#I will fight for this show till the day I die

[queenlucythevaliant]

clean your sword

i. Peter had thought many times about dying for his brother, killing for his sisters, as all oldest children do.

ii. He'd imagined it a hundred times: how if his mother and father were ever killed, he'd get some low-skill job and make sure Lucy's clothes still fit her as she grew. How he'd make fists and fight dirty if Susan was ever threatened. What he'd do if Edmund ever had to flee the country on a dark, windswept night.

iii. Yet when he heard Susan's horn that day, he still froze. Only for an instant, he thought, "this can't be my job, right?"

iv. The blood on his sword shone red when it was all over. When he wiped it on the grass, the stain it left was almost black.

v. They'd put Susan in his arms when he was two years old. Peter didn't remember it, but he knew he'd been waiting for her till then. He wasn't a real person until he was a brother.

vi. And when they walked back to the pavilion, Rhindon bumping Peter's hip, all he could say to his sisters was, "I'm sorry I didn't come faster."

vii. The High King was almost obsessive in the way he cared for Rhindon. When he grew older and required weapons larger than those made for a child, he obsessed over them too.

viii. He told the others, in no uncertain terms, that if it ever came to it in battle, they were to leave him and live. As their brother and high king, he commanded it.

ix. The first time Edmund risked himself for Peter's sake, Peter didn't speak to him for a week.

x. He was oiling his sword when Edmund found him. "See, the thing is, Peter, being brothers goes both ways. If you can love me enough to die for me, than I get to love you just the same."

xi. Peter agreed with him then, to avoid the argument. He was sick of not talking to his brother. Yet privately, he knew that Edmund was wrong. That sacrifice was Peter's special prerogative, as the first-born.

xii. Back in England, his mother noticed that Peter had become more fastidious. She didn't notice that his protective streak has grown - and maybe it hadn't, really.

xiii. It was uncanny, how Peter would always show up just when his siblings needed him. He'd round a corner, and there was Lucy stamping her feet and scowling at a bully. There was Susan, crying, and now his knuckles were bloody.

xiv. He cleaned the blood off in the sink so carefully. The water ran red for a second, and it almost seemed black.

xv. When Caspian asked for the High King's advice, looking so very young, Peter jerked his chin towards the sword a Caspian's hip. "Be ready to use that," he said. "Keep it clean, and close."

xvi. Susan forgot Narnia and she forgot Aslan. Yet selfishly, Peter still hoped that she would never forget how quickly he came when she called.

[yhwhsdaughter]

Alucard Alphabet

Affection ༄

He is quite affectionate. Alucard’s heart softens at the mere sight of you, so it’s difficult to be anything but loving. He unconsciously lowers his voice when speaking to you so it comes out like a sweet murmur. He has this need to touch you, whether it be a protective hand on your shoulder or a sultry kiss.

Best friend ༄

The two of you would be inseparable. Alucard might seem uptight at times, but he’s always putting your best interests at heart. His help is available to you, always. He won’t hesitate to intervene in your stead should problems arise. Loves to listen as you tell him your worries and thoughts. Alucard stares so intensely into your soul as he does this, which is endearing but also a bit concerning.

Cuddles ༄

In your arms he wishes to stay for the rest of his days. Alucard wouldn’t bring up the desire to cuddle so you’d have to be the one to propose. He won’t admit to liking it, but it’s quite obvious and he won’t fight you on it. Alucard loves to embrace you when cuddling, preferably facing each other. Kisses your forehead often when cuddling. He also inhales your scent because it brings him peace.

Domestic ༄

Alucard absolutely yearns for normalcy. He wants the two of you to have a mundane life, full of domestic intimacy so bad. Alucard wishes for a time where you can be together, without having to worry about fighting the undead or risk losing you in the process. That said, he is perfect around the house; he cooks, cleans, and offers protection. Your cup will never be empty with him.

Ending ༄

He would try to keep things as civil as possible. Alucard wants an amicable separation—mostly to spare your feelings. He’s definitely hesitant about breaking up the memories you have constructed. There’s a bit of awkwardness in the process, for he’s not the most experienced with amorous relationships.

Fiance ༄

Alucard is so happy to be with you, so he’ll have no issue committing his every breath for your happiness. Having a life partner is honestly all he could’ve wished for. He will be a devoted and loving husband. Alucard would craft the most beautiful rings you’d ever seen. On the inside would be an inscription of his feelings for you, engraved in both your minds and hearts.

Gentle ༄

Would rather die a thousands deaths than ever hurt you. Alucard is a gentleman; he’ll tend to your needs, all of them, sometimes placing them above his. Because of his enhanced strength, Alucard will handle you carefully, almost like you’re made of glass. His touch is that of a feather, his voice like a ghostly whisper. Remind Alucard that even if he were to shatter you with his long sword and fangs, you would die a most pleasant death.

Hugs ༄

Will not ask for them explicitly, but he loves embracing you and being embraced. If he’s feeling particularly needy, Alucard will simply trudge towards you and do it. Now, his hugs are incredibly comforting, though they tend to be a bit heavy since he leans on you, his form draping over yours. He doesn’t want you to disappear, even for a moment.

I love you ༄

Alucard will say this spontaneously. It could be at a time where he’s feeling desperate or peaceful. Either way, the words will slip from his lips. This confession won’t be revealed till he’s sure you’re the one—meaning you’ll have to be patient because Alucard is showing opening his vulnerable heart to potential hurt.

Jealousy ༄

Oh, he gets jealous. I think it brings feelings of insecurity. Alucard might try to be subtle about it, he may even act suave about the whole ordeal, plastering a cocky expression over his statuesque-like face. Immediately, he will bury his face on the crook of your neck, fangs grazing your carotid gently.

Kisses ༄

Soft, desperate and forceful. Not in a bad way though, Alucard just needs to feel you… firmly. He gets carried away in your touch and embrace. It’s so addicting that if he were to miss your kisses for a day, he’ll go into a withdrawal. The most common places where Alucard will plant kisses is your lips, temple, neck, and the back of your hand. In return, he’ll want to be kissed on the jaw, the corner of his mouth, and the crook of his neck.

Little ones ༄

He likes to humor them. Alucard is surprisingly patient with children. He would be a great father; has a desire to form a family, whether it be biologically or adopted. He just wants to share that love and be loved.

Morning ༄

Quite peaceful. He would prepare breakfast so when you wake, a meal is already waiting. Alucard also likes to start the mornings by giving you small kisses, a reminder of his love and proof that you’re real, not a mirage or figment of his imagination. Evidence that you’re with him and he’s not lost himself. He likes to start the day slowly, not eager to do much without you.

Night ༄

He’s a creature of the night, somewhat. So if there’s a time where you can’t wander into the land of dreams, Alucard will keep you company. He’ll hold you in his arms and carry you to the top of Castle Dracula to admire the stars till he feels the weight of your head on his shoulder. Afterwards, Alucard will share your bed.

Open ༄

Um. He’s a bit closed off to be honest. Alucard’s story is complex, one that he doesn’t feel like repeating aloud. He loves to learn about you though—taking notes of all your favorites, dreams, as well as the things you hate. However, when you mention how it can be a bit unbalanced, Alucard will then sit you down and reveal his troubles. It’ll take time for him to tell you everything, but that’s fine because you’re not planning to go anywhere.

Patience ༄

Unlike with others Trevor, Alucard extends you his infinite patience. He might get exasperated but never angry. If we’re being quite honest, everything you do is adorable to him. You could be massacring a vampire and Alucard will have heart eyes, smiling proudly. Blame the beating organ inside his chest that threatens to jump out whenever he lays eyes on you.

Q ༄ Quizzes

You are always on his mind. Alucard reserves his best thoughts towards you, so he’ll remember everything. It’s unnerving, in a good way, how Alucard knows you so intimately.

R ༄ Remember

There’s so many precious memories that are stored in the vault that is his heart and mind; so if you were to ask him specifically what’d be his favorite moment in your relationship, he would probably answer with, “When I lay eyes on you.” So, all the time.

S ༄ Security | How protective is he? How would he protect you?

There’s no safer place than by his side, and in his arms, his embrace. Alucard would go to the ends of the earth for you. Your security, your safety, your well-being— it is all above everything. Albeit he fought against his father for trying to exterminate the world for his mother, Alucard would do the same for you.

T ༄ Try

No one like him would put this much effort into a relationship. He would get and arrange things to your liking but not so much that it would overwhelm you. It’s a bit endearing when he’s a bit awkward about certain aspects of being with you.

U ༄ Ugly

His lack of trust can be a bad habit of his. It’s not like he doesn’t trust you specifically, it’s just… well, in his defense, life hasn’t been kind to him. Because of this he might seem cold or detached, and quite depressive at times. Alucard, prior to you, tended to go off the deep end with ease, almost getting consumed by his thoughts.

V ༄ Vanity

For him its all about the heart, though it doesn’t hurt if you’re a beauteous woman. That said, Alucard finds you extremely captivating in every aspect. There was a time where he would constantly stare at your hands and face whenever you’d cook. He would get so entranced by your movements and expressions.

W ༄ Whole

You’ve attached yourself to his heart and soul. You’re ingrained in his being that any attempt at separation is painful. So, Alucard would very much feel incomplete without you in his life.

X ༄ X-ray

There’s no one that knows you more than him. He knows you like the back of his hand. He could sketch every piece of your face, down to the last hair, from memory alone.

Y ༄ Yuck

Don’t tie him up. Seriously. He loves you to no end and wouldn’t harm a hair on your pretty little self, but the idea of being tied would make him anxious, recalling bad memories. He’s entirely averse to causing you pain. He can’t bear to mark you purposefully—maybe only bites but that’s with explicit consent and once in a blue moon.

Z ༄ Zzz

He likes to sleep holding your hand, always facing you, never away. He’ll sleep on his back or facing you—Alucard doesn’t like to give you his back, wanting to fall asleep staring at you. For if he were to die before he wakes, he would want you to be the last thing he sees.

[gothicflowers]

Listen, Alex has been consuming my brain for weeks. It’s a whole issue (it’s not an issue, I love it really). So can I get something that’s maybe a little darker with him? Doesn’t have to be too dark, just maybe showing that side that isn’t the golden retriever we all love. Maybe a little more of that something that makes him such a good CIA operative.

Something protective/possessive perhaps? Can be NSFW or not, totally up to you.

Also, I hope you’re doing well! I know what it’s like to just need a distraction and get out of your head for a bit 💙

(MDNI +18)

Sorry this took me forever but I’ve been fighting waves of ADHD paralysis that even my meds cant fight. And I’m doing a little better, not fully healthy but I’m getting there❤️

ALEX KELLER IS A GOLDEN RETRIEVER.

At least that’s what he lets you see.

Because he doesn’t want you to know how dark and dirty he can be. Your family is fully convinced that he is the perfect man, which he truly is. Always getting you flowers and planning dates or small getaways. You clearly won the lottery with Alex. You see Alex as a night in shining armor, a kiss from the stars.

But Alex sees you as the dusk sky, beautiful colors that light up the sky before the light disappears. Soft delicate hands to hold, no blood or dirt under your nails. Your voice is the crackling of a fireplace in deep December snow that warms his soul. You’re the flower that blooms from the spring frost after he tills the ground with his bare hands.

Alex has fought for too long and shed too much blood in the name of justice and peace for anything to take away the one pure thing the universe owes him. You.

But sometimes dispute all his training and good intentions you see small glimmers of what Alex could be if he didn’t keep himself in check. Sometimes it’s in the way you end up bent over the counter with his fingers laced tightly in your hair as he rants on about this little bitchy attitude you’ve had since you woke up. He knows you love it and it feeds a dark pit of control that burns for you. Every thrust making you gasp. All Alex can grunt out of his gritting teeth is MINE. MINE. MINE. And is he gonna let you come? No. Not unless your pretty little eyes are welling with lust and love filled tears begging to cum. He’ll eventually let go of your hair and hold you by the jaw and let you confess that you just needed some dick, and he’s the only one that can satisfy your craving. Such a sweet thing, such perfection, so delicate.

Alex doesn’t mind letting other guys how possessive he can get. He didn’t like that guy that keep trying to dance with you at the bar. It’s surely a coincidence that guy slipped and hit his head on the sink. Other times it’s simply staring them down with a look that even Simon wouldn’t mess with.

When your ex tried to weasel their way back into your heart they abruptly stopped. They sent flowers, chocolates, jewelry, everything they could think of to win you back. You figured they finally got the message that you didn’t want them. But in reality your ex came home to a large envelope packed full of evidence of everything they’ve ever done, things you never knew about. Paired with a simple note “leave what is mine alone or else”.

Alex never wants you to know about what he truly does. Would you ever hold his hand again knowing how blood stained they are? Would those soft lips still say I love you? Despite his pure intentions he knows not all of his orders he’s been given were good. So he just tells you he works in surveillance. It eases your mind thinking he’s hiding on a roof somewhere, not down in a gunfight.

When he comes home after an extended time away you’re distraught with worry that he lost his leg. You will die never knowing the truth about what went down that day.

It’s not always that he wants to keep you in the dark, but sometimes it’s just truly classified information that you can’t know. And shouldn’t, it would give you nightmares. This man could rewrite history books if he shared what he knows.

Alex keeps hidden security cameras around the house. You don’t even realize they’re installed. He’s got extensive knowledge of technology and he used it to his advantage. He’s very good about keeping you a secret from his job but sometimes on those late nights he just needs to see you sleeping peacefully at home. And yes there is a tracker on your phone. Can’t lose track of his sweet little angel.

Everyone highly underestimates him. Too soft hearted, too eager, too naïve. The way his eyes darken and chest heaves as he stands covered in someone else’s blood shocks a room of experienced soldiers. A version of a man they rarely see, a version of a man you don’t know. Yet that version of him is who checks the house when he hear something at night. The version who corrects people who speak to you rudely. The version that growls in your ear from behind as your bodies tangle. The version who got rid of all of your problems. The Alex that will pull the earth apart and unleash hell to create a heaven on earth for you alone.

Alex is a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

[munchmemes]

taylor swift lyrics, the tortured poets department edition, part two

guilty as sin?

▸ my boredom's bone-deep. ▸ am i allowed to cry? ▸ i'm seeing visions, am i bad? or mad? or wise? ▸ one slip and i'm falling back into the hedge maze. ▸ oh, what a way to die. ▸ i keep recalling things we never did. ▸ how i long for our trysts. ▸ how can i be guilty as sin? ▸ i keep these longings locked inside a vault. ▸ someone told me there's no such things as bad thoughts, only your actions talk. ▸ they're gonna crucify me anway. ▸ what if they way you hold me is actually what's holy? ▸ i choose you and me religiously.

who's afraid of little old me?

▸ the "who's who?`" of "who's that?" is poised for the attack. ▸ you don't get to tell me about 'sad'. ▸ if you wanted me dead, you should've just said. nothing makes me feel more alive. ▸ who's afraid of little old me? you should be. ▸ the scandal was contained, the bullet had just grazed. ▸ at all costs, keep your good name. ▸ you don't get to tell me you feel bad. ▸ is it a wonder i broke? ▸ let's hear one more joke. then we could all just laugh until i cry. ▸ i was tame, i was gentle till the circus life made me mean. ▸ they say they didn't do it to hurt me but what if they did? ▸ i want to snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me. ▸ you wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me. ▸ isn't that what they all said? that i'm fearsome and i'm wretched and i'm wrong. ▸ you lured me and you hurt me and you taught me. ▸ you caged me and then you called me crazy. ▸ i am what i am 'cause you trained me.

i can fix him (no really i can)

▸ the jokes that [you/they] told across the bar were revolting and far too loud. ▸ they shake their heads, saying "god help [them]" when i tell 'em you're the one. ▸ i can fix him, no really i can. and only i can. ▸ i could see it from a mile away. ▸ you had a halo of the highest grade, you just hadn't met met yet. ▸ come close, i'll show you heaven if you'll be an angel all night. ▸ trust me, i can handle me a dangerous [man/woman].

loml

▸ we were just kids, babe. ▸ i don't mind, it takes time. ▸ i thought i was better safe than starry-eyed. ▸ i felt aglow like this. never before and never since. ▸ you and i went from one kiss to getting married. ▸ you said i'm the love of your life about a million times. ▸ a conman sells a fool a get-love-quick scheme. ▸ i felt a hole like this never before and ever since. ▸ what we thought was for all time was momentary. ▸ i wish i could un-recall how we almost had it all. ▸ the coward claimed he was a lion. ▸ i'll still see it until i die. you're the loss of my life.

i can do it with a broken heart

▸ i can show you lies. ▸ i'm a real tough kid, i can handle my shit. ▸ they said 'you gotta fake it 'til you make it' and i did. ▸ you said you'd love me all your life but that life was too short. ▸ i can do it with a broken heart. ▸ i'm so depressed, i act like it's my birthday every day. ▸ i cry a lot but i am so productive, it's an art. ▸ you know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart. ▸ i can hold my breath, i've been doing it since [you/they] left. ▸ i'm miserable and nobody even knows!

the smallest man who ever lived

▸ was any of it true? ▸ now you know what it feels like. ▸ i don't miss what we had. ▸ in public, you showed me off then sank in stoned oblivion. ▸ you didn't measure up in any measure of a man. ▸ were you sent by someone who wanted me dead? ▸ good riddance 'cause it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden. ▸ i would've died for your sins. instead i just died inside. ▸ in plain sight you hid but you are what you did. ▸ i'll forget you but i'll never forgive.

the alchemy

▸ this happens once every few lifetimes. ▸ these chemicals hit me like white wine. ▸ what if i told you i'm back? ▸ the hospital was a drag. worst sleep i ever had. ▸ ditch the clowns, get the crown. ▸ what if i told you we're cool? ▸ honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy? ▸ where's the trophy?

clara bow

▸ all your life, did you know you'd be picked like a rose? ▸ i'm not trying to exaggerate but i think i might die. ▸ this town is fake but you're the real thing. ▸ take the glory, give everything. ▸ promise to be dazzling. ▸ you're the new god we're worshipping. ▸ beauty is a beast that roars down on all fours, demanding more. ▸ it's hell on earth to be heavenly. ▸ them's the breaks, they don't come gently.

[earphonejackx]

AN: IN HONOR OF QUANXI COMING BACK I DECIDED TO MAKE THIS🤭

☠︎ Quanxi x Fem! Reader (slight NSFW)

☠︎ Since Quanxi technically did die like in part 1 of csm, I’m gonna alter her personality justttt a bit, she’ll still be the same but she’s a little more different in this trust.

☠︎ Ima just go right off that bat, this lady is PROTECTIVE of you. She will under no circumstances will allow anyone to hurt you. She wants to protect because she feels guilt about her last relationship and how she wasn’t really about to protect her girls, and she feels like she needs to protect you :( (my poor baby)

☠︎ Quanxi definitely will brun herself out sometimes so it’s best if you try to comfort her or be her emotional support. “[name] come sit. I want you rn.”

☠︎ Now we don’t really know too much about Quanxi’s new job, but I do know that she’s probably still an assassin. So most likely if you do work with her she’d probably gain feelings for you like that. Or if your just an ordinary civilian that just so happens to live next door to her. She might also have a watchful eye for you

☠︎ Quanxi DOES NOT like fighting in front of you. She tries to keep that devil shit out the door. It’s no secret to you that she is a hybrid devil herself buttt she wouldn’t want you to see her fight because she believes your too innocent for that. She needs to protect her sweet angel at all costs. But of course she rarely even transforms cuz she’s already so strong without doing it

☠︎ Quanxi loves taking baths with you for some reason. She was never really a big fan of baths because she was so used to “wash up and get out.” But she loves taking baths now, she likes to wash you down herself, even where your most intimate parts are.

☠︎ When you and Quanxi cuddle, she likes to be the big spoon always. She likes to have a protective hold on you as she sleeps to know that your okay. But it might be a problem if you have to pee “Quanxi get up I have to pee.” “No.”

☠︎ Quanxi loves loves loves cafe dates, she used to always take her girls there and she’d thought it be nice to keep her little tradition going

☠︎ Quanxi surprising actually knows how to play basketball really well. She likes to flex on you as she plays against you sometimes.

☠︎ We all know Quanxi has a shit ton of toys and she’s not afraid to use ‘em. She likes teasing you with her strap so much 😭 “Quanxi quit fucking teasing and fuck me!!” “Pushy are we?”

☠︎ We all know that she is a Tity grabber. She likes to hold ur Tity for emotional support, or she just lays on your chest.

☠︎ Quanxi likes to take you shopping from time to time. She has so much money so why not spend it on her favorite girl? She will let you buy till your hearts content! Go wild. She’ll hold all your bags with ease.

☠︎ Eventually you’ll run into Quanxi’s old co-worker… she doesn’t like him at all so she quickly takes you by your waist and moves on with her day. “Quanxi who was that?” “Oh? That was nobody to worry your pretty little head about.”

☠︎ Quanxi is always thinking about your safety nowadays especially since your a human and she knows you guys have extremely short life spans, bonus points if your a devil hybrid yourself, she is very happy because you can’t really die yk?? Do you’ll be together forever

☠︎ One day when Quanxi thinks the time is right she give you a promise ring to show her dedication to you. “I want you to be with me.” She says oh so graciously

☠︎ Annnd last but not least, Quanxi will someday take you both out on a luxury vacation and she and you both will have the time of your lives.

[odetodilfs]

Kinktober day 8: Exhibitionism with Oberyn Martell

Summary: Where Oberyn brings the people of Dorne a different kind of fight to the arena.

Pairing: power bottom!Oberyn Martell x sub!top!male!reader

Content: Public sex, creampie, established relationship (marriage), the people of Dorne have the hots for you and Oberyn.

Make sure to reblog!

You stepped out onto the arena, hundreds of people, mostly men cheering as you stepped out completely naked except for a light robe around you. Oberyn and you had been having this fantasy of being watched for ages, and seeing how the audience was going to enjoy watching you fuck him was stirring something down below... Your dick immediately got hard as you saw Oberyn standing right beside what looked to be a bed, wearing his usual yellow robe except with no clothes underneath.

All those dirty thoughts about getting dominated in public started playing in your head, how your husband would look riding your dick for hundreds of people to see. "Such a good boy" he smirked at you, "lay here" he signaled at the bed as you laid down, you heard cheers coming from the crowd, your dick hard as a rock and leaking precum. You were ready to open him up as usual but then it hit you: he'd done it himself in front of the public. "Lube's there" his smug staying on his face, you quickly grabbed it and put it all over your cock.

"This won't be long, but I have to.. the public will love it" he smirked as he got on the bed slowly and sat on your face. You moaned as you were being suffocated in the most heavenly way and started to tongue Oberyn's hole. He tasted sweet and musky, you could hear the crowd go wild as he rode your face, you were pretty sure your dick was leaking precum like no tomorrow. You weren't sure exactly how long he was riding your face as you went into absolute daze.

When he finally got off of your face, he was all red and sweaty from the arousal. He slowly started getting on the bed, facing the crowd as he spread his legs wide, showing himself to the audience, the men roared in both arousal and hype. He crawled seductively towards you, doing the same position he showed the audience but now showing it to you. His hole was glistening with sweat, eager for you to go inside him, to make you, him and the audience happy.

In one go, you sunk into Oberyn, his hole despite being opened up, it was still real tight. There was one thing more eager than his ass though: the crowd absolutely lost it when you put your dick inside him, you started to sink deeper and deeper "Good boy, start thrusting now" he seductively ordered, you, being the sub, followed his orders, and softly started thrusting into him, "Harder" he said almost immediately, you followed orders as well.

You couldn't hold back much longer, fucking in front of an audience, Oberyn's legs spread as you pumped deep inside him and the way he clamped down on your cock was all too much for you. But you held on, edged yourself in your lover's tight hole. This went on for 20 minutes until you heard Oberyn moan loudly and clamp down on your dick hard, he was cumming, "Keep fucking me- keep fucking me-" he ordered, overstimulated, but wanting to get fucked till he couldn't take it anymore. You did, he somehow managed to get the strength to scream even if you were pounding him into the mattress. "Who wants him to cum inside?" Oberyn smirked as calmly as he could while both screaming and getting fucked, the crowd roared. "You heard our audience darling, give them what they want" and as if Oberyn had control of when you came, you exploded inside him right after saying that.

You stayed like that for a minute, regaining the strength as the adrenalin in your bodies began to die down, the crowd was silent. "Pull out" he ordered, you did and could see the absolutely massive load inside him, it dripped out of him as soon as you'd withdrew. He then turned around and showed the creampie you just gave him to his audience, to no one's surprise, they loved it.

"Let's go now" he looked up at you, then stood up and helped you, waving to the roaring people, he walked in front of you just so you could see your cum now running down his legs.

[zombholic]

| 𝐃𝐑. 𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐏𝐓. 𝟒 |

abby’s pov

walking into the seattle hospital, abby greeted everyone, hands in her white coats pockets as she entered her personal office.

Dr. Abigail Anderson

was written on the black door name slip, unlocking her door she slid her coat off, placing it behind her rolling chair before taking a seat herself, she starting on all the paperwork for surgeries she had to confirm for. a soft knock from her door only a few minutes after she walked in.

“come in” her eyes never adverting from her paper and signatures “hey abs, i got you coffee” owen chimed in, placing her favorite black coffee on the table near the doctor. “oh hey owen, thank you, how you been?” she finally focused her attention on her ex fiancé who unfortunately is neurosurgeon at the same facility.

“i’ve been the same, just curious, manny is having an engagement party next week on sunday, he finally proposed to ms. scientist” owen let out a chuckle, desperately trying to get his ex back. “yeah of course i’ll come, haven’t seen that pendejo in months” she crossed her arms, mans spreading in her chair.

“would you be wanting to come with me? yanno, for old times sake” he left out a breathy chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck “well, i was thinking if manny will let me, bring my close friend along instead” she only used close friend not wanting to assume your guys situation at the moment. seeing as owen clearly tensed up in his chair, he sat up straight.

“oh who’s the friend?” he could only curiously ask, not knowing what abby has been doing ever since she broke things off with him “her name is y/n, she’s pretty young but i think everyone would love her, she has the best humor i’ve ever seen” the muscular woman clearly swooning over the girl, even just saying her name gave her butterflies in her stomach.

“oh a girl” owen relaxed a bit, not seeing the very indicating signs that his ex was now fascinated with someone else, a woman. “i don’t think manny would mind at all, she’s probably harmless” he would’ve continued on the conversation until his pager started to go off “that’s my sign to see myself out, see you sunday abs” his gaze lingered a little longer before he left her office.

abby pulled out her phone, her big arms leaning on her desk as she carelessly scrolled through all your social media pages. abby being older didn’t understand that tiktok showed who was able to view your page, the doctor repeatedly watching all your videos, biting down on her bottom lip.

one thing about the cardiologist is that she loved to take things slow, first kiss on the third date, confirm the mutual feelings for each other, she will take her time to make sure its the perfect day to ask you to be hers.

abby hates having intimate moments over the phone, it’s classless unlike her who will take you out on the most magical date, wait till the moonlight is shining on your face, ocean waves flowing so heavily she has to give you her coat to ask you to be her girlfriend.

then theres you … who is literally the most impatient, impulsive girl anyone knows, how else did you get majority of your tattoos anyways? and how else did you end up with three cats that you had to sneak into your apartment to avoid the repulsive pet fee. you’ve gotten into god knows how many fights and arguments with random people because they looked at your loved ones the wrong way.

polar opposites

—

abby dialed your number into her phone, waiting as it rang for the first, second and third time before you picked up with “doctor? is there an emergency” you sarcastically gasped causing abby to snort “yes there is actually, i need you to be my date for my friends engagement party” she had a toothy smile over the phone, your voice already having her in a foolish daze.

“and how could i ever say no to that? it’s a date lady hulk” god that made her die of laughter “lady hulk? you’re so creative with your words baby” you swore up and down if she continued calling you these pet names you would get down on your knees and suck her str-“will you pick me up?” you spoke up “of course, i’m a lady, i’ll see you sunday and i’ll text you the time when i find out ok?” her little black box going off in the pocket of her fitted scrubs “sounds good to me doc” “bye sweetheart.”

she smiled oh so sweetly before hanging up the call, she could swear that she could listen to you talk nonstop and never get bored. getting up and wrapping the coat around her she dashed into the patients room “he’s having a stroke, close the curtains.”

—

sunday came creeping by sooner or later, abby who was getting dressed in a fitted long sleeve beige sweater that showed off her arms so well, black slacks with a belt wrapped around and her boots, her har as always in her signature braided ponytail.

she wrapped a cartier watch around her wrist, god she looked so expensive. abby grabbed her engagement present for her friends and headed out her house to swoop you up finally.

parked outside of your apartment she took her phone out to text her pinned contact, y/n 💕. (shes a old give her a break)

—

Hey, I’m outside.

coming! putting on my shoes loser

—

she watched as you exited the apartment complex, she couldn’t keep her damn eyes off of you, admiring every aspect of your outfit to the way your black skirt fitted your waist, your grey sweater that fell off your shoulder to the stunning way you layered your silver jewelry.

silver, got it.

she thought to herself, doing her usual thing and opening the door for you, the smell of your florally perfume hitting her like a drug that she can’t get enough of. “you look so so beautiful y/nn” she softly licked her lips, basically drooling over you.

you couldn’t even lie, you were doing the exact same thing, your jaw wanting to drop to the floor with how she had her sleeves rolled up halfway on her arms, god her arms. “you literally look tasty” you giggled causing her to grin.

—

y/n’s pov

it had been almost ten minutes since you and abby arrived at manny’s, abby having a glass of very expensive liquor in her hand while having you cling onto her other arm like you were showing her off, she loved the way you were wrapped around her.

“so y/n are you in school? majoring in anything?” owen brought up, he was burning holes into your face ever since you walked in holding abby like she was yours. “um no, i’m not in school, i just decided it wasn’t for me i think i rather just explore different things before i settle into one thing for the rest of my life” nora and mel were literally in awe of you, they loved that you were so open and honest.

“oh so what is it that you’re interested in doing?” mel smiled, genuinely wondering unlike owen who wanted to tear you limb from limb. “i think if i do want to school for something it would be veterinarian school, i adore animals.”

abby couldn’t keep her eyes off you, gently rubbing her fingers on your arm with a loving smile across her freckled face. “so do you work?” owen butted in once more “yeah i work at a small coffee shop” you gave him a tight lipped smile causing him to snicker “abby you found her at a coffee shop?” he remarked, he fucking hated that he would rather be with someone of working class than him.

abby was quick to defend you but you were quicker “listen white guy, not all of us our privileged enough to even afford to go to school, i will beat your ass if you keep talking” you jabbed your finger in his chest, everyone around chiming in to calm down the situation.

“oh please you’re the size of my fucking arm i can throw you around like a rag doll” abby pushed you behind her, grabbing the collar of owens button up, nostrils flaring as she threw him against the wall causing him to lose his breath for a minute. “keep talking owen and i will rip your god damn head off” she yelled before manny had to get in between the both of them.

“owen it’s time to go, guys the party is over just go home” he sighed defeated that owen managed to ruin a important day for him.

—

abby had taken you to her place, still in complete anger from what owen did. you sat on the edge of her bed as she undressed into something more comfortable, she walked back towards you, cupping your face in her hands making you look up at her, her thumbs softly caressing your face “i am so so sorry for what he did, i would have never let him touched you ever.” you held one of her hands that was holding your face and smiled up at her. “abs, i’m not mad at you i swear, plus why was he even coming at me?” you farrowed your brows in genuine confusion.

she sighed heavily, getting down on her knees in front of you, her hand still holding yours. “he’s my ex fiancé, he was jealous of you, why do you think i left him? he always had outbursts like that and i just couldn’t.” she shook her head disappointed “ew you were almost married to a man?” you looked at her in disgusted before turning into a ball of laughter “he’s so ugly, why?” you were curious “i can’t even tell you myself hun, here, i’ll grab you some of my clothes and you can stay here for the night ok?” you felt your stomach burst out in fireworks.

staying at her house? oh my god.

AUTHORS NOTE: yall … anyways fuck owen and idk anything about working at a hospital so if my info is wrong DONT COME AT ME!!

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction fics in which a character had experienced abuse of some form in the past as requested in this ask. Please don't forget to leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here.

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[goodmorgan]

Perfect Strangers

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

Summary: When a stranger appears at your homestead to steal from you, you set out to help him instead.

Word Count: 6.1k  

Tags: NSFW. 18+. Smut, Porn With Plot, Mentions of Starvation, Masturbation, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, Touch-Starved Arthur Morgan, Mutual Pining, Infidelity

AO3 Link

A/N: This will be a fic consisting of multiple chapters.

Chapter 1: A Man in Need

"Who the hell are you?" you shout as you emerge from your doorstep, pointing your shotgun at his head.

He turns slowly from the apple tree in your front yard, hands now raised to his sides. He swallows nervously like a schoolboy caught in the act as the apple he was holding lands swiftly on the ground. He's tall enough to reach the highest branches with ease, the only ones you've yet to pick clean as you're too lazy to get the ladder.

"I'm... I'm sorry, ma'am." He looks at you pleading with his eyes, one of them almost as black as his boots. His exposed hands and forearms are bruised but healing, you reckon the fight he was in must have been a few days ago. His shirt and pants look like they've been slept in for days, the dirt and the grass staining them worse than the sweat. He is wearing an old leather hat, which frames his chiseled face perfectly, tilted enough so you can see his piercing blue eyes. They might be telling you he is a kind man if it were not for the fact that you've caught him stealing.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You try to pretend you're not frightened by the hooligan now standing in your property. You hope your voice is as demanding as his presence.

"Please don't shoot, ma'am. I'm... I'm sorry. I just..."

"You what?" You cock the shotgun with authority.

"I'm- I'm just... I'm so... hungry." His voice quivers as he utters the last word, barely audible. He looks embarrassed to admit it but hopes his honesty is enough to save him from an early grave. He holds still as a sign of cooperation. His manner seems genuine to you, his confession matching his appearance.

You hold your position as you ponder what to do next. The both of you are still enough that you can hear the fire in your hearth inside. You have just finished peeling the potatoes so you can add them to the stew you're making. You were hoping to have enough leftovers for tomorrow, but you guess there's enough dinner for two.

"Do you have any weapons?" You don't lower your voice or your shotgun.

"Just a pocketknife, ma'am." The man seems truthful.

"Throw it." He obeys and the knife lands by your feet on the porch. You pick it up and pocket it next to yours.

"You have anything else?"

"No, ma'am. Just some cigarettes." He reaches for one of his pant pockets and retrieves them, dropping them on the floor. He shows you the other pocket is empty before being quick to remove his boots, showing you he has nothing to hide. His hands return to his sides once he's finished.

"Would you like some food?"

He takes a breath and swallows air at the mention of it. "Yes... Yes, ma'am. Very much so." The threat of the stranger subsides as you now realize you are standing in front of a famished man. You slowly lower your shotgun from your dinner guest. His hands remain upright as he waits for instructions.

"Put your boots on. I need to get inside to finish dinner."

"Yes, ma'am." He is quick to stand in front of you, waiting for permission to climb the stairs. Even with you standing on the porch, he's almost as tall as you. Up close, he's even more handsome than you had realized.

"What's your name?"

"Morgan. Arthur Morgan, ma'am." He tips his hat awkwardly. His gaze is weary but pleading for compassion.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Morgan. My name is Y/N. Please come in. I reckon there's enough food for the both of us." As he climbs the stairs he looks at you like he's being invited to a Saint Dennis' banquet. "Now, don't go thinking it's anything fancy. I don't have much."

"Anything you can give me I'll be grateful till the day I die." He seems just as obedient without a shotgun pointed at him, even though he towers over you. He carries himself with an undeniable raw magnetism, slightly undercut by a sensible restraint, a quiet but powerful virility. You are not immune to its immediate effects.  

"Well, don't die just yet. Don't need any dead bodies on my property." He tries to pretend to be amused but he can only muster an exhale, looking down at you, staring, mouth agape. You're now so close you swear you can smell the whole forest on him. You start to map out the details of his features like constellations in the night sky. You almost reach out your hand to touch them.

You turn around to enter your cottage just as the idea overtakes you. You realize, under the right circumstances, you might be as obedient to him as he's been to you.

"Would you like some water?" you say as you head straight for the kitchen, already reaching for a glass to serve him. His "yes, ma'am" is barely out before he downs the whole glass, letting out slurping noises of urgency and relief. You serve him a few more times before his chugs quiet down and his thirst is quenched. He removes his hat to reveal his sweaty temple and his luscious caramel hair.

"There is a vanity inside if you'd like to wash up while I finish dinner."

"Thank you." He heads towards your bedroom while you put down your shotgun and get the potatoes. Your two-room cottage is quite small, so you can hear him wash while stirring the stew. Water sloshes in the bowl for sometime before it stops. He struggles with something for a while before you hear the brief unzipping of his pants, the quick fastening of his buckle.

He takes his time but he emerges clean, his skin glowing bright by the light of the fire. He has groomed and rearranged his clothes to appear more presentable, his sleeves buttoned and his collar smoothed. He has tucked in his shirt, doing his best to hide the noticeable blood stains. His hair is swept back, you can tell he spent some time trying to comb it with his fingers. He holds his hat in his hands, fidgeting with the brim, patiently waiting for your command, looming over you as you cook. By the attentive way he's looking at you, you wonder if your attraction is reciprocated.

"Nearly done, Mr. Morgan." You raise from the fire to cool yourself as the room heats up with his presence. "I'll just set the table. Take a seat." He watches as you place some of your finest dishes and cutlery, arranging it all as well as you can to impress your guest. You soon pour the meaty stew onto your plates.

He stares at the food on the table for a little while, his mouth salivating at the sight. You figure he hasn't eaten anything for days now, surviving on whatever the forest gifted him. Whatever it was, surely not enough for a man of his stature. He moans after he takes his first bites, each one louder than the last. He tries to eat slowly but soon gives it up, ditching any pretense of civility in favor of sustenance. He holds the spoon for the stew in one hand while holding bread in the other, fetching for more of the other as he eats either one.

You try to eat your own meal as you become enraptured by the spectacle. His animalistic mannerisms are oddly captivating and leave little to the imagination. His piercing blue eyes raise from the food to eye you from time to time, ravishing you as he does his meal.

Arthur is on his fourth plate of stew before he begins to slow down. All the bread you had is gone, much to your regret. After you serve yourself a second helping, you drop the ladle and hear it echo in the nearly empty pot. You finish your meal by you reaching for some fruit for dessert, the last of the apples you were able to reach. You place one in front of Arthur just as he finishes scooping up the last of the liquid on his plate.

"I'm sorry I stole from you." He hangs his head in regret.

"Well, you didn't eat it. So I guess you didn't steal it." The peel of your apple lands as a perfect spiral on your plate.

"You're very kind for feeding me."

"I'd like to think that if the situation were reversed, you'd feed me too."

"I'd be honored if you'd let me repay you, ma'am." You know he means it.

You reach inside your pocket and take out Arthur's pocketknife before you hand it to him. "I'll have to think of something." He grabs the knife and begins to peel the apple as you did. "For now, I think I'll just hear your story."

You're on your second whiskey when you pour Arthur his third, relieved you opened the least expensive bottle. It'll be some time before Arthur gets tipsy given what he's eaten. You, however, have reached your limit.  

He's been telling you about how he was ambushed on the road a few days back. O'Driscolls, he says. A group took him into the forest to beat him and left him to die with just some cigarettes in his pocket, no matches. The hunger wouldn't have been so bad if they hadn't left him without a coat to keep him from the cold. He was losing hope when he stumbled onto your homestead and saw your apples.

You tell him little about yourself and he doesn't inquire much, thinking it's best not to pry. But he keeps staring at you with those hungry eyes of his and you wonder if he can see there's hunger in you too.

When the conversation dies, he rises from his chair to squat by the fire, reaching for a burning twig to light one of his cigarettes. You stare at his broad back, barely covered by his thinly stretched shirt. You wonder how your hands compare to it in size. Perhaps he has constellations on his back that you can map out too. You'd work your way upward, tracing lines with your fingers between his freckles and scars all the way up to his neck, finishing by feeling his big shoulders under your small hands. You'd be interrupted by him swinging you around so he can face to kiss you, passionately and without remorse. He would plant his own large hands on your small shoulders as you feel the weight of his full desire bearing down on you. You'd grab his shoulders again as he enters you.

He rises back to his chair, interrupting your fantasy. "You saved a man from death today, miss. I'm very grateful."

"Well, you just make sure you get some rest tonight. There's plenty of fire to keep warm. And more whiskey too." You lift the bottle to pour him more but he declines. "In the morning, you can take my horse into town. See if you can get in touch with your folks."

"Oh, I can't take more of your generosity, miss."

"Why not? I insist! I won't need the horse for a few days. I might have some money I can lend—"

"I can't possibly accept that, miss." The idea almost offends him.

"Fine, I won't lend you the money. So you'll take the horse then?" You smile as you trick him into charity.

He sighs. "Well, I guess I will." He looks rather defeated.

"Ok, good." You get up. "Now, you stay where you are while I go get linens to make your bed." You rush to your bedroom before he has a chance to object.

You haven't noticed how dark it has gotten until you see the moonlight illuminating your room, bright enough that you can see your way to your dresser. You light the lamp above it and notice the water in the vanity, muddied with dirt and old blood. The towel he used is neatly folded and placed on the dresser, the act of a thoughtful guest. You pick it up to place it with your dirty laundry and you catch a sniff of his smell in it. A mist of wood, grass, and sweat. Without a thought, you linger on it.

You look at your made-up bed and imagine what it would be like to have it drenched with his smell, his sweat staining the sheets after his vigorousness. You wonder if he'd be as loud as he was during dinner or if he would grow quiet, intensely concentrating on his pleasure. Or maybe he'd focus on yours, his lips seducing yours, first above your waistline and then below. Either way, you'd wrap your legs around him, savoring the feeling. You'd grab his shoulders once he'd surface, the two of you connected at the hips, colliding into each other. Afterward, you'd rest in his arms, his broad back taking up most of your mattress. You'd wash the dirty sheets in the morning but they'd still have traces of him. Just like you.

You wake from your stupor when you remember Arthur is outside, waiting for his actual bed to be made. You take from the armoire a blanket and a spare pillow and you wonder if he'll be able to fit in your old davenport. He most certainly will not. He could always take your bed.

You find him standing by the door as if he's leaving. Not courageous enough to leave without a goodbye. He jolts when he sees you emerge from the bedroom.

"Where are you going?"

"Look, miss, maybe it's best if I be on my way. I can walk from here. I'll come back to repay you for your trouble." He looks at you like he's scared of what will happen if you let him stay. You suspect that his head is filled with impure thoughts too, now that the hunger in his eyes is deeper.

"But it's already nighttime. There's no point in leaving now." Please don't leave, you think. You could make it worth his while.

"It ain't proper to bother you no more. Especially a woman by herself."

"It's no bother. Or improper, to help a man in need. Besides, I told you you can borrow my horse in the morning."

"I can't accept that."

"Seriously, Mr. Morgan, take what you need." You go to place the linens on the davenport, which is definitely too small for him.

“I think I've taken enough from you, ma’am.”

When you turn around you see Arthur has already opened the door and is on his way out. You rush to him and without thinking you grab his forearm and force him to turn, his figure filling your doorway, illuminated by the moonlight. He looks down at you, surprised by your boldness, his eyes burning with lust. You feel his heartbeat quicken in your hand.

You're brave enough to caress him with your thumb. "Don't go, Arthur."

He doesn't recoil and looks down at you, clearly wanting to accept your proposition. "It's been a while," he admits. He seems so timid yet so needy.

"Me too."

He hesitates for a few seconds before he finally reaches down to kiss you. His plump lips land on yours, softer than any kiss you could imagine him giving. It's powerful enough to titillate every part of you. You catch the smell of your soap on his skin as he presses closer to you. After a moment, he withdraws, still unsure of himself.

You reassure him again. "Take what you need."

You lose grasp of his wrist and feel both his hands reaching to the sides of your neck. He kisses you deeply now, pushing your lips apart to make room for his. You taste the cheap whiskey you served him when the tip of his tongue reaches yours. You grab onto his shoulders, trying to steady yourself as the pleasure intensifies. They're bigger than you imagined.

You lose yourself in his passion, malleable to his sudden force as he begins to overpower you, wrapping his arms around you while his tongue wraps around yours. He finally starts to take what he needs. You receive what you need, too.

Once he eases on you for a moment, you take the chance to lead him to your bedroom, anxious to enact the dirty daydream you just had in there. He follows your trail while kissing and caressing you, getting more confident as he escalates, gradually lowering his hands, from your face to your shoulders, then to your waist, and to your hips, ecstatically enveloping you. You're by the bed when you feel yourself vibrating with lust for the man that's touching you, getting wetter by the minute.

When your back hits the armoire, his pelvis runs into you and you feel his length already hard against you. You lean into him, savoring the sensation, and you guide his hands to your ass, which he grabs greedily, making you sway closer to him. Both of you exchange gasps in each other's mouths. Like at dinner, he sounds louder with every bite.

As much as it pains you, you slightly push Arthur back to start speeding things along. He watches as you begin to work your blouse, opening the buttons you fastened this morning. If you had known how aroused you'd be tonight, you would never have picked the blouse with so many buttons. You were hoping to strip for him, but your fingers are now clammy from the excitement, so you need an extra hand.

"Help me out, would you?"

He reaches for the button you're trying to undo, the one right between your breasts. Once he has access inside, he gets distracted by the visible part of your tits, already peeking through your chemise. He moves his fingertips over them, touching them delicately. The sensation feels like lightning to you and you let out small whispers of delight. You get louder once you feel his whole hand reaching under the chemise, softly cupping a whole breast, his palm now stimulating your nipple.  

The sensation makes you melt under his touch. In return, you lower your hand to reach the growing erection under his pants, making him draw out a loud groan of satisfaction. You watch as Arthur closes his eyes as you continue to massage him, fully riveted by the sensation. The big size on your hand leaves you no less breathless.

It evidently becomes too overwhelming for him and he abruptly stops you and removes his hand. In a strangled voice, he leans into your ear to whisper. “I think I need another whiskey.”

He goes out the door and you watch as he heads to the table, pours himself a drink and downs it with a frustrated grunt. He pours another, trying to settle his nerves, concentrating on avoiding a premature release. You figure it must be a long while since he's been touched by a woman. His erection must be painfully throbbing by now. He probably has no idea how arousing this is.

You go back in the room to open the drawer of your dresser. You cut the rest of the buttons of your blouse with your scissors, you can always saw them back later. You're finally free to undo the rest of your blouse and remove your skirt and chemise, finally naked and free. You return to your bedroom door to tell Arthur the good news.

You find him staring at the fire as it dies down, the drink still on the table nearby. His shirt has now been removed and so has his modesty, it seems. You watch as he unbuckles his pants and frees himself, at last holding his stiffness in his hand. He takes a moment before he starts pumping, languidly stroking his length while letting out small sounds of relief.

You marvel at the sight of the cowboy letting loose, so you decide not to disturb him. You get wetter at the realization that he's touching an arousal you helped build. Unable to contain yourself, you reach for your own sex, trying to find some much-needed relief. For a few moments, you both touch each other to the same lazy rhythm.

“I can help with that, you know?” You come out of the bedroom once you reach your limit, desperate for his touch.

Arthur freezes in place when he sees you standing there, now fully naked with your hair down. You could swear his cock shifts in his hand at your sight. You join him by the fire and, without permission, you resume his handiwork on your own fist while he lets out his audible approval. He huffs louder when you reach for his tip.

When he seems to unfreeze, he cups one of your breasts, as if to steady himself. He lightly massages your nipple with his thumb as you continue to work on his length.

You continue pumping him, fastening the pace as you feel him panting under you and see him close his eyes. You stop before things get out of control, which brings him back to the room.

"Let's get to bed," you suggest.

You lead him inside until you sit on the edge of the bed. It's now your turn to wait for instructions. But you pick up on some of his earlier hesitation, a man worried about unloading himself on you.

“Take me.” Your tone is almost a pleading one. "Take me, Arthur."

The sound of his name on your lips is enough to rouse him. What follows next is utterly exhilarating as he makes you lie fully on the bed, his hands pushing your shoulders down while his cock presses on your stomach. Once he rises, he instructs you. "Spread your legs for me, girl." You do as your told, trembling at his sudden domineering voice.  

You watch as he stands looming over you, his cock fully erect and twitching with need, an erotic image you won't soon forget. He takes a moment to look at you, spread out with your legs hanging, your core exposed. He's surely saving a picture for himself too.

"Mmm so pretty for me." He reaches down and parts your folds. "So wet for me, too." He drags his index up and down, watching as you writhe under the sensation. You wish that he would linger further on your clit but instead he grabs your hip with one hand and puts the other on his length, aligning the head at your entrance, wetting it with your slick. It's both completely thrilling and not enough at the same time.

"You gonna take me good, girl?" He grips your hip more forcefully. You nod for him as you prepare yourself for what's coming. You hold your arms to the side, just like he did when you were pointing the shotgun at him. Just like him, you surrender.

He enters you messily as he hurries inside, clearly impatient to start. He groans loudly and sloppily, almost like a teenager. You cling to the sheets beside you as you take him, adapting to the feeling of being completely filled. Once he's inside, he takes a second to adjust, clearly savoring being inside another woman again.

"Mmm, so good and tight, girl. Fuck. Fuuuck!"

Once he's fully buried in you, he loses no time and begins to thrust, starting off faster than you expect. He looks at you with unapologetic lust. It takes you some getting used to his rhythm and size, but something about his hungry demeanor arouses you enough to dissipate any discomfort. You soon begin to experience a type of pleasure you haven't felt in a long while.

You can't help but let out whatever moan comes out of you, as your senses surrender to to the hooligan now overpowering you. You have quenched his thirst, relieved his hunger and now you're satisfying his most carnal need. Each time he has repaid you with the most obscene noises and lascivious stares. You hope you're repaying him back in the same way.

His thrusts become erratic, a man in desperate need of release. You try to do your best to please him further, but there's not much you can do once he controls both your hips with his hands, allowing him to bury himself as deep within you as possible. When he further angles down on you, you feel more pressure on your clit, wrapping your knees around him, pressing for more.

His pacing is now reckless as he tries to satisfy his hunger, dripping with sweat over you. You're completely enthralled as this complete stranger fucks you so greedily under the cover of night. You feel yourself getting closer to some edge you barely even knew existed.

By the manner he fucks you, you figure his long-held repression will not make him last long, so you're dismayed but not surprised when you feel him approaching his climax. You haven't reached yours yet, even though you know you're very close. You wish he holds on a little longer, but it's too late once you hear him huff with even less discretion and you feel his muscles tensing around you.

Arthur pulls out of you before he comes, spilling white ropes all over your stomach, stroking his own cock to finish. It's a long and deep orgasm, one he's been needing for sometime. He remains in his position, still holding his cock, mouth opened and eyes closed as he comes down from his high. He goes limp, landing next to you with a thud, exhausted and with his eyes closed, unable to move.

Arthur's climax is no doubt the most erotic one you've ever witnessed and the arousal it creates in you is only a burden once you realize you still haven't orgasmed yourself. You get up to fetch a clean towel, cleaning his spill off of yourself and you watch as he lays there, eyes still closed. His chest begins to settle as his breathing calms.

You get back in bed and kneel beside him, your eyes surveying every part of his incredible physique, his cock now semi-hard after being inside you. You rub two of your fingers in your wetness before you place them on your clit and move them in circles to find your pleasure again. You're still very aroused and it's not long before you feel the beginning of your climax again. You keep staring at Arthur, his body reason enough to titillate you further. You look at his length, already missing having it inside you, so you slip a couple of fingers in you. They're not even close to replacing him but they provide enough pressure to continue building your peak.

You keep watching him and keep thinking of him thrusting into you when you start to let out sharp whimpers, panting as you inch closer to release. They're loud enough to make Arthur wake from his exhaustion and you watch as he props himself up on his elbows, enjoying the view of your self-gratification. But just watching isn't enough for him.

"Let me."

He places his fingers on top of yours, which are now circling your clit at a fast pace. You let him learn the rhythm of the motion and then you remove your hand, squirming as you feel him directly pleasuring you. It happens just in time as it's only a moment until you finally come, erupting wildly under his unyielding touch. He works you through your orgasm until you finally collapse next to him, unconsciously searching for his chest and placing your semi-lucid head there.

You feel him wrap you in his arms, caressing your back as your breathing eases. "That was beautiful, girl."

When you open your eyes after a while, you notice the lamp in your room has gone out and the both of you are now bathing in the moonlight, only accompanied by the sounds of the surrounding forest. You soon notice Arthur's deep breathing under you and you realize he must have fallen fast asleep, exhausted from the ordeal of the past few days, enjoying the safety of your bed. A man now fed, fucked and sheltered.

Although you don't want to, you slowly remove yourself from him. You cover him with your quilt but not before gazing at his full body again, already missing it on top of you. You move to the side of the bed he doesn't occupy, small enough to have you lay on your side by his side. You fall asleep to the sound of his deep loud breathing. Two perfect strangers satiated in the moonlight.

—

It's a regular morning for you, waking up alone in your bed, eyes opened and staring at the wooden ceiling. But this time you feel your insides a little sore, a welcomed reminder of last night. You turn to look at Arthur's place, now empty but his outline still visible on the sheets. You map it with your fingers as you wonder where he is, still burning with the memory of him inside you.

You get up and dress in clean clothes you pick from your dresser, a simple blouse and skirt with fewer buttons, pretty enough that he might like. You tie up your hair in your usual practical bun. You douse some expensive perfume on your neck, a small strand running between your breasts.

You guess it is about seven by the morning's light outside. You step into the porch as you watch Arthur next to the apple tree, in the same spot where you found him yesterday. He's picking the remaining apples on the top and placing them on a basket. The sight of his chiseled body under his clothes is enough to flare the arousal you thought you'd extinguished last night.

He sees you when he retrieves the last apple, perched over a lower branch. He brings you a full basket with a small grin on his face, a man whose basic needs seem to have been entirely fulfilled.

You can't help but smile too. "You stealing from me again, are you?"

"Wouldn't dream of it, miss. Thought I'd finish what I started and get them down for you." He sets the basket at your feet, like an ancient priest offering it to a deity. "Now no one can try to steal them again."

"Wouldn't want any competition, huh?" You tease him as he approaches you, his hands on his hips, sweat running down his brow.

He licks his lips before answering. "No, ma'am. Wouldn't dream of it."

"You hungry?"

"I'm still full after last night."

You giggle slightly at his insinuation before you lead him back into your kitchen to prepare breakfast.

Arthur helps make coffee while you prepare the bacon, eggs and sausages. The meal feels a little off without some bread, but you barely notice in the presence of your company.

Arthur is telling you an amusing story involving a donkey on his passing through Armadillo, letting you peek inside his previous life before he made it to New Haven. It pleases you that he is a traveling man, besides clearly being a resourceful one. He grows quiet when you ask him what he does for a living. You busy yourself with the dishes to dispel the tension brought on by the vague answer he gives.

He gets up to help you clear the rest of the dishes on the table. "I best get going if I'm gonna make it to Valentine before noon."

The mention of him leaving stings you. "You can go get Amber. She's on the stable out back. She's real friendly."

"May I?" Arthur points to the basket of apples and when you nod he grabs two of them, taking a big bite out of one. You see him drool a little before he walks out the door.

You busy yourself with the dishes before he comes back. All the while you feel a pang in your stomach as you think about him leaving, wishing you could spend the night together again. Flashes of last night burst into your consciousness, making you relieve it deliciously. You feel yourself filled with lust again before it's even eight in the morning.

When you catch Arthur leading Amber to your yard, you realize that if he's a man of his word he'll have to come back to return her safely back to you. Maybe you'll cook dinner for him again. Maybe he'll take you once again. You head out for the yard with your mind made up to ask him to come back.

"It's a nice trotter you got here. Well fed too." He pets her neck, much to her delight, and he feeds her the other apple he grabbed. "That's a good girl." His wording sounds like an echo from last night.  

"She like carrots too. I've put some inside, some beans and corn for you too. Don't want you going hungry again." You hand him a satchel you've prepared for his journey into town.

"Much obliged." He nods in thanks and places it on his shoulder, which barely shifts at the weight of it. He steps forward as he begins his goodbye, halting just as he hovers above you.

"I'm very grateful to you, miss. For everything." He whispers the last part as a dirty little secret that only you two share.

"Well, I'm glad I could be of help." You fidget with your fingers, too afraid to ask him to stay, too cowardly to say goodbye.

"I'll come back to bring Amber. And to repay you. I promise." He emphasizes the last part like it's a sacred vow.

Arthur lingers over you and you wait for his next move. It looks like he's going kiss you goodbye but instead he takes a few steps back and mounts Amber instead. He gives you one last look and one last nod before he urges her to trot and you watch as he gallops out of view. His absence leaves you cold and sullen, mended only by the promise of his return.  

You decide not to spend the day wallowing, instead being grateful for the night of passion you just experienced. You set out to do the remainder of your chores before you resume your knitting. When you finish with the kitchen, you tidy up the rest of the living room. You put away the nearly empty bottle of whiskey. You relight the fire in the hearth. You put away the linens on the sofa that have been sitting there all night, unused.

You turn around in your bedroom to find the bed still unmade, his outline still traceable. You go to remove the quilt from the bed when it hits you. You catch a whiff of his smell again, this time all over your sheets, right where he had you. You catch a few stains of dried sweat where both of you laid, asleep and awake. Traces of his spend and your slick. It's his pillow that most delights you as it smells so intensely of him, it's almost like he's there again.

Like he's there again, pushing you downward, telling you to spread, filling you whole. So pretty for me. Taking you, over and over. So good and tight, girl. Fuck. The memory is too strong for you to resist it, so you lay down again, right where he had you. You use your fingers to try to mimic his movements and vigor. You cannot match them, but they are enough to make you come again, this time while he's still inside you, and you repeat his name out loud as you do it. You lay your head on his pillow as you come down to earth again. That was beautiful, girl. You remember his promise to come back, the possibility of him taking you again surely enough to power you until his return.

It's midmorning when you decide to get up and finally change the sheets, as much as it pains you to lose his scent. You decide to leave his pillow untouched, a souvenir of your unexpected affair, now lying atop the fresh bed linens.

You set out to do the laundry, hoping it dries with the afternoon sun. You wash the sheets first, then your clothes and undergarments, followed by the towels. You take a second to look at the embroidery you stitched on the hand towel you used to clean Arthur's seed off of you.

It's only when you see his initials that you think of your husband. 

--

A/N: Already working on chapter 2! Feedback is welcomed!

[lichanicksstuff]

I think it is time for me to elaborate on my GETO IS AN INFJ theory.

(more under the cut)

Starting of with what is INFJ?

For people who somehow don't know, INFJ is a personality type according to the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI). All of the personality types consist of four letters that mean in sequence: introversion(I)/extraversion(E), sensing(S)/intuition(N), thinking(T)/feeling(F), judging(J)/perceiving(P).

INFJ is a short for Introverted Intuitive Feeling Judging.

People who are INFJ are described as quiet, with strong morals and believes that they are able to fight for. They are guided by principles, and human value is one of the priorities (which, in Geto's case, can be interpreted in two ways - non-sorceres, before he turned evil, and his friends that he wanted to protect, after committing mass murder).

INFJs balance on the border between the humanistic and the strict mind, they have an artistic soul and an analytical mind and they tend to demand a lot from themselves. They may show signs of excessive perfectionism and put more into a task than others expect of them.

Don't tell me it doesn't sound like Geto.

And I'm NOT taking that "he became an INTJ after committing genocide" bullshit. INTJ is more logical, analyzing than INFJ who is, after all, a FEELER so they focus more on their feelings than logical thoughts.

Taking the easiest way and deciding to kill all the non-sorcerers is not logical and Geto knows it (we can see it during his conversation with Shoko when she tells him that he's being childish. He knows no one will understand him and he doesn't expect them to). He's aware that he's doing wrong but he does what his FEELINGS tell him to do.

And now, the most convincing part: satosugu.

Satoru is a 100% ENTP. He walks like an ENTP, he talks like an ENTP, he IS an ENTP.

Even if we look at the memes the "INFJ x ENTP" suit the most for satosugu dynamics. LOOK IT UP.

I'm standing with my INFJ Geto theory 'till the day I die.

[daeneryseastar]

Team Green is in the right💚💚💚 they are right no matter what you say.

How dare you say that Tg supports a r*p!st ???🤬

TG DOESN'T SUPPORT R*P1STS, infact, THEY support Rape survivors.

Like Alicent, who had to commit *duty and sacrifice* unlike Rhaenyra. No, she's right in everything, because she did duty and sacrifice.

TG, also supports another rape survivor, Cristin cole!💚💚💚

Did you know that Rhaenyra r*aped criston? Cristin was innocent the whole time, he did nothing wrong because silver princess seduced him.

I can't wait until TG supports other rape supporters. TG is the protecter of r*pe survivors.

So I can't until they support another r*pe victim, dyana. I can't wait to see thier support for dyana in season 2.

TG says they are r*ape victim protectors, didn't they? So wait till they support dyana.

ngl, this DID get me for a second, because this is how they genuinely sound like. they love to preach modern day morality onto characters like alicent and helaena, but suddenly it’s ’you’re not supposed to view the show/book through a modern day lens’ when it comes to rhaenyra.

‘supporters of rape victims’ except the audience not seeing aegon rape dyana on screen means that it didn’t happen, helaena’s implication of being sexually abused by her brother at the dinner scene is ‘taken out of context’ and she actually LOVES her brother, and he her. the only character that they can for sure agree on being maritally raped and abused is alicent, and how dare rhaenyra also be a victim of the men around her, just not in the same palatable way as the other women in her circle who suffer in silence, making it other women’s problems and not their actual abusers?

“she cuckolded her husband and had obvious bastards! she wanted her brother tortured in defense of her bastards! her bastards aren’t human, and by that count, neither is she! she should be grateful that she and her children were only abused for 10+ years by alicent! she should be grateful that alicent was attempting to have her and her kids disinherited, exiled, or even put to death; she was obviously manipulated by the father she hadn’t seen in well over 10 years, it was all him! and daemon!! the guy who she also didn’t see for 10+ years, and never once mentioned outside of episode nine’s ‘rhaenyra will never bend the knee, nor will daemon.’ she’s been terrified of these almost nonexistent men for years, it’s justifiable why she baited her kids against their sister! making herself and her kids enemies of the *one* person who would have the authority to have them killed when she takes the throne! if rhaenyra had been a good girl and done her duty, maybe she would deserve our sympathy! but she didn’t so she deserves to die a horrible and gruesome fate for fighting back! sunfyre ate!”

their support for dyana has already reared it’s rather ugly head, just look at any pro team black comment sections on tiktok or general posts on twitter 🤷‍♀️ very nice of them to be as supportive of dyana as they are of alicent. i mean, just look at the evidence:

this is totally normal behavior.

[bronx-bomber87]

Hello amazing fandom :) I have been itching for this ep since the moment D sent me the ep description for it. I'm glad they didn't spoil much of this ep at all. I have a lot of feelings for this one so might be so mini LOL Off we go.

6x05 The Vow

Oh my lord starting out hot with a romantic dinner and a kiss. Also want to talk about they both light up when they see each other. Like they're still in that honeymoon phase somewhat. They’re both so happy to see each other I wanna die. haha Lucy of course has to question the gift. Saying gift giving is not his love language. Damn they cute. Tim saying he is trying to change things up. I’m squeeing and we’re like less than a minute in everyone.

Damnit he’s so romantic with what the gift is. It’s her radio from last week. Oh my word. Lucy is in awe of this man standing before her. Oh my goodness we get a second kiss I’m squeeing so hard. *screams into a pillow* A thank you kiss no less. Loving how he has his hand wrapped around her arm. Pulling her in close for both misses. You know I should've known this ep was going to hurt with getting two kisses within the span of 3 minutes and a cute ass moment to boot.

Like in a video game where they let you stumble upon a bunch of ammo right before a massive fight scene. You know shit is about to go down with them supplying you like that. How I felt with getting cuteness and two kisses right away. I am so excited Tamara has appeared. Wouldn’t be the return of her if she didn’t cock block them. Tim shaking his head too. Classic. Lucy telling her it’s ok. Also LOVING that they have a pre-planned date night. Be still my heart.

Tim gets his cryptic ass phone call and immediately takes off. Lucy looks crushed for a couple reasons. First that he can’t stay. She was clearly looking forward to a night with her man all day. Second the fact he's so short with her. Breaking my heart 'Just wait.' Her Tim radar is going OFFFF Lucy looks SHOOK with his hasty departure. Her heart just walked out the door and it shows.

Oh my word I knew It would be from his military past. The blind spot for the most part we have with his character. I was hoping it would be. The Tim fan girl in me is psyched af. I was thinking who is this Ray and why is Tim so spooked? Then we find out this dude killed their friends and there’s a promise.... Uhhhh the promise is to kill him? Uh Timothy, my love you are a cop….

Oh Lucy is anxious af without him. Ugh she knows something is wrong immediately. Knows this man too damn well. Side tangent about to start. I know some people complained how long it took for them to get together blah blah. BUT I wasn’t. These moments right here are exactly why.

The fact that the very second he took that call she knew deep in her gut something was wrong with him. That is not a connection you get with someone overnight. That is years worth of working together, leaning on each other, learning about one another and seeing each other through a lot of things together. That connection and instinct on someone is built over time.

The beautiful recipe they have now wasn’t ready till we got close to it in s4 and even then they still had some tweaking to do before we reached S5. That being said I love her missing him. My guess is other than 6x01 they’ve scarcely spent a night apart. Also her Tim radar is going bonkers right now. She looks so sick to her stomach when she hangs up.

Tim seeing Lucy’s call going off and not being able to answer. It's clearly killing him. We see him take a beat and a deep breath. Clearly doesn’t want to be here rather be there with her. Last thing he wanted was his date night interrupted. Also she is his ‘go to’ for pretty much everything. You know its actively tearing him up to not answer her.

Oh my he was called the 'Reaper'? Holy hell why is that so attractive? Everything with Tim usually is. But hot damn that being his nickname in the service? I am fanning myself. Idk if that's wrong but I am haha But it does give us insight to who he was in the service tbh. You don't get called 'The Reaper.' without good reason.... Why Greer thinks Tim is going soft on him.

I do love Tim reinforcing the law also very attractive oh my goodness. You tell ‘em love. I don’t love this guy guilting Tim into keeping this pact. He’s SOOOOO loyal he’s gonna keep to it. Even at his own detriment. The man shoulders SO MUCH he already doesn't need to. Ugh Tim saying they’ve built lives. Yes you have. With Lucy. The love of your life you walked away from tonight to be here right now. After this chat I knew this ep was going to hurt so good. I could feel it.

The jokes in the car are cute was hoping he’d ask Tim about Lucy. Sadly we didn't' get this. This whole situation makes me nervous af. God Tim looks extra fine in this episode street clothes on him are a wonder. A delicious one.

My god this list of crimes this guy has done sweet lord. Stole money. Called in an air strike on his own men when they came for him holy shit …Wasn't enough to bury in a shoe box.....fuck they both lied to get Ray’s wife and kid death benefits and if they bring him in it’s a problem.

Crap this is so bad Tim... Saying they’ll get fired from their current jobs and be dishonorably discharged from the service. I’m nervous…this isn’t a good situation. Also not surprised in the least he broke the rules to take care of someone. That empathy of his ran deep before it got buried by his Isabel trauma later on.

First off let me say Eric KILLED ME in this scene. I was tearing up at how tore up he is about all of this. Tim wanting to take the fall.... Damnit Timothy you have a life too. Don't fall on your sword my god imma cry. Tim’s integrity is one of his sexiest traits IMO. I too have a deep sense of integrity drives everyone I work with insane. He’s in tears saying he would arrest him. Oh my word. I'm crying again. Eric killing me softly holy hell. I'm so mad at Greer for putting that on him. I had a bad feeling about Greer the minute he guilted Tim into this side OP.

How dare you put that on my Tim. He already has so much on his soul. A chunk of it not even his fault. The man is a deeper empath than he gets credit for. He absorbs the feelings and pain of those around him and shoulders things he doesn't need to. I'm learning in therapy I do the same thing. My therapist told me one thing to be empathetic. It's another to feel responsible for other's feelings or the outcome of actions I've taken and how it affects others. I feel like Tim is the same way. He's such an empath he's taken that responsibility to the extreme and is carrying things he doesn't need to be.

I wanna hug him oh my god. His sigh when Greer left. My heart. I'm sure part of the reason he's hiding this from Lucy is the shame he feels. This man (Ray) stole half a million from the government then bombed his own people on his watch. Tim breaks the rules to make sure his widow and child are taken care of and its bites him in this ass. There is a reason he was/is so damn rigid as a cop. 'Rules matter boot.' His PTSD in a line. Anytime he has let his guard down and skirted the rules people have been injured (Mitch) or in this case killed. Ugh. My poor boy. The hitch in his breath like he couldn't breath that entire convo. I'm hurting so much for him in this episode.

Poor Lucy kept it together at work but lost it when he finally gets home. That look of hope when he walks through the door then instant anger. ‘Telling me you’re alive is not optional.’ Ugh she’s not wrong....I can only imagine what her anxiety was doing to her until he walked through that door. It's shown in her lines above. Her imagining him bleeding out somewhere.

She is not wrong it wasn't ok he didn't even tell her he was alive. I get why he didn't but he should've. Lucy straight confronting him. Asking him what the actual hell is going on with him? No one knows you better than her. You can't hide what you're going through. Tim of course wants to protect her from being fired and refuses to tell her what he's torn up about. Only alluding to it's serious enough if she knows she will be jeopardizing her standing at work.

Her saying 'Then what are you doing here?' God damn Lucy... telling it like it is. Holy hell. Poor Tim is so taken aback by her response. He breaks my heart when he says 'I came to see you.' Lucy has become his safe place. His comfort zone. So by default he came here to seek that comfort. She is home now and he came home. But she can’t comfort you when she doesn’t know what to comfort you for. This scene hurts to watch. Because he is DYING for her compassion, her warmth and just her. He is denied access because she is setting a boundary with this as she should. Tim needs to share the load with her. To tell her the truth. She is willing to risk her standing for him.

My god if she actually knew she would be kicking herself for how much he needs her right now. But she doesn't know so she sends him away. The tears in both their eyes His 'Understood'. Man is about to cry in front of her. I’m dying. Someone revive me. I’m dead and not in a good way. I’m crying. Eric and Melissa out here crushing it though. Gah Tim would rather blow them up and protect her than not ugh Timmmmmmm I get both sides of this. Tim thinks since this is pre-Lucy and could get her in trouble he needs to bear this alone. When she is begging him to let her share the load of this. Sending him away is her setting a boundary. That he needs to think not just of her but of them. To tackle things together. To stop protecting her.

They’re both hurting in this scene. But the issue at hand still is them only thinking in terms of 'Me' not us. Even though when one of them does this it’s to protect the other. That’s fine and dandy but when it come to them as a whole it’s a problem. Shit hits the fan they eject away thinking that’s the best course of action. It’s been an issue for some time this lack of communication. This is just bringing it to a head. They don’t think how can we tackle this together? They think how can I protect my person from this? Or protect their feelings by lying.

Also think that radio being in this scene was there for a reason. That radio is the representation of Lucy not telling Tim exactly how not ok she was in 6x04. She was so willing to pretend she was ok. And instead of leaning on him. Voicing that so they could tackle it together. She ran into the line of fire recklessly instead to prove herself worthy again. Almost killing herself in the process. Because she was in her head instead of communicating to Tim. These two gonna be death of me...

Wanna hug Lucy. She is desperate for any kind of help. So she reaches out to Nolan. John per usual is completely useless for her in a crisis. Man is as useful as using a fork to eat soup. These are the moments I miss Jackson for Lucy so much. He would’ve had a much better an answer. Then just ‘you're shit out of luck.’ That’s not enough damnit.

Nolan basically saying. "What are you gonna do?' with a shrug. If I could clock you John I would. I don't normally watch the preview for the next ep till I'm done assembling my thoughts. But with this one I couldn't wait. This is why Lucy goes to Angela next week about Tim instead. She needed a real grown up to help her with Tim.

We rejoin Lucy looking at her phone. Trying so damn hard not to reach out. To be the trusting girlfriend for her man. I know we're in a bad spot but Lucy calling Tim 'her man' gah yes please more of that. I am grateful for Tamara. She needs her right now since Nolan is useless af. Lucy is trying so very hard not to spiral out atm. She confronted him and it didn't go well. Lucy is feeling at a loss right now and rightfully so. I adore Tamara for making her laugh in this moment so very much.

The lesson's Tamara has learned is too damn cute. I loved it so much. Lucy needed this moment of levity and her pseudo daughter crushed it. We pan back to Tim also starting at his phone wanting to call. Ugh Tim what are you gonna do babe? You can’t kill him. Can’t turn him in. I feel sick lol Also once again amazing song to close it out. I watch the ep with my gaming headphones on. One because I love hearing Eric’s voice straight in my ears not gonna lie. Don’t judge me ha Also catch onto music more so with them on.

But back to the matter at hand…Now do I think they’re gonna break up cause he’s gonna protect her? I don’t. Their angst since they got together has always been productive. Is it gonna hurt like a son of a bitch before we get there? Yes.

My hope is this drives them to depend on one another more and not just straight protect each other at the detriment of the one they're ironically trying to protect. Better communication which has been an issue for some time. To learn to face these challenges not only head on but hand in hand while they do so. These are the types of things they need to learn before their relationship gets any more serious than it is tbh. So while this hurts like a lot it'll be good for them in the long run.

This season has EXCEEDED my expectations ten fold. If you aren't happy with this season idk what will make you happy tbh. I said the same thing about S5 as well. I cannot wait for next week. Which I am hoping is full of worried/feral Lucy and their reunion and growth from it. Phew feel free to comment any theories or thoughts on my first take thoughts I love them so. Also thank you everyone supporting these mini reviews you're amazing and makes the effort always worth it.

Side notes -non Chenford

Ok Aaron seeing his therapist at the bar excited for him I knew low key there would be something there.

Bailey and John seem so cold I know they’re on duty but even grey held his wife’s hand at the hospital…

Of course Smitty takes his break at a therapist office

Lucy’s joke about Celina omg LOL I'm impressed with such a solid joke when she was low key worried the love of her life was dying in a ditch somewhere...

Also clearly his therapist is a lying liar who lies but how can she not be? She's his therapist and WORK one at that. Be interesting to see how this unfolds.

[nottoonedin]

An ALNST Theory/Hypothesis/Over-analysis/Interpretation of events

AKA: Me slowly descending into madness over an animated web series-

(Btw this is mostly just for fun, don't take it too seriously lol)

(TW: Death, Blood)

Long post warning:

I assume we've all seen the newest posts that Vivinos has put out on their YT community tab (or wherever you get your ALNST updates), and the one that everyone is obviously talking about is the post titled <CURE>

And.. yeah, of course, just goes to show that Round 6 is just around the corner (I am screaming internally) and the attention is going to be focused on Ivan and Till, and how their story will progress (or end, depending on if someone's gonna die, which seems likely, unfortunately).

But the post that really caught my attention.. was this fucking post:

When I first saw it, in my mind I thought ''Haha, how cute and goofy! This is exactly how I saw their dynamic!'' and went on with my day.

But after thinking about it for a while, my brain decided to think up this wonderfully awful thought:

''What if Hyuna (unintentionally) had a hand in what happened to Hyun-woo?''

Now, at first, this sounds fucking crazy. The general consensus (from what I've seen) is that Luka killed Hyun-woo. But I do see some parallels between this post and the incident in Round 5 which might help explain what actually happened, but first:

Why I don't think Luka would have been able to kill Hyun-woo:

Luka is DEFINETELY not known for his muscles or strength, I mean look at him:

He's like a sickly Victorian child, not to mention his asthma, chronic migraines and heart disease. I don't believe Hyun-woo has any health problems (not that I know of anyways), so I feel Luka would have a hard time trying to push Hyun-woo over so he'd fall onto a rock. To put it simply, Hyun-woo could most likely beat Luka in a fight, unless someone interfered in some way...👀

Luka's ''fighting'' tactic:

With the parallels between The Trio doodle and Round 5, I've noticed there's a pattern with how Luka gets rids of his ''opponents'', be it on stage or outside of it (*cough* Hyun-woo *cough cough*).

He initiates the attack, it being mentally or physically depending on his opponent. He's subtle about it however, the only one being aware of his antagonism being the one he's antagonising, preserving his perfect, can-do-no-wrong persona.

2. Obviously, the opponent retaliates. But, of course, Luka expects this, it's what he wants, after all. He knows he'll be seen as the victim by onlookers. How could anyone hurt such a precious, weak, defenseless little guy??🥺🥺He doesn't even bother to fight back at all (may be too weak to).

3. A stronger force, seeing Luka in ''distress'', steps in and takes care of the attacker (the opponent), avenging Luka, who they see as the victim. He isn't the type to do it himself, letting others do his dirty work.

Now, let's apply this to the flashback in the All-In MV..

What may have happened to Hyun-woo:

Luka may have said something to Hyun-woo that deeply distressed/angered him, or perhaps Hyun-woo knew about what Luka did to Hyuna.

2. Angry, Hyun-woo attacks Luka.

(I'd also like to note that in this frame, Luka looks more like he's just had someone pulled off him, rather than he's just attacked and pushed someone over onto a rock.)

3. Hyuna finds Hyun-woo attacking Luka and, naturally seeing Luka as the victim, tries to break them apart (which would have been hard if Hyun-woo was super pissed). There's a struggle, and.. well...

Hyuna accidentally kills Hyun-woo, which doesn't bother Luka. Just means his opponent has been eliminated. As far as he's concerned, Luka wins.

Final Thoughts:

Does this theory leave a lot of questions? 100%. For example, if this theory was true, why would Hyuna be so angry at Luka? Does she later find out about his manipulative nature? How? On the stage perhaps? I find this unlikely, however, since I don't believe Hyuna ever went on stage and escaped beforehand, due to a post Vivinos made a while back:

Can this theory be easily debunked? Oh, ABSOLUTELY (I hope it is debunked in canon, to be honest lol). But it does give ideas for some angsty fanfics, I believe hehehe-

For real though, Alien Stage is all up to interpretation. Some questions may never be answered. It leaves room for different ideas, which is one thing I love about the series. <3

Thank you for reading my batshit little ramble/theory!! Hope ya'll have an awesome day/night!

[patchiko]

comic!jason todd x m!indie rock singer/guitarist reader

cold weather - glass beach

1:08 ──⚬──── 2:18

⇆ ◃◃ ıı ▹▹ ↻

🪐⁠☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ warnings ; sfw (none)

…

🪐⁠☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ contents ; hc’s totally not based off glass beach lyrics haha thats so cheesy whaat lololo…

I love the way you make me feel when I’m staring at my screen.

At 4AM, trying not to fall asleep

And you hit me up just to see if I’m OK

JASON TODD CODED SOOO BAAADD

literally how the crushes form for both sides

jason has like an inner psyche where he just fuckin knows when youre awake

if you ask him he’ll probably say something stupid like ‘i can hear your (guitar)/(voice)’ and he’s nowhere around you

and his heart throbs whenever you two stay texting for waayy tooooo loonggg, starts cheesing and shit

NEERRRDD

average jason todd text

When I keep you up sending Mamegoma Lines

You know it's shit like that that makes me wanna be alive

JASON TODD CODED LINE. CANON CANON.

he responds through his helmet while he’s kicking ass

it gets so common to a point where he ends up having a full blown convo w/ you using those stupid fuckin stickers

bug him late at night !!

he’ll tell you to gts but he’d be lying if he says it doesn’t make his heart melt when u send him these little fucks.

So I'll call in sick again just to spend the day with you

100% he’ll call a day off to hang with you

whether its showing up to your show then hitting a bar, 100%,

i need jason todd in a relationship where he just drops everything for his s/o,

fuck the mission!! he wants to listen to those fucking vocals for an hour or you shredding ur guitar!!

he’s fucking around in an arcade with you till 11pm

hes a little ass at mario kart, better with motorcycle games,

BRING HIM TO ANY SHOOTER ONES WHERE U HOLD THE GUN AND UR GETTING WAAAASHHHEDD.

he has the most fun with the halo ones or the walking dead ones

weirdly good at the multiplayer pacman games

AMAZING AT GALAXIA ILL DIE ON THIS HILLL

Wanna say I think it's so gay that we really both feel the same way

That I feel like we're more than just friends

It took too long to realize

I didn't miss the cold weather, I just missed you

Jason was never homophobic and or totally against the idea of him being gay

i dont think he was ever in a gay relationship b4 you two

bc most of the vigilante guys he met were trying to fight him or absolute dick heads,

n’ most of the male figures in his life weren’t the absolute best.

so there wasn’t tooo much room for crushing on a guy too easily

if you’d ask him abt his sexuality its smthn like ‘i think im straight but i dunno what if im not.’

heres how i think it starts ;)

you’re preforming at a bar, n’ ofc jason todd can admit when a guys cute/attractive, any guy could do that

and maybe its ur guitar or your vocals but he cant stop watching (he convinces himself its your talent which is reasonably not gay)

maybe one coincidence leads to another and you two chat and go out at times, he pulls up to your shows more.

and the whole time he thinks he’s just acknowledging that your a very attractive person,

notthin crazy to admit ya homie has mad kisssble lips after starin at them for a sec too long. lol. haha. hm.

and i think the thought really hits him when he’s out of gotham for a mission. and he’s craving your presence

he texts you but you dont respond, fuck right you have a show and the timezone difference—

n he gets fuckin, ANTSY and SAD.

he tries to smoke a cig to fuck off

but he cant stop thinking about that one night where he brings you to his favorite rooftop view of the city,

how those sly stupid jokes slip from your mouth like honey,

the way you glance at him and the moonlight on your skin

how he got that random need to just lean into your lips

and— (GAY REALIZATION PANICC) <- link

'Cause I don't need the cold weather like I need you

And I don't need the sweater weather I just need you

Na na na na na na na

Na na na na na na na

Na na na na na na na

Fuck! Hahahaha

hes unlabeled your honor.

[nanasdumbworld]

Darling: The Tape.

Miguel O'Hara x SpiderWoman!reader

Summary: Miguel knows Spider-Woman's past (reader) and he's afraid of losing her, so he gets a little bit overprotective.

Warnings: Mention of blood, angst, mention of death and betrayal. no use of (Y/N) instead, the reader will be called "Darling", this one shot is inspirated on Henry's speech (Fnaf) lmao

A/N: English is not my first lenguage, i truly apologize if there is a mistake with the grammar. Thank you for reading, enjoy! <3

"You're not going to the mission" he hissed. The woman did not understand why Miguel has been harsh on her.

Miguel didn't know when he started to overprotect her. It was probably that time she almost died on a mission or probably when he found out that she already died once back in her universe. In fact, that dead was a canon event.

Darling's life was really complicated to explain, she grew up in a toxic household where all her family members were villians (except for her father) and ironically she became SpiderWoman. Obviously no one knew about it, her mother didn't knew that the person she hated the most was her youngest daughter.

Unfortunately, Darling was murdered by her own family, while trying to stop the collider created by a corrupt company called Alchemax. Her mom wanted to conquer other universes in order to became powerful.

After a hideous fight, although she stopped them, it was to late. She was pierced by her mother's goblin glider.

The fifteen-year-old girl died under the cold rubble of the company.

Days later, she was found by her father and brought to his lab.

For ten years, he was trying his best to bring her back to life , he tried everything and until he made it.

....

Miguel never cried since "that" happened till he found a video tape, that belonged to Darling's father. The tape was called "To my daughter" and it began by showing a tired man with teary eyes. He grabbed a piece of paper that it seem to be a letter and began to read it.

"My daughter, if you can hear me, i knew you would return as well. It's in your nature to protect the innocent. I'm sorry that on that day, the day you were shout out and left to die, no one was there to lift you up into their arms the way you lifted others into yours, and then what became of you. I should've known you wouldn't content to disappear, not my daughter. I couldn't save you then, let me save you now. I'm pretty sure you'll wake up, but you can't stay here for so long. Your mother escaped and i'm afraid she won't stop until she gets what she wants. I love you. I'll always do." The man burst into tears and ended the video.

Yes. That was the reason he didn't let her go. Her mother was the mission.

For him, she was a very important person. For nothing she was one of the people who helped him when he caused that infamous anomaly that took away his daughter. He had to help her too.

He must.

[moonlight-prose]

HURT

➝ 01. THE CURSE OF THE FOLD

a/n: apocalyptic stories are probably one of my favorite genres to write, because angst is my bread and butter. so here i am writing the angsiest fucking story ever. i've plotted it entirely and worked on it while waiting for the show to drop to finally post this. so hopefully you enjoy. (this takes place about ten years before the last of us.)

summary: you were alone; watched everyone you love die or you killed them yourself. and you thought it would remain that way forever...till him.

word count: 6k+

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: not sexually explicit but still 18+ (READ AT YOUR OWN RISK BUT BE AWARE), gore, violence, tw blood, angst, death, assault, one bed trope, gratuitous prose about the apocalypse setting, probably ooc writing for joel, more angst. please let me know if i missed anything.

next chapter | series masterlist

You were going to die. That was no longer a concept that you found to be impossible in your early stages of life. No, you knew you would die sooner rather than later. You knew that survival was a thing to strive for and death had become something to welcome. When the world turns to shit, leaving humanity on their own to fight against monsters, death didn’t seem so scary in the long run.

It became peaceful—an end that you found to be the better option. You’d rather die by the hands of humans or your own than become one of those things. Turning wasn’t the way you’d go. It was brutal and horrific; left more heartache behind than the desired numbing sensation you hoped came with death. No, you refused to become something that was no longer deemed a human, but was now viewed as a monster. 

This was a promise you made to yourself ten years ago and even now as you stared down the barrel of a gun, you knew you made the right choice. Death would be swift—an end to your life that you found satisfaction in—rather than something you feared every fucking day.

You’d stopped on your journey in an attempt to find a safe situation for the night. One that wouldn’t leave you running in the morning; for a brief moment you figured this town would do the trick. You could hide out until the sun came up and finally find a few peaceful hours of sleep. There was no one around for miles (at least you assumed as much) and what few infected were around you could handle yourself. You weren’t the best with a gun, but you could protect yourself when your life was on the line.

If only you had kept going, then maybe you wouldn’t be in this fucked situation.

The scent of gunpowder burned in the air, the potent bitterness of blood mixed with it—creating a lethal combination. You ran out of bullets two dead bodies ago—reaching for the fallen weapon by your side when three more men came out of the darkness. Their faces were covered by dirty worn-in bandanas with only their eyes showing, illuminated by the dim lights of the moon, but it was in their eyes that you saw the truth. They were hollow. Just like the other three men who thought they could come after you. Their souls disappeared a long time ago, only to leave the remnant of a human shell that was forced to do things in order to survive.

This particular sight wasn't unusual to you in the slightest.

You’d seen the best of people become tainted, broken. After all, you were one of them. The consequences of this fucking virus reached you as well; tearing the life you built up to pieces. Leaving you to watch the ashes of what came before float in the air. 

You were the veteran of a war without end. A survivor of the life that only wished to see you gone and buried. The longer you looked at them—the man you figured to be the leader stepping forward—the more you understood why humans did what they did.

They were an idiotic group of people that let things fester; that would watch the world burn ten times over before helping those around them.

He gripped your hair, yanking it until your hoarse scream of pain echoed in the night air. The barrel of the gun was shoved beneath your chin, his dark eyes watching in glee as you struggled. He loved to feel the rush of power, watching as people grew helpless to his actions. You understood that just from looking at him. Yet another pathetic man that believed he could take what he wanted from someone traveling alone. So you stopped fighting. You froze in his hold, fixing him with a smile so sweet he could have sworn it was made of sugar cane.

“You’re afraid to die,” you said softly, wincing when his hold tightened.

“Shut the fuck up,” he spit, his voice was deep yet ingrained with the hesitation of a man who didn’t like that you touched so close to the truth.

You knew this game. A sick and twisted version of a power play in order to believe that they held the upper hand in this situation. When in fact that remained far from the truth. Though you held no weapon, no more chances of survival—you had something they didn't. You didn't fear what came next. It was a better deal than this shit one right here.

Your heart slowed to a steady beat; the welcoming hope re-entering your heart with each baited breath you took. When would he finally pull the trigger? When would you finally have peace? When would the pain—the torture—finally cease? You hoped the lingering questions all came with the same answer. Soon.

"Go ahead," you prompted, going so far as to tilt your chin in his direction—feeling the press of the gun's barrel dig deeper into your skin.

His finger hovered over the trigger, before—much to your dismay—he pulled it away. "You're feisty." You heard the jeering laughter of his friends in the background. "How about we just bring you with us?"

Your stomach dropped. A new unlocked fear sending a chill down your spine. There was always something worse than being turned into a monster, always something far more horrific than not dying by your own hands. It was being trapped in a cage with no lock and no key to get you out.

Fighting against his hold, you tried to grab the gun on the ground, but he yanked you back—the disgusting scent of his breath washing over your face. "Looks like I found what you're afraid of."

"Fuck you,” you spit in his face, struggling against his hold. You refused to be taken, to be treated like an animal put up for slaughter.

He merely laughed, his hold on you tightening with each twist of your body. Dropping your weight, you waited for him to jeer at his friends before slamming the heel of your boot into his foot. As expected, his arms fell away from your body, a howl of pain splintering through the night air. It was enough for you though. He may look tough, but he didn’t seem to be able to handle pain so easily. Yanking yourself free, you felt a cold chill wash over your body as the adrenaline spiked in your body—telling you to keep going. To fight until you were finally free.

Three against one wasn’t entirely in your favor, but you held one thing close to your heart—a belief that would keep you going till your last breath. If there was nothing else to fight for—no one else—then you would fight for yourself. For the past you that used to be desperate for a life, for meaning and purpose. Those two words didn’t mean jackshit anymore in this fucked up world, but to you it meant everything.

Grabbing the metal pipe that looked like it was torn off of a plumbing system, you put what little skill you had in your swing. Really it extended to one softball game in highschool, where you ended up with a ball to the face and a measly participation trophy. You barely had time to even swing the bat before chaos ensued. But it was enough for you.

Lining up your hit you swung.

The pipe hit with a sickening crack against his face, a splatter of red falling to the floor as he fell to one knee. You were pretty sure that you loosened a tooth in his rotten mouth and had half a mind to tear the rest out with your bare hands. His buddies began to advance, their makeshift weapons being pulled from their sides as they spit curses your way. The words of your father echoed in your mind as you took another swing, hitting against one’s side, jamming your elbow into his throat when he curled in on himself.

If you find yourself in a fight, you never let them take you out first.

“Piece of shit,” you snarled, your already bloody and raw fist slamming against the side of his face.

“Grab her arms dumbass!”

Ducking under their outstretched arms, you fumbled with the small screwdriver you found on a trek through one of the houses. With a huffed out breath, you jabbed it into the third guy's armpit, grinning at his cries of agony. He fell to his knees, trying very carefully to take it out without killing himself. Giving you enough to run outside.

The cold air was sharp in your lungs, the anxiety of the situation now rushing through your veins and causing your heart to beat erratically. But you were free.

“You fucking bitch!” The main man roared, his boots thumping harshly against the cracked cement.

Sprinting, you tried to keep a quick pace down the empty street, but the fear of running into anything overlapped the fear of dealing with an already injured man. So, like an idiot you stopped. He was limping, a gash stretching across his cheek and turning his pale skin red. A feral anger flashed in his eyes like an animal hunting its prey; coming in for the final kill. You knew he could practically taste your blood on his tongue.

Your chest heaved, the breath leaving you faster than you could keep it in your lungs, but you wouldn’t go quietly. That was a death you would not accept. No, he’d take you down fighting until you eventually dragged him down to hell right alongside you. If you couldn’t survive, you’d leave behind something to remember. Your hands curled into fists, teeth baring as you watched him approach slowly. The energy in your body was beginning to wane, exhaustion seeping in, but you kept your stance.

Forever choosing to be stubborn.

You never expected the loud bang of a shotgun to go off behind you. The man fell back, his head hitting the sidewalk with another crack—turning the asphalt a darker shade of black. Fear shot down your spine, the realization that you couldn’t fight against someone with a gun while you stood with nothing. You remained still, frozen and watching in horror as the man who nearly ended your life was wiped from this planet entirely. In a way you were relieved, but the knowledge that someone else was walking up to you quickly dampened that feeling instantly.

“You okay?”

The man’s voice was deep, gruff, with a southern drawl you’d heard once before in college. You couldn’t respond—your heart still lodged in your throat. If you were in the right state of mind, you’d say your body was going into shock. His boots stopped a foot away from you, calling your attention as he stood, the shotgun still gripped tightly in his hands. 

For a brief moment you allowed your eyes to trail up his figure. Taking in the dirty brown leather jacket that looked like it’d seen better days, jeans with a sewn up hole in the knee, and a black t-shirt. You barely skimmed his face, drinking in his slightly graying dark hair and scruff before he was asking you another question.

“Did he hurt you?” His eyes were focused on the blood that stained your once clean shirt.

“It’s not mine,” you said softly, the panic now wearing off—relinquishing its hold over your body.

He nodded, his brown eyes fixing back on yours. “Are there more?”

“Not anymore,” you replied, staring at the house in the distance.

Oblivious to the slight hint of surprise in his eyes, you felt him step closer. To which you responded by stepping back, keeping the distance as much as possible. You didn’t need to fight another man tonight, who’s weapons far outweighed your own fighting capability. But then he raised his hands as if in surrender. He held his ground, waiting for you to come back to the present, before trying once more to take a small step in your direction.

This time…you let him.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.”

How could you be so sure that his words were the truth? There was a small voice in the back of your head that told you to keep running. Run until you had no choice but to stop. Till you were finally safe from the dangers of this world. Yet you knew that danger was everywhere, plaguing the very ground you walked on and this man…had just saved your life.

Rarely did you find people who wished to help you. Who were simply there as a stroke of luck in your seemingly endless string of awful situations. Once you used to run with people, be a part of a group that watched your back as intently as you watched theirs. But pain and grief seemed to follow you like a ghost. Haunting every turn you made on this never ending journey.

Voicing your thoughts, you fought back against the urge to flee. “You just shot a man and you’re telling me you won’t hurt me?”

“A man who was trying to kill you.”

He had you there.

“What’s your name?” you asked, quickly glancing in the distance—wary that something would come from the darkness.

“Joel.”

You met his brown eyes again. “Why are you here?”

He shrugged, turning away from your scrutinizing gaze. You made his skin itch with just that single look, but he could recognize the underlying fear that flared every now and then in your eyes. A look he once wore when all this shit started. Joel didn’t get scared very often anymore, having seen his fair share of horrors. But seeing you stand there helpless, yet ready to die fighting tooth and nail, made his heart lurch in a way it hadn’t in sometime.

“I could ask you the same thing.” He hiked his bag up higher on his shoulder, catching the way the fading sunlight began to dip below the houses. Casting the both of you in darkness. “Why were you running?”

Scoffing, you crossed your arms against your chest. “Usually when people try to kill me I run.”

Thankfully he didn’t question what was the motive behind their intentions. Already understanding most of it. Once again he glanced at the sky, knowing that if you didn’t find shelter soon you’d be knee deep in shit. He didn’t want that to be how either of you ended. So, he turned away from you, gesturing for you to follow him. If you were smart you’d do it without question, but Joel had a feeling you were stubborn down to your core.

“Where are you going?” you called out, confirming his suspicions with only a few words.

He nearly chuckled. “Finding shelter for the night.”

Catching up, you fell into step beside him. “You won’t kill me right?”

That time he chuckled; the sound striking you in your heart unexpectedly. “You sure are untrustworthy aren’t you?”

“Yeah well…” You fiddled with the strap on your nearly torn backpack. “I haven’t trusted anyone in a while.”

Neither had he.

He didn’t say it outloud though. Joel already knew what came upon those that dared to open themselves up in the midst of anguish. He’d been on the receiving end of that pain and chose to close himself off to it. It would help him more in the long run, than letting the feeling dig its way into his heart. Gnawing away at his insides like a meal.

What he was doing now…keeping you close when in fact you may very well kill him, wasn’t like him. He had half a mind to keep going—leave you here to fend for yourself. But then his eyes met yours, and there was that look. That pain he knew too well. Back when he thought he was going to die without a way to save himself.

He saw himself in you and maybe that’s why he allowed you to traipse along beside him.

You didn’t take kindly to people very often. Preferring to go it alone after what happened with the people you once knew, and this was no different. Staying with him for one night before parting ways would mean nothing to you in the long run. Just another stranger you passed by in the hopes of finding somewhere safe to land. You hoped that this town would be it; that you wouldn’t have to go anywhere for a long time. But the blood on your shirt continued to prove you wrong.

“There’s a two story house about a block away with a fence going around the property.”

He nodded, changing directions and heading towards the old brown building that had seen better days. The windows were broken, the front yard overgrown with weeds, and you weren’t sure if the door worked. It would have to do for the night. You couldn’t risk staying out in the open. Not when those men had found you so easily as they were passing through.

The scent of pine filled your nose as you stepped towards the black gate covered in dead vines. A large tree stood in the center of the yard—beautiful amidst the destruction caused by the world falling to pieces. You wondered what it used to look like—who lived here—before you pushed open the gate. The loud creak echoing in the night air, sent chills down your spine. Perhaps the ghosts of the owners still resided here. Wandering the halls of their former home in the hopes of finding some serenity in the chaos.

Or perhaps…they were infected.

That thought alone nearly made you back away from the property, but Joel walked right in. He seemed to hold no qualms about the building or its past. To him it was just a place to stay until he had to move right along to the next one. He held no permanency in this world—not anymore—and it had been a long time since he hoped for some.

Staying somewhere permanent always ended in death. Or at least that’s what he believed.

“You never answered my question,” you said, following him slowly up the path and to the front porch that was caved in at one spot.

The door opened with a similar haunting creak, similar to the gate; filling your senses with a musty scent of old furniture and molding wood. He crossed the threshold without another word, his hand still gripping the shotgun’s strap on his shoulder. If you were smart, you’d part ways with him right here. You would find a different house to stay in for the night before leaving this place behind when the sun rose. Yet the lingering feeling from earlier still remained in your chest.

If he wanted to kill you, he wouldn’t have saved you.

“Looks old,” you noted, staring at the furniture in what once was a put together living room. Now the couches were torn up, most likely by animals, and the floorboards had water damage to them.

A ripped painting hung above the mantle on the fireplace, small pieces of the original owners coming through strokes of a brush. You caught a glimpse of a girl with red hair and blue eyes. A woman with the exact same features on the other side. A tear went through the middle, severing the young boy and man. Turning the painting into something else entirely.

The sound of his footsteps bounced off the wooden walls as he came downstairs again. Catching you staring at the painting with an intensity in your eyes that he’d never seen before. For a moment he left you alone. Gave you this time to linger in the space of what once was—what would never be again. He used to be torn up about things like this, but eventually he learned that the past would never change, and the future was nothing but a continuous fight for survival.

Eventually he cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him. “There’s a bedroom upstairs still in pretty good shape.”

You nodded, moving away towards the stairs. “What are the chances of this house still having running water?”

“Slim.”

Something about that response made you smile. You couldn’t put your finger on why, but you took it for what it was.

The bedroom still looked relatively normal, despite the torn comforter and water stained ceilings. The musty smell still remained—the copper scent from blood on your shirt not helping. You wondered if you’d get lucky and find clothes in the closet. Or at least a shirt that could act as a replacement. You made sure to make a mental note to check for that later.

“You can uh—you can take the bed.”

Once again your lips twisted up into somewhat of a grin. “Thank you,” you replied softly, glancing his way briefly.

You’d remember him for his kindness. 

That was evident in your mind as you moved towards the bathroom. In all your years of surviving, you’d never taken so quickly to a person. For some unknown reason it felt like you’d known each other for some time—already acting like you’d been on the same journey together. When in fact he would leave tomorrow (as would you) and you’d be lucky if you came across each other again.

Maybe in another life, you mused.

Sure enough, no water came from the sink. You sighed, dropping your head forward as an ache began to spread through your forehead. What you wouldn’t give for an aspirin right about now. Shit, what you wouldn’t give for a stiff drink and a good night’s sleep. They were luxuries you hadn’t partaken in since the world was normal. When you were younger and life still had a bright hue of color about it.

You sighed, scrubbing a hand down your face before exiting back to the bedroom. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his bag on the ground by his feet and shotgun across his lap. The single sight made you think about a sculpture you’d seen in a class you’d taken before the world fell apart. Of a man sitting in the hand of god, his body curling in on itself—the weight of the world crushing him down.

Even now in the horror that became this world, life imitated art.

“Any water?” he asked, breaking your focus.

“Huh?” You glanced at the sink behind you. “Oh…no it’s dry.”

He nodded. “I’ll take the blanket.”

Standing, he winced slightly before gathering what remained of the blanket at the bottom of the bed. Just the sight caused your heart to twist. You damned yourself, wishing that you could be like everyone else. Able to watch someone else suffer on the sidelines while you protected yourself. Except you couldn’t. Not when you were taught your entire life to care for those in need; to share what you could with others.

“You already said you weren’t going to kill me,” you began, saying it with a slight smile. “So I don’t see why you should take the floor.”

For a brief moment his whole body stiffened, causing you to wonder if you’d stepped over a line. A boundary that he didn’t want to cross with strangers he just met.

“Why?” he asked, turning to face you with an unreadable expression on his face.

You shrugged. “The bed’s too big for me.”

It was partially true. The mattress looked like it would swallow you whole if you let it, but you knew the truth. And something told you he knew as well. He saved your life—this was the least you could do in return. A thank you without actually saying the words. An act of kindness that left a lingering warmth in his chest he hadn’t felt since before the outbreak.

He hesitated, staring at the soft plush bed that would no doubt give his back some relief for the night. “You sure?”

“Yes,” you said without a semblance of doubt in your voice.

Trusting someone this much may wind up to be a mistake on your part, but you pushed that thought aside for the moment. He would most likely be gone before you woke up. Or at least that’s what you told yourself. Sitting on the opposite side of the bed, you allowed your fingers to dig into what remained of the sheets. They were yellowed with age, stained by time, but still soft enough to nearly startle you.

You felt the bed dip on the other side when he sat down.

“You still haven’t answered my question.”

He sighed, the sound deep and ragged. “Not someone to give up easily are you?”

Once again your lips curved into a slight grin. “Nope.”

“I’m heading to Boston. Happened to be passing through on my way here.”

A sensation akin to fear streaked down your spine so quickly, you barely had any time to react. The name sent chills through your whole body. Boston. A city you hadn’t heard about since you left it. You could remember the day vividly; could practically taste the difference in the air as you exited your dorm room. You hadn’t known it then, but your entire world would shift in only a few hours.

You were barely nineteen at the time of the outbreak. Still a kid starting your second year of college with nothing ahead of you but time. Until the campus fell into chaos. You could still remember the screams; the agony of people losing the ones they cared about, to something worse than death.

“You know…” The memories still replayed in your mind on an endless loop. Like a movie with no end. “I went to school in Boston.”

That small detail seemed to catch his attention, because he angled his body slightly to see you better. “You did?”

You nodded, doing your best to breathe evenly in order to stave off the anxiety filling your body. “I was majoring in art history. I wanted to work in a museum one day.”

“Yeah?” He watched you turn slowly, the tension in your muscles dropping slightly the more you told him. “Which one?”

“The Met was my dream job before…”

He sighed, expression shifting to one of understanding. There were plans he had for himself, goals for his life for his family, but now that he could see the bleakness of what his future held, he’d given up the simple act of dreaming. What was there to dream about anyways? But he could see it in you. The hope that remained just beneath the surface of your sorrowful gaze. You were too young when it happened, too young to lose your life that quickly.

“I’ve been there.”

The grief faded slightly, a light returning to your face. “Really?”

He nodded, shifting until he was sitting with his leg extended on the mattress, back pressed to the headboard. “Back when I was in high school, we took a trip up there.”

Mimicking him, you felt the relief in your spine as you finally moved to a comfortable position. “What did you think?”

“Well I’m no expert in art, but I liked it.”

If you weren’t careful you would wind up falling asleep in the middle of speaking. But you fought against the exhaustion that seeped into your bones. Adamant on remaining awake, just to talk to him for a bit longer. His brown eyes watched you settle into a laying down position, your hands clasped together against your stomach. The blood on your shirt had dried to a deep brown color—until you could hardly tell it was there anymore.

“No one has to be an expert in art to appreciate its beauty,” you said softly, staring at the light brown stain in the ceiling that formed rings. It reminded you of what the inside of trees looked like. “I think all you have to do is see it and that’s enough.”

Joel settled in beside you, his back practically screaming in joy at having such a plush bed beneath him.

“Take the portrait downstairs,” you continued, unaware that he had turned his head to watch you. “Anyone can tell it used to be a well painted piece of art, but now it’s torn, severing the image of the family entirely. I think it’s poetic.”

He hummed, catching your attention and causing you to turn your head until your nose practically brushed his. “Poetic huh?”

“It reminds me of my past,” you whispered, taking in the soft lines that were beginning to form on his face. “Tells you a lot about what might have happened here.”

Joel didn’t respond, letting your words settle in his mind. Oblivious to the way they sunk into his heart as well, breaking down a small minuscule piece of the walls he’d placed there. The sound of the crickets outside rang through the open windows, filling the silent spaces between the two of you. He wondered what came before this for you—what would come after this.

“Do you have a place to go after this?” he asked, seeing your eyes grow heavy.

You shook your head. “I haven’t had a place to go in a long time.”

A part of your mind wanted to tell him that you did in fact have somewhere to go, but you couldn’t get the words out. You found that you liked his company; that you didn’t mind who he was as a person. Even though you knew nothing but his name and his path. Except to you…that was enough.

“I hear there’s a quarantine zone down in Boston.” He couldn’t get the question out, letting its implication hang in the air between you in the hopes that you’d understand. Thankfully, you did.

The breath caught in your lungs as you considered it. Returning to the place where it all began for you. The place where your future was meant to start. Just like the painting, you found it poetic in the most gruesome way. But something sour built in your chest. A feeling that told you to stay here; that if you left you’d find your way to even more destruction.

You chose to ignore it in the end.

“Okay,” you breathed, attempting a half-hearted sleepy smile before your eyes fell shut against your own will.

When you woke up, you’d deal with what this meant and how it would work, but you refused to let sleep elude you this time. Whether or not he fell asleep slipped past your mind—your body giving up after hours of strain. The ache would begin in the morning; pain you were familiar with and even welcomed. However for that moment, you were free of it; of the grief that was burrowed so deep in your heart you were afraid it’d never leave.

Unbound from the horrors that awaited you in the early hours of dawn.

You heard the birds first, chirping in the pine tree as they let the rest of the world know that the early morning hours of the day had finally arrived. You felt his arm around your waist, second. Sometime in the night you’d gone from lying side by side, barely touching shoulders, to him pressed firmly against your back. His breath hit the back of your neck, warm and accompanied with the odd snore here and there. It sent shivers down your spine.

Though you both wore several layers of clothing to stay warm during the night, you could still feel the heat of his palm seeping into your stomach. He was still asleep and while you might have agreed to go with him last night, you knew that it was better to leave and go it alone. After all, that’s what you’d been doing.

Holding your breath so as not to make any more noise, you began to shift away from him. Unfortunately for you, his grip on you was a bit too tight for you to remove. You didn’t want to disturb him. What with everything that happened last night. The fear was still a bitter taste on your tongue—reminding you that you could have died last night. That you had him to thank for why you were here in the first place.

Suddenly leaving didn’t sound like the better option anymore.

“You move a lot,” he grumbled. Your heart stopped in your chest for a brief moment.

“I–I’m sorry.” The words caught in your throat when he shifted, something pressing briefly to your lower back before he turned away. He grunted when he sat up, the sound shooting right through you. “We better get a move on.”

He still wanted you to go.

Sitting, you felt the fear begin to dissipate somewhat. “Oh…right,” you said, choosing to do what he did. Ignore that what you felt against your back was in fact what you thought.

The choice might prove better in the long run as you two traveled together. You’d been there before and in the end, it got messier than you wanted. Staying simple—alone but together—would be the easiest option. It would save you from dealing with another loss if something were to happen to him, and you hoped he felt the exact same way. Torment, heartache, they were all things you carried with you at the end of the day. A side effect of the fucking sickness that plagued the earth.

A disease that could never be reversed.

“Do you know how to get to Boston from here?” you asked, reaching for your bag.

“I’m sure we’ll figure it out,” he replied, stopping in front of you, a black piece of clothing in his hands. “Here.”

You must have looked confused, taking what you figured out to be a shirt. A man’s shirt if you looked close enough. “Where did you find this?”

 “Went digging through the drawers in the other room.” He turned away, heading out the door before you could give him a real response.

Except you couldn’t find the right words to actually say to him. He was a man of few words. You could tell that right off the bat. Yet his actions seemed to speak volumes, telling you all the things you imagined he’d say. Or maybe…you were on the precipice of losing your mind due to constant stress and pressure. You remember watching movies about the apocalypse and insanity always played a part—the end usually resulting in death.

You figured believing the latter was far better than assuming something about a man you just met last night. While he said he wasn’t here to kill you, the uncertainty in your veins still stuck to the instinct that told you trust had to be earned.

Heading downstairs, you found him in the exact position you were in yesterday. Standing in the middle of the living room, staring at the portrait. He met your gaze when you entered, the shotgun back where it was yesterday, bag still in place.

“Ready?” he asked, watching you adjust your bag and fix your jacket in place. The black t-shirt now underneath it. You left the ruined one in the sink.

“Ready,” you confirmed, following him outside and into the sunlight.

You wondered if there would be others after you and him inside the house; if people were looking for a safe place to stay for the night. Would they see the painting and think of its origin like you had? Or would this just be another place. A hollow building with no life anymore—a corpse that stood against the destruction around it. You smiled bitterly at that thought, knowing that if you were a building…you would be that. A walking ghost amidst nature’s final painting.

Joel walked beside you, his stroll measured and assured. He knew where he was going with each step—unafraid of what he’d find in the distance. So, you fell into step with him, your eyes focused on the horizon as you both walked along the empty street. Leaving the house behind.