Ghost who, under “orders” from his army therapist (and with Price’s encouragement), starts looking around for hobbies when he’s on leave.
Not sure what to do at first. Tries gaming but gets bored of it and the PS4 stays gathering dust in his flat. Plants don’t appeal to him because he won’t be around enough to take care of them. Thinks about knitting, but is a bit too embarrassed to walk into the local craft shop to start making doilies.
Finally goes to the library after seeing a flyer advertising a painting class and thinks, “Hell, why not.”
Shows up in his hoodie, black face mask, and black baseball cap. Gives most of the old ladies attending the painting session a good scare
Until he rolls up his sleeves to avoid getting paint on his good hoodie. Then those old ladies are ogling his forearms and the tattoos painting his skin.
Is very attentive to the hired artist leading the session. Hasn’t got an artistic bone in his body, but dammit, he’s going to report back to his therapist that he tried if it’s the last thing he does.
Two little old ladies, Mrs. Levine and Ruby, pluck up the courage to sit beside him and start chatting him up. Compliments his painting, talk about their grandkids, how one of Ruby’s grandsons is into heavy metal (assuming Ghost is as well). Ghost listens half-heartedly, just trying to get the brown right for the deer he’s putting on paper. They manage to weasel out his name:
“Simon,” he announces gruffly.
“Oh, what a good name,” Mrs. Levine says.
He goes to the next activity as well: polymer clay creations. His hands are big and meaty and he has to take more clay than is probably reasonable to make the little pig he’s got going.
Mrs. Levine and Ruby are there too and sit right next to him to chat with him again. They love his idea of a pig and make a cow and sheep to go with it. When the hired artist comes around to see how everyone’s doing, Mrs. Levine announces that the three of them “have a little farm going” and that “Simon’s the farmhand.”
He's glad he's got his face mask on. He can feel his ears going red at the look the artist gives him.
Again, he’s very attentive to the hired artist, watching her hands carve into the soft clay with her nails to get texture on her dinosaur. He tries to do the same, giving whispy little hairs to his pig. It’s not pretty, but he feels a smidge better about going when it’s all done.
Mrs. Levine and Ruby get more information out of him as time goes on and he attends more activities. Soon their friends join in on the conversation, and Ghost – Simon – is well-known at the library for being the military guy who attends every Saturday when he’s not deployed. The little old ladies love him, even if he “doesn’t say much.” He’s helped them carry their bags of books and crafts to their cars, listens to them prattle on about activities and their aches and pains, and even scared off some hooligans who were trying to disrupt their library activity.
(They’ve all got little old lady crushes on this big man who takes time out of his day to better himself, and they love his dry/dad jokey humor)
(And he won't admit it, but these are his little old ladies now. Clarice brought him brownies that he absolutely devoured when he got back to his flat they were so good, and he can't help but laugh at how often they try to set him up with their granddaughters. And how they "trip" often just to hang on to his big arms. Birds are birds, no matter their age.)
calming angry rafe down..... i NEEEEEED himmmm asdfghjkl
“wanna talk about it?” you ask softly, leaning toward him, your hopeful gaze searching his face.
he shakes his head faintly, eyes closing as he rests his head back against the seat. “nothing to talk about. just topper being topper—trying to get me to break his fucking kneecaps.” his tone is flat, but the undercurrent of frustration is unmistakable.
you blink at his casual mention of violence, pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder. “he doesn’t like me very much, does he?”
at your words, rafe’s irritation flares visibly, his fingers flexing as if resisting the urge to punch something. “he just needs to piss off. fuck,” he growls, his voice low and rough. “and i know—i know—he can’t stand it. he hates that i get close to someone he can’t touch, someone who’s fucking mine. he’s a pissy little bitch, and the next time i see him—”
“rafe,” you interrupt softly, sensing the dangerous direction his thoughts are heading. “calm down…” you murmur, your voice soothing as you lean in to press a featherlight kiss to his cheek.
his breathing is still uneven, his chest rising and falling with controlled restraint. “you’re getting way too worked up,” you whisper, cradling his face with one hand, your thumb grazing along the sharp line of his cheekbone.
his lips remain tight, his gaze hard, but he doesn’t pull away. you take the opportunity to scatter soft kisses across his cheeks, the corner of his mouth, and finally his lips. your touch is gentle, alternating between quick pecks and lingering brushes. at first, he’s unresponsive, but slowly he starts kissing back, his lips yielding to yours in unspoken surrender.
you trail your kisses lower, down along the line of his jaw to his neck. you feel the tension in his shoulders begin to ease, the tightness in his posture softening under the warmth of your lips.
your hand glides down his chest, your fingertips barely grazing the ridges of his abs, tracing slow, soothing patterns. his breaths come slower now, steadier, the anger slowly ebbing away with each kiss you leave on his skin.
rafe remains still, his arms resting at his sides, his body still tense under your gentle touch and then your hands find the edge of his sweatpants.
your hand is halfway in when he tenses, "you don't have to do this—" he starts but you're cutting him off. "i want to." you whisper softly and he knows you want to, you've been trying and asking for days. he was the one to insist you go slower which was fair since you were the one who wanted to go slow in the very beginning. that all changed the moment you two made out for the first time. you'd quickly thrown 'slow' in the trash.
you kiss your way back to his lips, "will you tell me how?" you'd seen videos and could also imagine what to do but actually doing it was a lot different. rafe hums against your lips, "take it out first," he mutters with his lips inching yours.
you glance down and slowly take his semi-hard cock out of his pants. you stare at it for a couple of seconds. it's heavier than you'd imagined, fat and veiny with this glossy pink tip that makes your mouth water just a little. without a word from rafe, you're curiously running your hand along it.
you don't expect rafe to tense at your touch and you're immediately looking up at him in surprise when he does. "did that hurt? did i just hurt you?" you ask and his smile is genuine, "quite the opposite." he rasps and then his hand is covering yours gently. he guides your hands up and down along his fat cock and you're a little mesmerised watching it slowly grow in size.
rafe's heavy breathing tells you it's going good so far but you want to get it in your mouth. the nerd in you is trying to calculate how it would even be possible, how you could get such a big dick past your lips without choking on it.
you're lowering your head to get him into your mouth when he stops you gently, fingers on your chin. "no teeth." he explains and you're nodding before you're desperately trying to get down there again. he stops you, again. "just..take it easy, start with the tip and slowly take more." he continues, eyes boring into yours. you could see the lust in them, just pooling in his eyes as he watched you practically drool to get his cock in your mouth.
the moment he let go of you, your tongue was darting out just enough to slowly lick along his fat tip. rafe hissed and gripped the car handle, "fuck," he whispered lowly. you pulled back and looked at it. you weren't sure why you expected it to do something and when it didn't, you just gave it another experimental lick before slowly wrapping your lips around the tender head, suckling gently.
"that's it, baby..take it easy.." rafe is muttering as you suckle on his warm tip. you hesitate for only a second before you're taking more of him in your mouth and you don't expect the tears to come so quickly. they don't really bother you. you realize nothing really bothers you while he's in your mouth. your mind has gone completely empty, void of any noise or thought, he's all you can feel, all you can sense is him filling you up.
it doesn't take long before you're bopping your head up and down and drooling all over his cock. rafe is groaning and grunting every couple of seconds and his hands are in your hair but you can feel him resisting, can feel the moment he wants to push your head down but every time, he stops himself and just lets you go at your own pace.
you whimper when you attempt for the third time to get his entire lenght down your throat and almost want to cry in frustration that he just won't fit. rafe is holding your head back, trying to say something but continously getting cut off by his own moans. "p-perfect, baby, fuck, that's perfect.." he tilts his head back and holds onto you so you stop moving for five seconds. you were eager, so goddamn determined. "stop forcing..you'll hurt yourself." he grunts before he's letting you go and your mouth is right back on his cock, seeking that fuzzy feeling, that instant quietening of the mind.
you know he won't fit unless rafe bucks his hips up and fucks your mouth and you know he won't do that so you settle for using your hands for the part of him you can't reach. you stroke him up and down and your drool helps keep it all smooth and wet. "jesus..fuck, fuck.." rafe moans, voice low, and then you're speeding up, just a little. you just want more, want it to take you over, want to make rafe feel good.
something seems to snap in him because his hands fly to your hair and he's groaning, shoving your head down onto his fat cock. he forces you to take more and more of him and the noises you make are filthy and down-right obscene. you're whining, high, and desperate around his veiny cock as you try to keep up with how he's pushing your head down over and over.
you're choking around him, tears streaming down your cheeks and he's doing all the work now, gripping your hair and shoving your head down, pushing your mouth onto his cock. "g-god..that's it..!" his hips stutter, and then he's hurriedly pulling your mouth off of him as his cum squirts out and covers his cock and a bit of his shirt.
you stare at his tip, a little dazed while you catch your breath. you watch the creamy white lines cover it and without giving it much thought, you're licking the cum off his length and tip. rafe hisses at the feeling of your tongue on his sensitive tip, "if i knew you wanted it, i would've come in your mouth." he's mumbling, and only then do you look at him, "why didn't you?" you ask, mind still a little fuzzy.
"because a lot of people don't like it." he's got this lazy smile on his face as he runs his fingers through your hair. you blink at him and try to think of a reason someone wouldn't want it. all that hard work for nothing?
"did you like it?" you ask him as he sadly puts himself back in his sweats. he's chuckling, "did i like it? that has to be a rhetorical question." he pats his leg gently and you're on his lap in a matter of seconds. "i liked it." you mutter as he presses a couple of kisses to your lips. he pauses and cups your cheeks gently, "are you sure you liked it?" he's whispering softly, "you seem..out of it."
you were out of it; eyes still dilated, mind still fuzzy, brain still empty. you'd never ever felt like this. "i'm really sure i liked it." you nod and rest your head on his shoulder. "i wanna do it again." you confess which has him chuckling again. "you won't hear a complaint from me.
So… I’ve started a new writing project, potentially a novel…
You may have heard me talk about it a little
It’s involving a bunch of my old ocs that I was focusing on before I met Aiero and started working with Autumns Hollow. And now I saw an opportunity to bring these characters back
Right now, the project doesn’t have an actual name, I just call it the Tahoe story, which has changed quite a bit since I started it nearly a year ago
It’s about 17 year old Junior, Evan Wilson. The story starts with him trying to end his life by slitting his wrists and bleeding out. After recovering, CPS checks out living conditions to find out his parents have been going through a nasty divorce for years
They said it wasn’t a healthy place for him to live, so they send him to live with his Godfather, Marcus summers who lives in the city of South Lake Tahoe
There he meets new people and makes new friends, while recovering from betrayal, neglect, and other mental issues
Some other notable people that he meets are Marcus’ son, Kai Summers and his cousin, Indigo and their friend Lily Hawthorne. The three teens seem… strange to say the least, but they’re the only ones at his new home who made an effort to connect with the flawed protagonist.
He will face the darkest parts of himself (literally) while trying to heal and learn more about his new acquaintances who seem to know more about the world than most people
Going to do more research but I’m hoping to include Native American mythology and small hints to Echoes of Starlight in the world building
The genre idea right now is somewhere between dark fantasy/ horror/ romance?? I’m still figuring it out
This is my most… blunt writing yet to say the least, one of the biggest themes is mental illnesses as well as recovery/healing and if you read the first draft of my prologue which I posted earlier today, you’ll see I will be using little euphemisms and getting straight to the point, so if you have issues with reading about topics including self harm, attempted suicide, mental illness, gore, monster peens (im kidding with that one lol) this story probably won’t be for you sorry :(
There will be LGBTQIA2S+ characters in my story, but I don’t want it to be a story where it’s like “AAAA THEYRE GAY YESSS” that takes away from the point of this project, it’s to point out issues in society today regarding teen mental health and how it needs to be talked about.
I’m going to be writing more and more as I go but I will warn you guys of potential sensitive topics in these posts okay?
I know I have a lot of projects (too many) but I have many stories to tell, and songs to sing and whatnot so please forgive me
Anygays: some tags because I want my moots to be aware of what they’re getting into with these posts because I don’t want any of you to feel uncomfortable
Prompt: After finding out you're pregnant with Billy's baby, Robin and Steve both take care of you. You have feelings for both of them and that's stressing you out.
Extra tags:lactation
Steve held your hand at the first appointment. He'd petted your shoulder when you found out you were further along than you thought. It was still Billy's baby but it wasn't a result of that night. The weird girl that Hopper had adopted a few months back had stopped by Steve's house with a look in her eye and told you Billy would've supported you if he'd survived. That made you sob because you wished it was true. Billy wasn't the paternal type and you knew he didn't have a great relationship with his father.
Robin stuck close to you when Steve wasn't around or they both dragged you to Family Video and sat you where they could both keep an eye on you. Billy wasn't your first but he might be your last after what happened. It finally struck you one night, sprawled on Steve's bed between them that you could see yourself with both of them, Steve's hand protective around your growing belly and Robin's head tucked into your shoulder, her leg stuck between yours.
"Hey, Princess." Steve spoke one morning, after making you some toast to choke down, as your sickness got worse. "Do you wanna put me down as the father? Since I've been going with you to all the appointments since we found out." Robin spit takes on her glass of orange juice.
"You're really gonna ask her NOW, dingus? She's four months pregnant."
"Snooze, you lose, Robin. Besides..." Steve waves his hand. "It requires telling her if you ask." The two bicker and you just look between them confused then the words 'town pariah' come up and something clicks.
"You're gay." Robin's head almost snaps when she looks at you in fear. You lean over and kiss her softly. Steve huffs and looks you two over.
"Why does she get first kiss?" His hazel eyes are clearly on your breasts now, causing you to look down and see that they're leaking. He reaches over and undoes your button down, firmly grasping your breast, massaging it before pushing you up against the counter. "Robin, we should milk her. Can't be that comfortable being so full of milk." Robin looks a little freaked out and about to object but Steve tugs her in front of you, pressing a finger covered in breastmilk to her lips.
"Dingus, come on." Robin's lip swiped over his finger before he guided her to your breast. She huffed and pushed her hair back before her lips engulfed your nipple. Your back arches and you moan in relief, carding your fingers through her hair. Steve lifts your other breast, massaging it before lifting it to his mouth and suckling on it. His knee goes between your legs to hold you up as you slump forward. His hand ghosts over your belly, rubbing slowly before he grabs Robin's hand and guides her hand down into your sweatpants. It's Robin's hand that makes contact with your clit first and Steve guides her into a small series of strokes over it before his hand continues, pulling your sweats down and pushing his finger into you. Robin's hand lazily flicks your clit as if she's unsure of what to do but Steve's finger fucking your hole knows what it's doing.
"Wanna eat you out." Robin finally murmurs as she pulls back from your breast, her lips puffy as she kisses you. You nod eagerly and Steve pulls back to grab her a pillow for her knees before helping you up onto the counter.
"I'll just watch. Robin doesn't like dick." He kisses you softly before pulling up a chair. He leans down and whispers something in Robin's ear to which she nods. She carefully kneels and her tongue makes her way to your clit through with your bush. Every lick is tenative and shy.
"Use your fingers. Spread her lips open. Gives you more access." Steve reaches over and rubs her shoulder. "You got this, Rob. See. Princess likes it." He rubs your belly gently as you moan. Something about him helping Robin was erotic. "Go on. She really likes it don't you Princess?" You let out a tiny gasp as Robin's nose hits your clit. She's so tender in her licks as Steve encourages her to finger you. You lift your legs to try to get them on her shoulders and he helps. It feels like ages and you're contented as she eats you our before you cum. She slowly moves away and Steve drags you over to the table and bends you over it. He unzips his jeans and pushes his cock into you.
"Dingus is that really necessary?" Robin wrinkles her nose.
"Fuck, Steve. Right there." You moan out. "Robin wanna eat you out. NOW." Steve lets out a chuckle at how demanding you are. Robin shyly blinks before stripping down and climbing on the table. Steve helps you tug her down so she's level with your mouth. You dive in between her legs eagerly, lapping at her pink little clit. As Steve fucks you, you bury your moans in her pussy. Your fingers work their way inside of her and you relish in her moans. Your ass gets smacked by Steve and you jump a bit, your teeth grazing Robin's clit. She whimpers and you just kiss her clit in apology.
You enjoy being between them. Eagerly eating Robin out while Steve fucks you. You wanted to do this forever as you squirt on Steve's cock and you kept fingering Robin to get her off. She makes a mess across the table, squirting almost as hard as you did as Steve groans in your ear, his own cum dripping out of you. Robin pets your hair tenderly.
"No, Steve. The two of you can help me raise my baby but Billy was the father. We never put a label on it and there were things he wouldn't do for me but I want them to know about him." You finally tuck your hair behind your ear as Steve pulls out. He slowly nods and kisses your shoulder.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
divider
Summary: With Lucy Knight’s birthday approaching, the ER staff decides to throw a party for her. It was a needed distraction anyways, given that all she did was think about John Carter and their one-time shared kiss. Truthfully, Lucy was delusional enough to believe that all her feelings could be washed away from a few drinks.
AN: Hi guys!!! AHHH. I'm so beyond excited to post. If you keep up with my tumblr you'll know I've been struggling with writers block, but to solve that I've allowed myself to write bad things!!! (before editing them of course). It's really helped! Anyways.. I think I could add more to this but I like where it ended. I hope you all enjoy thank you all for being patient with me. HCing Lucy's birthday as May 20th btw. She seems like a May baby to me. Set in Season 5 after in the time after 5x20. Thank you for reading!
‘Surprise’ birthday parties were never much of a shock at County General anyways. Nothing was really ever a secret here anyways, especially not when the nurses spent half of their shifts chatting about it in their not so quiet whisper-yell voices, and barely even stopping when Lucy walked by the admit desk.
“At a bar? For Lucy? Didn’t know she was much of a drinker,” the muffled, but very recognizable voice of Doug Ross heard from inside the lounge, along with all the nurses shushing him in unison was enough to make Lucy chuckle quietly at her seat.
Lucy pushed her charts away, too frazzled to focus anyways. A bar? Who would be there? What would she wear? Although it was nice to hear all her coworkers panic about keeping a secret, Lucy knew she should go walk out and tell them she knew. She took a deep breath before standing up and walking out of the doctor’s lounge. The charting wouldn’t ever be getting done anyways.
Before Lucy could make her way to the admit desk, she heard the person she didn't, or did, wanted to see the most. She could never truly decide.
“A party? For who?” Lucy continued to propel the door open and make her way over to where Carter was now standing.
“For me,” she spoke firmly, the faux smirk evident on her face. Collectively, Chuny, Carol, Haleh, and Lydia all turned to Doug, giving him the nastiest death stare Lucy had ever bear to witness. It was enjoyable, actually. There was something so beautiful about watching the nurses giving doctor’s shit. Just like they deserved.
“It’s your birthday soon?” He leaned in close to her, the heat practically radiating off of his body. Much to her dismay, the genuinity, but also slight sadness mixed with panic, present in his voice made her heart flutter, not that she’d ever admit that to anyone. The idea of admitting that John Carter, the man whore of the ER, made her feel ‘things’ actively compelled her to vomit. Lucy preferred to stay somewhat oblivious, even if she knew it was true, even if everyone could tell.
It didn’t matter anyway. Fuck. Lucy knew. Everyone knew. Maybe Carter did.
With most things in life, Lucy had tried to have dignity. She tried to keep her composure. She tried to always keep a nice, pleasant, happy smile on her face. But with John Carter, there was no ounce of dignity left in her. There couldn’t be. He made it impossible to have any virtue left, given with how he seemed keen on psychologically torturing her. And it would always work. With John Carter, she’d always come back for more, despite any internal shame it could, and eventually would, cause.
Everyone else had diverted their attention away from them, specifically because it felt a little too awkward to be intruding on their unnecessarily tension filled conversations. Like he always did, he moved closer, attempting to close the distance in a way that he was just far away enough for it to seem ‘normal.’ Whatever. Lucy definitely didn’t notice. Or even care. Everything’s fine.
“Yeah, uh, sorry,” sorry? Lucy couldn’t help but to internally cringe. Speak, Lucy. Normally. She clears her throat and straightens her back. “I mean, it just never came up. Didn’t see the point in it,” she walked over towards the charts, but Carter followed. She wanted to do something, anything to seem like she wasn’t, unfortunately, extremely nervous around him. They had barely spoken in months — who could blame her?
“You know mine though, don’t you?”
Lucy let out a soft chuckle. “Of course I do,” instead of fidgeting with the charts in front of her, her gaze diverted towards Carter. “June fourth. Nineteen-seventy.”
“I didn’t know you memorized that much about me.”
She bit her lip, trying so, so very hard to not let a stupid grin creep up on her face. If she did that, he’d win. She didn’t want him to win. Not yet at least. Good to know he was still just as irritating.
“Well, you do talk about yourself often.”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” a quiet snicker emerged from his lips. Her eyes followed the movement of his hand, analyzing how Carter touched her shoulder, and squeezed it tight just as he turned away to swiftly hurry over to trauma one with Doctor Greene. Lucy just stood there, wide-eyed and still, frozen in time perhaps. Now across the room from Lucy, he exclaimed, “I’ll see you later!”
The statement echoed through Lucy’s head long after Carter was whisked away by Mark. I’ll see you later. It should mean nothing to her, truly, why wouldn’t he be there anyways? Deep down, it made something she’d tried so hard to repress, a feeling of warmth for her mentor, bubble up. It was wrong, in more ways than one, but that didn’t stop her before, did it?
“He’ll see you later, eh?” Chuny stated while standing next to Lucy, evidently ogling her and Carter the whole time.
“It’s not that big of a deal,” Lucy attempted to let the words flow out of her lips naturally, but by the end of the sentence, her face was already heating up. Like usual, whenever Lucy brought up Carter around Chuny, she was snickering like no other. “Oh, shut up,” Lucy raised her hand, slightly slapping her on the shoulder.
It wasn’t the ideal place. It was hot, clammy even, and the bartenders seemed, to put it lightly, over hosting ‘parties.’ Given that it was no longer a ‘surprise’ party, most of the Emergency Department staff didn’t even bother to deny Lucy her entry. The bar had picked up, most of the people she figured would come, Doug, Cleo, Peter, Jing-Mei, Dave, and most of the ER nurses, had showed up, wishing Lucy a happy birthday, then subsequently moving over to the already packed bar. Maybe it was somewhat early for heavy drinking, but most of them could only manage to get out of the claws of the ER by five.
Lucy’s hair was in slightly messy, double braids. She was clad in a tighter fitting black tank top, along with dark-wash jeans she’d usually never wear, but at her feet, like usual, were her black combat boots. Along with Carol walking by, telling her she looks nice, and Chuny blatantly calling her hot, she felt, well, sexy actually.
It became all too unpleasant when Dale showed up. Dale Edson, surgical resident. Her.. boyfriend? Something like that. They’d gone out on a few dates, kissed some, had sex once. It wasn’t all bad, but he was definitely not, to put it lightly, her forte. They didn’t put an end to it, but Lucy definitely stopped calling.
“Happy birthday,” his voice came off too aggravating for her liking. The same arrogant smirk he tended to wield remained on his face. Could he be sincere for five fucking minutes? Unluckily for Lucy, he attempted to lean in for a kiss, but she quickly evaded it, taking a quick step back.
“Thank you, Dale,” she flashed a soft, pretend smile. Instead of him reciprocating, his smirk turned into vacancy. Like her other coworkers, he walked towards the bar.
Despite most of them residing at the bar, it was nice to see an abundance of people show up for her. Even the cake, which had the saying ‘Happy Birthday Lucy!’ in swirly, pink text, made her feel cared for. In Lucy’s eyes, she felt like she finally belonged somewhere, but something felt missing.
Carter.
It had been almost two hours and Lucy would be lying if she said she didn’t find herself imagining what Carter was doing every ten minutes. He said he’d come — he practically promised! But she was beginning to realize she couldn’t rely on John Carter to be punctual.
Whatever. Lucy doesn’t care. It’s fine. She’s not upset. And she’s definitely not walking outside to sulk alone.
Contrary to the hours difference, it had warmed up significantly. A nice mix of orange, yellow, and pink began to set in the sky. Due to the rain during their shifts, It was still slightly humid out. The air was thick, the smell of rain entered her nose.
“Do you really like him?”
“Oh, god!” Carter.
John was leaned up against the wall in the alleyway, a lit cigarette between his pointer and index finger. He looked oddly relaxed as the smoke bellowed out his mouth.
“You smoke?”
“Occasionally,” Carter took another slow, long drag of the cigarette, before dropping it on the ground and snuffing it out under his shoes. “Answer the question.”
Lucy took a moment. She turned, facing the window, observing her ‘boyfriend.’ He had come late, been there for about thirty minutes and had already downed too many beers for her liking. She didn’t want him here. Matter of fact, she was embarrassed by him. Dale worked at County General, sure, but he was around her friends, her coworkers, the people she cared for. Lucy knew she didn’t have to be with him. After all, she was self-sufficient without a ‘boyfriend,’ even Dale could be considered that.
She had made the unforeseen mistake of letting Dale fuck her. Was fucking even the appropriate verb? He was disgusting, not even in a good way, lazy, and most frustrating of all, not caring. Thinking about how she felt when he avoided her for days after was enough to make her want to disappear. Besides that he was arrogant, partly incompetent, and annoyingly competitive.
Part of Lucy did know the history between Dale and Carter. A part of her got with Dale for that exact same reason. Well, initially she didn’t plan to let it go so far, or at least far in Dale’s perspective. In all honesty, it was to make Carter jealous. Lucy just wanted Carter to pull her away from Dale and then kiss her passionately at triage, in front of everyone. Or.. something like that.
She cleared her throat before speaking again. “I don’t think so, no. Wait— No. I don’t like him. Truthfully, I don’t know why he’s here.” Divert the conversation, Lucy, or he’ll read you like a book.
“Can I have one?” The question came off too soft, too submissive, like someone who’d hadn’t smoked in years, which is exactly what Lucy was. Maybe the few margaritas she’d been nursing, and eventually finishing, all evening finally kicked in. Lucy considered herself too old to smoke to impress a boy, but at least she’d be reliving her teen years, right?
Carter’s eyes widened at the inquiry, clear confusion evident on his face. “Uh,” he fishes in the pocket of his slats for his pack of Marlboros. “Here,” he positioned the cigarette between her lips. After flashing a quick smile her way, he pulled a lighter out, and lit it for Lucy.
Her head was reeling and it wasn’t from the measly amount of smoke she inhaled. Did he have to be so close? God. If Lucy didn’t know before, she definitely knew now.
“That’s,” she hacked up, “horrible,” their hands slightly brushed as she handed him back his cigarette. “Add that to the list of reasons as to why I don’t smoke anymore.”
“You used to smoke? Lucy Knight used to smoke?” Their eyes met, his usually dark solemn eyes seemed bright for once. It felt like the antithesis of this whole.. personality he had put on. He tended to be emotionally withdrawn, never letting anyone in, but, slowly, Lucy was working her way in.
“Don’t act so surprised. I was a teenager once, you know?” Lucy couldn’t control the corner of her lips turning up, forming into a big, beaming smile.
They stayed like that for a few minutes. A comfortable silence settled over the both of them. It was nice, nicer than whatever the party had turned out to be. Carter was the first to break eye contact, allowing his eyes to travel down to his shoes. She knew he would. He always did. Eye contact wasn’t his strong suit. Although Carter always was the first to look away, Lucy was always the one to break the silence.
“Why didn’t you go in?” The question was eating at Lucy. God knows how long he’d been standing here, waiting. It lingered on her mind. What was he thinking? Did he want to come? Did he feel obligated? Maybe, somehow, Lucy was imagining everything in her head. Maybe the longing glances were unintentional, maybe their touches lingered accidently, and maybe he didn’t feel like he was going to pass out by how close he was to her lips. And maybe the first time he kissed her back, It didn’t mean anything.
“I was, uh, nervous, I guess,” he just shrugged before letting out a deep sigh. “I saw Dale. Didn’t want to, uh, disturb anything between the two of you.” Lucy knew he was lying. He wanted to do everything in his power to disturb them. He was just too scared to do it, too scared of the possible repercussions. Lucy vividly recalled how he acted upon Dale getting too close to her. He was possessive, jealous even, over something that wasn’t ever his. But she could be.
“We aren’t anything anymore,” the words were blunt, effective, and enough to get the point across. “Not after tonight anyways,” Lucy’s eyes still remained on Carter, following how he consistently would look around, doing anything to try not to look at her. “You’ve got a chance.”
In her head, it sounded more like a joke, perhaps something that would make him lightly chuckle and end up brushing it off, but actually telling that to Carter out loud made it sound more like a promise. Her stomach was already in one big ‘JC’ knot anyways. When Carter met Lucy’s gaze for a second time, his lips were parted and his eyes seemed more.. ablaze, a spark of desire apparent in his dark-brown irises.
“Do I?” Lucy couldn’t help but eagerly nod in response. She felt frozen in time, watching as his eyes flickered up and down her lips. Arousal stirred inside of her as she watched, in real time, how he struggled to hold back on his impulses. Had he always felt like this around her?
Carter didn’t seem mad, upset, or even uncomfortable. He wasn’t deflecting, or diverting the topic. He wasn’t avoiding her gaze. He wanted this as much as she did. John Carter wanted Lucy Knight, in more ways than one. He wanted to kiss her, to touch her, to finally, once and for all, mark Lucy as his.
Instead of being beside one another, Carter made his way over in front of Lucy. He examined her, watching as she began to bat her eyelashes the second he leaned closer. This time, he couldn’t stop himself. Carter cupped her jaw, pulling her close against him, and allowed himself to press his lips against hers.
He tasted like something she’d regret, something that’d break her heart, but that was the least of her concerns now. Every single long-lasting thought she had disappeared as they melted into each other, his free hand slithering around her waist. He was a tender lover, almost like a bruise. It was the second time they kissed, but this felt more promising than the last. No longer did Lucy care about Dale or what he would think or even if he would care, she just wanted to feel his lips on hers for an eternity.
That was one way to celebrate her twenty-fifth birthday.
