#i barely had enough work to scrape this together but we did it gang

[parasitebeans]

Art vs Artist 2023 edition

[doctor-amazing]

I used to work at a burger joint a while back.

You know, the new one smack dab in the middle of downtown, right by Sixth and the Main? When it wasn't hell, it was almost a cozy job. But it was hell most of the time, between unruly customers and misfunctioning equipment and the occasional misfire between even my coworkers.

This story is about one of them, actually, but not just yet.

My buddy hadn't gotten off his shift yet, and the rest of the posse were all strapped into my old Silver Bullet, '98 and free. Or, at least, that's about all it was worth— maybe even less. More, I suppose, if I had to give someone money to take it off my hands?

We made it to the park we were aiming for, likely narrowly avoiding death several times along the way, but a bottle of lukewarm Jack was being passed around the backseat, and my stereo was far too loud for me to feel anything but wholly comfortable.

The night was cool, if a bit dark; the only thing holding back my normal sense of foreboding from the quite wooded park was the fact that we were a whole gang, after all. That, and the boozy attitudes from my friends, which granted a bit of levity to anything we attended to.

I stomped up the compacted dirt path, scraping a bit away with my boots with every step. Satisfying. Familiar. One of my friends was right beside me, and we were shooting the shit over something inane, while the two behind us were a gulp of air and two seconds worth of a stop from making out with one another.

Perhaps, what I'm trying to illustrate here is the idyllic feeling of summer, wouldn't you say? At least, my idyllic feeling of summer. Freshly nineteen, an apartment of my own, and no chance of being dragged back into work for at least two more days... That was idyllic.

We made it to the top of the hill together, and the two in the back managed to reign in their passions long enough to pack the peace pipe. I only took it from the rotation once, but a deep breath was quite enough to take the edge off, for the moment.

In almost any other case, I'd lament being unable to recall the conversation, but knowing how it was back then? We'd have a collection of two or three quips out of a full hour's conversation, and the rest would be babble.

The time was eleven at night, and it had become considerably colder. The peace pipe had long been burned down and emptied, and the edge was coming back strong. Were I bolder, and less responsible, perhaps what was to come next would have turned out differently. Probably for the worse, so I'm thankful for my restraint here.

The group slowly did the Thing. One stands up, the rest stand up in near-unison, and all subconsciously recognize that it's time to go without saying a word. A cascade of footfalls echoed against the rocky side of the path as we tromped back downwards. It was getting downright nippy, and I pulled my jacket closed when the wind began to pick up enough to induce a chill.

Eventually, we made it back to the area beside the road— a clearing stretching about fifty feet, or so. I've kept hold of this detail because I have a habit of doing head-counts on my wonderful little drunkies, and I counted an extra.

Now, back to the burger shop! It was quite the rotating-door sort of place; the management sucked ass, and employees were more expendable than a piece of wax paper to them. Still, because of how much they sucked, it was quite easy to get away with a lot of bullshit. A small wonder it was, then, when an infrequent coworker of mine showed up to work shitfaced out of his skull.

I can't pretend even I'm innocent of the crime, but this wasn't just an edge case, nor even a regrettable reality; this was downright brazen! He could barely stand, and swayed across the kitchen. Another coworker of mine called our manager, and the situation was sorted before long. That is to say, he was told to leave, and the poor coworker was left alone in the kitchen.

The leaving then turned quickly into a more permanent sort of leave— an entirely expected one, honestly. He'd never been the most diligent worker, and I can't say I terribly liked him, anyway. That was what I thought would be the last of him, barring an occasion in which he showed up for New Year's Eve to order some food from the window, before disappearing once more into the night.

Imagine my surprise when, as I'm pondering my apparent miscount, we step out into the lamplight from the street and I recognize his face. At least, I recognize his facial features— his demeanor was not himself, and the face he was making was positively... alien, I'd describe it as?

Imagine one of those Grayys pop culture is so fond of, and put a mouth on 'im. That's the facial expression we're working with. It was extraordinarily off putting, and I call him out tentatively. The rest of the group is initially slow to react, but when they realize, the banter comes to such a sudden stop it's as if a gunshot had interrupted it.

The group edges backwards towards my car, and I pass my buddy the keys. My "coworker's" eyes are boggling at the old Silver Bullet, and then land slowly, sedately back upon me.

A few beats pass, and the group closes most of the distance while I "hold" him here with a few placating words.

What are you doing out here, buddy? I ask him this almost rhetorically, already convinced there's something horrifically amiss here. This coworker was bombastic and loud before, and now he's uncharacteristically and almost unnaturally silent.

I'm not sure there's enough space to fit all of us.

The way he says it is confused, and he uses a little bit more of his lips than he needs to. It feels like one of those English dubs of Japanese films where the audio and the video aren't quite synced. He's almost chewing on his words here.

I begin to edge backwards. I hear behind me, some distance back, words spoken softly yet frantically.

Get in the car. Get in the fucking car.

The night is so quiet, I can hear the rustle of fabric onto my car's seats, and the slam of one of the doors is like a firework into the night.

Where are we going?

It asks me, finally making eye contact, like it had stumbled upon what it was supposed to be doing after all. I tell him something about how I'm gonna go now, and made some sort of useless inquiry about where his friends were about now.

At this point, I've closed the distance, and my friends are packed into the car. He's still advancing in that slow, steady, yet still swaying pace that neatly matches mine. My buddy's already turned the key in the ignition, and as I step around the hood to get into the driver's side, the headlights weakly illuminate both of us.

Where do I get in?

I don't bother to answer him, as his lazy eyes begin to take on a sense of purpose. There's a feeling in the air that's hard to describe, even now, even distant— it sends ice down my veins to try to recall it, even, but in a way, it was like how I'd imagined Texan Standoffs to always be.

I slowly click my door open, and in one smooth motion, swing around the door and slide into my seat. I jab at the lock, and the door obliges with a reassuring thunk.

It stands in front of the car's headlights, and I can see it's jaws flapping. To this day, I wonder what it was trying to convince me of, but there was a fury in its eyes. Whether just my memory, or reality, it seemed to be warping before my eyes. The stereo turned on at that moment, snapping me out of it and cutting off whatever tangent it was going on.

I flipped the car into reverse, and slowly began backing away. With newfound safety came a sense of disbelief, and I wasn't fulling committed to railing outta there until my eyes rested once more upon its form. The wheels squealed loudly, and then we were gone.

Later, we recounted the tale to my best friend, whom we were picking up from work. He posited that the coworker was surely just on some drugs, or something, but I knew that it... It, was more than that. As the memory faded, the absolute certainty of all of my friends of what happened that night began to fade. Even now, I question myself.

I write this now to steel that certainty, now and for what I hope are forever. I never was able to track down the coworker, nor had his friends heard from him. I asked around the police station for the camera records they had off a light pole nearby, but they told me to get lost.

I know I saw something that night. But, more worrying... I know that it saw me.

I still never go to that park alone, over two years later. Hard to put a finger on it, but it feels like something's watching me.

[gemma-collins-ily]

Kaz's Previous S/O Remains His Rival

a/n - here's part one! Why do I love writing people to be kind of super evil???

Warnings: little bit of self-hatred, taking enjoyment in people's downfalls and bullet wounds.

Part one!!!

you were having a grand time, ruining everything Kaz had worked so hard to build

it was really quite easy, to decimate the so-called 'King of the Barrel', and he seemed more like a scuttling sewer rat now, desperately grasping at jobs you left as scraps

your recruits were only too happy to continuously call it your 'charity' to him, the allowance of insignificant heists that barely provided the money he needed

now, you supposed there were no more new suits with fanciful embellishments, instead old waistcoats with fraying ends and splitting threads

more than once, you imagined him having someone comb over his outfits readily pressed and starched, snipping any meticulous strings that reeled undone when tugged even slightly

just like how easy it had been to destroy him

every now and then, you felt guilt for all you had done twisting in your gut, vile and unforgiving in its tight grasp on your lungs, constricting breath and spiking your eyes with glassy tears

but, you didn't cry anymore

not over him

you wouldn't let yourself feel sorrowful or reproachful at what you had done, because he had deserved it

the thing that made you carry on, the fuel for your plans, was the way he so clearly treated people around him

like he was the typical hierarchical man, not minding the people he may crush beneath his perfectly shined shoes or ruin the reputations of with a singular glance

barely able to imagine the mortification they must have felt in his presence

now, for them and for you, there was no need

you had constantly been on edge, even when it was supposed to be a peaceful night between the two of you and he had spared you an admiring flicker of his eyes to your form

that was exactly the problem

he was finding himself sparing you things, not giving them

Kaz was surely a busy man but at a point, there was no excuse as to his behaviour

frankly, now you found both him and, every so often, yourself pathetic

him for the way he was now practically grovelling, really at the true bottom of the barrel, scraping up the few shreds of dignity he had remaining

you for the way you spared him the jobs

constantly reprimanding yourself for even casting anything aside for him

he never cast anything aside for you, why should you for him?

yet you did, and loathed yourself for it

then came a difficult job in which he'd shown up with the Dregs, alerting the guards to the fact that there were two gangs there trying to steal some quite expensive jewels by knocking over a bronzed statue

after you had scraped by and escaped, you found someone to project your anger onto yet again

Kaz Brekker

from then on, you saw it less as you gifting jobs to him but more as casting aside the ones not worth your time and effort to the man not worth them either

"Are we doing our charity work today? Passing anything off to Brekker?" "Just the one job. He needs to know just how insignificant he is against us, starting with swindling far less income that he doesn't deserve."

it may have seemed hypocritical, the way you stole and pulled off heists but wouldn't allow him to

because that's what it was before

an allowance

something that may cause a miniscule blip in plans if he attempted to collide with one of your heists, and a small, almost unnoticeable incline in the Dregs' income

but now, that was practically nothing in comparison to your gang's money, amounts that were shared out equally between all of you

once, you had ran into him personally on a job, and frozen for all of two seconds

however, those two seconds were enough for you to be torn off kilter by a stray bullet that buried itself deep into your flesh

once the searing pain wrenched your gaze from his, you were forced to duck behind a wide marble column together

you were disgusted with yourself for not having detested every moment of it

but, sure enough, your dislike for him had festered into something much more twisted

a hatred

you couldn't stand to think about him but found a microscopic part of yourself whirling at the scene playing out before you

your were glad that you stopped yourself and immediately decided to distract from anything to do with him by digging your fingers into the wound and victoriously pulling out the silver coated bullet

he gaped, unsure of the new territory that seemed to be you

Kaz wondered if you had always been like this and he had just never known

he was partially correct

after a while near him, and double-crossing him to put yourself first, your heart had become harder, had built more walls you had refused to let him see before you left

Dropping the bullet to the ground, you watched with a grim fascination as the flecks of blood painting the weaponised metal a shade of carmine spattered over the ground, a speck even landing on the tip of his shoe. You didn't make the mistake of wasting time to gaze at his face again. Instead, you pressed an uncomfortable hand to your wound and turned to join the fight.

you did run into him again, just once, turning the corner of an alley, away from a snivelling higher-up, who had gotten just what he deserved and was now cowering in the little cul-de-sac, trying to press himself further into the corner between two walls

this time you had learnt from the excruciating pain in both your heart and body when you saw him last, and did not care to look him in the eye

you breezed past, acting as though a gun were not twirling on your finger and a smirk was not playing on your lips

It was a gravelled whisper, tendrils of his voice almost seizing you in their grasps.

"Do you ever think... think that we could have been different? Can be different?"

You didn't waste your voice on him: the heel of your shoe only scuffed the dirt backwards, it landing in a fine dust at his feet.

And you strode away, leaving him where, as far as you and your crew were concerned, he belonged.

just because you hadn't bothered to say it in front of him, that night you found yourself whispering a single admittance, one you wouldn't dare to say again, for the fear of awakening long lost feelings that you wished to remain seeping into the very Fold itself

"We could have been different; if only you'd tried."

then, you had cast away the tears ready to become a torrent at your waterline, closing your eyes and letting yourself revel in one last bittersweet memory of the two of you

one in which you had been naive and hopeful and innocent and everything apart from what he was

Your eyelashes graced your cheek as you breathed a shaky inhale, heart rate wavering and delicate. His hand was held before you, gloved fingertips curled and slowly, meticulously slowly, tracing the path of your cheekbone.

He stopped and you were completely content with that, opening your eyes to let them twinkle at him joyfully, so proud he had managed to be near you.

after that day, he never touched you again

and that was perfectly fine, you coming to the conclusion he would tell you when he was ready to do anything more, or even less

until he didn't invite you to his office in the evenings, until he stopped talking to you completely

you tried to understand for the longest time that maybe he was scared he had let you in

but then, further down the line, you realised he had just thought you were stopping his business, ruining his reputation, and that he simply saw ignoring you, perhaps eternally, as a transaction

"They only slow me down. It's all they've ever done, and something I cannot allow anymore."

you grew far more bitter after that, knowing you were worth more than what he said, even if there were times your belief in yourself was not at all concrete

him reducing you to questioning if you were good enough was what you saw as a continuation of a fire, not just the first spark of anger

no, that had been long beforehand

him cutting you out of plans and meetings was what made you snap

suddenly, you were sneaking into his office at the times of the jobs, looking over future plans and plotting yourself

it was like a snowball effect, frustrations building to a summit before you finally crafted an act of true sabotage one day

You painstakingly traced out the map with careful precision, eyes squinting in the dim light until you had a complete copy, a few streets altered to look like they led into different entrances or exits.

It was what Kaz deserved. Replacing the original blueprint map with your faux one, you stashed Kaz's copy away in your room.

And the next day, Kaz was questioning everyone in the Dregs, even asking Jesper if it were some kind of joke in his fury.

But, if you had never been told about the heist by him, he thought you never would have known. You remained in the clear.

after the day in which he had asked the all important question, wondering if you could be different, you claimed you had let a heist go because of a bigger one occuring at the same time

no one in Ketterdam knew the number of people you had recruited into the Hyacinth gang, but they knew it was plenty enough for having a team on each heist

but Kaz was too desperate at this point to allow suspicion to take a deep hold, and maybe he still remembered you as the person he had trusted for a moment

you were aiming to show him that you were very much not that person anymore

members of your gang had already actually carried out the heist, a vast sum of money stolen from the docks and replaced with flash paper, a crisp and thin stack that would burn as soon as a flame came into contact with it

one of the guards for the money was careless with a lighter and that was in your knowledge

when the Dregs fought against him and the others, silently taking them down with little trouble (they may have been out of practice on larger scale heists, but they by no means lost any talent), the lighter fell from the man's hand, flame about to flicker out just as the small object rolled to touch the paper

their supposed money went up in flames in moments

it may have been cruel, but you even left a business card for the Dregs (they did not have one of these, but the Stadwatch wouldn't care to know that)

of course, Kaz managed to make enough from the Crow Club to pay off the Stadwatch, but only for a small while

you had caused him a world of trouble

even some of Kaz's crew began to believe he had somehow manufactured it as a test, and that the money was actually hidden away, or already spent

more came to your gang, recruited by a ploy that had nurtured their distrust of their own previous leader

and despite themselves, Jesper and Inej began to question Kaz too

if only for a moment

but you had definitely planted a seed in their minds, and now all you needed to do was let it become a noxious weed until they couldn't stand by him any longer

you had acted garrulously, even innocently, in conversations and generally, working your operation right under his roof until you managed to practically steal all he had apart from that

after all, you had learnt to play the long game

and by the Saints was it worth it

[silksaddle]

The Traveler 2

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x f!reader Western AU

Chapter summary: 1907, Old West. Talk of the Statesman gang is slowly on the rise while Jack continues to distract you from your chores, taking you on another but entirely different night-time outing. 

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, language, guns, mentions of alcohol and gangs, copious flirting, SMUT, oral sex (m & f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex/piv sex, outdoor sex, thigh spanking, please pardon me for the amount of smut content in this chapter, a crumb of plot development, Jack Daniels again...

Word count: 14k (leave me alone)

A/N: gif credit to @javier-pena once again! thank you my beloved astrid! and as always, much love to my amazing friends who sent me inspo posts and listened to my anxious ramblings about god-knows-what. you are all the best and you have my heart.

Read Chapter One ~ Series Masterlist

Chapter Two: Six Shooter

Jack is spreading his half-naked body over the mattress in a contented stretch when you return to the bedroom, flustered and hot-cheeked.

“You here to take my sheets, darlin’? I must insist I keep ‘em,” he chortles, turning his bright face over the soft pillow as you attempt stripping the sheets from under him, your lungs emptying in a huff when he catches your wrist and draws you to him instead. Your body lands perfectly on top of his with your weak protest, a poor match for his irresistibly gravel-like voice and his buzzing snugness.

“You’re making my job quite difficult,” you mumble into his neck, kissing the smooth skin there although your words are much more harsh. His chest rumbles, fingers running the length of your clothed back from when he’d hurriedly laced you back into your dress, lips skimming graceful but mindless lines on your temple.

“Mrs. Adler thinks you’re doing your chores.” Jack’s palms are now ghosting over your shoulders as you prop yourself up on your elbows, taking his gaze with you as you move, and you can tell your dilating pupils are betraying the falseness of your annoyed tone when you look at his expanding chest. He takes a deep breath in, the angle of morning light catching his eyes just right to melt them into golden flecks, his dishevelled hair incurable without a bath. 

You card your fingers through, and though it’s slightly tangled, the texture is silky enough to brush through the messy state and straighten it out, just a smidge. The touch causes his eyes to flutter closed, and shimmying up his body, he leans his head back to expose his neck further, the long lines and tone popping against each other. His breath hitches when he feels your own puffing across it, his chest immobile while he waits to feel something more from you, but you don’t kiss him, don’t nip him, don’t caress him there.

“I’ve only come to take your sheets to wash them— I should already be downstairs,” you insist and he mopes, your voice softly carrying throughout the bright bedroom, limbs absent-mindedly wrapping around his firm ones until he clings to you.

“Oh,” he hums, tipping his body until you roll under him onto the no-longer-fresh sheets, landing on your back with his hands cradling your head. His handsome smile makes you forget you ever needed to take his sheets in the first place, and when he kisses you deeply, moaning low when you open up for him and his bare skin slides over you, you don’t even remember where you are. “Thought you’d wanted some more of me…”

“Mmm, Jack— she’s already a little suspicious of me,” you giggle, wriggling underneath his heavy weight and it’s a futile effort beneath his affection, his lips laying warm insistent kisses all over your forehead, your cheeks, your jaw. He’s unstoppable, whether it’s the heaviness or the happiness that makes you lie there and take it with quiet laughter as the rough skin of his cheek touches gently to yours. 

Jack is as much the sunshine of the room as the real thing, chuckling sweetly along with you and growing more pleased the louder your squealing sounds become, your fingers pulling across the bare skin of his back— he likes it too much to let you off in a timely manner.

Mrs. Adler had only just believed your excuse of a poor sleep as you’d rushed out in a tizzy with your disheveled hair and clothes, and a terrible flourish of panic had bloomed in your chest at the thought of an unchecked mark lingering on your neck. But Jack had looked you over meticulously; deft fingers had worked at the laces of your layers. And even before making it to the kitchen, two dozen kisses wet on your thighs, you’d opened the door only to find the old woman pacing about on the landing of the stairs. Slamming it shut with your back on the wood, panting in the face of confrontation, Jack snickered and peeked out for you a minute later, confirming your chance to slip out undetected.

Now finished serving breakfast, Jack once again prevents you from carrying out your tasks.

“You’ve left me with a lastin’ impression,” he rasps, eyes crinkling as he slips a hand under your skirt and the touch tickles and inspires a giddy laugh from your throat as you swat him away, at last slipping out from under him. 

“Give me your sheets, you greedy man,” you order, lifting your chin and furrowing your brow with your arm extended. Jack purses his lips and thinks, sitting up to run a hand through his dark hair, your smile growing despite yourself when it sticks up in bulky curls to leave his contented face in view. 

“These sheets have got your smell on ‘em now,” he grins like it’s his most favoured fact in his whole life, leaning back into his palms and his cock is slowly hardening between his legs as he considers his next words, “your cum is on them.”

“Jack,” you chuckle, “you’re dirty.” Inching closer to him, his joyous face turns dark when you arrive in the middle of his strong thighs extending past the edge of the bed, “Get up, please, or I’ll have you explaining why I’m behind schedule for the second time today.”

He presses up onto his feet, his gentle scent covering you as if a fleeting spell, and before any more rational thoughts occur, your hand is reaching into his unbuttoned pants, wrapping around his hard length. His head tips back, the softest growl filling your ears and he pushes his hips forward, placing his hands on your cheeks, urging your lips to slide along his as he fucks into your tight fist. It’s a sweet kiss compared to his already desperate thrusts, his cum still streaking your thighs, inside of you, outside of you, from mere hours before.

“I told you I’d come back here tonight. We’ve plenty of time to ruin more sheets.” Your whisper earns a heavy sigh expelled onto your skin, his grip sliding down to your neck and as his mouth hangs open, you nip at his bottom lip and pull it into your mouth, a tender suckle on the plush softness. He hisses as you let it go, burying his nose into the curve of your neck, and stilling his movements with your hand, he lets you work him like that— your fingers tightly curled around his cock as you slide it in and out of your palm. 

“Fuck me,” he groans, “I better see you back here if you’re gonna touch me like this, darlin’.”

Smiling, you pump him quickly, whispering how you can still feel him as if he’s fucking you right now, how good he is, how thick, and he growls from his chest, shutting his eyes tight in concentration.

“Maybe you’ll let me touch you tonight, too, Jack, leave your ropes for another time…” Your free hand clamps around the back of his neck, twirling your fingers around the hair at the nape of it, before tugging him down for a slower kiss, capturing his striking whine in your mouth.

“Shit, darlin’... I’d do anything you say right about now… Christ,” Jack’s fingers trace the neckline of your bodice as his lips skate along your cheek, and his voice is so husky and rumbly, you almost consider a greater risk of trouble.

He makes no protest as you bend carefully, still pumping his thick cock while you yank the sheet away from the mattress, pulling back to fold it into your arms and finally leaving his hard length unattended. Jack’s eyes snap open in a crushing neediness, his displeased but wrecked voice calling after you in a bid to keep you here and he laughs incredulously, “You get back here right now.”

Backing up into the door, your lip caught in your teeth, you reach behind and find the cool handle, offering a cheeky grin before you slip away and murmur, “I’m busy.”

-

A mellow afternoon follows Jack’s disgruntled exit to the fractional post office, stealing a rushed kiss in the corner of the parlour for the mere seconds you were alone together, giddy glances spared through the window on his walk to work. You spend a small segment of your time concocting tea for Mrs. Adler who pours over the payment book, thanking you as she slides a list across the bar; it’s full of all things you know to do without the help of paper and pencil.

“How about that Mr. Daniels?”

Spluttering, you swivel on your heel, unsure of the intention of her question, your eyes mistakenly blowing wide with no answer to fill the subsequent silence. She must know, you worry, she must.

“What about him?” You query, looking down at your apron in no need of smoothing, yet your hands fiddle with the pockets, and her amused scoff scrapes through your uneasy stance.

“My, you’d better sleep well tonight... that man whipped those fools down in a second,” she laughs, flipping the page of the large notebook and scribbling something down with a spotted, shaky hand. 

“He did.” Wiping your face, you conceal a sliver of a smile under your hand when you think of him— ease and cockiness burned down to his big pleading eyes looking up at you for permission. “Thought you disliked him.”

“Well, I could admit we need someone like that around here more often,” she croaks as you pretend to look over the list of laundry, sweeping, cooking, cleaning. The sentiment lands somewhere uncomfortable in your chest— you no more than agree with her and you could never tell her why or how.

“Oh, and dear, the sheriff came by this morning,” she adds, relaying his spiel of reports.

Only the most notable happenings make it over from town to town, lawlessness rendering crime nothing more than irrelevant. It takes a mass robbery, or a mammoth fire, or an offense so deeply doused and coloured red in rage to make the rounds of neighbouring settlements, so when Mrs. Adler shares the spreading news of heightened gang exploits a little ways north, your heart sinks and adopts a painfully heavy sensation.

“He advises to be extra careful,” she finishes with a stern look, “they could be coming here for all we know. Those Statesman men are horrible…”

“Statesman?” you echo her words, scouring the back of your mind to place the familiarity of that name, but she smiles in return to soften your worried brow. Statesmen, a Statesman. You’d read it somewhere, embellished into leather or stitched into the label of a visitor’s coat while tidying.

“I wouldn’t worry too much. If anything, girl, that Daniels boy should be of use.”

A challenge not to snicker, she gives you, when she tells you not to fuss, as if you’ve got the liberty to enjoy the outdoors where a vigilant attitude is required— but Jack is the remedy, you think, eyeing the stray strands of her brittle grey hair twisted up, scrunching your nose.

“Alright, Mrs. Adler,” you agree, passing her through to the laundry closet.

The air is stuffy inside the small, shelved room, where pleasing, cooling, tiny splashes pepper your forearms as you pour the water bucket into one of the tubs, then grabbing the soap, you flump onto the short stool and drag the laundry basket to your side. The first sheet on the pile is the last one you’d taken— Jack’s— carrying his heady and wood-fiery scent now mingled with yours. With a vibration of anticipation up your spine, your thoughts twirl upon your admittedly cruel handling of his need— tonight, you’re surely in for it.

The usual, slowly passing and hot hours fill with inescapable reveries toeing the line of unrealistic: a cloudy day in bed, a sunny evening at the river, clothes discarded to the side. Shaking those heart string-stretching thoughts and trading for a better focus, you hang the wringed sheets on the line as the last blazes of the sun spread over the field, and take a moment to rest your elbows on the log fence at the back of the yard overlooking the vast, lush area. 

Something heavy, once more, tugs at your weary limbs, watching the calm breeze push along the beige blades of plant-life, and you think of Sylvie— her bright mane and soothing demeanor, the rush of riding with her and him. The thrill no longer chased, waiting for you still. There must be a few months worth left of him, two at the least, perhaps enough to soothe your aching heart in seeking more vibrant days. But before too long, you set back on your course of chores, trekking up to tidy the bathing rooms for those coming back from a dirty day.

Jack finds you there an hour later in the open door, kneeling on the floor by the bathing tub, scrubbing away at its already-shiny exterior, and he smiles under the sticky and sweaty clothes, watching the way your body jostles with movement.

“Hey, cruel woman.”

Halting, your head briefly hangs between your shoulders before you sit back on your heels and grin up at him, his weary feet leading him towards you, a set of clean clothes hanging off his arm. His shirt is sheer in some places more than others, namely his chest, damp with muscular effort. 

“Did you have a hard day, Jack?” You question, making big eyes at him from your low spot compared to his tall height, and his face grows slightly stern.

“Oh, darlin’, you know I did,” he kneels, takes your chin in his hand and you find yourself leaning up into his face, mere inches from his lips, entranced by their pouty curve. But he doesn’t kiss you. He pinches your chin harder, a deep pressure as he looks over you, taking in the way you indulgently advance until you’re on hands and knees, caged by his own, staring at him with none of the power you held this morning.

“You oughta continue what you started…” he whispers almost on your lips, never close enough to touch, your eyelids heavily drooping as you look down his torso, leading to his cock.

“Oh,” you sigh, slick pooling where he can’t see or feel it, “Jack, I can…” 

You crawl forward between his spread legs until your nose nudges the material of his pants, resting your weight back on your knees when you reach out for him, but his face is a sinister, knowing grin when steadily rises back up to stand, rocking into his heels.

“Not now, though,” he coos, swiping a damp thumb over your lip, “off you go, little lady.”

“Why—”

Whining involuntarily, you watch while he shrugs off his suspenders and closes his eyes, fluttering back open with a smirk at Mrs. Adler’s distant call for you to prepare dinner.

“That’s why.”

Your mouth hanging open, you roll your eyes, taking his calloused hand as he aids you upward from the hard floor, though he finally gives you a greeting of a peck on the cheek, “Later, angel, you can show me what you’ve been thinkin’ about all day.”

Nudging your body, he sends you off to your chores in a frazzled state and shuts the door with a wink, settling in to wash himself off from the dust and dirt.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so needy, it nearly feels stupid to still have the crushing weight of wanting Jack as you chop ingredients, peek into cupboards, fill plates. It’s even worse when he sits at the table, clean and fresh and irresistibly smooth, chatting in easy conversation with Mrs. Crockett who enjoys his company dearly as she tells him uninteresting stories of her husband. 

He watches your back as you turn about the steps, as you pass along plates to each person, and he brushes his fingers purposely along yours when you arrive at his spot, a gesture to offer his silent token of appreciation. Your breath catches, and his wink sets it free again through a quiet sigh, smiling sweetly for him. He tries not to laugh, you notice, and you stop yourself from touching his shoulder here in front of everyone— namely Mrs. Crockett, who has also made a poor reputation of gossip and a budding friendship with Mrs. Adler who is closest to her in age. The last thing you can manage is a rumour about your little life; by that point you’d be begging Jack to take you with him even before the post office is built, even with so much left to explore with him.

As the chitter-chatter diminishes down to an empty table with empty plates, and the visitors disperse into corners or run off to different buildings— they always come back for dinner to get their money’s worth— you sort out the dried laundry, slipping into the ladies’ rooms to aid with corsets, all with distant thoughts in a place where they shouldn’t be. They never ask about your day so much as they speak of theirs, whether time spent with their sweetheart, telling you how they prefer their things folded, or muttering how much they liked dinner. The last one you take lightly, thanking the ladies in whispers. Now, though, it doesn’t cause as much of an ache in your heart when you listen to their free and happy memories— you think of doing the same with Jack, of asking him and receiving his sweet smile in return, ready if you are.

When you finally sit at your simple vanity, it’s with a powerful sigh that you remove your boots, step out of your clothes, and trade them for your nightgown. You pull the threaded pink ribbon taut into a bow, and look over yourself in the mirror, giddy in your stomach for when the time comes to slip into Jack’s room. Judging by the clock, another half hour would do to be sure everyone has settled in so you can sneak in complete privacy, and it feels less daunting now than it ever did before.

Folding your petticoat to lay the soft cotton on the tabletop, you hear the handle click and turn and you gasp fiercely in response, rising from the chair as Jack all but barrels in, haphazardly shutting the door before swooping you into his arms.

“Oh, my—” you squeal, cut off by a rough kiss that you eagerly return, bombarded with the scent of his soap and shaving cream. You only urge him off with your hands sneaking between your bodies to press on his chest and ask a burning question, his lips not wanting to part from you. It’s a tiny struggle but he eventually gives way, fondly looking down at you as you speak. “Did anyone see you?”

“Hall was empty. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ of you… lost my damn patience,” he croons, plushy lips open on your neck, leaving kisses that bloom into pleasant flourishes of need like ink dipped into water. It’s a new spot that you allow him to explore, bringing your hands up his wide shoulders as you turn around the room together, stepping at random. “Had to keep from touchin’ myself and dreamin’ of you…”

You wrap your arms around his neck, reeling him in closer for a whisper against the shell of his ear.

“You don’t have to dream, Jack, I’m here.”

His breath stutters uncharacteristically and it must be your chance to keep him like this, his pleasure dependent on what you decide to do with him— so you pin your front to his and he grunts, giving a miniscule, testing rut back.

“No more teasin’?” he asks hopefully, sweet brown eyes glowing in the low light of your little lamp. “You weren’t so nice this morning…”

“Oh, Jack, I’m not so sure about that.”

In a mirror of the morning, you slip your hand lower to find his cock hard again, splaying your fingers over its thick length and rubbing over the fabric. He squeezes your waist, digging his thumbs in helplessly as he staves off a groan in a bid to keep what willpower is still left with him, then loses it all when you place a simple kiss to his collarbone, not open or rough or wet— just plain, pressed lips to his skin, and he asks you for more.

“Will you let me touch you this time?” you murmur, urging him backward onto the bed. He slumps over the mattress, eyes trained on your face as he places himself further up with his legs spread, palms sinking into the covers. He swallows thickly when he takes you in: standing over him in the sheer, light fabric of your nightgown, its lace edges bordering the slopes of your body.

“I want you in my mouth,” you continue, lowering yourself to your knees, hands over his own as he shuts his eyes and breathes deep, long breaths, grunting when he feels your fingers working at his buttons. “Think I’ve earned it.”

“You could ask me for anything you want, darlin’... shit—” His thighs tense under your ministrations as you reach in and pull his cock out, the tip of it shining in his own, generous arousal. He looks down from himself to your sparkling eyes, and cups your cheek in his large hand, its smoothness traveling down the curve of your face. “Anything you want.”

His lip twitches, mouth falling delicately open and his eyes shutting once more as you place your tongue flat at the base, licking upward, circling around the head while you watch his face strain and pull, his neck sticking out prominently. He’s gorgeous when you touch him like this, still so fresh and clean from the bath. The warm drips of precum glide slowly on your tongue as you hold it out, then wrap your lips around him, whining when he fists through your hair and cramps his fingers.

“That mouth is just about gonna kill me already,” he rasps, bucking his hips up a smidge to perch himself deeper in your mouth, your hand rising to cover his at the base of your neck. Its heat is dangerous yet satisfying in its revelation of just how affected he is, a tiny spot of sweat swiping from his palm onto your neck.

Blinking up at him, you pull off, wetly sliding over half the length of him before moving back down to take more, feeling it brush against the back of your throat. You keep him there as he squeezes you harder, his spine curling over you and the new sound he makes is just begging to be heard, but he smothers it with a bite of his own lip to quiet it.

“Like that…” he sighs, carefully canting his hips forward as you wrap your fingers around his base, enveloping him and spreading the wetness of your mouth over his entire length.

He glistens like that, shimmering in the low and golden light, fisting at the blanket and your hair, puffing focused breaths every time you take him deeper, longer, sucking him harder.

Up and down, you keep your lips wrapped snugly around his cock, its throbbing heft a pleasurable weight on your tongue, the satisfying hit of the head at your throat.

“Where have you fuckin’ been,” he nearly laughs in disbelief that you’re even here, much less on your knees, much less with your mouth around him.

Pulling off for a deep breath, you trace the edges of your nightgown, eyeing him and his debauched, handsome face as you bring the lacy straps off your arms, leading them from your wrists. “I’ve always been here.” 

The fabric gathers at your waist in a soft pool of cotton and ribbon, your chest bare and level with his cock.

“Do you like that, Jack?” you preen, settling closer to him this time over the hard and truthfully painful floor— you don’t notice it as much when you feel him hitting that spot all the way down your throat.

“You know I do,” he smiles breathlessly, crinkles and that little dimple creasing in his content face. He leans down for a kiss, its nature unlike the urgency of your own mouth wetting his cock— it’s always sweet like he is to you in every other way, lingering there before you lean into the space between his legs, eager.

“I wanted you all day,” you coo, running a thumb over his tip, a saturated kiss placed there before you put him in your mouth for a brief suck, managing to keep him inside for a few short seconds. “I should have felt so tired after what you did to me, but all I could think of was this.”

Sucking in a sharp breath, he then lets it go in a gravelly sigh as he holds your bobbing head in his hands, spanning the sides of your face. Your forehead brushes his soft stomach as you push down, hollowed cheeks hugging every inch of him and he jolts, driving himself the smallest bit further, moaning at the tight and wet sensation of you. You pump him, looking so falsely innocent between his legs, your chest and shoulders bare for him to admire, peeking out of the fine gown.

“Keep goin’ darlin’, I’m gonna fill that pretty mouth up... know you want it down your throat, bet you thought about havin’ my cum drippin’ from your mouth all day, too, hm?”

Licking the tip and rubbing him faster, you nod fervently, opening wide in a stretch to finish him off with firm squeezes and strokes, his breaths now raggedly rough from above you every time he hits that spot. Your mouth is hot on his skin and he warns you he’s going to cum soon, he’s going to fill your mouth up nice and good, and you shut your eyes tight in concentration, focused on the thick feel of him sliding in and out between your lips.

“Wanna see you when I fill you baby doll, c’mere n’ look at me.” Jack’s fingers brush the underside of your chin, and you strain to look upward before you slide your hand over his slick cock. He tenses up by another degree, his chest and forehead damp, throat straining as he swallows thickly. 

A final squeeze and he cums all over your extended tongue, the milky liquid sliding off and onto your chest as he moans through gritted teeth, dazed as you are as you both watch it drip all over your exposed half. You swallow what remains in your mouth, letting your jaw drop to show him your now clean slate.

Bending into you and still panting, he smiles, streaking his thumb down your chin to gather up what’s left, guiding it into your open mouth. Heart racing, you take it in, your enthusiastic glow causing his face to soften.

His gaze drifts south to linger on your glimmering chest, pressing his palm flat and firm into the slight pool of it. He paints you with it, spreading his cum all over each breast with a clear sheen from the separation, special attention granted to each nipple with a flick of his wet thumb. Its initial warmth has cooled and with it lingers a soothing cover over your front as you lay your cheek over his knee, toying with the worn laces of his boots.

“Now… how to thank my darlin’ girl and her perfect fuckin’ mouth…” Jack wonders aloud as he cups your cheeks in his hands and puts a contrasting, innocent kiss to your forehead.

Grinning up at him and placing your hands over his, you tell him that’s all you wanted to give him, all you needed was to finally feel him in your mouth.

“Well,” he whispers, “I wanna show you what I was thinkin’ about all day long.”

The spark in your eyes must be a blinding one, his hands gliding over the slope of your body as you work yourself back onto your feet, your knees throbbing and sore. Wincing, you balance yourself on his broad shoulders, glancing down to notice his eyes not relieved of their dark hunger.

“Jack, you’re…”

“Not done, angel,” he finishes for you, and that’s when you feel it, the slick dripping past your core to spread slightly down your squeezing thighs. He pushes his sleeves up as the corner of his lip tugs upward too, straight teeth glinting the same as his eyes.

“Your turn, then,” you murmur, parting his hair through your fingers. It falls back into place, his pillowy and gentle lips finding yours as he stands with you, always chasing you, waltzing you backward until your ass bumps against the thick windowsill.

“I was choppin’ wood, thinkin’ of settin’ you right here,” he confesses lowly, ensuring the curtains are drawn completely open with a quick swipe of his hands over the gauzy lengths previously covering the glass, “thinkin’ of fuckin’ you on my fingers like this.”

You situate yourself properly on the sill and he steps back, taking a comically focused once-over of your seated body, but the desire is still so thick it doesn’t even bring you to laugh when he hurriedly comes back to you. He spreads your thighs wide, his palms a fiery heat that couldn’t be further from where you want it.

Tugging at his collar, you reel him in to place an open kiss just under his ear. “Give it to me how you want.”

The glass cools the staggering temperature on your skin as he knocks you into it, your back sticking to its chilly surface in the midst of his swirling breaths, ghosting the edges of your shoulders before he hikes your thighs up higher to his waist.

“You ready for me?” he murmurs with a husky voice, and it’s a powerful shock from your head to your toes, seeing how easily he’s worked back up to needing you as he lowers a hand to your core. His fingers part you, a slick and effortless slip through your folds to your entrance. “Darlin’... you’re soakin’ my hand already. Did suckin’ my cock do all this to your sweet little cunt?”

A hushed, restrained sound tears from you and is quieted by his mouth covering yours when he rubs his calloused fingers over your clit, rasping those low words sweetly into you, nipping your bottom lip between his teeth as the digits travel lower. The arousal dripping from your cunt makes that first slide so easy, Jack bottoming out to his knuckles with a soft sigh. His stomach nearly touches your own still covered by the bunched nightgown and he pauses there, a reassuring squeeze to your side and then a smooth gracing of his free hand to hold your thigh tight to himself.

“This is where I’ve wanted to be,” he confesses, his nose drawing a line from your shoulder, delicately down to your chest as he bends and swipes his tongue broadly over your sensitive nipple. The signals from your brain to your muscles are jumbled now, feeling the heat of his wet tongue tasting the cum on your chest— it’s out of your control when you arch your back into him and whine, when your fingers tangle into his hair and tug.

He responds in a groan, licking across your skin to your unattended nipple which he suckles on gently, lapping at it. Jack curls his two thick fingers before straightening out to kiss you fleetingly on your lips; he parts and watches your eyes intently, a stray curl falling to hang between his brows.

“So full already, hm?” he teases, his thumb swiping slow patterns on your clit, and you lean further back into the glass with a pant, its surface no longer able to cool you down.

“Yes,” you manage to respond in a gasp as he grants a second, deeper hit, a slight slapping sound causing you both to hug each other tighter and chuckle.

“Tight, sweet thing,” he groans, extended curls and strokes stretching you wholly around his hand, “take my fingers just right. Is that it, darlin’, were you made for me to fill you?”

“Mm,” you suck in sharp breaths, “mhm, you fill me up, Jack, you fill me up so good.” 

You wrap your arms around his neck, and his chin hooks onto your shoulder, digging into it hard as he holds you with one toned arm snaking around your waist. Like this, your damp chest brushes his, his fingers pump and work you open another smidge wider as he pushes in, grinds his palm against your clit, pulls his fingers out a fraction of the way. The motions of his hips against his own wrist are gentle, unhurried for now, having already cum into your slack mouth.

With the flat of his free palm caressing your back through soft strokes, he draws his lips back and forth over the curve of your neck.

“You know what I see?” he asks, urging his knuckles deeper in the hardest plunge he's given you tonight, an agonizingly fiery touch to your clit. “Men, walkin’ around all dumb— could see me fuckin’ you right here on my hand if they’d just look up— shit, they got no clue I’m feelin’ the wettest little pussy, huh?”

“Fuck, Jack,” your nails dig into the lean and muscular bulge of his biceps as he keeps you upright against the glass, your thighs squeezing him so close he can hardly fuck you anymore— he just rubs and grinds his hand against you while remaining far inside your aching pussy, soaking his already drenched fingers with more slick.

“And only I’m gonna watch you cum,” he adds in a grunt, working himself into you with every last drop of energy he’s saved, his soft moans and sharp teeth spurring you closer to coming all over his perfect fingers. You might have gone longer if not for the irreversible, desperate need for him that sucking his cock had instilled in you— had you nearly dripping onto the floor, your body left unimaginably sensitive that each time he brushes up against you now, you dig deeper into his skin. He likes it though, and it makes him move with a crazed edge, his moans transforming into snarls.

“Only you…” you echo, starting to grind with him yourself, rolling into and meeting his short, fast thrusts, every muscle tensing and straining and it’s so close, almost there—

“There you go, doll, can feel you squeezin’ me so tight… cum on my hand, fuckin’ soak me, c’mon…”

“Jack, Jack I’m gonna—” Urgently, you tap at his shoulder with wide eyes and worried brows as you feel it start to happen, knowing how close you are to crying— your nails dig into his shoulders so intensely when you cum, jaw dropped and eyes shut and he makes a wincing yet completely pleased noise into your mouth; it’s cruel. You manage not to make a peep at the cost of losing large breaths, and it makes your orgasm all the more intense: light headed, woozy, and tingling numbness reaching the length of your body.

“Sweeter than fuckin’ honey when you do that,” he smiles widely, until his mouth drops fully open at the way you hug his hand inside from coming so hard around him. Your slick gathers between your thighs and you still can’t breathe, his face buried into the spot under your jaw as he pulls them out of you, dragging the pads up to your clit while the rest of it spreads throughout your folds. He stares down at it, at the wetness dripping and glistening from your core, and he groans again, blinking slowly.

Placing his palms on the sill by either side of your trembling figure, he hums, your smile against his skin buzzing at his insatiable drive, how he’d fucked your mouth and your pussy with such short rest, feeling the damp hair at the back of his neck. He drops his head down as an offering and you take him in a gentle cradle, kissing his forehead as he’d done to you while he nestles. He looks up and back down, waiting for another, your fingers smoothing the unruly hair from his face.

“Hell, if I don’t wanna fuck that pretty pussy every night till I die,” he exhales, another glance at his wet fingers, dropping a kiss to your collarbone.

“Oh, Jack,” you laugh, your heels hitting the wall underneath you, “if only you were here for that long.” 

His face scrunches a little in confusion before his lips curve, “How many times do I have to remind you I ain’t leavin’ so soon?”

“As many times as it takes,” you whisper, fingers scratching down his arms, his own dipping into your cunt again without a warning, “fuck—”

“Yeah, baby doll,” he croons, “I got somethin’ to prove to you still?”

You nod with a greedy smirk and he retracts his fingers, taking them into his mouth after drawing a line between your breasts to taste your mingled releases, moaning in your ear. “Go n’ get on the bed. You’re gonna ride my face.”

A shiver chills your spine, mainly at the way his voice has dropped a miraculous third time, his hand landing a light swat on your ass when you pass him, shaky legs taking you toward the mattress. He follows to lay on his back, perpetually pleased with himself, arms outstretched and beckoning you forward. You crawl up to him and you can feel your own cum streaking your thighs as you move, soon beside his large body, and he raises his brows impatiently, “Well go on, sugar, I wanna taste some more of that.”

Stretching his neck every which way, his eyes crinkle as he grins between your thighs while you throw one over his shoulder and his arms fall behind him, fingers searching for yours until he laces them together, squeezing.

“You’re not tired yet, old cowboy?” you tease lightly, the force of it lost when he gives a broad swipe of his tongue and moans yet another time, indulgently, swallowing the remnants of your previous release.

“I ain’t ever gonna tire of this,” he replies, another lick from your entrance to your clit, such an easy slip of the muscle, your sensitivity dialed up too many extra notches. His brows knit together in effort, rough cheeks pleasantly scratching on your skin when he moves his head side to side, tongue hanging out of his mouth and edging with a perfect pressure all over your sensitive bud.

“I’d hope not,” you exhale, grinding your hips over his wet mouth until his grip moves to your thighs to prevent you from moving. His eyes look up at you keenly as he closes his lips around your clit and sucks, your head tipping in silent rapture as you take it all for him without the relief of motion. 

“We go real nice together,” he grumbles into your slick center. Tightening the hold of your thighs, he laves his tongue all over you in focused circles, faster, with just enough force for your legs to start shaking around his handsome face, for another gush of arousal to spread over his swollen lips. All that’s left for you to handle it is to scream it out, how good he makes you feel, how precious, but the house is so silent and only you can hear the slick sounds of his mouth on your clit— he won’t even let you rub yourself over him. You can only bite your lip and hold your breath, yet little puffs and moans sneak out when he does something unforeseen, like a single bite on your thigh or a gentle nip to challenge you— it’s all on purpose and easily noticed by his gratified face.

He tugs your clit a short, miniscule distance and lets it go, shaking his head when you mope over the loss of contact.

“Are you tryin’ for me, sugar?”

“You’re being tough on me,” you whine, shimmying further up his body to regain his lips that are brightly shining.

“If I ain’t tough then it ain’t right,” he whispers, “stay still and quiet for me and I’ll take you out again.”

He tips his head down and forward, swiping his prominent nose to spread you further open, but you don’t even consider the promise of a gift, your focus on the return of his soaked tongue to your throbbing core, biting hard on your lip to quell the need to cry.

“Is my darlin’ gonna come? You gonna cum all over my face? Gimme another one, dolly.” His mouth latches back onto your clit and you can’t think, much less form an answer in your blank head where all you see is white, or maybe blinding stars, or just plain nothingness as you let go, his moustache wet with you, his lips dripping.

By some miracle, the scream you fend off becomes so high pitched in your throat that nothing makes it out of you save for the helpless cry of, “Jack!” as you tremble around his cheeks.

“Yes,” he grunts, and thank goodness it’s muffled by your soaking core; your fingers finally escape his hold to grip at his hair with a fierce, unforgiving tug, and that softer sound fills the room again while your body freezes up and you cum harder this time, covering him, coating him. He grumbles something again, but it’s nothing you could hope to make out in the crushing wave of pleasure that hits you— the light sensation does not leave you, though the shaking eases off as Jack places a tender kiss to your clit, and you jolt at just that velvet brush, his eyes turning sympathetic. You breathe deep, slumping with great exhaustion and the dazed happiness of having him in your room now as you lift your thigh from his body and he leans his head up to grant a quick kiss while it slips away from him.

“Knew you could be quiet,” he smiles under the shine of your second release, resting his arms open over the blanket to welcome you into them.

“As if you don’t make it hard.” Huffing, it’s with a reciprocal smile that you crawl back to him, nearly toppling over on your way with the weakness of his own power against your body, and he chuckles at you, not shying away from his joyous teasing when you throw him a half-glare.

“Did I wear you out again?” he questions, guiding you into his side, turning his body over yours to swipe his tangy tongue over your bottom lip.

Whimpering, it turns into a cheerful giggle as he drops pecks over your nightgown, wrapping his finger around the tail of the ribbon. 

“You just keep going, don’t you, Jack?” you cup his face in your hands, and it’s now that he adopts a sheepish expression, turning his eyes away to tilt his neck and kiss your stomach once more.

“Until you ask me to stop, darlin’.” He lends two more kisses, one to each breast, and then gathers the straps of your nightgown from the pooling of fabric underneath your chest, tenderly helping your arms through the holes. You admire him quietly as you sit up to ease the gesture, letting his fingers guide the intricate lace edges back to your shoulders. He pats the cotton down to smooth it, your thumb stroking over his left eyebrow. His hands pry under you to wrap his arms around your middle, his cheek resting over your belly as you scratch through his dark hair. 

“I think you’re softer than you realize,” you whisper, twirling a lock around your finger and he peeks up, the apples of his cheeks rising in a twinkling smile.

“I can shoot a gun a million times but I sure don’t like it more than kissin’ you,” Jack coos, tickling up your sides and swatting away your protesting hands until you make an involuntary squeak and his eyes widen, hurriedly covering your mouth with his own. You titter over his smooth lips, his weight pinning you as he opens his mouth, taking more. “I’d think I’d have sold my soul to the devil to end up here with you if I didn’t know any better.”

You let the next bubbling ripple of affection take over you when he whispers that with his gleaming eyes, and you kiss him three more times, each slower than the last.

He rests there for some time, indulging in the carding of your fingers over his scalp, and he ensures you’ve drifted off before he rises in search of a cloth. He finds a green one folded by your petticoat, his fingers briefly dragging across its white lace before he dips the cloth in the small dish of water left beside it. He crawls back up beside you, lazily yet with careful attention guiding it under your slip and over your breasts, relieving you of the stickiness. You stir but don’t wake— his touch is too light, yet still unlike a feather— he cleans you off, sets the cloth back in its spot, and resumes his position, nestled up next to you.

-

Sneaking into Jack’s room— or him into yours— becomes a habitual routine after the goodnight click of Mrs. Adler’s door, though you often find yourself with an early visitor with eyes too bright and a needy little grin on his face. It follows his giddy lips on your neck hours before in scarce moments of isolation from other guests, or after he’s stared too long across the bar, and to ease the tension, he’ll ride to take Sylvie to stretch her legs, a sympathetic look on his face at the door knowing you can’t join.

And he wears you out. Nightly. A simmering threat to your timeliness in the morning that you can’t let go of. A single time, he’d taken the sheets with him in a rapid roll onto the floor as Mrs. Adler knocked and knocked outside, calling for you to rise, until she barged in and the thump had to be blamed on yourself, standing in your disheveled chemise. Her shifty eyes become less of a fear in your head and more of a laughing stock, though not as much as Jack was in his stupid course of action to thump on the floor behind the side of the mattress, taking the blankets, too.

His dignity is not lost, though, each time you press on him about it— his grip tightens over your thighs as you straddle his lap, feeling the impression of his leather settling into your skin.

A rare clump of clouds settles over town the following week, lingering long enough to darken this evening further and forcing an early lighting of the lamps inside, a cozy glow over the hectic and crazed state of the bar.

“Let’s not slack, dearie,” Mrs. Adler sings in her urgently high-pitched voice as you handle the treacherous beast of the card game hours, handling too many requests for the strongest liquor from the cabinet, working your wrists as you open new bottles and impatient sighs crumble out of overworked throats.

Jack glances at her, a rapid flick of his angry eyes as he sets his glass of whiskey down, furrowing his brows in obvious disagreement with her words.

“She’s doin’ fine,” you hear him grumble, and you don’t have it in you to turn and face him to offer your surely-silencing glare, and without it he continues, “think we could offer a little patience.”

Chest fluttering, you shut your eyes with a bothersome huff, setting your hands flat over the counter as you wait for Mrs. Adler’s response, and the other men waiting at the dining table chat over things well beyond you, another fleeting mention of the Statesmen— but Jack remains silent along with her, and you can already picture the way he must be maintaining a hard stare at the old woman to leave her increasingly frazzled.

“My girl does this every day,” she states primly, blocking his view of your back with her own body after an uncoordinated waddle, “you keep out of it.”

Jack scoffs, soft but pointed, the wood groaning under the slide of his glass as he moves it aside, “If you cared to notice, ma’am—”

Spinning on your boot, away from the assortment of glasses set over the counter in their stage of finishing touches, you raise a hand, his first name almost slipping out until you choke on the unspoken word, widened eyes earning a mirrored expression from Jack, “It’s alright, Mr. Daniels,” you soothe, and his smirk is much too telling in his amusement of your spluttering, that you’d called him the old, proper name.

Mrs. Adler huffs a victorious breath as she checks over the full and heavy tray, granting approval while you giggle at Jack’s silly face made behind her back, followed by a wink of his eye. 

He closes his eyes as Mrs. Adler finally limps off into her study— what she achieves in there he does not know— and watches you with affection and a warming dose of admiration in his stomach as you handle the tray, setting down shining crystal glasses on the table, a soft smile on your face as the youngest card player offers his thanks. They rarely ever do.

“You look real nice,” he drawls as you round the counter, his elbows sliding along the surface as he leans in, all sparkling eyes and teeth with his wide grin as he follows your steps. “I think I’d like to get my hands on—”

His words fall away to a whisper as you shake your head in feigned annoyance, the laughter stealing your breath as you lean opposite him, taking in the sly look on his face and the pull of his shirt across his shoulders. His hand reaches for yours, tentatively, and you’re powerless against the sweet touch on your fingers as he traces them out, pulling your palm into a bed of his two hands. 

You watch as his eyes set on the random patterns he draws, eyelashes curling against his face every time he blinks, your conscious mind soon oblivious to your placement in relation to the large group at the dining table— but it doesn’t matter. They’re as absorbed in their gambling as you are in his focused touch and feel, your heart an obnoxious flutter when he smiles up at you, a perfect mix of kind and sultry darkness. 

“I’d like to get my hands on you,” he murmurs, those repeated words spoken lower this time and with a twinkle, raising the back of your hand to his lips. A gentle press, your eyes locked together in a soft gaze to match, and he gives you back your hand as the spell of slowed-time is broken by a shocking round of cheering from the group behind you both.

With a subdued grin, you ease yourself away from the magnetic pull of your lips to his, “You’ve always got your hands on me.”

“And in,” he huffs, stifling a snicker at the fifth roll of your eyes today, watching the ends of your tied apron’s ribbon swing around over the length of your skirt. 

“You’d better find something to do in the meantime, or I’ll be asking Mrs. Adler to send you off herself.”

Jack shudders in a fake paddy of fear, the miniscule shakes of his body diminishing the sooner he realizes the severity of your words, and he merely chuckles. “Why’d you want to get rid of me?”

The pleading pull of his face and the wide and warm eyes he gives are somehow not enough to stop you from gesturing your head towards the pile of dirty dishes from dinner, waiting beside the basin. “You’re distracting.”

“Sweetpea, I’m ‘fraid that’s what you’ve got yourself caught up in,” Jack rests his chin in his palm, eyeing the clearing weather outside, “if you insist on woundin’ me, I think I’ve got a horse who needs to go for a ride, and a little lady who’ll have to join us next time…”

“I’ll see you later, Jack,” you whisper, rounding the edge of his ear with your fingers, easing his hair back into place and he adopts a light blush— softer things always more efficient in pausing his heartbeat than harsher things— and he grabs his hat left to the side of him, placing it over his head and bidding you a caring goodbye, “Miss me, darlin’.”

-

Once the room has cleared at last, leaving you in that familiar spot with soapy hands, sore feet, and a wandering mind, you arrange the wet dishes to dry, stacking each on top of the other with meticulous attention. You dry your hands on the fabric of your apron, rough cotton soaking up the water, your back leaning into the hard edge of the bar behind you. The strain in your neck grows sharper as you push your head back, groaning, willing away the next few hours until you can put your feet to rest upon Jack’s lap. 

And at the thought of him, a whistle from the exterior shoots your stream of mental pictures down as your head whips to look out the window, and there he is— Jack, thighs spread wide over Sylvie’s back as he urges her to stop, his eyes straining to find you through the window. Stomach twisting, you make a speedy trip to the stash of berries hidden away, and you pull a handful of them into your apron’s pocket before sparing the parlour a thorough peek and slipping out the front door.

It’s not loud enough for you to make out, but it must be Jack’s voice in a baby soft tone as he tells Sylvie what sounds like “there she is,” with a pat between her perky ears and a smile towards you. 

“Hello,” you grin, stepping to the edge of the porch where you meet the two of them, shamelessly devouring the way he sits tall upon her in the dying sunlight clear of clouds, dark clothes, dark hair, dark eyes, a bandana hugging his neck under his glistening throat. “Back so soon?”

“It was her idea,” Jack pokes, leaning back in the saddle as Sylvie adjusts her hooves into place over the dust and sparse blades of wheatgrass. “Suppose I had to lead her here, though…”

With a hand gliding along her wide neck, you watch his smile only grow in size as he watches you gather the berries from your pocket and throw a quizzical look his way, to which he nods enthusiastically, leaning forward again to watch and guide.

You call her name softly, approaching her from a better angle, and she makes an odd pattern with the movement of her head before she digs into your offered palm of treats, her wide mouth a great tickle on your skin that you try not to flinch at.

“Nice girls,” Jack whispers, swiping his hand over Sylvie’s shoulder, then turning his attention to you. “No more flak from the lady, I’m hopin’?”

“No, haven’t seen her since,” you giggle, “you know, Jack, that was kind what you did, but I am still fine.” 

Sylvie chomps down the rest of your stash of berries, licking the leftover juices off your palm as you gasp, retracting your arm, and Jack extends his hand far across to you in a warm beckoning. You give him the dry one and he laughs when he notices, “I ain’t afraid of no horse’s mouth,” steering you around to where he’s sat on the saddle.

“You’re not even afraid of Mrs. Adler,” you say bluntly, resting your laced hands over the meat of his thigh and then your chin on top, and Jack stares down at your widened eyes, his chest stuttering with a slightly choked breath.

“I came here to see you, darlin’, to tell you somethin’.” Running his thumb over your hand, he starts to lean his body down, your own straightening for his lips to meet your ear in a warm breath, sending ice down your spine and a melting heat between your thighs.

He waits for your prompt, his radiating need causing your posture to wither as you slant up and into him, “What is it?”

Whatever upward curve your lips adopted seconds before falls away as your eyes close, that heat between your thighs now wetter, your grip on his leg tight enough to pinch.

“I’m gonna take you out again tonight, gonna lay you in the grass and fuck you dumb, listenin’ to you whine loud as you can.”

He’s utterly pleased with the visible, hitching breath you can no longer take in, your chest pausing in its stunted passing, and he straightens up his back again to look down at you with his face shadowed under his hat. “Ain’t that somethin’ old girl, the little lady is speechless…” Jack coos to the horse and she puffs, followed by another pat of her hoof on the ground, and his grin is a mix of genuine and egotistical happiness.

“Jack,” you purr, all bothered and wobbly-knees, a helpless look in your eye as you tug the looped rope, and he prepares to ride back off. He doesn’t partake in your pleading this time, instead giving a squeeze of his legs over Sylvie’s back.

“Same place, darlin’,” he calls, “I expect you.” 

A backward glance and a tip of his hat as courtesy— or to make up for his foolish teasing— and his figure dies off in the gunpowder dust behind him and his girl, his jacket the same one you’d worn your first time away. 

-

It’s cool and dark the next time you step out onto the porch, carefully shutting the door behind you, locking it with your key. You rub your hands over the sides of your arms as you creep over the wood, peeking past the pillars before descending the three short steps. Same place, he’d said, so you set off in the direction of the stables, bathed in the soft light of the spaced lamp posts, the same exhilarating rush as the first time bubbling head to toe. 

“Ever heard of a sweet little maid ‘round here?” Jack’s happy rumbling sounds just behind you, turning into laughter at the yelp you let out, its sound squeaky and fearful until he catches you by the waist, pulling your back into his chest to sway your body around aimlessly. “Works for a Mrs. Adler, prettiest face you ever saw…”

An endeared giggle falls out of you, mouth covered immediately by your hand when he comes to place his chin on your shoulder, his fingers pressing tightly to your middle. His clothing feels rough by your neck, unlike anything else you’ve felt him wearing against you, but his cheek is soft and freshly shaven, his lips hungrily kissing behind your ear.

“Oh, I’m not so sure I have…” you murmur, allowing yourself to sink backward into his promising support, and his hum is sweet into your skin when you say so, arms squeezing you just enough for your feet to lift from the ground. 

“She’s got angel eyes,” he whispers, a finger coming to trail down your cheek as he lets you back down, until his hand cups your chin, turning your head sideways to capture your lips in a deep, swelling kiss. Your own hand rises to mirror his gesture, knees suddenly like water with their wobbly weakness, and the ball of your foot scrapes over the dust as he tugs you even closer, tasting your lips. 

“That might ring a bell,” you smile when you finally part, stroking your thumb over his jaw. He likes the way it feels, tilting himself further into your light grip of his face. The world surrounding you will never be the same level of interest when he stands before you— a daydream of an outing only seems as sweet if he’s there. A guidance, of sorts, a protector.

Roaming your eyes over him, a surprised gasp follows that welcoming kiss when you notice his top half covered in a navy blue poncho, its edges finished with white tassels and the wool adorned with white lines making intricate patterns over the length and width of it.

“Where have you been hiding this from me?” you simper, picking up the edge of it to feel the slightly scratchy material. He grins, weight shifting to one foot with a cocked hip, hands resting at the base of his suspenders underneath.

“Hidin’ it?”

“You’ve always got that jacket on,” you murmur, leaning upward, grabbing his face in an internal fit of fondness at seeing him covered in the blanket-like garment, giving him a harsher kiss that surprises him enough to nearly stumble backwards. He gains his balance, beaming against your mouth as he steadies the both of you, the world returning.

“You sure keep me on my toes, little lady,” he breathes, brows raised in bashfulness that you forget he has stored in that cocky brain. “Don’t you stop.”

Humming, your hand falling to rest on his chest as you recall more private contexts to his last words, you notice he wears a cross-body leather satchel underneath the poncho. “What have you got in there?”

“I can’t be full of surprises if you wanna make me spill ‘em all,” he teases, pushing his nose into yours, “come on, just you n’ me tonight.”

With your fingers laced together, Jack leads you through the familiar field to an unfamiliar spot at the top of a climbing hill, large rocks worsening the upward trek under the minimal light.

His hands find the backs of your thighs as he helps you over the last hump and your frustrated huff gets lost in your throat when you realize his hands are helping you up under your skirt instead of over.

“Jack,” you guffaw, using your biceps to push up and over the hard surface and he plays dumb behind you, a deep chortling following as you roll over to the flat space of dry grass above it. Looking ahead you notice a small gathering of wood placed in a circle around the center of the clearing in the trees while Jack rolls up next to you, much more gracefully with what must be years of practice.

He shares a sideways glance with you, “What?” 

His pouty lips drag downward in his falsely innocent question, your eyes rolling without annoyance but with affection. He grabs your hand again, tugging you near the woodpile and he reaches into the satchel, revealing a box of matches in his palm.

“Is this what you did earlier?” you ask, a bewildered softness easing over your shoulders, and he nods with a grin.

“Sylvie n’ I came here to get it ready.”

Sliding the box open, he strikes the match against the rough side of the cover sleeve and the spark ignites a smoking, small flame that he holds to a coil of waxed thread under the arranged sticks and wood. It catches on and flourishes upward, sprinkling tiny sparks that rise then fall by Jack as he recoils, standing back up to his feet.

“How’s that?” he looks at you, pulling you into his warm side, your fingers instinctively wrapping around a tassel. You raise your other hand to hover over the fire, its heat so pleasant and lively on your skin and you look back at him with the same fondness as always for his generous gifts, that might not even be considered a gift to anyone else but you.

“Thank you, Jack.” On your tiptoes, you place a kiss on his cheek filled with all the words you can’t think to say— it’s only a campfire, and to you, it holds all his care, burning there.

“There’s more,” he whispers, and his fingers rise to touch where your lips had just been, then he looks to them and you, smiling. “Said you wished you could run,” he starts, pointing to an old, battered tin can sitting atop a tree stump several feet away, “reckon there’s a few things you’ll need to learn first.”

From underneath the wool, he pulls out one of his revolvers and it shines in the flickering fire, freshly polished. He extends his hand, your own hesitantly touching it’s handle, cupping the barrel with the other as you slowly hold it on your own.

“Jack, I really don’t know about—”

“Careful,” he coos, circling back to stand behind you and placing his hands on your hips, he helps you adjust your grip with the beginning of his lesson whispered into your ear, his hands gentle as they cover yours. “Two hands.”

“I’m not sure I’m the gun slinging type,” you whisper nervously, your palms becoming clammy just handling the weapon, and you remember when its silver glint was pointed at Mr Porter, under its power.

“Always assume a gun’s loaded,” he continues, aiding you in extending your arms out, the aim at the can improving as you go. “Feet apart.”

With the toe of his boot on the inside of your ankle, he pushes your feet further apart until shoulder-width, and your shoe slides over the dry grass as you suck in a deep breath at the physical order. 

“Hold it tighter,” he whispers next, ensuring your fingers are hugging the grip tightly, your other hand cupping the trigger guard firmly. “Don’t leave your finger on the trigger unless you’re aimed and ready.” 

Jack is rasping now, a growing hardness on your ass from watching you handle his own weapon with determination and he pinches your hips, inciting a gasp as you try to keep your arms steady.

“The cylinder's full,” he adds, “you hit the can and I’ll make good on my promise.”

With the shot of arousal that comes after his words and the reminder of his promise to fuck you hard over the grass, it’s too easy to convince yourself that you’ll miss every shot.

“Won’t somebody hear it?” you question, turning your head as far as you can and he hums thoughtfully, pinching you softer.

“It’s luck if you hear a gunshot from a distance,” Jack soothes. And it hits you, that when Mr. Porter and Mr. Bryant started shooting blindly in the house, that those were the closest bullets had ever been to you— and here, you hold them in your palms.

“Go on, sugar, knock it over and I’ll fuck you right by this fire.”

A whine escapes you before you can aim it again, the grip even sweatier than before, the fire merely a glint now as you focus on the target tin.

Locking your grip around the handle, your pointers steadying the direction, you shut one eye, then the other to test the placement, and you pull back the hammer with a stretch of your thumb.

“I’m scared,” you breathe as your arms remain pointed forward, and Jack nods, applying pressure to your shoulders with his palms.

“I’ll keep you steady. S’okay if you miss.” Jack rubs some of the tension away, your arms growing tired from holding them up as you make one last adjustment. The jolt when you pull the trigger is more powerful than you’d expected, and Jack keeps you still as your body reacts to the sharp sound and the full shock of it. The bullet only just skims the side of the can, a tinkling sound following the jarring shot from the barrel.

“Fuck,” Jack breathes, his eyes wide and his smile too, when he looks from your near-shot to your frightened face turning into confidence. He throws his hat to the side, smoothing his hand through his hair before bending slightly behind you, “that was fuckin’ close, darlin’. Go again.”

His tone is pure excitement as you shake off the last lingering threads of apprehension, and you aim again, not a one inch difference from your first shot, pulling the hammer down a second time.

You place your pointer over the solid trigger and Jack’s breath hitches as he waits and watches intently, his hands still supporting your shoulders. This time, when your upper body jostles back from the force, the shot is farther off but still close, hitting the bark where a small explosion of wood chips scatter to the grass and you startle at the cracking noise, casting a worried look to Jack.

“Keep tryin’,” he soothes, cuddling his cheek to the side of your neck as he cozies up, and you’re certain it’s not the best condition for a shooting lesson, the middle of your thighs gathering slick and your palms more nervous sweat. With a deep breath, you stretch your arms out once more, muscles pulling up tight as you adjust your feet, your eyesight on the tin can reflecting the flames of the little campfire.

“That’s it,” Jack whispers as you touch your finger to the hammer, “focus.”

Scoffing, you settle your aim, determined to ignore the way he’s still pressing up against you.

“You’re doin’ great,” his voice scratches just before you pull against the trigger’s resistance and the bullet releases, harder it feels like, and pierces the tin with an incredibly loud metallic pang, sending it fast off the stump. Although you’re not too far from it, you don’t trust it yet; looking back down at the weapon in your hand and then to him, his smile already turns smug. It’s a surprise to hit it at the same time that it’s not— luck or natural talent, you don’t think you’ll ever find out. He shakes his head with pride dripping all over, crushing you into his side with a tense squeeze of his arm, your neck fitting in the bend of his elbow.

“That’s too quick,” you breathe in modesty that Jack tells you to shush away, as your disbelieving eyes fall back on the tree stump, tin can-less. “I wasn’t far away enough.”

“Come on, darlin’.” He disembarks, jogs to the stump, picks up the can behind it. A hole burns through the center on both sides. “Still shot it on the third try.”

When he arrives at your feet again, you peer down at the silver gun in your hold. Struggling to accept your own accuracy, you slowly hand it back to him.

“It'll be harder next time,” he purrs, sliding it back into its holster pocket, “but I think you’ll make the most charmin’ gunfighter in the whole damn world.”

“That’s your title,” you smile, brushing the dark hair from his forehead, curling your fist into the wool draped over him. “And the most handsome, too.”

Jack’s chest puffs out against yours as he preens at your softly-spoken compliment, the tone of his hum pitched in a questioning way to urge you on to continue.

“I’d rather like to learn more about that lasso,” you say instead, fingering where it’s attached to his hip, and he looks at you through his eyelashes, closing his hand around the one fisted in his poncho.

“Hell, if I taught you the ropes I doubt you’d let me out of your room for a whole week, darlin’. We’d better work up to that…”

“Oh well,” you tease, perching yourself up to level your lips with his ear, “you’re too soft on me to be my teacher anyway.”

“Too soft?” He raises his brows, eager to know, causing you to step back as he advances on you.

“Too easy. I ought to shoot that can three more times from ten more feet away just to be sure I’ve learned.”

Jack lays the thick blanket next to the crackling fire after pulling it out of the satchel, motioning for you to come.

“Sugar, I’ll show you rough,” he grumbles, dragging you down to the blanket with him, your chest thumping square on his when you land, a stunted breath into his mouth. His promise, listenin’ to you whine as loud as you can, returns to you now as he holds the back of your neck and opens his lips to brush yours, nipping your lower lip to earn the first wince.

“Don’t disappoint me,” you taunt, landing yourself rolled over and pinned under his heavy weight as he lifts the poncho from his head and drapes it over your bodies, hidden and warm together as you share the fiery heat of yourselves and the physical fire beside you.

“I’d hate nothin’ more than to disappoint you.” He keeps his eyes trained on your face as his fingers creep up your leg, a soft ghosting until he reaches the stark wetness compared to your dry skin everywhere but your core and he’s already groaning at just the sensation of your slick covering his fingers. “Think I could fill you right now, hm? Soakin’ me so fast…”

“I need you to fuck me as hard as you can,” you demand, your head tipping back against the ground underneath the blanket, heat accumulating in your own makeshift tent of the dark poncho. His fingers twitch over your clit as he watches your face twist in effort to get your last coherent thoughts out, “This is where I can cry.”

“Jesus,” his head falls into your shoulder and he rubs his cock on your thigh, covered by his trousers. He’s hard and thick, just as he was watching you shoot his gun, and he lifts your skirt higher, bunching the fabric at your waist. “You always get what you ask for from me.”

Blindly searching with your fingers, you find the buttons of his trousers and pull them open, carefully taking his cock out, the tip leaking generously onto your skin. You spread it for him though it runs out quickly, but your own burning arousal is enough for the two of you as he settles himself closer, his hair flopping out of place. His moustache brushes against your temple when he spreads your legs wider, a soothing slide of your skin over the blanket before you feel his cock running through your slick folds, and it’s enough to start whining. Even the little sounds you let out at the house are suppressed and quietened— here, there is no one but the two of you.

“Give it all to me, baby doll,” he rasps over your throat as he positions himself and pushes past your entrance, slowly stretching you open on his thick cock and your thighs fall open wider, too, your breath heavy and low for him to bask in. “Ain’t that sweet…”

Jack’s eyes carry the glint of the fire beside your bodies as he stays there for some moments, letting you squirm all you need before he flattens you to the ground with his chest, cooing encouraging gentleness to contrast with the untamed way he’s going to fuck you here, on the blanket, again. His cock pushes deeper with the added mass, your whimper not enough when he finally thrusts and hits his hips to your wide-spread thighs and works the wetness of you all over his cock.

“Ja— Jack—” you whine, and his hot hand soon comes to glide over the innermost part of your thigh, rubbing it firmly as if he’s about to—

He spanks your thigh and earns the high-pitch moan he’s been working for all along, drawing himself back to return with a harsh thrust as he keeps his hand on the stinging sensation, groaning out his nose.

“Fu-uuck, there we go, that’s what I wanted,” he grunts through stunted breaths as he sets a new, punishing pace, sliding with ease in and out, hitting deep inside to brush against that satisfying spot that when he slaps the same part of your leg, the pleasure from both makes you cry louder, moan louder.

He draws the wool tighter around his back as he lowers his lips to your mouth, emitting an animalistic groan over your face when you clench around his cock and pull him in closer for another open-mouthed kiss, true and full.

“Oh, god,” you groan, his hand caressing the underside of your thigh, until he draws it up to push your knee on your chest, fitting his hand in the bend of your leg.

“Gimme more, sugar,” he demands, landing a sharp swat to the side of your ass lifted off the ground that gives him your neediest, filthiest sound yet as you fist his hair, taking his brutal pace. 

“Jack, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Fuck,” he curses back harder, “I’m gonna steal you every god damn night for this.” Jack hisses through bared teeth on your collarbone, keening when you raise your hips to meet his. The fire rises beside you at the same time a wave of building pressure in your abdomen knocks through your lower half, and you place your hands on his face, sliding them up to meet his hair.

A shaky breath puffs out of you, the sting of his spankings spreading over your leg as you crane your neck and cry out while he buries himself and grinds against your clit, “You just get wetter n’ wetter for me,” he remarks hoarsely, “just can’t help but need me, hm?”

“I... Yes,” you sigh into his heated neck, your limbs softening in their hold of him as he fucks you hard over the blanket, his grip deathly on the side of your thigh.

“I want to hear it, darlin’, say it to me,” he scrapes, his voice at the bottom of his register, and when the words get stuck in your mind and jumbled out of order from the fullness of your core, he draws himself out and rolls you onto your stomach. Mindlessly, empty, you whine with an equal hoarseness to his own, the end of it pushed out prematurely when he flattens his chest over your back, lining his cock back up with your soaking entrance.

“I’ll pull every last pretty sound you got left in you if I have to.” 

The words are a terrible blow to your senses, sparking a rapid increase in the sound of rushing blood in your ears as he pushes your thigh up to the side and presses down on it with his palm.

“Please…” you breathe, “I’m so close— fuck me, please fuck me again—”

Shutting your eyes, hoping to feel him push himself back inside you, you instead are met with a final, cracking swat on your leg that sends you wailing as Jack waits for you to scream it, “Tell me, sugar!”

“I need you, Jack— I need you!” 

It doesn’t sound like your own voice. Never has it been clouded by so much desire and such a sinful edge to your witless begging, but it’s enough for him. A push forward, and he fills you; his own sounds have grown needier too, reaching far out. He plants a hand by your face and you grab onto his wrist as he shoves his cock repeatedly deeper and at this angle, you could consider the punishing stretch of him painful, but it’s everything you need, causing you to whine a step higher every time his hips hit your ass.

“You’re all I fuckin’ think about, darlin’,” Jack mouths at your earlobe, your bodies turning slick under the poncho and your clothes, “here you are, shootin’ my gun n’ lettin’ me fuck your tight little pussy, beggin’ for me— gonna make me fuckin’ cum.”

Your jaw drops and an involuntary squeal stumbles from your hanging lip, Jack snarling behind you as he plunges again, hooking his hands under your shoulders and splaying his fingers wide over the tops of them.

It’s a taut stretch of your chest when he pulls on you like that, the soft curl of his hair tickling your neck as he nestles his face to yours and muffles his grunts and groans. You pull up tighter around him, squeezing his cock, nearly driving him to collapse over your back when he feels it happen and what is easily his hardest, neediest and wrecked groan tears out and spreads over your limbs with the rumbling breath he takes after.

“Jaaack,” you whisper, his movements heavily weighing on you, your body resting just at the precipice of something overwhelming, “So… full..”

“I’m gonna fuck my cum into that sweet cunt.” Jack fists the blanket with his supporting hand and the next time he rams his hips forward, a full-bodied scream fills the air, and once more, you squeeze him tighter as you cum hard around his cock, your nails starting to dig into his wrist as he fucks you through it. 

“Baby doll, you’re too fuckin’ good to me— squeeze me so fuckin’ tight when you cum, keep it comin’—”

“Oh god, oh god, oh god— fuck!”  You can’t stop gushing around him as his thrusts lose rhythm, as he focuses more on the sounds you’re making and the grip you have on his cock and it just won’t end, tears beginning to form in your eyes while the movements never cease.

“That is just heavenly,” he says with a strained laugh, “shit, you really did need me, huh? You want my cum inside you too? Want to be spoiled?”

“Yes!” you cry, miraculously raising your ass just a little against his cock as the orgasm finally calms, a growl and a bite on your shoulder at your ceaseless will to beg.

“Take it.” One final, gorgeous moan from his throat and he buries himself, a wet warmth painting your walls, his chest deflating as he settles around your back and rubs your thigh in a soft contrast to what was his stinging swats minutes before. He blows and pants to recuperate, and as he brings himself out, you feel the warmth spreading and dripping down to your clit. For a moment, you share the breaths you’re both trying to catch, but the sensation of his cum sliding over your skin is yet another obstacle to returning to a manageable state of being.

“This…” he whispers, taking his hand back, leaning on his other elbow to support himself as he slides his fingers under your skirt to lead them to your swollen cunt, “is my favourite, darlin’.” He spreads his cum over your folds, milky liquid sliding wherever he traces, and you push back on your knees to raise yourself for him while he guides it back inside you, your throat tired but still whimpering as he pushes his fingers in.

“Keep me inside,” he murmurs on your temple, urging you to lay back down over the plushy blanket, and as you relax, mussed and twinkling by the fire, he drapes the poncho over your body, tucking the fabric under your sides. He strokes your cheek with the dry hand, lifting your head to his lap as he carefully sits by you, your eyes delicately fluttering closed. 

“Did I hurt you?” He asks, and without opening your eyes, you shake your head no. Jack makes a purring sound, considering the moans his actions pulled out of you, and he begins to stroke your face some more. “Hope I never do,” he adds softly, studying your peaceful expression under the firelight and stars, “you’re soft.”

The last two words make you blink and smile up at him, finally granting him a peek which he returns with curved lips, and you know that “soft” doesn’t mean “weak” when he says it.

“I got an idea of where to take you next, if you think you can handle it...”

-

tags for yeehonk idiot:

@filthybookworm @frannyzooey​ @javier-pena​ @javierpcna​ @astroboots​ @userdindja @pedros-mustache​ @princessxkenobi​ @trashcora​ @writerdee1701​ @thelemongeneration​ @libraryofrecs​ @fan-of-encouragement​ @herb-welch​ @writeforfandoms​ @queenofthecloudss​ @leannawithacapitala​ @the-feckless-wonder​ @kesskirata​ @fuck-goes-on​ @lawfulgranola​@apascalrascal @prismaticpizza​ @xemmaloveskillianx​ @littlemissoblivious​ @quica-quica-quica @spideysimpossiblegirl​ @little-big-mac2​ @recklesswit​ ​@frankie-catfish-morales

let me know whether you’d like to be added or removed! 

[the-witches-you-couldnt-burn]

Should have known better

Prompt: when ur reading fanfic and one character was cooking and the other comes up to them and they start making out and everyones like starting to take their shirts off and the author STILL hasnt mentioned anyone turning off the stove

My first attempt at Dickinette. I hope I did it justice!

Here’s my favourite ratatouille recipe! It’s amazing!

Ao3

—————————

Warnings: mild sexual content & mentions of gun violence, gangs, bullet wounds, fire hazards and unplanned pregnancy

The keys jangled as he took them out of his pocket, the lock clicked open and the old apartment door creaked. He took two steps into the hall, dropping his bag with a thud and closed the door behind him. Running a hand through his long, sweat slicked hair he sighed. Today had been a long day.

A deep inhale inflated his chest, but the black police vest he wore restricted it’s full extension. The smell of a wonderful home cooked meal made his stomach growl. Ratatouille, his favourite.

His heavy boot laden feet created echoing footsteps as he walked into the grey tiled kitchen. His wife stood at the stove humming, the google pad’s screen was lit with the ingredients list. She scooped and flipped the squared vegetable mix before putting the lid upon it for the meal to soften. She turned to her sketchpad, inspired by something unknown. Drawing captured her full attention, her brain’s need to replicate the idea on paper outweighed her focus on her surroundings.

He should have known better. He grew up with vigilantes and superheroes. He should have know never to sneak up on someone, especially if they knew how to fight; although this rule doesn’t count for villains (they know what they did).

For Marinette, it had been a long day of ripped seems and designer’s block.. It was nearing on eight when she finally started dinner. Looking at the clock she sighed, ‘Dick’s working late again.’ She hoped he wasn’t caught up in the shooting across town. Two gangs had a disagreement over territory and many civilians got caught up in it. She wanted to help but she had been banned from heroine duties for the time being. Her last ladybug adventure resulted in a bullet to her leg, which was still healing.

Dick took her to the hospital stating she had gotten caught in the crossfire (which now reminds her they need to restock the medical supplies), and they discovered that she was four weeks pregnant.

In present time she was still well within her first trimester, just starting her second month; and she was feeling it too. Vomiting each morning wasn’t fun, more so when it started happening more frequently throughout the day. Their midwife reassured the young couple that it was completely normal, but if it keeps up to come back as it may become hyperemesis gravidarum which will harm the baby.

Baby.

She was still trying to wrap her head around it. She had turned twenty-four last July and Dick was only older by a year. They weren’t planning on this and they had taken all of the precautions to prevent it. Yeah sure, they were married but it hadn’t even been two years! Her worry for the future faded as she reminisced on her husband’s reaction to the discovery. He was shocked for a few seconds before jumping up and down like a toddler who got a toy, beaming with joy. Tears of happiness pricked his eyes, threatening to spill on a moments notice.

Another symptom that weighted upon her was fatigue. She was no longer a teen who could challenge the world with a pen and a cup of coffee. She was a tired, pregnant adult who had to give away her coffee maker due to the temptation being too strong. No more late night or all-nighters designing clothes and completing commissions. She had to lessen her commissions due to the stressful nature of them but working from home, in her own studio helped. It had been a month since she found out and now she just wanted to hibernate due to lack of energy.

Putting down the spatula, she scooped up the pen, suddenly inspired by the mix of colours; an autumn playsuit came to mind. Biting her lip as she drew, neglecting her surroundings, the blare of the news channel becoming white noise.

She should have known better. She was a superhero, albeit she was benched at the moment, but still! The first rule of ‘herodom’ was to always do the right thing, but the second rule was to always be aware of your surroundings.

Arms wrapped around her waist, a small gasps left her mouth and her elbow drove straight back into her captor’s chest. A masculine groan came from behind her, but she paid it no mind as she tried to get out of the man’s strong grip.

“Mari, Mari! Calm down it’s me” Her husband said breathlessly. Her jab winded him, although it was softened by his police uniform, Marinette’s miraculous strength was powerful to say the least. He just wish he didn’t have to be on the receiving end of it.

“Ma moitié! Why would you do that!?” Her anguished cry caused him to hide his chuckle in her neck. Her heartbeat made its presence known within her chest and her breathing was still shallow. Turning within his embrace, she faced him with a pout on her face, “You jerk, you scared me!” She whimpered, her pregnancy hormones had blurred the line between her emotions causing her mood to flip like a switch.

Dick looked down at her with a guilt riddled face. “Shoot Mari, I’m sorr-“

Before he could finish apologising Marinette tugged him down and connected her lips to his. She leaned back into the countertop, cupping his cheek and jaw with both hands. Dick eagerly followed her lead.

He picked her up, his hands moulding the flesh of her thighs. He had done this before, but took extra precautions this time due to her still healing leg injury. He moved her away from the countertop and sat her upon the plush couch. He hovered above her, lips only splitting for a millisecond for air before closing the gap once more.

Marinette pushed on his shoulder and swiftly flipped him so that she was on top. The quick motion caused his head to slam back into the wall, the noise halted their make-out session. Her eyes widened, the cloud of lust had evaporated and rained down on her parade. She apologised multiple times to him, eyes watering in the process.

Dick just laughed before pulling her back in for another kiss. In contrast to the sloppy wet kisses before, the gentleness off Mari’s lips now made him feel like he was made of glass. She filled it with her remorse over hurting him. But as the kiss continued it shifted back to the momentum and passion they had before.

Her hands trailed up his chest, she shivered into the kiss; he had just taken off her shirt, leaving her in her bra. His thumb brushed under the mound of her breast, he felt her furious heartbeat through he skin.

Her focus lowered to his bare neck. Placing kiss upon kiss there and biting occasionally, leaving a trail of pink marks for his colleagues to see during his neck shift. A hand ran down her back as it arced, pushing her bosom into his chest.

They broke apart, foreheads pressed together, bodies flushed against each other’s. She peppered his face with kisses, “I love you”s were stated after each. He returned this action with the same fervour.

Something was wrong though. It was a sudden onset plaguing thought that something wasn't right. They had tried to ignore it but it had become like a tugging string tied around their hearts, signalling an oncoming danger. Wordlessly the two scanned the apartment, neither wanting to part from their entanglement.

Confused the two looked back at the other. Neither finding what set off the warning sensation. As their eyes connected, realisation washed over them like a bucket of ice water. They inhaled the burnt air and scrambled apart; both exclaiming “Fuck!”

Running into the kitchen, the tiles were cold against her bare feet. Dark unventilated smoke hung in the air. Upon entry to the room it was a wall of heat, it was a wonder the smoke alarms hadn’t gone off yet. Dick grabbed a nearby tea towel and swatted at the smoke, he shuffled towards the burners, mouth and nose hidden within his elbow.

Marinette opened all nearby windows, she hoped that the neighbours on the floors above didn’t question the smoke. The couple worked together to set up a system of fans to push out the smoke from the kitchen.

“If Alfred were here he would kill us.” Dick solemnly nodded in reply, ‘we should have known better’. He scraped the burnt black char into the bin, while Mari held the pan. Once the pan cooled down enough it went into the bin too, there was no saving it.

Dick tied up the yellow bin bag and placed the spatula into the sink. “Soooo... want chinese? If you’re up for it, it’ll be my treat.”

Her stomach growled as her eyes flicked to the clock, it was almost nine and she hadn’t eaten since breakfast at seven. She nodded, “sounds good let’s go!”

She walked towards the door, hand on the handle when she realised that he hadn’t followed her. Turning back around she saw him staring at her, cheeks flushed, unmoved from his position next to the bin.

“Um babe?”

“What’s wrong Ma moitié? I thought you wanted Chinese.” Her head tilted, confused at his actions.

He cleared his throat, eyes flicking away. “Babe you’ve forgotten your shirt.”

“Shit” left her lips as she bolted back to the couch, vaulting over a counter much to Dick’s disapproval. She heard him scolding her from the other room, but was too hungry to care.

Walking back to him, now appropriately dressed, she grabbed his hand, pulling him out the door. He just sighed, following his crazy wife, throwing the bag into the complex’s dumpster on the way to the car.

No one was getting in between her and her noodles.

[wornoutmouse]

Im making this gender neutral cause I feel like I did pretty damn good here. And it had a bit of a fairytale ending but I couldn't figure how else to tie it up prettily

Also tried of tumbler adding gaps to all the paragraphs when i copy and paste from docs to here so y'all just gonna have to deal. this fic is way too damn long for me to fix it like i normally do

Also i went over the aparent limit so just look for the words "pt2" in green for the extension

Letting go is one of the hardest things one can do. But understanding why you had to let go is harder.

You and Izuku knew each other for the longest time. Hell you were the one that lifted him back up when Bakugou knocked him down. So why…. Why after all that were you not good enough?

He never said you weren't, he'd never do that. But the worthlessness you felt as you watched her hand him a love letter. You thought, he won't accept, afterall she's one of the many girls and guys that had confessed since the beginning of U.A. Hell you were surprised Ochaco even had the guts to confess.

But the small blush and smile that overcame his face as he finished reading the letter, was one you've never seen before. In that moment you wished you'd decline coming with him for support.

The sick feeling in your stomach grew larger as they hugged each other tightly. That sickness translated into a smile when he looked back at you.

From then on, your sunny disposition was a fabrication of what once was. You didn't hate her, you even saw the appeal, having the slightest crush on her as well. You just hated that he chose her. Was the years of companionship worthless?

As the two grew closer, you grew farther and buried yourself in training and school work. Days went by, months, and by the time graduation came, you were all 3rd years.  You and Deku had become nothing more than aquaintences.

The others tried to stop your descent into isolation, Including you in everything they did, ut it wasn't the same.

"Hey Y/n." You wiped your sweat with the towel around your neck. You'd been at it for most of the day and had shed most of your clothes. Izuku was dressed casual for once and looked gorgeous in the setting sun.

"Yes Midoriya?" Ouch. When did you start calling him that? You couldn't quite remember. Deku looked over the trees, green hair blowing with fall wind. "You know we haven't hung out in a while." You took a drink of water as you sat on a fallen log. "Oh really?" 

That came out harsher than needed and you both knew it. "Since we are graduating tomorrow, I was wondering if you would join us for once as a last farewell. 

You didn't miss the undertone in the last comment. Deku watched in silence as you put your tank top back on. "I don't think I can make it."

Izuku's fists clenched as he glared at the floor. "Why?" You eyed his fists,"I have other things to do." Deku scoffed, "Give me a break, school is over what more do you have to do?!" "More important stuff than partying."

There was a change in the air and at the last minute, you jumped back as Deku's foot slammed down in the floor causing a sizable crater. "Stop lying Y/N! What could you possibly have to do that's more important than hanging out with your friends?! Don't you understand that this is the last time we'll have this much free time to see each other!?"

A small smirk crawled onto your face. 'Still a crybaby huh?'  tears trailed down Deku's face as he looked at you, "We haven't talked in years y/n." You would not break, this was for the best, you would not fall back into this cycle. "We talked this morning." "Hello is not a conversation y/n"

"What do you want me to do then Izuku?" 

Nothing, just like you expected. "Listen Deku, Sometimes, people grow apart and..." You have to take a deep breath, cause if you don't you'd break all over again. "Sometimes we just have to accept it." 

Izuku says nothing more and leaves, heartheavy. During the party,  Izuku spent his time with Uraraka, both day-dreaming about their future, though Izuku wasn't as engaged as he usually was. You sat alone in the common room, looking down at the feastivities below. Mr. Aizawa was the only one who noticed.

As a pro hero you stayed in a moderate range in regards to popularity. About the same level that Mt. Lady and Kamui Woods used to be. 

Watching Bakugou and Midoriya's ranking teeter back and forth like hot potato was amusing as the fiery blond would call you to complain since he knew you would simply listen.

Your love life was non-existent besides the occasional fling with a cute chick at a bar or a himbo™ at the local gym. You weren't looking for anything sold anyways and that was not only due to your hero work, but because no one peaks your interests.

The gang of course flocked together in regards to their love lives. Kaminari and Jiro were finally a thing. Momo and Todoroki were dropping hints to each other but they are both a bunch of oblivious bimbos and that is not going to change anytime soon. 

Tsu and surprisingly Mineta prefered the bachelor life and worked hard on building their teams. You were greatly surprised when Mineta asked you to come to his house and genuinely asked your opinion on trainees. 

Unlike the rest, Mina, Kirishima and Bakugou, were trying to figure out the ins and outs of a poly relationship. Bakgou of course being the word if reason as the other two goofed around.

 All was in its place as you all conformed to your new adult lives. You had no faint clue where the other boys were besides Kouji's and Satou's engagement.

It was a Thursday evening when you walked into your condo, shuffling through your mail until a white envelope with gold trimming for your attention. 

You are invited….

Of course how could you forget Deku and Uraraka. When was the last time you saw those two? Most likely the last day of school. How the hell did they get your address?

You tossed the envelope on the couch and walked to your kitchen to get a bottle of wine. You spent that evening drinking the petty thoughts away, altering between cursing Ochako, to reminiscing on how they were truly a match made in heaven.

By 4 in the evening, you were beyond tipsy and could barely stand to answer the door when the bell rung. 

"Whatdoya want Midoriya?" You said, leaning a little too far to the left. Deku looked at you with concerned eyes. "Are you drunk y/n?" Your roll your eyes and turn around, walking back into your home. "What does it look like?" 

You slump on the couch as Deku walks throughout your home. He was alot bigger  than you remembered. His curly green hair was almost touching your ceiling as he looked at your disheveled body.

"I'm just here to make sure you got my invitation." You tug the envelope from where it fell between the cushion and wavs it in front of your face. Izuku acknowledged it as he sat down, "Well are you coming?"

You shrugged your shoulders as you reach for your glass. Izuku tried to take it away and you smack his hand. Even though you could taste the unresolved tension, you wanted to make things a bit lighter. "I don't know deku, what's the theme? If it's green then I can't come, you know that clashes with my complexion."

He doesn't laugh, not even a smile. Oh well not your problem. The bottle is empty much to your disappointment as you held the opening over your mouth. Deku sits there, fists on his knees as he makes a conflicted face. "How many bottles have you drunk?"

You slap his back, slightly impressed that his solid form didn't move. "Oh calm down worry wort!" A lazy grin comes over your face and a teasing tone slips into your voice. "I'm not an alcoholic...mmm, yet."

You both sat in silence, Deku swirling in his own emotions for  seeing you this way. You looked completely fine on the surface but he knew you better. They all knew you better. Bakugou's weekly gossip visits were nothing more than a check on your personal health.  Even Mineta had to pitch in.

"Hey Deku?" You looked off into thin air as you spoke but Izuku hung off your every word. 

"Can you kiss me?"

Deku didn't mean to stand up the way he did. You didn't react, you expected it if anything. "Y/n, you know I can't do that. Why would you even ask!?" You rubbed your eyes to rid yourself of the smallest threat of tears. You weren't an emotional drunk and you weren't going to start being one now.

"Mm just thought that if you did, maybe I could get over this fuzzy feeling in ma'chest." Deku blushed, from what you. didn't know, but you did notice how he sat back next to you, closer than before. "If I do…..will you come?"

I was going to come either way idiot

"I'll think about it."

Your lidded eyes picked up on the smallest movements and you shivered as Izuku held your chin between his fingers. The kiss was gentle and nothing more than a simple press. You would have been fine with that, that's all you wanted. What you weren't expecting was for Deku to continue.

You could feel your chest flair with the familiar discomfort of things being out of your control. His rough hands came home to your face as he deepened the kiss. You couldn't help but let out a small whimper as his tongue swiped against your bottom lip and he took that chance to delve deeper.

No

You pushed him away and stood. You both looked at each other, darkened eyes and veins fluttering with adrenaline. "Why?" you whispered, voice betraying you as it cracked. Izuku held his fist over his heart where you pushed him. "I..I did what you asked." You shook your head.

No, no this is wrong

Izuku stands up and tries to console you. The words that left his lips unrecognizable.

It's over isn't it?

"Y/n calm down please and let's talk." You put your hands over your ears. "You're so selfish." You wheezed. Why was the room getting darker?

It's over isn't it?

Strong hands grip your arms and you scrape them off. "Get out."

You won and he chose you

As a last resort, Deku tries to kiss you again, holding you close back your lower back, even daring to nibble your lips as he pulls away. "Y/n can you please focus!?" Why was he making it worse? You are not a home wrecker!!

And he loves you so he's gone

Izuku helplessly watched you fall into your own thoughts as you gripped the wall so hard your knuckles turned white. 

It's over isn't it?

You blindly stumble into your room and close the door, falling against it.

Why can't I move on?

Izuku tested his forehead against the door, trying to listen for any sign of life, even a heart beat. On the other side you fall into a dreamless sleep.

War and Glory

It rained on their wedding day. And in the worst way possible or made the ceremony even more beautiful as light drops of water tangled itself in Uraraka's veil. 

The pictures were to die for and so was the food. "Y/n come on, take a picture with me!" You sip some champagne and prepare yourself for your sin  free facade as you walk over to the new bride.

Her dress was gorgeous yet modest, one would confuse this gathering for a party since you were forced to wear white  with her and Deku despite you explaining  how weddings worked.

You kneeled to adjust to her height as she held the camera the highest she could. "You want me to do it?"  You took the phone and held it above you. Ochaco pouted as you dwarfed her and gripped her small hands on the front of your clothes.

She smelt of strawberry's and soap. 

Reinvention

Before you could pull away, she tugged your down as she came to whisper in your ear. "I know." She pulled away with the same small smile she wore since the day began. Your face mirrored one of fright and she quickly noticed.

She raised her hands in surrender as she tried to calm you down. "Hey what's that face for, it's fin-" you flinched as she reached out to touch you. Backing up, you ran into Deku who quickly held onto you to prevent you from falling.

You do your best to calmly untangle yourself from him, but subsequently jumping away as if you were on fire. The newly weds shared a look and you shivered as they both narrowed their eyes at you. Focused the same way they were when on a mission.

Fusion

Walking through the crowd of fans and distant family was no hard feat as you headed to the hotel the wedding was taking place behind. The two followed you and you tried your damnedest not to simply run.

You had almost made it out conservation free but Deku's hand quickly slapped on the side of the door before you could close it and he forced his way in as a limping Ochaco followed behind. "Come on Y/N, these heels are uncomfortable!" 

You could feel tears falling down your face as you backed away from the two. It wasn't out of fear, but shame. Shame that you had feelings for your friend. Shame that you kissed a taken and engaged man. Shame that his  wife knew.

"Y/n calm down it's fine, I don't mind!" You looked at her with confusion and bristled as Deku came closer. "I told her the day after it happened." You focus on Ochaco, preparing yourself for any physical attacks the small woman might deem necessary. "I'm sorry Ochaco, I-I didn't mean for it t-to happen."

Anger at the memory filled your brain and you almost didn't notice small hands taking hold of yours.

Her attention

"It's okay Y/N." Ochaco smiled warmly at you, bringing your hands to her lips as she kissed them gently. "I don't mind, infact this was the goal for a long time." You look at Deku for some coherent conversation, "What is she talking about."

Izuku blushed, "We've been trying to get your attention since highschool. We knew how you felt and didn't mind you joining us like Kachan, Kiri, and Mina." A steely gaze with the power of Aizawa's death glare, casted over Izuku's face, "But you kept running."

Ochaco waved her hands to divert the sudden hostile energy. "Anyways, we were planning on announcing it at the flower toss." Ochaco reached into her bussom and pulled out a small jewelry case. Inside it held a silver ring, strikingly similar to the one she now wore on her left hand.

"I know we really haven't got to get to know each other that well. And I know your feelings don't lie for me but, if you would like…" Deku gingerly plucked the ring from Uraraka's hands and the both lowered to their knees. (Ochaco with more effort as the fluff of her dress almost tipped her over)

Oop looks like i went over the limit?

[lemonlushff-iy]

What's the dirtiest thing you've written that you never expected to write?

WIP. I'll finish it one day. Warning - it may present as Dub Con at first...but if I ever finish it, you will see that it's actually NOT. But...It feels worth adding this disclaimer regardless.

“Password?”

“Irish car bomb.”

Inuyasha watched as the metal slot slammed shut and the heavy grey door swung open, revealing the dark interior beyond the snake demon guarding the entrance. The air was thick with cigarette smoke, and he could see it swirling in plumes from where he stood on the threshold.

The snake moved to the side, his yellow eyes narrowing when Inuyasha didn’t enter. He didn’t want to go in, but he didn’t have much of a fucking choice, did he? Thanks for that, Miroku and Sesshomaru.

“You coming or what, half breed?”

Not because he wanted to…

“Yeah,” he sighed, running his fingers through his shaggy hair before finally crossing the threshold into hell. It was dingy. Dirty. He was amazed he could smell the tang of sex in the air over all the cigarette smoke, but the further he walked down the barely lit hallway, the more that gave way to other scents.

Sex. Drugs. Alcohol.

It made his skin crawl.

“What am I getting myself into,” he sighed, slowly descending the stairs he found at the end of the hallway until he reached the club itself. Sweaty bodies ground together on the dance floor and lasers flashed down on the gyrating bodies from above, illuminating their flesh as they moved together.

He wasn’t interested in them, however. He was after something else.

His eyes swept over the crowd, and if he were self-conscious enough, he would have felt out of place there. His simple red button-down and jeans made him feel like a boy scout compared to the way the tight and short clothing fit all of these other patrons. If he wanted to blend in and find his adopted brother, he was going to have to change that a little.

He undid the first few buttons of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves, hoping that made him look a bit more like the typical clientele of the joint. No one was bothering him though, so he figured he was on the right path at least.

Inuyasha’s eyes swept the crowd as he looked for the backroom or a VIP area...Anywhere this “gang leader” could be hanging out. He didn’t know much about him. Just that he needed to find “Silver” to work things out. He couldn’t lose Shippo.

The guys were dumb, but they didn’t deserve to be held captive here or forced into this gang.

He spotted something in the back of the club that looked like a VIP section - rope and curtains included. There was a small gathering of women...all dressed in club clothing and looking far too beautiful to be related to this gang as anything more than arm candy...but...He knew they were his destination. If he were looking to find someone named Silver, they just felt like the people to ask.

His ears pinned themselves down to his head as he began to weave his way through the throng of bodies on the dance floor. He felt hands trying to pull him into dancing - palming his chest and upper body as he walked, and he shrugged them off as best he could. He needed to stay focused - he couldn’t afford any distractions. He had come this far, and he wasn’t about to lose his way now.

A flash of silver hair out of the corner of his eye drew his attention to a shirtless waiter wearing a pair of black pants and matching suspenders. A white shirt collar hung around his neck, serving as the base for a black tie, and matching white cuffs stood out against his wrists.

Sesshomaru.

His golden eyes were nervous as he brought the women their drinks, placing it on the table before a woman with black, wavy hair and silver eyes. She wore a short, low cut, silver sequin dress, and a red smile on her face that made his heart skip a beat and his breath catch in his throat.

She was stunning. Mysterious. Sensual. He wanted to bend her over the table and fuck her raw then and there, but he couldn’t. He was on a mission and he couldn’t stray from his task. It was too important to him.

Now that he was closer, he could see the danger in her. The beauty that was nothing more than a front for the many mysteries she held within. He wanted to know what they were. She seemed powerful and not to be trifled with, but he didn’t care. He needed to know everything about her.

Was...he wrong?

Was she Silver?

He swallowed the thought, and his stomach dropped as she reached out and grabbed ahold of his brother’s tie, running her hands up it until she held the base at Sesshomaru’s throat. She gave it a sharp tug, making him fall forward and almost into her lap. He caught himself on the back of her chair, his palms slamming against it with what would have been a loud slap if the music wasn’t blaring overhead.

Inuyasha watched “Silver” smirk and tilt her head up, whispering something to Sesshomaru, and Inuyasha could see his brother’s Adam's apple bob at her words. He nodded his head, murmuring a response before she slid her fingers into his hair and brought his ear to her lips. He couldn’t discern what they were talking about, but it was making his stomach knot. He knew he needed to get to them, and now.

“SESSHOMARU!” He bellowed, cupping his hands around his mouth in an attempt to make his voice carry, but it was just drowned out. He wasn’t going to get their attention this way. He no longer cared about blending in. He shoved his way through the crowd, disgruntled patrons shooting him glares and yelling “hey!” and “Watch it asshole!” as he went until he was standing in front of the VIP area.

“Sesshomaru!” he yelled, and “Silver” broke away from his brother in annoyance, her eyes warming slightly as she took him in. He felt her gaze roam up his body, taking in every inch of him. Weighing him. Judging him. Calculating the situation.

“You know this man, Pet?” she demanded, and Inuyasha knew in that moment that he was right. This was “Silver”, alright.

“I’m his brother,” Inuyasha replied before Sesshomaru could. “I’m here for him, and I’m not leaving without him.”

Silver’s red lips widened into a smile as she reclined in her chair, propping her chin on a relaxed, curled fist.

“Really? The dog has a half breed for a brother?”

Inuyasha did his best to contain his growl, but Silver could still hear it, if the way her smile widened was any indicator.

“Do you know why he’s here, oh brother of his?”

“I do.”

“Then you know that he’s not just walking out of here,” she informed him curtly, her eyes roaming up and down his body again. He noticed that the other women beside her were doing the same, and he noticed for the first time that all of the women there were appraising him. One of the women beside her leaned in to whisper something to Silver, and he watched the long, thick lashes around her eyes lower as she listened.

“Mmmm...Already ahead of you, Kikyo,” he heard her reply, and this response seemed to please Kikyo greatly.

“I don’t care,” Inuyasha replied, trying to ignore the exchange between the women, but it was hard. He had a feeling it was about him, and it made him nervous. “He’s not staying here with you.”

“Sesshomaru has a debt to be paid,” she calmly informed him. “Now, I can’t just...overlook this, nor can I overlook his transgressions...Do you understand what I mean?”

Paid. Money. Alright. He could do this. It would be hard...but he’d figure out something.

“Ok. How much?”

The women around him laughed, and he suddenly got the impression that perhaps it wasn’t monetary.

“What is your name, ‘brother’,” Silver demanded, and he swallowed. She was far too calm for his taste.

He saw Sesshomaru open his mouth, perhaps to reply on his behalf, but a wind demoness with a high ponytail and magenta eyeshadow pulled him down to her seat. He watched his brother situate himself in her lap, allowing her to run her fingers down his suspenders. His chest. His pectorals. She circled his nipples, flicking them and scraping his nails against them, and all the while, Sesshomaru said nothing - allowing her to have her way with his body however she saw fit.

“Inuyasha,” he whispered, unable to remove his eyes from his brother. Sesshomaru wouldn’t meet his gaze. He looked like he actually enjoyed the demoness’s attention, but he wasn’t going to dwell on that now.

“Inuyasha,” Silver purred, her smile widening. “An interesting and yet fitting name,” she commented offhandedly as her eyes flicked to the top of his head, and he found himself looking away from her. He didn’t need or want the reminder right now.

“Parents had a sense of humor, but enough about me. I wanna talk money. What’s it gonna take, Silver?”

“He thinks I’m Silver,” she laughed, her head tilting back as she let out a full-bodied laugh. He didn’t get what was so fucking funny, and frankly, he was starting to get annoyed. “Oh Inuyasha,” she breathed. “I’m not Silver...but your brother is mine. You’re right about that.”

“Yeah? Then who has my brother?” he demanded as she leaned forward to take a glass of red liquid from the table. The movement lowered the neckline of her dress, allowing him to see more of her breasts than he previously could, and he felt his desire for her flare.

“Well. That depends...I’m inclined to release your brother to you, Inuyasha. But, seeing as his debt needs to be paid, what you call me depends on what you’re willing to do to obtain him. Now, there is an easy way and a hard way we can do this,” she informed him, lifting her hand and two other women stood - one with short, shoulder length hair and a sight black dress that clung to every curve of her body. The other wore a black mesh catsuit with solid black cut outs that prevented you from seeing anything, yet told you that she had forgone both a bra and panties that night. Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail that still reached her waist, and pink eyeshadow. They moved to the sides of the VIP area, drawing the curtains around them shut to give them some privacy as they spoke.

It muffled the music significantly, enough that his ears were able to rise up from his skull, but not enough that he could no longer hear it or feel the base in his chest. Or maybe that was just the pounding of his heart he felt. Nerves. It had to be nerves.

“Alright. What’s the easy way?” he pressed, and the women who had just closed the curtain came up behind him, running their hands up and down his chest and back in a way that allowed him to connect the dots even before the woman in silver purred.

“Satisfy my whims and desires for the night, and he’s yours.”

Her eyes were dark. Salacious. Filled with desires that were impossible to mistake.

“Just the night,” he demanded, shifting his eyes away from the silver clad vixen and back to his brother.

“Please me, and yes. Just the night. You’ll take his place and do everything that I ask, and obey me fully and completely. When I say jump, you say…”

He swallowed thickly.

“How high,” he finished, his voice a hoarse whisper.

“Very good...yes…” she approved, and a thousand images of her naked body entwined with his entered his mind at her praise. Images that left his heart racing and his blood heating in want. He could feel his cock twitch in excitement at the thought of bending her over the table and making her his.

“What’s the hard way?” he continued, trying to dispel the thoughts and refocus his attention. It was an obligatory ask, though he knew he had his answer.

“The hard way...Well...Let’s just say that it involves obtaining something not exactly...legally. Are you interested?”

Not particularly. No.

“Easy way it is,” he chuckled nervously, as the woman holding Sesshomaru leaned down to kiss him. At the same moment, one of the women holding Inuyasha slipped her hand inside his shirt, making his breath hitch as she palmed his pectoral muscle.

He hoped he wasn’t making a mistake.

“In that case...You may call me Mistress.”

He swallowed and felt the women on either side of him begin to unbutton his shirt. He could feel their fingers working each button through the holes in the fabric, the warm air of the club kissing his skin as the front of his chest was slowly exposed to Mistress and her friends. Despite the heat in the room, he could still feel his skin pucker and a shiver run through him as the woman with the shorter hair leaned forward and kissed his neck. His shoulder. Slid her fingers across his own nipples. He tried not to panic. This was what he had agreed to, and Mistress seemed to expect the way her friend was touching him.

It almost looked like she welcomed it and took pleasure in it. In watching the little show her friends were putting on.

“How does he taste, Yura?” she asked, and he felt Yura nip his shoulder before soothing the offended flesh with her tongue.

“Delicious. You’re lucky you get this one all to yourself.”

“Later,” Mistress mused as the other woman with the high ponytail pushed his open shirt down his shoulders before her mouth was on him as well. Licking, sucking, palming his flesh...He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself focused.

“Sango?” Mistress pressed, and her friend reached down to the front of his pants, palming him.

“Very lucky indeed…”

“Sesshomaru,” Mistress, cooed, and Inuyasha watched his brother stand to kneel before her. “Give your brother your clothes,” she demanded, and Inuyasha felt the women’s hands working on his belt.

“Yes, Mistress,” he replied, rising once more and working on removing his own clothing, or lack thereof. He placed each item onto the table before the woman in silver, until he stood before them clad in nothing more than his birthday suit.

Inuyasha closed his eyes as he felt his boxer briefs being pushed down to his ankles, and he fought the urge to cover himself. What was the point? They’d all see him in all his “glory” before the night was over. He held his hands down to his side, clenching and unclenching his fists and watched as Mistress's smile widened as she took him in.

“Sesshomaru, perhaps I should have traded you a long time ago for your brother…”

Sesshomaru’s didn’t respond, nor did he.

He toed off his socks and shoes, not needing to be told to. He knew what was coming next. He didn’t need them to verbalize their demands. He bent down to pick up the cuffs first, knowing the women wanted a show, and Sango tilted her head to the side.

“He has a nice ass,” she commented, slapping it and making him straighten his back abruptly. “Nice and firm.”

“Really,” Kikyo drawled, shifting in her chair. “Do try and contain yourselves. The entertainment hasn’t even begun yet.”

“Mmmm…” Mistress agreed. “But...we have all night, ladies. Sango?” Mistress intoned, tilting her head to the side, and she begrudgingly returned to her seat. “You too,” she continued, narrowing her eyes at Yura and she reluctantly left his side as well.

He took that as his cue to keep dressing, and when he was finished, he stood at attention, waiting for her to tell him to do something.

“Pet...This area is a mess,” Mistress informed him. “Clean it and return...And while you’re there, ask the bartender for ‘Kagome’s Kit’. He will know what you mean.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he ground out picking up all of the empty bottles and glasses. When he slipped out behind the curtain he sighed, trying to wrap his head around what the hell had just happened to him in there.

[daily-dose-of-imagines]

ʟᴏᴠᴇ ɪꜱ ɢᴏɴᴇ | ʟᴇᴠɪ ᴀᴄᴋᴇʀᴍᴀɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴏɴᴇ-ꜱʜᴏᴛ

After thinking about it and reading Admin T’s angsty fic, I too, have decided to post my own angsty fic, and why not a Levi one? SKSKSK He’s the one that comes to me the easiest when it comes to writing anything, so I hope you all enjoy this as much as I did with writing it~! 

Please note there will be canon divergence (mainly as I haven’t caught up in the manga or anime in a hot second) 

And yes, I listened to Love is Gone by Slander & Dylan Matthew to get in the mood LOLOL

PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 

TW: Major Character Death ; Depressive episodes ; PTSD ; Mental Instability ; Body Mutilation

» » Admin Ko

“Levi! LEVI! GET OUT OF HERE! PLEASE! GET AWAY---”

A sharp inhale and the bright white light of the morning sun was all that welcomed the ex-corporal as he sat rigidly in his bed.  Slowly, frantic metallic blue eyes skimmed down to battered and scarred hands as he watched his body move in an odd state of delirium. Oddly fixated on the way his knuckles paled and how tightly he grasped his sheets, Levi hadn’t even realized the painful sting in his lungs as the cool slick of sweat dripped down the nape of his neck.

It was a barrage of movements from there, his eyes remaining unfocused as he watched the chaos that spilled in his bedroom from an out of body perspective. It was...odd to say the least. He watched familiar faces come to calm his body down, easing him back into a sense of reality as he watched the cogs in his own face work to ease up the grip he once had on the sheets and the trembling he had ceased.

Another flash and he found himself back in his own body, blankly staring down at his scarred hands once again. The room was left barren all over again as he found himself staring out the window and into the gorgeous scenery before him. 

It hadn’t been that long since they had discovered the truth behind the entire catastrophe they found themselves in, yet it felt as though it was ages ago since he’s stepped forth outside. Or had it? If Levi were being honest, he couldn’t remember shit, and that itself only added to his agitation as he glared at the empty walls he was trapped in.

“Fuck...”

Clenching his teeth, the ex-corporal forced himself to get out of bed. A strange tug in his heart drew him towards the desk hidden within the corner of the room. Strewn across the poorly put together desk were notes, plans, letters, photographs, and...a locket?

Perhaps it was his age that was getting to him, or maybe it was the heat, but what was so important about this shitty piece of jewelry? Slowly picking up the accessory, Levi gave a brief once over to it before feeling a scoff build in his throat.

“Tch, it’s probably Lt. (L/N)’s.....”

Slowly, the words faltered from falling out of his throat as he felt his heart skip a beat. Cool metallic blue hues suddenly vibrant with evident fear as flashes of red and torn limbs flashed in his eyes. The quickening of his breath went unheard as he suddenly leaned over the table. Those scarred hands that have seen days of combat suddenly felt numb as the telltale sign of pins and needles crawled their way down to his fingers.

“Levi? Levi~~ Levi! LEVI!”

Flashes of her face swam through his vision as the once clear image of his desk became fragmented as he dropped to the floor. He didn’t even feel his knees dig into the floor-- rather he couldn’t care less as he desperately clung onto the locket as the memories from a week ago resurfaced into his mind. The tears that he once thought had dried up began pouring down his cheeks as the ache in his chest multiplied.

»»————- ♪ ————-««

The rustling of leaves caught his attention. Despite the cool weather they’ve finally been given it still brought the ex-corporal a sense of unease as he watched the small party work around in gathering materials whilst discussing their next plan of action. 

It hadn’t been long since they’ve dealt with Kenny and his gang, but if Levi was certain of one thing it was that he didn’t want to cross paths with that man ever again. Already he barely managed to scrape by whilst making sure their original plan had worked.

“Oi, dipshit.”

“Tch.”

No matter how hard he sought to smack that cheeky smile off of her face, he never found the heart to do it. Not when she held his with such a pretty smile. 

“You’re spacing out again. Kenny’s bullshit still getting to you?”

“...”

“Oh come on, you can tell me~.”

“Fuck off.”

“Oooh~ Touchy touchy. Look, if it makes you feel any better, I thought you were pretty badass!”

A skip to his heart. Something that wasn’t uncommon when he found himself with her. Of course he’d never let her know, instead he gave her a roll of his eyes before kicking her away.

“Get back to work.”

“Fine fine~. Oh! But in all seriousness, whatever is looming in that brooding mind of yours, just remember we still got the plan done. Whatever happened in the past is whatever. We just gotta look toward the future, yeah?”

“...tch. Hurry up and get the fuck over there already. Those damn shit wads look like they’re going to break their backs.”

A mock salute, one that he found endearing in her own quirky way though when he least suspected it she was right back up in his face. A cocky little smirk graced her lips before those chapped yet soothingly familiar feel of her lips brushing his own registered in his brain, and before he could react she was merrily skipping towards the struggling ex-cadets.

“...you’re damn lucky I love you shitty (y/n)...”

➽───────────────❥

BANG

“Fuck! Fuck! What the fuck!”

BOOM BOOM CRASH

“HOW THE FUCK DID THEY GET HERE?! WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!”

SCREEEEEECCHHHHHHH

Hell on earth, better known as the mass migration of Titans. One minute he was seated with Armin. Easily discussing strategies and the next movement for their plans. The moment he blinked the makeshift tents they had were on fire. Smoke was rising to the skies and the screams of people filled his ears. Immediately, Levi reacted. Rushing to grab his swords he mentally checked off a list of what needed to be done. Yet before he could even reach his own gear the hissing telltale sign of someone whisking into action caught his ears.

The reaction was immediate as he looked up to see fierce (e/c) hues. Calloused hands he’s held plenty of times underneath tables were now clenched tightly around her swords as she went about luring as many titans away as she could. 

“...evi, Levi, CAPTAIN LEVI!”

Shocked out of his stupor he turned to face Connie who was frantically grabbing at his arm as he finally took the chance to take in the scene before him.

Whatever carts they had salvaged were packed away with what little they could save. The bodies of those who had already fallen were hanging from the trees and already in the distant background he saw the revolting sight of a wretched up human meatball. 

“Status?”

“We’ve lost at l-least a couple of hands. Captain (y/n) told us to gather as much as we could and to gain distance while she distracts them--”

“Is there back up with her?”

“..N-No sir...”

“Are you fucking STUPID? Tch, get moving Springer. (y/n) and I will catch up shortly.”

“B-But”

“Did. I. Stutter.”

“N-No sir...”

“Then get moving!”

Not even taking the chance to watch the male rush back to the small party of cadets, Levi hurriedly put his harness and gear on in record time before whisking himself towards the sound of gurgling and inhumane sounds. 

“Just stay alive....please, I can’t lose you too...”

➽───────────────❥

Horrific. That’s the best that he could describe the sight before him. The carcasses of fallen allies and titans alike littered the ground as the once distant storm clouds drew in close. The light sprinkling of rain undoubtedly triggered a wave of unnecessary deja vu as he trudged on until he saw a lone figure standing a top the last titan from the herd. 

Suddenly, the once tight hold around his heart loosened as a breath he didn’t know he was holding finally escaped his throat as he relaxed his stance.

“Oi shit for brains. What the fuck were you thinking?”

“Oh! Levi! I thought you were with the others?”

“And leave a shitty captain like you to half ass the job?”

“Heh, you know it’s okay to admit you were worried about me stupid. It’s just us.”

Another roll of his eyes was given as he begrudgingly made his way towards her, a half assed smile gracing his features as he held his hand out towards her.

“Tch, you’re lucky I fucking love you shit for brains.”

The smile she gave was blinding. One that he surely could never find an immunity to as he savored the warmth of her calloused hand in his own scarred and tainted ones.

“Heh~ I love you too shitty corporal~.”

With that, the pair began their journey towards the base. A brief conversation in regards to how much compressed air was left in their tanks being their main worry as they walked. Though as that continued the rain that had once sprinkled began to heavily pour down. A sound of irritation left his lips as she lightly laughed, easily scooting herself closer to him as he begrudgingly wrapped an arm around her waist.

“This rain makes things just as bad, doesn’t it?”

“Yea---”

“....Levi?”

“Sh!”

Immediately a sense of dread filled his chest as he tugged her towards a tree, quickly hiding by the base as the loud crashes and thumps of footsteps prevailed throughout the lands. 

“...dammit....how much gas do you have left?”

“....Enough to swing by two of those big ass trees.”

A grimace. Again, that pool of dread seemed to fill faster as he subconsciously held onto her tightly. He had enough gas to swing back to at least the vicinity of the planned meet up spot, but with an additional body? He wasn’t sure. Perhaps if he were able to split it.

“We’re switching tanks--”

“No we’re not. You are going to keep your goddamn tanks and I’ll keep mine. Worse comes to worse you leave me here.”

“I’m not leaving you--”

A quick kiss to his lips as her fists bunched up his dress shirt. If he felt a tremble in her hands or the way her lips wobbled he didn’t mention it.

“Look. We both know that between the two of us you’re the one who has the best deduction and quick thinking. If it had to be one or the other....it has to be you.”

“Shut the fuck up. We’re going back together.”

“Levi...”

“No! shut the fuck up. I’m not leaving you behind. I’ve lost too many fucking people! I can’t lost you too! You’re....you’re all I have left in this shitty world...please (y/n)...”

Though before she could even reply a sharp scream came from her as he was roughly pushed to the side. On instinct her hands moved to hold the swords attached to her hips before jetting off for a nearby tree.

In response, the large titan moved for her. It’s large beady eyes leering at it’s new prey as she tightly grasped her blades.

“(y/n)!”

Levi didn’t even recognize his own voice as he went to grab his own swords. His fingers itching to press the triggers for the canisters, yet he was cut short at her voice and the shaky glare she gave him. One that only further plummeted his heart into his stomach as she gave him a trembilng grin.

“I got this! Just go and don’t turn back okay? I’ll be right behind you!”

“BULL SHIT. YOU BARELY HAVE ENOUGH GAS IN THOSE TANKS--”

“WELL I WAS LYING OKAY? NOW GO! I CAN HANDLE THIS ONE!”

“THEN LET’S---”

ROOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRR

As if the distress wasn’t enough, the quick rumbling of earth and stone had both captains pale as (y/n) tightly held onto her blades. Her gaze no longer on the titan before her, but rather the hoard that was nearing their now disclosed location.

“...Levi you have to go.”

“No. We’re doing this together.”

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE PLEASE LEVI! JUST GO. YOU WON’T HAVE ENOUGH GAS BY THE END OF THIS JUST PLEASE GO!”

“WHAT IF I DON’T GIVE A FLYING FUCK? I’M NOT LEAVING YOU SHIT FOR BRAINS!” 

Gritting her teeth, she mustered up as much strength as she could as she hurriedly reached for the smoke gun. Without a moment’s notice, she shot the pellet. A trail of black littering the skies as she gave the other a glare.

“THERE. THEY’LL COME HERE TO HELP SO PLEASE GO AND BRING THEM HERE. I CAN HANDLE THIS ONE MYSELF AND THEN I’LL SWING UP.”

Gritting his teeth, he could only give her a stern glare as he reluctantly did as he was told. Without a moment’s delay he shot forth, desperate in tracking the familiar wagon to bring back reinforcements as the sound of a titan hitting the floor brought him a sense of ease.

“Damn you (y/n) you better keep your fucking word!”

. . . 

“I’m sorry Levi...I lied...I don’t have enough to swing up...”

Teary eyed, she let her tanks drop to the grounds below as her racing heart seemed to be in beat with the thundering steps of the hoard of titans on their way towards the sound of the fallen one’s cry. Subconsciously, she pressed her fist to her chest. Why? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she just had to keep it safe for him.

➽───────────────❥

Upon spotting the rickety wagon, Levi jetted straight for the reins. His eyes frantic as the leftover cadets near him seemed shaken by his brutish actions. He didn’t necessarily care though. What mattered to him was reaching (y/n)’s side with her seated on one of the thick branches with that cheeky grin he adored while he and the rest of the moving cadets could annihilated the hoard of titans.

Yet when he returned the pit in his stomach formed into that of utter despair. Where he should’ve seen (y/n) he found nothing. Instead, he saw the tattered remains of her cloak pinned to the tree as the hoard of demons fought over something...some...thing...some...one.

He didn’t know what happened next. Rather he couldn’t. As if his lungs had suddenly malfunctioned and stopped working. He hadn’t even realized he had jetted out from the wagon. All he saw was a glimpse of her bloody face and suddenly he saw red. 

It was an utter rampage. Sounds of desperation, anger, and hurt filled the skies as the rain continued to pour down relentlessly. The titans that had once stood tall now laid in horrifying dismembered piles. (y/n)’s body-- rather what was left of it. 

Ripped from the torso down, her legs were practically disintegrated. Most likely stewing away in one of the fallen titans’ bodies. A brief flash of her spine had most turning away to vomit, yet Levi stared lifelessly. His body trudging slowly to her as his lower lip wobbled. The pain in his chest multiplied tenfold as those warm (e/c) were glassy and unfocused. 

I'm sorry, don't leave me I want you here with me

Dropping to his knees, he gently cupped her cheeks as he pressed his forehead to hers. A shaky breath finally escaping him as he struggled to take in another breath of air as the rain continued it’s assault on him.

I can't breathe, I'm so weak

“Fuck... come on shit for brains... open those beautiful eyes for me...come on...yeah? You said we were gonna go see those damn pink trees...right?”

No response. Not that anyone had expected one. Forcefully breathing in he forced a weak smile onto his trembling features as his sight began to blur.

“C’mon (y/n)...stop playing these fucking games and look at me...c’mon.... I know you can dumbass...”

The pain in his chest amplified as the lack of response continued to shake her. An attempt to wake her up as he blatantly ignored the lack of legs and the disgustingly slow plops of viscera staining the grassy floors.

“Fucking shit (y/n) wake the fuck up. I’m tired of these fucking games. If you keep doing this bullshit I wont take you to see those damn trees you’re obsessed with when we fix this shit...”

Flashes of bodies. Each familiar to him in their own sickening way as a wretched sob came out of his chest. Desperately, he held her close. The care he had for his clothes now out the window as he buried his face into the crook of her neck as he shook with rage and absolute pain.

Don't tell me that your love is gone That your love is gone

➽───────────────❥

The ride was silent. Just the clopping horseshoes whilst he tightly held onto the bundle that was, in his words, a sleeping (y/n).

“...Captain?”

“What is it Arlert?”

Despite the clear hoarseness in his voice, Levi still held a bite to his voice. The lack of emotion in his eyes was pitiful, especially knowing how many loved ones the man has lost.

“...As we were cleaning Captain (y/n) up...we...found this.”

A tilt of his head was given, and before he could ask any questions the glittering of metal caught his attention.

“It’s a locket...I apologize I peeked inside...but I feel as though she would want you to have this.”

»»————- ♪ ————-««

Red rimmed eyes stared at the photo. It was something she had suggested-- stupid if you had asked him in the moment, but at this moment he couldn’t help but tightly hold onto the only photo of her left. Bringing the locket to his chest, the strong captain curled up into a ball as a new wave of emotions overcame him.

Having cried all his tears out, all that came out of him left were weakened whimpers and desperate heavy breaths as he tightly curled around the locket. The demolished state of the room proved to be a perfect depiction of his mind as the letters she wrote for fun back then were sprawled all around him. The sheets from the bed now in a makeshift nest around him as bloodied hands cupped the locket. 

“Why was it you...why couldn’t it have been me?”

A flash of her smile. The sweet harmonies of her laughter. Adoring warm (e/c) hues.

“...why couldn’t it have been m e?”

[lorddistancebarry]

Forest In Chains - Chapter 1

"500, 600, 700, 800, 900.." Garcello counts the cash in his hands after he was given the bag of money. After Tabi fell and didn’t get back up from the half-giant cutting loose and throwing him through the cage into the left most stands of the audience. After the red haze cleared. After basically running with fire and panicking the entire way. He still feels the burns and cuts on his arms, chest and face from Tabi's strikes. The bruising deciding to make itself known by the numbness hidden via his bangs on the left side of his face. The wounds just adding on in a pile especially when the reaper decided to stop fucking around and went all in... his body shivers as the pain compounds and the wind from the September season hits him while he sits on the bench waiting for the bus.

"You barely von that, child." a deep, voice spoke.

Garcello looks up and looks intrigued and surprised at who it belonged to.

"Ruv.." He noted looking up from his money and putting it away, quickly.

"You did not expect me?" He noted with a smirk,"Illegal fight, legal fight. I come to all, vatch them. Sarvente spoke of it being good move. I believe her."

The large Russian man walks over and sits down like a neighbor to Garcello on the bus stop. "But, I can go on many years speaking about her." Ruv noted,"Vhat about you, Young Smoke? Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Garcello admits,"Just.. didn't expect to get cut and burned alive like I'm a fuckin piece of meat."

"Equalizers are not to be trifled vith. As gang or as fighters in vrestling circuit." Ruv chuckles,"Go to be undefeated, An equalizer gets sent, test you. It is cycle to see if you are actually good or you are veak bitch."

"Well, was i actually good?" Garcello laughs wryly,"Cause i feel like shit."

"No, you vere lucky, you use your strength. You are shit, but vorkable shit. Trainable." Ruv critiques as he takes out his vodka flask from his jacket. "So.. you're going to train me?" Garcello asked looking up as Ruv drinks. "Vin against Agoti or Vhitty." He directs looking to Garcello stoically,"Then I teach you. I vant to see if your are vorth time."Ruv takes another drink from his flask. Garcello takes out one of his cigarettes and lights it. A green light illuminates at the end as he inhales, steam and smoke coalesces and flares outward into a glowing green, mist smoke hybrid. "I see." He nods once,"And if I am worth your time?" "I train you.break you, see vhat you.. really are. Then ve progress from there."  Ruv stated looking to Garcello with his lone, glossy eye. Almost seeming to look through Garcello and into him.Garcello shivers looking back. Friend? Enemy? "I see." He gets up as the bus is rolling up."Well for now.. I'm gonna get dinner and go home. Thanks for checking up on me." "Anytime. I do not like promising student, be jumped by Equalizer scum." Ruv chuckles with a grin. Garcello pales a bit, "Uh... what?" Ruv looks to the fellow titan with an incredulous stare,"You scraped out vin, but you also humiliated Tabi. Young Reaper vill vant revenge..." The Russian raises an eyebrow,"You did not expect that?" "But you beat some of the Equalizer's asses and you didn't get  jumped!" Garcello points out as the whir of steam leaving the bus' brakes occurs and the door's open. "That is because of grace of God and grace of throwing truck across street." Ruv laughs wryly,"Now go, child. Before you are stuck here." Garcello waves Ruv off before getting on the bus and using his bus card. A satisfied beep of payment as he moves. Knowing the timer, he sits down quickly before the bus moves with a hiss of the breaks lifting from the ground and the bus hovers, flying down the roads and over ground locked travel.He looks out the window at the night sky and at the many lights below of Funk City. Advertisements, cars, city signs, street lights. Garcello lets his mind wander at the light pollution and the sound of hover cars flying by. Its mesmerizing. Watching everything just fly, zip, and zop by. Time could pass as the colors of the city and the energy takes him in. The concept when he was young had never gotten old or changed. The colors of the world, the lifeblood of the people moving, growing and just living. This is why he and his mother had migrated here. Such a decision had to be lived through not just decided on a whim. But this.. This wholesome peace and tranquility at this time. Away from the violence, the darkness and the weight of it all... Was a very big deciding factor. "One day... they will be able to feel this way.." Garcello resolves quietly as he looks down through the window to the city below. "Feel so.. free..." He coos starting to let the pain and tiredness get to him. Starting to fall asleep on the bus and get complacent in his space... until a growling, gurgling reminder makes itself painfully known in his core. The tender flesh of wounds on his abdomen only make it worse. His body went through hell.

It wants food, it needs it. He needs it. NOW. "First.... step... free myself." he grumbles softly as pain burns in his core and it forces him out of falling asleep and dragging on. Sitting up properly and starting to search for a close enough bus stop so he doesn't just add more suffering with a long as fuck walk that only lengthens the burning. Finding one, he pulls on the wire that signals the automated system to stop. The bus stops after a bit before landing with the soft 'woosh' of steam. Getting off the bus, he walks down the streets. Looking up to keep track of his own placement on the road, looking down to light a cigarette to ease some of the pain, looking back up now to search for those heavenly golden arches. After a minute, 6 cigarettes later.. the yellow and red light beams down upon his form. At this point, a soft, barely noticeable film of red covers everything and everyone that walks by and every sensation, smell and taste is heightened. Painfully so. "Finally..." he exhales, dry air hitting a watering, near drooling maw. He walks into the restaurant with a dragging motion of his feet. Garcello looms over to the counter with barely any real patience. People move away and those that don't, go quickly about their order then move. "Hi." he stated, "I would like.. the whole left menu. Twice. Add 6 McChicken meals. Super size it..." "I-is that-that all sir?" A timid female voice asked quietly. "Yes.." he confirms. Not really looking up. "It's going to be disc-discounted. Y-you don't mind right?" She asked.As she asks that, the red film sight as it was dies down a bit. Garcello looks up from the counter. There is only one person that ever asks about discounts in his mind. He looks at the attendant at the counter and sees the fuchsia and sky blue eyes looking up and right back at him from her gaunt, modest face and shivering, small frame. "Rebecca? What are you doin' here?!" He asked actually in shock. "Um.. well.." she shrugs,"I work here. Y/N got me the job, t-they're the manager." Garcello looks on in shock. He tilts his head back with an incredulous stare. Looking for you and seeing you wave a short, polite wave as you're working with the drive through attendants to ensure chaos is handled. Garcello looks back to Rebecca. "Don’t give me a discount girl just charge me normally. I'll treat ya." He says softly. "A-are you su-sure?" "Entirely." He nods handing over 80 dollars. "You were c-close but a bit over. Your price is 72 dollars and 12 cents." "I know." He nods,"Tips. Put the change in your pocket." Rebecca looks sheepish, looking down and shivering."B-but.." "Do it." He commands sternly. Rebecca takes the money, makes exact change and keeps it immediately. Every motion is fast and shaky like an unstable roller-coaster. "T-thanks..." she murmurs shyly poking her fingers together. "When are you two off?" He asked. "In.. 30 mins.." Rebecca looks up at Garcello. Her eyes narrow and she grimaces.."I'll get an ice baggy.. and. I'm going to be frank... I have questions. And if i have questions.. Y/N is going to want answers..." Garcello grinds his teeth,"Alright. I'll wait and we'll talk." Rebecca purses her lips then exhales,"Thank you." Garcello leaves from the counter and to one of the large benches at the furthest back of the restaurant and waits. Waiting, letting time pass as he patiently sits. His core burning with hunger and primal thoughts when the mental shock subsides. The herd is curious.. tell them. "I.. don’t want them in danger..." Lies are over... tell them something... they worry. They fear. "Garcello? Are you good?" You asked concerned, "Rebecca told me about.-" "The bruise on my face. I know." Garcello says as Rebecca comes over with the food trays. "Ice bag, 3 o clock?" Rebecca offers the baggie of ice. Garcello looks to it then takes the bag, wiggles up his cap and bangs, revealing the recently closed gashes, burns and cuts on his chin and face. Your eyes widen from the sight, brow furrowing in concern. "What h-happened?" Rebecca says before you do. You see Garcello is staring at the food, half listening. Mostly tired, dragging on fumes really. "No." You say then look to Garcello,"We talk. After you finish eating. Got it?" "Yes'm"  Garcello nods once then  finally let's his brain drop being alert.Rebecca looks to you with concern, she shakes more from anxiety. "Oh.. don't worry I know." Your reassure,"But overwhelming him is the last thing on my mind. I don't think this is a simple little 'fall' like last time anyway." "You want to h-hear it fro-from his mouth." You nod once and sit down before looking to Rebecca, she nods once with a small smile. "Both of us are signed out, we wont get in trouble with higher ups for over time."She confirms just before- CRUNCH! TEAAAR! SHHRRIIP! Garcello eats like they aren't there, there is no smacking noise. Just an absence of control from tiredness and physically going through hell. Hes going through hoops with food like a functioning sponge with water, trying to replenish what was forcefully squeezed out of him. Rebecca looks to you. "I.. haven't seen him like this.. or well this bad.. Do you think hes..." "I think so." you confirm," Maybe on drugs. But regardless of whatever it is... This cant be swept under the rug. Did you call Annie?" "I-I did." Rebecca nods,"She's coming as fast as possible. I warned her to not run red lights. I was promptly cursed out in German. I responded. She hung up knowing I was right." Garcello stops eating into his 6th McChicken. The man didn't unwrap the wrapper off, the whole ass sandwich is just getting murdered with his teeth. The devouring however stops short at the mention of Annie. With bloodshot eyes, he looks to Rebecca and you. "You.. are all going to be here?" he asked and you shake your head no. "No." You respond,"But. I'm happy you have a brain in there again. Because like it or not.. you're going to tell us what we need to know." Garcello pales in the face for a moment like he saw a ghost, his heart races in terror. His pupils contract as he knows hes cornered now. There is no wiggling out like before.

"We aren't g-going to hurt you, big guy." Rebecca coos softly. "I.. i know its jus'..." Garcello starts but its hard to put words together. "You know you can't bullshit us anymore." You finish looking at the man directly in his face. Garcello looks away looking down at the scraps of paper, unwrapped or just ripped apart making a mess on the table. "Yeah.. I cant." he confirms as Annie rampages in like a crashing tsunami and yells just as loud, scaring customers out of the restaurant. "NOW WHOMST THE FUCK JUMPED GARCELLO?! I'M ABOUT TO FUCKING BEAT THEIR SHIT IN!" Annie yells, her flesh is tinting blue from the glowing blue of her veins spidering from her skin. A sign of her stress before she drinks ‘the liquid’. "You bout to calm so i can explain." Garcello says strictly, unafraid as he’s been used to seeing the entity pour our from her veins and skin. He’s more than used to being attacked as he knows it doesn't like him. But for now it has no power here. Just like his other half. "Then talk." You egg on, as Annie takes a few breathes, grabs a chair and sits in it, the back of the chair acing the table."We're all listening." Garcello bites his lips. His S/O and his best friends, the core of the herd, his herd... now are looking at him like hes wounded. Doesn't help that he is on the outside and inside... ‘Now you gone and done it, Garcy.. but now.. what do you do now?’ He asks himself in his thoughts as he takes a deep breath in. Act as you are, You are alpha. Time to be a man.

[morethanalittleconfused]

I accidentally wrote a 5k fanfic about incidents caused aboard the ghost by differences between species

I've been reading a lot of those old tumblr posts that are like “what if humans are actually just really, really hardy and alien species would be just completely blown away with the shit we put up with without a second thought” and it's got me thinking about the crew of the Ghost trying to get used to each other at first with three humans that are all just absolutely fucking insane, even more so than even your average human.

Rebels spoilers ahead, as well as a trigger warning for blood, vomit and general injuries

It starts with Hera and Kanan. It’s just the two of them, aboard the Ghost, and it takes some getting used to.

At first Hera is shocked by the way Kanan's body seemingly has no limits. He has never once complained about the temperature of the ghost, even when they were running low on power and Hera could feel her limbs start to get sluggish from the cold. Two weeks later he somehow managed to find his way back to the ghost after being in -2 degree Celsius weather for a half an hour with no coat on. When he walked back through the hatch with snow blowing in his loose hair and a red nose and said “it's cold as shit out there” after Hera had been panicking about losing him for the literal entire time, she had to practically scrape her jaw off of the floor. She would have been dead after a few minutes, and yet here he was, now steaming from a shower and shirtless, bitching about how the caf maker was broken.

As time went on, she learned his body did have some limits to the heat. At about 35 degrees he got irritable and short, but that was about when she started getting uncomfortably warm, too. But he would tolerate it. And more. He kept impressing her with the things he somehow managed to pull off, in conditions she would have thought would kill him. He could get knocked around far more than she thought he should be able to, and would haul himself back to the ship with a grin every time.

The way his body worked constantly surprised her. She noticed it first in how quickly he healed, and in how much he ate.

He could eat literally anything. Things she thought were poisonous for most species. He loved chocolate, and would easily eat ten times the amount that would send her to the hospital to get her stomach pumped. He could withstand a ridiculous amount of alcohol, and could drink unprocessed coffee with no problem by the cup. Caf didn't seem to really affect him because his body processed it so fast. And he ate so. Much. it was ridiculous. The good thing was it didn't really seem to matter what.

Hera didn't need much food, but it had to be good. It had to count. Too much filler and she would lose strength. Her body couldn't process a lot, and if what she got wasn't exactly what she needed, her health went downhill, quick.

Kanan was not the same. He could, and would, eat anything. He didn't have any noticeable preference for plants or meat, or the quality of the food. If he could get his hands on it, he would eat it. He would eat food out of the refrigerator she would have considered to be dangerous. He put appalling amounts of random, unrelated food in a pan, cooked it, and acted like that was an acceptable thing to do. Omelets? She hated the very idea but he seemed to think they were wonderful.

And yet, for all that, they had once been stranded for over a week with only enough rations for one, and Kanan had insisted that she take the vast majority of the ration bars. She pushed back, and he then presented her with the absolutely shocking fact that humans can survive for over a month with no food. She was absolutely flabbergasted, and he took advantage of her stunned silence to press another ration into her hand, smirk at her and say, “I can take it. Trust me.”

Another thing she noticed very quickly was how fast he healed.

He could be bleeding openly one minute, and the wound seemed to close itself the next. She knew human blood had clotting factors far beyond that of nearly any other being, but it was ridiculous how fast he sealed himself up. Further into their relationship she got to see this close up when she accidentally touched some of his congealed blood on the floor of the refresher after cleaning him up. She had had to turn away and take a few deep breaths at the slimy, gelatinous texture. He had gently huffed out a laugh.

“Kinda gross huh?”

“Yeah... it's… unique.”

“I've always been kind of fascinated by the way it congeals so quickly. Handy I guess.”

Out of sheer curiosity she had run the end of a pen through the small puddle and been horrified to see that it mostly stuck together.

“It just… does that? Inside you? And that doesn't cause problems?”

“It can. If it clots when it's not supposed to. But mostly it keeps me alive.”

And it did. And though she wouldn't say it to his face, his ability to pull through seemingly anything took just one more worry off her plate. His wounds would be almost completely closed in often under a week, where she would have been dealing with bandages and salves for a month. He almost never got infections, and could keep going with seemingly incapacitating injuries.

They had once narrowly escaped a fight with a gang of imps and made it back to the ghost with almost no problems. She had a sprained ankle, so he had supported her most of the way there, and they had patched up each other's scrapes. He had needed a bit of training so he didn't just slap a bandaid on what could have been a potentially life threatening injury for her, but he did alright. It was only later, when they were sitting in the cockpit, well into hyperspace, and he had coughed suddenly, when things went sideways. She turned to see blood seeping out of the corner of his mouth, and more on his hand when he pulled it away. They both looked at it for a moment, then Hera almost blacked out as a sudden wave of adrenaline washed over her.

“Kanan you're- are you- let me make the calc- are you dying?”

“What? Oh- no I had thought I just cracked a few of my ribs but it would appear I must have broken at least one of them.”

“BROKEN? Your bone? Like in half?”

“I- yeah?”

“Chopper we need to get to the nearest med center right now. Tell them were coming. I dont care if its a fucking imperial light cruiser”

“Wait no lets not be hasty-”

“HASTY? YOU BROKE YOUR BONES KANAN”

“Okay i know it looks bad but really i'm not going to keel over and die right now. Make sure it's a safe med center and cheap too. I can wait.”

“Kanan your bones are literally broken.”

“Yeah. It's happened before and it will happen again. I've broken my arm twice. I've broken one of the bones in my lower leg. A couple toes. At least one finger. And don't even get me started on my nose. It didn't always look like this.” At that he had huffed out a small laugh, but then winced and brought a hand to his lower chest. Almost as an afterthought, he reached down and pulled up the hem of his shirt. She had started to avert her eyes at the sliver of hip he showed, but as he pulled the shirt up higher and revealed more, she felt the breath taken out of her. His skin was mottled a whole host of awful colors, angry and puffy. He coughed that wet cough again and said, “Maybe I do need a med center after all”

She was incredibly relieved when they dropped out of hyperspace and into the welcoming arms of medicine. She was less happy when Kanan was returned to her, that night no less, with only bandages around his chest and a note to “take it easy for a while” she was appalled to say the least.

His ridiculously resilient body sometimes created just as many problems as it solved, though. He got into bar fights after downing enough alcohol to kill a bantha, and got the piss kicked out of him. He ran headfirst into danger with little consideration for life or limb. He was reckless, and incredibly hotheaded, and overall behaved like a clown. She had no idea how the Jedi accepted humans into their ranks, if Jedi he was. Restraint, my ass.

His recklessness applied to food as well. He didn't really seem to mind what he ate, content with the knowledge that if it didn’t work out, he could always regurgitate it back up. Twi’leks could not vomit, like many other species. It was yet another bizarre human trait. The ability to purge substances from your body without them having to pass through your entire digestive tract and cause more issues had always seemed like a neat trick to Hera. That is, of course, until she saw it in action.

She was roused one night by a strange noise coming from the refresher, and she had padded to the door, only to find it open. Blinking in the harsh light, she saw Kanan curled on the floor, wearing no shirt. His hair was loose and hanging around his face, and he was panting heavily. She only had time to say “Kanan, what-” before he coughed and vomited into the bowl.

Her immediate reaction ricocheted from “Oh my god he's dying” to “I’m actually going to die just having to witness this” to “Oh stars he is actually dying” so fast she could barely process it. She was immediately horrified but had no idea how to help him.

“Kanan are you- do you need a medic? How- chop- CHOPPER! How do I help you? Are you hurt?”

He had turned and peered up at her with puffy eyes and a runny nose. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He tried to talk but his voice came out too rough and he had to try again. Even then it was strangely thick.

“Hera? Are you okay?”

“Am I okay? Am I okay Kanan? You're in here dying for stars sake and I have no idea how to help you and where the hell is chopper-”

“Hey. hey.” He turned away for a moment and took a long breath in through his nose. “Calm down for a sec. I feel like shit so you're going to have to talk slower. Are you hurt or something?”

“Hurt? No I'm not hurt i’m just- you- you're in here- I don’t even know-”

He closed his eyes and took another long breath in through his nose.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah i’m just… trying really hard not to throw up again.”

“Oh.”

He opened his eyes again and looked up at her again.

She shifted against the door frame. “But you're… okay? This isn't life threatening?”

He huffed out a soft laugh, then seemed to immediately regret it as he dropped his head between his knees for a moment. Then he cleared his throat and tipped his head back up.

“No. I'm good, I just ate something bad at that pub. And I also probably drank a bit too much as well. But I think it was definitely the squids fault.”

“Oh. So this is… normal?”

“More so than I would like. Yes.”

“Okay so…” she took a deep breath to calm her nerves now that it was apparent he wasn't in any imminent danger. “Do you need anything? How can I help you?”

“Some tea maybe. Some crackers. Anything ginger you have. It'll work itself out with time.”

She stood in the door, unsure of what to do, wanting to help him, and watched as he drew a quick breath in and closed his eyes again.

“Hera. Tea. Now”

“Right.”

As she dashed to the kitchen she heard the sounds of retching from behind her.

  There were some strange things about humans that became interesting as their relationship developed beyond mere captain and crew. His hair, for example. At first she had thought it was appalling, the sheer volume of it. It was everywhere. But all it took was threading her hands through it a few times, and hearing the wonderful noises he made, before she quickly changed her opinion.

Related to his hair was the fact that humans seemed to enjoy a certain level of pain, which she could not understand. He would moan audibly when she tugged at his hair, which startled her the first time, in the best way. Once, when she was feeling particularly adventurous, she had dragged her sharp canines across the delicate skin of his throat, and had been surprised to find the taste of metal filling her mouth, sharp and bright. She was even more surprised at the way he had shuddered and come apart beneath her, just like that.  

Then, later, when Zeb and Sabine joined the crew, there was yet another learning curve as Hera adjusted to another human as well as a Lasat, and Zeb adjusted to Kanan and Sabine at the same time.

Sabine was just as reckless. She was a fighter too, but she didn't have the force to help her out. Hera had more than a few small heart attacks in the early days of Sabine's presence before she fully appreciated that she could take almost as much of a beating as Kanan. Sabine had once walked over a half a mile back to the ship with a broken leg, and when Hera pressed her on just how she managed to do that, Sabine had gotten quickly tired of the argument, ending it with a, “I don't know what to tell you, Hera! I didn't have any other options! I had to do it, so I did.”

Hera was used to most of Kanan's strange human quirks, but Sabine presented a new and entirely alarming one, which Hera first came in contact with on a supply run. Sabine needed a monthly supply of medical supplies. Hera knew very little about menstruation, as that was a trait entirely unique to human females. Why their biology decided that it was necessary was completely beyond Hera, it seemed incredibly inefficient. Sabine made as little fuss about it as possible, but Hera had embarrassed everyone about three months in when Sabine asked hera to go get her data pad from her room. Hera had burst back into the common room, and only then was able to identify the smell Sabine was carrying with her that had been tugging at the edges of Hera’s mind all day. Blood. She turned on Sabine with a very distressed, “Sabine are you injured? Are you sick?”

To which Sabine had responded, with a distinct note of confusion, “No? Why?”

And Hera, without thinking, had said, “There's blood all over your bed? Did you hurt yourself?”

Sabine had gaped at her for a moment, then blushed ever so slightly. “I uh- I forgot to wash my sheets after... Sorry. I forgot about that before I told you to go into my room.”

Hera still had not connected the dots and was opening her mouth to further interrogate Sabine as to why her bedsheets were covered in blood when Kanan had jumped up and said, “Hera! Let's go for a walk, yes?” and pulled her gently out of the room, but not before she heard Zeb turn to Sabine and say, “So, why were you bleeding?”

Zeb apparently hadn't had much contact with the more alarming of the humans' quirks, as he had his own room, until Ezra showed up. Then Zeb had to learn for himself just how absolutely wild human biology was for himself. He arguably had a rougher go of it, because while he had the rest of the crew to help him out, he was literally sharing a room with a teenage human.

The first time Ezra got food poisoning was just about as rough for Zeb as it was for Kanan and Hera, except it happened in Zebs room.  Ezra was mostly self-sufficient, but Zeb had come hollering down the hall. He had broken the “do not open my door without knocking” rule Hera kept firmly in place, but she couldn't even be mad at him. Hera was just glad Kanan had been in his own bed that night. She had woken to see Zeb standing in her door, his fur standing up like a spine down his back, one ear folded inside out, panting hard.

“Hera the kid- he’s- I don’t know what the fuck happened but he- I think he’s hurt- or- or something but I don’t know how to help him- it’s Ezra-”

At which point Kanan, who had been woken by Zebs racket, slid open his door wearing only his sleep pants. He took one moment to assess the situation, looked down the hall and said, “Oh, Ezra’s throwing up. Do you want me to take care of him, Hera?”

Hera sighed and got up from her bed.

“No, you get Zeb some tea or something. I've learned well enough how to hold hair back at this point.”

Zeb, still looking entirely horrified by the situation, allowed himself to be led into the galley by Kanan. Sabine poked her head out of her door, decided this crisis did not involve her, and went back to sleep.

The same situation had happened the first time Ezra had gotten a bloody nose in the middle of the night. It was the kind Hera had witnessed with Kanan, and knew firsthand how horrifying it was if one didn't know humans noses just Did That sometimes. It was a middle of the night kind of bloody nose, where Ezra had presumably woken up with blood all over his face and in his mouth and in his hair and on his sheets, and had tried to catch the blood in his hands, which was all well and good until he somehow had to get down from the top bunk and open two doors to get to the refresher. That left Zeb to wake up to a room smelling of blood, with blood on the floor, on the door panel, and a trail leading to the refresher where he found Ezra leaning over the sink which was also, conveniently, covered in blood. All it had taken was for Ezra to turn his face toward the creature standing in the door and say “Zeb?” before Zeb was hurtling down the hall in a panic, calling for Kanan to come help him because the kid was dying.

Sabine, who had been up working on a project, was the first to respond to this particular “The human is dying!” call. She took one look at Ezra, standing in his pajamas with blood on his hands and said, “That sucks,” and turned back to her room.

Hera, who was making her way down the hall to check on if Ezra really was dying this time, had the pleasure of seeing Sabine turn back and say, “If you want a tampon to stop up the bleeding, they're in the bottom left drawer.” This worked surprisingly well at stopping Ezras bloody nose, because he was blushing so hard there was no blood left for his nose. Hera turned back to comfort Zeb, telling him she had reacted the exact same way the first time Kanan had woken up with a bloody nose. She saw him come out of his panic in time to realize she had effectively confessed to sleeping with Kanan, but wisely decided not to say anything. Nothing he didn't already know.

The humans were absolutely bizarre to spend time around. They ended up installing a wall in the galley that had live plants in it, not because they needed fresh plants to eat, but because their brain chemicals got thrown off if they weren't around plants for too long.

They had empathy for everything. Hera had once witnessed Ezra cry in a market when they passed a fruit stand with a deformed Meiloorun. When Hera asked why he was crying, he had looked up at her with these huge eyes, sniffed, and said, “I just feel so bad for it! No one will buy it!” They had, of course, bought it. Kanan tried not to get attached to anything, but he apologized for bumping into inanimate objects, and Sabine got visibly sad when they had to throw out a good piece of gear because it was broken or old.

They all three loved swimming. They were awful at it, just barely flopping around on the surface, but any time they were near even relatively safe water, they were in it, having the time of their lives. Kanan had once explained to Hera that humans have an extra fun little bit of evolution called the mammalian dive reflex, which slows their heart rate and lowers their blood pressure when they are in water, making it calming and enjoyable. Hera was skeptical until she watched Ezra calmly floating down a river on his back and wished she had that, instead of feeling nothing but panic anytime she had to float in water.  

They were mimics. They could replicate a stunning array of sounds, from animals to tech. Ezra's favorite way of annoying her was to make the noises her ship made when something went wrong, just to see how much she would panic before she realized it was him. They would sing along to anything, even if it was just instruments, and Hera would never admit it, but she loved Kanan's voice.

They could sleep anywhere. One of her favorite memories was walking around Chopper Base after a particularly exhausting mission and finding the three of them, Kanan in the middle, with one kid leaning on either shoulder, asleep, leaning against a crate. They had looked so peaceful, and yet she was again surprised at them. It was far too cold for her to even consider sleeping, there were fighters landing only a few hundred meters away, people running all over, and they were snoozing with smiles on their faces, just glad to be home.

And humans would pack bond with literally anything. She had thought Kanan was bad until she met Ezra. It was ridiculous. Her father had said that she was improper for developing a fondness for a droid, but the kid formed a relationship with everything that moved. It got them out of a few tight spots, sure, but she would never get used to having to sit still as some enormous predator loomed in their faces. The sight of Ezra staring down a cat the size of the ghost on some jungle planet, the cat's fangs mere inches from his face as it huffed at him, was something she would never forget.

They were wild and hard headed and strong and made her life so much more interesting.

Early on, Kanan’s strange human ability to adapt to seemingly anything had been a momentary point of contention between the two of them, and was still something she struggled with. It took time for her to be okay with the fact that humans and Twi’leks were just built differently. But it frustrated Hera how weak she felt compared to him. It infuriated her the way he could just walk off something that would have killed her. She had always striven to be adaptable and up for anything. She was strong, and she knew it. But she felt her inadequacies sharply next to Kanan. Early in their partnership they had been in the galley repairing themselves from yet another fight, when Hera had turned to see Kanan casually sewing his own skin up with a needle. The way he could just puncture his own skin like that, with nothing more than a wince and a hiss of breath, had made her see red for a moment and she had to excuse herself to the cockpit to take a breath. They had talked about it, and he had helped her to realize that she was, of course, strong. Humans were adapted differently, so it was entirely unfair for her to be comparing them. But they could compare emotionally, and she was one of the strongest people he had ever had the pleasure of knowing. The two of them were forged in war, and had been through incredible things. She had fought prejudice and overcome so many obstacles to get to where she was, the best pilot in the resistance, without question. As he had said the last part, she heard him smirk a bit, and looked over at him, bathed in the blue light of hyperspace, to find him with a little crooked grin on his face and his hair falling down around his ears. She had felt her guarded heart open a little bit more at that, and had to turn and gaze back out at the stars before her heart opened completely to this rogue of a man.

Later, pressed against his chest in a supply closet, hiding from some stormtroopers, she would marvel at just how fast humans' hearts beat. She knew they were supposed to beat about two times faster than a twi’lek, but his seemed like it was fit to fly out of his ribcage. She found herself thinking, “Is it supposed to be doing that? Is this why he's such a hot headed idiot?” Later she would discover it did not always beat that incredibly fast, usually just a bit faster than hers. It made him ridiculously warm, and also may have contributed to why he was so quick to anything. Not rushed. Not hasty. Just quick. Quick to anger. Quick to smile. Quick to fight. Quick to laugh. Quick to love.

Maybe that was why it was such a shock when he finally reached his limit. She had gotten used to him pulling through impossible situations. She had forgotten that they had limits, just like her.

And then, years later, a glimmer of hope. Ahsoka and Sabine, travelling the galaxy over, searching for Ezra. While Kanan was gone forever, she still had a chance to get one of her boys back.

And of course, there was always Jacen. Her beautiful little boy, who was soft and sweet and yet surprisingly strong, just like his father. And Hera was comforted to know that wherever this wild galaxy would take him, he had Kanan Jarrus’ blood coursing through his veins to keep him safe.

[gauntie-o-dimm]

Sadie Adler | High

Sadie is lonely and drunk, and so are you.

Word count: 2700+ Warnings: Smut, swearing, alcohol abuse

Four-and-a-half bottles of beer was all you needed to have your vision become hazy and your eyelids become heavy. At least, that was the case if your previous calculations had been correct, and dear Lord, when it came to determining your own alcohol tolerance... You had been utterly and incredibly bad at math.

You could’ve sworn your intake was not that bad until, after three bottles of alcohol, your head began to spin. Who could blame you for it? The beer in Valentine was way better than the drink you could get back at camp. And besides, Sadie had insisted. 

Ladies night, she had declared it, but without Karen, Mary-Beth, Molly or Tilly. No, just the two of you, as two hard-working women that could use some unwinding for once - in another way than weaving flower crowns, as the blonde had almost mockingly said about the other girls of the gang.

It was obvious Sadie mustered some kind of unspoken respect for you. Not only in her carefully chosen words, but also in her actions, although never literally said, you declared yourself to be special in her eyes. And you wouldn’t be surprised, even. You had been right there at her side that fateful night. 

The wounds of her freshly obtained widowhood were still bleeding and you knew that the desire for vengeance was brewing in her aching heart, but revenge was never an option. Perhaps that is why Sadie clung to you so much; despite your ability to fight for what you stand for, you were never one to angrily shoot everything that moves in a fit of rage. 

Women of the road, Arthur had dubbed you when you were leaving camp earlier this evening, they always stick together, and even though these words were just a lighthearted comment about how Mr Morgan envisioned your close friendship, it had stuck with you, even after a few beers.

And so you sat, pondering over that comment, tipsily peeling at the label that sat upon the bottle, whilst the blonde lady in question sat across of you, nipping her sixth beer that evening. How could her tolerance be so high? Your circled your finger over the edge of your bottle, eyeing her seemingly relaxed expression. It wasn’t often you got to witness Sadie so laid-back. You wondered what was different tonight. 

“Y’know, (Y/n),” Sadie suddenly began, her accent heavier because of the consumed alcohol. “Why don’t we do this more often? Way better than drinking with those loud-mouths back at camp.” You raised an eyebrow at her and she sighed at your expression. “Alright, I know I can be noisy ‘swell, but still!” 

“Well, I think that is a great idea.” you replied. Taking another swig, you smiled. “It isn’t often that we get to spend quality time together. Sure, we are on some errands often enough, but when is the last time we got drunk off our asses?” 

Sadie chuckled, lifting her bottle to her lips. “I can’t remember!” An almost childish pout came over her face as she noticed the dark-brown bottle being empty, gesturing for the barman to bring some more drinks. 

You simply waved it off - “I don’t need more, thank you.” - but Sadie did not have peace with that. “You callin’ yourself drunk right now, (Y/n)? I’ve seen ya drunk and shit, that’s way different from the way you’re at the moment.” 

A roll of your eyes was all you gave, shaking your head as you witnessed the blonde throw back another beer. The light that hung around the saloon made her look pretty, you mused to yourself. And you wondered if she was wearing anything under her shirt - dark circles were visible through her white blouse. Why hadn’t you noticed that before?

Even though you had been with men before, you always preferred girls. But it had been a while... You sighed, rubbing some hair out of your eyes. The sudden ache of your core that came with the sight of her nipples pressing against the cotton of her shirt, well, it didn’t help you keeping your mind clear.

Pondering over what she’d think if you proposed the lewd and erotic to her, you pushed your previous intentions out of the window and ordered something stronger; Sadie frowned at you when she saw you take a sip of whisky straight from the bottle, disregarding of the metal cup that came with it.

“(Y/n),” she mumbled, her words slurring as she leaned over the table. “What are you doing?” A grin tugged at the corner of your mouth as you mirrored her position, faces closer. “Taking in some courage.” 

“Courage? What for? We will rent a room at Saints and sleep our intoxication off, it’s not like we need to get into a gunfight anytime soon.” 

“The courage isn’t meant for that kind of stuff, Sadie...” you told the widow, sipping once more on your bottle. “I can tell you as soon as we are in the room across the street. Perhaps it will work, then.” 

Sadie was never one to be truly confused about anything. However, when it came to you... She knew about your preference for women, and frankly, she was curious...

“Okay.” she shortly muttered, finishing the last of the amber liquid by pouring it down her throat. She wiped her lips before standing up, aware of the dull throbbing that had started to grow between her legs. Her eyes fixated on you whilst you arose, dusting down your attire before taking your bottle with you. It wasn’t even halfway done, but still your step slightly flailed as the two of you  walked across the muddy road towards the hotel.

The room available was far from clean but you didn’t expect anything better from Valentine. After all, this settlement was full of mongrels, loudmouths and outlaws. You counted yourself among them. 

Kicking off your boots and placing them by the fire was not that difficult of a task, but it was the buttons of your shirt that you had to undo that proved to be harder than you thought. 

“What was it you wanted to tell me?” Sadie said, her voice smaller than you’d ever heard her speak. You stood up, blouse halfway unbuttoned, pacing towards her before playfully knocking her hat off her head. A lazy smile spread over your face as you brought your face closer to hers.

Sadie’s breath hitched in her throat as she felt your hand go up to her braid, undoing the small band that held it together. “Mrs Adler,” you murmured, pressing a small kiss on her jaw. “I’ve been wanting to do something for a while now. If you will have me, that is.” Her eyes fluttered shut while your nimble fingers tugged the strands of blonde hair apart, letting it fall over her shoulders in tiny waves.

“So, what do you say?” 

“I have never done such things to a woman before.” 

“I know, and we can stop at any time.” Sadie seemed to think for a moment, hand rubbing her collarbones in a nervous manner. Her often confident appearance had been replaced by a woman which you barely recognized.

“Okay.” Sadie said, and it was enough to have you lean up to kiss her on the lips. She was slightly taller than you, so you took the front of her shirt and pulled her a little downwards. Tilting your head, you let your tongue slip into her mouth, enjoying the taste of beer mixed in with her saliva. Her lips were softer than you had imagined, and Sadie’s opinion was all the same;

The feel of kissing another woman was something wholly unfamiliar to the widow, but she was liking it more than she’d ever admit. You knew exactly what you were doing, from the gentle nips on her bottom lip to the way your fingers undid the buttons of her shirt - you had less trouble with those than with your own.

You pushed her blouse off her shoulders, revealing that she was indeed wearing nothing underneath, and the kerchief around her neck now fell almost adorably between her plump breasts. They weren’t big, nor small, just perfect to nuzzle your face against or suckle on when you felt the need. Speaking of which, you yearned for a taste.

Looking up at her, you moved your face down, pressing a kiss between the mounds of flesh before taking one of her nipples into your mouth. She softly gasped and for a moment you didn’t know if it was from pleasure or regret, but her eyes spoke volumes altogether, as did the hardness of the bud rolling around against your tongue now; she was loving it. 

Women know how to please each other, Sadie thought to herself when you switched sides, continuing your journey of sucking on the rosy nipple. Her hands stroked through your (h/c) locks softly, much like a mother nursing a child, but you didn’t mind. You liked the way her nails softly scraped your scalp while you carefully pecked at her skin, kissing the skin of her breast intimately.

Soon enough, you pushed her back onto the bed, kneeling down between her legs to undo her of the remaining clothes she wore - a pair of tight pants. The anticipation in your bodies seemed the whole ordeal to be long and tiresome, but after a few firm tugs, it was off her legs.

Sadie was shamefully wet, her underwear not enough to conceal the moisture that stained her entrance. It had traveled to her thighs, staining the duvet she was sitting on. Flustered, she nearly let her hands wander down to cover herself, but a gentle kiss on her knee was all it took for her to let go of all her fear.

“Fuck.” she cussed quietly as you keened your face into her neck, sprawling your body next to hers in a way so she could press her back against your front. You were still very clothed, but you didn’t pay it too much attention. For now, Sadie mattered most.

You moved her leg upwards so you had a better access to her mound, which was dripping. Easing her underwear away from her entrance, you were quick to put the soaked cloth in your mouth, tasting her essence. You softly moaned at the flavor before you trailed your hand down, able to finally pry apart her folds.

For a woman that had been married for a while, she was surprisingly tight as you slipped a finger in. Perhaps it was the lack of touch in the past few months, you wondered while burying your head into her neck. A soft groan left the blonde’s throat, relishing in the feeling of another digit being added. Soon enough, you were starting to finger her in a steady, pleasurable pace. Her legs quivered at the feeling of you fondling her clit with your thumb, circling it around the bud of nerves whilst your teeth softly nibbled at her ear. 

“Holy fuck, right there (Y/n)!” Sadie whined, leaning her naked body into you a bit tighter. Of course you knew what you were doing to her - the way she trembled and writhed against you and clenched around your fingers was enough to make you aware. Amidst the sweat and dull blur of your previous alcohol intake, your own mound started to throb with a lack of touch - you knew what you wanted to do, something you had rarely done before, and despite the position being slightly uncomfortable, you wanted to do it nevertheless.

You withdrew your fingers from the beautiful outlaw’s depths, causing her to whimper at the loss of touch. “Don’t touch yourself, baby.” you murmured, pressing a quick kiss upon her forehead. 

It took way too long for you to take off your clothes, Sadie thought, but the constant knowledge that you would soon be back to pleasure her was enough. Your breasts bounced as they fell from your shirt and the smell that emitted from your soaked cunt was unlike something Sadie had ever witnessed before - it clouded her senses and caused her to inhale deeply. With a smile, you dangled your panties in front of her nose. “There is more where that came from,” you explained, “But for now, you can suck on these.”

She didn’t let you tell her that another time, eager to take your underwear into her mouth. The taste was amazing and your naked body was absolutely breathtaking. Sadie’s eyes widened as you moved to sit close to her, swinging one of your legs over hers, positioning yourself in such a way that the heat of your pussy warmed hers. The blonde outlaw let out a small moan, muffled by the fabric of your briefs. 

Lowering yourself onto her mound, you let out a breath of relief, along with something that represented a moan. It had been too long that your cunt was aligned with someone else’s, and Sadie was gorgeous sprawled out like that, blonde hair spread over the pillow messily.

You whipped your head to the side so your (h/c) locks were over one shoulder, making you able to look at her properly. Slowly, you started to circle your pussy against hers, folds rubbing together in a way that made your entire thighs sticky within seconds. Sadie whimpered at the feeling, arching her back towards you as your clits pressed together, making her see stars.

“Fuck, (Y/n)! Damn, that feels good!” You smiled at her, increasing the pace of your movements. The heat was nice and you chewed your lip, watching her breasts bounce up and down with your motions. It was clear to Sadie that you had done this before and she loved it. 

For a moment, you looked down at your pussies tangled together like that, along with the swell of your clitorises, delicious enough to nearly cum from the sight alone. But the moment wasn’t there just yet. Among the brace of your body against hers, hands wrapping around her calf to keep her leg right where it was, you increased the speed of your grinding. 

Sadie shuddered underneath you, curses slipping past her lips. Why hadn’t you done this earlier, you managed to think within the haze of a building orgasm, toes curling at the sight of the blonde outlaw murmuring on the mattress, hands momentarily resting on her breasts before she put them onto you.

She was loud and wanton, but what else was new? The bed creaked under the roughness of your motions, chasing rapidly after your high and hers. Oh, this was a new kind of high, and you wondered if it would be this delightful if experienced completely sober.

“Oh, fuck me!” Sadie cried out, back arching and breath shivering in a way that indicated her nearing orgasm. You stilled the movement of your cunt against her, instead choosing to rub your clits against each other instead. 

And amidst the knotting of your stomach, the jolts shooting through the pleasurable nub as it pressed against Sadie’s beautiful rosy pussy, you found your high alongside the blonde. You moaned out loud, volume high enough to be heard outside, but Sadie could even top your noise.

The squeal that left her was high pitched and dripped with lust. Her body was trembling violently, as if it was in a complete state of shock. Even when you had removed your own mound from hers, she was still shaking like a straw. 

“Shit... Fuck... That was good. That was incredible.” Sadie managed to get out, hands resting on her abdomen, unfazed by the feeling of your mixed juices running down her thighs. 

You laid next to her, putting an arm around the outlaw. She was the little spoon tonight, but you were sure she wouldn’t mind. In silence, you let yourselves become calm again, causing you to wonder if there would ever be another of those encounters.

You got your answer soon enough; “Thank you, (Y/n). We should definitely do that again soon.” Sadie whispered, turning around in your arms.

Even though there were no i-love-you’s, no expressed feelings of romance towards each other, no made statements if this relationship was purely meant to be friends-with-benefits, you didn’t care for now.

Right now, you just relished in the moment, inhaling the scent of the afterglow mixed in with Sadie’s personal flavor, still lingering on your tongue. The widow fell asleep next to you, and once more, you yearned for the moment that you could taste her again, but sober - perhaps.

[sellyoursoulforagoodfic]

Shelbys at Somme: Chapter 6

Thomas X Reader

by @adventuresintooblivion

Word Count: 1929

Summary: Walking home in the cold is never fun. Thomas organizes a search party.

On the way back, they didn’t bother to put a bag over her head. They were more concerned about making sure her blood didn’t get on the backseat. Inspector Campbell wasn’t with them; he had stayed behind. 

Y/N was barely conscious. Everything ached. Her thoughts were sluggish at best as she was flung from side to side when they rounded tight corners too quickly. She forced her eyes open just enough to tell it was dark. Thomas should be looking for her by now. If he had noticed I was gone.

She banished that thought with a shaky breath and tried to reserve her strength. Y/N didn’t know how far she’d have to go on her own before someone found her. She just hoped they didn’t dump her in a pile of trash.

After what seemed like ages they came to a sudden halt. “So we just leave her here right?”

“Boss said we were supposed to take her clothes too. Make sure she’s only in her underclothes so she doesn’t violate any decency laws.”

“B...But it’s freezing out there.”

“You saw what she did to Matthew. I think that’s the point.”

Moments later she was tossed onto the ground, body trying to recoil from the freezing stone as it scraped her hot skin. The car drove off, leaving behind a noxious cloud of gas in its wake.

Y/N didn’t move despite the cold. Nowhere she could get to would be any warmer, and quite frankly she couldn’t get her body to move. They’d left the handcuffs on which meant she’d have to navigate around those to get anywhere useful.

After a long while she took a deep breath and sat up. Everything screamed. She was more than certain she at least had a couple of broken ribs. Slowly she lifted her hands, testing out each finger individually to see if they were broken. She thanked whatever Devil had been watching over her that her hands  were still intact at the very least.

Besides her ribs and maybe a toe, nothing seemed broken or bent too far out of place. However, she could literally feel the bullet nestled next to her spine. The muscles around it had inflamed so much that ,normally, she wouldn’t have dared to try and get out of bed. Not exactly an option right now.

She glanced around, and with her limited knowledge she realized she was on the very edge of Peaky Blinder territory. Which meant she had about five miles to cross before she could get to the Garrison if she was lucky.

Y/N used her hands to scoot backwards toward a wall. Every inch jostled her injuries. Bruises had already formed around most of her torso, and her left eye was beginning to swell shut. She braced her hands against the wall, placing her right leg beneath her and pushed. A roar tore from her lips as she forced herself to stand.

The pain made her shake so hard her teeth clattered together. Or maybe it was shivering from the cold. She didn’t know anymore. Tonight the air was not only cold but wet as well. It had rained sometime during her capture, making everything slick, but this also caused the type of cold to change to one that seeped into your bones and make you ache. As if she weren’t aching already.

To her right was the pile of trash she’d imagined them tossing her into. It became apparent why they hadn’t. Campbell wanted her alive and not more of a cripple than she already was. Beside her, a maimed ironing board jutted out awkwardly into the road. She sidled closer using the wall to hold most of her weight.

Her hand closed around the foot of the ironing board and she pulled. Her legs buckled under her and she collapsed.

Y/N screamed in frustration. She steeled herself. One. Two. THREE. She used all her weight to yank back on the leg of the ironing board, freeing it from the mess. 

She didn’t give herself time to celebrate her small victory before she scooted back to the wall and stood. The leg was long enough to act as a sort of crutch, something she desperately needed if she was to make it any distance. With a slow lean, she tested it out to see if it would hold her weight. It bowed slightly but would do well enough. With vengeance burning in her heart, Y/N began the long trek home.

~

Thomas thought he already knew what madness was. He was certain the nights he couldn’t sleep came pretty damn close when opium mixed with memories of war. This, on the other hand, was something entirely different, and he hated every second of it.

He’d stopped by the Garrison rather late to check up on Y/N, certain he’d get an earful for his stunt at the high class restaurant. He had said ‘hello’ to Harry and Grace, and asked if she was in. When the answer was no, he’d gone to wait at one of the tables. Evening gave way to dusk. Then dusk to night. Hell, Harry had handed him a key and told him to lock the door behind him on the way out as if he didn’t have two already.

When it hit eight o’clock, Thomas sprinted down the road to grab his brothers and the few men he could rouse at this hour. Now, he and half the gang were out searching for Y/N. There was nothing specific that told him something was wrong, just a gut feeling.

Thomas had sent men to each of the major directions people used to come into the area. They’d wait until word came for them to come home in case she was just out running errands or something. The rest fanned out starting from the pub and worked their way out systematically.

“You’re being paranoid Tommy,” Arthur grumbled for the hundredth time.

Thomas snapped, “My being paranoid has saved your skin on multiple occasions, so how about you shut it and keep your eyes peeled?”

He continued as if Thomas hadn’t spoken, “I just don’t get why you woke us up to go searching for some broad-”

His brother closed the distance between them in moments, lifting up Arthur by the collar as he shoved him against a nearby wall. Thomas’ voice was a low hiss in the night, “She is under my protection Arthur. Not the Peaky Blinders. Mine. I will not hear another word of disrespect out of your mouth, understood.”

“Geez Tommy, What the hell? If she’s just another piece of tail you’re chasing-”

“She’s not. Y/N saved my life and yours countless times.”

Arthur growled, “What’s she got to do with me? I never met her before the other day.”

“She was a Runner!” Thomas’ voice echoed off the deserted street.

Arthur’s face turned a ghostly white, “You mean she was up there distracting the Germans while we-”

“While we dug. Yes. Now stop your whining and help. Me. Find. Her.”

Thomas practically threw Arthur when he released him. Before he could apologize Thomas was already storming off into the night. What he’d told Arthur was only a partial truth, but he couldn’t say the words aloud again so soon after speaking them for the first time in years. If Arthur wanted the full story he could go find himself a reverend. 

A loud shuffling suddenly caught Thomas’ attention. It was coming from around the corner up ahead. He instinctively lifted his light, illuminating the street in front of him. He called out, “Who is that?”

There wasn’t an immediate answer, but the shuffling seemed to speed up ever so slightly. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity he watched as Y/N rounded the corner.  Her face was every shade of red, black and blue skin could possibly be. Y/N’s left eye was swollen shut. Her clothes were missing causing her skin to have a deathly pallor in the cold, but it also let him see more of her skin. The bruises covered the majority of her skin, and one of her toes looked swollen compared to the rest. She was leaning against what looked like a malformed house appliance as she gasped for breath.

Y/N flashed him a grin and immediately regretted her decision. “Hey Tommy.”

“Y/N!” He rushed forward, scooping her up into his arms. 

She let out a loud hiss as the most ginger of movements jostled her, but once she was off her feet a certain stress had left her features.

Thomas spun around as Arthur came into view. “Gather everyone up, I need anyone with medical experience at the Garrison, now!” 

Arthur’s eyes landed on Y/N’s figure, his eyes widening in horror before he sprinted off in the direction more of the men took.

“Y/N, talk to me ok? We’ll get you nice and fixed up once we’re back at the Pub. But I don’t want you passing out on me just yet.” Thomas began sprinting, the quake in his voice was the only hint that anything was wrong.

A shot rang out. Just one, but that's all it took. Tommy reached for her to pull her back to safety. He didn't even get to her in time to catch her collapsing body. Y/N hit the ground hard. 

Tommy was there in a heartbeat. He glanced around wildly. Dirt clogged his lungs as he gasped for breath. Searching. They were alone except for the dead. And the dying.

“No. Y/N. Hey, look at me. You can beat this alright? We just need to get you back to the med-tent.” the crack in his voice betrayed him. He was Thomas Shelby. He had to be strong.

Y/N shook her head, blood oozing slowly from her stomach. “Tommy if we move they’ll shoot you just as fast. I...I’ve some things to say-”

Thomas shook his head so hard his hair fell into his eyes, “You can’t talk like that. If you say stuff like that you’ve already lost.”

She placed a finger on his lips. It was covered in a thick layer of mud, but he knew the soft flesh that lay beneath. The gentle gesture caught him off guard amidst all of the chaos. Y/N spoke so low he had to lean forward to hear her.

When she didn’t answer he began to truly panic so he said the only thing that came to mind, “If we make it through this will you marry me?”

She slapped him. “Shelby I swear to God if you make that joke one more time I’m going to feed you your testicles and turn your ball sack into a coin purse.”

“It . . . Got us through a lot.” For the first time in recent memory, he sounded uncertain. 

Y/N turned her face toward his shirt. “That was before you meant it.”

Her voice broke; they both heard it. He had wondered if she remembered those last few minutes between the two of them. They had fucked before that fateful day, so the chemistry was no surprise. They had also been fast friends from the start; only her and Danny got along more famously.  

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. “If it had gone as planned, would you have said yes?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to.” A soft sob escaped the fabric of his vest.

[markosmate]

american money

pairing; marko x reader

summary; even on the baddest days, there’s always the promise of running off into the night with him.

warnings; none

au; hiiii!! thank you so much for the support on my first few works. i’m working on a dwayne fic and the second part to baby blues now so look forward to those two coming at y’all soon! as always, requests are open so feel free to send in as many as you want - anon or not :)) thanks again <33

School had been awfully stressful lately. You didn’t have many friends to begin with and the ones you did have slowly began to distance themselves after you became close with the boys over the summer. Not many people wanted to be involved with them, which meant not being involved with people who started dating one of them.

It didn’t even take a week before you and Marko were all over each other. The first night you met had ended in a kiss, and a few days later you both had agreed to make it official. Weeks passed before you found out what they really were, the four of them agreeing that you should know that much before you and the curly blond took your relationship any farther.

You had taken it rather lightly, having guessed that something was up after they only came out at night and seemed to walk around with a dangerous aura surrounding all four of them.

So, months later when school started, mostly everyone already knew you were involved with the infamous boardwalk punks. This resulted in most of your friends steering completely clear of you. The ones who didn't, slowly distanced after you barely had time to spend with them anymore.

You couldn’t figure out why they expected you to continue hanging out with them, anyway. All plans that were made were filled to the brim with them throwing degrading words about your boyfriend and his friends at you. You found your nights were much more enjoyable when you spent them with your boys instead of old friends who always viewed themselves as better than you.

When Marko first told you about what they were, he had asked if you would be willing to change to spend eternity with him. You agreed, under the condition that you could finish your last year of high school first. You couldn’t for the life of you figure out why you made that decision now, school was absolute hell.

With all classes and lunches spent alone, you were more lonely than ever all day everyday. And as you laid on your bed staring up at the ceiling of your bedroom, you made the decision right then and there. Why wait nine more months to change when you could just do so that same night and never deal with the hell that is your school and home again? Your parents were constantly away for work, so you couldn’t even guess how long it would take them to figure out that you were gone.

You sat up, moving to grab a bag and pack it full of a few things you’d like to have at the cave with you. David had already informed you about what would happen once you changed. He wanted you to move into the cave with all of them. He informed that you and Marko could decide among yourselves whether you both wanted to clean out one of the rooms and sleep in there together or just sleep from the ceiling with the other three.

You knew in the end if you truly needed anything else besides the bare minimum of necessities, you could just buy it yourself or have one of the boys steal it for you. So you packed only what you absolutely needed before throwing it over your shoulder and hopping down the stairs to the ground floor of your house. The sun had set a good twenty minutes ago, meaning they should be arriving to pick you up any minute now.

Only a few short minutes passed before you heard the familiar roar of engines revving up outside your house. Your lips pulled harshly into a wide grin as you jumped off your couch and opened your front door. There they were, parked in your driveway. Star grinned upon locking eyes with you and she waved you over. "Hey babe! Need a lift?" She joked as everyone else turned to look at you with a chorus of greetings.

"Hey y'all." You laughed making your way over to Marko's bike. You gestured to the bag hanging off your shoulder with a small unsure smile. "Mind if I join the gang a few months early?"

Immediately a huge grin lit up your boyfriend's face. "Are you serious babe?" He laughed out breathlessly.

"Hell yeah!" Paul shouted in victory, leaning over to fist bump Dwayne. "Let the good times roll girl!"

"Of course you’re welcome early. You’re family too." David mumbled quickly, almost like he was trying to say it without actually saying it. You grinned at all of them before strapping your bag to the back of your boy's bike with his help, and then climbing on behind him.

"Hold on tight, baby. This ride's your first ride as a free soul. No more worries, no more responsibilities." Marko whispered back to you before revving his engine as the rest of the boys followed. "Just us, forevermore."

"Did you get that from a song?" You giggled, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist to hold on, knowing how fast him and Paul like to go. The first time they decided to race with you on the back of his bike, you’d almost puked. But you were far more used to the speed and vulnerability that came along with a motorcycle - though Marko was almost always a tad bit more careful when driving with you - after all, you weren’t immortal like the rest of them. A crash that would result in a few cuts and scrapes for them, could possibly mean death for you.

He grinned back at you, welcoming the kiss you pressed to his cheek. "How'd you know?" He joked before turning to watch the road as he pulled the gas and followed after the others.

The wind pushed your hair in all different directions as you laughed happily. You never felt more alive then when you were soaring through the streets of santa carla with your friends, and soon your family. Although you were nervous - what were your parents going to think? would it hurt? how many people would care that you were gone? - you knew deep down that you were always going to be happy as long as you were where Marko was. After everything you've ever been through, every doubt, every worry, he was what you had been waiting for. He was what you had been longing for since you were old enough to dream about future loves you were going to indulge yourself in.

You would learn later on that the pull you had always felt was a mating bond, something that would only get stronger between the two of you once you were a full vampire, but you couldn’t be bothered to focus on anything other than the freedom you felt in that moment.

It ended all too soon as you all arrived at the cave, and within moments the boys cut their engines and were climbing off their vehicles. You threw your leg behind you to climb off, using Marko's shoulders to balance yourself as he pocketed the keys.

"I’ll never get over how amazing it is to ride at night." He grinned at you as he stood off his motorcycle and began walking it over to their hiding spot after you had unstrapped your bag from the back.

"Neither will I. It’s amazing." You smiled happily as you followed after him. Once the bikes were all hidden from view, he reached over to interlock his fingers with your own.

"Well, then I guess it’s a good thing we have eternity to do it over and over again huh?" You laughed at his words.

"I guess so." You pressed a kiss to his lips, but you were both interrupted before he could even try to deepen it.

"Come on lovebirds! We got vampire to turn!" Paul practically screamed up the staircase causing a bunch of birds to flock away upon hearing the sudden noise.

Marko rolled his eyes as he pulled you along with him down the stairs. "Yeah, that will get old fast."

You threw your head back in a laugh, moving to hold his forearm with your other hand - holding yourself impossibly close to his body. "We'll live. Or - I guess we won’t." You joked with a mischievous giggle.

"What was that? A vampire joke?" He raised an eyebrow at you in disbelief.

"Maybe it was." You squeezed his hand in retaliation. "And there’s a lot more where that came from."

[poisonousgirlie]

Kaz Brekker X OC Part 2

A/N Hey babies! I got some feed back of the first part I wrote for this story, some feedback being like 6 people, but I appreciate the support! So I have decided to keep up with the story. Any mistakes in this are mine, and I ask you to bear with me as this is my first real story I am sharing. Anyway I hope you enjoy part 2! And yes I know the GIF isn't Kaz, and this is a Kaz fic but I <3 Jes and he's in this part a lot

-Pebble

Part one

Warnings: Nightmares, brief allusions to PTSD, mentions of family member death, uhh I think thats it lmk if I missed anything

Octavia Gray

When Kaz first joined the Dregs we were little more than a gaggle of thieves, a bunch of unorganized criminals who could barely be considered a real gang, let alone any contender for power in the barrel. In the beginning he was just a barrel brat like so many others, like me. But I was there as he rose to power. As he rallied us, grew our ranks, fixed up the slat. And throughout all of it he brought me with him, his right hand. I never quite knew why he’d chosen me, maybe it was a plot to keep me close, as I knew more about him than he would have liked. He never told me what happened, but when he was still very young he talked in his sleep, screamed for someone named “Jordie”. All the kids under 14 were forced to bunk, and I was thrown in a leaky room, barely even a closet, with Kaz. Through hearing his words in his sleep, and what I could piece together about how he spoke an acted, I put most of the story together. He would only truly tell me what happened years later, and for his sake I pretended I hadn’t known in the slightest. Maybe he took a liking to me because I never tried to touch him, naturally noticing his aversion to the feeling. In return he never pushed me about my own nightmares. We were more similar than we realized, even back then. No matter the reason Kaz latched onto me, and I to him. I don’t know if we would be considered friends by normal standards, but I trusted him implicitly, and he was the most vulnerable around me, even if his walls had only gotten higher as we aged. I helped Kaz build his legend, the character Dirtyhands and his shadow Octavia Gray. Id never consciously adopted a moniker, but most people outside of the Dregs just called me Gray. Throughout everything I had been with Kaz, and the sheer amount of time we spent together implied a certain comfort and familiarity. I cared for Kaz, though it was still fuzzy in what way. And I knew he cared for me, even if the only way he showed it was to kill those who wronged me, occasionally call me “Tavia”, and buy me new knives and the occasional bag of sweets. He never took credit for the gifts that mysteriously appeared in my room, but I knew they were from him. Years later when Jesper joined the gang he became one of my few conventional friends, on the rare occasion I attended parties he was there to throw and arm over my shoulder and thrust a glass into my hand. He never failed to make me laugh, and aside from Inej, after she too became a member of our family, he was my best friend. My brother’s old friend Keenan had managed to escape the barrel two years after Milo died. He scraped up enough coin to get on a boat and sail for Novyi Zem to work on a farm, he still wrote occasionally but otherwise the Dregs were all I had. By the time I was 17 Kaz was basically running the Dregs. The old man did practically nothing, and Kaz gave 90 percent of the orders. I did pretty much every job there was. I went on jobs to infiltrate the rival clubs, I spied with Inej, as I was one of the few who could even come close to matching her stealth. I went out to find new members, and tracked down anyone who posed a threat. I picked pockets and danced my way through gambling halls slipping watches of wrists with nothing more than some sleight of hand and a flirty smile towards the poor pigeon. Jesper affectionately dubbed me the Jack of all trades, though once when he was well and truly drunk he decided to call me the Jane of all trades instead because “well you see your a GIRL, so calling you the Jack really doesn’t make any sense at all”. I told him he was a ridiculous asshole and that traditionally male or female names meant nothing, and he forgot the conversation the next day. Jesper’s flamboyant personality and habit of indulging to excess was a source of much teasing from me. I was sitting In the main room of the slat, with my legs thrown over Jespers legs and my hands toying with the ends of Inej’s long hair teasing him over yet another gambling mishap. It was late, and despite the rowdy nature of the gang and the fact that the slat was buzzing and

awake24 hours a day, there were few people in the main room. Inej interrupted my teasing to quietly remind us about the parle with the Black Tips at the exchange the next day. I groaned at the thought. I hated the exchange, high walls and limited escape routes. It made me feel trapped, cramped. It was stupid that Pére Hascall still insisted on doing it the old fashioned way, despite the fact that the man we were meeting was notoriously tricky, and a pain in the ass. I heard the faint rhythm of Kaz’s uneven gait, the thump of his cane familiar and comforting in a way. I sat up reluctantly, anticipating the inevitable jerk of Kaz’s chin or quick word of summons, signaling for me to accompany him up to his rooms. I’d learned a long time ago the patterns and habits of the seemingly unpredictable Dirtyhands, when you are there when those habits come to be, they are easier to mark. I held up three fingers as Kaz entered the room. I lowered them one at a time, counting down from three. Less than a second after the final finger joined its companions resting near my palm, Kaz’s rasping voice came. “Octavia stop letting Jesper’s lazy ass con you into his ways. I need to talk to you”. Jesper let out and incredulous chuckle “I’ll never understand how you know him so well”. I replied smoothly and easily, flicking his cheek as I moved fluidly to my feet. “I don’t know what your’e talking about Jes”. I was halfway up the staircase by the time his tired brain registered both my words and my grievous attack on his precious face. “HEY! I hate when you do that” he protested, but I was already gone.

[pocketfulofrogers]

To New Beginnings

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Summary: You earned your way to Intelligence, but suddenly Jay begins to question your every more. Or, Jay’s an ass and it takes him just a minute to figure how bad he’s messing up.

Request: Reader likes Jay, but he’s very cold and distant. When the reader gets tired of it, she blows up on him in front of the team with a cute ending. @fofisstilinski​ 

Notes: No warnings, really, few cuss words. Requests are always open!

It happened so quickly- these things usually do.

Kevin had just breached the front door when he called out a runner near your position and suddenly you regretted skipping the gym this past week. A man in his late 20s, brown hair, average height - was that a scar on his right cheek? The chaos from your ear piece momentarily distracted you. Local gang tattoo on this left forearm

Adam called out an additional pair that sent him and Kim East on Cedar, hopefully away from other civilians.

You however, were not as lucky. Loud music perked your ears from what you had hoped was only a backyard get together, but the familiar nostalgic dinging from a carnival game made that unlikely.

There are aren’t many things better than a good block party, though you had wished they’d picked another day.

You had him- you swear you did. Feet pounding the pavement- reverberating in your teeth, breath heavy in your chest. The scrapes on your wrist from the chain link fence you had just jumped were barely an afterthought in the back of your mind.

You were closing in by the second.

Then he rounded a corner, cut through an alley and disappeared in the crowd, his sweatshirt left in a puddle near a trash can on the street. His Glock most likely tucked in his waistband. There were far too many people, but still you tried to scan the crowd.

That’s when you heard the gunshots.

Kevin’s voice bellowed out over the radio.

“Officer down.” Cut through the ringing.

In that moment you decided to turn back for your partner rather than look for a man you’re not sure you could even find, let alone get down safely, without traumatizing and endangering a neighborhood of unsuspecting civilians.

Had your instructor from the academy been there to time your sprint, you’re sure you would’ve broken some kind of record somewhere.

When you approach the back door, there’s glass everywhere and a few chunks blown out of the walls giving way to half rotted wall bearings. The smell of gunpowder mixed with something… unpleasant hangs in the air, but you continue forward. Your weight shifts to the balls of your feet and you keep your gun drawn, body low as you search the house.

Harsh voices draw you towards the front of the house. Peaking around the corner of the kitchen, there’s a suspect in the living room with a gun by his side, clutched tightly in his grip, standing before Kevin. Jay is laying a few feet away from him, still, and you feel sick.

“Put the gun down.” You order.

“Y/N, we’re good, you can go. Me and my friend are just talking some things out.” Kevin’s voice is tight, his jaw taught and pupils wide.

“Sorry, Kev, can’t do that.” You tell him and turn your gaze towards the man. “Let’s get that gun on the ground and then get you out of here.” His hand twitches and you steady your aim in response. “It’s not worth it, man. Come one, we got SWAT five minutes out and they’re not going to be as nice as we are. So, let’s just…”

You reach a hand out to try and take the gun, but he raises it towards you instead, his eyes wild and darting between you and the door behind you.

“Don’t come any closer!” He yells.

“Hey man, if your gonna point a gun, point it at me.” Kevin shifts his weight to draw attention and you take the small distraction to get closer.

He’s able to talk the man into lowering the weapon at least to his side, a small compromise that still leaves you both unnerved, but the sound of leaves crunching under the boot of a uniformed officer outside spooks him into raising his gun again. This time with the intent of pulling the trigger.

You put two in his back before he gets the chance.

**

A superior takes your statement and you are promised that today will be ruled a clean shoot. Adam and Kim return with their runners and you can’t help but feel guilty for losing yours. Kevin raises a brow and wordlessly conveys that there’s no use in falling down that rabbit hole, but it’s hard not to.

You take a deep breath and try to shake it off before meeting him by the patrol car he’s leaned against. Jay’s voice carries in behind you and you have to bite your lip to not laugh at the sight of him swatting at the medics just trying to do their jobs.

“He gonna make it?” You scrounge up an ounce of humor.

Kevin turns his gaze back to you and smiles. “Bullet hit the vest, few bruised ribs. I’m sure-“

“What the hell was that?” Jay comes charging up, slightly less intimidating as he winces when he breathes. “You came back here when there was an armed suspect loose?” He yells.

You’re stunned, mouth slack and eyebrows drawn together. “I’m sorry, what-“

“We called out a runner and it was your job to get him. Not come back here and play superhero.” He bites.

“Don’t talk to my partner like that, Jay, she just saved out asses.” Kevin defends you.

“Yeah, how about a ‘thank you’ or a ‘nice work’?” You add.

“Oh, I’m supposed to congratulate you for failing to do your job? Who knows what that suspect will do now? That’s on you.”

“He got away. Yeah that blows. But you and my partner were taking fire with no back up. I came back to, yes, save you rather than aimlessly look for a man who disappeared, risking the lives of about a hundred people. That’s what I’m trained to do.” You’re fuming now, Kevin’s assurances that you had made the right call are doing nothing to soothe you.

“This is Intelligence, Y/N, not patrol. If you feel like you’re out of your depth or that you were moved up too quickly, talk to Voight.” He leaves you there, both you and Kevin’s mouths agape.

**

“I don’t know where he gets off coming at me like that!” You yell, again, but Kevin still voices his agreeance. “I mean, he’s not the sergeant, he wasn’t even lead. That was you!”

Kevin says something he hopes is supportive, but it borders on patronizing. Yesterday’s blow up was not the first and he’s become increasingly convinced it will not be the last. You plop back down on his couch, your beer sloshing with you, and sigh. He smiles, again, a little patronizingly, at you as you thread your fingers through a blanket and you pout.

“Things were going so well.” You say softly.

That was news to Kevin. Save the last two weeks, the only interactions he had seen between you and Jay didn’t go past a bit of witty banter. Did he know you had a thing for him? Of course, he’s your partner, but Jay has always been harder to read.

He waits patiently for you to elaborate and when you don’t, he rolls his eyes. “Are you really going to make me ask, Y/L/N?”

You groan obnoxiously and throw yourself back. “We weren’t dating or anything, but we were kind of seeing each other?” You can feel his eyes burning into you and can almost feel the ‘partners tell each other everything’ speech encroaching, but you continue before he has the chance. “We were waiting to see where it would lead before telling anyone.”

Kevin huffs. “And where did it lead?”

You’re quiet for a moment. “To my place. A few weeks ago.”

“For?”

You throw a pillow at him. “No details, Kev, don’t be a perv. I fell asleep and when I woke up a few hours later, he was gone. Now he won’t return my texts and he’s being an absolute ass.” Kevin is uncharacteristically quiet. “I don’t really know what to do.” You add quietly.

**

“We’ve got analysts combing through his GPS history, but, so far, no leads on where he might be keeping Mia.” Adam’s face drops as he looks towards a picture of a young woman, graduation cap tilted to the side, smile as bright as the sun shining behind her.

Of the four girls who had gone missing, three had turned up dead. Mia Edwards, a recent engineering graduate, was the most recent and she was quickly running out of time.

You place a hand of support on his arm as you move past him to get a closer look at the board. Jay makes some kind of comment, but you’ve learned to tune him out these days. There’s something within the information delicately placed in front of you that is screaming for you to see it.

“Three isn’t enough to confirm a definite pattern, but these abduction sites,” You run your finger along the addresses, “fall within 5 miles of Little Italy. And if you…” You trail off for a moment and grab a city map, placing a dot for each location where a body was found. The math is messy, but you draw a circle “If you take the crime scenes, that narrows it down to here, around Roosevelt.”

“Oh, did your years on patrol teach you this?” Jay asks sarcastically.

“No, the FBI from that seminar you skipped did.” You shoot back and he glares in response.

“There’s a low-income housing unit that was condemned six months back in the same area.” Adam announces from behind his computer. “Fits the area and there’s been calls about squatters.”

“Because it’s empty houses.” Jay interjects. “Everything about this guy says he keeps it close to home. On the other side of town. What if you’re wrong?” He presses. “If you are, and we bust down those doors, we waste hours of her life. That’s on you.”

You’re not sure what it is. Jay had been coming for you the last handful of weeks, second guessing your every move, being an over obnoxious, hard headed, sanctimonious ass hat and you had yet to let it shake you. But something about the way he’s looking at you right now in this moment has your blood boiling for the first time in weeks.

It’s as if he truly believed you would endanger an innocent woman in an act of showing off. As if you didn’t really care about doing your job and saving her. For you, that’s the last straw.

“I’m right.” You start slowly, darkly. The calmness in your voice a thin veil for the daggers hidden within. “Just like I was right about last weeks suspect being a woman, that cop being dirty, that kid being innocent, that mother still being alive, and coming back for you and Kev.” You slowly take a few steps forward and Kevin can’t get the image of a tiger about to kill it’s prey out of his head. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, or why you seem to think wasting this teams time by nit picking my every suggestion rather than doing your job is a good call, but if you don’t stop coming at me like this,” You take the final step that places you directly in front of him and pull your shoulders back. “We’re gonna have a problem.”

He matches the intensity in your eyes and you wonder for a second if you’ll have to really lay him out in front of everyone.

You lower your voice to barely above a whisper. “You want me gone, Jay? You want me to transfer units? You’re about to get it.”

“Enough!” Voight bellows. “I’ve had it. You two used to push each other to be better, but now you’re just wasting our time. We will go sit on that development while you figure out how to either work together and stay in Intelligence, or if I do need to start a transfer.”

**

“I’m not leaving.” Jay says defiantly.

The team had left in a rush leaving you and Jay sitting in unbridled tension from your respective desks. Your jaw was clenched, his arms were crossed, fists balled at his elbows.

You roll your eyes. “You sound like a petulant child.”

“Says the girl who got us kicked of the case.” He mumbles.

“Are you serious right now? I- god- what is with you?!” You explode, rising up to pace the walkway. “I mean, Jesus Jay, what? What could I possibly be doing better right now? Please tell me because I honestly cannot do this anymore. What did I do to make you not trust my judgement or my skills? Because you certainly didn’t have a problem before we slept together.”

For the first time in weeks, Jay Halstead is speechless.

“Yeah, go ahead and do some inner soul searching for an answer. I have done nothing, nothing, but support this team and do the best job I can.”

He’s silent still and you can’t tell if his lack of words is more or less infuriating.

He stares at his hands for almost two hours before he says anything.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s barely above a whisper. In fact, you can’t really tell if you heard him correctly over the paper balls you were shooting into the trash. When you look over at him and he’s still watching his fingers, you chalk it up to your bored and desperate brain making up something.

“I’m sorry.” He says again, louder. This time he’s looking at you, really seeing you, and it’s hard not to feel exposed under his gaze. “You were right.”

A phrase you thought you’d never hear him say.

“What do you know of the detective who had your desk before?” He asks. He’s calmer now, yet still poised as if he’s guarding something.

“Erin Lindsey? Not much, really. Heard she was a great cop. Good instincts, even better in a fight. What? You think I don’t deserve her spot or something?”

He shakes his head with a small smile before it fades. “You’re just as good, if not better.”

“Then what is it?” There are no harsh tones in your voice, no clipped vowels, just simply the need for some kind of answer.

“I almost proposed to her.” He says simply. That was definitely not what you were expecting. “We started dating, things got serious and I got my mother’s ring, but before I got to ask her, she left. Just packed her stuff and left Chicago. It just left me with a lot of questions.”

You’re stunned into silence and Jay smiles sadly.

“I guess it gave me more problems than I thought, things I never dealt with. So that night, with you, it came back.”

“What did?” You ask softly, moving closer to him.

“That fear and sadness I felt after she left. I guess it was easier for me to channel it into anger, and, in turn, direct it towards you. For that, I am sorry and I swear to never let it happen again.”

“It was one night, Jay, I wasn’t professing my love.” You try to stay soft in your approach.

“But I felt something I hadn’t felt since then.”

When he meets your eyes, that’s when you see it. The hurt man scared of love and willing to do what he has to protect himself.

“So, you started to push me away.” You add for him. It’s not an accusation, rather an observation.

He nods. “But you’re too good, too kind to let even a dick you hate get left behind by you.” He wipes the corner of his eye, catching a tear you had missed.

To his surprise, you grab his hand and sigh. “I’m not her, Jay, you cannot punish me for things she did. And I don’t hate you, I actually don’t think I can. I care about you and while I can’t promise you that we won’t break each other’s hearts, I can promise you that. I truly, deeply care for you.”

“So, we just pick up like the last few weeks haven’t happened? Y/N, I can’t ask you to do that.”

“That’s not what I’m asking. If you are willing, though, I think there are some things that you and I can work through.” His eyes perk up and he radiates hope. “But you have to put in the work.” He begins to nod eagerly. “I’m serious, Jay. You cannot hold her against me.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He grips your hand in his tighter, thumbing the back of your hand.

“Okay.” You say softly

“Okay?”

You raise a brow. “Yeah, if you’re done being an ass.”

He eyes you carefully until you burst into laughter, a loud, contagious sound he can’t help but join in with.

“Oh, thank god.” Kevin sounds from behind you.

Adam joins him. “I thought we were going to have to start picking sides.”

“Alright, alright, enough. Tell me, was I right?” You ask.

Kim smiles at the sight before them, you and Jay’s hands still intertwined. “Mia is on her way to Med. She’s going to be okay.”

“You’re amazing.” You hear jay whisper from behind you.

“I know.” You quip, turning back to him with the brightest smile he’s ever seen.

[potatowitch]

in which hawke finds a cat: chapter 1 (read on ao3 here)

On a walk through Lowtown one freezing Kirkwall winter, Hawke, Merrill and Isabela find a grumpy stray cat in need of healing and a warm place to stay. (warnings for mildly graphic descriptions of pet injury - it gets healed though)

“Look, Isabela, all I’m saying is that us poor Fereldens -”

“Not so ‘poor’ anymore, sweet thing.”

Hawke snorts and rolls her eyes, huddling closer to Merrill and Isabela to share warmth as they trudge through an endless ocean of sleet.

Winter in Kirkwall is a miserable, wet affair. The freezing winds coming in from the Waking Sea have a way of getting through armor and clothes and reaching right down to your bones, and the torrential rains turn anything below Hightown into a muddy, flooded mess. Lowtown is almost deserted as a result, occupied only by a few exhausted, shivering merchants manning their shabby stalls and the odd beggar sleeping fitfully on a street corner. Hawke wonders how they don’t freeze where they lay - the stone ground is so cold that even Merrill and Fenris both conceded to wearing boots today. She shakes the thought from her head as she walks.

“-right, well, us Fereldens tend to think that salt is too spicy, so you can understand why Anders looks at your stews like they’re about to attack him. He did choke on a whole chilli pepper last Wednesday.”

“Okay, but that was pretty funny, though. The shade of red he went was absolutely adorable.”

“Are you kidding?” Hawke says with a wide grin. Her face underneath her dark fringe has gone pink with the cold, and the skin of her lips has started to crack. “It was hilarious, but we’ve got to feed the man somehow. He already doesn’t eat anywhere near -”

“Vhenan, wait,” Merrill interrupts.

The three of them come to an abrupt halt outside of a gloomy alleyway. The wind is less harsh where they stand in the shadow of the tall, worn buildings, though it still manages to carry Lowtown’s signature scent of blood, sweat and shit right into Hawke’s nostrils.

“What is it, kitten?” Isabela whispers.

“Can you hear that?”

Hawke holds her breath and listens intently to the scraping of weathered wood, the howl of the wind, and … a low, coarse “mow” coming from the alleyway.

Hawke and Merrill turn to each other, faces split into wide grins, before taking off down the alleyway and dragging Isabela behind them by the wrists.

The sound seems to be coming from behind a heap of rotting crates and moth-eaten sacks. Hawke heaves them aside, revealing a large grey tabby with a snaggletooth, a long scar over her pink nose and notches taken out of both ears. She’s curled up by the wall and shivering, and she hisses and puffs up as they approach, but doesn’t run away. As Hawke crouches in front of her, she can see why - the cat has her tail stuck under a pile of heavy terracotta bricks.

“Oh, sweetheart,” coos Hawke, completely ignoring the swipe the cat aims at her when she reaches out. “Can you two see if you can move these bricks? I’ll hang on to her so she doesn’t get away.”

By the time they’re done shifting the bricks, Hawke’s face and hands are covered in deep scratches, and both Merrill and Isabela have fallen victim to a few flailing swipes from the distressed cat, who growls furiously as she’s swaddled in Merrill’s scarf and held tight against Hawke’s chest. Half the bones in her tail seem to be crushed - it’s crusted with old blood and hangs limply out of the scarf. One of her paws has also succumbed to frostbite, the fur matted with ice and the pads blue-black where they should be pink.

“Poor baby,” Merrill sighs, reaching over to wrap the scarf tighter around the cat. “I wonder if she’s got a home and a family somewhere. They must be missing her.”

“She looks pretty feral,” Hawke says. She tries giving the cat a scratch on top of her head, and is promptly bitten and hissed at. “Come on. We should bring her to Anders. He can at least deal with the frostbite and properly amputate the tail.”

Merrill and Isabela nod their assent, and Hawke leads the way through the sleety, stinking streets towards the elevators leading to Darktown.

The elevator creaks and whines as they board it. The chains and gears are covered in a layer of ice, and it takes Merrill melting it with a small handheld flame for the controls to finally release and begin their descent into the undercity. Stepping off at the bottom, they’re assaulted with the sounds of metal hitting metal, wailing children and arguing refugees along with the foul stench of waste, decay and desperation. Unlike Lowtown, Darktown is still full to the brim with people huddled around sputtering fires, hunched over as they soothe their starving babies or upend the contents of their stomach into a corner. Hawke, Merrill and Isabela are watched suspiciously the entire time they walk through the twisting alleys, but they’re visibly well-armed enough that no cutthroats or gang members seem in the mood to risk a confrontation.

The outside of Anders’ clinic is surprisingly free of people. Most winters, Hawke has to push past a swarm of refugees needing food for their children or healing from a mine accident, a spare blanket and somewhere to shelter from the cold. Stepping inside, she sighs with relief as she’s hit with the warmth from the heating rune Anders has scratched on the ground underneath his desk. The clinic unfortunately doesn’t smell much better than the rest of Darktown, but the sharp tang of elfroot and lyrium cuts through the stench enough that it’s a little easier to breathe inside than out.

Every cot in the clinic is occupied, and Anders himself kneels in front of a cot on the back wall, hunched over an elven child’s wounded leg. The child’s mother looks on, shifting anxiously from one foot to another as shredded flesh knits back together under Anders’ hands. When he’s done, Anders murmurs something to the child that makes her smile, and he hands her mother the threadbare blanket from the cot.

As he rises and turns, Hawke can see how purple and hollow his undereyes are from where her, Isabela and Merrill stand in the clinic’s doorway. His hand shakes as he pushes it through his scraggly hair, leather tie long since lost in the chaos of his work. When his eyes finally fall on the three women hovering awkwardly by the door, he frowns and lets out a heavy sigh.

“Hawke, unless you’re actively dying, I really don’t have time for - what’s that?”

Anders steps forward and peers curiously at the bundle in Hawke’s arms. As Hawke tilts the cat forward a little to show Anders, she puts her ears back and growls at him.

“Oh, hello gorgeous,” Anders croons. The frown immediately lifts from his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he beams down at the cat. She hisses in response.

“Where did you find this sweetheart?”

“In an alleyway in Lowtown,” Hawke says. “Had her tail crushed under a pile of bricks. Her back paw has frostbite, too.”

“Poor thing. Bring her to the back room and I’ll have a look at her.”

The back room is separated from the main clinic by a cracked, rickety door. Inside is dark and cramped, the only furniture a rickety table and chair, a cracked washbasin, a dresser with a wonky door and a bed far too small for Anders’ lanky frame. The bedclothes have been stripped, likely given to a refugee, and the wardrobe door hangs open to reveal the inside is empty save a few spare bandages and potions. Anders must have moved all his clothes to his room in Hawke’s estate.

Anders deadbolts the door and closes the wardrobe. “Put her on the table.”

The cat, to her credit, doesn’t immediately try to run when Hawke lays her on the table and pulls away Merrill’s scarf. She instead backs up to the far edge of the table and raises her hackles, spitting and swiping at Anders’ hand as he reaches for her.

“Hey, sweetheart, you’re okay,” Anders murmurs to her, braving another attack on his hand to investigate her injured tail. His hand glows a muted blue as he hovers it over the worst of the damage, and his brows draw together in a frown. He does the same to her frostbitten foot, and lets out a heavy sigh.

“The good news is I’ll only have to take off half the tail,” he says. “The bad news is that the foot will have to go too, and she’s seriously dehydrated and malnourished. She can’t go straight back out onto the streets once I’ve healed her.”

Hawke considers this for a moment and shrugs. “That’s fine. She can stay with us.”

Anders’ eyes light up and he stares openly at Hawke. He barely seems to notice when the cat nips at his hand. “Really?”

“Really. Weren’t we talking about getting a cat, anyway?”

“We were,” Anders says. “But I thought you’d prefer one less …”

“Hideous?” says Isabela.

“Grumpy?” says Merrill.

Anders scowls.

“Hey! She’s adorable, and she’s only lashing out because she’s scared and in pain! You would be too! She just needs some love and care and I’m sure she’ll be an absolute softie in no time.” Anders tries to scratch under the cat’s ear, and is rewarded with another bite. His hands are already littered with tiny wounds that he’ll have to clean later to avoid infection.

“Well then,” Hawke chuckles. “Once her foot and tail are dealt with, you can bring her back home. Don’t get too excited, you’re the one who has to give her a bath.”

Anders beams, the corners of his eyes crinkling again. He looks happier than Hawke has seen him since … well, ever, really.

“That’s not a problem, Hawke.”