#and more than that i've been home alone more and the peace and quiet has me like.......i could really focus on my writing w/o disruption

[citylighten]

🥲Sink or Swim will be back soon-ish. [emphasis on the ish cause it means i have to resume fighting my build/buy folder] i definitely want to say sometime in september.

[reidmotif]

Relax, I've Got You

Summary: Reader isn't the best at handling stress, and her roommate Spencer, notices. Luckily, he has quite a few salacious ideas on how he could make her feel better.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: friends-with-benefits situation, oral (f!recieving), fingering (f!recieving), mentions of anxiety/symptoms of anxiety.

Word Count: 2.7 k

Masterlist

You were never good at handling stress. 

You were well aware of this facet of your psyche– the way tensity would often wind around your limbs, snaking into the very depths of your bones until you were entirely drained and devoid of peace, a shell of the person you were accustomed to being. 

You had dealt with this complication on your own for the most part. You’d come home after a long day, and attempt to find yourself again through chamomile tea, lavender mists, and a warm blanket. 

Of course, there were days where even these measures could not suffice in curing your weariness. 

That’s where Spencer Reid came in. 

He’d only been your roommate at first. With the economy going as it was, it was simply more practical to find one, rather than renting alone. He’d responded to an ad you’d put up, and you accepted. The process was easy, honestly. You had no qualms about sharing your living space with another person, and even found the arrangement enjoyable at times. Spencer was well-mannered, never missed rent, and wasn’t even at home most of the time. When he was, he was quiet. Sweet. 

Through time, you found yourself becoming friends with the man. The conversation was light and easy, and in a rare turn of events, you started to open up to him. Even more surprisingly, he returned the favor, adding to the understanding that was fast growing between the two of you. It seemed only natural, since both of you were made naturally vulnerable by the circumstances of your situation. You’d come to your apartment, drop the mask of the day, and see that Spencer was already there, becoming an extension of the solace you found at home. Soon enough, the comfort of your couch was simply synonymous to him as well. 

It didn’t take long for Spencer to notice the anxieties that would plague you when a deadline came about, or when you simply fixated on an issue for too long. The way your bedroom light wouldn’t shut until 4 AM, or how you’d pace in the kitchen, so wired that your body denied you the rest you so desperately needed. He noticed the dark circles, the occasional irritability (followed by an apology, of course), the headaches, everything. Which is why he thought nothing of it to suggest some remedies for your troubles over breakfast one day. 

“Caffeine can actually increase stress, if you weren’t aware.” He says, eyeing your second cup of coffee that morning. “There’s actually a large amount of data that indicates you should limit caffeine intake, especially if you’re already anxious.” 

You narrow your eyes, furrowing your brows slightly. “Says who?” You retort, not quite ready to give up your chosen beverage. 

“The NIH, Penn State, the AMA-” 

“Okay, okay. Sorry. I got it.” You interrupt, knowing you’d started a losing battle the moment you’d questioned him.  “I’ll try to cut down on it.” 

He grins, satisfied with how the interaction had played out. You, on the other hand, started to drift farther away from your current setting. You swallow, putting down your coffee cup before rubbing your eyes, a soft sigh escaping you. 

“Something wrong?” Spencer asks, cautiously, his voice soft. 

You tsk, shaking your head and shrugging a bit at your own dilemma. “It's just.. I’m already so tired. I’m exhausted and the day’s barely begun.” You pause, unable to articulate just how fatigued you were.  “It’s like I can already feel the mid-afternoon headache I’m going to get later, and it hasn’t even started yet.” You hate the way you sound, longing for the day you could fully relax for even a fraction of a second. 

“You’d probably be a lot less tired if you slept a little more.” Spencer suggests, and you shoot him a death glare. 

“Don’t you think I know that?” You snap. “I’m trying. It’s not that easy. It’s just-” You groan, stopping yourself as the quick realization dawns on you that you’ve misdirected your frustrations. There’s a wave of shame rising up almost immediately, heating your cheeks up in regret. 

“I’m sorry, Spencer. Sorry. That’s unfair of me. I know you’re just looking out for me.” You murmur, taking a deep breath to calm your senses. 

“Hey, don’t worry.” He says, his voice low and compassionate. “I get it. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate right now.” 

You nod, closing your eyes as you continue to breathe. He continues to speak, his voice remaining warmhearted. 

“There are actually quite a few ways to alleviate stress. Some experts recommend meditation, exercise and yoga. I wouldn’t mind doing those with you, if you were interested.” He offers, as he continues to ramble, lost in his own explanation in the hopes of being of service to you. “Some experts even name sex as a useful stress reliever, due to the endorphins and oxytocin released after completion.” 

You give a fruitless laugh. “Jesus, I wish. I don’t have the time to try and find someone willing to do that for me.” 

Spencer goes quiet, and you finally open your eyes. You’re met with his stare, trained on your form, a thoughtful expression on his face. 

“What?” You ask, upon returning his gaze. 

He clears his throat, shaking his head, as if he was ridding himself of a passing thought. “Nothing. Sorry. I’m sorry. I hope you do find something that works for you though. I hate seeing you like this.” 

You soften at his concern. “Thanks, Spencer.” You say, the affection in your voice unmistakable. “Maybe I’ll end up taking on.. Yoga? That seems doable, right?” 

He smiles. “Yoga. Right.” 

The days pass on, until you find yourself in a similar scenario you’ve been in one too many times. You’re pacing the kitchen, a small clock reading that it was currently 2 AM. You couldn’t even really decipher the source of tonight’s anxiety– all you know is you feel it, and you feel it deeply. 

That’s when a voice breaks through the darkness, halting your movements altogether. 

“Hey, are you alright?” Spencer’s soft, slightly deeper voice. 

“Oh, yeah.” You call out, despite the growing tightness in your chest. “I’m fine. You can go back to sleep. Sorry for waking you.” 

He shakes his head, scratching his head as he makes his way towards you. “It’s nothing.” He reassures. “I needed to pee anyway. What’s going on with you?” He inquires, gently. 

You rub at your chest, biting your lip. “The usual.” 

“Work?” He asks, softly. 

You purse your lips. “I’m not even sure at this point. Just really anxious.” 

His expression softens. A beat of silence passes between the two of you. 

“I’m- um. I’m willing to help.” He stammers out, suddenly seeming much more nervous than he was a moment ago. 

You give a dejected smile. “That’s sweet, Spencer, but I dunno. I think I have to deal with this on my own.” 

“No, I mean. I can help. I’m willing to help. To do that for you. I’m your friend. I want to help.” He restates, his voice a little urgent. 

“Willing to do what?” You ask, wholly confused with where he was going with this. 

He takes a breath. “Sex. Or, an orgasm, at least. You said no one you knew would be willing to help you like that. I am. If you want.” He blurts out. 

You stand there, momentarily shocked into silence. You’re suddenly able to recall the conversation you’d had, just a few days prior, and realize what he was trying to say.  Here you were, in your kitchen, with your friend- your roommate, and he was selflessly offering himself to you. For sex. For de-stressing sex.  He sounded so earnest, despite the obvious lewdness of his offer, and the juxtaposition made your head spin. 

“I..” You start, your voice caught in your throat. 

“You don’t have to feel compelled to say yes. I’m just offering. I want to help you.” He interjects, his voice still carrying that unselfishness you’d known from the very beginning. 

“I.. no. I mean, yes. I want to say yes.” You find yourself admitting after a moment. “But.. are you sure? It’s.. I mean, it’s sex, Spencer.” You whisper. 

“I’m aware.” He says, matching your softer tone. “I’m okay with that. Are you?” 

You take a breath. Looking up at him, you take in his slightly tousled hair illuminated by the soft moonlight that drifted in through your apartment windows. His white sleep shirt was crumpled, and even in the darkness that enveloped you, you could decipher the kindness in his eyes, his mere presence bringing a shade of ease into you as you spoke to him. 

“Yes.” You murmur out, the words flowing out with no hesitation. “I’m okay with that.” 

“Can I kiss you?” He says, gently, and your nod of affirmation is almost immediate. 

He steps closer and cups your cheek, before pressing his lips against yours gently. It’s a sweeter kiss, something that, despite never saying out loud, you would have expected from him. His mouth moves languidly against yours, before pulling away, slightly out of breath. 

“Kissing actually helps to reduce cortisol.” He murmurs. “It indirectly lowers stress as a result. Is it working?” 

And true to his words, you realized that the tightness in your chest had faded somewhat, no longer blaring with the intensity you had just felt a few minutes prior. An entirely new feeling settled within you- an ache, a need for this man and what he brought to you. 

“Yeah. It’s working.” You mumble out. 

As if he could read your mind, Spencer gently takes your hand. “Let’s move to the couch, yeah?” He murmurs, already leading you to his spot of preference. 

He gently guides you to sit on the couch, quickly finding your lips once again to exchange some soft kisses along the way. His hands drift up and down your back, fingertips light and tender. His every touch speaks to something more, to an unspoken dedication that you’d never felt before until this moment.

To something that maybe extended beyond the original purpose of your rendezvous. “Is this alright?” He asks, his tone hushed and reverent. 

You nod, almost in a trance. He was so gentle, so reassuring. He was exactly what you needed. 

His lips find yours again and you respond eagerly, letting your hands tangle into the mess of brown hair that sat atop his head. He let out a small groan as your fingers slightly tugged on the strands, sending a thrill through you. 

He starts to trail the kisses down your neck, seeking out more sensitive spots that could bring you into a further state of rest and repose.  Everything about you spurred him on, it seemed. He paid attention to every noise, every movement– his ultimate goal seeming to hinge on your pleasure throughout this. 

Of course, you respond accordingly to the dedication, a soft gasp or whimper escaping you when he would mouth at the perfect spot, which would only cause him to increase his actions tenfold, leading to even more response on your end. 

The perfect feedback loop driving you to pliancy and ecstasy all at once.

His lips begin to drift down, and you realize he’s settling in between your legs now, hands on the waistband of your sleep clothes, urging you to lie down completely, which you do. 

“Gonna take these off now.” He whispers, looking up at you between your legs. 

“Please.” You respond, waiting with bated breath. 

He manages to pull down the last barrier between you two, before being met with the mess he’d created. His lips parted as his fingers trailed lightly over your wet slit, your arousal evident on his finger as he marveled on the effect he could have on you. 

“Jesus, you’re beautiful.” He whispers, as if his eyes are set upon something precious, something worthy of worship. And in a way, isn’t that exactly what he’d set out to do the moment he’d placed his face between your thighs? 

He loops his arms around your thighs, before slowly allowing his tongue to dart out, delicately, tracing the wetness of your pussy. A moan slips out of you, low and needy, and that’s all the confirmation he needs before he’s diving in, devouring your cunt like a man starved. 

“Spencer.” You gasp out. You say his name like prayer, like he is god-given, because in this moment, he is. 

His tongue traces your clit in circles, before directly placing his lips over the swollen bud, applying some light suction. The tenderness in the action, the way his eyes flit upto yours, watching your gaze for the utmost reassurance that he was doing right by you, only hurdle you closer and closer to your pleasurable end. 

It’s almost as if you’re floating, your back arching as his face stubbornly stays buried in your cunt, lapping at your wetness insistently. He wants your release just as bad as you do, and it’s clear he’ll do anything for the sweetness that comes with you falling apart in his arms. 

“Oh god.” You moan out- how is it possible to feel so airy, and yet so present all at once? To feel every movement of Spencer’s warm, wet tongue lavishing your clit, and still be somewhere else entirely- a new height of pleasure you had sorely needed all along. 

One of his hands leaves the iron-grip it had your thighs in, letting his fingers drift towards your entrance. He slips the digits in, slowly pumping into you, only adding to the overwhelming rapture you found yourself in. Your eyes shoot open, and you find yourself writhing against him. 

“Spencer- oh god. Please, please.” You babble out, legs starting to tense with the beginnings of your orgasm. 

He only pulls away enough to murmur softly. “That’s it.” His fingers continue their steady pace into you, his grip on your thigh keeping you planted to the mattress. “I got you, love. Come for me.”

With nothing else to say, he resumes eating you out, and the combination of his fingers and mouth finally barrels you towards your orgasm, shuddering as it rips through you, as your every sense is clouded- with this, with him. 

It’s only until you’ve ridden out the entirety of your orgasm that he pulls away. Sitting upright, he leans forward to caress your jaw, taking in the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the flushed appearance your face had taken on in the throes of gratification. 

“Feeling better?” He asks, softly. 

“Entirely.” You whisper back, almost in awe. Not only at how well it worked, but how adoringly he stared at you, it being enough to stop your heart in your chest. Did he always look like this? How did you never notice? 

“Can I return the favor?” You implore, already beginning to get up, but Spencer pushes you back down lightly, shaking his head. 

“You’re tired.” He says, as if his word was fact, despite these being your feelings that were being spoken about. “Right now, the oxytocin coursing through your body is priming you perfectly for sleep, and God knows you need it.” He chuckles out.

You realize that he’s right, and for the first time, you feel the fatigue that comes naturally with sleep, as opposed to the restless nights you’d been dealing with. You still feel disappointed though, feeling a sting of rejection as you’re unable to touch him back. Still, your tiredness is undeniable, and so you nod. 

He gets up, finding a blanket to lay on top of you, before kneeling beside your face. He looks at you with subtle veneration, before letting his lips brush against your forehead. 

“I’ll take you up on your offer tomorrow, though, if that’s alright.” He murmurs. “When you’re rested.” 

Your smile is immediate. “Deal.” You whisper out. 

He looks at you for another beat, before letting his knuckles brush against your cheek, slowly retreating to his bedroom, as to let you get the rest you so desperately needed. 

You close your eyes, amazed by the tranquility that came with Spencer. How simple intimacy came with him, as if that’s how it should’ve been all along. 

You know you’ll ponder on this fact in greater detail later on, but for now, you relished in serenity of the afterglow. 

“Spencer Reid.” You think. “What divine comfort you are.” 

HOOOLY SHIT. how long has it been since i uploaded? a long time? i think. hahahaha. in between traveling, [redacted life updates], and even more, i just wasn't very inspired to write. i hope this speaks to some of you, and i hope it was enjoyable to read. as usual, any likes, comments, reblogs are so so so deeply appreciated. feedback as well! thank you so so so much for reading regardless, i am eternally grateful for any and all support <3 (oh also haha. this was written for @imagining-in-the-margins friends with benefits challenge! check it out.)

[fleurvi]

Secret Talents | Arcane Women

Request for arcane women discovering you have a hidden talent.

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characters: ambessa, caitlyn, grayson, mel, sevika, vi

cw: Ambessa's is suggestive

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Ambessa Medarda - Dancing

She's sitting there in her chair, eyes fixed on you as your body moves to the music Ambessa picked specifically for you. You take care in each movement. The extensions of your arms and legs draw her in. She has a drink in one hand as the other, empty hand awaits your approach. Her eyes scan your body as you walk towards her, gaze lingering on your hips. When you had agreed to give her a lap dance, she had no idea how enticing you would be.

You kick a leg over her lap, body rolling directly in her face, and you see her hand twitch with eagerness. She keeps her hand at her side though, giving you time to work before she completely loses her patience.

“You didn't tell me you could move like this. I'm impressed. Should we test how flexible you really are?”

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Caitlyn Kiramman - Sewing

Caitlyn comes to see you after training, muttering to herself about the noticeable tear in her trousers. You wait until she removes the trousers and asks her to pass them over to you while she changes into pyjamas. You reach under the bed for your sewing kit and find the right thread colour. Caitlyn joins you in bed, curious as to what you're doing. When she sees that you're sewing up the hole for her, it warms her heart. It's oddly domestic and makes you feel like an old couple that's been doing this for years.

She's quiet as she watches you work, wondering where you learned such a skill. You pass her fixed trousers back over, telling her they're good as new, and she checks your work, thoroughly impressed.

“This is pretty good. How long have you been sewing? I've got a ton more clothes you can fix for me.”

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Grayson - Puzzle Solving

Being married, Grayson enjoys having some kind of domestic peace. A cozy break from her dangerous job. When she comes home from a rough day to see you sitting at the kitchen table, whizzing through a puzzle book, she feels a protective instinct bubble in her stomach. She wishes she could frame this moment and keep it forever.

She leans over your shoulder, watching as you clear through a page of riddles. You get the answers faster than she could've thought, and she admires your deduction method that you messily jot down in the empty spaces. Your intelligence is a trait of yours that she values highly.

“You should come and work for me. Your brain is incredible, you know that?”

Mel Medarda - Piano

Mel is a fan of the arts, whether it be musical, theatrical, literary or visual. When she finds a book of sheet music among your belongings, she asks you to play for her. She leans on the piano, watching as you play for her. The focused look on your face is adorable, and the natural way your hands move among the keys is enchanting. Your musical talents fuel her own creativity.

Mel asks you to play for her while she paints. Knowing you're playing for her inspires some of her art pieces. If you ever want to pursue music professionally, you have her full support. Until then, your music will stay her sole artistic muse.

“Can you play that piece again? It's my favourite. It reminds me of us.”

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Sevika - Singing

Sevika's got a soft spot for you. She catches you singing when you think you're alone and stays until the final note. She makes sure you can't see her at first. Then, she makes herself known when you're finished. She lets you know how much she likes your voice. It's like a moment of peace for her.

She asks you to sing for her when you're alone after a rough day. Your voice is like a warm blanket over her. She doesn't want anyone else to hear you though. She's selfish and wants to keep you all to herself.

“You're like my personal little songbird.”

✩♬ ₊˚.✂️⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Vi - Art

She finds a sketchbook of yours with cute doodles in it and asks you to replicate the designs on her gauntlets. She keeps any pieces of paper, folded napkins or fabric that you happen to scribble on. When it comes to more serious and larger pieces, she's relatively well-behaved. She watches you work, uncharacteristically quiet, as she focuses on your movements. She struggles to shut her mouth sometimes, but she really likes seeing your final products, so she behaves.

She brags about your talents and shows off what she's kept of yours. She wants everyone to see how amazingly gifted you are. Anything she finds that has an indicator of your drawing makes it into her personal collection.

“Hey baby, I got new gear. How about you pretty it up for me?”

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thank you for reading!!!

my requests are open!

[mischieveousmayhem]

Hi! I've been following your writing for a bit now, and I really like your style of writing. There's a sort of flow to it. Anyways, I was wondering if you could write a Bruce Wayne x Batmom! Reader. Where Damian clings to Batmom a lot and it's so obvious he loves her more than he loves Bruce. So Batmom overhears Bruce paying Damian like a large amount of money to not interrupt their date? I think this would be really cute, and it's okay if you can't write it. And thank you so much in advance! <3

Bribes

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader, Damian Wayne x Batmom! Reader

Genre: Fluff (?)

Warnings: Characters may be out of character, reader is shorter than Bruce Wayne, jealousy

Synopsis: Will Bruce ever get a moment with you?

It happens a lot, almost too often. Every moment Bruce thinks he has alone with you , he doesn't.

The first time was when Damian started getting comfortable with you.

You and Bruce were in your bedroom, limbs entangled, just enjoying each other's presence in the dark, cold room. The only warmth was your bodies and the blankets.

Bruce was enjoying this, he was enjoying you. You guys had all boys, and oh lord were they mama's boys who needed you for all simple. Thank god he didn't have to worry about Damian turning into one like his brothers. At least Bruce thought.

There was a knock on the door.

"Go away." Bruce's voice booms.

You move from the position you and Bruce were in and you sit up.

"You can come in, Damian." You say.

It was quite obvious it was Damian, your boys all knocked on the door differently. Damians seemed more hesitant.

Damian walked in coming to your side of the bed. Bruce stares blankly , and confused on how the hell you knew it was Damian.

"Y/N , I had a nightmare can I sleep here?"

"N—" Bruce started.

"I was asking Y/N. Not you." Damian cuts him off. He sure was Bruces child.

"Of course, love." You smiled as the boy climbed in between you and a grumpy Bruce.

—

Another time it happened was when you and Bruce had a Gala to go to but the boys were gonna stay home.

However, he couldn't find you anywhere in sight to be found. Until he walked into the living room to find you and Damian cuddled under a blanket.

Damian leaned back on you with you rubbing his hair until he spots his father and he immediately jumps up acting like his mother wasn't just giving him affection he craved.

"Y/N, why aren't you dressed. We have that Gala tonight." Bruce raised a brow at you as he stood in front of you in his tuxedo that he looked EXTREMELY handsome in.

You give him a nervous smile, "Well about that," You raised up a thermometer, "Damian is feeling a bit under the weather so I will stay here with him while you attend."

Damian did a fake cough while smirking at his father. His face out of your vision you couldn't see the smirk.

Bruce squinted at Damian. He wasn't going to rat out his son to you because at least Damian warmed up to you and even then you wouldn't believe Bruce.

—

The last straw was when Bruce found Damian taking his favorite thing to do with you.

Every evening you would sit in the garden. It was labeled your bench because the boys always saw you out there on it no matter the weather.

One of your quiet places, you just sit out and read, crochet or some other peaceful activity until Bruce comes out. You two watch the sunsets every evening together and it was just a romantic, wholesome moment.

That is why when Bruce came outside to the garden to see Damian in his mother's arms he almost lost it.

Bruce wanted to be in your arms and Damian should not be there at all.

"Room for one more?" Bruce speaks.

This time Damian doesn't move out of your arms for his father has seen him like this multiple times and he just doesn't want his brothers to spot him being babied in his mother's arms.

"Sorry dear, there is only enough room for two people on this bench. You can come tomorrow." You look back and smile almost guilty.

Unfortunately tomorrow never came, because everyday Damian would beat Bruce to your arms on the bench.

—

All those events lead up to now. Bruce sitting Damian down to have a talk before you and Bruce went out for a date that Bruce has been looking forward to.

"I've noticed you spend a lot of time with Y/N." Bruce spoke to Damian.

"Ummi and I are just having normal mother-son time." Damian speaks.

Bruce furrows his eyebrows, "Yeah..whatever."

"Great! Conversation ended." Damian was about to get up till Bruce stopped him.

"You are not to sabotage this date." Bruce says.

"I'm not going to sabotage it but I am starting to feel a little sick." Damian smirked.

"Do not fake sick, I will pay you a million dolla—" Bruce was about to give Damian a bribe until he heard your laughter from the doorway and his face dropped.

"You two are really something." You place your hands on your hips after you stop laughing.

The two just stare at you waiting for you go finish what you are going to say.

"Damian, if your sick Dick will be here to take care of you in a little but until then you have Alfred." She walks towards him and brings her hand to his cheek, cupping it, "I spend a lot of time with you Dami, it is time I give your father some attention."

Damian melts into your touch, nodding. You were right, he had been spending a lot of time with you.

You then turn to Bruce, "As for you, you shouldn't have to bribe your son to not "sabotage" , our dates." You roll your eyes.

"I know, but we haven't had much time together lately." Bruce comes towards you.

When he's in-front of you, you look up while grabbing his forearms.

"I know, that's why tonight it will only just be us. I promise." Your eyes glimmer as you speak those words to him.

He was about to lean down to kiss you till Damian gets up and runs out the room yelling, "GET A ROOM!!"

[cherrychilli]

18+ Eddie Munson x F! reader, established relationship, oral sex (m receiving), performing sex acts with food Summary: Eddie makes an unusual request when watching you eat your favorite candy gives him an idea WC: 2.7K

A/N: I've got a serious sweet tooth and with it being spooky season and all, I just had to write this. Enjoy!

You'd been doing it for a while now, peering out of your bedroom window to watch the brisk autumn breeze lift withered leaves of orange and brown up high before they fluttered back down and came to rest on your front lawn.

Somehow you were yet to tire of of the sight, feeling both soothed and all cozied up in the blanket you'd plucked from your bed. Draping it around your shoulders, you wrapped the rest around your middle while you stood there, creating a cocoon of warmth as you watched more fallen leaves tumble along the yard before the wind blew them up high again.

You liked this time of year more than others, content with quietly soaking up all the little sights and sounds Autumn had to offer when the sound of your cellphone rattling on your desk takes you out of the peaceful scene.

Crossing the room before you miss it, you see the name displayed on your screen and that alone is enough to make you smile, happily swiping to answer his call.

You'd been set on spending the day at home and all bundled up when only three minutes into the call and he manages to tempt you out of your cocoon. Eddie was always good at convincing you like that, this time inviting you over for a lazy evening at his place. He makes promises of a B horror movie classic shoved into the VCR to entertain you both and more importantly, a bowl full of your favorites to fill your belly.

Swallowing as you salivate, you promise to be there in no more than fifteen minutes, managing a quick change of clothes before you take off for the trailer park with your tummy rumbling all throughout your drive there.

By the time you arrive with five minutes to spare too, the once bright flamingo sky had started to dull into a dark raven, the stars and moon soon to follow as you step out of the car and make your way over.

Treading towards the trailer your eyes settle on something both new and familiar, a big smile breaking out on your face when you get a little closer and recognize the carved pumpkin sitting out on the Munson's doorstep.

Eddie and you had made it together a few days before, the two of you trying your best but ultimately struggling. The task was so much harder to complete than than it looked, leaving the both of you fed up and more than a little sick of the earthy scent of pumpkin that clung to your fingers.

You assumed he'd have thrown it in the trash but seeing it now, with its flame flickering gently, you found the misshapen, jagged edges framing the jack o lanterns grin oddly charming and not the disaster you thought it'd be. What's more, you liked that he cared enough to still display it proudly as a symbol of your joint effort.

Skipping up the stairs, you find the door already unlocked for you as the knob turns and you step inside, nearly bumping into Eddie in the middle of drawing the curtains shut. He takes a quick pause to kiss you hello, his lips tasting of sticky sweet strawberry before he finishes flicking the lights off to view tonight's horror movie.

"Take a seat, babe", he tells you, hurrying into the kitchenette and back with a few sodas.

You step towards the couch though you hang on the way he smiles at you, just as you had with the your gaze trained on the leaves rustling along on your lawn.

You can't help noticing the way Eddie's cheeks have begun to fill out from the frequent snacking he's done this month, not to mention the way his stomach has rounded out a bit underneath his t-shirt, the sleeves fitting more snugly around his biceps too as do his jeans as they show off the thickness of his thighs.

It's a subtle, chubby layer that makes a quiet urge brew inside you, wanting to wrap yourself around him and feel all the places he's turned softer before kissing him hard all over.

All in good time, you think to yourself, taking your place on the couch while Eddie feeds a copy of Basket Case into the VCR.

Propping your elbows on your thighs, your chin resting in your palms, you lean forward to peruse the evening's offerings sitting on the table in front of you, grinning excitedly at all the treats crowding the bowl.

"As promised my dear lady", Eddie gestures to the bowl when he catches you looking, walking back to the couch to sit by you with a playful quirk of his eyebrow.

There's enough candy inside to cause a spill if you're not careful, the top layer alone filled with so many kinds, all different flavors and sizes. You realize you're completely spoilt for choice when your eyes wander all over, roving over cherry sours, peanut butter bars, strawberry bon bons, grape sweetarts and many many more.

"Eds, this is too much", you chuckle, poking a strawberry twizzler resting at the very top of the pile.

Without missing a beat he's quick to flash you one of his best smiles, wide and warm, enough to make the coldest parts of you melt. "Just wanted to treat my favorite girl", he winks back.

That earns him another kiss, one he's more than happy to receive when you pull him closer and press your lips to the full apple of his cheek, his heart somersaulting from the quick little show of affection.

"Thank you", you tell him sincerely, giggling when you notice the sparkle glittering in his eyes.

"Oh come on. It's the least I could have done", he adds sheepishly.

With that settled, your fingers twitch as you turn your attention back to the candy, trying to decide on what you should unwrap first before you settle on a packet of pink starbursts.

The first hour passes without a hitch after that, your thigh warm against Eddie's while the two of you juggle watching the movie, making cracks at it and snacking on everything sweet and sour.

A little pile of empty candy wrappers accumulate beside the bowl during that time, still quite a bit to get through even with Eddie's help. By this point you'd sucked on many a lemon head, chewed every kind of bubble gum and bit into the occasional gooey caramels that had you sucking the stubborn leftovers still clinging to your back teeth. You fed some into Eddie's mouth too, making him happier and happier to know how much you're enjoying his little gift.

So much so that he'd begun to watch you out of the corner of his eye from time to time with quiet fascination, watching you pick a new candy and munch on it before you moved on to another.

It must be the way you're pressed up against him and the way you sweetly kiss his fingers to clear the occasional dusting of powdered sugar or smudge of gummy cherry lingering on him because he's just about lost all interest in the movie playing on TV.

He can't help but note the way your soft, sweet lips fit around each piece of candy as you place them in your mouth, your cheeks growing full and puffing out until you've chewed enough to swallow. He's transfixed on the way your tongue wraps around every lollipop, the way you suck suck suck on every sour candy, every movement of your mouth conjuring the kind of thoughts he ought to keep to himself.

That is until he feels you shift beside him.

Your eyes are coyly set on the TV like you're yet to notice Eddie's gaze on you, or at least he had thought so. He knows what's coming next when his eyes fall to his lap, your hand resting there casually, lightly grazing his dark jeans as you inch it higher and higher towards his crotch when suddenly he croaks out, "Babe? it's not that I don't want it- its just...I have this... idea and I want to run it by you first."

The movie is entirely forgotten at this point, still playing in the background and keeping the trailer lit as you listen attentively, eyes blinking up at Eddie when he finally spits it out.

"You want me to do what?", you ask, half taken aback, half ready to chortle.

"You think it's stupid, don't you?", he asks, his lips drooping into a little frown.

"I didn't say that", you tell him, huffing out a laugh through your nose when he lights up again like fireworks.

"It's just that it's not every day that I get asked to suck your cock with a mouthful of pop rocks, you know?"

Eddie lets out a weak laugh, shaking his head when he realizes how his proposition must sound to you.

"Yeah. You're right. I'm sorry, let's just forget the who-"

"Woah woah, slow down-", you quickly bring your face up to his, pressing your index finger at his lips to silence him, your gaze locked on his bambi brown eyes. You let your other hand scale his thigh just as before, this time making it to his crotch where you rub your palm firmly over the girth of his stiffening bulge. "-and take your pants off for me, Munson."

~

A weathered couch cushion keeps your knees from feeling sore, your palms pushing gently at Eddie's hairy, bare inner thighs to make room for yourself between his legs.

"Y' ready?" you ask him, peppy with excitement when you retrieve the little packet of cherry pop rocks from the half empty bowl of candy, bringing it up to your mouth to rip it open with your teeth.

You can tell that the sight of you like this is only making him even more eager judging by the way his cock twitches against his soft, pudgy belly, leaving a messy streak of precum along his skin.

"Keep doing stuff like that and I might finish before you even get started", he chuckles lightly.

Exchanging smirks, you take that as your cue to part your lips and tip the little packet of pop rocks into your mouth, the taste of sweet, tangy sugar fresh on your tongue.

The contents crackle and pop there, tickling the inside of your cheeks and the roof of your mouth too. Setting the packet aside, you wrap your fingers around Eddie's girth. With one last look at his blushing mauve cheeks and his wide, unblinking eyes, you open your mouth the point you know that your jaw will be sore later. Not that you cared, gently fitting his cock inside your waiting mouth.

"Oh god- o-oh fuck ngh...baby!"

You can only imagine what it must feel like for Eddie, your eyes fixed on the way his own squeeze shut and his teeth bite into his lower lip. For a second you even worry he might be in pain as you watch him closely, concern taking over you as you try to remove your mouth from him but Eddie moves quicker than you can.

He works a trembling hand into your hair to keep you situated. The feeling undoubtedly intense, he still manages to guide you up and down his candied shaft gently, enough to make you hum with relief as you refocus your efforts on making him feel good.

The confection continues to crackle and pop pleasantly in your mouth, tickling the back of your throat when his tip nudges you there. His entire cock is sweet to the taste as you bob and slurp thoroughly all over him, the fruity scent of cherry blending with Eddie's natural musk permeating from the untrimmed hair at his base. You liked the way it brushes your nose when you take him in deep, making sure to breathe in the scent in deep, slow breaths.

As for Eddie, the gentle motion of you tasting every inch of him makes him squirm on the couch, your saliva turning thick with the addition of the candy, a sugary syrup of sorts that tints your lips and his dick in a matching shade of rosy red.

Among the many expletives running through his mind, Eddie curses himself for not having thought of this sooner but more importantly he thinks of how he'll be returning the favor later, dead set on finding a way to give you the same kind of pleasure you're so eagerly giving him.

Comfortably perched between his legs, you take in every sigh that falls from his lips, every groan and moan that makes you tingle from the base of your spine to the top, every breathy call of your name sounding more sweeter than the last.

"Keep looking at me...yeah, that's it...need to...shi- you look so fucking perfect right now"

As much as it fills your chest with sunny warmth to hear that, you want to tell him that you feel the same way too, that you've never set your eyes on anything as beautiful as how he looks right now.

If your mouth wasn't so full with him you'd tell him how much you adored his flushed cheeks, his swollen lips and the way his sweat makes his skin glisten but something tells you that he already knows, both of you able to convey your understanding through looks alone.

So when you begin to swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock like a lolly you can tell by his pinched expression and increasingly choppy breathing that his climax isn't far off but he makes sure to tell you anyway,

"Not gonna last long, angel...", he lets out a low, pretty whine, "that mouth of yours...fuck...'s damn near dangerous"

You fight off a small laugh as you beam with pride. How could you not after receiving such praise? practically smiling around Eddie's cock as you suckle him softly.

"Wanna watch you swallow it. Wanna see it in your mouth- all full of it. C-can you do that for me? m' almost there"

As much as you'd like to run your tongue along him just a little longer, feeling him twitch and pulse in your mouth you oblige, slowly sucking your way up to his tip and letting it go with an audible pop.

Taking a moment to rub at your tired jaw, you notice all the tiny leftover specs of candy yet to dissolve coating his glossy, throbbing length, your own mouth still containing a few globs of pop rocks.

There's no time to ask if you could lick them clean, reading the urgent expression on Eddie's face with ease and dutifully opening your mouth for him. He takes over by holding his dick and stroking himself quickly, his reddened tip resting on your red stained tongue.

All it takes is a few, quick strokes until his breath stutters and his body shudders, his thick cum spurting so much and so far you feel the creamy ropes splatter some of your teeth and hit the back of your throat where it then begins to slide down, triggering you to swallow.

While you swish and taste the leftover candy cum combination in your mouth, Eddie damn near blacks out from pumping his load into your mouth, his vision turning spotty before he's able to focus on you again. Chest heaving with deep, shaky breaths, he watches in mute amazement at the way you insatiably lap up his tangy spend, raising a curious eyebrow at you when instead of getting up off your knees, you turn to fiddle with the candy bowl instead.

Though it feels impossible, you find a way to breathe more life into his spent body so quickly after making him cum and no one's more surprised about it than Eddie. His stomach flutters and his cock begins to twitch back to stiffness when he sees what you've got a hold of and Eddie realizes with glee that the night is nowhere near over.

Holding up two packets in each hand as you smile up at him from between his legs, you ask him,

"So which do you want me to try next? watermelon or blue razzberry?"

[photo1030]

Pls do a fic or smthing where readers old guy friend finds her and they reconnect and they’re both crying and Arthur is like who is this and reader is like he’s my closest friend from home I haven’t seen him in ages and Arthur is all jealous kinda

Hi, Kids!

So sorry for the wait. Life has been busy, but I've been plugging away on this one. Thank you so much for this "ask"! This was actually an idea that I had for my regular "Arthur x reader" fic, so I was happy to oblige. I wrote this to coincide with my reg fic and I decided to go more angsty than smutty for this one, so I hope that is OK for the Anon who asked.

**Special thanks to @readingcoco for beta-reading for me. Your help was priceless.

LEATHER AND LACE - SAY HELLO TO AN OLD FRIEND

Summary: Arthur is none too pleased when you run into an old friend from your previous life. 

*This is not my image. This belongs to Rafa on Pintrest. Beautiful work there.

Masterlist

Tagging: @daisybvck

The banging of an anvil echoes heavily in your ears, the deafening ringing thumping in your brain. You and Arthur have wandered into the busy town of Cripple Creek to see the local farrier. You have spent the last day hunting and while coming down through the valley pass, your horse, Blue, had thrown a shoe. Never one to neglect your horse, you insisted Arthur take you into the closest town to get him some attention immediately. 

Now, Arthur is a firm believer in taking proper care of one’s horse, as a man’s horse means his survival. But the way you fuss over this spoiled animal as if he were your child causes Arthur to just chuckle and shake his head at you. 

Coming out of the farrier’s building, you shield the sun from your eyes as you look around at the townspeople. The area seems pleasant enough. It is a depot location for one of the railroad lines, so there is a lot of traffic. People are coming and going, always in a hurry to go somewhere or nowhere. But always in a hurry to get there all the same. 

You passed several pungent livestock farms on the way here, but now you can inhale deeply, enjoying the fresh air being pulled into your lungs. A slight breeze kicks up, lifting the soft tendrils of hair that frame your face to sway gently in its wake.

Arthur looks over as he lights his cigarette, amused at how your eyes roll closed and your whole body relaxes in a rare moment of peace and quiet. He really should get you out of that camp more often. Maybe he’ll hold off a bit on returning home, and the two of you can spend some more time alone together.

You can feel the bulk of him leaning in closer to you as his gloved hand runs down your spine to land on the small of your back. “Well, what do ya think? Should we get a room for the night or just rut about in the woods like we usually do?” 

Your lips pull into a smile at his suggestion, and when you open your eyes, you are met with Arthur’s twinkling suggestively at you. Your face immediately brightens as you turn your body into him, hands finding their way to his broad chest. Your fingertips play with the upturned collar of his faded black button-down shirt. Giggling with excitement at the idea, you push up onto your tiptoes, your nose flirtatiously inches from his. Arthur’s hands settle comfortably at your hips, his arms enfolding you.

“Y/N? Y/F&LN, is that you?”

 A vaguely familiar voice distracts you from answering Arthur’s question, but you can’t quite place it. Turning your head in confusion, you search for the source, and suddenly, your eyes widen with recognition. 

“Robert?” Your gaze lands on a tall, slender man making his way through the crowd towards you. He is well-dressed in a blue and gold brocade vest and has auburn hair neatly combed back. He’s sporting more facial hair than you remember, giving him a distinguished look. He’s a bit older now, but you’d recognize that wide, toothy smile anywhere. An unexpected shriek of excitement escapes your lips as your hands slip away from Arthur. “Robert!!”

Arthur stands there dumbfounded as he watches excitement overtake your whole body as you run into the waiting arms of this mystery man. Who in the hell is this person? And why did you just abandon Arthur to embrace him like that? You and this strange man hug each other tightly, laughing and smiling as if God himself had gifted you each other.

“I thought you were dead, Y/N!” the man exclaims, holding you at arm’s length so he can take a good look at you. 

“I thought you went to Europe! I thought I’d never see you again!” you laugh incredulously. Shaking your head in wonder, you throw your arms around the man’s neck again.

Arthur stands quietly, eyebrows knitted together, lips pulled into a thin line. He doesn’t like this one bit. The only person he’s ever seen you this excited over is him. Arthur’s fingers tap impatiently along his belt where his hands sit idle, as he waits for you to finish this reunion. Eventually, he clears his throat to try to turn your attention back to him.

Finally remembering yourself, you turn towards Arthur. “Arthur, this is Robert, my best friend.” Arthur’s eye catches how your arm eagerly loops around the man’s elbow. “We knew each other as kids. We grew up together back east!” You continue to gush as you present your old friend to your current lover. “Robert, this is Arthur.” You motion to the mountain of a man standing to your right. 

Robert’s face lights up as he boldly strides closer, extending his hand out to shake Arthur’s. “So nice to meet you, Arthur!” His voice chirps with bravado and swagger, instantly making Arthur’s skin crawl. When Arthur doesn’t reply with the same enthusiasm, Robert turns back to you, eyebrows raised with curiosity. “So, is this your…husband?”

A slight giggle comes from your lips at the suggestion. “No, we’re not married. But he is mine.” You smile proudly at Arthur, your hand reaching over and squeezing his. Arthur smiles down at you as his body drifts slightly closer to yours. His strong arm snakes around your waist until you rest protectively against him. When he sees you beaming at him, it sets him at ease a bit with this intruder and he tries to relax a little. 

“Robert, is it? Well, Robert, looks like you and Y/N go way back, huh?” Arthur asks, trying not to come off as annoyed as he feels right now. 

“Oh boy, do we. We used to get in all kinds of trouble together.” Robert waves his hand in emphasis, then reaches out to tap your arm. “Y/N, remember when we used to sneak out and stay up ‘til 3:00 in the morning?”

You cover your mouth in embarrassment. “God, if my father ever found out what we were up to, he’d have taken a belt to me for sure!” you roll your eyes.

Robert’s dark eyes fall upon you with a sweet and nostalgic look, one held with affection of a time long past. “Used to be you and me, spitting off the edge of the world, right?” He leans over to wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you away from Arthur and into his side.

You smile affectionately back at your friend, nodding in agreement. “That’s right. You and me.” 

‘You and me’ - The phrase sticks in Arthur’s brain, a phrase you should only be using in reference to him… not some other random fella. His lip curls into a slight sneer of contempt, however, you are too caught up in the camaraderie with your friend to notice. 

“We need to catch up! Come on, let’s get a drink and a bite to eat. I want to know everything that’s been going on with you since we last saw each other,” insists Robert, tugging on the sleeve of your white cotton tunic. 

“Oh, yes!” You turn towards Arthur. “Can we, Arthur? We have time, don’t we?”

Right now, Arthur wants nothing more than to get you away from this man, this town and everyone else in the world. But he can’t say no to that wishful look on your face. He doesn’t have the heart to crush your hope. That has always been Arthur’s weakness:  he can never say no to you. 

“Fine, I guess we got some time to spare,” Arthur reluctantly agrees, trying to hide the disdain that threatens to break through his patient facade. You clasp your hands together, giving a little hop of excitement.

The three of you turn to head down the side of the street, with you and Robert chit-chatting incessantly the whole time. As you stroll along, Robert explains how he has become a lawyer and is traveling to California to take care of some estate affairs for a prominent family. He is just stopping for a layover in Cripple Creek to catch a connecting train.

Instead of going to a saloon, you reach a little restaurant along the main strip in town and head inside. Robert orders a bottle of the best liquor the bar has to offer, and you all sit around a table as he proceeds to tell you of all the gossip from back home. 

Robert is so animated and full of life and fun, not caring at all about the judgmental looks of others as he loudly tells you anecdote after anecdote. But he’s always been like this. For as long as you’ve known him Robert doesn’t care what anyone thinks and therefore is free to do as he pleases. This is something that you have always loved about him and why you were such good friends when you were younger. He was a breath of fresh air in a stuffy upper-class world. And to be honest, you always had a bit of a crush on him, too.

“So, David and Clare got married, you know,” he smirks. Of course, Robert is referring to your ex-fiance who you were betrothed to, who, as it turned out, was sleeping with your friend the whole time. 

“I figured as much,” you reply dismissively.

“Huge obnoxious wedding, of course.” Robert waves his hand with a flourish.

You huff out an unimpressed chuckle. “I figured as much,” you repeat again.

“Wasn’t even six months, and the rumors were flying about his infidelity.” Robert laughs at the absurdity of it. You roll your eyes and take a large swig from your glass. “You dodged a bullet there, my friend.” Robert gives you a wink. 

Arthur has to stifle a snicker at the irony of the man’s choice of language.

“Probably should’ve just married you myself,” smiles Robert. The statement makes you blush a bit under Robert’s affectionate gaze. But it is a statement that sets Arthur on edge. 

Arthur patiently pretends to listen as you and Robert continue to laugh and joke about old friends and the social scene you left behind, the pair of you growing more and more chummy, until eventually, you find yourself resting a hand on Robert's forearm as you speak. Arthur clenches his fist tightly under the table, his eyes staring at your fingers and watching as they absentmindedly dance along Robert’s arm. It is not intended to be a flirtatious move, as it is a mannerism that you often do when you are excited about what you are talking about. But it is an action that Arthur resents all the same right now. 

You try your best to involve Arthur in the conversation but to be frank, you are discussing people and places that he has no frame of reference for. The only thing that does pique his interest is the way Robert keeps referring to you. That certainly has Arthur's attention. But he has to be careful. He can see how happy you are and doesn't want his temper to burst your little bubble. However, if he had his way, he would be grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you to the closest hotel to make you forget your own name, let alone another man's.

Arthur hates that you have this “other language” and bond with someone who is not only outside the gang, but outside his class altogether. He’d forgotten where you came from and what you’d given up to be with the Van Der Linde gang and him along with it. And this conversation with this ghost of your past only confirms it. Arthur tries not to glare at Robert as he takes in the man’s fine clothing and clean hands that have probably never seen a day of labor in his life. 

The whole thing is a harsh reminder that Arthur may not only be holding you back in life but actually pushing you down. 

“So,” Robert finally turns his attention away from you, ”What do you do for a living, Art?” Robert asks innocently.

The very sound of Robert’s voice makes Arthur bristle. “The name…is Arthur,” he grits out. “And it’s none of your damn business what I do.” At this point, Arthur wants nothing more than to plant his massive fist in this pompous fool’s face.

You instantly pick up on Arthur’s annoyance. You can see his steel blue eyes set hard as his fist clenches around the glass in his hand. Arthur’s head tilts slightly to the side as he watches Robert, and you know from experience that he is measuring the man up. Robert is only being nice, ever the extravert, but he has no idea what sort of man is sitting across from him. 

“Easy now, Arthur,” you chuckle nervously as you pat his burly forearm. “Robert is only asking out of curiosity.” Arthur shoots you a look that you can’t quite place. “Arthur does a little bit of everything,” you quickly answer Robert to avoid further awkwardness. “He’s done bounty work, loan collecting, things like that.”

“Interesting,” muses Robert. 

“Well, I’d rather be an honest sinner than a lying hypocrite,” asserts Arthur as he levels his gaze across the table at Robert.

“I assume you work with horses quite a bit, too, then?” Robert pushes as his eyes roam up and down over Arthur.

“I do.”

“Figured as much. You seem pretty ‘rough and rugged’ like the cowboys we read about back in the city.” Arthur’s eyebrows knit as his mouth turns into a slight frown. “Oh, I don’t mean anything by it, friend! You look fantastic!” Robert insists. “In fact, I couldn’t be happier for Y/N. Looks like she’s got herself a real man. Those sniveling, uppity simpletons back home were never her type.”

“And I assume you are?” Arthur asks. This causes you to look at him questioningly. 

“Me? Oh, no. We were never like that.” Robert waves the comment off, not reading the underlying meaning of Arthur’s question.

“He’s right. Being married to Robert would be like being married to a puppy,” you joke, trying to lighten the ominous mood that Robert is thankfully oblivious to.

“True. But, you have to admit, we would have made quite the pair, wouldn’t we?” Robert leans over and nudges you in the side with that wide smile of his again. 

Arthur roughly grabs his glass of whiskey and throws it back, the bitter liquor hitting his throat, before he slams the glass down onto the table. 

“What are you gettin’ at, there, Robert? Hmm? You think Y/N would be better off with you than me? Is that it?” The icy stare that Arthur throws at Robert is cold enough to frost the windows of the room. His chiseled jaw sets tightly, his body tense as if about to explode. Your stomach drops as you realize that Robert has indeed crossed a line with Arthur, whether he has intended to or not. And you find yourself at an impasse:  do you stand by your man, or do you defend your oldest and dearest friend?

Finally, seeing that Arthur is not amused by his antics, Robert takes the hint and clears his throat nervously. “Well, it has been so wonderful to catch up with you, Y/N!” He stands up from the table and adjusts his vest, running his hand over his hair to make sure everything is still in its place. You and Arthur stand as well in anticipation of the farewell. You are reluctant to say goodbye to your friend, and Arthur is anxious to leave. 

The three of you silently file out of the little restaurant together and onto the busy sidewalk.

“I truly hope we can do this again sometime soon, Y/N. Maybe if I swing through these parts again, I’ll reach out.” Robert says hopefully.

“I’d like that, Robert. Please do.” You affectionately place your hand on his arm. “I’ve missed you quite a bit since I’ve been out here.” You give each other a tight hug, one that lasts a bit longer than Arthur’s liking. But then again, Arthur doesn’t like anyone touching you for any reason. 

“Arthur, it was a pleasure to meet you.” Robert smiles and sticks his arm out to shake Arthur’s hand again, which he reluctantly does. Arthur’s large hand dwarfs Robert’s as it clamps down extra hard. “Take good care of our girl, yes?” 

“Sure,” Arthur deadpans. “Our girl.”

Robert gives you both an awkward smile and turns to head back down the street towards the train depot. Your eyes follow him as your chest feels heavy at having to say goodbye to a part of your past. 

When you turn back to Arthur to thank him for his patience, you are met with his hard face. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he snaps. 

Sighing in exasperation, you cross your arms over your chest. “Don’t give me that.” You knew this argument was coming. 

“Just that you seem awfully close with that Robert fella.” The contempt in Arthur’s voice is not lost on you.

“Well, yeah, he’s my best friend.” 

Arthur’s jaw clenches just a bit more at your answer. “Uh-huh.”

Your head tilts slightly to the side, eyes narrowing as you study him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Like I said, you two seem awfully close.” His voice drops low and slow, almost spitting out the words like a spoiled piece of meat.

“That’s because we are. He was the only true friend I had, Arthur.” You shuffle your weight from hip to hip, becoming increasingly uncomfortable under Arthur’s scrutiny. You suddenly feel like one of his marks.

“Uh-huh.” Arthur’s simple responses quickly escalates your annoyance as you watch him pull a cigarette out of his pocket, striking the match on the nearby building with enough force that the wooden stick almost snaps between his fingertips. 

“Oh my God, are you jealous?” you ask, disturbed at the turn in the conversation. 

“Nope.” Dipping his head down, his eyes are hidden by his dusty, worn hat as his fingers bring the cigarette back up to his lips. 

“No?”

“Alright, maybe I am,” he suddenly spins on you, face turning crimson. “Maybe I don’t like how excited you get to see another man. Maybe I don’t like you all laughing and smiling at someone else.” 

Your heart begins to pound in your ears, taken aback by his surge of anger. “Arthur-”

“Don’t!” he barks at you. “Just…don’t! I can’t compete with that, and you know it!” He points his finger accusingly at you. 

“Arthur, I'm not asking you to compete with anyone! In fact, there’s a reason why I left all that behind.” You step towards him, arms raised to embrace him, but he blocks your hands with his own.

“Save it!” And he storms off, leaving you standing there on the sidewalk. Butterflies swirl in your stomach, leaving you queasy. A storm of guilt, frustration, and yes even anger, rages inside your chest. You wrap your arms around yourself as you try to make sense of what just happened.

“Damn it, Arthur,” you mutter. 

—---------------------------------------------------

Rather than chase after him, you decide to leave Arthur be and give him time to cool off. There’s no talking to him when he gets like this, as it usually escalates into a fight if you push it. You feel awful for making him feel bad, as you are well aware of how self-conscious he is. But then again, what about your feelings? You have every right to visit with an old friend and a dear one at that. Yes, you know how it looks. You and Robert always did have a special bond that bordered on the flirtatious side. But you love Arthur. And he knows that. You love him with a depth that could swallow the stars. And you are getting tired of having to constantly prove that to him.

After an hour of wandering the local shops to stall for time, you decide to find Arthur, knowing exactly where you’ll find him. Your boot heels click along the worn floorboard of the porch outside of the saloon. You can hear the chatter and piano music coming from inside. You look through the window, eyes searching for your target. Between the small sea of dusty hats and hulking shoulders, you catch sight of that familiar form that you seek. 

Walking into the building, your hands roll over each other, fingers intertwining, as you take a shaky breath when you approach Arthur at the bar. You glide onto the stool beside him, fidgeting slightly to get comfortable. He sits quietly, still brooding with a menacing vibe radiating off of him. You motion to the bartender, who walks over when he catches your eye. “What’ll it be, Miss?”

“A beer, please.” 

“Comin’ right up”. It only takes a minute for him to grab a bottle and set it next to the coin you’ve already placed for him. His thick, ready fingers pick it up off the bar top with a pleasant nod of approval as he sets about his previous task. 

You spin the bottle between your fingertips, looking at Arthur from the corner of your eye. “So, are we going to talk about this?”

He continues to sulk quietly, lifting a shot of whiskey to his lips and downing it in one. His jaw clenches at the sting of the cheap liquor, but he promptly pours another shot into the diminutive glass, the bottle half empty at this point.

“Alright, fine.” You take a swig of your beer.

“Where’s your ‘friend’?” Arthur grunts without even looking at you. 

“Robert is about to get on a train.”

“Mmhmm”.

“Arthur-”

“Alright, look, I’m sorry,” he interupts, slicing his hand through the air as if to end the argument right here. “Please don’t make a big deal outta this.”

“What were you worried about? That I’d run off with Robert?”

“Wouldn’t you?” he blurts out bitterly.

“You can’t be serious?” Your face twists up in shock. He only answers you with a snort of derision. “Arthur, I was excited to see an old friend. That’s all,” you stress emphatically. “You have to remember, I am surrounded by your people, your family, all of the time. This is the first time I’ve seen someone from my previous life.” Your tone unwittingly begins to take on one of annoyance as you try to plead your case. But it is an argument that is falling on deaf and angry ears.

“I’m sorry, I thought the gang was ‘your people’, too,” he bites back. Arthur can be a reasonable man until he is provoked, and then reason doesn’t factor in at all. 

“Well, they are,” you backpedal sheepishly at his harshness. Your gaze falters to land on the bottle in your hands before attempting to meet Arthur’s again. “But you know what I mean. You can’t be angry because I was happy to see someone from my life that, heaven forbid, didn’t involve the Van der Linde gang.” 

Artur just pouts in silence. You are getting really irritated at this point, but trying to remain calm and not cause a scene.

“So you’d just let me run away with Robert rather than talk to me and ask me to stay with you? Is that it?” you huff.

“Couldn't help but notice how excited you were to hear about everything back home. Almost like you miss it. Pretty damn clear after your little visit today that you don’t even belong here. Maybe you should.” And another shot gets poured into the glass.

Damn it, and there it is. The thing that always seems to be present in your relationship:  the idea that you still don’t belong, even after all this time and everything that you’ve done. Arthur still doesn’t see you as “one of them”. And it is a sting that doesn’t sit well with you at all. 

Your eyes begin to well up as you try to fight the lump forming in your throat. ”I can’t believe you just said that to me.” Your lips tremble slightly with emotion, a mix of betrayal and anger swirling and bubbling up inside you like one of Pearson’s stews.

The very insinuation is hurtful to you. You have turned your life upside down for the gang and for him. And yet, it seems it will never be enough. It’s as if you are being punished for having a decent life before you were thrust into this new one. You didn’t fit into society back east, and it seems you still don’t fit here either. 

“Stop with the theatrics. I ain’t in a mood for it.” Arthur slings back another shot of whiskey. 

“You really are an ass sometimes, Arthur,” you stammer in disappointment.

He immediately slams his shot glass down on the bar, shattering it. The action startles you, your eyes shooting wide open. Arthur finally turns to face you now, his eyes burning into you so intensely that it causes you to cringe. You know damn well that you’re not perfect. But, it always made you feel special that Arthur seemed to think so. But the look he’s giving you right now is plain enough for you to know that he no longer believes it. 

And the wounded expression on your face enrages Arthur even more. The sight of you cowering like a lamb to slaughter because of his anger is too much. He’s furious at the everything right now:  you, Robert, this town, and more importantly, himself. He grabs the whiskey bottle on the counter and whips it at the wall, sending shards of glass flying into the thick smokey air to rain down onto the immediate vicinity. 

With your breath shaking, you slowly stand and back away from him. For the first time ever…you are afraid of him.

The tumultuous noise alerts the bartender, who promptly yells at Arthur. “Hey, watch it! You gotta problem, you take it outside! Don’t be causing a ruckus around here!” He shoves his thick, meaty finger towards the doors. 

“Mind your own goddamn business ‘fore I give you a problem!” Arthur shouts back, now standing as well, leveling his gaze at the bartender. 

With Arthur distracted by the barkeep, you turn and push your way through the now-curious crowd and make a dash for the door. 

Your feet clumsily carry you down the steps as you sprint into the street, eyes watering and hands trembling from anger. 

“Hey! Hey! (Y/N)!” It doesn’t take long before you hear Arthur’s gravelly voice hollering down the street for you. 

“Leave me alone, Arthur!” you shout over your shoulder, not even bothering to turn around. Tears of anger are dangerously close to flowing as you walk even faster, your arms pumping back and forth to propel you further down the road. But Arthur is quick to catch up to you with his long strides.

“Where you goin’?” You can hear him quickly stalking up behind you, his spurs jingling heavily in the dirt of the street. 

“Doesn’t matter, right? I don’t belong here, remember?” You throw his words back into his face with such a biting tone. “Maybe I’ll see if there’s a seat next to Robert on the damn train!”

“Like hell you will!” Arthur yanks on your arm, his grip painful like a vice, spinning you around. 

But before you can even think clearly, your hand flies as if of its own accord, and you hear the sharp smack land across his cheek, cracking in the air before you feel the sting against your delicate hand. Arthur’s head snaps to the side from the strike, his eyes twisted shut from the impact.

Gasping, your eyes shoot open in shock as your hands immediately cover your mouth. You stand there, silent and trembling. Your chest heaves with broken breathing and choked sobs as you take a few steps back from him. You hate him so much right now. Not because of what he’s said, although that is bad enough, but because he has pushed you to this point. You never, ever want to hurt him. Arthur is dearer to you than life itself. You had never imagined raising a hand or weapon to the man you so desperately love, and yet, he has pushed you, backed you into a corner, to do so. 

“Oh…I’m sorry,” you utter, the sound barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry, Arthur.” Your eyes are glossy with unshed tears as your unwavering gaze never leaves his face, waiting with bated breath for his reaction. As you blink rapidly, a tear finally escapes your lower lash to cascade and roll over your hot cheek. 

Arthur freezes before his gaze slowly turns back to you. But what he sees shocks him. The very sight of you in your heightened state almost breaks his heart in two. Shame coats his insides as he realizes his jealousy has gotten the best of him. And the pain and fear in your eyes is worse than any bullet to the gut, rocking him to his very core. 

Arthur’s expression journeys from one of rage to shock to one of absolute remorse. He says nothing, which begins to terrify you even more. Arthur is known for his temper, even taking his frustrations out on you when needed. You pride yourself on the notion that Arthur may be difficult to handle but never for you. You have always been able to read him, to know his mind better than himself, which is why he relies on you so greatly. You set his world to right when it goes off-kilter. But now, you feel a great divide between you. You stare at him with no idea of what will happen next. 

Arthur’s strong arms extend out towards you as a silent apology. But instead of falling into them, you shrink back from him. He halts immediately, turning his palms up in surrender. But slowly, he steps a bit closer to you. Arthur reaches out again, wrapping his hands carefully around your biceps. He can feel you tremble slightly under his fingertips. 

Regret sits heavily upon his brow. You can see the self-reproach embedded into his eyes as he stares into yours, searching for forgiveness that he prays you’ll grant him.

Your eyes leave his face, a silent understanding settling between you as you focus on the buttons of his shirt, watching as his chest rises and falls with his calming breath. 

With a deep sigh, he silently escorts you into the privacy of the immediate alley, gently pushing you back against the siding of the post office. 

“You’re mine.” Arthur does not say this out of anger or possession. Nor has he faltered into a blubbering mess. He simply utters the statement as pure fact, no question.  

“Am I?” you stammer. Your eyes lift to search his, looking for any doubt that may still linger. 

“You sure as shit are.” Arthur’s voice is low but carries the loving undertone you always take refuge in as the slightest hint of a grin pulls at the corner of his mouth.

“Really? Ten minutes ago, you were ready to let me walk out that door. Told me that I shouldn’t be here.”

Arthur pulls his lips inward at the dismay in your quaking voice. “I shouldn’t ‘ve said that. That was me being a goddamn idiot. But, it is true, ya know. You don’t belong in that gang, Y/N. I keep tellin' ya you’re too good for it. You deserve the finer things in life, things like Robert can give ya.” 

Your shoulders fall with a painful sigh as your eyes gently drift shut again. You are so tired of having this same conversation over and over again.

“But,” he continues, “I do want you there. I want you with me. I need you, Y/N. We need you. It’s selfish, I know.” His chin bobs slightly in acknowledgement. “God forgive me, but we do.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted, Arthur. I want to belong somewhere. And to someone.” You look at Arthur with an almost desperate expression on your face. Your whole life, you’ve been floating like a leaf in the wind, bobbing about with no particular place to land. You thought you had finally found your place, your home, with the Van Der Linde gang, no matter how unlikely it seemed. And when Arthur threw it back in your face, it was like being pushed off a cliff to free-fall backwards with no one to catch you. 

He lifts his rough hand to cup your face, his thumb ghosting over your cheek. “I won’t ever let you go, Y/N. Not ever. Not even if someone else comes along.” Your eyes begin to flutter again as the feeling of his skin on yours reassures you. You wrap your own hands around his wrist, holding his hand in place as you lean your face into his warm palm.

“Arthur, I promise you, you have nothing to worry about. The way you make me feel when I look at you is why I could never look at another.” Your eyes sparkle brightly in earnest, the last of your tears rimmed along your lashes. 

He only hesitates a moment before he pulls you close to him. He secures you safely against him where you belong, your chest pressed up against his as powerful arms coil around you to lock you in. Arthur lowers his face to nudge your nose with his before planting his lips to kiss you slow and deep, taking your breath away.

When his lips separate from yours, Arthur briefly rests his forehead on yours before pulling back to look into your face once more. His eyes are intense and reflect a deeper shade of blue than you’ve ever seen. A wolfish grin begins to emerge under that peppered beard stubble as his finger tucks a rogue strand of hair behind your ear.

“Like I said, Y/N, you…are…mine.”

[aziraphales-library]

Hi there! I just wanted to congratulate you for all your hard work!! All of you have made an important account for this fandom, and I hope you're all doing alright

As a treat (and only if you want!!), can you tell me a cool fic you've read but never recommended before? (If not, that's quite alright)

Hello. Here are some fics I've read and enjoyed recently that I don't think we've recommended before, but if we have they are worth recommending again and adding to the #mod faves tag...

Marriage in an Orange Grove by shanimalx (T)

Murmurations is the oldest café in Soho, whose clientele is usually limited to reclusive artists, older men who value peace and quiet, and those who know the employees personally. Crowley is all three. (Aziraphale makes Crowley a cup of coffee, and Crowley kind of wants to marry him for it.)

Imagine how the world could be by HolRose (T)

Salesman Crowley is driving home when he sees a man in obvious distress at the side of the road. He stops and offers him a lift. Little does he know that this compassionate action will change his life forever. This is a human AU that can be read as a stand-alone story without reference to the other works in the series.

Between a Book and a Hard Place by LCwrites (E)

After a very enjoyable one-night stand, A. Z. Fell and A. J. Crowley go separate ways, though memories of each other linger. More than they ought to, considering it was nothing but a casual encounter and they won't meet again. How fortunate for them that their respective work is keeping them busy. Having one of his more salacious novels turned into an audio book should be enough of a distraction for Aziraphale. As should be getting to narrate one of the famous M. Cortese's porn books – pardon: historical erotica – for Crowley.

A Tricky Situation (Entirely of his own making) by sixbynine (E)

"Crowley stood up and went to leave, he turned back just as he opened the door and took a deep breath. “You know I was quite excited to come here and work with you. I enjoyed reading your work. I disagree with a lot of it, but your writing style is lovely and every so often you’d let that privileged rich white boy mask drop and it was fantastic. I was hoping to meet that Professor Fell, but I’m beginning to think maybe he doesn’t exist and I’m going to be stuck with a rude stuck up arsehole for the next five years.” He slammed the door behind him before Aziraphale could respond. Aziraphale gaped, open mouthed, at the shut door." -- Aziraphale is teaching at Kings College London. He's been teaching at King College London for a long time now thank you very much and he does not take kindly to new Professors being sprung on him suddenly. Especially when this one has quite publically made his opinon of Aziraphale's work known. Luckily Aziraphale has an understanding penpal...

Among the Stacks by MeinirRhos (NR)

Nearly a year after Aziraphale returns to Heaven, he vanishes from existence, leaving Crowley bereft on Earth. Just when the demon has finally started to heal and move on with his life, he finds his angel by chance in a library. But Aziraphale has no memory of his life as an angel, or of Crowley. How will our hero cope?

But You Are An Ocean by megzseattle (T)

After Aziraphale's defection, Crowley tries to figure out how to live life for himself.

- Mod D

[oddsconvert]

Shattered #10 - Happy Birthday, August! Part III

Previous / Masterlist

CW: kidnapped whumpee, captivity (kinda/kinda not), defiant whumpee, whumpee thinks caretaker is a whumper, forced to kidnap references, vampire caretaker, threat of violence/death, weapons, adult language (pls let me know if I've forgotten any!)

AND FINALLY! THE LAST PART FOR AUGUST AND LUCAS' BACKSTORY! 🎉 Thank you so much for your guys' patience, with this one - it means everything <3 We resume with our usually scheduled Declan next chapter! 😍 And a mahoosive thank you to @darkthingshappen for her beta and help!

---

August feels like a stranger in his own home. A prisoner in his own home; his sanctuary now nothing more than a gilded cage. He is forever and always a captive of his own compassion and a victim of his cowardice. 

But August curses himself for daring to think like that. It’s unjust to think like that, especially on a night like tonight. The frantic hammering of a human heartbeat upstairs is his bleak reminder that he’s not alone anymore, and yet somehow… he’s never felt more alone in his life. The quiet has never screamed so loud, and the walls stretch to endless empty space around him.

For decades, August has been a ghost haunting this house. Lost in the in-between, a nobody with nobody. For decades, August has been at peace with that. Or at least, he had convinced himself that he was - if he dared to admit that the solitude was crippling, then the silence would drag him under and swallow him whole. Contentment was a convenient lie for the last century, but August’s loneliness is a glaring truth rearing its ugly head. He isn’t ready to face it.

Despair gnaws at his insides, sharper than the bite of the cold nipping his skin. Daylight has been and gone, and now moonlight bleeds through the dusty drapes. The ornate windows have blurred over with swirling white as the blizzard wails like a banshee and rages outside. August waits and waits, the grandfather clock in the corner ticks with a maddening slowness. He waits for something, anything and nothing all at once. He doesn’t know what. His comeuppance, perhaps? A wooden stake plunged straight through his spine? 

The human is still hidden away upstairs. Hours have bled by without a sound, not a whisper of movement and not a creak of the floorboard. No doubt he is plotting and scheming, waiting for his perfect chance to strike. Who could blame him? If August were in the human's position, trapped and desperate, the only natural urge for survival would twist his mind too.

August repeats his earlier vow in his mind like a broken record, over and over. When the snowstorm clears, the human will be released, and not a second later. He is a healer, not a gaoler. Every fibre of August's being aches with the need to atone. He will right this wrong no matter the cost. 

A sudden chill snakes down August's spine. A different kind of chill than the frosty air that fogs his breath. He snaps around, his eyes zeroing in on the dark figure lurking in the doorway. The human. They hadn’t made a sound, they’d just…appeared. Materialised out of thin air. Their sunken-in and bloodshot eyes lock with August’s in the dim light. His stance is imposing, his demeanour threatening. August feels strangely diminished by the very sight of him, as though he’s two inches tall.

"Hungry."

A single grumbled word is all that leaves the human's lips. Barely audible but the demand is crystal clear. Not a beg for scraps or a plea, it’s a demand. An attempt to claw back a sliver of control in a situation spiralling wildly out of reach for both of them. The terse delivery, the lack of a complete sentence - it speaks volumes. August isn't worthy of conversation, of any respect or dignity. He isn’t human, afterall - why should he be treated with any humanity?

The realisation eats away at him more than the rumbling of the human’s stomach.

That’s another thing. August forgets how quickly the human’s digestive system and their metabolism works. It’s a miracle how they live as long as they do. It’s as though the second they swallow, their belly immediately roars for even more. It must be impossible to keep up. August can’t keep up.

"I-I'll see what's in the pantry," August stammers, his voice cracking under the weight of the human's burning stare. "It- It won't be much, but..."

He shuffles towards the kitchen and its meagre cabinets. A can of chicken chunks, a tin of kidney beans, cobwebs and layers of dust line the shelves. The human catches a glimpse of the miserable sight, his expression drops to a mix of disapproval, offence and somehow, something akin to pity.

“If you plan on keeping me prisoner, you need to feed me, vamp,” the human snarls with contempt, “That’s human biology 101. Didn’t you claim to be a doc?”

August's jaw clenches. That hit a raw nerve. He wants to retort, to defend his capabilities, but the accusation lodges itself deep in August’s gut. He feels a flush of shame and embarrassment fill his cheeks, because the man’s words were a bitter truth. How can he call himself a doctor? When all he’s responsible for is pain and misery? He can’t even provide basic sustenance.

August finds himself at a loss for words. He can’t even look at the human. Instead he hangs his head and anxiously picks at the skin on his fingers.  “I-I …I didn’t p-plan this. Any of this-”

“-Food,” the human makes his demand again. His fuse running short.

“H-Help yourself. You don’t have to ask. Please, just make yourself at home.”

“This will never be my home,” the human spits venomously, his hands balled tight into fists.

“No - I - I didn’t mean tha-”

The human tears past August in a huff, his body vibrating with barely contained rage. His shoulder slams into August with deliberate malice. August, however, stands firm and absorbs the shove without a flinch. He watches as the human throws himself at the kitchen with the ferocious hunger of a starved lion. He wrenches the cupboards open with bone-jarring bangs and slams them shut with enough force to rattle the windows.

“So what’s your plan?” the human side-eyes August, squatting down to the lower cabinets and flinging them open. They’re empty too. They all are, really. He groans in frustration and slams them shut. “Earn my trust to break it? I’ll be a mindless zombie in days?”

"My plan is to return you to where I found you. As soon as I possibly can. Without hesitation." 

“‘Without hesitation?’” the human scoffs, a bitter and humourless laugh, “what a fucking joke.”

He snatches at cans and packets, what few there are that he can get his hands on. He crams a half-empty bag of dry pasta and a tin of peaches into his arms - god knows how long they’ve been there. Nothing that constitutes a full meal but his stockpile will stretch to a couple days, at least. August feels a weight settle heavy on his chest at that. He knows with a devastating certainty that the bridge of understanding between them is crumbling away. The human will surely disappear upstairs again, never to be seen. There will be no getting through to him. Strangers, they will remain.

The human fills his arms and races back towards the stairs. August scrambles after him, his voice tight, "Please, can we just talk? Before you-”

“NO! Don't follow me! Don't talk to me. Don't you dare come anywhere near me. Don't even knock on my door. You want to make good on your promise? I don't want to hear from you or see your face until we’re heading back to human territory. Comprende?!”

If August had a tail, it would be between his legs. His shoulders slump as he nods solemnly, shamefaced.

“I understand,” August croaks,  “I’m so sorry. I won’t come near you until it’s time to go.”

“Not a moment before, and not a damn second later,” the human growls with a point of his finger, veins bulging in his neck that August can’t help but notice.

One moment he’s there and the next, he disappears up the stairs in a flash. He slams the door like a hormonal teenager and August hears the unmistakable screeching and scraping of furniture being dragged across the room all over again.

*!*!*!*!*

Lucas doesn’t count the days it’s been. He doesn’t need nor want to. Even if he tried, the numbers would slip through his fingers like grains of sand. He refuses to be one of those prisoners who scratches tallies into the walls until there’s no space left to etch, until their sanity crumbles to nothing.

Either yesterday, or three days, or a week ago - Lucas can only guess, everyday has turned to mush - the storm knocked out the power lines. The house plunged into pitch-black darkness and stayed that way ever since.

It’s now or never. The vampire or him. Lucas knows no-one is coming to save him. No-one is looking for him. He can’t afford to be the damsel in distress and wait for a saviour or a miracle. The gnawing ache in his stomach and the dwindling rations remind him that his clock is ticking. 

Only one of them walks out of this alive.

Lucas grits his teeth, his resolve hardening like steel. He will be the last one standing. He dismantles his barricade, and the stake finds its way back to his palm again. His fingers curl around the splintered, shaved wood. On tip-toes, he sneaks through the shadowed hallway. A too-loud creak of the floor and Lucas freezes on the spot, his ears pricking. When nothing comes of it, he creeps on towards the stairs.

How will it feel? Brief hesitation coils around his gut. His hands turn clammy. How will it feel to take another’s life? There’ll be blood on his hands for the rest of his life - maybe guilt will eat him alive. But needs must. If he doesn’t slay the monster, there’ll be no life left to be wracked with guilt. How many countless other lives will this save aside his own?

Lucas holds his breath, cautiously poking his head through the bars of the stairwell railing. In flickering candlelight, the vampire hunches over a worn chessboard. Its face etched with an ageless ennui, it tediously moves the black knight across the squares. Somehow, its pale skin seems even more ghostly in the dim light, but Lucas notices how its dark eyes seem to hold a profound loneliness and deep despair.

The vampire was playing all by itself; the opposing white pieces stood sentinel in their starting positions. A ragged sigh escapes its lips as it captures a white pawn with a languid grace. The victory, if it could be called that, brought no spark of joy or satisfaction to its eyes. The vampire simply reset the captured pawn. And played on.

Lucas watches the vampire, his mind in turmoil. This isn’t what he envisioned; being kidnapped by a vampire. He’d imagined a life of forced subservience, drained for every drop of his blood. He saw himself fighting tooth and nail for a life no longer worth living. A life as livestock, waiting for slaughter. His grip on the stake loosens, and he stares down at it with deep contemplation.

This doesn’t feel like the nightmare Lucas had always feared it would be. This vampire, this monster that stole him… has kept to every promise it’s made. Lucas can’t believe that he’s admitting that. It hasn’t used persuasion. Why? It would be so easy, like taking candy from a baby. Lucas would have no choice but to grovel at its feet and offer it a drink from his neck. But the vampire hasn’t even tried to feed, claims it doesn’t want to feed. The vampire hasn’t laid a hand on Lucas. It’s given him peace and solitude, food and drink, endless promises to return him to human territory, safe and sound. 

A wave of doubt crashes over Lucas. Could he dare to trust the vampire’s word?

“Care to join…?”

Lucas jumps out of his skin. The vampire is looking right at him, its gaze fixed and intense. For a moment, Lucas fears the worst. Has he angered the creature? But as he looks closer, he realises that the vampire's expression was not one of anger. Instead, there’s a raw desperation and longing in its eyes, a look that Lucas had never seen or maybe cared to notice before. He quickly and discreetly shoves the stake into the waistband of his jeans, and grabs the bars of the stairs like the prisoner he’s been so convinced he is.

“What do I win?” Lucas calls down. There’s still hesitation to his voice, an air of stubbornness. He’s not fully prepared to let his guard down just yet.  

For the first time, the vampire actually smiles. “Bragging rights. I never lose.”

Lucas hesitates, a mixture of curiosity and trepidation coursing through him. Perhaps this game of chess would help pass the time before he goes back, and maybe, just maybe, it would give him a chance to glimpse into the mind of this vampire. He nods and heads down the stairs as the vampire frantically and meticulously restarts the board.

“I’ll let you go first, of course. Give you a headstart. It would be unfair otherwise,” the vampire lightly teases.

Lucas moves first, his fingers hesitating slightly as he places a white pawn forward. The vampire responds with equal care, its movements precise and deliberate. They play in pregnant silence, the only sound the soft click of the pieces against the board. An eternity and a half passes before the silence is dared to be broken.

“I’ve been thinking,” The vampire ponders, “when the power is restored, is there anyone you could call? Just to let somebody know you’re safe? That you will be back as soon as you can?”

Lucas leans back, his eyes glued to the board, and without looking up, simply replies, "Nope."

“No-one at all? Not a single soul?” the vampire presses.

“That’s what nope means, don’t it?” Lucas takes a pawn, and the vampire uncomfortably shuffles in its chair. “You know that no-one’s looking, that’s why you chose me, remember…?” a condescending smirk curls on Lucas’s lips. Like he can afford to prod and jibe. He’s feeling more at ease, his confidence growing with each passing moment.

"Anyway. You must be the softest leech going. Either that or you're playing the long game. The self-restraint is mind-boggling... don't you want a bite? Bet the smell is driving you almost cuckoo," Lucas outstretches his arm and waves it underneath the vampire's nose.

Lucas doesn't know how much he even believes what he’s saying anymore. His thoughts are a whirlwind. He has been so hellbent on survival, on staying one step ahead of the vampire, that he hadn't had a second to breathe and take a step back to really think about what was happening. He watches the vampire's face closely, searching for any sign of weakness or desire. Is the restraint genuine, or is it just a facade?

Instead the vampire’s face falls and it gasps, reaching out for Lucas’s wrist, “Your wound-”

The gash on Lucas’ palm is deep, the edges jagged and uneven and the skin around it is inflamed and swollen. Lucas had bigger fish to fry than worrying over a silly little cut, but now he notices it, he feels it throb with dull pain.

“That’s not looking good. Would you let me take a look at it?”

Lucas quickly retracts his arm and cradles his hand defensively. His eyes narrow. “If you win. If you win, maybe I’ll let you. But what do I get if I win?”

The vamp seems satisfied by that. So certain of its inevitable triumph. “I told you. Bragging rights.”

Lucas isn’t so certain that the vampire will best him. He remembers the long days spent practising his moves against the undefeated champion. His grandpa was tough, but Lucas had always held his own. There were times when he thought he might just be able to beat him, but the old man always managed to pull through.

A flicker of nostalgia and a flicker of grief passes over Lucas's face.  “My grandpa. He was the undefeated champ. But I got pretty damn close on occasion. This will be childsplay.”

The vampire’s face softens, its voice gentle, “Is he…still with us?”

“If he was, do you think I’d be sleeping rough on some sopping wet cardboard?” Lucas makes another sharp move, capturing one of the vampire’s pieces. Silence fills the air, and Lucas sighs.

“Why aren’t you using persuasion? You could easily win this. Make me move my knight and the game’s all yours,” Lucas suggests, shrugging. The vampire lets out a low chuckle, his eyes scanning the board as he calculates his next move. But Lucas's words lingered, a nagging thought in the back of his mind.

“No…but, in all seriousness…why - why aren’t you using persuasion? Like, at all? I’d be powerless to stop you. I’d… be y-yours,” he stutters. “Entirely at your mercy. You wouldn’t have to follow through on your promise to free me.”

The vampire's ruby-red eyes widen in shock. Its mouth drops open as though he’d been struck. It averts its gaze down to the flickering candlelight.

“Why would I?” the vamp laments, “I don’t want to use persuasion. To what aim? I’ve made a promise to you, and I intend to keep it. I value your trust, and I would never do anything to jeopardise it. You deserve your free will. Your choices and your thoughts are, and will always be, your own.”

“I didn’t choose to be here-” Lucas' lips respond quicker than his brain can comprehend. He can tell those words cut like a knife to the vampire. 

“No… you didn’t.” The vampire whispers, its tone heavy with guilt. “And that will haunt me for as long as I shall live.”

Lucas is taken aback. He’d always assumed that vampires were cold, unfeeling monsters - devoid of all emotion. But here, he saw something different. He feels something different. The vampire’s words were filled with a mournful regret. He fears he’d been too quick to judge, too eager to paint the vampire as a villain. Maybe there is more to this creature than meets the eye.

The wind suddenly picks up outside, it howls and screeches, whipping against the glass. Lucas stares out the window, a chill running down his spine as he watches the snow swirl and fall.

“I hate to say it… I am glad you are here. Not out there tonight,” the vampire says, watching the blizzard too with a heavy heart.

"Yeah. Me too,” Lucas mumbles. 

"What would you do?” the vampire frets, dragging itself back to the game’s attention and playing its turn, “If you were? Where would you go?"  

"I...I don't know,” Lucas shrugs, “Loiter somewhere warm inside until they chuck me out?" 

"Is there truly no-one you could go to?" 

"No-one. I – I don't have any family left. And try making friends in a nomadic lifestyle. I'm never in one place long enough to keep friends. And if I'm honest? I'm shocked one of you lot hadn't snapped me up sooner. I was...kinda expecting it." 

Every night was a gamble, every morning was a blessing. Lucas always had to be careful, to seek refuge in shadows and find safety in numbers wherever possible. He knew it was coming sooner or later. He was always a sitting duck for a vampire to come along and nab.

“Forgive me if I do say, I am glad I was the one to snatch you up. And not another.”

The walls Lucas put up seem to be slowly knocked down brick by brick. He doesn’t feel like a hunted animal or a captive anymore. He doesn’t feel like he has to look over his shoulder at every turn. It feels almost…safe. 

“Yeah… guess I probably lucked out, huh?” 

Silence falls once again, Lucas looks down to the board. But now he sees an opportunity. With a swift and decisive move, Lucas advances his rook, placing the king in check. The vamp’s king is trapped, cornered by Lucas's pieces.

There’s no escape. The vampire’s face falls as it realises. Lucas has won the game.

“There’s no way-” the vamp mutters, shaking its head in disbelief. “Well played,” he concedes, offering a hand out to shake. Lucas takes it readily. 

“I - I know we made a deal, but please may I look at your wound?” the vampire tries its luck.

“Finee,” Lucas rolls his eyes jovially, “Guess I’m feeling benevolent. Coming off a high from my win.”

*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*

The human sits on top of the examination table, swinging his legs nervously like a child. His eyes flitter around the room, eyebrows furrowed. There’s no sign of the destruction and chaos he unleashed last week. 

August approaches him and gently lifts the human’s hand, examining the slash across the palm. “This looks deep,” he murmurs to himself, turning the human’s hand to different angles and reaching for a bottle of antiseptic.

“Luckily, I don’t think it’s infected. Just a bit swollen. I have some antibiotic ointment - neomycin - and we’ll dress the wound. Shouldn’t give you too much trouble.”

As August pours the antiseptic onto the wound, the human flinches and hisses through his teeth. His eyes squeeze shut, snatching his hand away. The sudden movement startles August, who flinches back too, his heart hammering at his ribs.

"Are you alright?" August asks once he’s caught his own breath, his voice filled with concern. He tries to appear confident and in control, but the truth is, he’s just as nervous as the human.

"Yeah, I'm fine," the human replies, his voice a bit shaky. "It just stung a bit, is all."

August nods, his eyes filled with a strange intensity. "Want to know something?" he asks. The human nods, his own eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

"I used to be terrified of humans," August confesses.

The human’s eyebrows shot up. "You? Scared of humans? A vampire?"

“My mother spun tales of hunters, mobs, and lynchers. I was taught hell hath no fury like a human. I grew up believing our own blood bags would tear me limb from limb should they grab hold of me. I thought humans were my natural predator."

The human is silent for a moment, his mind racing. "…when it was the other way around," he finally finishes. “I’ve lived my entire life in fear of you - of your kind.”

“Me too. Our practices are cruel-”

“What makes you so different?” The human cuts in, desperate for answers, “Why - Why are you being kind to me?”

August gently applies the ointment to the human’s wounded palm, then a clean bandage securing it with a strip of medical tape. He places a cold compress on the area to help reduce swelling and pain.

“Kindness costs nothing, but means everything,” August explains, “You were not put on this earth to suffer, or to be my food. Nor would I ever want that. You deserve your freedom -  your humanity. I will live my life, and you will live yours.”

“Why-Why did you take me? If you never wanted me, if you never wanted this … why am I here?” the human croaks, tears brimming in his eyes. 

“I was left with no choice, I promise you. I - I took you to save you. My family - they forced my hand. They said they would take you if I didn’t. They would hurt you. They would make your life a living hell. It was the only way I could stop them - It was the only way I could make sure you made it home again-”

A tear freely rolls down the man’s cheek, he quickly swipes it away. “You…You saved me?”

“I’m so sorry it had to happen this way. But I would do it ten times over if it meant I knew you were safe in my hands.”

The human closes his eyes, and exhales a deep breath of relief. August can see the weight of the world lift from his shoulders. “T-Thank you,” the human whispers.

“Please,” August shakes his head in abnegation, “Don’t thank me. I don’t deserve gratitude. You deserve every apology I could ever utter, and still it would never be enough.”

August scuttles across the room to his cabinets, rummaging around for the painkillers he knows are hiding in there somewhere.

“August?”

August’s heart leaps. He stops still, the world stops still. It’s the first time the human has spoken his name. Not vamp, not leech, or monster. August. It’s like music to his ears.

“My…My name is Lucas. Lucas Slater. I - I thought if I gave you my name… I was giving myself away. But I trust you with my name.”

It’s not much, but it’s more than August could have ever hoped for. It feels like the sun rising after a long, dark winter. His legs feel as if they might give out beneath him, he has to lean against the countertop to steady himself.

“Lucas.” August whispers to himself. He can finally put a name to the stranger.  “It’s - It’s nice to finally meet you, Lucas.”

*!*!*!*!*!*

The day finally arrived. The day Lucas had been waiting for was finally here. Hometime. To where or whatever his home is supposed to be. But home has never been just a place to Lucas. It’s always been a feeling, a sense of belonging. This house, that was supposed to be his prison, has become more of a home in this short time than he has ever known in his entire life. The days spent with August felt like a new lease of life, their connection grew day by day. At night, Lucas slept like a baby, without a care in the world. In a toasty bed, and not on cardboard and newspaper. With a warm belly, and no starved rumbling. For the first time, he feels that sense of belonging he’s craved.

He’s never belonged anywhere, and neither has August, it seems.

The snow has melted, revealing a landscape that was both familiar and foreign. It looked so much like human territory but felt worlds apart. As they drove through the countryside, Lucas couldn't help but think about all he would leave behind. The vampire's old, dusty house had become his asylum, a place where he felt safe and protected. He had grown to trust August, to rely on him.

Lucas couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had been gnawing at him all morning. He knew his time with August was coming to an end, and the thought of leaving filled him with a sense of loss. He had grown to respect the vampire, more than he ever thought possible. He glances at August in the rearview mirror. His expression is unreadable, dormant. He’d been quiet all morning. He stares absentmindedly out the window, lost in thought. Lucas wonders if August feels the same way. They both live such lonely lives. A nobody with nobody. What if he stayed? Would that be so awful? 

They continue driving in silence, the only sound the gentle hum of the car’s engine. Lucas watches the road pass them by from the window, edging closer and closer to human territory. Lucas feels his stomach sink. Going ‘home’ shouldn’t feel like that. This isn’t right.

"Stop the car," Lucas blurts out.

"You want to get out here? We're still miles away yet!" August queries.

"No, I... I've been thinking," Lucas stammers. "How do you... feel about a new roommate? I guess I'd feel bad leaving you to your lonely, boring self with your dusty, old books."

Lucas silently scolds himself, using his humour as a shield. He lets the mask slip, and his lip wobbles with impending tears.

"I - I have nothing back in human territory. You plucked me from the streets, my cardboard bed, my only possession was a paper cup with a few coins... I'll do anything. Odds are another vampire will find me again in no time and I - I doubt I'll be as lucky to get another one as kind as you - it'd be like lightning striking the same spot twice."

"If you truly wish to stay, you're more than welcome..." August began, his voice soft. "The guest bedroom is yours for the taking, stay as long as you need or want. Please do not stay on my account, or out of fear of me. You truly are free to go."

Lucas hesitates, a thousand what if’s fill his mind. This is quite possibly the most idiotic choice he’s ever made, but it just feels right in his gut. It’s the path he’s meant to take.  "I - god this is so stupid, I barely fucking know you but... I think I trust you. If this kindness is all an act or a game then hey, props to you for keeping it up this long, you deserve to feed off me."

August can't help but smile, a gentle expression that warmed Lucas's heart. "Only if you're absolutely, positively sure. You can change your mind at any time. But...I'd like that. I'd like that a lot."

Lucas takes a deep breath. He rests his head against the window.  "Turn the car around. Let's go home."

---

Shattered taglist: @octopus-reactivated @whatwasmyprevioususername @ramadiiiisme @darkthingshappen @whumpsday  

@thecyrulik @t0rture-me @redwhump  @the-cryptid-finch  @snowstuffscuff

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump   @wolfeyedwitch   @interdimensional-chaos  @termsnconditions-apply   @whump-blog  

@leyswhumpdump @not-a-space-alien   @onlybadendings   @darlingwhump @sparrowsage   

@flynnswhumpprompts @whumpcereal  @wolves-and-winters @ashh-ed  @idkmansomeusername 

@whuarri  @33-sdtr-45 @pigeonwhumps  @canislycaon24  @the-whumpers-grimm

@damienxozmoze @predacon-skydrift @morning-star-whump @neverthelass @espresso-depresso-system

@only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @androgynousqueenie @yetanotheraltwhumpblog @fiifii000 @that-one-small-world

@doodlepoodle154 @sodacreampuff @cupcakes-and-pain @topsheepstudent @mylovelyme

@anonfromcanada @astrokea @turn-the-tables-on-them @bloodredfountainpen @fleur-a-whump

@tobiaslut

[nix-writes-mcyt]

Saw Skizz on your list of people you write for while going through your request info again so I just had to request something!!

I just know being held in his big beefy arms is like heaven on earth! So maybe some sweet cuddling in bed on a nice warm day?

Love your writing so so so much!! -XB anon ❤️

I love me some beefy arms, just ask my fiancé haha (no but really I will swoon). I've mentioned this in a previous post but this is actually very much influenced by my relationship with my fiancé who is on his last night shift of the week when this is posted. It's a hard time for us both but it's worth it when he gets home. All this to say, if you want to write one of the biggest tips I'd give is to draw from real emotions and experiences. It really helps to give a subtle bit of depth which gives your readers an easier time feeling that emotion themselves!

Working Late

Drabble Contains: Fluff -------------------

This evening has been hard, you knew it was coming but it has still been hard.

Skizz had told you he really wanted to finish his shop and would do so by any means necessary, the problem was that that meant you'd had to spend the evening alone, which was fine. You'd sorted a few bits out around the house, walked the dogs, made sure that everything was in order for the morning. It was all fine.. except for one problem.

The one problem came when it was time for bed, which was that you'd have to go to bed. Alone. You'd hoped you could stay awake until Skizz got home, but that wasn't the case.

Once midnight had hit you were falling asleep on the sofa, which the dogs seemed more annoyed at than you. They liked that spot.

So, begrudgingly, you'd made your way to the bathroom, washed your face, brushed your teeth, and gone to bed.

You'd had a miserable time falling asleep. It was too cold and too quiet without him there. You tried to read, but your eyes couldn't focus on the words. You tried to listen to music, but it just wasn't the vibe. So you'd given up and laid there until you'd eventually fallen asleep.

Until a few moments ago, when you woke up. The room is still as dark as can be, you're still exhausted. Groggily, you reach over to the side table and tap the button on the clock. 3.37am. It's been an hour, maybe a bit more. You're unsure what time your really managed to get to sleep.

It's still cold, you're still alone. Your heart sinks. He probably won't be back tonight. So you pull the duvet closer, attempting to fall back into your slumber.

You can hear your own breaths, the sound of your heart beating. It's just not the same without him here. It's not as easy, doesn't feel as safe.

Yet, slowly your body begins to relax, darkness taking back over. You barely register the sound of the door, the shuffling, or at least you're too far into sleep to be able to react.

A familiar weight moves the mattress, duvet going with it as he takes his usual spot. You make some sort of grumbling noise at being disturbed, but a sigh escapes you as he gets close.

One arm drapes itself over you, then pulls you in. One strong, familiar arm. His voice is sleepy too, muttering "don't you grumble at me it's time for cuddles."

You feel yourself smile, possibly only internally, although it's too dark to know. Not that you could see your face without a mirror anyway.

You shuffle to get more comfy pressed up against him, warming up quickly. Then you shuffle again to stuff some blanket between the two of you to stop the heat. "Just that hot am I?" He giggles, clearly about to drift off. Somehow you find it in you to respond, "don't need heating when I have you." He lets out an amused huff, but like you is too tired to say any more.

The silence is filled with the soft sound of his breathing, plus your cozy and warm now. That's not even to mention how safe you feel being in his arms again, those wonderful arms that are so strong holding you so carefully against him.

With what you're sure is a soft sigh you're able to comfortably drift into a peaceful slumber, dreaming only of Skizz, how much you love him, and the wonderful arms that leave you feeling so safe and secure (and flustered, but it's a calm, peaceful sleep. Sue me.)

[fiddles-ifs]

Hi from Maine! Happy (late. so late.) Pride!! And happy (LATE.) update day! I bequeath to you these widdle guys, which I spent a lot of time on in between other projects. They're also to apologize for delayed Greenwarden story update, because:

I've been writing a book! And I finished the first draft literally yesterday! I'm going to shit my pants!! Now that the first draft is done, I have some editing to do, which is going to eat up my time, but now I have some wiggle room to work on Greenwarden again. Check out this (raw, unedited) snippet from The House Loves You as thanks for your patience:

Next period’s bell is a shrill reminder I still haven’t touched my food. I put whatever I was reading away and dump my tray unceremoniously on the way out. The cafeteria is already empty — I don’t think I’ve ever been in a less busy school. Barely a week in, and I already know everyone by name and the general area where they live. It's more information than I want. Eventually, it'll be a new school in a new town with new people, then another, then graduation, and I'll get into a mediocre college in a different town and never look back. I'll figure it out from there.

They seem like small dreams — but they're what I've got.

I float through the rest of my classes in the back of the room. The bus ride home is unremarkable; my one saving grace is my license, but Mom has the car and we can't afford another bill, so the bus it is. Again -- the open wound is smoothed over knowing I'm not alone. I languish in the relative silence with a pair of earbuds in.

I'm the last stop in the evening. The bus rolls along, slowly shedding children like scabs, until it creeps nervously to the mailbox and gravel road that marks the mouth of the holler. It sputters like an anxious horse, shudders to a stop, and hisses open. The doors close too fast behind me, and the bus peels away in a cloud of grit. Finally, I'm well and truly alone.

The trees are tall and wild here, untouched by human hands. Branches knit together in dense braids and then part again, each gap in the canopy scorched by yellow mountain sunlight. The gravel road bends left and disappears into the deep shadows. Rocks crunch near-silently underfoot. Like they're afraid to wake something sleeping in the dark recesses of the holler. Even the birds speak in whispers.

I grab a few overdue bills from the mailbox and shuffle up the road. Mom's not home, so I get some peace and quiet for a couple hours.

The winding gut of the holler rips open in an abrupt hole, and beyond the hole is a clearing. In the clearing, circled by trees with dark trunks and tight branches, are a few rusted, dead tires, an abandoned swing set, some overgrown grass, and a house. My back hurts and my legs are sore, but I still pause at the threshold.

The house is an ugly sore made of cracked, peeling white siding and a sagging porch. Just enough timber has been cleared away to make a front and back yard. The roof seems to bow under the weight of the sky, all dark windows and missing shingles. It's a quiet house. It doesn't talk much. Not usually.

I drag my feet across the hidden flagstones in the grass, and listen to the sound of the screen door squeal open. Once I step inside, the house greets me, as it usually does.

Welcome home, Cash.

[stxneflxwers]

avolition.

⋯⁂ summary. suffering from a particular problem, some days you just couldn't care less what goes on—surrendering to your mind's desire for peace.

⋯⁂ a/n. short and sweet post here; so im not really worried about small grammar errors, word count, formatting, or what have you. i've been struggling with avolition lately (in which i mean my ass is getting OBLITERATED.) and if u need more info on what avolition is, i can give a VERY quick rundown: "Avolition is a total lack of motivation that makes it hard to get anything done. You can't start or finish even simple, everyday tasks."

⋯⁂ characters. neuvillette. gn reader.

⋯⁂ cw. reader suffers from a disorder that has avolition (lack of motivation.) reader is going to display a lot of apathy toward life. neuvi biggest sweetheart ever, even when he's away. hurt/comfort.

neuvillette.

life isn't so easy, everyone knows this. but some days are even harder than others, to the point they pass slowly and painfully. and lately, it's felt like forever since you've managed to get through a day without too much struggle.

neuvillette quickly realizes this.

he's also doing his best to support you, even while away from home. he'll send a melusine or two to go periodically check up on you. he knows you'll forget to eat and drink otherwise.

what he didn't expect is the day when he returned from his office around dinner time, much earlier than usual.

all of the lights in the home were off, much to his surprise. usually you'd leave a light on, should have you been up and about. he hadn't sent a melusine today to check up on you around lunchtime since you told him you were feeling fine.

it finally dawns on him that what you said was possibly a lie. or maybe misguided hope? he's not really sure which it is. and to be frank, he doesn't even care which it was at the moment.

he quickly puts his things away and takes his coat off, almost haphazardly dropping it to the floor instead of hanging it up on the coat rack. his hands tremble and so do his breaths, but he does his best to remain as calm as a stormless day. even when it starts raining outside from his uptick in stress alone.

he takes big yet quiet strides to the bedroom, where he finds you still in bed—staring off into space.

he sighs in relief when he notices your steady but shallow breathing causing your body to rise and fall. why he assumed the worst is beyond him, he simply did without a second thought.

when you seemingly don't notice him, his brows furrow and his frown tightens. he's not too sure what to do or what to say. and yet again, without a second thought, he approaches you,

"my dear?" he mutters, voice on the verge of shattering under the weight of seeing you so helpless.

you don't respond. totally nonverbal.

but, at least, you glance at him—even though your eyes are lightless, he's so happy to have you acknowledge him in this moment. he smiles a little from it as he slips his arms around you, cradling you carefully. he rests his head against the flat of your chest, letting out a long sigh.

"oh, how you worry me..." he mumbles, almost sleepily, "i love you very much. but i do understand that today is harder for you. therefore, i will not scold you. nor would i at any other point." he reassures, his voice soft and sweet as one of fontaine's infamous cakes.

your lips twitch a little, threatening to break out into a smile. even your eyes soften, laden with relief. heart filling with love, you begin to feel a little bit more rejuvenated,

"i...love you too..."

[notmorbid]

damnation spring.

dialogue prompts from damnation spring: a novel by ash davidson.

i've known rocks that talked more than you.

if you don't bet on yourself, nobody else will.

the past isn't a knot you can untie.

don't ever leave the house without a kiss goodbye.

you want some coffee, while you wait?

you gotta take a risk sometime.

i probably should have asked you a long time ago.

the fear is worse than the pain.

are you not attracted to me anymore?

i forgot how good it feels to have a secret.

there are too many ways to die out here.

if you let your mind wander, it could cost you your life.

what the hell kind of five dollar word is that?

i just do what they tell me.

kids are like puppies. it's easier with two.

they'll cut you with one hand and bandage you with the other.

look up 'careful' in the dictionary, and there you are.

keep your damn shirt on.

used to be, people looked out for each other.

one percent's not milk, it's water.

it's too easy to kill an idea by saying it out loud.

half the time, i don't know what i think until i say it out loud.

i never know what to do with my hands.

every day of a marriage is a choice.

you're always playing some kind of angle.

go to school. learn something.

what's the use of dredging all that up again?

when you get to be my age, you don't leave things till tomorrow.

there wasn't anything anybody could have done.

dogs are the best judge of people.

well, aren't you just as bright as a dime?

when was i ever young?

what are you so nervous about?

you never say a bad word about anyone.

people always say the wrong thing, don't they?

you're the one who never called me back.

you knew where i was.

are you going to tell my mom?

women have a way of passing bad news around.

can you walk on my back?

do you ever wonder what your life might have been like?

i figured i had time, you know?

the judge said it was self defense.

i watch out for my people. you know that.

keep it. i've got another copy.

don't be a stranger.

i thought you were up to no good.

it's not like the old days, is it?

you missed a hell of a show.

what are you doing for money?

smoke follows beauty.

my first word was 'son of a bitch'.

you never killed anybody?

the early bird gets his own damn breakfast.

if i shoot myself in the foot, i'll need you to carry me out.

i used up one of my nine lives today.

clean up your own mess, for once.

watch out for potholes. and assholes.

i had a hell of a time finding this place.

keeps the bible salesmen away.

when were you going to tell me?

you were my best friend, once.

a little rest never hurt anybody.

i'm so caught up in my own pain, i can't see anybody else's.

even a nice dog will bite when it's hurt.

you only get one life, sweet pea. live it happy.

look who the cat dragged in.

has your conscience caught up with you?

if you're shooting, shoot. don't make me dance.

you've been distracted for days.

you know something isn't right. what are you doing about it?

you're going to get hurt. you might even get yourself killed.

you're not alone in this.

people don't worry what they can't see.

it's important to do the right thing, even when nobody else is.

sorry doesn't pay the bills.

i judge a man by what he does, not what he says.

a threat? no. that's a promise.

what's wrong with me?

i hope you brought some sunshine.

careful now. some places you go, you can't get back from.

____ can go to hell. and so can you.

what do you gotta do to get some peace and quiet around here? die?

the roads are fucked. it's faster to walk.

what's wrong with you? you just do whatever they tell you?

right or not right, it's done.

would it kill you to just take my side for once?

where else would we go?

it looks worse than it is.

i've still got a few lives left in me.

you're all thinking it, but no one has the guts to ask.

whoever said you can't buy loyalty never spent a day here.

if you're smart, you'll get out of town.

it's okay to wander, as long as we always come home.

even an old dog can learn, if you're patient with him.

why would this time be any different?

what did you wanna be, when you grew up?

you don't have to watch me every minute of the day. i'm okay.

i forgot i was mad at you.

from outside, it looks like a normal house.

i can come stay for a while.

you ready for some help?

please don't hide from me.

i don't want to lose you. i can't lose you, okay?

nothing's wrong. i'm just happy.

not a lot of people are born to do something.

[voicesfoundmymemories]

You've started something you can't get out of by the way, my requests (demands) will be met. 🧶

Mmm craving a Nanami x reader kinda thing, I've gathered guidelines all would be preferred but I'm happy at two.

"I’d feel much better if you’d let me walk you home.”

“If I asked you to stay, would you?”

Is that my shirt?” “You mean our shirt?”

Your cooperation is greatly appreciated.

Sincerely, 🎚️

(Me note: thank you for the demand request! We love nanami and I hope you enjoy!) P.S sorry I didn't add in the last one I forgor but maybe it can be a follow up in the near future.

Cw: Mugging on the news, corporate jobs Word Count: 732

Safe and Sound

"Crime continues to plague the city as a slew of new muggings have been reported. While we don't know what has caused the influx in armed robberies, the police have given out tips on how to prevent these..."

You let your shoulders drop, exhaling as you close your computer. You'd worked late again, and now it was getting dark out.

You stand up, stretching a bit as you look around at the basically empty office. 

It's quiet, and without the droning of your coworkers the office sounds almost peaceful. The hum of a printer in another room, the tired lights buzzing. 

You make your way down to the entrance of the building, absentmindedly trying to fit your laptop into its bag amongst the folders that didn't belong in there.

In your struggle you didn't hear the footsteps slowly approaching you, nor the brisk "ahem" that followed.

"Are you planning to walk home alone at this time of night?" You look up from your struggle, a folder in hand as your eyes meet the blonde man's.

"Oh, Kento. You could've scared me-" Your lips inch with a smile. "Yeah, I don't live far from here."

"Well that's even worse. There's been muggings around here lately. It was on the news." He chides.

"Nanami I've been working here for over a year. You trust my work don't you?" You raise an eyebrow at him.

"...What does that have to do with-"

"Then trust my ability to stay vigilant!" You fix your bag onto your shoulder, having gotten everything to fit nicely. "Besides, what'll they take? My laptop can make eggs if I open more than 3 tabs at once." 

He huffs, looking at you with warm eyes despite his attempt to be stern.

"If you're going to walk home do it earlier in the evening. But since it is so late, I should come with you." He says with a finality, shrugging on the suit jacket he'd been holding on his arm. 

"Come with me?" Your brows raise as you try to conceal your excitement.

"Yes. I'd feel much better if you'd let me walk you home, no matter how... vigilant, you may be." He opens the door with an expectant look on his face and you couldn't hold in your big smile as you walked through, eyeing him.

The two of you walk down various streets in comfortable silence, eventually seeing your apartment building up the road.

"Should I count this a mini date? Or are we still, 'unacquainted' with each other?" He scoffs, adjusting your bag on his shoulder.

"You aren't going to ever let that die are you. Can we not move past that?" A small smile pulls at the corner of his lips. "Besides, I think we've become familiar over the year." He glances down at your wrist, still wearing the silly bangle he'd bought for the office secret santa. 

"If you'd like to consider this a mini date, you can, but I'd much rather take you on a real one." You turn around, mouth agape in shock.

You see his eyes flicker with amusement as you become increasingly flustered, trying to form a coherent thought. "You're serious?"

"Have I built a reputation for jokes?" He muses and you are struggling to keep your cool.

"Well no... A real date, would be- nice." You eye him, reaching a hand out for your bag.

He looks up at the building, "Let me walk you to your door."

"It's a two floor complex, the hallway is visible from the outside." You follow his gaze.

"I don't do half-assed jobs. Now come on, darling." You follow him up the stairs, your heart beating wildly in your chest as you're left to think about his proposal.

You get to your apartment, looking through your keys and opening your door. "Thanks for walking me home, Kento." You say softly. Neither of you wanted this to end, eyes meeting in a silent dance of emotions.

Nanami sucked in a breath. "Of course-"

"Would you-" You blurt out, steadying the heartbeat currently thrumming in your ears. "If I asked you to stay, would you?"

His shoulders dropped, like he'd been dying to say the same and you'd beat him to it. "I would."

Your smile matched his as you backed up into your apartment, letting him in. "Do you want tea? I have chamomile." "I'd love that."

[elaho]

Stardew Valley MBTI x Enneagram: Elliott

Following my last post about the Stardew marriage candidates and their MBTI types, I've been learning more about Enneagram, how it pairs with MBTI, and how it changes some of the typical characteristics of each type.

The Enneagram and MBTI complement each other wonderfully, providing greater depth and understanding of how a person interacts with the world [Cognitive Functions] and their motivations why [Core Desire/Core Fear].

Here are my thoughts on the MBTI and Enneagram pairs for Elliott.

Elliott - ISFP 4w3: “The Aristocrat”

“ISFP 4w3s are unique people with a touch of ambition. They perfectly combine the adventurous spirit of the ISFP and the creativity of type 4. This type has goals they want to achieve. However, these goals must be achieved uniquely.

Because of their wing, ISFP 4w3s are more action-oriented than most ISFPs. If their wing is especially strong, they’ll have a strong desire to be successful.” - Personality Hunt

Elliott’s Core Desire: To be unique or different

The core desire of the ISFP 4w3 is to be unique and to succeed uniquely. To achieve this, they ensure everything they do highlights their uniqueness.

Even at first introductions, we see Elliott as someone who dramatically stands out in Pelican Town: his manner of speech, style of dress, and his choice to live on the beach alone in a shack.

His goal in life is also unique. Not only does he want to become a successful writer, but he hopes to achieve this dream by moving to Stardew Valley.

“Ever since I was a young boy, I've dreamt of becoming a writer. When the time came for me to leave home and start my own life, I moved here. I was drawn to the peaceful beauty of the valley, and hoped that days of quiet reflection in this idyllic atmosphere would fan the literary flames.”

Elliott’s Core Fear: To be seen as ordinary or a failure

The core fear of the ISFP 4w3 is to be seen as ordinary. They don't want to blend into the crowd, so to prevent this, they'll do everything they can to stand out while being authentic to themselves.

Thanks to his Introverted Feeling [Fi] Elliott stays true to himself despite harsh criticism for pursuing his dreams; however, because his 3 wing is also quite strong, he fears failure or being perceived as a failure if he doesn't accomplish those dreams.

“Everyone back home said I was nuts... that I could never make it as a writer. Can you believe it? They said 'For every successful author there's 1000 who fail miserably'. Such pessimism... it's sickening.”

"I know that I am kind of an 'oddball'. I hope you don't mind."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

How Enneagram 4w3 changes typical ISFP behaviour:

New Strengths

1. More Ambitious

"Ambition is not the hallmark of ISFPs. Granted, it’s also not the hallmark of ISFP 4w3s. However, it’s more pronounced, thanks to their wing.

Thus, ISFP 4w3s might have goals and targets they want to achieve. If their wing is strong, they might also work towards these targets.

However, because of some of the flaws of a type 4, they might never be disciplined enough to achieve their goals." - Personality Hunt

Having Extroverted Thinking [Te] as his inferior function also makes being disciplined difficult for Elliott, though it's something he strives to improve with his ambitious nature.

Examples:

"I've been working day and night to try and finish my book... It's been driving me insane, Farmer.”

"Hello, Farmer! What a pleasant surprise! I was just stopping in to [the Saloon to] relax after an eight hour writing session."

“I feel so relieved to be done with my book... it's like an elephant's been lifted off my shoulders.”

"My new year's resolution is to write, write, and write! I can never stop improving my skills."

"Caring for babies isn't exactly my strong suit... but I'll do my best to be a good father."

2. Extremely Fashionable

"Type 4 and type 3 are both image-conscious people. Thus, they usually have a good fashion sense. This also applies to ISFP 4w3s.

They dress to perfection, combining the uniqueness of type 4s and type 3’s need to impress. If there’s something you can be sure about, it’s their dress." - Personality Hunt

Examples:

“I'm just taking a quick break to slather some coconut oil on my body.”

"What did I do today? I'll just say this... it takes a lot of work to maintain this rugged physique!”

“I'll admit... it takes me several hours each morning to make my hair look this good.”

"I have to brush my hair daily, or else it'll clump up into messy knots. It's a lot of work.”

“The sun is angry today... My skin is a bit too delicate, I'm afraid.”

"I leave early tomorrow morning [for the book tour]…I need to pack! Don't let me forget my hairbrush, my hairspray, my fine-tooth comb, and my pomegranate conditioner!"

3. More Creative

ISFPs, like most sensors, are practical people. They focus on what is directly in front of them and what they can impact in the here and now. This doesn't mean they aren't creative people, but their creativity comes out in more hands-on ways.

This is different for ISFP 4w3s. They are super creative, combining their Extroverted Sensing [Se] and Introverted Intuition [Ni] into their artistic pursuits. They can create almost anything out of nothing, making them excellent writers, designers, painters, etc., etc.,

Examples:

"... I've been dabbling in piano since I was a kid. I'm not very good, but it's fun."

“Hopefully a crab hasn't snuck onto my clothes again. Imagine crawling out of a pocket and finding yourself on a beach hundreds of miles from home! Hmmm... Perhaps this could make for an interesting novel...”

"A day can never be boring when you follow the whims of your imagination."

"A great idea can pass through your head when you least expect it… but if your mind is too busy you might miss it."

"A crackling fire adds wonderful ambience to the house... every piece of wood burns in a unique way."

"I'm doing a walking meditation. It's good for creativity."

4. More Romantic

"Type 4 is often called the romantic. Thus, it’s not surprising that ISFP 4w3s have a strong interest in love and romance.

While this is true, this does not affect their level of commitment in relationships. Just like typical ISFPs, they are in search of someone they are comfortable with.

This might make them seem flighty." - Personality Hunt

Not only does his interest in romance apply to Elliott's intimate relationships, but it can also be seen in his 'romantic' approach to life and literature, which is:

"...marked by the imaginative or emotional appeal of what is heroic, adventurous, remote, mysterious, or idealized." -Merriam-Webster

His unusual approach to life and romance makes many players suspicious of his intentions and sincerity during their first playthrough [myself included]. His fluffy words and flirty attitude cause many to wonder if he is concealing anything nefarious.

However, even though his language and personality can be mushy and over-the-top sometimes, throughout the game we see him as no less sincere than someone who says things bluntly.

Examples:

"I write in hopes of connecting with others through time and space."

"It must be satisfying to follow your crop from seed to harvest. It's as if your essence is infused into the fruit."

"Farmer, I had a feeling that you would show up. Perhaps we're connected by an other-worldly thread."

“Elliott whispers a sweet secret into your ear.”

“Yes... could I refuse that soft, kind face? The touch of spring-time's sweet embrace?”

“You're ice cold! Let me keep you warm.”

"My love... I wouldn't trade you for 100 iridium bars. Nor 1000...Not even 10,000 bars, no....No, not even 100,000 bars!...Wa... one million bars of pure iridium...? Don't make me do this..."

"I made a whole secret book of poems expressing my love for you.”

"I feel burnt out in your absence. But when I hear that sound of muddy boots on wood, my heart rises from the ash."

"Look... I fixed up that old rowboat that's been sitting by my house. Pretty nice, huh? Farmer... Would you do me the honor of joining me for her maiden voyage?”

"Some people are shy. Keep showing interest in them and they'll get comfortable around you."

5. More Competitive

Depending on the strength of their wing, ISFP 4w3s can be quite competitive since they want to be the best. However, their competitive side usually only appears in games and other social events.

Depending on their maturity and wing strength, this can be an intense drive to win or playful competition between friends and family.

Examples:

“Well, if it isn't the town's number one ice fisher! That was truly an impressive performance. I never stand a chance, but I always participate just to be sporting.”

"I'm a little out of practice, but I plan on entering the fishing contest tomorrow! You've got some stiff competition, dear.”

New Weaknesses

1. Self Absorbed

The problems of the ISFP 4w3s start here. ISFP 4w3s, just like ISFP 4w5s, can become fixated on themselves.

Thus, they might start feeling they are special. This makes them inflate their problems and put themselves first.

The downsides of this are immense. People might see them as self-centered. They might also strain their relationship with others." - Personality Hunt

The tendency to be self-absorbed creates a lot of problems for Elliott. His desire to be unique often causes him to act in over-the-top and melodramatic ways, especially when first meeting the farmer. Not only are many characters rubbed the wrong way by his melodramatic tendencies, but many players automatically judge him as problematic and pretentious, especially if it's their first playthrough.

However, this is intentional writing for Elliott's character development and while these characteristics can be red flags, they aren't always - as we will see later.

Examples:

“You've plucked Pelican Town's finest flower... Now, you must care for it with all your heart.”

"Another year gone by, another gray hair… I suppose this gift can commemorate my decline."

"Farmer, I know you have faith in my abilities as a writer. That means a lot to me."

“Sometimes I wonder if I might just have an inflated self-image and no real skills...No, no... I'm not fishing for compliments. Though they are appreciated..."

“I have to brush my hair daily, or else it'll clump up into messy knots. It's a lot of work. I'm surprised I haven't just shaved it off in a fit of passion. I suppose I am too vain.”

"Hello, Farmer! What a pleasant surprise! I was just stopping in to relax after an eight hour writing session. Bartender! Fetch me your finest ale. And bring some wine for the lady!”

2. Lower Energy Levels

ISFP 4w3s aren't the most energetic, but if their 3 wing is strong, their lower energy levels may not be that bad. Because they are sensors, they are also more action-oriented when compared to the INFP 4w3.

Examples:

“I can't seem to find the inspiration to begin writing my novel...”

"A great idea can pass through your head when you least expect it… but if your mind is too busy you might miss it."

“That's why I chose this beach as my home, so that I could have peace and quiet to do my work.”

"I spent the afternoon daydreaming about the ocean. So I decided to cook some seafood."

"I had a nice time at the beach by myself. I watched the waves come and go, just like old times."

"Winter is a great time to read books and play the piano. Remember to pause and enjoy a quiet moment or two."

“My inspiration for writing is like the weather... it comes and goes at random. Today I feel entirely dull. Perhaps I'll read one of the classics to get my creative juices flowing.”

3. Battle Between Staying Unique and Being Adaptable

Being a type 4, ISFP 4w3s want to be unique and different. However, type 3 wants to be successful and adaptable, creating internal conflict between the two types, especially if an ISFP 4w3's wing is strong. The core desire of type 4 usually wins in the end, but it's something ISFP 4w3s may struggle with for their entire lives.

Elliott struggles with wanting to achieve his literary dreams uniquely by living a lonely life on the beach. He yo-yos back and forth between wanting stability and security for his future and staying true to himself and his vision of completing his book in his own way.

Examples:

“That's why I live out here by myself. I figured a lonely life by the sea would help me focus on my literary aspirations...”

"Sorry, I'm feeling morose today. I wish there was more certainty about the future. I don't want to grow old as a lonely hermit on this beach…",

“People have scraped a living off the sea for thousands of years. I just go to the grocery store.”

"The sweet friction of pen and paper is the music of my soul. That's why I chose this beach as my home, so that I could have peace and quiet to do my work."

"It's a little lonely out here on the beach… so I apologize if I was ever a little too forward with you when we first met. I was just eager to have a friend. It feels good to have a close friend like you."

"I came to the valley to find the ivory tower from which my talents could reign supreme. But what I really found was a dungeon of loneliness. You saved me from that."

4. Emotions and More Emotions

Being Feelers and type 4s, ISFP 4w3s are very emotional people. While being sensitive to emotion can be a positive, it can also get them into a lot of trouble.

Because of their emotional intensity and Extroverted Sensing [Se] tendency to act in the moment, they can frequently make spur-of-the-moment decisions based on their feelings before thinking them through.

They can also be sensitive to criticism, even if it's constructive and tactful. This can hold them back from achieving their goals and being open to new opportunities.

Examples:

"There's just too much work to do! And my bank account's starting to run dry. Sometimes I wish I could just throw it all away and become a farmer like you."

"I had a good time at the saloon the other day… Though my liver is not quite so enthusiastic…",

“Why do you torment me? Can't you see you've shattered all my hopes and dreams.”

"Gus, I'll order a round for everyone!*hic*… Oh… I don't have the G. Heh heh… Never mind!"

"...Let's see, how do I put this...? For once, I'm at a loss for words... [Elliott leans in and passionately kisses the farmer].” -------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Path of Integration: 4w3 to 7w6

Throughout the game, Elliott struggles to enjoy his life while making his dreams of being a successful author a reality. His core fears of being ordinary and a failure - "to be just like every other failed author" - keep him locked in a prison of his own making.

As a result, he increasingly self-isolates and becomes very self-critical, pushing himself to complete his project even if it is self-detrimental.

"I came to the valley to find the ivory tower from which my talents could reign supreme. But what I really found was a dungeon of loneliness.

Elliott and Shame

Type 4s are in the Heart Triad [along with types 2 and 3] making Elliott's core fear directly related to feelings of shame:

"The core belief type 4s struggle with as a part of the shame triad is that if they aren’t unique, they are unworthy of love...[they] will wear their emotions on their sleeve, and show up as a perfectly curated image to hide that feeling of unworthiness they feel at their core" - Making Mindfulness Fun

"Hello, Farmer! What a pleasant surprise! I was just stopping in to relax after an eight hour writing session. Bartender! Fetch me your finest ale. And bring some wine for the lady!"

Because Elliott also has a strong type 3 wing, his shame is multi-faceted, adding more complexity to his core fears and behaviours:

"[Their] core belief... is that if they aren’t always achieving more, they are unworthy of love...[they] numb and ignore their emotions to deal with their shame. They believe that if they allow themselves to be human, enjoy life, and show their emotions they will be unloved. This leads them to push people away and feel stressed because they believe the only way they can receive love is by being perceived as successful." - Making Mindfulness Fun

"…What I meant is that I'd like to get away from this dark, musty prison and experience a little bit of real life... that's all. *sigh*... sorry I'm complaining like this. I just need someone to talk to now and then.”

Unconditional Love

Once the farmer gets to know Elliott better, he relaxes around them and drops his 'over the top' persona. Though he still enjoys speaking more romantically and eloquently sometimes, he isn't as concerned with having the perfect words to say. He lets his guard down, allowing his true thoughts and feelings to shine.

"Hey. "Look… I fixed up that old rowboat that's been sitting by my house. Pretty nice, huh?"

"But I am grateful that you believed in me… in my vision. And, well… Um… Farmer? How do I say this…Well, we've been friends for a while now… But I'm… I'm not sure if I feel that way about you anymore. No! I'm not saying I want to cut all ties with you! In fact… quite the opposite…Let's see, how do I put this…? For once, I'm at a loss for words…"

Elliott starts to believe that he doesn't need to try so hard to be loved - that he is worthy of love for simply being his authentic self, imperfections and all. It's through the love and support of the farmer that Elliott starts to truly embrace himself and embrace the highs and lows of life, without shame.

Elliott's Book Tour Letters

After Elliott's marriage to the farmer, we see him begin to take on the positive traits of an ISFP 7w6 in his marriage dialogue; however, the evidence of this change can be seen even more in his 14-heart event: his book tour letters.

Letter 1:

"I begin the tour this evening, at a local bookstore. I must admit, I'm becoming a bit nervous at the thought of public speaking…"

Letter 2:

"I miss you very much. Remember to eat well! Oh, and don't forget the leftover crab cakes I put in the fridge…"

Letter 3:

"Last night in Zuzu City was quite the experience! It seems there's a large literary scene here… a few dozen people showed up at my reading! I even signed a couple of autographs… it's strange to be seen as someone important. It's all a matter of framing, a grand illusion… for truly I am no one special. Only your devoted Elliott, as always."

Letter 4:

"In dreams, when graced with lofty view I gaze upon the sunlit sea What distant shores I've traveled to But time now clouds my memory There is but one eternal place Where I shall someday pass beyond In Valley dear, where my love waits: Our little home beside the pond" -Elliott

Letter 5:

"I won't bore you with any more details about my readings. They are mostly the same. I'm sure your time has been much more exciting! I can't wait to return and see what progress has been made...There's a lot to enjoy! Just don't stay out too late in the mines, my love. It's dangerous in there! If you must go… bring plenty of food."

Letter 6:

"This will be my last letter before I return home. I've had a fine trip… though nothing too exciting. It's been nice to meet people who enjoy my work, but I'm eager to return home. I look forward to the comfort of our little house, the satisfying farm work, a home-cooked meal, and most of all, cozying into the flannel sheets with you."

------------------------------------------------------------------

Conclusion

During my first playthrough, I had an unconscious bias towards Elliott. I believed that handsome men who took pride in their physical appearance, and/or spoke in a more romantic, flowery way automatically had something to hide.

Though that IS sometimes the case, it isn’t always, and I think that’s what made exploring Elliott’s character a surprising one for me.

His superficial traits rubbed me the wrong way, and I thought of him as nothing more than a self-centred, pompous, melodramatic ladies' man.

However, once I got to know him better throughout the game, I saw him not as suspicious but as a deeply passionate and highly motivated individual, who despite wrestling with his feelings of shame and unworthiness, is still unapologetically true to himself and his values despite the odds and adversity.

I think that’s how his character was meant to be written, and that subversion of expectation throughout the game made learning about Elliott so genuinely fascinating.

He's not everyone's cup of tea, but based on what we know about him, his personality, and his journey throughout the game, he has much more to offer than what first impressions might imply.

--------------------------------------------------------------------- References:

Personality Hunt: ISFP 4w3 - The Complete Guide Merriam-Webster Dictionary: "Romantic" Definition Making Mindfulness Fun: Enneagram Shame Triad Personality Hunt: ISFP 7w6 - The Complete Guide

[moonspirit]

More Cadet!Aruani.. pretty please? Like, literally tell everything you got, I am willing to read an entire thread of it.

Ohhh anon~ I'm glad you enjoy my cadet!Aruani haha xD I don't do it often tbh, somehow.

But nope, not literally everthing I've got! Only bit by bit, so I can savour and ruminate on the thoughts and eke it out for future posts too xD

For now, maybe... some fluff between the two will do for now?

It's a slow day in the 104th training corps. No training since all superiors are away, no exams (also far away), no titans breaching walls and creating havoc. Everyone's off somewhere or very much in somewhere and being nosy about it, there's nothing to do, nowhere to see, and Annie's sure if she doesn't open her mouth and talk to another human-shaped being, she'll go insane.

Not that she has any energy for it.

But maybe... maybe if she can find him, all she'll have to do is listen.

It's doubtful, Armin is rather popular with the people and for all she knows, he could be making the girls flower crowns and reeling off obscure fact after obscure fact to anyone who listens with gusto. On a free day like this, maybe he's not even in town. Maybe he's been whisked off somewhere by his friends. Maybe he-

And then she stops in her tracks because there he is, sitting by the canal, a book in his lap (how typical, she wants to laugh), but all alone.

Maybe he'd rather not see her though and be bothered by her empty presence when he could be reading the book in peaceful solitude.

Somehow, even if she can't nearly overturn her desire to take his time for herself, the sudden doubt roots her to the spot and she can no more walk forward. Instead she just stares at the back of his head where the pale afternoon sun warms the locks of smooth gold hair with a desolate sensation of longing taking over her heart.

Who knew loneliness could cause feelings like this. Her father would be disappointed.

But maybe she creates a darkness, or maybe she creates a void, it's lost to her which, because Armin seems to think he should turn around at that very moment and look for some reason, only to end up blinking with surprise at the sight of her lurking around the corner like a homeless kitten with "take me home" written all over its face.

It's embarrassing really, but thank god he can't see her cheeks properly at this distance.

"Annie!" he calls, a great big smile spreading over his face.

Oh, stupid. Stupid of her to think he wouldn't want to share his time. Armin's an idiot, carelessly giving everyone his time! She's just another one.

"Hi." She says, stepping into the sun to sit next to him. The canal is like the dozen others just like it in this town, nothing remarkably large or impossible to fathom; if she transformed, she'd step right over it without so much as a glance down. She's also nimble and quick on her feet, qualities her father had made certain she was aware of if only to size up an enemy by comparison - even if she were to stumble sitting down by the edge of the canal, nobody in the military would expect her to fall.

So why then, does he reach a hand out as if to catch her if she falls?

And why can't she look away from the shape of his palm?

Armin's smile is, somehow, brighter than the sun on the back of her neck. "I thought you would've gone to the market with Mina and the rest. What are you doing here alone?"

"I could ask you the same," She retorts. "You're always surrounded. How come nobody needs you today?"

There's a flash of something like the edges of disappointment in his eyes, so quick and fleeting that Annie thinks she imagines it when it's gone.

"Well, you know, I'm glad to have the day to myself," He chuckles. "It's quiet and peaceful."

"Right, and then I intruded."

"No, no," He laughs, shaking his head. "I'm glad to see you, Annie."

Annie looks away, squinting at the flowing waters. The sunshine makes it glitter in a million different ways, dazzling her until all that's left in her vision is a soft, beautiful river of light, flowing to some unknown place. In the corner of her vision, she's acutely aware that the book on Armin's lap leaves its place for the stone ground - a sign that makes her nervous, really, because it means that all of his clever little attention is now on her.

"Pretty, isn't it?" He says softly, making her look at him.

At the shape of his face, framed by a soft molten gold that flutters with the wind; at the blue of his eyes, a shade she doesn't really know the word for as it penetrates deep into her own; at the tip of his nose, always dusted an endearing pink; at the ridge of his brows, a tad stronger whenever the bangs move away in the breeze; at the set of his jaw, the shape of his lips, the-

"W-what is?" She stammers, dazed.

"The water." He laughs, and she feels so silly.

"... Right."

Some of the people back in her hometown used to believe in Gods; said calling upon their names would ease their thoughts and bring them to calm.

Perhaps she should try it, just this once, because her heart-

But then, Armin leans in, a smile just short of bashful playing on his lips.

"There's more water like this beyond the walls."

Oh god, there it is. Again. Somehow, she's glad for it.

Annie can't help but release a sigh. "I was wondering if you'd grown tired of talking about the sea. Haven't heard about it in three days."

There's everything in his laugh, embarrassment, happiness, hope the size of the sun, and then some more embarrassment. For better or worse, Annie decides, it's her favourite sound and can he please continue to laugh?

"Sorry. I'm sure I've bored you by now..."

"No," She hums, drawing her knees to her chest and closing her eyes to the warmth heating up her face. "Tell me about it again."

And he does.

And Annie decides it's her favourite story because it's kind and beautiful and better than any of the ones she grew up hearing.

This story of the sea is sweet.

[swarvey]

broken pieces | shane x oc

Shane has spent years wallowing in the dark alone, thinking he’s too far gone — Kai begs to differ. After a rocky first meeting, the two will have to learn how they can save each other while, at the same time, they save themselves.

a/n: a fic i've been writing on ao3 (saturnice) and have recently picked up again after a few years ! while i work on new chapters, i will be reposting the ones i have already written onto here. sorry to those who wanted more :')

chapter 1: the first spring

"Did you hear about the new farmer, Shane?"

Shane didn't even look up from his meal. He shrugged, having another bite of his egg. The morning light glared into his eyes through the window; he grimaced, finishing the rest of his plate quickly.

Time to get another day over with.

"Well," Marnie continued, ignoring his silence, "I heard from Robin that she's very nice."

"Okay, and?" He got up, putting his plate in the sink before rinsing his hands.

"And, I think it would be nice for you to make a new friend." He scowled. “I mean, you know I love you dearly, Shane, but you should start talking to more people other than me and Jas—“

"See you, Marnie." Shane left without another word, shrugging on his jacket to head to Joja.

The air was sickeningly fresh as Shane breathed in, trudging his way past Jodi's house. The only part of the morning he liked was the emptiness — barely anyone got up as early as him. Shane took in the sight of the quiet, vacant town. Just how I like it, he thought, continuing to walk.

The peace was broken, however, when he saw a stranger standing in front of Pierre's shop.

Shane paused. Damn it.

He tried, he really fucking did, to pass her without any notice. He turned his head and sped up, the sight of the bridge fueling him—

"Um, excuse me?"

Shane reluctantly stopped, eyes closing as he refrained from screaming as loud as he could.

"What do you want?" he asked bluntly, not even bothering to turn around.

He heard the stranger snort quietly, undoubtedly because of his attitude. "I was wondering when this shop opens." She paused. "That is, if you know, of course," she added, a teasing tone to her voice.

He turned his head, sending her the nastiest glare he could gather that early in the morning. "Screw off, I don't even know you," Shane snapped.

The last glimpse of her he saw was her head tilted slightly in confusion, arms crossed.

Asshole.

-

Kai had never been a morning person, so she had no idea why she was making herself wake up at six.

Despite that, she couldn’t help but feel amazed as she opened her door and took in the sight of the field in front of her. Sure, there were trees, rocks, and weeds littered everywhere, but Kai already felt more at home than she had in the city. She would be lying if she said she didn’t miss the lights and sound of cars passing by in the night, but she would never go back to working in a cramped office. Kai smiled — for the first time in years, she felt free.

That is, until she realized she had to clear the field, plant the seeds she was gifted, and then buy some more before repeating.

Sighing, Kai decided to get some more seeds first, pulling on her coat before heading into town. The spring air bit at her cheeks for just a moment, settling down after it sunk in. She had always loved spring; the rain, the warmer weather, the life. Everything felt new, and after the crappy life she’d been living, Kai really needed a fresh start.

She winced at the thought of her life in Zuzu City. Her job was bad, but her life outside of work was worse. She barely even bothered to call her parents anymore, considering they basically cut her off once she went to college. Kai would get a call from them once in a blue moon. Even then, they would only talk for a couple minutes, making sure everything was fine — Are you alive? Eating well? — before hanging up.

And then, of course, there was Tom.

She tried not to think about him.

Kai entered the town to find it empty. The sound of the river flowing filled the air, calming her nerves. Birds chirped and flew over head while the sun continued to rise, casting a golden gleam over all the buildings. Kai smiled.

She was ready to start her new life.

Looking back at the store, Kai noticed the lack of lights and the locked doors. Sighing, she placed a hand on her hip. The paper that read “Shop Hours” at the top was ripped up below.

Just as she was about to head back, Kai noticed a man heading her way. He had his blue hoodie pulled tightly around him, his gaze glued to the ground. She could tell he didn’t feel like talking.

Chewing her lip, Kai thought about what to do. She hated to be bothered in the morning, too, so she understood why the guy was practically sprinting past her, but she also really wanted to know when the store opened.

“Um, excuse me?” she called out, trying to sound as friendly as possible.

Kai saw him freeze. “What do you want?” She snorted to herself. She wasn’t a morning person, but she was never rude to anyone who tried to talk to her. He didn’t even turn around to look at her while he spoke.

“I was wondering when this shop opens,” she said, crossing her arms and perking an eyebrow. “That is, if you know, of course.” She couldn’t help herself. Kai blamed her tease on the lack of sleep and coffee affecting her.

What she didn’t expect was the man to turn his head ever so slightly to give her the scariest glare she ever witnessed. Kai was, admittedly, taken aback. You took it too far, idiot, she thought, feeling embarrassment crawl up her face.

“Screw off, I don’t even know you,” he growled, leaving with his hands shoved in his pockets. Kai blinked before rolling her eyes, quietly defending herself in her head. Not my fault someone woke up on the wrong side of his bed.

Prick.

-

Over the following week, Kai learned when the shop opened from another early riser named Alex.

“Oh, Pierre’s? He always opens at nine, except on Wednesdays. He’s always closed on Wednesdays,” he had informed her, gridball tucked under his arm.

“Thanks,” Kai had replied. She gestured toward the ball. “You play?”

Alex’s chest puffed up a bit as he smiled smugly. “Yeah, I’m planning on going pro. I always get up early to practice a bit before working out; gotta keep these muscles working, am I right?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” After saying another thanks, Kai had left, not very eager to see Alex again.

A few days later, she visited the Stardrop Saloon. The sun was starting to dip below the skyline as she walked in, the music immediately lifting her mood. The saloon’s atmosphere brought her at ease, the tension in her body seeming to melt away.

“Ah, you must be the new farmer!” the man behind the counter said, grinning. “I’m Gus, nice to meet you.”

Kai walked up to him, holding out a hand. “Kai,” she responded, smiling back at him.

“Your grandfather used to come here on Fridays, too, you know,” Gus started, his smile growing a little sadder. “After a week of hard work, he let himself have a drink as a reward. He was a fine man.” He patted her hand. “I’m sure you’ll take after him, Kai. Welcome to the Valley.”

She nodded, placing her hand lightly over his. “Thanks, Gus. I needed to hear that.”

When Kai’s grandpa passed away, she hadn’t taken it very well. She’d stayed home for two weeks, skipping work and ordering food for most of her meals. At the time, it’d felt surreal — her grandfather had been the stone that kept her grounded throughout everything that happened. Hearing about his death crushed her — Kai didn’t want to know what would’ve happened if she hadn’t remembered his letter for her.

"Here — take this, on the house." Gus slid over a glass of beer. "While you're here, why don't you talk to some of the townsfolk? I'm sure you'll make friends quickly."

Kai took a look around the already crowded saloon. "Sure, why not," she sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. "I can't say I'm the best at starting conversations, though."

Gus perked an eyebrow before smirking, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Why don't I give you a hand, then?" Before she could decline, Gus waved down a long-haired man that had just walked through the door. "Elliott! Come meet the new farmer!"

Kai felt her heart jump. "Gus, I— what are you—"

"Relax. Elliott's one of the nicest guys in town, just sit and have a drink with him."

"But I—"

"Hello there, miss," Elliott greeted, his voice deep and smooth. "I don't believe we've met."

Kai swallowed. "No, we haven't." She cleared her throat quickly before pushing away her anxiety. "Why don't we grab a seat so we can talk more?"

“That sounds delightful.” He headed toward an empty table, hair flowing behind him.

"Good luck," Gus whispered, giving her a thumbs up. "I'm sure you two will get along greatly."

"We better," she muttered, grabbing her drink and heading to her seat.

Thankfully, after several more drinks between the two of them and some icebreakers, Kai found herself completely relaxed. Talking to Elliott was easy — his attentive eyes and comical facial expressions made it hard to not feel welcome in his presence.

Somehow, she ended up bringing up the incident in front of Pierre's. "Honestly, I feel kind of bad," she said, taking another sip of her drink. "Maybe I was too harsh."

"Oh, please," Elliott exasperated, leaning back in his chair. "You must have ran into quite a sensitive soul. What did this person look like?"

She thought for a moment. "Well, he had a blue jacket on with a green shirt — oh, and his hair was kind of like this." Kai gestured how his hair hung out to the side.

Elliott's eyes left hers for the first time that evening. "You mean him?" He pointed behind her before taking a big swig of his drink to hide his amused smile.

Kai tentatively looked over her shoulder to see that, indeed, the "sensitive soul" had entered the saloon. Gus already had his drink ready for him as he grabbed it, muttering a quick "thanks". The man then made his way to the corner, drinking alone. Kai felt a small tug of sympathy for him.

"That's Shane," Elliott said quietly, bringing her attention back to him. "He's not the most social fellow. He lives with Marnie and his goddaughter, Jas." He hesitated before continuing, "He also has a bit of a drinking problem, I'm afraid to say."

Kai tapped her fingers on her glass. "Oh." She took another peek at him. Shane was staring blankly at his drink, the dark circles around his eyes prominent in the dim saloon lighting. "I feel a bit worse, now," she admitted, shoulders slumping.

Elliott's eyes lit up. "Why don't you give him a heartfelt apology? Words are always the cure to a wounded heart," he advised.

"Really? You think so?" Kai knew her judgement was clouded, although an unfamiliar confidence sprouting in her chest fueled her. "Elliott, I don't know. He looks like he wants to be alone."

Elliott scoffed lightly. "Believe me, dear Kai, he always looks like that." He made a "shooing" motion with his hand. "Go, spill your heart to him." He smiled at the glare she sent his way as she got up, finishing her drink for courage.

As Kai grew closer to Shane, she felt the confidence that had driven her dissipate. She inhaled sharply when he looked up at her, eyes widening.

"You again?" he asked roughly, gaze narrowing. "Why are you talking to me?"

"I just, um," she stuttered, taking in a breath, "I just wanted to say sorry. You know, for what I said the other day." She saw his eyes light up momentarily in surprise before darkening once more. "It was early, and I was super sleep deprived— I mean, that doesn't excuse what I said, but . . ." Kai felt her face heating up. She decided to blame it on the liquor. "I just . . . I'm sorry. I don't want to be on bad terms with you because of something stupid I said, you know? I swear I'm not that bad, once you get to know me." She laughed slightly, lips lingering in an awkward smile. "So, I'll see you around, I hope."

Kai turned, heading back to Elliott with burning cheeks. She fell back into her chair and buried her face into her arm, letting Elliott pat her shoulder comfortingly.

"I'm an idiot," she mumbled.

"You aren’t. I'm sure you did just fine," Elliott reassured. He looked up. "You must have — he's coming over to our table, right this instant."

Kai shot up. "What?"

"Hey."

Her head turned embarrassingly quickly, greeted with the green fabric of Shane's jersey.

"Hi," Kai replied, moving back to look at him properly.

Shane nodded at Elliott before returning to her. "About . . . that." Kai felt her chest tighten. "It's, uh, it's fine. I don't care." She nearly jumped out of her seat as relief crashed through her, hoping the man in front of her hadn't noticed. She was amazed how excited she became because of six simple words; seven, including “uh”.

"Thanks," Kai managed, her choked voice causing Elliott to smirk. "I'm glad to hear that, I guess."

With another nod, Shane walked over to Gus, handing him a few coins before exiting the saloon. Kai turned around, sliding down into her seat.

"See?" Elliott said, raising his glass. "Words are always the cure."

-

The next week, Kai made it her mission to befriend Shane. With Elliott's support and guidance, she managed to even give him a couple surprise gifts.

The first was a meal. After speaking to Marnie in the morning, Kai had just what Shane needed to cheer up.

"He didn't even eat breakfast this morning," she'd said, wringing her hands in worry. "That's how I know he's not in a good mood."

"I could drop something off, if you'd like me to," Kai suggested.

"Oh, would you? Thank you, Kai — here, take this to him, sweetie. It's his favorite."

So, Kai stood in front of the Joja Mart, a wrapped plate of pepper poppers in hand.

"He works here? Seriously?" she questioned.

Elliott shrugged. "Everyone's talents lie in different places. His just happens to be here," he replied, looking at the store distastefully. "I can't say I'm fond of this place, though."

"Well, he has to eat," she reasoned, nodding to herself. "I'll just go in, tell him this is from Marnie, and go on with my day."

"That sounds like a brilliant plan, Kai," Elliott encouraged. "May I ask where you obtained this sudden determination?"

"I don't know, that night at the saloon, I guess he kind of proved my theory."

"Which was?"

"That he isn't a total ass."

Huffing out a laugh, Elliott nodded. "Then, by all means, proceed, dear Kai. I'll be right out here in case you implode." Punching his shoulder lightly with her free hand, Kai swallowed her fears and walked forward into the blue store.

She found Shane easily. The aisles were empty, the sound of her boots hitting the floor echoing throughout the store. He didn't even notice her at first — he was crouched on the white tile floor, almost mechanically shelving soup cans. He only looked up when she cleared her throat.

"You're awfully fuckin’ persistent," Shane grumbled. Marnie was right — Kai could tell he was in an even worse mood than he usually was. "Don't you have your own work to do?"

"Not right now, I don't," she replied, voice somehow steady. "In fact, I could even call this my work for today. Here."

He took the plate hesitantly, eyeing it cautiously. "What's this?"

"I talked to Marnie earlier and she said you didn't have breakfast. I already finished most of my farm work for today, so I offered to bring these over for you. Marnie made them herself — she said they're your favorite."

Unwrapping the foil to look at the peppers, Shane's eyes lit up, lips curling up into a small smile.

Kai, honestly, was amazed. Up until then, she'd questioned if she would ever get the stoic man to show any sign of happiness.

The moment ended abruptly, however, as Shane covered the plate again and looked away.

"Thanks, I guess," he said, placing the plate carefully next to him. "Tell Marnie not to worry so damn much."

Kai laughed. "I'll make sure she gets your message," she said, grinning as she began to make her way back to the entrance. Success.

"Seriously, though." She stopped, turning her head to look back at Shane. He still wouldn't look at her, although Kai could see a hint of pink in his cheeks. "You didn't have to do this."

She simply shrugged. "I know." He looked up at her to meet her eyes just before she walked away, still smiling.

"You’re in one piece, so I'm assuming everything went well?" Elliott asked as she approached him.

"Very well," she corrected, grabbing his arm. "Come on, I need some lunch."

The next gift Kai gave Shane ended up being a simple beer. She and Elliott had decided to head to the Stardrop Saloon once again, promising to each other they wouldn't get as drunk as they had the trip prior. Only an hour into their visit, however, Elliott glanced at the clock and frowned.

"Ah, I'm afraid our time together has to end early tonight," he stated, sighing. "To be quite honest, I've been neglecting my writing duties since I befriended you. Your charm has its toll." He smiled as he got up from his seat, dropping some coins onto the table. "There, that should cover your drink, as well as mine."

Kai shook her head, pushing them back towards him. "Elliott, come on, you don't have to do that. I can pay this time."

"I insist, Kai. Consider this a trade."

She raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

Elliott smirked, raising her hand to place a light, quick kiss on her knuckles. "I pay for you — and give you the gift of a kiss, mind you—" Kai yanked her hand back, a smile blooming on her face in amusement, "and you talk to you-know-who."

"Oh, please, you're bribing me to talk to Shane? I can do that for free."

"A brave one, I see," Elliott teased. "Fine. Buy him a drink and I'll pay for next time, too."

"And just where are you getting this money from, rich boy?"

"Is it a deal or not, dear Kai?" He held out his hand.

Shrugging, Kai shook it. "Sure, why not." She knew alcohol always made her confidence soar, so why waste the feeling?

Elliott grinned. "I trust you will keep your word. Until next time, my friend. Trust your heart!" He gave one last wave before leaving swiftly.

Like clockwork, Shane walked in a few moments later, following the same routine as the past week. After he received his glass, Kai made her way up to Gus, letting out a breath. As always, the beer’s high was already starting to wear off, a pit beginning to grow in her stomach.

"Hey, Gus," she greeted.

"Kai! It's good to see you," he replied, cleaning a glass and placing it down. "Now, how can I help you?"

She placed the money Elliott had given her onto the counter. "Here, this should cover everything Elliott and I had." After a quick count, Gus nodded in confirmation, slipping the coins into his hand before dropping them into the cash register.

"Anything else I can do for you? Another round, maybe? Some pizza to snack on?"

Kai shook her head, grabbing a few more coins from her own wallet. "Actually, I'd like to get Shane another drink, please."

Gus blinked, surprise evident on his face as he smiled. "Oh? Another beer, I suppose?"

"That sounds great." He handed her another glass filled to the brim with the drink. "Thanks a bunch, Gus."

"No problem, Kai." Gus eyed Shane before looking back at her. "So, you've taken a liking to Shane, I see. I can't say I'm not surprised—"

"No, no! It's, uh, it's not like that," Kai explained, gaining a few stares.

"Of course, I'm sorry for assuming so rashly." Gus smiled knowingly. "Are you sure there's nothing I can get for you?”

“Positive. Thanks again, Gus.” Kai took the drink and walked over to Shane as quickly as she could without spilling, setting the drink in front of him right as he finished his first one.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she heard him mutter.

“Hey,” she responded, choosing to ignore his comment and taking the seat across from him. “I hope this seat isn’t taken.”

No reply. Shane merely stared at the new glass in front of him.

“I don’t usually see anyone sitting here, so I just assumed it was free. I hope you don’t mind.” She winced, cringing at her own words.

Silence. More staring.

Kai’s shoulders dropped. “Look, I know you’re probably annoyed at how much I’ve bothered you these last couple weeks, but I think you’re a pretty decent guy, Shane.” He looked up at that, as if he was surprised she knew his name. “I mean, we had a pretty rough start, but I want to get to know you better. Maybe find out your favorite color, or something.”

Kai really, really wanted to smack her head on the table.

All of her energy seemed to drain out of her as Shane began to avoid her eyes once more, gaze now aimed at his lap. The sound of arcade games dinging and loud laughter from a group of people seemed to grow louder in Kai’s ears as she wondered what she was even doing.

Shane had made it painfully clear he didn’t want her around. Kai thought back to all the times she’d tried to approach him over the past few days. He had always replied with some annoyed remark — The hell do you want? Haven’t I been rude enough to you yet? — and walked away, leaving her in the dust. More anxious thoughts filled her head as Kai balled her fists in her lap, shaking her head slightly to herself.

Maybe I’m the prick.

Already thinking about how she was going to explain this to Elliott without spontaneously combusting, Kai pushed her chair back, rising from her seat.

“Sorry for wasting your time,” she said softly, any last bit of enjoyment in her gone. “I’ll, uh, see you around, Shane.”

Kai began to walk away, catching Gus’s eye on her way out. He gave her a questioning glance, and she shook her head in response. Not now, she wanted to say. He seemed to understand, nodding.

The evening breeze cooled Kai’s hot face when she opened the door. She let herself savor it for a moment before beginning to walk, tipsy and heavy hearted.

Just then, she heard the door open behind her once again before shutting. She didn’t think twice about it; at least, not until she heard someone come her way.

“Kai.”

She stopped, eyes widening. Kai turned to face Shane, noticing how the evening light brought out the red in his cheeks.

Cute, she thought, feeling a blush hit her own face.

“I’m sorry for freezing back there. I just didn’t expect you to come over.” She nodded. “And I guess I’m sorry for being rude to you before, too. I was a dick.” Another nod. Shane rolled his eyes. “You gonna say anything or am I wasting my breath?”

Kai blinked. “Oh, uh, don’t worry about it. I guess I was being kind of annoying, too.”

“Yeah, kind of.” She grimaced. “I’ve never really had anyone want to talk to me that much before, though.” Kai felt that same feeling of sympathy she’d felt that first night at the saloon. Shane rubbed his arm, looking away. “I guess I just didn’t know what to do. I sorta freaked out, to be honest.”

Now Kai really felt bad.

“Geez, Shane, I’m really sorry,” she apologized, sighing. “I had no idea I was making you feel so uncomfortable. I promise I’ll leave you alone from now on.”

“Oh.”

Kai felt shock stun her when she recognized the tone of his voice.

He was disappointed.

“Unless,” she began slowly, “you don’t . . . want me to?”

Shane’s face went red. “Yeah. That.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Kai felt as if a whale had been lifted off her chest.

“I’ll see you soon, then?”

“Yeah.” Shane cleared his throat, heading back to the saloon. He paused in his step. “Thanks for the drink, by the way.” He waited a beat before quickly adding, “And it’s blue, if you’re still wondering about the favorite color thing. So, yeah.” With that, Shane rushed back in, leaving Kai in the cool of the oncoming night.

Blue. Kai kept that in mind as she walked home, feeling lighter than she had in years.