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st4rfckerz · 3 months

Text

Farmboy | Farmhand!Anakin Skywalker x Farmers!daughter

word count: 4.1k

warnings: MDNI 18+, oral (male receiving), face fucking (if you squint), unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, slow(ish) buildup, not proofread

summary: Anakin is your family's farmhand and after inviting him to dinner, you can't keep your hands to yourself

Your family owned a farm out West, not far from the outskirts of town. It was quiet, as farms often are. The land was hilly, rolling out as far as you could see. The sun was shining, and the blue sky was bright with few clouds in it. The sound of horses and the wind rustling through the trees was all you heard. The air was crisp, and there was a slight tang of wildflowers.

Anakin was one of the farmhands that your family had hired a few months ago, a man who was quiet but skilled. As one of their hired hands, he was responsible for helping with the maintenance of the farm's livestock and machinery. His primary role was to ensure everything ran smoothly, which meant keeping the animals fed and watered while fixing broken machinery when needed.

It was midday when you approached him in the garden shed with a worried expression on your face. "Ani, I need your help. The sheep pen collapsed, and I can't find any tools nearby." Panic was evident in your voice, hinting at the potential consequences of leaving the sheep unattended for too long. Anakin followed you back to the dimly lit barn and you found the sheep wandering around their stalls, bleeting softly.

"I see," he muttered looking at the pen, he glanced over where the sheep were grazing. "I hope nothing else broke." he says under his breath, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of damage. He walked forward, whistling for the sheep that were scattered, and they came to him. He began leading them towards their pen, some were very fussy about it and didn’t want to go, yet he remained calm and gentle.

"Don't worry, I'll fix it," Anakin assured you, stepping over the fence and rummaging through the debris left by the fallen wood.

"You need me to help with anything?" you stand near him awkwardly, not sure what to do.

“Nope. I got it under control,” He said calmly, continuing to lead the sheep. You admired his patience and his ability to stay so level headed. "You can just sit there and look pretty while I get this done." Anakin shoots you a slick smile that makes your insides turn a little.

"I won't be bothering you?" you ask as you sit down on a bale of hay.

"You won't be bothering me at all sweetheart," He says, his eyes traveled over your body and he smirked at you. "You can be my moral support." He leans against the aged wall of the barn. His stance was relaxed, very casual as he was being nonchalant, but with you he was a little different. Something about you made him like this.

Anakin couldn't help but notice how good you looked in their simple dress, its hemline brushing against your thighs, revealing just enough skin to drive him wild. The sunset cast a warm, golden light over your body, creating a delicate glowy outline around your figure. It was almost like the sun was wrapping itself around you.

"You know you could stay for supper if you'd like," you suggest, breaking the silence of the barn. "I'm sure my folks won't mind." He watched as you leaned back on the bale of hay, and he couldn't help but notice your dress riding up a little. It was a small thing to notice, but he saw it.

Your dress wasn't that short, by any means, but the way it rode up on your legs was enough to make Anakin notice you. His gaze drifted down to your legs, and back up to your face.

"Oh I don't know, I don't wanna intrude or anything-" You smiled and cut him off, stopping him in his tracks.

"Please Ani? Just this once?" You walked over to him, and with that sweet tone in your voice, you were playing him like a fiddle. It was clear that your invitation was genuine, you wanted him to stay so you could keep his company. He smiled at you and looked away from your eyes for a moment. When he looked back at you, he was slightly speechless. The words were caught in his throat, and he couldn't speak, he wasn't used to someone that could make him flustered.

"Well, alright I s'pose I could join you." Anakin smiles. "What's mama bear fixin' up tonight?"

he smirked at you, his expression was playful, but you could tell he was serious. You laughed lightly at the silly nickname he often uses for you mother.

“She’s making beef stew, with biscuits. All from scratch, too.” you explain. "And there's fresh apple pie for dessert." His smile showed he was interested, and he couldn't help but admire your beauty. You looked like a little doll, with sweet doe eyes that could disarm any man.

"Then I'll be there." His voice had a masculine yet flirty quality to it, and it sent shivers down your spine. It was like music to your ears.

"Good, I'll see you later farmboy." You tease, knocking his hip with your own as you walked past him. You felt his eyes devouring you whole, looking at your sweet face and the sway of your hips.

As he continues to fix the pen, he can't help but think about the upcoming dinner. He's never had dinner with you and your family before, so he wondered how it would go. He didn't know if he'd be welcome, but you said they wouldn't mind, and you're pretty much like a little princess in their eyes so it shouldn't go wrong at all.

The evening rolled around, you were sitting at the table waiting for him, ready for the dinner to begin. Your family was already seated around the table, discussing various things. They all seemed pretty jovial, and you could hear the occasional laughter, as well as bits of conversation.

You looked around and expected to see Anakin walking through the door at any second, yet he was a bit late which was out of character for him.

Just as you thought he might've bailed last minute, Anakin's voice draws your attention towards the door, where he was finally walking in. His expression had a hint of embarrassment, since he was later than he thought he'd be. He had a shy yet sheepish look on his face, as if he expected you or your family to reprimand him.

"Sorry," he said quietly, looking at you, "I'm a bit late."

"Ani! I was afraid you flaked out on us." you joke as you abruptly got up from your seat to greet him. When Anakin saw you get up and come closer to him, he was initially confused as to why. But then you envelope him in a tight hug, catching him completely off guard. He didn't know how to respond, as he was taken aback by your show of affection.

"No, I'd never do a thing like that." he responds.

He hugged you back, his hands squeezing you tightly as you felt his body pressing against yours. He was caught by surprise, and he didn't expect you to show any affection. His body stiffened up as you hugged him, as he remained still.

However, he felt a wave of warmth rush through him and it caused him to relax into the hug. He wrapped his arms around you, feeling a new feeling of closeness between you both.

"Come eat, there's plenty of food." You let go of the embrace, but you still keep your hands on him, dragging him to the seat right next to you. He didn't hesitate to follow you, nor did he show any opposition. You both sit down, with you being right next to Anakin. You pull yourself slightly close to him, close enough that he could feel it.

Anakin's eyes look up at your father, his expression showing a bit of anxiety. Your father smiles warmly at him, and welcomes him to the table. Anakin smiles back in response, looking down at the table a bit. Your father proceeds to sit down, as does the rest of your family. The dinner proceeds like normal, everyone engaging in conversation with one another.

"So Anakin, how's everything been?" your father asks, his aged, gravelly voice booming throughout the room.

"I've been quite fine sir, same old news." Anakin says, smiling a bit as he takes a bite from his biscuit.

"Anakin fixed the sheep pen today." The conversation shifts as you interject, causing Anakin's attention to look up. Your words get everyone's attention, as they all look at Anakin, who is sitting to the side.

"Oh, did he?" your father says, looking at him. Anakin's ears pick up, and he looks over towards you. Your father continues, "I'm sure the sheep are happy." He blushes slightly, nodding his head humbly as he looks at your dad.

Your mother pipes up with her own question, pointing the discussion in another direction.

"So Anakin, what do you do in your free time?"

Anakin answers, keeping his tone relaxed and level.

"Nothin' too special really," he says, taking a few moments to respond, "Just hang around, or fix things. Y'know how it is." He's cordial, polite, and has a soft attitude.

He treats you with respect, yet his attention keeps flicking back towards you again and again, as if he was drawn to your charms. You felt as if you were a magnet to him, as he always looked over at you after he said anything.

As you lean forward to grab the salt, your fingers brush against Anakin's thigh under the table, a subtle gesture that sends a thrill through both of you. He raises an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on his lips. He knows exactly what you're doing. You quickly return to your seat, trying to hide your flushed cheeks under the low light.

"The food is really good mom." you smile sweetly at her. While you speak, your fingers graze along Anakin's growing bulge under the table, a subtle hint of your growing attraction.

Anakin's eyes meet yours for a brief moment, he swallows hard, trying to maintain his composure as he continues the conversation. The tension between you two is palpable, yet unnoticed by the rest of the family.

Dinner comes to an end, and your mother presents a homemade apple pie for dessert. The family cheers in appreciation, and you can't help but smile at the delicious aroma wafting through the room. The scent of apple pie creates a cozy atmosphere that wraps around you like a warm blanket. Anakin compliments your mother on the meal, his eyes never straying far from yours.

As everyone digs into the apple pie, you feel Anakin's hand gently slide in between your thighs under the table. You try your hardest to suppress the smile creeping onto your face, the connection between you two growing stronger with each passing moment. The dessert is sweet, but it's nothing compared to the warmth you feel inside.

When you finish eating your piece of pie, you stand up and gather your plate and utensils, turning to head towards the kitchen sink. Anakin follows closely behind. You work side by side, the clinking of dishes echoing through the kitchen.

Anakin's hands are large and rough from farm work, but they move gracefully as he washes the dishes. He looks at you, his expression calm but also full of appreciation.

"It was nice having dinner with your family." he tells you, "thanks for inviting me over."

You give him a smile and use a nearby towel to wipe your hands. "It was no problem, they enjoyed your company." He smiles back, his jaw firm but his eyes showing that he was genuinely pleased.

Just as your family enters the kitchen with their now empty plates, you lean in close to Anakin, your voice barely above a whisper. "Meet me in the barn in five minutes." you say, your eyes filled with anticipation. Anakin's gaze locks onto yours for a moment before he nods, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Your father approaches, engaging Anakin in conversation about the farm and the upcoming town festival. You turn to your mother, your cheeks flushed but your voice steady. "I'll be right back, I just need to check on the chicken coop."

Your mother doesn't seem to suspect anything unusual since this was usually the time you'd check on the chickens anyway. "Take your time, dear. We'll be in here for a bit longer." She waves you off, her smile warm and understanding.

You wait for everyone to settle down before slipping out of the house, making sure to lock the door behind you. The moonlit night casts a pearlescent glow over the yard, illuminating the path leading to the barn. You hurry inside, your heart racing with exhilaration.

Anakin watches you leave, his eyes never leaving yours as you exit the house. He knows what's coming next, and he can't help but feel a whirlwind of trepidation. The anticipation killing him, but he forces himself to continue the conversation with your father, his voice steady despite the turmoil within him.

Finally, your father finishes his glass of sweet tea and stands up, nodding goodbye to Anakin after he explains that he should be heading home.

The sound of crickets and distant frogs filled the air as Anakin walks towards the barn, his boots rustling against the grass beneath him. He approaches the old barn slowly, his heart racing faster than a stallion at the starting gate. He takes a deep breath before opening the door, the creak of the hinges echoing through the night. He called out your name softly, his voice tinged with anticipation. The barn is dimly lit, with the moonlight filtering in through the cracks in the wooden walls.

As he stepped inside, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. You were there, your eyes locked onto his.

"Hi." you say softly, your voice tinged with a hint of mischief. The barn feels smaller now, the air thick with tension. Your eyes lock onto each other, and the crickets chirping outside seem to grow louder. Anakin takes a step towards you, his confidence wavering only slightly.

"Hey," his tone is softer than normally, you could tell just from his voice he was nervous. His eyes are locked on you, scanning every inch of your body. "Your folks know you're in here?" he asks.

You shake your head, biting your lip to suppress your smile. "I told them I'm checking on the chickens." His eyebrow raises, a hint of amusement playing on his face.

Anakin clicks his tongue while shaking his head teasingly. "You shouldn't be lyin' to your parents sweetheart." He looks at you with a certain sparkle in his eyes, as if you made him feel special with a simple remark.

"Technically, I glanced over there when i was walking over here." you state matter-of-factly. Anakin steps closer to you, his fingers brushing the little strands of hair out of your face. His eyes never leaving yours. His touch is gentle, yet electric, making your heart race even faster. You step closer to him and you can't help but feel the pull between you two. The barn feels comforting and inviting, a secret haven away from the world.

"You look real pretty tonight." Anakin compliments sincerely, his hand still resting on your cheek. His thumb brushes against your jawline, sending shivers down your spine. You nuzzle your cheek against Anakin's big palm. "Thanks," you whisper, your voice barely audible in the silence of the barn.

Anakin's thumb traces a line along your lower lip, teasingly brushing against the corner of your mouth. His hand moves to your waist, his fingertips grazing the hem of your dress, sending electric currents through your body. Anakin leans in, pressing his lips against yours in a gentle peck. He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching for your reaction. Seeing your approval, he leans in again, this time with more intensity. His kiss is soft yet passionate, filled with a sense of longing.

The kiss intensifies, your lips pressing harder against each other, tongues dancing in a rhythm only you two understand. Anakin's hands slide into your hair, pulling you closer, his breath hitching in your mouth. You break the kiss, trailing your lips against the rough stubble along his jaw. He groans softly, his hand tightening on your hair.

"Been thinkin' about you all day," Anakin panted between breaths. He grips your waist to pull you impossibly closer as you continue to explore his neck with your lips. "You and that damn dress." His hands moved up to cup your breasts, massaging them roughly through the thin fabric of your dress.

You giggle softly, your teeth grazing lightly against his neck. "You're that worked up over a dress, Ani?" Anakin whines quietly in response, his hips desperately bucking in your direction. You pull back slightly, your eyes locked on Anakin's. His eyes widened in surprise as you suddenly dropped to your knees, your hands reaching for his belt buckle. He groaned, his hips rocking forward, his cock straining against his pants.

Your hands reach for the hem of his pants, slowly pulling them down, revealing his muscular thighs. You reach down further, your fingers brushing against the waistband of his underwear. With a quick tug, they fall to the ground revealing his thick cock, hard and ready just for you.

"You're killing me kid." He managed to croak out as you slowly wrap your hand around the base of his shaft, stroking it gently. You lean forward and kiss his angry red tip. It twitches in anticipation, leaking a small amount of precum onto your lip. Your tongue darts out, tentatively exploring the head of his cock, savoring the salty taste. You moan softly, your hands reaching down to cup his balls, massaging them gently.

Anakin's hands grip your hair tightly, his moans turning into groans of pleasure as you continue to tease him. "F-fuckin' hell," he growls, his hips rocking back and forth, pushing his cock further into your mouth. You stroke the part of him that doesn't fit into your mouth, your fingers gliding up and down his length. You can feel him twitching, his body trembling under your touch.

His cock pulses in your hand and his breaths come in ragged gasps. You gag slightly, your eyes watering, but you don't pull away. Instead, you take as much of him as you possibly can.

" 'M close- hold on, I'm- ah!" His cock twitches violently in your mouth, shooting a hot stream of cum down your throat. You swallow it unhesitatingly, eager to please him. Gazing up at Anakin, your eyes is fixed on his. He's panting heavily, his hands shaking slightly. His eyes are filled with admiration and desire. You can feel the heat of his gaze, and it makes you blush slightly.

"Come 'ere," he says, his voice hoarse. He pulls you to your feet, his lips crashing into yours. His tongue dances with yours, tasting himself on your tongue. His hands wandering over your body, cupping your ass and pulling you closer. As you kiss Anakin, you can feel him growing hard again, his cock pressing against your thigh. He slowly walks forward, guiding you towards the small tractor in the back of the barn. His lips never leave yours, his hands roaming over your body, exploring every inch. He moans into the kiss, slapping his big hand against the fat of your ass. "Turn around for me baby." he commands.

Anakin bends you over the tractor, and flips your dress up, exposing your pink cotton panties to him. He strokes the growing wet spot gently, his fingers grazing your bare skin.

"Jesus, she's practically dripping for me." he whispers, his voice filled with lust. His hands move to your panties, tugging them to the side, revealing your swollen, hot flesh. He licks his lips, his eyes locked onto your slobbering cunt. His cock pulses, ready to be inside you.

Anakin lines up his cock with your entrance, gently pushing in. You gasp, your body adjusting to his girth. He holds onto your hips, guiding himself inside you. He thrusts deeper, his cock filling you completely. You moan softly, your body quickly getting used to his size. "Thaaat's it, angel." he praises, his voice low and alluring. "Let me in."

His hips move slowly at first, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease. Your body responds, your cunt clenching around him, pulling him deeper. Anakin's breaths come in ragged gasps as he starts to move faster, his hips slamming into you, each thrust sending you further onto the tractor.

You cry out as he sweetly rolls his abdomen, his cock hitting your sweet spot with each movement. The tractor creaks under your weight, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the barn.

"Takin' me so good baby." he growls, you can feel his cock stretching you, filling you completely.

"M-more Ani," you beg, your voice hoarse. "Need more-"

"Yeah? You want more?" he rasps, his hands gripping the back of your neck tightly. Anakin pulls you up by your neck and your back is now pressed against his chest. He thrusts harder, his cock hitting your G-spot with every movement. You yelp in surprise, your nails digging into the arm he has wrapped around your shoulders to keep your body flush against his. "There you go, you can take it, I know you can."

"Needy little girl," he teases, his voice thick with desire. "Just couldn't keep your hands off me at dinner, shit, could've bent you over that damn table and fucked you raw in front of your folks if I wanted to."

You moan, your head thrown back, your body moving with his. Your walls flutter around him when you hear his vulgar words.

He chuckles, his hands gripping your neck tighter. "You'd like that wouldn't you? Oh, you're dirty." He turns your head roughly, his lips crashing into yours, kissing you messily.

His tongue duels with yours, his hands gripping your neck tighter, holding you in place. You moan into the kiss, your body trembling. "Ani- cumming, c-cumming!" You can't form any coherent words, your breath coming in gasps as you neared your climax.

"Let go sweetheart, I got you," Anakin's breath tickles the shell of your ear as he speaks. You cry out as your orgasm quickly wracks over your body, your cunt contracting tightly around his cock. "That's my girl, c'mon." His breath comes in ragged gasps, and sweat trickles down his forehead, his chest heaving. It takes a few more powerful thrusts for him to fully unload inside you, his cum filling you up completely.

He takes a moment to catch his breath, and carefully withdraws from you, his cock glistening with your wetness. He hastily pulls up his pants and adjusts himself.

"You did so good for me." he whispers, his voice filled with awe. He carefully fixes your dress, smoothing out the wrinkles. "You look even prettier now," he says, his eyes filled with admiration.

He reaches up, fixing your hair, his fingers grazing your face. "You best get back to the house," he says, his voice filled with concern. "You know I'll be here tomorrow."

You nod, your cheeks flushed, your heart still racing from your encounter with him. "Mhm," you hum quietly. He smirks, his eyes filled with mischief.

You smile, a blush spreading across your cheeks when he leans in and brings his lips to yours one last time.

Anakin leads you towards the barn door, his hand still wrapped around yours. "I'll see you tomorrow sweetheart." he coos, his voice filled with promise.

You nod, your cheeks still flushed, your heart racing. "See you, farmboy." you say, your voice shaky. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze, and you step out of the barn, your body still buzzing from the encounter. As you walk away, you can feel his eyes on you, watching you every step of the way. You glance back, catching him standing by his truck, his hands on his hips, watching you walk away.

You enter the house, trying to compose yourself. Your parents were still awake, sitting in the living room, sipping on their drinks. They didn't notice anything amiss about you, thankfully. You made your way upstairs to your room, still feeling the evidence of your encounter between your legs.

You feel a thrill of excitement, knowing that Anakin will be waiting for you at that old barn, ready to have you whenever he wants.

#nai writes ୨୧ #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin smut #hayden christensen smut #hayden christensen #st4rfckerz

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starlessnightsblog · 4 months

Text

daryl x reader

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MDNI 18+ | wordcount: 2.8k | smutt ⭑ fluff

first night alone after being on the road for months.

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While everyone claimed cell blocks, Maggie and Glenn claimed one of the guard towers, so it only felt right Daryl and I claimed the other. We haven't had much privacy since the farm, I had my own room there and only shared it with Daryl for a few days up until we fled after a herd came through.

I hated being on the road, always running, starving, and freezing. Always moving, never truly safe. With no walls or fences, it made me feel so vulnerable out there. I was so thankful for Rick's group, finding my family's farm and Hershel taking them in. We could not have survived without them. Rick brought me Daryl. We didn't like each other at first, but after I found him in the woods with an arrow in his side and catching him when Andrea grazed his skull with a bullet, I haven't left his side since.

Being near Daryl made me feel safe, I think he knew that too and even took pride in it. He was quiet but I knew him this well now and I could just tell.

I was growing frustrated out on the road. I hadn't been able to touch Daryl in months, the way I wanted to touch him. We slept on each other's shoulders most nights, resting our heads, fighting sleep. Daryl liked taking watch and that meant I would take it with him. If I took watch, he insisted he would be right there with me. We talked about everything and anything while out there. I simply enjoyed this man's company, and I liked looking at him, I thought he was gorgeous. He made killing walkers look so.. appealing, might I say it turned me on. God, I needed him, I needed his touch, his rough hands on my bare skin, my fingers in his hair, his lips colliding with my own.

This was going to be our first night sleeping alone in months. I was anxious for the sun to start going down, for dinner to be over with, all so I could have Daryl to myself.

We spent most of the day clearing again; in the evening, we decided to haul two mattresses out of one of the untouched cells and bring them up to our tower. After, Daryl went with Rick to run the fence perimeter one more time. He left me to 'decorate' and so I did.

I had a few blankets I'd been totting around these past months, and I made a makeshift bed in the middle of the tiny, yet surprisingly cozy box. I looked out the window and noticed the sun was setting in the distance. I saw Rick walking back inside. Then the next thing I heard was the door swing open and then closed.

"What a view,' A husky voice engulfed the room. It was Daryl, I turned my head and greeted him with a smile. My eyes following his every move, he set his bow against the wall and lingered over to me, "and I'm not talking bout the sunset." A breath of laughter escaped my lips, "hm, what, too corny?" He murmured.

"Maybe a little."

His hand met the small of my back and I leaned into him, my arms finding their way around his neck, and I melted into his heated embrace, his arms wrapped around me, I buried my head into his neck. He smelled like Daryl. He squeezed me softly; I gained a new sense of ease. We stayed glued together for a few seconds until he broke the embrace,

"Lift your arms."

I did as was told, His hands skimmed over my skin, checking for bites. I felt his fingers reach for the hems of my shirt and the then fabric came over my head. My hair fell over my shoulders and my bra was exposed. He stole a glance, trying not to get distracted. I felt the warmth of the air against my skin but somehow, I still got goosebumps.

Daryl tossed the shirt on the cot I laid out, his hands gliding over my back.

"..Any scratches?" He hesitated. As if scared, I was going to reveal some mystery cut; a 1 way ticket to walkerville.

"I'm good. I promise." I reassured him.

I turned back to face him, I looked down towards his waist band, then at his vest, "Your turn."

He started at the top button and worked his way threw the first few,I joined in, starting at the bottom. Our fingers met at the middle button, I took my finger and pushed it through, his torso now exposed. I scanned his chest, no bites. Before I reached for his back, he spoke, "Im good. I promise."

I nodded and believed him. He stepped forward, getting close, resting his hand on my hip, His other hand came up to move a loose piece of my hair behind my ear. I could feel his breath on my nose, I felt the warmth in my stomach growing. I could hear his breathing.

He hummed again. A devilish smirk growing on his face, "Is it wrong that I like the blood in your hair?"

Taken back, I raised my brow whilst his eyes stayed steady on mine.

"I mean-" I paused and went to touch my hair but stopped halfway when my eyes shifted up to his shoulders, I glanced at them for a split second.

his dirty, golden, scuffed up shoulders and then like word vomit-

"I like your scuffed shoulders Dixon." My tone, seductive. My fingers started a trail from his ear down to the tip on his shoulder blade, my nails gliding effortlessly.

"I like all of you." he mumbled. My gaze shifted once more, back to his.

Our eyes locked, the corners of my mouth started to stab my cheeks at his words. I couldn't help but blush. The distance between us, if there was any left, closed. My boobs rested on his chest, our lips too close to turn back now.

"I love you." He whispered against my cheek.

My heart skipped a beat, this wasn't our first exchange of the 3 words, yet still, I felt like a teenager all over again, palms sweaty, heart rate never slowing.

"I love you too." my hand cupped the back of his neck, pulling him to kiss me. Our foreheads rested against one another. I felt his breath pass my ear lobe, then he started placing soft kisses behind my ear. His soft lips were light on my skin, they reached my collarbone, I gave in, tilting my head, a breathy moan escaped my lips.

He smiled against my collarbone before looking back down at me, staring into my soul with his oceans for eyes. His hand moved under my chin, and he rested his index finger under, tilting my head up slightly. "You have no idea what I'm about to do to you, do you?" His other hand was still on the small of my back.

"I might have some ideas." I teased, biting my lip.

He licked his own. "Hm, knowing you, they might be worse than mine."

"Come find out." I whispered. I pulled at his waist band, bumping my hips into his, he grunted as his hands cupped my face.

I wanted Daryl to show me how much he wanted me. Needed me. I wanted him to throw himself onto me, attack me like the hunter he was and I'm just the prey that got too close. I wanted him so bad now it ached.

Our lips brushed together, I parted them, eagerly waiting and I fluttered my eyes closed. He closed the distance as his lips met mine gracefully, my whole world stopped spinning. He sucked on my top lip as I pushed back. Our lip movements synchronizing. I felt his tongue slide by, and like instinct, I allowed his tongue to enter my mouth. He acted starved, he was, touch starved at least, so was I.

He was being almost modest up until now, the kiss grew hot, heavy and the grip he had on me tightened. He moved my face with his as our tongues danced together. I fidgeted with his pants, fighting the zipper. He really needed some new ones after all this time. Our lips never disconnected. I managed to unzip the stubborn trousers, finding his hard-on that only grew more at my touch.

He groaned in my mouth, and then moved his hands down to the buttons of my shorts. He took no time ripping them free. His hands moved pass my hips and onto my ass, he grabbed at me viciously. Another soft moan escaped my lips.

"Come here." He breathed, while lifting my thighs up, I knew what he wanted, I jumped up to straddle him, his hands catching the back of my thighs. In the middle of our heavy kiss, his lips found my neck again, he sucked at my skin, more eager breaths of mine broke free. I could feel Daryl leaning down, he placed me on the mattress. I was able to catch my breath as I watched him remove his vest and jeans. Next his hands pulled my shorts off. I picked my head up and rested on my elbows, he stood at the edge of the cot and paused. Daryl rubbed his thumb under his lip, wiping away leftover spit. He admired my body and with that same thumb, he trailed it down my inner thigh. That smirk he wore so well appeared on his face.

"Does it make you nervous when I stare?"

Before I could respond, he spoke, "I just can't help it, you're fucking perfect. This is perfect." His eyes flickered around the concrete box. "I missed you like this."

The heat in my cheeks rose, he leaned back down, our faces edging closer once again. "I missed this too, so fucking much." I muttered. His hand still in-between my thighs, getting closer and closer to my warmth; his other hand. holding himself up above me, "Be a good girl and spread your legs."

I did and he kissed me again, the hand that was still caressing my thigh, moved lower and I felt his thumb rub against my clit, his fingers resting between my folds. It was only just a tease, before he moved his whole body down, his hands rested on either side of my waist, he began leaving kisses and bites down my stomach till he reached my underwear, his eyes stared up at me, I could feel his timed breathing on my skin. He left a kiss above my underwear, right on my clit. The hunger in his eyes flicked. I was growing hot with anticipation.

My lips parted as I waited for him to remove my underwear. He nudged them down my legs with elegance and then threw them across the room.

His mouth met my wetness and left kisses right on my clit, while his thumb circled around it, he glanced up at me, "Holy shit." He mumbled, "You sure did miss me princess, fuck." He began sucking on my clit, I fell back, my nails finding the blankets. His hands held my hips in place, they rose with his every move. He buried his face into my cunt and focused on my clit, his tongue lapping around it. I leaned back, taking it all in. Daryl just knew what to do and that made him all the more hot.

As he licked and sucked, I could feel my peak rising. He didn't slow down once he realized I was giving into my climax. "That's it princess, let me get a taste." He breathed in-between my folds.

I let out a cry of pleasure. Every stoke of his tongue was breaking me, his hands clinging to me as I grinded my hips to mimic his movements. My back now arching for Daryl and his hard work, he cursed under his breath as my moans began to frequent, his mouth and fingers working together, my fingernails digging into the fabric beneath me. I never wanted this to end, selfishly, whines of pleading, (please, don't stop, & yes's) filled the room as I dissolved into immaculate pleasure.

Daryl lifted his head, and with the look of angst in his eyes, lifting himself off the bed, as I laid there anxious. He removed his boxers swiftly and jumped back on me, nuzzling his hips right in-between my thighs, I could feel his hard-on tapping my opening with every motion he made, He never broke eye contact w me and left kisses on my boobs while removing my bra. He got it off on the first try, I don't know how but thank god because as soon as the fabric was out from under me, his lips pressed against one of my nipples, as his hand grasped for the other. My head fell back, a moan echoed from my throat.

He hummed against my bare skin, my wet nipple getting hard as he breathed, his mouth hovering over it. He looked up at me, grinning. He liked seeing me like this, my quivering motivating him and the sounds coming from my lips, sounds he was responsible for. It got him off, He loved it, loved the way I moaned, the way I moved against his touch. If heaven ever existed this, was it, right here underneath my person; that meant hell was wherever Daryl was not.

He brought his face up to mine, he rested on his hands and knees above me, leaving a few separated, pecks on my lips. I feel his tip pressing against me. He brought his opened palm to my mouth, "Spit." He breathed.

I returned his grin and did as was told. Leaving my eyes stuck on his whilst doing so. He coated his cock with my spit, I bit my lip, this was the first time I snuck a peak of his manhood, my mouth watered at the sight, I bucked my hips, and spread my legs, he caught one and rested it over his shoulder. His breathing heightening as he pushed against my cunt, I was wet, we both knew that. The heartbeat in-between my legs pulsed as hard as ever, the ache growing the closer he got. His lips connected with mine once again, I bit his lip when he tried to break away, I held his neck as he pressed harder, then more and more, till finally he was all the way in. His head fell back, I sharp moan left my lips. He lowered himself, letting his body rest on mine, he thrusted into me; not even letting me get use to the feeling. No, Daryl was as eager as I was and that made it all the better. he thrusted into my cervix several more times, making room for himself inside me,

"Jesus fucking christ, (y/n), " He whimpered, scanning my face and my body, "you look so fucking good. You feel.. so.. fucking good."

He sped up, pounding my insides out, I couldn't contain myself any longer, I almost forgot I didn't need too. We were high up, no way anyone could hear me. Louder moans began leaving my body, I begged for him to never stop, to make me cum, to go harder. I wanted every inch. Hushed moans were escaping Daryl's lips, he smashed his lips against mine, trying to conceal them. But we were fucking like animals now, bodies sprinkled with sweat, shaking, he groaned against ear, as I cried and whimpered in his. My hands were getting tangled in his hair, we were both close now. A few more rushed thrusts and I cried out, my body going weak as he kept thrusting into me. I gripped Daryl's back, sinking my nails into his burning skin, his husky breathing heavy in my ears. I came again, my legs began to shake, Daryl was still grinding into me, he cursed over his breath and his body tightened and in one swift motion he leaped out of me, and grabbed his cock, aiming it at my abdomen. He released his load onto my shaky stomach. I took a deep breath, gaining consciousness again after my climax.

I sat up, my nose leveled with his hard-on, I gazed up at him seductively, I grabbed him at the base and wrapped my mouth around it, sucking him completely dry, he caressed my cheek. I let go and let him walk away to grab a loose rag he had handy. He whipped the cum from my stomach and chest and threw the rag on the ground next to his pile of clothes.

We both laid back down, he kissed my forehead and his finger drawing lines on my cheek and neck. Daryl hummed, "You know, we're never leaving this guard tower now." I started tracing lines on his arm, admiring his physique. I let out a breath and smiled. "Sounds perfect to me."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

wp: thewriterdoll

#daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl imagines #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x y/n #daryl x you #daryl dixion imagine #the walking dead

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celtic-crossbow · 7 months

Text

Whumptober 2023

No. 4 Shock | No. 7 “Can You Hear Me?”

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader (Platonic/Early Relationship)

Setting: Post farm / Pre prison

Warnings: Electric shock, blood, CPR

“M’gonna check the fence.”

“I’ll get the generator.”

It was a safe enough place to make camp. It was freezing, snow coming down in large flakes to stick to the couple of inches already on the ground. Being inside a building was already a blessing but with a fence around it? You couldn’t ask for more!

The few vehicles left to your group were unloaded, everyone else was inside getting set up. You opted to stay close to Daryl, as you often did. Sometimes, he seemed annoyed. Other times, indifferent. But since the fall of the farm, you found that he didn’t seem to mind your company. Hell, he had even sought you out the nights you had watch. Conversation was always light, but the silence in between became comfortable. The man didn’t sleep much, but when he did, he opted to sleep close to the group so that he was near you.

It wasn’t until he started putting his arm around you on cold nights, pulling you back against his chest, that you began to question exactly where you stood with him. Friendship was one thing. That was an entirely different animal. Not that you were opposed. Simply confused. Even more so, when it became a common occurrence.

There wasn’t much you could do right now to help. Staying out of the way, hovering somewhere between Rick and the archer, was probably the best option. You began to check out the treeline, eyes peeled for any signs of danger, living or dead. Thankfully, it was quiet. You felt like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Glancing down at Daryl, he was pulling on sections of the fence, checking their integrity. It seemed like a kind of heavy wire, not chainlink. If it kept out walkers and unsavory characters for the night, it could have been made of playdough for all you cared.

A glance back to where Rick worked found him studying the generator. There was barely enough light of day left for him to see without a flashlight. Maybe you should offer yours. You let the idea move about uselessly in your head while your eyes curiously followed some of the cables from behind the generator. Strange. What was out here that needed power?

The generator was sputtering when you found the metal clips at the end, your brow furrowed. They were attached to the fence. That didn’t make— ‘Oh, shit!’

Y/N, meet other shoe.

“Daryl, let go!” You cried as the noise from the generator spurred to life, your eyes filled with horror just as the archer turned his head toward your call, both hands on the wire. There was a loud sound, like one of those lights meant to fry mosquitos but amplified. Your feet were already moving before Daryl had hit the ground, tendrils of smoke rising from his clothes.

“Oh my god, Daryl! Daryl, can you hear me?” His eyes were closed. Small streams of red filtered from his nose and— oh, god — his ears. His palms were burned, charred and smoking from his grip on the fence, while smaller burns were scattered across parts of his skin that you could see. You didn’t know if you should touch him. Your knowledge of anything medical was limited to smacking someone on the back if they were choking. What help could you be now? “Rick!”

The ex-sheriff was already stumbling onto his knees beside you, nervously assessing the situation. You heard the door open, the others obviously hearing your cries. “What’s going on?” Hershel. Yes! Yes, you needed Hershel!

“Fence. Daryl. Shocked.” You stammered, not making much sense but the old man was jogging over anyway.

“He’s not breathing.” Rick muttered, mostly to himself, with a haunted, panicked glaze over his eyes that you were slowly coming to know very well. He lifted Daryl to remove the crossbow from his back. It’s a wonder the thing wasn’t broken from the impact. Maybe it was. Hershel and Rick moved as if they could read each other’s thoughts. The veterinarian began chest compressions, halting only long enough for Rick to force air into the archer’s lungs with a trembling hand pinching his nose shut.

Everyone had moved closer but kept distance to let the men do what was needed. Except Carol. Through her own tears, she wrapped her arms around your shoulders and pulled you to your feet.

“No.” You mumbled quietly at first, shaking your head before pulling against her to get back to Daryl’s side. “No! Daryl! Daryl!”

“They’re trying to help him!” The older woman reasoned, spinning you so that your cheek was pressed against the front of her shoulder. You could barely see through your tears but Rick was shouting in frustration, and Hershel kept shaking his head. “It’s okay.” Carol whispered. Her fingers carded through your hair but offered little comfort.

“Daryl.” You whimpered, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand.

A loud, wheezing inhale came from the ground, followed by a series of coughs. It was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard.

“Glad you’re back,” you heard Rick practically gasp the words, his tense posture relaxing a little. Hershel slumped in exhaustion but it gave you a glimpse of Daryl. He was pale, drawing in quick breaths, and had yet to move.

“Think… fence s’good.”

In all your time with your little apocalypse family, you had never seen Daryl sleep as deeply as he was now. It had only been a few hours since the incident, but the image of him, unmoving, was trapped at the forefront of your mind. Everyone was asleep, aside from T-Dog being on watch by the door. The room was warm, the small fireplace enough to keep a little heat going even as the flames burned lower.

You sat next to where they had placed the archer, giving him the only bed in the building. He protested that Lori should have it, of course, being pregnant and all, but even she had insisted. Exhausted from the trauma, he had fallen asleep soon after Hershel had done his initial checks for early signs of nerve damage or any heart abnormalities. His palms were wrapped heavily, having received the worst of the burns. Dried blood was still beneath his nose and ears, but that could be dealt with later. Gauze covered the other burns on his arms and neck. You were instructed on how to check his pulse and what to watch for while he rested.

“Ya ain’t tired?”

Your eyes had been glued to the rise and fall of his chest, so engrossed that you hadn’t noticed his eyes open. Those pretty, pretty blue eyes.

“No, I’m, uh…I’m good.” You sniffled and moved forward to the edge of the chair, reaching for his wrist. He flinched but didn’t pull back as he would have only a few months before. “Just checking your pulse.” He gave an almost imperceptible nod, eyes slipping closed. Satisfied, you sat back and rubbed a hand over your face. You really were exhausted but letting someone else watch over him wasn’t an option.

“Y’alrigh’?” His eyes were still closed. He must’ve picked up on your uneven breaths or the tap of your foot. Clever jerk.

“Yeah, I’m fine. How are you feeling?”

“Like a human Pop-tart.” He turned his head toward you, eyelids heavy and expression pinched. He was in pain, though he’d never admit it. Hershel had left some Tylenol but you’d have to wrestle him to get him to take it.

Still…

“Hershel left—”

“Don’ need it.”

“Of course you don’t.” You pursed your lips and crossed your arms. “Go back to sleep.”

“Ya need ta sleep too, y’know.”

“I have to keep an eye on your heartrate.”

He hummed, eyes opening a little wider. Without warning he pushed himself up onto his elbows with a wince and moved to the opposite side of the bed, collapsing back onto the pillow.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You whisper yelled. You hoped he could see your irritation in the glare you were giving him since you couldn’t verbally express it at the moment.

“Shuddup an’ get in.” Daryl gave a jerk of his chin toward the now empty space in front of you.

“Daryl, I need to—”

“I gotcha covered. Jus’ get in, damnit.” With an annoyed huff, you toed off your boots and climbed under the blanket, flopping onto your side to face him. “Now c’mere.” The archer stretched out the arm closest to you in invitation. You hesitated. Sure, you’d slept next to him before but he was behind you, keeping you warm. This was…not that. “C’mon, ain’t got all night.” Gulping audibly, you scooted closer, gently laying your head against the front of his shoulder. His arm came around from behind you to rest against your side.

“Won’t this irritate those burns?”

“Nah, s’fine. Gimme yer hand.” You lifted your hand from where you had it sheltered in front of you and allowed him to gently grab your wrist with his fingertips. He was carefully avoiding his wrapped palm coming into contact. Your hand was placed, palm down, against his chest, his fingers pressing it flat. “There. Monitor away an’ get some sleep.” His heart thudded strongly at a regular pace, the feel of it soothing. You found yourself smiling at this sweet gesture, only to look up and be met with his raised brow.

“You’re such an ass. Go to sleep.”

“You firs’.”

“Fine.” A beat of silence. “Think I’ll dream about Rick kissing you again? That was kinda hot.”

“Stop.”

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konigbabe · 1 year

Text

the five times you meet phillip graves

Author: @konigbabe

Pairing: Phillip Graves x fem!reader

Word count: 5.6k

Tags/Warnings: cod mwii campaign spoilers; swearing; enemies to those who tolerate each other; kissing; blood and injury; minor violence; cursing; pet names; gunshot/knife wounds; inaccurate military procedures/terms; inaccurate cia procedures; use of codenames/callsigns

Summary: The five times you meet Cmdr. Phillip Graves and the one time he surprises you.

Inspired by the book The Five Times I Met Myself by James L. Rubart.

masterlist • request • faq • taglist • AO3 • ko-fi

01 ˚✧ ┊ The first time; he irritates you.

A guttural grunt escapes your throat, fingers tightening around the steering wheel as the car before you speed up. A series of fucks and dammits leaves your mouth; foot on the accelerator, you follow the asset on the dirty road.

Where the fuck are they, you curse internally, barely missing the rotten fence as you near the end of the farm; this is the only chance to stop the asset with air support Shepherd sent to help you—that be if they were actually here.

The car never slows down, drifting through the abandoned farm, away from you. A static cracks next to you, before an unknown, rather casual voice comes through, “Echo 3-6, this is Shadow-1. Engaging the silo north of your position.”

Finally, you reach for the transmitter next to you, “Shadow-1, you’re free to fire but do not engage near the car, I need him alive.”

“Roger that,” the man says before all hell breaks loose; and to your dismay, you watch in horror as your asset’s car turns right towards the silo, intended to drive right past it the very same second the Shadow Company opens fire. A loud explosion blinds you momentarily as you slam the brakes.

Almost none of the men manage to exit the plane before you storm into the vehicle, rage surging through your veins; the red lightning matching your emotions.

“Which one of you is Shadow-1?” you stop a masked man about to leave, hand on his shoulder as you look around; and your eyes land on the only man without a mask and uniform—dirty blond hair, narrowed eyes shining with blue ice, lips pressed tight. He stays leaning against the side of the aircraft, hands clutching the top of his vest; and you know, even without anyone answering, that this must be the commander.

“Commander, you have a visitor,” the man next to you announces, shaking your hand off his shoulder.

“I can see that,” his voice is vexed, displeased. His men flow by you, leaving only the two of you in the confined space. Face to face, you feel a mix of frustration and confusion while he walks toward you.

Hand tugging at the side of his vest as he nears you, he takes it off.

“You must be the officer, echo 3-6.”

“And you must be the jerk that disobeyed my order and killed my asset,” the words come out like a hiss, voice laced with venom.

With a whoa, his hands shoot up in a defensive gesture, eyebrows raised, “but you gave me good to go, officer,” the commander takes a tentative step towards you, “I can’t foresee the future.”

Standing before you, his gaze sparkles with a mischievous twinkle, only inflaming the boiling rage that churns within you.

“You should’ve double-checked before firing, commander,” you remark, a touch of poignancy in your voice.

Opening his mouth to answer, his radio abruptly interrupts, calling out his name. As he strides past you, he adds, “I’ll remember your sage advice for the next time, officer.”

“Oh, and one more thing,” he stops by the opening, hand gripping the loose rope on the side, “the name’s Phillip Graves, not the jerk.”

02 ˚✧ ┊ The second time; he offers you a helping hand.

The tight bindings on your wrists sting, the beige material becoming stained with your blood as you squirm in the corner of the small, stuffy room. A moan escapes your lips while you try to find some reprieve from the uncomfortable position, only to be reminded of the dire situation you are in by the fresh wound on your leg opening up; more wet, sticky red substance turning the white camo pants into violet.

Foreign voices can be heard outside the room; malicious content behind the words. Ears perked for potential incoming, you attempt to stay alert; the soft light of the dark room and the throbbing pain in your leg makes it difficult to do so.

The sound of gunshots ricocheted through the building, reverberating off the walls; the voices behind the door go quiet for a split second. Air stills as tension fills the room. There’s a distant sound of a helicopter flying over your head. Someone starts throwing commands; three men to the rooftop, two to the north of the building and—

—the door is bashed open. Back pressed to the wall, your eyes follow a masked man, white camo matching yours. All you can see is his eyes; young, too young to be in this situation, the forest green projecting his worry; something isn’t going according to their plan.

Breath hitched, he strides toward you, handgun pointed right between your eyes. It feels like your heart is pounding so hard that it's going to burst right through your ribcage, his finger dancing dangerously close to the trigger.

“Who did you call,” he barks, accent thick, voice shaky, “tell me!”

“First you tell me who sold the weapons to your boss,” it’s a shot in the dark but there isn’t any other way now; you need to find out and this man—this boy might have the answer.

His hand isn’t steady, he’s hurried, impatient. Restive.

“I’m gonna die anyway, who does it matter if I die knowing or not,” you press further. Gunshots grow louder, closer. Multiple boots hit the hardwood. Ash and dust raise as men keep running around, shouting and shooting.

Eyes flickering between the soldier and the door, you keep pressing, urging him to answer. Both of you are aware of the fate awaiting you; just a matter of time and the right (and wrong) decision.

Through the smoggy air, a dark figure creeps into the room, the crimson beam slicing through the fumes with the precision of a sniper; a killer. Within a second, the no, stop makes it just to the tip of your tongue before a click is all that could be heard.

A warm, wet substance splatters over your cheeks. Clenching your eyes shut in revulsion, you let out a moan of displeasure. The soldier's body collapses to the floor with a heavy thud, his vacant eyes gazing up at you.

“Bleeding all by yourself, sweetheart,” the shadow nears you. Blue pools of larimar running over your sitting form before Graves crouches before you. His gloved fingers touch the tender skin around the open wound, examining the damage in the dim light.

“Seriously,” you hiss at him, “what’s with you and killing my intel? And don’t—”

A groan cuts you off as Graves presses a gauze against the oozing gash, applying more pressure than needed while wrapping a bandage around your thigh; the pain radiates through your body like a searing fire, teeth clenched and putting on a stone-cold face in front of the commander himself.

“—don’t call me sweetheart, Graves.”

“Well,” he finally looks up at you, tying the last knot of the bandage securely, “you didn’t tell me your name, and I gotta call y’ something.”

Standing up, his form looms over you, enveloping your figure in his shadow.

“Think you can walk?”

Your eyes burn into his as you raise your still-tied wrist, silently demanding him to free you.

A corner of his lips turns up, knife still tucked up in his vest as he says, “I think I prefer you tied up.”

“Not funny,” you remark but it gets him to bend down to your level again; the cold of the blade grazes over your irritated skin, gloved hand enclosing one of yours in his, steading your wrists. Few slices later, pain shoots up the whole length of your arms upon the freeing; soothing the wrists for a moment, Graves gets up and with a “Let’s go” walks toward the open door. It takes some willpower to stand up.

Once you steady yourself, just a simple step throws you off balance as you put your body weight onto the wounded leg. A hiss alerts Graves, who turns his head to look back at you. With an annoyed huff, he offers you a hand to help you get balanced again before throwing your arm around his shoulders.

His grip around your ribcage is firm but somewhat tender, fingers splayed over your side like a protective shield while he guides you to the door; the other hand grasping his weapon as he walks you out of the building.

03 ˚✧ ┊ The third time, he takes away your breath; quite literally.

Months of rehabilitation and a psychological evaluation later, you find yourself at a military compound. Shadow Company’s provisional base, covered in snow, in the middle of nowhere as the European winter fell upon all of you.

Simple intel mission, that’s your job; what makes it harder is the utter finesse skill of avoiding the commander by all means—so far successfully.

Since the last time you saw him, back when he killed your intel (again), managed to burn down a whole building just to get you out and almost pushed you out of a Shadow company’s helicopter while taking off (which you firmly believe was on purpose), you haven’t stopped hearing about him, especially from general Shepherd. It’s evident that he’s taken a liking to the company, to your dismay.

The hard mat underneath your bare feet squeaks with each slip, hard thuds and thumps spread through the room with each blow. The heat of the room is stifling, sweat dripping down your back, hands wrapped in tape to protect the knuckles.

Focusing on your breathing and the moves, letting the rhythm of your body drive you through the kata, every movement precise and each strike purposeful, you can feel the energy of the room around you and the strength of your own presence growing within.

With each repetition, you take down the imaginative opponent with more ease. A dull ache pulsating in your leg, the gush already healed but your subconsciousness still bringing it up.

Eyes close, focusing on each move, feeling every muscle in your body flex and contract, the silence is cut short by someone clearing their throat. With only the ceiling light above you being lit up, the intruder steps into the light only for you to huff in annoyance.

The man you’ve been successfully avoiding for days has finally found you.

His blonde hair is ruffled as if someone was running their fingers through it, cheeks tinted with a pinkish hue, Graves stops at the edge of the mat with raised eyebrows, lips tightly shut. Jacket open, the combat shirt outlines his dog tags, exposing the taut body hidden underneath; arms resting in his pockets, he takes a look around before his eyes land on you again.

“Most people spar during the day,” he notes, “and with a partner.”

Nearing where Graves stands, you glowered, “I don’t need a partner. I’m done anyway.”

Graves takes his hands out of the pockets, arm extended in front of your body like a tollgate, firm and unyielding. Looking at him, his eyes stern but form relaxed. It’s admittable that even at this moment, him being less than a foot away, he radiates an air of authority, his commander showing.

“I can show you a move,” he says, losing his arm back to his side, “one that’ll take your breath away,” he specifies.

A huff leaves your lips, “That’s childish.”

He sighs, hand running across his cheek as his eyes stay focused on you, “I’m serious. It might come in handy in combat for you.”

It takes a silent moment for you to think; to weigh whether to give in or not. Graves doesn’t show any signs of making fun of the situation as your eyes scan his face, eyes heavy-lidded, tired; but still, he offers to give you a piece of his knowledge—and even if your dislike to the commander outgrows your sense of authority, he still possesses more field experience than you and who are you not to take advantage of his offering.

When you accept the proposal, he nods in return; jacket and shoes off, the mat narrows as the man walks to stand in the middle of it, motioning you to stand before him. Face to face, he directs your body into the appropriate position.

“Pretend to kick me in my side,” he pats his ribcage, feet apart and ready to defend. The moment your leg is in the air, his hand grips the back of your thigh, just behind your knee, the other gripping your shoulder to firmly stop you in motion.

“When you push against here,” he squeezes the leg twice, “you squat down a little,” his body follows his words, “and the other hand goes for either the knee,” the hand on your shoulder leaves the moment he’s sure you can still stand and listen before gripping your other leg, still on the mat, “or the ankle, depending on the size of your opponent,” his cold fingers wrap around the exposed flesh of your ankle, “and you go back into the standing position, pulling your opponent’s body up and forward.”

This time, he doesn’t follow his words; instead lets go of your body, stepping back.

“Sometimes it’s better to not only pull but slam into the opponent as well, disrupt their center of gravity,” he adds, “it’ll send you both down but you’ll still have the upper hand.”

A mental image of his words replays in your head. Nodding along his words, you reposition yourself and motion for him to come closer, “I need to see it in full force.”

Looking at your leg, where the healed wound left its scar, Graves makes sure to understand your demand, “You want me to take you down?”

“I want you to throw me against the mat, yes,” you reassure him, “my leg’s all healed up or I wouldn’t be here, commander.”

Even with doubt painted on his unshaven face, he steps closer to position himself as well.

“I’ll probably hurt you if I do it.”

“Like you haven’t dreamt about that before,” you snark.

“My dreams tend to differ.”

His words send a jolt of electricity through you, resulting in a leg high up, aiming straight at Graves’ ribcage, the same place he patted before. It’d be an admirable attack if all this wasn’t prepared beforehand.

The commander does exactly as he described earlier; all you manage to do is yelp as his fingers sneak around your ankle. Strong pull forward, up, and back. The next thing you know, the heavy mat feels like an unforgiving surface beneath her.

Using enough force, the air pushes out of your lungs completely, throat closing when you try to take a breath as if a lump blocking the airways. Muscles tight, you sit up. Graves stands over you, starry eyes following your movement as you finally inhale, short and shallow but the air fills your lungs delightfully.

“Told you I’ll take your breath away.”

04 ˚✧ ┊ The fourth time; he saves your life.

The embassy is in flames; searing hot, ever exploding, and growing with every passing second. The sound of gunfire and shrieks of terror echo through the halls, smoke billowing out of the windows. Passing multiple bodies, your group moves in unison. Scouting each hall, each room and every single corner for the target—nowhere to be found.

Passing a windowed hall, glass shattered all over the marble floor, your eyes take in the outside scene, the utter chaos; crowds of people, shouting, crying, fighting. Praying. Their families might still be in this hellish building and as much as you wish to help, the diplomat remains the priority number one. You notice the familiar hooded figures of Shadows exiting multiple cars and heading towards another entrance, clearing other sections of the embassy as you work.

Reaching the end of the hall, all of your team stops next to the stairs as one of the soldiers clears the remaining room, returning to you with empty hands; nothing.

“Echo 3-6 to Watcher-1,” you turn on the mic when the last room is cleared, “target’s position unknown, moving the fifth floor. Over.”

“Negative,” the mechanic voice cuts through the static, “regroup with Shadow-1 and move back to the rendezvous. Over.”

The men around you remain still, their eyes fixed on you as you stand there resolutely, gaze trained on the top of the stairs; the flickering flames of the fire dancing like a sinister symphony. A heavy sense of dread clings to you, the crackling of the fire cutting through the momentary silence before you speak again, “What if the target is there?”

“Negative,” another refusal, “fifth floor’s completely taken over by the fire. Regroup and fall back. Over.”

“Roger that, over and out,” you nod to the group. Turning around, a step behind everyone, a sound pulls you back; silence follows before a distant Help! reaches your ears. It’s weak, merely audible but still enough confirmation that someone is still there.

Eyes on the group, none of them seem to notice you falling behind. Fingers tightening around the handle of your gun, a mere second passes before your body turns around on its own accord; one leg follows the other, and stairs pass by as heat envelopes you in its scourging warmth.

Flames kiss up your skin as you move through the remains of a hall, fire closing you in; stupid, stupid idea and stupid me. The heat is unbearable, each crackle sends shivers down your spine. Dread settles in your bones over the realization that this might be the way you go.

Another Help! throws your thought away. Stopping by the closed door, you bang your hand on them, eliciting a shout from the other side; no matter who’s there, you already know you’re gonna get that person out. Going through all this inferno, it’s the least you can do.

Bashing the door open with the butt of your gun, a figure rams straight into you, slamming your back against the burning wall for a second.

“Oh my god, thank you,” a man bellows straight into your face; the target. Before you notice what’s happening, he reaches towards you and snatches your mask from your face, holding it to his face to inhale.

“Wait,” you try to stop him but it’s too late, smoke and ash fill your lungs upon the unexpected moment. The radio on your neck crackles but nothing comes through. Frantically gasping for air, you focus on the mission; bring the target to the rendezvous, that’s your only way out of here—preferably still alive.

The air is thick with the smell of acrid smoke. Gasping frenziedly, hand wrapping around the target’s thick arm, you drag the diplomat towards the staircase. Heart racing, head becoming dizzy, it doesn’t help that the man slips through your weakening hold, landing on the floor with a loud thud.

“Fuck,” you curse; breathing shallowly, nausea and headache start to creep on you as you try to move the mass of a man on your own. Everything spins, the flames licking and nipping at your skin like fiery fingers, the heat of it all pressing down on you.

The smoke clogs your lungs, air deathly still; your consciousness gives up on you, darkness succumbing you to the all-consuming fire. Eyes watering, swallowing feels like drinking molten lava, the roaring flames devour all in their wake.

A sharp slap jolts your eyes open. A masked man hovers above you, the larimar blue shining through the mask; Graves.

“Wake up, sweetheart,” he hisses, tapping at your cheek harshly, “not dying on me today.” The blonde turns his head around. That’s when you notice other Shadows hovering around, two of them carrying the hopefully unconscious (and not dead) body of the target while Graves stays by your side; hand on your shoulder blade, he helps you sit up.

“Don’t kill this one or I’ll shoot you,” a guttural cough creeps up your throat as his gaze bores into you. Wrapping a piece of clothing around your lower face, a makeshift mask, his arm sneaks around your waist, effortlessly lifting you up to the point your feet don’t even touch the ground.

“What, he’s intel?” he remarks; one hand guiding your arm over his shoulders, his fingers securely wrapping over your wrist to keep your weight onto him while the other arm stays around your waist—basically carrying all your weight on his side, he adds, “if yes, might shoot him them.”

05 ˚✧ ┊ The fifth time; he kisses you.

Everything is going smoothly, too suently to your comfort, causing a shivering sense of unease creeps up slowly on your spine. The pungent smell of cigarettes and alcohol fills your nostrils, chatter surrounding your lonely form in a dull hum as you sip at the drink in your hand.

A group of men and women sit across the confined space, closer to the exit door than you, talking in hushed voices; the deal going according to the plan, except they don’t know about the closeness of sneaky ears encompassing this place.

Observing the ongoing deal, another man joins the group, whispering to one of the men; your eyes firmly on them, fingertips dancing on top of the full glass, you watch as—

—”Echo, your cover’s blown,” a static voice of a Shadow comes through the second two more men enter your peripheral vision, eyes scanning the area; for you.

“Roger that,” you whisper, earpiece barely picking up. Taking one last sip of the drink, feeling the cold liquid cool your burning throat, the chair squeaks as your feet touch the ground.

Before the men manage to look in the direction of the noise disruption, you slide into the shadows of the nearest hall; too bad the only exit was behind them. Now it’s time to come up with plan b. Swiftly moving along the building, you look out from the window, too high. No stairs. No escape route. No fight; instruction clear—don’t get caught, don’t cause a scene.

Heavy footsteps echo from behind you, enclosing you like a wild animal being cornered; slight panic starts settling in your abdomen. You’re a professional, pull it together. Pull. It. Together. Deep breath in, shallow breath out. Looking to your right, then to your left; first doors locked, second as well.

Footsteps growing heavier, closer, faster; deep breath in, sha—

—hand over your mouth.

A firm figure pulls you backward, calloused fingers wrapping over your mouth, digging into your cheek as he drags you into the third door. The smell of suede, the taste of leather, hot breath fanning over your earlobe as a quiet Shhh echoes in your ear; Graves.

The commander guides you into the guest closet; turning you around, you’re faced with the same wide, larimar oceans of eyes, finger over his tightly shut lips as his hand remains over your mouth. With a reassuring nod from your side, he drops it, looking at the open door, the sound of incoming footsteps filling the confusion and tension surging through your body.

“What’re you doing here?”

What are you doing on this mission? In this city?

“Graves,” you hiss, finger digging in the middle of his chest, feeling the metal of his dog tags beneath the fabric of the blue shirt that only enhances the color of his eyes.

“Check the second room, I’ll check the third,” a man’s voice orders. The third—the third, the third where you are currently stationed, hidden.

Graves’ jaw twitches, eyes fixated on the door; a shadow is cast over the light from the hallway. It feels as if time has stopped, and your breath hitches as the anticipation of being discovered takes hold of you. Heart pounding, breath bated—

Lips on yours; rough, wet. Needy. Hands enclosing your face, covering every inch of your head, fingertips diving into your hair. Graves’ body presses against yours, hips flushed together, a leg between yours. A whimper escapes your bruised lips as his tongue swipes along the lower one before biting, tugging at it, drawing a desperate, humiliating moan out of you.

A hum reverberates in his throat, tongue pushing inside you. It’s wet, sticky; messy. His tongue explores the depths of your mouth. He’s aggressive and impatient. Hunger seers through your touch-starved body, jolts of electricity awakening your desire. Bringing your leg up and around his hip, you push him into you, hips grinding into yours.

Groans, grunts, moans; a mess of two people, air filled with desperation.

Your brain goes completely blank, kiss drunk and empty. The heat of his flesh is searing through the material of his shirt; squeezing his bicep, you feel the muscle flex as he angles your head for better access.

He’s the first one to pull away, your lips following his for a split second before the realization hits you; breathless, confused, and way too eager, you shake your head. Eyes staring at his flushed face, the darkness of his pupils overtaking the blue oceans of his eyes like a stormy night, you can feel the raw tension between the two of you. Not good, not good at all.

Graves’ hands slide from your cheeks at the same time you put your hands on his chest, the tight muscle contracting, heart racing; and you push, leg falling from his hip.

“Why did you kiss me?” you hiss at him. The pink hue that decorates his nose and cheeks only adds to the allure of his pale skin; and if it was anyone but Graves, you'd be finding it hard not to reach out and brush your fingers gently against his flushed cheeks. You’d even say it looked slightly adorable (and immensely attractive).

“Why did you kiss me back?” he bites back gruffly. He takes a step back, his gaze shifting towards the door as if he's trying to make a run for it.

“Why did you use tongue?” Not letting him win this, you continue to press into him. He stands at your arm's length, fingers wrapping around your wrist that still rests against his chest, fiercely putting it away before he shoots you a smug look.

“Why did you moan?”

“Stop it,” pushing him one last time, Graves takes a step to the side, letting you go and head toward the door; the hallway clear.

01 ˚➶ ┊The time he surprises you; and it hurts.

The car ride is silent, a sense of relief settling inside you while you return to the Los Vaqueros’ base. That’s before your phone starts ringing, and Shepherd’s code name appears on the screen. From the peripheral view, you notice Graves shifting, the two shadows at the front seats sitting quietly.

The call is rather informational, Shepherd impatiently collects your report before you even arrive at the base to follow the proper procedure.

“What about the third missile, did you manage to locate it,” he asks, voice calm but concerned. Graves’ eyes meet yours, conveying a strange mix of fear and guilt.

With an exhale, you say, “no, sir, but I’m getting close to identifying the source.”

“Say again,” Shepherd’s voice turns stern.

“I have a meeting with an asset of mine, after that—”

“I did not give you the order to search for the source, officer,” he cuts you off, “give me Graves.”

The man next to you watches with confusion as you hand him your phone without much question. Eventually taking it, he talks with Shepherd for a brief moment; eyes flickering to you, you notice his rigid posture and hand lowering to the zip ties in his vest.

Something is off.

Hanging up the phone, Graves’ attention is now fully on you, freeing the zip ties from their restraints.

“I’ll need you to extend your arms, officer,” he commands formally. As the realization hits you, a chill of dread creeps up your spine. Everything after that happens in less than a minute; from reaching for the radio to inform Ghost and the others (who are currently obliviously riding the car behind you) to inform them of the situation to Graves’ fingers wrapping around your wrists, tugging forward. With your face a few inches from his, you kick up your leg, fighting not only the commander but the confined space of the back of the car.

The element of surprise and strength isn’t on your side as Graves takes out his handgun, one hand gripping both of your wrists.

“It didn’t have to be like this,” the bitter words grate through his clenched teeth.; taking his handgun out, the handle lands harshly against your temple, sending a dull pain throughout your body as he knocks you unconscious.

A loud thud jolts you awake, shaking you from the depths of darkness. Eyes heavy, your head spinning and a throbbing ache radiating from the side of your face; a low groan escapes your chapped lips.

Heaving a groan, you muster all of your strength and spin to the side, outstretched arms seeking the door handle. With a click, the door opens. Pushing forward, the rain pelts your skin, eyes squinting to protect themselves from the onslaught.

As you stumble out, the hard thud of your body hitting the wet asphalt sends jolts of pain through you. The echoes of voices seem to linger in the air, blending with the night as it pours down. A dark figure slumps against the car - a shadow. Reaching for his pulse, you can feel the sickly warmth of the blood that’s already soaked through his mask.

That’s when you notice the man looming before you. Back facing your crawling form, hunched, gun ready to fire as he walks to the side of the car; Graves keeps talking, his voice taunting Ghost (who's nowhere to be seen).

You know what you have to do. Heart pounding, you slowly raise your hand to the shadow's thigh, groping for the handgun in the holster.

It takes you a moment to stable your stance and focus your gaze to aim at the back of Graves’ head, pouring rain blurring your vision but this moment, this second is all it takes for a nearby shadow to notice the imminent danger of his commander, to aim his weapon and pull the trigger.

Like a powerful force, a sharp impact sends you crashing to the ground with a pained groan erupting from your throat. The handgun clatters to the asphalt with a hollow click, Graves turns around sharply; eyes wide, finger on the trigger.

Lowering the gun, he walks over to your groaning figure. Calloused fingertips brush back the wet locks of hair from your face, he crouches down; the butt of his weapon resting over the oozing wound on your chest, face solemn, eyes dull and lethargic.

“Now that was a big fuckin’ mistake, sweetheart.”

BONUS ˚✧ ┊

The heat of Adal’s sun burns into your clothing, seeping through the thin layer of fabric and biting into the skin of your arms. Throat dry, licking your lips, you walk in Ghost’s footprints, the city of Al Mazrah behind you.

Snatching a bottle from Ghost’s backpack, the feeling of cool water running down your parched throat brings a wave of relief.

Reaching the cliff, Ghost stands a step before you, looking through his scope; handing it to you the moment he pinpoints the target’s position.

As you search the area with his instructions, your eyes fall upon the familiar face. Commander Ghorbrani stands surrounded by both Quds Forces and Russians, the ongoing deal going according to plan it seems.

Five words; that’s all it takes for you to get involved in taking the lives of dozens of men - “Visual on General Ghorbani confirmed.”

With Laswell’s last confirmation and Shepherd’s orders, you hand Ghost his weapon back. Securing the sunglasses on your face, you listen to the communication; crouched down, barely reaching Ghost’s mid-thigs as the lieutenant hovers above you, providing the much-desired shadow.

“Echo 3-6, Ghost, you are danger close to the zone,” Graves’ voice whispers into the earpiece, “this arrow’s gonna pack a punch.”

Veins thrumming with adrenaline, looking up at Ghost, an affirmative nod is sufficient enough for him to respond, “Copy. Approved.”

“Send it,” you state into the mic around your neck mic before holding onto the top of the body armor Ghost basically bullied you into wearing.

“All stations, Shadow-1. Missile is ready for immediate delivery, stand by for launch,” Graves continues talking as you hold the mic frequency open for possible communication.

Ghost straightens his back the moment Graves announced that the missile is loose, both of you mentally bracing for the impact as the Shadow commander continues informing about the missile’s actual coordinates.

The blinding light fills your vision as the missile strucks its target, the deafening roar of the impact overpowered by an immense shock wave; grains of sand stung your exposed cheeks like tiny droplets of glass; the sensation of the sharp needles nicking at your flesh rather awakening.

“Bloody fucking hell,” Ghost’ voice cuts through the sound of destruction. Both of you watch as pieces of metal and flesh fly in the air; a dance of death. A pungent, sweetish smell fills your nostrils as you get up to stand next to him again.

“Direct,” you confirm, “target destroyed.” As you watch the last remains falling to the ground, you add, “one would say it’s raining men.”

“Fuck sake, Echo, keep it professional,” Graves’ voice echo in your earpiece, a hint of amusement present in his tone. Ghost shoots you a look of disapproval.

Shrugging, arm extended to what was a meeting ground just seconds ago, you state, “What? It’s true.”

#phillip graves #phillip graves x you #philip graves x reader #cod #codmwii #call of duty modern warfare #phillip graves x reader #call of duty imagine #call of duty fanfic #cod mw22 #codmw #call of duty modern warfare 2 #moni writes #phillip graves x y/n #philip graves x you #philip graves #philip graves x y/n

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vixen525noms · 10 months

Text

Release- Extended Version

Warning- safe vore (main), fatal vore (others), characters in distress

Inspired by a pic by @verefex

Enara lost count of how much she had paced the metal walkway over the enclosure, but she hadn’t lost track of time. Ten minutes past the end of her break. But she wouldn’t get in trouble. The other security workers seemed to expect her to stay beyond the end of her break when they told her she should take a look at what they were guarding. It was extremely unexpected, but probably not for the reason they thought.

She was pretty confident most thought monsters like this are myths… but it wasn’t her first time seeing one. She had just been a child, but she knew she hadn’t imagined it. The first time had been extremely brief. She had been stunned silent in awe at the massive being. She remembered storybooks speaking of such things as dangerous, often eating people. She hadn’t known what to do. There was no way she could out run it. But she watched as the giant simply reached over the fence of her grandpa’s farm and set down the lamb that had gone missing earlier in the day. It… no, he stared at her as the lamb ran past her to go to its mother, then simply went back the way he came.

Even as a child it was enough for her to understand that despite what the storybooks said, this titanic person wasn’t an evil monster. Just very scary. And very, very big.

The second, and last encounter had been more significant. It was a couple years after the incident with the lost lamb. But she had gone to collect berries for making pie.. she had fallen down, tumbled into the river. She thought she was doomed. She remembered waking on dry land, coughing up water with pressure on her chest. The pressure gone followed by her being lifted up. Enara remembered when she opened her eyes seeing the same enormous ‘monster’ carrying her. Same as he had carried the lamb. Except this time he went further past the fences, instead setting her much closer to the house before once again leaving.

She paced the walk again, talking to herself as she considered her options. Seeing what they had locked up here… others may see a giant as a dangerous monster… she knew different. Sure the muscular, dark haired giant was enormous and intimidating… but from what she saw back on the farm, she knew they weren’t monsters. She ignored the blue eyes tracking her movement as she talked aloud to herself as she processed the information, “If I do this, I won’t just lose my job. I’ll lose my credentials and never work in security again. Might even be arrested for theft of company property or worse. They may even kill me. I am going to be in so much trouble…”

She went further down the walk this time, over to a panel. Other guards had given her the key ring so she could come in here and see… they wouldn’t expect this. It took some tries to find the right key for the access panel. She hoped she was right about these beings. She would be in easy reach when the restraints were dropped. She opened the panel. Hesitates… hit the first of the buttons. She heard the whirring of gears and the electronics click as the massive restraints on the so-called monster released, allowing free movement. She watched the giant stand, staring at her as she stood near the panel. She was fairly certain he was smart enough to understand she had freed the restraints. Alarms were going off. Usually only one restraint would ever be loosened, but definitely not released, so they could feed the being, so not surprising there were alarms for this. She could feel those blue eyes staring at her, watching what she did. She took a deep breath to build her nerve… and she hit the button to open the passage to the surface. The way they no doubt brought this giant in… and the only escape.

She had expected to immediately hear the heavy foot prints of the being, feel the floor shake during an escape. She saw the guards at the door to the walkway. “They got here fast… time to face conseque…'' her talking to herself was interrupted as the other guards started onto the walk, and instead of fleeing the giant smacked the walkway, sending guards flying… Disabling the walkway made sense. Prevent the other guards from closing the door. But it would be her end... she was falling… but didn’t hit the ground. She landed in a soft palm as the giant caught her, preventing her from falling to her death like the other guards. Although she supposed he could have caught them too, but probably had no reason to. She was now being held by the giant she freed… and he was now heading towards the exit.

She had no idea what he would do to her, but she hoped she wouldn’t regret her actions as the titanic being held her tight to his chest as he used his other hand to go.. Something. She couldn’t see what, but she could feel muscles flexing as he was doing something.

“Too tight!” Enara tried to yell as best she could, hoping he spoke or at least understood the language. The pressure on her from his hand pinning her was a lot. Made it hard to breathe. She understood why; it was an extremely stressful situation. He probably wasn’t focused on how he was holding her. She felt the hand move, now instead cupped open so she could see where he was running instead of pinned against him. She figured that meant he understood, even if she hadn’t heard him speak. It was a relief to not be pinned like that, and she caught a glance of the open doors ahead… and she could see the other guards had gathered and the turrets were active.

The massive giant ignored the hail of bullets being fired. The small weapons did nothing. She yelled and ducked in fear and pain when she felt intense heat and bits of metal shower her when a rocket hit the giant in the chest above where he had her cupped. Even if the giant had kept her from falling to her death earlier, she was far more vulnerable to the weapons they were using than him. “I’m going to die…” She said, more thinking aloud like she had on the walkway than actually expecting anything to come of the statement. Fortunately the giant had heard, and had a solution to the issue at hand of keeping her safe while he made his escape.

Unfortunately she had no way to understand his plan or intentions, and the urgency of the situation did not offer much time for proper communication.

What she did know was that the giant had turned so his back was to the weapons, blocking her from the next rocket blast. He was looking down at her again. Enara looked up to meet those intense blue eyes. She could see a trickle of blood from his mouth, although she was pretty sure that was an injury from before she triggered the release, one of the reasons she had made up her mind so quickly. He was lifting her up to his face and she tensed a bit. He was so large and intimidating, she couldn’t help but be nervous being handled by him, even if she had childhood memories of encountering a helpful giant.

She cried out and cringed down when she was up to his face and witnessed his mouth opening as his hand came near it. She thought she heard him say something, but was too panicked to process. Were the stories about giants eating humans right? Had the one she saw as a child been an exception? She hesitantly snuck a glance. Those teeth were huge. The tongue a vibrant blue color, as was the rest of his mouth… So there were differences beyond just size… Enara covered her face to avoid looking anymore as the tongue came into contact with her. In an instant she could feel she was no longer in contact with the giant's hand. She could feel his body around her moving. She didn’t know what he was doing, but… even if she was wet with drool now, the tongue wasn’t moving. No licking… and no swallowing. Was her terrified assumption wrong?

Enara was very hesitant, but lowered her hands, peeking her eyes open. A bit of light peeked past the lips, letting her see the blue surroundings. She could hear commotion outside, hear things being smashed or blowing up. The sounds of guns and rocket launchers. It slowly sank into her mind that he wasn’t eating her… He needed his hands free to deal with the other guards, and she had been too exposed. He had been reacting to her statement, the very real risk of her getting killed by the weapons meant for him. She was hesitant, but rested a hand on the tongue beneath her. There was some reaction to the touch, a bit of movement, but as best she could guess he was intentionally trying not to move her around and scare her more. He clearly understood her… So maybe if she talked out making sense of this situation, she would get a reaction?

“I… thought the worst… the stories I’ve heard…” She said, a bit hesitant and unsure if he’d be too preoccupied with those trying to kill or recapture him to listen. “I mean, I have no idea if they’ve even given you decent food, or how desperate you may be. When you caught me after knocking down the walkway, I hoped I had been right about you… that you were like the one I’d seen as a child… But when you… did this…” Enara paused, thinking about her words, “I thought it’d be the end of me.” She saw a brief flash through the very slight part in the lips before he grit his teeth and the light vanished. They must have hit him in the face with something, and letting her have a bit of light was no longer an option. “But… you didn’t… swallow. I… hope I’m right in thinking you put me here because I was too exposed to the weapons they were using on you…”

She heard a grunt from the giant. She had no idea if it was to acknowledge her words or if he had been hit with something stronger, but it encouraged her to keep talking to work through her thoughts, and perhaps have him understand her own reactions. “If I’m right… I appreciate you… keeping me from getting killed in this conflict.” She touched her shoulder, which she was starting to notice was hurting quite a bit now that the initial adrenaline was dying down a bit. The cloth of the uniform was gone there; she could feel a different texture to the moist, hot skin and it was very tender to the touch. She must have been burned when the rocket hit so close to her. “I hope they aren’t hurting you too bad… I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to help you escape… it was… impulsive, not planned. I didn’t know if I could get the keys a second time… I wish I could have done something to stop them from attacking as you left…” This time when she paused, he gave a sort of hum. So she was more confident he was responding to what she said. He was trying to listen to her, to pay attention to how she was handling this.

She sighed in relief. “You… you are listening to what I say… trying to respond when you can. That’s… reassuring. Very reassuring. Makes me think you really do mean well by this, and I’m not just some snack being savored.” The response was another hum, slightly higher pitched, almost happier. Like he was pleased she understood he hadn’t done this to hurt her. A moment later the giant jerked to one side, and she wondered if he’d been hit with something stronger. He was trying to keep her calm… at least she was pretty sure that was his intention… She wished she could kind of return the favor. She was hesitant, but she pat his tongue beneath her. “Hang in there… you are tough enough I’m sure you can get past whatever they throw at you… I hope they aren’t hurting you too much.”

The giant jerked again, and lips parted to allow light through the teeth, illuminating the blue space around her and a deep growl reverberated through her bones. Teeth parted slightly as he let out an even louder growl, and she could briefly glance at what had him so angry. They had gotten out vehicle mounted weapons, and those could hit a lot harder than the rocket launchers. Enara barely managed to see his hand coming down towards one of them before the teeth and lips closed again. They were definitely making his escape hard. But despite the tension and anger at being attacked, he had seemed to remain relatively cautious of her in here.

Then there was a sudden, much harsher jerk and she felt herself tumbling back…”No!” She cried out as she knew she was heading towards his throat. She was terrified. Even if he was trying to be careful, all the harsh movement was going to send her to his stomach! She was going to die despite his best efforts! The tongue beneath her she rolled across suddenly went up, pressing her against the roof of the mouth. Thank goodness… Even as he fought and focused on the battle around him, he was doing his best to keep her safe. It was uncomfortable as the tongue moved, pushing her around to get her back to the middle front, but a relief. She sighed as she felt space around her again, “Thank you… I thought… Thank you.”

She felt more movement again, a slight bounce almost. She could only guess he was running to get distance so they couldn’t keep hounding him with weapons. A brief flash of light from the front of his mouth again as it opened and he took deeper breaths, but she remained undisturbed. She could hear the motor of a helicopter… They were following him as he ran, but she got a flash of movement and heard an impact, soon followed by a crash. She could only guess he threw something at the helicopter to keep it from tracking him as he finally got away from that awful place.

She hoped this meant he would get her out soon. Even if he had seemed to be trying to reassure her, it was still really scary to be in the mouth of a giant. She also couldn’t help but wonder what he did intend to do with her as he took her with him… and she found herself thinking aloud again, “Suppose doing this kinda blew up my life as I knew it. Even with everything you probably wrecked, the cameras would have picked up what I did and uploaded to remote back up. Guess I can’t really go home anymore.”

She suddenly found herself tumbling out onto the giant's hand. He was keeping a quick pace still, but no longer running. He did take a moment to glance down at her, and she finally heard him speak for the first time, two simple words; “Thank you.” She smiled, but her smile dropped when she saw his other hand go to his mouth and some of the guards pursuing them vanished down his gullet. He saw her expression, and gave a sheepish smile, “Don’t worry. You aren’t on the menu. But the refused me food and I needed something to hold me over… probably should get what I can from the helicopter too…” She frowned, “So… the stories aren’t wrong. Giants do eat people…” He sighed, “It’s… complicated. Usually when we do so it’s safe, just a bit of fun. We can… protect humans from being harmed in there if we choose. But in desperate situations? Where they have abused and starved us? Yeah, most of us will retaliate that way… You have a name, little rescuer?” She was a bit nervous of the massive giant, but nodded, “Uh… yeah. Enara. Enara Jaskolski” He smiled, “Interesting that a girl with a name that means the swallow bird… both your first and last name… would rescue a giant named Caelus… a name meaning god of the sky.”

He turned and started to where she saw smoke rising. She supposed she couldn’t blame him, he was desperate for food after being starved by these same people… but it was still unnerving, especially after he had her in his mouth for so long and came awfully close to swallowing her once. She looked away when he reached for the crashed helicopter and she could hear groans from barely alive people in the crash. She really didn’t want to think about it. But at least the sounds were brief before he turned to start moving again. She glanced up at him and saw an amused grin on his face, almost like he wanted to laugh. She cocked her head, “Is something funny?” He glanced down again, the light of the sun filtering through his dark hair, “Yeah, just that your name means swallow… but that you were one guard I didn’t want to swallow!” He seemed to think for a moment, “At least, not when I’m this hungry. Maybe safely some time just for fun.” Enara shuttered, “That’s not a reassuring thought.” “Not like you can go back to the life you had… although… The last name sounds familiar.”

She stared at the giant, “It… does?” “Yeah. I think I remember a sign on a farm with that name on it…” Caelus mused, “A while back. Pretty area near a river.” Enara was stunned silent. Her memory wasn’t the best from so long ago… but could this be the same giant that had saved her when she fell in the river? It seemed impossible… but… There couldn’t be that many giants or their existence would be more than just a fairytale to most.

He noticed her quiet and looked down at her, but decided not to press the matter. Poor girl was overwhelmed as it was. Gave up everything she knew to save his life. He’d give her time to think and process everything she just experienced. Maybe while he continued he could spot something large to catch and eat, like a bear or even better, a herd of buffalo. But for now he needed to keep moving, he didn’t want the bastards that caught him to have time to organize and catch up to him before he could hide from them.

#giant tiny #size difference #gt vore #fatal vore #unwilling prey #release #my writing #rescue #captivity #injury #safe vore

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boygiwrites · 2 months

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Harley D. Dixon 26

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Author's Note.

We. Are. Back!!

It's been almost six months!! 😶 Motivation comes and goes, but I'm very happy to be posting again. Like I said in a comment on Ao3, this book is too special to me to ever abandon. Thank you for your patience!! 💙

When Rick kicks the stool out from under Jim's feet, there's a simple crunch sound, and then he's dead.

I watch from afar as his body dangles from the rafters like a doll filled with sand, wondering why I thought it would be louder. It feels like I can breathe again. As if I've had a noose of my own wrapped around my throat until this very moment. Jim's dead. He ain't a threat. Just dead and dangling. Silence pours out across the farm. It feels strangely comforting; a hug from somebody you thought you didn't like.

I know Dale would disagree. I don't gotta ask to know he didn't want this.

If he weren't under six feet of dirt and bugs right now, I think I'd tell him I'm sorry.

Not just for Jim having to die, but also for being angry. He knew it never did nobody any good to be angry. If I hadn't told Carl to leave that muddy walker alone, wanting it to suffer and pay for some crime weren't even its fault, then maybe Dale would still be here.

I kinda realize in this moment that I don't care if dead people don't gotta see bad things. Because Dale ain't get to see the good things anymore, either. Like books and soup. Hugs, jokes. The baby, once it's born. Neither does Momma or Sophia or Shane.

It's like Jim said. I should be dead by now. On account of all laws of nature and chance, I should be long dead.

But obviously, I ain't.

And I'd be a stupid, silly, brainless little girl to not think that makes me at least a little bit lucky.

As I fiddle with the metal buckle of my overalls, Dad and Rick carry Jim outta the shed, their hands hooked around the dead man's armpits and ankles. Carol's probably thinking something like, He's with his loved ones now. But I ain't Carol, and I don't believe in heaven, so all I'm thinking is, I hope it didn't hurt. I've never had my neck snapped before, so I wouldn't know. They shuffle over to the pile of wood and walker bodies, tossing him on top, dusting their hands off on their pants. They's gonna burn him. No graves for them that ain't family.

Good. We have enough of those, anyway.

Dad and Rick turn away from the pile, their faces largely blank.

Before they can see me, I stand from my spot near the fence and scurry away, because I know I'm not meant to be watching.

That morning, everybody gets busy doing something. Whether it's bringing supplies into the house or cleaning a grimy rifle, nobody's twiddling they thumbs. There's something about putting work into a thing that needs it that clears the mind, I guess. Stops us from thinking about Jim, anyhow. Me, I help out by going around with a basket of fresh fruit, handing them out to anybody who wants some.

The first people I swing by are Rick and T. They've begun reinforcing the fences together, using old metal sheets and planks of wood to barricade any weak points they find. They gratefully take a juicy pear each, leaning against their handiwork to bite into the sweet flesh, groaning at the taste. Something nice happens in my chest when I see them smile. It's like looking at a puppy. You just can't be sad.

"Wow, this is good," T-Dog nods, turning the fruit over in his hand. "Thanks, Harley."

Rick doesn't say nothin', but I'm just glad to see him enjoying himself. Even for just a moment.

I head over to Patricia and Carol next, who are scrubbing at some laundry over by the trees. I earn myself two more smiles when they take a couple peaches, leaving them to their own devices and making my way through everyone else. Herschel, keeping Maggie company as she hangs up some wet clothes over a line in the sun. Jacqui and Lori, tidying up camp a bit, preparing lunch. Jimmy, polishing guns.

When I give a pear to Dad, who's fixing some of his crossbow bolts, he kisses my cheek as thanks.

And Beth. I don't forget her. She sits in the bay window of her bedroom, nibbling away at a green apple.

I know eating a good piece of fruit ain't never stopped nobody from wanting to kill themselves, but everything counts.

I've only got a peach, apple, and a pear left tumbling around in my basket when I approach Glenn and Andrea. They're stood around the hood of Dale's RV, frowning into the rubber tubes and gears like there's a jigsaw puzzle in there, muttering to each other.

"You gotta tap it three times," I think he's saying, pointing at something, "And—"

"— And give her a twist," Andrea sighs, throwing her hands up. "I know, I know."

Glenn notices me out the corner of his eye. He doesn't light up exactly, but the tension leaves his shoulders. "Oh. Hey, Harley."

"Hey." I give a little smile, holding out the basket. "Y'all want some fruit?"

"Ugh. Yes, please."

They each pick one out, leaving me with the apple. I toss the basket onto the nearby folding chair and bite into its waxy skin, the sugary juices leaking down my chin. It's sweet as candy. Well, from what I remember candy tastin' like, anyway. It's delicious.

Andrea seems to agree. "God. Remind me to always become stranded on a farm with an orchard."

Glenn bites a chunk out of his peach as he takes the screwdriver from the blonde, scooting around her to stand in front of the exposed engine. "Here. Let me have a go... Dale told me that in these old vehicles, the points get corroded."

I wipe my sticky chin, watching as he pokes around with the small tool.

Dale knew everything there was to know about this RV. Whenever it broke down, he didn't even need to check beneath the hood before he knew exactly what was wrong with it. Hell, even I've picked up on its quirks by now, and I know jack about vehicles. There's all sorts of screws and bolts and duck tape crammed into the poor thing's inner workings, but it just refuses to die. Like a stubborn old mule.

A bit like Dale. No matter how many times ya put that old man down, he'd come back ten times stronger.

"I let him down," Glenn suddenly sighs, and it's easy to know who he's talking about.

I glance over his shoulder, through the front windshield. Dale's ridiculous amount of souvenir air fresheners still hang from the mirror. Oklahoma. Illinois. Missouri. Kansas. That ain't even half of 'em. We used to tease him about them, but he always just laughed us off and recited some philosophical quote from a dead guy about how memories feed the soul, or whatever.

Nobody ever understood it when he said stuff like that, but I still know we all miss it.

"He was proud of you," Andrea tells him; then me, "Both of you."

I sheepishly look away, picking at the stem of my apple. No, he weren't. But that's nice of her to say.

"That's easy for you to say." Glenn shakes his head. "You had his back."

She doesn't know what to say for a moment.

"Well... All I know is that there's no way he didn't know how much we all cared for him, even in the end. He was too smart for that."

I got no doubts about that. He knew everything. Knew everything about the RV, about poetry, about us. He was just one of them types of people. I only wish I hadn't argued with him that day, but I argue with Dad all the time, and he still loves me. So, can't all be bad.

Glenn pulls back from the engine with a resolute, "Welp... That should do it."

When Andrea climbs inside and twists the key into the ignition, I'm proven right. This old RV just refuses to die.

"Well done, Glenn," I smile over the noise of the engine. "You did it."

He turns to me with a smile of his own, looking proud of himself.

After that, he and Dad leave the farm to search for a hearing aid.

Maggie hands them a list of houses they can try their luck in, and then we exchange the usual goodbye hugs and kisses before waving them off. There ain't no use in sitting around, wondering if they're going to get bitten and die because of me, so I leave to find something I can distract myself with instead. Luckily, Rick and T-Dog are more than happy to let me help them out with the fences.

If we're gonna get serious about staying here at the farm, we're gonna have to make some upgrades.

I obidiently tail them as they work, lugging around a bucket filled with rusty nails to pass to them.

"You know, Harley," Rick grunts as he hammers a scrap of metal to the wooden posts, "Carl still ain't stopped chewin' my ear off about all those things you taught him the other day. If I have to hear the word 'mushroom' one more time... I'll go crazy."

I pluck a nail from the pile and hand it to T-Dog.

Just to be annoying, I say, "Mushroom, mushroom, mushroom."

"Hey. Watch it." He scolds me, but not very well. He's smiling. "Anyway. You two ain't on good terms right now, are you?"

I raise a brow. "How'd ya know?"

"Well, I figured you'd be playin' with him right now if you were. And to be honest, he's been in a bit of a mood lately."

I huff a little, silently cursing Rick's parents for making him like this. "We squabbled. That's all."

He hums thoughtfully.

"Whenever I argued with my sisters," T-Dog tells us, "They'd start messin' with me. They'd hide my Xbox controller. Eat my snacks."

Rick chuckles. "They sound nice."

"Yeah, you could say that," He chuckles along with him. "A real pair of peaches."

"Well, Carl ain't done any of that," I suppose, adjusting the bucket in my grasp, "But he did call me a stupid baby."

Rick turns to look at me. "What?"

"He snitched on me about the shed and called me a stupid baby. Then I told him I hated his guts."

As I stand there, he fixes at me with a funny, What am I going to do with you?, sort of look, until he returns his attention to the work at hand. "Well, he was right to 'snitch' on you, but I'll have a talk with him when I can. It's not okay to name-call."

"I think it's 'cause he's gonna be a brother soon." I think aloud. "He said he's gotta protect me."

T-Dog argues, "You got all of us here to protect you. Boy's got nothing to stress about."

"I know. He just likes bein' somebody's keeper."

Hammering the last nail into the metal, Rick gives the thing a bit of a shake to test its strength, pleased to see it won't budge.

"Okay, I think this one's good." He decides. "Let's move onto the next one."

As we gradually make our way down the fence line, we continue chatting away about other useless things. The weather, future plans for the farm. Something we don't talk about, though, is the baby inside Lori's belly. I don't think Rick wants to think about it, let alone talk about it. He must be mulling over all the hundreds of things that could go wrong. As the leader, that's his special talent.

By the time we reach the area around the barn, I'm not listening to the conversation anymore. It's difficult to concentrate on making out their voices for such a long time, so I just tune myself out, absentmindedly gazing past the two of them, into the field.

That's when I notice something off about the burning pile.

It's still sitting there, a boring bunch of wood and junk, but the problem is I can't seem to spot Jim's body on it.

I know they didn't move it to some other place, and it's definitely not been lit on fire yet, so it can't be that.

When Rick holds out his hand for me to pass him another nail, I leave him hanging. He frowns down at me in concern; confusion. I think he says my name, but then he follows my gaze, followed suit by T-Dog. I can tell the exact moment they catch on.

"Okay," T-Dog levels with nobody in particular, holding up his hands, "That's creepy as shit."

"Stay here," Rick wearily tells us, before jogging away to investigate.

I don't need to be told twice. Clutching the bucket to my stomach like it's a teddy bear, I huddle closer to T, letting him step in front of me as if a chupacabra is gonna pop out from under the debris and gobble us all up. We watch Rick approach the burn pile, creeping up on it, concerned he might wake it up. He peeps this way and that, the hammer held tight in his grasp, ready to strike.

Was Jim bit, I find myself wondering, Was he bit, and we just didn't notice?

No. No, that can't be right. If he was bit, he would've turned long before we had the chance to hang him.

Rick flinches backward. He gawks at his own two feet. I think he might've crossed paths with a snake, or even that chupacabra, but then a hand shoots out from behind the burn pile and we learn the thing tryna bite him ain't an animal. It's got black hair and a grubby red shirt, a pair of milky eyeballs. It's Jim. He crawls after Rick like he's tryna avenge his own death, his neck still swollen and wrong.

Once he's absorbed his own shock, Rick brings the hammer down on Jim's skull, but he's fresh, so it's not mushy like it is usually. He has to bludgeon him two, three, four more times before the bone cracks open like an egg, wet brains dribbling down his face.

We all catch our breaths. I don't think any of us were prepared to watch Jim die twice today.

"Where was the bite?" T-Dog calls out, sounding like he's about to barf all over himself.

Rick kneels to check under Jim's shirt, flip him over, roll up his pant legs, because of course he does. There has to be a bite.

But when he stands, he calls back, "I can't see one."

There's a gaping pause between us all.

"Well, it ain't on his ass cheek, is it?"

Rick raises a brow as he steps over the body. "You wanna go check, be my guest."

"Nah, thank you, man." He answers drily, eyeing the blood dripping from the head of the hammer. "Well, what the Hell happened?"

Instead of telling us he doesn't know, or offering up a theory, Rick just sighs. He tosses the hammer into the little wagon we've been pulling along with us, rubbing at the faint wrinkles on his forehead. I remain hiding behind T-Dog. I know there's no snake or chupacabra to be heard of, and now, not even a Jim. But I don't like the danger in the air. The danger of something being wrong and not knowing what it is.

Rick lowers his hand, gaze landing on me. He keeps it there for a moment.

To be a walker, you gotta get bit. I can't see one. Everyone knows that.

"Come on," He eventually mutters, reaching to take the heavy bucket from me. "Let's get back to the house."

"Rick, what's wrong?" I whine as he grabs my hand. "We ain't workin' on the fence no more? Why?"

T-Dog snatches up the handle of the wagon and hurries after us.

"Don't worry about it, honey," He soothes, giving my fingers a squeeze. "The grownups will handle it, okay?"

Rick says this, just like he always has, but all he does when we get back to camp is eat lunch and talk to Maggie about our progress on the fence. I decide it's not a big deal. I trust him. Maybe he's just waiting until me and Carl aren't around to talk with the other adults about it. Maybe Jim did somehow get bit while he was in the shed. Maybe it really was on his ass cheek. I won't pretend to know.

In any case, I dig into my scrambled eggs and buttered bread without giving it much more thought.

After lunch, the three of us go back to working on the fence, anyway.

"Hope you enjoyed the apple."

With her forehead resting against the window, Beth gazes down at the farm, like some lonely angel peering down at another world. The afternoon sun gently contours the subtle curves of her girlish face, which isn't looking nearly as dreadfully pale as it did before.

"I did," She answers sweetly, smiling as I come to sit next to her on the thin cushions. "Thanks, by the way."

I give a shrug. "Yer sister says peach and pear season's just about up, so all we's got for a while is apples, anyway."

She surprises me by giggling at me, a pretty tinkling sound that suits her. "That shouldn't be a problem for you, right?"

My cheeks go warm. "Huh?"

"I saw you," She explains, a fondness in her eyes. "Chowin' down on that apple just before."

"When I was wit' Glenn and Andrea?"

She nods. "You were smiling. It was nice."

I contemplate calling her a stalker, but all that comes outta my mouth is an amused scoff, rolling my eyes and turning to look out the window. I understand why she likes it up here. I can see the whole farm. People milling about camp, chickens pecking at the ground. And off in the distance, the herd of black cows dotting the paddocks like little beetles, munching on bales of hay. And quiet. Precious quiet.

I glance at the distant treeline, thinking about the recent whispers of the horde. I brush it off quick as I can.

I steal a glance at Beth, instead.

That little smile is still pulling at her lips, a lively glint in the soft green of her eyes.

For some reason - mainly my talent for speaking without thinking - I ask her suddenly, "Do you still wanna die?"

She stiffens ever so slightly, and I only have a few short moments to feel awful about it before she meets my eyes.

"I just mean," I continue, wishing I ever knew the right thing to say. I think back to when Carl was in my exact position, asking nicely for me to not do what Beth did. He also threatened to smack me in the face, but I don't imagine that would go over too well with Beth. Neither would shouting at her like Dad. So, I just do something stupid, another one of my talents, and I improvise. "I been worried about you. Not, like, pity or nothin', but... I know how you feel. And after Dale... I realized that just 'cause people die, it don't mean I gotta die, too. It ain't a reason to wanna die. It's a reason to wanna live. 'Cause I'm just glad I ever knew Dale and Sophia and everyone else that died at all."

I feel encouraged by her glassy expression to keep talking. Not that I could stop myself if I tried.

"So that makes us lucky, y'know. Yer Momma's dead. My Momma's dead. But we loved 'em, and you can keep lovin' other people, but not if you're in a grave somewhere. Besides, it would just pass it on to them that would miss us. Not worth it, if ya ask me."

When I finish my word puke, she pins me with a tense, watery look that makes my insides cramp up.

"Maggie told me," She says, "That if I decided to keep living, that I'd find moments where I'd know I made the right decision."

She takes a deep breath, chuckling afterward.

"I think this is one of those moments," She decides.

"It is?"

I feel a weird sense of pride. I know me and my stupid apple and bad advice didn't singlehandedly solve anythin', but I was able to make her realize she don't got nothin' to regret by surviving her own mind, and that's more than enough for me.

I nod, trying not to smile, because this is supposed to be a serious moment. "Good. That's... good."

Her chuckles turn into laughter. "Why you so awkward all the darn time, Harley?"

Then I'm being wrapped up in a hug. I hate hugs. But this one ain't too terrible.

When we part, I ask her, "Are we friends?"

She seems to find that funny. "'Course."

"Well, my Dad and Glenn are gonna be gone for a few more hours," I tell her, "So, we should play something 'til then."

Beth warns me that she's seventeen years old, so she might not be able to play the same way me and Carl play, but that's okay. We don't have to play pretend or anything. We can do something she likes. Apparently, that's painting our nails. I have to try not to pull a face, but I guess I end up pulling one anyway, because she bursts into giggles and pulls me to my feet. I'm not the biggest fan of girly things. It's just not what I grew up with. I'm used to scuffing my nails while climbing trees and playing in the dirt, not painting them. But I'll give it a go.

"What's your favorite color?" She asks me, setting me down on her bed and rummaging through her desk.

"Yellow," I chirp.

"Actually," She lilts, pulling out a little bottle of yellow polish, squinting at the label. "It's Electric Spring Citrus."

I scoot over to make room for her on the bed, presenting my nails to her.

The afternoon slips away easily after that.

Nighttime paints over the orange sky.

Me and Beth have migrated downstairs by the time the sun has disappeared beneath the farm, lured in by the domestic commotion of dinner being prepared. It's soup again. I recognise the smell by now. While we wait to be served by Maggie and Patricia, the rest of us gather around the coffee table, ribbing each other as we break the rules of a card game Jacqui suggests. Carl keeps cheating by lying about what cards he has, but he's too dumb to realize he'll have to show them to us at some point. I laugh hysterically when he loses.

"You weren't listenin' to the rules, was ya?" I enjoy taunting him as he goes red. "Typical!"

He complains, "Shut up, Harley!"

"Okay, okay," Lori placates, doing a very bad job of hiding her smile behind her fan of cards. "Settle down."

I almost don't think about Dad and Glenn or Dale or Sophia or Shane or Momma for the whole game. By my standards, that makes for a good time. Carl continues losing miserably, whining even more miserably-er, while Jacqui beats us over and over again.

I'm reminded of the night we had our first dinner together - The one where Patricia made everyone feel super uncomfortable, and then I almost died. It's hard to believe this is the same house and the same people. Probably because it's filled with laughter.

We continue playing even through dinner.

When I lose for the fifth time, I take my bowl of soup and retire to one of the sofas, settling in next to Rick and quietly sipping at the warm broth. He sends me a bit of a look as if to ask me if I'm okay, probably reading my face in that weird way he got, noticing I'm thinking about Dad and Glenn. I reply with a simple nod. He doesn't seem satisfied with that response, but he can't do nothin' about it.

It's too noisy in here for him to talk to me, and neither of us know a single lick of sign language.

So, he just gives me a thumbs up and hopes it gets the point across. They'll be okay.

Eventually, even Herschel gets roped into playing.

"Hey, I actually happen to know a thing or two about this," He tells us, before proceeding to eviscerate Jacqui at her own game.

We all go awww, as she throws down her cards.

"Darn..." She sighs. "You weren't lyin', old man."

"As Jesus as my witness," He holds up a hand, "I never lie."

Lori asks, "Where'd you learn to get this good?"

"I used to spend a lot of my time in bars, young lady." He explains. "I got more than enough practice finessing card games."

"Well, I'd say it paid off."

He raises his fluffy white brows. "They used to call me Great-Hand Greene back in the day, you know."

Everybody in the room can't help but laugh.

"Now, Daddy," Maggie exclaims, "That's a lie!"

Great-Hand Greene calmly enlightens her, "It surely isn't."

This is the moment headlights turn into the driveway. Everyone turns to look. My heart squeezes. Dad and Glenn. The two lights come to a sudden stop, watching us like two eyeballs through the dark. The sound of doors slamming. I place my bowl on the coffee table and hurry out of the lounge room, followed by some other footsteps. But when I reach the foyer, the door bursts open without my doing.

Dad first, then Glenn. Both of my lungs deflating in relief, and then both of them knotting right back up again.

"That horde's headed this way," Dad wastes no time in announcing, "And it ain't stopping for nothin'."

Everybody freezes. A horde? The horde? Headed our way? Right now?

Rick pushes past everyone. "You saw it?"

"Trust me, man." He jokes dryly, shaking his head. "You can't miss this thing anymore."

"There were hundreds of them," Glenn agrees, frantic. His hair is suckered to his forehead with sweat, even though the season's turned. "We were over by Mallory Road when we caught wind of them; got us stuck for a couple hours until we could slip past."

"Not that it matters now," Dad snides.

Maggie asks, "Were you able to get the hearin' aid?"

He gives a nod, but nobody's paying attention. "Bits and pieces."

"Patricia," Herschel orders, our card game long forgotten, "Kill the lights."

We follow Rick out onto the porch. The night welcomes us with a cold gust of wind. At first, I can't see much of anythin', but then the lights blink out one by one and my stomach drops into the floorboards. On the other side of the field, leaking out from between the trees, are bodies, bodies, and bodies, so many it's not worth trying to count. They make the group on the highway look like a couple of stragglers.

As the mass amount feet stumble up the driveway, I'm hit with the feeling that our fences aren't going save us.

"I'll get the guns." Andrea mutters, and I think that feeling has hit everyone else, too.

Rick runs off in the direction of the cars. It's where we've kept our bags of emergency supplies for a time like this. Does that mean we're gonna leave? Or are we gonna fight? Is it even possible? I didn't even get to finish my soup. That feels important, somehow.

"Maybe they're just passing." Somebody stupidly guesses. "Like that herd on the highway."

"Should we go back inside?"

"Not unless there's a tunnel downstairs I don't know about." Dad drawls, gazing out. "Horde this size will rip the house down."

I worry up at him, "Daddy, I don't want it to rip the house down."

He shushes me, putting a strong hand on the nape of my neck, squeezing reassuringly. I let it calm me. I feel a fool for panicking, but if there were ever a time to panic, it would be now. I cling to him as Andrea dumps the bag of guns on the floor. She passes them out to everyone that got two thumbs and a brain. Maggie, Glenn, Dad, Rick. Jimmy. Even Herschel. Nobody is being left out of this fight.

Not even me and Carl. A gun is pushed each of our hands. You know how to use it, I remind myself.

"This the plan, then?" Dad confirms with everyone, because it's crazy. "We take 'em all on?"

Andrea passes me a loaded mag. I don't have to count the bullets inside to know it's not enough.

"We have guns. We have cars."

"We kill as many as we can." She's on board. "We'll use the cars to lead the rest of them off the farm."

"The burn pile," Glenn adds, "There's a bunch of kerosine and matches down there. We could lure them into the barn, set it on fire."

Rick climbs back onto the porch. "Bags are all packed. If things start to get hairy, we can leave."

"We're not leaving." Herschel argues.

"Herschel—"

"This is my farm." His voice booms as he pumps a pair of fat bullets into his shotgun's chamber, fire in his eyes. "I'll die here."

"Alright." Dad lilts over the droning rumble of death incoming, looking around for objections. "It's as good a night as any."

I get herded into Maggie's car. Dad gives my face a kiss and slams the door shut. I bump the mag up into the chamber. I know how to use it. I do. Two more slams. Glenn at the wheel, Maggie in the passenger seat. I've shot two walkers before, when I was out in the woods with Shane. I just have to do it again. And after that, again and again until they're all gone. Glenn stomps on the gas. The car screeches forward, ripping through the grass, barrelling into the night. I don't even bother buckling myself in. That's not how I would die tonight.

"You got enough ammo back there, honey?" Maggie fusses, digging through the glovebox and throwing me a spare.

"Thanks." I catch the cardboard box, trying not to shiver as Glenn rolls down all the windows. Groans and wind flood the car.

He shouts, "Start shooting!"

Just like that, gunshots erupt from all possible angles.

I grip my pistol tight, aim it out the window. You're gonna hold it like this, Shane's voice tells me, Firm. Confident. You're the one in control, here. I'm in control. My home's bein' invaded by the dead, and a horde this size might rip the house down, but I'm in control. The car spins. I lurch. It's hard to aim like this, but I gotta try. I line my eye up with the wobbling sight. I breathe in and out.

I squeeze. BANG.

I can't even tell what I hit, or if I hit anything at all, but it don't matter. I squeeze again. BANG.

Glenn weaves us in and out, around, through the horde, never getting too close, never veering too far.

In the other car, T-Dog, Andrea, and Carl. They swerve around us, shooting down every dead bastard they can hit.

I squeeze. BANG.

BANG, and again, BANG, and again, BANG.

The jaw of a nearby walker explodes off its meaty hinges. It swings around. It trips. It slumps. I've killed it.

"How we doing back there, Harley?" Glenn calls out. "You okay?"

"I— I'm fine!" I shout back, pulling my body back into my seat to reload.

I peel open the box of ammo. A curse falls from my tongue when the little bullets go tumbling onto my feet, rolling under the seats. I quickly snatch them up, shoving them into the mag. On the other side of the car door, fireworks of gunpowder and bullets, squealing tires and breaking bones, a blazing Hellfire lighting up the sky. Orange and roaring. I notice it, then. Dad. Rick. That must be them. They've set the barn on fire. It's cracking and falling to pieces, a burning church. The walkers fight to get inside like it's the last Sunday on Earth.

An important beam succumbs to the flames, snapping in half like a broken twig, bringing the rest down with it.

I hear wood breaking, and then there are chickens running lose across the field, screaming, flapping.

I squeeze and I squeeze and I squeeze. BANG.

A rotten old man crumples to the ground. BANG.

A lady's shoulder bursts open, a pop of bone and muscle. BANG.

A girl with one of the poor birds in her mouth, choking on feathers, dead. BANG.

For every one we kill, five more are there within a heartbeat to replace it. Glenn's foot falters on the pedal, and we come to a crawl, and then a stop, unable to do much but watch as the farm is consumed. This is a losing battle. There's no other type.

Herschel said we weren't leaving tonight, but that can't be true. I guess he is a liar, after all.

"We gotta go," Maggie's shaking her head, the tears in her eyes collecting like little pearls. "We're not gonna win this. We gotta go."

As if only to prove her point, the barn collapses once and for all. I almost feel like crying.

"I'm sorry, Maggie." Glenn says weakly.

Yeah. Me, too. I gaze out at the oak tree, still standing bravely; the little wooden crosses clueless beneath it.

As Glenn drives us back into the chaos, my pistol stays in my lap. I don't got any bullets left, anyway. I just sit there, watching everything pan by. Mine and Dad's camping spot, tucked away in the distant trees, just how we liked it. The crumbled fireplace where I talked to Dale for the last time. The shed. The swing outside it me and Carl used to play on. The orchard. The patch of dirt where Sophia died.

I wish I had the power to know when things were gonna end. That way, I could've savoured my last day.

It's not as cool as the superpower's them people in Carl's comics got, but it's the one I'd want.

It was silly. Working on the fences today with Rick and T-Dog made me think we were gonna be okay.

When I look up, we're approaching the house. Jacqui's sitting on the porch steps all by herself, staring out at us.

Glenn pulls us in close, getting out and hovering around the hood of the car, waving her over. "Come on! We gotta go!"

I crawl across the seats and shove open the door. "Jacqui? Come on!"

She's not coming. Why is she not coming? The door is open. We can all leave together. When I call out her name again, she convulses ever so slightly, as if she's got a bad cough but doesn't wanna let it out. I feel my face fall all at once. Her arm gives out, slumping from her neck, into her lap. I notice the blood first, all ten gallons of it, and then the bite. Her muscles spasm again. Oh. No, no, no.

"Jacqui?" I call out uselessly, but Glenn's already back in the driver's seat and Jacqui's already dying.

"C-Close your door, Harley," He orders, slamming his own.

She's dying. We can't stay here. I know both these things, but it still takes everything in me to pull the door shut.

After that, the deaths just keep coming. We drive past Patricia as the horde pull her into their mouths, Jimmy as he stumbles from the RV, clutching at his open throat. There's nothing we can do for any of them, but we manage to reach Carol just in time. She climbs into the seat next to me, and we ask her if she's seen anybody else, but she hasn't; she hasn't seen anybody.

Turning my face to the open window, I let the wind dry my tears, seein' as my Daddy ain't here to do it for me.

The faces of the horde pass by, a sea of rats on a burning ship.

I want to go collect my things. I want to pet the cows one last time. I want to do everything we won't get to.

My body lurches all on its own, then.

A face in the crowd. It's different from the rest. I'm not good with faces or names, something my teachers used to grumble over, but I'm good with this one. That one walker, tucked in with the rest of them, wearing the Police cap. It's Shane Walsh, dead and walking.

How? How is that possible? Why are the tears back tenfold, now?

Lit by the moon and the flames, I see his broken cheekbones for the first time since that day, the way they're bulbous like apples, mishappen like clay. Everything about him is wrong. His nose is broke. Clothes all mussed up. Ribs pouring. His eyes are glossed over. He don't seem to mind his broken body, or the fire, or the smoke. He just wants what all other walkers want. To bite into something. It's him, but not.

I almost want him to look at me. I clutch my locket, wanting our eyes to meet just to make him prove it.

This just can't be true. He didn't get bit. He got shot and beaten, but he didn't get bit.

As if I've willed him to do it, he looks my way.

"Carol," I croak, watching as he noses at the air like the animal Dad always said he was, "You got any bullets left?"

I feel something being placed in my hand. It feels just like the locket, but colder. I shakily load it into the chamber; lift the gun. I believe in you, His voice is back. Now line your eye up with the sight. I stare down the barrel, carefully placing his face on top of the sights. I only have this one bullet. I can't miss. Not only because I need to put him down, but because I think I want to make him proud.

Breathe, I take a deep breath, In and out.

Damn it. These fuckin' tears, they're messing up my aim. I smack them away and line up my shot again.

And squeeze.

BANG.

All the air rushes outta my lungs as his body hits the ground, disappearing amongst the horde.

I lower the gun.

Carol's already looking at me before I glance her way.

When we peel onto the highway, I can still see the flames burning over the tops of the trees, like some old religious painting.

Maggie breaks the silence. "What if nobody else made it?"

Nobody answers. I preferred it when the only noise in the car was the gentle humming of the engine, but I can't blame her for asking. We got no idea who else made it out alive. The four of us are all alone out here. Ain't no phone number we can just dial to ask if they're alright.

"They made it," Glenn eventually just decides, staring out at his high beams on the dark road. "They had to."

"Well, how are we going to find them?" Carol asks innocently, petting my hair as I lay my head in her lap. "They could be anywhere."

Maggie sighs. "We could circle back to that place I found y'all on the highway?"

"No," Mumbles Glenn. I can see his finger tapping against the wheel. "No, the horde came from that direction."

That's where our ideas run dry.

"Glenn?" I whine, clutching at my temple. He glances at me in the mirror, concern in his eyes. "My head. The ringing. Hurts."

He makes a troubled sound. "It must've been all those gunshots... I'm sorry."

Carol suggests, "Maybe we should just stop somewhere for the night."

There's a pause between them, but it's a short one, because it doesn't take much for Glenn to agree. He's musing to himself about how we can't drive all night. It would be a better use of gas to drive in the daylight. But really, we all know it's because he's a big softie.

He pulls us into a little nook on the side of the highway, killing the engine and turning on the ceiling light.

"I'm sorry," He says again, as if he put the ringing inside my head himself. "Maybe there's something in the supplies?"

Maggie unzippers the bag at her feet, pushing around the stuff inside it, shaking her head. "Just some water. Thirsty?"

I shake my head.

"I think we should all get some sleep." Says Carol, her voice a whisper.

Yeah. A good sleep sounds really good right about now. I think we've earnt it. Georgia will still be here when we wake up.

"Okay." He reaches up to press the ceiling button that turns on the moon, its dim white light spilling across the console in the dark. We all loosen slightly, completely exhausted. "We can just pick up again tomorrow. I'm sure the others are doing the same thing."

"Goodnight," Maggie tries to smile, reaching around her seat to stroke my shoulder.

"Goodnight," I mumble, echoed by Glenn and Carol, and then it's silent.

I close my eyes.

No eggs and buttered bread for breakfast today. Just a stale granola bar I gotta split with Carol, and a sip of water I gotta split with all three of them. After we take turns peein' in the bushes outside, we're back on the road again, and we're on it all day.

I don't know where we're going. I don't think Glenn knows, either.

I'm starting to think we might be driving all night, too, by the time we run into the others. That's right, the others. Herschel's shitty old pick-up truck is parked in a swath of brown leaves on the side of the road, right next to Dad's motorcycle and another grey car.

When Glenn pulls on the brake, I think we're all crying happy tears, but I'm too busy crying happy tears to notice.

I climb out, grinning, running into my Dad's arms.

"Harley," He sighs in relief as he picks me up, squeezes me tight. "I knew they'd take good care of ya."

"I knew you'd take good care of you," I giggle, hooking my chin over his shoulder.

"How did you guys find each other?" Glenn marvels.

"Well, when I saw their little Toyota goin' the speed limit," He nods behind him, "Figured there just had to be a cop at the wheel."

As chuckles break out between the group, he places me back on the ground.

Maggie asks, "Where's the rest of us?"

"We're the only ones that made it so far," Rick answers, and it's now I notice just how much smaller we are now; barely ten. We're just as alone as we were when it was just me, Glenn, Maggie, and Carol. No shelter, no food, no direction. Feathers in the wind.

"Where's Andrea?"

Lori shakes her head. "She was with us at the farm, but we got separated."

"Did you see Jacqui?"

Jacqui. Poor Jacqui. Maggie, Glenn, and I share a look without even meaning to.

"It was awful, Dad," I mutter, the memory caught in my throat, "We found 'er by the house, but we had to leave her behind."

Glenn explains, "She was bit."

"They got Patricia, too." Beth says. "Took her right in front of me. I was holdin' onto her, Daddy, but they just..."

"We saw Jimmy, too." Maggie sighs as Herschel wraps her little sister in a hug. "He was in the RV. It got overrun."

"But, you guys definitely saw Andrea?"

"There— There were walkers everywhere," Lori seems sorry to say, "But, yeah. We saw her."

"Well, we have to go back for her."

Rick argues, "We don't even know if she's still there."

"She ain't." Dad butts in. "She's either somewhere else or she's dead."

"So, we're not even gonna look for her?"

"No. We gotta keep moving." Rick agrees. "There's walkers all over the place."

Maggie scoffs, "That's an understatement if I ever heard one."

"I say we head East." Dad suggests, pointing vaguely in the direction of the sinking sun, cresting through the fog. "Head East, and stay off any main roads like this one. Bigger the road, the more walkers we gon' run into. The more assholes like this one."

He lifts his hands from where he's been resting them on my back, swinging the crossbow off his shoulder.

"I got him." He grumbles, sending a bolt through the stray walker's nose.

"Well, I hate to tell you guys," T-Dog scratches at his head, "But we been riding red for the past hour."

"We can't all fit into two cars."

Rick decides, "We'll have to make a run for some gas in the morning."

"Spend the night here?" Beth hisses, shivering lightly. "I'm freezin'."

"We'll build a fire." He gestures at my Dad. "You can go out lookin' for firewood, but stay close."

He raises a greasy brow. "I only got so many arrows, man. We can't just sit here with our asses hangin' out."

"Watch your mouth," He snips.

Glenn raises his hands at the group. "Everyone just stop panicking, and listen to Rick."

"Look, Glenn and I can go make a run right now," Maggie placates, "Try and scrounge up some gas so we can get back on the road."

"No." He shuts her down. "We stay together. God forbid something happens and people get stranded without a car."

That other side of Rick is back - Someone I might as well start callin' Second Rick; Scary Rick - and everyone can tell. It's the same one that was outside the shed, telling us with no room for argument that he was going to execute Jim. He's tense. He's a rubber band pulled tight, his eyes darting from face to face, just waiting for a flash of disagreement from somebody for him to pounce on.

I make sure he don't find one on my face. I'm not keen on upsettin' him.

Glenn's a little braver than me, though, because he says incredulously, "Rick, we're stranded now."

He shakes his head. Not listening. Not accepting it. Just, No, no, no.

"I know it looks bad," He reasons, even though we don't need to be told. "We've all been through Hell and worse. But we found each other. I wasn't sure. I really wasn't, but..." He scans our faces again, a little less coldly this time, taking us all in. "But we did it. We're together, and that's all that matters. We'll find shelter someplace. It's gotta be out there somewhere. It's gotta be."

But we had shelter already, I feel like shouting at him, I don't want another one.

"Rick, look around, okay?" Glenn's voice raises. "There's walkers everywhere. They're— They're migrating or something."

"There's gotta be a place not just where we hole up," Rick doubles down without care for what he's saying, smacking his knuckles into his palm. "But that we can fortify. Hunker down. Pull something together for ourselves. Build a life for each other."

That's what we tried to do at the farm. He should know that. He was the one fixing the fences with me.

"I know it's out there," He says angrily, as if that place he's talkin' about is hiding just to spite him. "We just have to find it."

I muster up the courage to voice my thoughts.

"But, Rick," I say, "How many those places we already been?"

He shakes his head again. "We fooled ourselves into thinking they were safe. We won't make that mistake again."

At the quarry, our mistake was being too close to the city. That was way back in the beginning when nobody had died yet, and we thought we just had to wait it out until the army came. But they didn't. And after that, our second mistake was trusting Jenner. We wanted answers, but we almost lost everything trying to get 'em. Then, the farm. I guess that was a mistake, too, now. You never know 'til after.

I don't say anything to that. It's cold, and I'm hungry, and I don't want to argue any more.

He's pleased with my silence. "Okay... We make camp tonight here; get back on the road at the break of day."

Carol murmurs something.

Whatever it was, Beth agrees with her. "What if walkers come through, or another group like Jim's?"

"Speaking of Jim," T-Dog fixes Rick with a look. "We ever gonna talk about him?"

Lori's confused. "What do you mean? What could possibly be left to talk about?"

"We saw him turn," He's happy to reveal to everyone. "Thing is, though, he wasn't bit."

"How is that possible?"

"Shane, too." I blurt. "I— I saw him when the farm went down."

Lori turns her gawking expression onto her husband. "What the Hell is going on?"

He's not looking at any of us. He's glaring at some ordinary pebble on the ground, brooding, hesitating.

Then, "We're all infected."

What?

It's so vague and profound that nobody knows what to make of it.

My Dad does us all a favor and squints at him. "How you mean?"

"At the CDC," He confesses, his voice a hoarse whisper that I can only just make out, "Jenner told me. Whatever it is, we all carry it."

We all carry—? The germs that make the dead ones come back? We all carry them?

He's been lyin' to us this whole time. The CDC, that was months ago.

Sometimes, lying ain't just sayin' something. It's not sayin' something. Daddy taught me that the night I told him I'd had a good day at school, and then come dinnertime, I let it slip that Ethan, the boy that sat behind me in class, had actually punched me in the belly that day at lunch. He got so mad. He ripped off my shirt. There was a purple blotch on my pale skin. Then he taught me how to punch boys back.

That's what Rick's done. He's hidden a purple blotch from us, and now we should be angry.

Carol steps forward, her silver brows pinched. "And you never said anything?"

I consider my body. I don't feel sick. Not like I did when we thought I was bitten.

Rick lamely asks, "Would it have made a difference?"

Yes, I think, but he already knows that.

Glenn accuses him, "You knew. You knew this whole time."

So, that's why Jim and Shane woke back up. You don't gotta get bit. You just gotta die and come back with enough to be able to bite.

That means even if you jumped off a bridge and all your bones were broken and you died, you would still come back.

My—

My Momma would'a still come back.

"How could I have known for sure, huh? Until we found Jim, I had no proof Jenner was even tellin' the truth. You saw how crazy that mother f—"

Glenn cuts him off. "That is not your call. Okay?"

"When Daryl found out about the walkers in the barn," Lori adds, "He told everyone as soon as he had the chance."

Rick don't care. "Well... I thought it best if people didn't know."

Glenn and Dad look right at me. Like they've both thought the same thing I have. They're the only ones here that know what happened to my Momma. I remember telling Glenn about it at the CDC. Momma. We were outta the city when it happened. It was the night the world ended twice. First when we got the call, and again when our neighbours tried to eat us. It's a lot of people's worst ever night. It's mine.

I won't ever know for sure, but I'd be kidding myself if I thought the rules didn't apply to my Momma.

At least we know that if any of us were to die, the others would make sure we didn't turn. Survivor's honor, or whatever it's called.

The silence goes on for so long that he just gives us one last look over, turns, and walks away. Nobody cares where.

Dad crouches; looks up at me. "You okay, baby?"

"Yeah," My voice wobbles, but I'm telling the truth. "I just... Don't wanna think about it."

Glenn clears his throat. "Well, it looks like we don't have much of a choice about this. We need to set up camp."

As everyone slowly breaks off to do their part, Dad takes my hand and leads me over to his motorcycle. "Got somethin' for ya."

Oh, right. The hearing aid; bits and pieces.

I'd almost forgotten.

"I hope it ain't complicated," I tell him, fiddling with my craggled ear. "Maggie said Herschel don't know about this stuff."

"We'll figure it out." He promises, before squeezing my hand and letting it go. "I ain't even sure if they work."

He opens the saddlebag, taking out a wrinkled plastic bag. He reaches in and pulls out what looks like an unusually shaped piece of skin-colored plastic with a rubber bulb on the end. And two other hearing aids, one brown and one purple, the type I'd recognise.

He stuffs the bag away and tucks some hair behind my good ear, making room to stick the first one in.

"I think it goes like that." He leans in closer, messing around with something on the back of it. "How do I—...?"

Something clicks.

All of a sudden, there are birds in the trees.

My eyes go wide, jaw dropping, gawking out at the forest like I've never seen one before.

A grin sneaks its way onto my face.

"The birds," I muse quietly, taking in the sounds of their distant chirps. "I can hear 'em, Dad."

It's not perfect. It's not as crisp as it was before. I think the batteries are low. But I don't care. It's still one of my favorite sounds.

He's smiling faintly up at me. "Good."

"Dad, your voice!"

"My voice?"

"I forgot what it's s'posed to sound like," I giggle. "It's so loud. And annoying."

He snorts, giving my butt a smack for being silly. "Well now when ya tire of my naggin', you can just pull that thing out."

As quickly as it had come to life, it makes a crackling noise, a sudden beep, and then there are no more birds.

I pluck the aid out my ear, giving it a bittersweet look. It didn't last forever, but it was nice while it did.

He mumbles something; then, louder, "We'll find some more batteries soon. Sorry, baby."

"Don't be sorry." I say. "It was perfect."

After packing them back into the saddlebag, we leave to collect firewood together. I imagine the sounds of the birds around us.

Night comes. We can't stop it.

I pretend we're camping.

We're not stranded. No, we just decided to go on a camping trip together because we thought it would be fun. That's why we're all huddled around a campfire in the dark, instead of sleeping in our beds at the farm. I'm curled up against Dad's stomach, which is better than a bed, I think. Beth's cuddled into her Dad's side, too, staring into the flames while Maggie and Glenn whisper to each other beside them.

I wish we had a deck of cards. I wish any of us would wanna play.

We got nothing but a wall of stone to protect us from the forest on the other side, but I pretend that away, too.

I just focus on the sound of an owl hooting somewhere off in the trees. I bet it ain't scared. Owls; they know the night.

Tomorrow, we're gonna have cheap steak and ketchup for breakfast, and then Merle's gonna let me sit on his shoulders just like always.

"We're not safe with him," Carol suddenly mutters, and that's not something I can pretend away. I'm back here, now, and we're stranded. No steak. No ketchup. No Merle. "Keeping something like that from us. Why do we need him? He's just gonna pull us all down."

Maybe I don't wanna be camping, anyway. It's good enough right here, surrounded by the people I care about.

"Nah." Dad's voice is a rumble in my lower back. "Rick's done alright by me and mine."

I cuddle further into him, shuddering lightly as he rubs my cold arms. His leather vest don't make a great blanket.

"You're his henchman." She reminds him. "And I'm a burden."

He scoffs. "And Harley?"

"You both deserve better," She says softly, her face pensive in the orange light.

It don't matter what we deserve, I told Shane when he said the same thing.

Unamused, Dad pries, "What do you want?"

"A man of honor."

"Rick has honor."

They leave it at that. I think they wish we had a deck of cards, too.

The owl hoots again.

Then, a branch breaks.

CRACK.

I straighten.

"What was that?" Beth murmurs worriedly. "Was it a walker?"

We all stare off into the dark, ready to fight whatever might come out of it.

"Could be anythin'," Dad mumbles as he stands, readying his bow. "Could be a racoon. Could be a possum. Could be the Easter bunny."

Carol hugs herself. "We need to leave. I mean, what are we waiting for?"

"Which way?" Glenn asks.

Maggie points at the thin trees behind T-Dog. "It came from over there."

"That's back from where we came."

"Yeah."

"The last thing we need is for everyone to be running off in the dark." Rick scolds us, reminding us he's here. The light from the fire washes him in flame, the dried blood on his forehead glistening with sweat. "We don't have the vehicles. No one's travelling on foot."

"Don't panic," Herschel soothes us all calmly, still clutching his shotgun.

Maggie argues, "I'm— I'm not sittin' here, waitin' for another herd to blow through. We need to move. Now."

"No one is goin' anywhere," Rick snarls.

"Do something!"

"I am doin' somethin'!" He retorts. If he really was that rubber band, this is the part where he would snap in two. "I am keepin' this group together. Alive! I've been doing that all along, no matter what. I didn't ask for this. I shot my best friend for you people, for Christ's sakes! For you Daryl, and you, Harley. I was the one that took care of Jim. Me! Everything! Everything has been on me!"

I know I said we were supposed to be angry with him. But, actually, I think we're just scared.

Lori's holding Carl's head to her chest. Dad stands in front of me, as if he doesn't want me to see. T-Dog, Glenn, Maggie; all with their mouths sealed shut, not sure where to look, or what to say. Is this really the same Rick that comforted me at dinner?

"Maybe you people are better off without me." He shrugs, taunting us. "Sure. Go ahead."

I've never had to be a leader before. I did have to kill Shane, but Rick's done so much more for us. I'm not better off without him.

"I say there's a place for us out there, but maybe—" He's just rambling, now. "Maybe it's just another pipe dream. Maybe I'm— Maybe I'm fooling myself again. I'm just as much a sucker as Shane was. But, hey, why don't you go find out yourself?"

He sweeps his hand behind him, presenting us with the forest.

"Huh? Send me a postcard."

I can't hear the owl anymore. I think it flew away.

"Go on. There's the door. You think you can do better? Let's see how far you get."

I pull the leather of Dad's vest up to my face, shyly peeping over the top of it; breathing shakily. I don't want to see how far I can get. I want to stay right here with my people, whether we're starving or not; freezing or not. I think everyone else does, too.

Or at the very least, they want to stay here where there's a warm fire and guns.

"No takers?" He lilts. "Fine. But get one thing straight. If you're staying—"

He pins every single one of us with a look.

"— This isn't a democracy, anymore."

That word Dale used. The one that means things is fair.

Then he sits right back down where he was before, like he didn't just threaten to abandon us all.

Slowly, everyone else sits back down too, because there's nothing else to do. We all heard him. We can't leave. When Dad settles in behind me again, I squirrel into his chest, his arms wrapping around me. There's no sound except for the branches crackling in the fire and the heartbeat beneath his shirt. I don't know where we go from here. But I do know Dad will keep me safe, and Rick will keep the group safe. He's worked himself raw and bloody to make sure we survive. The fish fry, the CDC, the highway, Shane, the fall of the farm. All of it.

We didn't survive all that bullshit just to fall apart now. There's still something out there for us.

We just have to find it.

Author's Notes.

I sincerely hope you enjoyed 😊

I'm sad to see the farm go, but we had a nice time while we were there.

Please leave a comment! I'm anxious to hear from you all after so long :)

#the walking dead #twd fanfiction #fanfic #daryl dixon #daryl dixon daughter #twd #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #angst #rick grimes #reader #original character #daryl dixon x reader #twd daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl twd

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muskokafarm · 19 days

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Muskoka Farm Pre Training

The thoroughbred industry makes a significant contribution to Australia’s regional economy, with stallion fees and sales profits supporting thousands of jobs. Horse breaking is an essential part of this process, helping the race horses become comfortable in their bridles and saddles and preventing behavioural problems later on.

Located near Wisemans Ferry, New South Wales, Muskoka Farm is a world class pre training facility. The 280-acre property offers breaking, spelling, and agistment services. Its facilities include five stable barns, 27 day yards, 10 large fully fenced paddocks and a two-bedroom guest house. To know more about Pre Training, visit the Muskoka Farm website or call (02)45663106.

The thoroughbred industry makes a significant contribution to Australia’s regional economy and supports thousands of jobs. Horse breaking is an important part of this industry, preparing racehorses to become comfortable in the bridle and saddle and helping to prevent behavioural issues later on.

Mars owns an estimated one-third of Mars Inc, the candy, food and pet care company founded by her grandfather and best known for its Milky Way and Snickers bars. She is a longtime supporter of the USEA and serves on several committees and task forces.

Mars’s Stonehall Farm in The Plains, Virginia is home to her small breeding program. Her eventers Winter’s Tale, The Native and Prince Panache have put in brilliant performances as members of the U.S. eventing team. Nicholson and Landmark’s Monte Carlo (Formula One x Glamour) competed at the five-star level in 2023. Clarke helps select stallions to pair with Mars’ mares, and they breed three to four foals per year.

A horse that is being prepared for a race will be exercised in various ways. This can include walking, hacking on varied terrain and sprinting. The horse will also learn how to respond to rider aids and follow barrier procedures. It is important to prepare the horse for the race by training it early.

Bob Lapointe owns and operates Muskoka Farm, a world class spelling and pre-training complex located near Wisemans Ferry in New South Wales. This 280 acre property features five stable barns, 58 spelling paddocks, and a two kilometer track for pace work. It also has a two bedroom guest house and facility manager’s cottage.

The farm’s name is a reference to the renowned Canadian lake district. It has been in operation since 1969. Currently, it houses over 180 horses. The facility is home to a number of top notch trainers and has an excellent reputation. The horses are carefully cared for and treated with the utmost respect.

The 280 acre world class facility is located in Gunderman on the Hawkesbury River and is surrounded by national parks and natural bushland. It offers breaking/pre training, spelling and agistment services, along with being a registered AQIS quarantine operation. The farm also has a four-bedroom period homestead, two-bedroom guest house, private jetty/pontoon, in-ground pool, helipad and facility manager’s cottage.

The thoroughbred industry makes a significant contribution to Australia’s regional economy and supports thousands of jobs. One of the most important aspects of the industry is horse breaking, which prepares racehorses to be comfortable in the bridle and saddle.

The farm has produced many stars of the turf including November Rain, Emancipation, Handy Proverb, Bint Marscay, Dance Hero, Theseo, Sir Dapper and Grand Armee, as well as local and international Group 1 winners such as Dance Zero, Inspiration, Trust Me Bet and Squamosa. This is a highly successful commercial operation and a must see for anyone serious about buying a top quality spelling and pre-training complex.

Located at Wisemans Ferry on the Hawkesbury River, Muskoka Farm is a world class spelling and pre-training facility that also offers yearling education. Its 280 acre property is surrounded by national parks and natural bushland and has state-of-the-art facilities. These include a 2400m crusher dust track, a 2000m grass track for pace work, an equine pool and high speed treadmill. The facility is also staffed by an experienced track work rider and a barn foreman.

The farm uses violence-free methods to break racehorses, allowing them to get comfortable with their bridles and saddles before entering the racing industry. This approach helps prevent behavioural problems down the track. To know more about Pre Training, visit the Muskoka Farm website or call (02)45663106.

The farm is owned by Toby Pracey, a world-class horse breaker who has a long list of clients that includes Golden Slipper winners. He has over 30 years of experience in the thoroughbred industry and is dedicated to improving the health of horses. He is also a founder of several businesses, including O’Reilly Media and Safari Books Online.

#horse spelling #horse spelling and training #horse breakers nsw #horse breakers victoria #race horse training australia #pre training #horse training nsw #horse training lismore

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ladyscroogeblr · 3 months

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More on the traitor

Trump started the January 6/2021 insurrection. There is a lot to say about it but I'll brief. Trump wanted to stay in power. He wanted to be a dictator. His followers did his biddening and a lot of them are paying for it which they should! Hope Trump gets the book thrown at him when and if he ever goes to trial for it! Truly the worst thing he did as president. Some of his lawyers and followesr still call him President! He isn't and should not be! I don't even want to refer to him as A former president! He cheated on all his wives. Melonia, I believe, married him for money. She hated being the First Lady and purposly did a horrible job at it! Doesn't live in the same house as Trump. She is rarely seen with him! Melonia hates him! Loves their son Barron and she will do everything she can to make sure Baron is not screwed over by Trump! Trump is a cult leader of his followers and supporters! I have family members who adore Trump! It makes me sick! Trump tried to flush documents down White House toilets! He says he is 6 ' 3 and weighs only 215! He's more like 315! He is a slob! Cheats at gokf, every time he p!ays! Tried to cheat as golf the time he played Tiger Woods! Tiger caught him! Created space force and I have no idea what they do or if this is a real thing ! Rarely wire A mask during the pandemic. Hated wearing be mask because bit messed up his orange make up! Said he would get rid of Obama care! It never happened and he said his plan would be bigger and better! I'm still waiting! Wears adult diapers. Can't control his bowels because if his drug use in the 1980s! There is videos of the stinky guy farting and you can see people like Mike Pence, have that face of someone smelling A fart! With the border, Trump said he built A whole wall and nobody could get through or over it in truth Trump built only 50 miles of the wall and most of it was replacing old parts of the wall. Trump had used cheap martial. Less then a year the wall was falling apart ! In some parts the walk was rotting away! Some spots were cut through, multiple tines, even after being fixed! The material was cheap and a person could buy cheap tools to get through the fence! Oh brother! Trumpnhad more illegal immigrants cross the border then any modern president in history! Same with drugs! Trump has no idea that drugs come from all over the world! Not all gets in the country! Thanks to border patrol and drug agents at airports. For example! Not all drugs come from Mexico! Same with illegal immigrants! There are some who try to get in the States, by trying to use illegal papers! Those people are sent back to their country, right away! Agents go through so much stuff and do find lots of illegal drugs! Don't forget, there are a lot of people who make illegal drugs in drug houses! Trump banned Muslims from entering the United States! He doesn't believe in global warming! He told California people to rake their forests, after he refused to send money to California after terrible fires! Went to Puerto Rico after a hurricane and threw people paper towels! Puerto Rico suffered badly after a hurricane and suffered more because Trump refuse to send them aid money! He took a sharper to a map directing a hurricane towards Alabama when it wasn't going that way! Scaring the crap out of Alabama residents! Trump loved to say when a hurricane was going to happen, he would be the wetest Hurricane we'd ever seen! Said he never heard the word caravan until one was heading to the States from Central and Southern America! Then he said their was criminals and terrorists in the middle of the caravan! Totaly untrue! Said he would never have a company leave the USA to go to another country! Bull! Said that companies were coming back to the USA after he did the Chinese tariff deal! Not! Hates wind bines because a wind farm was built near one of his golf courses and lowered the property value! Unbelievable! It makes me sick knowing, there are people can't take off the blinders to see the truth will vote for Trump for President! For me it's Biden all the way!

#trump #Trumpster #sick individual

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dutchiedirtmoving · 5 months

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Make The Right Choice: Select A Concrete Company With Comprehensive Services!

When it comes to new concrete projects, finding the right gravel companies near me is an essential part of the process. With the right company, you can trust that your project is completed correctly and efficiently. But what services can a qualified concrete contractor offer?

Concrete crushing

Concrete crushing is a service offered by many gravel companies. This process involves crushing existing concrete into smaller pieces which can then be reused in a variety of ways. By crushing the concrete, any contamination is removed and the material can be recycled or reused for any future projects.

Excavation

Excavation is another service offered by qualified contractors. This service involves the removal of materials from the ground to build or repair foundations, walls, and other features. It is important to hire a professional to ensure that the excavation is done safely and correctly.

Dugouts or lagoons

Dugouts or lagoons are services offered by many gravel companies that involve digging out areas of land for various purposes. This service is often used for water storage, erosion prevention, and other uses. The excavation of land requires specialized equipment and knowledge, so it’s important to find a qualified contractor who can do this job correctly.

Feedlot renovation

Feedlot renovation is another service offered by qualified contractors. This involves renovating old feedlots to make them more efficient and cost-effective for use in modern farming operations. This service involves installing new fencing, drainage systems, and other features that can make the feedlot more efficient and easier to manage.

Commercial services

Commercial services are also offered by many gravel companies. These services involve building or repairing commercial structures such as bridges, roads, and buildings. Commercial services require specialized equipment and knowledge so it’s important to find a qualified contractor who can handle these types of projects correctly and efficiently.

In addition to these five services, there are many other services that a qualified concrete contractor can offer. These include concrete crushing near me, demolition, masonry work, custom concrete designs, and more. All of these services require specialized equipment and knowledge, so it’s important to find a qualified contractor who can handle your project correctly and efficiently.

About Dutchie Dirt Moving Ltd.:

Dutchie Dirt Moving Ltd. is one of the leading concrete contractors Lethbridge. They have fully equipped equipment that is needed in feedlot renovations, excavation, trucking, and more.

For more information, visit https://dutchiedirtmoving.com/.

Original source: https://bit.ly/47PhB4o

#orthodontic treatment near me #Invisalign near me

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mcveighparker · 1 year

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Prominent features of Onduline roofing and its advantages

Roofing is one of the most crucial areas to be concerned about when it comes to building a house. This is the reason why people are highly bothered about the materials and the procedures employed while carrying out roofing services in houses. However, with Onduline roofing no such worries have any place because they believe in making use of the best quality materials that ensure longevity and durability. Besides, the procedures involved in order to roof a house or an office are hassle-free and cost-effective as well. The professionals who carry out the roofing tasks are highly skilled in their tasks and sincere and dedicated towards their duties.

Along with roofing products offered by the associated companies, agricultural supplies too, form a crucial part. While checking out the Agricultural supplies near me, it is visible that there is a huge range of products that are offered, keeping in mind, both basic and advanced requirements of agriculture. Tools involved in water drainage procedures, landscaping or farming are widely available with the associated companies that majorly attempt to satisfy their clients with skill and quality. Products like feeders, sleepers and even fencing tools are available too at affordable prices.

As it is known to all that gates play quite a vital role in providing security to the areas concerned, the strength and durability of the same is a matter of concern. It is here that a Metal gate does it all. It is usually made up of galvanised metals that stand strong and high in almost every situation. Available in a range of sizes and styles, these metal gates will suit your requirements with ease.

#Onduline roofing #Agricultural supplies near me #Metal gate

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triangleltd · 1 year

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Materials Used to Produce Cattle Grids

A cattle grid is a smart & cost-effective solution to keeping livestock in your property and out of hazardous areas they shouldn’t be commuting through. They are generally used so your cattle are kept off or away from railway lines, rivers, or other places that could potentially put them in danger. Usually, there’s a gap between the grid’s bars that’s meant to allow small animals like rabbits to pass under but not for larger ones like cows. Also, cattle grids require pretty less maintenance than gates do, which means you won’t have to constantly shut down traffic during times of increased pedestrian traffic. It is because you know that the steel cattle grids you have installed are enough durable to last longer.

What Makes Cattle Grids So Durable As earlier discussed, a cattle grid, sometimes referred to as a cowcatcher or cow grid is a structure that sits atop the ground and prevents cattle from straying into other areas. They are often used in personal farms, ranches, and locations where farmers tend to keep their livestock so they can prevent them from crossing over into other properties as well as dangerous areas. However, they are not made of only one kind of material. So, their durability utterly depends on the material that has been used to produce them. So, this is the metal that you should be concerned about. Well, the design of the cattle grid and who manufactures it may also play a significant role in determining its quality. However, steel cattle grids are usually considered a good option because they are decently durable. Nonetheless, the following materials are used for cattle grid production. Steel While extremely strong steel cattle grids have a high maintenance cost as they are prone to rust and need frequent painting. Therefore, we highly recommend buying galvanized steel in order to get the best use out of them if you choose this option! Concrete Concrete cattle guards are some of the most commonly used cattle guards in areas where landowners need to control vehicular traffic across the pathways leading to their property. This is because of their durability and relatively lower cost when compared to other alternatives such as metal fencing, which is much weaker and more expensive. Concrete fences are often reinforced with metal rods that significantly increase their strength while making them less susceptible to cracking or breaking over time. Additionally, they are not as expensive as steel grids. However, if you prefer steel cattle guards, you can search on the internet for steel fabricators near me! Electricity Using electricity in a cattle grid is an excellent way to discourage livestock from crossing over. Not many people choose this option because it is pretty risky as well as costly. However, you may think about it if you want an extreme level of security! Final Words Installing cattle grids unquestionably adds an extra layer of security for cattle. However, many cattle owners find it difficult to reach out to the right professionals, but you don’t need to get in a fluster. You can get in touch with Triangle Ltd. It is one of the best steel railing fabrication companies in Hampshire. To know more visit our official website: triangleltd.co.uk.

#Cattle Grid For Sale #Footbridges #Steel Balustrades And Staircases #Structural Steelwork Hampshire

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swldx · 2 years

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RNZ Pacific 1236 13 Jul 2022

7245Khz 1153 13 JUL 2022 - RNZ PACIFIC (NEW ZEALAND) in ENGLISH from RANGITAIKI. SINPO = 55445. English, music until pips and news @1200z anchored by Peter McIlwaine. The government has announced a number of changes to tackle gang gun violence, including closing a loophole on firearm intimidation charges, and giving police more powers to seize guns, vehicles, and assets. Former Kiribati president Anote Tong suspects a major agreement is "cooking" between Beijing and Tarawa after the country's decision to quit the Pacific Islands Forum. A mother and daughter who bred German shepherds have been sentenced today after one of the SPCA's largest prosecutions. The duo kept more than 60 dogs and puppies tied up by short leashes and choker chains without access to water or shelter. The Human Rights Commission is urging police to address their treatment of transgender people after an officer broke a woman's ankle and misgendered her in reports. They said the incident, which was yesterday ruled as excessive force, was far from the first of its kind. The Tokyo district court on Wednesday ordered four former executives of Tokyo Electric Power Company (TEPCo) to pay 13 trillion yen ($95 billion) in damages to the operator of the wrecked Fukushima Dai-ichi nuclear power plant, the plaintiff's lawyers said. The ruling, in a civil case brought by Tepco shareholders, marks the first time a court has found former executives responsible for the nuclear disaster, local media reports said. Around 50,000 cubic metres of material created by slips needs a permanent home across the areas of Waipaoa, Uawa, and Hikurangi.

Gisborne District Council needs sites near these areas to take material that has been removed during recovery efforts after the March 2022 weather event. “If you have an area on your farm you think would be suitable, please let me know so a time can be arranged for a site visit,” says Journeys Infrastructure manager Dave Hadfield. Sports. @1204z trailer for RNZ "Our Changing World". @1205z Weather Forecast: scattered showers to rain clearing by afternoon. Snow at 600m. @1206z "All Night Programme" music DJ'd by Peter McIlwaine. Backyard fence antenna, Etón e1XM. 100kW, beamAz 325°, bearing 240°. Received at Plymouth, United States, 12912KM from transmitter at Rangitaiki. Local time: 0653.

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allprofencebuffalo · 3 years

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Benefits to get from best fence installation near me

Apart from the privacy concerns and obvious facilities, a fence can offer a lot more. Let’s explore those benefits.

More enjoyable and comforting family gatherings or friends get together can take place with a perfect fence installation. Children can run around and play without disturbing the neighbors.

Buffer the bad weather this winter with a nice and decorative fence that’s sturdy and stands strong against the winds. Intense storms can whirl up your backyard structures and features, especially the greens very badly. Our fence installation near me is a service that protects the backyard from these dangers. Also, it protects your back garden from all sorts of things that may accidentally slam against your windows or other expensive structures on the patio. Fences are great shields for your property.

With the nicest fence installation near me, as we provide it the finest possible way, you get to keep your back garden as snug & comfy as you want. An enclosed yard is always a great place to enjoy a quality me-time. And when we make your fences, you are sure to be delighted with all the comfort and coziness.

#privacy fence installation near me #fence installation near me #fence company near me #fence installation #bamboo fence installation near me #chain link fence installation near me #electric fence installation near me #garden fence installation near me #farm fence installation near me

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sunsinourhands · 2 years

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Vulcan vs. Earth Cultural Difference Thoughts

Taken from the wiki: "First and foremost, Vulcan is a hot planet. Daytime temperatures routinely range from 43.3ºC (110ºF) to 51.6ºC (125ºF), and in the peak of summer can reach or exceed 65.5ºC (150ºF). The rays of Vulcan's orange sun, 40 Eridani A, usually shine down through the red sky unbroken by clouds from dawn to dusk, as rainfall throughout the planet typically averages less than 635mm (25in) per year and is heavily concentrated in the six-week period immediately following summer's end.

In addition, winds tend to be mild except along the coasts, providing little relief. (The exceptions, the continent-spanning sandstorms, provide no relief at all.) Only nightfall brings a break to the incessant heat, dropping the thermometer to 7ºC (45ºF) or below. In Vulcan's winter months, the mid-latitude deserts often experience freezing temperatures at night...

...The planet Vulcan has no axial tilt, so that there is no natural progression of the seasons from north to south and back again as on Earth. Instead, seasonal changes occur planet wide as the result of Vulcan's elliptical orbit around its sun."

It is a desert planet with wild temperature ranges of scorching hot in the day, and frigid in the night. It also...doesn't rain much there. And I think that's really important to remember when it comes to cultural differences. For example: the area I live in has an average yearly rainfall of 42-43 inches a year--with an additional average of 21-22 inches of snow on top of that. That is roughly 2.5 times MORE annual precipitation than Vulcan. I also live in an area where temperature changes often...but not to the degree of a desert. I looked up average desert temperature at night...and it's around 25F or -4C. No fuckin' thanks. My area is (aside from a few large cities spread pretty far apart) also a pretty heavy agricultural area. It's near Bloomington, Indiana--the hometown of Captain Janeway. The area is known for producing Corn, Soybeans, Poultry, Swine, Mint (for candy companies) and Watermelons. Note, it isn't uncommon to see big sales of 25 lbs watermelons for $3 in my area. My Japanese friends hate me for it. We're also no slouch when it comes to producing wood for furniture.

My point is, it's a green fuckin' area. I can only imagine someone from Vulcan getting lost and (ten minutes after leaving campus) finding themselves in front of a corn field that stretches hundreds and hundreds of acres. It would be a mind-boggling scene of agricultural plenty. Or, perhaps, they'd come across one of the fish farms the Bald Eagles like to chill at. Just THOUSANDS of gallons of water, just sitting there. Enough to raise FISH. Enough for WILD WATERFOWL to just CHILL THERE.

Meat requires a TON of water. A quick google tells me your average pound of beef costs 1847 GALLONS of water to produce. That's so much fucking water. That's why humans can AFFORD to eat meat all the damn time. The vast herds of cattle would seem ABSURD to a Vulcan. (Note, one time my neighbor's cows broke through their fence and the roads were FUQUED until he rounded all 300+ of them up).

The Vulcan Science Academy has an agricultural department. You don't see agricultural departments that often in the United States. It's considered kind of...a sign that you're a 'hick school' in some circles. But the ILLUSTRIOUS VULCAN SCIENCE ACADEMY has a whole-ass department for it. They greatly respect the agricultural sciences. In comparison, on Earth we are SPOILED with an overabundance of water (when our governments don't fuck it up.) Humans often learn how to swim. Hell, my area has flooding problems in the early spring. Drownings are a very real and not uncommon threat over here.

I can only imagine Vulcan visitors just staring at Earth Food and internally counting out how much water was required to make that. And the planet's surface is covered 70% by water. 70 PERCENT. No wonder humans can afford to eat meat, dairy, and sweetened products. They have water to SPARE--so much that their cultures developed cuisines entirely based on the ENJOYMENT of food. My friends and I often go hunting for Morels and foraging for other wild goodies. The planet is so FULL OF LIFE that you can just FIND STUFF TO EAT wandering around. Farmers in my area are worried about the aging hunter population because there are so many god damn deer out here they are an agricultural menace. I have gotten calls at 9pm asking my partner and I to come over for some Surprise Venison. It would seem so...decadent.

I've read a number of fanfics where Vulcans comment on how much humans seem to love useless, decorative plants. When you get as much rain as we do, you can go WILD with plants that only exist for aesthetic purposes. They wouldn't be used to the concept. Someone might have a breakdown at the concept of Flower Farming--because that space should be used for FOOD except we HAVE ENOUGH ALREADY.

I just imagine some Vulcan wandering (because you CAN accidentally end up in a farm field 10 minutes from Bloomington's campus) into a famer's market and BALKING at how cheap everything is. In this part of the country, people like to grow their own veg. So it isn't a surprise when someone throws a party/bbq and 3 people EACH show up with a watermelon and corn from their own garden and another 2 show up with 4 dozen eggs each because they got too many chickens and the eggs DO NOT STOP. I myself discovered a few years ago that Chinese Eggplants do EXCELLENT here, and I have more than once ding-dong-ditched my neighbors with bags of eggplants--only for them to leave a dozen zucchini on my porch when I'm doing errands and cannot defend myself from this vegetable violence.

And this is where the cultural differences come in. As mentioned in Plomeek Soup for the Soul, giving an unmarried man water or food directly can be interpreted as a MARRIAGE REQUEST. Y'all out here that is just being polite. Hospitality is Serious Business. I keep water and gatorade bottles in a chest on my porch for USPS employees and anyone who wants one.

It would be SO EASY for someone who did the idiotic move (a friend did this) of planting a DOZEN ZUCCHINI PLANTS accidentally ending up Vulcan Married because they had to End the Torment of the Plague of Zucchinis in their home before it expands and destroys the house from the inside from the sheer volume of vegetables within.

#star trek #star trek vulcans #planet vulcan #humans and vulcans #cultural differences #vulcan culture #terran culture #also this opens up the possibility of rescuing a strapping young vulcan who is otherwise competent but can't swim...

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hannie-dul-set · 3 years

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— contrariety & confluence | jung jaehyun.

SUMMARY | there was not an instance in your life where your judgement was proven to be mistaken— especially with regards to infatuations outside of your own. after an unpredicted introduction with a far too remarkable farm boy, you took it upon yourself to find a suitable match for him, not realizing that perhaps this time; your usual correct judgements might have been incorrect. PAIRING | jung jaehyun x female! reader [slight johnny x reader and jaehyun x oc, mentions of dotae and other pairings] GENRE | emma! au, matchmaking! au, strangers to lovers! au, slowburn (like i mean slow slow), period romance, humor, one suggestive scene, very very tiny angst, also jaehyun falls on love too quickly LMAO WARNINGS | implied and borderline smut, other than that none <33 (omg there’s no SWEARING in this wow) WORD COUNT | 16.9k TAGLIST | @sehunniepot @ukiyoneo @roury66 @nct-writers @czennienet @neowritingsnet @kpopscape

a/n: i wrote this....in seven days (not even JSFSD) ANYWAYS i hope you like this huhu jaehyun really has gotten me in a spell lately HJFF inspired by jane austen’s emma! but it doesn’t follow the actual book’s plotline hehe

A pleasant afternoon was how one would describe the present air and scenery— the sunrays scintillating over the nearby stream in such a manner that made its blue tint rival that of the clear sky, a faint brustling of the wind that shuffled the neverending tall, forest trees, and distantly was a flowered meadow of the countryside that visually neared as the carriage horses took their light gallop on the dirt path towards it.

Indeed, it was a pleasant afternoon, yet your temperament was less than pleasant; it leaned more into the adjective “stormy” from the way your eyebrows knitted together to accompany your deep frown, only worsened when an envious bump interrupted your supposedly pleasant carriage ride.

“Father, perhaps it isn’t too late to reverse? To return back to the estate?”

You made no effort in hiding your sour expression in front of your dear father, who was sitting before you inside the small space of the closed carriage. “Now, Y/N, we would not want to be tiresome to Mr. Jeon, do we? Not when we are already a mere walks away.”

“Mr. Jeon would not be troubled by his own occupation,” you reasoned, but the debate was settled because as though your father was lenient and doting towards you, his only daughter, he was a sensitive man who considered the welfare of all those that surround— that included Mr. Jeon, the primary coachman of your estate.

Mr. L/N had never failed in being quick to catch your subtle tells, and this moment was no other. He saw your parted lips breathing out a sigh, your gaze in a faraway spell to the open window, and shoulders slacked in despondency. “Eyes up, my little birdie,” your father called out. “I am aware that it is most upsetting for you to have lost a dear friend to the covetous hands of wedlock, but this excursion would prove to be a remedy for your mourning heart! Have I ever told you about kind Mrs. Lee and her children? Mrs. Lee, I have known far before you were born, but I have never been lucky enough to be acquainted with her children yet. Though I hear that they are quite pleasant fellows.”

The word pleasant simply grated your annoyance further. There was no such thing as pleasant when all your heart could feel was the grief brought about by the marrying of Miss Anna— your governess slash mother figure slash best friend— a week prior to today’s present. You had no pleasure in calling her Mrs. Qian, because quite frankly, you were still lamenting over the great sorrow of the loss of such a dear and close person, catalyzed by very much your own urgings and schemings.

It was an ideal match, her and Qian Kun. Highly congratulated and expected. A happy wedding for both parties except your own.

“Oh dear, how affected must you be for tears to well up,” your father cooed, leaning forwards to wipe away your cries with his handkerchief, to which you simply insisted him to sit back down as you had your own. “Miss Anna is in a very much happy disposition right now, my dear Y/N. And I predict that she would want the same for you.”

Your intellect was not ignorant of that fact, but your emotions pressed on to ignore Miss Anna’s wishes. It would take more than three-and-twenty excursions to Hollybrook Farm in order to fill the missing gap of one most cherished.

Mr. L/N’s heart was weighed heavier from having a front seat to your sorrows, and a thought came to him. A thought that he wished to never have thought of at all. “My dearest daughter,” he started in a shaky voice. “My only daughter. You aren’t going to leave your poor father this soon, are you not?”

“Oh what nonsense, papa!”

Your abrupt refute sang in line with yet another bump on the road, though your tenor was much less unaffected from your impenetrable indignancy.

“Such unthinkable, ineffable nonsense!” you cried in your seat, the lines of your embroidered handkerchief crumpling from your tight grasp. “I love you much too dearly to even ponder on marriage. You need not to fear that moment else you will only worry yourself into sickness.”

Your father’s silly notion had managed to ease you momentarily, allowing you to breathe and admire the natural scenery in a way that you were not able to a minute prior. Although that brief moment of serenity only lasted until the end of the ride. The ground crackled when you dropped down from the carriage, and you were once again hit by the wretchedness of the three or four realizations as you stood a reasonable distance from the farmhouse of Hollybrook; the first being the fact that Miss Anna will never be reverted back to maidenhood by a trivial excursion, or any excursion for that matter. The second, how shabby the presenting structure of Mr. and Mrs. Lee’s home appeared before you. And third, the idea that you were to stay here for an entire night and two half-days.

It was tortuous.

“Mr. and Miss L/N! How grateful we are to have you company! Oh, come, come, please do come in!”

Half forced was the smile that you willed to your face as you passed through the fence that surrounded the wide vicinity of the family’s land. Mrs. Lee was a rather chipper lady, having none to not talk about as each second her lips were steadily moving, and though she was polite, pleasant, and very much hospitable, you found her incessant speeches far too tiring to stand. “Mr. Lee is unfortunately not with us today for he and my eldest had business to be dealt with in town, but please oh please do not fret! My three sons and I will be sure to provide a pleasant enough company for the both of you.”

“It is you that must not fret, Mrs. Lee,” you smiled at her. A pleasant smile. Mildly forced. But politeness was a must. “My father and I are sure that our stay here will be much enjoyed considering how amiable the lady of the house is.”

“Oh, Mr. L/N. Your daughter is as much of a charmer as you are,” the lady guffawed at your remark, a fond smile on her weathered features. “We will forever be indebted to your kindness! If it weren’t for you, we would not even have a house to live in. Though brief— I do hope you enjoy your stay here at Hollybrook.”

As the two chatted away along the cobbled path, you took the moment to study the sight before you— a large house, not as large as yours at Whitland, but large enough to fit a family of six or seven. The grey brick walls were infested with an overgrowth of vines, painting it with a green that matched the surroundings of grass that stretched farther than you could see. It was a very pleasing structure if it weren’t for the muddy windows, wheelbarrows unkempt, and the evident disarray of shoes that you were welcomed with at the entrance. That enough was telling of the people that lived here, and though you disliked holding prejudices, it was something that you could not control.

You breathed in, drowning out the unwavering voice of Mrs. Lee in the background.

A less than pleasant afternoon. You could only hope for a more pleasant evening.

“Mark! Please do check on the oven— Jeno! Be a dear and set the table for our guests— oh my— Donghyuck!”

A snort of a pig.

“How many times must I tell you; do not bring Kosher into the house!”

A door slamming to a close.

It was far from a pleasant evening. In fact, it was even less pleasant than the afternoon, yet your father seemed to be pleased enough with the mess that was dinnertime preparation, even laughing along as he aided Donghyuck in luring out Kosher back into his pen. All you could do was sit in your chair at the very far corner, recollecting all the information that you have thus far observed from your new acquaintances— which only brought about a bitter taste of cold, chilling, malcontentment. Mrs. Lee was quick to judge, and so were her four sons; though one was absent, for you it was easy to formulate your discernment of his character— not quite concrete, but concrete enough to know that the eldest Mr. Lee was a hardworking whose sphere of concern is limited within the family, and the family only.

Quite an amendable quality so long as you were in the sphere. Not when you were a guest. He could have spared some time to accommodate you and your father, but as he did not wish so and so he did not.

Next in line was Mark Lee. Handsome, well-mannered, well-spoken— exemplary despite his upbringing, but the boy was lacking the respect of being the standing eldest of the three with his brother’s absence. Poor Mark was being buried in all of Donghyuck’s chores without his concurrence, but without any protests.

Jeno Lee was objectively the handsomest of the three, and arguably the most agreeable. He would be rivalling Roselake’s Jaemin Na in terms of manners, politeness, and overall gentlemanly constitution. If only it weren’t for his regretful fear of women, then he would have been a chivalrous candidate for marriage. He was inherently unable to send a glance at your way without wearing the prettiest shade of red on his personable features.

Lastly, Donghyuck Lee was very much like his mother— exceptionally good-humored, exceptionally unwavering, and exceptionally tiring just as she. You could not handle a minute of his presence and you were yet to arrange a plan on how to exactly to last the entire dinner alone. The deafening of one of your senses was enough to blind the other; it was truly a shame as he was both handsome and intelligent, too. Well, it did not matter since marriage was a bleak concept for you, but you could have set him up with someone you knew.

Dinner, which was supposed to be a quiet occasion with light and educated conversation, was beyond what you had prepared for. And as if Mrs. Lee’s and your father’s chatterings weren’t boisterous enough, as if the three brothers’ over the table deviltries weren’t rasping enough, your dinner was further intruded by the irksome knock of the door.

“Oh, dear Mark, would you please answer the door? Hurry, hurry!” at his mother’s command, the clattering of utensils was heard, and following after was Mark’s hurried steps. “How I have completely forgotten from all the frantic preparations— Miss Y/N, you have room for one more acquaintance, no?”

You were not given the proper opportunity to react— only enough time or you to open your mouth in preparation for speaking, yet you could not. It was either from your voice momentarily dysfunctioning, or perhaps from the inhibitions attracted by the intruders attendance. Though the most plausible conclusion would be both.

Both. Indeed it was both. How could one even think to speak when brought before the presence of such a man.

He caught your stare. You forced your mouth to a close.

“Jaehyun, how was the delivery? Oh, I hope the journey wasn’t too fatiguing.”

“Madam, fatigue is but a distant cousin that I have never come to know in years,” the man known as Jaehyun smiled, causing distinct indentions to sink on his cheeks. He diverted from your sharp gaze. Handsome, you drew, continuing to eye him as you took a subtle sip from your water. “The delivery and transaction went as usual. Though I would appreciate if you weren’t to worry each time,” a laugh— even his laugh was handsome. “Shall we sit, Mrs. Lee?”

The three sons cheerily greeted Jaehyun as he sat amongst them, though not before aiding the older lady to the seat of her own. Perfectly handsome, perfectly mannered, perfectly agreeable; never in your life had you been beheld to such a perfect subject of a man. Though his clothes were wrinkled and skin dusted, those measly details were little enough to be overlooked by his overall disposition.

He was almost far too perfect to be deemed true.

“Miss Y/N, allow me to introduce you to Mr. Jung Jaehyun—” nods and smiles exchanged across the table right before Mrs. Lee continued to speak. “He is almost like my own son after living with us since he was four! Now three-and-twenty and has grown into such a fine gentleman indeed!”

Ah, you clicked your tongue. There it was.

But an unknown background was something that you could work with.

“May I inquire your opinion on something, Mr. Jung?”

He flinched midway eating his meal; expectedly so since the first words you’ve spoken to him after all those unwavering and calculative stares was something so bleak and ominous. He gingerly settled down his spoon, replacing it with a napkin to wipe his greased lips. One look at him was impossible to discern his upbringing of being a farm boy. “Please refer to me as Jaehyun, Miss Y/N. That enough is all right.”

Your lips quirked into a smile.

“Never have I met someone so politely hypocritical,” you hummed. He simply pressed his lips into a thin smile. “Very well then, Jaehyun. How do you feel about daisies?”

Daisies. A quizzical question that entranced the entire dinner table— though the subject of your question did not take long to think and utter out his answer.

“Well, a small bouquet of daisies would be sufficient enough to comfort an ailing friend,” Jaehyun thought out loud, then a flash of concern flitted through his eyes. “Are any of your friends ill, Miss Y/N? I know of a nearby patch where you could pick them.”

It was a different kind of triumph that you felt when you heard of his practically perfect answer; the notion of is character to be knowledgeable from the brief explanation of flower, the poignancy from the thought of a misfortune of a friend of an acquaintance (not even friend of a friend), and the unconditional, compassionate offering a service.

At that point you had decided.

“Oh, not at all, Jaehyun. All of them are perfectly healthy. Thank you for providing a response,” picking up a fork, you sent him a full, satisfied smile. “Anyhow, I believe that is enough conversion for one night. Let us dine, shall we?”

That a man such as Jung Jaehyun does not deserve to be bound inside the fences of a farm, for the world has much more to offer.

It was without precariousness and uncertainty that you, Miss Y/N L/N, sole heiress of Whitland Estate, can conclude with no much further deliberation required, had not, in fact, slept a single wink.

Even Kosher the pig might have slept more soundly than you.

“Mrs. Lee, I’m going out!” you announced from the door. “Please tell father in case he looks for me when he wakes up!”

It was thirty before six, and since there was no hope for you to rest atop the rock hard bed that you were provided, you ultimately opted to take a walk outside for some early exercise. (Frankly, it was not that hard— you were simply not used to beddings apart from your own inside your estate. You didn’t blame the Lee’s for your inability to adapt). A heavily clouded sky met you outside as it had showered a few hours prior, therefore you took it upon yourself to watch your step so as to not slip and fall.

Despite the unclear sky, there were moments where sunlight had just managed to slip past the cloud, allowing for a brief moment of golden rain. You anticipated the said occurrence during each moment of your walk.

You were forced to a stop upon being met by a downhill slope, and there you realized that Hollybrook Farm was quite actually much larger than the front had presented itself to be.

“Good morning, Miss Y/N! Jeno wishes you a good morning to— hey! Did I say something wrong?!”

Your laughter was unprevented due to the younger boys’ antics. They were rather lively for it being too early— though they were probably used to waking at such a time, perhaps even earlier due to their responsibilities in the farm. Undeniably, your initial impression of the lot was quite critical and nit-picky, but you had no doubts on them being pleasant fellows (as long as Donghyuck does not speak a thousand words a minute, of course).

Smiling, you hurriedly trekked towards the two boys who were still quarrelling among the flock of sheep, and so you momentarily forgot about the rain that had occurred prior, subsequently forgetting about the risk of slipping on the soft dirt.

Therefore the next event was to no one’s surprise but your own.

A misstep. You let out a scream as you slid down.

With your eyes squeezed shut and with the wind racing past you in such a terrifying speed, the fear of crashing down was numbed by the adrenaline that coursed through your veins, and all you could was wait for the imminent impact that—

You squeaked.

—that never seemed to have come.

“O-oh,” your breath staggered, eyes lost from the heat of the moment, and your slanted figure was caught by an arm that caged you, serving as a barrier between you and the mudded ground. In an instinctive motion, your head snapped up, meeting the eyes of the one who had just been in time to save you. It was Jaehyun. “I—”

You did not know what were the appropriate words for such a situation, and apparently neither did he because all he did was stare at you wide eyed with mixture of worry and panic and relief, making you believe that he was just as frightened as you because of the fall. An exchange of eye contact; blinking and unblinking. Jaehyun released a sharp huff of relief, and quite unexpectedly, he lifted you off the ground and into his arms in a bridal carry.

Your heart stirred in bewilderment.

“Ex—excuse me, Jaehyun, but it is less than appropriate for a man like you to be—”

“I apologize, Miss Y/N, but I am less concerned with propriety and more so with the possibility of you sustaining an injury,” he declared. “I cannot allow you to walk.”

None more was said after. You were left to ponder on your thoughts.

Jaehyun had his nose pointed forward as he carried you, eyes ahead and shadowed by the tufts of his hair; a manly disposition overall in addition to his declarations prior. Your admiration was simply stretched further. Though, it was not an admiration that strung one’s heart in fleeting motions; rather it was a type of admiration that an aesthete would hold towards a work of art, unaffected and untouchable— though still open to refinery. Jung Jaehyun was indeed a walking piece of art.

It seemed as though you were not the only one to agree, because as you passed near the fence, still in his arms, you caught sight of a group of young girls. You inwardly scoffed. It was obvious that they were here to admire the boy. It was also obvious that they had to be content with merely admiring, as a single step closer would be an insult to Jaehyun. He deserved someone of the same degree.

Wait.

“Miss Y/N, I will be setting you down, now.”

You were far deep into thought to realize that you had settled into the barn, quite frankly in a daze when Jaehyun gently placed you atop a squared hay bale. He made sure not to linger his touch on your skin for far too long, but also making sure to not be hasty— treating you with such a delicate care that made you think: Mrs. Lee raised him well. Far too well.

“I apologize for my rudeness,” you said. “I haven’t even properly thanked you for saving me.”

Jaehyun squatted before you, wordlessly asking permission to check on your ankle, and you gave him a wordless response in return. He pulled your boots off of your feet. “Please do be careful next time, Miss Y/N. The soil gets slippery when it rains,” he mumbled. “Does this hurt?”

“Not at all.”

He sighed in relief. “All right. But you should remain inside to rest for the time being. I am afraid I would not get any work done if you remain. I would be far too worried.”

You appreciated the addition of the last sentence.

“Allow me to repay your kindness one day, Jaehyun.”

“There is no need, Miss Y/N. I just— ah, allow me to help you.”

Jaehyun did not even let you get off of the hay bale on your own despite your countless assurances that you could walk as fine as any other, but he insisted on escorting you outside of the barn, extending until the door of the farmhouse, and even when you mounted the carriage as you and your father were already to make your leave. You feared that your father might actually pass if you tell him about your accident, but luckily Jaehyun was there to assure him of all his worries.

He certainly deserved someone of the same degree.

“Please do visit again soon!”

And unlike when you arrived, the departure was far more pleasant. Because as you were gazing outside the window of the carriage with your countless thoughts, you had come up with the perfect match that was fitting for a man such as Jung Jaehyun.

The moon had already replaced the sun when you and your father returned to the estate, and there waiting was Johnny Suh— a close friend of your father despite being years and years younger. You did not view him as a friend; he was much like a fond annoyance that you perceived as familial at best, and nefarious at worst. Your ideals simply did not align, and more likely than not, it was the prerequisite for all of your arguments. Though, you would be lying if you said you did not find joy debating with him. The joy being found in his defeat.

“Mr. L/N,” Johnny started. The three of you were sitting around in the manor’s reception room, the usual tea and chat taking place. “If I were to be honest, I did not expect a trip to the countryside would do your daughter’s selfish grievances any better, but perhaps miracles do exist.”

You sent him a sidelong glance as you took a sip from your tea. Johnny returned it with a charming grin. The nerve.

“What makes you say that?”

“You left looking like a widower and returned looking like a newlywed. That is enough for me to draw my conclusions.”

A wispy laugh was released by your father, and for a moment you felt betrayed. You elicited a cough, placing the cup on the saucer that was held by your other hand. Johnny looked at you expectantly. “But is that enough for you to draw the reason as to why I’m in such a happy mood?”

“Unfortunately not. But I do have a bit of an idea,” he answered “You are scheming again, are you not?”

You smiled innocently. “What could you possibly mean?”

This was not an unnatural sight in the estate, seeing as your father was simply reading in silence as he listened to your back and forths. Johnny was not by any means amused by your lack of definitive response. He really wanted to know what, or who brought your spirits to such a high considering that you had practically been weeping not even a day ago. You would not simply let go of Miss Anna unless you found a new occupancy— and something like that was unlikely to be found at a farm.

“Oh? You feign ignorance when not even a month ago you were rejoicing your victory of finally getting Mr. and Mrs. Wong to be wed.”

“Ah, I simply pulled a few strings here and there.”

“And what about Taeyong and Doyoung?”

“They would not have gotten together if it were not for me mediating between their stubbornness.”

Johnny exhausted a sigh. “Y/N, you are quite frankly the impossible woman I have ever met.”

“I do not believe you have met enough women to surmise such a deduction.”

He was getting annoyed. You could tell from the way his jaw clenched. He ignored your quip and instead shifted back to the topic beforehand. “You are still acting innocent as if you are not scheming something when you are practically incriminating yourself by evidence that came from none other than yourself. Who is it this time?”

“I am not scheming, Johnny,” you pressed on, choosing to ignore the last question. “A scheme is something grand— elaborate. I am not even lifting a finger.”

“You never change,” he huffed. “Still as proud as ever.”

“Of course, as there is undeniably something to be proud of when you help in watering love to bloom,” you reasoned, and a subtle smirk glistened on your face. “Well, your indifference is quite understandable. A man that is five-and-twenty and unmarried would never—”

“Coming from someone who declared herself to be an old maid,” Johnny proclaimed in a loud voice, a glare shot into your direction. “You should be more sensible in who you point your fingers at.”

You scoffed. “That is a completely—”

“Y/N, my dear!”

It was fortunate that your father had interrupted before the both of you could verbally rip each other’s throats apart from a distance. You and Johny visibly calmed down, a simultaneous, unspoken truce as you breathed in and relaxed in your chair.

“Are you still to continue your hobby in matchmaking?”

Completely ignoring Johnny’s dirty stares and incoherent mumbling, you spread your lips into a bright, wide smile. “Why of course, dear papa! Vicariously romancing through the lives of others is the only way a destined old maid such as I could feel the profound experience of falling in love. There is no reason for me to stop, there not?” a choked out laughter is heard from across the room, unmistakably from Johnny, but you simply responded by a threatening gaze, to which he promptly shut his mouth. “Oh, by the way, father. When is our dear, little Hwayoung returning from boarding school? Has she sent a letter, by any chance?”

Johnny chuckled, bringing the teacup to his lips. “You still call her little when she’s a mere year younger than you.”

“Then shall I call you uncle as you are four years older than me?”

Sohn Hwayoung was the daughter of a merchant in Roselake; a very pretty, very charming, and a very chipper young lady that had always followed you like a baby duckling since you were thirteen. She was like a little sister to you— always heeding your advice and exemplifying you as “Miss Y/N can never be wrong”. Apart from Miss Anna, you had always been especially fond of Hwayoung, and therefore you were devastated when you found out about her leaving, just as you were during your governess’ engagement. But now it was summer. She was to return to Roselake on any day this week.

Your father wore an approving smile, and you clasped your hands together in hopeful expectancy. “She is to return this Friday.”

A bright, beaming grin splendored your face, squealing, and you nearly jumped out of your place.

“Oh, what a joyous occasion! Shall we celebrate her return, papa? It has been far too long since a ball was held in the village.”

“I do not suppose why not,” he chuckled. “I will be calling Mrs. Qian for the arrangements.”

“Thank you so much, father!” you ran over to embrace him, to which he returned with one of his own. “Also, Mr. Jeon— will he be off tomorrow? You see, I would like to send a letter.”

This particular statement piqued the interest of Johnny, as he sat up in his seat with a n air of attentiveness and curiosity. The man was as sharp as ever, but you knew your way around him. “To Hwayoung?” he inquired, the subtle cock of his brow, but you simply gave him a secretive yet knowing smile.

“No,” you replied. “Not to Hwayoung.”

The streaks of sunlight leaking through the open window would have woken you from your slumber if it were not for Mr. Kim, a servant of the house, waking you up by a loud, hollow knock on your door in such an urgent manner.

“Miss Y/N, a visitor has come. Please hurry down.”

You were rather alarmed when that was the first thing that greeted you the moment you woke up, but a side of you somewhat expected this sudden visitation. Quickly, you raced down the halls of your manor, passing by lines and lines of windows, paintings, and statues in such a pace that did not allow you any moment to admire their intricacies. Mr. Jeon had departed yesterday to deliver your message— and it appeared that it was properly relayed. You were still in your nightwear when you had passed through the arch that led to the entrance hall, a shawl draped over your shoulders. When your eyes landed on the visitor that came in such a short notice, you couldn’t prevent the winning smile from replacing your previously drowsy expression.

He never came to disappoint.

“Miss Y/N!”

Jung Jaehyun sprang from the long sofa, a bouquet of daisies in hand, in such a frantic resolution that nearly made you feel guilty.

“Is everything all right?! Are you hurt?! Did you— wait, hold on, why are you standing? Dear god, did you walk all the way— you— you should not be—”

“It is quite appreciative that you have responded to my invitation with such an exemplary promptness, Jaehyun.”

He blinked at you, mouth opening and closing in a confused, convoluted manner that was almost comedic if you weren’t the precursor for his distress. You simply stood in front of him in the middle of the room with a fixed smile on your face. He was lost, disordered. And it reflected on the dirt on his clothes, the dust clinging onto is skin, and the tousled nature of his hair.

“I thought— I thought there was an—”

“There was no accident, Jaehyun. That was simply made-up.”

“But you said you were—”

“Alive and well, as you can see.”

“Then why did you—”

“Simply because I wanted you around,” you perked, eyes twinkling and hands politely folded behind your back. “You would not have come otherwise, am I correct?”

Prior to writing your letter to the Lee’s, you had come to a realization that a responsible man such a Jaehyun would not just abandon his duties at Hollybrook for something as trivial as tea time. You had to come up with a different reason— a more urgent, pressing, and important reason— even if that reason was a mere fabrication. Jaehyun seemed to have only realized it now. He was made to believe that you have gotten into an accident much worse than yesterday’s.

He flushed scarlet.

“Well—” Jaehyun stammered, embarrassed, unable to meet you eye to eye. You pressed your lips together in the hopes of preventing an amused smile from forming in such an inappropriate situation. But it was difficult with his ears getting redder by the second. Honestly, considering the situation, it was you that should have been the shameful one, not him. “If— if that is the case then I believe it is only right for me to take my leave.”

“On the contrary, I believe you should stay,” you quickly strided when he turned away and ready to leave through the doors, blocking his attempt of escape. “Apart from the—” you coughed. “—red herrings in the letter. Your presence is still highly welcome in the estate. How about extending your stay until tomorrow?”

Jaehyun let out a strangled cough at your suggestion. “I am afraid that would be highly inconvenient for you, Miss Y/N, as I have brought nothing but myself.”

“Well, you certainly brought along these lovely daisies with you,” he forgot about those, and you took the bunched up flowers from his right hand, the faintest brushing of your skin, and you smiled at him when you brought them up to your face to smell the grassy, earthy scent. His ears became redder. “Come. You need not to worry about clothing, toiletries or essentials, as the L/N residence has more than enough to provide. You do not have to worry about the farm either— I will be sending another letter to Mrs. Lee about your temporary absence. She would be delighted to hear that you will be staying a few days here.”

From how determined you were, there was no hope in objecting, but Jaehyun still had yet to try. “Miss Y/N,” he began, following your back as you started to leave the entrance hall. “I simply cannot be intrusive to your hospitality. I do not wish to be a burden.”

“Nonsense, Jaehyun!” you suddenly swiveled, meeting him face to face, the bouquet pointed against his nose. He swallowed hard. “I lured you here and therefore it is only rightfully so that I redeem myself by treating you as an esteemed guest.”

You carried yourself with such a confident and dignified air that Jaehyun simply cannot help but consent. The scarlet rouge seemed to have no intention of leaving his face— only darkening and growing warmer. You hadn’t judged him to fluster easily, but perhaps the hot weather was a contributing factor. You paid no mind.

“Well, anyway,” you hummed in satisfaction, leading him deeper into the manor. “Would you prefer a view of the front garden or of the back garden?”

After an entire day in Whitland, Jaehyun had proven himself to be even more agreeable that you had accounted for, which brought about no regrets in your decision of bringing him here to Roselake as it was the utmost sense of pride that you have ever felt. Not only was he such a fine dancer, he knew how to play the pianoforte and was highly cultured in music altogether. He even knew how to cook. And above all— he collected all sorts of poems, riddles, and charades that he penned in a small notebook, which simply accentuated your making of a good character for him. You had made no errors when you judged that he belonged in high society. He would fit right in.

All that was left was to do something about those drab costumes of his.

“Is it really all right for me to wear such an expensive attire, Miss Y/N?”

You had invited him for breakfast together as your father and Johnny went out into the village, and you simply did not like solitude when there were others around. He sat before you, across the table, squirmish and unsure. You frowned. The both of you were seated in such a beautiful spot inside the house— right beside the large window that opened to the gardens. This was no place for negativity.

“Why, surely!” you bellowed. “Would you rather run about uncovered, Jaehyun?”

It was instantaneous how he reddened.

“But of course, if that is what you wish, then—”

“Miss Y/N!” he stammered indignantly, his palm heavily dropping onto the table, causing it to rattle. “I— I had never expected vulgarities of any kind to be expressed by lips such as your very own.”

His flustered outrage was very much obvious by the way exhaled in such an exasperated manner, looking away into the window because it was far less perilous to eye the rose bush peeking from the glass. The red roses matched his face. “I believe this is not an appropriate topic to be discussed over a meal,” he sounded. “It is ill-suited in general.”

Jaehyun was unfortunately unable to catch the glimmer in your eyes. “You seem to boast a deep knowledge about vulgarities, yet you do not know that it is vulgar to speak about a lady's lips without her discretion,” he would not have choked on air if he had caught it.

“Oh my,” Your chair grated against the floor as you stood to help him, but he waved you off back to your seat “I was simply teasing, Jaehyun. I apologize, I really could not help myself.”

He drank from his glass of water, still rather ruffled from the event. “You seem to find a lot of joy from teasing others, Miss Y/N.”

“It is a lot of fun,” you agreed. Thankfully, Jaehyun seemed to have recovered now. “I would recommend the activity to you but I’m afraid you are far too nice to enjoy it.”

“Oh?” he pondered, a raise of a brow. It was about time that he took a bite from the prepared breakfast as he did not want to invade any further, but he was worried that it would be a waste. He took a fork from the table and started to eat. “How are you sure that I would not enjoy such a thing?”

Was he trying to challenge you? You chuckled. He may have seemed tolerant and forbearing over anything based on the air that he bequeathed as he went, but perhaps he hasn’t chosen to forgive you yet for pulling such a jest— he was extremely flustered, after all. You wouldn't have forgiven yourself, either. “It is a first that I have met a gentleman as constitutionally juxtaposed as you are. Are you upset that I teased you?"

“Not at all,” he said. “It would be rude for me to think ill of my host. I simply wonder how you’ve made so quick of a judgement when we've only met twice."

“Oh, judgement is arbitrary, Jaehyun. I draw conclusions as I wish and change them as I wish. Yet so far my impression of you has not changed one bit.”

He was silent for a moment, looking at you so intently that you could hardly recognize him as the same blushing boy as earlier. “Will I ever expect a change, Miss Y/N?”

This caught you by surprise.

It was vexing— how you had no theory on what prompted such a question, and what exactly kind of answer was he expecting and what he was to do with it. Jaehyun appeared to be anticipating your response; he stopped the clattering of utensils altogether and instead waited for you to speak in patience. You had no choice but to simply answer honestly.

“Oh, do you wish for it to change? But I believe my judgement of you is the best judgement one could ever make from a man,” you replied. “Well of course, that depends entirely on you, Jaehyun.”

You couldn’t tell if he was satisfied or less than, because all he affirmed with was a puzzling, thin smile that showed his dimples, followed by a reserved “I see.”

Throughout the stretch of the day, Jaehyun had continued with his odd, dilapidated behaviour which brought you to the paramount of confusion, irritation, and inadmissible fluster. You could quite confidently assume that his sudden coquetry as you made a turn around the garden, his uncalled for compliments and comparisons, was to prove his insistence that he did, in fact, enjoy a little tease.

Gentlemanly yet competitive, you took note. He is such a character.

Jaehyun only stopped when you admitted defeat right before sunset, but you defended that your initial perception of him had still yet to change because he was still as contradictingly confluent as he was during your first meeting, and you were sure that it would never change. Confusing enough, he visibly dampened when you made him know of it, and you did not understand what was there to be disappointed about. Was he that bent on changing your idea of him? But you assured that your idea of him was nothing but agreeable.

It followed you until dinner with the three men, and by then, you had not the slightest idea that all it took to completely silence one Johnny Suh was a Jung Jaehyun. The reason why, you did not know and you did not care. You should invite him as often as you could.

“I sincerely apologize for my daughter calling you here under the guise of an injury,” your father sent you a berating stare through his glasses, the rhythmic sounds of knives and spoons and forks and plates filling in between the gaps of the conversation. “I hope it has not troubled you so, Jaehyun.”

“What would have been so troubling, papa?” you spoke up, switching your concentration into someone else. “Is Roselake not such a welcoming place, Jaehyun?”

“Well, I have only toured as far as your estate, so I have none much to say regarding the entire village. But you see I have this belief that a part greatly represents that of the whole,” a charming smile was flashed. “If Whitland is already this captivating, then Roselake might be all as well.”

There was a cough from the other side of the table— Johnny— and it stirred Jaehyun’s and your father’s concern. He assured the two that he was fine, but you didn’t fail to catch his expression— one that he always wore when held knowledge of something you did not know of. You opted to fish information from him after dinner.

“Such a well-spoken and well-mannered boy,” your father hummed, reaching out for a dish on the table. Jaehyun politely passed it to him. “Do stay as long as you wish, son. There is no such thing as overstaying your welcome here at Whitland.”

“Oh, sir. I simply cannot abuse your hospitality.”

“Nonsense!” it was a familiar reckoning— your father’s remark. Jaehyun now knew where your persistence came from. “You would not have travelled all the way here if it were not for Y/N’s scheming. Please, Mr. Jaehyun. We are very much indebted to you.”

“Jaehyun,” you interrupted, smiling piquantly. “I would love for you to extend your visit until Friday.”

At that juncture, Johnny abruptly stopped his meal after spending the rest of it in silence. He shot you a look, to which you gave the look back. He was not even saying anything yet his peace was enough to be an annoyance. You really needed to have a word with him after this.

“Oh, that is right! We will be holding a ball on that very day, Jaehyun. It would be such a shame for you to miss out an occasion while you are already here.”

Jaehyun opened his mouth in an attempt to refute, but he caught your expectant gaze— the evidence of you looking forward to his attendance stopping him from saying what he had planned on saying. “If that is the case, then I suppose why not.”

“Excellent! You need not worry about your departure, son. I will prepare a carriage for you first thing on the seventh if you need to leave hurriedly.”

“Papa, how about inviting the Lee’s, as well?”

Jaehyun brightened at the mention, and your father was in no objection to accede.

Dinner had come to a close with a pleasant mood, and you went off to chase after Johnny who disappeared into the terrace right as the meal struck to an end. He thought he could run away from you. The nerve. You still had a bone to pick with him.

“Johnny Suh,” you announced your entrance, and he simply sighed without even turning around to acknowledge you. “What was that during dinner?”

That being, but not limited to, his constant, incisive stares directed to Jaehyun, his uncharacteristic quietness, and of course the moment he coughed in the middle of the scene which would have been dispensed by you if it were not for that irksome, knowing look on his face quite immediately after.

“Why do you not join Jaehyun and your father in the lounge?” he dodged.

“They are talking about farming," you grimaced. "Your presence is more welcomed than that. But anyhow—” you huffed, taking a stance right beside him. He was leaning against the railings in such an easy manner that annoyed you to bits. “Why do you not tell me what you have in mind?”

A moment of silence. He smiled at you knowingly.

“I have faith that you would know in due time.”

What?

“Johnny, I do not—”

“Moving on,” he brushed you off. You glared indignantly. The absolute nerve. “Hwayoung and Jaehyun?”

Ah.

Your eyes twinkled, your temper subsided. He looked at you with curiosity. You pursed your lips into a smile. “A good match, are they not? I believe this would be my greatest one yet,” you confidently declared and you had expected him to agree, to provide support despite his disagreements towards your pursuits as he usually did, but all you got from him was a painfully insulting laugh; sounding nothing but impertinent ridicule. If murder were not a crime, you would have pushed him off the balcony at that very instant.

“Miss Y/N, take this advice from a friend,” he breathed out in between chortles, needing to switch around his position as he was nearly stumbling in his own twisted amusement. “Do rethink your decisions. I am confident that this match will not go the way as you are used to.”

“Dear John,” you spat, venom lacing in each utterance. “You and I both know that I am miles closer with each of them than you are, I am more sympathetic towards the emotions of others than you are, and therefore it is not impetuous for me to conclude that I am a more fitting judge to this match’s success than you are.”

“And that is exactly where you fail.”

You blew a hot breath, appalled. Was he simply doing this to prove his superiority? To gravel you to the ends of the earth with a much more severe attempt?

“I am not saying to challenge you, Y/N. Do as you wish, I assure you that I will not go against,” he stated, ready to make his leave, walking from the railings to the terrace door, and your eyes followed him all the way through. Though before he left, he made sure to make one last testimony. “But do know that there are some things that can only be seen from afar.”

It was safe to say that this was the second night that you had not managed to fall asleep, but this time was for a different reason. That being the fact that Johnny’s words ceaselessly, obnoxiously echoed inside the taverns of your head like a damned curse in frequent enough episodes to drive to the very brink of insanity.

You were about to go insane— proven by the fact that you were quite literally mumbling to yourself inside the public space of Roselake Tailler Shop.

“That man speaks nonsense! Nothing but utter, indisputable, ridiculous nonsense! He thinks he’s sharper than me for simply being a few years older, when really he is none the wiser! Gosh, that stupendously arrogant—”

“Miss Y/N?”

A soft voice broke through. Dear lord, how you have forgotten.

Prior to your episode of madness, you had shoved Jaehyun into the hands of the dressmaker to fit his suit for tomorrow’s ball. It was on quite a short notice, but luckily you were acquainted with the owner, and that she already had a select few that suited Jaehyun’s frame and face with only a few alterations needed. Now, Jaehyun had emerged from the back of the shop, donning a dark tailcoat, cravat in a stylish ruffle, and bottoms that perfectly accentuated his tall height. You had nearly forgotten all your distresses from earlier.

“Is this all right?”

Yes, he was absolutely dashing, but could he please momentarily keep it down for the sake of your gradually withering rationality?

“My god, Jaehyun. That is by far the most foolish thing that I have ever heard you say.”

You marched up to him, evading the rolls of cloth and stands that littered the place, up until you found yourself standing right before him. His cravat was in a slight mess, and so you silently took it upon yourself to fix it, not realizing that you were far too close for Jaehyun’s comfort. You did not notice the way his eyes widened, the way his breath practically stopped when he could see how your lips pursed in concentration as you were very very close to his face. But what you did notice— albeit only when you looked up for a fleeting second— was that his ears were very much tinged red.

Johnny’s words echoed once more. You squeaked and stumbled away.

He is just poisoning your thoughts, that damned rat.

Unfortunately for you, there was a dress form right behind, and from your stumbling, you had almost fallen over it, setting off a disastrous domino that would have led to an absolute mess inside the shop. But of course that never happened. Jaehyun had not let that happen. He was just in time to catch your fall, arm steadily hooked around your waist, the other swiftly moving to balance the dress form, and his handsome face just as close as ever.

“You seem to have an inclination for situations where you are destined to fall, Miss Y/N.”

Your mind was yet to fully register your current situation, yet your heart was already far too many steps ahead with the sudden flushing of heat, darting of your nerves, and sporadic fluttering of your eyes.

Oh dear god.

With a cough and a huff and a stutter, you hopped back onto your feet. “I—It is not like I deliberately put myself into these situations. I assure you that I am not as clumsy,” you straightened yourself, a stern look on your features, though somewhat forced. Johnny was the cause of this pitfall; had he not rooted those ridiculous notions into your head, this never would have happened. “Please put your hair up on the day of the event.”

He smiled at you. “Ah, I will keep that in mind. Thank you.”

You blamed Johnny for all the palpitations that you have endured and have yet to endure within your presence of this deadly man.

Easy, Y/N, easy, you inwardly sighed as the both of you finally left the shop, entering the main streets of the village. The tailor said that his suit was to be delivered later in the day. Everything will fall into place by tomorrow— this is simply a test of your fortitude.

Your assurance was generously granted as you and Jaehyun strolled through the streets of Roselake on the way back to your estate, because in every side and every corner, from passersby and lingerers, people seem to have been magnetized towards your companion. You smugly smiled in voluminous pride. A head turner was he indeed, though he seemed to pay no attention to the stray stares. It was either he didn’t know or he didn’t care, but you were granted to believe that the former was far too unlikely.

“Jaehyun,” you roused. “Are you aware of the attention that you’re garnering?”

“I am aware that people have been looking this way since earlier,” he sent a polite smile to a nearby group of young ladies that were sitting at the side, right before bringing his attention back to you. With how the rays of gold were showering atop his dark hair, highlighting all the high points of his face, one might believe that even the sun was magnetized by him. “But I believe it is you that they are looking at, Miss Y/N.”

You laughed. “Please do not impart with me your false modesty, Jaehyun. Even a child is enamoured by you.”

“You are far too kind.”

At the suggestion, a little girl had walked up to him along with her sister— Miss Hana, you had recognized. It was an endearing exchange, Jaehyun and the little girl, and though you were willing to wait, Jaehyun had cut the acquaintanceship short, much to Miss Hana’s dismay. Perhaps it was not only the little girl that was enamoured.

“It is simply the truth, yet you insist on pretending,” you sighed, lamenting. He only chuckled in response, striding beside you as you crossed the busy street. “I can already see it, Jaehyun. Almost everybody at the ball tomorrow will be wondering who is this esteemed gentleman that Miss Y/N L/N had brought along to Roselake. Why, dozens will be vying for your favour.” It was unusually crowded today, possibly due to the event tomorrow. All of Roselake was to be invited, after all.

“It is nice, but I do not necessarily seek the good favour of everyone around me. Your father, your good friend Johnny, Mr. Jeon, and you, Miss Y/N,” a horse carriage interrupted your walk, the vehicle passing just inches away from your side. Jaehyun gallantly pulled you away, his hand on the small of your back, and it elicited a quiet gasp from your part. You landed on his chest, and he looked you in the eye. “It is your good favour that I deem more important than those of a nameless dozen.”

Had you not been devoted to your pursuits, you as well would have been enamoured. He did not care about making a good impression on others, but unconsciously he is doing so.

You quietly thanked him, pushing yourself away once the street was once again cleared. “That you need not to worry about, Jaehyun, because I have assured you many times already. We must hurry if we wish to return to Whitland before sunset; there are still plenty of preparations, after all.”

The evening of the sixth was as lively as the stars in the sky.

Whitland estate was not shy of inviting guests, and just as you had anticipated, almost if not all of Roselake have welcomed themselves into your manor. Visitors and guests flooded inside the ballroom and out, the gardens and yards littered with the jubilant merriness of conversations and introductions. You gratifyingly smiled as you stood at the center of the ballroom, underneath the striking chandelier, and you greeted people as they came and went. The current guest being Mrs. Qian— who lended a generous hand in preparation for the ball.

“You have always had an eye for the littlest details. It is quite thanks to you that the mood is pleasantly heightened,” you said with great praise, yet your former governess simply laughed it off in modesty.

“Dear Y/N, none would be merry making right now if you had not designed the entire event,” she rebounded, the liquid in her glass swaying in tune with her movements. “You are most fitting to be the lady of the house, Y/N. All that is left is to marry, but of course, you have no plans in doing so.”

“I need not a man to run the estate, Madam,” you mused, not adding anything further thanks to a new presence arriving. “Oh, Mr. Qian.”

You humbly bowed, and he followed suit with a drawing smile before he took place beside his wife. “I apologize, Miss Y/N, but allow me to seize my wife for a moment.”

“No apologies needed, sir. You are very much inclined to do with her as you please.”

Your teasing remark elicited a hearty laugh from the couple, and right after they disappeared into the crowd. It was quite strange how unaffected you had become to your dear friend and governesses’ marriage despite being wholly wrapped in grief only a week ago, but perhaps it was about time that you had come to its acceptance. You were very happy for the two’s union, and happier when it was, of course, orchestrated by your command. You could not have thought of a better ending for the both of them.

Moments later, you had retired to a separate room which was far quieter primarily because there was a dance going about. You would have joined, but there were not enough willing men who wanted to partake, and that at every second there seemed to be a guest that wanted your conversation. You had just sent away Mr. and Miss Yoon because the daughter’s father could not stay up for too late, and despite it being already hours into the ball, you had still yet to meet Jaehyun or Hwayoung.

Perhaps they found themselves to each other, you jokingly thought as you readied to come inside once again. No matter how unlikely, that instance is still very much welcomed.

Just was you crossed the frame of the open door, a voice called out to you.

“Miss Y/N!”

It was impossible to hold back a smile.

“Oh, Miss Y/N! Oh, how I missed you so!” in came Hwayoung running into your chest as she buried herself in a tight, gripping embrace. You laughed, caressing the crown of her head while she went on with her declarations of much she longed to see you while she was away. She turned her head up, a blooming excitement on her face.

“My sweet blossom!” it was against your better judgement how you decided to squeeze her plump cheeks in between your palms, planting a tender kiss on her forehead. You really could not help but to coddle the younger girl. “Are you well? Was the trip pleasant? Oh, I should have sent over one of our carriages so you’d been of best comfort.”

She managed somewhat of a response, though it was barely coherent (“ish okay!” she tried to say, but at least you understood). Prying your hands away from her face, she beamed at you, excitingly swinging your arms back and forth. “I am very happy to be back again!”

You smiled at her fondly. “I am very happy to have you back again as well, Hwayoung. Come, let us get inside.”

As you two passed by the many guests with Hwayoung clinging onto your arm, she had told you how it was like at the boarding school— her storytellings had always been convoluted, going back and forth from one scene to another, which was a fitting reflection of her bright and youthful nature. Though, when the both of you squeezed past the energetic dancers, the topic had shifted; and you more than welcomed the change of subject.

“Miss Y/N,” she started, a large, curious smile on her face as she talked. “I had been talking to Miss Hana as I walked toward the manor— oh! This was before I managed to find you— well anyway. She had told me that you had been acquainted with such a handsome gentleman while I was away! She says that he is more handsome and agreeable than Mr. Taeyong Lee which I found really surprising because Mr. Lee is quite the most dashing fellow I have ever seen! Is it true? Did you really meet such a man?”

Hwayoung looked at you with her big, round eyes with such an adoring enthusiasm that you could not help but release a chuckle.

“One at a time, one at a time,” you tapped her nose. “I cannot say whether he is more handsome than Mr. Lee,” you smiled, “I will leave you the judge of that, Hwayoung”

“Oh my, Miss Y/N!” she gasped. “Are you allowing me to meet him?”

“If that is what you wish, then who am I to say no?”

“I would love to, Miss Y/N! I should better express my thanks to him as he kept you company while I was away, even if it was only for short. I could only imagine how devastated you must have been with Miss— oh rather, Mrs. Qian marrying. You were not too lonely, were you, Miss Y/N? Oh, I do hope not; the very thought makes me so sad because Miss Y/N is far too great of a deal to ever feel sorrow.”

You did not have the heart to tell her that you had indeed been inflicted by troubles. You had many acquaintances considering your status in society, and you have indeed busied yourself with the company of Miss Jihye Kang from Hartlace, and sometimes even Mr. Renjun Huang whenever you were sick of the emptiness of your drawing room. At one point you had even invited Mr. Jaemin Na to your estate— which was quite unheard of because once the public had made news of you and him being in the same space, rumors were sure to arise and you simply found it far too cumbersome to deal with for the mere sake of having company.

Yet despite all these many acquaintances, none could take the familial position of Mrs. Qian’s wit and wisdom, nor could they rival the fondness of your dearest Hwayoung. It was blasphemy to even compare. But you didn’t have the heart to admit this to the girl.

Well, a thought flickered. There is one.

“Miss Y/N?”

“Oh, not at all, Hwayoung,” you flashed her a smile. “Come, let me introduce you to him.”

Jaehyun believed that he was struck with bad luck the moment he had entered the ballroom, because somehow, despite all of the odds (that were quite frankly stacked against him), there was not an instance where he had caught you alone. You were always with a person or two, never by yourself.

Was he to suffer the entire night?

“Miss Y/N—” you were skewed away by a Miss Kwon.

“Ah, Miss Y/N—” Donghyuck had decided that it was the perfect time to drag you into a dance.

“Miss—” he could not interrupt while you were so amiably conversing with a couple, could he?

He could not.

Once again, he could only sigh as he witnessed your retreating frame, presumably accommodating two of the guests who were ready to make their leave for tonight. He could not even garner the chance of telling you how beautiful you looked in burgundy and gold. He had come to accept that he will never get the chance to tell you.

“This is not an event of frowns, Jaehyun. Are you not enjoying the party?”

Mark, who was alone at the moment as the rest of his brothers were running about, had come to approach his evidently despondent friend with a drink in hand. If he could read his friend’s thoughts, which he could not, he would be able to hear him lamenting over the fact that he even styled his hair up tonight just as you had asked him to (with the assistance of Johnny, of course. The two got along quite well). You would not even be able to see it.

“I am just tired, Mark. No need to worry,” he pressed his lips into a thin smile. “And you?”

“Very much so!” he nodded. “Donghyuck seems to be in his element here, and Jeno has finally come out to join a few others after hiding behind the statues and pillars— Miss Y/N’s earnestness managed to force him out of his shell and— oh!”

Mark lit up in the middle of his thoughts, while Jaehyun only dampened at the mention of your name. Even Jeno had an opportunity to talk to you.

“Please do send our thanks to Miss Y/N for inviting us here! And of course, my gratitude is with you as well, Jaehyun. If Miss Y/N did not like you as much, then I believe we would not even be—”

“What?”

If Miss Y/N did not what?

“What are you saying, Mark. Miss Y/N simply views me as a friend.”

Mark knitted his brows in confusion.

“Oh, does she? Did I misunderstand? I thought she fancied you, really. She would not have called for your presence all the way here, in Whitland, in such a short and desperate notice if she did. Even insisting on your extended stay,” he drank from the glass, shrugging. “But I suppose I was mistaken.”

“Uh—” arranging his thoughts and words in a coherent manner was quite impossible considering his physical state and state of mind— his usual tells being reflected by his ears and Mark did not fail to notice but he remained quiet as he waited for Jaehyun to operate again. But out of further misfortune because his bad steak still had not yet come to an end, he saw you, unmistakably so, approaching him from a distance

The one time he wished not to confront you had to be the time that you decided to confront him.

Fate be damned.

“Jaehyun?”

He sped off in a rush and panic that hesitation could not even catch up.

Mark could not comprehend his friend’s sudden actions, but he could not go after him because at that very moment, you had decided to show up right in front of him.

“Was that Mr. Jung just now?”

Hwayoung asked, confused. You answered her, just as confused. “Indeed. I’ve no idea as to why he ran away, though. Mark?” your eyes flicked to the by who seemed to be in a trance. “Is there a problem with Jaehyun?”

“I’m not too sure either, Miss Y/N,” he answered, still dazed.

“Well,” you clicked your tongue, looking towards the entrance where he disappeared off to. An idea ventured inside your head. An opportunity just presented itself. You looked over to the younger girl. You inwardly smiled. “Hwayoung, would you mind checking up on the lad? He probably went off to the fountain.”

“Oh, should you not be the one to check on your friend, Miss Y/N?”

“Perhaps I had done something to upset him as he ran away the moment I approached,” you sighed in dismay and Hwayoung's expression was tugged down into a frown. “I believe it would be best if I leave him for the time being. But I do not wish to simply fester his constitution further.”

A look of concern shrouded Hwayoung. “Oh dear, that is most unfortunate! Would you like me to talk to him, Miss Y/N? To find out why he might have not wished to see you?”

“Such a kind girl, but there is no need,” you lifted your hand to her head in an affectionate pat, smiling. “I ask you to be in place of me, dearest. Your social gallantry will be sure to bring his spirits up.”

“Are you sure, Miss Y/N? Would it be all right to leave you alone?”

“Mark shall keep me company,” you beamed in assurance, grabbing the unsuspecting boy by the arm, who flushed scarlet at your sudden action. “You may go, Hwayoung.”

Now ascertained, Hwayoung nodded in determination. “Understood! I will be sure that Mr. Jung Jaehyun returns to Hollybrook without any misery or grief. Then I will be off, Miss Y/N!”

You sent her off with the fondest expression that you could ever manage. Mark was about to ask you of something, but the boy was far too slow to speak a syllable because not long after Hwayoung’s departure, you discreetly went off as well to follow her with a considerable enough distance as to not be noticed. Intrusive inquisitiveness was not your proudest trait, but you could not help yourself.

There, through the window, you watched as Jaehyun and Hwayoung animatedly conversed under the shining moonlight, and a smile stretched by triumph displayed on your features. You did not miss the way Jaehyun's eyes disappeared mid laugh from something she had said. It was far too impossible to not love a lovable girl such as Hwayoung. Things had been going just as you had predicted as the two seemed to be enjoying each other’s company, but of course your judgements were always correct. It was inconvenient that you couldn’t hear what they were conversing, but knowing their more than pleasing introduction to each other would suffice for now.

Introduction meant acquaintanceship, and acquaintanceship to friendship. All knew what came after next.

The morning after the ball, all the guests including Jaehyun, Hwayoung, and the Lee’s have left Whitland with as much pleasure as when they have arrived. You had not woken early enough to interrogate either of your two subjects on the happenings of last night, and therefore you had arranged a tea party with the both of them at their earliest convenience— which happened to be Wednesday of the next week.

It was for tea on the invitation, but of course you had other motives at hand. Johnny simply ridiculed you when you had told him. That was to be expected, but you only told him because you were determined to prove him wrong.

“She is quite the beauty, is she not? well-mannered too.”

You took a small sip from the teacup, eyes following the excitable girl as she collected flowers from the shrubs as you had instructed. It was at the back garden that you had arranged the small gathering. Hwayoung was not fond of tea so she went off to gather flowers for a new drawing of hers. You knew that of course. How could you not. You specifically settled for a tea party because Hwayoung would have still chosen to come, though she would simply not join you. That was the perfect opportunity to figure out what kind of opinion Jaehyun had for the girl.

Perhaps Hwayoung had noticed your stare, so she momentarily stopped picking the fresh blooms to send a bright smile and wave to your direction. You returned the gesture with an air of fondness.

“Although I have to say— she is a tad slow and air headed at times. But rather it adds more to her charm than making it fall short,” with a clang, you replaced the porcelain onto the saucer. “Do you not think so, Jaehyun?”

No answer. Your eyes flickered over to the boy.

“Jaehyun?”

“O-oh! Yes— uhm,” his gaze wavered, visibly startled unlike his usual disposition. His ears were pink. A shameful pink. As pink as the carnations decorating the table. Your curiosity was drawn. It was a relief that him running away from you during the ball was only a one time occurrence; you were afraid that he wouldn’t take your invite, but surprisingly he answered with much promptness and without any complaints or excuses. “I apologize, Miss Y/N. I admit that your words were not completely received by me.”

Your lips quirked upwards. That was easier than you had thought. “It is all right. Enjoying the scenery, perhaps?”

“The scenery,” he coughed out. “Indeed. A lovely scenery, indeed.”

“Is such a sight present in Hollybrook?”

“Unfortunately and quite fortunately not,” Jaehyun replied, the blush that had been painting his fair skin now fading but not completely subsiding, and his usual, dimpled smile taking place with an air of charm. “Such a sight can only be seen here.”

The smile on your face grew triumphantly wider, and your eyes directed back to the flower-picking Hwayoung, who had already filled the basket to the near brim. The summer leaves fell perfectly into place and you needed not to even intervene. It was only a matter of time until another successful match was to bloom thanks to your favor.

“As expected. Then I shall leave you to admire the scenery further, Jaehyun.”

He simply nodded, but you weren't looking at him to see.

Unbeknownst to you, Jaehyun's attention had been long riveted to the same spot ever since. He simply wondered how long it would take for you to notice.

To say that the next few days were eventful would be an understatement.

Your determination in getting them together alone in contrast with Jaehyun and Hwayoung’s insistence in keeping your company did not come into confluence, much to your frustrations and disheartenment. They are very clearly enraptured by each other— you were not amiss to the smiles they shared, to their heightened enthusiasm for the others’ presence, and the confirmation that you sought for was already given by Jaehyun during your time at the garden. But if they were far too shy to take their steps towards each other, you were left to take it upon yourself to string them together under the impression of destined, fated coincidence.

Today was also one of your devices.

“Mr. Jaehyun, I am very honored to be bestowed upon an opportunity to make a round in your lovely farm— granted it is my first time to visit one, but Hollybrook is a very refreshing spot to visit around the summer! I might have to schedule another trip here,” Hwayoung revelled in the natures of the area in the countryside, as she and Jaehyun strolled along the dirt path underneath the shade of the tall trees.

Jaehyun mirrored the younger girl’s smile. “I am glad that you think so, Miss Hwayoung. But it is quite a coincidence that we have been frequently running into each other as of late,” though welcomed, he had not expected Hwayoung’s arrival, as it was fully unannounced.

“Oh, but it is for sure such a delighting coincidence!” she beamed. “Miss Y/N and I were supposedly meeting here today, but quite unfortunately and on such a short and sudden notice, Mr. Johnny had come to visit. Poor Miss Y/N really did wish to come.”

Wait a minute.

Jaehyun stopped walking. “Miss Y/N asked for you to come here?”

“Why, yes. I had already departed when Mr. Jeon came and made news to me that she was not to come anymore. Oh, did you perhaps wish to see her? I believe she would not mind an unannounced visit if it is from you, Mr. Jaehyun.”

Miss Y/N had declined his letter of visiting Whitland earlier today, saying that she had somewhere to be.

Hwayoung had grown concerned at her companion’s sudden silence, but Jaehyun was yet to be ready to resurface from his thoughts. He was aware that this had not been the first time you had brushed him off, that you had deliberately made way to erase yourself from the narrative just so he and Hwayoung would be alone. Many a times have you invited him over only to be met by your absence, times that you left in a hurry over reasons that were questionable yet he did not choose to question. He was neither blind nor stupid nor unaware.

He simply did not linger for he cared too greatly about your opinion.

Even when that opinion was evidently unreciprocated.

“Mr. Jaehyun, did I say something wrong?”

But even if that was the case—

“Miss Hwayoung,” he started. Hwayoung was surprised by the sudden volume and seriousness of his voice. “I am afraid I must take my leave.”

“You slithering snake.”

Johnny simpered, looking you in the eye as he toppled over your King on the chessboard.

“It appears you still have a long way to go, Miss Y/N.”

You were starting to regret your decision of inviting Johnny over for a game of chess, but it was a very much needed excuse in order to make sure that everything was to work. From your calculations, Hwayoung was probably with Jaehyun at Hollybrook right now, as Mr. Jeon had already earlier in the afternoon from his task of making her know of your absence. You did not enjoy lying to any extent, only bending situations into your favor, which is why you were led to the very invite that you were oh so desperately trying not to regret.

This was the third game that finished with your defeat, and this was definitely not the last as you two decided to set up the chessboard once again. You were far too stubborn for a defeat. “Please,” you scoffed, lining up the pawns indignantly. “I have far too many thoughts running about inside my head at the moment, and it is not to my surprise that you have won this game by chance. I will win the next one.”

“Y/N, we have played chess many times in the past and never once have you won against me. But it is all right. I will pretend for the sake of your satisfaction,” he codded. “Do some of those thoughts involve Mr. Jaehyun and Miss Hwayoung, perhaps?”

“A grave majority, Johnny. Not some.”

“Well,” he had a rook wedged between two of his fingers, his chin resting on the same hand as he looked at you smugly. You rolled your eyes in preparation for whatever ridiculous chide he had in mind. “From that statement alone, then I assume that your plans are not going as smoothly as you would like.”

You scoffed, raising a brow at him. It appeared that the next game was already to be postponed.

“Quite the contrary, actually,” you refuted, taking the fallen knight into your hands. “The past few days have been going exactly in my favour. Before you make any hasty conclusions, Johnny, I suggest that you see how the two are undeniably so perfectly enraptured in each other’s company. Hwayoung had always looked forward whenever Jaehyun was announced to be visiting, and Jaehyun had always been especially attentive to the girl. And my, and this very moment, they might already be professing their ardor for each other, just about—”

“Lady Y/N.”

The doors to the drawing room swung open, prompting your attention. Mr. Kim had made a sudden entrance.

“A Mr. Jung Jaehyun.”

You dropped the knight to the floor. A hollow sound echoed inside the room.

“Well,” Johnny hummed and you abruptly turned to face him, eyes widened. “Are you still to continue with your speech?”

You did not, for there were no words that your throat could manage.

The clattering of your heels through the empty hall, the tranquil air of the clear afternoon sky, and the faint brustling of the wind through the opened windows did not resemble the thundering storm of disorder that you carried inside your head as you chased towards the manor’s entrance.

Mr. Kim took much effort in running after you because your pace and temperament was just as fast as the throbbing of your heart that rang inside your ears like a tempest coming to whisk you away. You were wildering.

“Lady Y/N, please wait a moment. Please—”

You pushed the doors open without a moment to waste.

And there stood, a mere few meters away, was Jung Jaehyun.

What could he possibly be here for?

“Jaehyun, what are you— why are you here? Were you not with Hwayoung? What are you—”

“Miss Y/N, it is with great displeasure that I admit that I perhaps am not worthy of your good merit seeing as you are quite in shock and disappointed from my untimely arrival— but I am afraid that I cannot hold it off any longer,” he was breathless as he spoke, and he spared no breath for you to release either as within seconds of his speech, he took his place before you, clutching both of your hands, desperate and rattled, and you could feel it through his pulsing veins. “Therefore before I begin, I would like to ask for your permission.”

You looked up to him, eyes wide and tongue tied. His chest was rising in falling, heaving during the moment of brief pause, and you could not even bear to uncover the emotions running in troubling circles in his dark eyes. You nodded wordlessly. He swallowed.

“I am not as naive as you may believe me to be.”

You could hear your heart pounding.

“I hope that you would not be too gravely burdened by the next words that I am to say— that would be the least of my desires. Instead, I would rather you be freed from the burdens that you have been carrying onto yourself since the moment we first met. Would you like to hear it, Miss Y/N?”

Once again, you nodded.

“I like you.”

For a brief moment, you felt yourself slipping away, or so you thought because once again you were met by the reality of Jaehyun’s fervent confession as he was still holding into your hands with no less desperation as he had since the very first second. It was difficult to breathe at that point. He too, was experiencing the same, but that did not stop him from pouring all the depths of his senseless sensibilities, out of regret that he did not do so earlier.

“However I do not wish for you to be afflicted by affections as heavy as mine, because the mere fact that you are not turning away from my touch—”

There was a pause. Your eyes followed how he lifted your hands to his lips, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss on your knuckles with enough warmth to send your entire being ablaze. He looked at you. How he had never stopped looking at you.

“—is enough to satisfy my yearning heart for now. Good day, Miss Y/N. I bid you well.”

And with that, he left. He left, but not without leaving a memory of him behind closed eyes.

I like you.

It rang inside your head.

I like you.

Once more, it rang.

I like you.

It rang until you were already underneath your covers, the moonlight leaking into the window, but you could not sleep because closing your eyes would mean the recollection of Jaehyun’s ever enchanting visage as he repeated those words in your head until you became sick of it.

Jaehyun liked you. Not Hwayoung. You.

It did not make sense.

Did you mistake his kindness, courteousness, and attentive generosity as something it is not? You had been wrong? That was impossible. He had been far too kind, courteous, and attentive to Hwayoung for you to perceive it as anything else. There was always a special kind of thoughtfulness when he uttered a word to her, presented by his moments of contemplation just before making his utterance. A kind of thoughtfulness that you had only seen in gentlemen who wanted to assert a good impression on someone they liked, yet he decided that he liked you instead of her, which the very idea carried a great amount of absurdity because not once had you caught a subtle hint, even a mere glimpse from him that he carried such— such ineffable feelings for you. He never showed that he did

“Did he?”

Would you have been this heavily affected if he had not?

The moon outside your window had been calling you to sleep, and you deduced that it was about time that you did. You only hoped that your dwellings would cease to transpire in line with the moon, but the opposite occurred, because when the sun had come to rise, so did its never ending repetitions which you had finally come to terms with.

Jaehyun liked you.

This new mantra stretched until early noon, and Hwayoung had come to visit, just before it had started to rain.

And at that very moment— as you both sat in the middle of the drawing room— it occurred to you.

What about Hwayoung?

“Miss Y/N, you never told me that Hollybrook was such an enjoyable farm!” the girl gushed in such a cheerful radiance that contrasted your own casket-ready appearance. How were you to break the news to the poor girl? “The meadows and fields were all so very pretty and— oh! I had met with Mr. Jaehyun for a very brief moment, but he had to leave for reasons I do not know. He seemed to be very shaken, yes, so I assume it was urgent, but I do not hold it against him that he rushed to leave. He is a kind fellow, and how lucky was I that Mr. Lee— the eldest Mr. Lee— was there to—”

“Hwayoung.”

She stopped talking, taking notice of your grey countenance, dazed and unfocused, and she immediately grew worried.

“Yesterday—” you breathed in. “Yesterday a very puzzling thing happened.”

“Oh my, what could it possibly be to have troubled you so much, Miss Y/N?”

“Jaehyun came by.”

Hwayoung’s mouth dropped, pleasantly surprised. “Really? Is that why he left yesterday? Oh, what did he—”

“He says he likes me.”

There was silence. You drew in a deep, regretful breath. “Hwayoung, I—”

A squeal.

“He— he says he likes you? Mr. Jaehyun? He likes you?” she repeated it just as many times as it haunted you leaving you unable to speak or even think for that matter. “Miss Y/N, oh my— oh my, this is—!”

Your younger friend was practically bouncing in her seat from the joy and celebration but you did not understand. Heartache and sighs and despondency— that was what you had expected. But the response that she came up with was enough to somewhat bring you back to your senses.

“Hold on, should you not be upset?” Hwayoung deemed the confused bewilderment crawling onto your face ill-suited for disposition. She grew confused as well. The gap between you and her as you sat across each other seemed far wider than it actually was.

“Huh?” she blinked, cocking her head. “Why should I be upset when this is wonderful news?”

“He says he likes me and not you!”

The volume of your cry caused her to flinch, and you gasped, covering your mouth with your fingers. “Do you— do you not like him?”

“Why, should I not be the one to ask you that?”

“You do not like him?”

“Miss Y/N, you are being rather confusing right now.”

You blinked, mouth hung open in shock. You were wrong. Very wrong. You could not have been more wrong in your life.

“Mr. Jaehyun is a very nice, very good looking, very agreeable man, but I do not like him in the way that I believe you are asking. Not at all,” Hwayoung politely replied, her hands resting on her lap. You had only realized now that the rain had grown stronger. “I do not like him, But you, Miss Y/N.”

Your eyes flickered up to meet hers.

“Do you?”

Did you like him?

It was a difficult question, far more difficult than anything you had ever encountered because you had never— not in your twenty-one years of life— liked anyone in a way that Hwayoung had suggested. How were you to know something you feel when you have never actually felt it? How were you to be sure that this feeling is actually romantic when your emotions themselves cannot judge it? Perhaps this was why you had misjudged Jaehyun and Hwayoung’s opinion on each other; in actuality, you knew nothing of love. You simply did not know.

“Do I like him?”

“Oh dear, why are you asking me, Miss Y/N? It is you that should know the answer.”

But you did not

How did Mr. and Mrs. Qian come to know that it should be each other that they were destined to marry? How did your father come to realize that it was he and your mother that were meant to be? All these people knew what they were feeling, knew who their hearts were set out to, but you—

“Miss Y/N, what are— oh my!”

“Hwayoung.”

All of a sudden, you leapt from your chair and onto the floor right before the poor, startled girl without much of a warning for her to be prepared. You knelt right in front of her, quickly snatching her hands and placing the right on top of the left side of your chest. You looked at her with so much conviction and earnestness that she had no choice but to go along.

“Is my heart beating fast?”

“Yes,” she stuttered. “Quite fast.”

“Hwayoung.”

You had wasted no time to transfer her hands to your face, pressing both of her palms onto your cheeks.

“Is my face getting hot?”

“Yes, quite hot. You are getting quite— wait,” she knitted her brows in dumbfounded perplexity. “Miss Y/N, is this a physical examination? Are you feeling okay? Should I—”

Once more, you had changed the position, with you now holding her hands tightly on top of her lap. Hwayoung stared at you, wide eyed, and perhaps waiting for the next question that you were about to ask.

“Hwayoung.”

You started.

“Could you ask me who I am thinking of?”

“Who…” she echoed, slowly and surely. “Who are you thinking of?”

“Jaehyun.”

You answered at once, looking at her, but your eyes felt like they were looking elsewhere. The rain continued to fall— stronger than when it had started.

“I am thinking of Jaehyun.”

It was against your better judgement to run into the wind, rain, and mud with nothing but two thin layers, but all your judgements thus far have been proven to be false anyway, so who was to say that you were wrong? Hwayoung had called out to you to return to the manor, but you were already far too lost in your thoughts, and too far for your ears to hear because you had already slipped past the gates of Whitfield to your unprompted journey to Hollybrook.

It did not matter if your hem was six inches stained with mud, if you were wet, disheveled, or far beyond propriety’s sake, because all that mattered was for you to tell him about your far too late realization that you, more than you could quite possibly know, liked him.

Him. Jung Jaehyun.

And so you ran through the dampened dirt path, past the daises and all the trees and the linings until you were met by the looming visage of the farm house, breathlessly standing before the fence, until your eyes landed on the familiar figure of a boy sitting underneath the porch, who immediately stood up upon seeing you from a distance.

He was looking at you.

And you were looking at him.

There were no words nor time wasted when he ran up to you, fighting against the onslaught of raindrops to swing open the fence gate, grab you by the arm, and lead you inside the house where the rain was no longer. He sat you on the sofa while he went off to get something to dry you off with, and when he returned, a large cloth towel offered to you, he turned over to the unlit fireplace to start the fire. You had not even realized that you were shaking.

“Miss Y/N, I have not the slightest idea on what is your motivation for running into the rain and mud despite the risk of catching a cold,” he started with a sigh, back faced towards you as he crouched before the now kindled furnace. “But unfortunately if it is the Lee’s that you have business with, they have sadly left for a wedding in Oldham just this morning. I am sorry that your journey to Hollybrook has led to such a waste—”

“No,” you said. “Not a waste at all seeing as you are here.”

He stood up, turning around. The rain was muffled inside the walls of the house, so he could very clearly hear what you had just said.

“Jaehyun, I—”

You felt yourself withering under his stare when you looked up to talk to him, words choked up inside your throat because of his appearance; his hair, face, and skin drenched from running into the rain because of you, yet even with the disheveledness of his constitution, still nothing could compare. You pressed your lips tightly in guilt.

“I have been very, very stupid.”

“Please do not speak ill of yourself, Miss Y/N. You are—”

“I am!” your outburst caused him to flinch, the crackling of the hearth filling the momentary silence. “I am possibly— no, without a doubt the most foolish, stubborn, and idiotic person that you are most unfortunate enough to like because not only was I blind to the feelings that you garnered for me, I was also blind to the feelings of my own.”

He almost doubted the next words that fell from your lips.

“Jaehyun, I like you.”

He had to take a moment.

“Perhaps— perhaps I mistook my admiration for you as simply pragmatic because I had never, for the life of me, harbored any feelings of the sort but that is besides the point because I was very very wrong. I was wrong about a lot of things,” you were stammering, your usual air of self-reliance unable to be found by Jaehyun's eyes. It was a different disposition. He did not mind either one. “But this time—" your breath wavered. "This time I am more than certain that I like you.”

Somehow the rain kept coming, the fireplace kept crepitating, and Jaehyun spoke after a moment of silence.

“Are you sure?”

You looked at him, blinking, unable to decipher his expression. You let out an incredulous breath.

“After all I have said, that is what you respond with?” you huffed, standing up from your seat and marching up to him with heavy steps. ”Jaehyun, what more do I have to say and prove that I really do— oh!”

Too burdened by your indignation, you did not pay much attention to your surroundings, and this you tripped over your own dress that was given more weight after being soaked in the rain. You fell forward with a shrill scream, and just like the past few instances, Jaehyun had been there to catch you, an arm securing your waist, a hand holding your wrist into the air. Startled, you were fixed on him, and you had only caught the subtle grin on his face of amusement, ever charming and directed to none other than yourself. How had you missed it?

You batted your eyelashes. He intertwined your fingers together.

“Then, I am glad.”

This time, you did not miss the twinkle in his eyes, to which you responded with a flustered dumbfoundedness. Heart racing, you tried to push yourself off of him in mere embarrassment— you had completely forgotten how much of a mess you looked, all wet and muddy. But Jaehyun seemed not to care because the moment you let go of his hand and attempted to back away, he simply pulled you closer to him with a more humored expression. You squeaked when you hit his chest once again with a thud.

“What are you doing?” you exhaled, still dazed. He simply hummed with an airy laugh.

“Something I have been meaning to do for a while now.”

You could not even question. You did not get the chance to ask him what exactly he meant by that, but it was not any more needed because Jaehyun’s answer came in the form of a kiss that snatched the air out of your chest within seconds.

It was sudden, how easily you gave in, how within seconds you found yourself slowly slipping away from his touch, how any semblance of elegance, manner, and respectability was disparaged into nothingness in between tangled limbs, shallow breaths, and feverish lips on the cold, wooden floor that you had fallen onto. You gasped, positioned in between his legs and right onto his chest, pulling away to take a moment to stare at Jaehyun’s face, heated under the glow of the fireplace. He hummed a fluttering smile.

“Are you all right with this, Miss Y/N?” Jaehyun asked, running his fingers down your cheek, falling underneath your chin as he planted yet another kiss without a warning. You breathed out a staggered breath. “If you wish for me to stop, please say it now.”

“Is it not far too late for such a question?”

He mused, his hot breath tickling your skin as he drew near to your neck. “Are you sure?”

“You are such a tease.”

“It was you who refused to believe that I am,” he mumbled in between his wet, fleeting kisses all over your bare neck and chest, hands peeling away at your dress that stuck to your body from the rain and you had done nothing but gasp helplessly underneath him. You held onto the hope that he was giving you a moment to compose yourself, that was until he dipped down in between your thighs. “Must I prove it to you at once?”

“I—”

You had not prevented the moan from slipping past your lips as you unconsciously threw your head back when he started nipping on the skin of your inner thighs, his hot tongue darting over your sensitivity without much to hold back. His darkened eyes flickered over to you. “What was that, Miss Y/N?”

You were unsure how you were to last the entire night.

The rain had stopped when the next morning came.

It was thankful that the Lee’s were not yet to arrive until the afternoon, else they would see you and Jaehyun on the floor, in front of the dead fireplace, a mountain of blankets covering your huddled figures with the early sunlight showering over you from the windows up above. Jaehyun had long woken before you, yet he had not moved an inch as your head had been snugly resting over his arm for the entirety of your slumber.

There was a fond smile on his face as he watched you writhing, wanting to run away from the bright, morning rays in your sleep and he couldn’t help but release a laugh. Your eyes fluttered open momentarily after.

“Good morning,” Jaehyun mumbled into your hair, still half asleep when he decided to rest his large hand on your forehead. “You had not caught a cold, have you?” you stared at him, blinking, detached, until all of a sudden the events of the night prior crashed onto like yesterday's rainfall. Jaehyun figured that you had finally woken up when you let out a gasp of realization and attempted to self-consciously bury yourself under the covers.

“My, you are far more innocent than you presented yourself to be, Miss Y/N,” he chuckled as he caged you in his arms from behind, rendering you unable to run away. You squirmed when he tickled your fevered skin with a million kisses. “You may only run away once I am done with you.”

It was far too early in the morning for you to be breathless. You turned around so you could glare at him.

“I tell you that I like you once and now you believe that you can do with me as you—”

“Twice,” he cut you off with a kiss, noses touching, an annoyingly endearing smile on his face. His skin glowed underneath the streams of light. “You have told me you like me twice.”

You could not bear to continue with your indignancy.

It did not take you more than five seconds to bury yourself in his chest with a sigh, to which Jaehyun welcomed you with a fluttering laugh, gently running his fingers through the disheveled state of your hair. “You know, I was very worried yesterday,” you murmured. “I had not the slightest idea on how to tell dear Hwayoung that her feelings were not reciprocated. Only to find out that there were no feelings in the first place.”

“Y/N.”

You looked up to him.

“How am I to tell you that never once had I felt that your friend had liked me of any sort. I believe all knew that my eyes were set solely on you since the beginning.”

“Was I… the only one who did not know?”

“I believe so.”

A sound of anguish left your lips in the form of a defeated groan, burying yourself further into nonexistence. Had Johnny also known? That would explain everything, then. You could only sigh upon realizing how much of a clueless fool you have been— going after the pursuit of something that was already deemed futile before it even came to exist. You could have kissed Jaehyun earlier if only you were not so dense; his words, his actions, and all of the subtle hints that he had been leaving had clarified themselves to you now. It was ridiculous.

“But now you do, so there is no need to be upset,” he chuckled, brushing away the fallen strands of hair from your face. “Shall I accompany you back to Whitland?”

“No, my father will have your head the moment you step foot into the estate.”

You answered without even batting an eye and thus Jaehyun had to believe that you were being serious. You were serious. Your father would have the entire village after him. “Tomorrow,” you had come to a conclusion. “Can you wait until tomorrow?”

Jaehyun smiled at you, daylight not shying away from kissing his soft features. There was not a sound to be heard inside the near empty house— only the ticking of a grandfather clock and the chirping of birds that flew past the window. It was the most pleasant of mornings.

“I can wait until as long as you wish, Miss Y/N.”

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