you turn around, collecting your hair to one side. Waiting for him to take it off, you suddenly feel his hands on your waist, turning you slightly so he has better light. But the feeling of his hands on your waist makes your heart beat faster, leaving burning marks where his fingers touched. His fingers are on your skin as he removes the necklace sends shivers down your spine, and the necklace is gone. 

But Seonghwa notices the way you’re reacting to his touch, smiling to himself as you turn back around to face him. 

“Thanks for letting me borrow it.” You smile.

“Always.” 

With one last look, you decide to go into your room, scared of what could happen if you stayed out there any longer. 

***

You took a deep breath as you sat down on the bench at the end of the ski slope. You took a moment to watch people coming down the mountain on their skis or snowboards while you enjoyed finally being out again.

You had looked forward to this, spending the entire day here. This was one of the main reasons you even visited this cottage every year. To ski and have fun.

What you didn’t expect was the intense pain.

In your ankle? no.

Or a little, but the pain was mostly in your stomach due to your period. 

You didn’t think it would be arriving while being on this trip, but of course, it had to arrive at this time. Therefore, you didn’t have anything prepared, other than a few emergency pads. But the pain you felt was actually the worst, making you have to take a break.

You look up to see a person get close at an awfully fast speed on their snowboard, making you think they’ll crash into you but they stop right in front of you, making snow splash everywhere. You don’t have to think twice to recognize Seonghwa’s attire in front of you.

“Asshole.” You mumble as Seonghwa takes off his helmet, smiling at his own little stunt.

“You okay?” He asks, noticing the slight discomfort on your face.

“Yeah, it’s just… my ankle.” You lie. You didn’t feel like sharing with Seonghwa what was really hurting you. And your ankle did hurt a bit, so it wasn’t a complete lie. But it was definitely mostly the pain in your stomach that held you from being on the slopes right now.

“Is it getting worse?” Seonghwa asks, suddenly being back to being your doctor. 

“Yeah.” You respond, not exactly knowing what to say.

“Are you okay, honey?” Your mom suddenly appears in her ski attire, walking over to you and Seonghwa. 

“I’m fine.” You respond shortly.

“It’s her ankle.” Seonghwa says, making you want to throw a snowball in his face. Not only because it wasn’t the entire truth, but also because you know how much your mom is concerned about your ankle. You knew she wasn’t a fan of you being on the slopes already, scared that you might get as hurt as last year.

Your mom looks at you with worry. “Darling, you should take your time to heal.” She walks closer to you. “I don’t think skiing is a good idea..” Your mom doesn't hide the look on her face. You know she’s saying this with pure love, but you don’t know what else to do. This is what you came for. But she didn’t want you to get hurt, not any more than you already are.

“What else can I do?” You ask.

“You can drive to the city?” She sounds optimistic like it’s the funniest thing to do in an area filled with slopes and snow.

“To do what?” 

“I need some new ornaments for the tree. You can drive to the city and pick some for us.” She makes it sound like it’s the best idea ever. And you’ll admit; it was better than staying home while everyone else is out in the snow. 

“Fine..” 

“I’ll come with you.” Seonghwa suddenly adds to the conversation, and you and your mom both look at him.

“Are you sure?” Your mom asks, sounding slightly confused since she knows how you and Seonghwa never spend time together voluntarily. 

“Yeah, I’m getting a little sore from all the snowboarding, I could use a break,” He smiles at your mom. “Besides, with her luck, falling two years in a row, I think it’s a good idea to have someone keep an eye on her.” He smirks in your direction, but you only send back an obvious fake smile. 

Your mom’s face, on the other hand, lights up like a Christmas tree. It’s a tradition for your mom to get a new ornament for the Christmas tree every year, so you know this means more for her than it does for the rest of you. It was a tradition she shared with Seonghwa’s mom, but your mom continued it like she still had her best friend to do it with.

“Amazing! Can’t wait to see what you guys bring back.”

***

The trip to the city went as you’d expect. It wasn’t the best time of your life, but it was nice to finally be outside. You got to see the city in daylight, but it was definitely prettier in the nighttime with all the lights lighting up the sky. 

With Seonghwa’s help, you found seven ornaments - one for each of you. You picked one for yourself and your parents, while Seonghwa picked one for himself, his dad, his sister, and his mom. They were simple, the designs looking like they were supposed to be snowflakes, but they all looked different.

While Seonghwa paid for the ornaments, you looked at other Christmas decorations. There were all kinds of decorations, everything from the most elegant and minimalistic to the downright ugly. 

You stood with an elf in your hands, admiring how cute it was when another wave of pain suddenly hit your lower region. Despite living with it for years, you somehow never get used to it. You winced in pain, trying to keep a straight face when you suddenly felt a hand on your shoulder.

“You alright?” Seonghwa sounded worried, but you just nodded. You put down the elf and put on your best smile.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” 

As he opens the door for you, he still looks worried. You make your way to your car, and he unlocks it. Just as you grab the handle, you're hit with another wave of pain. You hold yourself on the stomach, slightly leaning forward, hoping to ease the discomfort. You quickly try to ignore the feeling and get into the car.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Seonghwa looks at you from the driver’s seat. “Are you sick? Is it your ankle?” The questions fly out of him like there’s no tomorrow, but you shake your head, not wanting to draw attention.

“No, no.. It’s fine. Just go.” 

“Do you need to pee? Are you hungry? Do you-”

“For the love of all great things, just drive, Seonghwa.” You don’t mean to make it sound rude, but the words left your mouth before you could even think.

Seonghwa responds with a deep sigh, before starting the car. “We need to get gas before we continue on, we’re running out.” 

Silence fills the air as he drives to a gas station not far away from the city. He gets out of the car and starts filling it up with the gas you need. A short moment goes by before he opens the door to reach for his wallet, but you stop him.

“I can pay for the gas.” You say, looking for your wallet in your bag. 

“It’s fine, I’ll pay. Wait here.” His voice is cold and you watch him as he makes his way into the gas station. You sigh to yourself, annoyed that you lash out without thinking, when in fact, Seonghwa was just being nice. He was probably just worried about your foot like he had been ever since you fell. He has never shown this amount of worry for you, so it did surprise you when he took so much care of you and volunteered to drive with you to the city. 

You’re too focused on your thoughts to notice Seonghwa coming back, and entering the car. You look at him but are suddenly surprised when a small white bag is placed on your lap. He turns on the engine and drives away from the gas station. 

Curious and confused, you look in the bag, and you can’t believe what you see. It’s filled with Advils, chocolate bars, juice, water, pads, and a package of menstrual cramp relief heating pads. 

You have no idea how to react. Emotions everywhere, you almost want to cry, but you don’t. You just look at him and stare at his side profile as he focuses on driving your car.

“Thank you..” You say with a low voice.

“You’re welcome.”

Another silence.

“How did you know?” You ask.

“I’ve grown up with a mom and an older sister. I’m very much aware of periods and that people with periods go through pain.” His voice is turning softer as he speaks, not as cold as before. You look into the bag again and grab the heating pads, not sure how to use them.

You’ve used your heating pillow for ages, but of course, forgot to bring it on the trip.

“They heat up and relax the muscles in your lower abdomen so you’ll be in less pain,” Seonghwa explains like he knows how to read your mind. “I’ve heard. I haven’t tried it for myself, for obvious reasons, but my sister always uses these.” His gaze shifts between the heating pads in your hands and the road.

“Thank you..” You say once again. You feel like you’re thanking him a lot on this trip. “And I’m sorry.” You look at him, feeling bad for snapping at him when he just wanted to know if you were okay. His eyes meet yours, and after a few seconds, he sends you a smile.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” 

The annoying smile of his sends a feeling to your stomach again. The same warm, strange feeling you also felt earlier with him this week. Your breath hitches from the feeling, and you shake your head to yourself.

It’s nothing.

Don’t think about it.

***

The day after, you decided to take things a bit slow. You wanted to join the others on the slopes, but your body was simply too worn out. But that didn’t stop you from spending time at the café, located at the bottom of the slope. You decided to bring a book as you sat in the corner, watching people enter from being up on the slopes. They were all in their ski attire, ready to conquer the slopes after getting something to drink. 

The door to the cozy cafe opened and you'd recognize that helmet anywhere. Seonghwa entered by himself, taking the helmet off his head as he walked to the desk to order. You saw his eyes roaming the café, so you decided to focus on your book, deciding to look busy. You only read a few lines before a voice caught your attention.

“Hey, sunshine,” Seonghwa’s voice said, placing his helmet on the other bench at your table. “What are you doing here?”

“Got bored at the cottage.” You shrug.

He took off his big jacket and placed it on one of your seats as well. “Mind if I join you here?” Seonghwa asks as he basically has already taken over half the space at your table.

“No, go ahead.” You answer before he goes back to the desk to order. Your eyes are about to scan the book again when a new voice interrupts.

“Excuse me..” The voice says, and you look up to see a girl around the same age as you. She looks sweet and pretty, and very innocent. “Sorry, but are you dating him?” She asks shyly while pointing at Seonghwa. 

“Uhm, no.” You shake your head, slightly confused.

“Do you know if he’s dating anyone?”

“I don't think so.” You explain, telling her the truth. You have no idea what his dating life is like, but you don't think he is.

“Oh, okay.. I just didn’t want to shoot my shot if you were his girlfriend.” She smiles, before excusing herself again. Your eyes watch as she approaches Seonghwa, but you’re unable to hear what is being said between them. All you see is Seonghwa suddenly darting his eyes at you as the girl is speaking, and you look back into your book. You’re not getting further with your book, because Seonghwa comes back not long after.

“Here.” He says as he places a mug of hot cocoa in front of you. He puts one down for himself as well before sitting down at the table. You don’t recall asking him to get you this, but the fact that he did it was nice.. or whatever.

“Thank you,” Your eyes scan the cocoa, topped with whipped cream and cinnamon. “So.. Did you get her number?” You ask, eying him carefully to hear his response.

“What?” He responded like he didn’t just talk to a girl who was clearly interested in him.

“That girl.. She came to me and asked if you were dating anyone and wanted to shoot your shot with you. So?”

He shook his head, grabbing a spoon to scoop some whipped cream from his drink. “I didn’t get her number. I thanked her for the opportunity, but I’m not interested.”

You don’t know why but this makes you slightly confused. Everyone could tell that Seonghwa was a beautiful human being, and it’s not the first time you've seen someone attempt to flirt with him. This makes you realize that you don’t know anything about his relationships, hookups, or people he has crushed on in the past. He had never brought anyone with him as his partner, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have one. You’ve just never heard about them.

“Why? You have someone waiting at home?” You ask, feeling weirdly comfortable having this conversation.

“I don’t know, do I?” A smirk tugs on his lips before he brings the spoon with whipped cream to his mouth. Your brows shoot together, feeling confused. 

“How should I know?” You ask as you grab a spoonful of whipped cream as well. 

“I don’t know. But to answer your question; I’m not interested in anyone. As I’ve said before, you’re the only one that can handle me.” The smirk only grows on his face, and you know what he’s doing. 

It wasn’t new for Seonghwa to throw these kinds of comments your way, especially with a smirk evident on his face. He knows sending flirty remarks your way would make you uncomfortable (in the beginning), but you’ve gotten so used to it that you can’t help but laugh. It’s obvious that he only does it to be annoying, but a sarcastic laugh still finds its way out of you.

“Right, could you imagine? Us dating?” You joke.

“Would it be terrible?” He asks, teeth showing from smiling.

“We would rip off each other's heads within a week.” You answer confidently. 

“What would you do if we got married?”

“Divorce you.”

This makes him laugh, a sound that is so incredibly addicting that it’s annoying. Yet you can't help but smile.

“See that’s what I mean. Only you would say that.” Seonghwa argues like he’s actually serious about this topic.

“Like you wouldn’t do the same.” You roll your eyes, scooping another spoonful of whipped cream. You knew that if you and Seonghwa were married, it would probably turn into a competition of who could sign the divorce papers first. Yes, you and Seonghwa have gotten closer on this trip, and you’ll admit; he has been doing some very nice things to you. But you’re convinced he would never actually consider taking this a step further. You’re not his type, you know that. 

Seonghwa leans forward towards you, speaking in a volume that makes this seem like an important topic.

“Be honest with me, you couldn’t ever see us dating?”

The fact that he’s still talking about this, is making you question everything.

“I don’t know, is it important?” You shrug.

“It’s a simple question.” He leans his head slightly to the side, questioning you. 

“Could you see us dating?” You ask back.

“I asked you first.”

He leans back in his seat, waiting for your answer. The answer is simple, right? Yet you don’t know why you’re not spitting out a hard “no”. Instead, you’re taking your time, reading his body language, trying to figure out how to answer this the best way.

“I mean.. There’s a lot of things to take into consideration when talking about topics like that- what?” You ask in the middle of your sentence when you see a smile growing on his face like he’s entertained.

“Just answer yes or no.” 

“Then… No.” You finally answer.

“Why not?” 

Growing tired of him questioning you about this like it’s actually important, you release a deep sigh and close your book. “Because you’re a menace 92% of the time.” 

The topic is making your hands sweaty and your mouth dry for some unknown reason. You grab your hot cocoa after eating most of the whipped cream on top, blowing on the drink so you won’t burn yourself. 

“And the remaining 8%?” He asks, also taking his hot cocoa in his hands.

You scan his face for a moment, trying to figure out the best answer without boosting his ego too much. “You’re bearable.”

“I can work with that.” He shrugs with a smirk before taking a sip of his drink.

***

Seonghwa decided to join you on your way back to the cottage after drinking the hot cocoa. You don’t mind it, now having a feeling that you can actually have a normal conversation with him.

It’s a Christmas miracle. 

“Have you ever watched the Gringe? You two are like the same person.” Seonghwa enters the living room and throws himself on the couch next to you.

Nevermind.

You roll your eyes, not sparing him a glance. "Funny." You say. 

You fix the heating pad on your stomach, feeling the pain slowly fading away. He notices your hands on your stomach and the crumbled chocolate wrap next to you.

“You know, there’s another way to get rid of period pain.” He says, and you feel his eyes on you. 

"I can’t believe that I’m asking you, out of all people, but what?” You turn your head to look at him, and a smirk suddenly makes its way to his lips.

“Orgasms.”

You throw your head back along with a deep sigh. “You just had to, didn’t you? You just had to make it sexual?” Your reaction makes him laugh, a sound you’ve gotten awfully used to the last few days. 

“I’m being deadly serious, though. It’s scientifically proven.” He sits up more straight and turns to look at you. “It obviously doesn’t have to be done by a partner, you can do it by yourself. I’m just saying..” He ends it with a shrug and holds his hands up in defense.

“Well thank you, but no thank you.”

“Just thought I’d share my knowledge with you.. Also to let you know that I completely understand if the pain gets too much and you need to.. you know.” The smirk is evident in his voice, but you just send him a glare.

“I repeat.. Thank you, but no thank you.”

“Alright..” He lies down on the couch again and a silence surrounds you. You turn your head to look at him but are met with a smirk and you don’t have to think twice to know what he’s thinking about. 

“Seonghwa, I will knock you on your fat ass if you even think about it.”

Another laugh escapes him, and you can’t help but smile at the sound. “Alright, alright.. Sorry.”

Before you actually knock him out, your parents enter the cottage along with Seonghwa’s dad. Not even a minute goes by before your mom is in the living room, a huge smile on her face and eyes on you.

“Honey! You never guess what happened!” Her excitement steals both your and Seonghwa’s attention. “We were at the ski resort, and we met the waiter from dinner the other night!” She’s practically jumping and clapping, overly excited about this.

“Oh, really?” You say, slightly confused. You haven’t thought much about the waiter since the dinner. He was really cute and seemed to give you a new form of attention, but for some reason, your mind has been a little.. occupied the last few days.

“Yes, and he immediately recognized us and he asked for your number!” Her words almost make your eyes pop out of your skull.

“My number?” 

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted it, but I saw the way he looked at you at dinner,” She wiggled her eyebrows, acting like the ultimate wingwoman. “Instead I asked for his on your behalf, then you can text him if you’d like. He said he would like to take you to dinner before we leave.” She handed you a napkin with a number and his name on it, and you looked at it for a few seconds, contemplating how you should feel.

“Oh.. Cool, thanks.”

You were happy, of course you were. A guy who looks incredibly cute is requesting to take you out to dinner. What’s not to like?

But for some reason, a teeny tiny piece of you don’t want this. But a dinner with him won’t hurt anyone, right? 

***

It’s been a few days since you got the waiter’s phone number. You made the decision to text him later that night, thanking him for being such a good waiter on the first night. The conversation then escalated to him inviting you to dinner the day after tomorrow, on the 23rd. A lot of thoughts roamed your mind, wondering if you should do it or not. He was really nice, and seemed like a good guy, so why weren’t you ecstatic about this?

You ended up saying yes, throwing yourself out there. It’s just a date. Besides, he probably lives in the area and you live a few hours away. Most likely, this won’t even work out, but a fun night out could be needed.

You’ve also had a nice few days, feeling extremely happy. Your period is over, your ankle is feeling better and everyone seems to be in a good mood. The other day, your mom even commented on the fact that you and Seonghwa aren’t bickering as much as you used to. You didn’t know what to say about that, quickly changing the topic of conversation.

It’s not like you had an answer to that, anyway. 

You walk down the stairs, about to head to the kitchen when something catches your eye. You stop in your tracks and look into the living room. All by himself, Seonghwa is standing next to the Christmas tree, looking at one specific ornament. Slowly, you make your way towards him, watching as his fingers trace the ornament.

“Hi.” You say in a low volume, trying not to startle him. He looks back at you, putting on his best smile, but you can tell something is roaming his mind.

“Hey.” His gaze returns to the ornament, and you quickly realize it’s the one he chose for his mom when you and him were shopping for Christmas ornaments. It’s elegant, simple, and definitely her style.

“It’s pretty.” You say, keeping your eyes on the snowflake.

“Yeah.. I feel like she would have chosen this one.” Seonghwa’s eyes still don't leave it, and he’s watching it with so much love. Like he’s actually looking at his mom.

“She did. Through you.” You look away from the ornament and turn to look at him. Even more love shines through his eyes, and you can’t stop looking at him. You can tell he is thinking about his mom and all she did for him - which was a lot. She was a wonderful mom who did anything for her kids. When Seonghwa was a kid, she never missed a football game, she supported him and his sister with everything and kept a smile on her face during anything. 

“She loved Christmas,” Seonghwa says, clearly thinking of memories with his mom. “She loved coming here to the cottage, celebrating the holidays with you and your family. It was when she was the happiest.” His gaze finally leaves the snowflake decorating the tree, looking to meet your eyes.

You can’t help but think of the memories with her either. “She defined Christmas for me. I remember when we were visiting you guys in the summertime, she would make us look through the photo albums of earlier Christmases.” You find yourself laughing with Seonghwa at the memory, clearly remembering how much she loves Christmas.

“Yeah.. she was really into making memories. She loved it,” His smile froze before it slowly fell again, something clearly replacing the happy thoughts. “Ironic, how that’s the only thing I have of her now.” Sadness appears in his voice, as his eyes go back to the ornament. 

“That’s not true, Seonghwa,” You shake your head, suddenly getting the urge to grab his hand, but you don’t. “You have all the pictures, you wear her necklace, and you have us. And I know she’s here with us. Do you really think she wouldn’t be here with you for Christmas? She would never do that.” You have to fight yourself not to have tears in your eyes, but it gets even harder when Seonghwa looks at you with glistening eyes. 

Seonghwa takes in a deep breath of air and looks up at the ceiling. He blinks a few times like he’s trying his best not to cry in front of you, but you somehow wish he would. You want him to know that it’s okay. That it’s okay to cry and miss her. Because you do too, and you can’t even imagine how much pain he feels every day, not being able to touch her. Talk to her. Be with her.

He releases his breath of air and looks back down at you. “Thank you.”

His eyes are still glistening, but it feels nice talking to him about this. You’ve never talked much about his mother’s passing, not being good at expressing emotions to one another. But this trip has opened up something for both of you, allowing you to talk about your feelings. 

Feeling slightly restless, you send him one last smile, before turning around. 

“Wait..” Seonghwa stops you before you manage to walk away, and you turn around as you wait for him to say something. His eyes flicker for a moment as he tries to figure out how to word the thoughts in his head. “I’m sorry.”

The apology came out of nowhere, making your brows shoot together in question.

“For?”

He takes another moment to collect his thoughts.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve been acting the last few..” He looks up to think but scoffs at himself. “The last few years, at this point.” He looks deep into your eyes, wanting you to know that he’s not messing around right now. “I’ve said some mean things and I’ve been way over the line and you didn’t deserve that. I guess after my mom passed, I held so much anger inside of me because I regretted so many things when it came to her. So instead of dealing with it in a healthy way, I took it out on you. And don’t ask me why, because I don’t know, honestly. Maybe it was because you reminded me of her with your kind personality and everything, and so it just made me angry that she wasn’t here..” He looked down between you, gathering his thoughts before continuing.

“Either way, it doesn’t make it okay, and I’m really sorry if I’ve said some things to upset you.. Which I know I have, but I can’t remember all of them.” Seonghwa tries to send you a smile, but it ends up looking a little awkward. 

You didn’t expect this at all. Your mouth feels dry from this big apology, not knowing what to say. A part of you always sensed that his mother’s passing triggered something in him to make him angry with you, but you didn’t know why. And it seemed like he didn’t either, but you could tell that he was genuinely sorry. 

You send him a smile, not wanting him to feel bad anymore. 

“Thank you. And I’m sorry too if I’ve ever said something back in rage.” You apologize, knowing for sure that you’ve said some things to him that weren't very nice either.

“You don’t have to apologize, I probably deserved it.” Seonghwa tries to joke, forcing a smile. “I just don’t want my mom to be disappointed with me.”

Once again, your heart breaks for him. You know how much she meant to him.

“Seonghwa, your mom was an amazing and beautiful woman. She raised you and your sister to be good people, and you are. The two of us have not always gotten along the best, but if it wasn’t for you, I probably wouldn’t even be able to stand up right now, hadn’t you taken so much care of my ankle. You bought me a bunch of stuff to help me get through my period. Or last year when I fell on my skis and I couldn’t walk, I know you were the one who bought me my favorite brownies because no one knows I love them but you. Or three years ago when my car crashed, you drove me to the mechanic and when I had to pay a week later, you had paid for it and asked them to lie and tell me I had won some stupid competition that made it free.”

“Why do you think I paid for it?”

“I knew something was up so I asked for the details and they couldn’t lie anymore. I saw the payment. P.S.H written with your bank account number.” You explained, making his eyes flicker.

“Well.. You didn’t have a job at the time.” He started excusing, but it only proved your point further.

“Exactly. And that’s what I mean, Seonghwa. Your mom could never be disappointed with you, because even though the two of us weren’t even friends, you still helped me, and you help everyone around you. Your mom loves you, and I know she’s watching over you with nothing but care. She would be really proud of you.” 

This is what pushes Seonghwa over the edge. He looks away from you and a sob escapes him. For the first time, you see Seonghwa cry. Not even right after his mom passed did you see him cry. But now, you see tears cover his cheeks, despite him desperately trying to hide his face with his hands. 

Doing something you’ve never done, you take a few steps closer to him and wrap your arms around his waist to hug him. This is not about the past, how much you used to fight, or if you’re even friends. Right now, he’s crying because of the loss of his mother, and you need to be there for him.

You feel Seonghwa wrap his arms around you too, fully accepting this as he tries to control his sobs. Your head is pressed against his chest, and you’re able to hear his heart pounding fast. It’s a sound so intimate and it only makes you want to be closer to him. To hear him talk for hours about what is roaming his mind, no matter how emotional it might get.

You don’t know how long you’re hugging him, but his sobs quietly die down, and his heart starts to beat at a normal pace. 

“Thank you.” He mumbles in your embrace, and you pull back to see his eyes slightly red and puffy. You’re not ready to leave him yet, not wanting him to be alone.

“Are you busy?” You suddenly ask. He seems a little taken aback by your sudden question but shakes his head.

“No.”

“Do you want to watch ‘Home Alone’ with me?” You point to the TV, thinking this would be a good way to end the day. A smile creeps up on his lips, and he nods.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

***

Everyone has gone to bed, and after spending what feels like hours being nervous about your date in two days, you decide to head to bed. After changing into your oversized nightshirt, you carefully make your way to the bathroom. You make sure not to make too much noise so you won’t wake up the rest, and start getting ready to brush your teeth. 

Suddenly the door to the bathroom opens, and Seonghwa walks in, unaware that you’re here.

“Oh sorry, I thought you had gone to bed.” He excuses, stopping his tracks. You can’t help but notice how he’s only in his sweatpants, his bare chest visible. You have to fight everything in you not to look down at his naked torso, but it’s almost impossible. 

“I’m about to.” You say, holding the toothbrush in hand.

“Can I brush my teeth?” He asks, pointing at his toothbrush by the sink.

“Sure.” You answer, taking a step away to give him some space.. and not to be too close to him, because he looks better than you imagined, and you're not sure how to behave right now. 

He walks to the sink, and as you brush your teeth, you slowly find your eyes traveling to him. You’ve seen his chest before, but that was years ago when you went to the beach as teens. But now, seeing him as an adult, he’s completely changed. He’s slender with a thin waist, but still lean and muscles visible. His sweatpants are hanging low, making you able to see his entire abdomen and down to the top of his pelvis area through the mirror. 

Never have you seen him like this before, but it’s definitely doing something to you. You feel something in your stomach, the same thing you’ve felt before. And it’s making you want to go absolutely crazy.

But little do you know that Seonghwa is doing anything in his power not to look at you. When he walked out and saw you in your big oversized t-shirt, covering your entire upper body and stopping right at the thighs, he thought that would be the end of him. Your hair is in a messy bun and you look so cozy and comfortable in your shirt. He’s not sure if you’re wearing something underneath, but it doesn’t look like it, and that alone is making his mind go to places it shouldn’t. 

Does he feel your eyes on him? Of course, he does. 

And it’s making him go crazy.

But he can’t look at you or react, because he’s doing everything in his power to think of other things than you, or else a certain part of him would get very.. excited, and in these gray sweatpants, it will be more visible than normal. 

You finish brushing your teeth before him, and you take a step towards the sink. He’s giving you space by taking a step back, but he shouldn’t have done that. Now he has a complete view of you as you’re bending over to spit in the sink, and your shirt slightly raises, still not giving the impression that you’re wearing something underneath. 

He’s about to stop brushing his teeth so he can go back to his room, not being able to stay here a minute longer, but you’re meeting his eyes through the mirror and you send him a relaxed smile.

“Goodnight.” You say just above a whisper.

“Goodnight.” He replies, and you walk back to your room before he can leave. You didn’t get to do your skincare or brush your hair, you just had to get out of there. 

His body was looking amazing, and afraid of suddenly embarrassing yourself, you had to leave. 

After waiting for a few minutes in your room for him to leave, you finally got the chance to finish your night routine. When you opened your door, you found that the bathroom was unoccupied. So, you tiptoed your way back and completed your routine, brushing your hair, doing your nightly skincare routine, and ensuring that you are completely prepared before returning to your room.

Stepping back into the hallway, you walk past the closed door to Seonghwa’s room, but stop when you hear a certain sound. 

A soft grunt came from the other side of the door, only to be followed by a light moan. Your immediate thought is to walk away, but for some reason, you couldn’t get yourself to move. Seonghwa's voice released another moan, sounding so soft and somehow rough at the same time, and before you knew it, your thoughts were running wild. Without realizing it, you take a step closer to his door to get a better listen.

You shouldn't be doing this. But as another moan escapes from behind the door, your heart races. Seonghwa’s voice sounds so mild and soft as these moans continue on, making you picture what he looks like. 

His gray sweatpants pulled down slightly as he strokes himself. Bare chest and in his bed, eyes closed as he bites his lip to quiet down the sounds. His hair messy, possibly sweat starting to form on his forehead.

Moan.

Shivers all over your body from the picture your mind just created. You know he looks absolutely gorgeous because he always does. But this is making you go crazier than ever before, and a sudden need for him is taking over you.

A creaking from the floor underneath you woke you up from your daydreaming, and a longer pause from the moans filled the air. Panic rises inside of you, so you hurry back to your own room. Closing the door behind you, your heart beats fast against your chest. 

Not-so-innocent thoughts still roam your mind as you get under the sheets. Hopefully, he didn’t hear you outside. If he did, you’ll just say you went to the bathroom. 

But never has this happened before, making you wonder what would’ve happened if he caught you listening. 

Before you know it, you’re in a deep sleep, the last thing you think of is Seonghwa.

***

The texts between you and the waiter have been rather superficial so far, not exactly knowing what to talk about yet. Hopefully, the talk will be smooth when you’re on the actual date.

Another day has gone and you went to the city to spend some time and buy some last Christmas gifts. The entire day was spent walking, and you'll admit that your ankle was starting to hurt. You tried pushing away the pain but ended up driving home.

This resulted in you saying no to having dinner in the city. It was your dad's idea, but even the thought of walking anymore was already hurting your ankle, so you told the others to just enjoy a nice dinner in the city. 

Surprised, Seonghwa didn’t join the rest either. You only overheard him telling them to have a nice evening, and then your parents left, along with Seonghwa’s dad. You knew they’d have a great time, probably going out for drinks after dinner.

Or so you hoped, because it was now 9:30 in the evening, and they were still not home yet. 

You switched the TV channel in the living room. Seonghwa walked in, sat down, and watched in silence.

Of course, you hadn’t mentioned anything about your little meeting in the bathroom last night and what it led to for you. And thankfully, he hadn’t either, so you were able to wake up today with a fresh mind.

“Why didn’t you wanna go out with the others?” You asked, changing to another channel again.

“Didn’t feel like going out tonight..” He shrugged. Neither of you said anything for a few moments, only looking for something interesting to watch. Every channel showed the same kind of low-budget Christmas movies on every channel, except one channel with a weird dating show called ‘Date My Mom’.

“So..” Seonghwa starts saying next to you, a few seconds of silence as you continue changing channels. “You’re gonna have dinner with that waiter?” 

“Yeah.. We’re going out tomorrow,” You respond, not looking at him. Just thinking of it, your heart starts to beat a little faster. The dating scene has always been uncomfortable to you, having gone on some awful dates in the past. “I’m a little nervous, I overthink everything. What to eat, what to wear..” You take a moment to think, considering your choices of clothes. You didn’t pack much fancy clothes, but you did have some options. “Maybe I could wear that red dress from the other night?” You think loud to yourself.

“No.” Seonghwa says.

“No?” Your gaze turns to him. “Why? I thought it was pretty..”

“I guess, but he has already seen that dress on you.” He shrugs, and you guess he has a point. But it is your favorite dress, and you feel confident in it. That makes a question pop into your head.

“Now that we’re at the topic and you're a guy; do guys notice what girls are wearing and remember it? Or do they not care?” You fully don’t care what’s on the TV now, turning your body towards Seonghwa to hopefully get some tips for tomorrow. Plus, you’re also just curious.

“Oh, we notice.” Seonghwa sounds confident in his answer, looking at you with a cocky smile.

“But don’t you just remember it on girls you’re interested in or girls in general?”

“It depends, the same way you do for guys,” He looks back at the screen, but your eyes staring at him, has his head turned to you, looking slightly confused. “What?”

“Have you ever put thought into what I was wearing?” You ask without holding back. Two weeks ago, you wouldn’t have asked Seonghwa this question. But you and Seonghwa have gotten closer on this trip, so you felt like you could ask him without making it weird.

“Maybe.”

He answers like it isn’t a big deal, but your eyes nearly pop out of your skull. 

“Really? What was I wearing?” Your whole body is now turned towards him, curious to know his answer.

“I think we’re gonna end this conversation here. Goodnight.” He stands up from the couch and makes his way to the stairs.

“Seonghwa! Please.”

“No, you’re just gonna rub it in my face. Goodnight!” His back is still turned to you as he reaches the stairs.

“Noo, I promise I won’t!” 

He stops in his tracks, releasing a deep sigh. He looks back at you, looking slightly annoyed. "Goodnight… “ His words are harsh, but when he turns around to walk up the stairs, he takes a moment, before looking back at you again. “The red dress.”

A subtle smirk appears on his lips before he disappears up the stairs, leaving you frozen on the couch. The way his eyes held a hint of something unknown, something hidden, made your heart beat faster than normal.

You don’t realize you’ve been staring at nothing for a few minutes before you decide to head upstairs as well. A shower is necessary, so you head to the bathroom and take a well-deserved shower. Your eyes linger on Seonghwa’s door for a few seconds before walking into the bathroom. The seating area in the shower makes it take a bit longer than normal since you enjoy sitting there a bit too much under the warm water. In your defense, your ankle hurts when you stand up too long.

Finishing up in the shower, you realize that you forgot your night clothes in your room. With a sigh, you dry yourself off and wrap the towel around your body before hurrying into your room. You close your door behind you, and just as you’re about to reach for something to put on, your eyes notice something red lying by itself on the chair. 

A smirk spreads on your lips as your hands reach for your red dress, slowly putting it on. You smile to yourself when you see yourself in nothing but the dress Seonghwa just admitted to think of. Silently walking out of your room, you find yourself in the dimmed-lit hallway. A few knocks on the closed door in front of you have your heart beat a little faster than normally, but the thought of teasing a little is just what you need.

The door opens and Seonghwa comes into the frame, bare chest, and gray sweatpants. The same look as yesterday with the sweatpants hanging dangerously low. Just a second passed after seeing you in the red dress in front of his door, and he was sighing deeply.

“What are you doing?” He asks, annoyed. 

You smile teasingly, looking down at yourself. “I was just trying out clothes for the date, and you’re sure I shouldn’t wear this?” Your hands run down the sides of your waist and to your hips, focusing on the way the dress hugs your body.

“Are you trying to piss me off or do you actually wanna know what I think?” Seonghwa’s eyes flicker down to your hips for a second before going back to your eyes and staying there. Like he won’t let you win this one.

“A little bit of both maybe?” You smirk, and suddenly your eyes lose the fight, slowly sinking down to his chest. Right now, you know you're in deep water. It's a dangerous game you've decided to play, but it's somehow making you want to do this even more.

But realizing that you aren’t being as tough as you imagined you’d be, you look up to see him starting to smirk like he knows what you’re thinking, “I think..” He steps out of his room, slowly approaching you until you’re pressed up against the wall behind you. “You’re playing a game with me. But it’s not working, Red dress. Go to bed.” Seonghwa then turns around, but without thinking, you grab his arm and pull him back. He rolls his eyes, sounding annoyed. “What do you want me to say? That I think you’re attractive?” 

“Do you?”

The question throws him off for a second, but he fights the tug on his lips at your bravery. You’re never this pushy, it’s always him “flirting” in the most unhinged way, so this is a thrill to see.

“You’re a menace.”

“Do you?” You try again.

Seonghwa spends a few seconds with flickering eyes, trying to read your gaze and contemplating what to say. Choosing not to give you the satisfaction, he releases himself from your soft grip. “Goodnight.” He says with a soft voice before turning around to walk away.

“Are you scared?” You challenge.

His body stops, muscles on the back tensing. “You really are trying to piss me off,” He says as he turns around, quickly moving closer to you. You suck in a harsh breath, backing up against the wall when he’s suddenly back in front of you.

“I think that your body looks amazing in that dress,” He starts, eyes looking down on your body. His voice is just above a whisper as he leans in. “The color matches your hair perfectly, the cut on the front, the back showing just enough skin..” His fingers trace your waist and mixed with the way his low voice describes the dress on you, you feel the goosebumps all over your skin. He seems to notice your reaction because a scoff leaves his lips, but he doesn’t stop tracing his fingers on the fabric. “Honestly speaking, if I were the man who was to date you while you are wearing this dress, I’d have a time figuring out whether I would rather rip it off you or fuck you in it,”

You completely stop breathing at this point. This is not like the other times he has said some shit like this. He means it.

Seonghwa leans further towards you, and you feel his lips slightly grace your ear. “But I’m not that man, so it doesn’t matter,” He whispers before leaning back, looking into your eyes. “There, I said it. Happy now?” 

Not knowing what to do or say, you just look into his dark eyes. You thought you had this when you knocked on his door, but he has you completely wrapped around his finger. A smirk spreads on his lips, and you feel his finger under your chin, tilting your head upwards. The expression of lust is so evident in his eyes.

“Are you scared?” He challenges, leaning in, but he doesn't kiss you. You feel his breath, you can almost feel how it is to kiss him, but he doesn’t do it. He’s playing with you. He’s doing what the two of you do best, and he wants you to take it to the next step.

And that you do.

Fed up with the teasing, you lean in and crash your lips against his. Like you’ve both been longing for each other, you wrap your arms around the other to get as close as possible. Seonghwa’s tongue slips in between your lips, and you let him have you as much as you suddenly crave him.

A subtle moan comes from Seonghwa, and you’re reminded of overhearing his moans. Getting even more turned on, you take one of his hands that is wrapped around your waist and guide it to your hips, silently telling him that you want this. 

The way your body fits perfectly in his hands leaves you even more thirsty for him. 

You feel his hand slide down to your thigh, slow fingers tracing your skin before you feel his touch at your heat.

The kiss breaks and Seonghwa looks down at you with a tiny crease in the middle of his forehead. “You’re not wearing any underwear.. You wanted this to happen?” 

“Maybe.” You whisper, not knowing if you should feel confident or slightly embarrassed. But you know Seonghwa is into it when he smiles and you feel one of his fingers run between your folds. 

“You’re such a little slut, I’m gonna have to take care of you.” He starts using two of his fingers to stimulate your clit, the feeling being absolutely addicting. You don’t know if it’s the feeling of doing something in the middle of the hallway or the fact that it’s Seonghwa who is fingering you, but the pleasure is out of this world. You’re already wet, and Seonghwa notices, so he uses the opportunity to slide two of his slender fingers into you and a muffled moan escapes your mouth. A smirk reaches his lips. “The house is empty, moan all you want, baby.”

His fingers are long, and you can’t help but clench around them. You feel him curl his fingers inside of you, hitting a spot you didn’t know felt so good. Throwing your head back in an attempt to keep yourself from going insane, Seonghwa takes the opportunity to kiss your neck. Another moan escapes your lips as you feel his fingers work in and out of you at a faster pace. His other hand keeps a grip on your waist, holding you steady. 

Every thought is lost in your brain as Seonghwa angles his fingers and makes sure to be knuckles deep into you. Him being the tease he is, he slows down the pace when you start feeling your orgasm build up in your stomach, resulting in you starting to ride his fingers yourself. You're earned with a smile from Seonghwa, as your arms wrap around him to keep you steady.

“That's it, ride my fingers, you're doing so good.” He compliments. The way his low voice speaks makes you clench around his fingers again and the orgasm slowly starts forming in your stomach again. “Gonna cum already? You like having my fingers fuck you?” 

“Y-Yes.” You manage to get out, but the orgasm approaches fast, faster than you’ve ever tried before. “Fuck, Seonghwa, I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum for me, baby.” He whispers and fastens the pace again. In a second, you’re doing everything you can to keep yourself on your legs as your orgasm approaches. The sounds of Seonghwa’s fingers in your pussy are echoing through the hallway, followed by your loud moans. His name slips out between your lips and a smile tugs on his lips. “That’s it, say my name.”

His eyes are studying your face as you ride your orgasm, not missing a glimpse of this moment. You meet his eyes, and he leans in to press his lips against yours. You then realize how much you missed his lips on yours already, and you feel him pull out his fingers to focus on the kiss. Tongues fighting for dominance, you’re both hungry for each other. 

“What should I do with you?” Seonghwa asks as he pulls back for a second.

You’re quick to answer. “Fuck me.” 

“My room or yours?” 

“I don’t care.”

Seonghwa is definitely taking the lead and guides you into your bedroom. Your brain is nothing but Seonghwa, so you couldn't care less which bed you end up in. Your lips are on his again as he moves you both to your bed. Suddenly feeling something behind your thighs, you feel Seonghwa push you back, landing on the bed, before crawling on top of you. 

His hands are all over your body, trying to touch every inch, when a groan escapes from the back of his throat. “You know what? Fuck this dress, take it off.” Seonghwa then helps you up on your knees so you can get out of the dress, pulling it over your head. Seeing you completely naked in front of him, his smile only grows as he sees how stunning you look. 

Feeling overwhelmed, he grabs your face to kiss you as he stands next to the bed, you on your knees on the mattress. His bare skin under your fingers is driving you crazy, so as your tongue moves with his, you can't help but play with the elastic band around his waist, holding up the sweatpants. A growing bulge is making its appearance under the fabric. The thought of seeing every part of his body is making you feral, and he senses your neediness because he pulls back and looks down at your hands playing with the rim of his sweatpants.

“I guess, technically, you still owe me telling you what to do for a day, because of our little bet and I wanna hear how fucking stupid you sound gagging on my dick. Can you do that?” 

Seonghwa knows exactly what to say, because something switches inside of you, and you can’t wait to taste him. Feel him and have him all to yourself. 

You nod and lower yourself to pull down his sweatpants along with his boxers. The sight of his cock is absolutely astonishing. It’s way bigger than you thought, and the veins running up and down make it look so pretty. Feeling excited to make Seonghwa feel as good as he made you feel, you lean down and start tracing your tongue on his shaft. Starting from the bottom, tongue flat against his cock you lick all the way to the head where pre-cum is glistening, earning a moan from Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa’s eyes don't leave you for a second, but he grows slightly impatient when you decide to tease a little. The tip of your tongue traces along the veins of his hard cock, not ever taking him fully into your mouth. Looking up into his eyes as you do so, you see him growing more and more frustrated, his breath getting more and more uneven. Suddenly, his hand grabs your hair and yanks it down so you’re forced to look into his eyes. He bends down so your faces are close, having a look in his eyes you haven’t seen before, but it turns you on even more. 

“One more tease and I will pin you down and pump you full of cum, understood?” He speaks just above a whisper, and the thought of him doing this to you tempts you to continue teasing him, but a part of you wants to hear him praise you. To say how good you are for him, so you put him in your mouth and start moving your head. He’s stretching your mouth because of how wide he is, but you’re determined to try and have all of him in your mouth. 

“Mmm, good girl. Just like that.” Seonghwa praise makes you go faster, using your hands too. But wanting to see how much of him you can fit, you try to take all of him in your throat. Seonghwa’s hands are in your hair, carefully guiding you. The taste of pre-cum runs down your throat, and you feel your nose hit his pubic area, taking all of him in your mouth. You feel tears stinging in your eyes, and suddenly a gagging sound comes from your throat. Seonghwa pulls back, leaving strings of a mix between spit and precum between you and his cock. Finally being able to breathe properly, you gasp for air and a scoff leaves Seonghwa. “Aww, is it too much for you?”

He almost sounds like he’s mocking you, but you shake your head.

“N-No..” Your throat hurts a bit as you speak.

“You sound so cute,” He caresses his thumb on your cheek, babying you like you didn’t just choke on his cock. “Now tell me.. How bad do you wanna do this?” He pulls you up on your knees so you’re face to face, his hands steadying you. One of his hands goes under your chin, thumb running over your lips to smear out his precum on your lips.

“So bad, Seonghwa. I want this.” And you do. You’ve never felt so hungry for someone.

“That’s it. Now be a good girl and sit on my dick,” 

It takes no time for you both to get onto the bed, Seonghwa lying down with you sitting on top of him. He strokes his cock a few times before lining it up at your entrance, teasing you.

“You think you can take this cock?” He asks, looking deeply into your eyes. You want to scoff, knowing it’s probably gonna be the biggest size you’ve ever had in you, but you won’t feed his ego with that information.

“Please, don’t think too highly of - ah!” Your sentence is interrupted by Seonghwa pushing his cock inside of you, slowly stretching you out. 

“Sorry, what were you saying? I didn’t get that,” He teases, pushing you down so you’re taking him all inside of you. You can’t even think straight, the only thing in your brain is the feeling of him. “Isn’t it nice? Feeling so full?”

“Mh-hm.” You nod as you bite your lip, finally sitting down fully on top of him. He hits the right spot inside of you immediately, but he doesn’t move yet.

“Do you have any idea of how bad I’ve wanted this? Ever since the dinner night when you wore that fucking dress, I’ve wanted to fuck the shit out of you.” His hands run down your thighs, eyes taking in how you look on top of him. “I had to touch myself to the thought of you, but you already know that, don’t you? You’ve been listening on the other side of the door.” He smiles, and you meet his eyes. You’re too focused on his huge size that you can’t even find the ability to be embarrassed. 

You try to move up so he can start going in and out of you, but his hands hold you down, keeping you from getting any friction. 

“Seonghwa, please..”

“Please what?” He teases.

“Don’t tease me, please. Just move.” You beg, but he doesn’t look satisfied. ‘You can do better than that’ his expression says. An unsatisfied groan leaves you. “Please just fuck me. Fuck me and make me cum, please.”

A smile creeps up on his lips. “There you go, baby,” 

Without warning, he switches you both around so he’s on top, angled between your legs. A deep thrust surprises you, making you gasp.

“Oh my god.” You moan, fingers gripping onto the sheets under you. Seonghwa continues to thrust deep into you, slowly increasing the speed. He sits up, angled so he gets a perfect view of his cock going in and out of your cunt.

“You can take it, can’t you? Like a good slut?” His hands grab your waist, now going at a fast pace. It’s hard to get any words out, your brain is completely shut off, but you manage to say a few words still.

“Yes, I know I can. Just for you.” You say, words barely pronounced right. This takes Seonghwa into a new world, leaning down to kiss your neck. Hands finding yours, he merges his fingers with yours as he starts whispering in your ear.

“That’s right, tell me what a slut you are. Tell me how fucking badly you need me to fuck you. Tell me every sick and twisted thing you want me to do to you.” He ordered, still going at a fast pace. His lips find your neck again, leaving kisses all over you.

“Fuck me. You can do anything you want with me. I’m yours and you can use me whenever you-” You don’t get to finish the sentence before another loud moan fights its way out of your mouth. You’re sure his name came out of your mouth too at some point, but right now, you don’t know. You don’t have any control over your body, you’re completely in Seonghwa’s control.

“Fuck, I love hearing you scream for me,” Seonghwa says in your ear, using one of his hands to hold your legs open for him as he continues to thrust. A smile tugs on his lips as you moan again. “You think your little waiter can make you feel so good?”

“No, only you can.” You don’t even have to think twice. You’re sure no one can make you feel this good besides Seonghwa.

“That’s right, let’s make sure you won’t forget that,” Seonghwa suddenly pulls out and sits up. He turns you around so you’re on your stomach, and you feel him positioning himself at your entrance again. Your legs are locked under him as he enters you again fully before hovering over you, back against his front as he fucks you into the mattress. His hands push you down, forcing you to just take him as you lie on the bed.

“Shit.. I wish you could see how fucking amazing you look with my cock in you. You’re so pretty.” He leans down to press multiple kisses on your shoulders, his fingers finding yours again to intertwine them. He hits your sweet spot with every thrust, and quickly you feel your second orgasm form in your stomach.

“Seonghwa, I-I’m gonna cum.” You say, head against the mattress. This only makes him go faster and deeper.

“Cum for me again, I know you can do it.” He says, and not a second passes before your legs are shaking and you clench around his cock. This makes Seonghwa moan loud too, feeling his orgasm approach at a fast pace.

“I gotta cum, baby.” He warns, fucking you fast and deep as he pounds you through your orgasm. 

“Cum in me, please.” You moan, wanting him to release inside of you. You’re still in the middle of your orgasm when Seonghwa thrusts a last time before spilling his load inside of you. His moans are prettier than you could’ve ever imagined, way better than what you overheard, and you feel his warm cum spread inside of you, leaking out while he’s still inside.

“Fuck.. Shit, you feel so good.” He thrusts a few more times, wanting as much as possible to fill your hole, before losing the strength in his arms and relaxing on top of you. 

You feel his heart beating fast against your back, both of your bodies sticky from the sweat. Deep and fast breaths are the only things heard in the room, both of you trying to get back to your normal breathing. You feel his hand run through your hair as soft kisses are placed on your shoulders. Without realizing, feeling a million emotions all at once, you can’t help but smile. He’s still inside of you, but you like it. This closeness, the amount of kisses he’s showering you with. It’s something you never expected to happen, but it has never felt better.

“Are you okay?” He asks caringly, removing some of your hair so he can see the side of your face. 

You nod, getting back to your normal breathing.

“I think I need a new shower. I’m all sweaty.” You admit, feeling him remove himself from you. He places a last kiss on your temple before pulling out of you.

“That makes two of us.” He says before getting out of bed. You’re about to get up, but Seonghwa catches you by surprise and takes you up in his arms. He carries you to the bathroom in bridal style (not something new for you) and carefully, he places you on the bench in the huge shower. Your legs are weak after the intense session you two shared, so you’re thankful for him carrying you. He’s out of the bathroom a second later, leaving you confused, but he’s back a moment after with his sweatpants and some clothes for you. 

Your eyes follow him as he’s in his own world, turning on the water.

“What are you doing?” You ask from your seat.

“You usually take up all the hot water. Let's share it this time,” Seonghwa holds out his hand for you to take. His eyes have a warmth in them, something so full of care that you couldn’t ever say no to this. You grab his hand and stand up, moving closer to him. 

The shower is big enough for both of you, but you don’t move around much, only watching as Seonghwa adjusts the water to the right temperature and takes the loofah in his hands. He turns you around so your back is facing him, and you feel him start washing your body.

“You want your hair washed too?” He asks, his voice incredibly soft-spoken. 

“No, just my body.” You smile, not knowing what to do. He doesn’t respond, just continues to use the loofah on your body to clean you. His front is against your back, but not once is there any hint of something sexual in the shower. Seonghwa doesn’t lead up to anything, only kisses your shoulder once in a while as his arms wrap around you to wash your front. You have sensed his caring side a few times on this trip, but this is a whole new level. You had no idea that Seonghwa could be this soft, especially with you. 

The warm water washes over you, rinsing off the soap. You feel clean again and turn around to face him.

“Thank you.” You smile, and he leans in to kiss you softly on the lips. 

“You’re welcome.” He smiles and washes himself too. He’s quick to finish, and you both walk out of the shower. The same thing happens when you have to dry yourself - Seonghwa does basically the entire thing, using a big towel to dry your body. He helps you in your underwear and in your sleeping t-shirt (except you notice it smells extremely like him, only to realize he grabbed one of his shirts for you to sleep in). He puts it over your head and smiles satisfied when you’re done.

“There we go, good as new.” He says and puts on his boxers and sweatpants.

“Why are you doing this?” You ask, not able to stop yourself. You were genuinely curious where all of this came from, so it wasn’t because you didn’t want him to. You had just never expected it.

“Doing what?” 

“This..” Your arms point between you, to the shower, and around you. He takes a step closer to you and pushes some of your hair away from your face and behind your ear. 

“Because we just had rough sex and I want to take care of you after,” He shrugs. You stare up at him, making him smile before he leans down to kiss you softly on the lips. It feels different than the other kisses like this one is full of something new. He pulls back, and you realize you miss his lips on yours already. “Also.. I think we both know that this was more than just a casual hookup.”

His voice is low like he’s scared that someone might hear, despite the two of you being the only ones home. But the words leave you with a million questions, but nowhere to start. Because before you realize what he said, he takes your hand and pulls you back into your bedroom. He’s in complete control of you, for some reason, your mind doesn’t work properly with him around you. 

“C’mere.” He says, opening his arms when you both get in bed. Doing as he says, you get into his embrace, and he closes his arms around you. You feel his arm wrap around your waist as he pulls you closer to him, your back against his front. A kiss is placed on your temple as you just lie in the arms of the man you’ve fought with for most of your life, falling into a deep sleep.

***

You wake up to a bright room and stretch in your bed. As you look around, you realize that there is more space than you thought. Turning to your side, you find the bed empty and sit up, scanning the room for Seonghwa, but he is nowhere to be found.

Did he go back to his own room after you fell asleep?

A little confused, you get out of bed and walk to open the door and hear something downstairs. Someone is talking, and you immediately recognize your mom’s voice along with Seonghwa’s. You make your way to the kitchen downstairs, seeing your mom cleaning while Seonghwa is eating some cereal by the kitchen island. His back is turned to you, but you can tell he’s laughing at something your mom said.

“Good morning, honey!” Your mom says as she sees you enter the kitchen, and you make your way around it so you’re on the opposite side of Seonghwa. Trying not to make your mom feel any tension between you and Seonghwa, you casually sit down and grab a bowl and a spoon. You can’t help but look across the kitchen island to see Seonghwa smile at you, eyes lighting up. He bites his smile and tries to hide the tension too, not wanting your mom to know what happened between you two last night. “Slept well?” Your mom asks. 

“Uhm, yeah. Very well.” You clear your throat and look up at Seonghwa again. He’s smirking to himself, looking down at his bowl of cereal. He’s wearing one of his white T-shirts now, similar to the one you’re wearing at the moment. It’s not like your families can’t know that you and Seonghwa might start seeing each other. But there’s no reason for them to know what the two of you did while the rest were out to dinner last night.

“So, are you ready for your date later?” Your mom asks, making both you and Seonghwa freeze. His smile is gone, eyes looking up at you with curiosity and… worry?

Your eyes flicker for a moment, as you had completely forgotten about your date with the waiter tonight. But after what happened last night, you’re not sure about this date. Especially not when a certain someone is sitting across from you, messy morning hair and sweatpants, yet you don’t think you’ve ever been more attracted to someone.

“Uhm..” You look at Seonghwa a last time before looking at your mom. “I don’t think I’ll go on a date with him, Mom.” 

“Aww, how come?” She asks, curiosity evident in her voice.

“It won’t work out..” You say, not being able to tell her the entire truth. But the eyes you feel staring at you from across the kitchen island keep you from staying quiet. “Besides, I think I might like someone else.”

Seonghwa’s eyes look away from you, as he takes his empty bowl and starts cleaning it in the sink. You can’t see his face, but for a split second when he turned his face to the side, you saw him fighting back a smile.

“Really? Who?” Your mom's words wake you up from staring at Seonghwa, and you look back at her. 

“I’ll tell you later on, it’s still pretty new and I have to figure out if he even likes me too.” You shrug, not even knowing what to say about your situation with Seonghwa. You’ve known each other your entire lives, not once have there been a hint of something romantic between you two. Not until this trip. But you would lie if you said that the things he has done for you on this trip didn’t wake up something in you. Something you didn’t know was there but was waiting to be woken up. 

“Well, I hope it’s gonna work out for you, honey.” A smile tugs on your mother’s lips as he kisses the top of your head. She walks out of the kitchen, and just as her figure is out of sight, you feel a pair of lips kiss your cheek and arms wrap around you from behind. 

You hold back your giggle as Seonghwa showers you with kisses but stops to look into your eyes.

“Good morning.” He smiles, still having his arms around you. 

“Good morning.” You smile.

“So.. You’re really not gonna go on a date with him?” His voice is low, careful not to let everyone know what you’re talking about. You shake your head.

“Nah.. I figured I’d rather put my attention on someone else.” Your words turn on the light in Seonghwa’s eyes. 

“Can I take you out when we get home, then?” He suggests, but you’re not done teasing him. Despite you and him possibly starting to date, you’ve still lived your entire life teasing each other. That’s not something you’re gonna stop doing, just because you’re dating.

“What makes you think I wanna date you?” You scoff and roll your eyes, looking down at your bowl of cereal. You feel his grip around you loosen as he reads your face. If only you knew what he was going to tease you back with when he leaned close to your ear.

“‘Seonghwa, fuck, oh Seonghwa.’” He imitates your words from last night, and you quickly push him away, a laugh escaping his lips.

“Stop! Don’t!” You say, not being able to hold back your own laugh from hearing his. He walked back closer to you, a teasing look on his face.

“Isn’t that how you sounded screaming my name last night?” He asked, eyebrow raised in a questioning manner.

“Alright! Alright alright alright,” You shake your head, wanting to move on from how you sounded last night. “You’re unhinged, you know that?”

“I’m just proving a point.” He shrugs.

“The point being what?”

“That you shouldn’t date anyone but me.” He smiles satisfied, like it’s common knowledge. A while ago, you would’ve laughed in his face if he said that to you, but now, it only makes the butterflies go crazy in your entire body. But of course, he can’t know (yet) how weak in the knees he’s making you, so you only respond with a casual answer.

“Fine, I guess.”

“Oh, I have a better idea,” His arms find their way around you again as you look up at him from your stool. “How about we go on a date here, and we’ll go out to eat in the restaurant where that waiter is working and he can see that we’re-”

“Nooo, no, no, we’re not doing that.” You stop him.

“Why?” He sounds genuinely confused.

“Because that’s gonna make everyone besides you uncomfortable, and you’re not gonna be dragging that poor man to the ground, again. He hasn’t done anything wrong, you know.” You defended, not wanting to stir any kind of drama. You just had to text the waiter that there wouldn’t be a date, but you’re thankful for the opportunity. But knowing Seonghwa, you’re not surprised by him coming up with this idea. You’re also earned with Seonghwa rolling his eyes at you.

“Boring, but fine. Is this how our relationship starts? With you telling me what not to do?” He asks, of course, a teasing smile apparent on his lips. 

“When you’re being a menace, yes. And I might tell you what not to do, but if we do what we did last night.. Isn’t that a pretty good deal?” You suggest, watching as Seonghwa smiles even more while he holds you closer.

“Baby, you can tell me what to do and what not to do for the rest of our lives, if we can do what we did last night.” He leans closer, his lips barely touching yours. "I'd happily be your servant for the rest of time if you promise to stay with me."

“Sounds like a plan.” You smile satisfied.

“Can’t wait.” He finally presses his lips against yours, making the fireworks in your body go crazy. Your mind goes blank again, falling into the deep hole of Seonghwa, wishing to stay there forever. 

Taglist:

@canigotosleep--plz @miyajack @uyumilk @hhoneylix @staytiny816 @skzscb @yeologist @likexaxdaydream @yunsara @hrtniki @dazzlingstarrs @mingiturnip @vannabanana1995 @xoxominghxe @stfu-rina   

(I only have a main taglist, lmk if you wanna be added <3)

[mayvnwrites]

Fox demon sy au, except more demon and less uwu.

After dying due to expired food, SY wakes up as a fox demon with a natural affinity to poisons and poisoning. He is unamused at the irony, thanks, but at the same time... he IS kind of in some chaotic demon realm adjacent like place and needs all the help he can get, so ... thanks?

His transmigration even came with a subspace for drying and preserving herbs and ingredients, and an encyclopedic manual of all the possible tinctures, ingredients, and handling procedures installed into his brain.

Pretty adequate, although the subspace can only take medicinal ingredients and can't be used for growing/raising ingredients, and the manual is so massive SY feels like it will take decades to read. (Spoilers: it does take decades to read)

Cool, SY thinks, I can be a wandering apothecary and stuff - but of course things don't turn out like that, because why wouldn't this world be full of poisonous plants that require... um ... *alternative* methods of healing.

After the fifth time someone tries to force SY to cure someone with papapa, he says fk it and, unable to escape in more conventional ways, he poisons his way out of the demon lord's castle.

SY is also beginning to understand which world he's been transmigrated to and is cursing a "Master Airplane" under his breath nonstop as he stomps angrily away from rando demon lord's territory, almost no guilt in his heart because the dude and his vassals eat people and are *assholes*.

SY starts using the direct method (aka poison) in refusing persistent inquisitors that want help he's unwilling to give (whether it's papapa or just a matter of principle) and slowly becomes known more for poisoning than cures. Doesn't help that SY has evolved from death-poisons to poisons that would make you wish you were dead.

Soon SY is known as a fox who would rather kill you than speak to you.

At first SY feels upset about this, because after all that work curing people, killing people is what he's known for? But eventually he's like, whatever gets people to stop bothering me~.

After decades, SY has embraced getting his way with his pretty face and poisonings, becoming a bit of a naughty foxy, and is enjoying his life away from the plot and with much less harrassment by the demons.

He's gained the title of Poisonous Shoutao (longevity peach), and his reputation as a venomous fox demon who could cure whatever ails you but would rather poison you has grown far and wide (as well as his foxy bewitching ways as he gloats over poisoning you).

SY has a long list of admirers and haters alike, including those grateful for his healing and those who want revenge for his poisonings, but what good demon *doesn't* have an enemy or 20?

And then one of his haters sets him up to be the scapegoat of a rash of poisonings in some human communities, and suddenly SY is the target of some pony-tailed pretty boy head disciple from Cang Qiong with a mole, who hasn't realized that the Poisonous Shoutao is outside of his capabilities... after paralyzing the boy, SY thinks about just ending the kid but... well, SY has used his pretty face to sway others before, but this is the first time he's been swayed by a pretty face.

B-besides, it's probably better to avoid making enemies of Cang Qiong, no matter where in the plot they are right now! So SY just teases the kid until the kid's practically steaming (out of anger? or...), reveals he's NOT the culprit, and disappears into the night with a faint scent of nightshade lingering behind.

Expecting it all to be done and dusted after that, SY is surprised to find out that the pretty boy now has a vendetta against him and has sworn to take him down.

Cue cat-and-mouse interactions all over the two realms with a poisonous (and slightly flirty) fox demon chased by a serious (but easily flustered - at least when it comes to a certain fox) young cultivator.

[writella]

Reckless Romantics

Synopsis: Can be read as a stand alone or part two to getting ready for me; a return to innocent, inexperienced!reader and her relationship with Rick Grimes; two weeks after their first time together there has been some distance, but now Rick wants to make up for how hasty he was when he touched her last.

Details: Rick Grimes x fem!reader, smut: oral (f receiving) and teaching reader how to give a handjob, unspecified (of age) age gap, sweetness + kissing + a little mutual pining maybe, probably cliche, and leaning more into Rick as the dutiful leader and gentle lover (I feel this is just as in character as dom!Rick). Reader is a music lover— any kind of music you like— but she also likes a specific band only because I watched a documentary about them at the theater in July so it made its way into the story. Slightly proofread— will be corrected more later. wc: 5-7k (I lost track after finishing it on tumblr).

A/N: I wrote this message before I returned for the summer, but I still want you to read it: Been spending time outside this summer, trying to reach some goals— time got away from me. I don’t think I’ll ever stop saying I miss you, but please know it’s always true.

— with love from writella, my beautiful reader. ♡

Rick Grimes was not a man to give in to temptation.

My mercy prevails over my wrath, he’d say— his secret keepsake phrase. The one he whispers to himself in moments of hardship; the one he uses when he needs to make decisions only a leader would. Rick was a man of discipline; honor. He never boasted about how seriously he took these qualities, but when others did— admired, applauded, stuck by him for it— it would be a lie to say that he didn’t take note and use their pride to keep him going. This is how he knows he is strong-willed, why he wouldn’t fall for foolish, forbidden things. He was better than that. The safety and prosperity he brought to Alexandria proved it, reaffirmed it.

So why couldn’t someone remind him of that two weeks ago before he touched you?

As for you, you believed yourself to be a girl who wouldn’t fall so easily for the first man who showed you any kind of affection.

From an adolescence of peers who never seemed to take notice of you to one filled with walkers and adults who were either dead or seldom your age, you learned how hard love, let alone any connection, is to come by. It has made you quite the perpetual daydreamer because of it. One with a heart and mind filled with fantasy worlds, creating what you lacked externally. It often made you see yourself as much younger than you were despite all you’ve been through. No regular person your age in the old world has probably escaped as many deaths and wannabe cowboy dictators as you have. Still, they probably knew what it was like to have a high school romance, or at least go to the movies with friends, and have graduated from well, anything. You were simply born too late and shoved into this new world too early to experience even half of it.

This upbringing has brought you up to believe yourself precocious, although— maybe you were already too old for that word now. No, you were, so maybe– sensible, realistic despite the overactive imagination; you could decipher between right and wrong, real versus fake. This is why, for as long as you could, you did not entertain any thoughts of Rick Grimes.

Other people would though, women mostly. But you did have your suspicions of others who thought the same— they just weren't as shameless. Those who were, could be found during lunch breaks from work on house porches; or laughing and whispering at community gatherings and at the back of town hall meetings. Basically any time or place they could turn into a gossip session, which was often. And it didn’t always have to do with Rick. It could be about any one of the men in town; or retelling funny moments to their friends or complaining about their co-workers. But anything of true, great interest always had to do with the community leaders. You wish you could say you were the exception to this interest, but hypocritically, you loved a good inside scoop, and luckily for you, you had a trustworthy way about you. Almost everyone who spoke to you or allowed you to sit with them and their friends for meals agreed: you were a intent, quiet listener making you the best kind of person to say things to without judgment; and people assumed you as shy, yet you loved to laugh which was great for boosting egos. They often treated you as a little sister in that way, as if the pleasure was all yours to get to hear their ramblings because they were either older or perceived themselves to be more sociable and experienced than you. You tried not to care too much about what they took you for. It was nice to feel trusted, even if people could be a little too mean or weird for your liking because no matter who it was, they made you feel as if you were watching television, and you missed television. They told you things from period mishaps– (it’s the apocalypse, there are a lot of free bleeding queens okay)— to which people in their workstations annoyed them most with very detailed explanations as to why and, of course, rumors or general talk about the leaders: who they thought each of them has slept with, if there seemed to be any fighting between them and what side they were taking, and obviously, anything that had to do with one of the guys. Some were downright obvious that one or the other was their type, while others might try to be more sly about it, always bringing whichever man it was up more than the others. But unless they were diehard Daryl girls, wanted to dominate Glenn, or had some military man, hot priest, or doctor kink for Abraham, Gabriel, or Siddiq, most of them apparently felt that Rick was the love of their lives. He was like a local celebrity. A band’s frontman.

“So, what about you?” One of your scavenging partners asked on the ride home. “Which one do you like?”

“They’re all attractive guys,” you say, keeping your eyes on the road. “But I don’t really think about them like that.” You feel a flush coming on. Crushes, or anything romantic, is a part of your internal world, not something you discuss aloud.

“Come on,” she prods. “You never join in. You just laugh at us for being delusional.”

“Whose us?” Rosita asks, her voice sharp, humorous, and not without judgment. “I don’t talk about that shit.” But secretly, she loved the drama as much as you and would have many questions for you later tonight about why you have yet to tell her of the town obsession of treating her friends like the cast of a reality show.

“I don’t laugh at you! I like it when you guys talk about that stuff.”

“But what I’m saying is that I didn’t let you ride shotgun this time so you can hold out again,” the girl jokes half-heartedly.

“What do you mean this time? I get to ride shotgun because I’m the one with the CDs.”

And it’s true, the only thing that cancelled out the silence of drive in moments where conversation ceased was your Oasis album playing in the background. Learning about the band was your new obsession. Much like listening to the crazy imaginations of the girls in town, you found the Gallagher brother rivalry riveting even if you only knew pieces of the story from the music, scraps of magazine articles, and by asking whoever in town happened to be a teen in the 90s. Thankfully you had hit the jackpot today though. One of the houses you visited was once occupied by a dad and daughter with an insane music collection in the living room and a smaller, more curated one in the girl’s room. After gathering what new music you wanted to try from downstairs, you also found some old issues of QuizFest in the girl’s room, filled with activities that were themed with shows you remember from when you were a kid, but the most important discovery— the find of all finds— was one of those Ultimate Guide, Complete Life Story magazines of none other than the band Oasis.

You would now probably know all of the drama between the brothers to tell a coherent story about the band’s history to anyone who wanted an escape from walker related events and farming talk. When you weren’t listening, that’s what people would come to you for: to borrow music, get recommendations, or to tell them a story. In all, you were getting the reputation of being the town’s music historian, meaning you usually used your knowledge to avoid talking about yourself. And it mostly worked.

Except for now.

“Well, if I had to guess,” the girl persists despite your silence, “I think it would be Rick.”

“What?” Noticing the incredulity in your tone, you calm your voice. Shrugging you say, “Why Rick? Everyone likes him.”

Rosita sends a look your way. It’s innocent enough, probably just showing that she is still listening on as she drives but you were refusing to look at anyone now to know for sure.

“Exactly,” the girl says. “He’s a classic knight in shining armor type. I feel like he’d talk you through it, which I think would be good for— someone like you.”

Your face is on fire, you can’t even speak properly. “I- first of all, what do you know about my experience?” you ask, the incredulous tone returning. But all you get as an answer is knowing snorts and chortles from the two women. Ouch. Nonetheless, you continue, “Second, you think shooting a guy in the head in front of his wife and the whole town is chivalrous?”

Oh—

That makes car goes quiet.

You know you made a mistake.

You didn’t mean it as crassly as you said it, and you did feel bad for saying it knowing that the situation was more difficult than you summed it up to be, but you didn’t apologize. All this talk about crushes and especially Rick made you embarrassed. It’s not that you didn't see what others saw anyway. Of course you noticed how nice Rick’s curls are, how he doesn’t have to use any product for them to look as they do; or those blue eyes and how when you get closer, they become that much more stark and crisp; or how good he was at talking to people, convincing them of things or simply just reassuring them as a friend; and that southern drawl that still sometimes catches you by surprise by sounding so pronounced at the end of certain words, making his voice that much more intoxicating. Of course you saw the appeal, but that didn’t mean you had a crush on him.

Right?

Maybe it doesn’t matter. You just felt you knew better. He was like a president. You know of them, and you believe in them, but you don’t get close to them. And it didn’t matter that he told Carl to personally deliver you a stereo he and Daryl found while out once. How he remembered how you liked music. How he told Carl to tell you this one was probably better than the old one you had, that it was louder. You only showed him your old stereo that once when he was helping you move. He was just a perceptive guy with a good memory. All leaders are like that.

Right?

Anyway, let’s get back to your crass… joke.

“Hilarious.” Rosita says and you hear the low contempt in her voice at your insensitivity.

“That was ages ago though,” the girl chimes in, saving you just a little, “and he did it to help her. He didn’t care about the mess he made. He save her. I’d say that’s pretty romantic.”

“Let’s not call that romantic,” Rosita scoffs, and despite the slight frustration, there was a quiet sadness in her voice at the memory. “That wasn’t love.”

“That was reckless, not romantic.” You agree. Partly because you truly do, but also in attempt to win back favor from your friend. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

But after that day, it was all you could think about.

The idea of a knight; a romantic; someone that would do anything for you, ruin his reputation for you; find gifts from the outside that he’d send is son to give to you. Maybe you did find it charming, idyllic.

These thoughts soared in your mind so much so that on one night when thinking about boys from books or your favorite artists wasn't enough during moments under your sheets when your back arched and your fingers trailed up your thighs, your mind switched from people you would never meet to him, to Rick. Your eyes scrunched tighter, and you tried to shake it away, telling yourself it was just the women in town and the talk in the car getting to you. But then you thought about how rich and hot pink his lips looked on a bright sun-burning day and how it would feel like flames firing inside of you if he kissed you with them.

Ideas like these went on for nearly a year now. You even started questioned if maybe you had always liked him, maybe you were always just like the other girls even though tried to not be. You had thought it made you respectful, realistic; after all, how could Rick be the love of your life if he was everyone’s? Wonderings like this became even worse and more confusing when Rosita had asked if you’d like to move in with her. Becoming closer with her meant being around the leaders more often, which meant coincidental encounters and conversations with Rick as well. Quickly, he wasn’t just that president or celebrity anymore who talked to you sometimes and got you that stereo that once. He was becoming a peer— at least in some ways. One who was curious about your interests as much as your opinions. But it’s not exactly like you were in the in-crowd now as some people assumed. You didn’t get to go to leader meetings, and as much as you knew Rosita must have been telling you more than others know, she couldn’t have been telling you everything. But you did see him more than other people now, when he and the leaders came over to the house or when Rosita was invited over to theirs and she’s tell you to come too. And now, with these thoughts spiraling, you can’t help but to look back at the at the times where Rick approached you, gave you all his attention no matter how small it was and asked you about what you were listening to or reading that week, letting you ramble. He was an older guy, yes, but he cared, he actually listened, and he didn’t make you feel like the childish little sister others do.

Sadly, you did become the fawn like you had told yourself you wouldn’t be. But you couldn’t stop picturing him when you closed your eyes, and in fact, it was nice to imagine someone to fall asleep with, to wake up to. It was just going be your secret. Part of your fantasy world. But then— it all caught up to you.

Through the sliver of the open door he saw you, fingers between folds, goading yourself on as you chanted his name in whispers.

And to your surprise, he encouraged it. No, he did so much more than that— he helped you, made you come; gave you your first orgasm and made you his like no one has before.

You loved it. You gave into it. Even if it was just one secret moment. It made you give into the idea that this would continue but of course, it didn’t. He hasn’t spoken to you in almost three weeks until—

“Woah-” you gasp, almost crashing into just the person as you exit your room.

“Sorry,” you both say in unison, holding onto each other's forearms before quickly letting go. Your arms cross over into your chest before dropping as you enter your room again, clearing the hallway, and his hands go behind his back. He’s still as unsteady as you are, his mouth is slightly open, thinking of what to say.

“Hi,” you whisper tentatively.

“Good morning,” he politely replies. His eyes now smile slightly as he nods to you. You don’t miss how the light emanating from your bright room makes them shine. And he doesn’t miss how the light shining behind your figure makes you, in your white cotton sundress, look like an absolute angel.

“Good morning,” you repeat, giggling slightly, not knowing what else to say.

“Good morning,” he says again, lost and as giddy as you are.

“Oh wait— is the leader’s meeting here today?” Rick starts to nod and answers yes as you continue to speak, “I totally forgot! I’m sorry. I know I should be gone by now.”

He shakes his head, “It’s fine. I was just going to the bathroom.”

“Here? Was someone in the one downstairs?”

“Just wanted to be away from everyone when they came. Daryl and I came early so we started talking and I just- we didn’t see eye to eye on something. I needed a minute.”

You nod. That seems to be your signature when to talk to him. You hated it honestly. Often over-analyzing your words, worrying you’ll sound immature or stutter in front of him. “I'm sorry,” you tell him sympathetically. For a moment there is only silence which makes you worry he will go away, so without thinking, you ask: “I know you’re busy but, if you need a moment, maybe you would like to come in here instead?”

Rick freezes but then, inevitably agrees. As he enters, you close the door and quickly go to shut off the low playing stereo and rehang some of the dresses on your chair in the closet— you had been getting ready for the day. Rick goes to sit on the chair after you empty it but you stop him. You sit on the vertical side of your bed and guesture Rick to sit in the spot next to you, closer to the headboard. You wanted to sit next to him.

Rick doesn’t question this, maybe he wanted to be as close to you as you had, so as he sits, your thighs touch. You try not to move too much at the first contact. Still, the heat that starts to burn inside you makes you realize how much you’ve craved this. Can two weeks feel like a lifetime? It’s like you haven’t felt him in ages.

“What were you playing today?” He asks and you realize you eyes went straight to the area where yours and Rick’s legs touched. You know he noticed but still you try to answer normally.

“Selena. Rosita loves her. It’s one of her most famous songs: Amor Prohibido.”

He nods. “I probably wouldn’t understand a bit of it,” he laughs.

He would probably remember the singer from the news if you gave more context but you don’t. There is a silence that follows until you ask, “So,” starting slowly, “what’s wrong? Is Daryl aright?”

He doesn’t answer. His mouth is open as if he’s deciding what to say, but nothing comes out, so you continue, “You know, nothing is ever right in the world when Rick and Daryl fight. It makes me sad.”

The joke makes those lines at the sides of his eyes appear— a quiet laugh. “Well you know I’d never want to make you sad. Especially not you.” You two exchange a light smile while that heat rises fast to your heart. “We’ll be fine,” he finally says, but then he goes quiet again. Rick seems unsure if he wants to continue. He even looks at the door, wonders if the others have shown up yet, but— he knows he doesn’t want to leave. And even more, he knows he shouldn’t after ignoring you like some teenage boy. He decides to tell you what’s happening: “Daryl wants us to bring new people in. You know how he’s always going out there. But I think it’s way too soon.”

You hum agreeingly, but at the same time, you understand Daryl. “I think he just likes to give people what he never used to have,” you suggest.

“I know,” he nods a bit annoyedly; “and that’s a nice way to put it, but you know him, when he has his mind set on somethin’ he can be so damn stubborn. It’s frustrating. He won’t compromise or listen to anything.”

Endearingly, you try to withhold a laugh, your lisp pursing. Not only because when he says anything, it actually sounds like anythang, but because Rick sounds like he’s describing himself and he doesn’t even realize it.

“And,” he adds, pausing for a moment before he continues, scratching his beard. It looks as if maybe he shouldn’t tell you what he’s about to. His head hangs low to say: This is not information for everyone to know, okay? But the last time he went out there with Glenn, the reason Glenn’s arm is in a sling right now, is because they met a group, tried to bring them back and before they could make it even close to home, the group fought ‘em, tried to steal what they scavenged, and almost kill Glenn.”

You widen your eyes at the statement. You actually already knew this from Rosita, but that will stay between you two. All you feel is humbled that he felt he share it with you, despite it being a dark thing. It was a close call. Rick was right for being very cautious right now. “Wow,” is all you can get in before he speaks again.

“Imagine if we lost him. Fought this war with his wife and unborn baby at the time for nothing? So he couldn’t even meet him?” Rick shakes his head, and you notice his foot tapping lightly, making his knee bounce. This had happened a month ago now but it was obviously affecting him. “It was reckless and I told him that. That right now we need to be focusing on what’s inside these walls. People have only just started getting back to being comfortable now; to feeling like this is a home.”

Your eyes remain wide, “We did so much rebuilding you.”

“We did complete rebuilding.” He corrects, though not rudely. Shaking his head, he goes back to talking about Daryl: “I think I made it seem like what happened to Glenn was his fault. So not only were we arguing but I must’ve hurt him,” Rick realizes, “and now he definitely won’t be back today— maybe not even until next week.”

A silence hangs in the air after this; it seems he finished. Now, you know you should speak, but as the silence continues, you grow more unsure of what to say. Issues like these are things you’ve never dealt with. You didn’t want to say something stereotypical.

“I’m sorry I’m putting all this on you.”

“No, no,” you quickly console, trying to think. “Um, well,” you say, starting unsteadily, “this is probably going to sound stupid and not helpful. I don’t even remember the exact context or what was truly said so it might not make any sense either but, do you remember when I had my Oasis obsession? Earlier this year?”

“I do,” he laughs, turning his head over to your music table. His eyes scan any of the visible album titles to see if he can find it, but the print on most of them are too small. He turns back to you as you continue:

“This is going to sound a little far off but I think you and Daryl are like Liam and Noel.”

His eyebrows furrow, “Didn’t those two hate each other?”

“I mean, yes— but it’s much more complicated than that to me— but no, I don’t mean in that way. It just that there is this quote Noel says that I don’t remember exactly, but I really liked: he said that even though he wrote the music and Liam did the singing that Liam meant the words just as much as Noel did because they’re brothers and he wrote them. I thought that was beautiful, but…” you trail off.

He stays silent, trying to give you space to find your words but you feel like you’ve gone too far. It’s all pretty convoluted and not a true comparison to what’s going on that you’re even confusing yourself a little. “I think what I mean is that even though they have their different roles, they still feel very similar things and believe in the same purpose. I think that’s like you and Daryl. You two are so similar yet so different. But there’s still a binding force that always brings the two of you together. So, like I’m sure you already know and I didn’t even need to tell you, but you two will be okay. You two have different ways of doing things, but the music or the life you’re trying to create in Alexandria still has the same meaning to the both of you.” You laugh small and breathily as you end. “That probably didn’t make sense.”

Rick smiles to himself. “I didn’t get that first bit, with the quote, but no… that made a lot of sense to me.” He nods toward you and you return his smile. “You’re so bright. You know that? Not everyone knows how to stitch things together like that the way you do.”

This makes you feel good. Rick thought you were smart. You know you should say thank you, but instead, something else comes out: “May I, may I kiss you?”

“Yes,” he answers, almost stuttering it out, a hint of hesitation before he did, but he nods so kindly, so reassuringly as he tells you again: “yes.”

Your fingers touch his lower cheeks lightly, feeling the bristles of his beard. You’re slow, and careful, and scared. Your fingers linger on his jaw for a moment until they completely caress his right cheek and then you move in, swiftly— worried you’ll lose your confidence, worried he’ll change his mind. You catch his lower lip and seal the kiss. Your lips are locked for a few seconds until you retreat. It was nice, and exciting, but short. You knew you could have put your tongue in his mouth. You believe he would have let you because you remember when he did it last time, but you didn’t want to embarrass yourself by doing it wrong and once again reminding him how much you don’t know. But you’re sure giving him a grade school kiss like this one was enough of a reminder.

Your eyes roll down, chin low. Your cheeks are on fire and your hands do not know where to go so you start fiddling with the hem of your dress and then you laugh. You were trying to be courageous this time, and you were, but you also weren’t.

Rick grabs your left hand, holding it at the end of your thigh, “I liked that,” he says softly.

“You did?” You ask as softly as he, eyes meeting his.

A short, airy snicker comes out, “Mhm,” he hums, giving you a closed-mouth smile. He found you simply adorable.

“Can I… try it again?”

Rick pulls on your forearm, attempting to bring you closer to him. “Yeah,” he nods, voice gentle. “Do you want me to help?”

You nod before you speak, happily accepting, “Yes.”

He puts your hands on his shoulders. One of his grabs onto your waist and the other holds you lightly under your chin, adjusting your head to meet his lips. The first kiss he places holds just for a couple of moments as the one you gave him did, gentle but packed with longing. The next two are slow, pretty pecks that already have you melting at his touch, lips agape waiting for the next one. The fourth is the one where he brings his tongue into your mouth, carefully bringing it in quarter by quarter. He tastes the top of your mouth and tongue and you feel him as he slowly starts to explore how far you may like to go, but truly you become stagnant other than your hands that press into his shoulder. Luckily, Rick either doesn’t notice your hesitation or is already silently helping you as he takes the lead, pulling you closer by the hips and slipping his tongue in and out of your mouth to kiss you more. It makes you smile— the excitement of your first make-out session. You giggle, and then it makes him smile too and your teeth slightly bump into each other. Accidently you nip his lip because of it, making you pull back.

Your fingers hover over your lips as you impart a quiet apology but Rick just shakes his head giving you another quick kiss instead. He starts to move back on your bed, back pressed again the headboard and he tells you quietly, “Come here.”

You get up and sit higher up on the bed as well, calves folded under your thighs. He takes one of your legs and starts to put it over his as he asks, “Is this okay?”

You nod, vigor growing as you do it now, thrilled to sit on his lap. Your dress bunches around your hips and the tops of your thighs. You move closer to press your chest into his and you kiss him first again, another small one but with intent as you look at him afterward, feeling the scratch of his beard on your fingertips as you smile at him, in awe that this is happening.

“You want to try this time?”

“Uh,” he means you put your tongue in his mouth this time, but you’re afraid to do it wrong but you know you want to say yes so you do, “Yes, okay.”

So he brings you in again and you kiss him. He mouth opens a little and you try to bring your tongue in slightly but you teeth clash. “Sorry,” and quickly he responds that it’s okay and rubs your cheek, telling you to just open your mouth a little wider, no teeth, let your tongue go on top of his.

You try it. Your tongues meet again, licking each other tips before you slowing press in more, your chest touching his as you try to close the gap.

Rick starts slowly rocking your hips against his and he takes control of the kiss again. It helps you not think, you like it. And you like the feeling of that incoming tight bulge starting to form under his jeans, but then you let go. “Wait,” you say, “I like this.” You pause for a moment, confusing him more as to why you stopped. “But… there is something I wanted to ask you.”

“Okay,” his hand stay fixed on your hips and waist, rubbing soothily, “What it is?”

Another pause. “I feel nervous,” you whisper.

“You have no reason to be, sweetheart. You can ask me anything.”

You laugh, smiling as you look off to the side. Anythang.

He smiles too, although unknowingly to what you found funny. His head tilts as he tries to find your gaze and turn it towards him again.

“Well, the last time we were together here you taught me how to do something. You taught me how to pleasure myself better so,” you stutter, “I want to pleasure you. If that’s okay. And I was wondering if you’d teach me how- to touch you here.” You remove yourself from straddling him and point in the direction of his cock.

Instantly he feels a stir of his already hardening dick.

This is not how he expected things to go this time. Or truly, he didn’t expect any of this at all, but when you asked to kiss him he decided he would be gentle, more giving. It felt like you wanted him to take again, the exact thing he was trying not to do. “I feel like I took advantage of you last time.”

“Rick…” you shake your head. “I’m the one who didn’t close the door all the way. You asked if it was okay and then you asked if you could go faster. I said yes to everything…” You start to worry— is he second guessing everything now?—“I feel maybe we remember this differently.” You bow your head again now. Feeling ashamed, wondering if he did.

Rick places one hand on your knee to comfort you although he still says, “It’s just that I’ve never done something like this before.” His thumb sways on your skin. “I just don’t want you to end up feeling like you’re wasting your time. Your first times.”

You’re surprised, “It’s so funny how you can be so self-assured in front of a crowd and now you don’t think you’re good enough.” You take his hand and press it towards your chest. Your heart was racing. “I like you. So much.” You swallow as he says your name softly, realizing how fast your heart was going. “No one in town is truly ever mean to me or anything, and Rosita has been so kind with letting me move in with her and we talk and its nice but, you know— she has her flings and her friendships that are separate from mine and everyone just always seems like they have their person and I just don’t. I don’t have my person, or any person.” You remove your hands from your chest but Rick still holds onto it, squeezing your hand as you start speaking again. “You’re kind, Rick, and you make me excited, and you remember things about me… “ If your face could get any hotter, it does, “And, well, you’re very handsome. If you could teach me again, I would like that.”

God… Rick was trying to be a romantic yet you were so adamant on getting him off. He laughed inwardly, shaking his head, deciding that the best way to handle this situation— and make up for some of his guilt as he was trying to— would be to give you the thing you say you want and not what he thinks you want. Suppose that’s one for widower’s wisdom.

Decidedly, Rick gets up from the bed, giving you a once over, still admiring how adorable, and how sexy, you look to him with your feet under your lap, hands on your knees as you look up at him from the bed and your white dress. He starts undoing his shirt buttons. “Remember when I did this the first time?”

A smirk came on, there’s the Rick you remember. Blue eyes intense, and voice getting cocky as he gets ready to give you what you need, what he knows you only want from him.

“Yes,” you say quiet yet with budding excitement. You start going for the hem of your dress, “Should I start taking this off too?”

“Mm, stay like that.” He’s taking off his belt. “Thought you looked beautiful in it right when I saw you.”

Your thighs squeeze together slightly. Rick Grimes was undressing before you, for you, and calling you smart and beautiful all the while.

As Rick lowers his boxers, his cock springs up. He returns to his spot on the bed, back leaning against the headboard. All of a sudden he seems to truly recognize that he is the only one exposed. He would tell you what to do, guide you, but in a small way, in a way you probably didn’t realize, you were in control. It seems that each time this happens— although it’s only been twice— and each time he talks to you— which has been plenty— you steal a little more of Rick’s heart and he just can’t stop it.

“So,” he clears his throat, your eager eyes on his cock making him twitch, “you usually just wrap your hand around, start from the base and keep pumping up.” He shakes his head, “there’s not too much too it but it’s best to keep your hand light at the start, you—”

You nod quickly, “May I?”

As he nods back you, “Yes.” And as he says it you’re already licking your hand.

“Is it okay if I spit? That helps right? Or is that nasty to you?”

He’s caught off guard, “No, no, that helps.”

So you do and you place your hand lightly at the base as he said and you start to pump. Instantly, he lets out a gasp, and the next noises that follow are repressed grunts and groans. You want to ask him to stop doing that but you’re a little scared to speak up that way just yet and you’re too engrossed in how you can see the light veins of green and blue on him and how he’s so red at the tip. It was honestly exciting. Just this, touching him with your hand, staring at his member and watching him twitch as his mouth opens to pant lightly. It still felt unreal but you liked it and you were happy to learn. You start to pump him more towards the top, placing your thumb on his slit- pressing in. His abs clench at that. You push in a little harder and you squeeze your fist around him a little— testing it out to see what happens—and he groans, unadulterated this time, “oh, fuck.”

The heel of your foot that’s under your lap pushes into your center at that.

You start pumping faster. “Am I doing good, Rick?”

Hearing your voice sets him off, “Fuck, sweetheart. Yes.” He’s honestly choking out each of his words, he didn’t expect to get so turned on by all of this. He realizes the last time he had sex was with you that first time, and before that… he can’t even remember. “You’re doing an amazing job.”

As you pump, you start to slow down, only doing it shallowly towards his base. You’re feeling confident and you kiss the side of him, licking a fat stripe up to the top and then you pump him fully again.

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he breathes out. He wants to tell you to slow down but it comes out of nowhere, he stutters before he can even speak. An unintelligible groan mixed with a moan comes out abrupt and louder than he intends and white spurts of liquid come out.

You go faster for a few moments, then start to slow down, a little unsure of what is best to do, but you notice when you start squeezing him a little more as you continue to pump up and more whiteness fall out from inside of him.

“Did I, make you come?”

“Yeah,” he says, huffing.

“I did?” your cheekbones rise as you ask with awe— it was another first for the books.

Rick’s tries to let his embarrassment fade, he can tell you were just excited about it, but still, he looks down and to the side, avoiding direct eye contact— almost like you typically would. You peer at him, almost nervously because of it. Rick is usually the confident one. “Doesn’t always happen that fast,” he explains.

“Well before a month ago I didn’t know how to make myself come so I wouldn’t know,” you say with self-deprecating assurance. You had heard from the girls in town that it was easier to make men orgasm. You already had it in your head as something not to judge. You wonder how hard he must have been restraining himself the first time he placed himself inside you, or if it just happened to be easier for him that time around. “I didn’t expect I could do it or anything really. I thought it was…” you smile while giggling, “interesting.”

“A good interesting I hope.”

“Very,” you assure. “I liked it.” You kiss his cheek as you take some wipes that are by your night stand and you start cleaning him up. He doesn’t tell you that you don’t have to; he helps along with you.

“You sure you’ve never done any of this before?”

You shake your head. “I just read fiction books.”

He smiles to himself, a quiet snort of laughter leaving his nose. You always surprise him.

When you two are done cleaning, he puts his boxers back on. Quickly, he is on the bed again and starts to kissing you. Rick holds your shoulder and pushes you down. Finally, it’s time for his redemption, he feels. It was your turn to be pleasured. Just like he wanted to do from the beginning.

Rick kisses down your neck to your collarbone, and the parts of your exposed chest and he pushes your dress up past your hips. His lips move back up to yours, kissing you more before saying, “I really wanna show you something sweetheart.” He presses his thumb into your clit over your underwear. “Can I kiss you down there? Have you ever had that before?”

You shake your head slowly, eyes wide. “I-” you start nodding your head, “-I would really like that.” And in such a small voice you add, “Please.”

Rick kisses your cheek. Deep and softly he breathlessly tells you, “I would love to.”

Rick moves his head lower and gives you slow kisses over your underwear from your mound to the end of your lips. He starts to drag your panties over your legs and once they’re gone he kisses up your thighs. Then his nose rubs and sways ever so lightly on your lips. He breathes in and it makes you shutter. Your heart is going crazy again. Finally, he licks upward. One long and languid stripe ending with a kiss to your clit and then he truly begins.

Tongues are wet and sticky and everything you ever dreamed of. Your eyes roll back instantly from that first lick and kiss. You remember a time when you started touching yourself that you used to never think of receiving oral. You thought it was scary, nasty, that you wouldn’t like it until the moment you thought about it as a million kisses on your most sensitive lips, or someone liking you so much that they’d get drenched by your wetness just to touch you, to taste you. After that, you thought about it all the time and now it was finally happening– someone needing you so much they just had to know what you taste like. Here he was: kissing, licking, sucking, not caring about how he looks but only how you feel— you now knew what it was like to be desired.

Rick presses his tongue flat on your clit, rubbing deep circles. His eyes are open, looking up at how your mouth opens wider and wider. You let out little whimpers, enamored by his tongue, still deciding if you like the scratch of his beard, but your eyes stay glued to the ceiling, scared to look at the scene below.

He gives you kitten licks in between speaking, “Look down. Don’t miss your first time.”

Your eyes go down slowly, watching as he gives open mouth kisses to your clit and right lip, tilting his head. He stays there for a moment, hearing your short and breathy pants, kissing and licking your clit and lower lips like they were the ones above your chin. His eye contact sends bursts of sticky wet fluid down your hole and you release a whimpered moan, they’re always sp short and soft and high pitched. He can tell you like it but he can also see you’re nervous. You don’t trust yourself, you know it, and he’s starting to realize it too. You’re scared of completely letting go.

He peppers kisses to your clit before moving upward, his tongue rolling and mouth kissing from your lower stomach to your breasts till his face reaches yours again. “No one’s here,” he tells you. He then kisses your lips allowing you to taste yourself for the first time. “Relax,” he whispers, rolling out each syllable. He holds your chin with one hand while he inserts a finger into your hole with the other, his pointer is instantly drenched and you shudder at the feeling. His single calloused finger reminds you of the time he was last inside you. He pumps slowly, looking into your eyes as he speaks, “Don’t think about who could come downstairs.”

“What if Rosita or Daryl come back?”

“What if?” He says it so simply as if he’s ready for everyone to know. Truly, that would be an issue, but right now it was not about him and it was completely about you; he wanted to give. It was short-sighted, reckless, yes, but… you were just so pretty, so bright, so insightful, and he felt like he needed to make up for all the taking he did last time, of your first time. Rosita had went to run after Daryl, hopefully no one was here anyway. But again, he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. “Lay back,” he gently commands, “forget what I said before- close your eyes. Just give in to it. Like I’m the only one who's here.”

Rick licks zig zag stripes down your slit and then he decides to insert his tongue in your hole. He goes as deep as his tongue allows, collecting your wetness and trying to swallow it in moments when he turns back to kissing. He his nose is brushing and rubbing up against your clit as he sucks wetness from down below and you start letting out stringy moans you can’t control. Soft, pretty, and continuous, “uh, ah, uh, uh” that turn into “sorry, I’m sorry.” You’re still self-conscious about your own noises. This was still only the second time you’ve heard the sounds you make when someone else is fucking you.

But Rick shushes you. Giving small kisses to your clit as he looks up at you, seeing your scrunched eyes and open mouth. “I like knowing you like it, pretty girl. I like all those pretty sounds you’re making.”

Your pussy tightens around nothing at that phrase.

“Keep going. You don’t have to be shy.” He grabs your chin and you look down at him. His beard is wet. “We’ve already made a mess anyway.”

He starts kissing your labias, licking up wetness when you decide to ask, nervously, “Can you make sounds too?”

Instantly, Rick goes again to kiss your clit, humming into it as he sucks. Breathing against you he says, “Want me to tell you I like it, sweetheart?” His tongue slides down again, tongue reaching into your hole and he moans into your pussy.

Your back arches and you mewl, you could almost scream.

That’s it, he thinks. Rick keeps humming and groaning into you now. His voice is so seductive. “I love tasting your pussy, baby.”

You couldn’t breathe.

Rick starts rubbing your clit with his thumb and going fast with his tongue in your hole “My bright, pretty girl gonna come for me? Hm?”

“Oh, Rick, I want to. Please, Rick.”

Rick starts to go faster and your brain turns to mush. Only noises coming out and when he stops his tongue movements to say something more you push his head down. “Sorry,” you say. You’ve never been forceful before but he says nothing, just continues going down on you and taking his free hand to place it over his, gesturing that he wants your hands in his hair. You tug on his curls and he grunts into you. You start chanting his name and then he switches to placing his lips on your clit and putting two fingers in your pussy. It reminded you of the first time but instead of your three fingers they were two of his and it felt so much better than you ever knew before, better than you could ever do it yourself. It sets you off. Your eyes shut tighter if they could. “Rick! Oh my god,” you moan and then again and again and then you come.

Rick laps at your cunt, vigorously trying to wipe you clean. He makes it look like it will be the last and only time. It makes you worry but at the same time he looks so sexy like that; needy for you even after you finished.

He takes your wipes and cleans his lips before cleaning you up as you did for him. He kisses you thighs and your lips and your cheeks as he continues. “You did such a good job,” he says. “You always do.”

You’re filled with pride at that. “Thank you.” Then worry sets in. You realize how public you’ve made everything. “Did I just ruin your life?”

He laughs while caressing your thigh. That anxious expression of yours that he just got rid of returns after all the work he did.

“I’m gonna check downstairs. Okay? If they’re there, they’re there.” You nod. We already made a mess anyway, you remember him saying. “They might want to start the meeting when I go down so, whatever happens, happens alright? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Your eyes are still nervous, but it’s all too late anyway. “Okay,” you respond.

“Okay,” he says back, kissing you once more. As he dresses himself again, he tells you, “I promise I won’t wait two weeks to see you again.”

“I’d like that.”

“Me too,” he says as a send off and goes into the bathroom to clean his face.

When he reaches the living room, there is no one. Rick is thankful but confused.

As he nears the coffee table there is a sheet of yellow lined legal pad with a talkie next to it.

Call when you’re done, it reads.

“Rosita?” He questions into the device. Who else could it have been, right?

He can almost hear the grin on her face. “They should start calling you Reckless Rick for all the agony you put these Alexandria girls through.” She pauses for dramatic effect. “There’s just something about that stupid hair cowboy accent, I guess.”

Before he can respond, telling her that it’s absurd to think of him as a playboy, that he was far from it, she continues:

“So, fucking my roommate? You’re glad Glenn and Maggie called everyone over to theirs instead. Hershel took his first steps while you were teaching someone else how to take theirs.”

She unpressed the button to suppress her laughter. “Just get over here,” she concludes, putting down the walkie and going back to meet the rest of the group with a perfect poker face. She tells everyone Rick will be here shortly.

Oh, Alexandria’s leader and her new little best friend who has been hearing the townswomen’s fantasies of him for years: Reckless Rick and his reckless romantic girl.

Rosita would give you so much shit for this when she gets home.

[starcurtain]

Female Guidance in Aventurine's Life

One thing I haven't seen discussed in much depth yet, but which I think is especially interesting, is the consistency of female guidance in Aventurine's life: Every single person who we have seen on screen offering Aventurine assistance or making a positive difference in his life is female (with one exception, yes, I'll get there).

Under the read more cause it's longggg:

Before even diving into his family, let's just get the obvious out of the way: Aventurine is, at least supposedly, blessed by a goddess. The very origin of his good fortune--be it actual blessing or curse--comes from the literal "mother goddess" who watches over him. This is one of the only instances in Star Rail where a god character is specifically given a gender, and Gaiathra is not ever ambiguous. She is the classic female fertility goddess with all the trappings of other famous triple goddess figures of the real world. Aventurine's personal belief in the goddess may be shaky, but he nevertheless continues to treasure his people's faith. Thus, at the core, we can say Aventurine is a character who is guarded by the most quintessential mother figure possible.

Now, with the most obvious out of the way:

We know that Aventurine's father died before Aventurine was even born, and therefore he would not have any memories of his father, leaving him to be raised by his mother and sister.

Both women clearly made an enormous and lasting impression on Aventurine; they haunt every single one of his memories of Sigonia and are the key elements of the family Aventurine longs to return to. While he flirts with the concept of death as a way to see his family members again, it was also his mother and sister who instilled in him any sense of self-worth and meaning to his existence, the only things keeping him from giving up on living. His mother believed him to be blessed; his sister insisted to his face that not even the only remaining remnant of their mother had any value in comparison to his life.

It is for his sister that Aventurine first begins expressing a self-sacrificial nature, and from his sister that this self-sacrifice is reinforced when she uses herself as a shield to help him escape massacre at the hands of the Katicans.

It is also from his sister that Aventurine learns many of the deeply meaningful actions he holds onto to the present day, despite having been so far removed from his own culture.

Conversely, every one of Aventurine's early negative experiences on screen appear to have been driven (at least primarily) by men.

Although the Katican tribe of course would have both men and women, the tribal societies on Sigonia appear to be on the fairly traditional side, with Aventurine's mother staying at the camp with her child while his father was the one to go out and hunt for offerings for Gaiathra. This is also supported by Aventurine asking Jade to take him to her "chief" later on. Therefore, it is likely (although of course not guaranteed) that a majority of the Katicans' army was male, and that Aventurine's early experiences with outsiders consisted almost entirely of indiscriminate pillaging and massacre at the hands of what the Avgin viewed as savage, invading warriors. In separate instances, Aventurine was traumatized by these warrior figures three times--first with the loss of his father, then his mother, and then finally his sister.

And even their hope, supposed to come in the form of the "men in black" from the IPC, completely abandoned them, leaving Aventurine once again betrayed by masculine figures that were supposed to be there to protect him. Led by Oswaldo Schneider, another cruel male authority figure, the Marketing Department of the IPC permitted the wholesale slaughter of Aventurine's people--something which we know Aventurine is now aware of.

Then, of course, the next piece of Aventurine's backstory we're given is his male slave master. I don't really need to say anything about this, do I? This man violated Aventurine's human dignity and bodily autonomy, and forced Aventurine's hand in a life or death battle for which Aventurine still punishes himself mentally, even years in the future.

In part to escape the difficulty of his situation and rise to a position where he would have enough resources to--he thought--help his people, Aventurine joins up with the IPC. But when he attempts to make contact with a powerful man in the organization, Diamond, he is instead met by a woman, Jade, who against Aventurine's own expectations determines that she will raise Aventurine up (or use him as a tool, depending on how you currently choose to interpret Jade's motivations), granting him wealth and status beyond his imagination.

(And this line in particular is interesting, because you can take it one of two ways: 1) Aventurine comes from a patriarchal planet that traditionally put men into positions of power [thereby making his own slavery an emasculating act, aligning him further with disenfranchised women]; thus, he is making the assumption that to get anywhere in this organization, he will need to work with a man; or 2) He actually was counting on Jade taking his bet and helping him right from the beginning, because Aventurine perceives women as inherently more likely to protect and aid him than men would be.)

In the end, Jade does exactly as she claims she will, launching Aventurine into a position of power while also closing golden handcuffs around his wrists. She positions herself not only as his supervisor, but as his advocate and ally. She entrusts him with her Cornerstone, a sign of significant faith in his abilities. She even seems to be keenly aware of his bias towards the mother figure, referring to him as "child" in their conversations.

Whether this is genuine or a manipulation tactic can certainly be debated (and I'm not inclined to think at this point that Jade is a genuinely good role model or selflessly supportive person in Aventurine's life), but whatever the case, women are the only people Aventurine even remotely considers to be "in his corner."

We see this even earlier, in Aventurine's call to Topaz. Like with the example of his mother and sister, Aventurine trusts in Topaz's ability implicitly, and considers her above anyone else when it comes to completing the mission in Penacony.

Although of course we don't know if Aventurine has any other friends or allies among the Strategic Investment Department, it seems very likely that Topaz, yet another woman, is the one he is closest with. At the very least, she is the only IPC character (so far) that Aventurine has a complimentary voice line for, one that shows his respect for her talent:

Over and over again, the story aligns Aventurine with female figures in positions of authority, and demonstrates that he is comfortable (although maybe not too comfortable, in the case of Jade) with relying on them and trusting their judgment, just as he did with his mother and sister.

And this pretty much goes off the charts in Penacony, where Aventurine has more involvement with the female cast than virtually any other non-female character (even the Trailblazer!). We set the pattern off right away, with Aventurine immediately being placed into a negotiation situation with Himeko, respecting her role as the Express's leader and working to get himself aligned with the Express by acquiescing to her request for support.

Then there's the fact that Aventurine is the one who finds Robin's body, an event which, although he didn't let it show too much, was almost certainly traumatic for him, given the violent death of his own sister.

Next, twice in Penacony's story, we see Aventurine seek out Sparkle for information. He may not personally like her and her comments may be both racist and dehumanizing, but Aventurine does rely on her--being the only character explicitly seeking her aid, which no one else in Penacony seems to want.

In 2.0...

And in 2.1.

Now, say it with me, guys: Aventurine built an entire portion of his grand plan around the idea that if he looked pathetic enough, a female character would absolutely come and help him. And sure enough, the women come through for him, always! Sparkle gives him the exact last clue he needs to confirm his belief that he could use "Death" to reach the true Penacony, sealing the deal for the rest of his plan.

His plan which also hinged significantly on Black Swan's involvement too, another woman that he views as, if not trustworthy, then at least intelligent and hyper-competent.

Contrast all this, of course, with the treatment Aventurine receives at the hands of Sunday, the lone opposing male character he faces in Penacony.

Sparkle implies that Sunday would humiliate Aventurine in an unmistakably sexual and degrading way, and Sunday himself professes this same desire to see Aventurine humiliated.

Then we're "treated" to the moment in which Sunday uses the Harmony's (or perhaps actually the Order's?) power against Aventurine, in a scene which is supposed to reflect an interrogation but is also, very clearly, another nonconsensual violation of Aventurine's bodily autonomy and dignity by a man. While ostensibly seeking confirmation of the Cornerstone ruse, Sunday instead subjects Aventurine to unnecessary questions about his past on Sigonia, which recall and force Aventurine to re-endure memories of his trauma.

Even if this is what Aventurine prepared himself for and planned to have happen, the pain he experiences is very real, and he suffers both the physical and emotional consequences of Sunday's assault all the way up to his "Death" and possibly even beyond.

(Also, Sunday fans please don't get too up in arms with me for this; I also like Sunday! It's okay for characters to be morally grey!)

I think there's one other interesting example I would bring up here too, and that's Aventurine's conscious decision to weaponize his own masculinity against the Trailblazer. Through the 2.0 and 2.1 Trailblaze missions, Aventurine deliberately acts in an off-putting manner to the Astral Express crew, particularly the Trailblazer, in order to build up to the 2.1 climax where the Trailblazer is supposed to view him as an unrepentant villain and attack him without hesitation.

In order to achieve this uncomfortable, villainous effect, what does Aventurine do? Exactly what other men have done to him.

This is especially apparent if you're playing Stelle because of the ingrained societal taboo of a man entering a woman's personal space without consent, but even as Caelus, it is very clear that Aventurine is leveraging behaviors typically used to show dominance: In a complete 180 to all Aventurine's other body language in the game (normally quite withdrawn, frequently in defensive postures with his arms crossed or hand behind his back, almost always standing several feet away from other people), Aventurine violates the Trailblazer's personal bubble, looming over them (Caelus was sitting in this cutscene, lol), forcing eye contact, and commanding the space while informing them that they will have no choice.

For someone who was hunted, enslaved, had his movements restricted with chains, and due to his own slight stature has very likely been towered over by others who were intentionally asserting their power over him all his life, it is clear that Aventurine associates dominant, typically more masculine-coded physically-imposing behaviors with discomfort and even villainy.

Any girl who has ever had a man loom over her like this will realize very quickly: Aventurine wanted to make himself scary so he made himself act more like a bad man.

(Yes of course I know "not all men." I'm not saying every man behaves in this domineering way or that women cannot be domineering too, obviously, just that Aventurine had a very specific image in mind when constructing a "villainous persona," and the physically controlling tactics most typically used by aggressive men toward women was his immediate go-to.)

But where does that leave Dr. Ratio, the one male character actually on Aventurine's side?

Frankly, I don't want to derail my post about how intensely Hoyo chose to hammer on the message of "Women will protect you" in Aventurine's story with a discussion about a mlm ship, but the take-away here is going to lead in that direction anyway--so yes, Dr. Ratio is the exception.

What is interesting is that he does not come across as an exception at first, and in fact initially appears as another male character being rude and dismissive to Aventurine. Like, there are still people out there calling Ratio an unrepentant racist for this one.

Of course, it's later clarified that this is an act--likely even these insults were scripted specifically to give Sunday's spying ears the "insight" he needed to exploit Aventurine during the interrogation.

But even though it is an act, Aventurine still has noticeable trouble putting his faith in Ratio. He does genuinely doubt him a few times, despite knowing that they are working together to fool the Family.

Even his voice line about Ratio confirms that he doesn't think Ratio particularly cares for him; rather, he thinks Ratio simply tolerates him because he's slightly less unintelligent than those around them.

Ultimately, the entire act with Ratio ends up being a mirror of the real scenarios Aventurine has been experiencing with men his whole life (at least as far as we are shown his life). Men abandon him to fend for himself (unwillingly, like his father, or willingly, like Diamond leaving Aventurine to deal with Penacony alone on the inside). Ratio keeps leaving Aventurine completely alone. Men attempt to humiliate him and violate his boundaries (like Sunday and his slave master). Ratio insults Aventurine's appearance and intelligence repeatedly. Men betray him (like Oswaldo Schneider and his men leaving the Avgin to die). Ratio "betrays" him.

I'm not saying when Aventurine devised the plan for their act, he consciously drew up a list of all the ways men had hurt him in the past and had Ratio re-enact them one by one, but like... that's what happened, whether or not Aventurine intended it.

And okay, the shrinking scene in Dewlight Pavilion was just for fun and probably only slightly fetishy, the devs promise; yes, it was supposed to be a joke! ...But it's also not a mistake that this is yet another instance of a male character in a glaringly metaphorical position of power over Aventurine. Aventurine's tiny in this scene! He's completely vulnerable! He's in a dangerous position and the male character could very much hurt him in this moment.

But Ratio doesn't. (In fact, his line here is supposed to be sarcastic, very ha ha--but also, what is Ratio really saying? "I won't do anything to you without your express consent." What a good guy.)

Virtually everything negative that we see in 2.1 is Ratio doing these things as an act at Aventurine's own request. He doesn't actually disdain Aventurine; his own voiceline about Aventurine reinforces that he sees Aventurine as talented and intelligent.

Whatever you think he was apologizing for in their early scene, he's the only person we're ever shown in-game apologizing to Aventurine at all.

He worked hard to "betray" Aventurine but only as he was instructed to do, and immediately checks in on Aventurine's well-being afterward, even urging him to give up the plan if it becomes too much to handle.

And then, of course, there's the note: "Do stay alive. I wish you the best of luck."

After this point, it cannot be denied that Ratio is unequivocally on Aventurine's side, wants to help him, and is not doing so out of any sense of self-gain but largely because he is a good person who simply cares about Aventurine's fate. By the end of 2.1, it can no longer be doubted that Ratio is the exception to the "gender rule" of Aventurine's life, which--the story shows us again and again--was that guidance, protection, and care for Aventurine come from women, while men repeatedly represent dismissal, betrayal, or pain.

Ratio is, at least as far as Aventurine's story shows us, the proof that men can be good, that things are not as black and white in Aventurine's life as they might appear, and that--if you do choose to ship him with or see Aventurine as attracted to men--his attraction could be validated (and potentially reciprocated) by a male figure who would not bring additional harm to Aventurine's life. Aventurine makes the final decision to live after seeing Ratio's note--the exception to the rule ultimately proves to be the last piece needed to keep him alive.

But I promised I wasn't going to derail my own post about w o m e n, so let me get to the final point, and the one I really wanted to talk about: Although Ratio gets virtually all the credit for "saving" Aventurine in the fandom, Aventurine was actually saved by, you guessed it, another woman.

Not going to lie, the reason I started this post was specifically because I wanted to talk about how Acheron and Aventurine's dynamic was completely unexpected but actually fits flawlessly with the theme of feminine guidance in Aventurine's story.

Despite the fact that Aventurine made Acheron's life much harder and actively used her as a chip in his grand gamble, she doesn't blame or chastise him for those actions. Although she expresses some incredulity that Aventurine is actually that lucky, she then turns around and congratulations him for his ingenuity, immediately supporting him despite the fact that they don't even truly know each other.

Then it gets even more interesting. Acheron, who frequently hits her companions with deep and sometimes very emotionally fraught questions, asks Aventurine: "Have you never wavered?"

We as players know for a fact that Aventurine is constantly wavering, constantly doubting himself, his luck, and whether he'll even live--or even wants to live--to see tomorrow. But we also know that Aventurine is not forthcoming about those truths, refusing to express them to anyone, even himself. The only way we hear those dark truths is through his "future" self (who by the way, is once again another male figure cutting Aventurine down--of course it's himself but it's also, from the player's perspective, once again reinforcing the message that he isn't going to find safety or kindness in an adult male presence). Aventurine almost constantly deflects and diverts when his emotions or struggles are brought to the fore (unless he's divulging them for the specific purpose of allowing someone else to weaponize them). "I'm fine," he says, like a lying liar who lies.

But he doesn't lie to Acheron.

He chooses to be completely candid with her, to lance open the deepest wound of his life--that he can win and win and win and still have lost everything. The glitz and the glamour has all been stripped away here, at the end of everything, and Aventurine finally feels safe enough to admit that he fears he has absolutely nothing in his life worth living for.

And then, we get this direct parallel: Aventurine looks to Acheron, the woman now before him, for guidance, for explanation, exactly as he looked to his sister in the past.

He needs help, he needs answers, and he is continually seeking that help from the female figures in his life, whose support and kindness echo the lost care of his mother and sister.

"Go where you should be," Acheron tells Aventurine, guiding him across the river of death just as his sister insisted that he flee through the rain toward life.

Look guys, Acheron's even the one who reminds Aventurine to look at Ratio's note in the first place because apparently being an emanator of Nihility gives you x-ray vision, but my girl just gets no credit at all for being Aventurine's real savior, come on now!! Yes, Ratio's note was the final reminder Aventurine needed that someone would be waiting for him on the other side, but Aventurine would never have even gotten to the point of being willing to read that note if Acheron hadn't stepped in and provided him an answer to his question.

She feeds him back his own answer: "Why does life slumber? To rehearse the death for which we are not currently prepared." It is Acheron who reminds Aventurine that giving into the Nihility is pointless, and that rather than simply embracing a meaningless death, it is up to humanity itself to find and make meaning by living. It's this, not Ratio's note, that Aventurine gives as his reason for choosing to go on when asked by his own younger self. It's Acheron's words that finally give Aventurine an answer--why do we live just to die? Because there are people we can still make proud. Because when we go into death, we should do so with our heads held high, having achieved our own sense of purpose in this life.

Ratio gave Aventurine a promise: Someone is waiting for you to come back.

But Acheron gave Aventurine a reason: If life is inherently meaningless, doesn't that just mean you are free to give it meaning yourself?

She saved him, as women have been saving him all his life.

Anyway, this has already been horrendously long, but really what I wanted to say is that I think it is absolutely fascinating how consistent Aventurine's writing is when it comes to portraying where his support comes from and who he seeks guidance from. (Psst, just in case you still haven't figured it out, it's women!) In virtually every instance we are shown, we see the message reinforced that women are Aventurine's greatest allies and role models, while male figures are continually positioned to intentionally or unintentionally let him down and cause him distress.

"But women playing the supporting role to a male character is nothing new, Star, why are you so excited by this?"

Because the role women are playing in Aventurine's life is not the subservient supporter and emotional crutch role that female characters all too often play to male counterparts. None of the women in Penacony or Aventurine's past were there to do the emotional labor for him, to be a trophy or prize, or to cater to his needs. They don't exist solely to help him fulfill his character motivations; they aren't following him around waiting for his next request as their only role in the plot.

Instead, with Aventurine's story, we almost have an inversion of gender roles, where the male character eschews the stereotypical "men are leaders, fighters, and stoic heroes" archetype. Instead, no matter how hard he tries to hide it and keep a stiff upper lip, it is clear from 2.0-2.1's story that Aventurine is a deeply insecure, lonely, and explicitly traumatized survivor of genocide, slavery, and exploitation. Unlike most male characters, who are very rarely portrayed as genuine victims--because come on, shouldn't men be strong enough to fight back? Shouldn't men be able to shrug it off when they are hurt, emotionally or physically? (Of course I'm rolling my eyes here!)--Aventurine is belittled, humiliated, emasculated, and victimized on-screen, roles almost exclusively reserved for women, for whom surviving victimization in fiction is seen as noble.

Meanwhile, the women in Aventurine's life take on the roles traditionally given to male characters. They're both emotionally and physically his protectors. Aventurine's sister gave her life to guard his safety; Acheron ensured he could safely pass beyond the river of Nihility into the Primordial Dreamscape. They give him the tools necessary to succeed where he could not succeed on his own. His plan could never have gotten off the ground without Topaz and Jade entrusting their Cornerstones to him. The knowledge and capabilities of the women around him--not their "feminine charms"--are what allow them to help keep Aventurine on the right path even though he does waver. Even women who disrespect him, like Sparkle, still play a positive role in his life, able to provide him insight gained with their own intellect and talents.

When he has no one to rely on and doesn't know what to do, Aventurine is able to continually turn to the women around him, asking for and receiving not servitude or fawning, but their genuine wisdom and guidance.

tl;dr: If nobody else has him, Aventurine knows this random woman he met two minutes ago on the street will have him, because the women in his life literally never let him down.

(It's just so, so good, and ultimately, it should be very clear why Aventurine's story is as popular with women as it is! A+, Hoyo!)

[bettymylove]

Can you please do a Theo not fix where the reader is his best friend who he has been in love with his entire life and they are always snuggling and she is always on his lap but then she sees him with some other girl talking being flirty and gets jealous and avoids him and agrees to go on a date with someone else in front of him and he loses it and tells her he is in love with her and it ends in smut?

can I just say I love this ideaaa AAAHH!!

Something

pairing: theo nott x reader

content: read the askk<33 18+ smut

a/n: loved writing thiss

to other people the friendship of you and theo was not what usually friends were, you had no walls up against each other, being completely transparent to each other.

it was kind of a known fact you both harbored some feelings for each other, even though it had never been said however most people keep their distance from both of you.

you were both overly touchy with each other, him always touching you in some way, whether it be a hand on your thigh in class or making you sit on his lap in the common room just so he could bury his face in the crook of your neck, all of this was completely normal to you.

it was after lunch on a friday, all the students were completely free from classes and you decided to utilize this time to finish you assignments so you could enjoy the hogsmeade trip tomorrow.

however reaching the library, you heard theo's laugh, the sound you could recognize anywhere and as soon as you started to walk towards it, you stopped in your won footsteps, since his laugh wasn't the only one, there was one more accompanying him.

he was laughing with another girl.

he was touching her knee and she had her hand on his arm, they were practically lying on each other. The urge you had to finish your schoolwork died, and soon tears began to roll down your cheeks, how could he betray you like this.

theo heard your familiar footsteps and started to follow you, calling your name but you gave no response which was very weird, since you were always cheery to have him around.

this behaviour continued well into the next day, he was ready to go to hogsmeade with you but it seemed like you had other plans, since at breakfast when a boy from ravenclaw had asked you out on a date you had said yes, that too in front of him.

he was confused to say the least, and was looking for an answer, his hand found your forearm when you once again tried to escape.

"so you're really going on a date with him?" he asked in pure shock, not being able to recover from the fact that you had said yes.

"do you have a problem with me going?" you had asked in a snarky voice, still thinking he was behaving irrationally.

"of course, i thought we had something" his tone and face all reflected sadness and pure betrayal, "I had thought that too, until I saw you flirt with that girl in the library yesterday" you had retorted.

"I was trying to get her to do my homework for me, so I could spend more time with you" he said in a gentle voice.

"why do you even care theo that I'm going on a date it's not like we're dating" you longed for an answer, to have some official word for whatever your relationship was.

"because i love you", he said in a slightly raised voice, "it's so obvious i do, everyone knows it and you should too, i love you y/n"

he leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, like you wished he would, pushing you back on the wall near you which secluded you from everyone.

his kisses started trailing downwards, he was sucking on your neck while his hands were all over your body, he soon went down on his knees, staring up at you, "let me show you how much you mean to me."

please was the only word leaving your mouth, which was soon replaced with moans as soon as his tongue touched you, swirling around, he was practically devouring you, urging you to come undone on his face.

"let it go baby, come on my face" and so you did chanting his name as if it was only thing you knew in this world.

"theo, please for merlin's sake fuck me" and he couldn't deny your pretty face unbuttoning your shirt, but still not letting it fall he started leaving marks all over there as well.

you had unbuckled his belt and soon got his cock out, it was red at the tip leaking some precum and you couldn't help but move your hands up and down on it.

he had soon took both your hands and pinned them above your head, urging you to jump and as soon as you did, he had his dick inside of you.

he was thrusting so hard and so fast that you could see stars already, moaning his name while he was still kissing your neck, it was all you could have imagined.

"theo, I'm gonna come" you had managed to say between gaspy breaths, and he had urged you to do so, since he was on the verge itself.

he had finished inside you filling you up to the brim, and you felt content with him.

"so, I hope you're gonna cancel the date" he said and you only laughed in response.

[itneverendshere]

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - three

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

WARNINGS: maybank!reader; smut!; rafe is a red flag; guns; mentions of human trafficking; 80% of it is smut you've been warned;

word count: 7.9k...

part i; part ii; part iv

Growing up, you had to develop a thick skin.

With two deadbeat parents, it wasn't a choice—it was a necessity. Unlike JJ, you never blamed your mother for leaving. She was a victim too, and despite your nightly wishes and prayers that she had taken you with her, you found solace in knowing that at least one of you had escaped the torment of the Maybank household.

You learned early on to rely only on yourself.

While you had your younger brother, you never placed that burden on his shoulders. As the older sister, it was your responsibility to take the blame for everything and to shield him from Luke's drunken or drug-fueled rages.

You never resented JJ for it, you couldn’t—neither of you asked to be born into that situation.

You tried to take each day slowly, avoiding the house and staying at John B's as much as possible.

It was easier said than done; it was hard not to feel like a burden to your friends, especially since you were the one who had to be the adult in the group.

Kie, Pope, John B…weren’t supposed to take care of you. And yet, they did. They took you in, shared their homes, and gave you the semblance of family you craved but never had. It was a weird balance, living with a foot in both worlds: the chaotic storm of the Maybank household and the calm haven of your friends' places.

At John B's, despite its share of brokenness, it provided a refuge where you could breathe without the constant fear of violence.

You often found yourself on the porch, watching the sunset over the marsh, your mind wandering to dreams of freedom. Those moments were precious, tiny pockets of peace in your life. But no matter how much you tried to distance yourself from the fucking chaos, it was always there, lurking in the background.

Luke Maybank’s shadow was long and dark, and it followed you everywhere. Each time your phone buzzed with a message from JJ, your heart would race, fearing the worst.

It was a burden you bore proudly, protecting your brother from a world that seemed determined to break you both.

You eased into being the provider, to think, to act, to protect. It became second nature, an ingrained part of your identity forged from necessity.

While others your age worried about stupid matters, you were strategizing the best ways to keep your brother safe, figuring out how to stretch what little money you had, and ensuring that there was always something for JJ to eat, even if it meant you went without. 

You learned how to calm Luke down when he was on the brink of a violent outburst, and how to read the signs of an impending beating in his eyes.

You figured out which neighbors might turn a blind eye to your requests for help, and which ones might call social services if they saw too much. There were moments, rare and fleeting when you allowed yourself to dream.

You imagined a future where you and JJ were free from the chains of your upbringing. But dreams were a luxury you could rarely afford.

So, when Rafe told you—no, demanded—that you stayed in the deadbeat motel room while he met up with his contacts, you lost it. 

He'd gotten the text earlier in the morning and decided he was smart enough to lure you out of this. Except he wasn't.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not going.”

You didn’t take it lightly to people making choices for you. Your eyebrows shot up, mouth opening in indignant shock, "You think you can just order me around like I'm some puppet? I'm not staying here while you go off and do God knows what.”

Rafe's eyes narrowed. He wasn’t used to people standing up to him, you knew that. His expression hardened, the arrogance, and entitlement you’d grown to familiarize yourself with flaring up again.

"It's for your own good," his tone was condescending, like you were a child, “You don't understand the kind of people I'm dealing with. It's dangerous."

"Dangerous?" you laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "You think I don’t know what danger is? Look around, Cameron.”

Rafe opened his mouth to retort, but you cut him off, stepping closer and jabbing a finger into his chest. You’d done a lot of that recently.

"It’s my life on the line too. And I’m not going to sit here and wait for you to come back like some obedient little bitch.”

His face practically matched the color of the deep red curtains in your room, “You’re making this a lot harder than it needs to be, Maybank.”

"No, you are," you fired back. "I’m going with you.”

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

He took a step away from you, fingers pointed at his temples, “What part of fucking dangerous do you not get?”

“If it’s dangerous for me, it’s dangerous for you.”

Rafe’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tensing visibly. His gaze bore into yours, and you’d be damned if you were the first one to look away.

“This isn’t a game,” he said, clearly growing frustrated with your stubbornness, “You have no idea what these people are capable of.”

“Maybe not,” you conceded, “But I’m not staying behind and you’re not going alone.”

He let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand along his grown-out hair. 

“They chew up people like you.”

 “I’ve been chewed up by worse.”

He knew that.

And then, he saw the determination in you, that unyielding resolve that drove him up the fucking walls and he understood that he wasn’t going to win the fight. Unless he played dirty. 

“You’re too stubborn, y’know that, right?”

You chose to ignore him, grabbing the simple sweater he’d gotten for you the day before at a local market, “So, when do we leave?”

He almost sprinted to the door, “Now.”

You moved to follow him as he stepped outside into the hallway, but before you could follow, he grabbed your arm.

"Wait."

You almost pulled away, frustration boiling over.

"What now?"

His grip tightened, "This might hurt.”

"What?" You tried to twist free, glaring at him.

"Change of plans."

Before you could react, he pushed you back inside the room, slamming the door shut. He didn’t push you hard enough to fall, but the treason came so suddenly that you nearly lost your balance as you heard the lock click, the sound echoing in the small space. 

"Rafe! You piece of shit!” You pounded on the door, “Let me out! You can't do this!"

His voice was muffled but firm from the other side. "Stay here.”

"You motherfucker!" You screamed, kicking the door. But there's no clipped answer from the other side. The only sound was the echo of your own frantic breathing.

He was gone, the stupid bastard.

You collapsed against the door, your breath coming in ragged gasps. Rafe just left you there, locked like some helpless child. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall.

You were a Maybank, damn it, and Maybanks didn’t back down from a fight, even when their choices were taken from them.

In any other situation, you would’ve jumped out the window. You’d done it enough times back home, but this was different.

Your room’s floor was too high and even though you could get away with just a few scrapes or a broken finger, you couldn’t risk putting yourself in such a vulnerable state. You needed your body intact in case danger was nearby. If you had to run for your life, you needed both legs functioning. 

You glanced around the room, eyes landing on the bed, the frame sturdy.

That’s it! 

You thought to yourself as you rushed over and began to strip the sheets from the mattress, working quickly as you tied them together, creating a makeshift rope.

And they said pogues weren’t fucking smart.

It wasn’t your best work, but it was the best you could have under the circumstances.

Once you had fashioned the rope, you secured one end to the bed frame, testing it to ensure it could hold your weight. Satisfied that it was strong enough, you tossed the other end out the window, watching as it unfurled down the side of the building. 

You gripped the makeshift rope tightly and began to lower yourself out the window. It wasn’t your first rodeo; you knew better than to rush. Your heart pounded in your chest as you slowly inched your way down the side of the building.

Finally, your feet touched solid ground, and you released a breath you didn't realize you were holding. You tried to remember bits and pieces of information Rafe had laid out the night before, about the meeting, something about a dingy marine bar, a bartender named Miguel. 

You rushed back inside the motel, ignoring the puzzled look from the front desk guy as you practically demanded information about the bar. He hesitated clearly taken aback by your urgency, the way you blurted out the words, but you didn’t have time for explanations or politeness.

"Just tell me where it is," you pleaded, “It’s important.”

He scribbled down an address on a piece of paper and thrusted it into your hand.

"It's not far from here," his tone was wary, "But be careful. That place is no good for a lady on her own.”

So, nothing new, you wanted to tell him.

Any place infested with men or drunk men was a trap of its own. But instead, you only offered him a curt nod of thanks before running out the door again. You needed to find Rafe, you couldn’t afford to waste any time. 

You nearly raced through the streets, the address clutched tightly in your hand. And then, before you could process what the hell was going on, a hand enveloped your upper arm, fingers digging dip in your flesh before you could make a turn, dragging you to the dark alley you’d avoided.

The situation felt all too familiar. Your heart leaped into your throat, adrenaline pumping in and out of your veins. Instinctively, you struggled against the unknown grip, kicking and clawing in a desperate attempt to break free. Were you getting mugged?

"Let go of me!" you shouted, your voice echoing off the narrow walls of the alley, “I got nothing on me, let me go you stupid fuck!”

With a surge of adrenaline, you mustered all your strength and delivered a sharp elbow to your captor's stomach, causing them to grunt in pain and loosen their hold for a moment.

You wrenched yourself free, stumbling backward as you scrambled to put some distance between you and your attacker. You were about to land the best punch of your life as you spun around to face them, but as you finally got a good look at him, fear turned into anger. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you!”

“Me?” Rafe barked, all up in your personal space, “What the fuck is wrong with you? You jumped out a fucking window?!”

He knew you wouldn’t back down so easily. So he waited around the corner, hoping you were smart enough to keep still even though he knew you would never.

You blinked, the shock of seeing him in front of you momentarily overriding your anger. "You... You locked me in there!"

"Yeah, because you wouldn't listen!" he shot back, his frustration evident in his tone, “Fuck—Jesus fucking Christ.” He was shaking his head wildly, his hands balled into fists as he cursed away like a mantra. 

"I told you; I'm not staying behind while you go off risking your life!" You nearly spit but managed to tone down just enough.

"And I told you, it's too dangerous for you!" Rafe's voice rose with each word, his hands balling into fists at his sides. His pacing intensified, “What the hell were you thinking? What were you gonna do? Walk in and what, huh? You don't even have a gun on you!"

“So? Give me yours!”

Rafe’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Give you, my gun?! Did you hit your fucking head against the concrete?

“I’ll hit your head against the concrete if I have to.”

His left eye twitched in irritation, the look he gave you filled with enough ire to leave a hint of satisfaction sparking in your chest, “Maybank, I have half a mind to spank you right now, don’t fucking push it.”

You ignored him, “You’d rather I go in there unarmed?” you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm, “I can do it.”

“Clearly. Look at you,” Rafe’s voice was sharp,“You think I wanted to leave you behind? You think I liked putting you in that room?”

“You didn't give me a choice! You think I was just gonna sit around waiting for you?”

Rafe sighed, palms pressing into his eyes “I’m trying to protect you, God fucking damn it. I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“Save it,” You hissed out, pressing a hand to your chest as though to keep everything in. “How am I supposed to trust you when you pull this—this shit!”

Rafe reached into the waistband of his trousers, his movements slow and deliberate. Your breath caught in your throat as he pulled out his gun, lifting his shirt in the process. He took your hand and dropped it into your palm.

“Show me.”

“Uh?”

He nodded towards the gun in your hand. “Show me you know how to handle it.”

The sudden changes in his attitude always left you speechless. You hesitated, staring at the weapon in your hand. You had never held a gun before, let alone fired one. But the authority in Rafe’s eyes spurred you to action. With trembling fingers, you checked the safety and made sure the gun was loaded, trying to mimic what you had seen in movies.

“Alright,” Rafe said, his voice low. “Now, point it at me.”

“What?!”

“I said point it at me,” he repeated, “C’mon.”

You swallowed hard, your grip tightening on the gun. This was crazy. With shaky hands, you raised the gun, aiming it at his chest. Your heart pounded in your ears, the weight of the weapon feeling heavier with each passing second.

“Good,” Rafe nodded in approval. “Now, pull the trigger.”

“What the hell?! Rafe?!”

“Trust me, Maybank, just once.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

Pull the trigger? He wasn’t fucking serious, was he? You couldn’t actually shoot him, could you?

But Rafe’s expression remained unwavering. He was being dead serious.

Maybe months ago you would’ve done it without a second guess, but now?

“I’m not pulling the trigger.”

“Just do it. You’re not going to hurt me, okay?”

With a deep breath, you squeezed the trigger, half expecting the gun to recoil in your hand. But nothing happened.

Oh. You had forgotten to chamber a round. He knew that already.

Rafe’s mouth twitched in a half-smile, as if the entire situation was normal, “You forgot to chamber a round.”

You watched him carefully, his bottom lip stuck out and, embarrassingly, you found you wanted to kiss him.

You lowered the gun, your hands shaking with adrenaline. You had just fired a weapon for the first time in your life. He reached out and gently took the gun from your hand, expertly chambering a round before handing it back to you. 

“Try again.”

This time, when you aimed the gun at the wall and pulled the trigger, you felt the recoil jolt along your body as the bullet fired. The sound echoed off the walls of the alley, causing your heart to race even faster.

“Atta girl.”

“I’m still pissed, Cameron.”

“I know,” Rafe conceded as he reached up to brush your hair from your eye, fingers grazing the side of your neck.  “I panicked, okay?”

You studied him for a moment, taking in the tired lines around his eyes, the way his shoulders sagged with exhaustion. He’d done so much for you over the past weeks, it shook you to the core. The countless times he had gone above and beyond, selflessly putting your needs before his own. So maybe, just maybe…you could let it go. 

“Okay.”

"Let's go.”

“Wait, right now?”

“Yeah,” Rafe said, his tone brisk as he holstered the gun. "We’re late.”

⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ⋆ ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Hours later, you collapsed onto the bed, wondering what the hell you’d gotten yourself into, again. The events of the meeting replaying in your mind like a broken record. You’d never met such a group of people before. And you didn’t want to, ever again.

"Human traffickers," you muttered, the words feeling foreign on your tongue. "I can't believe we just met with human traffickers."

Rafe nodded solemnly, "Yeah.”

"I don't trust them. What if... What if they decide to snatch us up and... Oh my god, what if this is all just a ploy..."

“We’re in this together, okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You wanted to believe him.

Your brow furrowed, your mind racing with questions. “How do you even know these people?”

He hesitated, “Barry. It’s... a long story. But right now, what’s important is that we got a way out, yeah?”

You nodded slowly, realizing that asking him for more information wouldn’t get you anywhere.

There were more important things to worry about. 

You didn’t know what was worse, running from Ward Cameron, finding yourself at the mercy of human traffickers, or potentially developing feelings for someone who’d ruined so many lives. 

God, if your brother saw you now…you’d be the greatest disappointment of his life. The mere idea consumed you entirely. The things you’d done.

The way you’d let Rafe into your bloodstream.

You hated yourself for it. Everything felt like it was spiraling out of your grasp, and you hated it.

What would you even tell him? You didn’t even know if had made it, but something told you that he did. He always did. And that meant that sooner or later you’d see him, and you’d have to watch him gradually despise you. 

And then there was Rafe.

The very thought of him made you want to stop breathing altogether. How could you even begin to reconcile the feelings you harbored for someone who had brought so much pain and destruction into your life? It felt like a betrayal to even consider it.

“You good, Maybank?”

You dragged your gaze away from the swirling fan on the ceiling to meet Rafe's concerned stare. He was studying you intently. You shifted on the bed, turning to face him fully. 

"I don’t know,” you muttered, forcing a weak smile that didn't quite reach your eyes, “You?”

He reached out to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His touch always surprised you, how surprisingly light it felt.

“I don’t know.”

He had every reason to abandon you, to wash his hands clean of the entire situation, but he hadn’t.

You nodded, a lump forming in your throat.

It was hard to believe that someone like him could be capable of such tenderness, such vulnerability. But there he was, lying beside you, his attention fixed on you with an intensity that made your heart race.

“They’re about you.”

"Me?" you repeated confused, your voice barely a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile moment between you. 

Rafe nodded, scanning your face for any sign of understanding. "Yeah. You."

Your brows pulled together, “What is?”

He visibly gulped, pressing his lips together, blinking several times before releasing a held breath “The nightmares.”

You almost stopped breathing, "What about them?" 

He shifted uncomfortably, “They used to be just about my mom. Then dad. Now, it’s—uh, it’s just you. Ever since that night, it’s just you. Dying, because of—yeah.”

Oh. 

You hadn’t realized the extent of the impact that night had on him, on both of you

It was a lot to process, and you handy had the time to figure everything out yet.

His fingers brushed over the scar on your arm, and memories flooded your mind. The gunshots, the crippling fear you felt when they got to you, how Rafe reacted, how he touched you. 

“You should’ve told me before.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

You flinched instinctively at his touch, the sensation sending a jolt of electricity through your body. For a moment, you let yourself lean into his touch, allowing the warmth of his hand to chase away the ghosts that haunted you.

"Does it still hurt?" He asked, leaning in so his nose brushed against yours; it was warm against your skin. 

You shook your head, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "Not anymore."

His fingers continued their path up, eventually reaching your cheek as he cupped it tenderly, carefully, as if he’d break you if he rushed it. 

You closed your eyes, savoring the closeness between you. And then, almost hesitantly, you felt him lean in, his mouth brushing against yours in a delicate caress. You hardly had to move to kiss him, only tilting your chin up.

It was tender, different from the ones you had before, just so quiet that it made you want to burst into tears. 

You kissed him back, tentatively at first, then with a growing hunger that mirrored the longing you had been feeling deep within your soul. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as if afraid to let you slip away. In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the dangers lurking in the shadows, not the weight of your past sins, not the uncertain future that lay ahead.

All that existed was the intoxicating feeling between you and Rafe. But as the kiss deepened, a voice of reason scolded you in the back of your mind, reminding you of the consequences of your actions. You pulled away, breathless and dizzy, your heart pounding in your chest.

“We shouldn’t…”

Rafe only stared, before he nodded, understanding dawning in him. He pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I know,” he sighed, “Just get some rest.”

You nodded in agreement, grateful for the distraction. With a heavy grunt, you lifted yourself off the bed, making your way to the bathroom to change into some booty shorts and a simple tee.

When you emerged from the bathroom, Rafe was already settled on the bed, only in his boxers, his attention fixed on some point in the distance. You hesitated for a moment before joining him, the distance and closeness between you feeling suffocating. 

You wanted to say something, anything to break the tension, but the words stuck in your throat like a lump of lead.

Instead, you settled for a nod, and a quiet “Goodnight.” 

You slipped under the covers, the warmth of the blankets cocooning you in a false sense of security. 

“Night, pretty Maybank.”

You shut your eyelids, willing your racing mind to quiet down. But no matter how hard you tried, sleep eluded you, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. Every creak of the floorboards, every distant sound of passing cars sent a shiver down your spine, your senses heightened to the point of paranoia. You shifted restlessly in bed, the new sheets tangling around your legs like shackles, trapping you in a prison of your own making. 

You heard Rafe's voice beside you, breaking the silence of the room, “Can’t sleep if you keep moving.”

“Sorry.”

Rafe reached out, his hand finding yours in the darkness, “What is it?”

“I can’t sleep.”

His hold tightened around yours, "I know, Maybank," he spoke in a ushed tone, "But you're safe here. Try to relax, okay?"

You squeezed your eyes shut, already feeling the upcoming headache, “I don’t know how to.”

It was quiet again for a minute and you feared you’d bored the man to sleep with your insecurities, but then he spoke again.

“Turn around.”

You opened your eyes, even though you could barely see him. Was he telling you to spoon him?

“What?”

Rafe's thumb gently brushed against the back of your hand in a soothing rhythm, “Turn round f’me, kay?”

With a soft sigh, you did as he asked, turning onto your side to face away from him.

He moved closer, his body pulling against yours as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you snugly against his chest. His warmth enveloped you like some kind of shield as he pressed a light kiss to the back of your neck, his lips lingering against your skin. 

“There,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. “Better?”

Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

These were dangerous waters.

If you couldn’t sleep before, you sure as hell weren’t about to do it now. All you could think about was that night, how he felt, how he touched you, how he fit right. 

An almost overwhelming feeling of arousal took over you, and with whatever courage you had left from the day, you moved again, pressing yourself impossibly closer to him. His warmth seeped into your skin, melting away the tension that had coiled tight in your muscles during the day, you could feel every ridge and turn of his body.

Your touch drew a low, guttural groan from Rafe, his breath hot against your skin as he pressed closer, his arousal unmistakable against your back. His teeth grazed your shoulder, followed by the flick of his tongue, and you released a breathy sigh as he lowered his head to bite the area.

His arm tightened around you as you traced the contours of his fingers, mapping out the familiar territory with ease and want. His heartbeat echoed against your back, a steady rhythm that matched the frantic beat of your own heart.

His lips brushed against your neck, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core, “Relax,” he murmured, his hoarse, “’M right here.”

With a boldness that surprised even yourself, you shifted your hips, grinding back against him, seeking the friction that would ease the ache between your legs and your head.

Rafe's reaction was immediate, his hands roaming over your body with a fervor that left you dizzy. His fingers found their way to the hem of your shorts, teasing the sensitive skin with feather-light touches. You twisted your fingers into his long hair, tugging lightly, delighting in the gasp it pulled from him.

“Tell me to stop, please,” His mouth brushed against your ear again, words coming out a slurred mess.

You ran you finger over his leg, where his boxers had risen, the warm skin driving you insane. If you lifted your fingers just a little higher, you’d be able to feel all of him.

You had to bite back a squeal when his thumb brushed over your covered nipple, “I can’t.”

You felt the tension in his muscles as he paused for a moment, his grip on you tightening. An unrestrained, almost desperate plea escaping his mouth, "Are you sure?"

You swallowed hard. This was so fucking wrong. But underneath it all, you knew what you wanted.

You turned your head slightly, your lips grazing his jawline as you muttered a "Yes."

You gasped when Rafe raised his thigh, placing it between your own, as he used his hands on your hips to guide you back and forth, grinding you down against his skin. You couldn’t remember a time you’d ever felt so out of control, so desperate for someone’s touch. The thin barrier of your shorts and panties felt like an unbearable hindrance, a small but significant obstruction to the shattering desire you needed to reach.

One of his hands slipped under the waistband of your panties, the other splaying across your stomach, holding you firmly in place. His fingers found you slick and ready, a whimper vibrating across his chest at the discovery.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, his fingers starting a slow, torturous rhythm against your clit.

You bucked against his hand, seeking more, needing more. Your head fell back against his shoulder, and you turned slightly to capture his lips in a heated kiss.

You felt his tongue press against yours and you nearly came on the spot. He slowly circled your clit, sending your hips jerking into him, “I can’t stop touching you.”

You struggled to form words as breathy moans escaped your mouth, “Please don’t,” you rasped, your thoughts turning to mush as he dipped the tips of his fingers inside you, gathering your wetness. When you finally found your voice, it was a mere screech, “Rafe...”

“I’ve got you,” he murmured back, finally pushing two fingers inside you, at an agonizing pace, “I’ve got you.”

Your jaw went slack as he curled his thick fingers, a gasp escaping when he found that spot that made you see stars. Your nails involuntarily dug into his skin. The heel of his hand pressed against your clit, pulling another moan from you. With his other hand still on your hip, he pushed you back, guiding you to grind against his fingers.

The rhythm he set was maddening.

His breath was hot against your neck, his voice a growl as he removed his fingers, making you whine in protest.

He glided one between your folds, the wetness easing up the process, “You’re so fucking perfect,” he muttered, his words sending a thrill down your spine. “Can’t get enough of you.”

“Ra—You’re gonna make me come,” you gasped as his arm left your waist, sliding underneath your ribcage and resting on your chest, kneading your breast through the fabric of your shirt, “Fuck.”

“Yeah, baby, that’s the point,” he purred into your ear, two fingers sliding inside you again, so suddenly you threw your head back again, thighs clenching together tightly as he pumped his fingers in and out.

At this point, you were lightheaded, fucking yourself back onto him, grinding down as you chased your orgasm. 

“Don’t stop,” you begged, your voice trembling with desperation. “Please, Rafe...”

His fingers quickened their pace, each thrust sending oceans of pleasure down your body. “Not stopping,” he promised,“Want to feel you dripping around my fingers.”

His words sent you spiraling, the buzz inside you building to an unbearable peak. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your body trembling with the intensity of your approaching climax. Rafe's touch was relentless, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over.

“Rafe—” you cried out, your voice breaking as your orgasm crashed over you, wave after wave of intense pleasure radiating from your pussy.

Your body convulsed, and you clung to him, nails digging into his arm as you rode out the ecstasy.

Rafe held you without a break, his fingers never slowing, drawing out every last tremor of your release. When you finally came down, breathless and spent, he withdrew his fingers, not giving you a break to breathe as he shuffled behind you, pulling his boxers down, just enough to release his aching cock, doing the same to you as he slid his length between your folds.

The sensation was…everything, his heaviness pressing against your sensitive, slick entrance, the heat of him making you shiver. You bit your lip, suppressing a scream as Rafe's hand gripped your hip, holding you steady.

“Shit shit”, you breathed out, barely able to form coherent thoughts. The anticipation coiled inside you again, your body already aching for him, “’M sensitive.”

“Shhhh,” he purred, his voice husky against your ear. “Just relax, pretty.”

He rocked his hips slowly, the head of his fat cock teasing your entrance, not pushing in but sliding between your folds, spreading your wetness over his length. 

Holy fuck, you’d gone to heaven.

Rafe's breath hitched, his grip on your hip tightening as he tried to control himself.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, “So perfect.”

“Oh my god,” you sighed, biting your lip when his tip bumped against your clit, “I need you to—Shit, just fuck me.”

With a slow, deliberate motion, he angled his hips and began to push inside you, inch by tantalizing inch. The stretch was exquisite, slowly filling you in a way that left you gasping, your body accommodating him with a shuddering breath.

“Jesus,” Rafe hissed, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as his cock twitched inside you. “So tight.”

Your fingers dug into the sheets, the thrill and the sensation of being filled to the hilt almost too much. You could feel every part of him, the way he throbbed inside you, the way his body fit perfectly against yours. You felt his breathing against your skin, coming out in uneven and ragged breaths.

He started a slow, steady rhythm, each thrust measured and deep, pulling out almost completely before pushing back in.

His other hand found your breasts, kneading the sensitive flesh through your shirt, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

You couldn’t hold back the mewls that escaped your lips, each movement driving you higher, the tension building again. Rafe’s breath was ragged against your ear, his lips brushing your skin in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses.

He gently bit your earlobe, withdrawing his hips until only the tip of him remained inside you, before slowly pushing back in with deliberate, languid movements. You reached back, tangling your fingers in his hair once again.

“Rafe... harder, please,” you begged, shame thrown out the window, “I need it harder.”

He moaned, the sound vibrating through his chest as he complied, his hips snapping against you with more force, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. His hand slid down from your chest to your clit, circling the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts.

You felt the familiar coil of pleasure tightening, your body tensing as you teetered on the brink.

“Can’t belie—fuck. Can’t believe I get to have you again.”

You curved your back again, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor, your body craving the release that was so so close.

“I c-can’t hold on much longer,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a breathless whimper.

“Then let go,” Rafe growled, his fingers pressing harder against your clit. “Come for me, baby. I want to feel you.”

You groaned, “I want to see you when I do.”

Before he could answer, you pulled away from him, making him groan, but you shut him up as you turned to face him, dragging your shorts and panties out of the way, not looking where you threw them as you quickly lifted your body and settled over his, hands pressed to his naked chest as you rubbed yourself against him. 

Rafe's hands gripped your hips firmly as you positioned yourself above him, “You tryn’ to kill me, pretty Maybank?”

You smirked, leaning down to press a quick peck against his lips, “Yeah.”

Without any warning, you lowered yourself onto him, both gasping at the sensation of being joined once again. He filled you completely, stretching you in the most delicious way, his tip touching your cervix.

Your movements were slow at first, savoring all of him, every sensation that rippled from end to end of your body. But soon, the slow burn grew into a raging inferno, and you found yourself moving faster, chasing that peak of pleasure one more time.

“Get this fucking thing off,” He growled, pulling at your shirt. You would’ve found it funny if you weren’t so desperate to feel him.

You sat up, quickly tugging the shirt over your head and tossing it aside. Rafe's eyes darkened with lust as he took in your bare chest, his hands immediately finding your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples in a way that made you gasp and arch into his touch.

You started to move again, lifting yourself up before sinking back down onto him, each movement sending waves of desire through both of you.

A filthy kiss followed, all spit and tongues tangling messily as if trying to devour each other whole.

The taste of him filled your mouth, cigarettes and toothpaste, his moans mingling with yours.

The kiss was a brutal assault, his teeth nipping at your lips, drawing blood, which only seemed to fuel the frenzied rhythm of your body. Rafe's grip on your hips tightened, guiding your movements, and encouraging you to take him deeper, pounding into you, abs flexing.

You leaned forward, your hands bracing against his sturdy chest, the new angle allowing him to hit even deeper inside you. The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, your cries, and the rhythmic, filthy, slap of skin against skin.

“Fuck, this pussy can’t be real,” Rafe groaned, his eyes locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race. “Ride me harder, baby. Wanna watch you.”

You increased your pace, the friction and fullness driving you closer to the edge with each thrust. His hands moved from your hips to your waist, holding you steady as you moved, his touch grounding you even as you felt like you were about to come apart at the seams. His thumb found your clit again, rubbing it in tight, precise circles that had you crying out his name.

“Oh god, Rafe, I’m s-so close,” you panted, your body trembling with the effort to hold back your release, wanting to savor every second of this moment.

“Come for me, pretty. Wanna to feel you drippin’ all over my cock.”

That was all it took.

With a loud moan, you came, your body convulsing around him, your nails digging into his chest as the phases of your pleasure crashed over you. Rafe watched you, his expression one of pure awe, jaw slack open as his hands never left your body.

As your climax subsided, your breathing ragged and your limbs trembling, he gently kissed your temple, his lips tender. He murmured soothing words and you swore you were on cloud nine.

You felt his heartbeat, steady and strong against your own. His fingers traced lazy circles on your back, calming you, bringing you back to earth. 

But as the pleasure subsided, you became acutely aware of Rafe's cock still hard and throbbing inside you. His breath was ragged, his eyes void of any color, and you knew he was on the brink. You lifted yourself slightly, feeling him slip almost out of you before you sank back down, taking him deep again, despite the way your thighs burned, the way your hole ached.

"Rafe," you called, “Need to feel you come inside me."

His grip on you tightened, his eyes briefly closing as a guttural moan escaped his lips. He released you for a moment, only to bring his hand down sharply, delivering a stinging smack to your ass,

"Watch your fucking mouth.”

The sudden impact made you gasp, the pain amplifying your desire.

Rafe's eyes snapped open,"You like that, don't you?" he growled, "Look at you."

You could only nod, breathless and aching for more. His hands returned to your hips, guiding your movements with a renewed urgency. The sting from the slap lingered, a delicious reminder of his dominance, the only place you'd let him take the lead.

You started to move again, your pace slow and deliberate, your movements designed to drive him wild. Each time you sank onto him, you could feel him throbbing, his control slipping with every passing second. His fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he tried to hold on.

"Please, baby," you whined, "I need to feel your cum."

The pet name did it.

With a growl, he shifted, flipping you onto your back and pinning you beneath him.

The sudden change made you gasp, your legs instinctively wrapping around his ass as he drove into you in a mean mating press. His pace was relentless, like he’d die if he stopped.

The sounds of your “oh’s” mixed with his grunts, only amplified the passion. You could feel the tension coiling inside him, the way his body strained against yours, every muscle taut with anticipation.

"Gonna fill you up,” he grounded out, his voice strained, "So fucking close."

You tightened your legs around him, pulling him deeper, your nails raking down his back, leaving red trails in their wake. "Come for me, baby," you urged, your desire reigniting at the thought of him finding his release, “Need you so bad.”

His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours with a feral intensity. "You want my cum?" he growled, thrusting harder, making you cry out in pleasure. "Beg for it."

"Please, Rafe," you gasped, feeling the pressure building inside you, "Fill me up. I need it. I need you."

With a final, powerful thrust, Rafe's body stiffened, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as he let out a hoarse cry. You felt the hot rush of his release, the pulsing of his cock as he emptied himself inside you. His entire body trembled, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he rode out his orgasm. You could feel him pulsing, the warmth flooding you as he let out a primal growl, his grip on you almost bruising.

And right there, another orgasm ripped through you, your body tightening around him as you cried out his name.

He collapsed onto you, both of you panting and trembling. His weight was comforting, his breath hot against your neck as he pressed soft kisses to your skin, his earlier roughness giving way to a tender aftermath.

You held him close, your hands running soothingly over his back, feeling the ridges of the muscles you had just marked with your nails. Your own body still buzzed with the aftermath of your pleasure.

When he finally lifted his head, his eyes met yours, a look of pure adoration in his gaze that left you speechless. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender, lingering kiss.

He cradled your face in his hands. "We’re gonna be okay," his breath felt warm against your lips.

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten with emotion.

Tears welled up in your eyes as his lips touched yours again, the faint tender kiss so different to the man you used to know. You tried to hold back, to keep the overwhelming tide at bay, but you broke, and a sob escaped your lips.

He pulled back slightly, concern etched across his pretty features. "Hey," he murmured, his thumb brushing away the tears that spilled down your cheeks. "What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?"

You shook your head, "No, it’s not that," your voice trembled, “I’m scared.”

Rafe's expression softened, thumbs gently caressing your cheeks. "Shh, it's okay," he soothed, "Let it out, baby. I’m right here."

You buried your face in his chest, your tears soaking into his skin. The warmth of his embrace, the rhythm of his heartbeat, and his hold were the only thing keeping you together at this point and if you weren’t feeling so much, you’d feel pathetic for relying so much on someone else.

He held you tightly, his hand stroking your hair as you cried, releasing the pent-up anxiety.

"We—I, I don’t know what I’m doing," you admitted through your tears, your voice muffled against his chest. "I’m really, really scared.”

Rafe kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering, "I know, Maybank," he whispered,"I’m scared too.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him through tear-filled eyes. "You are?"

He nodded, his attention never wavering from features.

"Yeah, I am. This...And—don’t know what I’m doing either. But I want it. I want you."

“But it’s wrong.”

“I know, pretty.”

He pulled out slowly, both of you hissing at the sensitivity. Rolling onto his side, he gathered you into his arms, holding you close. You nestled against his chest.

“I’m sorry for jumping out the window,” you murmured, your voice muffled against his skin, “You just...make me so angry.”

He chuckled softly, his fingers running through your hair in soothing strokes. "I shouldn’t have locked you in.”

You closed your eyes, feeling the last of your tears dry against his skin. You knew things wouldn’t be easy, but his reassurance gave you a little strength.

After a while, Rafe shifted slightly, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. 

"We’ll figure this out, Maybank.”

“Promise?”

He hesitated, his brow furrowing slightly.

Promises weren’t something he was used to making, you knew that. But then he nodded.

“Promise.”

[redstarwriting]

his girl | ii. envy me

earth 42!miles morales x fem!reader | miles morales x fem!reader

word count: 2.1k

genre: angst to fluff

warnings: language, insults, spoilers, probably bad spanish, 42 Miles and reader get into a little spat, stubborn 42 Miles, violent 42 Miles, Miles and Miles almost fight twice

a/n: teehee and so it begins 🤭 didn’t expect this to turn into a whole series but i’m not mad. i hope y’all enjoy the storyline i thought up and please, by all means, give me your input! thank you all for the support 🖤 enjoy :)

previous chapter: i. his girl

now reading: ii. envy me

next chapter: iii. all the riches

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Miles, in fact, did not run. He was too taken aback to do anything, even though his body was screaming at him too. And he was too focused on your confused face. You looked exactly like his (Y/n), and it made his heart ache. And that is how other Miles was able to knock him out so fast. And why he just woke up in his Uncle Aaron’s apartment, chained to the punching bag, just like he did to Peter after first meeting him. He hears his uncle's music blaring from his record player. He looks in the direction it’s coming from. His eyes widen as he sees his Uncle Aaron. He’s alive. “Uncle Aaron?”

“Not your tío,” 42 Miles says, and Miles glares at him. “I’m just tryna go home, bro. Why are you doing this? What are you getting from this?”

“You said you’re from a different dimension?”

“Yeah. And?” Miles asks, narrowing his eyes at him. “Why are you here?”

“I told you I was sent here by mistake! I just wanna get back to my world, man. Dad’ll die,” he says, exasperated, and Miles stares at him with a blank expression. “Your dad alive?”

“Yeah, of course, he is,” Miles says, and 42 Miles frowns slightly. “Oh.”

Miles normally would be able to piece together what the disappointment in his voice would mean. But he's a little preoccupied with multiple other thoughts currently to necessarily care to psychoanalyze his own behaviors. He also doesn’t have the chance to see Aaron’s face drop and see the sadness in his eyes. Or the way you immediately look at your Miles to make sure the news didn’t break him. “But he’s gonna die if you keep me here,” Miles explains, and 42 Miles nods. “Yeah. Well, you ain’t leaving.”

“…Please. You have to let me go,” Miles pleads. But 42 Miles just stares at him, unmoved. “Why would I do that?” he asks, placing his gauntlet next to Miles’ head. Miles frowns, placing his finger on the piece of metal linking the chains together, ready to electrocute it and make his escape. The other him stares at him with an unreadable expression, seemingly no emotion behind his eyes, and just as it feels like shit is about to go down, he hears your voice ring out. “Miles. Just let him go.” Both your Miles and 1610 Miles turn their heads to you. It’s the first time 1610 Miles noticed you were in here. “(Y/n)? Bro, why are you letting her around your business?” Miles asks, and 42 Miles shoots a venomous look at him. “She insisted on coming. This is her first time around this shit,” Miles hisses at him. 1610 Miles can’t help but feel a tightening in his chest. He wants nothing more than for you from his world to be here with him. Not even in a romantic way, at least that’s what he’s trying to convince himself. He just misses you. He chased you away, and now he doesn’t even know if he’ll be able to fix it. His thoughts are interrupted when you clear your throat. Both of the boys look back in your direction. You’re on Aaron’s couch, staring at your Miles with such intensity it makes even 1610 Miles lock up. He can only imagine what it’s like being the one on the receiving end of that look. He sees other Miles’ eyes soften in his peripheral vision as he removes his fist from beside Miles’ head. “Mi amor…”

“No. Let him go, there’s no point in keeping him here,” you say, and 42 Miles frowns. “Not one to let people go, (Y/n). You know that.”

“I don’t give a fuck, Morales.”

“Damn, ma! Not even callin’ me Miles now?” Miles asks, an edge to his voice. You frown. “No. Not right now. Let him go, and we’ll see.”

“Why you want me to let him go? Got a crush on him or something?” Miles asks, and you raise your eyebrow. You glance at Miles, then back to your Miles. “Technically, yeah. I do. Unless you’d prefer I break up with both of you right now,” you say back, your voice just as cold as your boyfriend’s. “You tellin’ me you’d rather have this guy? Sayin’ this guy is like me? Estás de broma…” he mutters, and Miles looks between the two of you. “Not to piss you off more, but this guy is still technically you,” Miles says, and 42 Miles glares at him. “Cállate. No one was talking to you.”

“Man, why do you hate me so much?! I’m you!” Miles says, exasperated. He just doesn’t understand why this version of him is so hostile to him. They’re basically the same! Except Miles is a superhero and other Miles is a supervillain, but they still both have super in the title so how different can they really be? “Is this a call for help or–”

Miles gets cut off but 42 Miles punching the punching bag, right by Miles’ head. Enough force is exuded that the sand from the bag flies out, starting to pour down the side of it. His eyes widen, and you gasp. Even Aaron reacts a bit to it. But maybe it’s just because someone who looks exactly like his nephew is on the receiving end of it this time. This time. “Miles!” you yell, standing up. “What?!”

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

“What I gotta do! You don’t get it, (Y/n)! This is the job!” Miles yells, and you roll your eyes. “Oh, please, Miles. This is the job? He’s you! Wouldn’t you be trying to get home if you knew you could save your dad?!” you yell, and he glares at you. “(Y/n). Don’t.”

“You know you would be,” you walk over to him, placing your hands on his cheeks. He subconsciously relaxes, but only slightly. You sigh. “You don’t have to be such a hardass all the time, amor,” you mumble, and he shakes his head. “No comprendes, amor… I have to be this way. Or else— “

“Miles, he’s not a part of the cartel. He’s not gonna tell anyone here that you let him go… he’s not even from here. It’s okay for you to think with your heart instead of your head just this once,” you say, and he huffs. “Nah. I stopped thinkin’ with my heart a long time ago,” he says, and a hurt expression crosses your face. “Then what am I? A calculated move for you to use as an adavantage when you need it?” you ask, venom in your words. “No, (Y/n), don’t be estúpida. You’re mi vida, but him? How I know he ain’t just some experiment they made? To get to me?” Miles asks, looking at you with a skeptical look. You sigh. “Dude! I don’t even know what you’re talking about! I have spider powers, is that a thing anyone else here has?!”

“No.”

“Exactly! Why would whoever you’re talking about make a carbon copy of you with enhanced biology just to use me for this?!” Miles asks, and you shrug. “He’s got a point, Miles,” you say, and 42 Miles looks at you again. “Thank you, (Y/n),” 1610 Miles says, and 42 Miles rolls his eyes. “(Y/n) you have to understand that I can’t take no chances. You know that the cartel will go after—”

“I know. I know, Miles, but I really don’t think that—”

“You don’t know that (Y/n). You don’t know them like I do,” Miles says, and you sigh. “Miles. Mi amor. Mi vida. Mi sol, listen to me. If he wanted you dead, he would have done it by now,” you try to get through to him. He glances back at Miles, and Miles can literally see the distrust and paranoia in his expression.

He must have been through so much shit. This is a world with no Spider-Man after all. And all this mention of a cartel? No wonder Miles turned to the Prowler. It’s similar to Aaron in his world, he thinks. He thought that he had nowhere else to turn, so he turned to crime. But deep down, he can’t be that bad. Right…?

“Amor, I need to be cautious. I just have to ask him some questions before… letting him go,” he mumbles, glancing at Aaron. Aaron nods. 1610 Miles gets the feeling they’re not planning on letting him go. You must get that feeling too, because you shake your head, pulling your hands away from Miles’ face. “I can’t believe you right now,” you say, and he frowns. “(Y/n), please just try to understand—”

“No, Miles! I’m done trying to understand you when you never try to understand me!” you yell, and he clenches his jaw. “What do you mean by that, huh?” he asks, and you scoff. “I just. I need to leave. Before I do something I regret.”

“Like what, huh? Break up with me? Fight with me? Actually understand where I’m coming from for once?” Aaron cringes at that. You’re probably the most understanding person in his life other than him. That wasn’t the right choice of words. And you let him know it. “FOR ONCE?! Miles! Oh my god! Are you serious right now?! How many times have you tried to understand me?! I lost people too, you know! And I’m not out here—”

“Do you think I want to do this, (Y/n)?! Be fuckin’ for rea! I do this for you!” he yells back, and you shake your head, frustrated to the point of tears. “I never asked you to do this!”

“You didn’t need to because I love you enough to want to without you asking me to! You need it, Mamá needs it, everyone needs it, and I can provide it for all of you!” You angrily wipe a tear away, trying desperately to keep the rest of them contained. Miles softens. “Amor, no necesitas llorar—”

“Stop, Miles. Just… just stop. I need some air, don’t follow me,” you turn, hurrying to Aaron’s door. Miles steps forward to go after you, but Aaron puts a hand on his shoulder, shaking his head. “Nah, man. Give her some space. She’ll come around,” Aaron says, and Miles clenches his fists. As soon as he sees you slip out of the door, closing it behind you, he turns to Miles. “This is your fault,” he says, pointing at him. “Miles,” Aaron says, crossing his arms. While he is also weary of this new Miles, his Miles isn’t thinking rationally right now. Then again, he is only 15. That’s why Aaron is here, sometimes he needs some assistance. “Why you lookin’ at me like that?” Aaron asks the other Miles. Miles hadn’t even realized he’d been staring. He shakes his head. “Nothing… nothing. Just… good to see you. Haven’t in a while,” he mumbles, and Aaron raises his eyebrow. That could mean a few things. Best not to dwell on it, though. 

“Who are you, really?” 42 Miles asks, and 1610 Miles groans. “I’m you, dude! Why is that so hard to understand?! I’m not a part of a cartel or anything I just want to get home!” Miles is frustrated. Seeing the world they live in from Aaron’s window, he gets why Miles is so… paranoid. But honestly, how long can he keep this uncertainty up? “Explain how you got here. And don’t just say ‘by mistake,’ alright?” Miles says, showing the claws on his gauntlets. Miles rolls his eyes. “I’m Spider-Man, right? And there’s tons of different Spider-Mans… men? Not important, there’s other me’s! And Spider-Women, Spider-People in a bunch of different dimensions, one of them, Miguel, figured out how to travel dimensions and we all met each other… except I wasn’t supposed to meet them because the spider that made me Spider-Man actually came from this world so someone here was supposed to get bit and I wasn't supposed to exist like this, but—”

“Wait… you sayin’ my world ain’t supposed to be like this…?” Miles asks, and Miles nods. “Yes. The people at Alchemax on my world built a collider and had the spider come to my world and it got out and—”

“You’re the reason for this?” Miles looks at himself, who is not even angrier. “I… n-no, but yes, I—” Miles gets cut off by a gauntlet getting placed way too close to his head again. What he doesn’t know is 42 Miles just put together everything in his head. This Miles was Spider-Man. And his dad was still alive because of it. If that were the case for him, maybe his dad wouldn’t have died. Maybe he wouldn’t have been like this. 

He could have had everything that was taken from him. 

“That’s enough talking, cabrón,” he growls, ready to escalate things yet again. Miles gets ready to break out of his restraints again, and Aaron gets ready to help Miles out. Then, over the music, they hear a scream.

A scream that undoubtedly belongs to you.

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[steddieas-shegoes]

A little thing based on this post because it wouldn’t leave my brain:

“I just don’t understand why you won’t try to read it.”

Steve had heard Dustin say this exact sentence hundreds of times at this point.

“I mean, do you know how to read?”

Mike was an asshole. Steve loved him because he was part of the group and he’d been through the same things, but he was such a dick.

“Yes, I know how to read. I just don’t.”

Dustin rolled his eyes.

“If you don’t wanna read nerd shit just say so.”

Steve threw his arms up in frustration.

Steve was a nerd at heart. As a child, he would beg the nanny to take him to the library and the science museum that had real dinosaur fossils. There was something about the peace of exiting his reality and finding a new one among fantasy and history that was indescribable, even to this day.

But as he grew into his looks, he grew out of that phase. At least around others.

And with no nanny around to take him places, he settled for just being the popular guy who hung out with his friends after practice and threw parties at his forever empty house on Saturdays.

But secretly, he still found himself enjoying books late into the night. Never school books, or his grades would’ve been good enough for college, but always incredible novels that took him to other worlds with the most impressively brave people.

And then he lived a nightmare. A few times over. With concussions at every turn.

Now, anytime he tried to read, his head started pounding, his vision got blurry, and ears would start ringing. He stopped trying altogether after Starcourt, but he’d never really let go his love of books.

He occasionally let Robin read to him, but she would get distracted by a plot or character and go on a tangent, leaving Steve confused about what the actual story was. He hated being confused.

“Stevie, you got a minute?”

Eddie had been watching from his spot at the end of the table, where he’d been cleaning up the mess of D&D. He usually made the kids do it, but he’d let them off the hook tonight when they beat the monster and escaped his trap.

Steve and Eddie were friends, definitely. Maybe not close ones, but friends.

Steve had a little crush, definitely. Or a big one. Maybe.

So when Eddie shows him attention, he somewhat shamefully receives it like he’s dying of thirst in a desert.

Robin is the only one who’s noticed so far, but if he keeps acting like a dog being called by his master anytime Eddie talks to him, someone else will comment on it.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Steve asked as he made his way to Eddie.

The kids took this time to talk amongst themselves about the game and what they think will happen next week, and Steve couldn’t have been more grateful.

“You don’t have to tell me, but.” Eddie was tapping his fingers nervously against his leg. “Do you not know how to read?”

“Uh. No I do. I mean I graduated high school. I know it’s hard to believe.”

“Not judging if you can’t, man. I mean, I took three senior years. I’m the last person who can judge.”

“Yeah, but you’re smart. You just didn’t like school,” Steve replied with a pat to his shoulder.

Eddie glanced down at the contact, eyebrow raising and then falling back to normal quickly.

“Just seems like you’d have read something by now to get them off your ass.”

And that’s a really good point. Maybe he should’ve just suffered through a migraine so they’d leave him alone about it.

But migraines left him out for days sometimes, and he couldn’t exactly afford that right now.

“I guess it’s just not worth the migraine.”

He hadn’t meant to actually say it. He didn’t want Eddie to feel bad or for him to try to make him feel better about it or ask questions or talk about the concussion thing.

Actually, did he even know about the concussion thing? Things?

“You get migraines when you try to read?” Then realization hit Eddie hard. “Steve. Do you like reading?”

Something about the way Eddie was looking at him, like he was sad for him but not pitying him, made Steve want to cry.

“I used to, yeah.”

“Everyone out! Your parents are gonna have to come get you! No questions, no explanations, go!” Eddie yelled to the room.

Everyone stared blankly at him before they started protesting, Dustin loudest of all.

“Steve’s my ride!”

“Not anymore. Hitch a ride with Lucas.”

“But Lucas’ mom always squeezes my cheeks and tells me she hopes I never lose my baby fat.”

“She speaks for all of us. Get the hell out of here!”

Steve was actually impressed. Maybe a little turned on? God, he was a disaster.

As everyone cleared out of the room, Eddie patted the seat next to him. When Steve sat down, Eddie scooted his chair so close to him, his knees were touching Steve’s.

“Alright, so you’re gonna tell me about what books you like and what books you want to read and we’re gonna get started.”

Steve blinked at him. “Huh?”

“You have a list I’m sure.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Okay, then we better get started.”

“I mean, I’ve tried. I appreciate it, but even focusing on one page makes my eyes burn and my head hurt.”

“Got that. I’m not asking you to read.”

Sometimes Steve was worried the concussions had actually knocked some screws loose. He wasn’t getting it.

“I’m gonna read to you, Stevie.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’m sure a lot of them will be movies and I can just watch them.”

“It’s not the same. You know it’s not.”

He was right. Steve didn’t have much patience for movies. And sometimes even those gave him migraines if there were a lot of bright lights and explosions.

“Yeah. But still. You don’t have to do that. You might not even like the books.”

“Ah, this isn’t a completely free service, my liege.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I don’t have extra money to pay you, dude.”

“Not money. I get to pick a book to read to you when we finish the first book you pick.”

“Is it The Hobbit?”

“It is,” Eddie looked so smug.

“Well, that was my first choice,” Steve stared back, equally as smug.

“So, your house is empty.”

“Yep.”

“And I’m assuming you own this book.”

“I do.”

“And it’s getting late.”

Steve looked out the window at the pitch black skies.

“It’s late.”

“So I could stay and read you to sleep.”

“Won’t I miss some of the book?”

“I’ll stop when you’re asleep.”

Steve’s heart was practically begging him to say yes. Eddie reading to him in his bed? Possibly falling asleep together? Maybe even waking up together? It couldn’t be a better proposition. Well. It could.

“Will you stay even if I fall asleep?”

Eddie smirked. “If that’s what you want, sweetheart.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d called Steve that, but it was the first time it felt like he meant it in a non-teasing way.

“Okay.”

So they both changed into some of Steve’s comfy clothes, got into his bed, and Eddie started reading The Hobbit.

Just as he was during D&D and real life, Eddie was animated, providing different voices for different characters and often giving long pauses to let Steve soak in what the words meant.

Steve didn’t even have to ask him to do that. He just did.

Steve fell asleep somewhere between halfway and the end of chapter two, but Eddie stayed.

And they woke up the next day with Steve’s head resting on Eddie’s chest, Eddie’s arms wrapped around him to keep him as close as possible.

They finished the The Hobbit in a week, and because Eddie was now committed to making sure Steve was well-read, they started moving through his list rapidly, falling for each other in new ways every time Eddie turned a page.

Part 2 (Angst)  / Part 2 (Fluffy) /  Part 2 (Explicit)

[not-neverland06]

conflicted spaces

Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

a/n: He doesn’t get TB in this. Why? Because this is fanfiction and I’m god and fuck canon (I just finished the game, I’m emotionally distraught and needed this)

Warnings: brief attempted SA

Summary: Your father is a gambling man and you’re always the collateral. He refuses to pay the wrong man and now you’re being dragged across country roads to a man you’ve never met. Arthur Morgan, an outlaw down to the bone, is in charge of making sure you get there in one piece. Except, he doesn’t feel right selling a woman off like she’s property.

You’re done being a doormat and letting the men in your life tell you what you’re worth. You’ve got three days to escape him, but you’re not prepared for the reality of the real world.

“Put your hands where I can see ‘em, cowboy.” Arthur’s shoulders tense and he curses under his breath. His hand darts to the revolver on his hip, but the second his fingers twitch towards it he hears a hammer being pulled back. The cool barrel of a gun digs into his neck and he raises his hand in surrender. 

The man behind him lets out a familiar laugh and tugs him around. Arthur rolls his eyes and glares at Dutch. “The hell are you doing?”

Dutch clears his throat, still laughing slightly. “Relax, Arthur, but if I had been an O’Driscoll you’d be dead right now.” Arthur doesn’t point out that the only thing they have to worry about out here are the Lemonye raiders. He’s more focused on why Dutch is even out here. Rarely does he leave Shady Belle to traverse the streets of St. Denis. 

None of them are particularly fond of the place. If he wanted to step in horse shit every other step he’d go to a stable. At least those smell better. Dutch slings an arm around Arthur’s shoulder, tugging him away from the saloon he was heading towards. 

“You’re gonna have to save the cheating for later, Arthur, I need you for something.”

“You know I don’t cheat,” Arthur jokes and Dutch grins at him and it’s nice. This is familiar to him. This feels right. Dutch has been odd lately, the jobs he’s been taking, the risks he’s been imposing, none of them feels like the man he knows. 

Now, Arthur would follow Dutch straight into hell without being asked. But he can’t abide by how he’s putting their people in harm's way. He’s felt like a stranger more often than not and he’s been doubting the people he shouldn’t. Right now, though, he can see the man he knows in the teasing curl of his lips. 

“What’dya need?”

Dutch pauses in front of a tailor and pats Arthur’s chest. “I need you to look prim and proper for a party we’ve got tonight.”

Arthur’s brows furrow cynically and he scoffs. “Someone invited us to a party?”

Dutch hesitates, a stiff smile on his face. “Well, let’s just say someone is interested in our work.” Arthur wants to question him further, he’s hiding something from him. But Dutch is pushing him towards the door of the shop before he can argue. “And get a haircut, we need to look presentable not like a bunch of mountain men.”

Arthur watches as Dutch leaves, something heavy weighing down on him. Dutch doesn’t usually tell people about his plans beforehand. At least not every step of them. But this is odd, he’s definitely hiding something and Arthur isn’t sure he wants to know what. 

With a resigned huff, he heads into the tailor. He has to mentally prepare himself for being stuffed into a starched collar and a stiff suit for the rest of the night. He hates these damn parties, hates having to pretend like he knows what the hell is being said. 

Most of the people that attend are educated or pretend to be. And when he lets it slip that he’s more likely to shoot a gun than read a book they turn on him like jackals. You can’t let them see that you’re different than them or you’ll never get a word in edgewise. 

The only part he enjoys is the booze and robbing them of their money. It’s not like they earned any of it. Most of it was made by breaking the backs of the people they mock for being too poor to afford a fancy suit. 

Arthur takes a deep breath and looks for the cheapest suit he can find in the overpriced shop. 

“Now,” Mr. Crane’s hand tightens around your bicep and he jerks you closer to him. You keep your face impassive, not letting him see just how much he’s hurting you. But you can feel your skin being stretched to its limits by his clammy fingers. “You’re going to behave tonight. I’ve got a few gentlemen I’d like you to meet.”

He looks at you expectantly but you keep your mouth firmly shut. His eyes narrow and he jerks you around roughly. “Understood,” you force the word out through gritted teeth. You’re trying to breathe as little as possible, not wanting to smell his cigar-laced breath any longer. 

Finally, after a tortuously long moment, he releases you. You take ten steps back, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles from the silk skirt he’d forced you in. You glance out the window of his office, watching as the workers scramble to set up the tables for tonight. You can hear cooks in the kitchen, shouting out orders for the food for tonight. 

Everything must be perfect. Mr. Crane never fails to deliver on his extravagantly indulgent parties. The man himself is the very embodiment of greed. You glance over with a disgusted sneer as he sinks himself into his leather chair and pulls out a wad of cash. 

He catches your eye and sends you a sickly sweet smile. “This,” he waves the money at you and you track the movement boredly. “Is how much you’re worth, sweetheart.” Your brows raise in amusement and you scoff. More than you thought he would put up for you. 

You wonder who he’s going to have transport you. He’ll need you out of the city soon, your father is starting to catch onto what’s happening. It took him long enough. You’ve been missing a month, you’d think he would have put two and two together faster. Then again, he’d never been very interested in you beyond what you were worth to others. 

“When will I be able to meet these gentlemen?” You ask, taking a step towards him. Your eyes dart towards the letter opener on his desk and for a brief moment you picture yourself strabbing it into his fattened jugular. 

But he flicks his wrist and like magic the door opens, his men coming inside and standing resolutely by your side. “Not anytime soon, my dear.” He looks to the men surrounding you and you take in a sharp breath, wishing you’d just taken the chance when you had it. “My associate is feeling quite tired, take her back to her room, please.”

They grab you by the elbows, even though it's entirely unnecessary. You wouldn’t run, and even if you did you wouldn’t get far with the chains he has hidden under your dress. A punishment for the first time you snuck from his home. You’ve been well behaved since then but he doesn’t trust you. 

You’re whisked away without another word. The trek of the stairs is a slow one. They’re forced to help you navigate by lifting your skirts and not tripping on the chains. It no longer brings you any satisfaction to cause a hindrance in any of their days. 

Before, you would think of being an annoyance as a small victory. But it’s not, it never was. It was just a way for them to keep you complacent by allowing you to think you’d done something for yourself. You believe your father used to do the same thing. 

It’s just another way of keeping you quiet. 

When you make it to your rooms, they shove you inside. Like clockwork, you hear the jingle of the keys and then the lock clicks. You sigh and take a step towards your vanity, working on touching up your hair. 

You think the worst part of this must be how well you’re treated. You have meals made by a private chef. Your quarters are decorated more lavishly than they ever were at your father’s house. Yet, you hear the suffocating tick of the clock as it counts down your doom. 

You’re not entirely sure what their plan is with you. You know your father had made a promise to Mr. Crane involving some land. Or perhaps it had been a wager. But as always, you were collateral when your father refused to pay up. 

You know Mr. Crane wants you out of town so that he has more time to negotiate with your father, to call in the interest he owes him. You also know the only reason your father is interested in finding you is because you’re meant to marry the son of a business partner in two months. The money he’ll get from that will be enough to finally pay off his debts. 

Except, now, Mr. Crane tells you that should your father refuse to pay you’ll be married to one of his associates. And the deal he’ll make from that will be enough to cover what your father has refused to pay. 

No matter what, you’re going to be married off to some man you’ve never met and yet again be a quiet trophy on a shelf. It’s a very convoluted situation, one which makes you think leaping from a window might be a better fate. 

None of the men your father or Mr. Crane is in business with are particularly kind. They’ve got more skeletons in the closet than there are in the graveyard. You doubt you’ll live a very happy life with whoever they pick for you. 

You slump forward onto the vanity, trying to fight off the burning feeling in the back of your eyes. You’ve known this would happen for years. Even before Mr. Crane had you kidnapped, you knew that this would be your destiny. You would never get to be one of the free-spirited women who fought for the right to choose. You would always be forced into this role. 

Yet, being so close to it coming to fruition makes you feel choked and suffocated. You can feel the noose around your neck tightening, the hangman’s fingers twitching as he waits to see you drop. 

You dig your nails into your palm, taking in a deep breath and fighting back the wave of despair. Where there is doom, you also see a sliver of hope. Your next journey will be a long one. He’s hiring someone to have you transported to an area further up the map. 

If you play your cards right you might be able to escape while you’re traveling. If you’re incredibly smart about this, thinking with your head and not your heart, you might have a shot at freedom. 

You take in a deep breath, reapplying your makeup and resolving yourself to another night of mindless entertainment. But you hold onto that fleeting feeling of hope. You have a shot, you just have to take it. 

Arthur’s heard of these parties before. Some Mr. Crane fella that likes to blow all his money on food and booze. He indulges his guests and when they’re weakest, gets their secrets from them. He’s a snake and everyone knows it. Yet, missing his party is social suicide. They have no choice but to go and indulge in him. 

Arthur had never had any interest in meeting him or doing any business with him. But Dutch had informed him that’s exactly what’s happening tonight. They’ll mingle for a little while, maybe scout some other jobs, and then Mr. Crane will invite them up to his office for a private discussion. 

Dutch still hasn’t told him what exactly their business with him is. He brought Hosea along tonight so he has to assume it’s not going to be anything violent. But he can’t think of anything else they could be good for. 

“Alright, gentlemen,” Dutch places his hands on Hosea’s and Arthur’s shoulders, a scheming smile on his face. “Try not to embarrass me.” He slips behind them, heading up the stairs of the home. Hosea and Arthur share a brief look before they split up, blending into the background of the garden. 

Arthur lurks near the bar, he knows he should be talking to these assholes, possibly learning something useful. But he can’t be bothered. He orders a whiskey, gaze surveying the partygoers. They’re all loud with painted faces and fake smiles. Not a goddamn person here seems to be genuinely interested in anything they’re doing. 

“First time?” The soft voice beside him catches him off guard. He glances to the side and is surprised to see that you’ve slipped past him. He hadn’t even noticed you slide up next to him. You laugh at the look on his face and it’s the first thing here that seems real. “Sorry, it’s just that look on your face, I recognize the disappointment. You’ve never been to one of Crane’s parties before?”

“No,” he clears his throat, still recovering from the surprise. “Uh, I can’t say I have.”

You suck on your teeth, narrowing your eyes at the people passing by. “They’re not worth the effort. Everyone who leaves here leaves carrying his debt on their back.”

Arthur chuckles a little, lips twitching up into a small smile. He’s surprised by your frankness, most people like to hide behind passive-aggressive digs. He appreciates the straightforward attitude. “Then why are you here?”

You shrug and Arthur finds himself enchanted. He shouldn’t be, he’s never been one for romance. He finds women pretty and he’s been in love before, but he’s never bought into the idea of love at first sight. Or any of that mushy stuff that Mary Beth devours in those books of hers. 

But you are absolutely gorgeous, dressed in a silk dress that’s so expensive he’s sure he could buy two new horses with it. Your fingers and neck are decorated in dainty jewels that you fidget with as you stare down at your drink. When you set your eyes on him again he thinks he might have been struck by Cupid’s arrow. 

“I don’t have a choice,” you finally answer, sending him a stiff smile. “What about you? Why are you here?”

Arthur suddenly remembers himself, remembers why he’s here and what he’s supposed to be doing. The fog in his head dissipates and he’s disappointed in himself. Pretty women have never done anything except get him in trouble. 

“Business,” he answers vaguely. Your eyes narrow and your brows twitch in discontent. Something like realization dawns on your face and you back away from him. The easy attitude you’d carried yourself with is gone, replaced by a vague look of distrust. 

“Right, should’ve known.” You let out a rough sigh and Arthur can’t help but feel like he’s said the wrong thing. “I suppose I’ll be seeing you again soon.” You slip past him before he can ask you what you mean. He hears the faint sound of metal clinking as you walk back up the stairs. 

Something silver flashes under your skirts but he can’t get a good glimpse of it. He feels unsettled as he turns back to the bar. The whole interaction was odd. From how stricken he was with you to how cold you turned. 

He doesn’t know what you saw in him but it was probably for the best that you left when you did. Neither of you needed the trouble the other would bring. He shakes his head, downing his whiskey and muttering nonsense to himself about not thinking with the wrong head. 

It’s not that much later that Dutch is appearing on the balcony and silently motions him forward. Arthur leaves the bar behind and slips up the same stairs you’d disappeared on. Dutch says nothing as he leads Hosea and Arthur through the house. 

The mansion is a maze more than anything. Arthur loses track of all the turns they take and the winding staircases they descend. Finally, Dutch stops them all in front of two large oak doors. He raps once on the door and then lets himself in. 

A large, balding man with a shiny head is perched on top of a leather chair. He looms behind his desk, fingers steepled as he greets them all with a false smile. “Ah, gentlemen, so nice to finally meet you.”

Dutch grins and motions to Arthur, “This is the man who will be doing the transporting, Arthur.” Arthur’s eyes narrow in confusion but he says nothing as Dutch moves to Hosea, “And this is my associate, Hosea. He’s a lot better with money than I am, Mr. Crane. You understand.”

Mr. Crane lets out a boisterous laugh that makes Arthur’s ears hurt and nods his head, his cheeks jiggling with the movement. “That I do! Well,” he waves them forward when they linger in the doorway too long, “come in, come in.”

Arthur closes the doors behind them as Mr. Crane lifts himself from his desk. There are two couches positioned in front of an unlit fire. He takes one of them and Dutch and Hosea take the other. Arthur perches himself on the armrest of their couch, eyes surveying the office like it might reveal the truth of their visit. 

“I trust Mr. Van der Linde has kept this all quiet?” 

“He has,” Arthur grouses. 

At the same time, Dutch says, “Of course, Mr. Crane. I promised confidentiality and Dutch Van der Linde is nothing if not a man who keeps to his promises.” Crane nods, looking satisfied and  Arthur holds back a laugh at how easily he seems to trust Dutch.

“Good, good.” He dips his hand inside his jacket and Arthur’s palm instinctively drops to where his gun should be. Of course, they’d had to give up their weapons before they came into the party, if he does has a gun Arthur can’t do a damn thing. 

But he doesn’t, instead, he pulls out the thickest stack of cash that Arthur has ever laid his eyes on. A loud thud resounds through the room as he slams the bills on top of the table between them. Arthur’s eyes widen and Hosea’s jaw nearly drops at the sight of it all. 

This would be enough to get them out of St. Denis tonight. Shock sours quickly into suspicion. What the hell has Dutch signed up for? “Now, this is the first half. This is simply for accepting the job and,” he gives them all severe looks, “for your silence.”

Arthur shifts uncomfortably on his perch and waits for Mr. Crane to finish. “The other half will be given once the package has been safely delivered.” There’s a certain lilt to his words when he says package that has Arthur’s hackles raising. Whatever is getting delivered is not going to be good. 

Crane turns towards the bookshelves on the wall and calls out, “Darling, won’t you join us?” Arthur figures the man must have lost his mind, they should just take the money and leave. But there’s a loud creak and something like metal gears grinding together. One of the shelves pops open and the panel swings forward. 

You pop your head out, glancing towards Crane and then taking a step forward. Arthur, without even thinking about it, finds himself sitting up, and brushing some of the dirt off his pants from the ride over. 

At first, he’s so confused by seeing you again that he doesn’t realize why exactly he’s seeing you again. Then you glance towards him, a knowing look on your face and it clicks. You’re the package. You’re what he’s meant to be transporting. 

He glares over at Dutch, when exactly did they get into the business of trading women?

Hosea voices his doubts in a much calmer manner. “If I may, sir, why does she need to be delivered so discreetly?”

Mr. Crane laughs and your face twitches unpleasantly. You grimace, glaring at the back of the man’s head with something like murder in your eyes. He doesn’t know what he’s done to cause such a visceral look of hate and he doesn’t want to think about it. This whole situation is bothering him. You’re not here willingly, which means you’re not going to be transported willingly either. 

None of this makes sense. Dutch would never have taken a job like this before, even when they needed the money. And there’s no way in hell a rich man like this one would want to pay a couple of grungy outlaws so much money. There’s got to be some sort of trick in all of this. 

Cran clears his throat, “She’s a daughter of a, well,” he frowns and struggles for the words. “Let’s just say we’re in a hostile competition for a lot of land. This land, boys, could be very beneficial in expanding my business. He’s not interested in selling and, well, desperate times, desperate measures.”

You scoff, laughing slightly at him and rounding the couch. Dutch ignores you, Hosea looks uncomfortable, and Crane continues prattling on without missing a beat. “Should her father not pay me, she will be married to the associate you’re bringing her to. He’s promised me enough land and money to cover what I lost to her father. And if he does pay, she’ll be returned in time for her wedding here.”

Arthur’s eyes dart towards you and you send him a bitter smile. It makes him shift where he sits, hating the way your eyes bore into him. “I just need someone who's not afraid of getting their hands a little dirty to make sure she behaves while she’s delivered to my friend,” Crane glances over at Arthur. He asses him, the bulge of his arms in the suit and the scars on his face, whatever he finds must be satisfactory because he smiles over at Dutch. 

Arthur stands, ready for Dutch to tell Mr. Crane that they’re not in the business of selling women off. But Dutch doesn’t, he smiles at Mr. Crane and reaches for the money, passing it off to Hosea to count. “Well, I do believe my friend Arthur is just the man for the job.” 

“I think you’re right, Dutch.” He stands up now, pot belly nearly bursting the buttons of his shirt, and reaches for Dutch’s hand. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

Dutch smiles and takes his sweaty palm, “You as well, sir.” Dutch walks towards you and holds his arm out. “This way, my dear.” You glance between him and his elbow before rolling your eyes and reluctantly placing your hand on his arm. You follow him silently and obediently, no fight is left in you. Hosea follows after you both, a concerned look on his face. 

Arthur remains in the office, standing dumbfounded and staring at the doorway you’d disappeared through. He’s struggling to process what just happened. Arthur has helped people get home safely before and provided protection. But he’s never been one to traffic a hostage. 

Crane glances up, finally noticing him still standing there. He walks past him, patting his shoulder as he does and giving him an approving smile. “Don’t be afraid to take care of her should she get out of hand.” He’s nearly out the door but he looks back and adds, “Just don’t bruise her too much.”

Arthur’s fingers twitch for his revolver once more and he’s never wanted to shoot a man more. But he knows Dutch is waiting for him and he’d never make it out of here alive if he started a fight right now. Reluctantly, he makes his way out of the manor and towards where you’re all waiting for him. 

He’s fuming by the time he stops in front of Dutch. He’s trying to help you onto his horse and Arthur finally realizes what the metal sound he heard earlier is. There are chains around your ankles and you can’t maneuver yourself on the saddle. 

His eyes narrow and he glares at Dutch, “What the hell are you doing? We’re selling women now?”

Dutch glowers at the tone of Arthur’s voice. You watch them both passively, fiddling with the rings on your fingers and looking unbothered by the entire situation. “Watch yourself, Arthur,” there’s a clear warning in his tone but Arthur’s too upset to care. 

They’ve done a lot of bad things. They weren’t good men. But this was just going too far. “We need this, Arthur. You want to get out of here, you want to keep our people safe?” Arthur let out a deep exhale, gritting his teeth together and nodding reluctantly. Dutch huffs, “That’s what I thought. We’re not selling anyone, Arthur. It’s a simple delivery.”

His jaw clenches as he watches Dutch struggle to help you again. “It’s not going to work,” you inform Dutch. You lift your skirts, flashing him the chains he hadn’t seemed to notice yet. Neither of you gets a chance to say anything as Arthur pulls out his gun and shoots the lock off. 

He feels a little guilty at how startled you look. Your eyes widen until they look like they might bulge out. Your hands fly up to cover your ears as the sound rocks through you. It breaks violently through the silence of the night. 

Dutch turns and gives him a stern look, “Have you forgotten the meaning of subtlety?” Arthur can tell he’s trying not to shout and drag any more attention towards you all. 

Arthur glares at Dutch, something wicked brewing in his stomach. “The lady wouldn’t be able to ride a horse like that.” He mounts his horse and rides off without a look back. He can’t stand to be near you or Dutch any longer. 

The reality of what they’ve turned into hits him like a bag of rocks and it makes him irate. They’ve never been these people. Never traded a person off like they were an object. He’s sure plenty of people in camp would have a problem with this. But he doubts Dutch will let them know the truth until the job is done. 

And by then, everyone will be too happy with the money to complain. Dutch is nothing if not good at saving his ass. He’s hitching his horse as the rest of you ride into camp. He lingers by Diablo, resting a hand on the thick neck of the shire while Dutch helps you off the saddle. 

His eyes narrow in on the way Dutch’s fingers glide along your waist as you jump down. You take a step back the second your legs are steady sending Dutch a dirty look that almost makes Arthur laugh. 

He starts towards Dutch, ready to try and reason with him again. But he holds his hand up and walks away, not even giving him a chance to speak. Arthur lets out a rough sigh as Hosea comes up behind him. 

He pats his shoulder comfortingly, “You should get some sleep, Arthur. You’ll ride with her to Strawberry tomorrow morning.” He almost walks off but he whispers a quiet, “I’m sorry,” before he goes. 

Arthur glances towards you but you’re looking around the camp, eyes lingering on Javier as he sings by the fire. He swears he almost sees you smile but it's gone as quickly as it came. He takes his hat off, running his hand through his hair and letting out a tired sigh. 

“Alright, come with me,” he starts towards the house. It takes a minute to realize you’re not directly behind him. When he looks over your shoulder he sees you with your skirts lifted, tiptoeing through the mud and trying not to get your pretty skirts dirty. 

He rolls his eyes, storming back towards you. Your eyes widen at the look on his face and you stumble back a few steps. Undeterred, he bends over, throwing you over his shoulder and walking towards the house. 

Your hands claw at his back, desperately grasping onto his shirt so you keep your balance. He storms up the stairs, ignoring the alarmed looks he gets from others in camp. He can already hear them whispering, wondering who you are and why he’s dragging you into his room. 

They can make up whatever the hell they want. Arthur’s too pissed off to give a shit about rumors tonight. He drops you unceremoniously onto his bed and storms back out. He heads downstairs, rooting around in one of the chests for some extra clothes. 

You won’t be able to ride to Strawberry in those ridiculous clothes. You’ll need some pants if you’re going to sit on the horse properly. He tucks the outfit under his arm and makes his way back to you. 

When he opens the door your hand immediately darts away from his shaving kit and shoves itself under your butt. His brows furrow as he catches a flash of silver in your hand. He places the clothes down on the end of the bed, eyes drifting towards his shaving kit. Sure enough, his razor seems to be missing. 

He lets out a sigh and you tense up, hand clenching around your prize. He briefly debates taking it from you. But he figures you should be allowed a modicum of comfort. Even if you did try and use it against him it’s dull, he hasn’t sharpened it in a while and you wouldn’t be able to do much damage anyway. 

He lets you keep it, leaving you on your own without another word. He can hear the exhale of relief you let out when he walks away and it makes him feel just a little better about this. At least you’re not completely terrified. 

You change into the clothes Arthur gave you. They’re a little big, but you appreciate the pants. It’s much better than the ridiculous dresses Crane had you in. You collect your dress and toss it out the window of Arthur’s room, watching it sink into the mud pit below. It brings you some satisfaction to see Crane’s pretty silk getting ruined. 

You take off the jewelry you’d been given and stuff it into your boots. If you did manage to escape while you were traveling with Arthur then you were going to need some cash. You could sell off the jewels and hopefully, it would be enough to keep you comfortable. 

It feels nice, to wear real clothes. Not being dressed up like a doll for once. You envy some of the women here, who can wear what they want. There is an appeal to the outlaw life. As long as you’re on the right side of it, which, currently, you’re not. 

You slip out of the house before anyone has a chance to retrieve you. The whole night you were curled up around a dull razor with your eyes wide open. Spending a night surrounded by outlaws isn’t exactly restful. 

You figure you might as well try and walk around before you’re on the back of a horse for the rest of the day. There are more people up than you’d expected. Luckily, you don’t see Dutch around anywhere. You don’t feel like having to deal with any more of his false charm or empty apologies. 

The same man you’d seen strumming his guitar the night before is asleep next to the dying fire. A blonde woman catches your eye, she’s walking past some other women in dresses. They’re still asleep but she looks like she’s been up for hours. 

There’s a bit of blood on her pants and you briefly wonder what she’d been doing. “Who are you?” She asks, surveying you from head to toe with suspicion in her eyes. 

“A package,” you tell her bluntly, walking past her towards the only lit fire of camp. She follows you, a wry grin on her face as she watches you pour yourself some coffee. 

“You’ve got a real attitude, I like it.” 

You huff out a laugh, taking a sip of the burnt coffee and giving her a brief smile. “I’m sure my future husband won’t.” 

She rolls her eyes and scoffs, waving you off. “Husbands, good for nothing. I loved mine but he was useless as a sack o’ flour. You’re better off without them.”

Your smile turns strained and you look down at your feet, at the boots that aren’t your own. You’ll never get to dress like this again. Or speak like this to a woman who isn’t afraid to voice what's on her mind. 

“Yes, well,” you shrug and meet her eyes again, “I don’t seem to have much of a choice.”

Her eyes narrow and she frowns, “What’s that supposed to-”

“Mrs. Adler!” Dutch’s voice booms from across the camp and forces the others awake. Most of them grumble, but they’re quick to get started on morning chores. “I see you’ve met our guest,” he says your name with a flourish that almost makes you laugh. 

He’s a good actor. He’s especially good at covering up his mistakes. “Yeah, what’s going on, Dutch? Who is she? Why don’t you guys ever let me in on this stuff?” She fires off questions rapidly, you almost don’t catch them all. There are clearly underlying issues here other than your unexpected presence. 

“In due time,” he assures her, laying the charm on thick. But even you can tell he’s full of it. He’s not planning on letting her in on anything unless it benefits him. “And this is our guest, her fiancee has paid us handsomely to provide her safe passage back to him.” 

He walks towards you, laying a hand over your arm and squeezing slightly. You give Sadie a stiff smile and let him lead you away. “I do believe it’s best that you just wait for Arthur, dear.” He gives you a look that lets you know it’s an order, not a suggestion. 

Still, you play along, “I think you might be right, Mr. Van der Linde, thank you for the hospitality.” You run a tired hand over your face, sitting down on the stoop of the house and finishing off the rest of your coffee. Dutch watches you for a while, never straying too far from where you are and intercepting anyone who asks about you. 

He spins quite the romantic tale of your lost love and how he desperately wants you back. You wish it were true, that you were living out some wonderful fairytale and were about to be reunited with the love of your life. Instead, it feels like one long walk to the gallows. 

The wood creaks behind you and you don’t need to turn to see who it is. “Ready?” Arthur asks and you figure he means, ready to leave freedom and happiness and the will to live behind? 

No, “Sure,” you toss the rest of the coffee into the grass and leave the mug on the stairs. You get to your feet and let him lead you towards the horses. He shares a brief look with Dutch as you pass by him but it doesn’t look entirely pleasant. 

He makes his way toward a towering black shire and your eyes widen in horror. “What’s this?”

He works on saddling the horse up, not paying much attention to you. “This is Diablo.” You take a step closer and the horse starts huffing, swinging his neck towards you with his lips pulled back. You jump back a step back, eyeing him warily. 

Arthur glances over and lets out a low chuckle, “He won’t bite. He’s just curious.”

“Mhm,” you give him a disbelieving look. “You’ll have to excuse me for being wary, I’ve not met a lot of horses.”

Arthur looks a bit shocked by your admission. “Really?” He questions, sounding doubtful. 

You give him a brief smile and nod. “Hard to believe, I know, but I’ve lived a very sheltered life, Mr. Morgan. Haven’t had many opportunities for exploring on my own.” 

He opens his mouth, looking like he wants to say something. At the last second, he stops himself, instead taking a step closer to you. You flinch away from him when he reaches for you and he lets out a sigh. “You can’t spend the next three days terrified of him, come on.”

He coaxes you forward and you reluctantly step closer to the beast. He chuckles at the scared look on your face. You don’t appreciate how much amusement he’s gaining from this. “Come on,” he mutters, taking your wrist and leading you closer to Diablo. 

The damn thing is named Devil, how could you not be terrified of it? 

“He won’t bite, I promise.” You don’t trust him but he doesn’t give you much of a choice. He presses your open palm to Diablo’s nose and you wince, bracing for him to lash out at you. 

But he doesn’t, he lets out a soft knicker and it seems like he doesn’t even care that you’re there. You let out a relieved laugh, running your hand tentatively over his muzzle. It’s shockingly soft and oddly squishy. 

He doesn’t seem to mind as you awe over him. You smile and glance over at Arthur but it drops when you see the odd look on his face. He seems perplexed by your reaction and you can’t fathom why. “You really never have ridden a horse before, have you?”

You shake your head, “No. I told you.”

He purses his lips and nods. You don’t know what it is about this that’s bothering him and you don’t care to ask. If he doesn’t believe just how strict your upbringing has been then fine. “Alright, come on, we need to get a move on.” 

He leads you around to the saddle and helps you up on the back of the horse. It’s beyond odd, sitting on something in pants. Getting to spread your legs freely is something you are going to greatly enjoy during this journey. 

Arthur takes off without much warning and you yelp, throwing your arms around his waist to steady yourself. He glances over his shoulder at you but says nothing. You turn your head, watching as the camp gets smaller and smaller. 

The people mill about, greet each other, and break bread together. It hits you suddenly, this will be the last time you get to see people being free. If you don’t get out, if you can’t escape, your life will be filled with starched collars and powdered faces. You’ll never have a genuine conversation with someone again. You’ll be turned into pretty jewelry hanging off the arm of a man you never met. 

The ride to Strawberry is three days at least. You have three days to get your plan together and to escape. You almost feel sorry for Arthur and the repercussions he’ll have to face losing you. But not sorry enough that you’re not gonna try. 

Arthur’s speed evens out and you let your arms relax, easing away from him slightly. Your wrist jolts against the gun on his hip and you eye it curiously. If you had a gun there would be no doubt you could escape. You see Arthur’s fingers twitch on the reigns of the horse and you move your arms higher up his torso. 

You doubt you’ll be a quicker draw than he is. He is an outlaw after all. You don’t think he’d have many qualms about delivering you to your fiancee with a few extra holes in your gut. Your mind drifts to the razor in your pocket and you consider it for a moment. 

You’re sure you’d be quick enough to just whip it out and slit his throat. You sigh and dismiss the thought. You were a lot of things but you were not a murderer. There are lines you can’t bring yourself to cross. Besides, as wicked as what he’s doing to you is, you know he’s a good man. 

It was an instinctual feeling. Mr. Crane and your father were both horrible, evil men. They knew nothing but greed and would never be satisfied by all the riches they reaped. They were the type of men you looked at and knew deep down that there was nothing left to save. 

Arthur has undoubtedly bad things. You don’t become an outlaw without spilling some blood. He was weathered and rough from a hard life, but that didn’t mean there was nothing good left in him. You won’t have his blood on your hands, no matter how much you might want to get away from him. 

As grateful as Arthur is for the silence, it is odd. He’s helped a few ladies find their way back home before and for some reason, they seem to think he’s the best listener in the world. It seems everyone who rides with him wants to tell him their life stories. 

You’re completely silent, though. He has to keep looking back just to make sure you haven’t fallen off the back of the horse. You’re pretty complacent, following along with whatever Dutch said and coming along quietly. You seem beaten down, the fight dragged out of you. 

He wonders what Mr. Crane had done to you. A few times, he’s seen just a glimpse of the spark that used to be there. But it was snuffed out before he got a chance to know it. He almost wishes you would talk. It would distract him from what he was doing right now.

It didn’t feel right, bringing you along to marry a man you’ve never even met. He has to keep reminding himself that it would have happened no matter what. Ladies like you are always sold off into a profitable marriage. The only thing he’s doing is switching up who the fiancee might be. 

None of that makes him feel better, though. He should be helping you, not dragging you away to your worst nightmare. But, his people come first. The amount of money Dutch’ll get from this will be enough to get them all out of here. This could finally be the last score. 

You gasp behind him and he whips his head around, immediately expecting someone to be following along beside you both. Maybe your father’s men or just some raiders. But he doesn’t see anything except a herd of deer running through the trees. 

His brows furrow in confusion and he glances back at you. You’re watching them like they’re something spectacular. Arthur’s always been a fan of the quiet beauty of nature. He appreciates them in ways most folks don’t understand. But you’re looking at ‘em like you just found God. 

“Never seen deer before?” He teases, chuckling a little at your reaction. 

You startle, not realizing he had been watching. You clear your throat and look away from them sheepishly. He almost feels bad for ruining the moment for you. “No. No, I haven’t.” 

He knows it's possible, but it’s astounding to him that someone truly lived their whole life in the city. It just doesn’t seem right. Cities are full of shit, smog, and bad people. Not even having a moment out of that your whole life seems like torture. 

“I’ll just enjoy it while it lasts,” you mutter, eyes darting back to the tree line. But the deer are gone and you don’t look very interested anymore. 

“Right,” he shifts forward, the air between you awkward. He’d only meant it in jest. He didn’t mean to remind you of what was about to happen to you. He doesn’t like the silence, not this time, it feels wrong. It makes him stew in his shame and that’s a nasty feeling. 

Selfishly, he prods you for more. “A few days on the road, you’ll be eager for the city again.”

You laugh but there’s no humor to it. “I very much doubt that Mr. Morgan.”

“Arthur,” he corrects, “just call me Arthur.”

“Right,” your tone remains cold, “well if you don’t mind Arthur, I’d like to ride there in silence.”

He's got no other choice but to comply. If you don’t want to talk he won’t make you. He just wishes he could make this a little easier for you both. 

Camping is something. You don’t have a word for it. It’s nice to be out in nature and embrace it for the first time in your life. But you really would not mind the comfort of your bed right now. 

Rocks digging into your spine and head do not make for a good night’s sleep. You’ve been lying in front of the fire for hours, flipping around uselessly. It doesn’t matter how much you shift, the rock stays digging painfully into you. 

You let out a loud huff, flopping onto your back and glaring up at the starry sky in defeat. At least the view is nice. In the city, you can’t see the stars. The smoke’s too thick and you never get a good look at them.

Out here, they almost feel fake. They’re so bright and beautiful, you thought the paintings in the museum had always been exaggerating just how breathtaking a night sky can be. But you were wrong. And you hate that there’s a potential future where you’ll never get to see this again. 

“Would you quit squirming so damn much?”

You shoot up, resting on your elbows and glaring over at Arthur. He’s got his hat over his eyes, arms crossed, and looking like he’s been asleep for the past few hours. You hadn’t realized you’d been keeping him up. 

“Some of us aren’t used to sleeping outside,” you hiss, throwing yourself back down to the ground. He doesn’t say anything for a while and you figure that’s the end of it. You clench your eyes shut, counting sheep in your mind and trying to force yourself asleep. 

You hear boots crunching across leaves and your eyes fly open. Arthur’s standing over you, hands propped on his hips as he glares down at you. “Can I help you?” You snap when you get tired of the staring. 

He scoffs and shakes his head, kneeling to be eye level with you. You’re startled by the proximity, an odd heat creeping up your neck. “Come on, I’m gonna tire you out. Maybe then you’ll get some sleep.”

You gasp, astonished at the audacity of his suggestion. “Excuse me?” You demand, tone incredulous. 

His brows furrow before he shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “Not like that,” he grouses. “Get up,” he doesn’t give you much of a choice. He places his hand under your back, shoving you onto your feet. You stand with a slight stumble, glaring at him as you brush dirt off your shirt and pants. 

You can’t help the snotty tone of your voice as you ask, “What are we doing?” 

“Huntin,’” He answers gruffly, going over to the horse and taking the bow out of his saddle. 

Your brows furrow as you recall the few stories your father told you of hunting bison. “Aren’t you supposed to use a rifle?”

He shakes his head and nods towards the treeline. You glance back at the fire before reluctantly following him into the dark forest. The moon is full enough that it provides just enough light for you not to be terrified of what’s lurking in the underbrush. 

“Got a friend,” he tells you, kneeling and glancing at some tracks on the ground. “Taught me how to hunt properly. Bows are quieter, less disruptive, and they provide quicker, cleaner kills.” He looks back at you and motions towards the arrows, “Less pain for the animal.”

Your face slacks with something like astonishment. All you’d heard from your father was the thrill of the hunt, the satisfaction of the kill. He never mentioned keeping anything from the animal, using it for meat, or about how long it took for them to die. You’d never thought there was anybody who actually cared for the creature’s comfort as it died. 

You suppose there’s going to be a lot about Arthur that’s different from the men you know. 

“Arthur,” a twig snaps behind you, and your eyes widen. You drop your voice to a whisper, not wanting to draw too much attention towards you both. “I don’t want to kill anything,” you hiss.

“Ha!” He barks out a laugh and you purse your lips in irritation. He stands and looks at you, chuckling again before shaking his head. “I wouldn’t be so confident in your huntin’ skill, kid.”

You click your tongue and glare at him, “Don’t call me that,” you snap. It’s the same patronizing nickname your father loved to use on you and you detest it. He raises his hands in surrender and you roll your eyes at the smirk on his face. “Then what’s the point of this?”

He shrugs and heads further into the trees, you have no choice but to follow along behind him. “Figure you should be taught a few skills before I get rid of ya.”

You want to argue with him that there’s no point. If you are given to Crane’s associate, you’ll never set foot in the woods again. However, if you do manage to escape him, learning a few survival skills wouldn’t be a bad idea. 

So, you keep your mouth shut and let him lead you through the forest. “How do you know where to go?” You ask, trying to figure out what it is he keeps looking at in the mud. He waves you forward, moving you so you’re standing directly in front of him. 

“You see that?” You have to squint, relying solely on the light from the moon, to make out what he’s pointing at. There are some tracks in the mud that look vaguely like hooves. “It’s buck tracks, you can tell by the size.” He kneels and when you don’t follow he tugs you down by the sleeve. “You can’t rely on just the tracks, though. You have to look for other signs of ‘em.”

You glance around, noticing some crushed twigs and grass a few feet ahead. “Like that?” You point towards it and he huffs in amusement. 

“Caught on quicker than I thought.”

You feel vaguely offended by that but don’t bother voicing it, just glare at his back as he gets up. You walk silently through the forest, letting Arthur show you which tracks to follow and which to avoid. You’re not comforted by how many cougar prints you find. You stare up into the branches always expecting something to already be looking down at you. 

Miraculously, no wild cat chooses you for dinner as you track the buck down. You find him near a small stream, antlers dipping into the water as he takes a drink. He’s got to be one of the most gorgeous creatures you’ve ever seen. 

You’ve lived your whole life in St. Denis. The most you’ve seen are overworked carriage horses and mangy dogs. No life slips through the cracks of that place. There’s just smoke and misery. This is nature, real beauty. It’s breathtaking, the way the leaves ripple in the wind and the starlight reflects in the water. 

You can’t imagine seeing this and wanting to tear it down to put up an oily machine that contributes nothing to the earth but death. It just makes you hate your father more. It also makes you more resolved to not be forced back into that life. You can’t do it. You can’t have this one taste of freedom and then let it go without a fight. 

Arthur pulls the bow out and nocks an arrow. You glance between him and the buck and rapidly shake your head. “No,” you hiss, “I don’t wanna kill it.”

He rolls his eyes and moves you in front of him. You don’t have much choice as he places your hands on the string and guides you into the right position. “Relax,” he murmurs in your ear as you fight against his grip. “You ain’t gonna kill it.” 

It doesn’t bring you much comfort, but if you’re going to make it on your own, sometimes you’ll have to do something you don’t like. “Now,” his hand drifts down your bicep and you suck in a sharp breath. “Don’t hold it too long, you’ll get tired.” 

It’s dawning on you just how close you both are. You’re kneeling on the ground with him behind you, essentially cradling your body to him. You’ve never been this familiar with a man before, it’s making your brain short-circuit. You can hardly pay attention to what he’s telling you. 

He lifts your elbow slightly and points you towards the left. “You need to keep your arm steady even after you let go or your aim will be off. Take in a deep breath and release on the exhale.” You give him an apprehensive look, still not wanting to hurt the buck. He just nods and there’s something in his gaze that lets you relax slightly. 

You release the string and the arrow flies over the buck’s head, burying itself into the tree behind it. Its head shoots up and it turns towards you both before dashing off. You let out an astonished laugh, glancing down the bow and then back at Arthur. 

“My god, I’ve never shot anything before.”

“Congratulations, you’ve killed your first tree,” he remarks dryly, but you see the glint of humor in his eye. 

He gets to his feet and offers you a hand up. You smile up at him, undeterred by his attitude. “Thank you for this,” you tell him earnestly. He gives you an odd look but nods anyway. He doesn’t understand just how important this is to you. Knowing how to do something like this is the difference between life and death when you’re on your own. Of course, he doesn’t realize you’ll be making an escape attempt soon. 

He retrieves the arrow from the tree and you run your hand over the curve of the bow. You wonder just how much he’d miss this if you took it from him. 

Arthur’s tearing down the camp and you’re standing by Diablo, feeding him some apples. You stroke absentmindedly over the horse's muzzle, watching Arthur intently. He’s too busy pulling the tent apart to be paying attention to you. 

You got better sleep last night than you did at Crane’s. He was right, hunting had tired you out. You were eager enough to sleep that you didn’t even feel the rough ground underneath you. He seems to be a little more lax about his watch over you. 

Something about last night must have eased him into a sense of comfort that you’re not going to run. That’s his own fault, though. You glance over the curve of the hill, noticing a carriage that will be passing by soon enough. 

You look back at Arthur and ease slightly away from Diablo. Arthur is still collecting the blankets and rolling them up. He turns towards the dying fire and tosses the rest of the coffee out. You take another step back and he keeps his back to you. 

Slowly, you release Diablo’s reigns, giving him one last apple before you turn on your heel and run down the hill. Your foot slips out from under you and you let out a loud yelp as you go flying headfirst down the grass. 

You land on your back with enough impact to make the breath rush out of you. But your descent is still going and you’re flipping over headfirst into the road. You slide forward, the dirt scraping up your chin as you cough and try and catch your breath. 

“Look out!” You roll out of the way just before the carriage rolls over you. Someone shouts your name from the top of the hill and you see Arthur glaring down at you. He starts towards you and you scramble to your feet. 

“Stop!” You scream, waving your arms wildly and chasing after the carriage. The man gives you a bewildered look as you throw yourself at him. “Please, sir, I’ve been kidnapped, you must help me get back to my husband.”

The man looks behind you, sees a very angry Arthur bellowing out your name, and moves to the side. “Hurry up,” he urges, giving you a hand on the bench beside him. You let out a relieved breath, taking his hand and throwing yourself the rest of the way up. 

He whips the horses, hurrying them along all the while Arthur is yelling after you. It’s not hard to believe that he would kidnap you. He looks half-crazed as he follows along behind you. You turn over your shoulder, giving him a brief wave and a smile. “Thanks for the help,” you tell the man beside you. You offer your hand and name. 

He glances down at it but doesn’t take it, instead looking forward and ignoring you entirely. Something uneasy settles in your stomach but you push it aside. You blame the feeling on the adrenaline still pumping through you. 

“Where are you headed?” You ask, glancing into the back of the carriage. You notice some moonshine and a crate full of guns but decide not to question it. 

“Said yer husband’s waitin’ for ya?” He demands, completely ignoring your question. You stare at the side of his face but his expression isn’t giving anything away. He comes to an intersection. You see a sign pointing towards a town and figure he’s going to take it, but instead, he pulls onto a smaller trail leading to the woods. 

“Um,” you clear your throat uncertainly, glancing back at the sign. “Yes,” your voice cracks and you know you sound like you’re full of shit. 

He laughs and the sound sends chills down your spine. You rip your eyes off of him, looking down at the horses and suddenly realizing just what you’d gotten yourself into. “You sure about that, little lady?”

Something cold digs into your side and you gasp quietly, looking down to see a gun pressed against your ribs. “You scream, run, or do anythin’ to piss me off and I’ll put a fourth hole in ya.” When you don’t say anything he digs it harder into you. “Understand?” He growls and you can do nothing but nod your head. 

You want to move, want to shove him off the side of the carriage and make a run for it. But you can’t, you’re frozen solid. You’re so petrified with fear you can’t even blink. You think you’re holding your breath, as if taking in air is going to set the gun off. 

He grins, a blackened curl of lips over rotted teeth, at your obedience and comes to a stop in the trees. “What are you doing?” You whisper, staring at the secluded area with a newfound sense of horror. 

“Shut up,” he snaps, his voice echoing through the quiet of the woods. You hear no birds or animals and you feel so alone it makes you want to cry. He gets off the carriage and turns towards you. “Down,” he demands. Your eyes dart towards the reigns of the horses and he pulls the hammer of the gun back. “Don’t even think about it.”

You lift your hands in the air, slowly slipping down the seat. He doesn’t appreciate you taking your time He grabs the front of your shirt, jerking you further into the trees and tossing you to the ground. 

You let out a rough groan at the impact, blood staining your shirt as your elbow slips across a jagged rock. It’s like something is snapped loose in your mind. He comes stomping towards you, kneeling between your spread legs and it finally clicks. 

You lunge forward with a shout and he rears back in surprise. You wonder how often someone’s actually fought against him or just let it happen. You don’t want to die, you don’t want to get shot by this scum, but there are a lot of things worse than dying. 

You grab the arm holding the gun, jerking it around, and knocking it out of his hand. “You bitch!” He hisses, bringing his open palm down across your cheek. The smack rings through the trees and ricochets through the air. Your head whips to the side so hard you think you might have snapped your neck. 

Blood dribbles out from your lips, your teeth having bitten into the fat of your cheeks. You spot the gun nearby, the silver of the barrel glinting from under the leaves. Just as you reach for it, he’s wrapping his hands around your ankles and dragging you back towards him. 

You feel like screaming as your hands desperately grasp at the dirt underneath you. But there’s not enough air to scream. You dig your nails into the mud, feel them split against the rocks, and kick at his chest hard enough to make him lose his breath. 

His grip on you loosens and you throw yourself at the pile of leaves. Hands groping for something solid. Just as he flips you over you wrap your hand around the handle of the gun. You pull the trigger and the bang is deafening. 

Your ears ring and your hands are trembling from the recoil. His jaw goes slack and he tumbles on top of you. You let out a grunt, breath pushed out of you by his weight. You scramble against his chest, something warm making your hands slip as you struggle to roll him off of you. 

You glance over, waiting for him to spring back up. But there’s something dark pooling around him and sinking into the dirt below. There’s a hole in his chest and his eyes are already flattening. You fall back against the earth, staring up at the trees above you. 

The sounds rush back to you all at once. The birds singing, deers prancing somewhere in the distance. You hear a stream rushing nearby and let out a stunned laugh. There’s a smile on your face but there’s nothing to be happy about. 

You think you might be in shock. Mind still trying to catch up to what just happened. You glance down at the gun in your hand and toss it to the side, not wanting it near you anymore. Only a second later do you reach for it again. 

You struggle onto your hands and knees, checking over yourself for any injuries that you might be numb to right now. The only blood on you is from the dead man on the ground. You keel over, hands on your knees, and suck in a deep gasping breath. 

You stumble back, limping towards the carriage. You dig around in the back of the wagon, tugging out a giant hunting knife and walking towards the horses. You cut them loose, keeping the rope on one of them and tugging yourself onto her back. You tuck the knife in your belt and nudge her side, leading her forward gently. 

You don't even have time to process the fact that you’re riding a horse on your own. Your body is moving on autopilot. You can only think about getting ahead, getting away. What just happened will hit you later. You slump against the neck of the horse, adrenaline leaking out of you and exhaustion catching up. 

He’s going to find you and he’s going to kill you. Leaving while he had his back turned. Getting on some carriage with a man you’ve never met before. How dumb do you have to be? You can’t trust people out here. Not when there are gangs, raiders, hell, he’s encountered a few cannibals. 

For all he knows, you’re already dead and he’ll be delivering a body to the train station. The thought makes him curse and urge Diablo forward. It’s not hard to follow the tracks of the carriage, what concerns him is when they lead into the forest instead of the town. 

“Goddammit,” he mutters, “the hell have you done woman?” He leaps off Diablo, figuring it will be easier to track you on foot. He follows the paths of the wheels, finding the wagon abandoned and the horses cut loose. 

His brows furrow in confusion as he wanders around the side and spots a lump in the leaves. All he can see is the bottom of a boot and blood splattered across the orange of the fallen leaves. 

His stomach plummets and he races towards it. But it’s not you buried under the foliage, it’s the man who offered you a ride. “What the hell?” He kneels, brushing the leaves off his chest and frowning when he sees the blood splattered all along his chest. 

He doesn’t need to look long to figure out what killed him. He’s sure the bullet buried in his heart did the job. Arthur curses and stalks away from the man. There are prints where the horses were but there are too many to tell which one you might have taken. 

He’ll have to rely on instinct to find you. You’re becoming a real pain in the ass for what was supposed to be a simple job. Still, he can’t help but be a little relieved that it was a stranger and not you lying dead on the ground. 

He turns back onto the road, taking the turn into town. Someone on horseback rides past him, they look disgusted by something up ahead and it makes alarms go off in his head. He urges Diablo forward, running the rest of the way into town. 

An unsaddled mare lazily eats some grass as the sound of a rushing river meets his ears. Diablo’s hooves sound off against the wood of the bridge. He finally sees what disturbed the other rider so much. 

You’re sitting on the railing of the bridge, legs dangling dangerously over the edge as you stare down into the crashing waters below you. Arthur gets off his horse, approaching you slowly. He doesn’t want to startle you and have you go tumbling over the edge. 

He calls out your name and you glance briefly over at him. Blood is splattered across your neck and the front of your shirt is soaked with it. He knows it isn’t yours but it still puts him on edge. “What’re you doin’ kid?” 

You don’t answer him, “Did you follow me?” He eases up beside you, straddling the railing so he can catch you if you slip. He nods and you let out a rough sigh. “Is he dead?”

He scoffs, “Sure as shit hope so, don’t know how someone would survive that.”

A manic laugh bursts through your lips and you double over your head falling into your hands. Arthur surges forward, steadying you before you dive headfirst into the river. “Alright, let’s go,” he quietly urges you around. You don’t put up a fight, letting him maneuver you how he likes.

He gets you on your feet and leads you back to Diablo. You latch onto the horse's reigns immediately, stroking your hand over his mane. Your silence is concerning. Arthur doesn’t know what your regular behavior is, the most he’s seen of you, you have been quiet. This is different, though. He’s seen this sort of quiet in women before and it never ends pretty. 

“You’re alright, come on,” he tries to keep his voice low so he doesn’t set you off. He keeps his hands light as they land around your waist, giving you help onto Diablo’s saddle. Your gaze is distant and you move like someone else is controlling your body. 

He collects the mare you’d brought along with you and leads both horses into town. He’ll have to get a saddle for her, she already seems attached to you. And maybe taking a horse with you into the city will let you escape a little. 

The town, at least, is on the way to Strawberry so he doesn’t have to worry about being too far off schedule. Though, that’s the least of his concerns right now. His eyes keep darting up to you. Waiting for you to try and bolt again or finally break down. It doesn’t look like anything is going on in your head, you seem completely distanced from the situation. 

It’s a good thing for him. He can’t handle a distraught woman. He’s not a kind enough man for it. 

He hitches the horses in front of the hotel. You turn in the saddle, staring down at him and waiting for a hand down. You slide easily through his hands, landing in the mud with a dull thud and heading up the stairs of the hotel without prompt. 

He huffs and follows after you. He doesn’t know how to explain the blood on your clothes away and hopes he won’t have to. The man running the place, thankfully, doesn’t have many questions. He looks disturbed but keeps his qualms to himself when Arthur slips him a little extra cash. 

Arthur guides you up the stairs with a light hand on your back, opening the door of the bath for you. “Alright, here’s your room key. I’ll be out for a while so, just,” he sighs, taking in the blank look on your face and shaking his head. “Try not to cause any more trouble.” You nod and close the door behind him. 

There’s no worries that you’re going to make a run for it again. He’s sure whatever happened in those woods was scarring enough to make you want to go back to the city and never see country folk again. He wouldn’t blame you, there are some nasty people out here. Himself included, but he could never imagine hurting a woman like that. It just ain’t right. 

He heads to the shop across the street, buying some new clothes for you that actually fight properly. The horses are brought to the stables and he goes ahead and gets a paper for your mare under your name. Diablo will be faster tomorrow if he doesn’t have to carry the weight of two people. You might make it to your handler in time. 

Arthur still doesn’t feel right about this whole thing. Leaving you with a man you’ve never met feels even worse knowing what happened to you today. He doesn’t think you being so calm about it all is a good thing. Shouldn’t women react?

Dutch likes to tell him women are a more sensitive breed. He’s seen some tough ones in his life, but this seems like the time to be in hysterics if there ever was one. He heads back to the hotel, planning on just leaving the change of clothes in your room. 

He passes by the bath and hears an odd sound seeping through the cracks. Frowning, he presses his ear up against the door. A man passes by him, giving him a disgusted look as he goes into his room. Arthur sighs but he stays where he is. 

It’s clearer now, you’re crying and it’s hard to listen to. It's the type that makes it hard to breathe. That sort of crying makes your ribs ache and bruise. It’s wrong to keep listening to such a vulnerable moment. So, he does what he planned, drops the clothes in your room, and then heads to bed himself. 

Sleep comes easier than he thought it would. It’s not as restful as he’d been hoping but it draws over him faster than it normally does. He’s always been a light sleeper, though. It comes from years of having to be on guard in case some O’Driscoll is gonna try and slit his throat while he’s asleep. 

When he hears the door creak his hand is already on the trigger of his revolver as he shoots up in bed. The glow of the lamps outside illuminates what’s clearly a woman’s form. But he can’t see your face until you take a step further into the room and the moonlight provides some light. 

“Arthur?” You whisper his name, peering into his room. “Are you awake?”

“I am now,” he grumbles. With a sigh, he shoves the gun back under his pillow and runs a rough hand over his face. “What'd ya want?”

You let out a low breath and rock back on your heels. “I’m sorry,” you mutter. “I just, I can’t sleep. I keep thinking he’s gonna creep out of my closet or bust through the door, I-”

You cut yourself off but he can hear the emotion thickening your voice. He clenches his eyes shut in irritation, arguing with himself over what he’s about to say. “You wanna sleep in here?” He mumbles reluctantly. 

You close the door immediately, practically running towards his bed. “You don’t mind?”

You’re not really giving him a choice, but he’s not going to say that to you. “No.” He grabs a pillow and blanket off the bed and rounds the end of the mattress. You frown as you watch him toss everything to the ground. 

“Well, what’re you doing?”

“What’s it look like?” He snaps, angrily gesturing towards the floor. “I’m givin’ you the bed.” 

You bite your lip and he feels horrible instantly because you look like you’re about to cry. He’s not trying to be rude but you woke him up in the dead of night. What’d you expect him to say?

“I was sort of hoping we could share the bed.”

His eyes widen and he glares at you in disbelief. “You mean-”

“No!” You cut him off with an aggrieved sigh. “You fool, that’s not what I mean at all. I just don’t want to be alone, alright?” 

“Look,” he scoffs and shakes his head. “I don’t think I’m the man you want to bunk with for company, alright. I’m not that kind of guy.” You glare at him and snatch his pillow and blanket off the floor. 

“Don’t be so damn stubborn.” You aggressively fluff the pillows, throwing the covers back and gesturing towards them, your brow set in anger. 

“Right,” he huffs, “I’m stubborn.” He reluctantly crawls into bed and you follow behind him. It’s not that he minds sharing a bed with a pretty lady. He’s just not the sort of guy you should be coming to for comfort. 

He doesn’t think he can provide whatever it is you need at this moment. But you seem to think otherwise as you inch towards him slowly. He lays on his back, arms under his head as he watches you out of the side of his eye. You think you’re being subtle, slowly moving into his side until you’re flush against him. 

He doesn’t say anything to object and you don’t bring up the proximity. He doesn’t want to admit it but it is nice having someone else beside him. He’s so used to camping out on his own. He hasn’t had anyone beside him in a long while. He lost interest in women of leisure a long while ago. And ever since Mary, he’s given up on any sort of intimacy. 

He hates to admit it, but he finds himself easing towards the warmth you provide. The second you feel him reciprocating you’re inching a tentative hand around his waist, cuddling closer to him. He recognizes it for what it is. 

He’s always been looked at as someone who can protect, at least by the gang. He’s their muscle. To most others, he incites nothing but fear. It should be the same for you. But after what happened today, you just see someone who can keep the monsters in the dark away. 

He doesn’t mind being used like this. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and waits until he feels you settle to ease into sleep again. 

Arthur figures you should both get breakfast in town while you’re here. He reasons you should enjoy a hot meal before you’re on the road again. You don’t point out that you know he’s just trying to ease you into the day. 

You appreciate it, honestly, but yesterday wasn’t your first run-in with men like that. It’s become incomprehensibly normal in day-to-day life, even for a city girl like yourself. You’d cried everything out in the bath once you’d scrubbed your skin raw. 

You don’t think Arthur will ever understand just how much his presence helped you last night. If you’d been on your own, jumping every time you heard the wood creaking outside, you’d have driven yourself over the edge. He protected you, even if there was nothing to be protected from. 

You don’t think he gives himself enough credit. Ignoring the situation you’re both in and what he’s taking you to do, he’s a good man. While the caliber of the men you’ve met is questionable at best, he’s one of the best ones you’ve ever known. At the end of the day, he disagrees with the whole situation, but he’s doing this for his family. That’s admirable in its own way. 

But, god, does he have poor conversational skills. “So, yesterday.” You glance up from your toast, brows raised in question. He clears his throat, eyes darting between you and his food like he can’t choose what to focus on. “That man, did he…”

He trails off and you feel your hackles rise. “Don’t worry,” you hiss, a bite to your words, “I’m still pure for my husband. Your pay won’t be docked, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

His hand clenches around his fork and his eyes bore into yours, “That’s not what I meant,” he growls. “I wasn’t worried about that,” he snaps, “I was worried ‘bout you, woman.”

You take in a deep breath, actively biting your tongue from saying something spiteful. He wasn’t being rude, that’s just what you’re used to. “I’m sorry,” you concede lowly. “Nothing happened,” you repeat without the attitude. 

“Well,” he huffs and goes back to his breakfast, “good,” he settles on dully. 

“Good,” you agree quietly, pushing the rest of your food around. You find your appetite dulled and you push the plate away. You lean back in the booth and stare out the window. The horses seem to be getting on well enough. “Did you name her?”

Arthur gives you an odd look and you nod towards the mare hitched next to Diablo. He swallows the food he’d been chewing and takes a swig of his coffee. “No, figured you’d want to do it.”

Your brows furrow and your lips quirk in confusion. “Why?”

“She’s yours, ain’t she?” He grouses. 

You shake your head, “Nope,” you tell him, popping the p. “I just took her so I’d have something to get me to town.”

“Yeah, well,” he sounds less sure of himself and he’s looking like he made a mistake. “I thought she’d be nice for you to have with you in the city. A way for you to get around without relyin’ on someone else.”

You can’t help but smile, something in your chest easing away at the kind gesture. “I appreciate it,” he lights up a little at your approval, but you crush it in an instant. “But I can’t keep her, I won’t be allowed to. I’ve tried to have my own horse before, hard to control something that can get away from you,” you tell him blankly. There’s no emotion in your voice because it’s something you’re used to. 

He looks slightly horrified at how blunt you are. He can’t comprehend not having that freedom but he fails to recognize that he’s got a leash of his own. You doubt a man like Dutch would ever let his main asset just run off to wherever he wants to. 

A few people walk into the saloon, the women giving you odd looks when they see the pants on your legs. You smile cheekily at them, reveling in what you know will be a short-lived experience. You’ve never been on the receiving end of a judgmental look like that. 

You’ve always blended in. Been the perfect wallflower for the men in your life. You were never something to gawk at or cause trouble. It’s a relief to stick out for once, to break the mould for the first time in your life. 

Arthur clocks the interaction and chuckles. “Missin’ the skirts yet?”

“Not one damn bit,” you tell him, smiling as you take a sip of your coffee. “I’m going to miss being able to run around without having to lug an extra four pounds of fabric behind me.” 

“Ya know, you could just wear some pants, you’ve got a choice.”

You grin patronizingly at him, propping your head on your chin and watching him finish the rest of his breakfast. “You don’t know city men very well, do you?”

“Glad for it,” he grumbles, distaste clear in his tone.

A laugh breaks through your chest, the first real one in a while. “I’m going to be marrying one, Arthur. I won’t have a choice in much of anything anymore.” You can tell he wants to object, tell you there’s always a choice. 

He’ll never truly understand what’s going to happen to you, though. You’re no longer human once you’re married. You’re cattle and property, meant to be bred and shown off. You accepted your fate a long while ago. And after you’re failed escape attempt, you’ve realized this is what you were always meant to be. There’s no point in fighting fate. 

“Don’t apologize or argue,” you tell him, no spite or bitterness in your tone, just the honest truth. “I don’t mind anymore, really. What place is there for me in this world, anyway? I can’t exactly take care of myself.”

“You did a damn good job yesterday,” he snaps back quickly. He doesn’t seem too keen on the way you’re talking about yourself. But you’re not lying. Yesterday was a wake-up call. If you let yourself get screwed over by a hillbilly that quickly then how were you ever going to make it on your own? In your defense, you were raised to be dependent, you never had a chance. 

“Sure, but that was a one-off incident. I’m not going to run again, Arthur. There’s no point. And there’s no point in fighting against the way things are, they’re never going to change for me.” You take in a deep breath, the easy mood ruined by your sincerity. 

“I’m just gonna wait by the horses.”

You slide out of the booth, leaving Arthur to stare pensively at his plate. You’ve nearly slipped through the door when Arthur calls out, “You should name her.” You pause at the doorway, glancing back at him. He’s settling the bill at the front and you walk back out to the horses. 

The mare picks her head up as you walk towards her, ears perked and tail flicking. “Hey, girl,” you run a hand over her muzzle, admiring the sleek silver of her coat. “I guess I should name you.”

You run a hand over her mane and swing yourself onto the saddle. “How ‘bout Bullet, it’s how I got you, anyway.” A dark joke, but it eases the macabre feeling hanging around you. 

Arthur walks out of the saloon, tucking his money away into his bag. He lifts himself onto Diablo, glancing over at you with a knowing glint. 

“Name her?”

You resent how smug he sounds. “Bullet,” you answer reluctantly. 

“Bullet?” He questions, tone incredulous. 

You grin at him, “It’s how I got her.” There’s a slightly stunned expression on his face before it slacks away into something more amused. 

He shakes his head and nudges Diablo forward, Bullet follows alongside him eagerly. “Clever,” he mutters.

“Not really,” you snort, running a hand over her neck lovingly. “But I think it works for her.”

“Your husband’s gonna have his hands full with you,” you know he means it in jest. The lightness of the conversation turns into something heavier. Realization sinks over both of you and the smiles slowly drop away. “I-”

“How much further to Strawberry, anyway?” You effectively cut off whatever train of thought he was going to follow, distracting you both from the truth. 

“Half a day,” he tells you, frowning when you refuse to meet his eye again. Half a day. That’s all you’ve got to enjoy the last bits of freedom you have. You’re gonna take your damn time getting there, that’s for sure. 

You slow down from the steady trot Arthur had led the horses into, easing Bullet into a slow walk. You’re slowly getting the hang of riding a horse. It’s easy when she’s so intuitive. By god, though, your ass is sore. 

Arthur shoots you a questioning glance at the slow pace and you shrug. “Might as well take the time I’ve got left.”

“You’re actin’ like you’re on death row,” he chuckles. 

“Aren’t I?” He falls silent and you don’t know what’s bothering him but you don’t have the energy to inquire. 

He’s slowing you down on purpose, he knows it and you know it. Neither of you says a damn thing about it but it’s bugging him. He shouldn’t be this bothered by a job. He knows how to separate himself from what he does. He just can’t this time. 

There’s something about you that glows. You’re sitting beside him on the peak of a hill, overlooking the roads below you, and laughing as you make up stories for the people that pass by. It’s a far cry from the beaten-down woman he’d seen at Crane’s house. 

Even after what happened yesterday, you somehow manage to seem happier. There’s nothing about it that makes him happy. This feels like the last goodbye of someone who knows they’re going soon. The last bout of happiness before they just give in. 

You’re not gaining your spark back, you’re just giving in to what you think is inevitable. But it doesn’t have to be inevitable. You could fight back you just refuse to. He’s sure growing up the way you have, you don’t think it's possible to stand up for yourself. 

But you don’t have to give in like this. You don’t have to roll over and let someone else dictate your life. Which is rich, coming from him. He’s practically Dutch’s lap dog now. Even when he disagrees he still follows along behind him. 

He shouldn’t even be thinking like this. He can’t criticize you for not standing up for yourself when he’s the one thing standing between you and freedom. “Not hungry?” You nod towards the uneaten meat on his knife. 

He shakes his head, plucking it off the blade and passing it to you. You give him an odd look before popping it in your mouth. “Ya know,” you mutter around a full mouth. You take a moment to swallow it down before smiling over at him. “I’ve grown up with private chefs my whole life, but there’s is something infinitely more satisfying about this.”

He takes his hat off, running a hand through his hair. He snorts at your comment, “I find that hard to believe.”

“No,” you shake your head, insistent, “I mean it. Being out here, hunting the game myself, I don’t know, it’s nice.” You shrug and lean back on your hands, gazing across the way at the trees and river. 

“You can always get a bow and go hunting.” He speaks to you like it's a cut-and-dry truth that you’re just not accepting. Your face screws up and you give him an annoyed glare. 

“No. I can’t,” you tell him again. Where your words were patient before, he can tell you’re growing irritated at how much he’s pushing this.

“Yes, you can,” he snaps. “You don’t have to keep yourself boxed up in some manor in the city. Get out, woman, do something with your life!” His voice echoes through the air and you flinch back from it, lips pulling down into a sneer. 

“You know, that’s really easy for you to say, Arthur. You have a goddamn choice. Sure, I grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth, little miss rich girl crying about being pampered.”

He lets out a rough sigh, “That’s not what I meant-”

You cut him off, getting to your feet and glaring down at him. “You got to grow up with a choice. What to do with your body, your life, your career. You get to have an education if you want it. Every goddamn door is open to you. You don’t get hated for not wanting to have a family. You get to choose. And as much as you insist I can too, you will never understand the position I am in.”

You kick dirt over the fire and head back towards Bullet. “It’s a double-edged sword, Arthur. Sure, my life might be comfortable, but it’s never really gonna be my life.” He stays there on the ground, too stunned to get up. 

You glare down at him, impatiently waiting for him to get a move on. This isn’t how he wants things to end. He doesn’t want you to go off thinking he’s just some ignorant fool. But he is, much as he denies it, he’s always been a fool. 

He should never have thought he could make a difference in your life. Not when he’s the one backing you into this corner. He could have helped you escape the very first night he saw you. But he was too selfish to let you go, now you’re both paying for it. 

He mounts Diablo and you both head back to the roads silently. You’re moving faster now, leaving him behind if he lingers in one area for too long. You’re too pissed off to enjoy the rest of your day and he hates that he ruined it for you. You, at the very least, deserved a slower journey towards your future. 

You’re in Strawberry before he’s ready, he’s sure you aren’t. “Hey, we could-”

“I think that’s him.” You cut him off before he says something stupid like spend another night in town before you go. He’ll miss you, he thinks. Odd, he’s known you such a short time but it’s been so different having someone beside him as he rides. It was nice, what he wished he and Mary could have had. 

Arthur follows your gaze and lets out a tired sigh. Sure enough, some prim and proper ass is standing in front of the ticket station, foot tapping impatiently. He’s got a large bag beside him, gaze wandering around expectantly. He doesn’t doubt the man who looks like he’s got a five-foot stick up his ass is Mr. Crane’s associate. He’s got the same slimy glint.

You slide off Bullet and Arthur follows suit, taking the reigns of both horses and leading them towards the platform. The man’s eyes narrow in on you before lighting up. He calls out your name and it’s like a mask being dropped over your face. 

The spark is gone once more, a subdued and demure smile resting on your face as you wave at him. “I apologize for my dress,” you tell him as you walk up the steps. “Pants were more conducive to such a long ride.”

He takes your hand, pressing a lingering kiss to your knuckles that makes Arthur roll his eyes. “No apologies necessary, I brought you a change of clothes. I figured you would be less than put together after such a journey. I’m only sorry I couldn’t accompany you.”

You scoff and nod along, “Okay,” you mutter, not believing a word of his bullshit. You take the bag from him and move towards the saloon to find a room to change in. They both watch you leave, though the other man with a much more devious glint in his eye. 

Arthur’s hands tighten on the reigns of the horses, anything to keep him from reaching for his revolver. He’s already getting a bad feeling about this. There’s nothing trustworthy about the man in front of him. 

“Mr. Finch,” he holds out his hand and Arthur gives it a distrusting look before reluctantly shaking. Finch attempts to squeeze the life out of his hand but Arthur can barely feel it. He tightens his own grip and revels in the way Finch’s face blanches. 

“Arthur Morgan.”

Mr. Finch looks him up and down in the same way Crane had. He sees a commodity, not a person. “I trust,” he drawls, “nothing unsavory happened.”

Arthur feels rage bubbling in his gut. The only damn thing he cares about is whether or not you’re “pure.” Not if you were okay or injured during the journey. If he told him that he’d punched you out for talking back Finch would just ask if you were bruised. 

“She’s fine,” Arthur grits out. 

“Oh, good, good. Glad everything went smoothly.” Finch has a way of talking he’s found most self-important men do. He draws everything he says out, and forces you to listen to him speak. Makes you pay attention so he can pretend he has power for a moment. 

His gaze darts behind Arthur and he turns just in time to see you slipping out of the saloon. The dress Finch has provided you is ridiculously large. It poofs out at the waist in a way that makes Arthur wonder how you’re going to fit into your seat. 

You look beyond uncomfortable. Grimacing as you join them again. You try and plaster a smile on but it’s a struggle. You look to Arthur, a finality on your face that makes him want to throw you over his shoulder and run. He’s doing this for the others, he reminds himself. They’ll be on a boat to Tahiti in a week. 

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan, for everything.” The smile you leave him with is real, if just barely. Something lurks under your words that Mr. Finch will never understand and Arthur knows it will drive him crazy. 

“Let’s go,” Finch grabs your hand, looping it through his arm and tugging you towards the doors of the station. 

“Wait!” Arthur calls out, feeling foolish when you both look back at him with perplexed expressions. “You’ll be wanting Bullet, won’t you?”

Mr. Finch answers for you with a condescending tone, “She won’t be needing a horse, thank you.” You give him a knowing smile, turning away and slipping through the doors of the station and onto the train. 

Arthur stays rooted where he is, something crawling up in his chest and rooting around restlessly. The whistle blows and the wheels start cranking slowly forward. Arthur just barely catches a glimpse of you through a window as the train chugs past. 

“Shit!” He hisses. He tugs himself up onto Diablo’s saddle and urges him after the train. He was born a fool, he’s always going to be a damn fool. But he’d have to be a complete moron to just let you go. 

Mr. Finch keeps a painfully tight grip on your elbow, jerking you through the passenger cars and practically throwing you into your seat. You land with a thud, your arm bouncing against the window painfully. You keep a stoic expression, trying not to let him break you so soon. 

He takes a seat beside you, straightening out his jacket and tugging on his tie. Something white flashes in his jacket pocket and you lean forward, perplexed when you realize what it is. “What is that?” You question, not quite believing your eyes. Finch glances down at the thick wad of cash in his jacket and grins. 

“Oh, this? Mr. Morgan must have forgotten to collect the rest of his payment.” He sends you a condescending smile and you flinch away in disgust. “He was too enamored with my fiancee to pay much attention, I’m afraid.”

“That’s his money,” you snap, the volume of your voice catching the attention of a few other passengers. Finch sends them apologetic smiles, making you seem like a mad woman. “He earned that!” You object, eyeing the money warily. 

His hand snakes out, gripping you tightly around the arm and dragging you towards him until your noses are nearly touching. You nearly gag at the smell of his cigar-infused breath. It’s not like when Arthur would smoke one, you didn’t mind that. But this was making you sick to your stomach. 

“Let's get a few things clear, I will not be dealing with an obstinate wife. You can either get yourself in order or I’ll do it for you.”

Your lips pull back in disgust and you jerk yourself out of his grip. He’s not as strong as he pretends to be and you’re not going to be scared into submission again. “I’m not your wife yet. My father still has time to pay.”

He laughs at you, spittle flying from your lips and sprinkling across your cheeks. “He has time to pay, but that doesn’t mean he’ll be getting you back, sweetheart.” Your eyes widen with the realization and you want to throw yourself off the side of the train. 

You never had any chance to get out of this situation. Mr. Crane was always in control of it all. To even think of having a hope of getting back home was foolish. To believe for a second that you were going to escape this had been utter idiocy. 

He sees the crestfallen expression and sinks into his seat with a satisfactory look on his face. He thinks you to be subdued. But now you’re nothing more than a cornered animal with no other choice of escape. You’ve got nothing left for you, nothing to hold onto. 

As much as you’d thought you’d bonded with Arthur, you were still nothing more than a job to him. You were nothing more than a commodity to be traded between men. You would never have a say over your life. 

You have nothing, you doubt you ever actually had anything left for you. You glance over at the man beside you and feel a cool dread blanket itself over you. Nothing left to lose. 

There’s a solid weight tucked into the bodice of your dress. Its cool metal has been warmed by your skin. Its handle curves around your ribs and it only has one bullet left. You reach down the front of your dress, fingers curling around the revolver you’d stolen from a dead man. 

Finch glowers at your inappropriate behavior “What are-” You pull the gun out, turning it on him. He jumps back in shock and throws his hands in the air on instinct. “Please-” you revel in his pathetic pleading only for a moment. Pulling the trigger a second time is surprisingly easy. The screams that ring out through the train car are less enjoyable. “Shit!” He cusses, hands coming up to try and staunch the flow of blood pouring from his stomach. 

You slip your hand into his blazer, stealing the money before he can object. You run out of the passenger car, leaping to the flat car with all the cargo. It will take a few minutes for them to catch onto what happened and figure out where you went. 

You don’t know what you’re going to do now. You’re stuck on a moving train, there’s nowhere for you to hide. You hadn’t thought when you’d shot him, you just wanted that smug look on his face to disappear. 

“Where is she?” You hear the guards shouting out your name, flipping over crates to find you. They’re still at the front of the train, but you don’t have long until they start moving back here. 

God, what have you done?

You just know, if you made it to that train station, you were never going to make it out. His men would be waiting there to transport you. You’d be watched every second of your life, you can’t do it again. You can’t be locked in a gilded cage, that’s not a life worth living. 

There’s no escape for you. Nowhere left to run, nowhere to hide. You glance over the left side of the train. There’s a slight dip into a deep ravine. The crashing water looks almost peaceful from up here. 

You don’t know if it would be a quick death but you know it would be merciful compared to what’s waiting for you at your last stop. You keep your eyes on the water, see yourself taking control of your life for the first time, and take a step up on the rail. 

Someone shouts your name from the right side of the train and you gasp, arms circling wildly as you almost go toppling over the edge. They shout your name again, panic laced in the tone. This doesn’t sound like Finch or any of the other guards. You whip around and find Arthur riding his horse beside the train. 

“What the hell are you doing, woman?” 

Your brows furrow in confusion and your eyes dart between him and the ravine. “Jumping! What the hell are you doing?”

His gaze narrows and he shouts to be heard over the rumble of the train tracks. “Stopping you from being a goddamn fool. Get over here!” You hear the guards getting closer as they storm down the rest of the train. 

You don’t have long to make a decision, you can already see his horse struggling to keep up with the speed of the train. There’s a bridge coming up in a moment, he won’t be able to go any further and they won’t be able to come after you. 

It’s a split-second decision, one that has you pushing off the railing of the car and rushing towards him. You don’t have time to doubt yourself or plan this out further, you take a running leap off the train, towards his outstretched arms. 

He barely catches you in time, jerking on the reigns of the horse and bringing him to a sudden stop before all three of you go tumbling into the water. Shots fire off on the train, but they’re gone before they can do any real damage. 

Your chest heaves as you dangle from his arms, fingers digging into his shirt desperately. Your heart is pounding so hard against your chest that you almost can’t hear what he’s saying, but you get the gist of it. 

“The hell were you thinking? Trying to jump off the damn train! You’re a fool, woman.” He tugs you onto the saddle the rest of the way. As much as he tries to sound angry you can feel his relief in the way he squeezes you close to him. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, head sinking into his neck and breathing in the familiar scent. 

He sighs, struggling between yelling at you more and just enjoying the fact that he got to you before you did something neither of you could recover from. “You’re welcome, just,” he pauses, holding you a little closer, “don’t be so damn stupid again.”

You laugh and it’s a little wet as tears start to pool in your eyes. “I’m not planning on it.” You sit up, easing away from him and glancing over your shoulder. You watch as the train grows smaller until you can only see a plume of smoke and nothing more. “What the hell are we going to do?”

He sighs and turns the horse around. You maneuver yourself around, facing forward and pushing back against him.  “I don’t know. Dutch ain’t gonna be happy about you comin’ back with me.” 

You bite your lip, a hundred different possibilities swirling through your head. You’ve never been able to make a choice before, faced with it, you’re overwhelmed with options. You can’t pick one so you blurt out the first coherent thought you have. 

“What if we don’t go back?”

Arthur stills behind you, “What?” His tone is low and filled with something you know means he’s ready to say no. 

“Just for a little while,” you rush the words out quickly, trying to fight for a chance to get him to listen. “We can send this to the camp,” you tug out the wad of cash you’d stolen from Finch and Arthur barks out a laugh. You feel his chest tremble behind you and it makes you grin. 

“Did you steal his money?”

“Your money, technically,” you correct, grinning over your shoulder at him. “Besides, he doesn’t need it anymore.” He gives you a concerned look but you just wave him off. “We can send the camp some money and go off on our own for a while.”

“I don’t know, kid.”

“Don’t call me that,” you interrupt, glaring at him. “It’ll only be for a little while, Arthur. Come on, I’m free for the first time in my life, enjoy it with me.”

He looks uncertain and you know it’s an odd notion to him, putting himself first instead of the camp or Dutch. You’re sure he’s never done it before. Breaking away from them instead of going about like the loyal soldier he is. 

“Just a little while?”

You nod, turning just enough to tuck the money in his pocket. “Just a little while,” you swear.

“John Marston!” You frown, turning away from the oven and glancing out the window. Arthur’s grinning by the gates of the horse pen, leaping over the wood, and walking out to greet someone. You abandon the stew, heading towards the door of your home. 

Outside are two horses, one with a woman and her son, and an abandoned one. The owner is currently bringing Arthur into a brief embrace, John, you presume. Arthur’s told you about him a bit. They weren’t always close but it was getting better before Arthur went away. 

Sometimes you feel bad, having dragged him away from everything he was familiar with. You meant it when you said you only wanted to be gone for a little while. You knew if you went back immediately there would be hell to pay with Dutch and you’d both be put to work. 

You’d be going from one owner to another. All you’d wanted was a few weeks on the road on your own. But a few weeks turned into six months and then a year, and it was Arthur telling you he couldn’t go back. He couldn’t stand what the gang was turning into. What Dutch was turning into. All you’d given him was an excuse to finally get out before it all blew up.

You walk down the steps of the home Arthur built, wiping your hands off on your apron. You give a brief wave to the woman you assume is Abigail. She waves back, slipping off the horse and helping Jack down. 

Arthur pulls away from John, turning towards you and motioning you forward. John gives you an apprehensive look. “Do I know you?”

Arthur gives him your name, throwing an arm over your shoulder and pulling you in closer. “That job Dutch got from Crane.” John’s face lights up with recognition and he smirks. 

“I see,” he shakes his head and gives Arthur a knowing look. “It’s always a woman with you, isn’t it?” You snort at how aggrieved Arthur looks. “Well,” John turns towards you and smiles, “nice to finally meet the woman that got him under control.”

“Nice to meet you too,” you smile lightly at him, pulling away from Arthur. “Are you going to be joining us for dinner?”

“No, he’s not,” Arthur answers at the same time John says, “I would love to.”

Arthur and John share a look you can’t understand. You glance past John and wave Abigail forward, “Come in, please. I’d enjoy the company.”

“Forgive my obstinate husband, he tends to linger where he ain’t wanted.” She brushes past him and you lead her inside your home. Leaving Arthur and John to bicker outside. Jack stays outside, smiling up at Arthur. You know he’s missed the boy, you’re sure he’s okay entertaining them for one night. 

Abigail helps you set the table while Arthur and John catch up over a bottle of whiskey. Arthur tried to pull out a cigar but you’d shut that down quick. He’d had a cough a little while ago and the doctor advised cutting down on tobacco if he wanted it to go away. You know it’s hard but you’re cracking down on how much he smokes. 

“We got the money you sent,” John’s telling Arthur as they come over to join you all at the table. Jack eagerly hops into the seat beside Arthur before you can snag it and you grin. “Dutch blew it all and wouldn’t tell us on what. He kept saying we still needed another score.”

John shakes his head and the distant look in his eyes makes your stomach churn. “You’re a lucky bastard you got out when you did, Arthur, truly.”

“Hosea?” Arthur questions and you grimace at the look on John’s face. You can see Arthur deflate as John shakes his head. 

“There was a bank robbery, Molly told the Pinkertons we were going to be there, he didn’t make it.”

Arthur’s hand clenches around the fork and you wish you could say something that would make him realize it’s not his fault. “I should have been there,” he mutters. 

“Wouldn’t have done anything, man. Hosea had given up in the end. We all had. It was so damn divided, the family was gone.”

“Still.” Arthur insists, glaring down at his plate like it had offended him. 

“No,” to your surprise it’s Abigail that snaps. “Dutch was gone and that bastard Micah just kept pushing him over the edge. The only thing you would have done is get yourself killed. You’re damn lucky Arthur Morgan.”

You’re sure he’ll still blame himself later. Reason a hundred times over that had he been there something would have been different. Even if it was him on the other end of the gun he’d be happier knowing someone else hadn’t died when it could have been him. You couldn’t stand that these self-sacrificing ideals Dutch had drilled into him were still present. 

But you know Abigail and John help ease the guilt slightly. It’s on Arthur to let it go entirely, though you doubt that will happen anytime soon. John picks up on the change in mood, he’s reluctant to let the night sour so soon. 

He turns towards you with a look that makes you feel like you need to prepare for trouble. “So you did all that to escape getting married. And then you marry this moron?” He motions towards Arthur and you can’t help but laugh. 

“John!” Abigail snaps but he only smiles at her. You can see the way she fights the twitch of her lips and it makes you smile in turn. 

You correct him, “We’re not technically married-”

“Might as well be,” Arthur argues, glaring at John. You reach across the table, taking his hand in yours and gently squeezing. You can’t help but laugh at him. 

“Yeah, we might as well be,” you agree. “But it was never about not wanting to be a wife. I just wanted to have a damn choice. That’s what I got out here. I can hunt or cook. Sew or go out and make some money. And it’s a lot nicer being a wife out in the country than it is in the city, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Here’s hoping,” Abigail mutters. She glances towards Arthur, “That’s why we’re out here. We got word from a few people that you might be lurking around here. John’s thinking of getting a house, really settling down.”

Arthur sighs, leaning back in his chair and glaring at John. “That’s why you’re here? You want a handout,” he accuses. 

“No!” John snaps. “Dammit, Arthur, why you always gotta assume the worst of me?”

“Because it’s usually true,” Arthur mutters. “If that’s not what you want then what is it?”

John purses his lips and lets out a spluttering breath. “A loan,” he lands on, struggling to find the right word. 

Arthur barks out a laugh, slapping his hand on the table and poking a knowing finger into John’s chest. “I knew it!”

John swats his hand away and glares. “Look, Morgan, I only need a little. Just to buy some animals, get started on the house.”

“What’d ya want Marston, my whole damn house?”

Abigail lands a gentle hand on your arm and nods to the porch. “They’ll be at it for a while.” You nod and leave the table, following her to the swing out back. She settles down on it with a sigh, gazing out at the trees that line your home. 

“You’ve got a nice life out here.”

You smile fondly, “I like to think so. We’re thinking about getting a few cows, maybe starting a proper ranch.”

Her face lights up at the idea and she laughs. “That’s what John wants. It’s unbelievable how similar they are, they’re too thick-headed to see it.”

You can still vaguely hear them bickering inside the house. You peer inside and see Jack sitting at the table, watching them both with an entranced expression. You can’t help but grin at the look on Arthur’s face. He’s laying into John but he looks happier than you’ve seen him in a while. 

You know he’s missing everybody, has been for a long time. Maybe if Abigail and John are close by he’ll have that sense of familiarity again. “The others,” you start, turning back to Abigail. “Charles and Sadie, what happened to everyone else?”

“A few of them are living good lives, some of them aren’t. Most of them are drifting, not ready to give up the outlaw life just yet.”

“It’s hard to watch the world change while you’re still stuck in the same spot.” You brush some hair out of your eyes and smile at Abigail. “Me and Arthur are gonna help you and John. But I’d like it if you were both close by. It would be nice to have someone familiar near us, we’re pretty lonely up here.”

She gives you a brief smile back, “I think that would be nice.”

John’s voice picks up from inside and you jump, “Oh that’s a load of bull-”

Abigail’s smile drops and she leans over your shoulder to shout, “Watch it!” at John. You laugh when you see the perturbed look on his face. She motions towards his son and Arthur gives John a smug look. 

“You gonna help him?” You ask Arthur as you settle into bed later. He opens his arms, pulling you into his embrace once you’re settled under the covers. 

“John?” You nod, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, ‘course I’m gonna help him. But there’s nothing wrong with jerking him around a little bit first.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head, tucking yourself under his chin. You almost think he’s asleep but then he’s speaking up again. “We should really do it.”

You pull back, brows furrowed in confusion. “Do what?”

There’s a certain look in his eyes that causes something to swirl in your stomach. It’s not an unpleasant feeling, just an excited one, “Get married.”

You give him a bewildered look, shaking your head in disbelief. Nearly five years you’ve both been living out here and he’s never once mentioned getting married. You never thought you two actually needed it. You always knew what you were to each other, how much you meant to one another. 

You were each other’s salvation. There’s no telling what graves you would be laying in were it not for Dutch bringing you both together. You hadn’t thought he wanted to be married, he always told you he’d given those dreams up. “You really mean that?”

He shrugs like it’s the easiest decision in the world. “Might as well, right?” 

You shake your head, but there’s no fighting the way your lips curl up. “You’re a fool, Arthur Morgan.”

He nods, dipping his head down to press a gentle kiss on your temple. He treats you so gently, it makes you want to cry. But then he goes and says something ridiculous like, “Yeah, a fool for you,” and he makes you laugh. 

You tug him down, lips nearly touching his. “Yes,” you whisper, “I’ll marry you.” You were always scared of living a life like this. Being tied to one man for the rest of your time on earth. But he’s not some city man looking to make you into a pet. He lets you live, breathe, and be free. He’s a partner not a warden and that’s all you’ve ever wanted. 

[warthogreporter]

A third look at the human fucker community on monster tumblr

🦇EVIL-Empoaroar👑 Follow

I will not seduce the hero's parents. I will not seduce the hero's parents. I will not seduce the hero's parents.

🦇EVIL-Empoaroar👑 Follow

Update: I seduced the hero's parents. Does anyone have advice for bonding with a human stepson?

(65,678 Notes)

💇HumanTamer-BloodRaven Follow

Here are some ways you can keep your human from escaping without outright locking them up. I'm including stuff most of you won't be able to use just for thoroughness and to give ideas, feel free to add to this post with your own contributions.

-Erect a magical barrier your human needs your permission to cross, be sure to ask local wizards and the like for help if you're not used to setting this sort of thing up.

-Use love potions and other methods to speed up the process of removing their desire to escape you or resist your advances.

-Let them try to escape a few times, but set it up so that they fail and are immediately caught. You only need it to work enough times for learned helplessness to set in, so it doesn't need to be sustainable, psychology will do the rest.

-Put the exit somewhere they can't reach without help. Like up high if you can fly, or deep underwater if you're aquatic.

-Get guards. If you're worried about them getting at your humans, pick ones who won't be interested. Like if you only have men, recruit some lesbians for guard duty or vice versa. Bisexuals, call upon the asexuals.

👑Mr.Demon-King Follow

Also in some areas, like my domain, check for publicly available resources. I've been doing a lot to make humans more accessible for monsters, like free human tamer consultations.

(947,237 Notes)

👺Ascetic-more-like-ass-cetic Follow

At the monastery telling the monks about my magic that enthralls monks while I'm in the process of using it on them (the monks). The monks are enthralled.

🧛Vampy-Vevito Follow

Aren't you the guy who thought humans could breathe underwater?

👺Ascetic-more-like-ass-cetic Follow

FUCK YOU!

(53,435 Notes)

😇Daddy-Angel Follow

Some of you will literally look up mpreg spells before acknowledging the existence of human women

🍆InkEbus Follow

It'd be sexist to only bring in a human woman for baby making when you really only care about the men, women should be with monsters who truly appreciate them

😇Daddy-Angel Follow

My way of appreciating human women is getting them pregnant 🤰🤰

🐉Dragevening Follow

I wish they could lay eggs instead.

👴Nah-Gilfa Follow

Anything is possible with enough praying and mantras, do it long enough and the gods have to give you what you want

⚡️Indra-official✅ Follow

I swear if one of you fuckers calls on me via prayer or mantra for some weird sex thing I'm begging Shiva to end the world.

🪞Tezcatlipoca-official✅ Follow

You didn't seem so mad when Kunti needed you to get her pregnant.

😇Daddy-Angel Follow

What happened to this post?

(405,345 Notes)

🏇No-bell-steve Follow

It's so disappointing when I meet a human into monsters but not centaurs. I know people have their preferences, but it's frustrating how some people will be eager to have octopus like monsters from the abyss wrap their tentacles around them, but fucking a centaur is too much like bestiality.

🔔Goylegar Follow

Don't worry OP, there are plenty of monsterfuckers out there, you'll find your human partner one day. Your frustration is valid too though. It took me centuries to meet my human partner, I hope you don't need to wait as long.

🏇No-bell-steve Follow

Thank you.

(200 Notes)

Read the first two entries here (part 1) and here (part2). May end the series here or at least put it on indefinite break, don't want to drag it out.

[darylmydix]

THE SCARS WE SHARE | daryl dixon [teaser]

summary: you were the only good thing daryl had in his life. bonded by similar trauma, you suffered abuse at the hands of your stepmother, just as daryl had suffered from his own father. when you finally decide to escape your abusive home life, you're forced to leave behind your best friend in the process. now with the world in an apocalyptic state, you're left wondering if daryl was even alive.

pairings: daryl dixon x f!reader.

warnings: smut, violence, blood and gore, unrequited love, best friends to lovers, mentions of s/a, mentions of abuse, mention of suicidal thoughts/attempts, mention of drug use, use of deadly weapons, fluff, angst, slow burn, strong language, kidnapping, coercion, seasons 5-11, 18+, minors dni.

word count: 1k.

The knock on your front door was gentle; almost as though the person on the other side of it was at odds on whether they should bother you or not. You sigh, figuring it was probably Aiden coming to apologize for the confrontation he had caused with Rick and his group earlier.

You sat the book you were reading down on your coffee table, getting up from the couch as you shuffled to the door. You freeze, not even needing to open it, the glass revealing that it wasn’t Aiden, but in fact Daryl. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, feeling your heart pound against your chest. You close your eyes, letting out a heavy exhale.

You continue towards your door, opening it. The cool, crisp night air tickled your exposed skin. “It’s late, what’re you doing here?” you question. “Came to talk.” he replies simply in his gruff voice. You pause for a moment, contemplating on whether or not you should let him in. You really weren’t in the right headspace to talk, but at the same time you didn’t want to just turn him away. “Come in.” You pull the door open wider for the brunette to step inside before shutting it close.

“So…” you cross your arms, staring up at him. “What did you come to talk about?” Daryl’s picking at his fingernails; a coping mechanism that you always remembered him doing when he struggled to find the right words. Even after all these years he still had a hard time expressing himself. “Look, m’sorry ‘bout what went down with Aiden today.”

You sigh, shrugging your shoulders. You knew he really didn’t mean it. Anything Daryl did he did it with pride, standing on whatever decision he made. “Aiden can be an asshole sometimes, I know. But you and your group need to understand that things like that don’t happen in Alexandria. If you guys continue to disrupt the peace I don’t know what Deanna will do.” You inform him honestly. The people in Alexandria had lived in tranquility for so long, they weren’t used to sudden anarchy. Most of them hadn’t even dealt with walkers.

Daryl nods in response, still picking at his nails. An awkward silence had fallen between you two, neither knowing what to say next. It was crazy to think there could ever come a time where you didn’t find comfort in his silence. Daryl was never the most talkative person, you knew this. But regardless, back then it didn’t bother you. You just enjoyed being around him. He was home.

Used to be at least.

It was time to face the reality that you weren’t the same girl you were before the world ended. In fact, you stopped being that girl the moment you escaped your stepmother’s tyranny. You were happy to know Daryl survived so long in this fucked up dystopia, but all his presence has done since his group got to Alexandria was bring back memories you wanted to erase, and cause a rift between you and Aiden.

“He treat you good?” Daryl finally filled the silence. You knew he was talking about Aiden. “He does.” You nod, which Daryl does too. “You love him?” The question catches you off guard, and you’re not sure how to answer because the truth was, you weren’t sure if you loved Aiden. You knew you cared about him though. “Doesn’t matter.”

“To me it does.”

“Well, it shouldn’t. My love life, and life isn’t your concern anymore.” You snap, agitatedly. “You should just go before Aiden comes by. You can let yourself out.” You walk past him, heading back to your couch, mentally cursing yourself for not pretending to be asleep instead of answering the door.

Daryl could feel the disconnection between you and him; he couldn’t understand why, but it was truly starting to frustrate him how you had been writing him off lately. Like he wasn’t an important part of your life once. “Man, what happened to you? Ever since I got here you been distant, and actin’ like you barely know me. I don’t understand why.”

You shake your head. “You don’t need to understand. We’re not having this conversation right now. Just go.” You speak sternly, pointing to the door. Daryl scoffs. “Ain’t goin’ nowhere ‘til you tell me why,” he wasn’t letting up, and you could feel your nerves taking over the more he prodded. “All these years, all that searchin’ just for you to act like it meant nothing. Hell was it for?”

“I’m not doing this.” You turn once more to walk away, but his strong grip on your wrist prevents it, and you’re spun back around to face him.

“Tell me why!”

You snatch your wrist away. “Because you’re a constant reminder, and I hate it, okay?!” You spat. “I fucking hate it! It didn’t mean anything. You didn’t mean anything. We were trauma bonded. We shared the same scars, that’s it. Once I found my courage to run, I threw away the crutches that held me back. I buried my past and everything that came with it.” Hearing your own words fly out of your mouth breaks your heart in two.

Daryl stares at you. His eyes are a bit watery, but he doesn’t shed a tear. He fights it, the way he always has. “S’all I was, huh? A crutch that held you back?” You swallow the lump at the back of your throat, not responding out of fear of breaking down. He nods his head. “I get it.” Is all he says before he’s finally about to exit your home.

The brunette only opens the door halfway before halting. “Y’know… after you left, I regretted not going with you like you wanted me to. I regretted it everyday.” He finally leaves with those being his last words, slamming the door behind him.

You flinch at the slam, eyes squeezing shut. Your bottom lip quivered and chest tightened in pain. You wanted to run after him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Tears fall now that you were left alone in your own space. Your hand flies over your mouth to muffle the uncontrollable sobs that were starting to slip through.

[reysdriver]

Phone Sex | E.M.

Day 7 of Kinktober: Phone Sex/Mutual Masturbation — eddie x fem!college!reader smut/a bit of fluff

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI - smut, phone sex, dirty talk, mutual masturbation, pet names (baby, sweetheart), mentions of oral and piv sex

Words: 1.9k

a/n: I know it is absolutely not october anymore but I'm not quitting! I already made a post ab it but I'm gonna keep going until I hit at least 10 kinktober fics!

It’s been tough since you left for university. The feeling of withdrawal from Eddie was already setting in, even though you had only been away from your boyfriend for just about two weeks. The chaos of starting school had just been so much—from the hustle and bustle of orientation week to pages and pages of syllabi you had to read through and prepare for—you had barely spoken to Eddie for more than a few small, rushed phone conversations. 

You and Eddie had even made a big deal of buying a landline phone for your dorm room before you left along with one for his bedroom, and you two hadn’t even got to use them for more than half an hour total. 

But tonight was going to be the night. You had no assignments, and nothing else to do than call your boyfriend for as long as you both could stay awake. 

Taking the handset in your left hand and already holding it up to the side of your head, you dialled your favourite phone number in the entire world. 

You lied on your stomach against the mattress of your twin bed, listening closely to the dial tone. After a few seconds, Eddie answered and a smile tore across your face almost immediately. 

“You’ve reached the gates of hell; what can I do for you today?”

You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing at his stupid way of picking up the phone. “You know it’s me, Eddie. Don’t try to scare me off.”

“I just had to make sure, sweetheart.”

You decided you would tease him for that. “Oh, you got a lot of people calling you at nine in the evening?”

“Nope. Just one special little lady calling from her smart people asylum.”

Another joke you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of laughing at. “Good. I don’t want to have to beat any other girls away from you when I come back for Thanksgiving.” 

As soon as the words escaped your lips, you started to think about how far away that really was. It had been hard enough being away from each other for two months, you didn’t even want to think about being separate for two more months. 

Eddie was clearly thinking about this too, because he quickly changed the subject. “What about you, baby? Anyone you’re talking to late at night when you aren’t on the phone with me?”

“Nope. Just you, Eds.” You responded honestly. 

His tone changed from flirtatious to more sincere. “But you are making friends though, right? I don’t want you to have too good of a time, but I definitely don’t want you to be lonely.”

“I’m not lonely here, Eddie. Remember I told you about that group I eat dinner with? And I just joined a book club!”

“A book club, eh?” He tutted. “A shame. Bet they’re just gonna fill you up with the most basic of literature and turn you into a puppet for The Man.” 

This one, you did laugh at. You twirled the phone’s cord around your index finger as you crafted your response. “Don’t worry, Eds. There’s only one man I would be a toy for.”

You could practically hear your boyfriend’s jaw drop through the phone. 

“So it’s gonna be one of those phone calls, huh?” 

You suddenly lost a whole lot of your confidence. Did he just want to chat and catch up tonight? Was he thinking the sexual aspect of your relationship would be gone once you left for college?

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay.” You rushed to say. “I was just thinking we could have a little fun and then talk about everything else until we fall asleep—”

“Sweetheart, of course I want to. I just wanted to tease you a bit because I can’t do it every day in person like we’re used to.” He told you with a slight laugh. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I would never pass up an opportunity like this with you.” 

That boosted your confidence back again. You shifted around to get as comfortable as you could on your tiny bed. “Oh, really? I’m that irresistible?”

“Of course.” He said honestly. “That’s why it was so hard to let you move away. Remember our last night together before you left?”

You absolutely remembered it. How could you forget? Although you had originally planned to go to bed early so you could get to school, Eddie had made you a romantic dinner at his trailer and he had ravished you all night as one of his goodbye presents to you. 

Although you stand by every one of your dates with Eddie being one of the best nights of your life, that one had to take the cake so far. 

“Yeah, I think it rings a bell.” You told him. “You want to try to recreate it like this?” 

“Like, by ourselves? Over the phone?” He paused for a moment while he pretended to think about your offer. “Well, I’m not sure you would be able to match the euphoria brought on by my special moves, but we can try it.” 

“Oh no.” You said with a giggle. “I don’t know how I’ll survive.”

“Well, you could start by taking off your pants. Wait, maybe I should ask what you’re wearing. What are you wearing, baby?” 

Eddie was just so incredibly funny without even trying sometimes. You thought it was so incredibly him to get caught up on something like that, but still be able to turn it around and try to make it sexy.

You looked down at your body when you realised you actually couldn’t remember what you had even put on that morning. “Um, your Judas Priest tee shirt, some jean shorts, and the black matching set you like underneath.”

Instead of being upset that you stole his shirt like you were slightly worried he would be, Eddie seemed to like your outfit. 

“That’s a good shirt; leave it on. But the bottoms can go.”

And you as he asked. You weren’t exactly sure how this was all going to go down, but you were excited nonetheless. Still lying down, you lifted your hips and shimmied out of your shorts. 

“And what about you? You’re not wearing one of my shirts, are you?”

He chuckled into the phone. “No, sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart, but I’m wearing a nasty old pair of jeans and my Ozzy shirt.”

“Well, that’s no problem. The nasty old pants can come off. Then we can match.”

“I love the way you think.”

You could hear the clinking sounds made by Eddie undoing his belt through the phone and it shot a wave of anticipation down your torso and right between your legs. You pictured your boyfriend with his phone held between his jaw and his shoulder, so excited for what you were engaging in that he just had to get his jeans off as soon as possible. 

“So,” Eddie started awkwardly, “Do you want to get all teasing with things or should we just get into it?”

You thought about it for a moment, then answered him. “I think we’ve been apart for too long. We shouldn’t deprive ourselves of each other for a second longer than necessary.”

“Amazing point, baby, as always.” There’s more shuffling on the other line, and you’re tempted to ask about it, but Eddie answers before you can even say anything. “Don’t mind me, just getting some lotion from the dresser. Not everyone here is as lubricationally gifted as you are, my dear.”

He was right; you were already getting wet. All you had done was think about the idea of you and Eddie getting off together, then you had taken off your jean shorts, and you had already made a mark on your underwear. 

You didn’t want to start anything without Eddie, so you just opened your legs and let anticipation pool between them. 

You could hear Eddie groan, then the springs of his old mattress creaked loudly. 

“Alright, babe, let’s get into it.” He said. “I mean, I can do my thing here. How about you bring a hand down there and start playing with your pussy?”

It was clear through Eddie’s over-the-phone dirty talk that he was new to this, but who were you to judge? You did just as he told you, taking two fingers and starting to tease your clit. 

The sounds of Eddie moving his hands up and down along his cock, muffled through the landline, just turned you on so much. Every few pumps, Eddie let out little grunts and moans, your favourite sounds. 

“I’ve missed you so much, baby.” He told you, still getting himself off. 

“I’ve been missing you too.” You replied sincerely. “I think about you every single day.”

You dipped two fingers into yourself and pumped them in and out, an attempt to replicate how your boyfriend can bring you to climax with just his fingers when he wants to. It worked somewhat; it was pleasing enough, especially when you used your thumb to rub your clit at the same time, but it just wasn’t Eddie’s fingers. 

“There’s been times where I’ve been in class, not paying attention to a single thing the professor was saying, just thinking about us in the back of your van or out by Lover’s Lake…” You admitted. 

Eddie seemed intrigued by this new idea. He absolutely knew what you were talking about, but he wanted to press more. “Yeah, tell me about that, sweetheart. What were we getting up to in the back of my van?” 

“Remember that picnic we had after graduation? I was running through that whole day in my head, like it was on loop. I loved that day so much. I love you so much, Eds.” 

He let out one loud moan that seemed to echo off the walls of his trailer. You knew exactly what that sound meant, but he confirmed it for you between heavy breaths anyways. 

“Shit, I just made a big ass mess on my shirt.” 

“Well, maybe when I’m done, I can make a mess on your shirt too.”

“Yeah, you just gotta keep going, playing with yourself. Are you thinking about my fingers, my mouth, or my dick?”

“Your fingers. I wish you were really here.” You sighed. “I’m close.”

Eddie told you to keep rubbing yourself and playing with your pussy, and you did so until you felt the knot in your stomach burst. 

You found yourself breathing heavily, just as Eddie was a moment ago, and now neither of you were saying anything. You held the handset of the phone against your chest and watched as it rose and fell with each deep inhale and exhale you took. 

Finally, you heard Eddie’s muffled voice and brought the phone back up to your head. 

“I was thinking I should make the drive up to see you next weekend, what do you think?” He offered. “Maybe we could recreate tonight in person, amongst other things.”You held back an ecstatic squeal from leaving you. Maybe university wasn’t going to be bad at all, you thought.

[makeitmingi]

Stay In This Dream

Genre: Romance, Angst, Melancholy

Pairing: Wooyoung x Reader (y/n)

Characters: Normal!Reader, Badboy!Wooyoung

Summary: You know he's bad for you, he knows he's bad for you. But for some reason, you're both constantly drawn to each other. In a crazy world, you and him are forever, you don't need to save each other from reality. All you want to do is stay in this dream with him.

Word count: 4.3K

Story warning(s): Toxic relationship(? Not really, idk?), possessive Wooyoung, clubbing, smoking, swearing, alcohol, alcohol consumption, Ateez is a delinquent group. Minors DNI. Please read at your own discretion.

The music was booming loudly as you entered the club. You gulped, letting out a shaky breath before walking further in. Before joining the dancing bodies on the dance floor, you went to the bar to get a drink. Some liquid confidence will loosen you up.

"What can I get you?" The bartender asked as you leaned against the bar counter.

"Rum and coke, three wedges of lime." You ordered your usual before sliding onto an available bar stool. With a kind smile, the bartender set down your drink on a serviette.

"Thanks." You bowed your head and he nodded back before going to serve other customers.

"I guess it's good to be home, Seoul." You smiled bitterly before lifting your glass to take a sip. A sigh escaped you as you put the glass down.

Looking to the side, you saw all the mingling people, women and men getting to know each other, having the time of their lives. Or maybe just trying to get laid.

Who were you kidding? This wasn't your scene, it never was. It was time for you to leave.

"Hey." Someone came up to you, his voice making you stiffen.

"I-I was just leaving." You said quickly as you looked away from him, lifting your drink to finish it. But he gently curled his fingers around your wrist to stop you from downing the rest of your drink. He made you put your glass down and wrapped his arms around you to hug you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Welcome back." He whispered.

"San..." You didn't know what to say to him and you couldn't hug him back. Even in the loud club, he was so close that you could hear his words. The way he hushed you to comfort you.

"When did you come back?" He asked as he pulled away. His face was calm, no sign of anger or upset.

"Yesterday." You gulped. He nodded, you were worried about what he was going to say or ask next. But all he did was pat your head and walk away.

"San, don't-" You called out to him but he was long gone, disappearing into the crowd. You looked at your drink, the bitterness that filled your mouth suddenly making it was unappealing.

"Hi, can I buy you a drink?" Now this was someone unfamiliar. You were never good with strangers, really.

"Are you here alone?" The male probed further.

"Yeah. But I buy my own drinks. I'm was gonna finish this up and leave." You said, grabbing your glass by the rim to swirl it, letting the diluted layer of melted ice mix into the rest of the drink. No one ever dared to really buy you drinks or flirt with you.

"Aww, come on... Okay, you know what? At least drink with me?" He tilted his head with a smile. His smile was charming, you would probably be swooned if you were preoccupied.

"Can you close me out?" You raised a hand to the bartender, who nodded from his end of the bar.

"Seriously, what's the rush?" He blinked.

"Take a hint and leave. Don't be to pushy, it's ugly." You froze at the new voice that entered the conversation. Your stomach churned uncomfortably and the heaviness settled in your chest.

"What? Who are you? I was here first, man." The man frowned unhappily.

"She's with me. What? You wanna take this outside?"

"Woo! Don't!" You blurted out, finding your voice again amongst the panic. Rolling his eyes with a scoff, the man walked away, you were obviously not worth fighting over.

"Tsk, coward... Close her out. Rum and coke with 3 lime wedges but put it on my tab." He told the bartender, who nodded and began making you a new drink. You couldn't even protest as he took the now available seat beside you. You waited for the bartender to put your drink down and walk away.

"You remember..." He raised an eyebrow, of course he remembered, he was always observant and remembered everything about you.

"I didn't want San to tell you." You chewed on your bottom lip.

"You really think I wouldn't have noticed you the moment you entered the place? San was just nosy and didn't know if it was really you. But I knew, I always know." He said.

"Woo, I-"

"Don't say you didn't come here to see me. You came here because you knew I would be here." He knew what you were going to say.

"Well, maybe I came here to get a partner for the night." You challenged, clenching the material of your skirt in your fist. Wooyoung turned to you, a deep frown at your words.

"You know I would never let that happen." He growled. That was Wooyoung, he was always possessive.

"Wooyoung, we're not even together anymore..." You lamented. He refused to answer that. But gosh, he looked good. His side profile as he drank his drink, he still looked so handsome. It made your heart clench as you forced yourself to tear your eyes away.

"And whose fault is that?" He finally replied. Although, the grim look on his face showed just how much he hated saying that. But Wooyoung was only ever truly open about his feelings with you.

Jung Wooyoung, the bad boy from high school. Him, along with his best friend, Choi San, were captains of the baseball team. Because that was the only thing he cared about.

And you. You were the only other thing Wooyoung cared about and loved. Nothing else.

You loved Wooyoung too, a lot. You never expected it but the bad boy tole your heart and showed you what love is.

However, you knew your relationship was just a fever dream that wouldn't last. The bubble of happiness that you and Wooyoung were in was not forever.

You wanted to do well in school and go to college to get a degree. Wooyoung didn't, if it weren't to stay with you and accompany you, he would have quit school a long time ago. He didn't have a plan, he wouldn't be there, sitting for college placement exams with you, he won't go be by your side to go to college with you.

But when an amazing overseas scholarship offer came in your mail, you knew you couldn't turn that down.

At first, the guilt ate at you, your future and love with Wooyoung should be the priority. But between him and his friends getting in trouble, the fighting, the street racing, you couldn't take it.

So, as you sat at the hospital waiting area, waiting for the doctor to stitch Wooyoung up again, you knew this wasn't the life for you.

3 days later, you ended the relationship with Wooyoung. And 4 days after that, you left for America.

"It wasn't my fault, Wooyoung..." You sighed, your bottom lip quivering. Was it really? You just wanted to do something for yourself, for once.

"I wasn't the one who packed up and left for 3 years." He said sourly, flicking the cap of his zippo open and close.

"It wasn't easy on me either. Not knowing if whether you would come home alive or dead. Having to bail you out of jail or wait for you at the hospital while doctors stitched you up." You winced as you remembered all the memories.

"Fine, I'm sorry I didn't have a plan to go to a cushy college like you. But I would never have abandoned you." He clenched his jaw.

"I didn't abandon you, Wooyoung." You replied. Honestly, you didn't know if you were convincing yourself or him.

"Oh yeah, you didn't. You just decided to pack your things, go to another country for 3 years without ever mentioning it to me." He said sarcastically.

"I did mention it to you." You mumbled.

"Yeah, when you broke up with me. And told me you're leaving in 4 days... Thanks for the heads up." He rolled his eyes.

"I didn't... I don't want to discuss this now." You said, looking away. Regret sunk in your heart.

"Then what do you want to discuss? Why did you come here?" Wooyoung placed his empty glass down and turned to face you. He's right, why did you come here? Why did a part of you hope to run into him? Just to see him again.

"You're right. This was a mistake." You got up to leave but Wooyoung grasped your wrist. Just as you were about to protest, Wooyoung dragged you to the dance floor.

"No, I'm not letting you walk away again." He made you put your arms around his neck as his hands landed on your waist.

"Like old times, hmm?" He pulled you close to him, giving you a kiss on the cheek.

"I shouldn't be here." You said softly. You didn't know if you were saying that to yourself or to Wooyoung.

"And yet, you're still holding onto me." You knew he had that signature smug smirk on his face as he said that to you. In fact, your hold tightened around him, as if you were scared of him leaving.

You closed your eyes, this used to be your life with Wooyoung. Coming to the club, drinking, dancing, having the time of your lives. How bad boy Wooyoung ruined you.

"Wooyoung..." You whimpered. Wooyoung finally pulled away from the hugging hold to look at you. It was dim but he could see you faintly under the club's lights. As you closed your eyes, he was quick to wipe away the tears that fell. He held your cheek tenderly and kissed your forehead.

"Let's go." Holding your hand, instead of grasping it like earlier, he led you out of the club through the back door. You just followed him without a word. He guided you through the alley.

"Come here." He hugged you, guiding your head to his chest. You buried your face in his chest.

"It's okay, baby." His hand stroked the back of your head.

"You're home. That's all that matters, you're back here with me." You didn't know if his reminder was meant to bring you relief or more hurt, knowing that this isn't right.

That familiarity made your heart soar, it was what you longed for for 3 years. His warmth, his scent, his voice.

"I love you, I'll never let you go again." He kissed your head.

You closed your eyes, even if this was only temporary, even if this was only a dream, you didn't want it to end. This was why you came here the moment you came back to Seoul.

As you laid down to rest in his bed, fast asleep, Wooyoung pulled the blanket up to make sure you were comfortable. You were so deep in your slumber you weren't affected by him moving. You were dressed in his shirt and your underwear. It's like you never left.

"I love you." He kissed your temple and left the room, closing the door behind him. Wooyoung shuffled over to the balcony, sliding open the glass door.

Leaning his forearms on the banister, he lit a cigarette and stared out into the night sky that blanketed the city.

"Need a drink?" San offered with his head poked out, holding out a glass of rum.

"Thanks. I just need to clear my head for a bit." Wooyoung recevied the glass and took a sip, setting it down on the small table as he continued his cigarette.

"(y/n)?"

"She's sleeping in my bed so don't be too loud. You know she's a light sleeper." Wooyoung cautioned.

"Will do." San saluted and headed in for the night. He was used to you sleeping over. Even when you and him were dating, San and Wooyoung lived together. That's why Wooyoung was always over at your house. He had clothes and other personal effects there. It was like he practically moved in with you.

Did he ever think that you would be lying in his bed 3 years later? At some point, yes. A part of him held onto the hope that you would return to Seoul, return to him.

That hope vanished when Wooyoung went to America to find you. He had asked a friend where you were before he flew there.

But Wooyoung saw you so happy, being amongst your new friends, discussing things with your professor.

You had a bright future ahead of you while Wooyoung's was bleak. Who was he to rob you of that? If he loved you, he knew he had to let you go.

Wooyoung flew back before you even knew he was there. He tried to push you to the back of his mind and continue on with life.

But he should have known that the universe will take him for a spin. Because there you were tonight, entering the club, looking as beautiful as ever, going up to the bar for a drink.

You were always insecure about sticking out like a sore thumb, whether it was the clubs, the illegal race tracks or the fighting ring. But to Wooyoung, that just made him love you more. You weren't just another face in the crowd.

Whenever Wooyoung looked at you, he smiled. You lit up the room, you were kind and friendly to everyone you met.

You were different from him. He, San and his friends, ATEEZ, ruled the school (and now the streets) with violence, he always had his bat resting on his shoulder, sending threats to those who stare for too long.

"God..." Wooyoung let out a sigh of frustration, leaning on the heels of his palms.

He loves you so much that it hurts. Even though he knows you're better off without him, he doesn't want to let you go. You belong with him.

"Tsk." Crushing his cigarette, Wooyoung downed the rest of his rum and headed back into house. As he crossed his living room, he looked at his steel bat that rested in the corner.

Wooyoung closed his eyes, his focus was you now. He shook his head and went to the room.

"Don't leave me again. I'll protect you, I promise. I'll give you anything you want." Wooyoung gathered you in his arms, holding you close to him like his life depended on it. He knew if you were awake, you would push him away. When you were together, you always hated when he came to bed smelling like cigarettes and alcohol.

"Just let me be selfish." He pressed his lips to your head and closed his eyes. If he was imagining this and it was all just a hallucinating dream, Wooyoung didn't want to wake up.

When you woke up, Wooyoung was sound asleep, facing you with his arm slung over your waist.

A part of you still believed this to be a dream. You reached over to rest your hand on his cheek, making him snuggle into his pillow.

You didn't deserve this, anyone would tell you that.

You didn't deserve to live in fear and dread that Wooyoung would be dead one day. But at the same time, you also didn't deserve the kindness and love Wooyoung gave you when you were the one that left.

It made you sick to your stomach, the way you were acting. Wooyoung didn't deserve to be treated like that. What were you thinking? Running back here.

Slipping out of bed, you reached for a pair of Wooyoung's sweat shorts that he left on the chair. You slipped it on, tying the string around your waist. It's too cruel for you to leave him again, especially while he sleeps. But you needed to remove yourself for now.

"Hey, (y/n)." San greeted when you tip toed out of Wooyoung's room.

"Hey, San..." You greeted warily, standing by Wooyoung's bedroom door. What was he going to say to you? Was he going to berate you for what you did/ are doing to his best friend?

"I'm headed out for the day. I left breakfast on the table for you and Woo, when he wakes up." He said, picking his jacket up to wear.

"Sure, thank you." You nodded, walking down the hall to where he was.

"There's coffee in the fridge too. Help yourself." He informed as he jogged to his room to gather what he needed. You heard the jingling of his keys.

"Hey, (y/n)?" San called out to you just as he was about to step out of the house. You hummed, turning to look at him.

"Talk to him, please. I'm not forcing you to stay, I understand why you left but... Please don't leave without talking to him first." He said. You chewed on your bottom lip but nodded your head. Even if he said understood, his words made you feel like the bad guy. You probably were but it hurt for it to be vocalised.

"You want a cigarette to relax?" He offered, about to reach into his pocket to grab his pack.

"No, thanks. I quit smoking..." You smiled awkwardly. San almost seemed content and proud by your words as he nodded.

"Bye, San." You wished. He smiled and came over to give you brief hug before leaving the house. Maybe that's why San is leaving, to give you space and privacy to talk to Wooyoung.

As you waited for Wooyoung to wake up, you sat in their apartment balcony, wanting some fresh air. You noticed that Wooyoung left his zippo on the table.

*clink*

You flicked open the cap then closed it. Wooyoung always did this when he was nervous or deep in thought.

It became a habit that you picked up too. That and other habits like smoking. But when you did, it was a social thing. You never smoked unless you were around Wooyoung and his friends. How long you were sitting there, you didn't know.

"Hey." Wooyoung shuffled out onto the balcony, an unlit cigarette hanging out of his lips.

"There it is." He naturally leaned down and almost mechanical, you used his zippo to light the cigarette for him. Before he took a puff, he held the lit cigarette between his fingers, away for you.

"You're still here." He brushed your hair back with his free hand. You nodded your head and he smiled, giving you a peck.

"Do you want eat? San left us food but I just grabbed coffee..." You asked.

"Still the same. I'll eat in a bit." He sat on the chair instead of next to you on the bench. You both always had coffee before anything else, a bad habit. Wooyoung pulled the cigarette away again.

"Want to share?" He offered, just like old times.

"I quit..." You mumbled. He nodded with a hum, making sure to blow the smoke out in the other direction.

With a soft sigh, Wooyoung puts out his cigarette. He came to sit next to you on the bench, putting an arm around you. Again, another almost natural reaction, you lean into him, tucking yourself under his arm. Your cheek pressed against his pec as he held you. You did this with him regularly.

Sitting out here, watching the city go by, watching the sun set and the sun rise again, enjoying ths bliss of your little bubble. Until the weight of reality popped it.

Dread sunk in your stomach, you needed to talk to Wooyoung but what about? You didn't have time to think this through.

"So, what degree did you decide to pursue?" He broke the silence first. He woke up from the dream first.

"International relations." You replied, fiddling with the stray thread at the end of his sweater. It was the only thing that kept your mind focused on Wooyoung's words.

"Did you like it there?" He asked with a gulp.

"It was fine." You didn't really give a yes or no answer because you didn't know.

Your life in America was so different. You were able to dedicate yourselves to your studies, earning your degree and subsequently becoming valedictorian. That allowed you to form good connections and networks. The only thing missing was Wooyoung.

"Would you have stayed there?" At your question, you pulled away. This was him waking you up from the dream too. Wooyoung watched as you stood up and headed to the banister.

"Wooyoung, it wasn't easy to leave you. I swear. I know I'm selfish but for once, I needed to think about myself and my future." You said.

"A future without me in it?" At his question, you swallowed. That lump in your throat was back.

"Woo, with the way things were going, even if we stayed together, I wasn't sure whether you would still be in it." You turned to look at him, tears swimming in your eyes.

"I had to save myself the grief before it actually came through a phone call. It would be too much..." You whispered.

"But I'm still alive and kicking." Wooyoung argued.

"For how much longer? Mingi was almost paralysed, Jongho was in a coma for 4 months, I wasn't going to stick around and wait for any of that to happen to you. I couldn't..." Your bottom lip quivered in fear.

"You know I wouldn't be careless like that. Damn it. I love you, I still do. You know I'll always come home to you." Wooyoung grimaced. Your words cut deep into Wooyoung, he knew the truth was that he drove you away with how he was acting. With the way he lived, he couldn't save you from the fear and worry.

"I know you love me too, that's why you went to the club the moment you arrived in Seoul. To find me. And don't deny that." He stood up.

"I thought I could move on and build a life for myself, start anew. But who am I kidding? I can't do it." You laughed bitterly.

"There were so many times I wanted to leave America and come back home. Come back to you. You were my home." You revealed. Wooyoung's heart was racing as he heard your words.

"Why didn't you? I was waiting for you. I am still your home." He asked.

"Because I knew I didn't deserve to miss you when I was the one who left. What right did I have? And what if you moved on? I don't think I could bear to see that." You shook your head. For 3 years, you hated yourself for missing him.

"No, I would never. Because we both know you belong with me and me only." Wooyoung insisted with a frown.

"I-I don't know if I can live like this again, Woo." You hugged yourself. Now it really sunk in, you felt so lonely and that was the reality that you have to wake up to.

"I want to let you go because I know you're better off out there but fuck, I can't. I can't, I'm sorry. I need you with me." He held your cheeks with his hands, pressing your forehead against him.

"Our lives are just too different. Sometimes, even love cannot conquer that." You shook your head.

"Don't say that. Don't. I refuse to believe any of that bullshit." Wooyoung denied.

"You'll carry on with your life and I'll carry on with mine. A part of love is worrying about each other. We'll always do that." He said, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear.

Wooyoung loved you but he loved ATEEZ too, he couldn't just leave his friends who have support him. They were delinquents to everyone else but to Wooyoung, they were his family too.

Again, it was selfish of him, he knew that.

"But..." You grew hesitant, almost scared at the thought of going through all that again.

"We'll work this out, I promise. But whatever it is, I'm not letting you leave me again. You're mine. I lost you once, I'm never losing you again. We'll get through this." Wooyoung said with determination. You nodded and leaned forward to hug him, pressing your lips against his. Tears streamed down your cheeks.

"I love you, Woo. I'm so sorry." You cried. How was he so understanding and patient? But if Wooyoung could work through this, you knew you could too.

"Shh, my baby. No more 'sorry's. I still love you and forever will." He held you, stroking your head.

After breakfast, you and Wooyoung decided to just stay in bed to quietly spend time with one another, all the time lost. He grabbed your leg to throw it over his waist so he could hold you close.

"Still so beautiful." He smiled cheekily.

"Stop~" You whined, hiding your face in his chest. He laughed loudly, that also didn't change, his laugh was so distinguishable that his friends always made fun of it.

"I still love your laugh." You giggled, making him roll his eyes, unsure if you were teasing him or not.

"Seonghwa hyung still imitates me." He scoffed.

"It's cute." You pinched his cheek.

As he cradled you and you bunched the material of his shirt in your hands, it sunk in that you were here, lying in bed with Wooyoung, holding him and touching him. You felt whole again and there was a happiness you haven't felt in 3 years.

Was your love for Wooyoung able to convince you to go back to the way things were? You didn't know. But that worry and the many others can be left for tomorrow.

Wooyoung will be with you, you'll overcome it together. You wanted to enjoy what you had with him now. You didn't want it to disappear.

If this was a dream, you knew you never wanted to wake up.

~

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