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13uswntimagines · 8 months

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13 Eras of Us Era 2: It’s The First Kiss, It’s Flawless, Really Something, It’s Fearless (Taylor Swift X Morgan!Reader)

13 Eras of us Era 1

This is the Era where R and Taylor finally get together. There is a little spice (very clearly marked). R and Alex start to work on their issues, and we learn a little bit more about R's past... situationships. The team learns about "burrito girl" and Kelley saves the day and keeps things on track.

August 2016

And isn’t it just so pretty to think

All along there was some invisible string

While August was turning out slightly better than July, it was still weird.

It was weird being at camp when you weren’t on the roster. Weird being around the people you called friends when most of them weren’t talking to you.

But what made matters worse was that you had been called in hours before camp started. You had blindly thrown random clothing into a suitcase, rushing to not miss the flight Christen, Alyssa, and JJ were on, all while calling your teammates to find one willing to watch your dogs on such late notice.

Part of you even considered calling Tony, the bodyguard who had strangely stayed in town despite Taylor’s departure, hoping that maybe he could at least check on them until you could guilt one of your teammates into taking them.

The older couple that lived next to you would let him in, you knew.

You had given Mr. And Mrs. Rossi keys two days after you had moved in when they brought over a pan of ravioli and introduced themselves.

You were just lucky that Niki Stanton had answered you just before you boarded the plane with a yes, so you hadn’t had to ask.

You didn’t want to bug Taylor more than you had to. You didn’t want to assume that Tony would want to help you.

You sighed, tugging the special 3rd knot on your cleats to make sure it was tight.

It wasn’t like you would actually be training with the team. You would be there to partner for drills. To make sure that everyone else was prepared to face Ireland.

The only problem was that it seemed like no one wanted you to partner with them.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true.

Rose and Emily had sent you regretful smiles as Jill directed you to pair with one of the forwards for a passing drill. Alex had already been claimed by Lindsey and Tobin and Christen had chosen each other.

It left you on the bench, trying to pretend like it didn’t hurt that the rest of the team had lost so much faith in your abilities that they wouldn’t even look in your direction.

You blew out another breach, checking your left cleat again.

“Can I partner with you?” Mal asked sheepishly, blocking the beating sun from your face.

You squinted up at her, your lips twitched into a ghost of a smile. “Don’t know if you wanna risk my bad luck rubbing off on you,”

“You don’t have bad luck,” She said, her lips also lifting. “But I will take some of your magic if you’re offering,”

“You never could get enough,” You wiggled your eyebrows.

“You’re too much,” Mal chuckled, shaking her head.

There was a glint in her eyes, one that reminded you of long summers at U15 camp flirting over ice cream cones, and talking about what the future held. It reminded you of an easier time before you had been crushed by expectations. Before there were any expectations.

You weren’t sure if the feelings you had harbored were real, or just a figment created by excitement and feeling free for the first time. What you did know was that while your feelings had long since mellowed into platonic, the comfort her friendship brought you was still as strong as it ever had been.

If you couldn’t be on the pitch, you would make damn sure she had the debut of her lifetime.

She deserved that, and hopefully, you would prove yourself to the coaching staff and be allowed to rejoin the team.

She grabbed your arm, and dragged you to your feet.“Come on, I don’t want to be late for my first practice,”

You made a low noise of agreement, trudging after her.

“Don’t look so glum,” Tobin said, nudging your arm as you stepped into line beside her, across from Mal. “It doesn’t suit your sunny personality,”

You pulled a face at her, catching the ball with your right cleat as Mal sent it your way, and you tapped it to your left foot and sent it back. “I think a majority of my energy has been sapped by all of my friends hating me,”

“They don’t,” Christen said simply, flicking her own ball back towards Tobin.

“We could never hate you,” Alex chimed in, catching a pass from Lindsey.

“Cause I’m really feeling the love,” You grumbled back, staring at the ball instead of meeting your sister's eyes.

You could feel their gazes glued to you, and you could imagine the looks on their faces.

You didn’t need to see it.

“Alright ladies,” Jill clapped her hands, drawing the group's attention. “Let’s start with passing drills. Midfielders will pass to their forwards, and forwards will attempt to score while the defenders will try to stop you,”

She gestured towards the line of waiting defenders on one side of the goalpost, and the 3 keepers waiting by the other. “If you score, you get to keep the point. If you don’t, the defense keeps it. The side with the most points at the end will get to skip 2 laps on the conditioning run at the end of practice,”

Your eyebrows furrowed.

Jill didn’t usually run drills like this. This was something reminiscent of one of Roary’s drills.

She couldn’t have been talking to him, but if she was... If she listened to his opinion, then maybe what he said was true.

Maybe he really did have the power to make or break you.

It sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine.

You didn’t want to think about the… thank you you might owe him. Or how his suggestion of extra sessions might actually help.

“Likewise, the keepers will also try to stop you so select the best shot, not just the easiest,” Jill continued, and you blinked back to yourself. “Questions?”

You shook your head along with the group.

It didn’t matter who had come up with it. All that mattered was that you showed Jill that you belonged on the roster. That you made her regret not including you.

“Ready to put on a show?” Mal bumped you as Lindsey and Alex started the drill.

Alex easily outpaced Becky to get into position, but Lindsey had a harder time faking out Kelley, taking an extra second to make the defender step before she sent a perfect through ball into Alex’s path.

“Always,” You breathed out as the ball left Alex’s foot, sailing through the air before pinging off of the crossbar. She ran a frustrated hand through her hair, and you dragged your eyes away to look at Mal. “Don't miss,”

A devilish grin took over Mal’s features. “Don’t worry Ducky, I can’t miss with your magic,”

She winked at you, and you rolled your eyes.

You hated that nickname. Not as much as others you had been given. Not enough to ask Mal to get rid of it, not when she liked it so much.

You stepped up to the ball and focused on Emily across from you as Mal did the same with Abby.

Nicknames could wait until after you had shown them all why you belonged.

OoOoOoO

You let out a long breath, standing over the ball as you stared at goal.

You could hear your teammates behind you, chatting as they packed up their gear, but you did your best to tune them out.

It didn’t matter to you that practice had ended nearly 15 minutes ago. All that you cared about was scoring from the spot. All you cared about was making sure you never missed another penalty again.

You took three steps back, your eyes flickering to the ball and then back towards goal. The back netting fluttered gently in the wind, like waving hands in the stands.

You blew out one more breath and leaned into your run, counting down in your head.

Your eyes never left the net as you took your three-step run up and blasted the ball toward the top right corner.

It hit the net with a satisfying woosh, sending ripples through the material and rattling the woodwork.

“Not bad,”

You blinked at the approaching voice, turning to face the new number-one keeper of the USWNT.

“Oh, thanks,” You nodded, blushing slightly and running a hand through your hair. You headed towards the goal to collect your ball and shoot again.

You didn’t really interact with Alyssa, even in Chicago. Her quiet confidence always intimidated you.

“Mind if I stand in goal for you?” She asked, trailing after you. “I wanna get some reps in,”

You paused, blinking at her. “You don’t have to do that for me,”

She sent you a small smile. “I know. I want to,”

You swallowed, flicking the ball up to your hands and tossing it towards her. “If you really want to,”

“I do,” Alyssa caught it easily, looking at you for a long second. “When you send balls to the top right corner, you tilt your hips to the left in your run-up. It gives you away,”

Your eyebrows furrowed. You didn’t know you were doing that.

“Try to stay square,” She continued. “It’ll make it harder to read you,”

You hummed, biting the inside of your lip as you stepped back towards the spot.

She rolled the ball towards you, and you carefully positioned it where you wanted it, and took three big steps back.

You twisted your hips, trying to remember to keep them square as you did your run-up.

Your eyes fell to the ball, and you let out a long breath, doing the countdown on your head as you dragged your gaze to meet Alyssa’s in goal.

You leaned onto your toes, doing your run-up and forcing your hips to remain parallel.

Now that you were in step, you could feel what Alyssa was talking back in the way you wanted to pull to your left for the windup.

Your foot contacted the ball, and you watched as it flew much more slowly towards Alyssa’s outstretched fingertips. It brushed past her, landing in the net with a much less satisfying swish.

“I just feel like I don’t have as much power,” You said, watching as Alyssa got back to her feet and fished the ball out of the back of the net.

“I save goals, I don’t make them,” Alyssa shrugged, rolling the ball back in your direction. “You could ask maybe Pino or your sister,”

Your nose scrunched at the options.

You would rather gargle thumbtacks than do either considering Pino was still pretending that you didn’t exist and Alex was… too much.

She was trying too hard, pushing too much and it made you suspicious. Why did she care now when she hadn’t before? When she had been ignoring you since the ball left your foot in Rio?

When the two of you had been at odds since she left for Berkeley?

“It was just a suggestion,” Alyssa said quickly as you tapped the ball back towards the spot.

“I know,” You mumbled, repositioning the ball with your hands. “I’ll probably ask Mal later. She’s always been better at PKs anyway,”

Alyssa hummed in agreement. She didn’t know you well enough to argue, and you seemed pretty close with the new striker. You had perked up considerably after partnering with her during practice, and the two of you had been unstoppable in the new set of drills Jill wanted to try(even if Jill made you sit the scrimmage out).

She hoped that helping you with your PKs would only add to the good mood you had been riding. She hoped it would help to alleviate the dark cloud that had been following you since the Olympics.

You were young and under more pressure than anyone your age should ever be placed under. As the captain of your club team, she felt it was her duty to actually do something about it. If that meant standing for a million of your PKs until you felt comfortable, then that’s exactly what she would do.

You lined up behind the ball, squinting at it. She noticed how you tilted your hips back and forth trying to figure out the mechanics of your kick.

It amazed her how easily you could adjust, and how smooth you made it look.

If you could get rid of your little tells, you would be deadly in front of the net. Just as deadly as you were during normal play.

She watched as you leaned forward on your toes, your feet shuffling as you prepared to kick.

“Hey you two, we’re going to leave soon,” Alyssa blinked up at Kelley’s voice, just as the ball left your foot.

She missed your kick, and the ball sailed easily into the net to her left. “We were just finishing up,”

Your shoulders rolled, and it looked like you wanted to argue, but no words left your lips.

It worried her how much you sunk into yourself at Kelley’s appearance. How your good mood vanished in a second.

She shared a look with Kelley over your shoulder, noting the worry in the defender's eyes.

At least someone else saw it too.

“Come on, you can sit by me at lunch,” Alyssa said, wrapping an arm over your shoulder and guiding you towards the bench with your gear. “We can talk more about ball placement,”

You made a low noise and allowed her to pull you back towards the team.

You would take any help you could get.

*****

“Where’s Ducky?” Mal asked as she set her plate down on the table beside Lindsey’s, leaving an empty chair on her other side for you.

She thought practice had gone well, and the good mood you gained through practice stayed with you to the weight and film sessions that followed it. You seemed excited about dinner, hyping up Chef Teron’s cooking and promising that you would join her after you took a shower.

“Ducky?” Kelley frowned, taking the seat opposite of her.

“Y/n,” Mal said, glancing up at the defender. “She found a baby duck at our first camp together,”

It was the truth, even if it wasn’t the entire story. Kelley didn’t need to know exactly how the nickname had been earned anyway. Mal was sure she wouldn’t want to know…

Lindsey shot her a look. A warning of sorts that while Kelley didn’t know the story, the full extent of Mal’s relationship with you, Lindsey definitely did.

“Em’s not here either. I’m sure they’re just late. You know how they get when they’re together,” Lindsey said, dragging her eyes away from Mal to look at Kelley.

Kelley shrugged. “It’s entirely possible,”

You and Emily were known to get into trouble when the two of you were together.

“What’s possible?” Emily asked, appearing through the meal room door alone.

“That you and Y/n are late because you two are nuts when you’re together,” Lindsey said, stabbing a piece of her chicken. “It's why Paul banned it at u20 camp,”

Mal rolled her eyes. “No. He stopped putting them together after Y/n was up for three nights straight because she lost a bet,”

“That’s true,” Emily shrugged. “She was on the phone with the mysterious Taylor when I left. I didn’t want to wait for her anymore,”

Kelley’s eyebrows furrowed. “Who?”

She had never heard of Taylor before.

Emily's shoulders lifted and fell again. “The girl that Y/n isn’t dating but pretty much is,”

“I’m not dating her,” You grumbled, finally joining the table.

Mal frowned when you took the seat between Kelley and Emily instead of the seat she had saved for you. She slid the plate she had made for you across the table nonetheless, and you nodded in thanks.

Emily rolled her eyes, ignoring the way you glared at the side of her head. “She flew to your apartment because she was worried about you, and then went to a shitty game that you only played in for 22 minutes,”

“I scored a hat trick,” You muttered, stabbing at the pasta Mal had grabbed for you. “It wasn’t that shitty,”

“I’m sorry, what?” Kelley blinked at you.

She was usually the first person you told things to, despite how… strained things were between you and your sister at times. It felt very strange to her to be out of the loop.

You let out a suffering sigh. “It’s nothing. Emily is just blowing everything out of proportion,”

“Am I?” Emily asked incredulously. “Let me repeat, a girl flew across the country to see you because you were sad,”

“She’s my friend,” You muttered.

“Ok,” Kelley said, holding up her hand to stop whatever retort Emily was about to make. “It was very nice of your friend to visit,”

You hummed, seemingly mollified. “It was. She got to try her first burrito,”

“What kind of person has never had a burrito?” Lindsey snorted.

And your shoulders lifted and fell. “She’s from Pennsylvania. I don’t think they’re popular there. Or in Nashville,”

Emily opened her mouth like she was going to protest, but a sharp look from Kelley had her closing it again.

The way to get information out of you was to drop the pressure, and let you share what you felt comfortable with, even if it wasn’t the juicy details that anyone really wanted.

“Does she live in Nashville now?” Kelley asked, pretending like she wasn’t invested in the answer.

Your nose scrunched, and you chewed your food thoughtfully. You had only visited her in Nashville so far, but you knew she spent a larger amount of time in New York.

“At least part-time,” You said, stabbing another set of noodles. “She splits her time between there, LA and New York,”

“Nice, kid,” Kelley hummed.

“It’s good to make friends,” Mal added, swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, as you smiled brilliantly at her.

She would believe you when you said that this… Taylor was your friend. After all, she was just your friend too.

“What about friends?” Alex asked, appearing at the table, and placing her plate down next to Mal.

“We were just talking about Y/n’s new friend,” Emily said, waggling her eyebrows. “Apparently she never had a burrito before she met your sister,”

A disgusted look crossed Alex's face. “If that’s a sex thing, then I really don’t want to know about it,”

“It’s not,” You huffed. “I think about more than just sex you know,”

“You do? I’m shocked,” Alex deadpanned, and the table burst into bemused laughter.

“You forgot that she thinks about soccer,” Emily cackled, nudging you. “And the dogs,”

“Ah yes, the pack of mythological creatures,” Alex said, rolling her eyes.

“So dogs, soccer, and sex. Seems pretty reasonable to me,” Kelley flicked the side of your head, and you jerked away from her.

“I fucking hate you guys,” You ground out, stabbing another piece of your chicken, more bitterness than you meant leaking into your tone.

Mal’s head tilted to the side, as the comment only earned more laughter from the table. She noticed something she couldn’t place in Alex’s expression as the giggles died down.

“I think she thinks a lot about penalty kicks too,” Lindsey added, chuckling. “It was all her and Alyssa would talk about at lunch,”

Your face twisted into a grimace, and Mal knew at once that you didn’t find it funny. She saw Kelley’s arm shift next to you like a hand was placed on your leg to keep you from pushing yourself out of your seat.

Alex’s eyebrows furrowed at the comment, and she leaned forward in her chair.

“Your hips twist to the left when you aim for the top right corner,” She said, her voice going oddly gentle. “If you twist your plant foot outward, it’ll counter it so you can keep your hips square and still have the same power,”

You froze, your forks halfway to your lips, and your back went rigid.

It was one thing for Alyssa to offer her help, and another for your sister to do it.

You bit back your retort that Alex had missed her kick too, that she was no better than you, and forced your fork to your mouth.

You weren’t in a position to deny help. Even if you didn’t really want it.

“I can show you later if you want,” Alex continued, seeming unphased by your stiffness.

“Sure,” Your voice squeaked as you agreed, your eyes dipping.

Alex’s smile was blinding. “Awesome. We can do it after dinner and before movie night,”

Your chin barely moved as you nodded in agreement, chewing on your bite.

Taking pointers from Alex was not a top thing on your to-do list.

*****

“I just feel like it cuts my power in half,” You sighed, running a frustrated hand through your hair and turning away from the little goal the staff had set up for you.

“You just need to find the right foot angle so your hips can get around it,” Alex positioned her hands as she explained it. “Just play with it for a bit. I’m sure you’ll get it,”

You could feel her eyes on you like you were a specimen under a microscope, but you didn’t look up to meet her eyes.

You couldn’t meet her eyes.

It reminded you too much of when you were young. Of the hours the two of you would spend in the backyard, critiquing each other play after play. Of the summers you spent under the hot sun, practicing skill after skill until you could take out every other player you faced.

It reminded you that Alex was more than a teammate. And that was too much.

“Y/n,” Alex said, her voice going very soft, her hand landing warm and grounding on your shoulder.

You sucked in a shaky breath. The two of you hadn’t been this close since she left for college. You hadn’t let her this close to you.

“I’m fine, Alex,” You muttered, trying to shrug her hand off, but she didn’t let you.

“You’re not,” Her fingers tightened on your shoulder. “And part of that is my fault,”

Your jaw clenched. “You didn’t sky your penalty,”

While Alex’s kick hadn’t gone in, it hadn’t been taken nearly as badly as yours was. The keeper had beaten her, while you had simply beaten yourself.

“No,” She agreed softly. “But I also didn’t make sure you were ok afterward,”

No. Afterward, everyone split off into different directions to handle their grief. Alex didn’t even say goodbye to you before flying out of Rio.

“You don’t need to worry about me. I’m an adult,” You said, finally looking up to meet her eyes. The eyes were a near-perfect replica of yours. “I’m fine. I’m playing well, and I’m showing everyone that I deserve to be here,”

Alex nodded.

She couldn’t disagree that you had been on fire since camp started. That the connection you and Mal had on the pitch was proving to be lethal, and that she was sure Jill regretted that you wouldn’t be eligible for the game against Australia.

But she could see that you were not fine.

She wished you trusted her enough to admit it.

“You might be an adult, but you’re still my little sister,” Alex said, her voice still soft, but determined as she squeezed your shoulder again. “And I want to be there for you,”

“Now you want to be here for me. Now that everyone is watching you care. Now when it’s convenient,” You muttered, finally pulling yourself free of her hand.

Her eyes snapped towards you, and the bitterness in your tone. “What?”

You paced towards the ball, taking extra time to fish it out of the back of the net, watching it as you directed it back towards the penalty spot.

“You care now because that’s what you think is expected of you,” You said finally, your voice barely above a whisper. “You care because it’s convenient for you now that we’re in the same place. When I go back to Chicago, you’re going to go back to not giving a fuck,”

“Let’s get one thing straight,” Alex growled, catching your wrist, and whipping you around to face her. “I have never not given a fuck,”

Your jaw worked like you were contemplating the next words to come out of your mouth, and you slowly looked up to meet her eyes.

They weren’t the icy stone that she expected or the cold blue that she had become accustomed to.

They were a deep turquoise, vibrant, and… open. Vulnerable in a way they hadn’t been since you were 9 years old.

“You just left me,” You said. “And then I was alone,”

Something dark lingered under your words. Something that she knew you weren’t saying. Something that she had a feeling was far deeper than what happened after the Olympics.

“You have never been alone,” Alex grit out, the hand on your arm tightening.

You rolled your eyes, ripping away from her grasp for the second time. “Whatever Alex,”

Alex opened her mouth, a scathing retort on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t let it fly. She paused, watching the way you focused back on the ball. You flicked it up onto your toe box, juggling it a few times before you let it fall perfectly on the penalty spot.

She recognized the movement. It was the same one you used when you were young, and you felt too vulnerable to talk. When you needed to control your emotions.

She let out a long breath, calming the agitation still simmering in her chest.

You wouldn’t respond to anger and harsh retorts. No. She had to take a more gentle approach. One that wouldn’t threaten your vulnerability.

“I shouldn’t have left right after the game in Rio,” She said softly, taking a very slow step toward you. “I’m sorry that I didn’t stay to make sure you were alright,”

Your shoulders rolled, and you positioned yourself to take another kick. “I didn’t need you to stay,”

“I also should have checked on you after we got back, instead of just assuming that you were fine,” She pushed on as if you hadn’t spoken.

A strange sort of grimace flashed across your features. One you tried to smother as you did your signature run-up, keeping your hips square (and turning your foot out slightly wider) as you took your kick.

The net swished as the ball made contact, banging into the top right corner with a satisfying rattle.

It was still amazing to her how quickly you could make adjustments. How easy it was for you to figure out the body mechanics to make a slight change work.

She took another step towards you. “I know I haven’t been there for you, but I want to be. Not because I think it’s what’s expected of me, but because you’re my sister and I love you,”

She wanted to reach out and catch your shoulder again. To force you to look at her, but she knew that wouldn’t help.

All she could do was watch as the words filtered through your brain; as you worked them over in your head; as you realized that she wasn’t looking for a fight or defend herself and your posture very slowly relaxed.

“There’s an app,” Alex continued, taking the last step towards you, getting so close that she was nearly brushing your back. “It tracks miles, and fitness, and calories, and I think it could help us reconnect if you want to try it,”

She could see the way your jaw worked, as you stepped away from her to collect the ball from the net again like you were chewing on her both words and her offer.

The offer she meant to make while the two of you were still in Rio.

She waited as you rolled the ball out of the net, flipping it between your feet for a long minute before you finally looked up and met her eyes. “Ok,”

She nodded, more to herself than to you, just thankful that you had responded at all. She hadn’t expected even that.

“I love you,” She repeated softly, reaching out and catching your hand and squeezing in 3 slow pulses.

You squeezed it in return. “I love you too,”

The slight reluctance in your tone bothered her, but she would take what she could get with you. It was more than she had gotten in a very long time.

You cleared your throat, breaking the comforting silence that stretched between you. “When I want to kick it left, would I just angle my plant foot in the opposite direction?”

She blinked, once, twice, 3 times. “Yeah. It’ll help you prevent your hips from telegraphing,”

You hummed, turning away.

She should have known that you wouldn’t comment further. That you would turn back to football as soon as you could. She knew it wasn’t personal.

But she wished it didn’t sting as much.

******

You glanced down at the new addition to your right wrist, shaking your hand and testing how much the little watch slid with the movement. You had been playing with it since Kelley passed it to you at breakfast.

You didn’t know that Alex’s app required a stupid piece of jewelry, but you hadn’t had the heart to take it off yet. Not when she was actually trying.

It was still irritating to you, and you worried that it would get in the way during your afternoon practice and lift session, even if you wouldn’t be allowed to join their walkthrough.

You didn’t want to break it before you really got to use it. You didn’t think that your Red Stars salary would stretch enough to cover a new one. Not when you were planning extra trips to New York.

You sighed, grabbing your cup of green juice and taking a large sip.

You were probably going to have to budget more as it was. Flights weren’t cheap, and neither was food, or a hotel (even if Taylor insisted you could stay with her. As her best friend).

“Hey kid,” Jill said, knocking on the Hotel lobby table. “Got a second?”

You gulped down the liquid and gestured towards the empty couch across from you. “Always coach,”

She smiled and settled into the seat. You leaned forward in your own, your drink landing on the table with a thunk.

“We’re placing you on the active roster for the game against Canada,” Jill said. “Roary said that you had been making slow improvements, but I wanted to see for myself. You’ve proven that you deserve the spot,”

“I…-“ You blinked at her. “Thank you. I will not let you down,”

She waved you off. “I’d like to see some nice linking with Mallory and your sister. I want to really push Trancredi and Chapman,”

“I can do that,” You nodded seriously. You knew you could get balls to Alex and Mal. You knew you could stretch the defense.

You were a menace on the pitch, especially when you had something to prove.

You had everything to prove.

“I know,” Her lips ticked up and she reached across the table to pat your knee as she stood. “Go eat. You’ll be joining full team practice after lunch, and dawn will have my head if you pass out,”

You matched her smile. “Yes, coach. Thank you,”

“You’ve earned it,” She said, turning and heading off towards the meal room, but she paused before she exited the lobby. “And stop hiding from your friends,”

You blushed but nodded in agreement anyway. She winked as she left, and you couldn’t help the bubbling laugh that left your lips, undeterred by her request to stop icing out the team.

She invited you because she wanted to see your progress herself. She wanted to see if you were progressing as slowly as Roary said you were, and you had proven that you weren’t. You had proven you were an asset.

You had proven them wrong.

The elation filled your chest, like champagne in a shaken bottle and all you wanted was to let it out. You wanted to tell someone.

Well, not someone. You wanted to tell Taylor.

She was the one who convinced them that you could prove them wrong after all. The one who had been there for you, even before you took the penalty kick in Rio.

You grabbed your green juice from the table and pushed yourself up from the armchair, pulling your phone out of your pocket as you hung a left down a side hallway by the meal room so you could have some privacy before you faced the rest of the team.

You easily flicked through your contacts, pausing over the one you had recently changed from blondie to Athena after the goddess of wisdom, and pressing it gently.

“Hey, what’s up,” Taylor’s smiling face met you after the second ring. “Everything ok?”

“Better than ok,” You nodded excitedly, flashing her a brilliant grin. “Jill added me to the active squad, and I’m playing in the game on Saturday against Canada,”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh my god! That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you!”

Red leaked into your cheeks. “Thanks,”

She hummed, her smile shifting into something softer, silence stretching between you for a long second.

“What time?” She asked, and your eyebrows pulled tightly together. “What?”

“The game,” She said, the soft look never leaving her eyes. “What time is it on?”

“6ish I think?” Your voice tilted up in question.

The truth was you didn’t actually know what time the game was on. You didn’t know what time you needed to be on the bus, or when warmups started.

It was the nice thing about camp.

You never had to think about a schedule. You just went with the flow.

“I’ll look on the USWNT website,” Taylor rolled her eyes affectionately at you.

“Good plan,” You said, your head bobbing.

You opened your mouth to add a quip, but the sound of your name interrupted you.

You blinked up at the new voice, suddenly realizing that your side hallway wasn’t as private as you thought it was.

“You’re going to miss lunch,” Mal said, and you wondered how long she had been standing there. How long had she listened in?

You waved her off. “Just save me a plate,”

You could eat after you were finished with your call.

“No,” Mal glared at the phone in your hand. “come on,”

“You’ve gotta go,” Taylor interjected softly before you could send whatever whippy retort was on your tongue towards Mal, pulling your attention back to the screen. “We’ll talk later, I promise,”

“I’ll see you later,” You sighed, waving towards Taylor before hanging up, a millisecond before Mal peeked at the screen.

“That was rude,” You grumbled, slapping her arm when she was close enough. “I was having a conversation,”

“Well, you were late,” Mal said, rolling her eyes and hooking her arm through yours to pull you tightly to her as she dragged you towards the meal room. “And you get grumpy when you don’t eat,”

You got more grumpy when you didn’t get to talk to Taylor, but you didn’t voice that thought.

You didn’t need anyone else questioning your relationship with Taylor, not when she was very firmly your friend.

OoOoOoO

September 2016

Is it cool that I said all that?

Is it too soon to do this yet?

Cause I know that it’s delicate

The craziness that was August simmered down considerably as soon as September started. It was like the sudden chill in the air was a balm to the insanity that always accompanied the stretch to the playoffs.

With Chicago at the very bottom of the table, well besides Orlando, you knew that your season would likely end in 4 games. It should have made you feel bad, but it didn’t. All you could muster was a strange sense of… blaséness.

You didn't have it in you to care after the loss of the Olympics. Not in a league that didn’t matter.

It wasn’t like you were playing for Arsenal.

What you did care about was that you had earned your national team spot back.

With 2 assists and a goal yourself against Canada, you had solidified why you deserved your callup. That was before you found out that Taylor was there.

Things only got better when you got to see her after the game. When you got to hug her and hear her say how proud she was of you. When you got to solidify your plans to see her when you played against Sky Blue.

Nothing could dampen your… excitement, not even Mal (drunkenly) hanging off of you during the post-game dinner celebration.

That carried over into your upset win over Portland with Chicago, and the week of practice you had between them and your game in New York.

And now, sitting in the back of a dark dive bar in Tribeca, trying to ignore your drunk friends (teammates and foes) celebrating, your excitement. Your happiness was nearly palpable.

Taylor was going to swing by before you left, and the two of you were set to hang out tomorrow too.

But still, you couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling in the back of your mind. Of the butterflies that fluttered in your chest each time you so much as thought about Taylor.

You tried to slam a lid on it. To shove it into a little box, because you knew that if you let it out, you would fuck up your friendship.

It was how you saved your friendship with Mal after all wasn't it?

You had swallowed the lump in your throat, and taken the little piece of her that she gave you. You had even listened to her talk about him while the two of you cuddled.

But it was different because you weren’t sleeping with Taylor.

“Hey, sorry I’m kinda late,” Taylor said, just as a hand landed very gently on your shoulder.

Your lips instantly ticked up at Taylor’s voice and you turned towards the back of the bar to greet her (slightly surprised she hadn’t come in the front). “Hey, no worries,”

You pushed yourself to your feet and pulled her into a tight hug. Your nose pressed against her neck, and you tried not to think about how the scent of lavender and something so innately Taylor put your swirling thoughts at ease.

You leaned back with a genuine grin, and slid her the drink you had ordered for her “Old fashion right?”

She frowned but took the drink anyway. “How did you order this? You’re not 21 yet,”

You shrugged and slid back onto your stool. “I didn’t have to order it,”

She took the stool next to you, her eyebrows lifting.

“Really I didn’t,” You said, reaching for your own glass. “The losing team always buys the first round at least,”

She eyed it warily as you brought it to your lips, taking a sip of her own.

“It’s water,” You said before she could ask. “Because Kelley and Christen strongly disapprove of underage drinking,”

“I do too,” Taylor hummed, leaning closer to you so she could hear you over the bar noise.

“I know,” You said, sending her a cheeky smile. “How was the studio? Cooking up something good?”

She took a sip of her drink. “I think so. I can show you some of them tomorrow,”

“That would be cool,” You nodded, your eyes flickering towards your teammates. “There’s also a cool little brunch spot in TriBeCa. It’s called the bus stop,”

“I’ve heard about it,” Taylor hummed. “It’s like two blocks from my apartment,”

“I can pick you up tomorrow and we can go,” You said, watching Taylor carefully. “Roary gets upset when I skip out early,”

You didn’t want to be too… forward.

You didn’t want to tip the hand on your feelings when you knew she didn’t feel the same.

“That should work,” Taylor agreed, without even blinking. “I’ll let Jason know you’re coming and I’ll text you directions to the back entrance,”

“Jason?” You smirked, trying to keep your voice neutral, and wiggled your eyebrows to complete the effect. “Have a boyfriend you’re not telling me about?”

She was your friend you reminded yourself. You weren’t allowed to feel upset if she was dating someone. She probably wasn’t even interested.

“No,” Taylor chuckled around a sip of her drink. “Jason is my head of security. He’ll let the team know that you’re not just some random fan,”

“Have many of them knock on your door?” You asked, your smirk widening into something that reminded her of a Cheshire Cat grin as you nudged her shoulder gently.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” She sighed heavily and a dark look crossed over her features (making you instantly regret the joking tone you had used). “It’s only gotten worse lately, especially since the video came out,”

You grimaced, your nose scrunching adorably.

You thought the entire handling of the situation by Kanye’s camp was fucking disgusting. You thought he was a total narcissistic creeper and a douche.

You had already gotten your national team teammates to agree not to listen to it.

“If he’s ever at a game, I’ll put a price on who can peg him in the head more times,” You Promised with a short nod, and it earned you the desired effect of her giggle. “But seriously I think it’s fucking gross and that he needs to get a life,”

“I appreciate that, but I don’t need you to fight for me,” She said, laying a hand on your shoulder.

“I know,” You nodded. “But I will anyway. A man should know how to treat people,”

You would always be willing to defend her honor, just like you would defend Mal or any of your teammates.

Well, maybe this wasn’t like Mal. You didn’t crave Mal’s soft smile or… praise like you did Taylor’s. You didn’t need Mal to acknowledge your bravery like you wanted Taylor to…

God you were really starting to lose the plot.

Taylor was your friend.

“I appreciate it,” She said, red coloring her cheeks. “Anyway, what are your other plans for tonight?”

“I’m going to help Christen drag the team back to the hotel, and then I’ll probably crash,” You shrugged, gesturing towards where Christen and Kelley were dancing with Huerta and Sam Kerr. “This way I’m actually awake to hang out with you tomorrow,”

Taylor’s lips quirked up into a teasing grin. “I do prefer you conscious,”

You wiggled your eyebrows, shifting on your stool to block Taylor from the view of your teammates when you caught Christen's eye.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust them, you just wanted to keep Taylor to yourself. You didn’t want to have to share her.

“I didn’t know you owned anything other than sweatpants,” Taylor continued, gesturing towards the dark blue jeans you had accented with a pair of Batman Nikes.

You took a sip of your water to cover the light pink that dusted your cheeks. Maybe you had dressed up because you knew you were meeting her at the bar. “We won, so I had to wear something other than warm-up gear. Christen picked them,”

Christen had helped you because you didn’t actually know how to put an outfit together. You wore sweats because they went with everything. You didn’t have to think about things matching.

So by the 3rd try, the forward had taken pity on you. Picking a Manchester City jersey to go with your dark pants and your Nike kicks.

Taylor hummed, smiling very gently at you like she was reading your mind.

Really, she was fighting to keep her eyes from tracing your arms where you had rolled the jersey sleeves, and from dipping down to where your jeans hugged your ass.

“Will you be back to your normal style tomorrow, or is she going to pick your outfit again?”

You rolled your eyes at the playful question. “Depends, do I get anything if I dress up?”

“I’ll buy you breakfast,” She smirked and you chuckled, more red bleeding into your cheeks. “Or brunch,”

“I think that sounds like a fair trade,” You chuckled, nodding along. She giggled at you, and it was like music to your ears, even against the backdrop of the noisy bar.

It made your smile broaden, just like it always did. It shouldn’t fill your chest with so much pride that you were the reason she was giggling.

You really needed to get a handle on yourself before you did something stupid that pushed her away.

You needed to make sure you wouldn’t ruin your friendship.

You didn’t know what you would do if you lost Taylor.

********

“I don’t think words can describe how adorable she is,” Taylor sighed towards her phone, taking a sip of her red wine. “I swear she blushes every time I so much as look at her,”

It wasn’t her first glass of the night. It wasn’t even her second.

She had opened the bottle as soon as she had gotten back from the bar, and now it was verging on halfway gone.

She could feel the effects starting to take place, the way it loosened up her muscles and tongue. The way she couldn’t stop gushing about everything that had happened with you up to this point, not that her best friend was in the dark. She had been telling Selena about you for months, recounting each interaction the two of you had from the texting to the pillow fort cuddles.

Selena hummed, taking a sip of her own wine on the other side of the phone. “I’m surprised considering how… fierce she was on the field. She almost murdered someone today,”

Taylor rolled her eyes.

You had gotten in a defender's face after a bad tackle just outside of the box, turning angrily towards the reff when no yellow card followed the challenge.

“That was a bad call and the reff knew it. The defender came in studs up and ruined a good through ball opportunity,” She said.

Selena raised an eyebrow. “You know you sound like you’re speaking a different language right?”

It was something that had been happening more frequently. Taylor explaining soccer plays and referring to teams using phrases that Selena had never heard before. With all the time the singer had been spending with you, it shouldn’t have been surprising that Taylor would pick up on the dialect that was always on your lips.

That didn’t mean that Taylor’s best friend couldn’t tease her for it.

“Y/n was right to get upset. The defender could have hurt her,” Taylor reiterated seriously.

“I’m sure,” Selena’s tone dripped with sarcasm as she studied her for a long moment. “When are you going to admit that your sudden interest in soccer is because you’re interested in her,”

Deep red immediately bled into Taylor’s cheeks, setting her face aflame.

“I've already admitted that,” She muttered, hiding behind a sip.

“Let me rephrase then,” Selena said, a trading smirk on her lips. “When are you going to admit it to her, because no offense, but she obviously hasn’t gotten the message yet, even after you continue to fly out to her games,”

Taylor choked on her wine, “I thought she finally understood tonight. She saved me a spot away from her teammates so we could have privacy, but then she said something about us being best friends when she walked me to the car,”

“You’re going to have to be more direct,” Selena said, as Taylor took the last sip from her glass.

“It’s just…” Taylor sighed, setting the empty glass down. “She’s still so young. She just turned 19. I don’t want to… I don’t know, pressure her into something,”

“I don’t think you are,” Selena said slowly, her lips pursing. “You’re both adults who can consent, and even though you’re older, I don’t think there's an unfair power dynamic happening. You’re her sister’s age right?”

“Yes,” Taylor nodded.

Her and Alex were both born in 1989, and actually, your sister was older than her by almost 6 months, and you were very much an adult. She had made sure of that, refusing to even pursue a friendship until you were 18.

“Then it’s not like you're some older woman trying to take advantage of her,”

“No, I’m not. I would never,” Taylor immediately agreed.

She would do anything to make sure you weren’t being taken advantage of. She knew how powerful existing dynamics could be, and she did her best to avoid their effects.

You had to consent at every stage, even your friendship.

“Then there you go,” Selena shrugged, wiggling her fingers at the screen. “Now can you please stop with the pining and make an actual move? It’s less fun than it was before,”

Taylor threw her head back with a groan. “But how,”

She had literary flown across the country because you had been added to the starting lineup for the national team and you still didn’t catch the message.

Selena chuckled. “You’ve literally written a song about it,”

Taylor groaned again.

She knew the song that Taylor was talking about. She could hear How you get the girl ringing in her head.

But this was different.

You didn’t even know about the pressure that had driven them apart. The demands that her management had of her. The complications of her… profession made it impossible for them to be together in the way that she wanted.

And she hadn’t communicated that nearly as well as she wanted to.

“That was different. I fucked up and Diana wouldn’t talk to me,” She said softly,

“But you know the basics. It’s even raining,” Selena shrugged for a 3rd time, smiling impishly at her. “It doesn’t have to be complicated,”

Taylor bit her lip.

Selena made it sound simple, but maybe it was.

“You’re right,” Taylor hummed, a plan forming in her mind. “I'll call you later. After,”

Selena smirked. “Good luck with lover girl, but I don’t think you’ll need it,”

“Thanks,”

******

Taylor shouldn’t have been shocked by how easy it was to get into the hotel that the team was staying at. She shouldn’t have been surprised that the teenager behind the front desk gave her a room number with very little persuading.

There also hadn’t been any security on the elevator. Or on the floor, your room was on.

It was a little scary that she could get to you with literally no one stepping in, but considering your frequently snarky comments about how little people actually cared about you and the league, she should’ve expected it.

If you said yes. If you started a relationship with her, she would have to do something to put a barrier between you and the fans.

You probably wouldn’t like the idea of someone trailing you around, like Jason and her team trailed her, but it would be necessary. She would have to talk to Jason about it. Maybe Tony would be up for the job, you seemed to like him anyway.

Finding your door was as easy as getting the number from the receptionist.

But she paused in front of the ugly red door, her heart pounding on her chest.

She swallowed hard, lifting her hand and knocking three times on the door.

She had no reason to be nervous. You loved seeing her, and it wasn’t like you could bring one of your… conquests to a hotel room you shared with a teammate.

It would just be your sleepy smile that would meet her. The one where your eyes crinkled and you ran a hand through your ever-unruly curls.

But it wasn’t your tired smile that met her.

Instead, it was Christen’s Press’ wide smirk, as the older forward opened the door.

“So you’re the mystery girl from the bar,” Christen’s chin tilted towards her as she leaned against the doorframe. “I thought I recognized you,”

Taylor’s fingers wound into her cardigan, and she swallowed trying to get some moisture in her suddenly dry throat.

“Is Y/n here?”

Her voice came out shaky, horse.

Christen bit her lip, watching Taylor closely like she was a specimen under a microscope.

“She is not,” She said finally, her arms crossing over her chest, almost defensively.

“Oh,”

Taylor’s whole being deflated.

If you weren’t here, then where were you? Who were you with?

Christen glanced into the room behind her. “She should be back soon though. Wicked started at 8, and she swore it was only a 3-hour show with a thirty-minute intermission,”

Taylor’s eyebrows furrowed. “She’s on Broadway?”

You insisted that you hated anything with a plot, but Broadway musicals had a plot. You had also told her that you were just going to hang out at the hotel with your friends.

Why had you lied?

Taylor could see the pity in her eyes, and she hated it.

“Yeah,” Christen nodded once. “She sees at least one show every time she’s in New York. It’s like her 8th time seeing Wicked, but it’s her favorite,”

“Oh,” Taylor breathed out.

A pained look crossed Christen’s face, and she shifted on the door frame.

“I’m sure you’ve heard about y/n’s reputation. I just…,” Christen’s voice was soft, hesitant even. “If… you woke up alone… or if she promised you something…”

Taylor frowned immediately shaking her head. “We didn’t-. She didn’t-. I wanted to talk to her about our plans for tomorrow,”

Relief washed across Christen’s face. “Good. The two of you looked adorable in the bar, and she wouldn’t shut up about you. She has a habit of ruining things she thinks she doesn’t deserve,”

Taylor’s eyebrows furrowed.

What did Christen mean? What did you ruin?

“You said she’s seeing Wicked tonight?” Taylor asked, her head tilting.

Jason should be able to get her close to the theater before they let out. Maybe she could catch you.

Christen nodded, sensing that Taylor was already forming another plan. “Yes. Jackie Burns is playing Elphaba and she’s one of y/n’s favorites,”

“Thanks,”

Taylor was already turning away from her, phone in hand.

Christen caught her arm before she could retreat down the hall, and Taylor met her deep green eyes. “Just… treat her right, ok?”

“I will,”

Both women felt the weight of the words. The promise.

“There will be a hoard of angry footballers with a bounty on your head if you don’t,” Christen’s lips cracked into a smile as she released the singer. “Y/n doesn’t just let anyone close to her,”

“I know,” Taylor matched her grin.

Taylor had already gotten close to you. Closer than you had let nearly everyone before her. Now she just had to actually get you to agree that your relationship was more.

She would, and then she would protect your relationship and you with everything she had.

******

Sometimes, being a professional soccer player was… strange.

Strange because you played on a well-known team, but that you could easily disappear into a crowd. Strange because strangers on the internet all so many opinions about you, but none of them actually knew you.

They didn’t know how much you loved musicals because it let you escape the truth of your own reality for a few hours. They didn’t know how much you loved the way the skyscrapers were accented against the star-dotted sky. How the billboards lit up the sidewalk and the pedicabs and taxis when you stepped out of a show.

How the rain made the lights twinkle like the street was covered in fairy dust.

How the cool October air filled your lungs as you shoved your hands deeper into your pockets as you left the Gershwin Theater.

You would stay and stand at the stage door, but it was already nearing midnight. You promised Christen you wouldn’t be back too late, and the dollar pizza guy around the corner from the hotel closed at 1. You would not be missing out on a greasy one-dollar slice. It was tradition after all, and you already had Jackie Burns’ signature on a framed shirt.

Plus the rain made anything but finding the subway entrance something you wholeheartedly didn’t want to do.

“Y/n,”

You dipped your head at the call of your name, slipping further into the crowd and leaving the theater.

You didn’t think that anyone would recognize you. They rarely ever did, but then again your face had been plastered all over the place since Rio.

You weren’t in the mood to deal with fans anyway, even after a solid win over Sky Blue. Not while you were getting soaked.

“Y/n, wait!”

You pulled your hood over your head, ignoring the way it pressed into your damp curls, and hunched your shoulders in an attempt to make yourself disappear.

You just needed to get around the corner of the Barclay building and cut between the hotdog cart and Juniors and you would be safe in the subway station. Away from prying eyes and the drenching rain, and back towards the team hotel in SoHo.

“Y/n,”

The voice was even closer, and a hand caught your arm just as you made it to the corner, pulling you to a dead stop. You let out a long, weary breath, painting a million-dollar smile on your face as you turned.

Yelling at a fan wouldn’t go over well.

But it melted as soon as you saw exactly who had grabbed you.

“Taylor?” Her hair was plastered to her head, her dark gray cardigan soaked through, and her blue eyes accented by running makeup. “Where is your coat? What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you,”

“We need to get you out of this rain,” You muttered, ignoring her. You yanked your zipper down, and tugged your arms out of your jacket, tucking it around her shoulders and pulling the hood over her head. “You’re going to get sick,”

You caught her hand after you zipped the coat around her and began to drag her towards the subway.

At least the 51st station was heated.

“Y/n wait,”

Her slippery fingers tugged on yours, trying to slow you down. Trying to stop you.

“No. It’s like 50 degrees out here and raining,” You grumbled, not even looking at her.

How had she found you? Why was she out in the rain looking for you? What if she got Pneumonia because she chased after you without a coat?

You were trying to remember what Alex and Kelley always said about rain and cold, after rain games. You were trying to remember how Alex would get you warmed up when you were young.

“Y/n, stop,” Taylor tugged at your hand again, and you glanced over your shoulder at her, still refusing to stop pulling her towards the subway.

“What? I don’t want you to get sick and die,” You bit back, as the rain got harder, bouncing off Taylor’s hood in large, heavy drops. “Why would you come out here without a raincoat or an umbrella? Or-,”

Taylor jerked you towards her before you could finish, and before you could process what was happening, her lips met yours, stealing the end of your sentence.

You blinked, your lips frozen for a long second, taking in the feeling of Taylor’s warm lips accented by the cool drops of rain.

It was like your brain had short-circuited.

You couldn’t kiss back, or pull away (even though you didn’t want you). All you could do was stand here, mouth halfway open, blinking owlishly at her.

Her thumb brushed against your cheek as she leaned back, her eyebrows furrowed with worry that she had crossed a line. “Y/n,”

You blinked again, water dripping off your lashes.

Taylor kissed you.

She kissed you in the rain.

Taylor liked you.

But she hadn’t said that. She hadn’t said anything.

You blinked for a third time, tilting your chin up and leaning forward to connect your lips again.

Taylor sucked in a breath before gently returning the kiss.

Your lips moved together like they were made for each other. It was slow and warm, and… wet, accented by the rain dripping down your faces.

Your hands found her waist, your fingers squeezing her hips, and hers tangled in the soaked baby hairs at the back of your neck.

It was a perfect first kiss. Something out of a fairytale, or one of Taylor’s songs.

You finally pulled away, breathing heavily through your nose, almost like you had run a full 90.

“It’s raining, and I don’t want you to get sick,” You mumbled, leaning in and pecking her lips again.

“Jason and the car are that way,” She said, gesturing back toward the theater.

You lifted your head in that direction, noting the sleek, black Escalade among the yellow cabs. You couldn’t see who was inside, but you knew that that would be true even if it wasn’t nighttime and pouring with the blacked-out windows.

It had to be worth more than pretty much everything you owned, and you were soaked through.

It would ruin the interior, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to afford fixing it.

Taylor shivered though, and you sighed, nodding. “Let’s get you warmed up,”

“You need to get warm too,” Taylor hummed, trailing her hand down your bare arm and catching your fingers. “I have towels in the car,”

You squeezed her hand, letting her lead you towards the car. The door was open by the time you got to it, the back seat already littered with black towels and a blanket.

Taylor slid in first, and you followed after her, wiping your curls out of your eyes, and allowing her to wrap a towel around you, even though you didn’t feel cold.

“Back to your apartment?” The bulky blonde man in the front seat asked, turning to look at Taylor.

“I have to go back to the team hotel,” You said before she could answer him. “I’ll get in trouble with the coaching staff if I don’t go back, and it’ll upset my teammates,”

Taylor’s hand landed on your thigh, squeezing gently like she was telling you that she would take care of it.

“The hotel it is,” The man smiled, turning back towards the steering wheel, and flicking one of the buttons near the center console. More heat began to flood the car, as it inched forward. “Traffic is pretty bad with this rain, so it’ll be a bit,”

“Thanks, Jay,” Taylor sighed, grabbing the blanket and tossing it over the two of you. “We’re not in a hurry,”

He glanced up at you in the rearview mirror. “Would you like me to put up the privacy curtain?”

Taylor’s lips curved into a playful smile, and she squeezed your thigh again. “No. Not tonight,”

You raised an eyebrow at her.

Did she do this often? This couldn’t have been the first time she was with someone in the back of the car.

The thought made your stomach tumble.

Maybe the kiss wasn’t because she wanted something more, but because she wanted… sex. It wouldn’t be a shocker with your reputation. You were easy, always up for a lay. She just wanted to blow off some steam.

You shut down that thought.

It didn’t matter.

“Are you warm enough?” Taylor asked, and your eyes snapped up to meet hers.

“Hm?” your eyebrows furrowed deeper.

You didn’t feel cold.

She reached up very slowly, brushing a stray curl from your forehead and laying a thumb very gently on your lips. “Your lips are still trembling,”

You leaned into the warmth of her hand, unable to stop yourself. “Oh, I’m ok. I’ve had to play in the rain before. This isn’t that bad,”

She looked unconvinced, her other hand adjusting your towel so it covered more of your frame. “You shouldn’t have given me your jacket,”

“You shouldn’t have been out in that without one,” You shrugged, earning an eye roll.

“I had important things to talk to you about,” She said, her thumb dragging from your lips to brush your cheek.

Your lips tilted into a teasing smirk. “I don’t think we actually talked,”

“But I think you got the message,” She murmured, completing the circuit with her thumb back towards your lips.

“Did I?” Your eyebrow quirked up at her.

She tapped your lips, before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to them. You couldn’t help the way you leaned into her, and kissed back, even if it had warning sirens blaring in your head.

You would ignore the gnawing feeling that this would ruin your friendship and that Taylor would leave when she was done with you

“You did,” She hummed as she pulled away, her thumb gliding across your cheek again.

She sounded so sure of herself. Far more sure than you felt.

Maybe Emily was right.

Maybe you should just go with it.

OoOoOoO

You let out a long breath, leaning your forehead against the cool, hotel room door, watching as little water droplets slid down the smooth, red surface. Your hand rested on the handle, but you had no intention of opening it.

Not yet.

Not while your head still felt like it was in a blender.

Not while you were still reeling from the feeling of Taylor’s soft lips pressed into yours. Of her thumb making circuits from your cheek to your lips and back. Of her blue eyes staring at you like she could see beneath your skin like she wanted you more than she wanted anything else.

But she couldn’t want you.

She probably just wanted to… experiment, and your reputation made you an easy choice.

You blew out another breath, hoping that the feeling of it leaving your lungs would help steady the shakiness in your knees.

It was embarrassing, but you had been fantasizing about what her lips would feel like, how she would taste, for a long time. And now that you had actually tasted them, well, it was a craving you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to satiate. It would be so much worse when she decided she didn’t want you.

You watched a water droplet slide down the door, lazily making its way around a chip in the paint.

But maybe she did want you.

You had chased you down in the rain, without a jacket, after all, and kissed you in the street like she didn’t care who was looking.

You let out one more breath, fishing the key card out of your back pocket and pressing it against the lock until it clicked. You let your forehead push the door open, only lifting it after you had stepped inside the hotel room.

You weren’t surprised to see that the lights were still on, and Christen was still sitting up in bed a book in her hand and her reading glasses still firmly in place.

“I was about to send out a search party,” She hummed, catching her bookmark from the nightstand and carefully placing it into the book. It was only then that she looked up at you, a frown pulling at her lips. “Why are you all wet? Where is your jacket?”

You had the decency to send her a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. I got distracted and then Tony’s pizza stand was closed so I had to go to the corner slice in Tribeca. I lost my jacket somewhere along the way,”

You pulled your sodden Manchester City jersey over your head. “Do you think it can be saved?”

Christen rolled her eyes and pushed herself to stand, crossing the room to the small closet and pulling out a hanger. “Let’s hang dry it, and we’ll see,”

You followed after her towards the bathroom, turning it the right way out and gingerly sliding it onto the hanger. “It has to be ok. Bronze is my favorite and my parents finally got a name right,”

She took it from you and hooked it around the shower curtain rail. “A true miracle that I’m sure Alex had nothing to do with,”

Alex couldn’t have had anything to do with it. You never told her that you liked Bronze. You had only told Rosie.

Though you weren’t sure how your parents had picked the right one…

She turned back to you, her eyes flickering to the skin just above your lips. A smirk broke across her face and she reached up to brush her thumb over your cheek. “Is that lipstick?”

You jerked your head away from her. “No,”

There was no way Taylor’s lipstick could be on your soaking-wet skin. Not with the way the rain had drenched the two of you.

Except…

your eyes closed.

Taylor had kissed your cheek before you exited the car. You slipped out of the Escalade under the awning of the hotel, safe from the rain.

“Let’s get the not lipstick off of you then,” Christen hummed noncommittally, pulling you closer to the sink. “How did you get so soaked?”

You waited until she turned away from you to dig into her makeup bag to answer, contemplating the words that you would say.

Surely her advice would help too, but then her girlfriend would probably tell your sister.

It would be easier if you just kept it all to yourself. If you just followed Emily’s advice and went with it.

“I got distracted and the corner slice doesn’t have indoor seating,” you said, eying the bottles she was pulling from her bag, dabbing a cotton ball on the top. “What’s that?”

“Makeup remover,” She hummed, her fingers catching your chin and tilting it so she had a better view of the offending red on your lips. “It must be waterproof, so this is the only thing that will get it off unless you want to dye the sheets red,”

Your nose scrunched at the acrid smell on the cotton ball as she very gently began to swipe it against your lips. You let your eyes slide closed, trying to ignore how small it made you feel. Trying to ignore how much it reminded you of when you were little.

But it was too late.

You could feel the ghosts of her hands drawing across your cheeks in quick, practiced movements, and practically hear Alex’s “hold still little monkey,” ringing in your ears. You could see the soft smile that always played at her lips and the way her blue eyes focused as she helped you.

“Hold still little monkey, I’ll be quick. I promise,”

They were memories you didn’t want to remember. They brought a warm, protected feeling to your chest that you wanted to forget.

The betrayal that followed would hurt less if you forgot if you didn’t remember the safety and care that had never been a question before it. The feelings that you were searching for in one bed or another. The feelings that you were convinced you would never feel again.

But then you met Taylor, and she made you want to believe you were wrong.

“You’re good to go,” Christen said, pulling you back to reality.

Your eyes blinked open, and you sent her a charming smile as you pulled away. “Thanks,”

She nodded back at you, watching you for a long minute like she wanted to say something she wasn’t sure about.

“What?”

“Your hair is sticking up,” Christen quirked a small smile at you, and your eyes flickered toward the mirror, frowning.

You were sure that’s now what she was going to say, but you were grateful that she didn’t voice whatever thought she had.

But she was right. Amongst the mop of curls you had been letting grow since the undercut disaster of the 2015 World Cup, several were sticking up at strange angles. The one at the crown of your head standing straight up in a semi-hilarious impression of alfalfa from the little rascals. It was probably due to the water and wax that you always wore on game days to keep it out of your eyes mixing.

They would be a bitch to fix in the morning if they dried like that. Maybe you would just wear a beanie over them instead of putting in the effort to fix them. Or maybe you would just chop them all off again.

You reached for one of the small white hand towels, tossing it over your wild, tangled, soaked curls and dropping your pants with the other in a fluid motion. “I should dry off,”

Christen rolled her eyes, entirely used to your antics after spending a season in a locker room with you, and many more of being on the national team. She was just thankful you had a bra and boxers on. “And maybe get rid of the sex hair so the media doesn’t have a field day,”

You wiggled your eyebrows at her, pushing her towards the bathroom door. “Well, what would they do with my reputation then,”

Realize you’re not what you present yourself as Christen thought wryly.

She wondered if Taylor had figured that out yet too. That you hid your sunshiney personality under a brash and untrusting exterior.

The girl had gone chasing after you in the rain after all, so maybe, just maybe, she saw you for what you really were. And hopefully, she was prepared to give you what you needed.

What you clearly didn’t feel you had the right to crave.

******

November 2016

Windows flung right open, autumn air,

Jacket ‘round my shoulders is yours

It was a strange feeling, being on the East Coast and it feeling like home.

You had been raised on the West Coast. You spent the majority of your time in the center of the country, but somehow, you found yourself craving the crisp autumn air that only existed in the east.

There was the possibility that you were just drawn to the city. That you were addicted to how into the game fans got, starting up chants for you even though you were on the opposing team. But there was also the slight chance that your new-found love of the city was directly tied to one of its most beloved inhabitants.

You and Taylor had only grown impossibly closer in the time since the kiss. The flirty texts between the two of you were more frequent as were the half-dressed locker room photos and videos of you dancing at practice. The calls had also increased to the point where you almost always fell asleep listening to her slow breathing, and woke up to a good morning.

But despite your increasing closeness, the two of you hadn’t defined what you were. And you had absolutely no clue where you stood.

You pulled your knee closer to your chest, resting your cleat-covered foot on the bench next to you, and undoing the three special knots you always put in your custom red laces.

You were thankful that camp was over. That you would get to spend some time in the city after the win.

“Is there a reason you were terrorizing Colombia? Or was it just for fun?” Emily smirked, appearing on the bench next to you.

You raised your eyebrows at her, a cocky smile pulling at your lips. “Do I need to have a reason to play well?”

“No,” Emily shrugged.

It wasn’t your fault that their entire back line had crumbled under your and Alex’s pressure. It wasn’t your fault that Christen had cut through them collecting the balls you sent her way.

It wasn’t your fault that the keeper had missed the chance to save 4 of your shots.

“The crowd certainly enjoyed the display,” Rose added, sitting on your other side, effectively trapping you between them. “Just seems like your celebrations were a little too on the nose for you not to be… directing them at someone,”

You rolled your eyes. Just because you blew a kiss towards a section of the stands after your 3rd goal, didn’t mean that it had been directed. And just because the chanting of your name only got louder after that didn’t mean it had been for them.

Well, it didn’t have to mean it was directed, even if you did have a person in mind to receive it.

No one else had to know that.

“It was the section who did the Morgan magic chant,” You mumbled, pulling off your cleat and lining it next to the fancy pair of Vans you had chosen for tonight.

“Got a hot date?” Emily asked, nudging your shoulder with her own as Rose turned from the two of you and became engrossed in a conversation with Sam.

“Something like that,” You mumbled, moving on to your other cleat. “I’m still not sure… where I stand. With my friend.”

“The one you’ve been sending half-naked photos to?” Emily wiggled her eyebrows at you.

You would never live down the after-training snapshots you had taken or the pictures from the weight room that you had sent off.

You nodded reluctantly. “We’ve been more flirty since September,”

“Since the kiss?” She asked, watching as you shed your game shorts and grabbed a pair of jeans instead of your usual post-game sweats.

“Yes,” You nodded, pausing for a second and biting your lip. “But I just… I’m going to fuck this up,”

You ran a hand through your messy hair, still damp from the post-game shower.

“You’re not,” Emily rolled her eyes, and she stole your shirt from your locker before you could pull it over your head, forcing you to look at her. “You’re doing pretty well so far. Just don’t make it complicated,”

You met her eyes, swallowing hard.

“Just go with it,” You repeated her own advice back to her.

You were just having dinner and a movie night with Taylor. It would be familiar. Easy.

It didn’t have to be complicated.

“Exactly,” She agreed, tossing your shirt at you. “You seem to be going with the flow pretty well,”

You pulled the green material over your head, reaching into your locker for your trusty hair wax, rubbing it between your hands, and trying to smooth out your hair.

You glanced down at your phone when it buzzed. “Speaking of going with it, I’ve gotta go,”

You slid the device into your pocket along with your wallet and hooked your fancy watch on your wrist. You shoved your feet into your Vans and sending a wink towards Sonnett.

“I’ll make sure your bag makes it to Kelley. Tell Taylor I said hello,” She smirked, patting your back as you headed towards the locker room door.

You looked over your shoulder at her. “No,”

Before slamming the locker room door shut.

You turned the corner, finding a quiet place in the hall, and leaned against the cool brick of the stadium, hoping no one would see you.

Maybe you had directed your hat trick kiss towards where you knew a specific person was watching.

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and opened your messages.

You loved Emily, and Rose. You really did, but their propensity for butting in while you were texting had been particularly grating after they found out who you were sending messages to.

They had already gotten a hold of your phone twice. Once they tried to call her and the second they sent a string of cryptic texts that had Taylor convinced you had gotten hurt at practice. It took you almost 3 hours to convince her that you were actually fine. You had even had to put her on the phone with Luke from the physical therapy staff to convince her that she didn’t need to fly in from Nashville early. After that, you stopped texting around them altogether and changed your password to a 37-digit code.

Plus, Mal glared at you whenever you were on your phone.

Athena 👸🏼: Tony and Jason are taking me to the back tunnel by the car. Do you want to meet us there, or do you want us to meet you somewhere else?

Your eyebrows pulled tightly together and you looked away from your phone and down the long hallway.

You certainly didn’t want her to be anywhere near the locker room where your sister and your nosey teammates were. You weren’t ready to… share Taylor with them yet. You weren’t ready to answer questions when you weren’t even sure where you stood with her.

Your relationship felt… fragile… and you weren’t ready to mess that up yet.

Soccer hottie ⚽️: Stay put, I’ll meet you there.

You pushed yourself off the wall, turning to your left and strolling down the maze of hallways. You didn’t need to look at the signs to know which way to go, you had been to Red Bull (and snuck out of it with company you wanted to keep away from prying eyes) enough that you had the layout memorized.

“Hey hotshot,”

“Hey,” You smiled widely as you rounded the corner and Tony came into view.

You had been seeing him far more frequently since the kiss. Part of you thought it was because he just lived near you in Chicago. He liked the same smoothie place you did and frequented the same restaurants.

But a smaller part of you wondered if Taylor had something to do with it.

“I thought you would be waiting with Tay,” You said as he squeezed your arm, pulling your overnight bag from your shoulder and slinging it over his own.

“She sent me to come find you,” Tony said, a teasing smirk pulling at his features.

You knew it wasn’t you he was teasing.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” You sighed, running a hand through your still-damp hair, brushing the unruly curls from in front of your eyes.

“She was impatient,” He shrugged, unbothered by (or entirely used to) your protest, gesturing to the barely noticeable clear earpiece in his right ear. “I offered to find you and give her an eta,”

The wire disappeared down the back of his shirt where you were sure it connected to a radio. You rolled your eyes.

Maybe you should be flattered that she wanted live updates of your whereabouts, but you couldn’t help the sinking feeling in your chest that she didn’t think you were capable of making it to the car tunnel on your own.

“I told her I was on my way like 2 minutes ago,” You huffed, glancing behind you.

You hadn’t taken long after the game to exit the field. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. You finished the obligatory lap and then stayed to sign autographs for the fans that had cheered for you all game.

You rushed through the showers after Vlatko’s post-game droning and changed quickly.

“I know,” Tony agreed, falling into step beside you as you continued down the corridor. “She’s just excited to see you. You put on quite the show,”

You wiggled your eyebrows. “The crowd got into it and that made scoring and setting up my friends more fun,”

Tony made a low humming noise as he stepped in front of you, pushing open the double doors that led to the private car tunnel so you didn’t have to.

You barely stepped through before a body collided with yours.

Your hands caught Taylor’s hips as you stumbled, and she wrapped you in a very tight hug.

“I missed you,” She mumbled, and you felt a hand on your back to steady the two of you.

You hummed, tucking your nose into her collarbone and squeezing her. “I missed you too,”

It was true.

It had only been six weeks since the last time you saw her in person, and you talked at least once a day, but it was a feeling of longing that saturated your being. Her presence was a deep… need that seeped into your bones.

It was a little alarming how… dependent you felt.

The two of you embraced for another long moment, and you let the smell of coconut and lavender from her perfume wash over your senses and soothe the post-game dip that always prickled your brain.

“You played so so well,” She said, pulling away, a wide smile radiating off of her.

You let your own cocky grin pull across your features. “Thanks, I like to get the crowd fired up,”

“They were electric,” She hummed, letting her hand trail down your arm and landing lightly on your stomach.

You opened your mouth to respond, but Your stomach ruined the moment with a loud rumble.

Taylor frowned. “Have you eaten today?”

“Not really. I had lunch and then just a protein bar and a veggie shake,” You shrugged, sending a guilty look her way. “I don’t like to have a lot in my stomach during games,”

It was a bad habit you had picked up in highschool after a very hot game in August ended up with your pasta lunch making a reappearance in a sideline trash can.

“There’s a fantastic Italian place by mine?” Taylor offered, almost shyly as your stomach rumbled again against her hand.

You leaned in and pressed a very sweet kiss to her lips, unable to resist, and enjoying the light red that dusted her cheeks.

Your hand slipped into her back pocket, and you sent her a cheeky smile. “Lead the way then,”

OoOoOoO

Dinner with Taylor was absolutely incredible. Well, confusing for you, but amazing nonetheless.

The restaurant she had chosen was small, intimate, and expensive. You looked through the entire menu, choosing the cheapest pasta you could find, even though you fucking hated pesto because it was the only dish that wouldn’t mean you would have to raid the Chicago locker room for snacks when you got back.

It hadn’t mattered because Taylor paid anyway.

Conversation flowed between the two of you like water. It was so easy to talk to Taylor, and you were slowly growing addicted to making her laugh.

It was exactly like it had been before the two of you shared the kiss(s) until you got back into the car.

She had been very… handsey in the ride back. And you had been handsey too, your fingers dipping past her skirt to squeeze her ass at every opportunity.

Things hadn't slowed down in the elevator, and you had attacked her neck as she fished out the key to her apartment.

You were growing addicted to the taste of her skin as well.

She pressed you into the island, her lips dragging down your neck and towards your collarbone as soon as you were through the door.

That’s when the anxiety clenched in your stomach, thinking of the way your heart pounded in your ears when you walked out of the tunnel and into a stadium, your eyes trained on the jersey numbers in front of you.

You needed a way to slow her down. To… delay the inevitable.

You saw your pale, terrified face in the reflection of her sliding glass door, and it felt like a lightbulb flashing in your brain.

“Want to go swimming?” You asked suddenly, and her hands paused on your waist as her lips ghosting just over your pulse point.

“What?”

You felt her lips curl into a frown against your skin.

“I didn’t take my post-game ice bath,” You said, pulling away, so you could meet her eyes and gesturing towards the city lights glinting off of her infinity pool. “and your pool should be cold enough,”

Her eyebrows knitted tightly together. “You want to go swimming in October, in New York? Wouldn’t you rather continue this?”

You shrugged, painting a charming smile across your face (hoping she wouldn’t see through it). “When else will we be able to enjoy a view like this,”

Her lips turned even further down, and your heart beat a little bit faster.

You didn’t want her to think you were rejecting her. You weren’t. You just…

“You don’t even have a bathing suit,” She said softly, and you could hear the hesitation in her voice. The concern.

You needed to redirect her. To make her think that everything was ok so you didn’t lose her.

“I don’t need one,” You wiggled your eyebrows and caught her fingers, tugging her towards the sliding glass door. “Come on,”

The view was even better from outside, the lights of the city twinkling in time with the stars and reflecting off of the pool back at you.

“Let me at least turn on the pool lights,” She grumbled, reaching for a small remote on one of the lounge chairs. “Wouldn’t want you to miss the edge and get hurt before the end of the season,”

You smirked, releasing her while she squinted at the clicker.

***SECTION CONTAINING SLIGHT SMUT***

You easily slipped out of your shorts and pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in a pair of boxers and your sports bra as you stepped towards the infinity pool. “Don’t mess with it for too long,”

You didn’t wait for her to respond before diving into the icy water.

It immediately prickled at your skin like a million tiny needles, pulling the air from your lungs and giving you the sensation of the world's worst brain freeze. You kept your eyes closed, forcing yourself to relax against the painful assault, letting yourself sink to the glacial blue tiles on the bottom of her pool.

You could visualize the heat seeping out of you and into the shimmering floor, and you allowed yourself to give in to the sensation. To imagine it was the tension in your muscles, the aches that always came after a game, slowly leaching into your frigid surroundings.

Letting the water numb your anxious mind until all that was left was a serene sense of calm.

It felt familiar. Good in a masochistic sort of way that you couldn’t accurately put into words.

Your brain absentmindedly reached its countdown from 45, and you pushed yourself off of the bottom.

You let out a long breath as your head broke the surface, wiping your curls out of your eyes, and turning towards Taylor.

She was at the edge of the pool, the remote hanging loosely in her hand, her wide eyes glinting off of the fairy lights strung along the balcony and over the pool.

“You coming?” You asked, plastering a playful smirk across your lips. “Or are you just going to stare?”

Her mouth opened and closed, reminding you of a fish.

You rolled your eyes, gilded towards her, stopping at her feet and looking up at her through your lashes.

You dragged your fingers along the seam in the tiles and gently laid your hand on her foot, trying not to smirk at the shiver that ran down her spine. “It’s kinda lonely in here,”

She blinked at you, slowly pulling her shirt over her head and dropping it behind her.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes dragged down the newly exposed skin of her collarbone, between her breasts, and down to the waistband of her jeans where she was thumbing the button there.

All of your attention was glued to her as she slid the material down her long legs, revealing creamy skin that made your mouth water accented by the deep blue material of her underwear.

It stirred butterflies in your chest like the sight of no other woman had. You wanted her like you had never wanted anyone.

Not even Mal.

“It’s unfair how hot you are,” Taylor mumbled, settling on the edge of the pool, her legs bracketing you as she slid them into the frigid water.

You ran your fingers up her calves and onto her thighs. “You’re not bad yourself,”

She rolled her eyes, reaching down and smoothing your curls off of your forehead, dragging her hands down your face to cup your cheeks. Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth. “It’s criminal how much you show your abs during games,”

You shrugged, floating closer to her and letting your thumb toy with the elastic on her underwear. “Sweat burns when it’s in my eyes. Plus the fans like it, and so do you,”

Taylor made a low noise, drawing you closer to her, so you could feel her breath on your lips. “You’re a tease you know?”

“You dig it,” You smirked, leaning in the final centimeter to connect your lips in a slow kiss.

You couldn’t help the low sound that came out of the back of your throat as her tongue gently pressed against your lips, and you opened them to meet her.

She tasted like red wine and strawberries and something that was so… Taylor.

It was sweet and spicy and addictive.

And it made you want her.

You pulled away when air became an issue, trailing down her cheek to her neck, under her chin, and lavishing the skin you found down by her pulse point with your tongue. You enjoyed the way you could feel her heartbeat, how you could feel it quicken under your ministrations.

You tried to keep your mind focused as you made your way down her neck, to her chest. You tried to focus on the softness of her skin and to memorize the way it tasted. To imprint in your mind how your tongue glided in velvet skin.

You tried not to let your thoughts drift towards how a soccer ball felt at your feet. How you were still working on how to twist your hips to not give away which direction you were going to kick. How you needed to point your toes to perform the newest trick you were learning.

Her fingers tangled in your hair, weaving through the wet curls close to your scalp and pulling you impossibly closer.

You mouthed the edge of her bra, placing feather light kisses in a line between her breasts (paying special attention to the barely visible freckle you found there), ghosting down her stomach, and landing on the elastic of her underwear, letting her hand guide you where she wanted you.

You looked up at her, meeting her hazy blue eyes. “Are you sure?”

Her fingers tightened, pleasantly scratching your scalp. “I’ve never been more sure,”

Your lips tilted into a devilish grin, your body sipping lower into the frigid water. “As you wish,”

*****

Taylor panted heavily against you, each breath warming your neck as you spun in slow circles in the cold water. Her legs wrapped tightly around your waist, and your hand worked slowly between your bodies, bringing her down from her orgasm.

You had lost track of what number she was on. Actually, you had lost track of pretty much everything after her underwear came off.

It didn’t matter how hard you fought to stay present, you couldn’t help the way your brain slipped away. How your thoughts slid from Taylor the second you were level with her center. How the all-encompassing butterflies in your stomach fluttered away and you faded into familiar sensations and your thoughts turned to soccer.

You knew it was weird to be working through a double-pivot formation while you were having sex. It was weird for you to be thinking about ball rotations and through passes or lineups for upcoming games while you were getting a girl off.

Except it’s where your mind always went.

Taylor made a low noise against your throat, and your fingers stopped gliding through her velvety folds. Your other arm tightened around her as you pulled your hand away, bringing it to your lips and lightly sucking your fingers.

You sighed at the taste, sweet, salty, and a little tangy, happy that Taylor's pool was salt water instead of chlorine. It would have made this entire experience much less enjoyable.

“Don’t do that,” Taylor said, her nose nudging the space under your chin.

“Hm?” You hummed around your finger, your abs flexing as she shifted.

She reached for your wrist, pulling your finger from your lips. “I need a minute before I can go again, and you make it hard to wait,”

You leaned in and connected your lips, your tongue probing at her bottom lip and gently slid your tongue in when she parted her lips. Her hips rolled and you flexed your abs to give her a better surface.

“I can’t help it,” You smirked as you pulled away. “You just taste so good,”

She shivered against you, but you weren’t sure if it was from overstimulation or the cold.

“Come on, let’s get cleaned up,” You said, walking towards the pool stairs. “And you can recover,”

Her legs tightened around you as you carried her up the steps, and her head rested on your shoulder. “I forgot how strong you are,”

You made a low noise, focusing on your feet so you didn’t slip and send you both back into the freezing pool.

“Where is your bathroom?” You asked, carefully sliding her glass door open and stepping into her apartment. “I don’t want to get water everywhere,”

“Down the hall to the left,” She said, lifting an arm to gesture down the hallway, but not moving her head from its safe space between your neck and shoulder. “It’s through my bedroom,”

You nodded, easily making your way through the hallway, across the dark carpet of her bedroom, and into the massive master bathroom.

You set her down on the Marble counter you found there, placing a light kiss on her head before you turned away towards the giant bathtub, and began fiddling with the golden faucets.

It took you a second to make the water a good temperature and to flick the drain plug before you returned to her, slotting between her legs again.

“Do you want a drink or something?” You asked as she pulled you back in for another kiss.

“I’d love one,” She breathed against your lips. “I have wine in the fridge,”

“I’ll go get it,” You hummed. “You just stay here and look pretty,”

Her mouth curved against yours, and you finally pulled away, kissing her nose before you padded off toward the kitchen (ignoring how she tapped your ass as you left).

It felt like a weight left your chest as you exited her bedroom, and you took a long breath as you made it to the kitchen.

There had to be something fucking wrong with you.

You had a naked woman two rooms over. A woman who had gone skinny dipping with you. A woman who was recovering so you could give her another orgasm. And here you were, doing your best to stall. Trying to quell the growing dread in your stomach.

You shook your head, going to the wine fridge and pulling out the half-full bottle of red you were sure was the one Taylor wanted. You also grabbed two water bottles and found a wine glass in the cabinet.

Just because you had hooked up with her… were actively hooking up with her… didn’t mean that she wanted your relationship to change.

You took another deep breath.

Being weird about any of this would just make it worse.

You could be normal.

You could save your friendship.

You turned from the kitchen, slowly making your way back to the bathroom.

Taylor smiled softly at you when you returned, holding out her arms to you. “I can’t believe you never took your clothing off,”

You painted an easy smirk on your lips, setting the bottles and glass down on the counter before, letting her wrap her arms around you. “You were distracted,”

She hummed. “You’re… very good with your hands,”

You wiggled your eyebrows, leaning in to peck her lips before you turned away. You turned off the water in the tub and held your hand out for her. “Get in first. I’ll pour you some wine and join you. This way I can show you the other things my hands are good at,”

She rolled her eyes, but let you guide her into the tub, sighing as she immersed herself in the warm water.

You waited for her to get settled before you poured her half a glass of wine and passed it her way, and you grabbed a bottle of water for yourself, cracking it open and taking a very long sip.

Taylor made another low sound, and you felt her eyes on you, following every movement. You flexed your arm and abs for effect as you finished off the bottle.

You smirked at her as you pulled it away from your Lips, setting it on the counter. “Lean forward so I can get into the tub,”

She eyed you, shaking her head. “This is a clothing-free zone,”

“Is it?” You asked, cocking your head to the side.

She hummed. “It is. I can’t believe you still have boxers and a bra on,”

“You were distracted,” You shrugged smirking devilishly at her, placing the bottle on the counter and easily slipping out of your soaked boxers. “Something about the water being too cold,”

“Try freezing,” She huffed, her eyes tracing the newly exposed skin of your thighs (your muscles standing out because of the cold), up towards your hips, taking a large sip of her wine. “But you warmed me up,”

“I’m good at that,” You murmured, pulling your bra over your head and stepping towards the tub. “Please lean forward so I can get in,” you

“You are,” She breathed out as you slid into the tub behind her. She shifted so your thighs could encapsulate hers.

Your arms wrapped gently around her middle, your palm laying flat on her stomach and your chin resting on her shoulder.

You would have laughed at Taylor being the little spoon (because you were the shorter of the two of you), but you liked holding her. You also liked that the only places she could reach were your arms and legs.

Safe territory.

Territory that put you in control of the pace.

“It’s unfair how you look so good, and how good you are,” She let out another breath, wiggling so her back was pressed more tightly against your front.

You made a low sound, rubbing your hand up and down her stomach, your fingers just barely brushing her pelvic bone on each pass.

You didn’t like how… pronounced they were. It was something you knew you would have to address at some point but now did not feel like the right time.

“You’re pretty gorgeous yourself,” You murmured into her neck, kissing behind her ear, and letting your lips travel lower to the special spot you had found near her pulse point.

Her head tilted to give you more room, and her hands fell to where your knees were bracketing hers just below the steamy water. She pressed very gently into a dark bruise forming on your calf from a mistimed tackle. “You have no idea what you do to me. How much those stupid videos your teammates are always taking make me want you,”

You smirked against the soft skin of her neck, letting your tongue linger for a long second as your left hand dipped even lower on her stomach.

You knew the videos she was talking about. The ones that always seemed to catch you with your shirt off because you preferred to train that way. You hated when the damp material of your training top clung to you, so you normally forgoed one unless the media team was filming some behind-the-scenes stuff.

“I’ll have to send you my own videos now that I know you like them,” You said, dragging your lips up her neck towards her ear, and very gently letting your teeth close around the soft tissue.

She released a shakier breath as your fingers found her clit, and began rubbing very gentle circles. “I’d like that,”

“You got it,” You hummed, pressing a little harder, and dipping down towards the heat that had nothing to do with the bath water while your other hand sliding up to her chest to toy with her nipple

You smirked when her wine glass shook dangerously, the red liquid tipping out of the top as your fingers curled, pressing into the very special patch inside her.

It reminded you of when a ball tipped off of a keeper's fingers. How it bobbled before landing back on the grass. How you always held your breath to see if it would land on the right side of the goal line.

It was the perk of playing in Chicago, you supposed, that you had Alyssa as your starting keeper. You always felt like the ball was safe in her hands. You felt comfortable taking chances because you knew she was capable of cleaning up any messes you made. That her and JJ would protect the goal well enough that you could push forward.

Taylor tensed around your fingers, and the glass finally fell, landing thankfully in the water instead of crashing to the ground outside of the tub.

You kept your pace as she rode out her orgasm, your eyes focused on the red dissipating into the water until she finally relaxed against you. You finally pulled away when you were sure she was finished, kissing behind her ear and listening to her labored breathing as she came down.

Her head turned, and you laid a kiss on her cheek. “You made me spill my wine,”

“Oops,” You chuckled, not at all sorry, tweaking her nipple again before letting go and resting your hands on her stomach.

She giggled in response, swatting your knee and then soothing her hand over a large bruise forming just below it. “Behave,”

“I’m not known for behaving,” You said as she reached over and grabbed the fallen glass before either of you could accidentally break it. “It’s why the equipment staff are always following me around with extra shirts,”

“Try for me?” She asked, her lips curving into a smile you hadn’t seen her send to anyone else, making you melt. “I don’t think I have any more orgasms into me tonight,”

“Whatever you want,” You agreed, laying another kiss on her cheek.

She hummed, leaning back into you, and you tightened your arms around her.

You wondered if you should suggest that the two of you clean up and get ready for bed, but you didn’t even know if she wanted you to stay. You didn’t know if you would be welcome now that the two of you were done.

You had never not snuck out after. You didn’t know how any of this worked, and you were too afraid to ask.

“Just give me a few minutes and I’ll return the favor,” She mumbled. “You deserve it,”

You shook your head, tucking your nose in the space between her neck and shoulder. “I’m good. I got enough watching you,”

She sucked in a breath.“Are you sure?”

You hummed, kissing the junction where her neck and shoulder met. “I’m good. I’m with you,”

It was the truth.

It was easier this way. You knew how to deal with things this way.

She made a low noise of agreement. “Let’s just sit for a bit then, and then we can get cleaned up and go to bed,”

“Whatever you want,” You placed another kiss on her velvety skin, content to follow her lead.

Maybe you would get to keep your friendship after all.

***END OF SLIGHT SMUT***

OoOoOoO

Mornings were always your favorite.

You loved the way soft light fluttered through curtains, casting a candle-like glow on the room around you. The way the oranges and yellows melted into brilliant white, chasing away the darkness like lanterns in a cavern.

It reminded you of when you were little, cuddled up to Alex after a nightmare. She would run a hand through your hair, and tell you stories into the early hours of the morning, insisting that tales of Knights and Princesses could chase away the monsters that haunted your dreams.

“Just close your eyes monkey. I’ll protect you. Always,”

She made you feel safe. The rise and fall of her chest allowing your restless mind to relax.

It was no different here in Taylor’s bed, wrapped in perfect white sheets, her arm draped around your middle, her head resting on your shoulders, and her soft breaths tickling your neck at each exhale. Your bodies were pressed together, and you could feel her bare legs tangled with yours.

She made you feel safe and warm and like you mattered and that fucking terrified you.

It kept you up long after Taylor’s breathing turned deep and heavy, staring at the ceiling like it would give you the answers you were searching for.

You kept your arm wrapped around her, your fingers playing with the very tips of her hair and drawing shapes on the skin of her bare back.

You had to fight the urge to flee as soon as you were sure she was asleep. The urge that you had always indulged with your hookups. The one that meant you would never have to face the consequences of a hookup.

But Taylor wasn’t a hookup.

Even if she didn’t want a relationship, if you got to hold her like this, then you would accept whatever little part of herself she was willing to give you. And that terrified you too.

You promised yourself you wouldn’t do this again after-.

You let out a long breath from your nose.

It wasn’t fair for you to think about that… relationship. If you could call it that.

You should go before Taylor woke up. Escape before you ruined this like you ruined that.

“I can feel you thinking,” Taylor mumbled against your neck, her lips tickling your skin.

“Sorry,” You murmured, running your fingers very gently over the skin of her back and laying a kiss on the top of her head. “Go back to sleep, it’s still early,”

She shifted against your shoulder, tired blue eyes peering up at you. “What time is it?”

You squinted at the clock on her bedside table. “Just after 6,”

She groaned. “Why are you awake?”

“Habit,” You said, looking back up at her ceiling, ending the debate in your brain. “I have to go to team recovery?”

It wasn’t a total lie. You did have to pick up your kit bag from the hotel, and you liked to do morning jogs after games to work out your muscles, but really, you needed… separation to quell the monster threatening to rip your lungs into pieces.

You didn’t know how to not ruin your friendship. How to navigate your feelings without losing her.

You needed to go for a run, to feel the ache in your chest and your legs to help you figure out what the fuck you were supposed to do. But at the same time, you didn’t want to leave.

You refused to let her become another hookup. You would just run for a few hours and then return.

You weren’t running like you did with the others. You were just… catching your breath. You were just getting your head straight.

“The cold plunge you took last night wasn’t recovery enough?” Taylor asked, smirking up at you.

You let your lips pull to match her expression. “Unfortunately no, but I can bring lunch back here when I’m done?”

“I think that sounds like a fair trade,” She said, leaning up on her arm and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Does it?” You wiggled your eyebrows at her.

“Hmm,” She made a low sound, connecting your lips again. “Do you have time for a shower before you go?”

You chased her lips with a teasing smirk as she pulled away. “I think that can be arranged,”

OoOoOoO

“Is there a reason you’re running a one-woman marathon, or are you just trying to make it impossible for Al to beat you this week?” Kelley’s voice cut through the running commentary in your head, and you blinked up at her from where she stood on the steps next to a big Chelsea market sign.

You glanced down at the smartwatch on your wrist. You didn’t remember putting it on. It had become such a normal part of your morning routine that you didn’t think about putting it on anymore. You had honestly forgotten that Alex was getting alerts about your run until Kelley mentioned it.

You tried not to think about the connection it had to your sister. You only paid attention to the stupid app when it alerted you that you were losing anyway.

“Is that why you decided to join me?”

“I know you like the Chelsea market and running the high line,” Kelley said too casually, falling into step beside you. “I joined you because you and your sister only run long distances when something is bothering you, and I thought you would prefer me over Alex,”

You glanced at her, but she adamantly kept her eyes ahead of her. It felt purposeful like she didn’t want you to know she was watching you.

You were very glad that Alex hadn’t decided to come herself, or that she had been talked out of it.

“And you thought I’d want to talk,”

Kelley shook her head. “No, but I do have a way with Morgan women, and I figured I’d support you,”

“Hmm,” You hummed, unable to stop the slight smile that cracked across your face.

She would never let it go that she was basically your celebrity crush before you met her. You had been obsessed with college soccer when you were young, and Stanford had always been your favorite team.

While things had changed significantly since her and your sister started dating (and you actually met her), she thought it was hilarious that both of you had been in love with her at some point. She also thought it was hilarious that she was you quote-unquote gay awakening, but you really didn’t like to think about that.

You let out a long breath as the two of you jogged another few blocks, enjoying the sounds of the city around you. It was strange, but you already associated the city with Taylor.

“There’s a girl that I really like,” You mumbled, as you both passed a dumpling stand. “I stayed the night,”

Kelley made a low sound next to you. They all knew you met up with someone, but no one knew exactly how that night turned out. And you staying was kind of unheard of. “And you two slept together?”

You opened your mouth to answer but closed it quickly. Did it count if you never took your clothes off? Did it count if you didn’t let her touch you?

“You got her off like with the others?” Kelley amended, after a quick glance your way.

“Yes. Then I stayed, and we cuddled,” You admitted, your voice going very soft. “All night,”

You felt like you were in a weird dichotomy. Sex with Taylor was supposed to feel different because you felt so deeply for her.

You thought it would because the before was so romantic. You thought it would because you wanted her like you had never wanted anyone before.

But the act itself had felt… almost routine. It was like you were on autopilot. It was the same as it had been with every other girl you had been with.

Her body responded the same way theirs had, and it had been so easy to get lost in your own head.

It was only when she pulled you to her chest afterward. When she kissed your cheek and let you wash her hair before you got out of the bath. When she held you for the entire night, you ran your fingers down the line of her spine.

It proved that she wasn’t like the others, and you let yourself enjoy the intimacy. It was why you stayed.

She was still your friend.

You spat the word in your mind.

You didn’t want to end up in the no man’s land between friend and more than friend. Not again, the first time nearly ended in disaster, saved only by your mutual love of soccer and the goal of winning the World Cup.

You and Taylor didn’t share the same… uniting factor.

And with the feelings bubbling in your chest, you knew you would never have the strength to walk away if that's what she asked of you.

“So this is more than a one-nighter?” Kelley asked though she was already sure of the answer.

“I think?” You nodded. “I’ve never…I don’t know how to do this, so I called Emily for advice,”

Kelley’s nose scrunched. She knew how close you and the blonde defender were, especially since the two of you had been going to youth camps together since she could remember. She also knew that Emily knew more about the mysterious Taylor than she did.

“This is the hypothetical friend that you didn’t think you were dating who had never had a burrito?”

You hummed again, smiling at one of the dollar slice guys as you passed his little alcove. “I don't want to fuck this up, and I thought Emily would help. She didn’t,”

“What did Emily say?” Kelley pushed.

Your shoulders lifted and fell. “To just go with it,”

Kelley couldn’t help her frown. That had to be the worst advice known to man, and Sonnett should have known. “So you slept with her, even when you weren’t sure you wanted to?”

“I wanted to,” You said, your voice going very soft. “I just…-“

You didn’t know how to explain that you got so caught up in your head that the experience felt like every other. That it was robotic and routine and expected.

“It felt… generic…when I did it to her. It’s not supposed to be routine when I do it to her.”

Kelley caught your arm and pulled you to a stop.

“Sex isn’t something you do to someone. It’s something you do with them,” She said seriously, brown eyes boring into yours like she was trying to read your mind. “It’s a mutual activity,”

It was a terrifying prospect that you didn’t know that, and it sent red flags twirling in Kelley’s head, especially when you shrugged it off.

“I like her, so it was supposed to feel different,” You muttered, pulling your arm out of her grasp when the crosswalk sign came on.

It was supposed to be emotional and you were supposed to feel connected. You should have been so hyper-focused on every movement, every twitch of her body that the world faded into nonexistence.

You shouldn’t have had to stop yourself from running through lineups in your head halfway through. You shouldn’t have felt like the only important part of the experience was the finish.

What the fuck was wrong with you?

She sighed but followed after you as you jogged across the street. “And it didn’t?”

“Before did,” You said, keeping your eyes focused on the sidewalk in front of you. “And so did after,”

“But the middle?” She asked.

You shook your head, unwilling to put into words that you were too defective for it to be anything more than a quick fuck.

Taylor deserved better, especially since the way she held you made you feel so… safe. The way she cuddled into you made you feel loved. More loved than your tongue could ever make her feel.

“And that freaked you out?” Kelley asked, as you finally slowed your jog to a walk.

You scratched the back of your neck, noting the annoying way your hair rubbed against the skin there. You really needed to get it cut.

It wasn’t the connection that freaked you out, it was the prospect that you could now lose it. That you were fumbling around with no clue how to move forward, liable to fuck up something that had just started.

You weren’t even sure if it was something. You had no clue where you stood.

She looked at you like you weren’t a broken toy, and one misstep could prove her wrong and send her running.

“I don’t know how to do this. It’s why I avoided sleeping with her in the first place. I was doing the friend thing well, and now… I have no idea what’s next,” You murmured, barely above a whisper. So quietly that you weren’t sure if Kelley heard you until her hand found your arm and gently pulled you to a stop yet again.

“I think we can agree that Emily’s advice wasn’t great,” She started, making eye contact with you, and squeezing your arm gently. “I think what you should focus on are the things you do like to do with this girl. Do those take slow steps, and communicate with her. It’s a relationship, not a race,”

“Slow steps,” You repeated, turning the words over in your mind.

“Yes, and communication about what you like or don’t like and what you want or don’t want. Figuring out if you’re friends or more than friends would be a good place to start too,” The defender reiterated with a nod, emphasizing the back half of her sentence.

She knew how much of a people pleaser you were, and how often you set aside your own feelings to make other people happy. If it happened with simple things like you refusing to stop Emily, Rose, and Lindsey’s teasing when it became too much because they were “still having fun” then she feared what other things you were willing to let go.

You swallowed hard and matched her nod.

You could do slow steps.

You ran a hand through your sweaty hair, glancing around you. At least your slight crisis had landed you in Mulberry Street.

“Do you wanna grab a snack before I head back? I told her I would bring her something for lunch after team recovery,” You asked, gesturing towards one of the many Italian restaurants surrounding you.

Kelley raised an eyebrow at you. “You told this girl that you had training the day after a game and she believed you?”

“I don’t think she knows that much about footy,” You shrugged. “She’s more of an American football fan,”

Even if Taylor had played when she was young, you knew her knowledge was pretty limited.

Kelley cracked a smile at you and nodded toward the restaurant you had pointed out. “As long as she’s not an Eagles fan, we’ll be fine then,”

You made a low sound of agreement knowing Kelley wasn’t as serious about Football teams as she was about premier league teams. Her main concern was that you were treated well after all anyway.

OoOoOoO

You had calmed down significantly by the time you made it back to Taylor’s apartment, but Kelley had always had that effect on you.

She had been the one who helped you breathe before your first cap (along with Alex, though you hated talking about it). She was the one who talked you down after you tore your Achilles during the World Cup.

She always knew exactly what to say, and this was no different. She made you laugh and slipped in little pieces of advice without forcing you to ruminate on the situation. She made you believe that you could talk to Taylor and it would work.

And as you sat across from Taylor while she snacked on the penne à la vodka you had picked up for her, your confidence didn’t waver.

Kelley swore it would only take 5 seconds of bravery.

“Are we dating now?”

Taylor paused, chewing her bite and swallowing as a perfect eyebrow arched in amusement. “Do you want us to be dating?”

You frowned, you hadn’t been expecting a question back. You thought it would be just a simple yes or no.

“I think so,” You said slowly, meeting her eyes. “I don’t know how to date,”

Her head cocked to the side. “You’ve never dated?”

“Not really,” You shook your head, scratching the newly shortened hair at the back of your neck. “Besides a weird situationship, it’s all been one-nighters, so I’m not sure how any of this is supposed to work,”

Taylor put her fork down, and she leaned a little closer to you, frowning. “Hold on, your realest relationship was a situationship?”

“Yes,” You said sheepishly, your fingers digging more harshly into the back of your neck as you felt heat crawl up your cheeks all the way to your ears.

“Why?”

It was asked with a giggle, but it didn’t rub you the wrong way. Taylor wasn’t making fun of you.

You cleared your throat, eyes flickering away from her and back. “She was straight, and one of my friends,”

It was a hard thing to admit, that you had fallen into a friends-with-benefits relationship with one of your closest friends, and that you hadn’t been able to keep your feelings locked away in a little box. You let things go too far. You let yourself believe that your favorite striker would leave her perfect boyfriend.

You let yourself believe that she would return your feelings and pick you.

She didn’t, and you had sworn off relationships after that.

Why would you get involved when everyone always left?

“We were under a lot of pressure in the U20s and it was a good way to blow off steam,” You continued, your voice going soft. “Things just… went too far and ended messily,”

“Situationships usually do,” Taylor said gently, reaching across the island to place a careful hand on your arm.

“We stayed friends though. We had to, because of the team” You murmured. “Eventually I just got over it,”

Taylor hummed, her thumb lingering on a thick scar on the inside of your elbow.

It seemed to her that a lot of your stories ended with you just getting over things. She wondered if you ever actually processed them, or if you just enjoyed pretending it never happened.

“And now we link up really well,” You finished with a shrug, an easy smile returning to your features. “Anyway, back to the question. Are we dating?”

Taylor felt her lips tilt up in return. “Again I’ll ask, do you want to be?”

“We’re going in circles,” You sighed, dragging your hand from the back of your neck up through your newly trimmed curls, thankful Kelley had stopped with you to get it cut on the way back to Taylor’s apartment.

Taylor rolled her eyes. “Just answer the question,”

Your nose scrunched. Had you not just explained that you didn’t know how to date? You didn’t even know what it entailed.

How would things change? What would she expect?

But she was looking at you with so much softness, so much… understanding. It made something tug in your chest.

If you were going to try dating anyone, you wanted it to be her.

“Yes,” You breathed out, fighting to keep your voice even and steady.

“Then we’re dating,” Taylor shrugged, picking up her fork. “Easy,”

“Easy,” You mimicked, trying to ignore Emily’s voice ringing in your head.

It didn’t have to be complicated.

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #woso x reader #taylor swift x reader #taylor swift imagine #13 eras of us

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islandofsages · 9 months

Note

Hey, I wanted to ask for the housewardens with a male!reader from their dorm that have the same name as the Seven's sidekicks (?).

Example : Cerberus for Idia, Diaval for Malleus, FlotSam for Azul, ect...

And people (*cough* Yuu *cough*) always compared the reader with the housewarden and always say things like : "oh yeah, the new Diaval and the new Maleficent.." *looking at Reader and Malleus talking about Briar Valley.*

characters: the housewardens x male reader

tags: platonic, fluff + crack, imagines + scenario format; yuu is there, mentions of ruggie and jack in leona's, mentions of the leech twins in azul's, mentions of jamil in kalim's, mentions of ortho in idia's, mentions of sebek in malleus'

warnings: nothing

author's notes: i tried to choose characters that aren't already inspirations for the characters in the game so some of them end up being from the second movie and stuff LOL sorry if this isnt what you want anon but honestly i did have a lot of fun writing this

Riddle Rosehearts — The King of Hearts

You’re not sure why and how but you’re dubbed as The King of Hearts of your dorm, alongside Riddle who is the Queen

Unsure of what to make of this, you ignore it and continue to devote yourself to the Queen just as any normal person would sorry this is kinda satire

Riddle is simply your friend. You cherish him a lot and you respect him and his beliefs. Even when he overblotted, your faith in him is unwavering

Speaking of the overblot, after the whole catastrophe, you’ve grown a lot closer with the other card soldiers, along with the magicless kid named Yuu and their pet (Grim was his name?)

They would greet you from time to time, stop by to have a chat when they’re free and check up on the dorm

One day, they made an offhand comment about you and Riddle

“You guys are paving the way for the new generation of the Queen of Hearts and the King of Hearts. Though, I guess the King of Hearts didn’t really do anything anyway.”

First of all, what the hell are you talking about?

Second of all, you’d say you contribute much to the dorm. For Yuu to assume such a thing for you simply because some “past King of Hearts” didn’t do so is ridiculous

You don’t voice these things out loud and shrug it off as them saying random things again, or making some kind of reference you don’t get

And because, third of all, you realize they broke rule 228: they definitely picked a rose in your garden. So you go to kick them out before Riddle could find out.

All in the day’s work for the King of Hearts.

Leona Kingscholar — Zira

You could say you and Leona are tight - maybe not Ruggie and Leona tight, but almost

And part of that can be attributed to the fact that you may or may not idolize Leona. But hey, it’s not strange. If Jack can do it, why can’t you? At least it’s not on Sebek’s level

Plus, you deserve to have some pride in yourself for being one of the only people Leona confidently calls a friend of his

Though, one person has been persistent about being Leona’s friend - Yuu, the person who just spawned out of nowhere apparently

You’d catch them talking to Leona sometimes and to be frank, there are times where Leona is less annoyed than usual at their presence

One day in particular, the three of you are hanging around Savanaclaw’s lounge, when Yuu drops a bombshell

“Ah yes, of course, you two are exactly like Scar and his creepily-devout follower, Zira.”

??? Yes, Zira is (a variation) of your name but you wouldn’t call yourself “creepily-devout”. Also, who even is Scar?

Leona’s ears twitch in annoyance, either because he doesn’t understand what Yuu means or that he’s put off by their phrasing

You sit in silence, deciding if this is a topic worth asking more about or not

Curiosity gets the best of you - you ask them. They basically dump all the information they could onto you

Yeah, you still don’t get it. But whoever this other Zira is, they’re kinda cool honestly.

Azul Ashengrotto — Morgan(a)

A lot of people consider you one of Azul’s henchmen alongside Jade and Floyd - God forbid working to the bone every day for the Mostro Lounge, right?

But you don’t take it as an insult. It’s no compliment to be so loyal to such a capitalistic bastard (said affectionately) but it’s just another part of your life

Plus. You’re friends with the dude. His cunning nature is what you’re here for

Maybe sometimes you feel a little inferior to him since everyone lauds him as some powerful mage but you tell yourself you don’t need such prestige

Though even outside of work, sometimes you see that Yuu person loiter around the Mostro Lounge in search of Azul (and the Leech siblings occasionally)

So you decide to sit down with them one day and have a nice little chat when-

“So you’re the Morgana dude right? You definitely give off the vibes. Let me guess: you have a love-hate relationship with your stronger, superior boss?”

You have to do a double take at what they just spouted - where are these assumptions coming from suddenly?

Also your name is Morgan.

They laugh and assure you it’s only a joke and a reference to a movie they like since Azul and you have an uncanny resemblance to the characters in that movie

Even still, you can’t help but feel confused… no way they just go up to people and reference things they enjoy right…?

You try to work on your vibes starting the very next day.

Kalim Al-Asim — Aladdin

You’re somewhat of an enabler for Kalim’s party animal and reckless tendencies which Jamil doesn’t really appreciate but also you don’t give a shit

Who can say no to free food and music? Well, a specific amount of people but you’re definitely not one of them

Kalim is friends with everyone; or rather, he considers everyone a friend and that considerately counts you too

But you two really are though - after the party’s died down, the two of you would chat late into the night about everything and anything. And it works because he’s such a good listener

At one of his many parties, the Yuu person who’s apparently from another world comes to party along with you

And so you eat and dance as one usually would under Kalim’s rule, learning bits of information about Yuu along the way

As per usual, the party dies down so you, Kalim and Yuu take the chance to relax and have a concrete conversation

At some point, Yuu comments on your name (and apparent namesake…?)

“Wait, so your name is Aladdin? Like the thief guy who fell in love with the Sultan’s daughter? Feels kinda weird since Kalim kinda reminds me of the Sultan himself…”

Well, yes, your name is Aladdin although you just tell people to call you Ali but everything else they just said is completely false

You all laugh it off because the mood is appropriate for an elaborate joke as such but the next day, when you think over the whole interaction, you have to wonder what was going on through their head at the time

You make a mental note to see if you’ll ever fall in love with a sultan’s daughter.

Vil Schoenheit — Raven

You’re a little intimidated by Vil but you have as much respect for him as anyone does

And somehow, you manage to gain his respect too, though you are a mere spudling…

You try not to let it get to your head (especially considering he has more respect for some other spuds than you) but it’s no easy feat to get a compliment from Vil Schoenheit himself

One person in particular has been getting a lot of attention from Vil lately, you’ve noticed

This Yuu person has been stopping by Pomefiore a lot lately, ever since the weird invasion at school where a bunch of robot people broke into the school grounds

You don’t question it because they’ve been interacting with Vil since the VDC but the thing is Yuu has been trying to get to know more of the dorm members

And one day, they get to you finally

They seem normal enough once you two sit down to chat in the lounge—

“Hm, so your name is Raven? I think I vaguely remember a raven being in Snow White…”

You have no idea what that means and before you could change the topic yourself, Yuu dismisses it; but then the next day, when you were thinking about the exchange again, you get curious as to what a Snow White is

So you start to scour the Internet for this “Snow White” and it manages to consume you for a few days until Yuu tells you that it’s just a movie from their world

You don’t talk to them for a few days.

Idia Shroud — Meg

You and the Shroud brothers are more like frenemies than anything - you three banter like old friends who know too much about each other

Other than Ortho, Idia does ask you for some favors a lot and you like joking that he’s drowning in debt when it comes to you

Sometimes he pays back by gaming with you, sometimes he pays with actual money. Good money at that. You don’t complain either way

One day you run another favor for him (which he promises more good money for) to send some stuff to Ramshackle

A person named Yuu and their only other dorm member Grim had sent stuff to Idia for repairing and maintenance - not that you care about the details. You’re just gonna get it over with

Once you reach their dorm, the first thing you’re met with are the two dorm members bickering over something. You chuckle; it reminds you of your conversations with Idia

You excuse yourself for interrupting and go to drop off their things on the table in the middle of the lounge

They stop bickering then and Yuu greets you momentarily before muttering something under their breath

“Of course the new Meg to the new Hades dropped off our stuff.”

You assume they don’t know that you heard what they said and quite frankly you don’t want to care much but you admit you’re a bit curious of what they mean

When you get back to Idia, you ask him to decipher that cryptic message

He admits he has no idea what they mean by that, simply tells you not to think about it and pays you with some good old cash - and some fun gaming time so you forget all about it later anyway.

Malleus Draconia — Diaval

You are one of Malleus’ loyal retainers - you were bestowed the honor of being his “wings” even whatever that means

But Malleus sees you as an equal almost. You are no servant and you have your own wings to tend to; it’s the stuff that would move Sebek to tears

You do see him as a friend mostly, even if at first you started doing so out of pity

But now you see him making more friends around campus and you can’t help but feel happy for and proud of him

There’s one friend who he seems to be around a lot - the magicless human named Yuu

It makes sense since he does enjoy taking walks around their dorm, even before they came to occupy it

One day, you three make the time to have tea together and simply talk. It’s all very pleasant when Yuu says-

“You know, don’t you think it’s weird how your name is Diaval and you’re serving someone who’s strangely reminiscent of Maleficent?”

Well, you don’t think it’s weird because you have no idea what they’re referencing and who Maleficent is - and Malleus seems to think the same, with the confused look on his face and all

Also as true as it is that you’re Malleus’ retainer, you don’t appreciate someone phrasing it as you “serving” him

Yuu apologizes for the comment and explains what they mean by it. You both still don’t get it but it’s enough to make you shrug it off

Sometimes Yuu would still make such comments, thinking you don’t hear it but knowing it’s not that deep, it doesn’t affect the three of you’s friendship whatsoever.

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devnmon · 5 months

Text

too sweet. || a.m.

a/n: heyy ok i know you guys have probably seen enough of the fics with hozier songs but i also love him and when i heard this track the minute it was released, i was like oh yeah this is arthur morgan core. if ur bothered by me writing this then i say that is simply your problem ngl. in the case that you are reading this, it's just a silly little blurb that sums up arthur morgan in the eyes of the song too sweet by hozier !

wc: 632 | warnings: mentions of smut (that's all)

Arthur Morgan was never an early bird. In fact he despised it. Most times he did was only during a hunt, when he woke smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze. You– you were different; completely rising before the sun rose like clockwork. While you always told him never to stay up till the sunrise, he did, arrogantly, anyways.

He was amazed at how you were so easily able to exist in a world that fought against you– not only in the gang, but as a woman. Drunk on life you seemed to be, Arthur would say, while he took his whiskey neat. In his bed at 3am many nights, he took pride in getting to lay next to you when the slower moments came to pass.

You kissed him in the early mornings when you rose, lips still tasting of the previous night's wine. The sweet morning greeting of your lips had him praying for you to lay with him longer. Arthur was lovesick and kept you wherever he went; whether that meant drawings of you from across camp, or your name written with a heart next to his on a different page. On the off chance he gets back to camp early in the mornings before you wake, he leaves you the most exquisite trinkets for you to remember him by.

It's not often he must stay out of camp for longer than a couple days, but when he does, he returns with a heartfelt apology that takes place in your shared bedroll, begging you to accept his apology with every praise. Your touch has been ingrained into his mind, body. and soul, and yet– it burns his skin every time. Each press of your lips and swipe of your tongue over his skin.

He's so goddamned lucky you've let him at your body long enough to know how well his melds with yours like putty. You're the cream he voids from his coffee– because you're too sweet for him. You're too sweet with your sweet lips like heaven's gate, and Arthur is marveled at how you let him of all men kiss you.

The natural beauty you walked around with every day made Arthur seethe with envy at the fact that other men would gaze upon what was his. Most times when you clock his jealous stares and frustrated grunts, it's instinct when you immediately reassure him that you're not going anywhere.

His frustration is released among his true aim towards the spots on your body that make you mewl and call out his name like a mantra. It boosts his ego through the roof like a rocket when you respond and intertwine your soul even more with his.

When he's free from the constant back and forth from camp and jobs, there's a rare moment where Arthur dedicates two or three days to only you. He whisks you away to an expensive hotel, and uses his every power to bring you a new kind of ecstasy when he shares the bed with you. Arthur never wants you to think he doesn't have time to spend on you; he proves that any moment he can.

At that point, he'd gladly die between your thighs just to hear the wanton noises of carnal desire you feel for him and only him. He's seen so much pain in the world, that he's astonished someone like you can be beautiful and perfect so naturally.

You're the sun he wakes to every morning, the contrast of the heat during the cool rainy nights. As sweet as wine and the grapes it has been made from; he'd wait forever to taste your kiss again as long as you were there to ease the aches and pains.

Until then... he'll take his whiskey neat.

#ryesff #devnmonwrites #devnmon writes #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan blurb #rdr2 fandom #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction

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bobbertskeetz · 3 months

Text

𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣 (𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮) 𝙨.𝙧 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

Summary: Months ago, she appeared almost seemingly out of thin air; and Spencer couldn't figure out how exactly he'd struck the jackpot of life. A life in which he truly believed himself destined to remain alone.

Themes/Warnings: friends to lovers, slight angst but mostly fluff, no warnings that i'm aware of but feel free to let me know any different!

𝙄 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝙢𝙮𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙩 𝙢𝙮𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙩 𝙖 𝙣𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙗𝙮 𝙩𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧...

The soft hum of the radio floated out amongst the bullpen, eminating from a young Spencer Reid's desk. He was going to smash it to smithereens. The radio played the same station every day, and has done so for many years. However, recently the station had taken to playing the one song he never wanted to hear again. It was as if the DJ was trying to make him feel as though he was the smallest man alive.

Spencer hated that fucking song. Yet, he embraced it. Perhaps it was an indulgence of self-pity. Or, better yet, a form of punishment for allowing himself to end up caught in an endless cycle of loneliness. After all, Morgan said so himself, Reid could never get a date. His connection with Lyla hadn't had the chance to flourish, if it was even a true connection, and he was in fact, alone again...naturally.

He could've left long ago, seeing as though Hotch had been kind enough to grant the team an hour early off of the work day. But, why would he? No one was waiting for him. No one aside from his cold sofa and empty bed, the two physical embodiments of his heavy heart. Why go home and wallow in solitude, when he could wallow in the company of an empty bullpen, knowing that Hotch was above him in his office. At least, he thought, I'm not the only recluse in Quantico. Despite this conclusion, Spencer failed to find any solace in the knowledge that he is not alone in owning a troubled soul. Once the song ended after an obnoxiously peaceful tune, which entirely juxtaposed the soul crushing lyrics; Spencer reached for his satchel and sulked his way through the glass double doors. Heading home, alone again, naturally.

The clock struck ten, and the light from the TV screen was the only form of illumination Spencer's living room would receive. Doctor Who had been paused for quite a while as he had taken to calling Garcia requesting information on a fan theory online, which he so desperately wanted to debunk. After countless minutes of begging Penelope to read him out the theories she had found, Spencer finally gave up and agreed to her terms and conditions: "chai latte on my desk tomorrow morning, and your theories will be bestowed upon Doctor You!" He was convinced the universe was out to get him.

With a sigh, Spencer dropped his phone in defeat after hanging up the line. Just as he reached for the remote to resume his marathon, a light knocking echoed through the apartment. With a swift glance out the window, checking for unusual vehicles or sketchy characters loitering on the outskirts of his building, Spencer was only met with an empty street and the pounding rain. He rose from his seat and padded over to the peep hole. No one ever paid him visits, he always ventured to other people instead; there was no logical explanation as to why there was a knock on his door this late into the evening.

Carefully, Spencer ducked to examine the peep hole, and he finally released the breath he hadn't realised he was holding. Within seconds, the lock flicked and the panelled door swung open, welcoming a sight for sore eyes.

There you stood, soaked to the bone. Your hair darkened and damp from the torrential storm blowing outside, and your nose red and glistening from the chilly wind. Despite it all, Spencer couldn't help but notice your radiance after all this time apart. It wasn't as though you both didn't care to see each other, it's just, well... life gets carried away. Jobs have a funny way of tearing people apart, and in your case, your jobs tore you both apart for around six months. It is for this exact reason as to why Spencer immediately feels the need to question your sudden appearance on his door step, especially considering the typhoon blowing outside.

"I need a phone." Was your answer, and he didn't miss the gentle quiver of your lip and waver to your voice, unusually smaller than he remembered. With his signature tight-lipped, kind smile, Spencer lead you to the sofa, removing you of your drenched trench coat and handing over his phone. Before you managed to utter any apologies for the intrusion, Spencer had already left the room, preparing a mug of piping hot coffee to aid your chills.

Upon his return, Spencer felt the need to break the silence, "Consuming at least 400mg of caffeine up to as long as six hours prior to sleeping can significantly disrupt your nights sleep." You gratefully took the mug with a content sigh, slipping a small 'thank you' through your chapped lips, before meeting his gaze with an answer.

"And yet, I'm such a mess you're willing to disrupt my sleep schedule." For a second, he panicked, fearing he'd truly offended you.

"N-No! No, absolutely not yo- Oh. Joking, you're joking.. well in that case yes you look insane." The twinkle in your eye had given you away.

"Yes, joking. Despite this definitely being one of the top ten shittiest nights of my life Spence, trust I will never lose my humour."

He breathed a small chuckle and nodded in agreement, silently glad you'd continue your good natured spirit, even after enduring the embarrassment of being stood up only hours earlier. You rang for a cab using Spencer's phone, and then proceeded to enlighten him of your evening from Hell. This guy had left you waiting for an hour and a half while ignoring your calls, your phone then deciding to die and the Heavens burst open, which completely soaked you through.

However, regardless of how you turned up on his door step, Spencer couldn't find it in him to feel regretful for you. Was it selfish? Of course, but, these events brought you to him. And little did you both know, in many years to come, you would be eternally grateful to the sleezy prick who left you in downtown Virginia after all.

As a man of science, a man of reason, even Spencer was struggling to rationalise the sudden shift in the universe. It was as if the two of you were slowly gravitating closer and closer over the following months.

You were every where. Every. Where.

After that fateful night, Spencer felt as though his feelings for you had completely changed. You were no longer only his friend he occasionally met once every blue moon. You were now, his friend who made him blush with every small wave from across the street. His friend who managed to unknowingly catch his eye. His friend who had recently found more and more excuses to pay his apartment a visit, and more and more reasons to remain in contact when he had to travel for cases.

You were here to stay. And in no world would Spencer ever be upset about that fact. So much so, he was adament to keep you in his world indefinitely.

After hours of watching old movies in his apartment, Spencer paused the TV and shifted closer to you on the sofa. In a tired haze, you lifted your head to meet his eyes, and smiled a gentle smile. One which he gladly returned.

Swallowing the lump building in the back of his throat, and supressing all self-doubt, Spencer parted his lips. "I have something for you." "For me?" You straightened your posture and faced him fully, intrigued by this information. The subtle fear and anxiety which washed over his face did not go unnoticed by you, and your interest was piqued once and for all. Why was he so skiddish?

Spencer reached behind him, retrieving a small purple bag from the side table, and held it out to you. Gleefully, you accepted the little token, proposing your theories as to what it may be; to which Spencer replied, "Open it and you'll see!" And you did.

The bag revealed a dainty gold ring, with a heart enclosed in two hands, adorned with a small crown on top. A pinky ring. It took your breath away on sight.

"A Claddagh. The tradition originated in the 17th century in a village near Galway- it- it itself is named Claddagh. The ring symbolises that love and friendship s-should reign supreme, however, the tradition rapidly evolved into giving the ring as a gift to someone you wished to court-"

"Spencer?"

Automatically, his nerves produced an immediate response; "Yeah?!"

You didn't want to cut him off as you loved to hear out his info-dumps. However, you could tell he was spiralling, with each word he spoke the fear grew deeper in the form of creased eyebrows. And if he didn't get to the point soon, the point you hoped he was beating around the bush to, you thought you would explode.

Your words expressed themselves in a small whisper, "Are you asking me out?"

His heart sunk, yet he couldn't lie to you. Despite working as one of Quantico's most prolific profilers, Spencer managed to mistake your awe laced voice for pity. He was to be alone again, he knew it. You were too good to be true.

Somehow, his voice was even smaller than how he felt in that moment, "Yes..."

Of all the reactions Spencer anticipated, he never once guessed you would jump into him on his sofa, entangling your bodies together in a tight hug, and a loving one at that. With your face buried in the crook of his neck, he heard your muffled excitement rise with each breath, "What hand do I wear it on?!"

Shock radiated from Spencer's core.

For years, he had grown accustomed to returning to a cold, empty and often messy apartment after cases. Nothing could prepare him for the sight he'd see once he walked through the door.

The dishes he'd left by the sink four days ago were neatly stacked in the cupboard. The lamp he'd accidentally left on in his room was switched off at the plug. The place was like a showroom, if a showroom had endless amounts of encyclopedia's stacked neatly by the TV, and a pretty girl curled up in his armchair.

There you lay in his navy sweater with nothing else asides from your black underwear. Your bare legs were folded into your chest, with your hand supporting your heavy head. He grinned once he noticed the golden glint of the band wrapped around your pinky.

Quietly, so as not to startle you from your dozing state, Spencer ventured across the room, softly setting his satchel by the sofa. When in front of you, he dropped to your level, bringing his hand up to push a strand of hair away from your eyes, and planted a gentle kiss to your nose. His grin only widened when your eyes peeled open, and a little groan escaped your lips.

"Your nose is cold y'know."

Another groan met his ears, followed by a soft pinch to his cheek. Your own way of greeting him after four long days apart, too tired to speak yet.

Spencer peppered your face in feather-like pecks, before bundling you up in his arms, escorting you to his bed - desperate to warm you up. Once he'd laid you out underneath the covers, Spencer quickly readied himself to join you before you drifted off again.

Sliding under the covers, he got comfy in your embrace, feeling like a schoolboy with you attached to his hip. His mind began to wander, and he could not for the life of him understand how he had gotten so lucky. Spencer had accepted his unfortunate destiny of solitude, finally coming to terms with the overwhelming loneliness felt in his day to day life - and there you were. Like an angel. His angel. And despite his aversion to fate, he forever thanked whatever higher power brought you to him when they did.

With a final kiss to your hairline, he wished you a goodnight, angel and turned out the light.

As usual, the radio hummed a quiet tune throughout the almost empty bullpen. Two more files and he could go home. Two more he told himself.

"Night, Lover boy. Happy anniversary."

Waving goodbye to Morgan, Spencer hurried to finish the remaining paperwork, desperate to get home to you. He had it all planned, a bunch of flowers sat next to him on the desk, ready to be delievered to you with a card, asking you to officially move in.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he almost missed the familiar tune of his arch nemesis. In all honesty, he didn't even recognise it at first, it had been so long since the station had last played it.

𝙄𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙, 𝙄 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙮 𝙖𝙢 𝙞𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙚𝙙… 𝙖𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣, 𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮.

For once, his blood didn't boil. His stomach didn't sink. There was calm. Gilbert O'Sullivan, he couldn't faze him now. Because, Spencer finally didn't have a single aspect of his life to relate to that soul crushing song. In fact, he never had to worry about it ever again.

He rose from his chair, grabbing the bouqet, ready to start his journey home. But first:

𝙄𝙩 𝙨𝙚𝙚𝙢𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩𝙨 𝙗𝙧𝙤𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙖- He turned it off.

Immediately, almost as if you sensed this monumental moment, his phone rang. With a shit-eating grin, he quickly answered with a joy he could never fully express in words, despite having every synonym for happiness memorised.

"Hiya angel, yes... yes, darling I'm on my way... I love you too."

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst

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anniebeemine · 1 month

Text

Pink Roses- s.r x fem!reader

This one hurt my heart. So have fun with it!

Spencer couldn't help but smile as he watched you through the glass. You were gabbing with Garcia by the elevators, arms waving animatedly, a big grin on your face. He loved seeing you so full of life, your laughter echoing faintly through the hallway.

Morgan strolled up beside Spencer, catching the direction of his gaze. "You know," he said with a teasing grin, "you should really stop pretending to be fascinated by the glass and just tell her how you feel."

Spencer glanced at Morgan, trying to hide his smirk. "Who says I haven’t already planned something?" he replied, a hint of smugness in his tone.

Morgan raised his eyebrows in surprise before breaking into a wide grin. "Oh really? Look at you, finally stepping up your game. My man!" He clapped Spencer on the shoulder, his voice full of approval.

Spencer couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling a rare sense of confidence. "Yeah, I’ve got it covered," he said, his eyes drifting back to you as you continued chatting with Garcia. For the first time, he felt like things might just work out the way he hoped.

As you walked past Spencer, you gave him a polite wave, a small smile playing on your lips. He nodded in return, feeling his heart skip a beat. He noticed the paper in your hand, curiosity piqued as he wondered what it was about. You headed straight for Hotch's office, knocking lightly before stepping inside. Spencer tried to refocus on his work, shifting his attention back to the files on his desk. But his thoughts kept drifting back to you, replaying the moment you walked by, the way your smile lingered just a little longer than usual.

Unable to resist, Spencer glanced up through the glass walls of Hotch’s office. You were standing there, beaming as you talked with Hotch, your enthusiasm apparent even from a distance. He watched as Hotch listened intently, nodding occasionally. The conversation ended with a firm handshake, and Spencer couldn't help but admire the way you handled yourself, confident and composed.

As you exited the office, Spencer quickly averted his eyes, pretending to be deeply engrossed in his work. But the truth was, his thoughts were entirely consumed by you, and the growing anticipation of whatever plan he had in store. As you left Hotch's office, you made your way over to Spencer’s desk, a bright smile still lighting up your face.

"So," you began casually, leaning against the edge of his desk, "we’re still on for tonight, right? You’re picking me up at my place?"

There was rarely ever parking in the small lot behind his apartment. Rather than walking two blocks in the night to the nearest free lot, he offered to start picking you up. This often gave both of you the excuse to let you stay over, ‘accidentally’ falling asleep on the couch together and then being too tired to drive back.

Spencer looked up at you, trying to suppress the nervous excitement bubbling up inside him. "Yeah," he replied smoothly, "I’ll be there at seven. And don’t worry about dinner—the delivery’s already been ordered."

You nodded in approval, clearly impressed. "Nice, you’ve really thought of everything," you said with a grin, holding out your fist. Spencer hesitated for only a moment before meeting your fist with his, the playful gesture making his heart race just a little faster.

"Can’t wait," you added, pushing off from his desk. "I’ve got a few errands to run before then, so I’ll see you later."

"See you later," Spencer echoed, watching as you turned and walked away.

As soon as you were out of earshot, Morgan, who had been quietly observing the exchange, sent Spencer a knowing wink. "You’re on fire today, pretty boy," he teased, a proud smile spreading across his face.

Spencer chuckled, feeling a mix of pride and nerves. "Just trying to keep up," he replied, the anticipation for the evening ahead making it hard to concentrate on anything else.

+++

Spencer couldn’t help but feel a little nervous and, admittedly, a bit ridiculous as he stood on the welcome mat outside your apartment. In his hand was a bouquet of flowers he had impulsively picked up at a little stand he passed on the way over. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his free hand nervously adjusting his tie, as he rehearsed what he was going to say once you opened the door.

Before he could second-guess himself any further, the door swung open, and you stepped forward, only to run face-first into the bouquet. Startled, you took a step back, your eyes widening in surprise before they softened into a delighted smile.

“Spencer!” you exclaimed, gently taking the bouquet from him. “You really didn’t have to—these are beautiful!”

He felt a wave of relief wash over him as you gushed over the flowers. “I, uh, saw a little stand on my way over,” he explained, trying to sound casual but knowing the nervousness was creeping into his voice. “I remembered you mentioned once that you liked pink roses, so I thought these might be perfect.”

You smiled even wider, clearly touched by his thoughtfulness. “Come in,” you said, stepping aside to let him in. “I’ll just put these in a vase real quick.”

As you moved to the kitchen to find a vase, Spencer followed, unable to stop himself from rambling on as he often did when he was anxious. “You know, flowers have this whole ‘secret language’ that people used to communicate with each other over time,” he began, watching as you carefully arranged the bouquet. “Different flowers and even different colors of the same flower can have specific meanings. For example, solomio flowers,” he pointed to a few bright blooms, “mean ‘my own sunshine.’ They’re often given to someone who brings light and happiness into your life.”

You looked up at him, clearly intrigued, and he continued, pointing out the different flowers. “Ranunculus symbolizes charm and attractiveness. It’s often used to convey how captivated you are by someone’s beauty.”

You smiled, a faint blush creeping onto your cheeks as you added the ranunculus to the vase.

“And the eucalyptus,” Spencer went on, his tone softening, “represents strength, protection, and abundance. It’s often used to wish someone well or to protect them from harm.”

You paused, looking up at him with a warm, appreciative gaze. “And what about the roses?” you asked, curiosity dancing in your eyes.

Spencer hesitated, suddenly feeling the weight of what he was about to say. He pointed to the pink roses, his voice growing quieter. “Pink roses stand for happiness. They’re given to someone who brings joy into your life.”

His fingers lightly brushed against one of the red roses as he continued, “And red roses… well, they symbolize love.”

There was a brief silence as the meaning of his words settled between you. Spencer felt his heart race, wondering if he’d said too much, if he’d been too forward. But when you turned to him, your eyes shining with a mixture of surprise and affection, he knew he had made the right choice.

“Spencer,” you said softly, stepping closer to him. “These are perfect. Thank you.”

Spencer held out his hand, his eyes soft with a gentle smile as he stepped aside for you to lead the way. “We should probably go before dinner is delivered,” he suggested, his voice filled with a quiet anticipation.

You nodded, taking his hand and heading out the door with him. The conversation flowed easily between you as you made your way to his apartment, your chatter filling the space between you. You began to ramble about some of the latest office gossip, and Spencer listened intently, even though he never really cared much for it. But when you spoke, it wasn’t about the gossip itself—it was about the way your eyes lit up as you told the stories, the way your voice held a rhythm that he found mesmerizing.

By the time you arrived at his apartment, you were mid-sentence, talking about a partnership at the office that had recently been dissolved due to the couple’s marriage hitting a rocky patch. Spencer opened the door for you, and you kicked off your shoes with practiced ease, placing them neatly on the rack by the door without missing a beat in your story.

“I mean, it’s really not surprising,” you continued as you made your way into the living room, “considering all the tension between them lately. But it’s still sad, you know? They seemed so solid for a while.”

Spencer nodded along, his focus on you as you moved around the room with a familiarity that made him smile. You curled up on the couch, tucking your legs beneath you, and looked up at him expectantly. “So, how was your day?” you asked, shifting the attention to him.

He settled down beside you, taking a moment to appreciate how comfortable and natural this felt. “My day went fine,” he replied, his voice warm with a hint of contentment. “Mostly paperwork and a couple of meetings. Nothing too exciting.”

You nodded, your eyes never leaving his as you listened. There was something so soothing about the way you were with each other, the ease of your conversation, the way you could share the mundane details of your days without feeling the need to impress or entertain.

Spencer leaned back, resting his arm along the back of the couch as he turned slightly to face you. “But honestly,” he added after a moment, “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

You smiled, the warmth in his words wrapping around you like a cozy blanket. “Me too,” you admitted, your voice soft and sincere. “It’s nice to just… relax, you know? Especially after the week we’ve had.

He nodded in agreement, his eyes studying your face with a quiet intensity. “Exactly,” he said, feeling more at ease with you than he had in a long time. This wasn’t just about a dinner date; it was about the connection between you, the growing bond that had slowly but surely turned into something more.

You grinned, your excitement bubbling up as you looked at him. “I have some news,” you began, but just as the words left your mouth, Spencer leaned forward, a determined look in his eyes.

“I—uh—there’s something I need to talk to you about,” he blurted out, his voice overlapping with yours.

You both paused, taking a breath, the air between you charged with anticipation. Spencer gestured for you to go first, but you shook your head, insisting, “No, no, you go.”

He hesitated, his mind racing, but before he could gather his thoughts, you spoke up again, unable to hold back your excitement. “Okay, well, the textbook I’ve been consulting on? It’s really taken off. The other authors loved my contributions so much that they’ve asked me to teach for a semester in Denver—starting in a week.”

The words tumbled out of you in a rush, your smile wide and full of pride. Spencer blinked, taking a moment to process what you’d just said. He felt a surge of pride for you, mixed with a sudden wave of anxiety.

You smiled. “And I’m going. I already said yes!”

“That’s… amazing,” he finally managed, his voice sincere but slightly distracted as his own thoughts swirled. He stood up suddenly, the motion catching you off guard. “But—I, I need to say this now, or I’ll never be able to say it.”

You looked up at him, your smile fading into a more serious expression as you saw the intensity in his eyes. “Spencer, what is it?”

He took a deep breath, his heart pounding as he looked down at you, feeling the weight of the moment pressing on him. “I’ve been trying to find the right time to tell you this,” he began, his voice trembling slightly. “But there never seems to be a perfect moment, so I’m just going to say it now before I lose my nerve.”

Your heart raced as you waited for him to continue, the room suddenly feeling smaller, more intimate. Spencer’s eyes locked onto yours, and you could see the vulnerability there, the honesty he was about to lay bare.

“I’m in love with you,” he said, the words coming out in a rush. “I’ve been in love with you for a while now, and I can't go another day without telling you.”

The room went silent, the only sound your own heartbeat thudding in your ears. Spencer looked at you, his expression full of hope and fear, as if everything he was feeling was laid out in those simple words.

Your breath caught in your throat as you processed what he’d just said, the weight of his confession settling over you like a warm blanket. It wasn’t just about the textbook, or the teaching gig, or any of the exciting changes happening in your life—it was about this, about him, about you and the bond you had nurtured without even fully realizing it.

“Spencer…” you began, your voice soft, but the rest of your words caught in your throat as you met his gaze, the world around you falling away until there was nothing left but the two of you in this moment.

Spencer felt the tears welling up, the pressure building behind his eyes as he tried to hold them back. He looked up at the ceiling, willing them not to fall, his voice trembling as he struggled to find the right words. “But, I… I don’t—”

He couldn’t finish the sentence, the weight of everything hanging heavily in the air between you.

“Spencer,” you interrupted, your voice desperate and pleading, “come with me. Please, come with me to Denver.” You took a step toward him, your eyes wide and filled with hope. “We can figure this out together. You don’t have to stay here; we can start fresh.”

He shook his head, his face contorted with anguish. “I can’t,” he whispered, barely able to get the words out. “The team needs me—especially if you’re leaving. I can’t just walk away from them. From everything we’ve built.”

You stood up, the frustration and heartache bubbling up inside you, threatening to overflow. “So what happens now?” you asked, your voice rising as you paced the room. “This is too good of an opportunity to pass up, Spe-

He looked at you, his heart breaking as he realized how close he was to losing you. “So leave,” he said, his voice cracking. “You take the job. You do what’s best for you.”

But even as he said it, his mind screamed at him that he was an absolute idiot. How could he have ever thought someone as wonderful, as vibrant, as incredible as you could be interested in him? He was just a man who spent too much time in his head, who never quite knew how to navigate the real world, let alone love.

You started to speak, to argue, but the words got caught in your throat, and all that came out were half-formed sentences, desperate attempts to communicate the whirlwind of emotions inside you. “I… I just… We…”

The frustration and sorrow in your voice hit Spencer like a ton of bricks. He couldn’t bear to see you so upset, couldn’t bear to lose you without trying—without giving you, and himself, a chance. Before he could second-guess himself, Spencer reached out, his hand finding the back of your neck. He pulled you close, his lips crashing onto yours in a deep, desperate kiss, the kind that held everything he hadn’t been able to say. His tears mingled with yours, the saltiness of them mixing as your lips moved together, frantic and raw.

You held onto Spencer for a second, your hand going flat against his back, feeling the warmth of him, the solidity of his presence. It was as if time had stopped, and in that brief moment, all the pain, the frustration, and the sorrow melted away, leaving only the two of you—vulnerable and connected.

But just as quickly as that moment came, reality crashed back in. The weight of everything that had happened, the uncertainty of where you stood, and the overwhelming emotions surged back like a tidal wave. You gasped, the sound escaping your lips involuntarily as you pushed him away, your hands trembling as they left his back.

A shaky breath left your lips, your chest heaving as you tried to steady yourself, your mind reeling from the intensity of the kiss, from the depth of feeling behind it. You stared at Spencer, your heart pounding in your ears, as if trying to understand what had just happened and what it meant for the two of you.

But the hurt, the confusion, was too much. You grabbed your purse and shoes in a rush, your hands shaking as you fumbled with them. Without another word, you turned and left his apartment, the door slamming behind you with a resounding echo that seemed to linger in the silence that followed.

Spencer stood there, rooted to the spot, his heart shattered as he realized he had just let you walk out of his life. The tears he had been holding back finally fell, but it was too late now. You were gone.

Spencer stood there for a moment, staring at the door, the silence of his apartment closing in around him. His mind raced with a thousand thoughts—regret, sorrow, the ache of what could have been. But he knew he had to pull himself together, at least for a moment, just long enough to get through the rest of the night.

He ran a shaky hand through his hair, wiping the tears from his cheeks with the back of his hand. His heart still pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to take a deep breath, to push down the overwhelming emotions threatening to spill over again.

Just as he began to gather himself, he heard a knock at the door. Spencer’s eyes flicked toward the sound, and for a brief, foolish second, he thought it might be you, coming back to talk. But reality settled in quickly—there was no way you would return so soon after what had just happened.

With a heavy sigh, he walked over to the door, fishing his wallet out of his pocket as he opened it. The delivery boy stood there, holding the bag of food that Spencer had ordered earlier, before everything had fallen apart.

“That’ll be twenty even,” the delivery boy said with a practiced smile, holding out his hand for payment.

Spencer paused, his brow furrowing in confusion as he handed over a twenty-dollar bill, pulling a ten dollar bill out for the tip. “It’s usually more than that,” he muttered, more to himself than to the delivery boy.

The delivery guy’s smile widened, his tone light as he explained, “Oh, yeah. The owner noticed you and your girlfriend order the same thing every week, so he added you to the list of regulars. It’s a special discount for people who order so often.”

Spencer blinked, taken aback by the news. The regulars list. Of course. It made sense—he did order the same thing every week, always on the same night, always at the same time. A creature of habit, even in the small, mundane details of his life. It had become tradition for you two to share a meal each week.

“Thanks,” he murmured, taking the bag of food from the delivery boy’s hands. He offered a small, polite smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. The delivery boy nodded, tipping his cap before turning and heading back down the hall.

Spencer closed the door softly, standing there in the quiet of his apartment, holding the warm bag of food in his hands. He felt an odd mix of emotions—gratitude for the small kindness, but also a profound sense of loneliness. He was so predictable, so set in his ways, that even the local takeout place had noticed.

He carried the bag to the kitchen, setting it down on the counter. The smell of the food wafted up, but it only reminded him of what tonight was supposed to have been—a dinner together, something more, something that was now lost. Spencer leaned against the counter, staring at the bag of food as if it held all the answers.

But the only thing it offered was the reminder of what he didn’t have: you.

+++

As the morning wore on, Spencer struggled to concentrate on his work. The files and case notes on his desk seemed to blur together, the usual clarity of his thoughts clouded by the weight of the previous night. He kept glancing at his phone, hoping for a message from you, though he knew deep down that he wouldn’t get one.

The office buzzed with activity, but Spencer was barely aware of it. His colleagues’ chatter and the hum of the fluorescent lights seemed distant, like they were happening in another world. Every so often, he would catch himself staring blankly at the screen, lost in thought.

Around midday, Garcia came over, her usual bright demeanor dimmed by concern. “Hey, Spence,” she said softly, her voice carrying a note of sympathy. “Are you okay? You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

Spencer forced a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. “Just a rough night,” he admitted. “Nothing to worry about.”

Garcia’s eyes searched his face, clearly unconvinced. “If you need to talk, you know where to find me. And if you need anything else, just let me know.

He nodded appreciatively, though he wasn’t sure what help he could accept. “Thanks, Garcia. I’ll be fine.”

As Garcia walked away, Spencer’s phone buzzed with a new message. His heart leapt, but it was only a reminder from his calendar about a meeting later in the day. He sighed and set the phone down, feeling a pang of disappointment.

Around mid-afternoon, Hotch stopped by Spencer’s desk, his expression as stern and unreadable as ever. “Spencer, I need to discuss a few things with you in my office.”

Spencer nodded, pushing away from his desk and following Hotch to his office. He took a seat across from Hotch’s desk, trying to shake off the melancholy that had settled over him.

Hotch didn’t waste any time. “I know things have been a bit tense for you this morning,” he said, his tone carefully neutral. “And I understand that you’re going through something personal. But I need to ensure that it doesn’t affect your work. Can I count on you to stay focused and do what needs to be done?”

Spencer looked up, meeting Hotch’s gaze. “Of course,” he replied, his voice steady. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t impact my performance.”

Hotch nodded, seeming satisfied with the response. “Good. I appreciate your dedication. If you need time off or any support, just let me know.”

Spencer nodded, thankful for Hotch’s understanding, even if he didn’t fully believe in his own ability to stay focused. He left Hotch’s office feeling a bit more resolved, though the ache in his chest remained.

As the day dragged on, the team worked through their cases, and Spencer tried his best to keep his mind occupied. But every time he thought about you, about the way you had left and the kiss he had shared with you, he felt a deep, gnawing regret.

By the end of the day, the office was winding down. Spencer packed up his things, his thoughts still swirling. As he prepared to leave, he caught Morgan glancing at him from across the room. Morgan raised an eyebrow, but before he could say anything, Spencer quickly headed for the door.

He stepped into the cool evening air, the city lights casting long shadows on the pavement. As he walked to his car, he realized he had to face the reality of what had happened and find a way to make things right. He knew that he couldn’t just let things end this way, that he had to take action, even if he wasn’t entirely sure what to do next.

+++

The next few days dragged on with a suffocating heaviness in the office. Your absence was like a gaping hole in the daily routine—a missing presence that everyone felt but no one openly acknowledged. Your desk, once a lively spot with personal touches and a cheerful energy, now sat empty and stark, a constant reminder of what was missing.

Spencer’s heart ached every time he glanced over at the vacant desk. The little squishy pet from Garcia, the photo of you on graduation day, the birthday card—all of it was gone. It was as if you had never been there, leaving behind only the ghost of your presence. Each time Spencer caught sight of the empty space, his breath seemed to leave his chest in a sharp pang of regret.

One afternoon, after a long, fruitless lunch where he had tried to push thoughts of you out of his mind, he returned to the office to find your desk had been completely cleared out in the time he’d been gone. The sight of the empty desk, devoid of your belongings, hit him hard. It felt like a punch to the gut, the physical evidence of your departure magnifying the emotional pain he had been trying to ignore.

The following morning, the office was as subdued as ever. Spencer was lost in thought as he made his way to the kitchenette for a cup of coffee. He was barely aware of his surroundings until Morgan appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, blocking his path with a concerned expression.

“Hey, Reid,” Morgan said, his tone unusually serious. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Spencer nodded, feeling a wave of unease wash over him. He followed Derek into the kitchenette, where the hum of the refrigerator and the clinking of coffee cups provided an oddly comforting backdrop.

“What’s up?” Spencer asked, trying to sound casual, though his voice betrayed his tension.

Morgan leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “I’ve been meaning to ask you… What exactly happened with Y/N? I mean, I saw her come in the other day, sweep everything off her desk into a box, and practically run out. She didn’t say a word to anyone.”

Spencer’s heart sank at Morgan’s words.

“I…” Spencer began, his voice faltering. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “It was my fault. I… I should have talked to her earlier. I wanted to, but everything just fell apart.”

Morgan’s gaze softened slightly, his concern evident. “If something went down, you can talk to me about it. You know that, right?”

Spencer nodded, feeling the weight of his regret pressing down on him. “I know. It’s just… I messed up. I thought if I said it, she’d stay.”

Morgan didn’t press further, but his expression was one of empathy and frustration. “Look, I don’t know the details, but you need to figure this out. Y/N’s a great person, and from what I saw, she didn’t just up and leave for no reason.”

Spencer swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah. I know.”

Morgan clapped him on the shoulder, a gesture of support before he turned to leave. Spencer watched him go, feeling more isolated than ever. The office, once a bustling hub of activity, now seemed like an empty shell, a reflection of the void left by your departure.

As Spencer stood there, alone in the kitchenette, he knew he had to do something. He had to find a way to make things right, to reach out and try to fix what had been broken. But for now, all he could do was hold onto the hope that it wasn’t too late to salvage whatever was left.

+++

Since that night, you’d been a wreck. Every waking moment was a reminder of how you’d left things with Spencer—something you never intended to do, but ended up doing anyway. It was as if you were stuck in a state of disbelief, grappling with the reality of what had happened and the inexplicable choice you’d made.

Packing up your life and moving from Virginia to Colorado had been a whirlwind. You were overwhelmed with the details: sorting out your belongings, organizing the move, and saying goodbye to the life you’d built. Amid the chaos, clearing out your desk was something you almost forgot. It wasn’t until the last minute that you realized you hadn’t taken the time to say a proper goodbye. You had hoped, even believed, that you might find a moment to talk to Spencer, to explain everything before you left. But with a plane to catch and a million things to do, time slipped through your fingers. You had made the decision in haste, driven by a mix of confusion and heartache, and now you were left with a gnawing sense of regret.

Sitting in your university-provided apartment, you stared blankly at your phone. The small, indifferent screen seemed to mock you with its silence. You had hoped for a call, a message, anything that would signal that Spencer might be reaching out, trying to make things right. But the phone remained silent, offering no comfort or answers.

You felt a deep, aching emptiness, as if you had left a part of yourself behind. The apartment was quiet, the only sound the faint hum of the air conditioning. The space around you felt cold and unwelcoming, a stark contrast to the warmth of the life you had left behind.

You found yourself begging any entity out there—be it fate, chance, or even just your own stubborn hope—for the phone to ring. Maybe it was a long shot, but you needed to hear from Spencer, to know if there was still a chance to make things right. Your fingers hovered over the screen, ready to dial his number, but each time you hesitated, unsure if you should reach out or wait for him to make the first move.

Your thoughts were a jumbled mess of regret and longing. You wanted to explain everything, to tell him how much you had hoped things would be different. But the fear of opening old wounds, of facing the possibility that it might be too late, held you back.

You leaned back against the couch, your gaze fixed on the phone as if willing it to ring with sheer force of will. You thought of Spencer’s face, his voice, and the way he had looked at you. The memory of his tears and the kiss you shared were haunting, a reminder of the connection you both had and how quickly it had unraveled.

As the evening wore on and the apartment remained eerily quiet, you felt the weight of your decision pressing heavily on your chest. You didn’t know how things would turn out, but all you could do was hold onto the hope that somehow, somewhere, there might still be a chance to mend what had been broken.

+++

A few weeks had passed since you moved to Colorado, and despite the overwhelming start, you found yourself gradually settling into a new routine. It wasn't easy—each day brought its own set of challenges, but you managed to carve out a rhythm that helped anchor you in this unfamiliar place. Mornings were spent in the classroom, where you poured yourself into teaching, trying to lose yourself in the work. The students were bright and eager, their energy offering a brief distraction from the turmoil in your heart. After classes, you’d head to your office to prepare lectures, meet with students, or grade papers, anything to keep your mind busy.

In the evenings, you’d head back to your apartment. The space was small and simple, a far cry from the home you had left behind, but it was starting to feel a little less foreign with each passing day. You’d make yourself dinner, often something quick and easy, and then spend the night reading or watching TV, trying to fill the silence with anything that wasn’t your own thoughts.

But every Tuesday night, the routine faltered. Tuesdays were the nights you and Spencer used to have dinner together, a tradition that had started almost by accident but had quickly become a cornerstone of your week. Now, those nights were a stark reminder of what you’d lost.

Every Tuesday evening, as you sat in your quiet apartment, you’d feel the ache of his absence more keenly. You’d think about picking up the phone, about dialing his number just to hear his voice, to ask him how he was doing, to see if maybe—just maybe—you could fix what had been broken. But each time, the fear of rejection, of hearing that he had moved on, kept you from pressing that final button. Instead, you’d curl up in bed, clutching your pillow, praying that he wasn’t sitting down to dinner with someone else, someone who could take your place.

By the time your sixth week in Colorado rolled around, you had settled into your routine as best you could, though the loneliness of those Tuesday nights still lingered. One day, after a long day of teaching, you returned to your apartment to find a small box sitting in front of your door. Your heart skipped a beat as you bent down to pick it up, your hands trembling slightly as you untied the ribbon that held the box closed.

Inside was a bouquet of pink roses, their delicate petals tied together with a white ribbon. The sight of them made your breath catch in your throat, and before you knew it, tears were streaming down your face. You fumbled with your keys, struggling to unlock the door as you tried to hold back the sobs that were building in your chest. Once inside, you set the flowers down on the table and collapsed into a chair, clinging to the bouquet as if it were a lifeline. The familiar scent of the roses filled your senses, and you held onto them for what felt like hours, letting the tears flow freely.

Your phone rang, cutting through the stillness of the apartment. You barely registered the sound at first, your mind still lost in the swirl of emotions the roses had stirred up. With trembling hands, you reached for your phone, the screen glowing faintly with an unknown number. You hesitated for a moment before answering, your voice barely above a whisper as you greeted, “Hello?”

There was a shuffle on the other end, and you could faintly hear Penelope’s voice in the background. “She picked up,” she whispered, her tone laced with relief. Then there was a pause, followed by the sound of someone clearing their throat.

“Hello,” Spencer’s voice came through the line, hesitant and unsure, yet unmistakably him. The sound of it sent a shiver down your spine, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the words to respond. The two of you sat in silence, the air between you thick with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. You searched for something to say, anything to break the tension, but all that came out were three simple words, the only ones that mattered in that moment.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice cracking as the weight of those words settled between you.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reidx reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #fanfic

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dxysxxk · 1 year

Text

Poker Face

Arthur Morgan x f!reader

Rating: 18+ only. Explicit content. Length: 2500 words Location: Clemens Point Time of Day: Late night Content: Vaginal fingering, Vaginal sex, Public sex & Rough sex Description: Sitting on Arthur's lap, you watched him play poker with the boys. Feeling naughty, you decided to tease him. Soon enough, his focus was on you instead of the game. Note: Everything won't be accurate. Use your imagination.

"Hah! Hah hah hah!" Arthur guffawed as he pulled the poker chips closer to him. "I thought you said you were good at this!" A large smile plastered on his face, rubbing in his win. "You callin' me a liar, you old goat?" John Marston retorted. "If anyone's lying, it's you. You're damn good at bluffing!" John's voice rose higher than Arthur's, making a few gang members look over their shoulders, wondering what the commotion was.

You were sat on Arthur's lap, chuckling at their antics as you watched them play. You knew both men could be stubborn and childish when it came to competition and sure enough, it was fun to watch. "Alright, alright..." Bill interjected, "Stop the bickering now." He gathered the cards up and began shuffling them for another round. "How about we change the game? No more poker. We don't want John getting too heated." He said while giving John a knowing glance. John glared at Bill, scoffing before taking a drink.

"What do you suggest?" Said Arthur as he took a sip of his beer.

Bill thought for a moment. "Well... I’ve heard of a game called 'Suck and Blow'..." He said as he continued shuffling. The other gang members gave him a puzzled look. "What the hell are you on about Bill?" Arthur asked.

Bill then began explaining the game to the group as he held up one card in his hand, "The point is to get a card to the next player using only your mouth. You can't touch it with your hands."

"I ain't playing that! God only knows where y'all mouths have been!" John exclaimed. You couldn't help but laugh at his response.

"Yeah, I ain't too keen on playing that either." Arthur butted in.

"Back to poker, it is then..." Bill grumbled as he shuffled the cards.

"Well. Now is your chance to beat Arthur, John." You smiled and settled yourself on Arthur's lap.

A few drinks later, the game was back on. You sat and watched John finally win a few rounds, but ultimately, Arthur was still the better bluffer and won the majority. As you watched the men play, you decided to be cheeky and tease Arthur by leaning closer to whisper in his ear. "I'm sorry you haven't had me to yourself in a few of days..." You purred and gripped his thigh.

Arthur cleared his throat as he tried to focus on the game and ignore your advances, but he lost the hand and cursed at his bad luck. "Looks like my luck's turning around." John smirked as he pulled the winnings closer to him.

You leaned closer purposely, giving Arthur a clear view of your cleavage. He was unable to keep his posture as you whispered something else in his ear. His breath caught in his throat as he quickly shifted in his seat.

John and Bill were none the wiser of your antics. They were just relieved they could win something for a change.

Arthur grew tired of your relentless teasing. He moved his hand to your inner thigh, gripping it tightly, then whispered in your ear, "Don't make me punish you." His eyes watched his fellow gang members as they continued their game.

He tried not to be too obvious with his sudden change of position in the chair, keeping you steady as he spoke in your ear. "If you keep this up, I'll bend you over the table and take you right here." He hissed then let go of your thigh, taking a swig of his beer. You knew he wasn't entirely serious, but his words sent a shock to your lower abdomen. Tempted to test his patience, you decided to continue teasing him.

You slightly shifted yourself so your ass was directly on his crotch. Making sure no one was looking, you rubbed your ass over his lap. After a moment, you felt Arthur's free hand grip your hip, guiding your movements back and forth. You could tell he was growing restless by the way he gripped his cards.

You heard Arthur try to stifle a moan as you continued your movements. His now-growing bulge rubbing into your backside. No one seemed to notice the sinful action you were partaking in. They were too focused on the game itself. You began to feel how wet your core was becoming, aching for more than friction.

Maybe it was the beer you drank, but you felt like being taken in front of everyone. Right on the table where the men were playing poker. Your heart beat rapidly at the thought of the danger the exhibitionism posed, but you knew better.

As you rubbed Arthur's crotch, you turned your head and kissed his neck, nipping lightly. Arthur held back a moan and bit his lip. His face started to look flushed over time.

John gave him a questionable look, "You alright there, Arthur?"

Arthur's mind was too focused on the friction your ass was giving him. He felt himself grow harder by the minute. "Just fine." Arthur managed to get out. He couldn't let John know what was happening right under his nose.

John drank the last few drops of his beer, then spoke, "I'm gonna go get another beer."

"I'm coming with yah..." Bill added as John got up.

Now was his chance. As soon as John and Bill were out of sight, Arthur grabbed your hips and pulled you closer. You let out a gasp, not expecting him to be so rough. He moved his lips to your neck, placing open-mouthed kisses on your flesh.

He then moved a hand from your hip to your chest and began massaging your breast through the fabric of your dress. You let out a whimper and arched into his touch. "This what you wanted?" He whispered. You were about to respond, but he suddenly squeezed your breast, earning a squeak. "You're a real tease, you know that?" Arthur's voice was low and husky.

He moved his other hand down your belly, then underneath your skirt. He cupped your mound and felt the wetness that was leaking from you. "Damn." He breathed onto your neck. "Wet already…"

He then began rubbing you over the damp fabric of your underwear, circling your clit. You couldn't help but buck into his touch, seeking more. He continued kissing your neck, the shortness of his beard ticked your skin.

With every kiss, you shivered. Arthur then pushed your panties aside and slipped his fingers into your hole. As your walls clenched around him, he let out a low groan, then nibbled on your neck. He murmured against your skin, "You're so damn wet..." You gasped and clutched his thigh as he began to curl his fingers.

Hearing John and Bill approach, he pulled his hand from underneath your dress and then brought his fingers to your lips. He forced you to taste your juices. "Suck it." He whispered, his breath hot on your neck. You did as you were told and took his fingers into your mouth. Arthur groaned, watching you lick his fingers clean, lapping over his thick digits. As John and Bill came into view, he pulled his hand away and then rested it on your thigh.

You sat there, feeling Arthur's hard cock pressing against you. You were both aroused beyond words. The tension was thick, and the heat between you was only growing. Arthur placed his hands on the table and pushed his hips forward, grinding his erection into your backside. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your neck as his breathing became heavy.

Without warning his fingers were moving towards your heat again, creeping slowly up your thigh. The anticipation was killing you, but you knew that any noise from you would surely give you away. Wanting nothing more than to feel them slip inside you, you sat silently, feeling his warm fingers on your soft skin.

Your heart pounded with anticipation. Then you felt them. Arthur's fingers slowly slipped between your legs. He pulled your panties to the side and then caressed your slick folds. You let out a shaky breath as his fingers were rubbing up and down your slit. Your pussy throbbed, aching for him.

Your mind was racing. What would people think if they knew what was going on right now? The thought excited you. The risk of getting caught was driving you wild. You couldn't help but rock your hips into his touch. You were desperate for more.

You could feel his cock twitching against your ass as he rubbed you. "Shit, Arthur..." You breathed as he began rubbing circles around your clit. Your cheeks burned as you realized the others might hear your pleasured noises if he kept this up. He then dipped his fingers inside, stretching you.

Arthur was enjoying the way your body reacted to his touch. His thumb started rubbing your clit as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. John spoke, "What happened to that winning streak Arthur?" He smiled as he pulled the chips closer to him. "I guess I just don't have it anymore." Arthur shrugged as he continued moving his fingers inside you. He wasn't paying any attention to the game anymore, he was focused on you. Your breathing grew more rapid and it was hard to keep a straight face. He moved his fingers faster, feeling you clench around him.

Arthur leaned in to whisper in your ear, "That's it. Cum around my fingers." His voice was low and gravelly. You bit your lip to stifle the moans that were threatening to escape. Your breathing was ragged as you approached your climax. He continued to pump his fingers in and out of you, pressing his thumb to your clit and rubbed it in tight circles. "I'm going to fill that pretty little hole of yours for teasing me so much," He spoke in a whisper. After hearing his husky voice in your ear, you couldn't hold back.

You came undone, your whole body trembling as you did. Your hands gripped the edge of the table as you tried to steady yourself. Your toes curled and your legs shook. You rode out your orgasm, continuing to feel Arthur's fingers move inside you. You felt like your bottom lip was going to draw blood from how hard you were biting them, all in the effort to stifle your moans.

Arthur withdrew his fingers from you then rested his hand on your thigh again. “That’s my good girl.” He spoke into your ear once more. You were still reeling from your orgasm when you heard Bill speak. "I'm done for the night fellers." He stood and left the table.

John chimed in, "I think I bled you dry Morgan. I'm ready to turn in myself." John heard Arthur grumble as he walked away. Thinking it was funny, he let out a short laugh.

With both of them gone, you turned to face Arthur. You ran your fingers through his hair as he placed his hands on your hips. You could feel his hard cock pressing against you as you shuffled yourself to straddle his lap. He took your mouth in a slow deep kiss, feeling his tongue explore every inch of your mouth

He groaned into the kiss as you reached down and stroked him through his pants. He broke away then spoke in a husky voice. "You remembered what I said?"

You looked into his deep multicolored eyes, "What was it?"

"To fill you." He placed his hands on your thighs, "For teasing me so much." He began guiding your skirt up so he could get better access. "You're going to regret teasing me like that."

A grin spread across your lips as your pussy tingled at his threat. "Am I?" You challenged, running your hand down to his crotch. His eyes never left yours as a growl escaped his throat. You could tell he was trying to stay in control. The way he was looking at you was intense. He grabbed you by the hips and lifted you onto the table, making you sit at the edge.

"I won't say it again." You watched as his fingers worked to unbutton his pants. The bulge was straining hard against the fabric. He was eager to be freed. "Get off the table and bend over."

You did as he said, resting your palms flat on the wood as you did. You heard Arthur step closer. He put his hand on the back of your head, pushing your face down. His other hand lifted the back of your dress. "You better be quiet." He whispered as he pushed his length into you, filling you.

He gave you no time to adjust, pounding into you immediately. He grabbed your neck from behind and pulled you, "You think it's okay playing with me?" You couldn't form words, but a moan escaped your throat. His free hand found its way to your clit, rubbing it in time with his thrusts. “...Hm?”

"Arthur!" Your back arched, your knees growing weak as you struggled to keep yourself upright. Arthur pulled out of you suddenly, "What did I say about being quiet?" He spoke harshly. Arthur grabbed a fist full of your hair and thrust his cock into you once more. His hips snapped into your ass hard and fast. You could feel the warmth of your climax building as you tried to stifle your moans.

Using the grip on your hair to steady himself, he pounded into you harder. "Good. Stay quiet," he spoke through gritted teeth. He pulled your head back, forcing you to arch your back as he pounded into you. Your moans were growing louder and harder to control. He tightened his grip on your hair, causing you to cry out. "Oh fuck." You moaned, feeling yourself nearing the edge.

He moved his hand from your hair to your mouth. His calloused palm covered your lips as his thrusts grew erratic. You could feel him pulse inside you as he neared his own climax. Your legs shook, threatening to give out. His other hand snaked under your dress and rubbed your clit in circles.

Your muffled cries became screams as you came. Arthur pulled out immediately, spilling his release on to the ground beneath him. He groaned low and deep as his free hand slipped from your mouth.

After a moment, he pulled your dress down, covering your backside. Both of you were panting, coming down from the high you both felt. You then turned and stood up to face him. Arthur was still out of breath, his face red as he placed his hands on your hips.

"You alright?"

"I'm good." You smiled, leaning in and placing a kiss on his jaw.

"Good." He smiled, looking around as he tucked himself in his pants. “Let’s get to bed. It’s getting late.” With that, you walked with him to his cot.

#arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan x reader

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coltermorning · 1 month

Text

Of Love and Loss Ch. 18 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: To dodge any further run-ins with the law, you and Arthur leave the trail, coming upon a barn reminiscent of your past.

Author’s Notes: Sexual content in this chapter (can I get a FINALLY)! Chapter eighteen of this one.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

Of Love and Loss

Eighteen: Escape and Release

Word count: 9229

Arthur rode hard the next few days, only stopping to make sure you were still following along. He had told those lawmen he was headed to the next town, so to avoid that confrontation, the two of you backtracked. It would take a week or two longer to reach your destination, but in the grand scheme of things, it was better than another noose. Truth be told, he wasn’t quite free of the last one—like it still cut at his neck even though it was long gone. He chalked it up to so closely avoiding death that the feeling would take a while to wear off. He had more pressing matters to worry about anyway.

The temperature soon dropped again, and the snow came with the cold in short bursts. Shelter was hard to come by, so at the first glance of trees, Arthur loosed rein and made camp for the night. You would both need some kind of sleep to make it to the next closest settlement. He wasn’t exactly sure how far away that was, but he didn’t want to be distracted with exhaustion in the case those lawmen did find you.

Skipping the fire, Arthur wordlessly built the tent with numb hands and little willpower, relying on the second nature that came with pitching canvas so often that he didn’t have to think about it.

Your voice carried to him from where you were tending to your mule, the sound floating over on the wind. “I think I prefer the tent to a town.”

He finished hammering the last stake in and looked to you. “You’re the only one. Even those two preferred the stable,” he said, gesturing to the horse and mule.

You eyed him over your shoulder. “Don’t get me wrong, the bed was…nice.” Your face went red, and Arthur had to keep from letting his very recent memories of you surface lest he get any ideas. “It just seems to me that towns means trouble. This is uncomplicated.”

Arthur kept his quip to himself, that those wolves had wanted to eat you in the tent just as bad as the lawmen had wanted to kill you in town. But you were right about the simplicity of it. If only it were meant to last.

“Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but we can’t stay long. Being out in the open like this is easy pickings for any lawmen who’ll be after us.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning we need somewhere to hide. This ain’t hiding.”

“So another town then?” you said, sounding more tired than he’d heard you yet.

“Not necessarily. There’s homesteads along the road to these bigger towns. Maybe we’ll come across one soon and we can all sleep in peace.”

“Maybe,” you said quietly, like you doubted it. Only he knew what that doubt was about, and it didn’t concern finding any homestead. It was about how little peace you had left.

Arthur rose to his feet and walked over to you, taking the brush you were using on Harriet, using it himself so you had no reason to avoid what he was about to ask.

“You want to talk about it?”

“About what?” you said with a sharpness he knew to be fake.

He eyed you. “You killed someone. I know it’s bothering you.”

Arthur thought you were deep in thought about the matter until he realized your gaze had fallen to the gun at his hip. Like the thing would come to life and bite you. He covered it with his hand. “Look, I know what you’re feeling. It ain’t nice. But keeping it all bottled up will eat you alive.”

You let out a pitiful laugh. “I know that already. I’m barely over the last thing.”

The last thing being your parents, something you weren’t over in the slightest. Something he didn’t expect you to be over for the rest of your life. “You don’t have to get over it. Just…I’m here if you want to talk. Believe it or not, I do have some experience in the matter.”

You laughed again, a more genuine sound this time though still sad. But it wasn’t until you met his eyes that Arthur’s breath caught in his chest. All he wanted, all he ever wanted these days, was to kiss that look you gave him. And he had to tamp down hard on every urge, every thought, in order to keep his desires to himself. That wasn’t what you needed from him right now.

“Thank you,” you said softly, turning back to your mule. A dismissal. Arthur accepted it and handed you the brush back, letting you be. You would talk when you were ready.

Glad the wind didn’t have its usual sting, Arthur stepped into the tent without worrying over warmth for once, letting his tiredness ease his bones. He knew the safety he felt in distance away from those lawmen wouldn’t last long, but he settled into it for now, laying back on your bedroll and letting sleep steal over him quickly.

It wasn’t long before Arthur woke to you kneeling in after him. You settled at his side and laid a hand across his chest, pressing a kiss to his cheek before curling against him. The feeling broke something in him. He wasn’t meant for closeness such as this, but there he was craving it, giving up all rational thought that it wouldn’t last or that it didn’t mean the same to you. For once, Arthur let himself believe that this was what he deserved. And sleep came easy when he thought of it that way—as just a man grateful to be lying next to you.

You and Arthur kept moving, kept pushing, getting farther away from the recent past that wouldn’t leave you be. After four days had come and gone, Arthur turned out to be right about the occasional homestead. He still refused to stop at the first one you came to, saying it was too easy for anyone on your trail to find you there. He wanted something a bit more off the path, much less obvious to a passer-by. So with this, you left the path. It was the first time you had done so since starting this journey, and you couldn’t deny it made you nervous. But Arthur seemed to know what he was doing and where he was going, and he hadn’t led you astray so far. After all the two of you had been through, you trusted him with your life. So you laid it in his hands and followed, unable to find the will to carry that weight yourself anyway. Grateful to have the comfort of someone you could rely on.

Two more days passed before any sign of human life surfaced, and when it did, it wasn’t quite what you expected. In a clearing of land that would be beautiful in the warmer months, an old barn stood alone, surrounded by nature and nothing else. No paths, no wagon tracks, no sign that anyone had lived here in ages.

Arthur was much more confident about approaching the barn than you, as it really was quite old and looked as though the roof may cave in at even the thought of more snow. You were also none too eager to meet someone living there. If anyone lived there at all. It didn’t seem likely, but you were done with other people for the time being. In fact, you hoped the rest of this trip held nothing but Arthur until you saw your extended family again.

The thought of your family had you distracted enough to follow Arthur all the way up to the barn front. He stopped his horse and swung off of her. “Wait here.”

You nodded and took Boadicea’s reins from him, looking away when he pulled his gun. The memory of that metal in your hand made your skin crawl. You couldn’t block out the sudden sight of how that man’s head had caved to the bullet you shot so easily, all semblance of life gone the moment you pulled the trigger.

You’d told yourself over and over that he was already aiming for Arthur, that if you hadn’t shot, he would have. You would be much more devastated over Arthur’s death than one you had caused, not to mention you’d likely be dead now too. Still, you couldn’t stop it as a skull was cracked open, and blood splattered on the brick wall, and what used to be an eye was nothing but carnage. Death was ugly in that it was so freely given. It took nothing to end that man’s life—a pinch of your finger. And everything was over in a moment and impossible to take back and so, so red.

The creaking barn door startled you when Arthur swung it open wide. “Place is empty. Bring them in with you.”

You gave Harriet a pat to remind yourself of the present—to stay out of that godforsaken moment—and started her forward, tugging Boadicea along. When the three of you passed the threshold, you forgot momentarily about death and a gun’s purpose. For before you was an open room that felt safer than anything you had yet come across—it closely resembled the barn your father had built in Montana.

Arthur closed the door behind you and your mounts, but you didn’t move to dismount. You could only stare at the open-aired inside of the barn with its stalls on one side and its loft above. It was much older than the one you’d left behind, its age obvious in its wood and how it had been pieced together, but it felt right. It smelled right. And you knew why—the hay over in the corner was fresh. Much too fresh for the place to be devoid of human life.

“You sure we’re alone?” you asked quietly, nodding to the hay.

“Seems we just missed whoever lives here,” Arthur answered, taking his horse from you and leading her back to one of the makeshift stalls. “There’s a journal on that table over there with an entry dated two days ago. Says the author was headed out to hunt some prized deer he’d been after for a few weeks now. He doesn’t expect to be back for another two or three days.”

“How convenient,” you said, though you weren’t sure you felt it. It seemed bad luck had followed you all the way here, and what was to stop it from reaching you in this place? Though you couldn’t deny the feeling of sentimentality and comfort it brought you. And this far off the path, at least the only person you would come across was the owner of this barn. You would take your chances that he would be better company than the lawmen that were sure to be after you.

You let that smell of fresh hay overtake you and got off of Harriet, leading her back to the same stall Arthur had taken his mare to. There was another stall beyond it, but it had a bed and a nightstand in it that both looked to be roughly handmade. It seemed whoever lived here had learned to live off the land entirely, making his own furniture, hunting for his food. Paying closer attention, you could even see parts of the barn that had been mended, new wood brought in and patched to keep the structure from falling apart.

You gave Arthur time to unsaddle Boadicea before leading Harriet in with her, glad the two got along well enough for the tight space. You took to unsaddling her too as Arthur brought some of the hay over for them.

“I’ll bet there’s a water source nearby if someone’s out here living rough like this. I’ll go-”

“No,” you said quickly, turning to him. “Just…stay. Just for a little while, then we’ll go together.”

He studied you a moment, then nodded. “Okay.” He motioned for you to give him the saddle you had just taken off your mule. You handed it over, hoping he wouldn’t bring up what you knew he inevitably would. What he already had. You couldn’t talk about that yet. Instead, you just wanted to lie on that handmade bed and take in the smell of this place, the memories it brought you. You wanted Arthur to tell you nonsense stories like he normally did to pass the time. You wanted to stay here forever and never have to face what you had done.

You stepped out of the stall and over to the bed, letting Arthur handle the saddle. You sat slowly, listening to the subtle shift of the rough wood beneath your weight. Your bed back home had been nothing like this, but still you found yourself smiling, your heart aching over the loss of something so mundane.

“What’s that look for?” Arthur said, peeking over the stall top at you while he lowered your saddle over it.

You weren’t sure what your answer would be until any thought of one got caught in your throat at the look he was giving you—a smug one. It took you a moment to get past how annoyingly handsome it made him, and even then, that left you to realize why he was making such a face. You didn’t exactly have much to smile over these days, and he knew that. So he must be thinking the same thing you were now, about the last time the two of you had had a bed and a moment to spare.

You shook your head at him.

“Nah, come on. It’s something.”

“It’s nothing,” you assured him, truthfully wanting to keep that peaceful feeling to yourself. You didn’t want to interrupt whatever he was thinking either.

He snickered. “You’re a shit liar.”

“And you’re nosy.”

He held up his hands in defeat but began walking over, every step closer making your heart pound a little harder. “Can’t deny that,” he quipped.

You kept eyes on him, like he would pounce if you didn’t. He entered the stall but leaned against the far corner, pulling out a cigarette. Most times, he did this to calm his nerves, but this seemed more like habit. He looked far too pleased with himself to be nervous.

“You eyeing me like that because you want one or because of those guarded little thoughts you’re having?” he asked, holding out the cigarette toward you.

“Neither,” you said too quickly. It just made him grin.

“It’s gotta be something,” he pushed.

“Forget it.” You wanted to scoff but found a smile on your face instead, though you did manage to break away from that blue-eyed stare. You laid back on the bed. His resulting chuckle ran through you like rich honey, catching on every crevice, sticking to you the same way the sight of his mouth did. You wanted him for it. But you were too worn down and too stubborn to admit it.

You turned away from him with force and settled down despite the even deeper laugh that pulled from him. At least you could attempt sleep with that sound ringing loud instead of the other that plagued you. You even found yourself smiling wider still when you heard him mutter, “Stubborn as always.” Perhaps so, but it was easy to be stubborn where he was concerned.

The days of hard travel melted away at the thought of Arthur and of how easy it was for him to distract you. Maybe he knew you better than you thought. That was…comforting, in a way. Comforting enough that without warning, sleep found you before you could even think to reach for it.

Arthur watched over you as you slept. It was the first time he didn’t allow himself to join you in it in days. For one thing, he had no certainty about when the barn’s usual occupant would return. He didn’t want any surprises. But for another, he was a goddamn live wire of restless energy. He wanted to join you on that bed for reasons entirely opposite of sleep, wanted to know what thoughts you were too embarrassed to tell him. He wanted and wanted until there was nothing left to want because you were lying there not feet from him, beautiful on that bed. He felt the need to take advantage of that while he could. But he stayed away, unwilling to be so selfish. The phrase it’s for the best passed through his head so many times he was starting to get annoyed by it. Much more of this, and he would have to go outside for a beat, walk his energy off. That probably wasn’t smart either. The last time he had gone into a separate room as you all worked up like this, he had ended up taking himself in hand to the thought of you. That memory was so unhelpful that Arthur was nearly glad when you gave him an excuse to refocus his mind, even if it came at the cost of whatever peace you had.

“No,” you murmured, still held under by sleep. Arthur watched you but let you be, wanting to let you rest. Then you said it again, a desperate sound.

“You okay?” he asked softly. You didn’t hear him, caught up in whatever was making you plead like that.

“No…no!” You jerked awake. Your chest rose and fell in rapid breaths, your eyes wide.

“Just a dream,” he told you, resisting the urge to lay a calming hand on you. You looked at him like a wild animal would, like you didn’t even recognize him. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

Your current predicament finally seemed to dawn on you, as your wide eyes softened some. “It’s- he was…”

Arthur was a breath away from distracting you from whatever nightmare you were still waking up from until he realized what it was very likely about—that man you’d killed. As hard as it would be, you needed to talk about it. Get it out in the open. So he kept his mouth firmly shut and watched you piece it together.

“They told me to kill him.”

He was right. “Who?”

You ran a hand over your face and laid back. “Those deputies. That marshal. Then you and…and Pa was…it didn’t make any sense.”

“You good?” Arthur repeated after a moment. You looked at him, hurt filling your eyes with a look so sad he couldn’t bear it. “Hey,” he said softly. “It was just a dream. It’s over now.”

That had the opposite effect he wanted it to. Your face crumpled. You were sobbing and turning away faster than he could stop you. He crossed the space and leaned over you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“They’re gone,” you said through a racking sob. “And I almost lost you too. And I had to-”

He sat on the bed, letting you speak. Letting you work it out for yourself.

“I killed him, Arthur,” you choked out.

“I know.”

“No, in my dream. I killed him again. And he kept coming back to life, and they made me do it over and over again.”

Jesus. All Arthur could do was run his hand over the matted fur of your bison coat, his comforting words all dried up in the face of that particular horror.

“God, it was…it was so real.”

“It’s not real,” he assured you. “It’s done with.”

You just lay there crying, your breaths coming in a little steadier.

“Look, I know this ain’t the first or the last time that deputy’s death weighs on you. I’d be worried if it was. But it’s over now, and you can’t beat yourself up over a split decision like that.”

Your sobbing hardly let up.

“You saved my life,” Arthur said. “Twice. I’d be dead if you hadn’t done it.”

“I keep telling myself that,” you said, voice so weak it nearly broke him. Then you turned your face toward him, and the look on it did break him. Absolute despair. “But what would…what would they think?”

Your parents. Arthur lifted his hand to your hair and sighed as he brushed it back from your face. “I don’t know. But I do know they would be proud of you for how far you’ve come. And they would sure as shit be proud of you for feeling all this guilt even though you did what was necessary. Say what you will, but I know they raised you right because of that right there.”

You gave a weak smile that faltered on your trembling lip. Then you were crying again, and he knew there weren’t words to help ease that kind of pain. Best just to feel it. So he offered the only other thing he could. “It may not get easier,” he admitted. “But I’m here. As long as you need me.”

Surprisingly, that settled something in you. You raised up and wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tight enough for him to feel your shaky breathing. He hugged you back, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. Pulling you in close enough that the embrace became something he needed just as much as you did.

“I got you.” The words left him without permission, without hesitation.

You finally took a long breath and let it out, never letting him go. “I know you do.”

Pride took hold of him.

After a long time like this, you finally pulled away and wiped your face. “Thank you. I can’t say how much it means to have you here.”

“‘Course,” he answered, reluctant to let his hand fall from your back. But he made it, letting the moment be over at your discretion, not his.

You turned away, eyes falling to your hands on your lap. You still looked so defeated that he spoke. “Let’s go find that water I was talking about. Get your mind off things.”

You never looked his way but nodded nonetheless. He stood and offered you his hand. You took it, rising, passing him by with a small, timid smile of thanks. It wasn’t until the two of you were nearly out of the door that you turned, saying, “You remember how you said it didn’t matter that I couldn’t shoot your gun?”

How wrong he was. “Sure.”

“I…I didn’t have time to think about it. He was going to kill you and I…” Arthur let you work through your thoughts. Your gaze pierced him when it met his. “It mattered this time.”

He just stared.

“I knew the shot would kill him the moment I lifted that gun. And I’d do it again. A thousand times over.”

He tried to brush this off, unable to say what it meant to him. “I don’t know that I deserve that kind of loyalty,” he said with a breath of a laugh.

“You do. Whatever pain I have, believe me when I say I don’t regret it. I would have rather died than lost you.”

The words were a force, spearing so deep in Arthur’s chest that he felt his breath snag on them.

“I just wish you never had to make that choice,” he said lowly.

“It was him or you,” you said simply. “No matter how bad it was bound to hurt, I’ll always pick you.”

You and Arthur returned to the barn, having found a small river about half a mile east. You both had full cantines and full buckets for the horses. As satisfied as you and he deserved to be, you were quiet. You’d never seen Arthur quite so contemplative as he was now that you’d poured your heart out to him. A sentimental look you’d never seen before had crossed his face at your confession, and since, he seemed to be caught up in it. But you weren’t exactly talkative either, and you couldn’t bring yourself to regret what you’d told him. So silence it was.

You watered your horses and did the only thing there was to do—went back to sitting around the stall with the bed in it. Arthur mentioned going hunting again due to how low your food supply was running. “Tomorrow,” you’d told him. It was late afternoon anyway. You were tired, probably more so after that harrowing nightmare, and he looked to be in about the same shape as you. So, knowing his pride wouldn’t let him do so without you suggesting it, you patted the bed beside you.

“Come sleep. You must be exhausted.”

He eyed your hand on the bed.

“I’ll stay up,” you told him, rising quickly in case that was the fault he was finding with this. “Don’t feel like sleeping now anyway after earlier.”

He shook his head. “Don’t stay up on my account.”

“You need it more than I do,” you insisted. “Rest.”

When he didn’t move, you rolled your eyes and crossed the small space, landing a hand on his back and pushing him toward the bed. Stubborn man. He relented though, lying down with hat and coat and boots still on. Only, when you made to move away, he caught your hand.

“Ought to be safe enough all the way out here for both of us to rest.”

You didn’t miss the small gleam in his eye, the one he couldn’t resist. The one that was making your face heat.

“I told you, I need to put some space between that dream I had and- Arthur!” He pulled you down atop him, then seemed to think better of it and settled you against his side, wrapping an arm around you so you couldn’t move away.

“Bullshit,” he said, smiling now as he turned on his side to face you. “You’ll be sleeping like a baby in minutes.”

“I will not.”

“You will.”

“And what makes you so sure?” you snapped, both annoyed and exhilarated over how close he was.

“Because you’re still just as tired as I am.”

“Is the fact that I want to avoid a certain terrifying nightmare not getting through that thick skull of yours?”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” he asked, smiling wide when he caught you looking at his mouth. “‘Cause if I didn’t know any better, I’d say your mind was elsewhere.”

“It’s not,” you assured him, though he couldn’t be more right. Not as you thought of the last bed you had shared and of what the two of you had been doing while you shared it.

“Fine,” he said with enough sarcasm for you to know this was about to go south for you. “I can fix your little nightmare problem then.”

Curious, you took the bait. “How?”

Your eyes flicked to his mouth once more of their own volition, and his grin turned wicked. “I got something on my mouth, or are you just too busy remembering the last time we were in bed like this?”

You were flooded with such sudden embarrassment you couldn’t meet his eye, but that left you looking at his damn mouth again, and that was so much worse.

“Neither,” you said, your stubbornness digging its heels in.

“Admit it,” he coaxed, his smile so wide you wanted to return it.

“No,” you insisted. But this time, the hint of a grin in that word was your undoing.

“Either that, or stop lying so poorly,” he drawled. And the way his voice dragged out his words, so familiar and happy, had you throwing caution to the wind. Except you didn’t admit defeat in words. You proved it instead. Before he could react, you leaned forward and kissed Arthur, quick and sure. You pulled back beaming, then couldn’t help but break out into laughter at the shocked look on his face.

“That look,” you said. “Priceless.”

“You little-” He didn’t even finish the sentiment before he was on top of you, kissing you, his hat falling off at his eagerness. And you melted immediately into how good it felt, how much you needed this. How much you had missed it.

His fingers found the braid in your hair, something he seemed drawn to every time he got close, and pulled it away from your face as he continued to take your mouth. Then he grabbed your jaw with that hand, forcing your face up to stay with his as his tongue pushed into your mouth. Something about that greedy touch of his hand made you burn with desire. You let out a small noise into his mouth that made him pull back. He stared hard, his amusement gone, something much more desperate left behind.

Thinking you’d done wrong by that noise, you spoke. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

He crashed into you, his mouth on yours so wanting and brutal that you started to forget the world around you.

“Do it again,” he said into your mouth.

God, this was different. Before, he had been sweet and slow with you. He had eased you into lazy kisses and whispered words. This was not that. This was him wanting you more than you ever thought he would. It made you eager, to know he wanted you that way. To know you must be doing this right, as he slid his hand to your side, and the desperate grip he had against your ribs made you let out another quiet moan. It drove him mad. His kiss turned even more needy and harsh as his hand worked down your side, grasping your hip instead. His touch made you dizzy. You wanted him then, wanted him badly, in a way you didn’t know how to want a man.

“Arthur,” you breathed, half-question, half-need.

He pulled away again, looking at you so close you could see all the color in his eyes. Beautiful as he was.

“Too much?” he asked, the question soft for how aggressive he had just been.

“No. Not at all.”

You saw the same look come over him that meant he was about to kiss you again, but you stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“Can you…” It seemed so childish a thing to ask. But if you didn’t put it into words, your inexperience would likely lead to one embarrassing encounter. Still, you couldn’t get the words past your tongue.

“What?” he asked, his lips so close. The look of him so caught on the edge of his own desire made you not want to ruin the moment. So you changed tracks.

“Is this how you planned on getting my nightmares to go away?”

He smirked. “No. But if it’s working, I much prefer this to what I had in mind.”

“Which was?”

He seemed a little disappointed in all the talk, his eyes dipping to your mouth before he let out a small breath through his nose. “Your question game.”

So as not to unravel this perfect moment any more, you took his face in your hands and kissed him, a quick press of your lips to his. “Tell me about it.”

His smirk returned. And with it, he slid his arm under you and pulled you against him as he turned back on his side, your bodies flush in a way they hadn’t yet been. It made your desire course through you so strong you could feel your heartbeat pound in every part of you. Mainly lower than usual, a tight need forming between your legs.

“Only if you agree to my rules,” Arthur teased.

“Which are?”

“I’ll answer your questions, but each one costs you a kiss.”

You grinned like an idiot. “I think I can manage that. But what do I get when I answer yours?”

His gaze turned dark, downright conspiratorial. “I ain’t gonna ask you any questions.”

You raised an eyebrow, conscious of the way his hand had dropped low on your back, fingers skimming just above your backside. “No?”

He shook his head. “I just thought of an even better way to get your nightmares to go away.”

“Care to enlighten me?” All this touch was driving you crazy. You just wanted to begin this, to sate your need any way you could.

“How about I show you?” His voice dropped low, his gaze doing the same, straight back to your mouth.

“I’d like that,” you muttered. You weren’t sure if it was you or him who gave in first, only that your mouths met once more, taking much more than that which would allow any innocent questions to remain. Your mind reeled with the possibilities.

“One more rule,” Arthur said, his voice a low breath as his mouth moved from your lips to your neck. He pressed a soft kiss to your skin, the feeling sending a shiver down your spine. “If I do anything you don’t want me to, you tell me, and I’ll stop.”

How in the world would he manage something you didn’t want? You wanted everything he could give you. More.

You nodded, baring your throat to him when his lips brushed over that sensitive skin again.

“Use your words,” he coaxed.

“I will,” you breathed, the words coming out like another moan.

“Good,” he said, voice thick with want. Then he moved away. “You’re up then,” he said, eyes catching yours and holding them, that gleam in them making you want to kiss him again. “Fire away.”

You started to think of a question when he moved down, kneeling over you. He began taking off your boot, and your mind went haywire over possible reasons for such a thing.

“How long have you wanted to kiss me?” you nearly whispered, letting him take the other boot off, your socks not far behind. His touch on your ankles and feet was electric, any place his skin brushed yours like wildfire.

“Every second since you kissed me the first time,” he said, crawling back upward, meeting your lips with his for the question.

His answer shocked you. You had thought he regretted that first kiss with how he had acted afterward. But he had given in so easily to your request back in town, acting like getting to kiss you then was an honor. So maybe he never was regretful. Maybe he, like you, wanted it too much. Maybe you were both idiots then. But not now. Now, he brushed his lips against yours in a kiss so tender it left you simultaneously breathless and needing more. Then he threw you a smirk and moved back down.

“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about it before then. But it was different once I got to feel it for myself. All I could think about.”

Again, surprise. Had he wanted you before you’d even considered wanting him? You had to agree with him about that first time though—something had come alive in you that day. It seemed it had in him too.

Arthur started to unbutton your pants. His fingers so close to where that aching need coursed through you did something to you—your patience wore thinner.

“Was I any good at it?” you asked on an outward breath, knowing your inexperience was probably a detriment in that regard.

Arthur chucked as he got the last button free and slowly slid your pants from your legs. The tips of his fingers followed them all the way down, nothing but your short chemise blocking them now. “If you wasn’t, why on earth would I be left thinking about it all hours? Yes, you were good at it.” He tossed your pants aside into the growing pile of your clothes. “Still are.” He came back up and kissed you again, this time lingering. When he pulled away, he let out a satisfied hum. “Damn good.”

You couldn’t keep the smile off your face at that.

“Sit up,” he said, tossing your hat that had long since fallen off to the floor. You did as he said, very conscious of his weight over your bare legs. You wanted to feel his fingertips again.

Arthur slid your bulky bison coat from your shoulders, letting it fall away. He went to do the same to your older, underlayered coat but hesitated, meeting your eye.

“No more questions?”

“You’re distracting me,” you said honestly.

He smiled. “Think of another. I want an excuse to kiss you again.”

So did you.

“Can I undress you?”

He laughed again, that drawling sound that lit your bones with happiness. “Not this time. This is about your nightmares, remember?” You couldn’t understand how this could possibly be about nightmares, but you also couldn’t care. Not as Arthur’s hand lifted your chin, bringing your mouth to his in another achingly soft, drawn-out kiss.

When he pulled away, you were drunk on his touch, saying whatever thought came to mind. “But what if I want to?”

He smiled and went back to undressing you, taking your vest. “Another time.” But you wanted him now. Wanted to see all that muscle you knew hid beneath his clothes.

Any thought to protest fizzled away when his fingers came to your neck, beginning to unbutton your shirt. It was all that was left apart from your chemise.

“Have you thought of me naked?” you asked, all embarrassment over a question like that long gone.

His gaze hardened as he focused on the buttons. “Yes.”

“When?”

He finished with the last button and parted your shirt, helping you shrug it off before he met your gaze. “That’ll cost you two, I’m afraid.”

“Shall I ask a third?”

He grinned wide and came forward, pushing you back to the bed with the next kiss. This one was harder, his tongue finding yours. He pulled back only to move over you better, stretching his long body out over yours, the weight of him coming down on you like an answered prayer.

He kissed you a second time, trapping you between his arms, his body, and the bed. His knee moved upward, jutting between your legs and pressing into you in the perfect spot. You moaned into his mouth, loud this time.

“Thought about it plenty,” Arthur said breathlessly, mouth hardly an inch from yours. “Thought about you in that bath.”

“At the hotel?” you asked, and since it was technically a question, he kissed you again. Though you were willing to bet he would have done it regardless.

He pulled back and met your eye. “Wish I’d had the balls to go back in that room with you on my bed and do what I’ve been wanting to for some time now.”

“Which is?”

You hardly breathed waiting for an answer. You knew what it would be, but you wanted to hear him say it. All this talk was going straight to that pounding heat between your legs. You could still feel Arthur’s knee pinning you there, and it was all you could do not to move against the pressure of it.

“This,” Arthur whispered before kissing you again, this time leaving nothing to be said. It was just his body on yours, the way your mouths fit together so perfectly, the building need within you. Then he started to move down. He kissed your throat again, so softly you could die by that touch. His fingers skimmed over your leg, leaving a trail of desire over your skin. Then he caught the lower hem of your chemise. He kissed down your neck, your collarbone, all while beginning to tug your only remaining clothing upward. Anticipation ate you alive, your breath catching. Your hands found his back, clinging to the thick material of his coat. You wanted it off. Wanted him naked too. Wanted him to move that knee of his against you with nothing but skin.

Arthur pulled your chemise over your hips, his lips never parting from you. You let him do it with more consent than you ever thought you’d have for a man, even lifting into him to let him get the slip up your body.

It was only when he pulled the fabric past your breasts that he shifted, his mouth moving away. You missed his touch so immediately your eyebrows furrowed with want, but you let him be when you saw his eyes flick downward, taking in the sight of you. His jaw flexed with need, so much of his attention on something as simple as your body that you flushed under his gaze.

“Beautiful,” he said, his eyes slowly working their way back upward, noting every inch of skin like he was committing it to memory. There was a small hunger in his eyes, but also a softness that stole your breath. There was no doubt he meant that word. And before you could respond, his mouth was on you again, but not on your lips or your throat. His tongue found your nipple and flicked back and forth, a motion that made you strain against him.

“Arthur,” you moaned. Begging for more. Your hands clung tighter. His thumb found your other nipple and gave it the same attention his mouth was, and damn it all if it wasn’t the best feeling in the world. You’d never experienced anything like this. And to have Arthur being the one who did it to you…

He sucked with the slightest pressure, his whole hand engulfing your other breast and squeezing. It was too much and not enough all at once. Needing more, you moved your hips out of instinct. That forced his knee to drag against the most sensitive part of you. You sucked in a breath at how good it felt.

He pulled his mouth away, those blue eyes meeting yours. “You okay?”

“Don’t stop,” you breathed, desperate.

He grinned and went back to his slow, pleasurable torture, switching his mouth to your other breast. The feeling was so foreign that you didn’t know how to react to him, letting your body do what it craved instead. You rolled your hips against his knee again, twice, enough for him to notice as bursts of pleasure shot up your spine.

He pulled away with a slow chuckle, the sound dripping with smugness. “I’m getting there,” he said lowly. You didn’t know what he meant by that until you felt his knee move away and nearly whimpered at its absence. That is, until he tugged your chemise over your arms and head, tossing it aside. Until his hands moved lower. Your heart thundered.

“Been waiting to do this,” he murmured.

You didn’t know quite what he would do, only that the building pressure in your body coiled right between your legs, and that was exactly where his hand was headed as his fingers deftly brushed against your skin all the way down. He was surprisingly patient about it, dragging his hand down your side then back up, lower then back up. Kissing your shoulders and collarbone and anywhere he could find skin.

You were so busy with his slow touch you didn’t think about the absence of his mouth on yours until he came forward again, and all of your anticipation came flooding back as his eyes fell to your mouth in promise of another kiss. “One word,” he said lowly. “And I’ll stop.” But as his hand skimmed your hip, slowly grazing closer to the inside of your thigh, you didn’t think all the willpower in the world would allow you to stop him. You needed that touch more than anything.

“Don’t stop,” you whispered, and his mouth met yours.

You were aware of multiple things at once. Arthur’s kiss was slow but passionate, his tongue quickly finding yours and making that desperation course harder between your legs. His body was lined against yours, hard muscle meeting every crevice of you where he laid beside you. He was as needy as you were, so close to you like that. Like he couldn’t bear being even an inch apart. But last and most noticeable was his fingers, making slow circles on your skin. Moving closer inch by inch to the inside of your thighs. Out of mere need, you parted your legs for him. The motion had him making a low sound right into your mouth. He shifted beside you, moving closer still, partially leaning over you again as his hand dipped closer to where your legs met. Then, finally, his fingers brushed upward and against your skin. Against your very sensitive, somehow very slick skin.

“Shit,” he mumbled, breaking your kiss. His gaze was lowered beneath his lashes, not meeting yours. Confused, you spoke.

“Did I-”

“Perfect,” he said in answer, his eyes meeting yours with so much want you knew you would never forget the look of them. His hand skimmed down the seam of your body again, his heavy finger lingering this time. It sent a shudder through you, the feeling so good you let your head fall to the bed.

“You like that?” he asked, his usual confidence traded for genuine curiosity.

“Yes,” you breathed, looking up to see him watching you. He did it again, his thick finger running through that spot that made you satisfied yet needier still. He held your eye and smirked as he kept on, his hand moving back and forth. He went higher the next time, and you let out a sharp whimper when he hit a spot so coarse with nerves you couldn’t stand it. Lord above, did you need this. Him.

Arthur leaned over you again, and you thought he would kiss you until his head ducked low and his mouth latched onto your nipple. Your back arched with all the pleasure he was forcing through you. His tongue flicked against you, his finger resuming its slow and torturous work. Only, every few strokes, he went high and hit that bundle of nerves, circling his finger around it a few times before going back down. It was so good it scared you. So good it was building something within you, something you didn’t know whether to shy away from or meet head on. Arthur wasn’t giving you much option.

“Arthur,” you moaned, your hand coming around his head, fingers working through those golden brown strands of hair as he licked and sucked against your breast.

He let out a low noise. A groan. It made your pleasure tighten somehow.

He gave up entirely on moving his hand back and forth, circling his finger around those nerves instead, so fast it was dizzying and sharp.

“Arthur,” you said again, though it was a warning this time. A warning that something was happening, and you didn’t know what.

He caught that desperate sound and finally released your nipple, looking up at you. When he saw your face all screwed up with arousal, he smiled. He shifted low enough that his hand dipped farther between your legs. Very far. “Just relax,” he said, his voice so filled with confidence you wanted to have him then and there, show him the same pleasure he was showing you. “You still good?” His gaze turned questioning, though there was still an underlying layer of hunger in it. Unable to resist him a second longer, you nodded. You wanted everything.

Without hesitation, Arthur pushed his finger against you until it- until it-

“Shit,” you hissed. But not because of pain. He was dipping his finger into you, and the feeling was so good, so perfectly satisfying of everything your body needed, that you immediately started rocking your hips against his hand.

He grinned. “I take that to mean you like it?”

How could you not? There was a tiny remnant of pain, like your body wasn’t used to this kind of movement inside of you. But of course it wasn’t. And the pleasure it brought you surmounted that pain a hundred times over.

You couldn’t even answer Arthur, too busy meeting his hand with every stroke, your eyes squeezed shut.

“You better answer me.”

Those taunting words were so true to him that the knowledge of the present came crashing into you—that this was Arthur pleasuring you. Arthur. Something crested within you at the thought, your pleasure forming into something greater.

“Yes,” you breathed. Then, because you couldn’t stop yourself, “Yes.” You sucked in a breath and said it a third time. All while his finger dragged in and out of you with so much pressure you panted.

“Good,” he teased, the word complete smugness. His pace sped up, his finger going deeper, curling harder. “I want to feel you let go for me.”

Your brain slowed, trying to decipher what that meant while trying to maintain your pleasure.

“Need to,” he said, this time a desperation of his own on the edge of those words. You were about to ask him what he meant when his thumb came down on those nerves again, working against you while his finger continued to pump in and out of you. It was your undoing. Your need surmounted, making you wince with a harsh breath. The pleasure was too much. It was going to tear you apart.

“Arthur,” you moaned again, your hands coming down around his forearm. He just worked you faster, pushed in deeper. You moved your hips against that rhythm and let your body chase it. “I can’t-” You took in a quick breath and held it. “Can’t stop it-”

“Don’t,” Arthur demanded. That dominance of his was so easy to obey. Your pleasure snapped, turning into something…something electric. It was sharp as lightning and good as anything you had ever felt all at once, and suddenly your whole body was shuddering against Arthur’s hand as his finger stayed buried and his thumb kept on those torturous circles. Your back arched as a new kind of release hit every inch of you, burning you alive. You moaned and jerked your hips when Arthur wouldn’t stop, a flutter of pure gratification starting at that bundle of nerves and releasing through you. It was insurmountable—something you were forced to allow to take over. So you did.

“That’s it,” Arthur said lowly, his thumb finally slowing. Though he didn’t remove his finger, and you didn’t want him to. It was buried so deep inside of you, you wished he would keep it there forever.

You were letting out one long, breathy whine when you finally came back to your senses. And when you did, you opened your eyes to find Arthur staring down at you. His expression was devastating. A man undone by his need for you. It made you happy and proud and shy all at once. You memorized that look, unbelievably satisfied. Like you never had been.

“Was that what you needed?” Arthur said, that knowing smirk returning.

You didn’t even have the fight left in you to shove him for that. Your whole body felt like liquid. You just nodded, matching his smile.

“Good,” he said, slipping his finger out of you, the sudden absence of it making you already impatient for its return.

Arthur rolled off the bed, and you were about to tell him to come back when you saw what he was doing—stripping his boots off. Your heartbeat kicked up with nerves when he took his big blue coat off too. That is, until he threw it to you. It landed over you, and the feeling made you realize how very bare you remained. It wasn’t like it mattered much. He had already proven he liked the way you looked without your clothes. Still, something in your pleasure-logged brain cleared, and you found yourself plunging your arms in the too-big sleeves and wrapping that soft, fur-lined coat around your naked body. It smelled like him, and an incredible wave of satisfaction rolled over you at the thought.

Before you even had a chance to lay down, Arthur was pulling off the bed’s fur blanket and laying down beside you, covering you both in it. He pulled your back tight against his front, so close you felt him breathing against your ear when he finally settled. You had never felt more content in your life.

“Better?” he muttered.

You didn’t know if he meant your new sleeping arrangements or in general, but the forceful pleasure he had wrung from you made it impossible not to feel better.

“Much,” you said with a hint of tiredness. “You’ll have to teach me that.”

You could feel him stiffen behind you, his response taking longer than usual. “You mean…”

You turned back to meet his gaze, that stunning blue green so close you couldn’t look away, even though his brow was pinched together in concern.

“What?”

“You never done that before?” he asked. “Yourself?”

The very idea was laughable. You turned away, unsure if such a thing should have been expected of you. “No.”

“You’ve never found your pleasure before,” he said, like he didn’t believe it. “That was your first time?”

The first time experiencing it, knowing there was a name for it, anything. Wasn’t that obvious?

“I thought we’d already had this conversation. I’ve never even kissed a man before you.”

“I know that,” he said. “But it don’t take two for pleasure.”

Your face burned hot at that. Like you were an idiot for not knowing. “I didn’t know, okay? I thought you figured that.”

He sensed your embarrassment and backtracked. “I didn’t- I dont mean to be...I just figured most everyone tries it at some point.”

“Well, not me,” you said simply. “When would I have even had the opportunity to try something like that? I slept in bed with my parents. We were together every second of every day.”

Arthur took a moment to respond. Then, “Fair enough.” You couldn’t help but laugh, even when he said, “You’re just full of surprises.” It reminded you that you were the one who had kissed him this time, that surprised look on his face over it just plain funny. And suddenly you were laughing for no real reason, laughing in Arthur’s arms, your happiness bursting at the seams. “What you on about?” he groaned.

“Nothing at all,” you teased. But you knew what it was. You had been miserable for so long, it was only a matter of time before your joy came back. And Arthur had been the one to help coax it forth.

“I don’t believe that for a second,” he said. But you never responded, too busy smiling like an idiot. Too busy with the happiness that seemed to radiate from all the places he touched you, beginning and ending with those protective arms of his.

The minutes ticked by, and you soon realized fatigue was taking comfort’s place, your eyelids growing heavy. It was still nowhere near nighttime, but you were exhausted by all the travel and the need Arthur had just pulled from you. You let your eyes close and were already close to drifting off when you mumbled, “How did any of that help my nightmares anyway?”

Arthur kissed the tip of your ear, the feeling relaxing you further. “Just go to sleep.”

You didn’t have the energy to argue, dropping off into nothingness like it had been waiting for you all along.

_________

Chapter nineteen is here.

tag list: @nayomi247 @ultraporcelainpig @photo1030 @spiritcatcherxo @calcarius445 @meet-me-backstage @marygillisapologist @formula1mount @oziozzioslo @lunawolfclaw

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #high honor arthur morgan #rdr2 arthur morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #fanfic #writing #nsft #lemon fanfic

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allatariel · 4 months

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WIP Wednesday!

@gordopickett tagged me earlier this week—thank you <3—and I planned to do it today and then of course forgot until the evening. I should have just done it and scheduled it to post today, but I had hoped to work more on Love at the Drafting Table and post that. Alas—I talk about a project and then life conspires to keep me from working on it!

Instead, below is an older, very rough snippet from another languishing, unfinished WIP, The Calculus of Grief, written at the end of April.

Tagging: @madamairlock, @littlelindentree, @caitylove, @shu-of-the-wind, @fireandsoup

More tags (split to work around broken tumblr tagging): @imsfire2, @cryscal, @air-mechanical, @youreorangeyoumoron, @wanderleave

And anyone else who might want to <3

Though the school year had barely just begun, it was actually still a month out from the second anniversary of Sergei’s first day teaching at Spiro T. Agnew High School. October 1, 1995 felt like a lifetime ago. To be honest, he tried to think about the time before as little as possible. But today was a different anniversary: September 4. Today it was harder than most days to ignore the gaping hole in the center of his life. Two years ago today he and his family had landed in Germany. After an hour of debriefing and setting the wheels in motion, of letting hope run wild and selecting a name to bear during their transition, he had called Margo from his hotel room. He had been overjoyed to see her, and when he hung up, his mother had joined him from the adjoining room where his father slept, with his sisters and their families resting safely down the hall. She had asked him about this woman who had saved him, who so clearly held the heart of her firstborn, her only son. So, Sergei had told her their story. For the first time in his life, he was free to tell his mother about the woman he had been in love with for well over ten years. Hours later, when the news reached them, she had pulled him sobbing into her arms as she had when he was small, before the births of his sisters. That was the only time he had given into the despair of losing her. He was trying to live, to stay safe as she had told him. To keep his family safe. And the only way he could manage to do that, to go on, was to leave it all behind. But then just last night he had seen on the news that the Sojourner 1 astronauts and Mars-94 cosmonauts had finally returned to Earth. After their nearly two year ordeal, the world joined in their joy and relief as the survivors were reunited with their loved ones. Sergei had watched Rolan Baranov, the cosmonaut turned astronaut—a defector like himself—be reunited with his American wife and son. His wife who had survived the bombing of JSC. Unlike Margo. Sergei honestly wasn’t sure how he’d made it into work at all. “Mr. Bezukhov?” Principal Alice Nikolsky—not Nikolskaya—called as she knocked on the door of the classroom. “We have a new student for your homeroom. She’s just transferred up from Huntsville, Alabama.” A young girl stepped into the doorway, her pale orange hair falling around wire rim glasses and shadowing her pale freckled face. She looked up, her blue eyes so like his mother’s, his own catching him already off guard as Alice introduced her, “Madison Morgan.” Seryozha, if you do not let yourself mourn her, she will haunt you forever. His mother’s plea rose in his mind as he took in this child, bouncing nervously on balls of her feet. In another life they could have had a daughter who looked like this girl.

#for all mankind #fam #margo madison #sergei nikulov #margo x sergei #sergei x margo #tag meme #wip wednesday #my writing #the calculus of grief #wip #work in progress #breaking my own heart #this is so ridiculously melodramatic #this needs so much work and isn't even half done #i have not been able to focus to save my life #i have adhd #actually audhd

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alienkitty259 · 7 months

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So I looked up the meaning of dol characters names

Briar: thorny bush of roses, brambles, thorny rose, a thorny patch, or shrub, small tree,

Bailey: berry clearing, bailiff, city fortification, or stick rod, law enforcer,

Remy: oarsman or rower

Landry: ruler, powerful ruler, or land, fatherland,

Harper: someone who plays the harp, harpist, minstrel, pleasant, or brave, harp player,

Niki: people of victory, victory, or goodness

Darryl: darling, beloved, from Arielle, or dear

Wren: small bird, ruler, or small brown songbird

Jordan: to go down, descending, or to flow down

Ivory: white as elephant tusks or pale white

Leighton: leek town, herb garden, leek garden, meadow settlement, or meadow town, from the town by the meadow,

Gwylan: seagull

Morgan: sea born, sea song, sea circle, sea chief, sea protector, sea defender, or sailor, captain, great circle,

Mickey: who resembles god, who is like god, or enthusiastic

Zephyr: west wind, wandering girl, or breezy

Sirris: bright or burning

Charlie: free man, valiant, free, or strong

Avery: ruler of the elves, wise, ruling with elf wisdom, or counselor

Doren: gift, adventurer, a stranger, or one who has been exiled

Quinn: wise, sense, reason, intelligent, or descendants of conn

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margowritesthings · 1 year

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Fate: A Word Meaning Destiny

PART I

PART II BY @cowboydisaster COMING SOON

pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!readersummary: you're a ranch-hand, when your home is attacked by bandits. a mysterious stranger comes to save your life, but who is he? word count: 11.9k words warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, PLEASE READ WARNINGS BEFORE READING, I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION, violence, murder, attempted sexual assault, sexual relations, fingering (r receiving), penetration, loss of virginity, mentions of virginity, talk of trauma a/n: here it is!! finally!! this is the longest piece I've ever written, and I'm so fuckin proud of it!! It is a collaboration with the incredible @cowboydisaster, who will be releasing part 2 when it's ready!! I worked so hard on this, so I hope you love it!! <3

taglist: @cowboydisaster @inkandbloodbound @beea-nie @cloudynoiire@punctillous @missvanderlinde @twola @pine4pple-b0i @alice-vanderlinde @photo1030

The day started and progressed like any other, with absolutely no indication that your life would be changed forever until it did. Free time slipped through the cracks in your packed schedule of chores while the sun rose and fell again, casting brilliant orange and pink hues across the sky you now sit in awe of on the porch of your lodgings. Your muscles ache from a full day's work, but it’s a satisfying sensation, one begat from happy horses, milked cows, and a fence fixed by your own hand. Sure, your work earned a mere grumble from Mr. Varner, but throughout the 6 months you’ve worked on the ranch, he has never once had a conversation not directed at your breasts, so you’re not too upset to not have received praise tonight.

Honestly, you’re just glad to be able to relax. The ranch hands rarely speak to one another outside of work, and there isn’t a damn thing to do around here, but it’s better than shovelling shit in the sweltering heat. You’ve even got a glass of fresh apple juice, a rare delicacy to celebrate the end of the week.

Every so often, when the breeze dies down and each animal agrees to quiet, there is an almost absolute silence surrounding you, and you close your eyes to bask in it. This moment would be the perfect time for a feeling or an intuition that everything is about to change, but it doesn’t come. You feel nothing but peace. Years from now, when you look back to this night, you’ll be grateful that the sense of foreboding didn’t hit you until it was too late, knowing these are the very last moments of the life you once knew.

The first sense that something is wrong doesn’t come until the gunshots dart through the darkening coral sky and scatter the birds out into it. Your brows pull together, eyes squinting to search for the origin of the disruption to your peace. They’re distant, for now, but the silhouette against the horizon is unmistakably coming closer to the ranch, rifles and pistols pointed to the heavens by a group of men whooping and cheering as they ride straight towards you.

Everything seems to slow but your racing heart, and it feels like hours between your drink leaving your grasp and the glass shattering all over the porch. Shards disperse over the wood, along with the golden liquid pooled at your feet. In the mere seconds you spend glancing at the floor, the group has advanced and the time you have to figure out what the hell you’re going to do has quickly declined. You’ve heard of gangs hitting up ranches for supplies, heard stories of outlaws on benders pillaging and hunting people simply because they can, but it never crossed your mind to be worried about it. Whenever your momma told you all about the criminals hiding just past the horizon, you’d roll your eyes, chalking it up to a cautionary tale to get you to stay close to the house. Now, your heart hammers against your chest as you realise that if you don’t act now, you’ll become one of those stories, passed down to worry children into obedience. I knew a girl once, shot by bandits for taking too long to hide…

Not today.

The fear of becoming folklore finally overtakes the fear that has paralysed you for what feels like hours and hours, letting you stand and rush into your cabin, shutting the door behind you. Shaking hands reach for the wooden chair by the tiny kitchen, sliding it across the floorboards and hooking it underneath the handle to barricade the door. It won’t keep anybody out for long, but will at least warn you if someone is trying to get in.

Your cabin is small, made up of only one room, and while you’ve always thought it was cozy, right now it feels claustrophobic. The gunshots and laughter are getting louder and you’re scared. Your Momma spent so long teaching you how to stay away from outlaws, but she never told you what to do when they found you. You have nothing but a kitchen knife, which you clutch close to your chest as your eyes frantically dart around your room, searching for anything else you can use to protect yourself. There is nothing, thanks to a minimalism forced upon you by a barely livable wage. You can afford to feed yourself, just about, but life saving luxuries like weaponry or a heavy bookshelf are out of the question, so here you are, back against the log wall, a measly blade normally used for bread gripped close to your body.

Hooves pound against the dirt outside and you swear the ground shakes beneath you. You can hear everything so clearly: spurs clicking against stirrups, heavy boots on the earth, sneering men reloading their guns and thankfully walking towards the main house instead of the smaller cabins you and the other ranch hands reside in. Back pressed against the wall, you wait until the voices dwindle, before you peer out of the little window to get a better view. Some of the fences are already smashed in, including the one you’d just fixed, and somebody has opened all the gates, letting cows and chickens and horses run free amongst the chaos. They’ve reached Mr. Varner’s door, kicking it down with a thud that echoes around the whole ranch. Two of the outlaws go inside, emerging after only a few seconds with Varner’s collar firmly in their grasp. They throw him to the floor and he falls to his knees, and even though you’re at the other side of the ranch, you can see the absolute terror in his eyes. He’s vibrating with fear and you’re not much better, especially when the supposed leader of the group begins to reload his pistol.

You can’t hear his pleas, and even the people who can hear them aren’t listening. The leader lifts his arm, finger resting on the trigger. You’ve heard gunshots before, but none that shake the Earth quite so much as this one.

You don’t hear Mr Varner’s last words, and the aftermath of his murder couldn’t possibly outmatch the ringing in your ears as your chest heaves with pure panic. They killed him. They killed him, and there is absolutely nothing stopping them from coming for you next.

“No… no no no no- fuck!” you whisper to yourself, to any deity out there who might be listening, hoping that they don’t mind the colourful language. You have to get out of here, lest this ranch become your grave. Tears prick at your eyes while your brain works ten thousand miles a second. You’ve retreated back to the floor, not wanting to be spotted by wandering eyes while the outlaws start to ransack Varner’s house.

Your eyes wander desperately around the room, finding only the small window above your bed. It leads out back, so they wouldn’t be able to see you escape, and if you’re stealthy enough you might just be able to make it to the barn. If you’re not, they will find you and surely kill you, but at least the choice of where you’ll die would be in your hands. A small dignity, but a dignity nonetheless that you grasp to with all your might. Most of the horses have fled after the shock of the gunshot that killed your employer, but if you’ve counted correctly there should still be a couple in the barn that you could escape on.

It takes exactly six deep breaths to quell the shaking of your joints enough to stand, stash your knife in your boot and make your way over to your former bed. From the corner of the room, you take a second to look upon your home, knowing it’ll be the last time you see it whether you live or die here. There really isn’t much, but a sad fondness lingers. Everything looks rosier through the lens of somebody being forced out of their home for fear of death.

The window sticks to its frame like it’s covered in treacle, and for one awful second you fear that it won’t budge open, but a desperate push manages to force it just enough to fit you through. Your boots hit the ground with a soft thud and you peer around the corner to find the gang still pulling any valuables they can find from the main house. It’s enough distraction for you to run as swiftly and quietly as you can, tunnel vision stopping anything but your destination from infiltrating your thoughts. With the way the ranch is laid out, you can’t get in through the door without being seen, but you can get to the back of the wooden structure and in through another window, where you will hopefully have more options for getting out of this alive.

When you reach your destination, you don’t even think twice about using your elbow to smash the window in on itself when you realise there’s no hinge. The crack of glass is loud, but nowhere near loud enough to beat the hollering and whooping of the gang. Shards slice through your shirt and skin, crimson quickly pouring from fresh cuts but you hardly notice. It’s pure adrenaline that drags you through the freshly made entrance, and you land on a pile of hay that is quickly decorated with splatters of your own blood.

You’re in.

And you’re alone.

It feels like your fate becomes sealed, shut up with a lock and key you can no longer reach. There are no horses here. There’s no way in hell you can outrun a bullet, nor any man with a horse of their own, so you’re faced with the only option left: hoping they don’t notice you. There’s a chance they’ll go for the cabins over the barn, going after the other ranch hands and their measly belongings instead of piles upon piles of hay. It’s not a chance you’d like to bet your life on, but you no longer seem to have the luxury choice. Your frame fits into a gap in the hay, hidden by a ladder and some crates. For the first time in your life, you’re grateful for your messy colleagues not cleaning up properly. You curl into as small a ball as you can, wrapping your limbs around each other as if it will protect you. You won’t let yourself cry, even after more gunshots start to shatter the air around you. It sounds like they’re getting louder, and you can almost picture a great big flashing percentage chance you’ll survive this decline by the second right above your head.

Your chest tightens to the point that breath can no longer move around in it when the large barn doors creak open, the streak of light cast on the dusty floor almost bright red in hue now. The skies are on fire, your equilibrium in flames as two of the bandits saunter into your makeshift sanctuary.

“See, I told you. Just a buncha’ hay, ain’t even no horses.”

“Just shut up and search over there, bastard could’a kept his stash anywhere.”

You’d snort if you weren’t so debilitatingly terrified, if it wouldn’t be the very act that had you murdered. Varner could barely scrape enough money together to pay you on time and still have his nightly whiskey, there was no way in hell he’d leave a stash of cash lying around in here. But they weren’t to know that, how could they? Who knows what he told them to try and save his own skin.

Spurs scrape across the floor, creating a noise that makes your skin crawl, getting louder and louder as one of the men approaches. You hold your breath until your vision blurs in the corner and you can feel your struggling pulse in your temple, but it is futile. You see his boots first, and somehow force yourself to drag your eyes up his body, finding poorly patched up jeans, an empty holster hanging by his hip, a deep green waistcoat clasped close with a silver chain, long, greasy, graying hair, and an expression you’re sure will burned into your darkest nightmares for the rest of your life. His grin feels as though somebody is pouring acid over your back. Neither shivers nor chills truly justify whatever happens to your skin when the stranger lifts his ivory pistol to you.

Because you refuse to let the tears pooled in your eyes fall, they tremble in droplets along your waterline, your sight flicking between straight down the barrel and back to its wielder.

“Ain’t no stash, but I sure caught me a pretty treasure…”

Logically, it could only have been a second of silence, but time hasn’t worked right for you since you were on that porch, far away from danger. To you, there’s hours. Hours of watching a monster reach for you in slow motion, claws digging into the flesh of your arm with a bruising force. It feels like he tears your skin apart, and if you didn’t know your wounds had come from the shattered window you’d believe the deep gashes were his doing. You scream loudly, half from the sheer panic, half in agony as your blood coats his hands and he drags you across the floor by your injured arm. It doesn’t phase him, at least it doesn’t seem to. Your scream is a droplet in an ocean of pain and terror inflicted by him, it simply joins the chorus of victims you hope haunts him when he’s alone at night.

You kick and claw, but it serves little but to amuse the bastard, who chuckles lowly at your writhing, waving his equally greasy companion over with his pistol.

“Hey, Timmy! Look here what I got!”

It doesn’t take Timmy long to walk over, sneering at you while you try your hardest to do nothing but glare. Your knife feels all too present tucked in your boot, but you know if you tried to grab it now they’d shoot you dead.

“Ain’t she a purty thing, Ace?”

“W-What do you want from me?” You ask, swallowing the rock forming in your throat down, “I ain’t got no money- I-I ain’t got nothin’, just let me go.”

“Oh, you’ve got somethin’, pretty little thing you are…”

No…

The smirk Timmy and Ace share tells you everything you need to know. It feels like your chest is about to crack open from the way your heart pounds against it, longing for release from your body just as much as you are right now. There is nobody to scream for help, no way out, and even if you did escape the barn there’s at least ten more outlaws waiting outside with just as much intention on you as the ones looking at you like a meal in here.

You will never forget your own scream when Ace lunges for you. The taste of cigarette ash and gunpowder on your lips when he clamps his hand over your mouth will be ingrained in your senses forever. The tears finally fall down your cheeks, mixing in with your own blood from your arm as you try and claw at Ace’s arm. It’s fruitless, as even if you could match his strength, Timmy is right there behind him to grasp your arm and pull it painfully behind your head.

“Who’s goin’ first then? I reckon she’s a wriggler, one of us’ll have to hold her.”

“Quit squealin’, I can’t hear myself think!” Ace demands, landing a swift punch to your gut that really doesn’t help the nausea. You can barely feel the pain of anything, so consumed in your panic that you could probably have been shot and wouldn’t notice. Hell, you’d prefer getting shot to having these men’s hands on your body for a second longer. His hand isn’t enough of a barrier to stop the ear splitting noises completely, only dull them a little, but they still don’t deter either man.

“You don’t ever think, what’s the difference?” “Shut up, dumbass, and hold her down proper!”

Their teasing would have floored you, if you weren’t already pinned there. They speak as if mocking each other in the saloon, as if it’s another day, while they hold your life in their hands. If you live to see the end of today, you’ll never forget it. This trauma is one to be carried until the end of your days, and they act like it is merely just another Thursday.

Vehement screams intensify when one set of hands, you don’t know which, begin to pull at your shirt, exposing your shoulders more with each seam that rips. Your eyes are screwed shut, wanting to close off as many senses as you can as the tears freely fall down your cheeks. Their touch feels like acid, bubbling and burning on your skin. You try to bite down, but Ace’s grip is too tight. You try to kick at him, but from his vantage point it is easy to swerve. It seems your fate is sealed, and your heart breaks in a way that can never be truly fixed, a way that changes the course of the remainder of your life. You’ll think back, eventually, and wonder if it would have been different had he arrived just minutes earlier, but he didn’t. He doesn’t. He arrives now, emerging from the fiery sunset like an angel disguised as a demon.

You don’t spot him until Ace falls to the floor, clubbed over the head with the handle of the peacemaker held by the mysterious stranger. You don’t know what to do, who to be scared of and who to be grateful for, he could well just want you all to himself. But when he spots you, covered in blood, sweat and tears, that petrified look in your eyes, the surprise is evident in his features. There’s only a split second for the two of you to exchange confused glances, before Timmy lets go of your arms to grab his own pistol and point it at your saviour. You’re not the only one this man’s intense presence is affecting, it seems, with the way Timmy’s sweaty hands start to shake.

“H-Hey! She’s ours, mister. Get your own!”

That seems to piss him off, a low growl emitting from deep in his chest.

“She ain’t nobody’s. Let her go. Can’t get your own ladies without forcin’ yourself on one, huh? Makes sense I guess, lookin’ at you two…”

There isn’t anything holding you down anymore, but you’re frozen to the spot, pinned down to the floor by the sheer energy of this stranger with the chiselled jaw and the most striking ocean coloured eyes you’ve ever seen in your life peering out from under his gambler’s hat. His face is cast in shadows from the brim, but you can tell he’s handsome, right down to the rugged scar on his chin. You have no idea who he is, but something tells you to trust him.

You’re so lost in him that you don’t notice Ace waking up from his brief stint of unconsciousness, grasping at a handful of your hair to pull your body flush against his on the floor, craning your neck to fit his pistol under your chin. All you can do is claw at his wrist, leaving rosy scratches on his skin that don’t appear to bother him in the least. There’s a sharp pain shooting from your neck down your spine thanks to the strain he is forcing on your vertebrae, which forces a whimper from you. You’re truly stuck in the crossfires, with Timmy’s gun pointing at the stranger, who is pointing his barrel at Ace, who has his pistol right up against your chin, leaving indents of the metalwork in your skin from the pressure of it.

“You drop that gun, or I’ll blow her pretty little head off, ya hear? Drop it!” Ace demands, shoving the weapon even further into your flesh to prove his point. You can’t help the tear that escapes when he does so, this awful reminder of your mortality prodding oh so painfully into your jaw. The stranger only thinks about it for a fraction of a second, holding one hand out in a surrender, while the other leans down to place his peacemaker on the floor slowly.

“Alright, easy.” His tone is much calmer than before, his eyes never leaving yours despite everything going on around the two of you. You’re terrified, and he knows it, but even though you’ve never met before this moment, the way he looks at you soothes you, almost like you’re conversing with no words spoken at all, “We can all put our weapons down and talk, huh?”

Ace seems to relax at the sight of the stranger disarming himself, which you can tell by the way his grip on your hair slackens a little. It’s still mighty uncomfortable, and having his clammy hands all over you makes you want to cut your skin off with a-

Kitchen knife.

The metal of the weapon you’re just remembering burns into the skin of your ankle, glowing like the bright white light to freedom. If you play this right, it could be. There’s always the chance you could mess up and get blown to pieces, but if the choice is that or more of having to breathe the same air as these scum bandits, you’re willing to take your chances.

The good lord seems to smile down on you for the first time today when He wills both Ace and Timmy to reach for the discarded peacemaker at the same time, leaving them distracted enough for you to throw your weight into elbowing Ace in the gut and grab the knife from its makeshift holster.

Time slows again, the next few seconds playing out like confusing hours, the four of you a mess of limbs as everyone attempts their separate feats. Timmy goes for the gun, while Ace recovers his breath enough to try and wrestle the blade out of your hand. The mystery man boots Timmy in the face, knocking him out cold and out of the way, and he manages to kick the peacemaker out of anybody's reach too. You don’t see what happens next, as Ace pins you to the ground, slapping you hard across the face. The shock causes you to drop the knife, which he swiftly recovers, raising it high above your head with a maniac, unhinged grin on his face. For a moment, you’re almost glad of the fate you see sealing before you, as you’re sure that image would have haunted you for the rest of your days anyway.

They say that life is supposed to flash before your eyes in your final moments, a speedrun of your best and worst moments laid out before you while you take your final breaths, but it isn’t your past you see when you realise that this is how your story is going to end, your own damn kitchen knife about to be plunged into your chest. No, you don’t see what has happened, you see everything that could no longer be. You see the ranch you’ll never own for yourself one day, the children you’ll never get the chance to bear, the wedding you’ll never attend… You let your dreams go in that moment, watching them fly further than you ever will again.

You shut your eyes tight, determined to block out the horrendous last view you think you’ll ever have, so you don’t actually see your knight in dusty leather throw his body into your attacker. His weight is no match for scrawny Ace, who hits the floor with a thud. The stranger grapples at Ace’s throat while he splutters helplessly. When you see him lift the knife, after managing to sit yourself up and slide out of the way, you shout out, but it is too late. Ace impales the man in the shoulder and he cries out, though it comes out as more of a growl. You wince at the sight of it as the stranger pulls together all the adrenaline from being stabbed to punch Ace in the nose. The crack seems to echo in the chaos, followed by a quiet just not possible when the two bandits were conscious.

The fire in your lungs burns hot, your chest struggling to contain the breaths you’d resigned yourself to never take again as your mind starts to attempt to catch up. It is just you and this man now, both wounded and covered in blood, neither knowing what exactly to say next. You pray your intuition to trust this man is right, though with the way he looks at you, you’re sure he couldn’t mean harm to you even at gunpoint.

You look like a deer caught by a rifle, wide eyed and unable to move save for the frantic shaking you can’t seem to stop. The man winces as he removes the knife from out of his shoulder, but you’re so desensitised to everything right now that the sight of blood running down his arm and pooling through his shirt doesn’t bother you.

“It’s alright now, Miss. They won’t wake up for a while yet, you’re safe.” He speaks while reaching for his gun, worried, tired eyes never leaving you, “They hurt you?”

The shock has paralysed your tongue and slammed your jaw shut, your molars grinding together near painfully, but you manage to shake your head. They did manage to get a few hits in, but besides a slightly winded feeling in your gut and a slinging where you were slapped, the wounds they left are far more intangible. Spiritual.

He watches the trauma immobilize you, and you see his heart break for you, right in the crease between his eyebrows and the way his features soften, “Hey, sweetheart, it’s alright. It’s gonna be alright, I promise.” He approaches you, slowly, holding his empty hands out in an act of surrender to you. When you don’t flinch or move away after his first step towards you, he continues his journey to you, good arm gently wrapping around your frame, careful not to bleed on you or harm your own wounds, “Shh, you’re safe. I’ve got you’.”

The comedown comes hard, the sobs erupting from your lips nearly the second you feel his touch on you. It all becomes real, hitting you, body and soul, like a freight train, crushing your bones and spirit like they’re nothing.

“They-they-” “I know, I know… it’s okay. I’ll get you outta here, I promise. You got someplace else to go?”

You shake your head, sniffling to attempt to gain control over the sobs wracking your body. Using the circles this man is rubbing into your back and his soothing words as a compass, you find your way back to him.

“It’s alright, miss. I’ll get us outta here. You okay to ride on my horse for a while?”

You nod, starting to feel the true sting that smashing a window with your bare hand should incite without adrenaline numbing your senses. The tears wet your cheeks, mixing in with god knows whose blood splattered across your features like crimson freckles. You feel a warm, calloused thumb pad rub a tear track away, before the stranger stands and extends his hand out to you. Both of you have injured your left side, so interlink your right hand fingers so he can help you to your feet. Standing is hard when it feels like your bones igniting and shattering through your flesh, but you manage with the help of this man’s strength.

“I took care of those guys outside, but the law could be here any minute. Boadicea’s just outside- don’t let her size fool you, she’s friendly enough. We’ll get you somewhere safe, alright? Figure out what to do next…” He guides you outside with an arm around your shoulder, whistling a stunning chestnut Hungarian half-bred over to you. He mounts the mare, patting her on the neck and murmuring “Good girl,” into her ear.

On a better day, you’re more than capable enough to mount a horse by yourself, but you just can’t bring yourself to deny the man when holds an arm out to you. You fit perfectly behind him, your chest moulding against his hard back, wrapping one arm around his waist. Despite the whirring in your mind of everything that just transpired, you manage to pick out that he smells like a wonderful mix of whiskey and tobacco. Normally, you can’t stand either of them, far too strong and smoky for your tastes, but somehow it suits this man. You cling to him while he kicks Boadicea into a gallop, inhaling in his scent and letting it soothe you. The wind whips your skin and you shiver, glancing back only once at your former life, watching the flames lick at Varner’s house as it crumbles to the ground. It’s spreading fast, and you can’t imagine Timmy and Ace will wake in time to escape before the barn is taken. Ironic, that their demise will come from their own destruction.

It’s a near silent ride, where all your energies have to be put into not breaking down all over again. You know that if you start to cry, you just won’t stop. Everyone you know is dead, you’ve lost your job, your home, and almost had a part of yourself stolen that you’ve never freely given to anybody before. It’s too much, but you force yourself to focus on anything but. You think about the feel of this man’s shirt on your cheek, the way the muscles of his back ripple beneath your supple chest each time he moves to ride Boadicea. You hear the occasional wince, especially until he senses you’re far enough away from the ranch to slow down a little. He’s hurt, clearly an outlaw in his own right, and you struggle to understand why exactly he’s helping you instead of protecting his own back and leaving you there in the flames. But you’re too tired to be skeptical, running completely on empty.

Boadicea carries the two of you into the woods. It’s getting dark, and you’re surprised at how well she navigates the trees and branches, following the winding path until you reach a clearing.

“Here alright?” Your saviour asks, glancing over his good shoulder at you. You nod wordlessly, still clutching right onto his waist despite the fact you’re now stationary.

He dismounts first, holding both arms out to you despite the clear pain written across his face. You dismount Boadicea, the front of your body sliding down the mystery man’s thanks to how close he’s standing. Your legs still feel like jelly, but you somehow manage to stay standing.

“I’ll set up a tent. You know how to make a fire, sweetheart?” He asks, starting to rifle through a satchel he wears across his body. You nod again and take the flint and steel he’s offering out to you. Your hands brush, sending a shiver down your arm.

While he uses just one hand to hammer some tall branches into the ground to hang the canvas from, you set up the fire, finding enough dry wood around to not have to wander far at all. It isn’t long before you’re both sitting beside the fire, a makeshift roof over your head while the stranger plucks some items from his satchel.

Your wounds appear to have stopped bleeding, leaving dark pools of a near maroon hue seeping through your shirt around gashes that wind around your flesh like ivy. You didn’t get the chance to properly look before, too engulfed in panic to notice how deep they are.

In the glow of the firelight, the lines etched into your saviour's face seem harsher, telling the tales of the pain he’s in and betraying the heroic facade he’s so clearly trying to put on for you. You know it all too well right now as your arm throbs, a stinging, aching mess of sensation that scrunches your nose up as you try to flex your fingers.

“You’re hurt.” He states, watching you intently as your hand shakes from the strain,

“I’m okay.” You manage, the very first words you’ve spoken since being back at the ranch, “I had to smash a window in to get to the barn. Figured there’d be something in there to help me, but…” you trail off as he nods knowingly.

“Can I help you with your arm? I ain’t no doctor, but I’ve had enough scrapes through the years to know what to do.” He offers and you nod, trusting him more than you have the sense to. You don’t even know his name.

The man moves slowly over to sit beside you, the heat of the flames and the closeness between you setting your cheeks alight. You don’t really understand it, you just got assaulted by bandits, and yet all you want to do is shuffle closer and bury yourself into this one, letting everything melt away while he tells you it’s gonna be alright.

His hands are upturned to the stars, awaiting your arm which you give him without question. There’s a tugging need to trust him deep down in your gut that allows you to do whatever he asks of you.

When he looks over the torn, stained fabric of your shirt, his brows pull together. The mud and paint from the ranch is barely noticeable for all the blood, but neither of you can really see the cuts to your skin.

“Shall I take it off?” you offer, not particularly eager to undress but smart enough to know he can’t help you without.

“‘Fraid you might have to, miss. You can trust me, I ain’t nothin’ like them men, I promise.”

“I trust you.”

Your words are spoken so quickly, barely audible, but they still echo around the tiny space the pair of you occupy. You start at the bottom button, knowing that it will start to hurt when you reach the halfway mark because you need to bend your arm. He notices your discomfort, probably in the way your bottom lip slips between your teeth and your jaw flutters when you grind your teeth together to have another sensation to focus on.

“Let me.” he mumbles, a hint of a growl catching his low voice. You let your hand drop back to a comfortable position to do as he says. It feels as though your breath gets stuck in your chest when the hardened skin of his hand brushes over your belly and the contact burns through your chemise. The tension in the air is palpable, both suffocating you and keeping you breathing just so you can experience whatever is to come.

You’re both silent as he works the buttons through their tiny holes, looking like a giant manoeuvring something so delicate. You can easily get the shirt off one shoulder, but he has to help with the other, his hand sliding down your arm with the pooling fabric before he can carefully peel the shirt away from you and discard it to the floor.

The air chills your skin, leaving goose pimples scattered all over you. You feel exposed, but somehow not uncomfortable. Your chemise is a simple one, with a bodice that clings to each curve unseen by another. And yet here you sit, in front of a nameless man who swallows thickly as he tries to keep his eyes trained on your injuries.

“You got a name, mister?” You manage, watching him rip up a bandana he found in his satchel and dousing it in water from a flask. He seems to hesitate, before eventually answering without meeting your eye.

“Call me Callahan, for now.”

For now?

“That a first name or a last name?”

It looks as though he hesitates for a moment, before he starts to clean your wounds and the blood begins to flake off your skin.

“S’just a name.”

Strange answer. Evasive answer, but if he truly is an outlaw going round town rescuing strangers from bandits, it makes sense to not go around advertising who you are.

You wince at a particularly deep cut and Callahan apologises, renewing his efforts to clean your arm as if restoring an antique painting that could tear apart at any moment. It stings, but you handle it. It’s nothing compared to what you’ve already experienced today.

“How ‘bout you, miss?”

You pause, for the first time in your life not quite knowing how to answer such a simple question. Of course you have a name, but it feels wrong to twist your tongue to say it. It no longer fits you, like a jacket worn long before you truly grew into yourself. Your name belongs to a woman who lives on a ranch and loves nothing more than a fresh painted fence and a glass of ice cold apple juice… but she doesn’t exist anymore. She died in the barn, along with that fierce naïveté you’ve held so close to your chest for your whole life, the one that believes in the world and the kindness in it, the one that thinks you work hard in life to earn your place and that goodness will be rewarded. It’s all gone, replaced with the images of Varner’s skull shattered across his own land, his life's work up in flames at the hands of men who refuse to follow the right path.

In the end, you give him your name, knowing deep down that it will be the last time you ever use it. Every single person who knew it, your family, employer, friends… they’re all dead anyway. And now so are you. To the world, the young girl they knew perished in the barn fire.

“S’a pretty name.” he mumbles, seemingly pulled into the focus needed to not hurt you again. He’s good, really good at patching up wounds, you notice, despite his calloused hands being so huge. With the concentration etched across his face, and him sitting so close to you, you can finally get a proper look at him. Those ocean eyes you noticed back in the barn are just as stunning without being the last thing you think you’ll ever see, framed with little crows feet at the corners of his lids. His face is tanned, scattered with light freckles you don’t think you would have noticed if not for the privilege of being so close to him. He has sandy hair and stubble that covers his whole jawline, save for that little scar on his chin. He is without doubt the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen, body and soul, and you feel your heart fluttering against your ribcage and your skin tingling at his contact.

He expertly ties strips of the bandanna around your arm, and while the pressure stings, it also feels a lot less like your flesh is being pulled apart.

“I think you’re gonna be alright, miss. Might scar, they’re mighty deep, but they’ll heal well enough with time.”

“T-Thank you.” You stutter, holding your arm out to survey his handiwork.

“Don’t mention it.” He dismisses, though you notice he doesn’t move any further away from you. You’re glad for it.

“No, not just this… everything. Thank you. I didn’t get the chance to say it back there, but… I think you saved my life. And saved me from a far worse fate than death, I… I’ll never be able to thank you enough.” You mean every word spilling from your lips, and suddenly, with your hand still placed in his, fitting more perfectly than anything personally made for you ever could, you watch your fate seal. You know what you want, and after the most prominent life lesson you’ll ever receive that life can be cut short at any moment, you know you have to get it.

“It’s what any man would do, sweetheart… I ain’t a good man, believe me… but I couldn’t stand by while those bastards took advantage of ya’.”

The reminder (not that you needed it, with Ace’s unhinged grin permanently burnt into your eyelids) pulls your brows together as sadness etches across your face. Callahan notices, giving your hand the gentlest of squeezes you might have missed if your body weren’t in hyperdrive around him, every slight brush setting you alight. Your fingers entangle together, and you don’t quite know who initiated it, but it feels right. Comforting. Everything.

When your gaze roams from your entwined hands to his face, you stop at his shoulder, suddenly feeling foolish for letting him patch you up while he has an open stab wound.

“I can help with your shoulder, if you like.” You nod towards his injury, trying not to think about what it was like watching the blade be plunged into his flesh. He doesn’t hesitate to nod, managing to undo his buttons and take off his shirt without aid. At first, your eyes fly to the stars, before realising there’s no escaping looking when you’ll have to clean him up.

When you look back, it takes everything to not audibly gasp. What is clearly a lifetime's worth of hard and manual labour has sculpted him into something beautiful, with thick arms, wide shoulders, and a defined chest adorned with a trail of hair leading right down to…

You clear your throat to drag yourself out of that train of thought, a somewhat strangled sound that leaves a flush of pink on your cheeks. You can hardly be to blame: for the first time seeing a semi-naked man, you pretty much hit the jackpot.

The glow of the fire is just enough for you to see what you need to, though you shuffle just that bit closer to Callahan until your knees brush against his and it feels like embers scatter over your skin. Years of being the careful one means you’re no stranger to cleaning up injuries, but they pale in comparison to being stabbed with a kitchen knife. Luckily, it doesn’t look too deep, but you’ll still need to clean it and it’ll hurt.

You use a fresh piece of fabric to wash off the blood. Callahan sucks in a pained breath, but the curses you expect to fly from him don’t come. From the way his cheek hollows, it looks as though he’s biting into it to keep restrained.

“Sorry. This might hurt a little.” You admit, feeling his muscles twitch and flex under your touch.

“S’alright, I’ve survived worse.”

Another elusive answer, one that has you fighting a strange urge to ask him all about all the times he’s been hurt, all the adventures he’s been on. Up close, you can see hints of a life well lived, from each scar to the battered black hat he’s wearing that looks older than you. Everything about him seems to tell a different tale, each more intriguing than the last.

A comfortable silence settles around you, broken only by the crackle of the fire and the occasional pained hiss from Callahan. The wound doesn’t seem as bad without the copious amounts of blood framing it, but it still looks rather painful.

Attempting to clean a particularly deep section of the cut has you leaning up close, so much so you’re all but sitting on Callahan’s lap. You’re so engrossed in trying to help him that you almost miss the way his heart pounds when your breath tickles his skin, how he tenses at your touch, feeling a fire of his very own burning through him.

With the angle you’re leaning into Callahan’s body, it is all too easy for a stray piece of hair to escape from behind your ear, the end of it brushing against his chest. You go to push it back, but he beats you to it, hand remaining by your cheek firmly as your gazes lock into each other's. The air changes. You don’t understand it, but it does. It gets thicker and thinner all at once, the world melting away around the two of you. The cogs in your mind begin to whir frantically.

You’ve never lain with anyone before. Not for some religious reason or personal rule, you just never found anyone who felt special enough to share the intimacy with. Honestly, it felt like too big of a moment to share with any of the boys you knew back home or on the ranch. But in those moments in the barn, with Ace and Timmy’s hands all over your body, you regretted it. You wanted to make the choice of who and when, not some low lives with just about enough IQ points to reload a gun. You felt powerless in that moment, when you thought they’d take whatever they wanted from you, and the second survival became a possibility you swore to yourself you’d take that power back for yourself. You grasp it, hold it close to your chest. You’re never going to relinquish it again.

Callahan watches you intently, watches you process everything with his hand on your cheek, his skin on yours, and you suddenly know exactly what you want to do with your power of choice.

“Will you kiss me?”

The words fall out of you before you can even really consider them. You’re tired of considering, tired of being the good little girl who spent her life hiding from danger only for it to find her anyway. What is this fight for safety and survival, if you’re not going to live anyway?

Callahan’s surprise is evident in the creases in his forehead and the way his crows' feet disappear as his eyes widen. His lips part, stutters spilling from them. Your heart falls for what feels like forever when he takes his hand from your cheek to take off his hat and run a hand through his dirty blonde hair.

“Christ, sweetheart, I-I… I dunno if that’s the best idea.”

A heat unrelated to the fire before you bursts across your face as the rejection stabs you hard in the chest. You thought you’d figured it out. The way his eyes lingered on your every move, the way his hand stayed on your hip just that second too long when he helped you dismount Boadicea, the spark… you couldn’t be the only one who felt it. It was unspoken, ethereal, but just as real as the cuts on your skin or the boots on his feet. You were sure of it, even if there was nothing else in your history to compare it to.

“You don’t want to?” You don’t mean for it to sound desperate, or desperately sad, but it might just have come out that way. He notices the way your fingers anxiously pick at one another and grasps your hand again, electricity shooting out from the point of contact all over your body.

“No, no it ain’t that- I-I do. Very much so, but… you just went through somethin’ real traumatic, darlin’. I don’t wanna take advantage of you.”

You understand, thinking about how pathetic you must look right now. He rescued you, patched you up while all you could do was try not to cry. In the exceptionally short time he’s known you, he’s done nothing but save you. How could he see you as anything but the damsel in distress you so feel like right now?

“You wouldn’t be. You couldn’t- I…” You take a breath, knowing just how crazy you must sound to this man, this stranger, “I ain’t ever slept with anyone before. And when those men came… I thought my first time was going to be stolen from me. It terrified me, Callahan. I never want to feel that way again, that powerless... I want to choose. I want to choose you. And I ain’t gonna go all crazy on you and cling to you and make ya’ marry me, this doesn’t have to mean anything, I swear it. I just… I want my power back. I don’t want that choice ever made for me, any choice ever made for me again. I want to do this.”

Your words process across the cowboy’s features, your heart quickening with each inch he leans in towards you. His hand feels cool against your burning cheek when he cups your face, the ocean from his eyes washing over you as he studies each and every minuscule detail of your beautiful face.

“Are ya’ sure, sweetheart? Cause if I kiss you, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself…”

“I’m sure. I’ve never been so damn sure. This is what I want. Please.” You plead, shuffling forwards so your legs are tangled together by the fireside.

“Well, who am I to deny a lady so beautiful as you?”

When you were young, before caution sunk his possessive claws into your mind and made you too sensible for your own good, you got stuck in a rope swing, suspended over a pond by your ankle. You only spent a few minutes in the air, mere inches from being plunged into the cool water on that sticky, hot summer's day, but it felt like hours until the twine snapped and you fell in. Those few seconds come right back to you in those moments between Callahan moving towards you and the pair of you falling into the cool water together. His lips connect with yours, and the relief of no longer hanging on the precipice of the unknown washes over you, with it the euphoria of your choices.

Your lips fit together like long lost puzzle pieces, drawn together by a thread weaved in fate itself. It tugs you closer, until your chests are flush against each other and your uninjured arm is reaching to tangle your digits in Callahan’s hair. You feel his muscles stiffen for a moment, thanks to the stab wound in his shoulder, but he still manages to wind his hand around your waist, resting on the small of your back. When your lips part, his tongue delves into your mouth, eliciting a soft moan from you. He tastes like everything you’ve always been too sensible to do, just how you imagined when his smoke and whiskey infiltrated your senses back when you were riding with him.

Of course you’ve been kissed before, but never like this, and you’re surprised at how quickly you pick it up from him, teasing your own tongue into his mouth. He growls, God help you, a hint of a not-so-honourable outlaw hiding under the caring cowboy shell he’s treated you with since you met. You feel something coiling tighter deep in your core that hints at what is to come, a seed of desperation fed and watered with each movement, sound or touch Callahan makes.

When his lips retreat, the loss is so prominent you have to hold back a whimper.

“Christ, darlin’… I-“

But you don’t let him finish, grasping onto his neck with both hands and dragging him back into you. A hunger burns in you, shown in the way you nip at Callahan’s bottom lip with your teeth, pulling out another growl from him. It’s a silent plea to not treat you like you’re breakable, one that he responds to by pressing his lips more firmly against yours until you have no choice but to lean into his hold and let him carry some of your weight. He wraps both arms around you, his skin so warm against yours it fans the flames of whatever is burning inside you. He feels so safe, despite every piece of common sense telling you he’s a stranger, who really shouldn't feel safe.

You don’t speak, neither one of you wanting to stop kissing the other for even a second, but you can follow his wordless instruction as he pulls you onto his lap. You straddle him, winding your legs around his waist. An ineffable wave of something you’ve never experienced before ripples through you, starting between your legs, where you feel Callahan’s hard bulge prodding against your core. You can’t help but arch your back, dragging your hips over Callahan in the process. The pleasure shoots through you and you can’t stop the gasp that parts your lips from his, your eyes flying open.

The sight you look upon is one you’ll never forget. Callahan’s eyes are tight shut, his features twisted in a look of bliss. His jaw is so tense you see the muscle fluttering. He’s so beautiful it takes your breath away. His finger’s clutch onto the flesh just above your hips, and you can feel the tension of the restraint he’s forced to employ to not hurt you or push you too fast. This huge, muscular man, who saved your life tonight, is falling apart beneath you.

You can’t help but reach to his mouth, running your thumb so faintly over his bottom lip, still wet from your kisses. He looks to you, eyes locking onto yours as you drown in his seas.

He speaks so softly, “If you wanna stop, or we’re goin’ too fast, you just say the word and we’ll-”

“I don’t want to stop. I want you, please.”

He growls again, and you squeak as he scoops you up with him when he stands. Your legs are wrapped around his waist tight, your core brushing his member every time he makes a step towards the makeshift tent he put up earlier. He carries you with such an ease, kneeling down to lay you on the bedroll laid out on the floor. Even with his injury, he puts all his weight into his arms so as to not crush you, pressing more kisses to your lips as you writhe beneath him.

“God, you’re so beautiful…” He whispers, his kisses reaching the corner of your lip and travelling down to your neck, “From the second I saw you, I thought you were so beautiful…”

Your heart aches with his words, and you’re sure at this moment it beats only for him, your saviour, your knight in shining denim. The hours you’ve known him stretch into a lifetime, tears welling in your eyes from the purest of emotions.

You mean to reply, but when his lips latch onto the pulse point in the crook of your neck, you melt into the earth. It feels nothing short of heavenly, and you can’t imagine what is to come if this man makes you feel these things from simple kisses. You’re purring for him, the heat pooling between your legs becoming near torturous, coiling every one of your nerves into a messy bundle inside you.

There’s a moment where Callahan looks to you, a silent question of permission as his hand hovers over the strap to your chemise. You nod, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth so hard you’re scared it might break skin. The tingles from Callahan’s touch ripple from your shoulder as he pushes the fabric down, exposing both breasts to the cool night air. He wastes no time in taking one of your nipples into his mouth, suckling oh so lightly and pulling a moan from your lips. He laps you up, your back arching against the wool of the bedroll to give as much of yourself to him as you can. His hands work your pants, impressively considering his attention is elsewhere on your body, unbuttoning them with ease and sliding them down your legs as far as he can reach without leaving your contact. You manage to kick your boots off and slide the jeans off completely, leaving just a layer of cotton covering you.

Your fingers entangle in Callahan’s locks, scratching at his scalp as he licks and nips at you.

“God, please,” you moan, feeling that coil inside you tightening to impossible levels,

He’s quick to look up, a lust burning in those irises, “What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me, and it’s yours.”

“Everything.”

Your patience is hanging on by a thread, your need for him growing and your heart pounding faster with every passing second. When he takes his hands to the fastenings on your undergarments, you could sob from the relief. With one slow pull at a ribbon, the chemise falls from your body, and Callahan opens it up like a present at Christmas. His eyes roam over you, and while you always thought you’d feel exposed when you were first bare to a man, nothing could feel more natural than being naked underneath him, to have his skin on yours as he rubs his thumbs over your nipples, before dragging a hand gently over your stomach, hovering just above your weeping cunt.

“Can I touch you, darlin’?” His voice is gruff, threatening to crack from the restraint he’s deploying by not taking you with the urgency tearing him apart right now.

“Yes. Yes, please, I… I feel so…”

“I know, I know… Let me take care of you, alright beautiful?”

Your back flies off the bedroll when you feel two fingers plunge into your cunt, curling upwards slightly. It feels incredible, in spite of a strange stretching sensation that quickly ebbs away. He starts slow, sliding his fingers out and back in, dragging against your walls deliciously. You cry out, eyes shut tight and face contorted in pleasure. You don’t see how he watches you, smile tugging on his features as he remarks to himself how beautiful you look like this, but know that it happens.

Sweet moans fall from your lips in time to the thrusts of Callahan’s fingers, your body singing for him. You’re climbing, higher and higher to a destination you don’t even truly understand. It is then that Callahan presses a thumb to your sensitive bundle of nerves and a gasp is ripped from deep inside you, your eyes flying open.

“Oh, God, I-”

“I know, baby, easy… I got you, let go, angel.”

And you do.

Without even knowing where exactly he’s leading you, you follow, falling over an uncharted precipice into ecstasy. It ripples throughout your entire being, doubling your vision. Callahan leans back down to you, heat and want radiating from his bare skin like a burning flame.

“That’s it, sweetheart, good girl.”

He closes the gap between you, catching wanton moans in his mouth and swallowing them gratefully, needily. It feels like forever lasts in just that moment, waves upon waves of a pleasure unlike anything you’ve experienced crashing over your body and curling your toes.

The waves turn to ripples, which dissipate into a pleasant tingle that buzzes more intensely wherever Callahan’s skin is on yours. Your legs are entwined together, and you’re not sure when he removed his pants, but you can feel his warm skin against yours everywhere. It’s dizzying, the heat of him and the size of him stretching over your body. Your eyelashes flutter up at him and you reach to run a hand over his cheek.

“Wow…” You breathe, “That was…”

“Was? Oh, I’m not done with you yet, darlin’...”

Your cheeks flush, a melodic giggle escaping you. This whole experience is so much more comfortable than you could have ever imagined your first time would be, with laughter and looks of such adoration you forget you’ve only known this man a few hours.

“I wanna show you more…” He whispers into your skin, pressing soft kisses wherever he can,

“There’s more?” You joke, knowing full well what happens next but wanting so badly to make him chuckle again. You’re addicted to the sound, and he supplies it, shaking his head ever so slightly,

“Are you ready, beautiful?” “Please, I need you, Callahan. Take me.”

He doesn’t make you wait long. Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. Nerves take over, but only for a second, numbed quickly by more kisses pressed on your forehead and nose. You haven’t actually seen his member, almost too shy to look, but God can you feel it when he slowly slides in. It’s a stretch, and you hold your breath until the pinching feeling falters. Callahan waits there, deep inside you, until you nod your head to wordlessly reassure him you’re okay.

“Good girl…” another kiss, “you beautiful,” and another, “good girl.”

His praises wash over you, relaxing your muscles to the point where there is no pain, only the intense pleasure of you gripping and rippling around his cock.

“O-Oh… Feels… So good.” You manage, scratching your nails into his back and pushing at him to move. Ever the gentleman, he obliges, slowly retreating and pushing back into you. Your eyes roll back into your head as you get filled so wonderfully it’s hard to breathe.

Callahan’s arms shake around you and you watch him grasp on his composure. It’s taking him everything he has in him to not slam into you and fuck you senseless, but he clearly wants to make sure you feel safe. It swells your heart and piques your curiosity all at once, wondering what would happen if he let go in a way you know he won’t right now.

“Y-Yeah? You feel alright, sweetheart?” He stutters, hips spluttering slowly as he thrusts gently in and out. You’re already coiling, reaching that blissful state, but you want him to feel the same. He’s growling and groaning and it’s music to your ears, but you want more, you need all of him, every last unrestrained molecule of this man.

“I feel wonderful… Please don’t hold back. I’m not breakable, I need you, please.”

How could he refuse? Hearing such sweet pleas and begs, he’s putty in your hands.

“Baby girl, a-are you sure? I don’t wanna hurt you, and you feel so damn good, I-I don’t know if I can hold back…”

“Please, Callahan.”

It doesn’t escape your notice, how he winces whenever you say his name, but you can’t think straight about it right now, not when you feel his cock reaching every last inch of you and prodding that sweet spot he seems to have a map to. You’re delirious with pleasure, even when he’s holding back.

When he lets go, you scream, tears of pure intensity forming in the corners of your eyes. Callahan pulls back, completely out of you, before diving back in. The tears fall down quick tracks on your skin, and he kisses them away, growling deep in his chest. His pace picks up, and now you’re used to it it doesn’t hurt a bit. It’s heavenly, it’s ecstasy.

“F-Fuck, angel, what am I gonna do with you?” he asks, his lips pressed against your collarbone to muffle the words. His teeth scrape against your skin, leaving white hot trails that will be burned into you forever, you’re sure.

“T-Touch me, p-please- oh!” Your pleas are interrupted by a particularly wonderful movement and Callahan grins at you, loving watching you fall apart like this for him.

He can’t say no to you, would never want to when you ask him oh so nicely. He snakes a hand down between your two bodies, tickling your clit with the pad of one finger in slow, delirious circles. In response, you involuntarily squeeze around his shaft and he moans loudly in your ear. It might have just become your favourite sound in the whole world.

“Christ, darlin’, I-I’m so fuckin’ close I can’t last much longer, baby.”

You respond with a kiss, a passionate, almost loving kiss, where your tongue licks up the roof of Callahan’s mouth to chase his taste. You catch his desperate groans, feeling how the rhythm of his hips falters the closer to losing it he gets. His fingers get sloppy, rubbing in an indescribable pattern and bringing you right where he is, whimpering and writing beneath his body.

You cum together, your cunt constricting around Callahan’s cock, feeling every vein pump and twitch as he too comes apart. He parts his lips from yours, only to breathlessly moan your name into your ear, his hot breath tickling your lobe and scattering an inexpressible feeling over your skin. He’s pounding into you and it hurts a little, but you feel far too good right now to care. Your pulse hammers for him, over every inch of you, blood rushing around your body carrying something magical with it. Callahan groans loudly, almost fully retreating his length before thrusting a final time, deep inside you. His lips connect with yours again, the tear tracks on your cheeks wetting his own skin from how close you are. You feel his cock pulsing as he releases the last of his spend into you, with no care in your mind for the consequences.

When you open your eyes, still coming back to earth, he’s there for you, looking down with an expression you could only describe as blissful.

“You are… somethin’ else…” He whispers, reaching to push a stray piece of hair from your face.

═══════☆═══════

In all your years, there has never been such a comfortable silence as the one you and Callahan are existing in now, disturbed only by the gentle thrumming of his heart against your ear. There’s no awkwardness, wasn’t when he slid out of you and helped you get cleaned up either. The moment is peace, especially when you feel your own heart beating to the exact same rhythm. If it weren’t for this man, it might not have been, and now you’re synchronised to him.

A clean shirt from his saddle bag is wrapped around your shoulders, while Callahan’s fingers gently run over your hair. You want to thank him again, but the silence hanging around you both seems too precious for you to break.

Your anxious mind is kind to you, allowing you a few more minutes of complete peace in this heavenly sanctuary, before everything comes crashing back down to Earth, dragging you with it.

“... God, what am I gonna do now?”

Callahan doesn’t hesitate.

“You could stay with me.”

You freeze, leaning up on your good arm to look him in the eye, hair cascading over your face once more. As always, he pushes it back, though there’s something in his expression that tells you he’s surprised those words left his mouth so freely.

“Stay with you? Where?”

“Well… I run with some others, folk like you who have nowhere to go. We keep a camp together, keep eachother safe and fed. I… I’m sure they’d welcome you.”

“You’re outlaws, right?”

The great unspoken question. It lingers between you for a moment, and Callahan swallows hard.

“Yeah, outlaws. But we ain’t as bad as those others, we… we try n’ help people, where we can. I could talk to Dutch, get you somewhere to sleep ‘till you get back up on your feet.”

Your mind races, setting itself off faster than a spooked horse spotting a snake. Outlaws killed Varner, outlaws tried to rape you, and would have surely killed you had they had the chance… Outlaws were bad news, everything you’ve ever been warned about in your life…

And you slept with one, and now had a standing invitation to join them??

He must sense the turmoil twisting your previously calm features, and quickly goes back to that soothing motion across your hair.

“Hey, just think on it, alright? You’ve had a pretty damn rough day, ain’t no use doin’ anything but restin’ now. We can stay here tonight, talk about it in the morning.” “A-Alright…”

For now, you let his words wash over you, his gruff voice trying to pull you back to that tranquil state. It works, and you rest your head back on his chest, careful to avoid the makeshift bandages you tied around his shoulder.

You shut your eyes, intertwined with your saviour while the moon watches over you both.

“Thank you, Callahan…” you mumble, sleep already grasping you with its tempting claws.

You’re the first to drift, while Callahan stays awake as long as he can to make sure you’re alright. He watches you sleep, watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the way your lashes flutter every so often.

“It’s Arthur, by the way…”

═══════☆═══════

You’re pulled out of the realms of sleep when an owl hoots nearby. For a second, you panic, expecting all the comforts of your own bed and finding the open air. It comes crashing back all too soon, the bandits, Varner, Callahan…

He’s right where you left him, arm wrapped around your frame to keep you safe from the elements and otherwise. His handsome features are illuminated by a moon glowing high in the sky, fast asleep, and you know it’s now or never.

You’re not sure when you make your decision, whether it was when he first asked you, or some wider wisdom from a dream you can’t remember influenced you. You’ll regret it a hundred times over and thensome, but you know that even when you’re doing it.

You allow yourself a kiss, just one soft kiss on his sleeping lips, before somehow managing to slide out of his embrace without disturbing him. He stirs, and you freeze, but a tiny snore later and he returns to complete slumber.

There are tears welling in your eyes when you approach Boadicea. She looks at you solemnly, as if she knows exactly what you’re doing, but she lets you do it anyway. Every movement pains you in a way you’ve never experienced before, your heart aching more violently than any mortal flesh wound ever could.

Boadicea stays still while you look through her saddle bag, picking out a couple of tins of food and one of the opened tonics, though you leave most of the provisions. It feels wrong, stealing from him, but you know you have to to survive. You’re on your own now.

Just when you’re about to wrap everything up to go, you spot a book in the back pocket of the bag, a stick of charcoal poking through the pages. Glancing at Callahan’s sleeping body, even for the fraction of a second you do so, hurts so much you can barely breathe.

You pick the book out, flicking over stunning sketches of landscapes, animals, and a few portraits. You’re careful not to read the words, fearful that knowing any more of his soul could change your mind in an instant. The charcoal scratches at the paper as you write, more grateful than ever that you learnt how to in your free time on the ranch.

I can’t. I’m sorry.

Each step out of the woods pulls at that tether, the one you noticed before when you first kissed him that resides deep in your heart, the one that feels like fate. But you’ve met her before, and she scares you. Fate means destiny, yes, but she also brings doom. And that is no longer a risk you can afford to take.

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