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ceruleanchillin · 5 years

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Fitting

Modern Arthur Morgan x F!Reader

Note - I just went to a word generator and took random words to use for plot ideas. It switches from the Reader to Arthur’s POV by segment (in case you get/got confused).

Annnnd, hooray for technologically illiterate, and borderline luddite, Arty.

Finally, I need to apologize to all the mobile users. It’s gotta be HELL scrolling past my shit in the tag ugh, I wish keep reading worked on mobile.😩

1. Rain

Arthur didn’t used to be too fond of the rain. It made travel hell on earth. If you were in a cold place, you froze. Hot place? It made you feel sticky, and teased you about feeling cooler. He didn’t understand why people were so in love with it. That was until he found a home.

The gang had worked long and hard to set themselves free from their former lives. Freedom looked like a sprawling, luxury ranch resort, staffed by former criminals. It amazed him that people were willing to pay big bucks to vacation the way he’d lived the majority of his life for free, but they were. He couldn’t knock the weirdness too much, because it allowed him to meet you, and gave him a place for a new start with you.

So he got it now. Why people enjoyed the rain so much. Sitting on a cozy living room’s window seat of the ground’s main house, your back to his as you dozed lightly, the rain painting the window next to you. He understood.

He looked down at you, and couldn’t stop what he’d been told was a “goofy” grin from spreading across his lips. You looked stunning, long lashes touching your cheek and lips pouting in dream concentration.

Absentmindedly, he ran his thumb across your cheek in soft swipes, enjoying the moment. He’d have to remember to draw this later.

You shifted lightly, paused to realize he’d been studying you, yawned cutely, and narrowed your eyes. “You watching me sleep Morgan?”

“Yes ma’am, you’re goddamn beautiful.”

“Translation, ‘I wanna fuck you on these new cushions-”

He quickly silenced you with a kiss, one that quickly devolved into laughter from both of you.

Yeah, Arthur Morgan could appreciate the rain. He would go so far as to say he downright loved it.

2. Bedroom

When people asked what you missed the most on your travels, it now came down to two answers. Arthur, and your bedroom.

The first one wasn’t surprising. In your five months working for the gang’s resort, you and Arthur had grown inseparable. The two of you let instinct and feeling be your guide, and it hadn’t disappointed you yet.

The second one was a bit more strange for most people. Being settled for most of their lives left them taking personal space, such as a bedroom, for granted. Residing with your new family had been the closest thing to settled you’d ever been. You found out it was pretty much the same for them, and Arthur shared your appreciation for a space away from constant prying eyes.

You burrowed your cheek into the pillow, trying to appreciate your bed and the sunrise at once. For the next three-and-a-half weeks, you would be in Australia, and would miss seeing the sunrise this way.

A warm arm came over your side, and you relaxed into the body attached to it. Arthur buried his face in your hair, his hold tightening when he breathed in.

“Your plane doesn’t leave til’ twelve, you trying to get away from me already?” he was teasing you, but you could still hear a slight edge to his tone. He respected your love of travel, but he missed you terribly when you were away from him.

You laced your fingers with his, and gave a tight squeeze. “Don’t even try it, you know I cry on the plane every time now. I didn’t do that before you.”

“I am both delighted and upset to hear that.” his voice was still colored by sleep, and somehow managed to hold a rougher tone to it.

“I suspect more of the former than the latter.”

He chuckled and moved his lips from his hair to your cheek. You hummed and sunk further into his warmth, allowing him to claim more of your skin with his kisses. The comfort of the bed, the warmth of Arthur, and the softness of his kisses, started to make you dizzy in the best way. Who knew Arthur Morgan was king at cuddling?

He pulled you under him, lips now on your own.

“I have to get ready, I told Mary-Beth I’d help her with giftshop duty before I leave.” very few of your words managed to surface between kisses, but you knew he’d heard you.

“Mary-Beth ain’t stealing my last few hours with you.” his reply was rough in tone, his next kiss firm to back up his point.

You felt your body abuzz with adoration for the man and his cute declaration. He was pouring how much he’d miss you into his actions. He wouldn’t outright declare he’d miss you, but he would show you.

Your hands danced across his back in gentle motions. “I’m going to miss you too Arthur.”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to. His gaze said a lot, and his follow up kiss said whatever it left out.

When he pulled away, he touched his forehead to yours, eyes closed. You recognized his expression as one that said he wanted to tell you something, so you waited.

“I was thinking, you might be able to come home to find your bedroom in mine.”

It took you a moment, but you realized what he meant when the poor man’s expression got panicked. He wanted you to move in with him.

“I’m thinking I might like that.”

A look of relief crossed his handsome features, before he ducked his head by your ear. “I’m thinking you might like something else to.”

3. Dizzy

The most important moment of Arthur Morgan’s life came at 4:45 AM on a Saturday.

He hadn’t been expecting anything beyond seeing you for the first time in weeks. That’s all he needed to be honest. He hadn’t seen hide nor tail of you, with the exception of a frustrating FaceTime (was that what you called it?) that everyone felt they needed to be a part of, in two weeks.

Every other moment of communication boiled down to phone calls, and confusing texts (goddamn, why couldn’t you let him keep his flip phone?!).

Arthur was a simple man, and he liked his communication the same way. Nothing was more simple than talking to you face to face. He could hold you, see your face clearly, and not make a complete fool of himself for lacking poetic graces.

So when he got a call from you, asking him to pick you up from the airport a week ahead of schedule, he nearly ran out of the house in his underwear.

The bustling airport pickup wasn’t the best place to play catch up, so the two of you followed what was tradition at this point. A tight hug, and then a comfortably silent ride to your favorite diner. There you would share a million questions and a million kisses, until your food was cold, and the sun was unbelievably hot through the window.

“I can’t imagine what’s back here in Texas that’d make you leave those Australian fellers behind.”

You flashed him a tired smile from across the both. Knees drawn up to your chin, hair messily piled on top of your head, and swathed in a colorful t-shirt, Arthur would bet money you were the most gorgeous thing on earth.

“I have a pretty good answer I think.” you carefully raised your hot mug of peppermint tea to your lips.

“Yeah? They wouldn’t wake up at the break of dawn and kill spiders for you?” he chuckled, raising his own mug of coffee.

You shook your head, and when you lowered your mug he saw you were smirking. “None of them got me pregnant.”

The coffee went down the wrong way, and aspiration kicked in. He spluttered, a hand coming up to grip the table. You leapt up, and circled the table to slide into his booth.

“Are you ok?!” your voice was wrought with concern as you thumped his back. “I hoped you’d have a funny reaction, but I wasn’t trying to kill you!”

He sucked in a mouthful of air, a burning pain snaking through his chest. “You pranking me? Like in those stupid videos you and Mary-Beth watch? I don’t wanna end up on that dumb video site.”

“Wow,” you gave that funny little ( loud ) laugh of yours, and threw your arms around his neck. “I expected a lot of reactions from you, but not that one. No, I’m serious.”

He sighed, and ran a hand over his chin. He was sure all color had drained from his face, if the faint dizzy feeling was anything to go by. He could you hear you calling his name, but his mind just kept wanting him to hear the word “pregnant”.

Your hands uncoiled from around his neck. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t say you got me pregnant either.”

He shot you a withering side glare at your joke. “No, I don’t believe it does.”

He could feel you staring at his profile, but he was too busy staring at his mug instead.

“Well...I need some kind of response big guy. I mean what do you think?” you placed your hands on the table, fingers pressing into each other. “Are you...mad?”

He could hear you were unsure, a sound that was foreign for you. Mad? He found it hard to get mad with you as it was, and this certainly wouldn’t have been a valid case for it.

“You know me better than that, of course I ain’t mad….just a lot of other things I guess.” he exhaled and turned to face you. “You certainly seem relaxed enough for the both of us.”

You grinned and shrugged, and he wondered why he had ever expected a typical reaction from you.

“I had two whole days, and a long ass flight to think it over. I’m not scared Arthur, I’m ok with this.” your voice was firm this time, steady. “It’s like a new adventure, you know me and adventure.”

He snorted. “Catnip.”

“I’m as settled as I’m ever gonna get, I’m fine with it, I can still explore the world in the future. But...I need to know where you stand.”

He felt your gaze on him again, and repeated your words in his head. Pregnant. The best thing he’d ever come across in his life, and he’s quite possibly ruined yours. You were a beautiful young woman who, while well traveled and experienced, still had so much to offer the world. Had he stolen that away from you?

He saw your hand tremble slightly, and took it into his much larger one. For a second, he just stared at it, before enclosing it in his. “My lady I stand with you. I just want you to know what you’re tying yourself to is all.”

He could sense you wanted to stop him. You didn’t like when it seemed like he was going to “put himself down”. Being honest is what he called it.

“You know about my past.” he exhaled and continued when he felt you squeeze his hand. “You can put lipstick on a pig, but it’s still a pig that’s committed too many atrocities to name. I don’t rightly know what kind of business I have being near a child for too long, let alone raising one of my own, but I would never leave you. You know that.”

“I do.” you squeezed his hand again, longer this time.

“So, if you wanted to do the leaving...If you wanted to give this child something different than me...or do something..else for yourself. I wouldn’t fight you.”

“I want to stay with you.” your arms returned around his neck. “Fight me about that.”

“I should.” he drawled, leaning into the warm lips you’d placed on his cheek.

“But you won’t.”

He faced you fully, finally, hand coming up to cradle your jaw. “No, I won’t.”

Goddamn he’d made yet another mess, but when he saw your face light up as you started talking about the future, he couldn’t be too angry with himself this time.

4. Coffee

Waking up before everyone else, to get the house kitchen for yourself, always made losing that extra bit of sleep worth it. You loved finally having a family, but the quiet moments were nice too. No bickering, it wasn’t quite time to worry about what the guests wanted (not that you had to worry about that again for a while), and you could just exhale and take your time.

It was also a great time for coffee, though you had tried to scale back with the pregnancy. Decaf coffee may not have given you the buzz of caffeinated coffee, but it still helped with the craving. Maybe Charles was right, and you were a slave to the bean….

You chortled into your mug at the thought.

“That mug funnier than me?”

You laughed again, extending your foot to slide out the chair across from you. “Arthur Morgan I bet you’re jealous of my pillow for getting to touch my hair all night.”

He took the offered seat, and sleepily ran his hands through his hair. “Probably, I do like that shampoo you use.”

You rolled your eyes, and brought your mug up to your amused grin. A comfortable silence settled between you two, as the morning’s first light began to shine through the giant picture window.

Arthur was the first to break it. “Are you sleeping ok? I know you usually get up early, but it was dark out. If you aren’t sleeping, we should probably tell th-”

“I’m fine mother hen, god you’ve been adorable through this.” you beamed at your protective man, who was currently blushing and ducking under your gaze.

“Yeah, yeah. It ain’t as noble as all that. I’m just trying to save myself the ‘this is your fault’ speech when the time comes.”

You sat down your empty mug and gave him a pitying look. “Aww. No baby, that’s still happening regardless. Sorry.”

“Can’t blame a feller for giving it his best.” he looked out of the window for a while, his gaze darting across the scenery, before clearing his throat. “Look here (Y/N). I’ve been sitting on this thing for a while.”

He reached into the pocket of his pajama pants, and you tensed up. It didn’t take a genius to gather what the moment’s energy was telling you. Sure enough, he produced a ring, revealing your instinct to be right. You gasped, though it came out somewhat choked, but didn’t speak.

“Now it’s not because you’re pregnant, Abigail said you wouldn’t like that to be the reason, and it’s not. I was planning on asking when you got back from Australia-”

“Yes!” you screamed the word that had been looping in your mind since you saw the ring.

“Ssh.” he half-laughed half-shushed you. “You want everybody in here? Nosey enough on their own, make em’ work for it at least.”

“I don’t care who hears.” you lightly stamped your feet on the tile floor.

He laughed again, blue eyes shining with confidence now that rejection was off the table. This poor sweet man thought you’d reject him, even after all you’d been through and had yet to go through. Not a chance.

“Well then.” he kneeled on the tile floor you knew to be freezing, and held up the ring. “Miss (Y/N) (L/N), I would very much appreciate if you would be an old fool’s wife.”

You pulled him to you by his shirt, and threw your arms around him. “Yes, but I don’t know any, so you’ll have to do instead.”

You two shared a solid embrace, Arthur ever careful of your growing stomach, and you nearly choking the life out of him. He took your hand is his, and you could feel his trembling. He slid the ring on your finger and just stared at it as if he couldn’t believe it. Maybe he couldn’t, you were sure his self-doubts were telling him it was all a lie. You kissed his forehead, hoping if he was having any such thoughts, they would perish. His hands came up to lay gently on the just-noticeable bump of your stomach.

“I swear to you, I will do my best to make you two very happy, and keep you safe.”

You just kissed him instead of responding with words. You didn’t have to. You knew he loved you deeply, and would do his best to keep his word. He was a big part of what you called home, and you couldn’t think of any place safer.

End Note - I took so much longer than I wanted with this. I just kept deleting and going back and forth. I hope it’s ok.I’m gonna be posting a HC for this AU, and then posting something for Hosea after that.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr 2 #RDR 2 x Reader #Arthur Morgan x Reader #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 x reader #reader insert #AU #reader

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whyareyoureyesblack · 7 years

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All His Boyfriends are Dead pt5

The quiet walk down the hill, filled with the sound of both shoes and Edd’s bare feet making solid movement on the grass, was short lived once they reached the actual grave.

Tom only tried to break the silence once, and it was to ask how Matt had died. Uncomfortable, Todd shifted his hands under Tom to push him higher on his back as a sort of something to do, like clearing his throat.

Tord seemed to be so startled that he stumbled, and Edd grabbed his arm to steady him. Tord apologized and laughed a bit forcefully, saying that he had been spacing for a moment. Tom repeated his question, dull as if he didn’t trust Tord’s words, his gray rotted chin perched on Todd’s shoulder.

“He burned alive in his car the day after you died. The doctors said that it was likely he passed from breathing the fumes first.”

“Wait, the next day? You’re stupid curse didn’t even let you mourn me before it took Matt too-? I thought you had at least like an extra week or something.” Tom’s expression turned blank, as if he wasn’t sure how he felt. Tord just shrugged sadly, and gestured towards a line of graves.

“My curse doesn’t allow for time, Tom… Matt’s just over here. Watch your step, there’s a few rocks around here to prevent scavengers from making burrows.”

Tom didn’t miss how Edd stuck close to Tord, and pressed his bandanna covered mouth to Tord’s cheek, before letting Tord set up at the grave.

As Tord started digging, Todd carefully put Tom down on a flat raised headstone and Tom almost didn’t sound sarcastic when he thanked Todd for carrying him.

The digging of Matt’s grave was filled with the sound of an argument, starting practically the second Tord had the outline traced with the sharp spade of his shovel.

“Alright, boyfriend #3. I’ll be your surgeon for the night,” Edd announced casually as he stepped up to where Tom was sitting. He had a white first aid kit in one skeleton hand and Tom’s severed leg thrown over his shoulder at the knee. Compared to his own bare legs, Tom’s was more intact, not much of the flesh entirely rotten through to bone just yet.

Tom stared at him with dull, unamused black eye sockets for almost a full minute before stating, “Like fuck you are.”

Edd seemed calm, like he expected this response, though it was hard to tell with the cloth over the utterly rotten half of his face.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m more of a backwater apocalypse nanny; I should be sewing up toys, but instead I gotta stitch your leg back on. So roll up your pants.”

“No.” Tom scowled, his still attached leg lightly tapping.

“Well, alright, but your leg’s gonna look funny if I stitch it onto your pants.”

“That’s not a problem considering you aren’t stitching shit. I don’t want you even getting close to me with a needle.”

Edd tilted his head back a bit, as if he was confused, but something about his putrid black leaking eye sockets almost came off as challenging. Or maybe that was just Tom’s imagination.

“Why not?”

Maybe not.

“Because I’m not trusting a dead guy to actually know how to sew right.”

Todd looked over his shoulder from where he stood next to the grave. He called out helpfully, “He doesn’t do too bad. He sewed my head back on.”

“That’s exactly why,” Tom said in a pointed, short tone, “I don’t want to end up looking like your neck.”

Todd made a grunting noise, his hands flying up to touch his stitched throat that was still mangled and held with dark thread. His expression was offended. Tord paused as he stomped his shovel back into the turned dirt, and threw a look at Tom.

“Tom. Be nice.”

“What? I’m not wrong. His neck looks like ground beef stuck together with some edgy Goth choker trying to look like barbed wire. I don’t want such a shitty stitch job on my leg.”

While Edd scoffed in offense, Tord leaned over his shovel to Todd and smiled kindly.

“He’s just a bit grumpy, it really doesn’t look that bad,” Tord soothed, but Todd looked uncertain, so Tord continued with, “Besides, weren’t you a secret Goth anyway?”

That got Todd laughing, mostly in surprise, his dead hands slipping from his stitched throat. “I was not! I owned one black trench coat and heavy boots for rain!”

“You were very Goth.” Tord teased, returning to his digging as Todd playfully argued back.

“How dare you! You’re a necromancer! You are more Goth than I’ll ever be!”

“I have a curse on my family. It’s my birthright to act Goth.”

“More like your birthright to act like a dweeb.”

As they spoke and Tord scooped heavy dirt out of the hole, Edd and Tom’s argument was slightly less fond.

“The stitch job isn’t supposed to be perfect, it’s just supposed to be enough to keep you from breaking your stupid leg off again,” Edd’s tone was sharp as he explained dryly, “It’s not my fault you were running around before you drank the potion.”

“I wasn’t running around! Even if I was, since when does my leg breaking off call for you to fuck it up even more by trying to stitch it back like you did with that guy’s head?” Tom snapped, crossing his arms over his chest. Edd groaned in annoyance.

“Just let me sew your leg back on. I’m trying to be nice.”

“Really? I thought you were trying to scar me.”

“Your flesh is already dead, I can’t scar you.”

Tom made a disbelieving noise, “Pft- With your stitch work you can. You’re going to make me look like a goddamn voodoo doll.”

“You already look like a voodoo doll.”

“At least I don’t have the stitches like one.”

“Oh my fuck- Tord,” Edd called, voice incredibly impatient and irritated, throwing an incredulous stare at the grave.

Tord had switched digging somewhere during their argument, so Todd was busy working on the hole while Tord sat fiddling with the clothe ties on his fingers. They were stained red from blood and muddy with dirt, changing the original multi colored ties into the same dirty black red color.

“What?”

“Tell your stupid dead boyfriend to let me sew back on his leg!”

Tord snorted, and when he looked at them it was clear even in the dim light that he was trying not to laugh.

“Tom, just let him stitch you together again. Trust me, we’re not going to be running into anyone who can do better than Edd tonight,” Tord’s voice was fond and amused.

“Fuck that. He can’t stitch worth shit.”

“I can’t?! Really? Do you even know how to sew?”

“I’d rather duct tape my leg back on than let you try it,” Tom sneered, avoiding the question.

Tord laughed helplessly, “Please, don’t tape your leg back on.”

“You should probably hide the duct tape,” Todd commented with a snicker, hurling more dirt out of the grave.

“Better yet,” Edd offered sharply, ignoring Tord and Todd’s distant laughter, “Let me get you a stick instead, yeah? Then you can have a peg leg. Would that be better than my fucking stitch job?!”

“You bet your rotting ass it would be!”

“I swear to- Just let me sew back on your leg.”

“No!”

“You’re acting like a baby. A baby without a leg.”

“And you can’t sew!”

“You look like a stupid zombie flamingo!”

“Fuck off!”

“You don’t even have a good argument!”

“It still holds better than your fucking stitching! A preschooler could do a better job!”

“YOU CAN’T STITCH WORTH SHIT EITHER, PEGGY THE PIRATE!”

“I CAN KICK YOUR ASS!”

“WITH WHAT, TOM, I’VE GOT YOUR FUCKING LEG-”

Just then Tord interrupted their argument with a breathless cry of, “Both of you quit it before I cough up a lung! Ha-We reached Matt’s coffin!”

Todd made sure that he was out of the grave before Tord opened the coffin this time, practically sneaking behind where Edd stood scowling. He could have also been trying to put himself between Edd and Tom, but it was obvious by his expression that he wasn’t excited to see another dead body before it’s been reanimated.

When Tord pried the lid off, he let out a soft hiss of pain as his stinging hands complained about the pressure and the lifting. He ignored it and turned his eyes on Matt.

A portion of Matt’s flesh was thin rotted black, splitting like crevices in magma to show white bone instead of muscle or nerves, his burned skin having long decayed and peeled. His suit was flat and clung to his body in a way that made it seem like it was stuck there with sweat. The rest of his skin, which included a majority of his face, seemed to rot slower, with a pale color similar to gray bled together with yellow. His lips only partially remained, much of it chipped down with rot. Head rolled back, Tord could see how the black burns from years ago had molted the skin from his throat and thin collar. His hair was a darker version of the gleaming copper it used to be, long on one side but short on the other where his family had told the coroner to shave off the burned bits. Cracked ashy skin inched up along the shaved part of his head, like a morbid vine.

Burns were never something Tord could handle.

Tord hurriedly called for the items, which Edd, after sighing and shoving the first aid kit into Todd’s hands, calmly dug out of the bag. He kept Tom’s leg casually on his shoulder as he handed Tord first the jar, and then the bottle. The water made the molting skin seem even darker as it soaked in the liquid.

Tord finished cutting open another finger and wrapping it up, thus making his entire right hand tipped in bloody cloths, save his thumb. When he tried to get up, Edd first offered Tom’s severed leg for him to grab, which Tord scolded.

“If you’re not going to sew it on, at least give it back to him.”

Stubbornly, Edd lobbed Tom’s leg back onto his shoulder, and reached his hand down for Tord. “No. He’s rude.”

“He’s just jealous my legs are in better shape than his,” Tom called, smug, and Edd stood up straight, tugging Tord up with him.

“At least my legs are attached to me.”

“Alright, you two can keep bickering once I wake Matt up, but I need silence while I do this next part.” Tord laughed with a roll of his eyes, leading Edd away from the grave by the hand as Tom sneered. Before Tord sat down, he gave Edd a quick kiss on the bandanna covered cheek, and ordered nicely, “Be nice.”

Edd let out a tired noise, but nodded. He then stuck his bone exposed hands into his hoodie pocket and strode over to stand next to Todd and Tom, who only glared at him. Tord pulled out the book, and set up his candles. His hands felt like they were humming.

The back of his hands were hot, then burning straight through his skin to his bones. His finger tips, both sliced and intact, stung like something being twisted inside the slits of flesh. His eyes watered and hurt under unblinking lids, his vision telling him nothing but colors. When he finished the chant, his tongue felt raw and his jaw ached.

Tord was dizzy, but he could hear Tom’s voice in the dulled air, “Are his eyes supposed to glow like that?”

There was a sharp breath, followed by more gasping and a voice that was high and broken as it cried, “Tord?!”

Tord jumped, forgetting about the candles in his shock, and narrowly missed slamming his hands into the flames. He scrambled over the grass, until he was leaning over the lip of the grave.

Matt was stilling laying in his coffin, but his hands and legs were jerked up, pressing against the close walls of his box. His eyes were pits, much like the other three, but they seemed more red in the shadows of his grave. He was looking directly at Tord, his mouth gaping in heavy pants.

“Hey, Matt.” Tord offered a lopsided smile, unsure.

Matt blinked, his dead red hair dripping like strings into his eyes.

Then he was suddenly bolting up, out of his coffin. His skin made a cracking noise, but he was already at the edge of the grave, hands reaching up and touching Tord’s cheeks. One of his hands was rough with rotted skin, while the other just felt cold and thin and dry, like a glove.

“Tord,” Matt spoke, sounding shocked and in awe, then he was repeating the name in a more elated voice that broke from his dry throat, “Tord! Tordy- My darling! Thank god!”

Tord felt himself blush, but he was suddenly being tugged down by Matt’s hands grabbing his arms.

“Well, I guess one of us was bound to eat him,” Edd calmly stated upon watching Tord’s legs disappear into the grave. Todd made a concerned sounding noise, but Tom snorted.

“Serves him right,” Tom muttered, but didn’t take his eye sockets off the grave.

Todd frowned at them, scolding, “Guys…”

Almost with ease, Matt dragged Tord against him. Tord let out a laugh of surprise as his face became mushed against Matt’s hard cold chest, and Matt’s legs nearly tripped, but the tall dead man clung to Tord. How cold, ice cold, the body was against Tord’s chest and how incredibly, impossibly thin the waist felt, was what should have crossed Tord’s mind as Matt curled around him. But all Tord could think was that this was Matt.

Tord was able to ignore the reek of rot and the sinking under his arms at Matt’s waist, just holding. He felt Matt’s dry dead hands smooth down his back and touch his hair. The kisses on his head were gentle and felt a bit odd, more like nuzzles of a cheek rather than of lips.

Not moving his head from Matt’s chest, Tord asked in a subdued slow voice, “Matt. Do you remember what happened?”

“Yes,” Matt answered instantly, voice raw and sad, “But, give me a minute before we have the whole ‘we’re dead’ talk. I’m just so happy to see you again, I thought I never would. Your curse is a lot crueler than I thought it would be.”

Tord made a soft noise, like a sad hum, and he pulled back, only to push up on his toes to kiss Matt’s cold lips. Part of Matt’s lips chipped with the pressure, but neither noticed. Icy, solid like stone just lightly covered in thin cobweb like skin.

“Tord, you better not be making out with a corpse down there,” Edd’s voice rang out, followed by some quick footsteps as Todd approached the grave. Todd stopped and made a face.

“He is- Tord, oh my god, really? He hasn’t even drank the potion yet, he’s technically still dead. What if his head snaps off or something,” Todd spoke, sounding mainly concerned and scolding, and Tord and Matt both looked up at him.

Tord noticed the bottle in Todd’s hand, and let out a huff that just barely counted as a laugh. He pulled back from Matt, just enough that he could reach up towards Todd.

“Right, you’re right. Sorry. Matt was always able to bring out my more cuddly side.”

“Oh, so he’s the one that made you all sweet,” Todd mused curiously, giving Tord the bottle. Matt was staring at him, clearly focusing on Todd’s mangled throat and the holes in his cheek and his pit eyes.

“I told you. You all have had a hand in that.”

“What- Who is that?” Matt questioned in a hoarse voice, hands still on Tord’s waist. He sounded afraid.

Tord busied himself with unscrewing the bottle top, but spoke casually, “That’s Todd. The man before you and Tom. I told you two about him. He was very kind and smart, and he and I used to study in parks because Todd hated me being inside all the time.”

“Todd?” Matt repeated, confused, and Tord held the bottle out to him. He stared at it for a moment before taking it, and slowly bringing it to his mouth. Trusting enough to drink it without prompting. Just as the pink liquid seeped into his molten skin and dripped down the rot of his throat, Matt jumped and coughed, expression startled. He burst out with a higher, more stable voice, “WAIt- The Todd that used to take you for picnics, and bribed you outside with coffee, and walked home with you- your ‘second love’ Todd? That Todd?!”

Tord jolted a bit as liquid and Matt’s shout touched his cheeks and shirt.

A bit shyly, Tord nodded. “Yes. That Todd.”

“B-but. Why does he look like that? I thought he would look like you. I mean, you still look like you’re alive.”

Todd and Tord stared at him for a moment, confused. Matt just looked at Tord, his expression tight.

Then, Tord understood. Tord gently reached out to touch Matt’s peeled cheek, where the rot tattooed down to his bone up the side of his head.

“Matt, I am still alive,” Tord said carefully, “You and Todd are dead, you both died. I brought you back so you’ll still look like you’re dead until I can figure out a better solution. It’s all superficial… Did you think that we were angels? Ghosts?”

“I… yeah. I mean, it made sense. I thought- You’re here. The only reasons you could be here would be that either I was alive- which is impossible because I remember dying, with all that fire and smoke and the locked door- or that you had died too and we… But, you said you brought me back? Like a zombie?”

“Technically, yes. It’s been a few years, but I finally found someway to stop this curse, or at least reverse it? In a way. So that I can at least have those I’ve already loved back.”

Matt didn’t move for a long minute, just staring at Tord with wide dark sockets. His hand, gnarled rot over his fingers, came up to touch Tord’s hair, and it was obvious that he was finally looking at his own skin. He let out a sigh as his hand slipped into Tord’s messy locks, as if he just gave up on wishing the flesh to be alive.

“How bad do I look?” Matt’s voice sounded strained, just a bit, but he had a sort of awkward half smile, like he was joking.

“I think you look drop dead gorgeous,” Edd’s voice announced calmly before Tord could speak, and both Tord and Matt looked up in surprise at the new voice.

“Edd,” Tord started, but Matt let out a light laugh.

“Puns and charm,” Matt stood up straight, distractedly smoothing some of Tord’s locks through his dead fingers, “You must be Edd. You’re the only other boyfriend I know about.”

“Well, dead boyfriend #4 just won me over. You’re much nicer than the last one. Welcome to the club,” Edd leaned down and held out a hand, giving Matt full view of his leaking eyes and the severed leg still perched on his shoulder.

Tord gave Matt an encouraging one armed hug as he also reminded Edd to be careful.

Matt and Tord climbed from the grave with the help from Edd and Todd, Matt only slightly hesitating before taking Todd’s rawboned hands.

Once up, Matt didn’t see Tom for maybe a handful of seconds, but it seemed almost instantly that Matt’s gaze locked on the zombie, sitting on a gravestone like it was couch.

With a whispered, breathless, “Tom” Matt was running. He sprinted and threw himself at Tom, knocking both of them nearly off the headstone. Tom let out a shout of surprise, but it ended in a laugh that was lighter than anything he had let slip since waking. The two corpses hugged, ignoring the way their skin pulled and their bones let out soft pops. There was kissing, which Tom seemed calm in returning even when hardly covered teeth clicked between breaks in their thin skins. The pure joy between them was almost enough to ignore the exposed bones and rotten muscles decaying like oil down their necks.

Tord stared at them, seemingly caught in the awe of their reunion, and something about his expression made it clear that he was happy to see them together again. Like he missed them being together as much as they did. Todd led Tord from the edge of the grave, and towards the other two, with his cool hand in Tord’s.

Tom ended up making a comment about Matt’s half cut look, which led to Matt frantically feeling his hair in a panic. He was already whining lowly by the time Tord and Todd approached. Tord explained that Matt’s parents had decided on cutting off the burnt parts of his hair, and Matt scowled. Tord was able to calm him down a bit when he offered Matt a purple beanie, which was able to hide much of his rotted part of his skull and uneven cut of his hair. Along with the beanie, Matt also happily exchanged his dead suit with a loose overcoat which he buttoned and zipped closed over his exposed ribs and spotted rot flesh.

As he threw on an extra scarf, Matt asked about Tom’s missing leg.

“He has it,” Tom pointed at Edd, who looked back at him.

“I’ve been trying to sew it back on ever since we got here, but he won’t let me near him because he’s a damn cry baby.” Edd stated sharply.

“It would hold better with fucking duct tape.”

“I’m hiding the duct tape,” Todd called casually, stuffing the bag.

“Thank you, Todd,” Tord said as Tom scowled.

“I’m going to nail it back on, then.”

Todd hummed in response, “Hiding the nails too.”

“I’m going to hit you with your own leg,” Edd snapped at Tom and Matt surprisingly snorted. When he gained several sets of stares, Matt smiled.

“You lot act like you’ve know each other all your lives. It’s… really nice.”

Tord agreed, but Tom, Edd, and Todd all stayed purposely quiet as they readied to leave for the next trip. Instead of Todd, Matt pulled Tom into his arms to carry. Todd didn’t complain, and neither did Tom, although Edd muttered about Tom really being a baby now. Which earned a snarl from the man as he hugged Matt’s shoulders.

Tord hurried so that he could walk close enough to Matt and Tom to tell them stories of things that happened after their deaths, with Todd and Edd close behind. Despite, or maybe because of, the light bickering between Edd and Tom, the five of them chatted as they left one graveyard for another.

—

ahahhhhH!!! This is my favourite part so far!! ;v;

#submission #goresworld #polyworld #fanfic #zombies meow #aubergine-jeans #all his boyfriends are dead

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