#OR do i just keep ghosting her till she stops

[02shuuu]

i’m trying to cut off a toxic friend but it’s not working

[melobin]

✧ videos that remind me of each riize member

a compilation of nsfw links that remind me of each member of riize ot7 … if the link isn’t working be sure you’re viewing it through safari/google not through the tumblr mobile app browser. for now ive done three links for each member but in the future i can do more if you all like these types of thing!!

shotaro

link. - shotaro loves fucking you from behind, he loves your ass more than anything and he loves when you fuck yourself back on his cock. gives him to opportunity to kneel back and watch how his cock disappears inside of you as well as how your ass moves against him.

link. - the kind of video he sends you when you’re away from him .. one thing about shotaro is that he loves nipple stimulation and he always makes it known to you. fisting his cock with one hand.. playing with his nipple with the other. always makes sure you know how hard it makes him cum every time.

link. - sub!shotaro .. he’s so cute !! whiny .. squirmy. physically cant stay still no matter how hard he tries. edging him is always fun, making him tell you when he’s about to cum so you can stop touching his cock, playing with his nipples whilst he squirms and begs for you to let him cum .. he’s so sweet.

eunseok

link. - eunseok gets pussy drunk, that’s the best way to describe it. he can’t help it, when he’s inside of you he just needs to fuck you silly. his hands are always gripping your skin so tightly, fingers digging into you, always leaving prints and sometimes even nail marks behind.

link. - spanking .. pussy slapping .. playing with your clit. he’s so mean !! he loves how weak and whiny you get from it, he especially loves how much you get off on the pain. in his eyes it’s adorable that you get so wet and desperate from his spanking your ass, his sweet baby can’t go five minutes without wanting his cock inside of her.

link. - eunseok is rough. he just can’t help but stop fucking you so he can slap and play with your tits.. pulling and squeezing your nipple to make you squirm and whine in pain, slapping your face just to catch you off guard before fucking you again. he knows you like it .. he likes it even more when you slap him back.

sungchan

link. - sungchan is just so big .. especially his cock. he loves positions that let him get as deep as possible inside of you as well as letting him manhandle and grab every inch of you. spooning sex is perfect for that.. can he balls deep inside of you whilst grabbing your tits .. slapping your ass.. wrapping his hand around your throat…

link. - sungchan’s size kink is out of this world. he loves how much smaller you are compared to him, how he can manhandle you and move you however he wants. he especially loves how his cock looks like it would tear you in half if you sat on it but you always take him so well.. that’s what the cock training was good for.

link. - sungchan loves finger fucking you till you’re a dripping mess, he gets off on the squelching sounds his fingers make when they’re inside of you. thinks it’s amusing out fucked out you can get just from that alone … the lips on your neck just give him the ability to laugh lowly in your ear and call you a needy little thing …

wonbin

link. - wonbin loves kissing your neck whilst he fucks you, it’s one of the only things that keeps him quiet.. any other time he’s just as vocal as you are. sometimes he just loses composure, needs to fuck you till you’re digging your nails into his skin and crying out for him. he just loves being close to you.. especially bringing his hands up to squeeze your tits when he’s calming himself down post orgasm.

link. - wonbin loves holding your hands when he fucks you, loves how your fingers dig into his skin as his thrusts get harder sharper. those are the times he’d be looking down at you, letting his necklace ghost over your face with each thrust.. admiring how pretty his sweet girl looks under him whilst she’s getting fucked.

link. - it’s rough but intimate.. wonbin’s dream. fucking you from behind, wrapping his hand around your throat so he can hear your choked out moans. the forehead kiss is almost like him silently telling you how well you’re taking his cock and the kiss is just because he wants to be close to you. he loves having his lips on yours whilst he fucks you, obsessed with the way you moan and pant into his mouth with each thrust.

seunghan

link. - seunghan loves stretching you out with his cock.. holding your legs up gives him the perfect view of his cock stretching out your cunt.. he loves being able to see himself disappear inside of you, loves watching how you needily swallow every inch of his cock.

link. - sex with seunghan can get intense. he loves being close to you, being able to touch and kiss every inch of you. often finds home with his tongue on your cunt and usually gets really into eating you out. thinks you taste like heaven and wants to get every last drop of it on his tongue. won’t stop him from finger fucking you till you’re crying then fucking you brainless after though.

link. - sometimes seunghan can be mean. it’s not too often it happens but when it does.. he basks in watching you be overstimulated and fucked out. having you dressed so prettily with your hands cuffed behind your back and a vibrator pressed against your cunt .. he thrives in those moments, laughing at you whilst cooing about how he wouldn’t have to punish you if you’d just be good for him.

sohee

link. - sohee loves tasting you.. loves pressing his tongue against your cunt and savouring your flavour. the soft kisses, the gentle flicks of his tongue. he’s lazy but he also likes taking his time with you. loves how wet you get because of it.. how he can slide his fingers into you and leave kisses along the rest of your body before wrapping his lips around your nipple.

link. - he loves kissing you. loves having you on his lap whilst you make out.. will happily watch you kiss down his body and take his cock into your mouth. he genuinely thinks you look your prettiest whilst sucking him off so he savours the moment as much as he can. watches you in adoration as you undress yourself and sink down into his cock before kissing him again .. he’s in love with you.

link. - it’s rare. but sometimes sohee loses all self control and just has to fuck you. he’s not one who gets rough often and he really isn’t one for public sex but sometimes, sometimes he’s just so insatiable that he has to have you no matter where you are. even if that means fucking you in a random closest of the building you’re in.

anton

link. - anton and his love for you in short skirts .. really enjoys watching you grind needily against his hand whilst stroking his cock .. he loves knowing how desperate you are for him. plus.. makes you keep the skirt on when you fuck because he thinks you look so pretty in it.

link. - anton just loves you in skirts and dresses. loves fucking you in them too. if you’re wearing one, he’ll spend the entire day thinking about having you on his cock. needs to have you sinking down on it before you take it off so he can watch his cock slide into you under the material.

link. - he loves fucking you from behind. loves how needy you get as he fucks you, how you whine and look behind your shoulder to look at him. takes a lot of self restraint for him to not just grab your hair and yank on it so your back is pressed to his chest.. but it would give him the power to grab your jaw and kiss you while fucking you.. which he always loves to do.

[diejager]

Ok but like what about Wendigo reader? Maybe the team knows she's not exactly human but maybe in her file it just marked n/a and leaves it at that so they just assume that their sweet little medic is just a helpful spirit of some kind. Humans tend to give her a very wide birth since they seem to notice her as something they should leave the fuck alone, the boys just assume it's because of them always being near her and leave it at that. Till they're all on a mission and it all goes to shit, they're pinned down and then one of them ends up taking a bullet and reader just straight up fuckin losses it and next thing they know their is a 10 ft tall fuckin deer monster shredding bitches like their made of PAPER MACHE and EATING THEM, once the dust settles it moves towards them and slowly it shifts into their sweet medic but she is covered in blood and she just casually starts treating their wounds and the team is just like "Well mark me down as scared and horny" (if this makes no sense feel free to ignore)

Stag

Pairing: Monster 141 + Horangi & König x Wendigo!reader

Cw: cannibalism, human eating, greed, blood, canon-typical violence, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 2k (A/N): I felt a bit burnt out so I’m sorry if it’s bad, I reread it just in case, but it still feels bad.

They say that human greed is the source of evil, the all-consuming hunger for more —more than they need. Hunger drives humans to do the unspeakable, to break the line humanity had drawn and commit the taboo. Despite it being carved so deeply into the human psyche, passed down from generation to generation and the propaganda of humanism and equality, it doesn’t take much to make someone tip over, cross the edge nobody dared to and perform the unspeakable. Possession causes needs and needs cause greed.

That’s why people called to him for help, to carry out a clandestine mission to do their dirty work, his duty was to stop whatever men in power started, whatever men in power lost control —he was the one sent when they were scared. Fear was as coercive as power was. That was the reason Task Force 141 was first founded, to stop dangerous men like Hassan (Gaz remembered hearing from Soap that Ghost shot Hassan through the head, straight through him before he slumped down.) and Makarov, a man they were still searching for while signing a liaison contract with KorTac. Price, with Laswell’s help, managed to put the best of the best together: a wraith, a werewolf, a dragon, a harpy, a nagual and a cadejos vessel, all decorated with various medals for their work, and then there was you.

You were a mystery, even to Price who usually had clearance for anyone who joined them. Gaz knew, from a single glance, that you were far from human, you were a monster like Ghost was, turned after an occasion, or a hybrid like him. Surprisingly, Ghost seemed to welcome you warmly, albeit standoffish, having worked with you in the past, seeing that you both preferred working alone. Gaz wanted to show you the same heartwarming welcome as Ghost had, but there was something about you, an uneasiness he felt when he was around you. The others felt it as well, the innate need to keep their distance from you and the instinctual fear that had the hairs on their arms raised. Gaz could feel your eyes whenever you stared at him, like the eyes of a predator stalking its prey —it made him feel perturbed.   

You seemed so human, yet so inhuman-like, your dull, thousand-yard stare, your inability to feel temperature (either cold or warm, you always wore the same clothes), your odd habits and your unusual calmness in every situation. Gaz had caught you staring at a private for much longer than what people considered normal, eyes glazed over and dilated as if you were seeing something else, daydreaming while being aware of your surroundings. Those were your moments, you were usually bubbly, always smiling at him whenever his eyes met yours or treating him with gentleness and always eager to help him. You had a softness to your being despite the eerie feel to you and your unique tendencies, you didn’t discriminate, nor did you show an ounce of hate towards hybrids and humans, treating everyone fairly. 

Although you tried to fit in as best as you could, there were things that Gaz and the others just couldn’t shake off without questioning things. There was the lingering scent of blood on you, a metallic tang that stuck on his tongue after you walked by. König and Soap had confessed that they had a feeling that blood was a part of your scent, unwashable and impossible to hide, it clung to you like a second skin. They chalked it up to you being the Task Force’s medic, having brought people back from the brink of death and stitching men back together, you were practically bathed in the smell of blood and death every day. 

Another thought was that they never saw you in the Mess hall for food, perhaps a cup of tea or a hot mug of coffee to boost you through a long shift in the infirmary as the base’s main medic if you weren’t deployed with them. Gaz never saw you eat, not once had he seen you hold a plate or bowl with substance for yourself. You would bring either of them a plate, caring for them whenever they were under your watch, giving them soup or anything that they could easily digest. 

Gaz, Soap, Rudy and Horangi would chatter about you, throwing speculations on your breed, to see what hybrid or monster fit all your characteristics. You couldn’t be a wraith, your hands weren’t painted with death, a dark miasma that clung to you. You weren’t a werewolf, Soap would know, wolves were able to smell and recognize each other, it was an instinctual aspect of him. You weren’t any shifting hybrid either, there would be signs, little cues if you were one, and your classification wouldn’t be classified, painted over with a red line. 

All they could was wonder and amble around with curiosity dripping from their tongues. Gaz was sure that he’d find out soon enough, whether it was an accident or your choice.

This wasn’t what Gaz meant by eventually, he didn’t mean being set up by Konni, a trap planted for them in the small Belgium town. It was the best set to box them in, a broken and ransacked ghost town that people fled from, walls greyed and cracked, the paint peeling off street lights and rusted metal poles, lost, forgotten and open. There didn’t have any cover, even if they ran and hid behind the crumbling walls, Konni had them surrounded on every end, concealed behind concrete walls and using the shadows to hide from sight. 

It was chaotic, Konni had pushed them into an open area of the town, the centrepiece of it with a dilapidated, Greek fountain, chipped on the sides and green with mould, Gaz would’ve admired the architecture and the beauty it must’ve been in the past when it was still being cared for. They were backed up in a corner, Gaz couldn’t even stretch his wings out with how tightly they were packed together, the uncomfortable pull of his trapezius and the strain in his limbs kept him grounded. The tension was thick, palpable, Gaz could taste it in the air as much as anyone could, their shoulders tense, fingers tapping the trigger of their rifles. All they could do was wait for Konni to act first, to see where they would appear from and work their way out of this open area from there. 

He had his back towards you, he couldn’t see you but he could feel you shake. It might’ve been from the adrenaline pumping through your veins or the nerve of being lied to, of falling into a trap when Ghost had voiced his suspicions about the lack of clearer intel. They were paying for their amateurism. He felt you shudder, breath stuttering, near panting with exhaustion. Gaz wanted to turn to you, words soothing your nerves and twitchy appearance, he acted letting drown in your mind, whatever it was, he hated it. His finger twitched on the trigger, jolting at the sudden crack of bones, an ugly and painful sound that made him wince. It shocked everyone, even the ever so silent and stoic Ghost who had a hard time hearing these cracks coming from you.

Damn this mission; damn the trap; damn this situation, Gaz needed to look at you, to see why your bones were breaking and limbs rattling. Instinctively, his wings shifted to cover you, the ends widening to cover your sides to protect you from whatever pained you, yet you didn’t let out a single squeak, no moan of pain or the grunt of suffering, you were silent. A part of his mind nagged at him to move, he could fly and try to outrun Konni mercenaries to find a way out, but then he’d leave your back open. He cursed lowly, teeth sinking into his lower lip in frustration, he was-

A loud screech thundered through the air, and screams and squelches followed it. You were missing. 

You were shaking just a second ago, body wracked with some unknown ailment and the next, you were missing, your sack, attire, rifle and helmet were scattered on the ground, with a bony creature tearing through Konni ranks. The hair on his neck rose, an uneasy feeling overtaking him as he watched the creature rip men in half, tines stabbing through their torso like a buck fighting another, head lowered and antlers pointed forward. He watched the tall and thin monster move around, its face was one of a deer’s skull, eaten clean of skin and flesh, any muscle or fibre gone with whatever transformation it took. A crown of antler adorned its head, tall and imposing, as pale as its skull, a coat of black fur was wrapped around the neck, draping down the back like a ridge of fur. 

“Fuck,” Gaz hissed, his body moving along the chaos the being created and your disappearance, he aimed his rifle and shot at the Russians who ran out of their hiding, fearful of the monster’s sudden arrival behind their ranks. “Captain! Is that-?”

“Don’t know anymore!” Price seemed to be as lost as Gaz was, reining in his confusion to focus on taking Konni out. “Keep your head in the game, Gaz; ask questions later.”

Gaz knew Price was right, the town was brimming with Russian ultranationalists, hiding and waiting for their time to jump at them. The situation was still chaotic, but it was better than being without cover. Gaz followed Horangi behind a wall, watching his back while they worked through the humans.

Somehow, Konni either retreated or were all dead, swallowed down by the beast that stood before them. Now that Gaz was standing so close to it - to you, after a few minutes of talking back and forth, they concluded that this was you from the pants that hung from your slim hips - he could see that the deer skull was just a mask covering your face, black and unidentifiable with those bright, gleaming eyes that stared down at him. Despite your curved back, bent to look at them, you towered over everyone, even König seemed small beside you, limbs almost as long as you, fingers tipped with blood that you were still licking off, a long tongue wrapped around your digit to clean yourself from blood, muscle and guts. 

You were casually cleaning yourself up like a cat washing, even in the aircraft, you were gorging on the body of a man you picked up, jaw opening to show them the dozen of teeth before you clamped down on the forearm, tearing into the muscle with famished intent. None of them could take their eyes off you, their sweet, smiley medic who sometimes had their moments, devouring a man without batting an eye, obliviously uncaring of their staring. Gaz wasn’t sure if he knew how he felt, a warmth building up in his chest, a heat that seared into the fibres of his beings like an infectious thing. All they did was watch you eat, no one speaking until you finished your meal.

“Mind tell us what happened, Hunter?” 

You perked up, blinking at Price owlishly, tongue lolling out to lick up the stray drop of blood that stuck on your skull’s teeth. Your chest rumbled, a soft growl rolling off your body while you tilted your head, you acted so much like a feline, grooming, reacting and moving like a curious cat, dangerous, yet so appealing. 

“Wendigo,” you rasped, voice breathy and weak, you spoke in broken English, unable to speak fluently after turning, “Curse, eat human.”

Your little mannerism, the small tilt of your head and your fumbling hands, seemingly embarrassed or ashamed after your show of ruthless hunger and savagery was… eye-opening. Something stewed inside him, your being creating a ripple in his heart, pulling at the hunger in the depth of his gut. He was torn by the fear of having you as the potential enemy and the arousal of seeing you break men in half, painting the ground in crimson and guts, and satiating your hunger - craving - with human and monster flesh. 

Gaz was fucked, both in the head and the situation. 

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @virginalsacrifice

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Imagine sweet little housewife!reader making Ghost dinner after a long deployment. Ghost promises housewife!reader he'll wait till tonight to treat her good, but seeing her in her cute little shorts and his shirt is too much for him to control, so he decides a different dinner.. her tight, wet little cunt.

READ IT HERE

Oh you know exactly what I like Anon, cause anything that has to do with Simon coming home after a long deployment all ramped up and ready to see his sweetheart is right up my alley. I could literally write endlessly about this. 

There is something so fantasruc about having all that pining, all that buildup come to a head so that Simon loses himself and cannot stop himself because he desperately has to be inside you.

Cause, let’s be honest: this man pines for you when he's gone for too long. He never knew he could crave someone until he met you and now every time he goes on mission you are there in his mind torturing him. And he finds that he cannot wait to come home because he knows he has his beautiful girl waiting for him.

You are his little slice of heaven in a chaotic, fucked up world; his sunshine to help rip him out of the overwhelming darkness the surrounds him; the one who he wants to be better for so that your lives together can be good. And that makes him crave you even more.

Sure, to say he is obsessed may be a bit much, but he isn’t subtle about how much he adores you.

Especially his little wife? His sweet girl that he takes care of and in turn she takes care of him? Who keeps things going outside of his work so that he has a life to come back to? The one who makes his life so wonderful just by being in it? Oh yeah he is going to be so down bad to get back to all that that it's almost impossible to function until he sees you. 

From the moment he steps in the door and his eyes catch you working away in the kitchen to have a home cooked meal waiting for him, dressed in nothing but his baggy t-shirt, all that pent up longing is going to come spilling out in the most explosive ways. 

So, best get ready for dinner to be a little dry and maybe burnt because Simon is hungry for something else. And you should probably get ready for the table getting ruined too as he is going to need room to lay out his first course. 

Keep your eyes peeled for this one cause I am definitely going to make it happen as it’s own fic.

[spiritsonic]

Hi Evan! Big fan here, hope I'm not disturbing you at an inconvenient time. I love your work as an artist and writer, but it's not just Sonic that you work on. It would be cool to know more about your work Ensouled. What is it about? Who is the ghost guy and the human girl?

Sure, I’ve been wanting to write some new character bios. Check it all out under the break!

CHARLEY PARKHEARSE

Once, long ago, Charley was the best teamster in Santa Alma county. His stagecoach flew over treacherous mountain roads, One crack of his whip could snuff a candle’s flame from six yards, and any bandit who dared to stop his stage would meet the business end of a rifle. Anyone who cared to comment about his sour temper or murky past knew to keep their voices low… and God help any fool who questioned Charley’s refusal to remove his heavy greatcoat, no matter the weather. 

But Charley’s fame was bound to earn him enemies… When the bandit Sugarfoot learned that Charley was in fact born a █████, the secret spread like wildfire through the mountains. Charley was ruined. He thought his life was over, until he was visited by a being dealing in black magic; a devil known in his human guise as Aurelius Flood. This devil promised to erase Charley’s secret from the minds of Santa Alma’s people, restoring Charley’s reputation, in return for his soul. Charley accepted, though he would not learn the depth of his folly until the night he died… and was raised as a ghost by that same devil, now bound to his service. Still, the devil was true to his word. Charley’s secret was safe, even beyond the grave.

At one point in the many decades since his death, Charley thought he could escape Aurelius’ control. But today… he’s given up that hope. He haunts the roads he was once the master of, frightening drivers to meet his quota of Soul and waiting ‘till his memories fade away, taking the pain of his mistakes with them. That is until, in a flash of ill-advised mercy, Charley spares the life of a young woman he scared off the road…

(Charley is LOOSELY based on Charley Darkey Parkhurst, a real historical figure. Look him up! He's a really cool example of a queer, probably trans person ((by today's standards)) in history. The real Charley's dying wish was to be remembered as a man; a wish that has not been respected by history. I want to explore the pros and cons of living closeted or stealth in an ever-changing world, while also honoring his memory and wishes as best I can in a modern context.)

SEQUOIA LOGANBERRY

Sequoia would like you to believe that she is a monster. It’s easier that way. Ever since her father left for a mistress on the east coast in her senior year of high school, Sequoia has been working a dead-end job at the local amusement park and doing her damndest to drink and drive herself into an early grave. And she almost does it… Until a friggin' SKELETON GUY fishes her out of the lake she drove into?! And now she’s getting these insane migraines and seeing spooky shit everywhere???? 

After a close encounter with death (and Charley), Sequoia develops an unpredictable 6th sense that threatens to finish what she started in her car the other night… Until she’s found by the misanthropic wizard Monty and his much nicer siren husband Luka, who help her get her new powers under control… in trade for her helping them with a few odd jobs. Nothing crazy, just, oh, infiltrating the local magical crime lord’s fey court. Sequoia is just the wild card they need to break a fifty-year standoff between the supernatural powers vying for control over Santa Alma. Sequoia will need to learn fast, about both magic and herself, or else end up a pawn in other people’s plans. Will she be able to make the friends she desperately needs and find direction in her life before she’s swept away?

OTHER CHARACTERS INCLUDE...

MONTY MOUROS, aforementioned misanthropic wizard. Older than he looks. Came to Santa Alma in the 1930’s to earn his fortune, and ended up embroiled in one of Charley’s bids for freedom. It didn’t go well, and he still holds a bitter grudge. He’s guarded the local amusement park, the Boardwalk, from Aurelius Flood for years, but other than that has hidden himself from both the magic and mundane worlds for decades.

LUKA, a siren who lost his singing voice in a trap set by Flood. If not for Monty, it would have taken his life. When they were young the two fell in love, and Luka defied his family’s traditions to be with Monty. They’re still together, and Luka is the only person who can get past Monty’s harsh exterior. Luka now runs a speakeasy for spirits hidden beneath the Boardwalk, where he mixes magical cocktails and turns the rumor mill. He is a kind soul who defines himself through service to others…perhaps to a fault. 

AURELIUS FLOOD, The mastermind behind most of Santa Alma’s woes. A cruelly ambitious leprechaun who thrives on greed, he’s been following the money since the time of the Romans. In the 1800’s he came to the new world, where he found fabulous opportunity during the California gold rush. Assuming a human disguise he carved out a business empire in the mundane world, and a criminal one in the magic world. He built Santa Alma himself, engineering the city’s growth. Fattening a pig for the slaughter. Now, the only thing standing between him and his ultimate payday is Monty and the pivotal bit of territory he controls at the Boardwalk. It’s stymied him for years, but he’s got a new plan…

SUGARFOOT, Flood’s left-hand man. As the illegitimate son of a powerful Californio rancher and an Ohlone woman trapped in the California mission system, fate did not deal Sugar a kind hand. After his father’s family lost their rancho, Sugar turned to a life of crime. He got his sarcastic nickname from a festering leg wound he earned in a shootout with Santa Alma’s top teamster, Charley Parkhearse. As his infection grew, so did his hatred… These mountains should belong to him, not some johnny-come-lately from New Hampshire. So he turned to another stranger for help; Aurelius Flood. In trade for his soul, he gained information; a secret that, if it were to get out, would ruin Charley forever. Sugar leapt at the deal, and got exactly the revenge he’d wanted… until Charley came for him, blinded by rage and shame, and shot him dead in the street. In death, Sugar and Charley found themselves in the same situation… bound to serve Flood forever. As coworkers. Hell would have been a mercy. 

(Sugarfoot is also based on a historical figure of the same name, but almost nothing is known about him other than he was a bandit with a very stinky foot. IRL Charley shot him when he tried to raid his stagecoach.) 

ZINNIA LOGANBERRY, Sequoia’s annoyingly precocious little sister. While Sequoia turned to delinquency after their parents’ divorce to avoid her feelings, Zinnia threw herself into her studies for the same reason. She has become the model student and daughter, earning their workaholic mom’s favor… but man, this kid is Burnt. Out. When she finds out about Sequoia’s new adventures with the supernatural, she throws herself into this new world as a release from her demanding daily life only to once again take things too far. And now, the consequences come with fangs, and hair, and claws…

DEBORAH LOGANBERRY, Sequoia and Zinnia’s mother. She knows she could be doing better by her daughters, but ever since her no-good husband left them, she’s been the family’s sole provider. Her job in the city’s planning and zoning department is the only thing keeping them off of the streets, and the price of housing in Santa Alma is only going up. It’s a matter of survival; surely, once they’re more financially stable, she’ll be able to patch things up with Sequoia. And maybe something will come of the new friendship she’s struck up with Mr. Flood. He IS quite the successful developer, after all… perhaps they could be more than friends?

[bluemadnessstuff]

Tf141 + Valeria and könig:

Their reaction to you randomly licking them~

Ghost:

Disgusted and utterly confused, if he asks why and you just shrug, he'll grab your face and lick you back then act as if nothing ever happened, but you know he's grinning under his mask >:)

Soap:

Laughs a bit then grabs you, licking a long strip over your face like it's a competition ;)

Price:

Feels a bit disgusted but he'll laugh it off, he might shove his fingers in your mouth if you try to do it again just to tease you >:D

Gaz:

Absolutely not. If he didn't scream, he'll rush to the bathroom to wash his hand and when he comes back, he'll keep an eye on you to make sure you don't do it again :/ I think he's a clean freak

König:

Confused but doesn't mind, he'll ask you why and if you just shrug he'll assume you want attention and give you a kiss on the forehead <3

Valeria:

Will grab your face and lick every inch of it till your squirming and giggle telling her to stop, after she stops she'll give a small kiss and get back to work like nothing happend ;)

[world-of-aus]

Pairing: Pornstar!Bucky x Pornstar!Reader

Warnings: MINOR DNI 18+ (Oral, Fingering, P in V, Praise all around,) Its Porn With a substantial amount of plot?

Author's Note: Third Installment for the Soldier and Eden Ivy is here! There will be a first ever behind the scenes coming out after this installment that will cover what happens between Installment 2 & 3 so keep your eyes peeled! Enjoy baby buns.

You’re laid out on the sheets, the lace chosen by wardrobe barely concealing any part of you. It’s taken every part of him to not strut across set and claim you, take all of you all while having you beg for more.

He was going to show you how he should have taken care of you that day, how he should have claimed your lips first, tasted every part of you after, before tearing you apart, making sure she came undone for him his name on her lips.

“You’re looking awfully lonely standing over their soldier, why don’t you come keep me some company, we can warm each other up.” You purr patting the silk sheets next to you.

His jaw ticks, fingers curling at his side, he shakes his head ‘no’, he wanted you begging for his touch.

You pout, “please – sir?” He’s shaking his head again.

Your pout only deepens as you move around on the bed till you're resting on your knees. You put out all the stops to get him to cross that line, your breasts pushing together when you lean forward on the bed your hands pressing into the sheets.

He stays where he is fighting his own inner battle to remain there, he thinks he might lose it when you huff, pout turning into a scowl. “Fine if you won’t come and warm me up, I’ll do it myself.”

You sit back, untucking your legs from beneath you, “Eden,” he grits, “baby you better think about your next move, I don’t want you doing something you’re going to regret.” Your gaze stays trained on his as you plant your feet, legs spreading tantalizingly slow, a growl builds in his chest as you bring a hand down between your legs, “Eden.”

His warning doesn’t stop you from pulling your panties to the side, fingers curled around the lace fabric. He’s across the room before you can even think of dipping your fingers into your wet heat, his body covering yours, fingers wrapped tightly around your wrist, his lips ghosting over yours. “Eden, Eden, Eden, baby, don’t you know who this pussy belongs too? His tongue darts out to lick over your lips, “this is mine baby, and only I get to touch what’s mine.”

You chase his lips, teeth capturing his lower lip before releasing it with a ‘pop’ “so then touch it, she’s lonely – empty.”

He groans low in his chest head dipping down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss. He drinks down your sweet moans pressing his own groans into your lips when your fingers curl just right in his chocolate locks. He’s kissing his way down to your neck lips stopping by your ear, “remember your safe words, don’t be afraid to tell me to fuck off.”

He’s continuing down the sweet expanse of your skin, but you're nudging him, pulling his face to you. His lips are on yours again a quiet ‘I trust you’ on your lips pressed into his. This kiss isn’t scripted, so he has to play it off, “Such a needy girl aren’t you Eden, you just want to take, take, take, well don’t worry I’ll give you just what you need.”

Your chest is heaving, whines leaving your lips as you hips gyrate into the air, his warm hand presses your hips back down, fingers teasing your opening with the slick that’s pooled there. “Soldat please,” you cry pushing against the hand holding you down. He takes a nip at you inner thigh making you cry out, “you’ll take what i give you, should be thanking me for even giving you anything with how greedy you were earlier- touching what’s mine.” he murmurs.

You moan is obscene when he dips his fingers in, “Fuck yes, god – thank you!”

“Wasn’t so hard, was it?” He questions pressing in tills he is knuckles deep, fingers curling. Your body, the part he isn’t anchoring down is lifting off the sheets, a broken moan caught on your lips. His mouth latches onto the all too sensitive skin of inner thigh, nipping, sucking at the soft skin. Your hand fists in his hair tugging, whining as you plead with God.

“Gods not here Eden” he husks licking a long strip of your skin, “s’just me.”

“Please,” you breath on a moan, “need – ah fuck!”

He grins, “what? What do you need Eden, tell me?” He knew what you needed but he wanted to hear you say it, he wanted you to beg for it.

“Your mouth – put your mouth on my pussy please.”

He hums, fucking his fingers into you with vigor now, “Is that the nicest way you can ask me Eden, thought you were well mannered baby, need me to teach ya a lesson?”

You’re rushing out a ‘no’ when his fingers still inside of you dark cerulean eyes looking up at you from where he rests between your spread legs. “Well go on now, ask me nicely.” You whine, his fingers digging into your skin when he feels you push down, “Eden, baby come on now, be a good girl for me. You huff, “please sir,” you whine all doe-eyed – fuck you must know what that does to him, “Please put your mouth on my pussy, don’t you want to taste her? See if I’m really as sweet as they all say?”

He growls pulling his fingers from you as he slaps your wet pussy, a breathy laugh leaving your lips, “this pussy is mine Eden, it belongs to me, and I’m going to make sure you never forget who it belongs to.”

“You're sure it’s - Ah – mmmm yes!”

His mouth covers your mound, tongue dipping past your slick folds seeking out that bundle that will have you screaming his name “Soldat!” He circles your clit with his tongue drawing your back off the sheets once more, your chest heaving thighs clenching around his head. His fingers curl around your thighs pulling them open spreading you out further for him, he was going to feast, and you were going to let him. Your back is almost completely off the sheets, breast pushed high into the cooled air of the set. His tongue flicks teasingly in and out of your soaked folds, “Now tell me Eden,” he murmurs breath fanning across your pussy, “who's pussy does this belong too?”

“It belongs to you sir, please, please put your mouth back on my pussy she’s yours! Please, please wanna cum on your tongue!”

His mouth is back on your awaiting heat, taking you higher as his tongue flicks between your bead and slick pooled entrance. Your fingers grasp the sheets beneath you, twisting them in your hold, “your fingers, need your fingers.” you whine.

He hums against your heat, shaking his head as he continues lavish you with his tongue, “no fingers Eden, when you come, you’re going to come from my tongue alone.” he breathes. He leaves no room for argument as he delves back in tongue working you over, moans of pleasure falling from his lips as he licks up your honey sweet nectar, the vibrations leaving you quaking in his hold.

He glances up his ocean grey eyes connecting with yours, you weren’t sure it was possible, but they seemingly darkened more as he pushed you closer to release. A moan catches in your throat as he suckles on your clit, his tongue working over it with quick strokes. Your pussy clenches around nothing, body heaving as the intense pleasure of your first orgasm washes over you. He doesn’t stop as he works you through your first orgasm his tongue continuously flicking over you, dipping into you to suck up your juices. Your vision goes white, fingers pulling at his hair taut.

“Ohh Fuck - Jesus” you choke out thighs trembling as you come down. He chuckles adjusting himself onto his knees, lips kissing up your sweat slicked skin till he’s looming over you his own eyes hooded over with lust, a lazy grin on his glistening lips. You lean up tongue running over his lips to taste yourself, “mmm guess I really am as sweet as they all say,” you grin coercing him. His cock throbs in his pants at your brattiness, hand coming up to wrap around your neck as he brings you closer, “It seems I haven’t drilled it into you, that you are mine, that this,” his other hand grips your pussy “that this belongs to me.” You lean further up despite the loose hold he has on your neck, your lips capturing his a groan falling from your lips as you taste yourself on his sinful tongue. He doesn’t know how you manage with your mouth still locked on his but you manage to get him on his back legs straddling him.

Another moment unscripted and he’s only ever done this one other time and that was with Carter. He doesn’t try to fix it, he wants to see what you do, so his hands find purchase on your waist squeezing. “Are you planning on taking again Eden?” You’re grinding onto his still cloth covered cock, “mmm something like that.” He guides your movements, lips parting at the pleasure you’re already building and he hasn’t even sunken into you. You fall over him, one of your hands sliding between your bodies to work his pants open, pulling him from his confines. “I’m going to take what’s mine, and this,” you squeeze his cock, “is mine.”

You never really stood a chance the second those words left your lips, it made him feral and he had never felt this way before. He has you on your back in less than a second, your legs accommodating his hips that are flush with yours, his cock buried to the hilt, his mouth drinking down the scream he’s managed to pull from you. “Guess we’re both taking tonight Eden.”

None of what the two of you are doing now is scripted, he shouldn’t be drinking down your moans of pleasure. No. He should have you face down in the sheets, he should be fucking you senseless, telling you what you’re going to take and that you’ll thank him for it. He can’t bring himself to though, its been over a week since he had the pleasure of working with you after Walkers stunt, and finally having you under him your velvet walls gripping him tightly has every rational thought flying out the window. He wants to make this memorable for you, wants to erase Walkers touch and leave you reeling with the thought of him.

The pace he sets is relentless, shifting the two of you up the sheets with the force of his thrusts, and you take it all so well, his stage name leaving your lips in a prayer as you beg him for more.

And he gives you everything, “that’s it Eden taking it so well, always such a good girl for me even with that bratty mouth of yours.”

You’re so fucked out you can only whine, “yes sir – m’you’re good girl, please cum inside of me, want it all.”

He groans the fucking mouth on you, doesn’t know what walker was thinking not taking his time with you, really losing himself in you.

“Cum for me, please cum for me.”

He loses himself the second you say it, spilling his warmth into you, your mouths molded as he gives you everything. He doesn’t want to but he moves enough to give Clint the money shot his body rolling off to the side of you when the buzzer sounds on set.

The move rooms around the two of you, the crew wrapping the set up while the two of you catch your breath. He runs his fingers over your arm drawing your eyes to his, you smile softly at him, “you okay?” he questions.

“Perfect,” you murmur softly, “thank you for agreeing to film with me as my comeback.”

He grins at the nickname you picked up from Steve, “anytime sweetheart, it’s how it should be all the time.”

“Mmmm you’ve set the bar pretty high Barnes, think the others have met their match.”

He laughs, “it’s a little late but I’m finally glad you learned your lesson.”

Your brows furrow, but then you're laughing the meaning behind his words finally breaking through that pleasure induced fog.

[tacticaldiary]

Frightened Of The Fall

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"Simon." He rasps, grip tightening around her arms. "Call me Simon."

Her smile widens and it makes something in him break with a need to let her light smooth over his jagged, broken pieces.

"I love you, Simon."

Masterlist

Baby birds are born with an innate fear of falling. Frightening little things, skittering over to the edges of their nests and peering down, curious but never brave enough to take a leap. It's their mothers that nudge them along, shove them over the edge knowing that they'll come out unscathed.

Simon remembers the soft look on his mother's face when she used to read to him at night, locking the door and draping his bedsheets over their heads like a little makeshift tent.

It's one of the clearer memories in his head, but nothing in his life comes completely untainted.

His father always got tired of yelling and banging on his door. He'd find the master key somewhere and click the lock back open, ending her attempts to distract him on the worst days.

His father had shoved him off the edge too soon, not accustomed to a mother's intuition and only driven by the cruel need to see him flail and fall as he hit the ground hard.

                               · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·  

"Does pasta sound okay?"

Ghost hums into his cup of coffee, skimming over a document he'd put off till the last minute to review. Their kitchen table is littered with files and folders belonging to them both. "Thought you were going out tonight.?"

Working in the same division of the military means their privy to the same confidential information, luckily.

"I was," She nods, setting down the packet of pasta. "But I cancelled. Thought some time alone with you would be better..."

He nods, and the knot of unease that's been tightening in her chest for the past week makes an appearance again. He doesn't say anything, he hasn't been saying much at all these days, and it's making her more than uneasy.

Ghost wasn't an overly silent man, especially not with her, so this behaviour has been out of character enough to raise some flags. A little frustrated at his lack of interest, she walks across the kitchen to join him at the table.

"Is something wrong?"

Sometimes, Ghost sees the gentle nature of his mother in her.

When she smiles at him like he's hung the moon and the stars for doing her a simple favour. The quiet nights together spent soaking in company that he hasn't had the chance to experience in years...

"Nothing's wrong."

"You're angry at me."

He glances up at her, raising an eyebrow. "You'd know if I was mad at you, love."

"Then what is it?" She pushes, "You've been so...so disinterested lately." She really tries to word it eloquently in a way that's not too intense. "You don't join me for any activity apart from work, you barely say a word to me if I don't initiate a conversation!"

She's certainly got his attention now.

"You didn't even ask where I was going when I told you I had plans tonight, it's like...it's like you don't care anymore." She finishes, pushing out the last part of her sentence in a voice wrapped with hurt. "If you don't...don't want me, I'd rather you just say it. I'll understand, but it's not fair to keep me at arm's length when-"

"Stop." He cuts her off loudly. "You think I don't want you anymore?" The papers lay on the table, completely forgotten as he pushes himself to stand up next to her. There's an urgency in his movements that she hasn't seen before.

"You sure make it seem that way."

"I don't." His gaze flickers across her face and his stomach sinks when he sees nothing but raw honesty and hurt. "Of course I want you-"

"Then why don't you talk to me?"

That shuts him up.

"I was thinking." He clenches and unclenches his jaw. "About everything. About...us." When he sees devastation flash across her face, he's quick to correct her misunderstanding. "Fucking hell, not like that." He assures her, taking her arms in his hands and stepping closer. "Never like that, darling. Shouldn't have made you doubt anything, didn't mean to." Ghost presses her face to the crook of his neck, loosening a sigh of relief when she doesn't push him away and nestles there instead.

"Then what is it?" She draws in a shaky breath. "If it's not me, why are you pulling away?"

It's a beat before he answers.

"I've always wanted a family." He squeezes her arms briefly. "Never thought I'd have anyone else to call that." His gaze is fixed firmly on the wall behind them, even when she tilts her head up to peer at him.

She doesn't push him, doesn't beg for details. Patient as always, and the knowledge that she would not force him to tell her anything he couldn't is the very thing that drives him to bear his thoughts to her.

Ghost tells her about coming home to a house of cold bodies. He doesn't spare any details, she's not frail or fragile. Hell, she's drawn just as much blood, just as viciously as he had, so he lays it all out as it happened. He tells her about his mother, about the good in his life ripped away by a fate that he dragged across their doormat.

"You're afraid it'll happen again." She whispers when he finishes.

"I'm...cautious."

"It's okay to be afraid." She smooths a hand over his hair much more gently than a man like him deserves. "You're human, Ghost. You're alive, they would be glad that you made it out alive."

"Shit luck I brought them, though." A hoarse voice he lets mingle with the loathing he's carried ever since he could remember.

"It won't happen again." His gaze flickers down to her at the declaration, "It's in the past, baby. Unless you let me go, I'm not going anyway."

"I don't." He tightens his grip instinctively. The very idea of being the reason he's lost the best thing that's ever happened to him is revolting. He intends to keep her for as long as she'll have him.

"Good." She cracks a small smile. Her fingers ghost over the scars on his cheek, marred with years of memories. "Neither of us are good people." She whispers. "Not with the things we've done, the things we've seen. But we're good for each other. You're so good to me and nothing in your past is going to take that away. Not even you."

Earnest and honest and determined, there's no protest Ghost can make that would strike her words untrue. He takes in an unsteady breath instead, letting himself sink into her promises.

"Let me in." She whispers, soft and pleading. "Build a life with me. Let me take care of you, Ghost."

He loosens a shuddering sigh out of his chest, a feeling so viscerally overwhelming washing him inside and out. It grows and expands, sheds lights on the corners of him untouched by love and safety.

Always shrouded in caution and fear, the sudden light is bound to sting the eyes of someone who's kept in the dark. The warmth is enough to burn someone kept in the cold.

She searches his eyes for something, for anything. A hint of agreement, a crack in the iron walls she can take as a sign to start chipping at.

"I love you."

And he believes it.

"Simon." He rasps, grip tightening around her arms. "Call me Simon."

Her smile widens and it makes something in him break with a need to let her light smooth over his jagged, broken pieces.

"I love you, Simon."

And she can see the light shining through.

Reblog, Like and Comment!

(28/11/2023)

[dovabunny]

GhostSoap AU - Replaced

Cw: angst

They'd been a (secret) thing for almost a year now. Soap was smitten, but respected Ghost's boundaries to keep it private.

But over all these months, Ghost never said he loved him too. He never makes future plans with Soap either.

He keeps turning down invites to go on leave together or meet his family,l. When they're out on missions will always elect share a room with Price over him.

Soap starts to feel like less of a secret lover and more like... Ghost's dirty little secret.

Like he's just being used.

(Read rest below)

It all blows up one night.

The gang had been at a local bar. Some flooze had apparently been making eyes at Ghost and Gaz noticed. Thinking he's being a good friend and wingman, he introduced the two.

Soap had to sit and watch Ghost talk to her at the bar for 20minutes.

Everytime she touched his arm or bought him a drink he wanted to rip her off him.

But what hurt more was that Ghost didn't immediately turn her down, instead entertaining her attention for a drink or two. He didn't tell Gaz he wasn't interested.

Soap was just a spectator.

"So? Get her number?" Gaz eagerly asked when Ghost returned.

"Nah. Not my type. Too chatty."

Gaz rolled his eyes. "Picky bitch. She was pretty. And if you're not into chatty why do you keep him around?" He playfully winked at Soap.

It was a joke. Didn't mean it didn't hurt.

Not when Ghost didn't even reply.

Soap announced he's leaving early. Ghost followed and caught up to him. The cold air did nothing to ease the burning hurt.

"You coming over to mine tonight, Johnny? I doubt they'll be back till after midnight."

Soap grit his teeth and kept walking. "Dunno. Maybe you should go ask your redhead slag."

Ghost glared, voice cold. "That's uncalled for, Johnny. She was just being friendly."

"Friendly, huh? Too bad she's chatty. Apparently that's huge turn off for you."

Ghost grabbed his arm and stopped him. His eyes and tone incredulous. "That's what this hissy fit is about? You're jealous and touchy over that comment? I thought you'd be happy I didn't take her number."

"I would've been happy if you didn't entertain her flirting at all!"

Ghost's eyes turned hard. "And what gives you the right to dictate who I talk to?"

Soap stared for a moment. It hurt. It fucking hurts but he needed to know.

"What am I to you, Simon?"

Ghost was quiet.

"A fling? A partner? A lover? A fucking sex toy? What am I to you!?"

Months of insecurities were bubbling up. The alcohol that loosened his tongue didn't help either as he yelled.

"Don't raise your voice to me, Sargent. I'm still your commanding officer." Ghost said in a tone reserved for intimidating interrogations and reckless recruits.

"...that's it? You're my CO and I'm your Sargent? That's- that's all it is for you?" Soap hated how his voice trembled.

"I didn't make any promises, Soap." (Soap. Not Johnny.) "You have no right to make demands of what I may and may not do, and I won't be chained down!"

"I don't want to chain you down! I just wa-"

"Sounds like you do. Bloody hell, if you didn't want to fuck anymore - fine. There's no need for the tears and the drama, Sargent."

It was only then that Soap realized he was crying.

Ghost cursed and kept walking without him.

Soap feels like he's been punched in the chest, a gaping void left where his heart and lungs should be.

Apparently all the secret kisses Ghost stole, how he held his hand when no one was looking, the way he held him when they were alone were all just what? Drama? In his head?

Soap spends the night sobbing his heart out off base in an empty parking lot with a bottle of whiskey in his hand.

By morning he told himself there's no use crying over spilled milk.

But it wasn't that simple. For either of them. It was the start of the end.

[cupidbedsy]

𝗵𝗼𝘄 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹 ; 𝘤𝘤22 ୨୧

➪ summary: cole seeks out his best friend for help to ask out his crush, and it takes her a while to figure out its her he's talking about

➪ warnings: reader is oblivious, crying, cole is down bad bad

➪ word count: 5.1k

➪ file type: fic - reupload

➪ sunny's notes: i think this might be one of my favorites. i love cole sm and i should really start writing for him more

© cupidbedsy (sunflower-lilac42) ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

cc22 masterlist || nhl masterlist || taglist || navigation

stand there like a ghost shaking from the rain, rain she'll open up the door and say, are you insane

There was a knock on the door, and y/n jumped up from where she sat in her dorm room. She was living by herself since she needed privacy for the upcoming semester and had a particular way of keeping things clean and organized. She scooted off her bed and landed on the ground with a thud, walking towards the door. 

She peaked through the peephole and looked at the person outside in confusion. She pulled away to open the door and gave the boy a wide-eyed smile, “Hi Cole.”

Cole was dripping wet as he stood there. He had run from the bus stop and then had to stand outside the building waiting for someone to either walk in or out, which was an awkward situation to explain, “Hi, can you please let me in? I used to go here and now I play in the NHL, which doesn't matter but I’m looking for my best friend.”

The girl looked at him in confusion, “Um sure?”

And that’s how Cole was here. Wet and shaking from the rain, “Hi y/n/n.”

“What are you doing here? Are you insane? Don’t you have a game tonight? How’d you get in?”

“I needed to see you, I missed you.”

Y/n pulled Cole into her room and gave him a change of clothes, “Let me go throw this in the dryer.”

When the towel was warm enough she brought it back and threw it at him, “Okay now what is the real reason you’re here?”

Cole shrugged, sitting down on the bean bag she had in the room, “I just felt like something was wrong with you.”

“So you missed your NHL game to come to see me because you had a feeling that something was wrong?”

He nodded, now realizing how weird and stupid that sounded. He gave her an awkward, lopsided, smile, “Yeah.”

She shooked her head, a grin making her way onto her face, “You are fucking insane Cole Caufield.”

“Only for you.” He gave her a wink.

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

say it's been a long six months and you were too afraid to tell her what you want, want

The past few months had been nerve-wracking for Cole and y/n. They both knew the time till Cole’s NHL debut was decreasing and decreasing. They made the most of it however, spending every waking moment with each other when they could, staying at each other’s dorms, going out to dinner, y/n going to his games. They were never apart unless they absolutely had to be.

Cole’s feelings had only worsened with the more and more they hung out. Every time he would see her his eyes roamed her figure up and down memorizing what she looked like in case one day he would have to pack up everything and leave. 

He would see her in his jersey - which she custom-made - when she went to his games, she constantly stole and wore his hoodies every time they were together, they had been telling the whole world they were both unavailable even if it wasn’t true. 

Y/n wasn’t the only one who had stolen the other’s things. Cole always had a hair tie on his wrist in case she ever got too hot and needed to pull her hair up or it was blowing in her face and giving her a hassle. He stole some of her larger jackets just because they smelled like her and her scent was comforting. He stole her rings sometimes, the metal around his finger giving him something to fidget with when he became anxious. 

As much as they both would love Cole to be in the NHL they were both worried about leaving each other. They had been friends since childhood, always with one another. Their bond strengthened throughout their younger years, each sticking up for the other when needed, and going to each other’s games.

She wore his jersey at World Juniors, and he wore her jersey at her soccer games (both made by her), both screaming out their support. They would wait for each other in their designated spots after each game, running to hug each other once they laid eyes on each other. They always gave one another a small present, a pin or a sticker, or a piece of jewelry. 

The last six months they both noticed the slightly growing distance between them. They were trying to lessen the hurt of him leaving when it came time. Cole had been more worried about her than he ever had been before. He didn’t know if it was his best friend’s protective instincts kicking on or if it was the deeper feelings that had made him feel like this. 

Despite both harboring unknown feelings for each other, they both knew there was a chance that if the other didn’t feel the same, their friendship could fall apart. They were both afraid of how the outcome would end. Cole’s worries were worse than y/n’s, she had been by his side for so long, never doubting him one step of the way, he couldn’t let his stupid little feelings get in the way of that. 

He had been on his way over to her dorm when he received a text from the girl, ‘Bring ice cream and tissues, please.’

His heart broke slightly at the message, confusion plastered on his face. He typed his message in response, asking if there was anything particularly wrong or if something had happened.

She didn’t respond, just emphasizing her first message. Cole sighed at the lack of communication that was going on before turning around and walking back to the parking lot of his dorm to grab his car and go to the store to pick up her favorite ice cream and the soft tissues she had requested.

While he was there, his eyes caught the leftover Valentine’s Day decorations, candy, and other gifts that were severely messed up from the number of times people had gone through them. He sighed when he saw couples rummaging through remnants of the red and pink objects, teddy bears and other stuffed animals, and heart-shaped boxes with chocolates in them. He could’ve been getting them for her. 

He did end up buying a teddy bear, one from the kids section and not from the Valentine’s Day spot. He grabbed her favorite ice cream and some apple juice, picking up her favorite chips and cookies as well. If she was upset, he was determined to make her feel better. He picked the softest tissues he could find and when he was walking his eyes caught sight of the book section.

He looked down at his watch before making a rash decision to take a peek down the aisle. He spotted one of the books she had been wanting for a while and picked it up before heading to checkout. He bagged everything before running back out to his car and driving to her dorm. 

He was lucky that one of the kids that had lived there was walking into the building when he got there, so he just followed suit behind him. He didn’t want to make her come down and get him when he could’ve easily found a way in. He ran up the stairs, not bothering to wait for the elevator, and knocked on her door. 

Y/n sat on her bed, her blanket wrapped around her as she watched her favorite show. She had tear-stained cheeks and puffy eyes, her nose a little stuffed from the crying she had done. She walked over to the door and opened it, before she smiled at him, “Coley!”

He walked over to her, pulling her into a hug, “Hey, y/n/n. What’s wrong?”

She shook her head before scooting over and patting the bed, “Come sit.”

Cole jumped onto the bed, took the Target bag, and placed it out in front of her, “I got you ice cream, chips, cookies, apple juice, tissues, and that book you’ve been wanting. And I got you a teddy bear.”

Her eyes immediately filled with tears again, clutching the bear in her arms, burying her head into his shoulder, “‘M gonna miss you.” 

The boy furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, “What do you mean? I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t know that Cole. You could get the call any day saying you have to go to Montreal. You could leave any day.”

He frowned and wrapped his arm around her, rubbing her shoulder with his thumb, “Is that what’s making you upset?”

She nodded, “I don’t want you to go.” 

He smiled slightly, “I don’t want to go either.”

The two sat in silence before y/n spoke up again, “It’s been a long six months worrying about this.”

“I know.”

And yet, Cole was still afraid to tell her what he wanted.

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

and that's how it works that's how you get the girl

“Start with a romantic gesture. Maybe something from her favorite movie, or something cliche. For example, standing in the rain at her doorstep. Or maybe singing a song in front of a large crowd of people. Or maybe doing one of your fears to impress her.”

Cole nodded as he sat on his best friend’s bed, taking mental notes on everything that she was saying. He had come to her for advice on how to ask out a girl that he had liked for what felt like ages at this point. Despite multiple attempts, the girl couldn’t get out a name, not even a hint about the girl, and that was because he could not let her find out it was her.

“Anything else?”

Y/n nodded as she flipped through the pages in her mind, “She will probably tell you that you’re insane for doing something like that, but… it’s cute. A lot of girls would like a big romantic gesture like that.”

“How would you react if someone did that for you?”

She shrugged, “I dunno. I’m not a fan of public things. That’s embarrassing.” She breathed out a laugh, moving her attention to a stack of books she had to organize.

Cole thought, so singing in front of a crowd is definitely out of the question then. He watched as she rearranged her books on her bookshelf, following her every movement. She had started to talk again, unbeknownst to him. She stepped in front of him, snapping her fingers in his face, “Cole! Cole! Cole!”

He flinched, “What?”

“Pay attention, Cole. I’m trying to help you here.”

He nodded and shook his head of his remaining thoughts, focusing on her, “Okay so… how long have you liked her for?”

He shrugged, “A while, I think. But I think I noticed it about 6 months ago.” 

She nodded, “And you’ve been too afraid to tell her what you want, right?”

He let out a noise in agreement and sat up fully on her bed, “Yeah.”

“Okay, well if you do what I say. You’ll be sure to start dating her in no time.”

“Are you sure?”

“That’s how it works. That’s how you get the girl.” She patted his head and launched herself onto her bed, “What do you want to watch?”

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

remind her how it used to be, be yeah, with pictures in frames of kisses on cheeks, cheeks

Cole was unpacking a box his mom had sent to him, things from home that he might’ve wanted in his new apartment. He felt uneasy going back through some of these things, most of them being something related to hockey. When he got to the bottom of the box he saw a few rectangular objects wrapped tightly in bubble wrap.

He pulled them out, moving the box out of his way. He placed them down before unwrapping the first one. He felt the picture frame and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, but when he saw which picture it was he smiled. It was from when they were younger, it was their first day of first grade and y/n’s mom made them take a picture. Y/n gave him a joking kiss on the cheek and both y/n and Cole’s mom had captured the moment. He placed it on his nightstand and unwrapped the next one. 

This one was similar to the one before, but this time it was one from his and y/n’s high school graduation. They were both in their caps and gowns still and she was leaning over and kissing his cheek. Cole was holding both of their empty diploma cases. 

Following that one was another one of a similar pose. It had become one of their signature photos. Every year on the first day of school they would do it, but he had only seen a couple of them. Most of them either lived on an old hard drive or were buried deep in photo albums in one of their houses. This one had been when they had just moved into their freshman dorms and they decided to recreate the photo once more. 

He gathered the two frames he just opened and placed one down on the living room table and one in the kitchen. His apartment instantly felt more at home to him. Something to remember his best friend by made him feel more relaxed. 

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

When she visited for the first time she noticed the pictures immediately, “Where did you get these?”

“My mom sent them to me. I had them in my room back at home.”

She nodded and held the one that he put in the living room in her hands, “We were so little… and cute.”

The two giggled at her comment, “You’re still cute.”

“Thanks, Coley. You are too.”

The two both blushed at each other’s comments before sitting in silence. Y/n smiled sadly when a thought plagued her mind, “I miss how it used to be. Everything was so simple back then.”

Cole nodded, throwing his arm on the back of the couch, “Yeah. We were never apart back then, were we.”

She laid her head on his shoulder, “I miss you, Cole.”

“I miss you two, y/n/n.”

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

tell her how you must've lost your mind when you left her all alone and never told her why, why

One week after Cole had left, y/n had fallen into a tiny depression state. They hadn’t gone even a couple of days without seeing each other ever, let alone Facetime each other. Cole had been so busy with flying out to Edmonton making his debut and then having to go to Calgary, before finally being able to settle into his new apartment in Montreal. 

She was nervous for him but she was also nervous for herself. They hadn’t got to say goodbye to each other, she had gotten his text while she was in class that he was leaving. She tried to call him but it went straight to voicemail and she felt defeated. 

On the flip side, Cole had been anxious, not about himself but about y/n. He knew about how she typically handled things when she was alone and most of the time it wasn’t the best thing to happen. When he finally got a chance to breathe and sit in his apartment, he called y/n and she answered on the first ring, “Hi Cole! How’s your apartment? Everything going okay up there?”

He nodded, a smile tugging on his lips when he laid his eyes on her picture on his screen, “Yeah it’s been going okay.”

“Anyone giving you any trouble because I’ll fly up there to beat them up for you.”

He laughed, “I know you would.”

The two went silent for a few minutes, a slight frown gracing y/n’s face, “I’m sorry.”

She tilted her head in confusion, “For what?”

“For leaving you. Especially without warning really.”

Her frown deepened at his words, “It’s not your fault Cole. You were, are, moving on to bigger and better things.”

“But I didn’t want to leave you, y/n/n. I need you to know that. I would’ve stayed for you.”

“I know you would’ve, Cole. But like I said, you’re doing something greater for yourself. I shouldn’t be holding you back from your dreams.”

The words were on the tip of his tongue, but you’re a part of that dream. Yet, he couldn’t get them out. He wasn’t going to be the one to ruin their friendship over something like this, she didn’t deserve it. So he kept his lips shut and listened to her talk about whatever had happened that day, the reason he called, going blank in his mind. 

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

and that's how it works that's how you lost the girl’

“I don’t think she’s into me, y/n/n.”

“What do you mean?”

“I tried what you said but she didn’t even bat an eye to it. She completely dismissed me.”

Sure it was weird for Cole to be talking about his girl problems to y/n when she was the girl he was talking about, but it’s not like she would ever know. Cole was thankful at that moment for his friend’s obliviousness, it came in handy sometimes.

“Maybe she did and she just doesn’t know what to think about it, maybe she’s still trying to figure something out.”

Cole signed on the opposite side of the phone, growing a little frustrated at both himself and her. Why couldn’t he just say how he was feeling, if she didn’t like him then fine they could just move on, try and move past this, “But what if she just doesn’t like me.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything Cole, but did you do anything stupid to make her think differently about you? Or think differently about her feelings toward you?”

“I mean, I did kind of leave her without telling her why…”

“You’re telling me you didn’t tell her you were leaving to go play in the NHL? You just got up and left her?”

“Well when you put it like that, it sounds worse.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “You probably broke her heart, Cole.”

Cole let that thought sink in, the thought of leaving y/n there all alone in Madison with little to no friends. Of course, she had other friends but she was always hanging out with him. He repositioned himself on his bed and placed his free hand on his head, rubbing his forehead. He didn’t mean to hurt her.

“Cole?”

“I’m such a fucking idiot. How could I do that to her?”

Y/n felt heartbroken for him, he sounded so upset with himself for his actions. She was also heartbroken by the fact that Cole had these strong feelings for someone else, someone who wasn’t her. She tried to keep her composure by staying silent, letting a tear make its way down her face. She wiped it before talking again, “Cole, it’s okay. There are ways to fix these things. Did you at least apologize to her?”

“Yeah, kind of I think? I totally have lost my mind, haven’t I y/n?”

She just shrugged, “I don’t think you ever had a mind, to be honest, Cole.”

He forced a small laugh, “Gee, thanks.”

“Has she talked to you since then? About what happened?”

“No. She hasn’t brought it up. She said she supported me after I apologized but that’s about it. She sounded sad but also a little angry.”

She stayed silent for a minute, “I hate to be the person to tell you this but I think you lost her.”

Cole ran a hand over his face in frustration, letting her words hit him like a truck. 

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

and you could know that I don't want you to go

It was the first Friday without Cole and she was sitting in her dorm room. He had made his debut two days ago and she couldn’t even gather the strength to watch his game. She felt horrible about it, she was his best friend, and she should support him through everything. 

She watched the movie that they were planning on watching that day, 13 going on 30. It was y/n’s week to choose, hence the reason why it was a Rom-Com. Cole didn’t mind, he would watch every cheesy romantic movie with her if she wanted to watch it. 

He had a game that day, but once again, y/n had no desire to watch it. It was just another reminder that he was gone, she could only handle so much. She sat on her bed, the movie playing on the TV with a bucket of popcorn sitting on her right side. 

Of course, she had to pick the movie in which the two main characters of the movie were love interests and were best friends. It was like the universe was mocking her of some sort. She couldn’t escape the facts. Her heart sympathized when Jennifer Garner’s character felt as if she lost her best friend to the girl he was getting married to. She couldn’t imagine life if Cole got married to someone else.

It was like a blow to the face watching it. She had the chance to do something but she still sat in her dorm room doing nothing but stuffing her face full of popcorn. Much like Elle in Legally Blonde, when the final scene of the movie came up and Jennifer Garner and Mark Ruffalo got married she threw her popcorn at the screen in frustration, why couldn’t she have that life?

She looked at her phone to see a text from Cole, saying they lost and he didn’t want to talk tonight. He had taken the loss as a burden to himself, being new on the team and not being able to contribute. She was honestly grateful that he texted her that because if he hadn’t she would then have to come up with an excuse on why she didn’t want to talk. 

She scrolled through pictures of her and Cole in her camera roll, tears welling in her eyes. As much as she wanted Cole to go and pursue his dreams, the thought in the back of her mind was being selfish, she didn’t want Cole to leave her. They had been together for so long and hockey just ripped him away from her. She had been so supportive of him so she thought she at least deserved a little bit of selfishness.

She threw her phone across the room much like she had done with the popcorn. She sat there crying as the credits rolled across the screen before Netflix gave her more recommendations on what to watch based on the movie, but she was in no mood to watch another romance movie. She rolled her eyes, tears still streaming down her face. She backed out of the menu before putting on a random stand-up show.

He could’ve known that she didn’t want him to go because, in reality, he didn’t want to go either. However, y/n’s mind was like Cole’s and she didn’t want to ruin their friendship due to her feelings. It felt stupid and silly. They had a perfect friendship so why should she ruin it because of her feelings? 

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

remind me how it used to be and say you want me, yeah, yeah

The clouds covered a majority of the sky, not a star in sight. The moon was visible every few minutes once one cloud passed by before another one came and covered it. When the moon was shining, it shone right into y/n’s dorm room where she sat in her normal state with her blanket wrapped around her watching her and Cole’s favorite movie. 

They had watched it since they were children. Every Friday night Cole and y/n’s families would have one another over for dinner and y/n and Cole would sleep over at each other’s houses depending on where they were that night. They would choose a movie to watch and most likely if they didn’t know, that movie would be the one chosen. 

It had been a month since she last saw Cole. She had flown out to Montreal as soon as she was finished with school, going to his games when she could. She had stayed there for a week or two before going back home for the rest of the summer. It being her first time in Cole’s apartment, she noticed the lack of decorations in it, the only thing really there was pictures of her and him.

She looked around her room and a picture frame caught her eye. Cole was wearing his World Juniors USA jersey, his medal hanging from around his neck. They had just won and Cole was beaming and y/n’s lips were pressed firmly against his cheek. The photo they had been recreating since they were 6. 

She smiled when she saw it and something clicked in her brain. Cole had three of the same picture just at different times in his apartment, and when she saw them she remembered how they used to be, much like now. Continuing to mentally flip through things she had told him, she remembered telling him to make a grand gesture; singing in front of a crowd, standing in the rain-

“Holy shit…”

She jumped out of her bed, the blanket falling from around her shoulders. She couldn’t believe what she was thinking, there was no way that her best friend liked her. I mean she knew that she liked him but Cole Caufield, liking her? It was one of the most unbelievable things that had happened in her lifetime. 

She continued to run through everything and anything that she might’ve told Cole that he could’ve done. Even running through things Cole had done for her that seemed even remotely romantic. He had bought her a book that he knew she was eyeing, he bought her cookies and chips when she didn’t even ask him to. He showed up at all of her games that he could. He apologized for making his NHL debut and leaving her alone at Madison when it wasn’t his fault. 

He bought her multiple gifts for her birthday and Christmas, he dropped everything to make sure that she was okay, he made her food when she was feeling down and felt like she couldn’t do anything, he helped her with her homework and helped her study for exams. He did everything for her and she was just now realizing it. 

She mentally punched herself in the head for not realizing it sooner. He had done so much for her that basically screamed ‘I love you.’ Why did it take her this long to notice? She was frustrated at herself for not doing something about it. She literally gave him the advice to get the girl but she should’ve been following her own advice and picking up on the cues. 

She was quick to book a flight to Montreal and repack her suitcase. She ran out of her bedroom, explaining how much she needed to go see Cole and her mom just gave her a knowing smile before ushering her off with a ‘be careful’ and an ‘I love you.’

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

and then you say i want you for worse or for better i would wait for ever and ever broke your heart, i’ll put it back together i would wait for ever and ever

Flying to Montreal wasn’t something she had on her list. But when she had her epiphany she had to see him, she had to get to Cole. 

Of course, it was raining when she arrived. She did her best to shield herself from the water but ultimately failed with how hard it was coming down. To her luck, her Uber had dropped her off a block away from where Cole’s apartment was. Instead of waiting to get a new one she just walked there, her suitcase in toe. 

She arrived at his house, shivering from the rain. She wrapped her coat tightly around her as she knocked on the door to his apartment. It didn’t take long for Cole to open the door, a bright smile on his face when he opened it, “Y/n! What are you doing here?”

“I needed to see you.” 

“Are you fucking insane? Aren’t you supposed to be going on a trip with your family right now?”

“I needed to see you, Cole.”

Cole let her in, stepping aside to create space for her. She stepped in and before she could even think about reaching for her suitcase, Cole grabbed it and moved it in. She was visibly shaking and Cole pulled off his hoodie to give it to her. 

He took her jacket, placed it in the drying, and directed her to the couch.

“So what was so important that you needed to fly to Canada to see me?”

“Remember when you were asking me about that girl?”

Cole nodded his head, looking confusedly at her, “Yeah? What’s this about?”

“And you remember what I said to you when you asked?”

“Yeah you told me to say I want you for worse or for better, I would wait forever and ever. I broke your heart, but I’ll put it back together.”

She only gave him a soft smile and waited to see if the words would click. It didn’t for at least five minutes, causing the two to sit in awkward silence. Cole’s face lit up when he realized what she was trying to say, “Are you serious?”

“If I wasn't, would I be doing exactly what I told you?”

Cole stood up and walked over to her, grabbing her face, his thumbs rubbing gently under her eyes. He let out a soft breath, still smiling, “Can I kiss you?”

“Do you even have to ask?” He kissed her immediately after that, both of them smiling into the kiss. 

If only y/n was as good at following advice as giving it, they would’ve been in this position so much earlier. 

and that's how it worksthat's how you got the girl

𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗘𝗢𝗨𝗦 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗬𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ୨୧

@toasttt11 @chiblackhawks @pucks-goals-penalties @dancerbailey3 @quinnylouhughesx43

© cupidbedsy (sunflower-lilac42) ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

[reidmania]

sharpest tool | s.reid

(chapter nine, decode)

‘but now I wonder why, I let your confusion keep me up at night, I'm so tired. Re-read every single undertone and I overanalyzed it, front, back, and beside it, where else can we go? there's nothing left here to decode. Done lookin' for signs in the gaps and the silence. It's just getting old, there's nothing left here to decode’

summary; you await the regret, but it’s welcome seems to be postponed by spencer and hormones.

warnings; smut, 18+ MDNI. fem reader, mentions of ghosting, arguing, they are so messy angst, oral, f receiving, fingering, slight overstimulation, overwhelmed reader, comforting spencer, mentions alcohol but nobody is drunk, reader had half a drink but is completely and utterly in her right mind guys, everybody is in their right mind, SOFT dom spencer, really sad bc its them, mentions reader having a whore phase, which makes sense cause she was single for a while before spencer guys!!!!!

taglist; @gghostwriter @lavonee @guiltyyassin @spencersinonlygf @criminalmindssworld @iknwreid @fortheloveofgubler @yokaimoon @sapphirecobalt-1 @eddiesdrummergf @livvyliv15 @lover-of-books-and-tea @sebastiansstanswhore @bloodredrubyrose @sp3ncelle @nemobee777 @jencole214 @hazzarules s @ameerakane20 @lucere @cultish-corner @psyches-reid

When you suggested Spencer taking you back to his house, it was safe to say it was purely an emotional and hormone based decision. He was there, and you missed him. Now sitting on his sofa your body seemed to hold every ounce of realisation, that you were seriously really embarrassing yourself right now.

You were disappointed, simply. In your emotional decision, that you were allowing him back, maybe not emotionally, definitely not emotionally, but physically. He didn’t deserve the right to you in any way, thankfully you cared more about him knowing your mind, than seeing your body.

You were sure if you convinced yourself this was just another meaningless hookup on a friday night after a long day, you could pretend that you weren’t planning on having sex with the one person that you swore you’d never let get close to you again.

Maybe it was a punishment for him, that he would get to know you physically, and thats all. Your connection now would be physical. He wanted more, or he did before when he asked you out and worked his way into building your trust, only to have broken it.

Maybe it was a punishment for you.

Maybe this was a lesson you really just had to learn the hard way, time after time again.

“Do you want coffee?” Spencer asked, your head turned to look over your shoulder, eyebrows pulled in, confusion washing over you. You weren’t here for coffee, you weren’t here to just hang out with him, to spend the night with him, you were here for..

Something, you didn’t know.

Maybe sexual relief, maybe self sabotage because the hurt he provided was the most of him you could get. You weren’t sure. Maybe you hoped that if you had sex he would tell you why he suddenly switched up on you.

Or maybe you just wanted to have sex with him.

“No.” You answered, standing up from the couch, your feet found themselves walking to the kitchen where he was. His home layout engraved in your mind because of the amount of time you had spent there. It used to be a second home filled with warmth and laughter, now it felt like different. In the same way things between you and him felt different.

You saw his back first when you stopped in the open doorway of his kitchen, he obviously noticed your presence and turned around, leaning his hip against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. “Whats wrong?” He asked, eyebrows pinched as he noticed the look on your face.

You huffed, “Im confused.”

He frowned, stepping closer till he was in front of you. It was awkward, yet any regret of the decision you had made subsided when your eyes flickered down to his hands, as he clenched and unclenched his fists, obviously dealing with the tension much like you were.

“I know— I’m sorry, I want to tell you-”

a huff left your lips, shaking your head, you groaned, “Not about that- Well yes about that- But- Not right- okay. Twenty minutes ago you were asking me if you could kiss me after ghosting me for over a month with no explanation, and now i’m in your house, to have sex with you and you’re offering to make me coffee?”

Maybe it was more embarrassing in the way you explained it, or maybe it was really just that embarrassing. You didn’t care, that was something you could deal with when you were home, dealing with the similar amount of regret that would come.

He seemed to find it amusing, that made you mad, not any less attracted to him right now, but much more annoyed. “Im trying to make you feel comfortable.” Despite his amusement he was honest and genuine when he leant a little closer to you.

Of course he was, he was good at that, making you feel comfortable, safe, secure. You had to remind yourself that no matter how comfortable you felt, this was an emotional decision, thats all it was, it was because you were horny, not because you were going to let him back in.

“I don’t want to be comfortable. I thought you bought me here to have sex.” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

He raised his eyebrows, “You asked me to bring you here.” He pointed out.

“Because I thought you wanted to have sex!”

“Okay, alright. Gosh. Someone is needy.” He mumbled as he stepped closer, and you were trying to be nice for the sake of getting what you wanted, you were trying to be civil for the sake of your sex life (and the lack of it in the last few months), but the glare that followed his words was inevitable.

“Spencer, I will go home right now and I swear to god I will never talk to you again.” Maybe it would be sweet funny banter if you weren’t dead serious when you said it, he seemed to know that, the way his hand reached out to brush a hair away from your face before his thumb lingered on your skin for a moment too long.

His touch wasn’t comforting, you wouldn’t let it be. In order for this to remain purely a hormone based decision and act, you would need to continue to remind yourself of the fact that he lied, broken promises, hurt you, and wouldn’t tell you why.

This was a hormone based decision, not a i miss you and i will take sex because its all i can get based decision.

“Are we going to have sex?” You asked, voice quieter now. His hand had been caressing your cheeks for the moment too long, his eyes boring into every single feature and aspect of your face, and he was silent, the moment was too intimate for the reasoning you were giving yourself for this whole situation. So you felt the question was necessary.

He hummed, “Do you want to have sex?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes. You were pretty sure you made it clear what you wanted. “Clearly.”

“Be nice.” He muttered as his thumb trailed over your jaw.

“Don’t tell me what to do.” You argued.

He chuckled, but it wasn’t funny. Because you both knew he had lost the right to tell you what to do, not that he ever took advantage of that right when he had it, he was always very sure you could make your own decisions and take care of yourself, but at that time, when he did tell you to do something, you listened. He lost that. He lost the right to a lot of things. The intimate moment wouldn’t be started by laughter and sweet kisses that turned into more, the moment wouldn’t be sweetened by the sound of your music playing in the background. He lost that.

He had lost the right to your love, yet unfortunately he still had it all.

He softly placed his lips on yours. Not that it was really soft, because you had learnt that he was incapable of kissing you like he didn’t need it to survive. Every soft kiss was a kiss you placed, his were all full of every emotion. If he wouldn’t tell you what he was thinking, you’d feel it in the way he kissed you. Right now, it was an ‘I miss you’ kiss.

You kissed him back the same, you weren’t sure if he knew the emotion he poured into every kiss he gave you, maybe it was a subconscious thing, you weren’t sure if he’s notice the similarities between the way he kissed you, and the way you kissed him. The same ‘i miss you’ kiss.

His hands gripped your waist, he nudged your thigh with his knee, before stepping into the space between your feet, you stumbled with each step he took, your feet following his backwards. The kiss was never broken, his lips still pressed desperately against yours, there wasn’t a build up, it didn’t start slow, it was just this. It was just whatever was left of you and him.

You continued stumbling backwards until your back was against the wall and his body was pressing yours further against the plaster, his hands were everywhere, pushing your shirt up at your waist to run his thumb over either side of your stomach while your hands gripped at the fabric of his shirt.

There wasn’t a lot to think about, you weren’t sure you could think even if there was a lot to think about. If you thought too long you’d realise what you were doing, you knew that. You didn’t want to come to the realisation. You didn’t want this to end.

“Is this okay?” He asked against your lips, before pulling back so you could answer properly, clearly. his fingers trailed up underneath your shirt, nudging the material of your bra.

You nodded, letting out a harsh breath as your finger curled around the materiel of his t-shirt. Your head fell back against the wall as he moved back slightly, lowering himself so he was on his knees in front of you. You didn’t have time to react as his hands bundled up the fabric of your shirt, pushing it up before holding it just under the wiring of your bra.

“W- what are you doing?” You breathed out as you lowered your head, looking down at him. You knew you were going to have sex, so why you were confused as to him imitating sexual behaviours — you weren’t sure. Maybe you were starting to come to your senses, maybe you were just on edge.

He didn’t answer for a moment, his free hand coming to run down the side of your waist, the soft touch sending shivers down your spine, the coldness of his fingertip against the warmth of your skin set it on fire. He leaned up and pressed his lips softly against the skin right above your belly button, looking up at you through his eyelashes, and for a second you swore you forgot about everything.

“Is this okay?” He whispered, not directly answering your question as to what he was doing. You knew what this was, Spencer — while always making sure to hear you verbally agree and give him the go ahead during the sex, he would be doing it for everything now, because things weren’t the same.

And he knew just as well as you did, that any moment you may change your mind and hate his guts. And he wouldn’t blame you. “Yes” you whispered as your breath hitched, he hummed against the skin of your stomach, his lips continuing to brush over the skin. His hand continued rubbing up and down the soft skin of your side.

“You need to relax.” He mumbled softly as he kissed under where he had bundled up your shirt. You hadn’t realised you were so tense, you didn’t know if you could be blamed, not only was he on his knees in front of you, but he was Spencer. Of course you were tense. You couldn’t remember the last time the thought of him alone didn’t make you tense.

You huffed, your fingers carding through his hair. “Don’t tell me what—” you didn’t even get to finish your snarky comment before he was saying your name, leaning back on his heels to look up at you. His hand dropped your shirt and both his hands trailed to your hips. You frowned as you looked down at him, and at the loss of contact.

“You’re mad at me.” He mumbled, thumb dipping into the waist band of your pants, not a sexual movement, but to gently rub the skin of your hips under where the elastic had settled, he didn’t ask the question to get an answer. It wasn’t even a question. He knew you were mad at him.

You nodded. You didn’t know what there was to say. You were mad at him, you were hurt by what he did and you’d be lying if you said that being here like this was him didn’t further those emotions, they continue to surpass the hormones that put you in this position, with Spencer kneeling in front of you. You wanted to have sex with him, you didn’t doubt that, and if you did end up regretting it, it would be self regret out of embarrassment, not necessarily for having sex with him. You were feeling a lot of emotions, and they were all confusing and contradictory with one another.

He nodded back, still looking up at you. “I know sweet girl, Im mad at me too. But for this to happen you need to relax okay? I can’t do anything when you’re this tense with me.” He mumbled out, the name made your stomach twist with a mix of butterflies and discomfort at its familiarity. Your breath was shaky when it left your lips.

You leant your head back against the wall, taking a few deep breaths, trying to relax your muscles and your nerves. It was hard, the tension in your muscles wasn’t just because you were about to have sex and the anticipation was catching up to you, sure maybe that played a part in it, but the tension came from the weight of every lingering memory of what you was suppose to happen, what he did, what he didn’t do, how much you hated yourself for being here with him, and how much you loved him. That wasn’t the type of tension you can just relax.

Spencer watched, eyes never leaving you as his hands continued to rub gently over your sides as if his touch was suppose to be soothing, maybe it was and you were just too in your head to realise it. Maybe every touch felt the same because you could tell each one carried a the weight of his guilt and it kept getting heavier. You wanted this, you did. You were making this decision in your right mind, there was nobody else to blame.

“Would you feel more comfortable if we went to my room?” Spencer asked, he leant up again, kneeling properly so he was closer to you again. Your head fell forward to meet his eyes as he stared up at you, eyes wide but not pleading with intention, care and concern maybe, a lot of guilt and a whole lot of love. You had to ignore that, because it contradicted the truth you had made up in your head in order to deal with his lack of.

You frowned, “I told you, I don’t want to be comfortable.” You mumbled. You were consumed enough by his scent now, with just him close to you, to be in his room where the entirety was so him, to lay in the bed you spent your nights and mornings tangled in one another, you weren’t sure you’d be able to handle it, you weren’t sure there was enough convincing you could do to yourself for you to continue to believe that this decision wasn’t driven by the undying need to just be with him.

Because that was embarrassing.

You chose to keep your pride as much as possible, although it continued inching away when you looked at him. That was also embarrassing.

“Well, Im not doing this if you’re uncomfortable.” He said back.

“Fine.” You settled.

“Fine.” He replied in the same tone, but he smiled, quickly grabbing your hand and placing his lips along your knuckles before intertwining your fingers and standing up straight. It was playful. He was comfortable. He was okay about this and you felt like every moment was killing you.

He was holding onto your hand tightly as he led you down the hallway. That was intimate in a way it made your chest weigh heavier, uncomfortably so. Familiar in the way it made you feel as if you were home, you weren’t sure if you currently enjoyed the feeling on his hand in yours, but you certainty weren’t pulling away, because the loss of his touch felt worse.

“Can you please take off your shoes and get on my bed?” He asked, once you had entered his bedroom. You were already suffocating in him. Taking in every little difference, his books had moved from his bedside table to his drawers since the last time you were here, he got a different lamp resting on the bedside, he had a plant.

Yet the more you looked around, those little differences didn’t make your chest burn until you noticed that so many things were the same. Your old phone charger that had broken one time when you were staying over remained in place on his shelf where you had placed it then forgotten about it, a small tube of your lipbalm on his bedside table, the book you had started and never finished was the only book that hadn’t moved to his drawers.

You looked back at him, your chest impossibly tight. You could hardly remember what he had asked you to do. You could hardly think. The regret was sinking in as all of the hurt came back, any thought that had clouded that memory prior seemed to disappear because his bedroom remained just as much you as it did him.

“What?” You breathed out heavily, a mass of air you didn’t even know you were holding in. The minute it left your lips your head spun.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he squeezed your hand, the movement was suppose to be comforting but your chest tightened. This was suppose to be a careless moment you’d regret later, not now, not before you had even gotten the chance to do anything. “I asked you to take your shoes off and get on the bed. You don’t have to.” He tried to offer to ease your mind, maybe contradict you if you even dared to argue for him not to tell you what to do. He asked.

“Oh” your lips parted as you looked down and kicked off your shoes. You let go of his hand and breathing felt a little bit easier. You moved towards the bed, because while this was embarrassing, having sex with him after he broke your heart — bursting into tears and running out like you really wanted to, would unfortunately bruise your ego more.

You settled back in the comfort of the mattress. It was so much comfier than yours, yet he use to argue how much better your bed was. You would argue differently. It took you a while to realise neither of you actually cared about the comfort of the bed, just the owner of it. Spencer looked at you for a moment from where he was standing.

“Are you going to come over or what?“ you huffed, impatience getting the better of you. Maybe also the fact that if he didn’t do something you were pretty sure the comfort of his bed, and the surrounding scent would either wind you into tears, or sleep.

He cringed, stepping forward a few times until he was sitting down next to you on the bed, body facing yours, yet he kept a safe distance, hands remaining in his lap, “You don’t look like you want this.” He mumbled.

You frowned, you weren’t great at keeping your emotions off your face regardless of how good you were at keeping them out of your mouth. Spencer also learnt your body language, he studied it as if he was going to be tested on it, he knew you better than you wanted to admit, which made it all hurt more. Because you let him know you.

“I do want this.” You said, and you did.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

He tilted his head a little bit, eyes locking in and searching yours for any sign of doubt, hesitation, he knew it would be there. So did you. After everything you decided you deserved a moment to hesitate, and after everything Spencer wouldn’t argue with that. You tilted your head to the side, reaching up, the back of your fingertip coming to brush against the spine of the book you had been reading, only about half way through. It was what you would read on the nights you spent at Spencer’s, comfortable silence filling the air while you both read.

“I need to get a copy” you muttered absentmindedly. If Spencer made any sort of face or reaction you missed it, your gaze focused on the book and the memories that ran with it.

He reached out to brush his hand over your thigh gently. “You can have that one.” He said, before shuffling so he was settling where your knees were pulled up. His hands were everywhere again, his touch gentler, because the emotions in your mind were showcasing in your body language. He leant forward, gently nudging your knees apart as he leant in more to push your t-shirt up again. “You can have anything you want.” It was a promise, a quiet barley audible promise.

You almost wish you hadn’t heard it because your own words followed, “Besides you?” You shivered as he positioned himself on his knees between your legs, fabric of your shirt bundled up in his fists, he paused at your words, tensing. You saw it.

He didn’t say anything for a moment, keeping his eyes away from your face, at focused on his hand that had finally continued moving again. “Can I take this off?” He asked, referring to your t-shirt, not answering your previous comment, maybe it was a question, you weren’t even sure. his eyes flicked to yours and you nodded. Then he was pulling your shirt up, hand moving to your back to help you sit up a little bit before pulling it off over your arms. Suddenly you were very aware of how cold the air was around you. Or maybe in was just the air between you and Spencer that was so cold, despite the warmth of his hand on your skin.

His hands were everywhere, again, feverishly even, he was leaning up, and then down to connect your lips in a kiss that was so full of emotion it shocked you, a different emotion, a different type of his. He was apologising. Or maybe you were making this up in your head in order to make sense of what was going on. You kissed him back, your hand moving to cup the back of his head, but then he was pulling away, kissing down your jaw, each breath that left his lips was hot against your skin.

He kissed down your neck, lingering on a specific sensitive spot that made your lips part and a soft gasp to pass through, before he continued his pathway down, kissing and swiping his tongue out over your collarbone, his hands moving to reach up to your chest, gently groping you over the fabric of your bra, you sighed, he groaned.

His forehead came to rest against your collarbone, when his hands slipping behind your back, running his fingertip over the clasp of your bra, a silent question. You arched up, a silent approval.

When your bra was removed, there was no time to process the cold air that caused your sensitivity to rise, for insecurity to creep in, his lips closed around the soft skin of your boobs, his hand gently squeezing the one his mouth wasn’t on. “Do you still want me?” He mumbled against your nipple, as his tongue swirled around it.

Your breath hitched, eyes fluttering closed. Maybe it was your turn to avoid answering a question. You knew what he was referring to, you mumbling earlier about how he would give you anything besides himself. His question wasn’t out of insecurity, it was out of awareness.

You let out a sound when his finger grazed over the rise of your chest, before he was pulling back from the skin he had been at, his lips trailing down your stomach again, kissing over the waist band of your pants as he shuffled to be laying on his stomach. You weren’t sure a clear thought process was possible when he tucked his fingertip below the elastic.

“Off?” He asked.

You nodded. Words were lost.

He didn’t ask the question expecting an answer— you were glad because words failed you, maybe he asked it because he wanted you to think about it. Whether you liked it or not, he knew you. He spent months learning you inside out, he said it a hundred times that he would forget everything he had ever learnt if it meant knowing you.

You hadn’t take that seriously.

His hands tugged the material down, you were lifting to help as much as possible. Once they were halfway down your thighs. He was letting out a breathy laugh, sitting up the slightest bit to pull them off your legs. The positioning was awkward but it only lasted a second before your knees were parted again.

You could feel his breath against your thigh as his lips trailed over the skin. You were really glad he didn’t ask the question expecting an answer, because you were pretty sure if you opened your mouth a gasp would leave it. A breath you didn’t know you were holding in. You were also glad because you didn’t know the answer. You didn’t know if you did still want him. You wanted to know him, to understand what happened, what went wrong. You wanted things to go back to the way they were before.

Whether that be before he left, or before you met him.

You wanted him, you did. But he was right to question you, because as much as you want him, you cared too deeply about your pride, about the trust that had been broken, the false hope and the lies, you cared too much to know if you would ever forgive him for that.

“Breathe, sweet girl.” He mumbled, breath hot against your skin as his kisses grew firmer, with parted lips as he moved up the inside of your thighs. You did, you let your lips part and the air to flow out, then back in. He hummed in acknowledgment.

“Spencer, please.”

If this was any other time, two and a half months ago, Spencer would’ve made a comment about your good manners, or teased you playfully. He knew better now. He didn’t say anything as his fingers tugged away at the remaining material, slipping his fingers under the hemming over your underwear, then they were being tugged down your legs, in that same awkward positioning.

Your chest rose and fell with anticipation as his breath grew hotter and closer to where you wanted him, then his hands were moving from there positioning on your thighs, his thumb gently brushing over your folds, you sighed, he looked up.

“You’re so pretty, y’know that?” He mumbled as if it was the most casual thing ever. You refused to acknowledge the way your stomach burnt with the mixture of butterflies and hurt. You didn’t have time to reply before a gasp was leaving your lips as he leant down, his tongue dancing over the same as his fingers had only moments prior.

Your hand reached out to grip his hair almost instinctively as you leant up on your elbow, his tongue worked over you as if this was all he would ever need. You were embarrassed of the sound that left your mouth when his lips latched onto your clit, tongue flicking against it. Despite your embarrassment, Spencer seemed to think opposite of the sound as a groan left his lips against you, the vibrations only furthering the feeling.

“Spencer.” You moaned, your body no longer capable of being held up by your elbow as you dropped against the bed, flat against the bed, head turning to bury your face in the side of the pillow. Your back arched, hips furthering against his face. He didn’t seem to mind as his free arm wrapped around your hips, tugging you even closer.

His tongue lapped over you, the sound was so embarrassing if you weren’t caught up in the pleasure of it all, and the emotions that seemed to follow him, you would’ve noticed. His fingers moved to brush his thumb over your clit as his tongue slipped inside you, before out, then lapping you again, tongue and lips everywhere. The feeling was overwhelming in the best way as your back arched.

“Im sorry,” he mumbled against you, before his tongue slipped inside you again, you weren’t sure if it was his words or the feelings that made your eyes glaze over, instinctively causing you to squeeze them shut. “Im sorry.” He mumbled again.

You could’ve believed him.

His finger brushed down, his thumb nudging your hole as his lips moved back up to your clit, then his thumb was replaced with his middle finger, slowly easing inside you. You moaned at the feeling, he almost mirrored it against you, his hand easy in and out.

“I miss you,” He whispered against your clit, finger curling inside you as if to puncture his words, or maybe to keep you from replying. If that was the case, it worked, because your head furthered into the pillow. You could hardly process his words or the hurt they sent to your chest over the growing need in your stomach.

“Spencer.” Maybe his name was all you could say. It was suppose to be a warning, not to go there, not to touch the topic, but it came out as a moan. He added another finger as his tongue flicked over your clit again, lips latching on and sucking as if his life depended on it.

His pace grew, mirroring the growing knot in your stomach. His tongue and lips worked harder against you, because he knew you and he could feel it. You might’ve muttered out a warning but either way it would’ve been muffled by the pillow your neck was twisted awkwardly into, he didn’t mind when you came on his fingers. You knew he didn’t from the way his fingers slipped out and were replaced with his mouth.

“Too much” you had cried out as your hips shifted away from him. He was off you instantly. Leaning up and licking his lips. He placed lips gently against your thigh before he was shifting to sit up. Your eyes were closed so you missed the way he stared at you, before running his hands through his hair as shuffling out from his space between your legs.

You could feel the absence, your eyes opened to find him collecting your clothes from where they had been stripped of around the room. You frown. “What are you doing? I just- I just needed a moment?” You leant up on your elbows, despite the fogginess in your mind.

He frowned when he stood up straight after picking up your t-shirt, his eyes bored into yours and you wish you understood the emotion swirling through them, but you didn’t. You didn’t at all. He just placed your clothes beside you on the bed, before sitting on the edge of it, his hand reaching out to gently brush over your thigh.

“Im not going to have sex with you.” He mumbled, and you weren’t sure what the emotion was that was sent rippling through your body, anger? Hurt? Embarrassment? Rejection? Gratitude? You were suddenly unable to differ them.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you sat up further; reaching out for your t-shirt because you suddenly felt way too exposed in front of him. You tugged it over your head as you spoke; every muscle in your body tense. “Why not?” You barely whispered, your chest still heaving on the come down of your orgasm.

His hand continued rubbing your thigh gently. He looked at you and said your name and you knew what it meant. He felt guilty. You weren’t sure if it was the guilt for everything that had happened or if it was the guilt for possibly having sex with you when he knew he wouldn’t stick around. You wanted to laugh and mumble how that never bothered him before; but you didn’t.

You suddenly felt really embarrassed. “God.” You mumbled out, realisation and regret washing over you as you reached out for the rest of your clothing, shuffling uncomfortably to get dressed as fast as possible, Spencer was quiet, his hand slipped off your thigh when you moved to tug your underwear and pants back on.

“Don’t do- Let me clean you up”

“Get the fuck off me.”

It was an instant switch. An instant reminder that this wasn’t anything other than a horny decision. That things between you and him weren’t okay, and may never be again. A reminder that no matter how much you indulged in the idea that this was nothing more, that this wouldn’t haunt you, you were in love with him, and this was hurting you. He was hurting you, and you let him. You would never forgive yourself for loving him.

He said your name but your mind had shut off.

He frowned when you didn’t reply of acknowledge him, he frowned further when you — disorderly dressed moved to get off his bed, your hair a mess but you couldn’t seem to care.

He reached out for you, “I want to explain, if you hate me after you can go and I’ll never bother you again, I promise. Im sorry? Okay. For everything. I shouldn’t have let this happen- I shouldn’t have taken you here. Im sorry— I love you, Im sorry.”

Your eyes closed when the words left his mouth and your muscles relaxed, not with relief but because you no longer had the energy to remain tense, your arm didn’t pull away from the gentle grip of his hand, the only thing keeping you from leaving. ‘i love you.’ He loved you and you didn’t believe him. You were mentally debating whether you even wanted to stick around to find out anymore, or if you needed to get out right now.

“I hate you.” You were lying. You were hurting him before he was hurting you. You hated that, that this was what was left of you and him. You hated that you wish you meant the words, you hated the way you knew he didn’t believe you, you hated the most that you didn’t believe you either.

He didn’t flinch at your words. You hated that too. “Can you wait till after I explain to decide if thats true?”

You weren’t sure you were capable of thought anymore. You were pretty sure he had taken your entire sense of self, curled it up in a ball and thrown it so far away because you were unable to find it since the day you had kissed him in your kitchen all those months ago. Every aspect of what you had with him, and who you became, you weren’t sure it was for the better.

You definitely doubted it was, when your feet remained planted on the floor, and your gaze met his. “Fine.”

[daniswoso]

Because I love you too much.

Charli Grant x reader.

Warning: idiots in love, angst.

Summary: She loved you too much.

*********

You and Charli had been practically inseparable since youth team. You did everything together, you went to the beach together, you went to restaurants together, you went practically everywhere with eachother.

If you were somewhere you could guarantee Charli wasn't far. It was a comfort, she was a comfort to you.

Then you managed to both get a contract at Adelaide. You felt as if nothing could go wrong, you would play as one when you were on the pitch together, with you both being defenders and being on the same team you were unstoppable. You had been named the 'dream team', 'the ones to watch' and so many other things.

Then she just had to up and leave to Sweden.

To say it broke you would be an understatement, it shattered you. You felt like your world was caving in around you. Like you had been ripped from your home, like the only sense of familiarity you had basically your whole life had been ripped from under you. Leaving you alone. And scared.

But what hurt even more was the way Charli grew more distant. She would keep her distance, barely visited you when she came home to visit her family. Until eventually all contact stopped.

You had decided it was for the better, you changed your number, moved all the way to Arsenal but yet you still couldn't bring yourself to block her number. Just in case, you thought.

There never was a 'case' where you had the pleasure of seeing her name illuminate your phone screen again. Not for a long while.

Finally, you found peace. You had moved on, found new friends and a new sense of comfort in the Arsenal girls. Caitlin specifically taking you under her wing, calling herself your 'aussie mentor'. She made you laugh. It was a nice change of pace to the nights you had spent crying and screaming Charli's name in anger.

Then the world cup came around. You were desperately hoping for a call-up. So much so you hadn't slept the day before you were supposed to get the news. And when your phone finally rang, cutting through the deafening silence that invaded your flat as you stared at your phone, picking your nails and biting your lip; you practically jumped onto the coffee table you had your phone perched on.

"Hello?" The caller said. Holy shit, you thought, I'm speaking with the coach of the fucking matildas.

"Hello, Ms Y/L/N?" Then you remembered you actually had to speak, so you cleared your throat.

"Uh, yes. Hello, this is me." You cringed at the way you nervously stumbled through your sentence.

"I'm calling to tell you you've received a call up. Welcome to the Matildas, Y/L/N. See you soon." They hung up. You shook with excitement. You cried with excitement. And you screamed so loudly you're surprised you didn't get a noise complaint the following day.

Sending a text to Caitlin, you grinned from ear to ear the rest of the week.

That is until you got to Australia and realised Charli was there, too. That was a very rude awakening.

During the first training session you of course were paired with Charli. You cursed under your breath as you begin doing keepy-ups with her back and forth.

"Grant," You said, your voice blunt, you were in no mood for her bullshit at the moment. You were here to win a world cup.

"Y/L/N," She said back, her voice quieter than yours and her usually vibrant eyes seemingly dimmed slightly at your tone. The ghost of a smirk that crossed her face when she saw you dying.

It was almost enough for you to want to hug her so tightly she couldn't breathe. God you had missed her.

At the end of the training session, for which you were paired with Charli the whole time, you had enough. You needed to speak to her, you needed closure. You needed her. You needed your best friend back.

You hung back in the locker rooms, waiting till everyone had left and as per usual Charli was the only still left over, she saw you and awkwardly gave you a tight lipped smile.

"Hey," You began.

"Hi," She said back. You felt your heart twist.

"I want to speak with you," You murmured.

"About what?" She questioned. You groaned out loud at her oblivious nature.

"Us, Char.." You said, slowly sitting down on the bench across from her.

"What about us?" She said again, clearly having caught on to what you meant, then again maybe she knew what you meant all along and was just trying to get off easy.

"Why did we drift apart, Charli?" You asked, your voice breaking slightly as tears welled in your eyes.

She sighed and wiped her eye with the back of her hand, her lip trembling when she met your eyes, it was enough to make you need to bite down a sob.

"Because I loved you too much, Y/N." Your eyes widened. She loved you? She loved you?

"What?" You said, standing slightly as you tried to get a handle on what she just said, "You- You love me?" You stumbled over your words.

"I get it, if the feelings aren't mutual. It's why I left for Sweden. I thought you were straight. And I didn't want to make things weird-" You cut her off by bringing her into a searing kiss.

When you finally broke apart, you rested your forehead against hers, your hands clutching either side of her face as if she would walk away from you again, as if this wall just a figment of your imagination, or even a dream. But if it was, you never wanted it to end.

"I am so madly in love with you, you massive idiot."

She chuckled, bringing you into another soft kiss.

At least you had your girl back. And even if it went way differently than you imagined, it still went so incredibly well.

**********

A/N: Treating you w the fics today eh? what’d you guys think?

[yelena-bellova]

Heartfirst: A Ted Lasso Story - Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen: All That You Are

Plot: A chaotic press conference precedes a match that ends in violence.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: f!reader, language, minor violence

A/N: I’m gonna chalk this week’s chapters up to having some free time and also being really motivated to get to the next few. Phew, let me tell you���this is the last chance I’m giving y’all to breathe. The final act kicks off in the next chapter and we don’t stop till the very end…so everybody enjoy the fluff and the jokes while you’ve got them 🙃

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged and, as always, enjoy!

————————

AFC Richmond’s hot streak just…kept…going.

They were killing it, both at matches and training. More importantly, they were happy. Joyful, even. Which meant everyone else was too.

More and more fans started showing up to watch training till eventually, the stands were packed. Y/n had begun to come out more often, genuinely enjoying watching the boys practice, and had found a way to make it a PR matter. She helped get the crowd riled up, engaging with them and encouraging them to cheer and chant for their players. She’d collected whatever merchandise they had a surplus of, pens or coffee mugs usually, and made a game of handing them out to the fans that came. Ted had encouraged her to keep doing it, it only further fostered the atmosphere he wanted to create.

Y/n hurried upstairs one day in particular, having missed the alarm set on her phone while she was hauling a bag of freebies from the gift shop to her office. She was never late and felt like she was going to burst into flames for being so.

“Whoa,” Ted called, just a few steps behind her, “Someone call Allyson Felix. Let her know she better watch her back.”

Y/n hung back on the landing to catch her breath, falling back in step once Ted caught up. “We ran out of the mugs the other day but I’ve got coasters and coozies for this afternoon.”

“Ooh,” Ted exclaimed, “You’ve been killin’ it in the swag department, missy. Everyone’s a little more hyped knowing they get a prize just for participation.”

Y/n grunted, “Trophies for doing nothing is also why my generation hates work, so don’t applaud me yet.”

They entered Rebecca’s office laughing only to find the atmosphere contrasting their good moods. Spread out on the couch, Keeley had her face buried in Rebecca’s lap.

“Uh-oh,” Ted announced his presence, “When girl-talk turns into girl-hug, you know that either means something horrible’s happened, or absolutely nothing at all.”

“Please say nothing at all,” Y/n set her purse down and grabbed the takeaway box Rebecca had ordered for her.

“Jack’s ghosting Keeley,” their boss explained.

“Oh, no,” Ted frowned.

Y/n sunk into the cushion beside Keeley, rubbing her shoulder as the blonde snuggled back under Rebecca’s arm.

“First, she wants to go on a break,” Ted recounted, “And now the old digital Irish goodbye. Which is a term I never really understood. ‘Cause I got a buddy back home named Seamus O’Malley, and that son of a gun hugs folks goodbye for, like, twenty minutes before he leaves anywhere.”

Y/n smiled down at her salad. The last few months may have softened her, but decades could pass and Ted would remain the same.

“Yeah,” he looked to Keeley, “Sorry to hear about that. Hey, I did make you some biscuits, you know, just to soften the blow.”

“Oh, thanks Ted,” Keeley took the pink package from him and opened it. Her eye blew open, “What? There’s like forty quid in here.”

“Well, I didn’t know you were gonna be here till this morning,” Ted explained, “No time to do anything special so I just tossed a little cash in there.”

Keeley nodded, “That is very sweet. Thank you, Ted.”

“Ain’t nothin’ to it but to do it,” he shrugged, turning to Rebecca, “Hey, boss. You mind if I skip the press conference today? Michelle and I got these parent-teacher meetings I don’t wanna miss.”

Rebecca shrugged and smiled, “Of course, Ted. Family first.”

“I appreciate it.”

“So…” Y/n trailed off, “Who’s next in line?”

A metaphorical lightbulb went off over Keeley’s head. “We could have Roy do it,” she suggested, “I know he hates that stuff, but he is really good at it.”

Y/n struggled to see the “good” part of how Roy handled the press. On her last count, he’d cussed out no more than six reporters.

“I mean, you know, fine by me,” Ted replied.

Rebecca agreed, “Great idea.”

“Look at you,” Ted smiled at Keeley, “Heartbroken, but still kickin’ butt.”

“I mean, I’m not heartbroken,” Keeley fidgeted in her seat, “It’s more like heart-bent.”

“Heart-bent,” Ted mused, “I like that. It’s a great title for a country song. You know, like,” he began to sing, “I’m heart-bent, in my apartment, ‘cause all that you left, was your fart scent.”

“Alright. Goodbye, Ted,” Rebecca cued him up to leave, though Keeley was laughing and Y/n was smiling through a bite of spinach.

“And now that you’re gone,” Ted continued on his way out to the hall, “I wrote this song, ‘cause all you left was, the smell of your farts.”

Y/n pointed to the door with her fork, “Speaking on behalf of our homeland, we can do better than that.”

Rebecca snorted and Keeley rested her head on Y/n’s shoulder.

“Right,” she held out her hand, “Show me.”

Keeley handed it over and Y/n bore witness to the mile long chain of texts her boss had sent their boss. It was embarrassing to say the least, but Y/n wasn’t about to kick Keeley when she was already laid out.

“Wow,” she strained as she scrolled.

“I know,” Keeley moaned.

“It’s like a river,” Y/n mused as she surfed the rest of the blue bubbles, “Can you promise one thing?”

Keeley hummed.

Y/n handed her phone back, “No more. She’s the one that stomped on you, she gets to do the groveling.”

And grovel she should. From what Keeley had told Y/n, Jack had handled their conversation regarding the video leak and the so-called “statement” horrifically. Jack seemed offended that Keeley had dared to have a meaningful relationship before her. It was jealousy where jealousy didn’t belong.

Whereas Y/n was still struggling to comprehend Jamie and Keeley ever having been together.

“I won’t, I won’t,” Keeley threw her phone on the other side of the couch, “I’m done.”

“Good,” Y/n nodded firmly.

“And that’s all you’ve got to say?” Keeley asked with a raised brow, “Nothing else?”

Y/n purposefully filled her mouth with a far-too-large bite of lettuce. She had plenty to say on the matter, Keeley knew damn well, but she was determined not to do so unless there was a confirmed break-up. After all, Jack was still their boss.

“Nope,” she mumbled.

Rebecca and Keeley descended into a fit of snorts.

Later, the three women were were seeing Keeley out to her car. Roy was just coming down the hall when they came off the last step.

“Oh, speak of the devil,” Rebecca said.

“Okay,” Roy replied before looking to his ex. An awkward silence came about for three seconds, though it felt like much longer. “Keeley.”

“Roy,” she nodded back to him.

Rebecca, blissfully, pulled them out. “So I need you to fill in for Ted at today’s press conference, if that’s okay.”

Roy didn’t hesitate in his reply, “Fuck no.”

Keeley, Rebecca and Y/n were just as unflinching as they waited for the answer to change.

“I mean,” Roy backtracked, “Why can’t Ted do it?”

His eyes went from woman to woman, waiting for one of them to answer or crack or…something.

Or nothing.

“I mean,” he pasted an unnatural grin to his face, “I’d love to.”

Y/n pointed a finger and nodded.

“Wonderful,” Rebecca replied, looking to Keeley and Y/n, “Shall we?”

The three of them left Roy in the hall, waiting for the inevitable reaction.

“Fuck,” he said rather loudly.

“I heard that,” Rebecca smirked.

“You still have my word,” Y/n remarked to her boss, “Send me up there, I’ll give them all they want to know. Sell everybody out. We’ll be on every front page in the country.”

Rebecca laughed, though Keeley missed it entirely. She was too busy glancing back at Roy.

—————————

Later in the afternoon, with the press conference a few minutes away from starting, Y/n swung by her office to pick up the notes she’d jotted down for Roy.

As she grabbed her notebook, she noticed there was a tea sitting next to her laptop.

She picked it up and examined it. It had come from the café, her name was written on the side in the big loopy handwriting Delilah, the barista, used. Assuming she wasn’t being set up to be poisoned, she took a sip and accepted the anonymous kindness.

Y/n made it down to the press room, meeting Higgins in the back and waiting for Roy to enter.

The door opened, and Beard walked through.

Y/n’s face dropped, “Um…”

“Where’s Ted?” Higgins asked.

“Where’s Roy?” Y/n corrected, “He’s supposed to be filling in.”

Beard took his seat at the desk, “Good afternoon. I know you all were expecting Ted, but he couldn’t make it today. I, however, will be happy to answer any and all questions, so,” he gestured to the desk filled with recorders and phones, “Fire away.”

Y/n took a breath, it wasn’t so bad. Beard, while not always the most sociable, was well-spoken and highly intelligent. He might have even been a better choice than Roy for his mood alone.

She regretted every thinking such a thing within two minutes.

“Look, man,” Beard sat back in the chair, “We can debate all day, Zeppelin versus Eagles, but one thing that is absolutely not up for debate is Walsh versus Page.”

“Oh, come off it,” the man fired back, “You honestly think it’s Walsh over Page?”

Y/n whispered to Higgins, “How did this go so far off the rails this fast?”

“I don’t know,” he replied.

She handed him her tea, “Hold this.”

Y/n quietly and calmly exited the room, breaking into a light jog in the hall and up the stairs. She knocked on Rebecca’s open door but didn’t bother to be invited in.

“Hi,” she greeted quickly, “Um, did something happen to Roy in the two hours since he was last seen?”

Rebecca’s brow lowered, “No, why?”

Y/n thinned her lips to a line, “You might wanna come downstairs.”

Without question, Rebecca followed her down and into the press room. Things had taken another turn in the minute Y/n had disappeared for.

“That is not what I said, Gary,” Beard angrily pointed to the reporter in question.

“I have your quote right here,” Gary chuckled.

“You did say it, Coach,” another on agreed.

“Stay out of this, Lloyd,” Beard snapped.

“Don’t shout at Lloyd,” Sarah, another reporter, said.

Y/n flattened her palm against her forehead.

“You said, and I quote,” Gary looked down at his notes, “‘Joe Walsh is a better guitarist than Jimmy Page.’ That’s what you said!”

Beard leaned back in his chair, exasperated by the fight he’d started. “Fine! I said it,” he spread his arms out in defeat, “But what I meant was that Joe Walsh, underrated. Jimmy Page,” he got stuck on the last word in his rage, “Overrated!”

The room was arguing amongst itself.

“I mean, Joe Walsh is a poet,” Beard went on, “Jimmy Page is a fucking court stenographer on Adderall.”

As the room digested the answer in shock, and amusement, Y/n reached out to Higgins, retaking her tea and taking a large swig as if it were wine.

“Are you out of your mind?” Gary laughed, “Page could beat Walsh with one string.”

“What do you mean, beat him?” Beard replied angrily, “It’s not a competition, man. It’s art, you fucking Neanderthal!”

Y/n, Higgins and Rebecca surged forward at the same time.

“Hello,” Rebecca cheerily announced, trying to draw the attention to herself while Higgins grabbed Beard, who was still arguing with Gary. “Hello! Hello!”

Y/n acted as a shield for Higgins as he walked Beard out of the room, dropping him in the side hall. But not before Beard could get in one last insult.

“‘Stairway to Heaven’” is a glorified fingering exercise, and you all know it!”

Higgins smiled at the press as he shut the door, Y/n blindly reaching behind to help him push against Beard’s weight.

“I can’t think of the last time I was able to be here with all you absolutely…” Rebecca spoke loudly over the noise of Beard still yelling into the door. Y/n and Higgins blocked his face from view. “Just brilliant members of the press down here in the pressroom. So with that in mind, I would love to take some questions. Come on,” Rebecca spread her arms welcomingly, “Absolutely ask me anything.”

“Oh, shit,” Y/n mumbled. This wasn’t any better.

Marcus from The Independent announced himself when Rebecca nodded towards him.

“Hello there, Marcus,” she greeted, “How are you?”

“Very well.”

“Good, good.”

“Miss Welton,” Marcus asked, “In your opinion, who’s the greatest classic rock guitarist of all time?”

Rebecca stuttered a bit, stuck on the question that had her blanking out on any rock she’d ever listened to.

“The, uh…” she struggled, “The…guy from Cream.”

Higgins snorted, Y/n buried her head in her hand as the pressroom quietly and collectively laughed.

“Uh…” Rebecca began.

“I think,” Y/n came to stand beside her boss, grinning abnormally large, “That in the wake of our recent wins, we’re all still a bit hazy from the excitement. I think we’re going to call this for the day, but we’ll be ready and waiting for you after the match this Sunday against Brighton. Thank you so much!”

Y/n placed her hands on Rebecca’s back and marched her towards the door.

“Uh, Ms. Y/l/n,” Marcus spoke up, “Care to comment on who you think the greatest guitarist is?”

“Keith Richards,” Y/n answered, “Purely because he’s still standing.”

Whatever reaction she’d caused, she didn’t hear them. Her and Higgins had gotten Rebecca safely out into the hall.

“Sorry about that,” she shuddered.

“You’re alright,” Y/n patted her shoulder.

“‘The guy from Cream,’” Higgins giggled.

“Yes, all right,” Rebecca twisted to face Higgins, “Don’t start with me, Leslie! I panicked,” she took a seething breath, “I’m going to murder Roy Kent.”

“If you don’t, I will,” Y/n exhaled.

“Look, Roy not doing press is just Roy being Roy,” Higgins stated.

Y/n gestured to the door they’d just come out of, “And look where it got us.”

“Well, I am sick of Roy being Roy,” Rebecca spat, hands on her hips, “So it’s time for Rebecca to be Rebecca.”

Without another word, she marched off in the direction of the training room. The boys would nearly be done with their afternoon workout.

“Oh, yes,” Higgins agreed, “Absolutely- I couldn’t,” he turned with Y/n to watch Rebecca strut away from them, “Yeah. There you go. Yes! Ooh!”

Y/n breathed a laugh, if anyone rubbed off on her from Richmond, she hoped it was Rebecca. There was a fierceness inside her that Y/n had never possessed in her life, but she’d have liked to.

“Stay for the aftermath?” Higgins asked.

“Oh, definitely,” Y/n nodded. She wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to stare down Roy.

Quick enough, Rebecca marched back up the stairs, Roy following thirty seconds later. While Higgins’ best frown was still his worst smile, Y/n glared at the coach unflinchingly. He did his best to ignore them both on the way up to Rebecca’s office.

“Another day,” Y/n mumbled, her and Higgins heading their separate ways for the rest of the afternoon.

As she walked down the hall, some of the boys came out of the training room. She high-fived them before coming up on Jamie, bringing up the rear.

He flicked the cup of tea, still in Y/n’s hand, and smirked. “Cheers.”

Y/n looked back and met his waiting gaze, the two of them sharing a smile. The days at Nelson Road grew more unpredictable the further into the season they got, but some things were as constant as breathing.

——————

The day of the Brighton match started as normal as any other. Y/n made the familiar trek to the owner’s box, taking a seat between Keeley and Higgins, and braced for the ninety minutes of nerves she both hated and loved.

“Oh, it’s Jack,” Keeley announced as she scrolled her phone. The three of them sat to attention as they waited to hear the text, “She’s saying that she’s in Argentina…for the next couple of months.”

“Ouch,” Higgins commented. Y/n scoffed while Rebecca pulled Keeley into her side.

“Well,” Keeley took a breath, “I think our break is actually an ‘up.’ So now that Jack is officially my ex,” she looked between the group, “Please feel free to say any of the things that you didn’t like about her.”

Rebecca sighed, “Well-“

“Ooh,” Higgins chimed in, “Her handshake was way too firm. You know-“ he groaned and grunted as he imitated the action, “I get it. You’re friendly. Good riddance.”

Y/n bit down on her bottom lip, trying to keep the comments from flying out her mouth.

“Something you’d like to say, Y/n?” Keeley asked knowingly.

Shaking her head, she tried to go the diplomatic route. “Just want to watch some football.”

Keeley slowly nodded, staring out at the field with her.

“And she’s a fucking asshole,” Y/n muttered as low as she could to let only Keeley hear it. They smiled to one another.

Right off the bat, the Greyhounds were struggling. Isaac, usually so focused, was off his game. He cost them a goal kick and earned Brighton a corner instead. It wasn’t like him and the fans were letting their displeasure be known.

Even worse, when Colin lost an easy goal, Isaac went after him. The two of them argued until Jamie and Sam, playing peacemaker, held Isaac back from following Colin any further.

Y/n frowned, something had to have happened before the match. The boys were far more in sync than this, and they sure as hell didn’t fight each other.

The first half ended on the heels of Dani just nearly making a goal, only for Brighton to block it. The score was 1-nil as the Greyhounds trudged back to the locker room.

Higgins, Y/n, Rebecca and Keeley went silent as the fifteen minute break began. There wasn’t anything to say.

Y/n’s eyes were glazing over the crowd on the opposite side of the stadium when a commotion started. She followed the noise to the tunnel to see Isaac, leaping into the stands and grabbing one of the fans.

“Oh my gosh,” she mumbled. Keeley, Rebecca and her all rose to their feet.

With the distance, the scene could hardly be seen properly, but it appeared that Isaac was holding the fan by the shirt and yelling in his face. The ref had never pulled the red card out so fast. It was unprecedented and unacceptable.

Higgins rushed out his seat, the women moving to make room for him down the aisle. Y/n’s eyes followed Roy as he helped Isaac down and started shouting something to the security guards.

The scene died down as quickly as it began. The fan was escorted out of the stadium and the Greyhounds disappeared into the tunnel.

“What the hell was that?” Rebecca finally asked.

“I don’t know,” Keeley breathed.

Internally, Y/n began to feel some sort of panic build. She couldn’t decipher the complexities of it, all she knew was she had to move.

“Where are you going?” Rebecca asked as Y/n slid past them.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled Keeley’s same answer, already climbing the stairs.

She hurried through the suite, past all the fans opening social media to post that they’d witnessed the fight themselves. Past all the fans in the concourse exclaiming how McAdoo was about to fucking kill the twat. Y/n couldn’t hear any of it as she made for the personnel-only entrance into the building.

When she made it to the empty hall outside the locker room, she faltered. Her immediate reaction would be to run in, but she knew it was far from appropriate. Her hand instinctively reached toward the door, even with feet of space between her and it. She couldn’t.

Nearly as soon as she’d thought it, Isaac came bursting through the door, unaware of her presence as he stalked to the boot room. He slammed that door shut and Y/n flinch at the sound.

Ten seconds later, Roy came out much more peacefully, but still with purpose.

Y/n stepped forward, her movements and her voice hesitant, “Hey-“

Roy could see the concern etched deeply in her face and touched her arm as he passed. “I got it.”

It wasn’t often that Roy wasn’t scowling, wasn’t speaking like he smoked a pack of cigarettes a day. For him to speak softly, to voluntarily comfort someone, he had to have meant it.

Y/n stood frozen as he shut the door to the boot room, all the pieces of her reaction making sense suddenly. After Isaac had attacked the fan, her first thought hadn’t been about PR. It hadn’t been about the clean-up her and Keeley would have to do, the stress of it all. It hadn’t had anything to do with what the internet would think or the fans or anyone.

Her first thought was to wonder if Isaac was okay.

She knew by now she cared about AFC Richmond. She had a special affection for Rebecca and their weekly tea. Keeley had cracked her way past Y/n’s gates simply by being herself. Ted was the nicest slice of home she could have gotten.

This was different. This was caring so deeply for the team that she was standing in the hall, unmoving until she knew they were all alright.

It was no longer about letting them in, Y/n knew, it was about how deeply etched in her heart they were.

She waited, waited, the whole fifteen minutes, hearing only the muffled mumbles of the team’s conversation through the doors. When they cheered and exited the room, their spirits seemingly lifted, none of them even noticed her against the wall.

Y/n moved to stand outside the boot room, catching Colin and Trent as the last ones to exit the locker room. Trent threw her a small salute that she matched, before heading out to his own seat. She still wasn’t leaving until she knew all was well.

Eventually, Roy came out of the boot room with Isaac in tow. The disgraced captain glanced up at her as he passed, Y/n made a point to squeeze his arm. He didn’t flinch at her touch, but didn’t make a point of lingering as he headed to the locker room to wait the game out.

As Y/n inhaled, Roy nodded, “He’s alright.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

The two of them walked back to their separate paths, Roy heading out to the pitch and Y/n heading back to the owner’s box.

The match turned around after that, tremendously so. The Greyhounds had hit the pitch united once more, particularly Colin, who’d assisted in both goals that had led them to victory. Balance seemed to have been restored, and while Isaac would still be the most memorable part of the game, Colin’s efforts wouldn’t be forgotten.

And, as always, Y/n’s work began the moment the ref called it.

There were strict instructions from both Keeley and her to Higgins not to grab any of the players. They’d no doubt be asked about their captain’s actions and none of them needed to deal with that stress. Ted was the only one who could comfortably handle it.

They waited with Rebecca in the back of the room, Higgins and Trent joined them at the last minute.

“He’s on his way,” Higgins said.

“Thank you, Leslie,” Rebecca replied before turning to Keeley and Y/n, “You gave Ted some talking points?”

Keeley frowned, “No. I haven’t done that in a long time.”

“Not for a while,” Y/n added.

The side door opened before Rebecca could truly begin to worry. Where Ted should have strolled in, Roy did instead.

“Fuck,” Y/n whispered, punctuated by a gag from Higgins.

Roy took a seat at the desk, staring down the entire room. No one was wearing their surprise well.

“Yeah, alright, you got me today,” he growled, “Any questions?”

Every reporter’s hand went up, all of them shouting to get Roy’s attention.

“Fucking hell,” he mumbled before pointing to one of them, “You. Five-o’-clock shadow head.”

Gary, self-proclaimed Jimmy Page fan, stood up. “Coach Kent, do you or the organization condone what Isaac McAdoo did today?”

“What a stupid fucking question,” Roy was quick to reply, Rebecca, Higgins and Y/n all screwing their eyes shut. “‘Course we don’t. What Isaac did was awful. He was lucky he only got a red card.”

“Okay,” Gary relented, “So why’d he do it?”

Roy chuckled, looking like he was nearly about to say something before stopping himself. Instead of cursing or snarking, he settled back in his chair.

“When I was first coming up through Sunderland, there was an old-timer on the team,” Roy began, “Local guy. He and his wife were about to have their first kid. So during training one day, I made a joke that statistically, I was probably the real dad. And the boys fell about laughing, but he went fucking nuts. He battered me. Properly. I had a black eye, chipped tooth, three broken ribs…I couldn’t play for six games. He got booted off the team. After that,” Roy shook his head, “No club would go near him.”

“Then in the summer, after I could breathe again,” he went on, “I bumped into him in a pub. And I got the chance to say sorry for my stupid fucking joke. And he got to tell me he and his wife had lost the baby a month before all that went down. He hadn’t told anyone. Kept it all inside.”

The room had fallen hush, save for the occasional click of a camera.

“Look, I get that some people think if they buy a ticket,” Roy’s voice regained its strength, “They’ve got the right to yell whatever abusive shit they want at footballers. But they’re not just footballers. They’re also people. And none of us,” he dragged his finger across the room, “Know what is going on in each other’s lives.”

“So for Isaac to do what he did today, even though it was wrong,” Roy pointed to his chest, “I give him love. And as for why he did what he did,” he leaned closer to the microphones, “That’s none of my fucking business.”

That was it. There was nothing left to say. Roy had handled it with more grace and patience than anyone could have expected.

Y/n smiled to herself, “Okay.”

“Next question,” he called to the room, which erupted back into shouts and flashes, “Yeah, new Trent.”

“Coach,” Marcus spoke up, “Let’s talk about Colin Hughes.”

“Yeah, he’s a hell of a player,” Roy answered, “And a great man. I think we’ve underused him.”

“I think you’re right,” Marcus said.

“Glad we agree,” Roy replied, “I prefer you to old Trent.”

The room laughed before Roy called on the next reporter. Rebecca and him shared a look of acknowledgement, this was making up for his ditching of the last presser.

Roy went on answering questions a few minutes longer before abruptly calling it. As everyone was saying their goodbyes for the evening, Y/n caught him in the hall.

“You did good,” she complimented.

Roy grunted a little, still bad at taking praise about anything other than his professional abilities. “Sorry if I…made your job harder the other day.”

She shrugged, “No more so than anyone else. You’re just more of a dick about it.”

Having said it with a smile Roy knew Y/n wasn’t serious…totally. His lips quirked up ever so slightly.

“Night, Roy,” Y/n said, hitting his arm as she walked past him.

“Cheers,” he replied, heading his own way.

—————————

While the day was a victory, Jamie was exhausted. Some of the boys had gone out to celebrate, he was one of the ones who decided heading home was more appealing.

A ring of the doorbell dragged him off his couch and into the entryway. He opened the door, his chest both filling and draining at the sight.

Y/n was leant against the frame, a soft smile on her lips. She held up a paper takeaway bag.

“I won’t tell Roy if you don’t,” she promised.

Jamie chuckled under his breath and moved to let her in.

It wasn’t just the match that’d worn Jamie out. Colin’s confession in the locker room was…heavy. Weighing most on Colin, of course, but when the celebratory noise had died down and Jamie was left to his own thoughts, he found they were louder than normal.

Y/n showing up only acted as an amplifier.

Here was Colin, hiding away one of the biggest parts of himself. Forced to keep the person he loved in the shadows for fear of the public’s reaction. He couldn’t hold them, couldn’t be seen with them, couldn’t claim them. The person who meant everything to him.

And here was Jamie, with the woman he cared about most standing before him, feeling the weight of his privilege.

“Samir was working tonight,” Y/n announced as she slipped off her shoes, “He kept asking me if I was buying for us both. I think he slipped in some extra-“

She was cut off by Jamie, wrapping his arms around her in a full embrace.

Jamie wasn’t good with words. He was barely good with feelings. And expressing them was a whole other matter. What he did know to be true was that Y/n was the singular most important person in his life. Whether he’d realized it before or not, he wasn’t sure. But it was suddenly crushing him, he was overwhelmed by his affection for her. She was the best part of his worst times, the highlight of his days. The literal sunshine lighting up the darkest parts of him, the parts everyone else looked at and ran from. But not her, never her.

Y/n stumbled a bit, Jamie steadying her as he tugged her to his body. It wasn’t like they never hugged, but this felt different. The whole day had been so emotionally charged, she wasn’t surprised that he was feeling some of it. She wasn’t sure what had happened in the locker room between halves or after the game, but whatever it was had done something to him, and she apparently was the solution.

The truth was, Jamie was the first person Y/n hadn’t tired of being there for. She wanted to save him at every possible opportunity. To be there for him in whatever way he needed her. Lord knows he had done it enough for her. He’d looked at her ugliest parts and matched them, the two of them somehow growing together through their horrible histories. Some relationships were easily replaced, but there could never be another Jamie.

Y/n slid her arms around Jamie’s back, stealing some of the comfort for herself.

Jamie rested his chin on her shoulder, shutting his eyes and letting the moment wash over him. The world could stop, just for a moment, and it would be there when they broke apart. But for now, Y/n was all he wanted to feel.

They stayed in the hall, clinging to one another, having only unwrapped the first layer of what all they felt meant.

—————

Heartfirst Taglist: @lalla-04p @optimisticsandwichgladiator @makingmunson94 @taytaylala12 @storysimp @sokkigarden @lightninginab0ttle @poohkie90 @alipap3 @verra-nerevarine @shineforever19 @spaceagechimera @burnafter-reading @qardasngan @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @sogoodtoheritsvicious @buckybarnex @angelsunflxwer @blueanfield @thewildestwonderland @sablecities @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @strawberryacethingz @mentalistfan @tortilla-maria1 @katdahlali @for-fuck-sake-im-alive @glitterquadricorn @jamieolivia27 @imvibin69 @katlizada @lil-tracys @fanaticalfantasist @heyitz-julia @cactajuice @peachyy-tea @notalxx @rockchickrebel @anxiety-prime-max @loveforaugust @jellycolors @actuallybarb @heletsmelovehim @lovinnscarletknight @imfalling-inlove @leslieiscrying @meg-ro @littlemisssunshine192 @beboldbebravethings @maydayfigment @spencerreidsbookclub @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @lemoonandlestars @im-a-weirdo-for-life @mindless-rock (tags cont. in comments ❤️)

[alexander-arcturus-black-lupin]

Sneaking around

Summary : Draco is being tailed by Harry, but he doesn't know that. He goes to meet his secret Ravenclaw girlfriend y/n. 

Harry slid out of Slughorn's party and followed Malfoy. He knew his cloak would be of use as he threw it over him. Draco Malfoy during this whole semester looked sickly and pale but today he looked…Draco.

 He followed him through the secret passageway on the third floor that was rarely used; he wondered when Draco had found it. He was so deep in thought he hadn't almost noticed that Draco had stopped. 

Suddenly black hair flicked from a corner. Draco lounged and pulled out a laughing Ravenclaw girl. 

"Salazar Y/n," 

"Hi~" Draco's scowl dropped and a shy smile made its way there instead. 

"Hello," Draco rolled out. 

"Your hair is a mess Malfoy, are you actually using your shampoo?"

"Of course I am, i was bloody thrown from Slughorn's stupid party" 

"Sounds a bit hmmm jealous, was a certain Harry Potter there?" Harry froze once he heard his name. 

"Don't start, you saying his name once is enough,"

"Shall I start calling him the chosen one or the other he who must not be named." Harry was mesmerized by her, it was like she radiated happiness. 

Draco shook his head so hard that his hair became more messed up. 

"Jeez, Draco relax," 

"Potter's been trailing me lately," Y/n raised her eyebrows. 

"If I didn't know any better I'd ship you two," Harry wanted to retch in his hiding place. "Lorminuim"

"That's new," Draco remarked, flopping on a nearby couch. "Made it?" 

"Nah 7th years, it's a silencing charm which also acts as an alarm if anyone steps within 10 feet of our invisible bubble we'll know"  Harry froze again, if he moved. He'll be in deep trouble.

However everything except for one fact flew over Draco's head as he sat up. "7th Year boys?"

Y/N blinked at him before she threw back her head and laughed. "What if it was a boy?" Y/n teases coming closer. "Mmm, what if it was?" 

Draco rolled his eyes. Y/n sat on his lap and cupped his face in her hands. Smooshing his face makes him look like a fish. Harry was still in severe shock. 

“I’m yours, mon amor est pour toi et toi sulement,” Draco burst out laughing. “Stop laughing I tried.” 

Draco pressed soft kisses into her palm. “I know, bloody accent needs help but, I love you too” he then said something in perfect french. Harry had enough and he, under his cloak, moved backwards inch by inch turning with each step, he did so till he was out. 

“Harry?” He spun to find Hermione and Ron behind him. "Harry? You look like you've seen a ghost,"

"Malfoy,"

"Don't tell me you followed him, can you belive this Ron, wait, you knew didn't you," Hermione pointed at Ron's red ears.

"I- Harry what about Malfoy what did you catch him doing," 

"He and y/n are a thing," 

"What? They barely are in the same space at the same time," Hermione said crossing her arms. "I mean yeah, y/n is close to the slytherin boys."

"What-" 

******************************************************************************************************************************************************

Somehow news had spread quickly. Mostly thanks to Ron and his, "MALFOY AND Y/N ARE YOU BLOODY SERIOUS MATE" Soon it even reached the love birds themselves. 

"Pansy told me that she heard it from Luna who heard it from Ginny who heard it from Ron."Y/n was sitting at the head of Draco's four-poster bed with his head in her lap 

"Do you think he caught us snogging somewhere," 

"I would hope not else you won't be getting any." Draco pouted. 

You’re cute when you pout

“Thank you,” Draco flushed slightly. She herself blushed, she said that outloud. 

"Nevermind, it was probably Potter maybe he tailed me on one of our dates," 

"Maybe," Draco started to play with her hair.  

"We can't keep hiding in your dorm, unlike you, a dinner person, I am a breakfast person." 

Draco sighed at that. They only had two classes today both after lunch. "Please let's just stay here, just for now," 

"Fine, you owe me," 

Draco just smiled and cuddled into y/n, "I really love you y/n, like a lot that i actually let on" Y/n froze.

"Y/n? Y/n you don't have to say it back, I just-"

"I love you too,"  Draco sat up and looked at her. 

“You don’t need to tell me you love me, I don-” she shut him up with a kiss. Suddenly the door barged open, 

“HA PANSY YOU WERE RIGHT COME CHECK THIS OUT,” Blaise in all his glory stood heaving with laughter. Soon they were joined by Pansy Theodore Matheo and Lorenzo. Draco with a wave of his wand had shoved them out and locked them out. 

“Why are we friends with them,”

“Say the word and they’re gone,” she laughed an kissed Draco back. 

“I’ll think about it, since we’ve been caught and I’m starving, let’s go,” Draco sighed and help her off the bed. “But you’ll still owe me a bunch of snacks later,”

Draco looked at her a small smile on his lips. “Deal,” she smiled and his heart stuttered. He was truly enamored with her.

[mao-likes-2-draw]

ace attorney into the woods au…….save me…….

character choices explained under cut !!!

baker and baker’s wife - diego and mia : okay so. love cut off very tragically. and for lanamia purposes because lana is cinderella’s (miles’) prince. mia is very determined and she dies in the process of reaching the goal because she became distracted, like the baker’s wife.

jack - phoenix : jack is very attached to things, and so is phoenix. he would be trying to get milky white back like his life depended on it. also made him jack so that diego could say “its because of you theres a giant in our midst and my wife is dead!” because he blamed phoenix for mia’s death 🙏🙏 i <3 angst. oh and also he can be friends with red :)

just…dont ask me who his mother is. i dont know.

little red - maya : shes young and just like little red, is kind of sheltered and has some terrible shit happen to her that leads to a revelation about the real world. shes on a search for her mother, or in this case, granny. i know it makes more since for red to be mia as she was looking for misty and the truth and died along the way, but shes already the bakers wife and it can apply somewhat to maya as well.

cinderella - edgeworth : okay so this one is kind of silly. hes like the von karma black sheep and i think franziska being a stepsister is hilarious. i dont think they would have as bad of a relationship and cinderella and lucinda do in the actual show, but the rivalry is still there. he also is the type to run away from hard things because…we have JFA to thank for that.

also gregory can be the ghost

the witch - kristoph : he doesnt have any relation to mia or diego, but him and klavier work pretty well as the witch and rapunzel. i dont know why klavier is related to diego in this. lets just say kristoph did some weird ass wizarding shit that made himself and klavier look very similar. i dont know. the witch is a very complex character but i dont want kristoph to be as sympathetic as she was. he is very interesting but less “right” than the witch was. in her words, “i’m not bad, im not good, i’m just right!” kristoph…isnt really right.

he also loves petty revenge and would do the whole monologue.

princes - lana and ema : siblings, for one thing. lana and mia could have a moments in the woods type of thing going on. mia has a bisexual awakening. lana also works with edgeworth, but in this version i dont think shes very in love with him. its more about asserting her authority as royalty. edgeworth isnt in love either, just as cinderella is unsure of her decisions. ema is the same way. she cannot stand klavier.

the line in agony where rapunzel’s prince says, “you know nothing of madness till you're climbing her hair…all the while hearing her ‘aahhhh’” i feel like that could be recontextualized from “im madly in love” to “oh my goodness this bitch wont stop singing”. the princes, or princesses, are much more reluctant about their counterparts in this au.

lavender marriages. take what you will.

steward - angel starr : okay so the steward(ess) isnt an important character but . maybe idk (im insane) him and cinderella’s prince had some kind of relationship. i mean….he gets around. and lana does too—its insane.

and im pushing the starrskye agenda (cinderella’s prince x steward?? 🤨🤨)

rapunzel - klavier : rapunzel is reminiscent of 17-year old klavier. i feel as if that controlling relationship rapunzel and the witch has is almost like his and kristoph’s. kristoph is keeping klavier close to him because hes afraid if he sees the world he’ll know that what kristoph is doing isn’t right. kristoph is great, and he’ll always be nice, until klavier wants to leave. everything will be fine, as long as klavier depends on his for the rest of his life.

also they both have ridiculous names, and they both sing i guess??

lucinda and step-mother - franziska and manfred von karma : another thing i thought was funny. it just makes sense (somewhat) in the context of this au. its important to note theres only one stepsister now, and i know theres an older VK daughter but im too lazy to cook up a design.

mr. wolf - redd white of bluecorp : hes dangerous and lurking. he killed mia, sure, but he also framed maya and therefore put her in danger. hes definitely got that predator animal vibe to him, but hes also just as charismatic as the wolf. he also had a major hand in the disappearance of misty.

granny - misty fey : a victim of the wolf. a victim of redd white.

WHEW that was long. wow. okay so i hope this was good!! there is not an into the woods fandom and i will personally make that happen if i have to. great musical!!!

[tacticaldiary]

You are so talented?? Hells bells!!! could I please request Simon Riley x Wife!Reader where Simon is “pronounced dead” for a mission and it has to seem real enough so like price shows up to your shared home and hands over dog tags? And then like months later he shows up at the house and they reunir?! Like all just very very sad and very comfort/ hurt??

please and many thanks , sugarbean

Till Death Do Us Apart

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"Love..." He finally breathes out, and she realises that she hasn't said a word in a full minute.

The single word tears a gasp out of her throat, makes her take a small step back. The rasp of his voice, the scent of him as she breathes in...

It's him.

Death itself couldn't stop him from crawling home to her.

Masterlist

Song: I, Carrion (Hozier)

It's funny how fragile the illusion of safety and content is.

Her life had seemed so unshakable, so sure and sturdy and promised. She'd fought for what she had with her husband, made a home with him, gone through years and bumps and ups and downs all because the chance of having him was better than giving up without ever having tried.

Truth be told, she'd never really liked the silence of their home when she was the only one living in it. Simon had asked her a couple times if she got lonely, whether it was too much. He'd asked her about it pretty much every time he packed up and left for a mission halfway across the world. Brows furrowed and voice lilted in concern late at night with his arms around her.

He's met with her smile and a reassurance that the silence was worth his arrival back home. Distance makes the heart go fonder, doesn't it?

And so Simon took it in stride, let the knowledge settle the creep of doubt in his heart beacuse this? Them?

It was more than he'd ever hoped for himself.

Never did he think he'd be the reason someone smiled at him like she did, not once did he consider himself one to want something so cliche as a home until she came around with her warmth and promises of unshakable devotion.

And God had he tried to shake her off. His indifference had only fuelled her determination to worm her way under the cracks of his armour. Once she'd reached inside and pulled out a part of himself he'd long thought was killed by 'Ghost', Simon had found himself letting go of his carefully crafted distance and crumbling under her hands. The best decision of his life.

It's why his breathing is ever so ragged as he watches Price console his hysterical wife from afar, a pair of bloody dog tags with his name engraved in them clutched in her shaking hand.

Simon Riley. Deceased.

If he didn't feel like his world was off kilter he might have made a joke about how it's the second time.

Simon barely manages to hold himself back from running to her, to their home, their bed. It's his instinct to protect, and right now seeing Price let her clutch onto him in grief, everything in Simon is telling him to go, to run and hold her, console her, assure her that he hasn't broken his promise of coming home to her.

It had been a vow whispered against her lips in the dead of night after she'd aired out her fear under the light of the moon. The fear of losing him. Of opening the door to Price instead of him.

Just a few months, he repeats in his head over and over again, because it's the only thing keeping his legs from moving. Just a few months and he can fix this, go back to how everything was. He feels like a jackass, making her go through this, but there was no other option.

And fuck if he hadn't tried to argue.

Death itself couldn't stop him from crawling home to her.

But his line of work could.

                               · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·  

Four months and it still feels like yesterday.

Nothing felt...right anymore.

She felt guilty sitting at the kitchen table where the use to eat together, the sheets on their...her. On her bed had long since lost the subtle scent of him. The living room where she'd curl up in his lap, snicker at him complaining about her choice of movie even when the bastard was just as enraptured and into it and she was.

Everything felt off.

She sets down the half eaten plate of food in the fridge and swallows down the lingering emotion.

When she'd opened the door that day, she very nearly slammed it back shut.

It seemed surreal. Her Simon, her untouchable husband gone in the line of fire. An accident, Price had phrased it as.

She missed him so much it fucking hurt.

Taking a deep breath, she grabs the shopping list she'd scrawled last week onto the fridge and tucks it in her pocket. The dog tags clink against each other around her neck, tucked into her sweater as she moves.

It had taken weeks for her to even look at them.

The doorbell cuts the search for her car keys short.

It's been a while since she's seen anybody, really. Her friends come over every now and then to keep her company, bring her homemade foods and gifts to cheer her up and it does work, but only for a few hours. She appreciates it, she really does, but the small periods of relief are only followed by the guilt of trying to forget and the pain of remembering all over again.

She'd tell them to come back later, she decides. Today was worse a day than usual and she's not in the mood-

Simon.

Simon...?

Her knuckles pale with the grip she has on the doorknob, it's all she can do to stare up at the figure that she only held in her dreams nowadays.

He's so familiar, with that hair she loved to rake her hands through, the slight downturn of his lips, the scars that scatter across his face that she loves to trace in the dark. He's looking down at her with brown eyes so tortured and serious, and...and a little anxious?

This is a cruel joke.

Here he is, bare faced in front of her just like how she'd dreamed about for all those weeks. How often had she cried at night, hoped that this was all a joke and she'd pull open the door to him one more time?

But he wasn't here, was he? No, there was no way. Her fingers touch cool metal and distantly she realises she's clutching onto the piece of himself he left behind, looped around her neck.

"Love..." He finally breathes out, and she realises that she hasn't said a word in a full minute.

The single word tears a gasp out of her throat, makes her take a small step back. The rasp of his voice, the scent of him as she breathes in...

It's him.

It's him.

Something akin to a sob tears its way out of her throat as she lunges towards him, tangles her hands in the fabric of his uniform. She only cries harder when his arms circle around her just as tightly, crushing her to his chest.

"You...you're home?" She manages to push out between stuttered intakes of breaths and sobs. "No, you're...you were-"

"I'm here." He hooks his chin over her head, sways her a little from side to side. If she hadn't been trembling she would have noticed the slight shake of his hands. "Said I'd always come back to you, didn't I?" He walks them backwards, shuts the door with his foots.

"You died!" She exclaims, choking on the words as she pulls back, not far but enough to meet his own red eyes. "You died, I thought you died-"

"Mission," He rushes out, "For a mission, yeah? Wouldn't ever leave you alone-"

"You did!" She suddenly pulls away from him barely out of his grasp and it takes everything in Simon's willpower not to pulls her back in.

Beneath the worry and the grief and the sadness, there's a hint of running anger.

"Four months, I thought you were...were dead." She wipes away her tears, still crying but angry. "And you show up now? Just like that? What the fuck, Simon I thought I was a widow!"

"I'm sorry." It's all he can say. It's pathetic and desperate and he feels frustrated and angry at everyone and himself but it's all he can say to her and he'll repeat it as many times as possible.

They stare at each other for a second, grieving and angry and crushed and hopeful...

And she falls back into him with the promise of an explanation later on, a tangle of limbs, muttered apologies and kisses.

Not because she forgives him. Not because she's willing to brush past it and move on, but because this crushing wave of relief feels better than the last four months of suffering. Because they'll always find their way back to each other.

Because she has her husband back, in one piece, and for the first time in months...

Something in her life clicks back into place.

Reblog, Like and Comment!

(20/10/2023)