#sometimes i think that last standing friend doesn’t really want to be around be either but just feels obligated to

[slimsizzy]

kinda crazy the progress ive made in my life. i see it as astronomical. been thinking about how every friend i’ve ever had has felt differently about my progress, probably that i was moving too slow, and they progressed much more and much faster than i, and decided to leave me in the dirt about it

anyway here’s my cat

[deadghosy]

☆BEING MATTHEO’S CHILDHOOD FRIEND TO LOVER ☆ male version||female version

COMPLETELY protective over you ever since childhood. He literally fought a kid back then because they didn’t like that you were a “girl” playing boy games with them. You were sensitive back then, so of course you cried to mattheo about it. And mattheo did something about it. He punched the kid and stole their teddy bear to give it to you.

He asks you about girl things so he can flirt and treat a girl better. You could be literally reading a romance book, and he wants to learn too. Please teach him or else he’s gonna whine about losing another girl.

“Sooooo what does a girl like for a guy like me to tap that ass…cause I got a girl on my roster..” mattheo says sliding by you in the library table you sat in. You were literally getting to the good part of where the two main characters were gonna kiss. “Why are you asking me these questions riddle…” you say with venom in your tone towards his last name. Mattheo frowned. “Actually my name from you is Matty, Matt, and matty bear. So please—”

“—Please kill yourself and never let your soul rest after.” You say getting up from the library table and walking away. Mattheo’s jaw drop as he followed you offended. He never interrupted your reading time ever.

When your period comes…he’s asking you “what the fuck that is” and “why is it hurting you” with a frown. He’s thinking he can solve it like any other with a wave of his wand…but it’s more complicated when you explained how your uterus is shredding itself and that’s all you can get out before mattheo started to gag and leave your dorm room like the overdramatic king he is.

He still loves you dearly so he got you tea and some materials you need for the rest of your week.

Sometimes when you two have a sleepover, which is just either of you two sneaking into the girls dorms or the boys. You two gossip like little girls ready to rip someone’s heart out.

Mattheo is 50/50 on you doing makeup on him. But if you really plead and want to do it. He’s gonna let you. He can’t say no to you sadly.

A guy had broken your heart once, so he broke his face in…and broke his dick. Don’t ask.

Couple of girls hated how close you were to Mattheo. He’s a handsome guy, so of course people may spread rumors around. And Mattheo doesn’t really like that, he’s going to the girl and showering her how equal rights have hands.

If you two ever argue, it leads to Mattheo apologizing first. He’s a sucker for you, he doesn’t know why. He just doesn’t want you to be mad at him.

It’s even worst when you talk to anyone else than him.

When you fully ignore him, no texting, no calling, not even talking to you in public and being by you makes him go insane. He’s smoking in the courtyard. Jaw tightened as he eyes you across. He can tell that you know he is staring. He can tell you know indeed when you shift a lot.

The way you feel his burning gaze on you, it made you feel warm. You always loved mattheo, but with him always “going after” girls…you just thought that maybe he wouldn’t love you back.

Jealousy is something mattheo has built into him. He doesn’t know why, so when a ravenclaw student tried to ask you out. He couldn’t stand it. He had to take you away. He couldn’t bare to lose you. He ushered you away from the student, taking you to an empty classroom. He couldn’t handle not being near you, he hated it the most. You are his other part.

He hates it.

“I don’t know who that guy was. But you’re mine. Okay? You’re mine, you always have been even if we both didn’t recognize it. Shit, I know I’m dumb to think to just push my feelings away from you. But I can’t help but love how you are so amazing…” he says slowly at the end. Kissing your head and closing his eyes. You smile slowly. Your heart swell with warmth, taking a deep breath in as you wrapped your arms around him too. You loved him just like how he loves you. He loves you as if you were the made the creation of his favorite food. He loved you like making new potions. He loved you like music to his ears.

He always has been a gentleman before you two dated. He made sure he opened doors for you. He made sure you were comfortable with things. He would even sacrifice his cloaks if you were cold.

He’s like a puppy in love as he just lights up seeing you.

He loves his girl very much. You are the prettiest thing he could ever ask and give for.

[inosukijiro]

✮⋆˙ giyuu has a crush

𝙨𝙮𝙣. ━ giyuu is wholeheartedly in love with you.

━ 𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨. no bc i am making this man a pathetic simp for you idc. im writing these with myself in mind so yk, i have to pour out my feelings. and also i need to get all this giyuu writing off my chest, its actually a problem the fixation i have on this man but no fics tickle my brain just right so i have to write them myself

━ 𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙖𝙡 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨. btw thank you so much for all the love and support on my last two posts. literally you all are so incredibly sweet !! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ i just graduated college so i might have a bit more time to write but no promises!

━ 𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨. none. giyuu might be a little ooc. modern reader in kny. i rewrote this a few times so pls be nice 🤧. 1.4k words.

─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───

Giyuu actually doesn’t know how this occurred. No, actually that was a lie. He knew how this happened, but didn’t at the same time. And honestly speaking, the man does not care at all. You were so nice and sweet to Giyuu it made his head spin. Like it makes him ill in the best way imaginable. He doesn’t understand why you want to be around him so much, why you want to be his friend – not that he minds – but he just can’t get past his own indiscretions about himself. That was until you told him to his face.

You tell him that you thought he was cute – I'm sorry? – and you liked how calm he was – really? His brain can’t compute anything that you say. He doesn’t know if you need any medical assistance or he’s just dreaming. But it makes you laugh. The cute, dumb look on his face as he stands there, gaping at you like a fish.

It wasn’t like it was new information. You did enjoy his company the most. He was very quiet and by no means were you either, but you have this habit of matching the energy of people you were with. So, it was almost relaxing and refreshing spending time with Giyuu. Though Giyuu is silent most of the time, he does in fact talk. At first it's about a mission he was on recently, if and most likely when he gets more comfortable with you, he’s talking a little more in depth about random things that are on his brain. It's endearing really. Or sometimes he’s just talking about things that he thinks you might like to know, random facts, and so on.

But sometimes you do the talking and he likes that too. You could talk for hours and he could listen to every word you have to say. He would soak it up like a sponge as you focus your eyes on the crochet hooks weaving in front of you. Your voice is quiet and nice, soft and warm sounding.

This typically happens when you visit his estate. And you visit his estate a lot. Maybe Giyuu was a little disappointed that you weren’t staying with him, but he knows that he shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds. He’s lucky enough to see you this much, as much as he's lucky to see you at all. He can’t be too mad though. Mitsuri has jumped you the first moment she got when the Master had brought up your living arrangements. You had nowhere to go. And honestly, Giyuu may have been a little relieved that Mitsuri of all people had gotten to you first.

He really wouldn’t have minded if it had been Rengoku or Gyomei. For obvious reasons, Rengoku would be happy to have him stopped by and probably Gyomei too, because it seems like they don’t have a bone to pick with him. Honestly speaking, he wouldn’t have minded Muichiro either, though the boy would have probably forgotten your existence within the day. But any of the others, the thought made his skin crawl for plenty of reasons. Maybe it was because it would have become a hassle, or he would be harassed every time he went to visit you. Yes, it does seem on par with him that might just avoid you so you don’t get verbally assaulted like he does if you were to associate with him. But he was a lonely, pathetic man who was enamored with you at first glance the minute you showed up out of nowhere and he couldn’t help but thank the heavens that the stars had aligned so nicely for him – even if he felt he didn’t deserve it.

His only issue with the arrangement was Obanai. The man had almost butchered him on numerous occasions just for showing up to the Love estate. Even if he wasn’t there for Mitsuri, the Serpent Hashira didn’t seem to care. Maybe it was funny the first few times – it actually wasn’t – but you really couldn’t keep your mouth shut anymore. Obanai was wearing you thin with his commentary. Everytime Giyuu was around, it was like the others just couldn’t help themselves by making a comment insulting the man. Maybe it was because you didn’t want to disrespect a Hashira, especially if four of them were in the room with you, but Giyuu was here to see you, and it was almost like insulting Giyuu was an insult to you for wanting to spend time with him.

Mitsuri was okay with Giyuu coming to visit you, she actually encouraged it. So watching Mitsuri stand behind you while you gave Iguro a piece of your mind was something Giyuu didn’t know he needed to see until then. And maybe he did allow himself to feel a little selfish and smile mentally. He still remembers how Iguro had this look of disdain on his face, simultaneously looking like a scolded child and embarrassed because this was happening in front of Mitsuri.

Giyuu wondered if you caught the look that Obanai and Kaburamaru were giving you – if looks could kill and all that – but that was stupid. You most certainly did and just didn’t care enough. And Giyuu also wonders just what kind of sorcery you have, because he did hear you mention Sanemi by name at some point and now he's not bothering him as much, especially when you are around.

It wasn’t like he could do anything about it, not like he had ever done anything about it in the past. He never really had the heart to correct anyone in their assumptions of him, he never really thought he had to. Though, that mainly was because he thought he deserved such mistreatment. Regardless, it didn’t matter how he felt about it and himself. If you enjoyed his company that much to defend him, he was going to provide as much of it as you wanted. But there was something about it that made his heart swell a little bit bigger and flooded him with enough warmth that you could have mistaken it as him having a fever.

Now here the two of you were, sitting outside the Water Estate. You both had taken your places by the koi pond Giyuu has. It's so calm and cool. The soft moving of water could be heard every time the wind blew just enough, as well as the sharp sound of water splashing because some fish got too close to the surface.

Giyuu isn’t losing himself as he stares at the pond, watching the fish move around. He finds himself mesmerized though, as you talk. It’s nice, as usual. He likes how you talk and the way you talk. He could listen to you for hours and never get tired of hearing you. And he knows that if he glances at you now, even briefly, he wouldn’t be able to look away. You just look so… wonderful. It makes him dizzy. But he has such a weak will to do so, and now he's staring at you. Eyes soft and relaxed. He has never felt so content.

Giyuu doesn’t know if he realizes what kind of situation he is in. Or maybe he does. Maybe he’s finally realizing just how much of an effect you have on him. He likes you. He likes you beyond anything in the world. He loves you and everything about you.

You don't notice him staring. You’re too busy weaving the crochet hook in and out of your craft. You make it look so effortless. So enjoyable. And you seem so happy crocheting away as you speak. The way you talk and do it at the same time, you're so smart. You have to be. And Giyuu can’t help but hope you don’t look up. You’re as mesmerized with your work as he is with you. He would die though, if you caught him. The thought makes him sweat almost, being so close to you like this. His hands are clammy, and he's never been this nervous.

Yeah, he definitely has it bad for you. And for the first time in a while, even despite his nerves, he found the corners of his lips curling upwards, in a soft and timid smile. He averts his eyes, almost to gather his bearings, but that isn't enough. The subtle flush creeping onto his cheeks betrayed him. But he couldn’t be more delighted.

thank you for reading !! ૮₍˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶₎ა

[hannieoftheyear]

everybody gets horny on halloween (lsm)

Seokmin dressed as a clown shouldn't be looking this hot, but in the spirit of halloween, you let that deep desire come out to life for one night when he bets he's the best kisser out of the whole friend group.

✧.* pairing: dokyeom x fem reader

✧.* w.c: 7,9k

✧.* genre: college au, basically pwp, friends to ?? (minors dni) | content: clown d(ic)k, frat boy dk, he's a dork but also a tease, everyone has a severe case of horniness, alcohol consumption, cursing, this has no business being this long but I just couldn't stop | smut: mutual masturbation, oral (m), fingering, protected penetration (clowns use condoms✊ and so should you).

read part 2 here!

✧.* note: i just know he's the best kisser in svt... you get it. this is the most unserious thing i've written so far, but i ended up really liking it? i might do a christmas version im not sure yet. last thing, I apologize if there are any mistakes🙏

dividers used

Halloween is the one night a year when you can be someone else and not feel bad about it, when you can let your deepest desires get to the surface and let them take over, because, who cares? Right? 

Who cares that you spent half an hour doing shots and discussing your best hook ups with a bunch of girls, which led to them going into heavy detail about their hookups with your best friends and now you can’t forget about it? And now you’re sitting too close to them in a couch too small for the four of you, with vivid images and descriptions of how your friends like to go down on girls and a feeling on the pit of your stomach you can’t shake off? 

It doesn’t help that all of them are dressed like idiots and acting like horny teenagers who desperately want to get laid, but somehow, the costumes work for them. If you weren’t drunk, it would be embarrassing. A potato with stab wounds, a firefighter with a tiger-printed uniform, and a clown that has no sense of style? You can’t be seriously getting the hots for any of them, but you’re not the only one with that issue. 

Earlier, from the kitchen, you could see where they were sitting and how girls went up to them again and again, twirling their hair and biting their lips to get their attention, Chan even going up to his room with one of them. Those things happen at every single frat party, but something about tonight’s is just different. 

Looking around the room, very little people are alone, doesn’t matter the costume. Everyone’s either hand in hand with someone, flirting standing against the halloween decorated walls, taking up space on the other couches making out furiously (Mingyu has been jealously throwing popcorn at one specific couple for over five minutes and they still haven’t noticed), and approximately every ten minutes you see another frat guy going upstairs with a girl. It's not easy not to get horny when this is the vibe you’re surrounded with.  

From the corner of your eye, even with the dark purple and red lighting, you can see a group of girls ogling your friends, probably not pleased at you for keeping them hostage. 

How they all managed to get fuckboy reputations is beyond your comprehension, because they’re still the same boys who like to stay up all night playing videogames and ask you to leave when talking about jerking off, but apparently getting into a fraternity just does that for men. Anywhere you go with them, they always gather a group of girls, and even sometimes boys, gawking at them so furiously you sometimes think they’re capable of undressing them with their stares. And now you’re becoming one of them. Knowing how popular they are and knowing how each of them behave during sex are two fundamentally different things. Sure, you have eyes. You know they’re handsome and hot, but the thought of having sex with any of them never crossed your mind for some reason. 

The effects of your little chat are starting to be obvious as they talk about something right by your side, and your eyes are trained to the way Seokmin’s lips move as he talks, mind going to dangerous places imagining how they would feel against yours. 

The ridiculous make-up he has on accentuates the way his mouth moves in an weirdly enticing way, the red across his lips and the lipstick streaks going down his face drive your eyes instinctively to his lips, and they stay there, like they have a life of their own. His nose is painted red, imitating the fluffy noses clowns usually wear, accentuating one his undoubtedly best feature, and it makes it virtually impossible for you not to focus on his face either way. You wouldn’t mind getting your pale make-up ruined by the cheap lipstick he bought if it meant you’d get to smash your mouths together and test what all those girls told you about him. 

The man in question shakes your leg, his hands on your knee giving you infinite goosebumps, and they’re all looking at you, like they’re waiting for an answer to a question you did not hear. 

“What?” 

“We saw you talking to those girls earlier. Did they say anything about us? Should we go up to them?" Mingyu repeats, his head peaking out from behind Seokmin. 

“They were rating their hook ups with all of you, feedback included.” First mistake of the night, telling them the truth. 

“Really?” Mingyu sounds way too excited hearing your reply. “What did they say?” 

“I bet you think it was good… but I’m not telling you.” 

“C’mon! You can’t just tell us something like that and not follow up!�� Soonyoung comes up right behind Mingyu, just as eager. 

“Why do you want to know what a few girls, that you clearly don’t even remember by the way, think about you? All of you already have half the campus waiting for the chance to hook up with you.” 

“This is an opportunity for us to get better! What if Mingyu’s terrible at making out and doesn’t know it?” Soonyoung doesn’t miss the chance to tease the other. 

“Hey!” Mingyu pouts as the others chuckle at his cuteness, “not that you need to know, but I’m actually a really good kisser.” The declaration makes all of you burst out laughing, but it only eggs him further. 

“Yo! I’m being serious! Why don’t you ask your sister?” Soonyoung shuts up instantly, sending Mingyu a death stare, making you and Seokmin die of laughter. He’s been quiet until now but starts clapping to accompany his loud laughter in a second. 

Sitting right by his side, every move Seokmin makes, you feel. His arm brushes against yours every now and then, and you're so close you could prop your legs on top of him if you wanted to sit more comfortably. Even the slightest touches make your tummy do cartwheels. Touches you wouldn’t normally think about twice, as it’s usual for friends to be physically close to one another, but tonight, every touch, graze and glance of his sends electric waves rushing through every vein of your body. 

It can’t be normal. He’s acting goofy like he always is. Nothing in his demeanor changed. He still screams when laughing, claps and moves around when he’s entertained, and sings the songs coming out of the speakers out of nowhere. There’s nothing out of the ordinary besides the ridiculous costume he decided to wear and an uncommon, confident attitude you’ve seen only a few times. 

“Everyone knows that a true good kisser doesn’t say they’re good.” Soonyoung’s still laughing hysterically, but doesn’t miss the opportunity to tease Mingyu further. 

“Ah really? And are you one?” Mingyu replies smugly, trying to set a trap for him, but his plan backfires. 

“Why don’t you ask your sister?” The smile on Mingyu’s face disappears in an instant, triggering another choir of laughter, echoing across the entire room and catching a few stares. 

“Alright, alright.” A sulking Mingyu waits for the laughs to die down, not wanting the conversation to keep going, to not be the center of the teasing for any longer. 

“Wait, guys! Let’s not forget the main issue here. Our dear, dear friend, is keeping important information from us!” You hoped they’d forget about it for a little bit longer, but Soonyoung refuses to let it go. 

“I don’t know, guys, it feels wrong.” It’s not like those girls asked you to keep it a secret, but still. Your gaze connects with Seokmin’s for the first time tonight after you’ve started avoiding him, pleading him with your eyes to help out of the situation, but a voice gets between you. 

“C’mon! You don’t even have to tell us who said what. We only want the feedback.” Mingyu tries again, and it’s a rather good argument. You can get them off your backs, and you don’t reveal the girls’ names. 

You pretend to think about what to say, like one specific thing the girls said hasn’t been plaguing your mind, like you haven’t been thinking about it since you sat by his side, like your stomach doesn’t flip and your ears don’t turn burning red at the single thought of testing if what they said was true. 

“Well, there’s something they all agreed on…” They turn completely silent waiting for you to continue, “since we’re talking about kissing, they all agreed on who’s the best one out of you.” 

Something deep within you heats up with a jealousy you’ve never felt before. So many girls got to kiss him, feel his lips against theirs, his hands on their body, and none of them were you. Curiosity, jealousy, and want all combine inside you. 

“Well? Are you gonna tell us who?” Soonyoung‘s voice brings you back to reality. They’re still looking at you expectantly, small smirks starting to show on their faces, expecting their respective names to be called. 

“It was… Seokmin.” 

The air stills as you pronounce his name, and your eyes grow wide, waiting for their response. Nothing in your line of sight looks useful to relieve the heat growing inside of you at the embarrassment. The two men you didn’t name look at each other with wide eyes, raising their eyebrows before erupting into laughter. 

“What’s so funny?” Seokmin’s voice only makes the sound of laughter grow. “You’re so envious, both of you.” A tinge of pride manages to escape through the tone of his voice. He looks so hot when he’s confident. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry, it was just… unexpected.” Soonyoung replies, still cackling. 

“My man! You have to tell us your secrets!” Mingyu teases, fully believing what you said but not stopping his giggles. 

“Are you sure we’re talking about the same Seokmin here?” Soonyoung asks you directly, but you don’t get to answer. 

“I will literally kiss every one of you to prove it, right here, right now.” A sulky Seokmin interrupts the conversation, making a kissy face to Soonyoung, who feigns disgusts and slides away from him. 

Their banter distracts them from your curious form, eyes fixed on Seokmin as he defends himself from the teasing duo. Their voices blur as they become background noise, everything slows down around you, only Seokmin’s face present in your mind, how his eyebrows quirk as he talks, how his nose scrunches at the teasing, the way his soft lips move at every word he pronounces. You realize you’ve never seen him kiss anyone with your own eyes, and thank god for that, because if you’re in this state with only a few references, you wouldn’t be able to manage with visual proof. 

A loud cough distracts you from your train of thought, luckily before your imagination goes too far, but when you focus your eyes, you find the three men staring at you. 

“Fantasizing about something?” Soonyoung asks teasingly. 

“Yeah, about you shutting the hell up.” It comes out a lot more defensive than you want, definitely blowing your cover. 

“If you want him to prove it to you, you can just ask.” Your eyes dart between Soonyoung‘s teasing smirk and Seokmin’s surprised face. 

“Oh shut up.” Heat rushes to your cheeks, and before anyone can see you getting more embarrassed, you get up and start walking towards the empty kitchen. “I’m getting something to drink.” 

The realization hits you right then and there, with all the shouting and laughing on the background, in the dirty kitchen of the frat house. You really, truly, desperately want your clown-dressed fratboy friend to fuck you. Well, not necessarily fuck you – even though you wouldn’t be opposed – but at least kiss you dumb until you can’t feel your lips anymore. 

The poorly-lighted kitchen is sadly not empty, currently occupied by at least three couples making out, but you’ve learned to ignore them for tonight. The lonely bottle of water at the back of the fridge calls your name, and it might just be the only thing able to drag you back to earth and lower the little drunkenness left in your system. You can’t be fantasizing like that, not about one of your best friends, and especially not in front of him! 

You’re still standing with your shoulder against the fridge as you try to fill your brain with any other thought that isn’t Seokmin’s mouth on yours and his big slim hands pushing you against him. It’s not working, and the universe taunts you further. The door opens, revealing that same clown costume invading your every thought. He stands by your side without saying a word and takes the water bottle out of your hands after you’ve gulped down half of it. 

“Are you okay?” His voice startles you. But he sounds caring, and it just sends you down the spiral again. You don’t want to face him. Not right now. Not ever. 

“Yeah, sorry for rushing off like that…” Your voice trembles slightly as he takes a few steps and stands in front of you, forcing you to look at him. 

“They can go overboard sometimes.” He sounds actually worried, and it just makes you want him more. He cares about you, and he’s hot, and you’re surrounded by couples making out! It’s too much. 

“I just wanted them to drop the topic.” No more than a few words manage to mumble out of you. You feel so stupid. Never in the history of your friendship were you ever nervous to talk to him. Fuck those girls for talking so casually about guys, fuck them for putting those thoughts on your mind, fuck them for being the ones who can experience getting kissed by him. 

“Maybe they would’ve let it go after a few minutes.” Panic sets in as his words register on your brain. Shit, you’ve made him uncomfortable by putting him on the spot. 

“I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” 

“Don’t worry, you didn’t. I don’t actually care what they think about it, they’re not the ones I’m kissing after all.” He tries to calm you down with a joke and you chuckle back as a reply, but your stomach does a funny little jump at the mention of kissing. 

“It’s the only thing I could think of so it kinda just spilled out, I didn’t mean to put you on the spot.” You try to justify yourself and apologize once again, but Seokmin stopped listening after the first part of your sentence. 

“The only thing you could think of? Why?” Something in the tone of his voice sends warning signals to the rational part of your brain, but it's already too dizzy to understand. 

He takes half a step forward, looking at you intensely, like he’s Pennywise, and he wants to have you for dinner. You’d let him. 

“I-I- I don’t know…” His sudden closeness makes a blank slate of your brain. He’s getting ever so slightly closer by the second, almost entering your personal space, and words take you double the time to process, like you’re just learning how to speak. “It surprised me.” 

He places his hands on your side, caging you against the counter, forcing you to keep looking him in the eyes. His body heat embraces you, warming up your own body until red can be seen even under your white makeup. Is this how he usually flirts? Is this what all those girls felt? He’s taller than you, so naturally, you have a perfect view of his lips. Lips that move, asking something you don’t get to hear, too entranced in the way they quirk with each word to pay attention to anything else. A smirk begins to show on his face. He’s definitely noticing his effect. 

“You don’t think I can be a good kisser?”  

Does his smirk have superpowers? The clown makeup only seems to make it hotter, and you can’t look away. It’s hypnotizing, calling to you to fulfill your desires. 

“Do you care what I think about it?” What he said before about not caring resonates in your brain. 

“It depends.” His dark eyes dart down to your lips as his face gets closer to yours, so close your noses bump into each other. 

“On what?” You manage to breath out. Your eyes flutter closed instinctively, waiting for him to finally connect your lips and end your suffering. But you feel nothing besides his breath fanning over your lips. 

“You know, Soonyoung was right before.” His voice makes your eyes fly open. His face is still only a couple of inches away from yours, but his smug expression tells you you’ll have to work for what you want. “If you want me to prove it to you, you just gotta ask.” 

You can feel his hands right beside yours on the counter surface, his skin calling for your touch. Does this mean he wants to kiss you too? If all it takes is you asking for it... 

“What makes you think I even want that?” His smirk doesn’t even come close to twitching at yours words. 

“So, we’re just gonna pretend you weren’t drooling over me before?” Yeah, you were caught, right in the act, and there’s no way out. If you back out now, your chance will be lost, and it will forever be awkward for the both of you to interact after this. 

“I wasn’t drooling…” He doesn’t believe you, and you don’t either. “I was just thinking about the information I was given.” 

“And did you come to any conclusion?” You’re sure you’ve never felt this kind of closeness before. Not even the ugly jacket he’s wearing is capable of breaking the spell casted by your personal spaces fusing together. The drunk dizziness left your body a long time ago, only leaving Seokmin’s effects to play with your body. You crave more of him. Your hands fly away from the counter down the hem of his clown t-shirt, playing with it as Seokmin's levels of confidence reach a new peak. 

“Yeah…” A shiver runs down your spine and to your core at the feeling of being observed by him. His hands place themselves on both sides of your hips, making you almost stutter your words. “That I’m the best person you could ask for advice.” 

“Right… and why is that?” He nods tauntingly, smirk getting wider as his eyes focus on your parted lips. 

“First, I’m always the first one to tell you when you make a mistake, so you know I won’t lie, and secondly, I just think it would be fair for me to know,” your words make him chuckle and your stomach contracts. Fuck, you really love that sound. “If every girl on campus gets to know, then I should too, right?” 

“Know what exactly?” 

“H-how,” He really got you. You can’t even say it. 

“How, what? How I kiss? You have to use words, baby, tell me what you want.” If he could hear the way your heartbeat speeds up at the pet name, you’d fall right to the floor out of embarrassment. 

A look around the kitchen to check if it’s a safe space calms you down. The couples making out are all long gone, and you haven’t been paying much attention to your surroundings beyond Seokmin's body, but you realize people haven’t been entering the kitchen for a while either. It’s now or never. 

“Fine,” you let him win, but not without rolling your eyes, “can you kiss me?” 

“Hmm, you can do better than that.” He’s still playing his little game, waiting for you to say what he wants. You lay your hands on his chest, learning at the worst time possible that he’s actually quite ripped, and you forget his game, and your surroundings, and your worries. 

“I want you to kiss me, and if you don't do something in the next two seconds, I swear I'm leaving this fucking party and never speaking to you ag–” 

First, you feel his fingers on your chin, tilting it up to reach his height, and then he presses his lips against yours, so softly you can’t fathom him being the same person that was teasing you just a second ago. Both of your hands fly to the back of his neck, pushing him harder against you as your lips start to move. He reciprocates immediately, moving his lips over yours with a sweetness that would drive a diabetic straight to the hospital. 

You get drunk of the feeling of him, deepening the kiss far more than you first intended as his mouth leads yours as he wishes, and his hands sneak to the sides of your waist. It’s not messy nor rough like you’re used to with other men, on the contrary, Seokmin takes his time savoring the raw skin of your lips, a tender deepness that keeps you in for more. 

The last bit of air in your lungs leaves you as a sigh, and Seokmin separates from you just in time before you pass out in his arms due to the lack of oxygen. You absentmindedly chase his lips, but he doesn’t smirk cockily like you expected and just glares at you, his eyes dark and clouded with something you’ve never seen in him, and lips parted with red lipstick smeared around them. 

Only breathing sounds are heard for a second before you’re both smashing your mouths together again. No time for thinking about how this will affect your friendship, letting yourselves dwell in this newfound desire. 

He dominates the new kiss immediately, his hands pushing you against him even more if possible. There’s no softness this time, nothing to prove, only lust and want pushing your bodies closer and closer until there’s no space left. Your nose brushes against his when he switches the angle, lighting a fire all the way down to your core. But he’s still not rough. He moves with a controlled power that makes you whimper on his lips. It is the perfect opportunity for him to finally sneak his tongue and tangle it with yours. 

You welcome the intrusion eagerly, sighing on his lips again as he explores to his liking. His hands don’t stay put and travel to your thighs to effortlessly lift you on top of the counter. Your legs open, welcoming him to slot between them, and his groin hits just on the crevice of your inner thigh. 

Sounds are made that shouldn’t be heard in any public place when Seokmin bites on your lower lip, but he drinks them all in, his mouth not letting your little moans reach any other ears beside his. His hands grope your thighs, bringing you closer to his growing hard, nearly desperate for more friction, but he explores more of your body with the same attitude, like he wants you to feel him everywhere. Your arms wrap around his neck and flush your chests together, and the plastic hair of the clown wig tickles on top of your skin, but it doesn’t prevent you from caging him against your body so the kiss never ends. 

A loud shattering sound makes you break apart, both of you worried trying to locate the source, but it luckily didn’t come from inside the kitchen, still empty as it was earlier, and when you look back at each other, eyes wide and jaws slightly hanging, realization hits the both of you simultaneously. 

“Fuck!”, “Holy shit.” 

While your reaction leans more to a ‘fuck, you’ll never be able to forget about this', his sounded more of a ‘holy shit, that really happened’. 

“You’ve been keeping that from me this whole time!?” Your question creates a smugness in his face that weirdly sends a wave of arousal through your body. 

“You could’ve always known, if you asked.” There's something more to what he’s saying, more than a reference to what Soonyoung said earlier. “So, what do we do now?”

“We’re gonna leave this gross kitchen, sneak past everyone on the living room, and then you’re gonna take me up to your room.” The words leave your mouth firmly, confidently, like you’re not proposing to change your friendship forever, like you’re not about to shit your pants waiting for his reaction. 

“Are you serious?” 

“You don’t want to? Fuck, this is embarrassing.” And your fantasy has come to an end. It was good, it served its purpose. Now you’ll just have to figure out how to transfer universities and get a new group of friends as quick as tomorrow. 

“Wait!” His loud, almost desperate voice makes you remove your hands from your face. You’re positive your blushed state can be seen from a mile away, but he seems more worried about what you said than anything else. “Yes, I want to, so badly.”

A breath you didn’t know you were holding escapes your lungs as you scrape your runaway plans. He notices you visibly relaxing and grabs your hand, which shouldn’t feel electrifying, especially not after exchanging saliva for a hot minute, but it still sends goosebumps across your arms and chest. He makes sure to peek his head out the door to check if the way’s clear, and you only hear a light chuckle before he fully opens the door to let you through behind him.

The few people left in the living room don’t know you. They’re either too drunk, too high, or sliding their tongues down someone else’s throat to even care about you. Mingyu’s long gone, leaving Soonyoung on the couch with a girl dressed like a tiger sitting on his lap, mouths attached, and making sounds you wish you could unhear.

Going up the stairs, you catch your reflection on a small dirty mirror hanging on the wall. You’re lucky none of your other friends saw you in this state cause you'd be subjected to lifelong bullying –lovingly they'd say. Your make-up is ruined. Not only is there red lipstick smeared all around your lips and chin, there’s also a stain on the tip of your nose. Your hair is completely disheveled, and if you were to check your outfit, you’re sure you’ll find your black dress wrinkled up far more than what would be considered decent in public.

But none of that really matters. Not when Seokmin leads you through the path of caution tape and forbidden sings covering the entire second floor. Not even when you finally reach his door, breathing heavily and still holding hands. And especially not when you finally enter his room and he traps you against the door as he closes it shut.

Your mouths are quick to find each other again, lips moving against the other, so naturally you’d think you have been doing this for years. You hurriedly take his wig off and throw it somewhere on the floor, revealing his beautiful hair ready to be tangled in between your fingers. He wastes no time and presses himself against you, letting you feel how hard he already is as his tongue finds its way inside your mouth again.

You moan freely in his arms, a new sound escaping you every time his hands find another sensitive spot anywhere on your body, and now that you’re really alone and the music isn’t blasting right beside your ears, you can hear the sounds he makes too. Every time you suck on his bottom lip, he lets out the tiniest whimper, that he fights to hold back and keeps failing, and sends a wave of arousal all the way down to your core, making you grind on his hard length and encouraging him to kiss you harder.

Harder and down your jaw and neck, kissing and nibbling your sensitive skin that isn’t painted for your spooky makeup, while his hands travel up your torso and cup your covered boobs.

Your hands find their way inside his colorful jacket, forcing him to take his hands off of you so you can slip it off, but not daring move his lips off your skin. His mouth works relentlessly on every part of your neck he can reach, and you’re discovering there’s more things he can do with it than just making out. You claw your nails on his newly discovered biceps when he lightly bites on the uncovered skin above your clavicles. It’s unbelievable how he manages to hide his gym body under his usual comfy clothes.

“Before we do anything, can I ask you what you’re supposed to be dressed up as?” The question takes you by surprise, and he’s serious about it too. But with the feeling of his lips still lingering on every bit of skin of your neck, it takes a second to find the answer in your mushy brain.

“Wh– I'm Morticia Addams! I thought it was obvious?” Seokmin takes look up and down your body –as best as your closeness lets him, and nods with a raise of eyebrows, which would’ve had your legs turn into jelly a minute ago, but you’re too confused by his sudden intervention. “Fuck, you ruined the moment.”

“Did I?” In the most cliché way possible, he flutters his eyes closed as he gives you a peck on the lips, and then on the corner of your mouth, and on your left cheek, leaving you sighing for more. He kisses his way up to the shell of your ear, his breath tingling lightly as he parts his lips to whisper in your ear. “You looked really fucking hot, but I think you’ll look even better with this off.”

Your skin lights on fire under his fingers as he runs them up your thighs and inside your dress, lifting it slowly. His words and actions take a second to match in your brain, but as soon as you understand, you’re holding your arms up, ready to finally have the skin to skin contact you crave. You’re left only in your underwear, but he’s still fully dressed, and before he resumes his ministrations on your body, your hands start lifting up his shirt so he takes the hint.

How your eyes don’t pop out of your face seeing Seokmin’s defined chest for the first time will remain a mystery. A quiet curse leaves your lips, which you only know he heard because he chuckles before lifting you up by your thighs and heading to his bed.

He drops you softly on the mattress, and you prop on your elbows to admire him as he takes his pants off. He’s always been reserved with his body, never taking off his shirt, even at the pool or the beach. And you’re not going to deny and say that the thought of what he’d possibly look like under his baggy clothes never crossed your mind, but the reality knocks your imagination right out of the park.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You’re staring shamelessly, and his boxers tighten under your lust-filled gaze.

“I’ve never seen you so… naked before.”

“I’m guessing this is a good reaction?”

“You’re really fucking hot,” Seokmin crawls on top of you, his buff arms at both sides of your head and his hips between your legs, grinning at your words but not stopping your rambling yet, “like, you should just go around naked all the time, people deserve to see this.”

“You’re exaggerating.” In an attempt to shut you up, he lowers his head and starts a trail of kisses down your neck, his lips grazing your skin on the way down and giving you goosebumps.

“I’m not. I’m serious. I think you sh–” His fingers ghost over your damp panties, finally succeeding in deleting the stream of words coming out of your mouth.

“You think I should what?” You lift your hips to try and get more friction, but he removes it and pins you down with a cheeky grin as he looks at you again.

You feel his smirk against your hip bone, and a sigh leaves your mouth as his hand makes a comeback and presses his fingers harder against your core. But the closeness of his mouth to your covered folds sends one singular warning signal to your brain. And you decide to listen to it. “What are you doing?”

“I really want to eat you out right now.” Fuck. His dark eyes look at you so intensely, smirk widening as he most definitely feels the new rush of wetness damping your panties further.

“Shit, fuck,” the need for his tongue is so bad, your walls tighten over nothing, “I can’t, not with that makeup all over your face, I’m not about to get an infection.” His face just above your core, his breaths fanning over your wet panties making you shiver, is something you’ll never forget. It pains you to reject the best offer you’ve ever been given.

“That’s fine, I’ll do it next time.” He doesn’t give you the chance to process what he said, immediately aiming to kiss your neck again. “What should I do then?”

“I think you should get over here. Now.” He’s so close his chuckle reverberates through your whole chest. “And put that hand to use.”

Somehow, you find the strength to sound as serious as possible while you pat the empty spot beside you on the mattress. He complies with what you ask quickly, taking off your panties in a swift motion and circling around you to kneel by your torso, his hand never leaving his claimed spot on your inner thigh.

His hard strains under his boxers, and it’s so close to your head, so ready for your hand to take, so that’s what you do. Your touch over his clothed bulge makes him let out a long groan, followed by his hand sneaking down your body. The coldness from his middle finger sliding against your wet folds sends shivers up your spine, getting a breath caught in your lungs. You can’t speak, and the light teasing touches his other hand scatters across your bare chest aren’t helping.

Before he starts playing with your cunt, you use all your willpower to grab the fabric of his boxers and yank them down. A wave of arousal pulses out of you at the sight, his dick standing tall, pink and proud before your eyes, glistening from the precum already smeared on the tip. And just when he begins collecting the juices coming out of you, you swirl your tongue around his tip.

From your position, you have to wrap your hand around the base of his cock your mouth can’t reach. An unholy sound comes out of him, sensitive from being hard and caged in his pants for so long, and his hand falters against your needy core. Every sound of his encourages you more and more, you want to hear more, you want to make him feel good. And the more length you suck into your mouth, the more he presses his wet fingers against your clit, it’s a perfect combination.

You look up to find him already staring at you, his make-up smeared around his face, all because of you, not fully believing what’s happening. As you bob your head up and down his tip, his hips buck into you just as he pushes two fingers into you.

Your warm walls welcome the intrusion, ready for whatever pace he wants to set. And oh boy, does he. The wetness gushing out of you nonstop makes it easy for him to thrust his fingers in and out of you at the speed of light. Your mouth stops working, lips parted and moaning uncontrollably as you do your best to drag your hand up and down his cock to give him at least some of the pleasure back.

His fingers are so long, they reach places your hand could only dream of, slowing down and finding every spot that makes you squirm and clench around them embarrassingly fast. He’s slow but hard, letting the palm of his hand press against your clit before he slides out. It's dizzying, and your legs start feeling wobbly and threaten to close around his arm the second he finds your gspot and starts abusing it.

A stream of curses and praises mumbles out of you, and it barely makes any sense in your head, but his hand speeds up, drilling into you with a newfound energy. You’ve stopped touching him at this point, but Seokmin’s still so hard, getting off on your pleasure. He delights himself in the way your walls clamp around his fingers, feeling every new wave of wetness that coats them every time he reaches your sensitive spots.

The little control left you have over your body starts faltering, your stomach tightens, your hips grind against his fingers searching for more, even if you can’t handle it, and your legs begin trembling. Everything part of a chain reaction that culminates as he adds a third finger, finally getting you to the edge.

It hits you powerfully, making you lose control of your body as your legs shake and you spasm around his fingers that are somehow still sliding in and out of you, helping you ride out the earth-shattering orgasm.

“Fuck!” You breath out, voice hoarse, hinting that you might’ve screamed a little louder than usual.

“That was so fucking hot.” Seokmin slots between your legs again, his boxers nowhere to be seen, his cock slapping against his abs and barely grazing your sensitive cunt.

“You thought that was hot? You got me to like, another astral plane just now.” You’re so comfortable with him that the honesty just slips out. Does it really matter if it makes his ego grow? “The rumors are true.”

“Rumors?” His fingers run freely on your waist and the sides of your back, feeling your skin against his, touching and fondling where he pleases.

“Yeah, I’ve heard a lot about you, not only about kissing.” The reminder of the kissing makes you blush, silly now that he’s literally had his fingers inside you just a moment ago.

“Really? What else have those girls told you?” Feathery light kisses up your chest and jaw make a million butterflies erupt in your stomach. He’s so captivatingly close to your lips, you’re ready for another round again.

“Hmm, let’s not talk about you fucking other girls when you could be fucking me.” Reality hits him as you pronounce those words. “Where do you keep your condoms?”

“Right, right, right.” It's like his teasing persona fades off as he clumsily gets off the bed to look for them, in a rush and forgetting to avoid some of the things scattered on the floor.

With the shiny packet in his hand, he’s back between your legs like Flash, opening it and sliding the condom on his still fully erect dick in record time. You wrap your arms around his neck, and your legs hug his hip right against your once again needy core, and he’s about to lose his mind.

“Are you sure you want this? Like sure sure.” Where does this hesitation come from? You scan his eyes and his expression for answers, and he silently awaits your answer.

“Did what just happened not answer your question?” One of your hands sneak between your bodies, grabbing his cock and pressing it against your wet folds, earning a pretty sigh from him.

“I just– fuck, I wanna hear you say it.” His hips get a life of their own, sliding in between your cunt and your hand, covering his cock in all your wetness.

“Say what? That I want your cock inside me?” He twitches at your words, his hips faltering and moving his tip closer to your hole. “That I want you to fuck me?”

Your words flip a switch inside him. His eyes darken right before your gaze, and you don't register when his hands hold your legs up and place your calves on his shoulders. And you're at his mercy instantly.

“I want you to beg.” His voice sounds lower, deeper than you’ve ever heard. His length drags against your folds one last time, collecting his last coat of arousal before giving in and pushing his tip barely inside your hole. “Beg for me to fuck you until your legs give out.”

He alternates between sliding his tip inside of you just enough to have you craving for more, and removing it to tease your sensitive clit further. Begging for him is not going to be a problem.

“Fuck, I want you to fuck me, please. I need you.”

The stretch is immediate. Everything about him is big. His arms holding your legs up, his thighs on both sides of your hips, and his cock opening you up, making you lose your breath for the tenth time tonight. Your walls slowly welcome him in, like molding to his shape, and when he bottoms out, you both let out long groans.

You can’t talk. You can’t even breathe as he starts thrusting his cock in and out of you, hitting your deepest spots back and forth, slowly getting to know what makes you react. And for the first time in his life, he was speechless too.

The way your walls hug him as if to keep him there forever, sucking him in deeper and deeper with every thrust. Your legs quiver every time he pounds into you so deep and rough that his thighs slap against yours, and your nails claw just above his knees, leaving marks only he’ll be able to see.

“Pussy so tight, fuck.” He mumbles more to himself than to you, but your body registers his words and clenches around him harder. “Taking me so well, so wet, can’t believe it.” He's barely making sense, but the choked up sentences he manages to let out have the exact intended effect.

You can’t answer, and even if you could, you don’t know what unholy sounds would come out instead of words.

The wet squelching sounds eager him to go faster, harder, and he lowers his torso until your knees touch your chest and his arm that’s holding them presses against your tummy. His face is so close to yours, yet you can’t kiss him. His relentless rhythm doesn’t stop, jolting your body upwards with every hard thrust. Your instinctive reaction is to look away and close your eyes, but he won’t allow it.

His free hand grabs your jaw and forces you to look straight at him. Maybe he said something, but you can’t hear him, not when his cock hits so deep inside you, you feel him on your throat.

“I’m c-close.” Your voice comes out so small you fear he won’t hear you either.

But his arm frees your legs, and as you open them to wrap around his waist and push him deeper against you, his newly free hand creeps down your body. His finger toys with your clit so fast, you barely have time to comprehend what’s happening. You hold his face close to yours, eyes connected with his as you let out a string of screams and moans as you come undone.

He pounds you hard, and your walls clamp around him so much that he has to hold your hips in place with both hands. The room becomes a blurry mess as he prolongs your orgasm, thrusting and pounding into you, searching for his own.

“Come inside me, please, I wanna feel you.” His hips stutter against you, and a guttural moan escapes out of him as a response.

The feel of his cock twitching inside you, spilling into the condom as your walls hug him tight, will be tattooed on your mind forever.

His body falls on top of you, breathing heavily as his face hides on the crook of your neck. You stare at the ceiling, thinking of every possible outcome after this. But your thoughts come to an end as a pair of plush lips press against yours gently.

“You okay?” Seokmin’s shiny eyes look at you softly.

“Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking.” He slowly slips out of you to lay by your side, making you both wince.

“You’re not regretting it, are you?”

“No, actually, quite the opposite.” You’re afraid to look at him. To see his reaction to your pseudo-confession.

“Thank god, because there’s no way I could live with this only being a one-time thing.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“Seriously, it was so much better than my imaginat– shit.” He shuts up immediately, blowing his own cover. He puts his boxers back in a hurry while you process his words.

“What?! You’ve thought about this before?” That alone has you ready for another round.

“Fuck, you weren’t supposed to know, but yeah.” You fight another chuckle, not wanting to make fun of him, but he takes notice and continues to explain. “You have no idea how hot you look all the time, it messed with my head! Stop laughing!”

“Sorry, I’m sorry, you look funny with the make-up ruined across your face.” You couldn’t hold back, and also, making him focus on something else might distract him from your blushed face and your heart racing.

“You look the same, by the way!” he says on his way to his connected bathroom.

“It’s your fault!” You shout back even though you don’t really care that your make-up’s ruined. “I'll just take it off before going to sleep.”

“Yeah, about that.” You think he’s about to ask you to sleep over, but one look at where he’s standing tells you the real reason. The soap all over his face and hands is stained pink, and even if he’s covered with pinky foam, you can see his worried expression. “This is not washing off.”

You run over to him after putting on one of his big t-shirts pooled over one chair by the bed, ready to look in the mirror and see just how much worse your face looks compared to when you left the kitchen. Seokmin’s drying his face off as you take in all the redness on yours. It’s going to fade eventually, right? After a few washes? At least you don’t have classes for two more days.

In the midst of your panicking, the door to the room shoots open, revealing Soonyoung with the couch girl. He sees Seokmin coming out of the bathroom and quickly realizes he’s in the wrong room.

“What the hell man!”

“Shit, sorry bro, thought it was my room.”

“Who was tha–” You stop in your tracks coming out of the bathroom.

Silence fills the room for the number of seconds it takes Soonyoung to analyze the situation. Seokmin in his underwear and you coming out of his bathroom with only a big t-shirt, both of you with matching red stains on your faces.

“Holy shit! I knew it! I can’t believ–“ He gets cut off by Seokmin shutting the door on his face.

You stare at him. And he stares at you. And Soonyoung‘s voice echoes through the hallway until he finally gets inside his actual room.

“He’s never going to leave us alone is he?”

“Nope, we'll have to own up to it.”

note: heyyyyy... I'm posting late i know... I forgot I had two final essays to write and had to prioritize them... but hey at least there's still one halloweekend left! halloween season it's not over

[erwinsvow]

“I want them to like you,” you say, tugging on Rafe’s arm to drag him away from his truck and towards the beach. “I want them to love you.” He’s standing still, feet planted firmly on the pavement. 

You’ve wanted Rafe to meet your friends for the longest time, so much so that it’s the only thing you’ve been thinking about recently. It’s not exactly accurate—he has met them before, many times, actually, but they’ve never been good encounters. You recall a bruise on Pope’s back and JJ’s busted lip, back before they knew Rafe was your boyfriend and he was just public enemy number one.

But things are better now—really, they are. You try to convince yourself all of those incidents are in the past, that everyone’s over it now. You want your friends to like your boyfriend. You want your boyfriend to like your friends. You want it so bad you’re willing to drag Rafe to the beach yourself, if that’s what it takes.

“They can’t stand me,” Rafe replies, scanning the surroundings. He doesn’t like them, but he doesn’t want to hurt your feelings either, if they overhear the two of you right now. “Can’t stand them, either, y’know.”

“But you like me, don’t you?” you ask, smiling wide, all cheery and bright. Like he has to tell you again. He rolls his eyes, making you laugh.

“Not at all. What gave y’that stupid idea?” You roll your own pretty eyes in a matching response.

“C’mon, Rafe, look, they’re already here-” you whine, pointing at the giant, junky thing your Pogue friends call a car. He doesn’t let you anywhere near the thing anymore if he can help it—drops you off and picks you up because that thing is a death trap, even more so with one of the stoned idiots driving it. “I don’t wanna be late, so move-” you start pushing at his chest, but he doesn’t give you an inch. 

You huff, hot sun beating down on you, muscles tired from trying to move your entirely too strong boyfriend. 

“Fine,” you finally let out, giving up. “I’ll just go by myself.”

“Good girl. I’ll swing by to get you in a couple hours and then we can go for dinner-”

“Sounds good,” you interrupt, causing Rafe to look at you with an eyebrow raised—you never interrupt him. “I’ll just have Pope put the sunscreen on my back for me. Since you won’t be there.”

“Wait a minute-”

“And JJ’s been dying to teach me how to surf. Y’know, last time I tried though, my top fell off. But I guess it’s no big deal. I bet John B can put it back on for me.”

Rafe thinks he’s mastered the look of not caring sometimes, face blank, eyes showing nothing but mild disturbance. This is not one of those times. You smile, because you can’t help it, watching your boyfriend’s ears turn bright pink, the muscles in his jaw clench, his fist tighten around your pink beach bag.

You put your hand over his, gently, trying to take the bag so you can walk away with it. You’re not sure if your plan worked until he snatches the bag back, hand holding your wrist tightly. 

“Come on, kid,” he mutters, heading in the direction of the beach. “Pain in my ass,” you hear him say quietly, but you feel giddy that he agreed to join you after all. 

Your friends are set up by the water, towels haphazardly thrown on the sand, a case of beer resting in the shade under the umbrella. JJ is waxing his board, Pope is standing next to him, critiquing his method. John has just crushed a beer can down, and chucks it at Kie, who ducks and starts yelling about how inhumane littering is. 

“Hey!” you hear Pope beam, a smile lighting up your face. “Look who’s here-” and Kie joins in with an excited yell, tossing the empty can back at John B and hitting the back of his head. 

“Thought you’d never come back to us now that you’re a fancy Kook girl. Where’s that-” JJ goes silent, watching Rafe walking behind you, staring blankly, looking pissed. “-asshole boyfriend. Nevermind, I found him.”

“I brought Rafe,” you say, a big smile taking over again. You look expectantly at everyone, and then stare until they give you the reaction you want. They mumble hi and hey, Kook, and you turn back to Rafe, taking your bag and figuring out where to put your towels—pink, like the bag, like your bikini. Rafe’s shorts are white, with little pink stripes to match you. 

You both sit down on the sand before you finally offer him the bottle of sunscreen and lay flat on your stomach so he can put it on. He squirts some onto his hands, rubbing them together to spread it out and then first slaps your ass, leaving a sandy, white handprint on the skin. Your body jerks, whining against the towel.

“Had to. Practically asking for it. M’not apologizing,” he says, quiet enough that only the two of you can hear. His hands rub the sunscreen onto your back and arms, but then you decide everything he does is too erotic for public, so you turn back, insisting that’s enough sun protection. You just got here and you don’t want to leave because you can’t resist your boyfriend just yet.

You turn your head, noticing Kie walking towards you with a can of hard seltzer, the fruity kind she knows you prefer. The boys are by the other umbrella, tossing beers at each other. You tug on Rafe’s arm again.

“Why don’t you go get a beer with them. You can talk. It’ll be nice!” 

There’s nothing he’d rather do less. 

“Came here to hang with you, not them,” he says curtly, head resting back on the towel.

“Rafe!” The things he does for you. “Please?” He shouldn’t have looked at you—that was his mistake. Five seconds of your pout and your sincere eyes is enough to make him do whatever you want.

“Five minutes, then I’m coming back. That’s it.”

“Thank you,” you sing sweetly. Kiara comes and settles down next to you. “Is it strawberry? My favorite!” he hears you say, followed by the hiss of you opening the can, as he gets up and stalks towards your friends.

Their conversation dies when Rafe steps up—something he doesn’t like. He could care less about these idiots, but he really doesn’t want you to get caught in the middle of this shit. He can see it already—your pretty face covered in tears, crying because you care too much about him, care too much about your friends.

Rafe knows you’d pick him over them, he just doesn’t want to force you to make that choice.

“What’re you drinking?” he questions. Three pairs of eyes stare at him blankly. A retort bubbles inside him angrily—Stupid and deaf? You losers can’t catch a break, huh? He turns to look at you, hoping you’re in conversation with Kie and sipping your sugary drink. You’re not. You’re staring at the four of them with a hopeful smile.

He swallows the comment and turns with a forced, hard smile. “Beer? That’s great. Toss me one.” Pope does as he says, and then goes back to drinking his own. 

“S’like weird, to see you smile. Didn’t know you could do that,” JJ comments, crushing his own beer can up now that it was empty. Rafe wishes you were here, listening, because-

“What the hell am I supposed to say to that?” John B lets out a laugh at that, Pope joins in. Rafe cracks another smile, they’re pretty goofy, just like you had said. “Nah, I’m just saying, like, didn’t think you could be nice. Must be, if she likes you.”

Rafe turns to look back at you again, quickly. You’re talking to Kie now, head thrown back, laughing. You look prettiest like this, when you’re happy. 

“Yeah, for her.” Then he takes another long chug of the beer, looking back at them. “You idiots don’t make it easy.”

“It’s not easy for us, either,” Pope interjects. “I mean, you did hit me with a golf club.” Rafe runs a hand through his hair, unsure what to say, because he did do that. 

“Yeah, I, uh-” he trails off. “Sorry, sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” JJ says.

“All in the past,” John B tacks on. 

It must be several beers later, because you hear the boys laughing and… getting along? You decide to walk over, just to make sure your eyes and ears aren’t deceiving you. The box they had just bought earlier today was filled with the empties, the unmistakable sound of your boyfriend’s laugh filling your ears, your friends all engaged in conversations. You decide to turn back rather than interrupt, giddiness filling your heart that everything worked out. You don’t catch the end of their conversation, already back to your towel and opening another drink with Kie.

“And then I went there,” JJ starts, “-and I was like should I leave, because then her parents might wake up, because I forgot the condom-”

JJ stops to take another sip of the beer, and Rafe cuts him off.

“Wait, you guys use condoms?” 

Three pairs of eyes turn on him.

When you two walk back to his truck a little later, he swings his arm around you and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“What was that for?” you ask, happy and tired.

“Yeah, I don’t think they like me much.”

[cleo-fox]

Wildest Dreams

Summary: It's nearing ten o’clock at night and James Conrad is standing on your doorstep.

Pairing: James Conrad x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, dirty talk, praise kink, sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex (female receiving), friends to lovers, mutual pining.

Series: A Girl Back Home (no masterlist for this yet, but that's what I'm calling this series). Come Back, Be Here is the quasi-sequel to this.

A/N: Sometimes, you're having a conversation with @sarahscribbles and something she says triggers your latent James Conrad brainrot and words happen. Saz, this is dedicated to you. 😘 (Also, everyone go read her stuff).

It's nearing ten o’clock at night and James Conrad is standing on your doorstep.

You didn’t even think he was in the country—last you’d heard, he was somewhere in Vietnam. Not that he was exactly keeping you apprised of his movements. The nature of his work means that he turns up or calls unexpectedly and sends letters inconsistently. It’s something that you’ve grown used to over the years—you’ve had no other choice, really.

The question, though, of whether or not you’ll be waiting for him is not really a question so much as it is an inevitability. Of course you will. You always will. Like it or not, the man is your weakness, your Achilles heel, the crack in your armor.

Your hands shake as you fumble with the latch and chain and open the door.

There’s a moment where you catch his first, unguarded expression—a flicker of relief, so quick you might miss it if you didn’t know him as well as you do. It strikes you as odd—you’d expect him to be glad to see you, perhaps, but relieved? Not necessarily. Especially not after the last time you’d seen him—that disastrous Christmas two years ago when wine and seasonal sadness had prompted you to say more than you intended about your feelings for him.

He’d said you were better off as friends.

It still stings, even thinking of it now. You haven’t spoken of it since. He hadn’t been back since then, either—that in and of itself wasn’t necessarily unusual for him, but you couldn’t help but wonder if there was more to his absence this time around.

Before you can think about whether it’s a good idea, you’re stepping forward to embrace him. You always forget how tall he is, how he takes up space and towers over you, how that makes you feel small and safe. He still smells the same—Ivory soap with a hint of cloves and a little bit of musk—and your name still sounds too good in that deep purr of a baritone.

“It’s good to see you,” he says into your ear.

Is it just you or is he holding you awfully tight?

It’s probably just you. Isn’t that the sad theme of all of this? Just you with the feelings, just you with the broken heart. Just you, secretly pining for him since university and having it all come to nothing. Just you. Alone as always.

“You too,” you say, even though seeing him makes all the old bruises and scars on your heart ache with a renewed fervor. You release him and gesture to your door. “Come in.”

You notice a cut on his left cheek, a small, yellowing bruise blooming around the edges of it. It must be a few days old. He carries a duffle bag slung over his back—a huge, beat up leather thing he’s had since university. He sets it on the floor as you lock up behind him.

“What are you doing here?” spills out of your mouth before you can think about how it sounds, despite the fact that your eyes are drinking him in like he’s water in a desert. “I thought you were in Vietnam.”

“Pacific,” he says. There’s a slight shadow in his expression, like there’s something he doesn’t want to say. “Just got back this evening.”

“Do you want tea?” It’s the only thing you can think to do.

“Please,” he says.

You don’t need to ask him how he takes it because you know. English Breakfast, splash of cream, no sugar. You could make it in your sleep.

You busy yourself in the kitchen, fishing out a packet of shortbread biscuits from the back of your cupboard while the kettle boils. Out of habit, you take out the pair of chipped mugs you’ve had since university. You’d unintentionally taken one from the refectory during a particularly sleepless week in the middle of exams and been too embarrassed to return it. He’d teased you about it at first, but he had then stolen his own mug the following week in what he described as “solidarity with your crimes.” When you moved into your first apartment, he’d given you his as a housewarming gift.

“This could really hurt my career if they found out about it,” he’d said solemnly as his eyes danced with barely repressed laughter. “I thought it would be best to give it to you for safe keeping.”

You’d rolled your eyes and laughed at him then, but you always wrapped them extra carefully when you moved—as though by keeping those mugs whole, you could also keep Conrad safe.

The faint ghost of a smile that you catch when you bring the tea and biscuits out to the living room warms your heart and gives you a little spark of hope. Perhaps all isn’t lost. Maybe things can go back to the way they were before that disaster of a Christmas.

You set the mugs and shortbread down on the table and take your seat next to him on the couch.

Your tea is still too hot, but you pick it up anyway, just to give your hands something to do. Maybe the slight sting of the hot ceramic against your palms will help you keep you grounded.

“I presume you’re not telling me where in the Pacific for a reason,” you say.

He nods. “Correct.”

He looks tired, you think. There’s a tightness in his jaw that’s new, a distant look in his eyes that seems different than his usual brand of stoicism. You want to be annoyed by his lack of detail, but the weariness makes you pause.

“Are you all right?” you ask.

His laugh is short and humorless. “As I ever was.” 

You tilt your head. “That’s not really an answer.”

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “It was a difficult job.” He pauses for a moment, his gaze sliding to the wall across the room, to a landscape painting you’d found at a thrift shop. “I didn't know if I’d make it back, to be quite honest.”

You’ve never seen him like this before and it’s somewhere beyond disorienting. Conrad is ruthlessly capable and appropriately confident; the idea of something being beyond his skill set is baffling as it is unsettling.

“I’m glad you did,” you say softly.

You expect him to give you a slight half smile, perhaps nudge his shoulder against yours. But instead, his gaze remains fixed on the middle distance, an odd, melancholy sort of cast to his blue eyes.

“You don’t really seem like you’re all right,” you say gently.

There at last is that little half smile that you were expecting. Somehow, it’s less comforting than you thought it would be.

“There’s a certain amount of clarity that you get from an experience like that,” he says evenly. “You're forced to confront a lot of things. Choices you’ve made. People you’ve hurt.”

You think he’s referring to what happened two years ago and you try not to flinch. He can’t know that you still think about that, that you’re still hurting. That you haven’t stopped loving him, even though you’ve pretended that you have.

He pauses for another moment, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “In the moments when I thought I wasn’t coming back, the only thing I could think about was you.”

Air vanishes from your lungs. You’re afraid to even hope, as if even acknowledging the possibility would jinx it.

“What do you mean by that?” you ask, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

He finally looks at you and your heart creeps into your throat. “I was not entirely honest with you at Christmas.”

You realize that you’re holding your breath, but you can’t help it.

“I thought that by turning you away, I was keeping you safe,” he says. “I thought by hiding the truth, I was saving you from a lot of pain.”

Your heart is pounding. You lick your lips. If he means what you hope he means, you need to hear him say it—you can’t believe it otherwise. 

“And what is the truth, James?” Your voice wobbles just a little bit.

His gaze is locked on you, infinite as the stars. “The truth is that I’ve been in love with you for years,” he says softly. “And when I thought I wasn’t coming back, all I could think about was how much I regretted not telling you.”

In the moments leading up to this, it felt as though time was slowing. This is the moment, though, where everything stops. In this moment, it’s just the two of you—Conrad with those devastating blue eyes that peer right into your soul and you with your broken heart and wounded pride.

He wanted you all this time.

You raise a shaking hand to wipe away the tear that’s somehow escaped the corner of your eye.

All this time.

“You have every right to be angry with me.” His voice is low and soft, just for you to hear. “And I understand if you need time. But I came here tonight to tell you that if you still want me, I’m yours.”

You are feeling entirely too much. You want to kiss him. You want to scream at him. You want to hold him and never let go.

All this time.

“James, I—” Your voice catches in your throat and you take a deep breath, fighting back a sob that’s bubbling in your chest. You set your tea back down on the table. Your hands are shaking. 

“I—I don’t even know where to start. I—” Your voice catches again on that sob in your chest. You pause again to collect yourself. You open your mouth to speak and a strangled sort of laugh tumbles from your lips instead.

“God.” You wipe another stray tear from your cheek. “You’re such a fucking idiot. I mean, not just for making all those assumptions about what was best for me, but also just—” Your voice catches again and you pause. “I never stopped wanting you.”

The corner of his mouth twitches slightly and there’s a flicker of something like hope in his eyes. “Does that mean you’ve forgiven me?”

You take a shaky breath. “Yes and no.” You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand. “You should have asked me if safe was what I wanted, instead of just making that decision for me.”

He nods. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing is safe, James,” you continue. “It’s an illusion at best. You could live a perfectly dull life in the suburbs and be hit by a bus on your way to your perfectly dull job.” You pause, weighing the words that you want to say next. “I never wanted safe,” you say, your voice catching again in your throat. “I just wanted you.”

There’s a moment of quiet and Conrad looks well and truly chastened.

You take another deep breath and reach for his hand. The look that he gives you then—like he’s afraid to hope that youstill want him—is almost enough to make you abandon what you want to say next and kiss him on the spot. 

“I know what I want,” you say quietly. “I understand the risks. You don’t need to throw yourself on the sword to protect me and you certainly don’t need to make those decisions for me. I need you to understand that if this is going to work.”

He nods. “I do.”

“Okay.” You exhale. “Will you shut up and kiss me now?”

The look of relief on his face is like sunshine.

“Come here,” he says softly, pulling you into his lap, your legs framing his hips. He cups your face in his hands, looking at you like you’re something wonderful, like he can’t believe you’re his.

Then he takes a deep breath and finally closes the gap between you.

You’ve waited years for this kiss. From the early days of your friendship coalescing around late nights and stale coffee and jokes that are only funny at two o’clock in the morning to the agony of watching him leave for basic training and then Vietnam and god knows where else. This kiss was never guaranteed—and in part, that’s why it’s so good. It could have been taken from you by any number of dangers or even just Conrad’s own foolish need to protect you.

But you finally have it and it’s everything you had thought it would be.

His mouth is slow and soft against yours, his tongue moving in a gentle caress that makes you feel every year of waiting and yearning and hoping. You mourn the years lost, but you can’t help but savor how perfect it feels as a result. Your hands map the sharp lines of his jaw and cheekbones as your tongue traces the soft line of his lips. You want to remember every part of this moment—every part of him. 

It’s a few minutes later when you part, both of you slightly breathless. You rest your forehead against his.

“I shouldn’t have waited so long,” he says softly. His eyes are still shut.

You press your lips against his forehead. “Make it up to me, then.”

He slides a hand up to the back of your neck and pulls you back into another kiss.

You can feel the press of his growing erection against your thigh, but for now, it’s enough to just kiss him, to let your body melt against his and feel his hands in your hair, on your hips, framing your face. He makes a low, soft noise in the back of his throat when you nip at his lower lip, somewhere between a moan and a sigh and you think it might be the best sound you’ve ever heard.

But the longer you kiss him, the more you want, and it slowly begins to build a far more frantic need low in your hips. His hands become bolder, sliding along the curve of your waist and hips, stroking your thighs, squeezing your ass as he pulls you ever closer. You, in turn, press yourself more firmly against him, rolling your hips against his until he makes that low groaning sound that leaves you weak.

But it’s his hand wandering up to slip that first button on your blouse that makes you pull away from him, breathless.

“Bed?” You intend it as a question, but it sounds a little more like a plea.

His smile is devilish as he undoes the second button. “I thought you’d never ask.” His gaze slides back down to your open blouse and he quickly slips the third and fourth buttons.

“I thought we were going to bed,” you say with a smirk as the final two buttons come undone.

“We are,” he says as he pulls your blouse off your shoulders. You shiver under the weight of his gaze as he stares greedily at your breasts. 

“You seem a little distracted,” you say.

“Well, I can’t very well leave a job undone,” he says, trailing a finger along the scalloped edge of your bra. “It wouldn’t be proper.”

“Yes, you seem deeply concerned with propriety,” you say, shooting a pointed glance at his finger.

“Very much so,” he murmurs, his fingertips caressing the curve of your breast and then skimming behind your back to unhook the clasp in one single, swift motion.

The straps slip down off your shoulders and he tugs the garment away from you.

He lets out a low groan as he looks at you, which sends a bolt of slick desire straight to your cunt. His hands cup your breasts.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, rolling his thumbs against the sensitive skin of your nipples. You squirm slightly in his lap and he gets a devilish look in his eyes.

His mouth quickly replaces his right hand on your breast.

He’s too good with his mouth. That’s the first thought you have as his lips and tongue cover your breast. But then he catches your nipple between his teeth and gently teases and pulls at the sensitive skin until it puckers and hardens in the heat of his mouth. Your hands rake through his hair, curling into a fist when he finds a particularly good spot. You are arching into his touch, your hips rolling mindlessly against his. 

“James,” you gasp out. “Bed, please.”

He laughs quietly against your breast. You expect him to release you, but instead he moves his mouth to your right breast.

“Fuck,” you hiss as his tongue and teeth exert the same kind of blissful madness on your right breast while his hand kneads and teases the left.

You find yourself torn between begging him not to stop and begging him to take you to bed and you’re honestly not sure which one you want more. But a minute or so later, he releases you, lips curling into a smirk. 

“I think you enjoyed that impropriety,” he says, eyes sparkling with a combination of desire and laughter that leaves you dizzy. 

“You’re on thin ice, James Conrad,” you say, though you can’t hide your smile.

Desire overshadows the laughter in his expression, like the moon eclipsing the sun. “Let me take you to bed and earn my forgiveness, then,” he says.

You slide off his lap onto wobbly legs, but you don’t have to worry about it for very long because he immediately sweeps you into his arms and carries you down the hall to your bedroom.

In your room, he sets you down on your bed and divests you of your jeans with such speed and efficiency you find yourself wondering if it was part of his training.

You slide back on the unmade bed, looking up at him as he looms above you, handsome and a little dangerous in the moonlight that breaks through your curtains.

He allows himself a moment to just look at you, his gaze moving slowly up your body, drinking you in like he’ll never have enough.

Finally, he crawls onto the bed, his gaze intent and hungry, filled with purpose.

He stops at your hips, spreading your thighs wide, licking his lips as he looks you over before lowering himself to kiss the gusset of your underwear.

You can feel the hot rush of his breath against your cunt, the thin, damp fabric the only thing that separates you from the warmth of his mouth. He kisses the fabric again, his nose nudging against your clit.

“James,” you choke out.

This is all he needs tonight. His hands immediately go to your waistband and pull the fabric down and off your hips.

You both groan at the first brush of his mouth against your cunt, though the noise you make is admittedly much closer to a whimper. His tongue circles your clit slowly at first, teasing and tasting and testing until he finds the motion that makes you gasp his name.

You’d thought he was joking about earning your forgiveness, but the way he moves is as though he believes his absolution is truly on the line.

Or maybe he’s just really good at this, you think. It might not be that deep. You don’t need to overth—

Almost as though he can tell that too many of your brain cells are available for coherent thought, he slides one long index finger into you, curling and searching until he finds the spot that makes you gasp and dig your heels into the firm muscles of his back.

He’s building a warm, whirling tension in your hips, burning bright as a meteor about to strike. You grasp at the bed sheets as the rolling crescendo of sensation threatens to overwhelm you. 

His free hand snakes up to find yours clasped in the sheets. His fingers twine with yours.

Something about this little gesture of affection after all those years of wanting and hoping strikes at something deep within you. You’ve never loved anyone like you’ve loved him. You don’t know that you ever will love anyone like you love him.

And maybe it’s that thought, or maybe it’s just a coincidence, but this is the moment you come completely undone.

You cry out as your back arches, pleasure rushing through you. His grip on your hand feels like the only thing keeping you tethered to reality as your whole body succumbs to the feeling. He slows the pace of his tongue to match the rolling swells of the aftershocks as they roll through you.

“James.” It’s the first coherent word you say and he draws away from your cunt reluctantly, though not before placing a soft, lingering kiss against your clit.

Before you can make a joke about how he’s overdressed, he’s sitting up and peeling that ridiculously tight shirt over his head. Your lips part as you feast your eyes on that beautiful expanse of muscle, firm and perfectly sculpted—

—and painted with a massive bruise across his ribs, brilliant and purple as a sunset.

Your post-orgasmic stupor is momentarily forgotten as you roll to your knees, crawling over to him. “You’re hurt.”

He looks confused for a moment before following the path of your gaze. “Oh, that. It’s nothing. Looks a lot worse than it is.”

“The same way your broken finger was nothing?” you say, fingertips trailing to just beneath the edges of the bruise. The broken finger had happened in your last year of university during an unsanctioned game of rugby. He had insisted it was just sprained, even though it was nearly black in color. You knew better and had dragged him to the hospital, where he was informed that not only was his finger broken, but that it was so badly broken that he’d need surgery to set it. Over the years, it had evolved into your go-to example of why he needed to listen to you, the damning piece of evidence that proved he could be too stoic and hardheaded for his own good.

Privately, though, it was also your way of saying that you cared about him, that you worried that his high tolerance for pain and admittedly impressive abilities might lead to him not asking for help when he needed it.

He rolls his eyes, but his gaze is fond. “You’re never going to drop that, are you?”

“Never. You should know that by now.” You put your hands on his shoulders. Should you tell him what you feel? You hesitate for just a moment, but it’s enough for him to notice.

“What is it?” he asks.

You suck in a deep breath. “I want you to be okay with me caring about you.” Your voice is softer than you intend.

He frowns slightly and places his hands on your hips. “How do you mean?”

“Stuff like this,” you say, tracing the edge of the bruise. “I know you say it’s nothing but…” You swallow. “And maybe it is but…you’ve always acted a little like my caring about you—even as a friend—was this massive liability for me.” You place your hand over the bruise. “And it’s never felt that way to me at all.”

You can’t quite read his expression. “What does it feel like?” he asks.

You move your hand over his heart, feeling the steady, even beat under your fingers. “Like you’re someone that I love and I want you to be okay,” you say softly. “Is that really so horrible?”

He runs a thumb along your jaw, leaning his forehead against yours. “Not at all,” he says.

You pause for a moment, your hand on his heart. “I just—I don’t want safe, okay? Just you. Let’s start with that.”

“Okay.” His eyes trail down your face to your lips, but he waits for you to close the gap.

You do.

There’s a part of you that wonders if you said too much too soon, if you have instead succeeded in scaring him off, but he kisses you so deeply that it immediately mutes your anxiety, blunting the cacophony of your fears into a muffled background noise that’s easy to dismiss. When your hand starts to drift toward his belt buckle, he pulls away, the desire in his eyes setting your body aflame. “On your back, my lovely,” he says softly.

You lie back on the bed, staring greedily as he finishes undressing.

He cuts a striking figure, lit by the moonlight streaming in through the curtains. Even with that wicked bruise splashed across his ribs, he still looks like something divine and he’s staring at you like you’re equally remarkable. The thought makes you shiver.

The mattress dips as he crawls back onto the bed and positions himself over your body.

The tip of his cock nudges against your stomach. You reach between your bodies, wrapping your fingers around the hard length of him. He’s long and thick, big in a way that makes your toes curl in anticipation. A low, pleased groan rumbles in his chest.

He leans in to kiss you as you stroke him slowly, savoring every sound he makes, every sharp intake of breath. After a moment, he places his hand over yours, guiding your hand away. You angle your hips up toward him, wrapping one leg around his waist.

He presses the tip of his cock against your soaking cunt and you suck in a sharp breath. He looks at you and grins as he slowly drags his cock from your entrance to your clit and back, coating himself in your slickness.

“You’re a tease,” you say.

“Just making sure you’re ready for me,” he says, eyes glinting too much for that to be the whole truth.

“I can tell when you’re lying, you know.”

The tip of his cock slowly slips inside you and you gasp.

“Can you?” he says casually, like you’re just having a chat over drinks. He eases back out.

“What happened to the man who was going to earn his forgiveness?” you say.

He grins, pressing his cock back against your entrance. “Oh, I think you’re enjoying this.”

It’s a difficult assertion to deny, especially with the way he rocks into you slowly, each time going just a little deeper—but never quite deep enough—before drawing back. It’s not long before your hips are rocking with his, urging him deeper.

“More,” you breathe.

A smirk curls at his lips. “More?”

You don’t know that you have the words to describe the particular empty ache you feel, or the fact that you know it’s only going to be soothed by the steady, rocking thrust of his cock fully inside you. “Please,” you say instead. “Please.”

“I’ve waited too long not to savor you,” he says. He eases inside you another inch or so before pausing.

“James.” There’s desperation in your voice that you’ve never heard before, a slight whimper that makes you feel wild with need. “I need you.”

“You’ll have me, darling,” he says as he leans in to kiss you. He’s easing forward slowly, but this time, he keeps going until he’s buried to the hilt, hips flush against yours. You whimper, relishing the feeling of him inside you, close as you can be.

“Good girl,” he murmurs against your lips. “I knew you could take me.”

You can’t help the way your body reacts to his praise or the soft moan that falls from your lips.

He notices. Of course he does. You feel him smirk as he kisses you and he pulls back slightly to look at you. “Do you like hearing me call you my good girl?”

You nod, but you don’t need to—your cunt flutters around him, tensing.

“Oh, I can feel how much you like that.” He lowers his voice. “My lovely, good girl.”

He slowly rocks his hips once and your breath hitches.

“So very, very good,” he purrs. “You’re taking me so well, darling. And every time I call you my good girl, you feel even better.”

You shudder again as he settles into a devastatingly slow rhythm. Maybe it’s his size or maybe he just knows his angles, but he’s hitting every sensitive place inside you in just the right way and god, you never want him to stop.

“Do you want to be very good for me?” he says in that same low voice.

“Yes,” you breathe. It’s hard to describe how much you want to please him, how much you want him to say your name in that low, deep purr of a voice and tell you that you feel incredible, that you’re doing so well for him. You want to give yourself over to him, let him claim you as his.

“If you want to be very good for me,” he continues, “you’ll come on my cock.”

“Yes,” you say. “Please.”

“Let’s see what we can do about that.” He’s shifting his weight slightly, propping himself up on his left arm, bringing his right hand to your clit. His fingers slowly roll over the throbbing bundle of nerves and you moan.

“Oh, that feels good, doesn’t it?” he says. “I don’t think you’re going to last very long if I keep doing this.”

You whimper something that might have been words at one point, but disintegrated into an unintelligible mess of vowels and consonants somewhere between your brain and your mouth.

“In fact,” he says, his voice dropping impossibly low, “maybe you’re going to be a very, very good girl and come more than once on my cock.”

You whimper, your hips rolling with his. The combination of his fingers on your clit and his cock inside of you is driving you crazy, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” he rasps. “Can you be a good girl and come on my cock?”

You can feel your orgasm building, that coil in your hips winding tighter and tighter. You nod.

“Look at me and tell me what you want,” he says.

“I—yes.”

“Yes what?”

“I want to come.”

He shakes his head. “That’s not what I said.”

“I want to come on your cock.”

“Still not quite right.”

Something like a combination of a laugh and a whine falls from your lips. “James—”

“I want to hear you say it, love. All of it.”

“Fuck—” You can feel yourself inching closer to the edge. 

“Tell me.”

“I want—” You shudder against your impending release. “I want…I want to be a good girl—and come on your cock.”

“Good girl,” he purrs, increasing his pace ever so slightly. “Now come for me.”

You’re not sure if it’s the fact that he made you say it out loud or because he told you to come or if it’s just a very well timed coincidence. Either way, your back is suddenly arching and your cunt is clamping down hard on his cock as you careen into an orgasm that makes your whole body tremble.

But as good as it feels, you can’t help but be captivated by Conrad—the way he slows his pace, the sound he makes. You can tell he’s struggling to stay in control and the fact that a man noted for his cool head and ruthless calm is struggling to keep his composure because of how you are making him feel is somewhere beyond incredible.

He pauses for a moment, seemingly to collect himself. He looks at you as you tremble through the aftershocks, drinking you in like he can’t quite believe the wonder of what he’s seeing.

“You’re heavenly,” he says softly.

You reach for him and he leans down to kiss you, his hips still moving at that agonizingly slow pace.

“I think it’s your turn, though,” you murmur against his lips.

He draws back and that intense, hungry look is back. “My turn?” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Did you not tell me you were going to be a good girl for me?”

“I just came on your cock,” you say. “Wasn’t that the agreement?”

“I believe I said that if you were very good, you would come more than once.” He accompanies this with a sharp thrust of his hips as he lowers his lips to your ear. “And I know you want to be very good.”

Your breath is already hitching, your back arching as your legs lock around his waist. “Fuck.”

His voice has dropped again to that low growl. “Do you know how utterly incredible you feel when you come?”

His fingers are back at your clit and you whine.

“It took every ounce of my strength not to spill myself inside you the moment your sweet cunt started trembling around me.” His breath is hot on your ear and you can’t help the way that your muscles clench around him.

He groans low in your ear. “Fuck. Yes. Like that.”

His pace is still so slow and steady and that almost makes the buildup more unbearable. You don’t understand how you’re already so close, but you can feel the tide of your orgasm rising once again.

“Oh god,” you moan.

“I can feel how close you are,” he growls. “And I’m not going to be able to hold back.”

“Come for me,” you say, your voice rough with desperation.

“You first,” he says. “Then I’ll make you mine.”

“I’ve always been yours,” you choke out before your voice cuts off with a cry as your orgasm starts to crest. It’s just as intense as your last one—the edges of your vision go white and fuzzy and you let out a primal moan.

Conrad’s pace increases as he fucks you through it, his mouth open in a soundless gasp.

“James,” you whimper.

He lets out a low moan seconds before you feel the warmth of his release inside you.

He leans down to kiss you and it’s as though you’re both moving through molasses—every touch, every sound feels slow and sweet. He finally lets his head drop to your shoulder when his hips still. He exhales slowly, the heat of his breath warming your shoulder.

“We should have been doing this for years,” he says after a moment.

“I mean, there was a reason why I called you a fucking idiot earlier.”

He lifts his head to look at you and he’s failing to hide his smile. “I suppose that’s difficult to dispute.”

You press a kiss against his forehead. “You can keep earning my forgiveness. I certainly enjoyed this first attempt.”

“Mmm, I have several other ideas.” He kisses you softly and slowly before slowly pulling away. “But let’s get cleaned up.”

He makes you stay in bed while he fetches a wet washcloth from your bathroom and carefully cleans you up. It’s sweet and intimate in a way you don’t expect—no one’s ever done this for you before. 

He returns to bed and you curl up together, your cheek resting on his chest, his fingers tracing patterns on your shoulder.

You’re quiet for a bit, mulling the question that sits on the tip of your tongue like the sword of Damocles, ready to fall and smash your easy peace to bits.

“What is it?” asks Conrad before you can summon the courage.

“Hmm?” you say, though you’re pretty sure he’s going to see through your lie.

“You’ve got something on your mind.”

You pause, wetting your lips. “How long are you in town?”

His grip on you tightens, like he understands. “For now, as long as you want me to be.”

You lift your head to give him a skeptical look. He strokes your cheek.

“I’ll have another job eventually,” he says. “But not quite yet.”

“Okay,” you say.

He’s quiet for a moment. “This part of it…it’s not going to be easy.”

You hear the unspoken part of this—he’s giving you a chance to back out, to call this a one off, to keep yourself safe.

“Once again, I never said I wanted easy,” you say. “I just want you.”

He draws you closer, pressing a kiss to the top of you head. “You have me, my love,” he murmurs. “I’ve always been yours.”

--

But wait: There's more! If you enjoyed these idiots, please check out Come Back, Be Here, a quasi sequel to this.

[thefreakandthehair]

steddie | rating: m | wc: 955 | tags: established relationship, use of cake as a metaphor, they're so in love your honor | art credit: @firefly-party

Eddie Munson celebrates two birthdays every year: the day he was actually born, December 19th, and the day he woke up in the hospital, April 8th. Funny enough, the latter is usually a bigger celebration. Family and friends that no longer exist in separate groups come together with all of Eddie’s foods and drinks, small gifts and sometimes, a bigger gift from the collective.

Try as they might, they’ve yet to top the Metallica tickets. 

But today is Eddie’s original birthday. December 19th— the one that’s usually swallowed up by the holidays, the one that really doesn’t mean all that much to him because, well, compared to waking up after saving the world, why would it? The last few celebrations have been tight-knit, mostly just himself, Wayne, and Steve either at Wayne’s trailer or the tiny little apartment Steve and Eddie managed to find for themselves. 

This year, it’s just the two of them with no one to blame but Mother Nature. A blizzard drops nearly three feet of snow over northeastern Indiana and no one is going anywhere, least of all Wayne whose getting up there in years. We'll make up for it later, Eddie assures him when he calls with a stream of apologies. 

How can he complain though? Wayne will make up for it, he’s snowed in with the love of his life, and the apartment smells like his favorite pasta sauce, the one he knows takes Steve hours to simmer. So no, he’s not disappointed. Not in the slightest. 

“Sorry your day got snowed out,” Steve sighs, plopping down onto the couch and draping an arm along the back of the couch, toying with the ends of Eddie’s hair. “I did get you a surprise though.” 

Eddie’s brow furrows, knitting tightly above his nose. There’s been no mail for two days, and their apartment doesn’t exactly lend itself to keeping secrets. “A surprise? What kinda surprise?”

“Well,” Steve smirks, confident in the way that always makes something stir in Eddie’s chest. “It’s not a birthday without a cake.” 

He’s so fucking lost. 

“A cake? We’ve been snowed in since Sunday and I would’ve smelled you baking in here. Also, I would’ve tasted it already, or at least demanded to lick the spoon so— wait, what are you doing?” 

Steve stands up and walks around the back of the couch, just behind Eddie. “Just close your eyes, okay? Or do I need to blindfold you?”

He can hear Steve’s smug grin without even seeing his face and now it’s not just his chest stirring. Eddie shifts I’m his seat. 

“No, no I can just close my eyes. Put a pin in the blindfold idea though.“ 

With his eyes closed, all he can do is imagine what the rustling is behind him, scenarios that will never compare to the sight he sees when Steve gives him the all clear. 

“Okay,” Steve says, his voice now coming from directly in front of Eddie. “Open.”

Very funny, brain, he thinks. My entire life since the demobats has to have been just one long, final burst of dopamine before kicking the bucket because there’s absolutely no way this is fucking real. 

Steve’s standing in front of him, shirtless, in nothing but some of the tightest shorts he’s seen Steve wear since the time he blindly walked into Scoops Ahoy asking for rum raisin and instead, got a fucking show. They’re dark maroon in hue with the word Cake printed in white script across the entirety of Steve’s ass. Moles litter his skin from the base of his neck down the flesh of his thighs, and the small indentation in his lower back is highlighted by the low waistband. Barely noticeable cuts in the sides expose what looks like black lace detailing. 

“Holy shit,” Eddie groans, unable to stop himself from reaching out and touching the soft, cotton material. 

“Yeah?” Steve looks over his shoulder with a knowing smile. “You like it?” 

Eddie fingers trace the font and he doesn’t even dare to blink. If it is a coma dream, he doesn’t want to risk waking up. “Do I like it? If I ever say no to that, Steve, take me into a field and off me because I’ve been replaced by the body snatchers.” 

Steve laughs and Eddie pulls him in closer, one hand on Steve’s hip and the other working its way up Steve’s thigh and beneath the fabric.

“Y’know,” Eddie starts, swallowing with a dry mouth around the lump in his throat. “There’s just one little problem with this birthday cake.”

“What?” Steve looks back over his shoulder again, this time confused. 

He gives his right cheek a light tap, just enough to relish in the way the plush flesh moves. “It’s not finished.”

“Oh yeah? What’s it need?” 

“You know I need my cakes frosted. And c’mon,” he leans forward and presses a kiss to Steve’s hairy thigh, just below the hem of the shorts. “Where’s the candle?”

Steve turns with a teasing grimace. “Did you just compare your dick to a candle?”

“Sure did. Is it working?” He smiles with his bottom lip between his teeth as he stands and places both hands in Steve’s hips. 

“I can’t believe it, but yeah, it kinda is.” Steve’s eyes flicker down to Eddie’s lips and back up. 

Eddie can barely get his thoughts in order, placing both hands on either side of Steve’s face and kissing him between words. 

“Best.” He kisses his forehead. “Birthday.” He kisses his nose. “Ever.” He kisses his lips. 

They make their way back to the bedroom and no one can blame him for leaving Steve’s ass littered in purpling hickies and love bites. 

It’s a cake, after all.

art by @firefly-party to celebrate @sidekick-hero's birthday today! here's a little collaboration to honor our favorite Cake Enthusiast! Sandy, we love you and hope you have the absolute best day. go give her some love, everyone!

[eepwriting]

IV NSFW Alphabet

Warnings: allllll of it

Note - Sorry this took so long to get out. Tried to get through requests and got a little distracted lol. Anyway, here’s the final alphabet for my beloved ivy. 🤍

!! mdni !!

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚

✶ A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

➮ He’s very attentive. Throughly (but gently) cleans you up, will help you redress if you want/need to. Always gets you water and will watch you drink the whole glass.

✶ B = Body Part (Favorite on themselves, favorite on you.)

➮ He likes his chest and back. Strong, sturdy.

➮ He loves your legs. Enjoys having them thrown over his lap (or shoulders). Runs his hands from your ankles up to your hips and down again.

✶ C = Cum (Anything to do with cum.)

➮ Loves to see himself painted on your face and neck.

✶ D = Dirty Secret (Self Explanatory?)

➮ He listens to audios you send him when he’s around other people. An earbud in, just softly playing as he chats with friends. It’s not loud enough to really affect him but he definitely has a half chub.

✶ E = Experience (How experienced are they?)

➮ He gives off the impression that he’s beeeen fuckin but no. He doesn’t have much.

➮ Is very eager to try things with you.

➮ He’s able to switch into many different moods, despite not having a ton of experience.

✶ F = Favorite Position

➮ Spooning or standing behind you. Likes to be as close and all over you as possible.

✶ G = Goofy (Are they serious or playful and goofy?)

➮ Half and half. Most of the time he’s too lost in his own pleasure to play around but he’ll sometimes tickle you and crack jokes.

✶ H = Hair (How well groomed are they?)

➮ He keeps it short and tidy.

✶ I = Intimacy (How intimate are they in the moment?)

➮ Most of the time he’s very focused on you, making sure he hits all the right spots. Hands softly running all over you, whispering how much he appreciates you.

✶ J = Jerking Off

➮ Those audios we talked about before…he’s definitely locking himself in a room later and goin to town.

➮ Will always send you pics/vids/audios of his own.

✶ K = Kinks

➮ He likes to be praised.

✶ L = Location (Their favorite place to do the do.)

➮ Since he likes to stand behind you, he loooves to fuck you in front of mirrors. Doesn’t matter if it’s in the bathroom, bedroom, kitchen, hallway, anywhere.

➮ Gets to watch himself slip into you from behind while also watching your face.

✶ M = Motivation (What turns them on?)

➮ If you kiss on his neck or even just lightly run your fingers over it he’s grunting and breathing heavy.

✶ N = No (Something they would never do.)

➮ No what?? No scat, no piss.

✶ O = Oral (Preference on giving and receiving.)

➮ He loves blowjobs and will often (politely) demand them.

➮ But boy is also a certified munch/certified sucker. Bonus points if your thighs keep him trapped in between your legs.

✶ P = Pace (Are they rough and fast or careful and gentle?)

➮ Depends on his mood. He likes to take it slow if either or you are tired or you’re seeing each other again after being away.

➮ He also enjoys getting a little rough with you and picking up the pace.

✶ Q = Quickie

➮ He’s not a fan or hater. If you want to sneak away he’s more than happy to participate.

✶ R = Risk (Do they experiment?)

➮ YES

➮ He’s a big fan of trying new things. Sends you lists of things he finds interesting and wants to try.

✶ S = Stamina (How long do they last?)

➮ A very average amount of time but will make you cum before and after he finishes.

✶ T = Toys (Do they use them? On you or themselves?)

➮ As stated before, he loves to experiment so he’ll surprise you with new toys he thinks you might like.

➮ Not a super big fan of using toys on himself but will try if you ask nice enough.

✶ U = Unfair (How much do they tease you?)

➮ He’s a big tease. At the top of his ‘want to try’ list was edging and he couldn’t get enough of it when the two of you tried it the first time.

✶ V = Volume (How loud are they?)

➮ His noises are for the most part pretty quiet but he’s a big talker. Whether he’s complimenting, praising, degrading, generally conversing with you, he loves to talk.

✶ W = Wild Card (Random head cannon.)

➮ He definitely keeps a nude of you in his wallet.

✶ X = X-Ray (What will we find under their clothes?)

➮ His legs are covered in tattoos I just know it.

✶ Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

➮ It’s high and he makes sure you know it.

✶ Z = Zzz (How quickly do they fall asleep after?)

➮ He’ll only fall asleep when you do, and if you want to stay up, he’ll stay up with you.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺ ⁺˚

This man y’all 😮‍💨

If y’all want to see anymore ‘series’ like this let me know cause all of them were so fun to write!

K. Bye bye.

[simp4pedropascal75]

bad guy (Joel Miller x Reader)

summary: since joel came to jackson, you only had eyes for him. but he didn't had eyes for you.... well, he did. but he hid behind a facade of a cold, mean asshole.

trigger warnings: 18+, minors dni, mature content included, some angst, fluff, explicit language, mention of guns, smut (f!nger!ng, p in v, mention of daddy k!mk, praising, degrading), age gap (reader in his 20s, joel in his 50s)

words: 2k

a/n: hey guys, so, this is my first post after a long break now. this was my first time writing smut, i'm still learning yk, but I hope you like it! Please keep in my mind that english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry for spelling mistakes and stuff.

Also I wrote this while driving to Croatia and I'm still sitting in the car, so yeah. There'll be a part 2 of this ff:) now, I wish y'all a fun time reading<3

-------------------♡❀˖⁺. ༶ ⋆˙⊹❀♡--------------------

Why do girls always love the bad guy? Why can’t I just find normal people attractive? And especially men in my age, you think.

Obviously I can’t, because I love Joel fucking Miller.

Since he came with this girl Ellie to Jackson, you couldn’t get him out of your mind. You tried, you really tried. But no, Joel stayed in your mind. Every fucking time he walked past you, butterflies flew in your stomach like crazy. When he looked at you, your heartbeat speeded up. And god, when he talked to you, even for just 10 seconds, you needed to squeeze your legs together, because you couldn’t bear the ache between your legs.

But sadly, he didn’t talked to you often, he didn’t look at you, he just always walked past you. Sometimes you two had to go on patrol, but to be honest, he was an asshole. He didn’t talk much, and when he did, he was mean. He was so cold towards you. The only person where he softened up, was Ellie. You and her got along well, she is a smart girl, with a big mouth, but still smart.

But, what did you expect? He’s like doubled your age. But you always found men, who could be your dad, more attractive than boys in your age. Older men are more mature and… they have experience.

With every boy you slept in your age, has never made you cum, never.

Not to mention your daddy issues.

Actually, you’re on patrol with him right now. It was quiet, very quiet, while you walk through a abounded building with him. You’ve met some clickers on your way, but they were easy to kill. “So, was it already so quiet when Tommy was out on patrol?”, you ask him while you reload your gun. “‘haven’t talked to him”, he answers cold. You look at him confused, because they usually always exchange about their patrols.

“Why didn’t you?”, you ask curiously.

“Why would you care?”, he scoffs and doesn’t even look at you. He stands up and continues to walk.

Asshole.

“We have to move, come on”, he adds. You just roll your eyes at him, get up and follow him. “Well I care, because we have to know what we have to expect.”, you mumble pissed.

He turns around to look at you with a stern look. “If you would shut your fucking mouth, maybe we could hear what we have to expect”

Yeah, that’s it.

“You know what, I don’t fucking care. I understand that we’re definitely not friends, but that doesn’t mean you have to act like the arrogant bastard you are.”, you speak upset. “Guess what, I don’t like you either, but at least I try to be nice to you!”

“Shut up.”, he whispers harshly.

“You want me to shut up?! Did I hurt your ego because someone finally said how you really are, Joel Miller?! I swear I’ll soon kick you in your non-exciting balls-“ He suddenly slams you against the wall and covers your mouth with his hand. “I said, be. quiet.”, he growls quietly. You try to move and push him away, but he’s too strong.

As you give up and stare into his eyes, you hear it too, stalkers.

You feel how the speed of your heartbeat increases and feel the big ache between your legs again, but even stronger as the last time’s. His chest was pressed onto yours and you sense his hot breath on your neck. While Joel’s concentrated on the sound of the stalkers, you get a chance to admire his face closely. His hazel eyes, his lips… and his nose.

Fuck.

As the stalker noises get quiet and disappear, you gulp as he stares into your eyes. He releases your mouth from his hand and you take a deep breath. “s-so.. where was I-?”, he cuts you off.

“You really can’t shut up, can you?”, he raises an eyebrow at you as he asks.

“You fucking basta-“, suddenly he smashes his lips on yours. That’s when you get quiet. Your heart was beating out of your chest while you were melting under his touch. You can’t resist and wrap your arms around his neck while kissing him back.

Joel’s hands run up your curves while he’s pulling you even closer to his body. You feel how his dick begins to harden under the fabric of his jeans. He stops kissing your lips and continues to place kisses on your neck to leave you with his marks. You whimper softly as you feel how his hand glides down your stomach. As Joel slides his hand under your pants, he touches your already wet panties. “god, were you so desperate to be touched? you dirty little girl.”, he whispers in your ear and nibbles on it. “Fuck, Joel-“, you breathe. He pushes your panties aside and his thumb starts to rub your clit slightly.

“you need to be quiet, darling.”, he whispers again as you feel his hot breath on your neck again. As you nod and give him your permission he slides two of his fingers into your core. “Joel- I-“, you begin to breath heavy. You really tried to keep quiet, but as he starts to pump his fingers into you… “Joel, I can’t-“, you moan, that’s when he puts his hand over your mouth again.

“keep fucking quiet, you’re gonna’ get us killed..”, he growls as he stares into your eyes.

While he continues shoving his fingers inside you, your hands make your way to his belt. As you start to unbuckle it, he slaps your hands away. “not here.”, he whispers harshly.

“Please Joel-, I need you.”, you whine.

“No.”, he says with his deep voice, which even more aroused you. You start to feel your climax coming nearer, so does Joel as your inner walls squeeze his fingers gently. “Joel, I’m gonna-“, you cry out and he immediately covers your mouth again. “thats it, baby.. cum all over my fingers, darling…”, he whispers right into your ear and that’s when you reach your climax. He presses his hand onto your mouth to quiet down your moan and a slight smirk appears on his face. As your legs are still shaking, your hands try to unbuckle his belt again, but this time, he lets you do it.

“Fuck, y/n… you really want to get us killed, don’t you”, Joel groans quietly.

“Please Joel-, just-“, he cuts you off while slamming his lips onto yours again. He flicks his younger against yours and gasps as your hand touches his clothed dick. “Goddammit, y/n!”, he growls.

“Please Joel, I need you inside of me-“, that’s when he can’t resist your begging and he turns you around the wall and pushes you against it. “‘risking to get killed, just to be fucked by daddy’s cock”, he whispers and you hear how he pushes his pants down, which leaves a smile on your face. He takes his dick into his hand and rubs the tip at your wet pussy. His other hand glides to your mouth again, because he knows you definitely can’t keep quiet.

And he’s right.

You cry out loud as he pushes his shaft into your throbbing core.

God, he’s big.

“Fuck.”, he exhales. He begins to thrust into you while your moans get louder, he presses his hand harder on your mouth. “Such a good girl, taking my dick so fucking good”, Joel praises which makes you squirm under his grip. His other hand rests on your waist and his breath starts to get heavier. As he increases the speed, you feel how your legs begin to shake again. “how long have you been waiting for this, hm…?”, he breathes into your ear and wraps his arm around you to pull you closer. Joel begins to hit your g-spot and as your breath becomes heavier, your moans do too.

“Use your words, princess”, he groans into your ear.

“S-since you came here-“, you try to answer while he’s trying to muffle your moans again. You hear him chuckle. “‘never thought that you’re such a dirty girl”, he whispers. “‘squeezing my dick real good- you’re gonna’ cum?”. You nod.

“Words.”, he growls. “Y-yes, I’m gonna cum!”, you whine and you rech your climax. As your pussy tightens around his cock, you hear his groan and feel how he fills you up with his cum, leaving you two breathless.

.

.

.

As we walked back to Jackson, he was quiet, too quiet. “‘you’re okay?”, you ask concerned and also confused while he’s walking in front of you. “This was a mistake”, he growls and keeps walking. “What- I don’t understand-“, you mumble confused and grab after his hand so he stops walking. “What don’t you understand?”, he speaks louder and pulls his hand away. “This, was a mistake”, he points with his finger at you and himself. “A fucking big one.”, he growls and turns around to walk. “So, after you just fucked the shit out of me in a building full of zombies, you tell me that this was a mistake?!”, you almost shout and walk after him.

I can’t believe him, you think.

“yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”, he points out and it seems like he really doesn’t care. “Are you kidding me right now?! Don’t you notice how fucked up this is?! You fuck me and now tell me it was a mistake, and you don’t even feel bad!”, you shout after him upset and try not to tear up. “Exactly”, he just answers coldly.

“And now what huh?!”, you try to grab his hand again and finally get him stop walking. He turns around and just looks at you, his eyes were pitch black now. You don’t see any emotions in his face.

“Now, we’re going our separate ways”, he grumbles coldly.

.

.

.

Why do girls always love the bad guy?, you think.

It’s already been two months since it happens with Joel. And like he said, we’re going our separate ways. He didn’t look at you, he didn’t talked to you and he didn’t even went on patrols with you anymore. And you really tried to hate him, and did because of what he did, but you couldn’t get this night with him out of your mind anymore. Every time you close your eyes, you feel his lips on yours and his dick thrusting deep into you.

So, since he really didn’t felt bad and ignored you like you don’t exist, you tried to keep on with your life and tried dating again. You’ve met a really nice boy, Jack. He was two years older than you and he really was a gentleman. He was nice, kind and lovely. He made you laugh and feel safe. Since Joel didn’t go on patrols with you again, he did. And it was fun. Today you’ve had your third date already and as you walk into the bar, you see Joel sitting there.

Fuck.

And that’s when it hits your memory again. His hand pressed on your mouth, his hot breath on your neck and his dick pounding into you. You got pulled out of your mind, as you feel Jack’s hand on your waist. “Hey there, beautiful”, he says with his sweet smile. “Hey”, you smile back and go with him to your table. You thought Joel didn’t notice you, but he did. He saw you with this guy before, and god it has made him jealous. But Joel’s good at hiding his feelings, always hiding how he looks at you in secret.

You and Jack had a good time. Sometimes you took a glance at Joel, but his back was turned towards you. As you two finished eating, you stood up and wanted to look after Joel, but he wasn’t sitting there anymore. “I’ll pay real quick, you can wait outside”, Jack says and places a kiss on your cheek.

You nod and go outside. It’s already dark outside. A breeze of cold air flies against your body and you get goosebumps. That’s when you let your keys fall. “Fuck…”, you swear and try to see them in the dark. As you spot them, you bend down but suddenly someone else picks them up.

As you look up, you freeze:

“Joel.”

-> part 2

[howlett-n-morgan]

Take Me Home

3. Worthiness

Arthur Morgan x Texas Red!Reader

A/n: Apologies for taking so long in between to repost these chapters, it's almost fashion week and I am CRAMMING everything my ass can handle into the next few weeks lmaooo. pls enjoy and let me know what you think!

Summary: Abigail gains a new friend and gossip partner to chat with over meals, and Pearson has had enough of it. Luckily, Dutch has something lined up and ready to take the kid out of camp.

Warnings: Mild Language, gun violence. Game typical violence. Robbery/heist shenanigans. Fluff and Angst, because who doesn't love that combo? Arthur and reader get into a fight and want to kill each other for like a split second but it ends fine I swear.

WC: 6.1k

“I think I could drop you where you stand.” You were all talk, now, and he knew that… but it still boiled under his skin the way you challenged him.  “You make quite a big to do of yourself… M’guessin’ that’s where most of your reputation came from,” he smirked, but he should know better than to taunt you about those men you shot dead. “Before I got here I barely spoke a word to no one… I got my reputation from shootin’ folks so fast they didn’t have time to repent to God.” 

You’ve taken to a new hobby. You’re not quite sure the word that describes it right, but to explain what it entails, a bit of background needs to be added for understanding. 

Abigail is borderline nine months pregnant. 

John Marston, the everloving man that he is, has taken it upon himself to steer clear of her in the last stages of her pregnancy. 

Given this unfortunate situation, Abigail finds herself eating more and more food to try and relieve the stress. She also finds herself ranting to you about the dimwitted man that impregnated her, because you seem the most open to listening without offering advice. Truth be told, you just enjoy the company of a woman that doesn’t shy away from you, or try to woo you over. It brings about a sense of normalcy. 

Now, in the past weeks that this has been happening, you’ve taken to eating at the same times as Abigail, shoveling more and more into your plate like she does. It’s now become a ritual, or as you would like to call it, a hobby, to sit and devour food while shit-talking John Marston as he’s away. ‘Keeping his distance,’ whatever the hell that means, when the woman you’re with is nine months pregnant. 

In the midst of this new hobby, Dutch and Pearson have had many arguments. Dutch was always less than concerned about it, whilst Pearson nearly threw a fit every time either of you came to get portions for a meal.

“I’ve had enough of it. They come, they eat, they leave! That new boy of yours hasn’t done anything since he got here but eat us out of our stock,” Pearson complained for the hundredth time. Though you’d kept up with chores around the camp, (trying to help Abigail pick up some of her slack) you hadn’t really brought any money into the camp, which was what Dutch brought you here to do.

“Arthur’s been trainin’ him well, I’m sure it’ll be no time at all before he starts runnin’ jobs with us.” Dutch knew what this was really about…

Pearson was madder than a hornet when John first got Abigail pregnant. Even worse when he found out she would be traveling with the gang from then on. Feeding a pregnant woman was sometimes like feeding two extra men… not to mention the fact that you joined her at every meal. He doesn’t want to say anything about Abigail, especially in the state she’s in… but maybe if you didn’t sit and eat with her all the damn time, it wouldn’t be as bad, and the rations would last longer. 

“He better start earnin’ his keep. If he doesn’t I’ll skin him, make a stew.”

Dutch let out a boisterous laugh, clapping Pearson on the back and shaking his head. 

“I have a feeling he’ll probably bring in as much as Arthur… There’s some sort of competition between them. I think as long as they don’t rip each other to shreds, they’ll be real beneficial,” He started towards Hosea, passing by you and Abigail on the way and tipping his hat. “Top of the mornin’ to ya.”

“Mornin’,” you nodded with a smile, taking a sip of your coffee before digging back into the bread and jam you both raided from Pearson’s ‘kitchen.’

He ducked into his tent, and you turned back to Abigail, listening intently to all she had to say. Today, she had news of an argument between her and John the night before. 

“It’s been all, ‘how do I even know that kid is mine?’ and ‘what if I don’t want to be a part of it anymore?’ since about the five month mark. M’startin’ to think that maybe I should’ve just left the gang, convinced some poor drunk dope from the town it’s his.” She gave her best John impression when quoting him, and as funny as it was, all you could feel was grief for the young woman. She was too young to even be thinking this way. 

You’ve not spent any one on one time with John, but he sounds like a real ass.

“As sad as I am to say it, Miss Abigail… I believe most of us men are stupid as they come. We can’t tell what’s right in front of us, even if y’all are screamin’ and shoutin’.”

“If that ain’t the truth…” she trailed, sighing with her head down. Even though she portrayed her sorrows in a comedic light, you could tell it weighed on her. 

You weren’t sure if you should even offer this, because you had no idea if you would even be hiding your secret this long, but the longer you go without revealing anything… you’re starting to think of your little secret more permanently.

“If push comes to shove… You can tell the kid it’s mine. Not too sure it’ll believe you, what with the carrot head I got, but if you want to…”

She laughed lighthearted, and sighed again, but this time out of contentment. 

“I guess not all men are stupid. You’re not even the first one who’s offered that to me,” she explained, nodding towards the outskirts of camp where an open tent fixed upon a wagon sat neatly kept. “Arthur said the same thing when all these problems with John started.”

You smiled, looking at his empty living space, barely anything to show that he occupied the place. He had a simple cot and bedroll, a small table, and just a few sentimental pieces here and there. He didn’t need anything fancy or grandiose to his name, just a gun and his hat, and he was satisfied. He’s even kinder than you thought, too, hearing it firsthand from Abigail. A good man, and a great outlaw. You found yourself longing for him nearly every day now, and it would only get worse from here. 

“He’s sure something, ain’t he?” You tried to be nonchalant about him, and it seemed to work in the eyes of Abigail, but if she’d known just one little thing about you, her entire mind would be changed. 

“Oh, yes. I’ll be damn straight with ya, I almost wish it were Arthur I met last year. Wish it was him that found me at the brothel. I do love John, but… he breaks my heart sometimes,” she let out, trying to hold herself together. She’d long since begun crying herself to sleep at night, pretty much since John decided she could sleep on her own. Now, though, was not the place to break down. You’ve been kind enough to listen to her, and she feels as though using your shoulder to cry on would be taking advantage. So she changes the subject. “While I’m on the topic of love… I’ve heard you got an admirer.”

Your cheeks grew red from embarrassment, and she thought that maybe you were blushing, but she didn’t know how far off she was. “I guess I’ve heard a thing or two ‘bout that…”

“Tilly is a sweet girl, I’m sure you both would get along fine,” she added, going back to her food. 

“She’s one of the kindest souls I’ve met,” you told her, trying to be as honest as you could without divulging anything she didn’t need to know. “I’ve just never…”

“You’ve never… what?” 

You shrugged, huffing a sigh and eating the last piece of jam covered bread on your plate. Already you could tell you’d be hungry again soon. “Never been in a relationship like that before.”

“I see. Is that something you think you’d want?” Her patience is why you liked speaking with her. Sometimes she had a short temper, but it was almost always warranted and towards those who deserved it. 

You took her question to heart. You’d not even considered a relationship since the day you ran away. Your self-found freedom had been from an arranged marriage. It had been your choice to leave that way of life. You never thought you’d ever find love in the aftermath of your liberation, but thinking about it now… You looked to Arthur’s tent, just a single glance to see if he’s returned yet.

“I hope so, maybe someday when the time is right. I just think that right now, I’m not so sure about anything at all, and it wouldn’t be fair to Miss Tilly to start up something I ain’t ready for.”

She sat and stared into your downward expression for a minute, meeting your eyes when you looked up. 

You smirked a little at her gaping expression, trying to make light of it. 

“I got somethin’ on my face?” 

“No,” she shook her head, knocking herself out of whatever trance she just fell into. “S’just that… I think you’re mighty wise for someone your age. And for a man, too.” 

“I reckon that’s a real fine compliment, and I’ll take it well.”

You both shared a laugh before going back to the stashed food for seconds. 

-

Dutch had an idea… a dangerous thing, but sometimes a very lucrative one. 

The worst part about this dangerous and lucrative idea? Arthur, Javier, John, and Bill were on board. It meant there was gonna be one hell of a party this afternoon, and no one in their right mind would have the courage to stop it. 

You were unaware of said idea until around lunch time, when Pearson just ripped you a new one for taking food before it was even ready. You shared it with Abigail of course, you’re not an animal.

Dutch and Hosea were making the plans for this afternoon, and came across you both sulking in the grass, just inches away from Pearson’s space. They grabbed some small provisions for themselves, as they hadn’t quite eaten much today, and you overheard some of their chatter. 

“I’m getting too old for all that excitement. One job here and there is all I can do anymore,” Hosea tried to reason with his dearest friend. 

“I need another gun or it doesn’t work,” Dutch sighed out, scratching the back of his neck as he thought of another solution. 

You stood up and peeked over the barrel you’d been resting against, leaning over it and making your presence known. 

“I got a gun,” you smirked, halfway joking incase he shuts you down. He hasn’t told you directly that he doesn’t want you riding with them yet, but he has asked Arthur if he thinks you’re ready… to which Arthur always replied, ‘almost.’ 

Dutch narrowed his eyes at you, looking back to Hosea, but the man held his hands up in mock defense. He was gonna sit this one out regardless.

“How’s your horse with gunfire?” he asked, genuinely considering your offer today. 

“He oughta be fine, otherwise I can take someone else’s.”

There was another moment of pause, and Hosea spoke up. 

“Sean would be happy to go, he hasn’t seen action in a few weeks.” 

You sighed, doing your best to act as if you weren’t upset, then started to speak loudly.

“That’s fine by me. I’ll just stay here and have lunch with Abigail…” you trailed, and immediately Pearson whipped himself around from his station. 

“No!” He shouted, and though you were partially joking, he didn’t want to find that out for himself. He’d had enough of you, and likely of Abigail, too. “As God is my witness, I will pack my shit and never look back… take him, I’m beggin’ ya.”

Dutch found his little outburst quite comical, as did you. He chuckled lowly and rolled it over in his head once more before deciding. Maybe what you really needed to learn was being thrown in the deep end. Hell, he knew what you were capable of. It was the very reason you stood on this ground in the first place. Now he needed to put those fiery trigger fingers to the test. 

“Son,” he turned back to face you with a look of sheer confidence, hopefully this didn’t mean the pressure would all be on you. “Saddle your horse, load up on ammo. You’ll be going with John.”

The smile you had immediately left your face. 

“Yessir,” you said quickly, leaving the group to do as he said. 

John Marston, the man you’d been shit talking for over a week now. Not to his face, of course, but to his lady it was enough, even if she was doing just as much if not more in sullying his name. 

You had a bad taste for him, that much you could say. It wasn’t going to be fun, but you’d prevail. You had to. It was time to start earning your keep. 

You found the rest of the men by the hitching posts, strolling up as confidently as can be. You enjoyed the baffled looks of confusion they wore, unsure of what you were doing here. Surely you wouldn’t be joining them…

“Howdy,” you teased, tipping your hat to them with a sideways smirk. Your young looking ‘boyish’ features gave them an inkling of annoyance with the look you wore, all cocky and arrogant for show. “Give me just a second, I’ll be ready to head out.”

“You’re coming with us?” Bill questioned, though it wasn’t out of sheer curiosity, but agitation.

“Damn straight,” you muttered quieter, done joking for now since they all seemed to be absolutely against you riding along. You got along with them in camp, why did they seem to exclude you now that a job was concerned? Why did they look like they were about to fight tooth and nail to keep you here?

You ignored their sarcastic chatter over your ‘scrawny’ appearance, and made ready your horse. You’d taken him riding several times since getting here, but he hasn’t gotten to see much action other than running down the side of the river bank. 

“What the hell are you doin’?” Arthur came up beside you, trying to gain your primary focus and lead it away from the horse… not exactly a hard task when you look like Arthur Morgan does.

“Dutch said I’m ridin’ on the job,” you explained, making it very clear, first and foremost, that you had permission to go out with them from the boss.

“When? Just now? Because as it was told to us, you weren’t goin’...” 

“I get y’all don’t exactly want me here, but he needed another gun. I happen to have one, matter of fact, and I’m pretty damn good at shootin’ it. I don’t understand your hissy fit, but it ain’t gonna stop me from goin’, so I hope we’re not gonna have a problem, here.” 

He kept his mouth shut. He needed to think and rehash his words in his head before he let something fly that he didn’t at all mean. 

“I’m tryin’ to protect you, kid.” He was even closer than before all of a sudden, and you had to make him the center of your attention once again.

“Protect me from what? I shoot faster than you, remember?”

You made a point, but he made a better one. 

“You mean ‘the one shot you know how to take?’ Is that the one?” He recalled your words from many days before, the day he began teaching you everything you needed to know. You’d been here nearly a month now, if you hadn’t learned enough already, you never would.

“Look, Arthur,” you turned away from him using all the strength you had, because dammit, you did enjoy looking at him. “I know you don’t think this is ideal, but it’s not your call to make. Take it up with Dutch.”

You strapped a rifle to your horse and grabbed its reins from the hitching post, leading the dark, glossy stallion over by where the boys were finishing up. 

“Marston,” you called, all traces of light hearted fun were gone from your tone, completely dulled and sullen from the loss of excitement. “I’m with you.”

-

Arthur rode with Dutch nearly the whole time.

You were on the caboose end of the cavalcade, and watched them talk up ahead. There was no doubt in your mind it concerned you, because that’s why Arthur is so high strung, so angry about this job. 

Javier gave you the run-down on the first few minutes of the ride. It’s a quick job, and shouldn’t get drawn any attention from the neighboring towns. Essentially, there’s a procession of carriages coming from the north and heading south east, and most of the folk traveling are fairly wealthy. The kicker is, all the valuables from each person are said to be stowed on a ‘safe cart’ in the middle of the procession. You’re not sure how they figure that, but you know Dutch has incredible sources. Using the team assembled, you’ll all have to separate the safe cart from the rest of the caravan, leading it off the trail and far enough away that it can be easily raided with no repercussions. The only downside? The safe cart is heavily guarded by several armed men and is manned by experienced drivers. 

Once Javier started getting into the logistics and details of the job, you zoned out, focusing on the conversation happening with Arthur and Dutch up ahead. You had no clue what they were saying, but the body language and facial expressions said a lot. 

Arthur likely expressed his concerns to Dutch, and thereafter, was told he need not be concerned… But Arthur was a persistent animal, he didn’t just dip his head and turn away. 

You think that Arthur may have listed a few points for Dutch to consider, and that the man did so, with the fact in the forefront of his mind that you were still on the job. 

By the time everyone reached the lookout, the two of them circled around to face the rest. 

“There’s been a change of plan,” Dutch called out, looking over every face and the horse they accommodated, and they lasted longer on you than the others. “John, you’re taking the frontside of the caravan with Javier.”

And just like that, you’d been replaced. 

“Where am I goin’ then?” You tilted your head in confusion.

“You’re with me, Red,” Arthur let out, his tone not nearly as angry as earlier. Now you gotta know what happened during that talk with Dutch.

“Yes, you and Arthur will bring up the back, makin’ sure there’s no surprises.”

You weren’t sure what to feel. Was he trying to keep you where he could see you? Did he think of himself as your babysitter? Why would he put up all that fuss just to give in as long as you rode with him?

“Alright,” you sighed out, acknowledging that bringing up the rear of the operation was still better than not coming at all. 

The rest of the plan stayed the same, and soon, everyone split off with their respective partners for this heist. 

You rode off with Arthur in silence to the waiting point, not daring to say anything until you’d been sure nobody was around to hear it. You weren’t going to rip into him about this, but you had questions. He clearly was concerned over your wellbeing if he fought so hard to make sure you wouldn’t be riding in, guns blazing, on your first job. You were just going to cover the rear, a measure of security. 

When you stopped just short of the trail, you hitched your horses, taking cover behind some bushes and trees to lay low. You turned to Arthur with a huff. 

“What the hell was that?” 

He was taken aback, but not jumpy about your outburst.

“Don’t start with this again, kid. I’m tryin’ to help you,” he crossed his arms, leaning against the tree and watching the road. It was still too early for the caravan, but he didn’t want to meet your eyeline.

“You ain’t helpin’ me, you’re holdin’ me back,” you grumbled, stepping on a small gathering of dead leaves, becoming even more enraged - for no good reason - when they didn’t crunch beneath your boot. 

“You’ll thank me one day…” he trailed, lighting a cigarette from within his pocket. You would have decked him in the face if you thought it would help. 

At first you’d been grateful to him, for seeing you no differently than the others, and even showing you the ropes to become better equipped. Now you could see it was all a ruse. He underestimated you and kept telling Dutch you weren’t ready. He kept ‘training’ you to keep you busy. You weren’t falling for that shtick again. You didn’t care how pretty his eyes were, anymore. 

“Where do you get off, Morgan? The shit you’ve been putting me through these past weeks…” you scoffed, finding it amusing almost just how unbothered he seemed to be. Maybe he really was just as mean as the town’s folk say. “I’ve been able to match or best you at everything you’ve thrown at me. Maybe I should just take you out of my way.” 

He chuckled, standing upright and creeping towards you with slow steps. His eyes narrowed, and for once, you felt you knew what it was like to be prey. 

“You wanna give it a try?” he taunted, towering over you with a threatening stare. Just seeing how intimidating he could really be, you wanted to back off. Of course, you didn’t. “You really think you could take me?” 

His voice was all too quiet, all too calm. The words he spoke held such heaviness, but it didn’t show in his tone. He was teasing you, and if you gave in, he’d likely give you a humbling. You knew he’d been eyeing your hand, as if hovered closely to your gun belt… so you dropped it to your side to defuse him a little. 

“I think I could drop you where you stand.”

You were all talk, now, and he knew that… but it still boiled under his skin the way you challenged him. 

“You make quite a big to do of yourself… M’guessin’ that’s where most of your reputation came from,” he smirked, but he should know better than to taunt you about those men you shot dead.

“Before I got here I barely spoke a word to no one… I got my reputation from shootin’ folks so fast they didn’t have time to repent to God.” 

Your dead eye stare caught him. He didn’t back down, didn’t waver… he was so staunchly preserved in his way of life that he didn’t even let it show in his eyes just how much you got to him with that line.

“Your twenty-one notches ain’t shit to me.” He’s sure that by now he’s killed hundreds, maybe thousands. Sure, most he shot in the back, but the number in which he didn’t still far surpasses your miniscule little twenty-one. 

“Then let’s make it twenty-two, yeah?” You didn’t plan on shooting it, but you drew your pistol faster than he could think, trying to put it against his chest to scare him, but his reaction time was faster than you had initially thought. He grabbed the gun from your hand before it ever neared him, and threw it into the grass behind him before shoving you down.  

“Damnit, Red! You have no clue, do you?” He stood over you angrily, looking at your frozen figure like you were an animal he was hunting. “You got a gift that none of us have. Hell, I’ve been doin’ this for sixteen years and I still ain’t as fast as you. You could be the best of us, but you’re too damn stubborn, and too damn arrogant. You’re never gonna get anywhere if you’re dead.”

You stood to your feet, staring at him silently. You didn’t have anything to say to him, and honestly, you weren’t sure what would even be okay at this point. He was still angry, but his arms were no longer tense, and he wasn’t seething through harsh breaths anymore. You turned away from him and walked to your horse, sitting back down by the base of a tree and tipping your hat over your eyes. This was going to be a long day.

-

It was approaching sundown when the caravan actually arrived. You’d been napping when Dutch and Bill first gave the signal. Arthur had been watching for it the entire time, and scoffed when he turned his head to you, finding you still fast asleep as if you had nothing to worry about. 

He took a few steps over towards your resting place, kicking your boot and startling you out of your peaceful slumber. 

“What?” you asked, annoyed. Your hat was still over your eyes, so he couldn’t see how dazed you actually were. 

“Sorry, miss… didn’t mean to disturb you,” he teased, his mood having cooled off since the hours after the fight you had. “Just thought you should be conscious during your first job.”

You huffed and stood to your feet, fixing your hat and making sure you hadn’t left anything on the ground. 

Arthur went back to the lookout position and watched through his binoculars for any signs that it was about to go down… you still weren’t one hundred percent clear on the plan, so you thought you might try and annoy him a little by reiterating it.

“So… Dutch and Bill are gonna close in on the sides, leadin’ the safe carriage away from the rest, and that’s when Javier and John stop it from the front. I got that right?” 

“You got it right,” he droned on mindlessly, trying his best to pay more attention to the small flaming signal in the distance. It’s getting closer, but until they put the fire out, there’s no need to mount your horses. 

“Then it‘s a four man job, they don’t even need us.”

“I s’pose you never heard the term ‘backup’ then, have you?” He snickered, still not even giving a glance in your direction. He was firm as stone in his resolve, and you figured it would be no use trying to entertain yourself further. 

“Didn’t take you as the ‘backup’ type…” you grumbled under your breath, mumbling some other incoherencies that he didn’t get a chance to hear. He was almost sure he saw Bill creeping over to the torch, and became positive when the light went dark. 

“Get on your horse,” he became quieter, more focused. You instantly figured it out that he was the type to zone in on his jobs, and maybe you could learn from it. If you really wanted to be his equal, you needed to learn to meet or best him in everything he thrives at. 

“You get the signal?” 

He nodded, “they’re coming down the trail, we gotta be ready to chase em’ when they come through.”

You both pulled up onto your saddles, holding the horse’s from moving too much. If your position was given away, they might derail the caravan from the trail. You reckon this many rich folk traveling in a pack oughta know someone’s gonna be stupid enough to steal from them. It’s why they have a safe carriage in the first place. 

Within a moment, you can see the caravan coming over the hill. It’s dimly lit as the sun lowers completely behind the mountains, small lanterns clinging to every vehicle on the trail. You look up to the ridge that Arthur had been scoping out all this time, and you see Dutch and Bill riding downwards in a rapid attempt to split the caravan. That’s when you spot it… the stone cold metal wagon, weighing probably more than all the horses in camp combined, and armed to the brim with men on every corner. They carry heavy repeaters, their heads on a swivel. They haven’t seen Dutch or Bill yet, but as they round the corner, they all raise their weapons, just for the sound of horse hooves. 

“Cover ‘em,” Arthur told you, grabbing his rifle off his horse’s saddle. You did the same, not hesitant to start shooting at the men in the distance. You had relatively good cover, and couldn’t really be seen, but upon seeing so much fire come from your side of the trail, they began offroading towards Dutch and Bill. 

“Do we go?” you asked, switching to your pistol as you prepared to let your horse run. 

“Not yet,” he held his hand for you to watch, leaning sideways to see around another tree. He had to make sure the rest of the caravan wasn’t following the safe cart. When he saw that most of them stopped in place, he flicked his wrist, pointing in the direction you needed to go. “Now.”

You rode quickly and out onto the trail, passing the other carriages. You could vaguely hear women crying and men yelling. They ain’t gotta be afraid for their lives, so long as they stay put. 

It wasn’t hard to catch up to the gang, as they had taken the remaining guards off on the way to stopping the carriage. There was one rogue horseman that Arthur turned and shot before he could get too close to the area, but other than that, they were able to get the damn thing stationary enough to rob. 

“John, hold him off,” Dutch commanded, watching the younger man hold his gun to the carriage driver’s skull. The man cried out for mercy, not knowing that Dutch would spare his life regardless. He was unarmed, and wasn’t standing in their way, so obviously they would let him go. The Van Der Linde’s did have a code, after all. “Arthur, you open the back.”

And so he put his gun away and strolled up to the back of the wagon with his head held high, happy this robbery went according to plan… until of course, he opened the back, and was unprepared for a heavily armed man to aim right for his chest and pull the trigger. Two guns sounded at almost the same time, but yours sounded first, and it was just quick enough to skew the aim of the dead man, and he landed a non-fatal blow to Arthur’s shoulder. Both men collapsed, but one was still alive. Twenty-Two…

“Arthur! You alright, son?” Dutch yelled, running over to check on him. You’d already knelt down by where he had fallen back to, trying to sit up, but failing because of the pain. You immediately put pressure on his wound, trying to stop the bleeding on your own accord. You ripped the bandana from your neck and tried tying it up, but it was just barely long enough to go around his entire shoulder and underarm. 

“M’fine, s’just a minor shot, it went through.”

“Brooks, you oughta take him back to camp, see if any of the girls know how to patch him up,” he gave you direct orders, and you nodded, helping a moaning and groaning Arthur to his feet. 

“How’d we make out?” Arthur asked, looking into the open wagon, where Bill and Javier seemed to be rolling in money.

“Pretty damn good,” Dutch replied, giving a pat to your shoulder, since Arthur’s is in disarray. “And Brooks?” 

You looked over your shoulder at him, a hopeful look on your face, longing for the approval of someone besides yourself for once. “Yeah?”

“You did good.”

And there it was, the signed seal of approval from none other than Dutch Van Der Linde himself. 

You and Arthur remained pretty silent on the ride back to camp, mostly because he was in a shocking amount of pain and distress, but he did his best to hold it in.

You hitched and unsaddled his horse for him, doing the same with yours before following him into camp. He made way for one of the ladies, maybe Abigail if Jack was asleep already, or Karen if she wasn’t busy workin’ some of the town men. 

“Hey,” you recognized what he was doing, so you pulled him by the opposite arm in the direction of his tent. “I’ll do it.”

His living area was just wide open space in the trees, unlike yours, however, he got quite a bit more elbow room than you did. Perks of seniority

“You don’t have to-”

“I’m tryna apologize, you should let me.”

He laughed a little, a soft smile on his lips.

“What’re you apologizing for?” He asked, sitting down into his cot as you rummaged through the supplies he had on hand. Maybe not the best stuff around, but to stitch him up and wrap it after, it was fine. He’d survive. 

“Bein’ an ass, and taunting you when I know you could snap my neck in one hand.” You were flat in your tone, too focused on threading a needle to put any effort behind your words. 

“I’d never,” he said, laughing a little. He seemed to be in a cheerful mood for just having been shot. 

“You might,” you tied the thread off and bit the end to break it from the spool. Very hygienic, you know, but you didn’t find a pair of scissors. “You’ve only just barely reached the surface for just how obnoxious I can be.”

“Oh have I now?” 

“Mhm…”

You pulled at his shirt collar, opening just a few more buttons until it could pull back over his arm. He didn’t stop you, or even wince, just sat back and waited for the sting of a needle.

“This ain’t gonna tickle,” you braced him, but as soon as you started digging into his skin, making the actual stitches, he was surprised. You were pretty good at this… the reasoning behind it was probably just another one of your many secrets, he’s sure.

“S’not so bad, actually. You do this a lot?” 

“Not anymore… but I was a little rich girl, remember? Did embroidery and needlepoint since I was a little kid. I kind of miss it, actually.” 

“A gunslinger misses doin’ needlepoint?” he chuckled, feeling the hole in his skin being patched back together. Now you just gotta do the other side. 

“Well sure,” you furrowed your brows, leaning forward to bite the thread again and pull his body so you could see the exit wound. “I used to sit on the porch of my house and do it with my mama.”

He felt sorrowful all of a sudden. “Were you uh… close with your mother?”

You nodded, not speaking in fears you’d tear up, or your voice would crack. The way you both were sitting, he couldn’t see the direct look on your face, but he understood it was probably a sensitive subject. 

Oh to think, what a life you may have led if you were not born a girl. You missed your mother, and your old friends from school. You missed being able to do needlepoint, and other more feminine activities. 

“You know what I hate most about this life?” you uttered, your voice shallow, but you didn’t seem to care all that much anymore. He seemed to take a genuine interest in your problems, and your personal feelings. It was more than you could say about most men. “I haven’t worn a dress in four years… and I really love dresses.”

This wasn’t the meltdown you saw yourself having in front of Arthur, but he didn’t mind it. He placed his opposite hand on your shoulder as you bit off the last thread to seal his wounds. 

“How about this… someday, when you’ve told everyone that you’re- y’know…” he trailed, nodding his head around for emphasis. “I’ll buy you a dress in town. Whichever one you want.”

You couldn’t help but smile. In the span of one day, you’d gone through nearly every emotion you possibly could with this man, but in the end, your resolve had again been weakened, and you found yourself falling into his crystal eyes once more. 

“Thank you, Arthur… You’re a kind man, you know?” 

He shook his head. “Not so kind to most.”

You knew not to argue with him, as you were learning, he was very self deprecating, and there was no changing his mind. You took a leap, unsure of what might come of it, but you wanted to show your gratuity some other way. 

You quickly leaned forward, kissing his cheek ever so softly, almost as if it didn’t even happen. When you sat back, his eyes were a bit wider, and his brows were raised. He seemed to be frozen in surprise, and words failed him. You didn’t want him to possibly find words that could hurt, so you stood up to leave, calling after him whilst walking away. 

“Goodnight, Arthur.”

And that would have been good enough, but your heart skipped a beat when your sentiment was returned. 

“Night, Red.”

Tags: @photo1030 @sheepdogchick @snoopysshark @strvberrydoll

[blackbat05]

Unexpected Refuge

Detective! Joaquin x Bookstore Owner! Reader

Plot: Your book store is a place of refuge for those seeking knowledge, and shelter?

Genre: PG-13

A/N: K-drama giving me ideas once again. Also SDCC 2024 announcements?!!! Just blew my mind🤯 Excuse me for the poor execution, really wrote this on a whim. Also realized that Joaquin was a character I wrote before I went into a mental health crisis😂 How time flies~ (Tag update because I am a nuisance: @tom-whore-dleston)

The man pants heavily as he darts into the nearest alley. Shouts of anger and thinly veiled threats were getting closer. He’s proud of his stamina but he can’t keep running away from them. He needs to recover his energy.

But where?

A light shines up ahead and without a second thought, the man races towards what could be his potential temporary safehouse.

Bang!

There were no customers inside. Just plenty of books, and a wide-eyed woman blinking at the hurricane of a man that just stormed her store.

He hurriedly digs into the inside of his coat, showing his credentials.

“I’m so sorry, my name is Joaquin Torres. I’m a Detective and it may sound crazy to you but I’m being chased by a group of Gangsters and I could really use some shelter.” His plea comes out in rapid fire.

The poor woman takes a quick look at his badge and for a brief moment, Joaquin believed that she was going to toss him to the dogs.

“This way.” She leads him further into the store and opens a latch on the floor that leads to storage. “In here!” She commands with urgency.

As soon as Joaquin is safely tucked away, she locks the latch and places stacks of books on top of it. The door flies open and the same Gangsters rowdily burst into the store. Joaquin feels a tinge of guilt. He can’t imagine how her store must be tossed upside down thanks to him.

What he didn’t expect was the woman holding her ground and demanding the Gangsters to leave as they apparently ruined one of her newest books that was just bought in.

“And stay out!” She screeches before flipping the sign to inform customers that they were closed for the day.

“Um…” The woman reverts back into her bashful form that Joaquin was amazed at her acting skills. “They’re gone. You can come out now.” The door opens and she helps Joaquin out.

“Thank you.” Joaquin doesn’t know what else to add. His shoes are suddenly very interesting.

“I thought you were lying about being a cop.” Her voice is soft and gentle, causing the insides of his stomach to do a couple of flips. “I guess not. Those guys were scary.” The tension breaks and Joaquin grins at her becoming flustered at the attention he was giving her.

“You can stay here for a while more. To make sure.” She offers.

Joaquin really wanted to. But if he didn’t get back to the precinct. Sam will have his ass.

“I would love to but my partner’s waiting for me. I should probably go.”

She nods in understanding, “Of course. Be careful.” The two walk to the door and she pops her head out to make sure that the coast was clear. She smelled like berries and vanilla.

“Coast clear, officer.”

He liked the way it sounded on her lips. He didn’t want it to be the last time.

“Um… would you like to have dinner sometime?”

She raises her eyebrows in question and Joaquin hurriedly explains, “It’s not what you think! I just wanted to thank you for today. Really. You saved my life. Not many people do that. I usually do most of the saving- I guess I should shut up now.” He observed her amused expression as he continued to ramble.

“Sure. I know a great steak place.”

***

“Hey Barnes! Torres here has a date! Any tips?” Captain Sam Wilson, loud as ever whenever he felt like heckling his best friends follows Joaquin around like a wart on his foot.

“Leave the man alone, Sam.” James Barnes gives him the middle finger. Cool blues turning to Joaquin, “Just be yourself. Everything will be fine.”

Yeah, not exactly reassuring either.

The old fashioned way it is.

Joaquin finds himself standing in front of your bookstore with a bouquet of roses in his hand. He catches your eye and you give him a sign to give you a couple more minutes as you cleaned and locked up the place for the night.

“Thanks for waiting!” You rushed out in sunflower colored dress, looking radiant. He swears his heart thumped loudly against his chest. “I was surprised to get your call.”

“Well, I made a promise.” Joaquin leads the way to the Steak Restaurant where you had the absolute time of your life chatting with the boyish detective in front of you.

“Oh my god! That really happened?” You laughed, tears forming in your eyes. “It seems to be like a recurring thing going on in your team.”

The two of you headed down the street after that sumptuous meal. Your hair is tousled all over the place and you feel like you’ve just ate a whole cow, but Joaquin doesn’t take his attention of you for a second.

As he recounts another mishap during a undercover mission with Sam, a wolf whistle rings through the air and a figure, no- three of them appear from the dark alley, each looking more menacing then the other.

Joaquin’s mind kicks into overdrive instantly and feels you tense up against beside him. He instinctively moves forward to shield you from them. But they’re not blind.

“Look who we found… Detective Joaquin Torres and oh! I see you got company.” The middle one leers at you and Joaquin has the urge to punch it off his face. You give his hand a squeeze, as if to reassure him to do whatever he needs to do to get these suckers.

As quickly and quietly as possible, you take out your pepper spray and ball your fist to conceal it from them.

“How is it that you three assholes show up at the most inconvenient timing?” Joaquin distracts them.

They smirk at each other and Joaquin lunges forward to take the middle and left man onto the ground, leaving the last as easy prey for you to pepper spray him to your heart’s content.

What you didn’t expect was the man to wildly brandish a pocket knife, nicking you in the process as he swings it around.

“Ah!” You hissed loudly, clutching your left hand. Joaquin immediately turns his attention to you and swiftly takes the third man down with ease.

He dials in a number and police cars arrive in no time to take the men away. Joaquin jogs over to you while a uniformed policewoman helps to bandage your hand.

“Let me.” He smiles and thanks his colleague for the efforts and works on finishing the job in silence. You can’t read minds, but you could guess.

“Hey, it’s not your fault.” You reassure him.

Joaquin doesn’t say anything. He lets out a small exhale. So you try again.

“In fact, I feel pretty badass. Don’t you think?” You gently pry your hand away and show him your now bandaged hand proudly, grinning from ear to ear.

“Torres!”

The Captain jogs over, giving a pat on his back. “Came as quickly as I could. Everything alright?”

“Yeah. Thanks Sam.” Joaquin reassures. Sam nods, his gaze falling onto you.

“This is the girl you couldn’t stop talking about?”

“Ok, Sam. Stop.” Joaquin pleads, trying to push him as far away from you without much success.

“He was asking me how to impress you! Hey? I didn’t get your name though!” Sam yells over his shoulder, making you laugh at their antics.

“Y/N! I’ll see you around Sam!”

“Oooh I like her already, don’t fuck up Torres.”

“Leave!” Joaquin has to push Sam into the car and makes his way back to you, looking sheepish.

“Sorry, about that. Sam can’t seem to keep his mouth shut.”

A pocket of silence fills the air and you have to know.

“You were trying to impress me?”

Joaquin blinks. He momentarily opens his mouth and comically looks like a fish out of water. “Did it work?”

“Well…” You pretend to tap your chin carefully and Joaquin squirms in his shoes a little. “You impressed me the moment you came bursting into my store seeking for shelter.”

You laugh at Joaquin’s groan. “Not the answer that I was expecting.”

You give him a peck on the cheek and Joaquin momentarily freezes. “Is that a better answer?”

He holds his hand to the cheek that you just left a kiss on. For a moment, you’re scared that you’ve fried Joaquin’s internal circuits to respond coherently. But he breaks into a foolishly but adorably big smile.

Joaquin holds you by the waist and brings you closer to him and gives you a kiss of his own that leaves you spinning senseless.

“One hundred percent.”

[moonlightspencie]

Help Me Hold on to You

Description: Ted and the reader struggle with balancing mental health and everyday life. (Based on The Archer by Taylor Swift)

Pairing: Ted Lasso x fem!Reader

Warnings: depictions of anxiety and panic

Word Count: 8.9k

A/N: one of my all time favs that i’ve written (and, not to sound conceited, one of my favs in general bc it was super self-indulgent hehe). originally posted on tumblr. then dropped onto ao3. now it’s back on tumblr.

“Hey, Y/N. Whatcha up to?” Ted burst into your shared office, a wide-eyed look on his face.

You shook your head with a smirk, “Just going over the last game, trying to figure out what we can do better next time.”

You paused the video on your laptop, shutting it and looking up to him expectantly. He pulled a chair up next to you, suddenly looking a little nervous.

“I know that look, Ted. What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, plastering on a smile. “Nothing.”

“You wouldn’t have come interrupting me unless you had something you wanted to talk about.”

His face dropped, nodding slowly. “I’m getting kind of sick of you reading me like a book, sweetheart.”

“No, you’re not.”

He chuckled, looking back at you. “Okay, guilty. Uh, I’m not sure how to address this, so I guess I better just come out and say it, huh?”

You nodded back at him, silent, but with a reassuring smile.

He clapped once. “So, uh, nobody really knows about this, but I’ve been dealing with some anxiety lately. I, uh— I don’t really want anyone knowing about it, so if you could…”

“I’ll be quiet as a mouse in a trap.”

He raised a brow. “Morbid.”

“My colloquialisms can’t be as silly and polished as yours, friend.”

He smiled. “Guess not. Don’t really have room in my head for ‘em right now, though.”

You shrugged. “That’s okay. I like you whether or not you’re acting like a landscaper’s favorite machine.”

He paused for a moment, trying to put the pieces together. Then, his face lit up.

“Chipper?”

You simply pointed at him with a wink.

“Nice,” he said with a smile. He looked back down to his hands, smile melting. “So, um, I guess I just wanted you to know. That was the reason I had to leave the game, actually. It wasn’t food poisoning, but it just seems easier to let people believe that, you know? But, anyway. You seem to be good with these kinds of things, and I just… I don’t know.”

“Sometimes it’s nice just to tell someone, yeah?”

He nodded with a small grin. “Rebecca’s seen it happen once, but I think that’s about it. I made an appointment to speak with the doc, but I just couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

He shrugged, head shaking. “It’s bull.”

“Ted, you remember what you told me when I talked to you about my issues with trust?”

He raised a brow. “I told you nobody good would hurt you like…”

“You told me that all people are different people. You’ve said it a few times around me, I know you’ve told other people the same. And you know what?”

“What?” His brows sat raised.

“You need to start taking your own advice.”

“I don’t like when you do that.”

“Do what?” You laughed.

He chuckled with you. “When you’re right. I’m not supposed to be a quitter, either.”

“Not for the good things, anyway, huh?”

He nodded. “Thank you.”

He started standing, but you stood with him before he could go anywhere.

“Hey, there’s something I want you to know, too.”

“Shoot,” he said, gesturing for you to continue.

“I deal with anxiety, too. A lot, actually.”

He furrowed his brow. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t want you to worry.”

“Well, now I am.”

“Don’t. I can cope, I just— I want you to know you’re not alone in this, okay? I get panic attacks, anxiety attacks, I deal with more minor symptoms pretty much every day. And you know what? It doesn’t make me any less of a person. Doesn’t make you, either.”

You saw the tears that began to prick his eyes, but decided to leave that situation alone. Instead, you pulled him in for a hug. He hugged back hard, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You heard him take a few shaky breaths before he pulled back, wiping at his eyes.

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t ever apologize for vulnerability. Least not to me, cause I know exactly how you’re feeling and it’s okay. I promise,” you reached for his hand, giving it a squeeze.

He smiled at you, trying to hold back from letting any more tears fall.

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing, Ted. I do want you to try going back to doctor Sharon, though. She’s a good woman.”

He nodded, glancing at where your hand still held his own. He squeezed it again, then left you to get back to your work. You sat for a while, unable to focus on anything but what he’d told you. You hoped like hell he had really listened to you.

It wasn’t until the next day that you’d found he’d both listened to and simultaneously completely ignored you. You were walking down the hall from the office when you saw him.

“Hey,” you called out to him, both hands on his chest to stop him from moving when you got close enough. “Your appointment is supposed to be right now. What happened to—”

“I can’t do it.”

He grabbed one of your wrists, trying to move you. You refused to budge.

“No. Uh-uh. Why did you leave?”

“I’m not talking to someone who’s only there cause she’s paid.”

You raised a brow. “Excuse me, Lasso. Are you not getting paid to do your job?”

He huffed out a sigh.

“Don’t you get attitude with me,” you dropped your hands, but didn’t move from where you stood. “I gotta go, but you’re trying again tomorrow, you hear me?”

“Y/N—”

“You’re going. Non-negotiable.”

He dropped his shoulders. “Fine. I’ll try.”

You nodded once, a smile of victory on your face. “And by the way, I think Keeley’s smoking in the boot room. Might wanna see what that’s about, yeah?”

He tilted his head, a chuckle leaving him. You patted him on the shoulder as you passed to leave the building.

Your day from then on was a long one. You were running around with Beard for part of it, trying to work on strategy for the upcoming game against Man City. The whole Richmond team was on edge, and you were beginning to worry that the nervousness alone might end up being the end-all to the game. You were a firm believer that winning had as much to do with the power of the mind as the power of the body. If they were going in thinking they were going to lose— lose they would.

“That’s a little dramatic,” Beard said over his beer.

You rolled your eyes, sipping at your drink.

“It’s not. Same line of thinking as Ted’s ‘Believe’ sign. I’m just being a little more explicit about what I mean when I say it.”

He chuckled. “You two are more alike than I think you even realize, you know?”

“I think I realize.”

“Do you?”

You shrugged, nodding slightly.

“Both crazy about this team, and even more crazy about you,” you teased, flicking at the brim of his hat.

He hid a smile behind his glass. “Your never-ending optimism and knack for flattery is also pretty similar.”

You hummed in agreement. “Can’t argue with ya, there.”

“So, what do you think we should do, then?”

You shrugged. “Find some way to cheer up the team. Get them excited for the game rather than scared of losing.”

He nodded, brows raised. “Any way of implementing that?”

“I’ll figure it out, I’m sure.” You leaned back. “Remember that game against Kansas State? Our boys were so freaked about it all, then Ted did his thing and got them so excited to play…”

“Beat their asses.”

“Yeah, we did.”

You both went in for a quick high five before continuing.

“Remember how he did it?”

“Told ‘em they needed to loosen up. We had a dance party and ordered pizza.”

You smiled. “Yep. What do you say we make something like that happen again? Day before we travel, let’s do it.”

He smirked, a brow raised. “Sounds perfect. You gonna tell Ted?”

You shrugged. “I think he could use the surprise just as much as the players.”

He narrowed his eyes at you.

You put your hands up. “What’s that look about?”

He just shook his head silently.

“I’m not treating him any different.”

He raised a brow, sipping at his drink again.

“Ted’s been going through it lately, I just think he needs a little cheer up. Nothing else.”

He set down his drink, then sat up straight, eyes still trained on you.

“Quit lecturing me, Beard,” you chuckled. “I know you always think I have some thing for him, but why can’t it just be that I care about people, huh?”

“I see through it.”

You paused for a moment. “I hate that.”

He smirked, and you both finished eating.

You went home yourself, denying a walk-back from Beard. You appreciated the gesture, but the air was beginning to feel thick and suffocating. The last thing you wanted was for him to see you like that.

As much as you tried pretending like the state of the team wasn’t affecting you, you knew that trying to be the fixer for this situation was weighing on you. More than you thought it would.

You tried swallowing, feeling your throat pretending to swell just to spite you. You rushed even faster towards your flat, feeling that the oncoming attack wasn’t going to be so routine.

As soon as you were in your door, your knees hit the floor, head between your arms on the carpet. You tried to control your breathing, but it was no use. Tears fell, though you’d hardly noticed as you’d refused to open your eyes. The bleariness you were bound to find if you opened them would only make the situation worse. You began to worry about passing out if you couldn’t control your breathing, and decided to roll yourself onto your side, whole body pushing through tremors you hadn’t felt in a few months, at least.

The ringing of your phone didn’t aid your situation. You desperately hoped it wasn’t an emergency, because there was no way you’d be able to make it over to where you’d dropped your purse. But, it kept ringing. Four separate calls over the span of probably half an hour.

It was another good half an hour after the calls had stopped before you were composed enough to open your eyes, and pull yourself into a sitting position on the ground. Though, you wouldn’t have known. Time never seemed to make any sense in those situations.

You worked on breathing in and out slowly, wiping away at any remaining tears. The shaking hadn’t yet ceased, but at least that was manageable. Right as you started trying to stand, you heard the loud buzzing of someone asking to be let in. You made it over, asking who was there.

“It’s me. Are you okay?” Ted’s voice came through.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Hang on,” you said, letting him in.

It wasn’t long before a knock was at the door, and you wished he wasn’t so quick. No amount of post-panic-primping in a fifteen-second slot could make you look presentable enough to get past him. You opened the door, putting on a smile and hoping he would be too preoccupied with something else to look directly at you for too long.

His face dropped the second he saw you, of course.

“What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “I’m okay.”

He walked in, leaving you to close the door and follow him.

“No way, McConaughey. You can’t hide tears from me, I got eagle eyes for that sort of thing.”

You crossed your arms. “I’ve just had a long night.”

He watched you for a moment, picking up on the fact that you wouldn’t be sharing any time soon. He nodded slowly.

“Okay, that’s fine. If you don’t want to talk right now, that’s okay,” he smiled softly, then wrapped you in a tight hug.

You welcomed it, arms wrapping around his middle, head buried in his chest.

“You were honest with me,” you started after a moment, “so, I guess I should be with you. I just came down from a pretty bad panic attack. I couldn’t breathe, hardly made it home… I just—”

“It’s okay,” he said, rubbing your back as he spoke. “We don’t have to talk about details. Thank you for telling me.”

You nodded. “Thank you for coming.”

“You always answer when I call. I knew something had to be up.”

“What if I was just in the shower?”

“You still always call me back right away. I had over an hour of radio silence from you.”

You chuckled. “I didn’t know you had it down to such a science.”

He laughed back, pulling away from you just enough to see your face.

“There she is,” he said, a smile on his face.

“And she is a mess.”

“We all get a little messy sometimes, though, don’t we?”

You nodded. “Gotta agree with that.”

He looked at you for a moment or two with a soft smile on his face, and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, especially since Beard was also on your ass about it, that was the moment you knew. You felt your heart rate pick up, and didn’t know what to do but escape. You stepped back, leaving him looking a little confused.

“I think I need some sleep, Ted.”

His eyes were wide, looking at you. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll be fine. I just need time alone, now. I need rest.”

“Okay, yeah,” he nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Uh, alright, well I will see you tomorrow bright and early, right?”

You nodded, giving him a quick smile.

“Anything else I can do for you?”

You shook your head. “No. I’m okay.”

He nodded again, watching you with those big, worried eyes. You wished he would stop with that. He waved a quick goodbye, leaving you alone.

You settled into bed, though you were unable to sleep. You couldn’t stop thinking about the team. Or Ted. Or the fact that you couldn’t help but self-sabotage any chance you got. You wiped away a few stray tears, and closed your eyes, hoping sleep would take over soon.

You woke up from a couple hours of sleep to a text. Of course, from Ted.

- Excited to see you today for coaches meeting :) I’m proud of you

You sighed, setting your phone down next to you. The guy didn’t seem to have a single mean bone in his body, and here you were wallowing in the fact that you couldn’t help but feel like you brought down everyone around you. As much as you tried to remain positive in every situation, you knew your mood affected the people around you whenever you were a little down in the dumps. You got up, hoping you could at least try to disguise it as well as possible for the day. At least for the morning.

You stopped to get coffee on the way in, delivering each drink with a smile. You sat next to Ted to watch the tapes, giving him the most convincing smile you could.

“You seem better today,” he said quietly, a smile on his face.

You nodded. “Yeah.”

The next few days you were preoccupied with setting up the party for the team, and luckily it kept you busy enough to not fall back into the hole you’d had to crawl out of. If there was one thing you were proud of, it was your ability to pull yourself out of the hardest places. Maybe it wasn’t always through the best methods, but you figured that doing what you needed to was working just fine. If it ain’t broke, after all.

“Howdy, howdy!” Ted chimed, walking in.

You shut your laptop quickly, still taking pride in the fact that you were successfully keeping the event from him.

He quirked a brow, nodding towards your laptop. “What’s that about?”

“Nothing you need to worry about right now. What’s up?”

He rubbed his hands together, leaning against your desk with a cheesy grin.

“Guess.”

“You got another jar of barbecue sauce?”

He laughed. “Yes, actually, but that’s not what this is all about, buttercup. It’s about you.”

You furrowed your brow. “What?”

“Well, kinda,” he said with a light chuckle. “I’ve been seeing the doc a lot more frequently, now.”

You lit up. “Oh, I’m so proud of you!”

“You’ll be even more proud in a second. Get this, she actually said that she’s glad me and you are friends.”

You crinkled your nose, laughing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I told her about all of your help over the past few sessions, and she told me to tell you, little lady, that I am lucky to have you.”

He nudged your shoulder as he ended the sentence, and you hoped he wouldn’t notice how you tried hiding a smile.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks as he finished out by saying, “I gotta say, I agree with her.”

“In that case, you’re welcome.”

He smiled again, hopping up to sit on your desk. “So, what are you up to?”

“You’ll find out later. Later today, actually.”

He raised his brows. “Oh yeah?”

You nodded, “Mhm. I really think you’re gonna love it, too.”

He gasped, “Did you get me those funky shoes from Gucci I showed you the other day?”

“What?” You scrunched up your face. “No, of course not. Those things were horrible.”

He paused, as if to say something, before raising his brows and nodding in agreement.

“Okay, so what is it?”

“Wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you, would it?”

He dropped his shoulders. “Aw, come on. Telling me you have a surprise and not saying what it is… That’s worse than telling your dog you’re going on a walk then leaving him home.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“You’re right, that’s just evil. But you know I like to know things.”

You reached over, patting his knee. “I know, but I think you can survive til after practice.”

“Training,” he corrected.

“Ted, we’re both American. You don’t need to adjust your language with me.”

“See, that’s why I love talking to you,” he laughed, poking at your shoulder.

You shook your head, “Okay, now get out of here so I can finish up.”

“I’ll see you at practice, huh?” He raised an eyebrow, looking a little too pleased with himself for switching up his terminology.

You laughed. “See you there, coach.”

Beard walked in a while later, looking at you expectantly.

“Yes, I’m almost ready. Pizza will be here about ten minutes before we’re done, so I’ll excuse myself a little early, and I’ve got Keeley and Higgins doing some decorating in the locker room while we’re out.”

“You know my favorite thing about you?” He asked as he sat down in his seat.

“Fact that you don’t have to actually say anything to talk to me?”

He smirked, nodding. “Exactly.”

You both laughed, then sat back and waited for the boys to make it to the locker room. Ted came in, a big smile on his face as he did.

“Hey, there are two of my favorite people on this whole planet!”

“Still not telling you,” you said, giving a glance at Beard.

He only shook his head, going back to his book.

“Hey!” Ted exclaimed, pointing to Beard. “You know, too?”

“Know what?” Nate asked as he walked in.

You kept talking, “Keeley and Higgins, too. Oh, and Rebecca, actually, but she can’t be a part of it today.”

Ted glared at you as he went to his desk chair, Roy coming in behind him as he did.

“You talking about what Keeley told me she can’t tell me about?”

“Yep,” you responded, leaning back in your seat.

He grunted in response, arms crossing over his chest. You all worked on the game plan for ‘training’, then headed out with the team to get started on the last home practice before the big game. You knew nerves were high the whole time, and were all the more focused on making sure your little pizza party was a relief for everyone. You excused yourself to bring in the pizzas with your two accomplices, and then waited outside the door until the team came barging in. You heard shouts of approval from them all as they saw the decor and food, smiling as the work you’d done was starting to prove to be a good idea. Beard and Ted wandered in a moment after the last boy was in the locker room, a smile on Ted’s face as he heard them all.

“This the surprise?” He asked as he approached you.

You smiled, nodding. Beard moved past you to enter.

“Remember Kansas State?”

He raised his brows, smile only growing. “You didn’t.”

You nodded once more. “I did.”

He scooped you up in a hug, spinning you around.

“You are the best,” he said, setting you back down with a kiss to your cheek. Luckily, the smile on your face could easily be chalked up to the surprise paying off rather than the show of intimacy from your friend. “Well, come on, let’s shake a leg so I can shake some booty.”

You laughed at that, following behind him into the chaos.

“Hey!” He called out to everyone. “Y’all say thank you to Y/N for all this.”

A chorus of ‘thank you’s erupted, and you laughed as Ted pulled you into his side.

“Couldn’t have done it without Keeley and Higgins, y’all. They did all the decorating, I just recycled an old idea of coach, here.”

The team chuckled, then went back to celebrating as the music started.

He looked to you, eyes narrowed. “You’re being way too modest. This happened cause you put your heart and soul into this team.”

“I learned from the best, Lasso.”

He looked at you quietly, a small smile on his face, then shook his head. He pulled you into the small crowd, and you all spent the next couple hours letting loose before you had to check in with reality again.

The party seemed to have helped. Morale was up as you prepared for the game, and at minimum you knew that even if you still lost, they likely wouldn’t take it quite as hard. That helped your conscience, if anything.

One more thing that took a weight off of your shoulders was what happened before the game even started. Ted told the other coaches about his struggles with anxiety before the game. He came clean about it all, and you knew he felt good about finally letting it go to them. As the others started walking out, you held him back, making sure he knew just how proud of him you were.

“I wish I had your confidence.”

He patted your back. “But, you also love your privacy. That’s okay, you know? You also do a much better job holding it down than I do when it comes to this type of thing.”

You swallowed. “I’m not so sure about that. I know how to cope the best way I can, but I think it’s much more brave that you decided to open up to them about this.”

“Hey, don’t be hard on yourself about this,” he said, a hand on your shoulder. “Besides, I’m only doing okay right now cause I’m seeing the doc so often.”

“You saying I need to see someone about this?”

He shook his head. “No. You helped me realize that, for me, going to see her was what I needed. I hope in some way I can help you realize that you should do whatever is best for you. We’re all different people with different experiences, right?”

“Right. Thanks, Ted.”

You sighed. Leaning into his side for a moment, then broke away, clapping once.

“Okay, now let’s go win this.”

The game was lost, but everyone moved past it. You knew most of that was because of Ted and his affection for the goldfish attitude, though he tried like anything to convince you they wouldn’t be feeling so okay if it wasn’t for the little morale boost you’d given everyone before it all started.

He’d also inadvertently managed to convince you to see Dr. Fieldstone.

You knocked on her door, and she looked up from her seat to see you staring at her with a smile from the doorway.

“Come on in, coach,” she said, gesturing at the chair in front of her.

You nodded, looking around the room as you sat. You noted the little bird next to you, tapping it just enough to get it going.

“I like your decorations,” you said with a smile, then looked back at her. “Also, please call me Y/N. I hardly let the boys get away with calling me coach outside of games.”

She smiled. “I see.”

“So, uh, it’s good to finally talk with you. I know we’ve seen one another in passing a few times, but I’ve been exceptionally busy lately or else I would have come and given a proper hello. I really appreciate all of the work you’ve been doing with the team. You seem like a very kind, compassionate woman. I’m happy to have you here, honestly.”

She just watched as you talked, a light grin on her face as you did, though most of the humor rested in her eyes.

You paused for just a moment, though when she didn’t speak up, you took it as an invitation to keep going.

“Uh, so, I’m not really sure how this goes. I’ve only been to see a therapist once before and it didn’t go great. Though, I promise I won’t hold it against you. I’ve just learned how to cope on my own after that experience, but Ted kind of convinced me to try to find what would work best for me moving forward, and I thought—”

“I see why you two are so close,” she chuckled. “I feel as though I know you already.”

Your brows raised. “Really? How so?”

“Well, between how talkative you’ve become now that you’re nervous, and the fact that I’ve heard quite a lot about you in general, I’d say I have an idea of who you are.”

You let out a quick laugh. “Gosh, I’m sorry. I get kind of chatterbox-y when I talk to someone new.”

“Or when you get nervous, yeah?”

You nodded slowly, looking down for a moment. “Yeah. That, too. Guess it kinda goes hand-in-hand with some of my anxiety business, huh?”

She shrugged, though gave you a look that implied she’d agreed with your statement. You smirked, as did she.

“You said you’ve seen a therapist once before?”

You nodded. “Yes, but it didn’t seem to help. They hardly listened to me, and then told me that maybe exercising and breathing exercises would help. Gave me that advice four sessions in a row without really ever caring to know why I was dealing with panic and anxiety and everything else.”

She raised a brow. “I’m sorry you had to experience that. Now, I know you might not be able to trust me—”

“Oh, no. I totally trust you, Doc. I’ve seen how great you’ve been with the team, and I learned from a good friend a long time ago that everyone has a different story. You don’t deserve to be compared like that.”

Her brows really shot up with that being said. She nodded slowly, writing something down as she did.

“Well, thank you for that. That was kind of you to say.”

You smiled at her. “I appreciate you. Really.”

“This need to reassure the people around you, do you think that might have anything to do with what you’re struggling with?”

Your eyes widened, almost shocked at the statement. You understood now how she’d made so much progress with Ted. You continued talking about what you needed to, but the session was coming to a close quickly.

“Uh, one more thing, doc?”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Thanks for what you said about me to Ted.”

She quirked a brow. “And what was that?”

“You told him I was good for him.”

“You are,” she said, nodding. “I think the both of you need to be reminded that you don’t always have to turn on the personality for someone to love you. I think you do that well. Both of you.”

You chuckled. “You… Are one wise woman, Dr. Sharon.”

She laughed. “I am pretty great at my job.”

“Well, thank you again,” you said, starting to walk towards the door.

“Y/N,” she called out, and you turned. “Try to remember that the whole world isn’t on your shoulders, yeah? You believe everyone deserves to know love and comfort, but you are one of those people, too.”

You nodded, taking in a deep breath, then said your goodbyes. You pulled out your phone as you left her office. Being the last appointment for the day, you knew most people had already gone home, but you felt like getting some food. You dialed Ted’s number and waited expectantly, heading towards the door.

He answered, but didn’t speak.

You furrowed your brow, exiting the building.

“Ted?” You asked, waiting for a reply.

His voice came through, shaky and nervous-sounding. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Whoa, hold on, what’s up with you?”

“I— I’m kind of…” he trailed off, taking in a hard breath.

“Are you at home?”

You started walking more quickly, heading towards his flat.

“Yeah.”

“I’m coming to you, okay?”

You heard a sniffle on the other end, and a weak ‘okay’ in response. You hung up, and practically ran the rest of the way there. He buzzed you in, and you were up the stairs, bursting into his apartment in no time. He was sitting on his couch in his undershirt and khakis, clearly having been in the middle of undressing when he got hit with whatever ailed him.

You rushed over to the couch, standing next to him. He looked up at you, still crying.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked softly, reaching over to touch his arm.

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Can I hug you?”

He nodded quickly, standing up and clinging to you like a child. You held him, hands rubbing up and down his back as he cried, head shaking every so often, disagreeing with the thoughts in his own head.

“I can’t even…” he trailed, mumbling against your shoulder.

“What is it, hun?” You asked, still trying to calm him as much as possible.

“Am I a shitty dad? I don’t—”

“No, no. Of course you aren’t.”

“I can’t even pick up my son from a sleepover. He had a nightmare and wanted to go home and I couldn’t be there for him,” he turned his head, cheek against your shoulder now.

You reached up to run your nails through his hair. “You’re like the best dad I could think of. Even thousands of miles apart, you spend more time talking to your kid than I ever got with my dad in the same house. He knows you love him.”

“I quit on his mom. I’m not supposed to be a quitter.”

“You didn’t quit. You didn’t forfeit. Game time was up, the match was over. Nothing you could do at that point, Ted.”

He sniffled, then nodded. “You really think so?”

“You were both fighting so long for something that only hurt the both of you. It was coming to an end naturally. You just finally had the strength to let it end, even though it was hard.”

He nodded again, and fell silent for a few minutes, still holding on to you for dear life.

“Ted?” You asked.

He hummed in question.

“Can I get you some water? I don’t want you to get dehydrated.”

“Yeah,” he said, then let you go, sitting back on the couch.

You filled up a glass from the tap, handing it to him and kneeling in front of him. He drank some, then handed the glass back to you to set down on the coffee table.

“Good, thank you for drinking some,” you smiled.

He laughed humorlessly. “I’m a child.”

“You just need to be cared for a little bit right now. I know stuff like this is all new to you still, I don’t think being comforted and coddled a little is gonna hurt all that much.”

He smirked. “I guess not. Thank you. For coming here.”

You stood, going to sit next to him.

“It’s nothing. You’d do the same for me. Heck, you kind of have already, you just didn’t have to witness the crying part.”

He chuckled. “That’s… Embarrassing. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not embarrassing at all,” you said, then leaned back into the cushions. “You feel like food?”

“I don’t know if going out right now—”

“I was going to order in. Thought we could watch tv or a movie or something and hang out for a while.”

He looked to you with a soft smile, nodding.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

The next day, you woke up feeling better than you had in a while. You felt well rested, and even went to pick up coffee for everyone despite it not being a film-watching day. You made your way to the office, though you found it much more somber than you were expecting.

“Whoa,” you started as everyone watched you walk in with the tray of drinks. “Who died?”

Apparently that was a poorly timed question.

You showed up at the funeral, heading right to Rebecca for a hug.

“Hi, love,” you said, squeezing her a little tighter than normal. “You okay?”

She nodded. “I’m alright.”

You pulled back, giving her a smile. “For what it’s worth, you look hot.”

She laughed, “Charming as always, my friend.”

“It’s what I do best.”

You heard the squeal of Keeley before you saw her.

“You look gorgeous!” She said as she hugged you.

“Babe, it’s a funeral.”

“Still look hot,” she said with a grin before moving on to Rebecca.

You gave a quick hello to Roy.

“She’s… Weird about funerals.”

You nodded. “Right. Well, I’ll be back. Ted was supposed to be here before me and isn’t picking up his phone now.”

Roy furrowed his brow. “Really? I’m shocked you didn’t come together.”

You tilted your head. “Why would we?”

“You realize how fuckin’ obvious you are?”

Your face dropped. “Nothing’s happening, Roy.”

He grunted with a shake of his head, and you headed off away from people to try giving Ted another call.

Still no answer.

When it hit his answering machine, you decided to leave it and send a text instead.

- hey, are you okay? i’m at the funeral now. if you show up, i’ll be in the back row waiting for you. if not, i’m coming to you as soon as we’re out of here

You shoved your phone back into your purse, making sure to leave it on vibrate in case he called back. Getting through the day was already hard, and you knew your anxiety was likely going to be more of a when-than-if kind of situation. It only built with the fact that Ted wasn’t getting back to you. You felt like everything was dragging on forever, and it wasn’t until Rebecca was struggling to find the right words in her eulogy that he came in. He sat next to you, squeezing your knee lightly to reassure you as he did, and you gave him a soft smile. Something was off, but even then he had the ability to comfort Rebecca all the way from the back row, continuing to sing the song she’d begun. And, of course, everyone else couldn’t help but join in.

You walked with him to the repast, and took that as an opportunity to ask him about what was going on.

“Ted?”

“Yeah?”

You fell quiet for a moment, unsure of where to start. He started for you.

“If you’re wondering, it was anxiety again. I’m sorry I didn’t respond…”

“Did you at least reach out to Dr. Sharon?”

“Yes.”

You smiled at him. “Okay, I’m glad. Proud of you.”

He smirked, then looked around the neighborhood for a moment.

“Uh, we talked about my dad.”

Your eyes widened. He’d hardly ever talked to you about what happened because he could never get through without crying.

“Wow. Are you okay? I know that’s always really hard for you…”

“She helped me see the good in him again, you know? I was always so angry with him for leaving us, but he did more than leave us. He was…” He trailed off with a shaky breath. You reached over, taking his hand, and he held onto yours firmly. “He was a great dad. She helped me remember that.”

“I’m happy you could talk to her about it, Ted. Seriously.”

He nodded, one hand going up to wipe at his eyes. “I guess it just hit me thinking about today…”

“I know. I’ve been pretty on edge today, too.”

“Are you okay?” He rushed out, looking at you.

You nodded with a smile, “Much better now that I know you are.”

He squeezed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. You tried to stave off the sick feeling in your stomach telling you to run the other way. You wished you could just enjoy a nice moment with him, but you couldn’t help but feel guilty somehow. He was too good for most people, and you considered yourself one of the ones he was too good for. You let it happen for a few seconds longer before you pulled away, pretending like you needed to check your phone in your purse.

“Get a message?” He asked after a moment.

“Uh, I thought I felt it vibrate. Guess not,” you chuckled a little.

He nodded quietly, shoving hands back in his coat pockets. You walked silently side by side until you reached the house, walking inside and beginning to mingle with some of the other guests there. You felt anxiety building, but tried putting it off. You couldn’t tell why it was getting worse and worse, but it was. Your pulse kept speeding no matter how easy you tried taking it.

But, you knew it was about to get way worse when you were suddenly being pulled away from Ted by Beard as a woman approached him. He watched after you with eyes wide for a moment before he turned to her, and you furrowed your brow at Beard when he deposited you in a different room.

“The hell was that about?” You snapped.

Immediately, you knew you needed to get away. It was hard enough feeling anxious, but the last thing you wanted was for your feelings to manifest as anger. But, manifest they did.

“You said you didn’t feel anything for him like that,” he said, testing you.

You scoffed. “Now is not the time, Beard. Who was that, anyways?”

“Remember the name, ‘Sassy’?”

Your stomach dropped, and you could swear the air had just gotten thinner.

“Seriously?”

He shrugged, a little smug. You let out a hard breath, beginning to walk away.

“You said—”

You whipped around. “Cut the shit, Beard. It’s none of your business.”

Eyes fell on you, and the barely contained attack was coming into swing. You started walking towards the back door and into the fresh air, hoping you could contain it all until you could get out of there and go home.

The door opened only a moment later, and you turned to find Beard staring at you.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped like that, I just—”

“You have feelings for him. I know you do.” He shrugged, coming to stand next to you. “What I don’t know is what’s wrong besides that.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re shaking.”

You looked down to see your hands shaking hard as you grasped your arms.

“I—,” you felt tears prick your eyes, and looked away. “I can’t fucking tell him. I’ve known him for years, do you have any clue how shitty it’d be to drop something like that on him? Besides, clearly he’s having fun with…”

You stopped, unable to even say another person’s name.

“The doc told me I self-sabotage, but I don’t think this is that. Is it wrong to want him to be happy? I don’t think I’m the bad guy for that.”

“Nobody said you were.”

“Nobody needs to. I’m a fucking mess. I have no right being upset that he’s happy. I’m a piece of shit,” you whispered at the end, closing your eyes. “I— I need to get out of here. I gotta go, I’m sorry.”

You felt your chest heave, trying to get in air through the invisible smoke that surrounded your head. There was no escaping it, now.

Beard reached out for you, but you already started leaving. He called your name, but you couldn’t handle facing him.

“If anyone asks, please just say I got sick,” you said, back still turned to him.

He sighed, watching as you walked away, holding onto yourself as if you might crumble otherwise. He was worried you actually would, but knew you’d only get more pissed if he tried following you now.

You stumbled along the street, not really sure where you planned on ending up. The closest location was on Nelson Road, so that’s where you found yourself after it all, sinking onto the floor of the office and letting all hell break loose. It was bad enough with how you’d been feeling today, but coupling it all with how ridiculous you felt over being angry that someone else had his attention… That was the thing that nearly pushed you over the edge. Crying and shaking led to dry heaving, dry heaving led to darn near passing out, and that all led to sitting on the ground for who knows how long. You’d always been able to pull yourself out eventually, but you weren’t sure you’d be able to this time.

If people really believed that hope kills, you wished they never had to know what being completely hopeless felt like.

Pretending like you weren’t ever affected by the things that hurt you could only get you so far, and now you were feeling the hard edge of realization that being hit by the things that pained you all at once was so much worse than dealing with it little by little.

Now, a room full of people had seen you crack, too. They all saw through it. The jig was up in a small way that felt huge. Your cover-up act was all you had sometimes, and you couldn’t afford to lose it all because you couldn’t handle seeing Ted with another person, or deal with your emotions before they blew up in your face.

You sobbed, unsure of how you were still awake with how much air escaped you and how little you were taking in. You almost wished you would just pass out for a few hours. Just to escape for a moment.

You heard footsteps fall heavy and quickly down the ball, and it only worsened your panic. The last thing you wanted was for anyone to see you like this, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. You were cemented to the ground, a crying, shaky mess.

“Oh, thank goodness,” you heard a voice that sounded far away, then felt a pair of arms scoop you up and hold you tightly against them. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

You couldn’t stop yourself this time, and just let yourself cry. Ted tried moving your hands away from your face, but you refused to budge.

“Sweetpea, I need to know you’re okay. Can you breathe with me?”

His voice was more clear now, and you heard a tone in it you almost never did.

“Please,” he whispered, and now you knew why he sounded different.

Tears fell against your bare legs, and they weren’t your own.

“Breathe with me, come on,” he coaxed, and you tried your hardest to obey his request.

Once your breathing calmed, you were able to move your hands, though you refused to look up. He pulled you into his lap from where he sat next to you, hands holding you tighter than they ever had before.

“You really scared me,” he said, quiet.

You took in another breath, face against his neck.

“I’m sorry, you shouldn’t be here.”

“What?” He asked, hands gripping you a little tighter. “What do you mean?”

You shook your head. “I’m a mess. You’re supposed to be out having fun.”

He was quiet for a moment before he spoke.

“Why did you…” He huffed out a breath. “I ran to your apartment. Then all your favorite restaurants. I went down all the streets I thought you might have taken, and finally I ended up here. I didn’t know where else to look.”

“Why were you looking?”

“I asked Beard where you were and he said you got sick. You were already not doing so hot, and I knew that was a lie”

“You have better things to be doing right now, Ted.”

“Nothing is more important than being here right now. Nothing. Do you understand me?”

He was taking a harsher tone with you than you were used to. You took a chance and looked up at him to find him in disarray. His tie and jacket were discarded, and his hair was kind of a mess.

“Don’t ever do that again. Please. At least tell someone where you’re going.”

You nodded, taking in the deep worry lines in his face.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“Don’t apologize for that, I just— I was scared.”

You swallowed. “I’m— I’ll be fine. Why don’t you go see your lady friend now.”

He furrowed his brow. “What?”

“I know Beard pulled us away from you two for a reason, Ted. You deserve to be happy. Please don’t let me get in the way of that.”

He raised his brows. “You’re not in the way of anything.”

“Yes, I am.”

“No. You’re not,” he shook his head. “Do you want to know something?”

You sniffed. “What?”

He stroked your cheek with his thumb, then smiled. “She’s kinda pissed at me anyway.”

“Why?”

He took a moment to lean back against the wall, readjusting you in his lap and wrapping his arms around you so that you wouldn’t be able to scoot away. He chewed at his lip for a moment, then looked at you. You stared back, eyes wide, and mascara running all down your face. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight.

Hard as you tried not to, you laughed with him.

“What?”

“Your makeup ran harder than anyone on the team.”

You tried wiping away at it, but he grabbed your hand.

“Quit that.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “It’s kinda cute.”

“Me having a panic attack is cute?”

His eyes nearly bugged out of his head, but stopped when you laughed.

“I’m kidding. Sorry, I couldn’t help it.”

He let out a breath. “Man, I haven’t been that scared since my mom looked in the shoebox under my bed when I was seventeen.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “You didn’t answer me.”

“What?”

“I asked why she was mad at you.”

He nodded slowly, chewing at his bottom lip.

“Uh, well, when I asked Beard where you were and he said you were sick, she was in the middle of trying to get me to go to her hotel room.”

You felt your stomach sink again, looking away in hopes he wouldn’t catch the shift in your demeanor.

He continued, “I told her I had something more important to do. She didn’t like that a whole lot.”

“You did?”

“Yep.”

You swallowed hard. “So, it is my fault.”

He huffed out a sigh. “Can you quit that? I turned down sex to come sit on the ground with you, and you know what? In any case I would always rather be here with you. Panic attack or not. You could literally just ask me to sit on the ground with you and I would always say yes.”

“Well, that’s just dumb.”

He pulled your head towards his chest, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“You always see right through me like I’m a dang department store window. Now, of all times, is when you decide to just… Not get it.”

You played with the buttons of his dress shirt and quirked a brow.

“What the heck are you talking about?”

“You know, I thought you might get it all the times I asked you to come get dinner or coffee with me. Or maybe every time I come bother you and stick around way longer than I normally would with anyone else— and that’s saying something. I was really hoping you’d get it when we were holding hands on our walk today, but of course not.”

He laughed, pressing a quick kiss to the top of your head before he pulled back to look at you. You watched him with wide eyes, questioning his intentions and hoping you weren’t somehow still misreading this.

“You gonna make me say it?” He asked with a smile.

“I’d prefer if you did.”

He laughed, shaking his head. He then looked up at the ceiling, trying to search for the right words to say. They must have come to him, because he looked back to you, and simply stared for a minute before he finally started talking.

“You’re one of the kindest people I know. Like, Mr. Rogers reincarnated. You always know how to cheer me up. You always know how to help me, and everyone else in your life, somehow. I think you’re incredible. I think you are so funny and so talented and crazy smart. I even think you’re stupidly gorgeous when you’ve got makeup running all over your cheeks,” he said with a laugh, then continued when he got reassurance from your smiling face. “I’ve been scared to get close to anyone since… Since the divorce. You made it so easy, though. I’ve known you forever, but now— I guess I just realized a few months ago that nobody’s ever been there for me like you. You never tell me I’m too much. You never expect me to be… I don’t know. You don’t ever expect me to be on all the time. I can just be me, good or bad, and you still treat me the same.”

You watched him with a rapidly beating heart. Though, this time, it wasn’t telling you to run. It wanted nothing more than for you to stay right where you were.

“That’s something the Doc told me. That we’re good for each other because of that,” you said quietly.

He nodded. “I know, and she’s right. She helped me realize I had feelings for you. Real feelings.”

You bit your lip, then grinned. “Are you gonna crack a joke any time soon? Because all of this serious from you is becoming a little scary.”

His face lit up, and he laughed. You smiled with him, leaning into him for a hug. He held you close, taking in several deep breaths and enjoying the moment, then kissed your cheek as he pulled back again.

“Uh, so… Is this just gonna be me confessing and you get to sit there and tell me to do a crap ton of Hail Mary’s?”

You smiled. “There’s my Ted.”

His brows raised. “Your Ted, huh?”

You laughed, wiggling out of his grip. He let you, and you stood up, reaching for him. He stood with you, not letting go of your hands.

“You’re not going to let go of my hand to check a nonexistent message again, right?”

You smiled, looking down. “You caught that?”

“I can read you almost as well as you can read me. I knew something was up.”

You shook your head, walking into him and wrapping him in a hug again.

“I see things are a little better now,” Beard said, leaning against the doorframe of the office.

You let go of Ted, turning towards Beard.

“Hey. I’m sorry about—”

He held up a hand. “Don’t be. I was kind of being an ass anyways.”

You gave him a tight lipped smile, nodding a little.

“You two figure out… All that business?” He asked, pointing between the two of you.

Ted smiled, “Yeah, we did.”

“Good.”

He waved and left with that, the two of you alone once more.

Ted grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

“Let’s go home and maybe… Clean up. We kind of look crazy,” he smiled.

“Can we head to mine first? I want to get out of this dress.”

“Why don’t we just go to mine?”

He raised his brows in question, and you couldn’t help but smile. Now at least you didn’t have to pretend you didn’t think he was adorable.

“I need clothes.”

He quirked a brow. “I think you’d look awfully cute in my clothes.”

You laughed, “Okay, fair enough.”

“Ready to go home, then, sweetpea?”

“Of course.”

[youcouldmakealife]

SOTM: Lourdes Family, David; family traditons

For the prompt: Jake's sisters slowly warming up to David

The problem with Nat and David, Allie decides early on, is that they’re too alike. Not in most ways, really — she doesn’t think they’d agree on much when it comes to their taste in media, or hobbies, or any of that, and she’s sure they’d both be surprised if she said they were similar at all.

But Allie knows Nat better than she knows herself, probably, and she’s made an attempt at getting to know David, because she knows how important it is to Jake, and some of the things that make Natalie Nat to her seem to be pretty similar to the things that make David David.

They’re both quiet, but it’s not shyness with either of them, though it can seem like it unless you know them. As often as not, Nat’s quiet because silently dismantling whatever’s being said in her head, about to spring it on whatever poor unsuspecting person just claimed they ‘could care less’ or called a pterodactyl a dinosaur or something that matters to nobody but Nat. 

Though mostly she doesn’t actually say it to them — unless they’re family, she corrects Allie all the time, and poor Jakey doesn’t stand a chance — she’s saying it as an aside to Allie, or recalling it later ,‘my co-worker thought Babylon was a mythological place, and when I said 'oh yeah, like Bethlehem?' he said 'yeah, exactly!'’ or ‘If I hear someone use literally when they mean figuratively one more time, Allie, I swear I'm going to snap’. 

She’s quiet, and sometimes she seems checked out, but she’s always paying attention to what everyone else is saying. Allie’s learned it’s the same with David — she’ll mention something and then nine months later David will have gotten her a Christmas present based on her offhand comment. Or he’ll ask if she wants the same drink as last time, last time being like, six months ago. Allie doesn’t know if he’s got that kind of memory for everybody, or if it’s just because she’s Jake’s sister, and he’s still trying to impress all of them, but, well — consider her impressed, she guesses.

But also, she’s pretty sure he’s also picking up on the mistakes everybody else makes, except instead of ‘Allie, let me tell you the misspelled bumper sticker I saw today’, she isn’t hearing shit from him. She doesn’t think Jake is either, at least if the people making mistakes are them. And they probably are. Allie has no illusions that she makes no mistakes: if she did, Nat would have beaten that belief out of her by now.

“He thinks he’s better than us,” Nat complained once, and Allie pressed her lips together very tightly, and she didn’t say a thing, and frankly, she thinks she deserves a medal for that.

As similar as David can be to Nat, he’s absolutely nothing like Jake. If Allie was asked to list their similarities, it’d be like — ‘very athletic white dudes around the same age’, and then a bunch of hockey specific things. Beyond that, she’s got nothing. It isn’t just their personalities — they have completely different taste in everything. Different priorities, outside of similar career ones. Some overlapping friends, but Allie just attributes that to Jake being able to make friends with a table leg if he wants to. They could not be less alike.

Allie’s never been a big believer in the whole ‘opposites attract’ thing, but honestly, maybe she should be: mom and dad are a pretty good example of it, and Jake and David seem to bring out the best in each other.

It took Allie a little while to come to terms with them getting back together, but she can’t deny that Jake seems to grow when he’s around David. Maturity wise, but he also just seems to stand up straighter, like just being around David makes him more alert, or aware, or maybe even self-confident, though that’s never been something he's lacked.

It probably isn’t just David he’s like that with — Allie hasn’t seen him around the Panthers too much, but he is the captain, after all — but either way, it’s a nice thing to see Jake grown up.

He’s still the baby to her, will probably always be the baby to her — anyone she put in pigtails and pulled around in a little red wagon while telling everyone to look at her pretty little dolly is going to be a baby to her forever, let’s face it — but for all that he’s been taller than her since he was twelve, he felt like a kid to her the whole way to the show, and for awhile after. He doesn’t feel like a kid anymore. Baby, sure, he's always going to be that, but not a kid. 

If anything, David feels more like one. Not that he’s childish, or immature, or whatever, because Allie suspects he wasn’t even childish when he was an actual child. Maybe more someone suddenly immersed in a foreign culture — he doesn’t know where he’s supposed to be, what he’s supposed to do, what the hell is up with the wishbone thing. 

She’s seen Jake explain things to him, the traditions she thought everyone did, and the traditions that are very Lourdes specific, the way mom gives extra mashed potatoes if you're a suck up, and how if people don’t take turns opening presents it turns into a free-for-all, and how nobody actually eats the cranberry sauce.

When Jake isn’t there to do it — rare, but the dude does need bathroom breaks — Allie figures it’s no skin off her nose to do it instead, and she even overhears Nat doing it once, though  she might have just been venting about someone saying dumb shit again. She does love to do that. 

The important thing is that he keeps showing up, even though he’s uncomfortable every single time — though maybe Allie’s imagining it, but she thinks he’s reached the ‘almost comfortable’ stage this Christmas, like, maybe feeling a little awkward, but no more than anyone else would, spending Christmas with his boyfriend’s family.  Maybe more than someone typically would if they’ve been doing it every year, but Allie knows they can be a lot, that most people have trouble keeping up with the rapid back and forth — even Jake gets left behind sometimes, then pouty when they start tease him about it.

David was a wide-eyed spectator, the first few times he saw that. Jake told Allie later that he didn’t hear the fondness in it, just the mockery, got defensive on Jake’s behalf. Allie doesn’t know how he’s survived locker rooms for so long — their love language is basically just mockery and punching each other in sensitive places, at least judging by Jake and his teammates back in the day. Probably now too. She’s met Cody Gallagher, unfortunately.

He takes it better now though, even joined in yesterday when everyone was shit-talking Jake’s recent stab at growing facial hair, while Jake tried and failed to defend himself through giggles. On the one hand, Allie’s just glad it isn’t a mustache, but on the other hand, maybe he’d do a better job with that. This morning, Jake comes down to breakfast clean-shaven. Allie isn’t delusional: he didn’t shave it because his sisters gave him shit. That was all David.

“High five,” Allie says when David joins them downstairs, and she’s half expecting a quizzical look, maybe even the ‘what the hell are the Lourdes talking about now’ one that surfaces sometimes, but instead she gets a tiny smile and a high five.

“I’m sitting right here, guys,” Jake says, but once again, he’s laughing.

[commander-heart-eyes]

Supergirl may have saved me…

I'll love you forever, even from afar: the one where they were never really "just friends"...but rather destined to be each other's "forever maybe's" [S2-S6]

My dearest Kara,

You will probably never receive this, but I meant what I said earlier: that Supergirl may have saved me, but you were my hero.

I know you and Supergirl are friends, so I hope you don’t take offence to anything I say. I will always look up to Supergirl, and I do appreciate her saving me, but she isn’t who I think about the most.

As much as Supergirl does for me, I can’t help but be reminded of everything that being an Luthor entails. When I’m around Supergirl, I’m always reminded of my last name…of who I am; and the good and bad that comes with it. But when I’m with you, I don’t feel like Lena Luthor: CEO and family member of the Supers’ greatest enemy. I feel…like Lena. Just Lena. Just a girl, standing in front of another girl, scared that there might be something there…but also hoping that perhaps it’s more than “just something”.

I spent a lot of time thinking while in that jail cell, and even now I still can’t understand why you stood by my side…or how you remained fixed in that decision. I have little doubt that everyone in your life called you a fool, called you too trusting. And yet, despite all that—despite video evidence—you remained unwavering, and you will never know how much that meant means to me. I suppose I will never know the answer, and perhaps you don’t either, but I promise to do my best to deserve it. I promise to earn the light that you give me.

I don’t think I ever properly thanked you. Truthfully, I’m not sure I ever could. But still, thank you for your belief in me. Thank you for not seeing me as just another Luthor. Thank you for making me see that my last name doesn’t define me. Thank you for making me feel deserving of all that you give me; for every ounce of kindness, love, and appreciation. Thank you for seeing me the way that I want to be seen. Thank you for making me feel special; for never making me feel less than extraordinary. Just…thank you. For everything.

Sometimes it scares me how easily you were able to tear down my defenses, how you were able to become a person of such importance in so little time. I remember the first time you invited me to game night, I told you I didn’t come to National City to make friends. I tried to push you away, but you wouldn’t give in. Although, if I’m being honest, part of me always hoped you would fight for me—and you did.

When you are around, I feel like you give me everything, and in turn, so do I.

Forever your “maybe someday”, Lena

[1/2]

[rosypenguins]

Day 13! Jomies Headcanons! (I got quite a few!)

Jake:

💛Unironically listens to boy bands.

💛Has Spotify open 24/7. Is always looking for new artists and songs, and probably has over 3000 songs liked.

💛He’ll listen to any song of any genre, but tends to lean more towards alt-rock.

💛Used to listen to Billie Eilish in Middle School.

💛Whenever it’s too quiet, he’ll either hum to himself or make random noises with his mouth.

💛Physically incapable of standing still.

💛Probably ate an eraser as a kid.

💛Does not believe in closets. Keeps his clothes either on the floor or in his chair. (If it’s in his closet he’ll genuinely forget he even owns the item.)

💛”Processing your emotions? What the hell’s that?”

💛Oh yeah, he definitely has ADHD.

Drew:

🖤Really likes FPS games.

🖤Always has to have his weight shifted on one leg. He cannot stand up straight to save his life. (Heh cuz he’s gay-)

🖤Small waist. (He’s a twink in my eyes.)

🖤Could probably be picked up by the other Jomies. (Has yet to be tested due to safety concerns.) (The concerns being Drew beating the shit out of them.

🖤Doesn’t like black coffee but drinks it anyways. (Why? We don’t know.)

🖤TERRIBLE eating habits. He’ll literally just have a piece of toast and be like “welp that’ll last me for the next 48 hours.”

🖤Those hot-pink girly desserts are his guilty pleasure.

🖤Listens to a lot of rap music. Mostly emo rap. He says it’s cuz it sounds cooler but it’s actually because he finds the lyrics relatable.

🖤Stalks Jake’s instagram for purely platonic reasons.

🖤Doesn’t know how to show affection so he’ll sometimes just randomly punch Jake in the arm. No warning, no explanation.

🖤Cat person. Doesn’t really like dogs. (Terrified of Oreo but would rather die than admit it.)

🖤Bullies cats relentlessly, but will also meow back at them if he thinks no one’s around.

🖤Likes being cuddled way more than he’d like to admit.

🖤Having his hair played with puts him right to sleep.

🖤Struggled to make friends in Elementary school due to his temper. (His lack of attention at home led to him lashing out a lot.) Other kids found him to be intimidating so Drew didn’t really have any friends until Middle School.

🖤Was put in time-out a LOT in Kindergarten so it basically just became Drew’s Corner.

🖤IPad kid. Definitely had a mascot-horror phase when he was 10.

🖤“Processing your emotions? What the hell’s that?”

🖤Oh yeah, BPD. He has BPD.

Liam:

❤️Hands are always fucking clammy it cannot be helped.

❤️Definitely listens to Breakcore.

❤️Has a bunch of those weird, perverted anime stickers somewhere in his desk drawer because he thinks they’re funny. (They were included in a random anime sticker pack Henry bought online.)

❤️Had a super edgy werewolf OC back in Middle School. Drawings of it still exist in that same drawer.

❤️Lets Henry play with his hair when they’re alone together.

❤️Refuses to use chairs properly.

❤️Has so many 0.5 photos of the Jomies. (Except Drew because Drew threatened to break his phone if he ever took one of him. But Liam still managed to sneak a few bad photos of Drew as well.)

❤️Type of guy to moan when someone’s on the phone with their parent.

❤️Knows how to drive a manual. (I imagine his mom’s car is an older one soooooo if Liam wanted to drive around he had to learn.)

Henry:

💚Baby face. (Liam likes to hold his face.)

💚Wears anime merch with pride.

💚Pretends to be a girl online sometimes so people give him free shit.

💚Almost always hits Drew with the 🤓 emoji anytime he says something smart/logical in their group chat.

💚Would definitely like matcha because it tastes like g r a s s.

💚He ate grass as a kid. And leaves. And dirt.

💚The type of kid that always had to be the dog in any game he played.

💚Really likes bunnies. He held one once and felt his life was complete.

💚Oh, and frogs too. He loves frogs.

💚Typically takes the role of mediator during fights, even if he has no context on the situation.

💚Relies way too much on being funny. If a joke doesn’t land he genuinely hates himself for a couple seconds.

💚Sensitive to loud noise. (Unless the loud noise is on his terms.) (Like, he’ll have his music on full blast and shout at his friends standing right next to him and be completely fine, but if a balloon were to suddenly pop right beside him, it’d startle him quite a bit.)

💚Drew glaring at him and telling him to shut up hurts a little more than he’d like to admit.

💚Probably also has ADHD.

Zoey:

🩷This bitch knows how to steal shit. You got a necklace she likes she will find a way to take it.

🩷Can and will find a way to make everything said against her about her gender.

🩷“Oh my God, I am LITERALLY just a girl.”

🩷Definitely took dance for a P.E credit.

🩷Almost everything she owns is covered in flowers.

🩷Everything has to be aesthetic.

🩷Always had to initiate any sort of affection between her and Drew. She was always the one asking him out. Always the one to kiss him first, or reach for his hand. (Whereas Drew never really thought about that sort of stuff.)

🩷Her views on relationships were also very different from Drew’s. She wanted excitement and fun. She wanted to go out and do things. And whenever they were home alone, she wanted to make out with him and stuff, meanwhile, all Drew wanted to do was cuddle and watch stupid videos on his phone with her. (But she just found that boring.)

🩷Honestly, their best dates were their at-home ones. Where they’d watch movies together and Zoey would bring some face masks and they’d pamper each other and cuddle and whatnot. (Fun for Zoey and relaxing for Drew.)

🩷And because of their height difference, Zoey would sometimes grab Drew’s collar and pull him down to her level to kiss him. (And this definitely never once flustered Drew.)

🩷Probably knew Drew cared more about Jake than he did her and that pissed her off.

Lia:

💜Big fan of Olivia Rodrigo. (And one time, while her and Drew were waiting for the others after school, she was listening to one of her songs and singing along, and Drew ended up correcting her on a lyric, causing her to realize he ALSO listens to her music, and he was super embarrassed about it afterwards and made her promise not to tell anyone.)

💜So anyways Lia now wants to take Drew to an Olivia Rodrigo concert.

💜She’s also a big fan of Nessa Barrett.

💜Surprisingly really good at singing. She never took lessons or anything, she just sings in the shower a lot.

💜Sprays perfume on herself like 50 times in a day.

💜Always comparing herself to people online.

💜“Self-esteem? What’s that?”

💜Genuinely could not describe herself if she was asked to. She’s so used to changing herself for others she doesn’t even know who she is or what she wants to be.

💜Imposter Syndrome 100%

💜Had a huge crush on Hailey in Middle School but didn’t even know being gay was a thing so she didn’t really know how to explain her feelings at all.

@31days-of-freakblr

[seastarblue]

Character Intro: Kaiden Evania

“So what if I can’t save everyone? I’ll try anyways, godsdammit!”

~~~ Basics:

Pronouns: she/her

Species: Human (Deathless)

Age: 27

Nickname(s): Kai, Kaids, Dee

MBTI: idk yet lol

Voice Claim: Cami Cat on YouTube

Physical:

5’8” (≈172 cm)

Build: Lean muscle

Skin: Dark brown

Eyes: Dark Brown, flecks of Gold from the Curse

Hair: Black, in locs (semi-Freeform I think)

Special Features: Gold blood, tears, and scars on account of the Deathless Curse.

Picrew refs: *more? Possibly*

Personality:

She’s quite introverted, keeping to herself around new friends and old acquaintances alike. She can come off as standoffish and cold, but she’s not really like that unless you’ve upset her somehow, which is pretty hard to do. She’s not very expressive, something she (sadly) prides herself on. She thinks (in her case) it’s best to push others away with callousness before they get too close.

Speaking Style: Kaiden is very quiet, to be honest. She doesn’t really enjoy small talk and prefers to go straight to the point. She does enjoy listening to others talk, she believes you can learn a lot from other people’s conversations.

Likes: Reading, her dog, sparring (occasionally), her friends (she’d never say it out loud she’s too embarrassed), food, tea, her name (she thinks it sounds pretty), earrings/jewelry in general, the quiet, a goooooood fight, alcohol.

Dislikes: Liars, warm weather, being forced to talk when she doesn’t want to, her curse (and the stigma that comes with it) being doted on, the Nikasa, dying.

Main Goal: “I’m going to get to the bottom of this ‘Nikasa’ business. I will rip them to pieces, mark my words.”

Backstory (under the cut—it’s quite long):

The first thing Kaiden remembered was loneliness. The ghosts helped keep that at bay for a while. Then, fire and screams. After that, everything was a haze.

On a cold winter day, a young Kaiden was playing on the rocks with other children. She, oblivious to the dangers of doing so, failed to notice the black ice below her. She slipped. And promptly cracked her head wide open. Kaiden's playmates, understandably terrified for their friend, rushed over to her mother. When her mother finally arrived, she was frantic. The curious part is, Kaiden was fine. Winded and scared, sure, but what would have been a large gaping hole in her head was nothing more than a scar after what couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes. She did lose blood, though. Lots of golden, shimmering blood. The ghosts laughed then.

The Emerald Guard needed new soldiers for their lower ranks, as the experienced ones who were already serving went to prepare for war with Hlunlah. All Nialon-born citzens aged 17 to 20 were to join. Kaiden, unfortunately, was born in Nialon and raised in a tiny, sleepy Niali town called Daeryn, and so the letters came to recruit her and several others. The people of Daeryn were naturally terrified for their children, Kaiden's parents included. Her mother and father begged her not to go. Kaiden didn't want her adoptive parents to be fugitives, especially since the letters had warned- not directly, but noticeably- that the recruits and their families would suffer the consequences if they refused. Li Hua, her best friend, didn't want her to go either, and the two spent the last few weeks before Kaiden's departure arguing. It was challenging to try and get used to the new setting, as Kaiden had never left Daeryn. She was a quiet, awkward, lonely kid who sometimes seemed to whisper to the air when alone. She was an outcast, through and through. Then, she met Felix BonaDea, another alienated kid. They were inseperable after that.

Every year the Guard held a small challenge to kill a magical beast to try and find the best recruits, and as someone with little fighting skills or training, Kaiden learned quickly that she had to depend on her wits to shine. Something (not the ghosts, not this time) told her she needed to stand out.  After three years of grueling training, Kaiden had finally become an offical knight of the Emerald Guard, waiting to be informed of where she would be stationed. The Aquamarine Ball was to determine that. Instead of becoming a guard, however, Kaiden (and Felix) were approached by a Lloyd Santhuff, the leader of the Azari, an elite fighting unit. The two accepted the offer.

They were good. The best, even. Every time they were sent on a mission, they came back victorious, which was why on one particular mission, Kaiden was cocky.

“… we’re surrounded.”

They were safe, thank the gods. Badly harmed, barely alive, but safe.

He was gone now. Gone to live with his family. The others didn’t seem to care.

Formerly a member of the Azari, Kaiden Evania left shortly before the murder of Natasha Pierce, a noblewoman. When questioned about her sudden departure, she stated she felt she wasn't good enough to be a knight and realized she was better off leaving. It’s said she made quite the stir when handing in her resignation. Santhuff was particularly angry for a while after. Kaiden didn’t care.

Kaiden now works as a bounty hunter. She knows she's quite good at it.