#lookit those fuzzy ears!

[shotmrmiller]

Needs must II

Pairing: Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Reader

WC: 1.9k

TW: unprotected p in v and smut + jealous Simon

It’s been months since you started your business arrangement with Ghost. Once a month, he’d test your very limits with a different kink of your choice. The sex was fantastic, and the way he treated you as if you were the only woman for him like he had feelings for you, had your heart soaring. He would sometimes even stay the night, and leave in the morning. 

It was only a matter of time before your dream came crashing down.

—

You texted him one day, asking if he was available for a work dinner as your plus one, and he responded that he couldn’t. I’m not available that weekend, he had said. How naive you were, thinking that maybe he had some friends to meet up with or something.

 I’ve got a couple of clients to meet. 

Silly little you, with your heart on your sleeve, asked him if he couldn’t cancel or postpone, that he didn’t need to have sex with you. 

This is my job, lovie. 

Just like that, your illusion shattered. His job, his job, his job. It’s all you were. All the lingering touches, the whispered words in your ear as he fucked you dumb with every sensual roll of his hips. A bloody job. Your tears welled up slowly but refused to fall. It’s your delusion that had led you here, heart aching over an escort. You were a big girl. You’d get over it.

Well, do you know someone else that can accompany me?

And that’s how you ended up with Johnny. He was beautiful, to say the least. Something out of a magazine. Twinkling blue eyes, straight white teeth with a mohawk, and a devastating roguish smile. 

“Name’s Johnny, hen. Ghost didnae tell me ye were such a bonnie lass,” and he raked his eyes from your toes, up, taking in your evening outfit. “I can see why he kept ye all to himself.” Your chest hurt at that. 

“Cute, Johnny. Adorable. Let’s get going, the less time I’m there, the better.” He moves to hang your purse over his shoulder, tucks your hand into the crook of his elbow, and shoots you a grin. 

“As my bonnie wishes.” You ignore how warm your cheeks feel with the way he looks at you. It’s just his job, after all.

—

You stumbled as your heel got caught on the rug in your bedroom, giggling into Johnny’s mouth as you fell back on the bed. The alcohol in your system had you feeling fuzzy, and your core throbbed just by feeling Johnny’s tongue entangle with yours. You truly hadn’t planned to sleep with him, but since he’s already here, and you’re feeling a bit melancholic, you might as well enjoy his company. You’ve paid for it, after all.

“A-ah,  Johnny, you’re gonna—” you pause to moan when he moves his lips down your neck and sucks on the delicate skin below your ear. 

“I’m gonna what, hen? Ye dinnae wanna see me on ye come mornin’?” he sucked a little harder and trailed nips down the column of your throat, sucking another bite by your collarbone. “Lift that dress up, hen, I wanna see those colorful knickers ye’ve been teasing me with all night.” 

You grasp the hem of your dress and raise it until your clothed core is exposed. He gazes down at you, his eyes taking in the obnoxious pink, sheer fabric. “Lookit tha’. I can see your wet slit, dripping just f’me, eh?” he lowers himself onto his knees, crystal blue eyes glued to your pussy. You dig your heels into your bed and raise your hips, intent on taking them off when Johnny stops you. “Leave it on. I’m gonna eat this pretty pussy over these cute little knickers,” licking a broad stripe from the bottom to the top of your slit. 

“God,” you whimpered as he flicks the tip of his tongue against your clit, then gives your bud one firm kiss, and another, before pulling away. 

“Not god, sweets, it’s Johnny.” He moves the gusset to the side, just enough to push in one thick finger, and then two, curling and pushing— intent on finding your sweet spot, all while continuously tonguing your clit. 

You sit up to grab the back of his head, grinding your hips against his mouth, and open your eyes. His heavy-lidded gaze is penetrating— blue eyes glowing in contrast to the dark colour of his eyelashes.

His fingers push into your front wall, stroking you so perfectly, and he flattens his tongue. You let out short, ragged gasps at the coil threatening to snap inside of you. Just a little more, s’all you need. 

“Johnny…” you keen, and it’s like he senses that you need a push because he encircles your clit with his lips over your knickers and sucks. 

Screaming your climax, your body curls in on itself, almost crushing Johnny’s head with your thighs from the force of your orgasm. Johnny feels your clit throbbing, pulsing, and he is so good because he doesn’t stop sucking on it, prolonging your intense pleasure. 

Releasing him from your leg prison, you fall back limp, your vision hazy as if you’re looking at a dream sequence in a movie. 

“Ye ok, bonnie?” and the uh-huh that slips out of your mouth must sound as stupid as it did to you because he lets out a low chuckle. 

“Well, because ye told me it was supposed to only be a date, I didnae bring any condoms.”  Sluggishly, you point at your nightstand.

“I’ve got some.” You close your eyes for a second, taking in steady, calming breaths, trying to gather your wits when he breaks the silence of the room. 

“Ach, these are latex. I’m allergic to latex, sweets.” Opening your eyes, you stare at the ceiling to weigh out your choices. You can’t let him leave until he fucks you into the mattress so hard you become one with it. Damn the alcohol for making you so horny, your inhibitions are lowered. Or maybe Johnny did this to you.

“I figure you’re clean?” 

“‘Course, hen. It’d be really bad f’business to not be.” 

With a conceding sigh, you nod, taking off your heels. "Right. Then get over here and fuck me.”

You hear him take off his clothes, “Lie back, hands on the headboard, if ye would.” 

Grabbing on, he crawls to you and swipes the head of his cock on your sopping cunt, pulling a hiss from behind your teeth. “Lookit tha’. Greedy cunt is ready f’me.” And to prove just how greedy you are, you spread your legs wider, silently begging for him to take you. And he does. Inch by devastating inch, his thick cock stretches you, to the point of stinging pain, and it must’ve reflected on your face because he leans forward to kiss you, and whispers against your lips, “ooh, big stretch, bonnie. Take a breath f’me,” slowly pushing forward until he’s completely sheathed within you.

He waits a bit, kissing you as you get used to him. “Y’ready f’me? I’m gonna fuck ye so good, yer gonna think of me when ye touch yerself.” When you don’t say anything, he raises himself up with one arm, using the other hand to give you a light tap on your cheek. “Y’hear me?” This time you jerkily nod. “Good.” He rises to his haunches and presses your thighs to your chest, your feet flat against his strong chest. He pushes back in, this time grinding his hips into you, before starting an unrelenting, punishing rhythm. The wails you let out were that of a dying animal, but you couldn’t care less. Johnny was hitting the right spot over and over, bringing tears to your eyes. “F-fuck, oh, I—ah,” and then he canted his hips to catch your clit with every thrust. 

You felt the fire of an oncoming orgasm in your belly, and you moved your hands from the headboard to claw at his sides, nails digging into his obliques. Your toes curled into his chest, fingers scratching welts downward as your peak slammed into you with the strength of a battering ram. 

“Oh my godddd, please! Oh fuck please please don’t stop!” and you heard the cruel laugh Johnny let out in response to your begging. 

“As if anyone could stop me,” your walls flutter around his cock, and he growls, “Go on then, bonnie,” and starts pounding into you at a bruising pace, “Give me my reward.”

You scream, again, as you come, almost crying at the incredible bliss of it slamming into your body. If you weren’t having such an out-of-body experience, you'd’ve heard Johnny grunt through clenched teeth at how jealous Ghost is gonna be.

Going completely limp, you drop your head back and look at Johnny, who’s intently watching you.

“Ye good, sweets?” and you give the barest nod. “A’right. I’m gonna finish, okay?” and he starts thrusting again, and that you’re so sensitive, it borders pain. You grab his shoulders to pull him into an embrace and start sucking on his neck. “Oh, f-fuck, bite me.” 

His cock inside you swells, impossibly hard, and you use a good amount of strength to bite the meat on his neck and shoulder— bringing him to his peak. He groans loudly into your ear as he thrusts, releasing thick gooey white, coating your walls and womb. 

Pulling his softening length out of you, he lies down next to you as he catches his breath. After a couple of minutes, he brings himself up on his elbow and grabs your face, giving you a toe-curling kiss you moan into. 

“Same time, next month?” and you nod against his lips. Maybe it was time to move on from Ghost, for your own sake.

—--

The next day, Johnny and Simon are at the gym working out, when Johnny lifts his shirt to wipe his sweaty face and Simon notices the scratches on his sides.

“What’d ya fight that has your sides lookin’ like tha’, Johnny?” he says chuckling. 

“Nae. Yer kitten’s got claws on her. Not tha’ I mind but she jus’ about tore me open.” 

Simon’s smile is wiped from his face at what Johnny just said. “What kitten?”

“Yer girl, who else?” 

He slowly turns to face Johnny, brows furrowed and eyes hard, like stone. “Ya fuck ‘er?” 

Johnny looks at him. “Surprise, surprise. An escort fucking his client. Quick, make it a headline.” Then shrugs. “Jus’ business, Simon,” he pauses, “Although, I understand why she’s got you so pussy whipped.” 

Simon grins at him, and asks, “Was she good?” and Johnny grins back. “Fuckin’ delicious. Now let’s finish this, I’m tryna eat.”

—

Simon grips his steering wheel until his knuckles turn white as he stares at his phone.

You fuck Johnny?

It IS his job, isn’t it?

Your text was a blow, right below the belt. He doesn’t know why you sleeping with someone else stings— at least it was Johnny, but this puts things into perspective. He can’t let you go.

It’s time to give this up. And he texts Johnny exactly that. 

And if she doesn’t want a whore?

Simon lets out a deep, shuddering sigh. 

Then she says no. 

But what Johnny doesn’t know is that he isn’t taking no for an answer. You’re his, now. And no one is going to take you from him.

A/N: I wrote a lot for the smut but ended up leaving it out for our boi, Simon. He's out for blood. Turning it into Ghoap too because i'm not free of those shackles just yet.

[aphroditestummyrolls]

For the WIP ask game

Crows witness protection please. It sounds so fun!

HELL YEAH HELL YEAH! This story has been at the forefront of my brain for a while, and I got a little carried away writing this out 😅

Somewhere in his mind— a throughline between the throbbing pain constricting his ribs, the pounding of his heart in his ears, and the sudden urge to protect this kind stranger— Wylan could still feel the terrible thrill of being chased. Adrenaline pumped through him, and he scrambled to tug his new charge down a tiny alley and into a sheltered little corner. It was almost like a blanket fort like ones children made, just built from whiskey crates and canvas tarps.

Sure enough, there was still chaos in the market they’d run from. Maybe— he begged Ghezen, the Saints, and anyone who was listening— maybe his pursuers would take a wrong turn. If his luck held, Wylan could still get home.

Footsteps and shouting echoed— orders to split up. To make sure he was dead.

Every muscle in his body still twitched to run, but it felt like his bones had grown too heavy for him. Wylan took a fumbling step, vision wobbling, and he took to his knees to open his rucksack.

It was wet with blood, and he swallowed hard. There was a hole in the top right corner that smelled like smoke. His whole mouth tasted like hot iron. His back was pulsing in time with his rapid heart.

“Lad? Hey, lookit me—“ his kind stranger had dropped to the shadowy pavement beside him, cupping the back of his head with a big hand. “You’ve been wounded, bad. If you can direct me, I’ll get you to a hospital, but I don’t—“

“No.” It came out harsh, one arm up to his elbow in his pack. The panic was sharp and sudden in his mind. “No, no hospitals, please. The Barrel is, only the Barrel’s safe.”

The man blinked, fixing him with a wry expression. Wylan, on a better day, would be able to appreciate the irony of that a little more, but he was too shaky to really parse the stranger’s expression.

Was he crestfallen? Or just lost for words? Maybe he was deciding Wylan wasn’t worth it, weighing his sanity and his blood loss— whether or not he was willing to be in such danger for the sake of some bleeding Barrel Rat. Wylan was too fuzzy around the edges to even remember why he’d stuck his hand in his pack, let alone understand another person’s mind.

Those eyes studied him like he was struggling just as much to figure out Wylan.

“How old are you?”

The question was out of the blue enough that he answered without a thought. “23.”

“Oh, Saints.” The man deflated, leaning back into the cold stone wall behind him.

Had Wylan said something wrong? He gave a tiny shrug. “Plenty of people younger than me suffering more down here.”

Was breathing getting harder? Fucking Hell, his back ached.

“Anyone doin’ worse than you? Is already dead— so, if not a hospital, where can I take you?”

“Why are you helping me?”

The man paused like he truly hadn’t thought about it.

“I… I’m looking for my son. Not much older than you, I suppose.” His eyes were plaintive— earnest and comforting, a warm shade of slate grey. “He’s not the most punctual lad, but it’s been far too long since I got a letter from him. And if,” he swallowed, “if he’s ever been in a bind like this, I can only pray somebody would help him, too.”

I absolutely love writing this. Literally feel free to pop into my inbox any time about any of my stories, but ESPECIALLY this one, I am climbing the walls of my enclosure.

Thanks for playing! ❤️

[capricorn-0mnikorn]

12 Sept. 2022. 3-minute listen, from Minnesota Public Radio. At time of queue-ing, the full transcript is not yet up, but I expect it will be soon.

The Humble Horse (Homepage of the non-profit org. featured in the story)

Mino Bimaadiziwin  (Translation: “A good life”) The pony featured in the story

[sysig]

Thinking about baby Kuzu from the ask @thankourluckystars sent made me want to draw himst...

[ashenbun]

-= Foster =-

Anam looked down at the head of mouse brown hair hovering awkwardly between himself and Njsta. He remembered the woman from his childhood and she hadn't much changed; large and inquisitive green eyes framed by curved face paintings in a dull orange, stumpy dirty blonde ears and short cropped hair of the same shade against not-quite-caramel skin. That made the snivelling individual being pushed towards him her son.

"Please? I remember you when you were a boy, Rhes- kind and compassionate- I trust you with Kosve." She half pleaded, her smile wavering. "He is not so skilled with a bow, but he is a good cook! And he learns very quickly."

Anam's gaze drifted down towards that trembling head of hair and the overly fuzzy ears that drooped either side of it. He didn't answer Njsta just yet and instead reached out a hand to grasp Kosve by his small chin and pulled the child's face upward to look at him directly. Green eyes immediately closed.

Anam sighed. Audibly.

"I cannae, Njsta."

"Why!?" She blurted, her grip on her son's shoulders tightening.

Though his gaze was on her, Anam watched the boy in his periphery. Those fuzzy ears began to creep hopefully upwards.

"Am no takin' a boy jist tae die! Lookit 'im-" Anam swept a hand over the scrawny figure between them, "- a strong breeze'd knock him ower! And whit's he plan on 'untin' wi' his eyes borin' holes in th'flare? His aen feet!?"

Kosve's shoulders rose up and those fuzzy ears began to straighten at those words. The fur on the tips bristled.

"I'm not giving him to Sainn! The last boy that went with him I heard was left for dead. I know it is custom to test them, but Sainn is a bastard!" Njsta snapped. "Kosve will not die, he can handle himself, I have made sure of it."

"Really? An' how'd ye'd manage that?" 

Anam put his weight on one foot and crossed his arms over his leather jerkin with a soft creak. By now a small amount of Viera had gathered to watch. Some of them tried to look as if they were busy with other tasks but their hands moved too slow and their ears were trying too hard not to twist over. 

Anam rose a brow, waiting.

"The same way we taught you! With spear and bow, and how to clean and to sew, or have you been gone so long as to forget who really teaches you men how to survive?"

Njsta's words cut across the space and left silence in their wake. By the slight widening of her eyes, Anam suspected she hadn't meant to snap so, but it had been said now and her provoking expression told him she would not back down.

"I have not forgotten." Anam kept his voice low, tempered and even. "All've us know we would nae've lasted a day'd it no been fir our mithers, but... look. That's no a boy! He's as useful as a babe by th' look've 'im an th'moment I took my eyes aff 'im he'd be runnin' back tae y-"

"Shuddup."

Anam's jaw clipped shut and he had to try hard to keep the smile from creeping in. Slowly he took his gaze from Njsta to the boy before him. To the croaky- and slightly squeaky- voice that addressed him.

"Both yous. Shuddup." Kosve gave a hearty sniff and pushed his mother's arms from his shoulders, purposefully moving to make a triangle of their bodies. "I'm small, yeah, but I'm not deaf! I'm old enough! I am going and you are taking me!!"

Those scrawny little arms shook from determined anger and the grip of tiny balled fists. Kosve stared up unflinchingly at Anam now and his eyes held the same challenging flame his mother's had moments before. Only the boy had lit that fire deliberately.

The silence stretched out and eventually even the sound of tools stopped as those closest stopped to watch in earnest. Anam kept his gaze level with the boy just long enough to test that flame, to see if it would snuff out if pushed. It held. Even if Kosve did give an anxious swallow or two. Anam sighed.

"...Grab yer things."

Kosve's eyes flew so wide, Anam almost didn't catch the laugh that threatened to escape. He nodded to the boy with an expectant quirk of an eyebrow and Kosve, now stunned and bewildered, looked up to his mother. Njsta was equally as surprised but recovered much faster.

"Yes- Go! Grab your things, Kosve! Quickly!" 

She flapped her hands at him as if it would will the boy to move faster. He was already stumbling over his own feet as he raced through the village he was going so fast. As soon as he was out of sight, Njsta rounded on Anam with a wry grin and an outstretched palm.

"Ten, as was agreed," When Anam opened his mouth to object, she produced one silencing finger. "Ah! He cracked before we could use the goats."

Anam groaned but diligently reached to a small pouch that hung from his belt at his left hip. He untied it and passed it to the woman. It clacked as it landed in her palm and she spilled some of the contents out for inspection. It contained many polished and carved stones; Anam's own handiwork. They were used to commune with spirits by the women but could only be made in places the men could reach.

"I still 'hink he'd've come willingly if ye told 'im 'e was ready. All this testin' 'is mettle seems unnecessary, Neest."

"Aww, sad that you lost, Rhes? I know my boy. He is strong but only when he is given… motivation. A lot like you, once upon a time. Now you are just a pushover, eh?"

Anam's eyes narrowed but he could not retaliate. Kosve came trotting back towards them with an expression a tangle of anxiety and excitement. Anam couldn't say another word or Njsta's plan would be exposed. The devious woman had already forced her eyes to mist as she turned back to the boy. She stole him into a hug with one hand upon the back of his head, pushed him back so that she could commit his form to memory and then turned him towards Anam. The very picture of a proud mother sending her son off. Anam wished he had never let her rope him into this ridiculous plan. Her son should have just waited until the next group of men came through instead of scrambling to go with him.

"Come along, boy." 

Turning on his heel Anam began the long trek back out to his camp. The sound of smaller feet struggling to keep up slowed him down slightly.

"My name's Kosve!"

"Not anymore it's no. Tomorrow ye'll wake up someone new."

From behind the pair, Njsta's theatrical farewell sang it's way over, crying out for her son's safety and for the spirits to aid the pair.

Anam drew a deep breath and made his own, silent prayer; to never again be drawn in by a game of chance.

[olive-gone]

On that day my soul grew dense

The last school bell on the friday of fall break always marks the beginning of a wonderful week. I counted down the seconds until I’d be free to adventure, with nothing to do but have fun with Poe, no worries. We locked eyes. Five, four, three, two-

“Hey! Put those backpacks down,” Miss Amelia began lightheartedly. “The bell doesn’t dismiss you; I do.” Our teacher was a sweet, pretty young woman. She was basically a classic beauty, but when we had asked why she wasn’t seeing anyone, she said she spends too much time reading and not enough time listening.

“Ah, well, that might be true on any other day, but today’s special, Miss.”

Poe, my best friend, was the class clown. Miss Amelia chuckled.

“Big plans?”

“Always,” I replied.

As the class clamored to leave, we grabbed our bags and started out to the parking lot. It was Poe’s mom’s turn to pick us up in her old sienna Volkswagen. She was almost always late, though, so he and I had agreed to ride our bikes this morning and then again this afternoon. Ellen was a fisherwoman and a single mother to Poe but she was always out fishing and rarely came home before dinner time. My own mother was an accountant and a bit too busy for me in a different way. I felt for him though, losing his father had been hard on the whole town. We had sort of an unspoken agreement not to talk about our families; they weren’t that interesting, anyways. Leaves crunched under our treads as we rode down the cobbled street in the brisk fall air.

“Poe! Wait up!” I called as he sped ahead. We rode all through our sleepy town of Son Welcín, passing the wharf where Poe’s mom leaves in the morning to fish and my father’s flower shop. As we rode up the hill on Pea Street, I could see, in the distance, the glittering of fog resting over the Forest.

No one really pays the Forest much attention, but some people act really weird when you bring it up. I asked my mom once whether she had gone in there, but she just shrugged and said that it wasn’t something I should ask about. Obviously, that just made me ask more questions, but she got this kind of fuzzy look in her eyes and stopped talking altogether until I dropped it.

“Race you down!” Poe shouted over his shoulder. I accepted his challenge, shifting into high gear and pushing myself over the tipping point of the hill. I could see the purple of my scarf fluttering behind me and I almost pulled over to fix it but Poe suddenly took a sharp turn to the left.

“What are you doing?” I asked, pushing hard into my left pedal and leaning to the curve. And to the right. Back to the left. Right again, then straight. I caught up to him at a cluster of rocks too big to bike over.

“Jeez, Poe, are you trying to lose me?” He laughed.

“As usual. No, I just wanted to see where this path led. Lookit, we’re right over the Forest.” The hills led down into a steep dirt trail to the mouth of the woods.

“Oh,” I said, tucking my scarf into my yellow puffer jacket. “You want to go down?”

“Why not?” He continued, “What do we even know about it? I mean, nobody ever mentions going in or out, so it couldn’t possibly be that dangerous.”

“Hm.”

“Well you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. But I’m going.” Poe dragged his bike over the rocks to the opening of the path. Brushing the dust off his checkered flannel, he jumped on and prepared to dive.

“Coming?”

“Fine.” I followed down the winding dirt path, holding my breath as we slipped through the fog and crossed the threshold of the Forest. My ears stung in the cold wind as we flew around trees and skidded through leaves. The hairs on my arms stood up as I saw something dart through the trees. A rabbit, I thought. Or a deer. Again.

“Poe?” I yelled. “Wait!” He couldn’t hear me. I pumped my brakes and slid to a stop.

“HEY!” Finally, he looked back. Leaves danced around our feet, carried by the breeze.

“What?” He called, jumping off of his bike and laying it on the ground in the middle of a clearing. He started to walk towards me. My hair whipped into my face as the wind picked up. Little spirals of leaves floated into the air around Poe’s feet.

“Hey, Poe, I’ve got a bad feeling,” My words were muffled by the deafening roar of the wind as it blew directly upwards, pulling all the leaves out of their neat little spirals and transforming them into massive cones of foliage. I stayed frozen in place as they hurtled towards Poe. He stopped walking. I watched him mouth my name as he began to lift away from the ground. The spell broke.

“POE!” I screamed, tearing towards him.

“olive!” His voice sounded far away, underwater. Adrenaline rushed into the tips of my toes as my boot caught on a root sticking up from the ground. I pulled my hands from my pockets, but too late. My head hit the ground with sharp pain and a dull ringing in my ears. As the blood pounded through my ears and my vision turned to black, I watched, helplessly, while my friend was swept up above the tree tops and out of sight.

...

[iphoenixrising]

I did not expect people to want more of the thing *shrugs* 

Thank-you for the comments on my assholery with cliff hangers @txbookeater​, I love you too babe <3. So much love to electra-iphigenie, emjalen, ships-lover, and @chibinightowl​ for talking up that post. Based on this thing. Warning for triggering themes. Be aware of good boyfriending, kink negotiations, and mentions of past sexual assault. 

Proceed at your own risk 

He takes in a breath, blank for a second, his brain catching up. “Could it possibly be in the bathroom before I get in a nice, hot shower? Followed by a few hours of unconsciousness? That would be really amazing right about now.”

Deflection is an art form, and he really is a master.  He shrugs off his bag, gives him an opportunity to turn away, aware of eyes and how he’s dragging ass, feeling off and irritable. His brain doesn’t have to keep moving from one thing to the next, and things are slowing down. A shudder runs like cold fingers down his spine.

“I think I’d rather ya do it right here, Tim,” and there’s no Sweets, Baby, or any other endearments to make this easier on him. Nope. 

(It’s fine. Breathe. Just some bruises. They’ve seen worse, had worse. They’re all adults here.)

“Jay, I am tired–” “You’re looking shaky, a little strung out.” Dick, at least, makes it gentle. “And I saw it already, so we both know. I’d rather see the damage without your shirt in the way.” “Then, we’re gonna talk ‘bout why ya didn’t tell us right away.” “Mmhm, we might need to have another talk about the rules when we play.” “You’re blowing this out of proportion,” he argues gently, rubbing his hands and wrists because his fingers are tingling. “We had a play date, and by the time I was getting...you know, sore, I was already at work, you were on patrol–” “You didn’t say a word about it to me,” Dick cuts in, “and you absolutely should have. Now, I’m wondering if you really do know your limits, and if I can trust you enough to stop us when you need to.” “I...I didn’t–” yes. Yes I did.

It’s as simple as breathing in too sharply, his ears suddenly ringing, and there’s rubber in his mouth, his teeth probably cutting into it, and it hurts. Normally, he’s okay with rough and multiple rounds, loves how they get when they need control, to feel like there’s something in their hands that can’t just be taken away. 

He gets it. Loves that their go-to outlet for it...is him. 

Even if he can’t come again, it still usually feels amazing, and crazy in his brain because they want him this much. Really, he loves them. 

(The bell clenched in his fist is making an indent in his palm. His chest constricts, just like last time, but he can at least gasp through the holes in the gag. So he doesn’t need to drop it. He wants to. It hurts and he wants to, but he doesn’t. He can take it. He’s had worse. This is for them.) 

Neither of them noticed it had gone from amazing to uncomfortable to painful, and he didn’t drop the bell. He didn’t tell them to stop, so really, it’s on him isn’t it?

Bile rushes up his throat, bringing him back to the very real present where Dick and Jay are suddenly really close, and he realizes he’s just sitting in Dick’s lap, shaking like a leaf.

His face is wet, his chest hitching. 

He doesn’t puke, so that is about a million points.

But, he is absolutely falling the utter fuck apart and that just isn’t conducive to his attempt at coming home to snuggle and pass out in blissful unconsciousness.

(This is his life. Seriously.)

“Shit, shit, shit,” the first attempt to move is right out the window because he’s on octopus hold lockdown.

(On one hand it feels nice to be held. On the other, he can’t escape and it feels restrictive, stifling, terrifying.)

“Hey, hey, Baby. Lookey here. That’s it, that’s good.” Jay is rubbing palms up and down the top of his calves, up to his knees and down to his ankles. He’s talking low and gentle. “I’m going ta the kitchen, n’ getcha some water. Then, we’re gonna talk ‘bout what’s doing, you feel me? If me and Dickie are gonna be able ta take care a’ ya, then we gotta know what’s in yer head.”

He’s breathing too hard, too fast, his hearing spotty at best.

“Ssshhh. You’re having a panic attack, Timmy. You’re hyperventilating, so I need for you to calm down now, okay?” 

Then Dick’s chest is under his tingling fingers, and the exaggerated breathing helps him slow it down, take back some of the control over his body.

He doesn’t feel like he’s going to pass out or puke, so the day is looking up. 

The absurdity of that thought it the thing that really makes him laugh, the sound hoarse, choked. 

“Okay, okay, you’re doing good, Timmy, just stay with me,” and he didn’t notice when Dick started rocking back-and-forth in a soothing motion, or when Jay got back and slid a hand around the nape of his neck.

He’s still shaky as fuck, curled up against Dick’s warmth, and fuck is he cold and wrung out. It feels like a high fever, joints achy, brain foggy, reaction time slow.

“...it’s a fucking drop, Dick. Look at ‘im!” “I’ve never heard of a delayed response like this.” “Knew we shoulda waiting ta scene. He went right from bed ta the pressure cooker, Dick.” “I should have picked up on it when I went to see him.” “S’all right, least we know what ta do now,” and Jay bends, pulls and lifts him like he isn’t a full grown man, pulling him in tight. “Need ta getcha all warm n’ snuggled, don’t we, Baby?”

Dick is throwing back the covers, but Tim doesn’t want to get in bed, not smelling like antiseptic and and bleach, but being warm, being able to hide his face in the pillow is really appealing.

He nods in Jay’s shoulder and lets just the scrub top be pulled off, leaving him in the nerd shirt underneath. He’s glad for it, already vulnerable, cold, shaky.

A straw to his mouth from no where and water before hands are helping him scoot over gingerly in the middle before flopping down on his good side with two warm vigilantes like bookends. Gentle circles on his back while Dick snakes an arm under his head, pulls him closer. 

“All right, that’s better.”

That hand hits a tender spot, and the flinch is automatic. “Sorry, Timmy. Once yer all warm, we’ll lookit how bad, yeah? Gonna lemme see, and it’s gonna be all right. S’ just me n’ Dickie.”

It’s awful because the two wrapped around him is fucking close to perfect and he isn’t feeling as shitty as he was at the ominous picture they made when he first walked in, and yeah, yeah, maybe it was stupid to try hiding it from them. He’s fuzzy about it, but he’s pretty sure that’s a rule somewhere in the Do’s and Don’ts for Playtime talk. 

He probably going to get a lecture. Possibly two.

“Sorry,” he finally says, voice stronger because his throat doesn’t feel like raw hamburger anymore. “I...that wasn’t supposed to happen. I don’t know why it was bad, but I’m s–”

“The only thing that would make me angry right now is if you apologize again,” Dick follows it up with scritches to take the sting out of it. “Something triggered you to have a severe drop, Timmy, and if you could tell us what happened, it would help us to make sure it doesn’t happen again. Can you understand that? We need to know so we don’t accidentally hurt you?”

He goes still and his chest hurts just a little.

“I...I should have safeworded out,” it hurts to say, “I sh-should have dropped it, but I thought I could take it, and then things got weird and my brain just, and I thought if I did it would be weak and-and you didn’t need that, and I-I just. I’m sore and it hurt and I didn’t– it’s my fault, okay. I should have because I know that’s a rule somewhere.”

and he keeps babbling on, rambling with his eyes getting hot and his vigilante boyfriends petting him, rocking with him, letting everything just pour out of him without stopping him or pulling away, just–

Dealing with his special brand of insanity. (Those darn abandonment issues. Golly, some day he won’t feel like his chest is being ripped open viciously with fear they’re going to walk the fuck out of his life and never come back.)

He’s finally talked out, feeling like ass about fucking up their morning.

“Your color is coming back, that’s good.” “Warmed all up, Dickie. Time ta tell it like it is.” Well. Shit.

“Yeah, yeah okay,” and he blinks up out of Dick’s chest with his eyes still puffy and his side tender, those blue eyes dark with something hard to interpret.

“I’m not happy you didn’t tell us immediately because we agreed to communicate about these things. D&S can be scarring, and this is just an example of how people get hurt.” 

“And I’m going to say this now so you understand how important it is. About the fact you didn’t safeword.” Dick’s chest expands, hitches, “You need to know, you’re not only protecting yourself when you do, but you’re protecting us, too.”

“I don’t–”

“Tim. I’ve been sexually assaulted several times, and you know that. So... knowing I hurt you that way makes me sick inside, okay. Can you– can you understand that?”

“I-I fuck, Dick, I’m–” “Please don’t say it. No more sorries. But, it’s important you understand Jay and I have our own traumas, so if you, not us, want to keep trying this, we have to navigate more carefully.”

Behind him, Jay’s forehead is nestled in the dip at the base of his neck, and a hard breath whistles down the back of his shirt. 

He despairs inside at how Dick and Jay must be feeling, how bad it looked to them that Tim hadn’t come clean, hadn’t safeworded at all. “I fucked up. I won’t do it again, I promise.”

Dick presses a gentle kiss in his hair, and Jay nuzzles against his throat. 

He gets more sips of water and eventually a panini and soup. There’s more cuddles and warmth, more talk that sucks the breath out of them all. 

His head wraps around the rules differently this time, taking careful note of the way Dick’s expression gets shuddered and Jay goes still. He assures them he still does want playtime sometimes, shoots down the notion he’s only doing it for them, tells them that when his brain is too full and he needs to give up control, he doesn’t want to do it with anyone else but them. 

He realizes it’s because somewhere, he knows they’ll take care of him...if he lets them.

Then his shirt comes off so the deep bruises can have Alfred’s magical concoction spread over. His cheeks are pink when he’s laid out on his stomach with the scrub pants tossed off the bed. Soft praise while he’s spread open by gentle hands to make sure he’s not torn. Bruised and sore yeah, but nothing too awful. He gets a pair of Dick’s cut-off sweatpants that still hit him below the knee and one of Jay’s shirts that he practically swims in, but he feels about a million times better just wearing their clothes.

And when they’re careful with him for the next few days, when love making is tender and slow, when touches are easy with his bruises in mind, when everything is verbal and consent is crucial, he make more of an effort to stomp down the urges to push his limits, push himself. He stomps down on those stupid recriminations and uncertainties, tries to remember that these two could be literally anywhere else in the world, and yet, here they are at his side.

He gets to have vigilantes bleeding on his fire escape, and the men under the mask in his bed, in his shower, in his kitchen, in his life. 

The next scene he yellows, gets a much needed pause before they continue, and the aftercare is truly a thing of beauty.

[thots4daze]

yES FINALLY SOMEONE WHO WRITES FOR KUNIMI. Uh, anyways, can I ask for him + oikawa with a s/o who unhealthily plays volleyball literally non-stop due to a tournament coming up?

LOOKIT THIS SWEET FUCKIN BOI

IT’S BEEN LONG OVER DUE MY DUDES — CAUSE IMMA FUCKIN’ GARBO CAN … enjoy Kunimi nonetheless… Oikawa will be coming at y’all in the form of HCs soz 

K U N I M I   A K I R A 

It was never enough. Always striving to be the best in everything you did. It was admirable. How could it not be? But, you were working yourself to the bone; literally. Kunimi thinks to himself, When was the last time he saw you eat a full meal at lunch? Water can only take you so far. 

He could tell by the way you would kiss him hello at the start of the day and on your walks back home - they lacked a certain something. It wasn’t that he thought you were distancing yourself from him because your relationship was lacking; because it wasn’t. It was just… you were so hyper focused on the tournament coming up.

Attending Aobajohsai has ingrained in his mind, body and soul the payoff for working your ass off in volleyball. On the flip side he’s also been witness to what pushing yourself to your limits can do to oneself - let alone the team dynamics.

So, as soon as that special time between the two of you becomes too much of a bad thing, Kunimi is stepping up to the plate and inserting himself into your routine - however unhealthy your routine may have been.

He would make sure to be the first one out of his own practice - since he can’t well enough ditch his team lest Oikawa or worse - Iwaizumi-senpai - berate him and make him stay even later to do horses or up-downs. He shudders at the thought. So, he’s bolting out those gym doors and heading towards the girl’s gym. You should be done with practice too, which means your team should be packing it up nicely back in the storage room and wiping the floors clean of the sweat and debris. 

However, as soon as he’s walking through those double doors he hears the unmistakable sound of rubber catching on the treated floors. The squeaks bouncing around the gym, echoing. And there you are in the midst of it all, while the majority of the others are packing up. You must’ve asked the other players to stay behind and help, and by the exhausted looks crossing their faces, they seemed to be at their limits for the day.

Kunimi would step up and in between you and the net, fixating his look of indifference on your frazzled state. Though, you knew better than to think that he was looking at you with such a gaze. It was filled with concern. You hadn’t even realized that the other girls had left the court and were milling about to help clean up. Kunimi walked closer to you, your chest heaving with the lack of oxygen practice seemed to take from you.

Or was it because your boyfriend was so close that he just took your breath away? A light, breathy chuckle escapes you at the thought.

It was then that the last few weeks caught up to you, and you could feel your limbs growing heavy, chest tightening, eyes going fuzzy at the corners. You began to tilt forward only to be caught in the arms of your boyfriend. Face a scarlet red, either from practice, the blood rushing or just plain crushing you didn’t really care.

His voice soft, yet stern and oh so blunt as you loved him for it, “You shouldn’t be pushing so hard,” he starts to lecture, and although his words are harsh and true, his tone and the way he wraps his arms around you are anything but gentle and safe.

Brushing strands of hair off of your face and behind your ears, he gently rubs small circles along your back soothing you from your dizzy spell. “I love you, you know that. I can’t stand to see you hurting yourself just for a tournament.”

You wanted to snip something back at him that it isn’t just a tournament but he continued, “If it means that much to you, I’ll stay after and help you practice. Maybe even get some of the guys to join in too. But we’re going to go about it the right way. Not just push through meals and sleep. Got it?” It wasn’t so much a question at this point. But you nodded against him anyways, burying your face in the crook of his neck and wrapping your arms around him to keep you grounded and upright.

[wordshakerofgallifrey]

for @elozable , @mirkwoodsguardian , and @radioactivepigeons ... careful, y’all, or I’ll start to think you like my writing or something, and then I’ll get a big head ;) <3

A hand gripping his shoulder suddenly woke Jack up. 

Bolting upright, he resisted his deep, innate instinct to throw a punch. Instead, he tried to clear his fuzzy head. “Kath?”

“Jack, Jack, something---ohhhh---something’s wrong, something’s really wrong.”

His wife’s panicked voice shook the last of the sleepiness from his mind, and Jack was wide awake. “What is it, babe, what’s--what’s happenin’?”

He managed to twist around to turn on a lamp. Katherine had managed to rip the covers off her by the time he turned around, only to see blood soaked into their sheets.

Jack scrunched his eyebrows. “Nothin’ that hasn’t happened before, we’ll just change the sheets---oh shit.” His eyes went wide. “You’re pregnant.”

“No. Shit.” Katherine said through gritted teeth, holding her stomach. 

“Okay, okay, okay. Shit. We gotta---” Jack frantically stood up, rounding the bed to her side. “---Hospital. Can ya stand? We’ll get... We’ll get Pete, an’ we’ll take ya to the hospital, an’---”

“Jack.” Her voice stopped him. His six-and-a-half month pregnant wife looked more scared than he had ever seen her. “It’s too early, this---ah---this can’t be good, that’s too much blood for it to be anything but bad.” Katherine shook her head, eyes welling up.

“No, no, no, shhh, darlin’.” Jack cupped her face, trying to steady himself. He was scared, too, it was a lot of blood, but his wife didn’t need him freaking out now. “He ain’t comin’ out yet, not ‘til he’s s’posed to. We just gotta get’cha ta the hospital just ta make sure, okay?”

Katherine nodded, swallowing hard, even as tears spilled over. “Okay. Okay. Get Pete. I--I can make it to the door.”

“Ya sure?” She nodded again, and he kissed her forehead, wiping away her tears. “Okay. We’ll be okay.”

***

“Mama! I sit wit’ you?”

Jack scooped up Pete before he could climb up on the couch, looking at Katherine, who was lying on her side, in question. She nodded, looking a little wistful. She’d been on bed rest for the last month, unable to travel much further than the distance between their room and the couch without causing more bleeding. It was killing her, not being able to be as active as she wanted, go to work, or play with their son.

“Okay, buddy, but we gotta be gentle wit’ Mama, okay? Can ya be gentle?” Pete nodded enthusiastically, and Jack set him on the couch, near Katherine’s hip. She reached out a hand out to comb her fingers through Pete’s short hair, as Jack sat on the floor in front of the couch.

Pete leaned on Katherine. “Mama okay?”

“Mama’s okay, baby,” she reassured him. “Mama just has to rest a lot because of the baby.”

“Me?” Pete’s brow wrinkled in confusion, and Katherine laughed.

“No, the baby in Mama’s tummy. He’s making me tired, so I have to rest.” 

Pete reached out a tentative finger to poke her stomach. “Dis baby?”

“Yeah,” Jack said. “That’s ya lil’ brother.”

Frowning, Pete poked Katherine’s stomach again. “Stop makin’ Mama tired. I wanna play wit’ Mama.”

Katherine laughed. “Don’t worry, buddy. Mama’ll be able to play soon. But for now, can you rest with me?”

Pete yawned, face scrunching as he did, and he nodded. Stretching out, he managed to curl himself around her bump, pillowing his head on her chest. Within a minute, he was already asleep.

Jack shook his head. “Think Number Two will be this easy?” he asked, pulling a blanket over Kath and Pete.

“With the trouble he’s given me so far?” Katherine shook her head. “Who knows?”

***

“Okay, Dad, time to cut the umbilical cord.”

Jack couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. The last two and a half months had been rough, right up to this moment. Corey---they’d finally picked a name last month---had decided to make things even tougher on Mom and Dad, trying to wedge his shoulder out before his head.

But he was out now, and Jack accepted the scissors from the nurse, cutting the cord with a much steadier hand than he had with Pete, and Corey was whisked away to be cleaned up. 

Jack moved back to stand next to Katherine in the bed, lacing their fingers together and kissing the back of her hand. She sighed, rolling her head tiredly towards him. 

“Well,” she sighed again. “That was... an adventure.”

He laughed, squeezing her hand. “Ya did great, baby.”

“I know.”

Jack laughed again, pressing a kiss to her head. 

“Alright, here he is, Dad,” one of the nurses said, bringing Corey back, swaddled in a blanket. 

Taking his son---second son---in his arms, Jack couldn’t help put marvel at this little boy who’d made their lives difficult before he even entered the world.

When he married Katherine, he didn’t think he’d ever love anyone like he loved  her. Then they had Pete, and he thought the same. 

Now, holding Corey, Jack couldn’t believe his heart was capable of feeling so full. 

He turned to allow Katherine to hold their son, just in time to see her curl in on herself, grimacing. “Kath? What--?”

“She’s losing a lot of blood!” the doctor said suddenly, and, in an instant, the room was bustling with activity. “Get her to an OR, prep a unit of whole blood!”

Before Jack could ask what was happening, the sides of her bed were pushed down, Katherine was transferred to a gurney and wheeled out of the room, leaving Jack holding Corey, completely stunned. 

***

A couple hours later, Jack had been updated on what happened to Katherine--- “It happens, sometimes, especially on a second or third child. She’ll be fine, we just have to get the bleeding stopped.”---and was sitting in a chair next to her bed, waiting for her to wake up. 

Corey’d been taken to the nursery to be fed and to sleep for a bit, and Jack was already missing him. If nothing else, there’d be someone else in the room, awake. 

It was too late to call anyone now, even though they all insisted that he wake him up when Corey came, but it felt wrong to have anyone come see Corey when Kath hadn’t even met him.

He’d called Davey and Chaya earlier, just after Kath went in to surgery, to check on Pete, who was ecstatic that his little brother was finally here and couldn’t wait to meet him the next morning. 

The door clicking open broke him out of his thoughts, and Jack looked up to see a nurse holding Corey. “Mr. Kelly? Would you like to see your son?”

He nodded, holding his arms out for his son, not able to trust his voice right now. 

She set Corey in his outstretched arms, smiling a little as she closed the door behind her. 

Corey blinked up at him. “Look at’chu,” Jack said. “I swear’s ya eyes’re already darker, kid. Ya gonna have Mama’s eyes? Pete does. An’ Mama’s eyes are the prettiest I’ve ever seen, so’s I’m okay if both ya boys get ‘em.”

Unimpressed, Corey stretched an arm out, his mouth forming a little ‘o’ as he yawned. 

“That’s ya Mama.” Jack turned him a little towards Katherine’s bed. “Ya gave her a hard time, lil’ man. She’s gonna be okay, don’ worry ‘bout that. But you’ve given us too many scares, an’ she had a couple’a problems afta’ ya came out. But’chu know what?” Corey stared past his head. “Ya Mama’s the strongest girl I know. We’re gonna be fine.” 

He wasn’t sure if he was reassuring himself or Corey at this point.

They sat there for who-knew-how-long, Jack just watching Corey drift in and out of sleep, and wait for Katherine to wake up.

“Hey,” a soft voice said next to him, startling him slightly. He looked up to see Katherine, sleepy-looking, but awake, smiling softly at them.

“Hey,” he said back, standing to sit on the edge of her bed. “Wanna meet Baby Number Two?”

She laughed a little and nodded. “Let me meet Corey.”

After she’d sat up, Jack transferred Corey into her arms. Cradling him to her chest, Katherine shifted the blanket so she could see his face better.

“Oh,” she breathed. “Look at that, Jack, he looks just like you.”

“Nah,” Jack shook his head. “I had a lotta time ta look at ‘im, Lookit those ears, that’s all you, Ace. Hair’s too light, too.”

Katherine was quiet a moment, tracing Corey’s features lightly with a finger as he settled into her.

“Kath?”

“I--I know we always talked about more than two,” Katherine said, looking at Corey rather than him. “I had six siblings growing up, you had the boys, but... I don’t know if I can go through that again. I don’t want to say never, but--”

He set a hand on her leg. “I get’cha, baby. We don’t gotta figure anythin’ out now, but y’know. I think two boys’s enough ta add to the mix.”

She looked up at him then. “For sure?” she asked, cracking a little smile.

“For sure.”

***

A Little More Than Two Years Later

They stared at the little plastic stick on the bathroom counter, the little plus sign glaring mockingly at them.

“Well... shit.”

[the-battle-lesbian]

Down So Low

So this is a quick little fic I wrote about Willa’s journey to her final moments against Wynonna as she goes below where Peacemaker sent her. I will be adding it to AO3 soon as well. Title and lyrics from “Down So Low” by Royal Deluxe. Warning this does contain depictions of child abuse and domestic violence.

Down, down so low How deep into the ground can one man dig a hole? Down, down so low Leaving you crying out, have mercy on my soul

It was her earliest memory. She must have been three, certainly no older than four. Mama had given her a stuffed bear- he was a raggedy old thing, with black buttons for eyes and flimsy arms the perfect size for her little hands to hug. She had screamed with joy when Mama gave him to her- this was her bear. Willa’s bear. She can’t remember if Mama had made him by hand; she may have, seeing as how all of Willa’s dresses were hand-me-downs or hand sewn for her. But Willa loved all of them because they were hers. Even her little boots with the big hole by her big toe made her happy because they were all hers. Growing up she knew her family never had much, but as a baby none of that had mattered. Nothing had mattered that day except her bear. As soon as she grabbed him from Mama’s hand she ran to the living room to show Baby Nonna, who was sitting up on a quilt with a rattle in her chubby hand.

“Nonna, Nonna looookkk!” she squealed, shoving the bear in the baby’s face, almost knocking her backwards. “He’s my bear Mama gave him to me he is brown and small like you! He’s my bear but-but I can share him cause you don’t have a bear cause you’re too small.” Willa knelt down next to her sister, who cooed and reached out to squeeze the bear’s snout with her free hand. “Yeah Nonna he’s soft- but don’t eat him though please that’s nasty!” She hurriedly pulled the bear away as her sister tried to take a test bite of his snout. The sudden movement through the baby off balance and she toppled forward. After a moment of silence, digesting what had just happened, she began to cry out. Willa looked up to see Mama rush over to pick up the baby and gently rock her to calm her down. “I didn’t do nothing Mama she tried to eat him and she fell I didn’t do nothing!” Willa yelled, her voice cracking on the final ‘nothing’. Mama smiled down at her.

“I know you didn’t mean to, sweetheart. But remember, Nonna is little and we have to be careful with her. Babies are helpless when they’re little. So you have to be a big, responsible girl for me.”

Willa nodded fervently with her eyes wide. She was a big girl. So she had to be responsible and good and careful.

It was at that moment the front door slammed open, signaling Daddy was home from work. Nonna began to wail again, and with that ended Willa’s happiest memory.

And she still was. Protecting her Nonna, that is. She’d learned so much in her 29 years but most of all she had learned:

“That death can be a mercy.”

The look on Wynonna’s face told her that she did not understand.

It was her 6th birthday. There was no party- the Earps didn’t do parties but that was okay. Willa really didn’t have any friends in Kindergarten anyways. They thought she was weird and smelled funny and had a boy name. Nonna, four years old and sprightly as ever, was her only friend. Mama had made her her favorite cake- chocolate with funfetti icing, cause she could never decide if she wanted vanilla or chocolate cake so Mama just mixed the two. She blew out the six candles and closed her eyes tight to make a wish. ‘I wish I could get a horse’ she thought to herself, really almost prayed. Daddy was standing in the door frame to the kitchen, staring at his boot. He’d been moody lately, not that he wasn’t usually. But Willa saw the bottles. And those bottles made him mean. Mama patted Nonna on the head as she wiggled in her seat, eager to dig into cake. She looked over at Daddy.

“Is there anything you’d like to say to your daughter for her special day?”

Daddy scoffed and looked over at Willa, his face hard to read. Maybe it was annoyance, or anger. Or pity.

“Her special day is 21 years away, Wendy. She’s just marking time now.”

He walked over to the table and sat down across from Willa and her cake. He reached into his boot and pulled out a pistol. It was old, anyone could see that, but well taken care of. Willa saw herself reflected in the freshly- polished silver barrel and gulped. Daddy had told her stories about this gun, and everything it had done. Everything it meant to her family, and her legacy. Peacemaker. A name like that should bring a sense of ease but all she felt was rising terror.

“You see this gun, Willa?”

She nodded, not taking her eyes off of it.

“This will be yours in 21 years. And with it, every last one of those 77 revenants resurrected from Hell will be yours too. It will be your responsibility to put every last one of those sons of bitches into the ground and to do that you need training. You’re old enough now to hold a gun. Not this one-”

He flashed Peacemaker a final time and slipped it back into his boot.

“-but this one.” He pulled out a similarly designed pistol, probably nearly as old, and pushed it across the table to her. “Your training begins immediately. There is no time to waste because you have to be ready. If you’re not, they will kill you and Nonna and every last one of us!” His voice rises on the last words. Willa fights back the tears, because he cannot see her cry. Mama looks heartbroken and is covering Nonna’s ears, cause she doesn’t need to hear this. She only wants cake. Willa looks to Mama for help, but she knows there is nothing to be done. The Earp Curse is coming for her whether she likes it or not.

That was the end of Willa’s childhood.

Peacemaker clicks. She tries again but another click. “Wh-what happened?” She feels the tears coming but she holds them back. They will never see her cry.

“You went wrong.” Nonna doesn’t fight the tears.

No. No she didn’t this is the only way to save them all. To free them. If only the stupid gun would shoot. She cocks it a third time and that’s when her side ignites in a splintering pain.

She was eight years old. Her and Nonna play tea party with their stuffed animals. Tea party guests this evening include a Raggedy Ann, a porcelain doll that Willa was half sure was haunted but it would just have to do, and Mr. Plumpkins, her bear. Willa holds an empty tea cup up to Mr. Plumpkins’ mouth and makes slurping sounds as “he” drinks. In her best British accent (still quite a poor one) she says “Jolly-ho Raggedy Ann that is some fine tea you brewed up today! Now can I have a scoonnee?” Willa elongates the word as she reaches over to pick up an empty plate and place it in front of Mr. Plumpkins. Nonna laughs and grabs Raggedy Ann, ready to respond.

But it is at that moment Willa’s bedroom door bursts open, the old wood in the frame cracking from the force. Her blood runs cold.

“WILLA EARP WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING UP HERE?”

She stands up quickly to face her father, bear still in hand. She keeps Nonna hidden squarely behind her, Nonna who is burying her face in the Raggedy Ann doll to hide her whimper.

“We’re just playing Daddy I forgot about training I thought you said you had work today!”

“The hell you were just playing who do you think you are? Some sweet little girl?!” With this he lunges forward and grabs her by the hair, whiskey on his breath, leaning in to make sure she gets the message that follows.

“You are the goddamn Earp heir you don’t have the goddamn time to play ‘tea party’ with Wyn or anyone else! What did I say about this kind of slacking off huh? HUH?” He yanks harder on her hair and she can’t stifle her tears anymore.

“You said they all die! If I slack off they’re all dead!”

The silence that followed was more deafening than Ward’s yells. Taking a moment to see that he was satisfied with her answer, he roughly let her go and stood back to his full height. Subconsciously, Willa tightened her grip on Mr. Plumpkins, and it did not escape his notice.

“Wendy never should have given you that damn bear. Making you think you could be just like any other kid. You’re done here.”

And with that he snatched Mr. Plumpkins from Willa’s grasp. She screamed before she could stop herself, which earned a slap across the face from Ward. She was instantly silent and looked up at him, hand gingerly touching the growing redness on her cheek.

“I’m throwing this damn bear out in the woods, and when I get back you better have your gun loaded and ready for target practice, got it?”

His voice was quiet now, which made him even scarier. Willa pursed her lips and nodded, taking in a deep breath to steady her nerves.

“Yes sir.”

Ward nodded. “Good”

Then he left. And with him went the idea that the Homestead was even a home.

The creature roared as it wrapped a tentacle around her bleeding waist, and Willa knew it was time Wynonna learned. Learned the truth.

“You see Wynonna?”

Her lungs were already running out of air.

“You can never really go home again.”

And when the creature pulled her backwards she screamed with all she had left.

She was 11 years old. She was out on a walk around the Homestead’s land with Nonna, careful to always stay on the Homestead land- never leaving it so the Revenants couldn’t touch her. Daddy was quite clear about that rule. It was a rare moment, when she was free to just be, and she chose to just be with her sister. Everything was good for once-

“Nonna, Nonna lookit what I found in the bushies!”

-except for that thing. The tiny girl ran out of the bushes and up to Wynonna, holding out a brown fuzzy mess. She was jumping up and down and babbling a mile a minute as Wynonna took a look at the doll. After a moment recognition dawned on her face and she turned to Willa.

“Willa it’s Mr. Plumpkins! I guess Daddy wasn’t that good at getting rid of him.” She scoffed as she brushed some twigs and leaves off his fur, “Can’t really say I’m surprised; he’s drunk off his ass most days as it is.” The tiny girl, Waverly, was now grabbing at the bear with tiny hands. Wynonna held up a hand to her.

“Now Waves I know you found him and you want to keep him, but he actually belongs to Willa. We thought he was lost a long time ago. It would be nice if Willa could have him back don’t you think?”

Waverly scrunches up her face as she stands still a moment and thinks. She then smiles and waves her arm above her head like she’s had a dramatic light bulb moment, “I think Willi would be very very very happy with her bear back I know I would be so here Willi here’s your bear.” Waverly took the bear from Wynonna and held it out to Willa.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment as Willa looked at her bear. Her bear. The one Mama had made for her as a baby. Her favorite thing in the world. But then she had grown up. She wasn’t a child anymore, and hadn’t been for a long time. She was the heir now. And Mama had left. The bear almost seemed to mock her now. Mock her with the past. And she couldn’t stand it.

She grabbed Mr. Plumpkins and threw him back into the bushes Waverly had pulled him from. “Put that damn thing back where it belongs!” she yelled at no one in particular. Waverly looked at her big sister and blinked back tears as she ran after the bear. Willa quickly turned around to march back to the Homestead but Wynonna grabbed her arm.

“Whoa there partner; where are you going what the hell was that about?” She gestured to where Waverly now sat cuddling the bear. “She was trying to be nice.” This last sentence was whispered. Wynonna knew Willa had never liked Waverly. She didn’t really understand why but it was no secret she had no affection for the youngest Earp.

Willa did her best to hide her face as she knew the tears were coming. The stupid tears showing her stupid weakness. Seems like they could never be beaten out of her like Daddy hoped.

“That stupid bear was for a different me, Nonna. A me who’s been gone a very long time.”

It was all Willa could say and Wynonna, while only nine, understood. She had learned a lot in her nine years, more than any kid should have to learn. She reached out and wiped a tear from her sister’s cheek.

“You know I’m always here for you, right?” She whispered.

At that Willa fully faced her, eyes red and puffy.

“Don’t you ever say that Nonna I’m the one here for you. It’s my job to protect you and Daddy and everyone in this goddamn town because only I can!” Her voice cracked but she fought to hold herself together. Crying would accomplish nothing.

And after all that, her Nonna just shook her head. “No. No no no. Willa. Yes only you can shoot Peacemaker. Yes, you have to kill those Revenants. But that doesn’t mean you’re alone. While you protect us, I will always protect you. Cause Mama ain’t. Daddy sure won’t. So I will. And don’t even try to fight me on this one.”

And Willa hadn’t.

They say you see your life flash before your eyes when you die. But Willa didn’t see everything. She only saw what mattered. Who mattered. Through her blurry vision she saw Peacemaker glow blue, and in a voice so hushed she could barely make out the words, her Nonna said: 

“Make your peace.” 

And with a crack it went dark.

Oh Lord, down so low

Oh Lord, down so low

Oh Lord, down so low

Oh Lord, down so low