#accidental partners 8

[all-the-words-necessary]

very sexy of me to wake up with a cold then immediately slam my head against a wall so I don't know what's a cold symptom and what's a sign of concussion.

[prompt-heaven]

smut prompt list no. 3

1) mirror sex

2) sex in front of a big window where anyone could glance up and spot them

3) fully clothed x stark naked

4) slow sex while one or both are injured (bonus points if it’s after a battle or after they’ve patched up each other’s wounds)

5) body worshipping 

6) marathon session (they just fucking keep going, babyyyy)

7) finding a somewhat private area at a fancy party to fuck (coat closet, empty office, secluded corner on the big balcony, hedge maze if we wanna get dramatic, etc) 

8) oops, we were just hiding in this closet, but then the close proximity get us too turned on not to fuck

9) revenge sex

10) finding their partner’s sex toy/toys and making them play with it in front of them

11) quickie where you don’t take any clothes off, just tug and pull and expose the essentials 

12) fucking, but one is still trying to keep all of their attention on the game they are playing

13) getting a little too handsy on the dancefloor

14) library sex for those dark academia vibes

15) jealous sex in the alleyway behind the bar

16) accidental i love you’s during sex 

17) seeing the love marks they left on their partner later and getting turned on all over again remember how it got there in the first place

18) a/b/o

19) getting turned on by their partner’s new uniform for work and then roleplaying a bit

20) sleepy domestic sex

[whokilledsamara]

hii!! I saw you write for homicipher so i was wondering if you could write some dark/yandere sfw & nsfw headcanons for mr scarletella 🥹 thank you so much & take ur time!!

MR. SCARLETELLA HC {N/SFW}

a Mr. Scarletella {homicipher} x reader n/sfw hc list.

{thank you for your support and nice words! :3}

warnings! : stalking, non-con, dub-con, hardcore, marking, slight gore, rough sex, violence, rough fingering, biting, cunnilingus, blowjobs, smut, murder mention, somno

{an : i didnt quite get what you meant when you said "dark" so hopefully this is what you meant. this is really hardcore. to the soft hearted people and people who cant handle ACTUAL freaky stuff, i wouldnt recommend reading this. there is a small section underneath the regular nsfw hc with a cw on it, so if you cant handle certain topics, there is still an nsfw section without it. he is my favorite character from homicipher ommggg hes so hot. id give him my name HAPPILY.}

SFW HC

sfw relationship/meeting him hcs

when you first meet him alone, he is very unexpected. his presence and constant facial expression is unnerving to say the least, but as long as you can manage that you will be fine.

if you end up "accepting" him, the relationship would be very weird.

he would be a wonderful partner despite the obvious other reasons, but dont think he wont be watching you constantly.

he will bring you daily gifts, consisting of anything he can find that he thinks you will like.

as for touch, he will let you touch him. usually he wouldnt let anyone even accidentally touch him, as he would teleport away, but one you are in a relationship with him, most boundaries he had before are gone.

he is rather fond of holding you. whether that be in his coat {for some reason} or just in general.

in Japanese culture {from my research, i am NOT Japanese!!} holding an umbrella with someone is a sign of love and acceptance. therefore he always likes you to hold it with him.

he isnt one of those "down-lo" kind of people. he makes it known everywhere that you are his.

he will do whatever it takes to please you. you are literally his princess/prince. even if that includes killing someone {he does it anyways}

if he catches anyone staring at you, or even remotely close to you, he will either teleport you away {if you are friends with the person} or kill them on the spot.

no matter how much he seems to be emotionless, anything involving you in pain or discomfort, it will flip a switch in him.

he has to be near you always. whether you know it or not, he will be there.

he hasnt quite grasped the concept of kissing or "romantic" things, but whatever you do he goes along with it. he rather enjoys hand holding or pressing his face into your neck.

he is the delulu type {this whole fandom knows it} and anything you do he will take as flirting. dont deny it though, hes too obsessed to care

he has a big thing for the height difference. he is a little over 8 feet tall, and feels a need to protect you at any cost.

any cost.

NSFW HC

what its like to have sex with him.

starting off, this man is a BEAST during sex.

he is a quick learner, and whether he is using his hands, mouth, or any part of his body, he will find those spots that makes you squirm.

one of his favorite things is you riding his thigh in public. say he was talking with Mr. Silvair, and happened to be sitting down. he would want you on his thigh "discreetly" getting off. bonus points if you cum.

he wouldnt be opposed to a threesome, but he has to trust the other person. a rare occasion.

anything you want to do, he will immediately comply. need him to go down on you? hes on his knees. even in public. need his fingers inside of you? absolutely. need his dick? against the wall you go.

he has a big dick, and luckily he knows it. he wont force everything inside at first, but eventually he will. you can take it. he thinks

he loves your body, and he makes sure you know it. even in his strange language, you can understand the things he is saying because he is touching you while he is doing it.

he makes little to no noise during sex, but not because he isnt enjoying it. he LOVES sex with you, but he prefers to listen to your noises. he would have it on repeat if he could.

you could look like anything and he would still find you to be the most attractive person on earth {or his earth, whatever}

for afab, he isnt one of those guys who has a hard time finding your clit. in fact, he doesnt even have to look. immediately his fingers will be circling that little nub that he loves so much.

he is a very dominating person, but it probably wouldnt be hard for him to let you dominate him. i say let because in no situation do you actually have control.

his fingering sessions are borderline violent, the pads of his fingers hitting that perfect spot with every curl.

cw! its about to get very dark and possibly triggering! viewer discretion is advised!

if you are one of those people who get off on your man killing for you, then he is the man. he will torture people in front of you as you touch yourself.

his sex isnt even borderline violent, it IS violent. if hes angry especially, he doesnt care if he hurts you.

afab, he will bruise your cervix and make you bleed. his tip hits so hard with his brutal thrusts that you will.

on certain occasions, {tw!!!} he will force himself on you. while it is rare, r...pe can happen, so be careful and dont piss him off.

he doesnt need sleep, so if hes horny enough then he will fuck you while you're sleeping. if you explicitly ask him not to, then he will just jerk himself off over your sleeping form.

dont expect to walk away from a rough fucking WITHOUT marks all over you. he makes it a mission to bite, claw, tear, any part he can. he wants you covered in blood, it gets him off faster.

will probably brand you with something

if you have a trauma kink he WILL use it to his advantage.

thats all bye bye!!! :3

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

[rowenaluvr]

✶ . ၄၃ . FLUFFY ROMCOM CLICHES

1 ⧽. getting caught in the rain together

2 ⧽. falling asleep in their shoulder, making them blush and watch the other lovingly

3 ⧽. there’s no more seats in the living room, so one of them has to sit in the lap of the other for movie night with friends

4 ⧽. kissing in the middle of an argument

5 ⧽. feeding the other soup when they get even just mildly sick

6 ⧽. it’s freezing cold and they can’t figure out how to turn on the heat; they’ll just have to share the bed to stay warm then

7 ⧽. needing to kiss the other when they share clothes for the first time

8 ⧽. giving them unabashed heart eyes when they do something cute and getting caught

9 ⧽. tripping, but being caught in the arms of the other

10 ⧽. getting them their favorite food or treat as reconciliation after accidentally hurting their feelings

11 ⧽. sharing a bed without cuddling, but not being able to actually fall asleep until they’re holding each other

12 ⧽. gently placing their jacket over the other’s shoulders when they get cold

13 ⧽. rescuing their crush/partner from unwanted advances

14 ⧽. secretly holding hands under the table for a moment, just because they can’t resist each other

15 ⧽. having nicknames/pet names for each other than no one else is allowed to use

16 ⧽. their crush/partner being the only one who can bring out their playful and sweet side

17 ⧽. carefully bandaging the other’s wounds, even if it’s just a tiny cut

18 ⧽. back hugs in the morning

19 ⧽. finding the other crying at the beach after searching for them for hours, cheering them up, then playing in the sand and shallow water

20 ⧽. finally confessing their love, only to realize the other has fallen asleep right next to them

[your-internet-bf]

NSFW asks cuz the other lists are too big or too boring, limit of 3

1. What's your biggest turn-off?

2. What's the largest age gap between you and a sexual partner?

3. Does size really matter?

4. Who was your worst sexual partner?

5. Have you ever faked an orgasm?

6. Where's the riskiest place you've done it?

7. Do you have any unusual fetishes?

8. Have you ever been caught in the act?

9. What do you like least and like most about your body?

10. What do you like least and like most about your personality?

11. What's the craziest thing you've done to attract someone's attention?

12. When's the last time you were flat-out rejected and how did you handle it?

13. What's your biggest sexual fear?

14. What's the most flirtatious thing you've ever done?

15. If one wish could come true right now, what would it be?

16. What's the strangest thing that ever turned you on?

17. How do you really feel about anal?

18. How far would you go to land the partner of your dreams?

19. Do you like when someone else makes the first move?

20. Best dating advice you've ever been given?

21. What's the best kiss you've ever had?

22. Do you prefer to give or to receive?

23. Most outrageous sex dream you've ever had?

24. On a scale of 1 to 10, how high is your sex drive?

25. What's a red flag for you in a relationship?

26. Who would you have fucked if you thought you two would never be caught?

27. Do you think a relationship can come back from cheating?

28. What's your favorite kind of kiss?

Have you ever...

29. Sent nudes to someone?

30. Had public sex?

31. Had phone sex?

32. Had a threesome?

33. Accidentally sent nudes to the wrong person?

34. Had a threesome?

35. Sexted while at work?

36. Fucked someone at work?

37. Watched porn with someone else?

38. What is something you wish people knew about sex?

39. What's your favorite way to show casual intimacy?

40. Do you prefer morning or evening sex?

41. What's the most challenging part about sex?

42. Ideally, how long does foreplay last?

43. Does the idea of recording porn with someone turn you on?

44. What's the last thing you came to?

45. Do you feel tired or energized after sex?

46. What's the hottest thing someone has ever said to you?

47. Do you like the scent of sweat?

48. What's the most memorable orgasm you've ever had?

49. Is fucking your CLONE incest or masturbation?

50. Ask me anything!

[bluerosefox]

Tim, buddy, what do you mean you might had accidentally made a Love Child?!

Danny finds out that

1. He's a clonish 'love child' of two heroes

2. He was accidentally created during one of his donors mental break downs after losing his father and best friends (one of which was his other donor)

3. CW interfered before his creator realized what he made and pulled him out of that dimension because "it would had lead that world to true ruin if he found out at his state of mind. He's better now but it would had been the final straw for him should anything had happened to you in his care and given who he had to partner up with later... I did what I had to."

4. Due to Danny having a bad fall out with his parents after he told them about being Phantom (they didn't attack him... but they did disown him.) Danny is left adrift of what to do. He doesn't wanna bug Jazz, she's in college and dorming. Tuckers place has no room. Sam's parents would never let him stay. Vlad was a definitely a no go. And Dani (Ellie) last check in was near the Amazon rainforest.

5. Danny finds out some of his powers might not be as ghostly as he thought... it does explain the huge power boost some of his powers have compared to other ghosts.

6. He went to Clockwork... who proceeded to tell him the truth, smile his cryptic smile while saying "and now. Have fun this time around. I'll see you again in due time Daniel." Before yeeting him into a portal.

7. Danny woke up in his home dimension.... deaged to being five years old (the age he would be if he stayed and grew by now) (DC timeline is slower than DP in this)

8. He woke up apparently his creator's home city... during a Gala (Danny woke up in a garden, dazed and confused. His memories are fuzzy)... and wandered into the party... and apparently he looked like a perfect mix of his.. dads? Which catches A LOT of peoples attention.

9. Especially with Tim Drake-Wayne and Conner Kent-Luthor just announcing they're dating that very night.

10. Rumors and gossip of a random kid, who looks just like the recent happily announced couple, go flying quickly among the elite... and reaches certain ears before it gets to batfam and supers (I have a feeling they learned how to block out rumors and gossips during these events)

11. Those ears happen to be Lex Luthor and Ra's al Ghul (both who are there at the Gala just to annoy and unnerve the Bats and Supers)

12. By the time the rumors get to Tim and Conner, they find Danny almost getting taken away by one of those two.

[qwimchii]

𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘭 (pt. 1) — 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘺

playlist pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4 pt. 5 pt. 6 pt. 7 pt. 8 (10/24)

𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘹 𝘧!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘺𝘰𝘶, 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘰𝘸𝘯, 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵'𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘸, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘭 𝘩𝘪𝘮𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘸𝘤 — 17.7𝘬 (crying TT)

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘴𝘮𝘶𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘢𝘭𝘤𝘰𝘩𝘰𝘭, 𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 & 𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘶𝘮𝘢, 𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘥𝘰𝘮!𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵, 𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘷𝘪𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘯!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘸𝘦𝘴𝘵!𝘢𝘶, 141𝘨𝘢𝘯𝘨!𝘢𝘶, 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 (10𝘺𝘳𝘴), 𝘤𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘴, 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘣𝘦𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘥𝘦𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

note: the year is circa 1908 and 10 years after the spanish-american war (1898). reader has long hair bc i felt like that was historically accurate... hope that's ok <3

header gunslinger ghost render by @ave661

you had heard the whispers on the horizon.

the whole town buzzed with a sort of energy—a swirling mass of dusty brown and gurgling in your stomach.

anxiety. you saw it on passerby faces through Daddy’s saloon, the bouncing knee of your mama under the table while you said grace at dinner. she never bounced her knee. it was a strict habit she trained you out of from a young age. claimed that it wasn’t proper for a young, unmarried lady like yourself.

that morning, when you stood over the wash bin in front of the dusty mirror, you wiped at your face with an old washcloth and smoothed the lines of your face like your mama taught you.

Ghost was coming to town.

no matter how you brushed your hair, the dust climbing through the desert coated it in a thin, particulate grime. Mama tightened your corset as you shoved your toes into leather heeled boots.

“remember yourself, girl,” she spoke lowly. “remember your manners. behave for once and don’t embarrass your daddy.”

you only rolled your eyes at her hissed warnings. you had met with Daddy’s business partners over several dinners where you put on your best show to pour them a glass of Daddy’s fancy bourbon all the way from kentucky.

these were the rules: you don’t speak to them unless spoken to, and you let them touch you however they please.

you shuddered, stomach curling at the thought of the last dinner. Mr. Turner’s wrinkled hand had slid up your thigh and you twisted away in reflex, accidentally knocking a bottle of bourbon onto the floor that shattered and soaked the hem of his wife’s fancy dress.

she had screamed at you and your daddy’s face had gone red, sending you a look of warning. Mama barely spared you a glance as she pulled you down to the floor to clean it up, pinching the skin of your arm in frustration.

you couldn’t tell if it felt worse to have Mr. Turner’s hand squeezing at your thigh or to be at your knees in front of him.

the strings of your corset pulled tight and you bit back a gasp as Mama tied it deftly with the practiced curl of her rough hands. you put on your best blouse and tucked it into a navy skirt that flowed into a blue, watery circle round your ankles. looking into the mirror, you thought your mama looked so much more poised and ready than you.

with a shaky exhale, you turned to her and she slapped at your face. you winced at the sting it left on your cheek.

“you’ll be fine.”

you felt far from it, trailing after her as the orange sun bled through the grimey windows, a blanket of dust settling on them in the windy evening. you had scrubbed them only yesterday.

settling yourself behind the expanse of Daddy’s bar, you smoothed over the dark wood. the saloon was eerily empty and quiet, a silent omen of Ghost’s arrival approaching. he had sent word only a few days ago. he had urgent business with Daddy and he was coming. now.

as you shuffled through Daddy’s whiskey collection, rearranging and wiping bottles down, you remembered the legends that alcoholics brought in every other week. another story on Ghost—the masked iron harbinger of death and justice. he wasn’t a sheriff, a good and honorable christian, or a vigilante. he was a bounty hunter, a cold-hearted gunslinger with a nasty sore spot for bourbon, money, and women. someone who disappeared without a trace, shooting out runaway criminals, bringing back carcasses for an extra dime.

he wasn’t even human.

a ghost. or so you heard.

you combed through the alcoholic contents, anxiously placing them and replacing them. your mama would be calling you to dinner any second and lead you to the table, Daddy at the head and Ghost at the other, right next to your spot where his hand would be on your thigh, eyes burning into the curve of your cheek. 

swallowing, you leaned against the bar top. you wanted to run away. you didn’t know how much longer you could go—how many more business partners Daddy would work with to expand his saloon chain. how much longer until he would be selling his daughter’s honor for a bigger investment…

the familiar click and chime of the saloon doors swinging open came from behind. you crossed your arms and didn’t turn to see who it was. you knew Mama would’ve had your head for being so rude.

“saloon’s closed,” you called out, “Daddy’s got business with—”

“Ghost.”

you stiffened and uncrossed your arms to peer over your shoulder.

there, at the entrance of the saloon, stood a broad and tall figure, hips thick and laden with a gun holster. he hooked his fingers on his belt, embroidered silver buckle glimmering in the red hours of the evenings. his backlit silhouette stark against the sunset made it hard to make out anything else, but you were sure when you saw the shine of his red mask and the wide berth of his black Stetson, a silver skull and crossbones clasped to its brim.

Daddy’s got business with Ghost.

you were frozen. the casual way his thick gloved hand settled on his revolver sent tremors through you.

“you’re supposed to be at dinner with Daddy,” you said, throat tight, and he trudged forward, boots heavy on the wood floorboards. he walked with a heady weight, and as he neared, you could make out the darkness of his eyes piercing through his skull mask.

“wanted bourbon.”

you stared at him for a long moment. he sat at a barstool, all his weight and broadness settled over the bartop. whatever trance you were in broke when he tipped his head at you in question—or impatience, you couldn’t discern. probably the latter.

you fumbled for a kentucky bourbon. you had done this a million times over at the saloon, but the crackle of the air and his gaze following your every move had your hands wobbling. the shaky clink of the bourbon bottle against the glass grappled with the silence of the room. suddenly, you felt hyper aware of the looseness of your blouse when you bent to pour his bourbon. you didn’t dare look up into his gaze.

“you scared of me?” his accent was foreign and grating and sent shivers down your spine. you should’ve been hollering for your mama at this point, but you felt rooted to the spot. 

shakily, you exhaled. “no.”

when you pulled back, you watched in amazement as he pulled up the bottom of his black mask, revealing a canvas of pale skin, dark stubble, and a strong jawline that pulled into a tight frown on his lips. a litter of scars shone silver in the light when he tipped back to drain the glass of bourbon.

when he placed the empty glass back on the table, he reached into the inner pocket of his black trench coat and pulled out a cigarette. you flinched when his heavy gaze ran over you.

“light me up, lovely?”

you nodded dumbly, reaching for the lighter under the countertop and held it out to him. he looked up at you, unmoving, and you blinked in confusion before his gloved hand gripped your wrist with a tightness.

he moved your hand with his own, thumbing over the sparkwheel till the flame jumped to life and leaned his mouth forward to tip his cigarette into the flame.

your whole body felt light and fiery—like you were floating a bit off the ground, shoulders drawn with a tightness. a sharp exhale left you when he finally released you, the skin of your wrist tingling in the memory of his leather grip.

smoke clouded your eyes in a haze and you blinked rapidly, quickly wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. he huffed, corners of his lips twitching, a dark gleam in his eye. his rested his hand against the countertop, smoke trailing up in the room and you watched his lips part like he was about to say something—

Mama strode into the room, freezing at the entrance of the back door behind the counter. you had never seen her so tense, her eyes moving from you, to the hulking man smoking a cigarette.

“welcome, sir,” she greeted and he only nodded, pulling his mask back down as he snuffed out his cigarette in an ashtray.

it was like you remembered yourself in that moment, that the man across from you was Ghost, the bounty hunter, the murderer, and the devil. you shuffled away into her side when Ghost stood. her arm was tight when it circled your waist, and you mustered all your strength not to shake. Mama’s gaze was on him but Ghost was only staring at you.

you stared at the floor instead.

“this way, sir,” she said, gate polite and posture poised as she led you and Ghost to the dining room through the back of the saloon’s supply and storage to the other side of the building where he was supposed to enter.

his footsteps were heavy behind you and the hair on your neck prickled. you scurried forward but it was like you could feel his warm breath down your back.

when you found Daddy, it was almost a crushing relief to see the sweeping calm on his half-lidded face at the dinner table. he was so charming, you were sure he could use his business skills to weasel out of this. like he had a million times before.

Mama’s steaming food was laid out over the table—buttered chicken, thick mashed potatoes, greasy green beans with bacon bits. you tried to move to sit on the opposite side of the table, far away from Ghost, but your daddy’s eyes pinned you with a warning and you grimaced, sitting carefully next to him. Ghost’s gaze burned your face.

“Ghost,” Daddy greeted, “pleasure to see you again.”

he only grunted, mask pulled tight over his features. you couldn’t see anything but the dark swirl of his eyes. he didn’t even take off his hat at the table.

you glanced at your mother’s face by Daddy but her eyes were intent, focused on Ghost. she didn’t seem to care at all. you shifted in your seat. you knew Ghost was a very special guest, but not even special guests were above Mama’s rules.

“what brings you to our small town?”

Mama nudged you under the table with her foot, and you kept yourself from rolling your eyes, standing to serve Ghost food. you carefully dished it on his plate neatly, just like Mama taught you, but he didn’t even spare the food a glance.

“i was at your saloon in jackson county.” you froze briefly. jackson county is a long way from the west. he must’ve traveled day and night to reach your small town embedded in tumbleweeds and dust.

his head tipped thoughtfully so you couldn’t see his eyes anymore under the width of his hat. “it’s a nice place. good kentucky bourbon.”

Daddy smiled but his eyes narrowed. you were about to dump a spoonful of mashed potatoes on Ghost’s plate but he gripped your wrist lightly.

“i’m alright,” he said low, and your spine prickled. there was a warning in it, so you sat back in your seat, leaning to the furthest edge away from him. you dreaded the moment his gloved palm would glide up your thigh.

“why are you here, Ghost?” Daddy asked again, his hand reaching down below the table. you imagined it resting on the holster, revolver lodged against his hip. 

Ghost leaned forward.

“first, you tell me why I saw Turner’s boys loitering around jackson county.”

Daddy went pale in a way you’ve never seen before and Mama shifted uncomfortably. her knee was bouncing again.

“nearly got my head shot off. had to comb my way through texas to lose ‘em.” Ghost’s eyes narrowed in the dimness of the dining room.

“you know how i feel about the Turner boys, Henry.”

you shivered at his low tone. what the hell was going on?

there was a calculated thickness in Daddy’s voice. it blanketed all the desperation in his clenched jaw. “i needed investors, Ghost. Turner was the highest bidder.”

“do you need a reminder of who built your business from scratch in the first place?”

your brows raised. Daddy did business with Ghost?

“no i remember. i also remember how you high-tailed it out of here when the Turner boys showed up five years ago.”

you jumped in your seat when Daddy stood and placed his revolver on the dinner table. Mama gasped and murmured something like disapproval that Daddy ignored. it gleamed in the low light and your jaw clamped.

“i’m not afraid of you, Ghost. Turner’s protecting me now.”

Ghost’s silence was deadly, his hulking form too relaxed, but you could see his hand twitch where it lay on his holster. was this going to lead to a shootout?

you tried to convey your silent question in the way that you peered into the curve of his mask but his eyes were dead set on Daddy.

“Turner is protecting you now?”

“yes.” 

Ghost stared up at your daddy for a long time before his gaze traveled to you. you reached deep inside you to muster the courage and stare unflinchingly back.

“i want my money back, Henry.” it was a low deadly whisper, his eyes never leaving you. Daddy balked.

“you know i can’t do that.”

“but you can. and i want my money back or i can take something much more precious.”

his gloved hand came up to stroke at your cheek and you bit back a hiss, biting down on your lower lip. Mama stood now, clutching at Daddy’s arm.

“you won’t, you devil!” she cried and Ghost gripped firmly at your jaw, razor eyes digging into you. a tight hand around his wrist, you tried to pry him off but he was too strong. he wouldn’t budge. a traitorous tear spilled from the corner of your eye. Ghost brushed it away with his thumb.

“you have no honor,” your Daddy whispered and Ghost went lax. you pushed his hand away and pressed yourself to the back of your chair in a ball.

a new boiling anger built in you. you were being used again as another part in Daddy’s business transactions.

“you sell your daughter to investors for a buck. do you really want to talk about honor?” he chewed out the words and you shuddered, holding your breath to keep down the sobs that threatened to push up into your lungs.

“i protected you. this was my territory. i had men in your town and i made sure no bandits came near your saloons and i made sure none left alive. then, you went to work with Turner instead.” Ghost stood at the table, revolver in hand. he cocked the gun and Mama shrieked.

“this is a fair trade. give me my investment back or i’ll take her instead.” the barrel of his revolver slowly swung from Daddy to you. in his black suit in bloody mask, Ghost truly did look like the devil. you wanted to shake, to cry and scream and sob, but only a venomous anger spread through you.

what did Ghost know about fairness? 

“if i go it’s on my terms,” you hissed under your breath and Ghost’s eyes swiveled to you. Mama began to shout in protest but he pointed the revolver dead above her browline and your Daddy hissed, picking up his own revolver and cocking it.

“what’re your terms, lovely?” he asked in a low tone.

“you leave my Mama and Daddy alone.” with a harsh swallow, you wiped at the tears on your cheeks. “i can ride a horse. i can shoot well ‘cause Daddy taught me. i know how to pour a glass and tend a bar. i can read and write. i know good manners and i can talk smart when i need it.

Ghost’s eyes were half-lidded as he looked down on you, sitting as straight as you possibly could at the dinner table. your Daddy’s revolver was trained on Ghost now.

“i won’t get in the way. take me instead of the money.”

Ghost blinked. “what’re my terms?”

you hesitated, voice cracked wide open. “you…you’ll own me.”

his eyes narrowed. “body and soul?”

you nodded slowly, feeling your anger deflate as your mama began to sob. 

“body and soul.” you screwed your eyes shut, head dipping forward. the devil.

“Henry?”

your Daddy looked weakly at Ghost, his shoulders falling. he looked meek and small and not even half the smart man you thought he was. his revolver clattered to the dinner table in defeat and you didn’t spare him a glance when you stood from the dinner table to trudge up the stairs and pack your things, the food sprawled across the dinner table cold and forgotten.

you didn’t have time to think about what you needed or what to say goodbye to. the stuffed bear your daddy got you for your tenth birthday lay discarded among your bedsheets. old letters from the girls in town were strewn off your desk as you dug for stationary. you stopped midway when you realized there was no way Ghost would let you write your parents on the move through the west.

was this your new life? confined to bounty hunting and running from foes? living as a ghost?

you shivered, shoving blouses and skirts and a canteen on your nightstand into a knapsack. you pulled out the drawer of your dresser and dug under more clothes to find a revolver and pack of ammo. Mama would beat you if she ever knew it was there and that’s why you always kept it hidden.

you loaded up the cylinder, pushing the bullets into each chamber and ramming the cylinder back in place.

“gearing up to kill me?”

you froze and looked over your shoulder to find Ghost crowding your doorway. for someone of his stature, he moved too quietly. usually, you would be embarrassed at the mess dispersed across the floor, your undergarments at a pile by his dusty boots.

but you just narrowed your eyes, ignoring him as you carded through your room, collecting random essentials. matches, money, your sharpest letter opener, and in a last second grab, your journal.

he watched all your movements with an eerie silence.

“i’m not planning on keeping you forever.” he stepped forward till he was just a short arm length from your back. his voice was cold.

“your daddy’ll try and kill me first, then he’ll cough up the money eventually. it’s a temporary trade off.”

“i’m not one of your business transactions,” you snapped, and he blinked at you.

“‘course not.”

his words weren’t convincing. you tried to squeeze past him but his outstretched arm blocked your path. you almost snapped at him again but shrunk back when his steady eyes pinned you down. he crowded you back until you blindly hit the dresser. 

your neck craned up. he was so much bigger than you.

the swell of his chest with each breath almost brushed against you, and you squirmed under his intense gaze.

“you offered yourself up to me,” he said, calculated. “why?”

you swallowed down the anxious gurgling in your stomach. “you wouldn’t believe me.”

“tell me anyway.”

“i hate it here.”

he cocked his head at you. “the rich girl wants to become a bounty hunter?”

you frowned, raising the revolver and digging it into his stomach. “don’t think that i could?”

he gave you a long look before tipping his hat and stepping back. “didn’t say that, lovely.”

you whispered it under your breath. “devil.”

the grip on his holster tightened. “maybe. but i know how to be a gentleman.”

he picked up the knapsack on your bed, despite your grumble of protest, and slung it over his shoulder. 

“don’t worry. i’ll take real good care of you, princess.”

you could only imagine a smug smirk hidden by the shroud of his mask as he walked out your bedroom.

it was surreal watching the tears stream down Mama’s face as she cupped your face in her hands. facing them now, you searched your daddy’s eyes for an ounce of anger or fight. 

just give him the money, you wanted to scream at your daddy, but he stared straight through you and the hands that clutched at your face.

Ghost watched from a distance, arms curled over his chest, leaning against a fence post that his black stallion was tied to, leisurely grazing at the dry tufts of grass. your horse, Sugar, stamped in the dirt nearby, kicking up dust. Ghost’s dark gaze pierced you even at a distance.

Daddy could never out gun Ghost even if he tried.

you startled when Mama pulled you into a tight hug. she hissed low and angry, “you wait till he falls asleep and you kill him, you hear me?” she pinched at the skin of your arm. “you put three bullets in that devil’s heart and you run back to us.” 

she brushed hair away from your face, sweeping away the dust on the crown of your head. “okay?”

you nodded, swallowing, throat bone dry.

“you’ll be fine.”

those were her final words when your daddy led you to your horse and let you clamber up into your saddle. Ghost looked at you expectantly from over his shoulder as your daddy patted your knee.

“i’m sorry, sweetheart.” 

no you’re not.

you looked into his charming face, a twisted look on his lips. his eyes were tired.

“goodbye, Daddy.”

you took one look over the small town and the dust that blew through it. Ghost turned his horse into the dying light of the day and you dug the heel of your boot into the flank of your mare, tightening the reins, and took off after Ghost. soon, your mama and daddy become a dot in the horizon, and you almost suppressed a smile.

you weren’t sure how long you rode. it felt like hours, dust kicking up in a big cloud after the pair of you into the dark night. you only stopped every hour or so to let the horses rest up, drink, feed and you were off again. you should’ve been tired but you were so high with exhilaration, lungs burning with exertion from the long ride, that you almost didn’t catch Ghost’s call to rest drifting over the wind rushing in your ears.

your chest was put through the wringer, panting as you slid off your horse. 

“good girl, Sugar.” you slapped at her dapple gray shoulder. she snorted, tossing her mane anxiously.

as you traveled further into…wherever you were, the cacti and low brush built up into bushes and weedy looking trees. into a forest.

Ghost lit the lantern strung up on his saddle bags and gave you a sharp, wordless look before leading his horse by the reins further into the woods. you followed him, head on a swivel at the unfamiliar surroundings.

you were used to the big, brown, orange flat canvas of your small town. the green grass underfoot was unusual and the trees cast long, distorting shadows. you startled, stopping short when you heard an foreign call from the woods. Sugar huffed nervously, big nostrils twitching as she stamped her hoof.

“it’s a coyote,” Ghost grumbled, not stopping for your shenanigans. you scurried after him, hyper aware of the encompassing darkness around you and what may be lurking beyond it.

soon, a big structure obstructing the woods came into view and Ghost lifted his lantern to reveal a small wooden cabin. by the side, he tied up his black stallion on a fence post next to a hay feeder and water bin. when he stared at you, unmoving, you quickly followed suit and fumbled to unsaddle Sugar, carrying your knapsack inside and following after his heavy footsteps.

you’re like a lost puppy, a voice grumbled in annoyance. he’s always ten steps in front of you.

you shook away the thought and stepped into the cabin, watching Ghost as he lit the oil lamps littered around the room. there was a miniscule kitchen pressed in the corner, a desk by your side, and a bed on the other. the bed was small. very small.

you cleared your throat. “where are we?”

Ghost didn’t pause to acknowledge you, shucking his trench coat and rolling up the sleeves of his black suit, exposing the skin of his forearms. for a long moment, as he rummaged through a bag, you thought he would ignore you. but your silent stare was relentless.

“border of southern california.”

your brows rose. you weren’t sure how far that was from home, or how you could possibly find your way back. 

“and this cabin…?”

he paused to give you a brief look. “you ask a lot of questions.” his voice was pinched with annoyance.

“you don’t talk enough,” you shot back, tensing up. if you were going to be dragged around by this man for months, you thought you at least deserved to know where you were. or what the hell was going on.

he grumbled under his breath. “s’my safe house. we’re stayin’ for the night.”

the night. you nodded, feeling meek, remembering what Mama said. smoothing a hand over your chest, you shifted between feet in the doorway.

you can do this.

Ghost had his back turned to you, pouring his canteen of water into a pot and pouring a bag of something else in it that came out in a pebbled rush. for the devil himself, at least he knew how to cook.

“you gonna sit?”

feeling embarrassed, you moved to sit on the bed, the old mattress sagging under your weight. you kept smooth a hand over your blouse, carding a hand through your hair, till you got tired of it and wove them into messy braids and undid them again.

Ghost huffed, moving from the kitchen to the desk, putting his hat down. you stared.

“relax. no need to be so worked up.”

you nodded. “right.”

his eyes bore holes into you, and you took that as your que, swallowing as you began to unbutton the clasp at the top of your blouse. you paused when Ghost’s breath tapered, turning sharply away.

his accent thickened. “what are you doing?”

“i-i thought—”

“you thought wrong.” his words were cutting.

maybe you should’ve felt relief but you only squirmed in confusion. “body and soul?” you mumbled weakly, and he slowly turned back to you.

you fumbled with your hands awkwardly.

“i don’t bed rich, prissy girls,” he grinded out and you almost balked in defense, but you thought better of it from the way his grip tightened on his holster.

but you couldn’t hold your tongue long enough—

“who do you bed then? whores?” your brow arched against your will as you tilted your head. his eyes narrowed beneath the mask.

“careful, princess.” he grabbed something from a cabinet in the kitchen. “i’m the one who’s keeping you alive.”

a gloved hand held out a plate of some dried fruit and biscuits. a piece of jerky as well. you held your stomach.

you hadn’t touched a morsel of your mama’s food over that tense dinner, which seemed like years ago, and you were too nervous for Ghost’s arrival to eat lunch either. swallowing, you reached a hand out and Ghost pulled the plate back from your grasp.

you almost hissed at him.

“i thought you said you knew manners?” 

biting your lip, you sat up straighter and politely crossed an ankle over the other, smoothing your hands over your lap. 

“may i please have some food, sir?”

his voice sounded uncharacteristically smug. “you’re a good listener.”

you snatched the plate from him, his words thrumming low in your stomach. kicking off your boots and neatly lining them up by the nightstand, you politely curled your legs to the side and smoothed down your skirt to eat. Mama never let you eat on the bed, but you had snuck up meals some late nights. you almost felt giddy—as if you were breaking the rules when you were eight years old again.

Ghost watched you eat in silence before getting his own plate. the same thrill from that evening soared in your stomach when he tugged up his black mask to reveal his strong jawline and pinkish mouth. you noticed a silvery scar on his upper lip.

“did your father make you do that stuff?” you paused mid-bite of your biscuit, slowly chewing.

you swallowed. “what stuff?”

the twist of his lips seemed like exasperation. “going to bed with strangers.”

you flinched, and it was like an icy cold reminder that Ghost was a stranger—just as much as your daddy’s business partners.

“no.”

Ghost cocked his head. “that so?”

you nodded. “Daddy just had touchy customers.”

you quickly rephrased, putting down the plate on your lap. “but i can if you need me to. for your customers, you know.”

you knew you would need to be of use to Ghost in the coming months, if tonight didn’t go according to plan. the thought spurred on your heart, a looming dread clambering up your spine.

Ghost mouth twisted. “i don’t need you in that way.”

you blinked, frowning. “how do you need me then?”

“just….” he was frowning deeply now. “just do what you’re doing now.”

“what’s that?”

“bein’ polite.” he shrugged, putting down his empty plate. you felt disappointed when he tugged back down the mask. “bein’ a good girl.”

the funny thing is, being polite and a good girl was probably one of the things you were worst at in Mama’s eyes, but looking at Ghost, and the way he brandished his gun over the dinner table like a toy… your manners weren’t too bad at all.

you wondered when was the last time he stepped in a church.

finishing the last bits of dinner, Ghost excused himself to disappear into the woods, and you took the moment of privacy to quickly change into a nightgown, conscious of the way it exposed your collarbones and chest. 

you also took the moment to plan out the night, searching into your knapsack to find the familiar handle of your revolver. you tested the weight of it in your hand, before putting it back into the sack. if Ghost was a gentleman, as he attested, he would let you sleep on the bed. that means he would, most likely, sleep on the floor. and if he didn’t… you would just have to convince him that he needed to.

you closed your eyes to imagine leaning over your bed at night, the slow swell of his chest as you aimed the revolver right at his heart and pulled the trigger. three times.

you shivered violently, a chill passing over you.

“cold?”

you stiffened when Ghost stepped back into the cabin, pulling the door shut behind him. you nodded, but the movement felt restrained, fists balled as you crossed them over your chest.

“mhmm.”

he jerked his head to the bed.

“take the bed. i’ll be sleepin’ outside.”

you balked, fist clenching and unclenching.

“but…what about Mr. Turner’s men?”

he turned still, hand twitching at his holster.

“they won’t find us for days. don’t worry about them.”

“but…” Ghost moved to grab his saddlebag. 

“i’m scared,” you whispered, and he paused, peering at you through the mask. you gave him a meek look. it’s wasn’t a complete lie. you’ve been half-scared since he walked into Daddy’s saloon unannounced.

he sighed, long and hard. “alright, princess.” he pulled out a balled up blanket from his saddlebag and laid it on the floor, and you went lax with relief, lifting the covers of the bed to slide into them.

you stiffened again when you realized the sheets smelled of him—sweet bourbon, cigarettes, and an earthy musk like mud and woods. cheek nestled into the pillow, you watched him unbutton his vest, pull off his holster, and undo his bolo tie, placing them on the desk neatly.

you half-expected him to take off his mask, too, but he made no move towards it as turned off the oil lamps in the room. a bit disappointed, you turned to the wall once the room was shrouded with darkness.

quiet shuffling ensued, until there was a complete silence and his even breaths in the dark. it would’ve been easy to let sleep overtake you if the spike of your heavy heart wasn’t thrumming in your throat and a biting fear wasn’t corded in the back of your brain.

it took a conscious reminder to remember the large lump of man on the floor was a murderer. a cold-blooded one, too. he was a rich bounty hunter and hunting was his sport. he was a killer. he wasn’t here to feed you or take care of you. he was as sinful as they came.

you slowly shifted in the bed, reaching down into the knapsack on the floor by the bed. you groped until you felt a familiar cold, embroidered handle. 

you wait till he falls asleep and you kill him, you hear me?

your mama’s voice rang in your ears as you sat up on the edge of the bed. Ghost was flat on the ground, a blanket drawn up to his waist, arms crossed over his chest. your breath hitched in the dark. 

you put three bullets in that devil’s heart and you run back to us.

you stopped short at that, poisonous questions blooming in your head. it was dangerous, hesitating in the dark like this, looming over one of the most dangerous men in the west who had just, essentially, stolen you, with a loaded gun in your hand.

but your head was running away from you—how would you get home from here? did you have the supplies needed? you didn’t have the tracking skills Ghost evidently showed on your ride to the cabin, nor expertise in medical emergencies. did you even want to go home?

you stared at the side of Ghost’s mask, its red a cool blue gleam in the dark.

you could live the life of a gunslinger like Ghost—a merciless bounty hunter who murdered for money. you could imagine it, even now. shootouts with outlaws and playing friends with sheriffs to get big payouts. but… it would be under the pretense of being Ghost’s property.

you shuddered at the thought. as long as you were by Ghost’s side, you would be his captive. a precious pawn in a trade off—a hostage to use against your daddy and Turner. just another business transaction and you to take advantage of.

a small click in the dark seized you from your thoughts. Ghost’s black eyes peered up at you. cursing in surprise, your clammy hands dropped the revolver, and it clattered to the floor. you fumbled around for it and hugged it to your stomach, heart beating out of your throat.

he rested the revolver in his hand leisurely against his chest. too leisurely.

a bead of sweat slid down your temple when you realized he just cocked his gun. you didn’t remember him taking it out of his holster when he placed it on the desk. 

always ten steps ahead of you.

“gearing up to kill me?”

your mouth opened and closed, failing to shape out words. his gaze narrowed.

“m’scared remember?” was all you could choke out, a shiver gripping you intensely. you tried to play it off with a careless shrug, but you knew he couldn’t possibly fall for that.

your skin felt cold but his stare was hot.

“scared of what? the dark? the coyotes outside, Tuner’s boys?” his voice was dangerously soft. “...or me?”

you almost whimpered. “i’m not scared of you.”

the fabric of his mask stretched and the crumple at his eyes let you know he was smiling. it was more threatening than anything.

“let’s say you’re not scared of me…” he rested his revolver on the floor and he shifted onto his side to face you fully. “...and let’s say you didn’t just try to kill me.”

you grimaced under his piercing stare. “put down the gun, lovely.”

you complied and he practically purred. “you still scared?”

shaking your head slowly, your knee betrayed you and began to bounce.

“let’s say you’re not scared of me, and you didn’t try to kill me, but you’re scared of the dark and the coyotes…” you balked when he opened the covers of his makeshift bed to you. “come here.”

you stayed rooted to the spot, knee freezing mid-bounce. his arms were open, mask twinkling in the moonlight, but you knew in his unflinching gaze that he was being very serious.

“come here,” he commanded, and you stood stiffly, shuffling forward to crawl into the blankets. his strong arm hooked around your waist and you muffled a squeak when he pulled you down. 

you were pulled into his broad chest, warm and strong at your back and you almost melted if it weren’t for the fact that the man behind you was a cold-blooded murderer and the devil reincarnated.

his gloved hands crept beneath your shoulders around to your throat and pressed to the flying pulse of your neck. he hummed low in your ear, mask brushing the shell of it. the smell of smoke, woody musk, and bourbon filled your nose.

“sure you’re not scared, lovely?”

your jaw clenched. “yes.”

“really?”

his hand crept down from your throat to your collarbone and a loud gasp escaped you when he firmly pressed a palm to the flesh just above your breast. you knew he felt your heart’s fast thrum through the cotton of your nightgown.

“why’s your heart beatin’ so fast then?”

when the silence permitted, he offered you, “nervous?” his voice dropped an octave, low and throaty. “ever lie like this with a man before?”

you were as stiff as a board, a foreign warmth brewing in you that made your skin prickle and crawl, spluttering unintelligible sounds, when suddenly, he released you and you scrambled out of the sheets back onto the bed, pressing yourself to the wall.

he huffed a series of breaths that sounded like quiet laughter. you were just about to kill him. what was so funny about that?

like he heard your thoughts, he turned onto his back and crossed his arms again.

“would be concerned if you didn’t at least try to kill me.” Ghost closed his eyes. “you gonna try and run if i sleep?”

you stared at the side of his face. “no.”

he nodded. “good. there’s a lot more dangerous things in the desert than coyotes, princess.”

like you, you thought weakly, burrowing yourself back into the covers, face heating up when the smell of him against the pillow filled your head again.

your plans had just gone more than horribly wrong. with a heartfelt apology to your mama ringing heavy in your mind, twisting in the sheets, you tried to let sleep take you.

you barely slept that night. tossing and turning in the sheets, you listened for the sinister calls of wildlife just beyond the cabin, and the slow breaths from the floor. though a primal sense inside you let you know that Ghost probably wasn’t sleeping.

but you don’t remember when the sun came up, its first burning embers casting a thin glow in the room. you must’ve fallen asleep at some point because Ghost is gone in the morning, room eerily quiet and empty.

you take the moment to redress in your corset, loose white button up, a buckskin split skirt with fringe, pulling on your boots as you shove everything back into your knapsack. groping around for a familiar embroidered handle, you pause when you realize your revolver has gone amiss.

you sling the knapsack over your shoulder and find Ghost perched down by a fire outside, stoking at its flames. he’s back in his expensive full attire, black suit fresh in the morning light. he only spares you a glance over his shoulder before continuing to stir something in a pot hung up over the fire. 

you dropped your knapsack to the ground.

“where’s my revolver?”

he scooped up a spoonful of the stuff into two bowls and grabs something from his bag. he waves your revolver in the air with one hand wordlessly.

“revolver privileges revoked.”

“why?” you knew why, but you wanted to hear it nonetheless.

standing to his full height, he turned and gave you a look under the mask that you could only imagine as disapproval. he didn’t give you an answer.

“eat,” he commanded, handing a bowl to you.

you looked into the bowl to find a watery soup of beans and a dry biscuit half soaked in the liquid. not your finest meal but you were grateful for it. 

you eyed Ghost’s broad stature sitting on a log by the fire. he must’ve soaked the beans last night in that pot of water. if you, after last night’s events, weren’t going to try and kill him, or run away, you could at least play nice. for your revolver mostly.

you politely sat next to him on the log, curling your legs to the side and hooking one ankle over the other. taking small bites, you ate with the best manners you could muster without a table in front of you.

you felt Ghost’s gaze burning a question into your cheek, but you ignored it, feigning innocence.

you cleared your throat, nodding. “thank you for the food.”

he scoffed. “it’ll take a lot more to get your revolver back than that.”

you glared at him as he stood to resaddle his horse and tie his saddlebag down. finishing your food in a couple more quick bites, you moved to do the same, but stopped short when Ghost untied the reins of Sugar to bind her to his stallion.

“what’re you doing?” 

Ghost gave you a meaningful look but said nothing, heaving himself up onto the stallion. huffing with frustration, you grabbed the bridle of his horse who whinied in surprise.

“what are you doing with my horse?”

Ghost cocked his head at you. “you’re stayin’ here, princess.”

what?

“what?” 

“food’s in the pantry. take what you want. don’t wander more than a quarter of a mile from the cabin, you’ll get lost. i’ll be back before sunset.”

he began to turn his stallion away from you, but you held fast on the bridle, jerking its head back towards you. the horse huffed and stomped in retaliation.

“where are you going?”

Ghost just stared at you. “into town.”

you took a sharp breath, racking in your head. “i’ll run away.”

his tone was cold. “on foot? you’re not that stupid.”

“i will. i don’t care. you’ll never get your money if i’m dead of starvation… or…” you shuddered, “coyotes.”

he took you in for a long moment. “these were your terms, lovely.”

you ignored him. “i’m useful. i am. i’m useful for…” you trailed off. “business.”

“i know what you’re useful for.” his eyes narrowed. “you’re most useful right here, in this camp, far away from my business.”

that blow landed right in your gut. “i’ll build a big fire,” you whispered, “and it’ll alert Turner’s men. they’ll find me and bring me back to my daddy.”

he turned away. “do you really want them to find you? when they’ll do lord knows what to a young lady like you?”

every bit of the fight burning in you deflated, snuffed by his sharp words and harrowing logic. you felt small and defeated as you watched Ghost spur his horse on, Sugar trailing after them. a miserable feeling bloomed in your stomach.

is this what your daddy felt like last night at the dinner table?

“i’ll be back before sunset,” he called over his shoulder and took off into the early morning light in a cloud of dust.

time alone went slower than you could possibly imagine. you don’t remember the last time you were alone like this—your mama always hovering over your shoulder, or the girls in town spurring you to embroider and scrapbook with them, or maybe go shopping, even when you’d rather tend to the saloon and make an extra buck when you sang an a pretty song for the alcoholics.

your hands ached to do something, so you laid back in the afternoon sun and whittled at a branch with your letter opener. 

once you got tired of that, you began writing aimless entries in your journal with Ghost’s quill and ink on the desk, then, addressing your daddy and mama in a futile letter, vented that Ghost had run off into town for business. what business, you itched to know. 

later, you stretched back on the bed in your full attire and boots, which Mama would sorely disapprove of, and blinked away the sun that streamed through the greasy window panes. lids drooping, you found yourself falling into a deep slumber.

you awoke with a start, sweat pooling under your back, blouse sticking to your skin. the sun was settling lazily into the horizon, far into the hours after noon. it was darker than before, a blue tinge across the sky like it was on the verge of storming.

with a lazy sweep of your vision across the cabin, everything untouched, you knew Ghost was still out doing business. of which you, apparently, had no use.

you stretched out over your head and froze when you heard something—a clicking rustle outside the cabin. you strained your hearing, going completely still.

then, you heard distant voices chattering.

dropping to the floor with a silent thud, you peered out the front of the window by the edge of the bed. four men stood by their horses, poking at the pot of beans outside with his boot. you silently cursed when one overturned the watery beans over the dying embers.

a man looked up at the cabin and you immediately ducked, panicking when you heard quick, heavy footsteps nail up the steps to the cabin. you scrambled backwards under the bed and pressed yourself into a ball into the furthest corner of the cabin.

one man stepped inside carefully, and you watched his feet slowly pan across the room in a circle. the warmth drained from your face when you heard the cock of a safety.

who were these people? you racked your brain for answers. Ghost said Turner’s men wouldn’t find you for days. maybe weary travelers looking for a place to stay for the night? good samaritans who could help you escape Ghost?

and never return to your family, a voice in your head added quietly. you silenced it.

he stood by the desk and listened to him rummage over it. you winced—all your letters and writings were still strewn across the desk.

“Charles!” he called. then, abruptly, he neared the bed and reached down for your knapsack on the floor. you clasped a hand to your mouth. he pulled away, your knapsack going with him.

“she was here.”

your blood ran cold. Turner’s men had arrived earlier than Ghost expected.

a second man, Charles, you presumed, stepped into the cabin. more rummaging—probably the first man holding up the letters and your belongings for Charles to see. 

“they went to town. says so in the letters.” 

Charles huffed and turned on his heel back out the cabin.

“let’s move quick. Turner said the first man to lay hands on the girl gets dibs.” 

an icy drip went down your back.

low, raucous laughter and hoots ensued, and you heard more shuffling and the snorts of horses and the stamping of hooves that slowly faded into silence again. only the leaves rustling in the wind and pitched bird calls filled the cabin.

your heart was still beating out of your chest. 

Turner said the first man to lay hands on the girl gets dibs.

that shook you to your core. you wanted to run after them, to beg them to bring you back to your parents without harm, maybe bribing them with an extra sum your daddy could give them, but you knew it was futile.

you weren’t ever going back home, and you sure as hell weren’t letting Turner’s men lay their hands on you.

heaving yourself out from under the bed, you looked up at the darkening sky. a gray film was growing over it, blanketing the sun from view. a boom of thunder roiled in the distance.

you needed to move fast, somehow, to warn Ghost about Turner’s men coming for him in town. you cursed yourself for writing those letters in the first place—now, Ghost could be in danger because of you.

not that you cared much. but that devil was the closest thing to protection right now against your parents and Turner. except maybe yourself.

you picked up the knapsack that was thrown haphazardly on the floor and pulled out all your extra clothing and baggage. with only a canteen of water, and the leftover food from the pantry, the letter opener, and a box of matches, you trailed after the hoofprints left by Turner’s men, hurrying as the storm approached quickly overhead. 

you were dripping with sweat by the time you reached the edge of town. buckling over to clasp at your knees, you held your chest as you leaned against a tree.

you did it. you tracked those men through low brush and the deep, muddy hoofprints they left behind, some bushes snagged by charging through the forest at an alarming rate.

you did it. you only hoped that Turner’s men hadn’t found Ghost before you did.

the sky was still a murky gray—you had no idea what time it was, no idea if the sun had begun setting yet. you paled at the thought of Ghost riding back to find the cabin empty, your belongings strewn across the place, cabinets empty of supplies. you felt more sick at the thought of finding the devil in a dim alleyway, three bullets in his heart.

pushing forward, you entered the busy throng of the town, its twinkling lights and loud raucous contenting with the brewing storm overhead. men had holsters strung with guns, ammo slung over their torsos like a fancy sash.

some tipped their stetson to you as you walked the cobble streets, wiping the sweat and humidity from your brow. you ignored them to the best of your ability, shuffling along faster when a group of drunks meandered close to you.

sweetheart, they called, and you, in a dizzying panic, pushed into the nearest building, its doors swinging open to a rowdy, rowdy crowd of even more drunks. some smiled at your entrance, but most were too enthralled in their card games, betting, and bourbon to care. 

you took the moment to search the snaking crowd for a familiar red mask, but you found nothing. this didn’t feel much like Ghost’s scene anyway.

shoulders sinking, you were about to step back out onto the crowded streets, where a light drizzle was pooling, when a redhead with braids rushed passed you in a tizzy. 

she almost dumped a tray full of bourbons onto you. squeaking, she steadied herself against you, and apologized in a thick drawl.

“sorry, sweetheart! didn’t see you there—” she paused, narrowing her eyes at you. immediately, you reeled back.

you really wished you had a revolver slung in your holster in that moment, because you didn’t think to realize that anybody could be one of Turner’s men.

“you…” she cocked her head and you stiffened. “you’re the new hire, aren't ‘cha!”

you blinked in shock, voice cracking. “what?”

“glad you showed up early.” she gave you an approving nod and nudged you with her shoulder. “extra trays of bourbon are in the back. you wouldn’t mind passing them out would you?”

“i-” she was gone in a flash, disappearing into the messy crowd.

you should’ve left at that moment, taking the opportunity to disappear yourself, but instead, you thought this an opportunity to get close and personal with each customer. perhaps Ghost took off his mask for business—you knew you could recognize him by his expensive black suit and the stature he carried. the low timber of his voice, and the dark swirl in his eyes.

shivering, a drift came through and you rubbed at your bare neck. you quickly moved to man the bar. an easiness settled over you at the familiarity of it, grabbing bottles of bourbon and whiskey, pouring them neatly into bar glasses on black trays. you teetered from person to person, tray balanced in your palm as you peered into the face of each man, and even woman, hunkered down at a table to get a glimpse of their profile. 

tray after empty tray, you couldn’t find the man you were looking for, no matter how many more entered. soon enough, you bumped into the redhead with braids again and she gave you a cocksure smile.

“sure you’re a new hire?” she laughed loud, cheeks red, slapping at your back. “why don’t you go help across the way at our quieter location? you know where business—” she winked, “—gets done.”

you just nodded aimlessly, too overwhelmed to question it, and she beamed. “don’t worry. it’s more beginner friendly.”

you exited the saloon with the point of her hand to a quainter location on the other side of the street. a thick rain was coming down now. rushing into the parallel saloon, it was half as loud as the other, which your ears thanked, and a thick smoke hazed the room. groups of men donned in fancy suits sat at tables strewn across the room, discussing in low voices with fat cigars between their lips.

your eyes swiveled around the room, craning your neck to peer into the furthest corner of the saloon, but still, no red mask. deflating, you jolted when a barmaid gripped at your shoulder.

“new hire?” she looked disgruntled, eyes narrowing in judgment. you took note of her attire, eerily similar to your own, with a fine cotton blouse and buckskin skirt. now, you understood who the redhead may have confused you for: a fancy barmaid for the gentleman’s club across the way.

she appeared frustrated at your lackluster response. “can you sing?”

you balked at that but said yes nonetheless. your mother had taught you, much to your chagrin. 

she nodded. “good. men were asking for a performance. i know it’s your first night, but could you give them a bone to chew on?”

“i guess so,” you spluttered, and she barely batted an eye, already pushing you to the raised platform by the bar. a man already sat with a guitar, peering at you expectantly when you stepped onto the platform. 

turning to face the audience, you felt the blood drain from your cheeks. you hadn’t sung in front of an audience this big since your school’s talent show. clearing your throat, you flashed the crowd your prettiest smile, and clasped your hands in front of you politely. the establishment quieted, save for a few low whistles, and you began to sing along for a softer rendition of the fast-paced song to the slow strum of the guitarist.

my love is a rider, wild bronchos he breaks,

though he’s promised to quit it, just for my sake.

he ties up one foot, the saddle puts on,

with a swing and a jump he is mounted and gone.

it was the only song you could remember in the moment—one the girls and you would sing wildly in the evenings after church over loud laughter and iced tea. 

my love has a gun, and that gun he can use,

but he’s quit his gun fighting as well as his booze;

and he’s sold him his saddle, his spurs, and his rope,

and there’s no more cow punching, and that’s what I hope.

your eyes searched the crowd and you held back a gasp when you met eyes with a familiar red mask. he stood near the back of the club, bracing his forearm against a wooden beam. swallowing hard, you continued.

my love has a gun that has gone to the bad,

which makes poor old Jimmy feel pretty damn sad;

for the gun it shoots high and the gun it shoots low,

and it wobbles about like a bucking broncho.

his eyes pierced you, and you couldn’t suppress the slithering shiver that crawled down your spine. you wished he was closer—right at the edge of the platform so you could look down into his brown eyes, and maybe, try to discern what he was thinking under that blood red mask.

now all you young maidens, where’er you reside,

beware of the cowboy who swings the raw-hide;

he’ll court you and pet you and leave you and go

in the spring up the trail on his bucking broncho.

the room clapped and hollered when you finished, and you couldn’t suppress the smile that stretched your cheeks as you curtsied clumsily, gaze on Ghost. he tipped his hat to you, and a loud laugh clambered into your throat. it morphed into a blood curdling scream when a revolver fired and Ghost crumpled to the floor.

the club scrambled in a panic with loud wails, the assailant disappearing into the throng as you clawed your way to the man. he was clutching at his stomach, half-fallen against the wooden beam.

“Ghost!” 

a strangled noise strained against your throat. falling to your knees beside him, you pulled away his hand from his stomach, and you paled at the sight of the dark red coating his glove, sleeve, suit. it pooled underneath him.

quickly, you grabbed his bloodied arm and pulled it around your shoulder. there was no way you could heft his weight but you were going to try anyway.

“c’mon,” you coaxed impatiently, as he scrambled up the side of the wooden pole, trying to support his weight. a string of curses left his lips.

“you’ve got a pretty voice,” he rasped, and you almost wanted to drop his weight entirely.

“not important,” you groaned, taking slow steps out the saloon with his body strung over yours. with every step, you grimaced with effort, huffing heavily.

there was an even greater panic in the streets than in the club—a heavy, pouring onslaught coming down like a beating drum. across the way, the other saloon was being ripped apart by several men, upturning tables and firing their guns at the ceiling to clear out the place. Turner’s men.

you pulled Ghost in the opposite direction, appreciative of his black attire in the dark night, the debilitating rain, and the ensuing chaos. you tipped his hat further over that tell-tale mask. he grumbled something by your ear.

“what?” you shouted over the mix of shouts and rush of rain, stumbling when a man hurrying past clipped your shoulder.

his voice lifted. “don’t need your help.”

you rolled your eyes, head on a swivel. lodged between two buildings was an alleyway. a throng of Turner’s men overturned more establishments ahead. you made a beeline for the cramped space.

 “you’ll die.”

he huffed when you pressed him against the wall, clutching at the blood seeping from his stomach.

“no i won’t.”

you shot him a glare.

“ghosts can’t die,” he said, sounding high and delirious. he slid further down the wall, a pitched laugh escaping him.

now you knew he was really at his last wits. you racked your brain for answers. you didn’t know medical knowledge, you didn’t see an infirmary on the way here, and even if you did, you wouldn’t put it past them to turn you over to Turner’s men in an instant.

you almost screamed in frustration, tearing off the sleeve of your blouse to wrap around his middle. your hands fumbled clumsily, and Ghost must’ve at least come back to half his senses because he pushed your hands away and expertly knotted the thing despite his thick gloves. his head slumped forward into your shoulder, as if the action was so taxing, breath growing shallow against your exposed collarbone.

you slapped at the side of his face.

“do you know anyone who can get help?” you probed, unable to conceal the desperation in your voice, “anyone at all?”

he sounded smug. “people can’t help ghosts.”

you groaned, pushing his head back against the wall. he peered at you lazily, eyes half-lidded.

“if you don’t tell me something, i will rip that mask clean off your face.” that must’ve stirred something in him because his eyes flashed.

“i did not track Turner’s men for miles to find you just for you to die.” you pressed on. “they found the cabin and these stupid journal entries where i wrote that you were in the town. they didn’t know i was there and went after you. i had to warn you so i tracked them and—” he hissed when you pressed your fingers into his wound to make sure he was still conscious. “—this happened.

he huffed. “stupid girl.”

you could only nod pitifully, before squeaking in surprise when Ghost used your shoulders and the wall as leverage to lift himself.

“take me down this alleyway, then turn left.”

you immediately obeyed and half-dragged him in the direction of his rasped instructions, ending up in front of the back door of a leather crafts store. the streets were slowly emptying by the minute and every second outside in the line of gunfire felt a gaping vulnerability on your back, so you didn’t question his command to open the back door unannounced.

you also weren’t surprised to see the long snout of a rifle stuck in your face the second the door swung open. a woman in a checkered blouse and loose breeches squared her shoulders and jabbed the gun forward so it almost hit your chin where rain coalesced in a steam, falling to your boots.

“who in the devil are you?” she spat, low and deadly. she carefully eyed the man slumping against you.

a strangled warble left Ghost’s mouth, and he lifted a hand to toss off his hat. the mask must’ve been a point of recognition for her because she gasped and lurched forward, hefting up the other side of his body.

“what the hell are you doin’ here, Ghost?” she demanded, helping you carry him behind the counter of the store into the back room. she pushed off all the strewn materials at the table in the center of the room with one strong sweep, and you laid back Ghost on the surface, his eyes closed.

muffling a cry, you pressed your fingers to the pulse point in his neck. to your relief, it was throbbing, albeit weakly.

“business,” was all he mumbled in response and the woman shooed you from his side with an impatient wave of her hand.

you stepped back to the edge of the room, feeling your senses clouded with panic. you looked down to the blood covering your hands. out the window, there was more shouting, gunshots, and a building far down the street went up in flames. your breath hitched till suddenly you couldn’t breathe anymore. clawing at your throat, you slid down the wall, fighting the strain in your chest that seemed to close your airway.

you watched the woman cut through his vest and make quick work on the bullet wound, pliers in hand.

“you.”

she might’ve been shouting at you but it barely registered in your mind.

“get your useless behind off the ground and help me for god’s sake!” 

you just stared at her and she groaned in frustration. “some girl you have here, Ghost,” she grumbled and the weak grunt that left him brought you back to life.

you stood, steeling yourself, wiping the blood against your front. you felt calm. dangerously calm as you neared Ghost’s side. his eyes were screwed shut and you resisted gagging at the sight of her pliers fishing through his gaping wound for a bullet.

“what do you need?” your voice was weak and quiet. it didn’t even sound like your own. she shot you an impatient look.

“water. from the tap over there. and a needle and thread in that cabinet.”

you moved like you were floating off the ground, light and airy. like you weren’t really there, but you found your hands filling a bowl with water at the kitchen sink and grabbing a case of needles and a spool of black thread from a cabinet overhead.

by her side again, she unclasped the red mask from Ghost’s face and you stared unflinchingly with a hitch of breath. before pulling it from his face, she cocked her head at you.

“look away,” she snarled and you just nodded, stepping back from the table till you couldn’t see Ghost’s profile anymore. couldn’t even see the slow swell of his chest to let you know he was still alive.

you had to escape the room. you walked back out into the main storeroom and grated your hands through your hair, pacing. you picked up the rifle left on the glass casing over a showcase of different leather crafts, cocking it, just in case Turner’s men came barreling through the door.

when you put back down the rifle, you gasped at the sticky, bloody imprint it left on the handle. looking into a mirror by the entrance of the store, you shuddered at your image.

blood crusted your arms, like you had dipped your arms into a vat of it, and red fingerprints littered your throat and tinged your frayed hair. the front of your half-torn blouse was smeared in it too.

your hands shook uncontrollably, so you picked up the rifle’s heaviness again to still you, and sat, leaning against the glass showcase, muzzle aimed at the front door. you sat there for a long time, breath shallow and grating, till the shouts and gunshots outside subsided, and the billiard parlor down the street crumbled under the weight of flames.

you awoke for a second time with a start, the woman’s hand shaking your shoulder lightly. you rolled your shoulders, neck impossibly stiff from your weird sleeping position on the floor. it was no longer dark outside, the lightest tones of pink and blood-soaked orange rising with dawn.

had you really only been napping in Ghost’s cabin half a day prior?

the woman sat beside you, pushing a warm mug into your hand. she didn’t pull her rifle from you, which you were endlessly grateful for, because you just hugged it closer to your chest, its cold metal and cured wood easing your nerves.

“tea.” she nodded to the steaming cup.

“is Ghost okay?” your voice cracked from disuse and she gave you a weak look.

“for now.”

you just nodded, taking a sip of the stuff and wincing when it burned your tongue. chamomile. Mama used to make it too.

the woman cleared her throat, drawing up her blonde hair into a messy bun. “sorry about the shouting. i’m not used to foreign company.”

you shrugged, itching at the dried blood on your neck as you took another sip of tea. 

“i’m Kate.” she held out a hand to you. “Kate Laswell.”

you shook her hand slowly, grateful she didn’t cringe away from the blood staining your own. you gave her your name in return and her brow raised.

“Ghost’s girl, huh?”

you felt too tired to be confused. “i guess so.”

“well i just know the boys would love to meet ‘ya.”

you allowed yourself a sliver of confusion. “the boys?”

“‘course,” she said with a smile, “one-four-one.”

you almost dropped the mug in your hand. “one-four-one?” you repeated weakly and she gave you a cheery nod.

you’d heard of them before. you heard too much about them before. she rubbed your shoulder comfortingly.

“they should be here any minute now.”

great. you were soaked with blood, clothes and hair tattered with sweat. as if she read your thoughts, Kate stood and outstretched a hand to you, pointing to the back room.

“i’ve got a tub filled in the back for you. and some extra clothes.”

you took her outstretched hand gratefully, allowing her to pull you up and lead you through the storage space where Ghost lay stretched out, half-naked, and maskless. you noticed her rush to flank your side and obscure the view of his bare, sleeping face from you. deciding not to fight it, the gentle hand on your back led you down a narrow hallway to an even narrower bathroom with a tub about as big as a barrel.

you didn’t mind it after the events of the night, Kate politely closing the door behind you, as you stripped yourself bare and scrubbed the blood away in the tub. slowly, you settled in its lukewarm water in a ball and rocked there, choking back sobs in the privacy of the tight room.

once all your tears were wrung dry, you emerged from the tub, drying yourself and your hair before redressing in your corset, drawers, chemise, and a linen bell sleeve blouse Kate lent you. tucking them into your unruined item—the fringed buckskin split skirt—you pulled your boots on and smoothed the lines of your face in the mirror. like your mama taught you.

when you opened the door of the bathroom, low murmurs and new voices floated down the narrow hall. 

“she isn’t supposed to be here, cap’.”

a low husky voice grunted back, “i know that.”

a third man with an even stranger accent than the first two chimed in loudly, “she risked ‘er life for Ghost! Simon said she tracked ‘em for two and a half miles just to warn him about the Turner boys.”

you assumed it was Kate shushing him.

the low, husky voice returned. “it’s not up to us, Soap. she’s Ghost’s now.”

you crept slowly up the hallway, searching for Ghost’s body stretched out on the table, but he wasn’t there. in his place were three men, leaning against the table, deep in conversation with Kate.

you stopped short in the entrance till one of the men, a stout one, thickly corded with muscle, and an unusual looking hairstyle—like the ones you saw in the school books about iroquois from the east—beamed at you.

he shushed a bronze-skinned man at his shoulder, who turned his gaze to you. the third bearded man with thick chops and broad shoulders fell silent, as did Kate, and suddenly, the whole room’s attention was trained on you.

you slowly walked into the room, discomforted by the thick silence. you resisted fumbling at your skirt nervously. the man with a mohawk let out a low whistle and the bearded man swatted at his face while the youngest man stepped forward to politely offer his hand, taking off his hat to press to his chest. 

his face was pinched with a stoic look. “i’m Kyle Garrick. pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

your lips parted in surprise when he touched his lips to the back of your extended hand, and you politely curtsied in response, a blush touching your cheeks. 

the man with a mohawk stepped in behind him to give you a smug look.

“i’m Soap,” was all he offered. he clapped Kyle on the shoulder. “and this is Gaz. no one calls him Kyle.”

Kyle rolled his eyes in retaliation and released your hand, looking apologetic. you couldn’t help but softly smile as they began to quarrel and the bearded man reached out his hand this time to shake it firmly.

“John Price,” he said with a nod, voice husky. he jerked his head in Soap’s direction. “that’s Johnny Mactavish.” 

you murmured a quiet thank you as Kate comfortingly patted your back. 

“so this is one-four-one?” you mumbled aloud with raised brows. Soap and Gaz stopped mid-quarrel to peer at you. John shrugged.

“more or less.”

manners be damned, you fidgeted with your skirt. one-four-one was a legendary gunslinger group—on the run from the scarce law of the west, gambling, bounty hunting, and dueling for riches. you had no idea Ghost had friendly ties with them.

“where’s Ghost?”

John smirked at you, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “out.”

nodding, you felt an anxiety roll through you. out could mean anything with Ghost, you learned in your short time with him.

where are you, Ghost? a meek voice in you called out. smoothing a hand over your chest, you steadied yourself as Kate offered you a small plate of breakfast. a piece of cornbread on the side of a bowl of chili that you kept down easily, despite the nervous gurgling of your stomach.

“Turner’s men,” you began softly to Kate, putting down the empty plate, but you still drew in the attention of the other three men, “they’re gone?”

she nodded sullenly, and Soap added, “not without a fight. upturned half the town with them…” his eyes went dark, voice tinged with something violent. “...and left a couple dozen dead bodies.”

John knuckled his shoulder gently. “we’ll get ‘em back, Soap.” he said it like it should be comforting, but there was a deadliness in it that made you shudder.

Soap winked at you. “aye. we’ll kill all those Turner boys if we have to. we already took down half of ‘em yesterday.”

undoubtedly, you knew it was a promise. Kate said quietly, “neighbors said they gunned down a couple of ‘em before they fled town.”

your brows rose. “there were others fighting?”

Kyle shrugged. “it’s the west, ma’am. people’re itchin’ to break the law.”

you thought back to the assailant last night—how he high-tailed it after popping a shot.

“so the man who shot Ghost last night?”

Kyle shrugged again. “probably a drunk lookin’ for trouble. happens all the time in these parts.”

you tried to hide the look of horror curling into your face, something akin to disgust, but Soap, ever-observant, took amusement in it immediately.

“that scare ye, princess?” he leaned against the table, closer to your face, and your frown deepened.

“don’t call me that.” it sounded wrong coming from him.

John grabbed the scruff of his neck and Soap twisted, complaining loudly in his hold. “knock it off, would you? poor girl’s had a rough night.”

you gave John a grateful look. still, you were relieved to know Ghost was only shot by a drunk rather than found and almost killed by one of Turner’s boys. you assumed you got real lucky last night. or maybe unlucky since the drunk’s poor shot happened to pick out Ghost of all people at the club.

“what was Ghost doing in the town last night?” you piqued, and Soap went quiet. the whole room did. sheepish, you watched their gazes slide across the room, avoiding your own.

Soap shot out, “do we tell her?”

Kate hissed in response, scolding him with a tight grip on his ear, and Kyle smacked at the back of his head. you assumed Soap just let a vital piece of information slip from the way John’s mouth twisted.

“tell me what?” you pressed and Kate shooed you out the room, taking your arm in hers.

“help me out with somethin’ else, girlie, and i’ll answer half the questions you ask.”

half the questions, you ruminated with a bitter taste in your mouth. she led you out the door of the leather crafts shop before a word of protest could leave your mouth, and into the bright mid-morning light. shops littered down the street had owners stationed out in front, sweeping up debris, shattered glass, and shoving trash into sacks. Kate tipped her stetson to each one as you passed, and they would nod back in a way that forebode something ominous.

“these are the neighbors,” Kate explained in a low, smart tone. “and this is our town.”

you remembered what Ghost said to your daddy over dinner two nights ago. 

i protected you. this was my territory. i had men in your town and i made sure no bandits came near your saloons and i made sure none left alive. then, you went to work with Turner instead.

“and you protect them for a price?” you asked. 

she smiled lightly. “a small one.”

your daddy must’ve had an unlucky price to pay if his daughter was the bargaining chip.

“is this the only town you protect?” 

Kate laughed at that, patting your hand on her arm gently. “heavens, no. Ghost’s got all kinds of investments from the west to east. he isn’t home much lately because of it.”

your brows raised. “that’s a lot of land to cover.”

“we’ve got a lot of friends from down south to help.”

you cocked your head at her as you turned the corner, making your way past the saloon from last night. the redhead with braids was mopping up the floor of the torn-up saloon, and when you caught her eye, her gaze sliding from you to the woman beside you, she paled.

“friends?”

Kate winked at you. “mexicans. a blessing from the spanish-american war.” when you just blinked at her, she elaborated.

“the boys enlisted in the british regiment to fight the spanish alongside patriots and texan mexicans. i played dress-up as a man to fight in the war.”

your brows raised and she gave you a sly look. “even had a female companion to play the part.”

she continued on. “when the war ended, one-four-one just never left—made friends with lots of boys down in texas. now, they do all sorts of work with us.”

“who?”

“los vaqueros.” the cowboys. you had heard of them too.

you should’ve been scared, connecting the dots, the blood-ties and relationships fused on the battlefield that didn’t break even ten years after the war. these people were dangerous. but in a way, you contemplated, your daddy was too. working with one-four-one, protected by los vaqueros, and bargaining with an enemy, Turner. 

and you didn’t even know it.

you wondered if your mama did. thinking of the hardness in her face, and the back-breaking rigidness of her lifestyle, you assumed she carried that weight too.

Kate peered at the edge of your face, catching your eye. “you gonna run away yet?”

you gave her a long look, answering her as truthfully as you could. “no.”

she nodded. “good. because if you do, we may just have to kill you.”

eerily, you were reminded of Ghost two nights ago in the cabin, his arms crossed over his chest and half-asleep despite your attempt to kill him.

good. there’s a lot more dangerous things in the desert than coyotes, princess.

“you sound like Ghost,” you remarked with a grimace, and the long laugh that left Kate was airy and full of menace.

apparently helping out Kate meant running errands, restocking on preserves, fresh foods, and medical supplies. she kindly let you pick out your own stetson hat—a gus style, with three sloping dimples, cream-colored, and a leather brown cord tied round the base in a fashionable bow. your mama would’ve had your head for wearing something so manly, but turning it in your hands, the smooth velvet soft against your palms, your heart swelled at the thought of it being your own.

you would’ve paid for it if you didn’t carelessly lose your knapsack in the chaos last night, tending saloons and singing for drunkards. sighing at the cash register, you deeply lamented its loss and tugged the snug hat onto your head.

one-four-one wasn’t there when you returned to the leather crafts shop. Kate had given you a soft smile, saying they were out on business again. you had a sneaking suspicion that business meant shoot outs over encroached territory and fixing worsening investments.

as you prepared for dinner, it was uncanny to think that you were laying food out over the table where Ghost almost bled out the night before.

sure enough, just before the red crinkles of sunset, one-four-one meandered into the room for dinner, hats left by the hook at the door. you waited expectantly for a tall, broad, black suit and red mask to enter the room, but only deflated with disappointment. Soap shot you a knowing look that you pointedly ignored as the table joined hands to murmur a quick grace before digging in.

you could barely touch the food on your plate. any method you used to get under the boy’s skin about what business meant was quickly parried in clever ways that frustrated you more than your conversations with Kate. it was especially frustrating because you were beginning to think that business may circle around topics about you. 

you couldn’t weasel any more information out of them except that John, Gaz, and Soap had rode north to a nearby town they had business in. 

you were beginning to hate that word, you thought decidedly, trudging down the narrow hall to a spare bedroom Kate provided to you for the night. one-four-one would descend into the cool basement space with the preserves to their own quarters. you wanted to follow them, to peek down and see what was in there, but Kate was hot on your trail, and you knew they were probably hiding something else about business down there. especially since Kate would be sleeping down there as well.

that left you on the upper floor—which you contemplated with a frown because running away now would be easier than ever. except for the fact that you didn’t have a horse, gun, money, your knapsack, or anything at all in fact. unless you could scrounge around the kitchen a bit.

creeping from your designated room down the hall, you bit back any morsel of regret bleeding into your mouth as you entered the back room. one-four-one had shown you kindness, but technically, they had also kidnapped you and were forcing you to stay in their home. albeit, on your terms, according to Ghost. but you didn’t value the word of a kidnapper very much. even if, in the moment of your capture, you had wanted to leave home and never return again.

 oh—and you were being used as a hostage in a business transaction.

that thought spurred you forward blindly, and you rummaged around the kitchen as quietly as you possibly could, pocketing matches, a box of ammo, and a small bunch of rope beneath the kitchen sink. sliding the knife drawer open, you inspected each one carefully, watching the blade glint in the moonlight, before picking up a small one you hoped would go missing without notice.

“stealing my things again?”

you jumped out of your skin with a shriek, and mindlessly turned to the source of sound, brandishing your knife at the intruding form shrouded in shadow. he caught your wrist easily, stepping forward to press you back against the kitchen counter and your heart dropped to your stomach.

dark eyes and a red mask. his hat was off and the black fabric beneath his mask was pulled up enough so you could see his jaw, the soft pink of his mouth and the silvery scar on his upper lip.

“Ghost?” you whispered out, dropping the knife. it clattered to the floor and he tilted his head almost curiously.

for a long moment you just stared in silence, his knee firm between your thighs and broad stature lingering over you, gloved hand tight on your wrist. you searched his eyes, reaching up a hand to brush at his jaw, but he immediately stepped out of your proximity.

“brought you something.” he nodded outside and you looked out the kitchen window to see your dappled gray mare, Sugar, tied to the fence post at the front of the leather crafts store by his black stallion. breath hitching, you pressed your hand to the glass.

“thank you,” you whispered, looking back at him. wordlessly, he turned from you to peel off his black trench coat. 

when you noticed him wince, you immediately moved forward to help him out of his coat, laying it out over the table. mumbling a word of gratitude, he sat gingerly in a seat and leaned down to undo his boots. watching him struggle from the tenderness of his wound, you sighed, pushing his hands away to neatly kneel in front of him and smooth over your skirt. then, you carefully helped him pull them off.

“don’t need your help,” he grumbled from above, and you suppressed a smirk. you almost missed his grumpy remarks.

“that so?”

putting down his second boot by his feet, you looked up at him, heart jumping to your throat from the half-lidded look behind his mask. the gloved hand that rested on his thigh by your cheek twitched. you remembered its appearance yesterday—soaked in blood. his blood.

closing your eyes, you nuzzled your cheek into the hand, his palm cupping your face gently before moving down to stroke at your braid. he let out a low throaty sound when you looked up at him from where you kneeled, cheek pressed against his thigh, the fine worsted wool of his dress pants velvet on your skin.

“do you know what you do to a man?” he asked, voice soft. you only hummed back in sing-song question, eyes half-lidded, content where you leaned against the strength of his thigh.

“i searched half the plain for your horse. she got lost in the fray when i got shot.” his hand moved from your braid to your throat, stroking in time with the lulling pulse of your heart, leather cool on your hot skin.

“found her back at the cabin, sniffing around for you. the place was totally upturned, and all the food in my cabinets was gone.” he snickered lightly. “you thief.”

you smiled at that, gripping his wrist weakly.

“i like it when you talk,” you admitted, mesmerized by the slow way his soft lips shaped deep, grating words in that thick foreign accent.

you watched the bob of his bare throat swallow with a hunger pooling in your stomach.

“you should be afraid of me,” he whispered, gently pressing his thumb to your lower lip, “you were afraid of me.”

you couldn’t remember a time when you were afraid of Ghost—only a nervous anticipation crawling across your skin at his proximity. maybe you were never afraid in the first place. maybe you told yourself that you were afraid of him, out of your own unease, when the fear was something that you actually craved.

“i am afraid,” you said. his grip on your chin tightened. “but not of you.”

“who then?” he demanded, voice silky.

“Turner. his men.” an invulnerable shiver went through you. “they said the first man to lay hands on me gets dibs.”

you felt his thigh stiffen beneath you. “i won't let them touch you.”

you swallowed thickly, peering up at him. a dark, sinister voice inside you purred out. 

i want you to touch me.

he cocked his head at you, asking a silent question.

i want only you to touch me.

he voiced it. “what do you want?” his hand moved to stroke at your cheek, your brow, your hair.

you never had the luxury of pondering the question. your path was always laid out before you by your mama and daddy. there was no choice. only lingering, bitter feelings of resentment as you fought yourself to believe that tending Daddy’s saloon and entertaining businessmen was the life you wanted.

“i dont know.”

“tell me.”

your face heated with shame. “i want you.”

Ghost went very still. you couldn’t even hear his breaths in the darkness. “you’re sure?”

you nodded against his thigh. “mhmm. want you.”

“i’m the devil,” he murmured, sounding sullen, but you just shook your head.

“you’re Simon,” you corrected, and he flinched beneath you.

letting out a low curse, you didn’t even fight it when he scooped you up in his arms, and pressed you back against the kitchen counters, mask pressed to your hair, warm body against yours. your hand trailed up to press gently at the bullet wound buried beneath his black vest and button up. his hissed at the pressure but didn’t stop you as you moved to unbutton his vest.

“i want to see,” you explained softly, unfastening the thing completely. he tossed the vest onto the table, his holster following it, as you began unbuttoning his dress shirt, splaying out a hand over his warm chest. 

he was littered with scars—big and small, and you desperately tried to memorize the placement of each one as you revealed more of his pale skin, inch by inch, till his shirt hung loose at his waist. your eyes swept over the naked expanse of his toned torso and the white bandage soaked through with blood that clutched at the right side of his stomach.

slowly, you unwrapped it till the old dressings fell from his skin and a long line of puckered pink skin punctured through with a dark thread was revealed. you steadied your breath, brushing a hand over it. Ghost shifted overhead, leaning his weight onto the counter behind you.

“does it hurt?”

you couldn’t see his face, but his voice was wrung through in your ear. “no.”

the corner of your mouth twitched. “didn’t take you for a liar, Ghost.”

he just grunted in response. you smoothed your hands over the warmth of his torso.

“let me take care of you?” you offered, and his breath went shallow. you didn’t even know how to take care of someone. you had no idea what you were doing. but you offered anyway.

you could feel him smile into your hair, nose pressed to your ear. “always so polite, princess.”

you felt him tug your hair loose of its braid, and you took in a sharp breath as it fell in waves around your shoulders. he pulled off his gloves quickly, taking a handful of it, pressing the softness of your hair to his cheek. you shuddered.

“you won’t do a thing tonight, lovely,” he commanded lowly, and you nodded, hands clutching at his chest as he circled his strong arms around you. forehead pressed to yours, you looked up through his mask to find his rich brown eyes on you. his warm breath hit your lips.

he tilted his head in a gesture down the hall. “want you on that bed now.”

you complied immediately, taking him in your hand, going down the hall with one of his hands burning straight through the fabric at where he tightly gripped at your hip. crowding you into the room, and the door sealed tight behind you, he turned you by your hips, and gently pulled back your hair to expose your neck to him. you gasped when the soft wetness of his mouth kissed over it gently, his arm curling around you to pull you flush together.

a steady heat pooled in your stomach, and you squirmed in his hold.

“Ghost…” you begged, not even knowing what you were begging for. he hummed against your skin, undoing the clasp of your holster, then your skirt. you felt embarrassed by your clunky attire, kicking off your boots, hiding your face into his bare chest as he slid the article off your legs.

“don’t hide,” he warned in a light tone, expertly taking apart the back of your blouse to leave you only in your undergarments. the look behind his mask was dark and domineering, leaving you shaking in his hold. he smoothed a bare hand over your shoulder and arm, lifting the inside of your wrist to press a kiss there, before he was kissing up your arm in a hot trail. 

when he reached your jaw, a foreign and breathy noise left your throat. his eyes snapped back up to yours, pausing his ministrations as you blushed deeply. you didn’t know what those sounds meant—only that they left you feeling utterly sinful for being so exposed to an older man, unmarried, and so innocent.

you swallowed when Ghost’s hands went to the back of your corset, undoing its clasps blindly as he pressed more kisses to your neck, your cheek, and the corner of your lips. you squeaked, screwing your eyes shut and found yourself disappointed when he paused again.

panting, your brows pinched in confusion. Ghost was leaning a bit back now, looking down at you with an imperceptible expression.

“what? why’d you stop?” you whispered, scared to break the moment, but he unabashedly cut through the quiet of the room. “How much do you know about going to bed with someone?” 

you squeaked again, stupidly looking around the room as if your mama may have been hiding in the wardrobe. the look on Ghost’s face twisted into pure amusement, much to your chagrin, and you cursed yourself for the complete absence of confidence in you—like it had all run dry with your cheek pressed to his thigh under the dinner table.

“i know…” you fumbled for a word, “...a lot. so much.” 

Ghost huffed, taking one of your hands pressed to your chest and sliding it down, past his belt, to the front of his pants. you yelped when he closed your hand around something hard, something throbbing.

“you know what this is then?”

you nodded dumbly.

“really?” you had no idea.

you nodded again, and he laughed lowly, cupping a hand around the back of your neck to kiss your cheek softly, his cool mask brushing your skin.

he unclasped the top of your corset, and you jolted when pulled it slowly from your torso. the cold air of the room bit at your skin and you wrapped your arms over your chest. grumbling in disapproval, he let the thing clatter to the floor and untangled your arms from your chest, pushing you back onto the bed.

“don’t worry, lovely,” he slew sloppy, wet kisses over your breast and stomach, lightly nipping at the chub there, and a loud sound flew from your mouth from the ministration, your back arching in response. “i can teach you everything.”

a large palm slid over your stomach, keeping you pinned there with a dark look, black eyes pitched in a silver from the moonlight. “would you like that, lovely?”

you nodded wildly, clutching at his hand splayed over your tummy. 

“please, Simon,” you called softly, and a guttural sound left the back of his throat as he hooked a thumb beneath the waist of your lacey drawers and pulled them down, letting them pool around your knees for a moment as he leaned down over you to placing a comforting kiss to your shoulder.

then, you were bare, splayed out in the moonlight beneath his muscled stature. you squirmed in his hold, pressing your thighs together around his arm, but he pried them apart easily, baring your most sensitive parts to him. your whole body flushed when his eyes honed in on the throbbing between your legs, humming deeply. you yelped as he greedily tugged you to the edge of the bed, gingerly settling on his knees on the floor in front of you.

“your wound—” you cried out in surprise, but you were cut short when he buried his nose between your legs and breathed in deeply.

“Simon,” you called, voice breathy and panting, like you’d just run a far distance, and your hips jolting up against your will. there was a strange deep coiling in your stomach—a growing ache you felt like you needed to relieve with a crazy thirst.

he wrapped two strong arms round your thighs to pin your squirming hips down, nosing around the soft folds and plushness of your inner thighs. 

“patience,” he said, voice soft, and you keened, unsure what to do with your hands clenching and fumbling around the sheets. catching your wrists, he pinned them down to the bed along with your thighs. 

you felt the strange primal need to beg—to plead for his forgiveness, your whole body alight from the way he held your body in a bind, baring yourself to him.

“please,” you whimpered, unsatisfied with the way he continued to kiss and bite at your thighs, licking over them and periodically sucking the skin into his mouth. you canted your hips up, moaning when you found a delicious bout of friction against his turned jaw.

with a grunt of disapproval, he pinned you roughly back down to the bed.

“greedy are we, pretty thing?”

biting your lip, you didn’t feel an ounce of shame as you nodded. you needed that friction again. you didn’t know why, but you felt like you needed to grind against something desperately, just to relieve that sore aching inside you.

humming, Ghost lowered his mouth between your legs, eyes on yours as he gently blew cold air over the throbbing heat of you. you whined at that, hips trying to buck up, but he was just too strong.

“hurts,” you admitted in a whimper, and his eyes darkened.

“what hurts?”

you squirmed, whimpering helplessly, face flushing. “there.”

“where?” he asked, his lips twisted in a smug way.

you threw your head back, chest pushing up into the air with a frustrated whine.

“here?” he offered, his tongue coming out to lap over the throbbing thing between your legs. at that you gasped with a jolt, chasing his tongue. “this pretty little cunt aching?”

“yes,” you gasped, his tongue coming down to caress your core again and again, till it was lapping at it, almost playing with it.

the feeling was intense, nothing like you’d ever felt before. it bloomed like a fire in your throat, quenching the intense ache in your stomach, but every time he pulled away, the ache only grew stronger and stronger, like you needed to chase the pleasure with even more pleasure.

it was torture. you didn’t know whether to push him away or pull him closer.

the sight of him between your legs was so sinful, so wrong for a man to be lapping at you in such a forbidden place. but that intense feeling hung over everything in a foggy haze, blanketing any sense of foreboding shame that rang in the back of your brain.

there was only Ghost now—pinning your wrists and thighs to the bed, tongue rubbing strong circles into your fleshy pink skin.

when he pulled back, you almost cried out in frustration but he pinned you with a dark look of warning, releasing your wrists to bring a thumb to your cunt. he rubbed at in fast circles and a breathy moan escaped you, arching against the sheets.

he cooed. “so sensitive. you never touch yourself before, pretty thing?”

you choked out a reply. “no—it’s,” you gasped when his tongue came down to lap at your entrance, drawing teasing patterns over it, hooking inside then drawing out.

“sinful.” you finished with a drawl and he pushed his tongue inside, fucking you out of your wits with the wet muscle.

he hummed inside you, the tremors traveling all the way up to the place where he was rubbing with his thumb. you clutched at his hand, willing it to move faster, and he complied immediately. your body lost a fiber of control with every passing second. 

“you look like you’re enjoying it, though,” he spoke against you with a smug look. you barely heard him, a foreign sensation building in you so fast, the words of warning died in your throat.

“you like getting fucked out with my tongue? my thumb on your clit?”

“you like being my good little whore, pretty thing?”

“say my name, princess.”

his low, gruff words went straight to the blooming heat in your stomach, traveling straight to your cunt, and exploding out to your swollen clit as you chanted his name.

Simon, Simon, Simon.

every throbbing wave gripped you with an intensity, clenching around his tongue in delicious rolls of pleasure that had you squirming in the sheets, unable to keep still as he pulled you through a slew of ecstasy. 

Simon.

colors exploded behind your eyelids, jaw slack, you slowly laxed into the bed, melting as the sweet noises in your throat eventually subsided.

there was a lulling stillness in the room as your senses slowly came back to you, and you realized Ghost was speaking in a throaty, cracked murmur to you, voice raw and overused. 

“good girl,” he praised, and you looked up at him, leaning into his palm as he affectionately rubbed at your cheek, clambering over you to press a kiss to your ear, the tip of your nose.

his warm breath against your lips had you jolting to life, slapping a hand over his mouth with a gasp. he jolted against you and you scrambled up straighter, seized by what you had just done.

you, naked and bare on the bed, and he, shirt unbuttoned and jaw splashed with your slick. a question burned in the dark eyes behind his mask but you just made haste to cover your body with the sheets, scurrying out of his hold. 

he called your name out, voice dark and pinched. he reached for you, but you held up a hand.

“don’t,” you warned, gripped with such a burning shame that tears filled your eyes. you quickly wiped at them relentlessly, but more reappeared in their stead, and you drew the covers around your shoulders, unable to contain the shaking that wracked your body.

burying your face in your hands, thoughts convulsed wildly in your head. what have you done? what would your mama think? your daddy?

you whimpered. what would the lord think?

you shook so hard you barely noticed the black button up sleeve that Ghost wrapped around your shoulders, taking the sleeves to loosely tie them around your neck. he settled a fair distance from you, eyes full and glinting.

“alright, pretty girl?” he asked gingerly when your sobbing subsided.

you sniffled, voice strained and throaty. “no.”

you gave him a miserable look. “we’re not married.”

he tilted his head, mouth opening and closing. his hand clenched at the sheets then relaxed again.

“i don’t wanna be a whore,” you cried, feeling dumb as you wiped at the tears coming down your cheeks in an onslaught.

Ghost’s eyes narrowed. “is this because i called you a—”

“no!” you shouted immediately, then lowered your voice with a quick apology.

he slid to your side, flush against you and warm through the sheets. he pressed his mask to your hair.

“no one’ll think you’re a whore,” he mumbled, playing with your hair in his fingers, “you’re mine already.”

there was a deadpanned simplicity in his voice that made it easy to believe.

he took your tear-stained face in his hands. “besides, you’re too polite, princess. even in all that cowboy get-up.”

staring into his masked face, you nodded, chewing what he was feeding you slowly. he angled your face gently. when his lips made a slow descent to yours, you squeaked with a jolt and tried to scurry out of his hold, but he held fast, grunting with effort.

“what now?” he asked, exasperation flitting through his eyes, clenching at his jaw.

“i don’t kiss before a date—s’not proper!” you shot back with twice as much ire, and his eyes went wide before a huff of laughter escaped him.

“that so?”

you rolled your eyes. “yes.”

he hummed low, amusement twinkling in his eyes. “so proper, princess.”

you suppressed a laugh, trying to conceal your giggle with a frustrated huff, but Ghost didn’t fall for it as he drew you into arms, easily man-handling you into his desired position beneath the sheets before he slid into them behind you, pressing a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

you were pulled into a soft wall of warmth and bowing strength, curling around you in a sleepy hold. you couldn’t fight it even if you tried. he shifted against you, and you gasped when you felt something hard digging into the fleshy curve of your backside.

shooting a curious look over your shoulder, Ghost only offered you a lazy blink.

“don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,” he mumbled, drawing you in closer.

“but—”

“i don’t talk about those kinds of things before a date,” he said under his breath, and you could only laugh, relishing the way his lips curled into a smile against your hair.

an easy silence filtered into the room and you reached back behind you to grip at his shoulder, his neck, his skin. you took a deep breath. he was real. he was alive.

he slid his arms around your sides as a bind over your stomach, and you clutched weakly at the muscle of his arms smothering you.

“i thought you were going to die,” you ruminated softly, feeling a natural force pulling down on your eyelids.

“ghosts don’t die,” he reminded you, his lips against your neck. 

“devils don’t either,” you said, and he grunted in disapproval.

“you think i’m the devil, lovely?” his fingers stroked at your cheek. you leaned into his touch thoughtfully.

“maybe,” you answered in a truthful nod. “i don’t mind it though. i can make you good.”

his laugh was mirthless. “doubt you can, princess.”

you swallowed hard and closed your eyes. “you won’t ransom me back to my daddy, will you?”

you took his silence as a warning, an uneasy toil rolling through you. shifting in his arms, you turned to face him, the fabric of his mask pulled back down over his jaw, heavy gaze bearing down on you, half-lidded and sleepy. he just pulled you flush against his chest so you couldn’t see his masked face anymore, only the sounds of his deep, steady breaths in your ear that dragged you into a restless sleep.

p.s.: to any history buffs out there, i know that technically there was no actual british regiment in the spanish-american war but let's pretend that there was for the sake of plot holessss

...also imagining Gaz talk in a thick southern drawl was so funny to me he's so adorable

anyways hoped you enjoyed this long, self-indulgent chapter! more coming soon :]

[moonpascaltoo]

sirius black

MASTERLIST • THE MARAUDERS • 07/23/24

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs

sirius black two

𑣲 heart stamp I @shadowbriar

A good for nothing like him surely deserve no soulmate, Sirius believes, but when the heart is starved of something, someone, the universe throws him into another round of misery.

𑣲 don’t leave I @14thgalerie

𑣲 little lies I @amiableness

James asks Sirius and Y/n to pretend to date after he blurts out they are to Lily.

𑣲 tulips part 2 part 3 I @/amiableness

After finding out Remus Lupin has found himself a girlfriend, a devastated Y/n L/n asks Sirius Black to help her get over him. Except Sirius has feelings for her.

𑣲 come back, be here part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 I @ellecdc

After sacrificing yourself to save your friend and Order partner James months before, you're found on the brink of death. How will Sirius react when he finally gets his love back, but you don't seem to recognize any of them?

𑣲 bartender!sirius I @moonstruckme

𑣲 bet trope I @ddejavvu

𑣲 borrowed sweaters, stolen kisses I @wizardwritings

In a game of Truth or Dare, you’re dared to sneak into the Marauders’ dorm and steal one article of clothing to wear the next day. It just so happens that the jacket you snatched was Sirius’ favorite jumper.

𑣲 lovesick!sirius I @theemporium

𑣲 sirius has a girlfriend I @/theemporium

𑣲 incident with a time turner I @robynlilyblack

When a confrontation with Peter goes wrong, y/n Potter is sent 10 years into the future

𑣲 rain I @/robynlilyblack

Y/n has been in love with James for years, watching painfully from the side-lines as he failed to woo Lily. When they finally get together she finds comfort in her best friend, as time passes she finds herself falling for him but will it end up the same way or will she get her happy ending this time?

𑣲 dulled I @finnwrld

When Arthur couldn’t go to the department of mysteries you had to go instead, knowing you are going to die you use your last amounts of straight to apparate to number 12 Grimmauld Place.

𑣲 puppy I @violetrainbow412-blog

𑣲 dealbreaker I @luveline

you work in a bookstore. sirius keeps finding reasons to need books.

𑣲 chatty!reader I @/luveline

𑣲 the unlikely pair I @daydreams-turned-into-nightmares

a Gryffindor and a Slytherin, both just recently been through breakups, uses each other as rebound dates to the Yule Ball, but the night ended with something a bit more

𑣲 if i tell you I @/daydreams-turned-into-nightmares

you’re in love with him, and he’s in love with you, but he’s too prideful to say anything, and you don’t want to just be another casual flirt. So, neither of you tell the other about your feelings for one another.

𑣲 hypocrisy I @wolfmoonmusic

James doesn’t seem to want anyone other than Lily. So after one point, you decide to stop trying

𑣲 if you love me let me know I @theweasleysredhair

Y/n decides she isn’t going to wait forever for Sirius to make a move... maybe he needs a nudge in the right direction. In which Sirius gets extremely jealous over the prospect of Y/n going on a date with someone other than himself.

𑣲 apparition accident I @mediocre-daydreams

sirius accidentally apparates into your bed instead of his.

𑣲 sweet rubbish I @shadowbriar

Their game of love hate pretend has to put to halt as Sirius gazed into the crystal ball.

𑣲 late night cravings I @bobluvbot

you sneak off the night for a cheeky midnight snack, hoping sirius won’t notice (spoiler alert: he does, and he’s sulky about it)

𑣲 brothers best friend I @lauryri

In which Sirius Black finds comfort in the person he least expects.

𑣲 worth it I @hemmingsleclerc

where Sirius is completely in love with James's sister, but everytime he wants to ask her on a date somehow ends up doing something embarrassing

[sunshineyuyu]

gravitational attraction (k. ys)

★ summary: you’re taking intro to physics late as an upperclassman, but thankfully there’s another student in the same predicament–kang yeosang. the two of you end up as lab partners, and as the semester goes on, you become friends and maybe something more. ★ pairing: yeosang x gn!reader ★ genre: college, fluff ★ word count: 3.4k ★ tags/warnings:  college soccer player!yeosang, no y/n, physics lab partners to lovers, intentionally lowercase, platonic (or is it?) bed sharing/cuddling, this is all fluff :3 ★ notes: i know yeosang is actually really smart he'd probably be helping ME with physics in reality ! as always, beta'd by @starhwas-bunny ♡ ★ masterlist | read on ao3

you meet him during your first physics lab.

you’re a junior sitting in a class of mostly freshmen, all buzzing with that excited hum of making it through their first syllabus week. while you click your pen aimlessly, you think about the several ways you could’ve avoided taking introductory physics this semester: you could’ve manned the fuck up and gotten it out of the way freshman year, but you’d been scared off after doing poorly in high school; you could’ve taken it sophomore year, but that you would’ve had to take physics and linear algebra in the same semester; you could’ve switched your major entirely!

but unfortunately, you’re not sitting in the quad with your friends, leisurely throwing a frisbee while nursing a cold beer. instead you’re sat at a lab station, waiting for the teaching assistant to give instructions, and cursing yourself for arbitrarily choosing 2:30-5:30 on fridays as your designated weekly lab time.

you glance around, noticing how the other lab stations are filled with at least 2 people already, most of them chatting quietly. it’s not that you mind working alone―in fact you usually prefer it―but you’re shit at physics and you’re hoping for a budding astrophysicist to choose you as their lab partner.

instead, right at the moment that the TA clears his throat to introduce himself, the door into the lab creaks open and a chocolate-haired boy steps inside, calmly but a little breathlessly. he pinpoints the only seat still available (the one next to yours) and makes his way over. he moves with a kind of shamelessness that tells you he’s definitely not a freshman.

he’s lowkey jacked, you notice as he sits down beside you. his shoulders are solid and prominent, and you can see his biceps flex as he grabs a pencil out of his backpack. his hair falls over his forehead and just barely into his eyes, but he runs a hand through it to sift it out of the way. he’s attractive, your brain supplies uselessly.

right next to physics in your mental shelf of things you’re bad at is talking to pretty boys.

and oh, he is very pretty.

over the next hour, you learn that although your lab partner is quite beautiful, he’s also quite dumb. as nervous as you’d been about physics lab, this first one is simple enough, and you end up having to coach the boy sitting next to you through basic kinematics.

“thanks,” he says, scratching the side of his neck with the back of his pen. “i missed a couple lectures.”

“it’s the first week,” you say. “you’re already skipping classes?”

“the season just started and my sleep schedule is still a little wack,” he winces. you don’t blame him though―lecture for this class is at 8 am.

“season?” you say.

“soccer,” he says.

“oh,” you say. “that’s why you’re so…” you break off before you accidentally tell him that he’s jacked to his face.

he just hums in response.

thankfully, the two of you manage to finish the lab in less than two hours, and you note with a decent amount of satisfaction that there’s at least five other groups still working. you scribble your name at the top of your lab report, before trading to fill in your name on his sheet.

you glance over at his name.

kang yeosang, it reads. his handwriting is neat and thin.

“uh, so see you next week?” he says, as you exit the classroom together.

“yeah,” you say.

⋆⋆⋆

it takes fifteen minutes for the two of you to find the study room, which cuts into the two hours you’d reserved the room for. you’ve worked up a sweat while frantically walking around the third floor of the library, from both embarrassment and the presence of yeosang, who hovers over your shoulder as you lead him on a wild goose chase. you finally unlock the room and walk inside, only to be met with a whiteboard covered in phallic drawings and a questionable stain on the chair you happen to choose.

while you wrinkle your nose at the stain and tug on the hem of your shorts so that you can avoid any direct skin contact with it, yeosang settles into his chair and begins taking out his laptop and notebook. 

“how many problems did you get done?” you ask, mirroring his actions with your own things.

“bold of you to assume i started,” he says without a note of shame. he lays out his notebook and pen and calculator and looks up at you expectantly.

“yeo-sang,” you say. “it’s due tomorrow!”

“tomorrow at 11:59 pm,” he says. “that means i have all of tonight and all of tomorrow.” he pauses while you finish pulling up the assignment on your browser. “and i have you to help me.” he smiles at you smugly.

“bold of you to assume i’ll help you,” you retort.

he pouts, which creates an interesting contrast against his strong, muscly college-athlete figure.

“at least try every problem before i give you the answer,” you mumble, because you could never refuse kang yeosang. you cross your arms across your chest, but yeosang is smiling again. “you know if you don’t actually do the homework you’re not going to do well on the exams.”

yeosang hums in response, and you sigh.

over the next half hour, you walk him through the first few problems that you’d managed to finish relatively easily. he honestly picks up material faster than you give him credit for, and he’s never shy to ask even the dumbest questions. as you draw out a free body diagram to explain a question on potential vs. kinetic energy, a shiver runs through your spine. while the blasting ac had been welcome at first, you’ve always been sensitive to the cold, and your body is starting to reject the cool breeze. you can feel goosebumps on your arms, and your legs shake slightly.

of course yeosang notices.

“are you cold?” he asks.

“it’s one of my things,” you say, teeth chattering and waving a hand to brush his concern away. “i’m always cold and i cry at everything.”

“i’ve never seen you cry,” he says.

“hmm,” you say. “i cried during the midterm.”

he narrows his eyes. “you got an 84.”

“i thought i failed!” you say. “anyway.” you turn back to the diagram, adding extra arrows and labels. “so do you see how the potential energy becomes―”

“here.” yeosang shoves something at you, navy blue and soft. you blink at it until he unfurls it for you. it’s a hoodie. an official university athletics branded hoodie. 

“i’m fine!” you say, and with the rush of heat in your face from kang yeosang offering you a jacket, you honestly don’t feel the chill anymore.

“it probably smells kinda bad but―here, take it. you’re shivering.” a light pink dusts his cheeks, and he avoids your gaze. to save him the embarrassment, you take the hoodie from him. you stare at it in your hands, before finally pulling it over your head.

it’s so soft and warm, and you almost immediately feel your body temperature evening out. 

“thanks,” you say softly, burrowing into the neck of the hoodie. it does smell a little interesting―cologne and aftershave trying their hardest to mask the smell of sweat. but you don’t mind, because it smells like yeosang.

“not a big deal,” he mutters.

the two of you keep working on the homework for the next hour, and you manage to finish 13 out of the 15 questions. the last two are the hardest and longest, and it’s already nearing the end of your reservation for the study room.

yeosang yawns and rubs the heel of his palm into his eye.

“i can ask ryujin for help,” you say, knowing that yeosang’s strict athlete’s schedule means he should already be in bed by now. “and we can work on the last two problems tomorrow?”

“sounds good,” yeosang says. “i’m so tired.”

you pack up in silence. the two of you manage to find the elevators without much hassle, and the ride is likewise quiet, punctuated by yeosang’s occasional yawns. you stare at your hazy reflections in the elevator doors, eyes running over how his hoodie sits on your figure. you hate how much you like it.

you return the key for the study room to the front desk, and you walk out of the library together.

“i’m heading this way,” you say, gesturing in the opposite direction of the parking lot. “gotta meet up with ryujin to get that help.”

“thanks, again,” yeosang says. “i owe you.”

“good night, yeosang,” you say.

“see you tomorrow!” he calls, yawning again and turning to trudge away to his car.

he doesn’t ask for the hoodie back, and you nestle into it even thought it’s warm outside.

later, while you brush your teeth, sleeplily getting ready for bed, you catch a glimpse of white text in the mirror and you contort yourself to read the back of the hoodie. in thick square text is his last name kang and his number 8. you flush, realizing that you’re not only wearing his hoodie, you’re wearing his name and number.

⋆⋆⋆

you brush pale green crumbs off of your practice exam, scowling at yeosang seated next to you, munching contently on a stick of matcha pocky.

“stop making such a mess!” you complain, sending your shoulder into his to give you some space while you read over the last free response question.

“i don’t get this at all,” he says, peering at the question too. “i’m totally gonna fail this midterm.” he groans and drapes himself over the back of his chair, letting his head hang back dramatically in despair.

“with that attitude, yeah,” you say. you rummage with the foil packet of pocky, finding it disappointingly empty. “did you seriously finish all of the pocky? that was my last bag!”

his head swings back up to give you a sheepish grin.

“you owe me,” you mutter, reaching over the desk to swipe his still unfinished bottle of calpico. he doesn’t fight you, but watches quietly as you unscrew the cap and take a deep drink of the thing.

“there,” you say. “we’re even. actually―” 

you tilt your head back and raise the calpico to your lips, draining the bottle.

“there,” you say, slamming the now empty bottle onto your notebook with a satisfying plastic crunch. “now we’re even.”

“you didn’t waterfall,” yeosang chooses to comment. you whip around to stare at him.

“so what? do you have cooties?”

he hums instead and tugs the practice exam out from under your hand.

“so you’re totally gonna have to walk me through this whole problem.”

the sun sets, and the natural light seeping in from your large windows fades from white to orange to red to nothing. in the thirty minutes since the room has plunged into semi-darkness, neither of you have gotten up to turn on your ceiling light. instead the two of you sit crouched over your desk, illuminated by your desk light and the rotating rainbow colors from the LED lights that wrap around your walls.

“i’m going to fall asleep,” yeosang finally announces, throwing down his pen and collapsing over the desk, eyes shutting and forehead thumping against the wood.

“we still have three practice problems!” you say, nudging at his shoulder. it’s surprisingly taut under your finger, and you flush thinking about the amount of muscle packed into his body.

“i’m too tired,” he whines, muffled.

you consider his statement.

“why don’t you take a power nap?” you suggest. “chaeyoung does it all the time. she takes, like, fifteen minute power naps and feels loads better and just keeps studying.”

yeosang perches his chin on the desktop, peering at you through half-lidded eyes.

“how does that even work?” he says. “i don’t think fifteen minutes is enough.”

you shrug.

“she sent me an article once.” you begin pushing him towards your bed. “i think there’s science behind it. just―nap. i’ll finish the problem we’re on and then we can switch for the next one.”

it’s a testament to his fatigue that you’re able to maneuver him out of his chair and onto the bed behind you. you think vaguely of a different context for you to be pushing him onto your bed, but you dismiss those thoughts quickly. your biggest concern right now is making it through this practice exam, especially when one of your friends had mentioned how much the professors like to reuse old exam questions. and you aren’t going to do it alone. after you’d helped yeosang through the last five homework assignements, he’d promised that he’d work through the practice exams with you, and you aren’t about to let him flake on you when it’s only 11:30 pm.

“fifteen minutes,” you say, setting the timer on your phone and showing it to him.

he’s already made himself at home on your bed, wrapping himself in your soft blanket and grabbing your favorite cat plush to sandwich between his arms.

“don’t squeeze her like that,” you complain.

“shhh,” he says. “don’t make me waste my fifteen minutes.”

you huff, but you drop it, heading back to your desk to decipher the question you’d left half-finished. 

five minutes later, yeosang’s soft snores are the soundtrack to your struggles through the next problem. you’re tempted to check the answer key, but after preaching to yeosang the consequences of just looking up answers without doing the work, you’re caught in your own high standards.

eventually, your phone chimes to indicate that fifteen minutes are up. you swivel around in your chair, intent on tormenting yeosang but you find him still sound asleep, snuggled deeper into your bed. he’s tucked your plushie under his chin, his grip looser around the stuffed animal’s round body. vaguely, you think you might be a little jealous of that inanimate object.

you’re so fucked, you think numbly, evaluating the situation.

you have a midterm in two days, and a slumbering hot athlete in your bed.

why on earth did you think convincing yeosang to take a nap in your bed would be a good idea?

you shut off the alarm when it becomes clear that nothing will rouse yeosang from his slumber. you figure he needs his sleep, and you’ll wake him up when you finish the practice exam.

an hour later, yeosang’s still sound asleep and at the rate your yawns keep increasing in frequency and length, you’re heading in the same direction.

you’ve managed to finish two out of the last three questions, but the final problem is so convoluted and scary that you betray your own principles to just copy off of the answer key. 

you clean up your desk and shut off the desk light, shuffling towards your bed. you poke and prod and whine at yeosang to wake him up.

“yeosang,” you say, focusing your attacks on his shoulders. it’s the one area of his body you allow yourself to touch. anywhere lower and you think that you’ll be picturing exactly what is beneath your hand, and anywhere near his face will make you want to kiss him stupid.

“yeosang. yeosang. yeosang,” you chant. “wake. up. stupid.”

he finally stirs, shifting onto his back and exposing a small circle of darkened fabric on the pillow case where his mouth had been seconds before.

“you drooled on my pillow!” you shriek.

“shhh,” he mumbles. “i’m sleeping.” his voice is deeper, shrouded in sleep, and oh, it sends a tingle down your spine.

“no!” you say. “you’re leaving. go home. i finished the practice exam so i’ll just go over it with you tomorrow. you owe me big time.”

“but it’s so comfy,” he says, his eyes still shut and voice still husky. “my bed isn’t this nice.”

“it’s memory foam,” you mutter.

“mmm,” he says, and then suddenly you feel a hand, a large and warm hand wrapping around your waist and tugging you down. you tumble onto yeosang, face positively on fire as your hands go out to catch yourself and oh―

your cheek is pressed up against his chest―his very firm chest―and your hands are grazing the sides of his equally firm abdomen.

“hm this is nice,” he says, the arm around your waist tightening. you feel his chin brush against the crown of your head. 

“go home, yeosang,” you say, but without any of the conviction you’d had before. you’re cuddled up against your insanely attractive crush, and even you understand the need to take advantage of situations handed to you on a platter.

“nah,” he says. “too tired to move.”

you laugh quietly into his body.

“at least let me get under the covers.”

⋆⋆⋆

he confesses under the illumination of the numerous string lights strung along the porch of your favorite burger joint. it’s a chilly december night, and yet you’d been craving a birthday cake milkshake, and like always, yeosang had obliged.

“you know i like you, right?” he says, licking at the bit of pink shake dripping over the edge of his cup.

you freeze, quite literally, since you have always been sensitive to the cold. the milkshake hits your head in a splitting brain freeze, just as a particularly strong breeze ruffles through your hair.

“huh?” you manage.

“i like you,” yeosang continues, casually. he’s taken off the plastic cover of his shake and he’s digging at the shake with a spoon. “i feel like i’ve been pretty obvious about it, but i figured it was about time i confess for real.” he takes a spoonful of his strawberry shake into his mouth, savors it and then swallows. “especially since you’re going home soon so i won’t be able to see you in person for, like, a month.”

he hums around another spoonful of milkshake, while you nearly drop yours in surprise. your mind moves in fast forward until suddenly it cuts to complete emptiness. you stare at yeosang, mouth agape and head absolutely empty, no thoughts.

“what?” you shriek.

this causes an actual reaction in him. he jumps a little and turns to you, eyes slightly wider and spoon hanging out of his mouth.

“you like me?” you say, voice shrill.

“yeah,” he says, a little incredulously. “i thought you knew?”

“i- you- you thought i knew?” you say.

“it was obvious?” yeosang says.

“how was it obvious?” you ask.

“i dunno,” he says. “like i gave you my hoodie. isn’t that a thing boyfriends do? and i tease you all the time? and i slept over. we cuddled.”

“that- it- it wasn’t- it was purely platonic!” you hiss, ripping off your thick scarf so the cold can combat the warmth spreading from your cheeks to your forehead.

“oh,” he says. “so does that mean you don’t like me back?” he peers at you, almost void of emotion, still sucking on that stupid spoon.

“what makes you think that?” you say, breathless now.

“you said the cuddling was platonic,” he says.

“that’s- that’s because i didn’t know how you felt,” you say.

“and now you do,” he says.

“and now i do,” you parrot.

“and?” he prods.

“and―” you gulp. “―and i like you, too.”

“hmm,” he hums. “good.” he’s smiling now, this stupid shit-eating grin that you’ve only ever seen a handful of times. yeosang’s not one for big expressions, but this―

this is how you know he’s not joking with you.

“good?” you repeat faintly.

“yeah,” he says, setting down his milkshake and spoon onto the table. “so, can i be your boyfriend?”

“boyfriend?” you say.

“i thought i was the dumb one in this relationship,” he says.

“relationship?”

“seriously?” he sighs. “alright, how about this.”

he surges forward then, hands cupping your jaw. his lips slot over yours and suddenly you’re kissing kang yeosang. closed mouth, but substantial, and oh his lips are so soft.

yeosang pulls back, but his hands stay on your face, thumbs rubbing circles into your cold and slightly numb cheeks.

“oh,” you say.

“yeah,” he laughs. “you get it now?”

“yeah,” you say. “yeah―you can be my boyfriend.”

[pedroscurls]

HUGH JACKMAN MASTERLIST.

18+ only, mdni! you can find all of the hugh jackman characters i've written so far below the cut. please note that majority of the stories contain (or will eventually have) smut and all stories are fem!reader, no use of y/n.

🌶️ - smut ❤️‍🩹 - angst 🥰 - fluff

LOGAN HOWLETT

HUGH JACKMAN (real person fanfiction)

🌶️ ❤️‍🩹 🥰 training partners: you hire a new personal trainer to get you back on track, but you don't realize that she's also hugh jackman's trainer until you show up to the gym. ↳ pt 1. - pt 2. - pt. 3 - pt. 4 - pt. 5 - pt. 6 - pt. 7 - pt. 8 - pt. 9 - pt. 10 - pt. 11 - pt. 12 - pt. 13 - pt. 14 - pt. 15 - pt. 16 - pt. 17

requests:

🌶️ ❤️‍🩹 secret crushes: you've known hugh for years, having not only a personal friendship with him, but also a professional one. then, ryan decides to play matchmaker unbeknownst to you or hugh. ↳ pt. 1 (can be read as a standalone) - pt. 2 (which includes blake and ryan with reader!)

🌶️ sneak away with me: you sneak away with hugh during a party.

🌶️ welcome to broadway: it's the anniversary of oklahoma! and with it being your first broadway show, hugh takes you under his wing to show you the ropes. along the way, you realize that you've developed feelings for him.

🌶️ 🥰 baby, stay in bed: head over heels in love with hugh, you spend the night for the first time... and realize that hugh feels the same way.

🌶️ save a horse, ride a cowboy: hugh takes you to go flower picking, but all you can think about is taking him back to his car and riding him.

🥰 let the world know: you and hugh have been keeping your relationship a secret... until hugh accidentally lets millions of his followers know exactly who he's been dating.

🥰 cooking with hugh: hugh gets to see you in action... and he reaps the benefits too.

🥰 the first date: hugh takes you out for your first date.

🥰 sunday nights: sunday nights with hugh are your favorite -- movie night, cuddling, and finally some alone time with him.

🌶️ 🥰 romantic getaway: hugh takes you to greece for a romantic getaway after rumors of your relationship with him start to circulate the media... but there's no hiding it anymore.

🥰 first impressions: hugh meets your kids for the first time.

🥰 bad influence: already running late for work, hugh convinces you to call in sick.

🥰 mesmerized from afar: despite your relationship with hugh being out in the open, you both still do your best to keep it professional in the public eye... until hugh makes it very obvious during a hollywood event.

🌶️ 🥰 our little secret: ryan and blake try to set you and hugh up, but little do they know, you've already been secretly seeing each other.

🌶️ you put a spell on me: hugh attends a masquerade-themed party and you capture his attention the moment you step into the building.

🥰 seasons changing: hugh and reader get ready for fall in new york.

🌶️ late to the party: possibly already late to ryan and blake's party, hugh becomes just slightly annoyed when you can't decide what to wear... and when he realizes that you're doing it on purpose, he only knows one way to make sure you don't do it again.

❤️‍🩹 better together: after filming finishes with deadpool & wolverine, your relationship with hugh progresses... until he breaks things off with you. it isn't until ryan invites you to the press tour that you see him again and finally have a serious conversation with him.

❤️‍🩹 🥰 in the shadows: hugh's excited to see you at his premiere, but when he sees the look on your face when he's posing with one of his co-stars, he's confused because you decide to leave without a word.

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

［9 things Simon Riley might annoy (intentionally or not) his shorter partner]

(inspired by my experience with friends cause I’m damn tall for an afab in my country, and the last incident is a true story between me and my tiny friend lmao)

1. Pretends he can’t hear you and leans down to listen to you talking (sometimes it’s really hard to hear clearly tho)

2. Hears you calling him, turns around and see nothing, because you are too short and is below his vision

3. When you two are fight over the last cookie, he reaches his arm so you’re unable to reach it

4. Lends you his shirt so he can see the sleeve are too long for you and you get angry when they accidentally stuck on a door knob

5. Bends his knees when you two are taking selfie so his shoulder and upper parts won’t get cropped in the photo (even the times he doesn’t need to)

6. His legs are too long and it can’t fit in the bed, so when he isn’t curling on the bed you might stumble over his legs

7. Same, his long legs are unable to fit into your drivers seat, he will immediately adjust the chair as far as he can when he’s going to drive your car

8. The top of your head is his best place to rest his chin, will wrap his arms around your waist while doing it

9. Leans almost all of his weight on you, amused by you struggling to carry him to bed room (or the places he doesn’t want to go) while his legs are dragging on the floor

but one time, he went in to a store to buy something while you were waiting outside, and you got importuned by some weird salespeople, just about you were going to run or escape into the store to find him, you heard the low voice coming from your back.

“Anything wrong with my partner?”

[gilverrwrites]

I’m so obsessed with Perv!Dick as if I wouldn’t end up incredibly depressed in that scenario, butttttt

Dick bringing Roy over to have fun with you, telling you that Tim is into threesomes and you shouldn’t worry now because Roy isn’t nearly as intense as Kon (Tim’s threesome partner of choice) while he’s backing you up until your back hits Roy’s chest, caging you between the two men? Is this something?

IT’S SOMETHING! Anon, this ask shut off my brain for like 8 hours straight and then a bunch of other times intermittently whenever I thought about it. Oh to be sandwiched between Dick and Roy, I would die happy. Here is the most cohesive response I would muster with the stray pieces of thoughts I could pluck from rattling around my brain. Good work anon 💖 Warnings: Perv!Dick, F/M/M, coercion, manipulation, Dick being possessive ━ [Part 1] ━ [Part 2] ━ [Part 4]

Dick knows he’s pushing his luck; his heart feels heavy with guilt as he watches you pick at the beds of your nails.

“I don’t know, Dick.” You’ve had this look on your face, like a kicked puppy, all big wet eyes and pouty lips since you’d opened the door to find not one, but two pairs of eyes staring back at you. He feels bad, but more than that he wants to fuck the pitiful expression right off your face. “I’ve been thinking maybe I should save some firsts for Tim.”

“I get that, you’re right.” Dick agrees purely for the sake of giving you some perceived agency back, ignoring the way Roy crosses his arms and quirks a brow from behind you. That’s another part of it, proving to Roy that he really does have you wrapped around his finger after bragging about you incessantly. “If you would rather your first threesome be with Tim and Kon, I totally understand.”

“K-Kon?” You stutter, eyes growing even bigger at the sound of his name.

Dick knows you’ve met Kon exactly once before at a birthday gathering for Tim and that it hadn’t been the best experience for you. Kon rarely has bad intentions, he’s just a little rough around the edges. You’d incidentally gotten in his way on the dance floor at some point, and it had resulted in some pretty nasty, but entirely accidental bruising and Kon hadn't really been given the chance to apologise, which he absolutely would have, if Dick hadn't swept you off the dance floor so he could 'tend' to you before Tim or Kon could get a look in.

“Oh, that's right, those two are tight.” Roy clues in on the play and you swing around to watch as he goes on. “Good guy, bit much though. Doesn’t know his own strength. I once watched hi- Ah, you… don’t wanna hear this, hon.”

“No…” You’re looking at Roy with that same innocently curious look you’d given Dick the first time he’s sunk his fingers into your tight little pussy. Roy’s chest immediately starts to puff up, his freckled skin turning reddish with arousal as he throws Dick a glance that says ‘wow!’. “I think I do.”

“Really you don’t.” Dick tells you and you turn to face him again, stepping back when you realise how close he’d gotten while your back was turned. You raise your hands unconsciously and Dick takes them in his own, tenderly pressing your palms to his chest, to his heart, really amping up the soft, understanding 'brother-in-law' angle as he goes on. “If you want to wait for Tim and Kon to tag team you, that’s totally your prerogative, but the offer is on the table.”

You’ve also only met Roy once more before tonight. He had this easy sort of confidence with the ladies. Before Dick has purposely interrupted, selfishly wanting you all to himself, Roy had offered you a charmingly mellow smile that has intrigued you. Before he'd even introduced himself, he had a hand on the small of your back, strong fingers massaging your skin in much the same way he does now.

You hadn't even noticed how Dick had been herding you toward your guest until your back was pressed against Roy’s solid chest. Roy’s hands tread ever so carefully around your hips, creeping under your shirt, the tips of his fingers are hard and warm against your skin. He leans into your shoulder until his stubble scratches at your neck and his voice reverberates down your spine as he talks directly into your ear. “We can be real gentle with you.”

They won’t be gentle. They’ll start off slow and calm. Roy kissing your neck, stroking your hair, whispering sweet words to you while Dick warms you up. Getting you off and stretching you out on his fingers, just like he’s done countless times before. He’s got your pretty pussy memorised and he’s gonna make sure you’re wet and ready to take them both.

But once your lips are around Roy’s cock and Dick is balls deep inside you, all bets are off.  

"Fuck- You suck it like a pro, doll."

"Who taught you that, baby?"

Even if your mouth weren't to full, you're to cock drunk to interject when they converse about how good your pussy feels, or how well you take it while they pile into you from both ends.

You're nervous about loosing your anal virginity, but between that and taking them both in your cunt, you'd much rather let Dick put it in your ass, and he coos in your ear the whole time about how you're such a good girl, you're doing such a good job, making them both feel so good.

But when Roy applauds how tight your pussy is when he starts stretching it out in places Dick's cock couldn't reach; Dick tells him to pull your hair, cause he knows how it makes your walls clench and your eyes roll back.

It's overwhelming, four big strong hands groping and caressing you incessantly. The sick, wet sound of skin slapping echos through the room. The scent of sex and musk fills your nose. You can't look away from them both at the same time, and whenever you close your eyes Dick pries them open again or slaps your buttcheeks until you get the point. He can't stand not getting the full picture, he loves how expressive your eyes are.

When it's over Roy gives you his number. "In case you ever wanna trade Tim in for 'an upgrade'."

Dick smacks him across the back of the head.

[letters-to-lgbt-kids]

My dear lgbt+ kids, 

For some people, just reading facts is less educational than actively engaging with them - so here’s a little pop quiz on HIV transmission! 

I’ll tell you some scenarios and you can try to answer if you think you could get HIV that way or not. You’ll find the correct answers under the cut! 

You go swimming with some friends. You later learn that one of them is HIV-positive. You were in the water at the same time. 

You had sex without a condom. It was with your long-term partner and it’s a closed relationship (neither of you has sex with others). You both got tested early on in the relationship, both were negative, but it has been some years since then. 

You got so drunk at a party that you don’t fully remember what happened. You believe you may have had sex with someone there but, for the life of you, you just can’t remember who it was or if you used protection. 

You had to pee really really bad while out and about, so you ended up using a public restroom that was pretty gross and dirty. 

You went on a couple dates with someone. You kissed a few times but didn’t go any further. They just contacted you and told you they tested positive for HIV. 

You live with a roommate. They had some friends over and you just realized one of them apparently used some of the body lotion you were storing in the bathroom. 

You had casual sex with someone. You used a condom but they later on told you that it slipped off during the act and that they didn’t say anything to not ruin the mood. 

One of your friends is HIV-positive. You often hug them or you snuggle while watching tv together. Sometimes you even share a drink (from the same cup). 

You used what you believed to be your own lip balm. You feel grossed out when you realize it’s not yours: your coworker accidentally put theirs in your coat pocket. 

You are in a long term relationship and are regularly sexually active without a condom. You just learned your partner cheated on you multiple times. 

Correct answers below the cut: 

1.No risk. HIV cannot survive in water and is not transmitted through casual contact.

2.No risk (if everyone is honest). If neither of you has had any other partners since the tests, and you haven’t been exposed to HIV through other means, there’s no risk. (However, if there is any uncertainty (you worry they may lie about not sleeping with anyone else etc.), it’s a good idea to get retested!) 

3. Potential risk. Unprotected sex can transmit HIV, so it’s recommended to get tested if you’re uncertain about protection use or the partner’s status.

4. No risk. HIV is not transmitted through surfaces, including toilets, regardless of cleanliness.

5. No (to extremely low) risk. HIV is not transmitted through saliva, so kissing does not pose a risk. (The only risk would be if both of you had sores or bleeding gums and blood from the HIV-positive partner gets into the bloodstream of the HIV-negative partner. This is extremely unlikely.)

6. No risk. HIV does not survive well outside the human body and is not transmitted through sharing personal care items like lotion.

7. Potential risk. If the condom slipped off, there may have been some exposure to bodily fluids, which could transmit HIV. Testing is advised. (Side note: Consent is only true consent if everyone is informed on what’s going on. In this scenario, you did not consent to having sex without a condom! Regardless of them not wanting to “ruin the mood”: That’s a form of sexual assault.) 

8. No risk. HIV is not transmitted through casual skin contact like hugging or snuggling. HIV is also not spread through saliva (drinking from the same cup). 

9. No risk. HIV cannot survive well outside the body and is not transmitted via shared lip balm.

10. Potential risk. If your partner has had other partners, there is a risk of exposure. Testing is recommended. 

How many did you get right? 

With all my love, 

Your Tumblr Dad 

[sunsguilt]

SMASH OR PASS WITHOUT THE SMASH !┊ft: all nrc characters!

warnings: none! contains: gn reader

notes: this is essentially a dateability ranking in terms of pure survival and living your best life. i love all the characters dearly, and this is just for fun!

HEARTSLABYUL

riddle rosehearts: don’t get me started on him. hypothetically, let’s say he has a single romantical bone in his body. he would probably (definitely) want to date someone his mother would approve of, so someone who’s super studious and thinking about becoming a lawyer type of thing. even then, his mother would be the overbearing MIL stereotype, and riddle would just bend to her every whim, so it wouldn’t work. would probably divorce you if his mom said to. 

overall rating: 2/10, could be a nice cushy life if he took his penchant for memorizing rules into a lawyer profession and became a rich husband, but still the MIL…. you would end up on r/relationshipadvice within weeks, i’m afraid. 

ace trappola: he’s like a frat boy to me, honestly. I think you could be friends with him within reason, but if you actually date him… he’s the kind of guy who would pursue you and then get bored once u start dating. whoops, he had a consensual workplace relationship. he canonically ghosted his ex, guys. 

overall rating: 3/10, you would be dating a frat boy. you don’t want that for yourself, trust me, speaking from second-hand experience here. 

deuce spade: deuce is actually normal. like he’s no rich boy, but his family is respectful and his mother would adore you if he brought you home. he’s a little slow, but he’s got the spirit, y’know? 

overall rating: 6/10, very nice in-laws, very cool husband. you may end up being the primary breadwinner. 

cater diamond: with cater, it’s probably a bromance that turns into a real romance. mostly because he didn’t want to confess and ruin the whole thing you had going on together. likely a guy who needs a lot of validation from his partner. like he’ll say he hates pickles if you don’t like pickles. will not let a pickle pass his lips. will try his very hardest to convince you to do silly couple challenges.

overall rating: 8/10, he’s sooooo cute but he’s got unresolved mental instability like you wouldn’t believe. personally, i love that in a man. call me fix-it felix.

trey clover: trey is. trey. average guy whose family runs a bakery. he’s cute though!

overall rating: 5/10, he’s probably a freak in terms of intimate relations! teehee! no further comment.

SAVANACLAW

leona kingscholar: leona is a nice guy, respectful etc. but after a while, he’s not putting the same energy into the relationship as you are. the added layer of dating a literal prince…. no matter how disregarded he is by his family, he is second in line for the throne. the pressure from that sounds crazy, i won’t lie. you might be able to ignore the pressure of him bringing you home to straight up royalty ! overall rating: 5/10, he’s so dreamy and gorjus but he wears uncle sandals. jack howl: oh he’s so bf material, like you don’t understand. him being really firm on the fact that beastmen choose a life partner? wanting to fall in love and be committed to someone until his dying day? this is Romance. he's probs a good guy to bring to the gym for support if you’re just starting to work out regularly! might accidentally push you past your limits bc he’s thinking beastmen standards and not human. overall rating: 7/10, he’s so cute and i love him, but he’s a gym bro and does daily early morning jogs and such. cannot accept it. ruggie bucchi: he’s actually another really normal guy to date! he’s shown to do anything to provide for his loved ones (bringing food home from school to provide for his friends and family). very much an acts of service guy! 

overall rating: 4/10, the chances are high that he’ll do that thing that broke dudes do when they get all touchy and hug their partner when the partner pulls out their card to pay for something. 

OCTAVINELLE

azul ashengrotto: he would be nice to you ONLY if he had something to gain. would actually play the long game in order to sweet-talk you into signing some contract that totally screws you over forever. he is a capitalist at heart, i fear. he’s gonna get you in some get-rich-quick scheme. also, he can’t kiss and it would be weird and a lot more drool than necessary.  overall rating: 6/10, i love octopus.

jade leech: oh god. he’s like visually appealing but the longer he's talking, the worse it gets. his hobby would literally be getting your heart rate up. you’d be lucky if you don’t get high blood pressure from his desire to see your face twist in an ugly expression. he has a penchant for learning, so he’ll want to research the topic of his interest to the fullest to get the desired results.  overall rating: 3/10, the moment he’s tired of you, he’ll never speak to you again outside of a professional setting. floyd leech: he wants to have fun every day he can. which is fine, nothing wrong with that. the problem lies when he wants to rope you into it. and his idea of fun is….. questionable. he would call you up in the middle of the night and ask if you wanna go for a joyride that takes you over state lines. and you would only get like three minutes notice. he would also invite himself into your dorm and sleep in your bed. no, he’s not making the bed either, the guy canonically has to be forced into ironing his own shirt.  overall rating: 3/10, he looks like he bites unironically. would you get rabies if a humanized eel bit you?

SCARABIA

kalim al-asim: oh he’s so sweet, but the only problem is literally the fact that he’s rich. he frequently talks about multiple attempts on his life in his youth up until the present day. if people outside of your circle found out you were with him, word would surely spread to unwanted ears, and your life would be at risk because of that immediate association.  overall rating: 6/10, a total sweetheart, but i don’t think i’d be able to eat breakfast with him without wondering if something’s in our food. jamil viper: he has too many underlying issues that include but are not limited to: an inferiority complex that exists due to his forced proximity to kalim. as much as i’d love to say i could fix him, jamil almost killed kalim. Plus, jamil is literally kalim’s servant. association with kalim = will probably die. overall rating: 5/10, he’s got issues, but he’s so cute and probably just needs that reassurance or whatever. my silly guy!

POMEFIORE

vil schoenheit: vil is like my fav so i’d love to say that because he’s so nice and rich and pretty that he would be a perfect ten. WRONG. he’s famous. bad! what if he has crazy stans who go after you bc you’re dating him? for your own safety, you would never be able to go public with your relationship, that is if the tabloids don't get to you.  overall rating: 7/10, you’ll have to listen to him go on tangents about neige. 

rook hunt: if you’re thinking “yeah no he’s probably a safe bet, he’s rich and i could be his trophy wife/husband”, you like french people and you’re lying to yourself !!!!! ive never met a normal rich person in my life, and rook is no exception. he would know your shoe size before you even know his last name. 

overall rating: 0/10, he’s weird AND french.

epel felmier: he lives in a small town where everyone tends to know each other and their business. there’s no hiding your relationship from them. downside is, he would have a crazy inferior complex if you were taller than him. He needs to be a Man’s man, yknow??? overall rating: 6/10, he’s a good cook, an incredible one, even. if you can’t cook and you can deal with a man who desperately wants to show you how cool he is, then this is the one for you. 

IGNIHYDE

idia shroud: he wouldn’t date, like he’s a NEET guys, i don’t see it at all. He would marry someone if it was for tax reasons, or just to tell people he isn’t bitchless. you'd just go to a courthouse real quick and pop by an ihop after.  

overall rating: 6/10, he would be an incredible overwatch carry. would bully you for sucking super hard in any type of pvp game. 

ortho shroud: he’s like a child, so he is not included! 

overall rating: 0/10, in terms of dateability, he’s silly tho

DIASOMNIA

malleus draconia: you would be perfectly safe with him. yeah, he’s not fully clear on the norms of human society, but he treats you well! problem is, he'd be a little too obssessed and its going to very quickly turn into "he's going to keep u in this tower bc hes scared abt u dying"

overall rating: 7/10, wouldn’t you love a loser man who is obsessed with gargoyles?!  silver: objectively, the world’s most perfect man. he’s super cute and can cook! everything you would want in a man. he's also got his wacky little sitcom type family like step brothers who are Not human and a dad who is Not human but like they care for him he cares for them! 

overall rating: 9/10, no real drama and they'd probably be elated if he brought someone home.  sebek zigvolt: he would choose malleus over you every time, i’m so sorry. like “sorry babe malleus needs help shining his sword or whatever, you can start the movie without me.” realistically the only time sebek could be in a relationship is if he finds someone whos as obsessed with malleus as he is so they can be hyperfixated on him together or something. like how kpop stans marry each other, but with malleus the dragon prince. 

overall rating: 2/10, he would use you has a human dishrag to clean shoes for malleus.  lilia vanrouge: everyone loves a fictional old man, but this particular old man comes with trauma and emotional baggage spanning centuries. You can only fix-it felix your way out of so many things. he’s cute, though. 

overall rating: 4/10, canonically picks his nose, i fear.

— ☆

[tkpuke]

“You’re awfully cocky for someone who’s ticklish” w/ Jayce and Viktor? You decide the lee & ler :3

Jayce + Viktor - 8. “You’re awfully cocky for someone who’s ticklish.”

It was yet another all-nighter pulled by Jayce and Viktor, tweaking and adding new ideas on this Hextech invention. It consumed them both, all they ever talk about and think. They both know this is life-changing, as it will change a lot of what people believe in. So in that case, it has to be perfect. Working on it 24/7 will make that happen, right?

For Jayce, he didn’t think so. Although he would love to continue working on it, he values his sleep more and pulling a fifth all-nighter in a row has really taken a toll on him. He also values and cares about how much sleep his partner gets.

He places a gentle hand on Viktor’s shoulder, a yawn slipping out. “Okay, I think it’s time for sleep yeah?” Viktor didn’t even glance over, continuing to screw something on. “Alright then, goodnight.”

Jayce watches Viktor, expecting him to get up. He doesn’t. He mentally sighs, not wanting to persist yet again for Viktor to take a well deserved break. “C’mon, that means you too. Don’t worry, our invention isn’t going anywhere.” He slightly teases, resting a hand behind the top of the chair.

Viktor decides to tease back. “I know. Can’t really go far when I’m not working on it. Afterall I’m the one who ehhh kind of made all of this possible.”

Viktor smiles to himself when Jayce just stares, thinking he won that little quip battle. Although Jayce wasn’t just staring, he was plotting. He spun the chair Viktor was sitting in to face him, sticking his hands under his arms to quickly skitter all over with no warning. This fact of Viktor being terrible ticklish was something Jayce discovered not too long ago, when it happened accidental. After that, Jayce only uses it to take his partner down a peg or two whenever he gives unwanted sass.

“You’re awfully cocky for someone who’s ticklish.” Jayce watches Viktor squirm helplessly, grabbing onto his arms for support because he’s slipping a bit down on his chair. “Jahayce!” Viktor only says, hair already messy from his constant squirming. He decides to trail his hands down near his upper ribs, which earns him his favorite reaction. Vitkor scrunching up his nose, the feeling all too ticklish to handle as his giggles go an octave higher. “Plehehease! Nohot this!”

Jayce pretends to hum in thought, not once stopping his attack. “Will you promise me you’re going straight to bed if I stop?” Viktor shakes his head yes, but that wasn’t the response he was looking for. “No no, promise me.” Viktor absolutely hates how much of a teasy shit Jayce can get whenever he does this, and he also hates how much it makes everything more ticklish.

“I prohohomise!” Viktor giggles out, slipping down a little bit from his seat. Jayce’s hands follow, but slows the attack a tiny bit. “Really?” He can’t help but drag it on a little more because he’d be lying to himself if he said he doesn’t love watching Vitkor laugh so carefree. That’s the only time he really hears the man laugh, anyway.

“Yehes! My gohohod Jayce, plea—“ suddenly Jayce retracted his hands, Vitkor greedily sucking in air. He looks down at his partner with a raised brow, acting innocent on what could possibly be the reason why Vitkor is out of breath. He looks up, seeing a helping hand towards him to help him up and he hesitantly takes it.

They walk down the halls to their rooms, Viktor looking over to Jayce. “You know I hate when you do that, right?” He only shrugs. “Then don’t be so mean to me next time.” Vitkor rolls his eyes in response, smiling a little. “Oh, don’t be such a crybaby.”

Jayce pokes his side, chuckling to see him flinch. “What was that?”

[temiizpalace]

Ahhh ok I love your page so far and this is my first time making an ask so I hope it’s ok. I’ve been craving a little drama for a bit and I had this idea a bit ago and I just wanted to share it :)

Cater, Leona, Riddle taking their s/o home for a Holliday/school break. Reader is sweet & respectful but isn’t afraid to put someone in their place, even royalty. A lil bit of fluff at the end would also be nice. You have creative liberty, it’s your story after all :) don’t forget to eat and drink water, and feel free to ignore this if you want <3

☆┆KNOW YOUR PLACE!

SUMMARY: your partner takes you to his hometown for the break, but you run into someone who thinks they’re a head above the rest..

CHARACTERS: RIDDLE, CATER, LEONA

GENRE: fluff

ROMANTIC

WARNINGS: people are asses

NOTES: i love this idea!! it was a lot of fun to write and i appreciate the request 🫶🫶 hopefully this was up to your standards and you enjoy!

reader is g/n, implied to be yuu

🌹┆RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

“are you sure you’re okay with this..?”

riddle asks hesitantly, standing by the mirror as he fiddled with his fingers. since you had no place to go to over the break, riddle had invited you to his hometown. granted, he was quite nervous in asking you thanks to the relationship with his mother, but the excitement was immeasurable once you agreed to join him.

“of course i am.” you smile, taking his hand gently. “i understand how difficult it is for you to go back, so i want to be there with you.” riddle blushes at your words of kindness, unused to such affections (especially at NRC). he clears his throat and squeezes your hand. “i-if you insist.. we best be on our way then. mother expects us to be there by 8:30 on the dot.”

riddle leads you into the mirror, holding your hand the whole way through. as you stepped into the queendom of roses, you take in the breathtaking sights of the small village in front of you. “i live close by, have you gotten your gift prepared?” he asks, strolling past the various shops and bakeries.

you pause in your tracks, tensing up at the question. “we needed gifts..?” you ask, feeling part of your soul leave your body. riddle stares at you with a dumbfounded expression, utterly shocked at the fact you had come unprepared. he sighs, taking a deep breath. “thank goodness we’re by the shops. on any other occasion i would have your head..” he mumbles, causing you to awkwardly laugh and walk inside the store.

it was a small store selling small things, like purses. however, it’s not the expensive name brand purses that’d cost both your arms, it was cute and little cozy handmade bags that screamed home just by looking at them. you were in awe at the intricate stitches made onto the bag, not to mention impressed by such a simple design. “do you think your mother would like this?”

riddle turned to look at the bag, examining it thoroughly for any rips, tears, or stains. he smiles softly before nodding, holding it up to get another proper look. “i’m sure she’ll love it..”

as you both walk over to the line, chatting away at what you both were going to do on your visit, you had accidentally bumped into a woman covered in jewelry and what seemed to be designer clothing. you can see where this is going, right?

“ah, im sorry.” you quickly apologize. the woman gasps offendedly, looking over to where you had bumped into her. “excuse me? do you know what you just did? you had just RUINED my new designer jacket.” she exclaims, putting the fur jacket near your face. “do you know how much this had cost me? how do you expect to clean this up?”

riddle’s eyebrow twitched, staring at the supposed mark you had left. there wasn’t even a trace of such thing, she was just lying to make extra cash. “actually, i think you had bumped into them.” he answers, trying to be as calm as he physically can. “i wasn’t talking to you, little girl. buzz off.” she angrily glared at riddle before shifting her attention back to you.

as you glanced back at riddle, you could see him seething with anger. he grit his teeth and clenched his fists, not to mention his face was completely red. “ma’am, i in no way have damaged your jacket. you had bumped into me, and what you had said was uncalled for. please do not talk to us again, we are done here.”

you walk away, squeezing riddle’s hand as a way to calm down, but the woman wouldn’t give up. “how dare you defy me.. you little brats!” she grabbed onto your shoulder, trying to pull you back. instinctively, riddle drew his magic pen, but you signaled him not to use it. you push the woman off your shoulder and look at her with disgust laced in your eyes.

“don’t EVER lay your hands on me like that. do that again and i’ll be more than happy to call the authorities.” you had raised your voice, the entire shop looking at the scene. as the woman looks around, she mumbles something before leaving the store. you sigh, not expecting such ignorance from people so soon. “i’m sorry about that, riddle.”

“no, you didn’t do anything. i could’ve used my unique magic on a civilian if you hadn’t stopped me..” he murmurs the end part, but smiles at you nonetheless. “are you going to be alright?” he asks, caressing your cheek. “yeah, ill be fine. it wasn’t anything serious.” you smile back at him, feeling a ray of sun hit both of your figures in the middle of the shop.

“now cmon, let’s purchase this gift for your mother and get outta here.” you laugh, taking his hand and pulling him toward the register.

“..yeah.”

🦁┆LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

“why’d you have to tag along..”

leona grumbles, leading you up to his room for your stay. “because i know you’d skip out on the dinner if i didn’t.” you retort, knowing damn well he appreciates your company.

“pssh.. why does that bother ya?” he murmurs as he opens the door for you like a gentlemen, despite his contradicting remarks. “no reason, i just want you to show more respect for your family is all.” you mention, walking into the large room. it was definitely bigger than his dormitory, and arguably larger than all of ramshackle. but it was nice.

“..do what you want. settle in, im takin’ a nap.” leona strides over to his bed, yawning while stretching his arms. you frown at him as he turns his back to you, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back. leona lets out a surprised grunt before facing you with a scowl. “what the hell was that for-“ he starts before looking at your piercing gaze.

“you’re getting ready for dinner. now.” you demand, standing your ground. he stares at you, no longer having a snarky comment to each word you say. he clicks his tongue before grabbing a nearby outfit and changing in the bathroom. he gave up easier than expected, but at least that means less work for you. speaking of which, you decide to get ready yourself in preparation for the night.

sitting at the table, tensions were high. you expected it just to be leona’s family, but it appears to be a whole system of royals lined up inside the palace. even leona himself was shocked, but he also wasn’t one to keep up on his family events..

the dining hall was incredibly loud. sounds of laughter, bickering, and natural conversation can be heard from every corner. “told ya you shouldn’t have attended.” leona whispers, causing you to raise a brow. “it’s crowded, but i know you’re just trying to find an excuse to leave.”

he frowns before picking at the lettuce on his plate. “you should eat that.” you comment, seeing as the entire steak was gone but the salad was practically untouched (not including him picking at it). “hm? wanna eat it for me instead?” he smirks, about to push the salad onto your dish.

“no way!” you laugh keeping the plate away from him. the night continues, playful laughter exchanges between you both. suddenly, the banter comes to a stop when leona was bumped on the shoulder, and it wasn’t on accident. a snobby looking royal looks back and gives leona a disgusted look.

“my mistake, kingscholar. I didn’t realize second-sons were invited to such a grand event.” the royal chuckles, expecting a groundbreaking reaction from leona. all leona did was furrow his brow before speaking. “yeah well here i am in all my glory. now put a sock in it and get lost.”

the royal flinches, changing the subject to you. “and who might this be? a partner of yours? i had not realized you had one. i never thought you’d get one with such a nasty scar and attitude..”

leona scowls, clenching his fists before suddenly feeling your hand atop if it. “i believe you should show more manners. he may not be king, but he’s royalty just as you are. if you just came to bother him with disrespectful remarks, then i think it’s best you just leave us alone.” you state, leona’s cheeks turning a slightly darker shade.

“who are you to tell me this? you don’t look like royalty, not to mention you reek of no magic. you too attend night raven college don’t you?” he continues, causing your blood to boil. “were you too rejected from royal sword academy? how saddening it is to see.”

you want to punch him, and want to punch him bad. however, you contained yourself and decided to respond respectfully. “acting so snobbish is much more saddening. if royals like you are ruling kingdoms, then i fear its only a matter of time before it falls thanks to a poor king. how about you get your act together and show respect to your peers.” maybe it was a little less respectful than you thought.

“tch. this is not the last of me, kingscholar.” the royal gives up, walking away from the two of you. you smile, looking back at leona, who was a little flustered as you came to his rescue. “i didnt need you to defend me.” he murmurs before averting his eyes to the side. you open your mouth to speak, but get cut off as he suddenly ruffled your hair. “but you got guts.”

you knew this was his way of saying thank you. you laugh. unsure as to why, but something about his awkward ways with affection were definitely charming. “what’s so funny?” he asks, lifting his hand and raising a brow. “ahh, it’s nothing.”

♦️┆CATER DIAMOND

“i have so many things for magicam now!”

cater exclaims, laying out his new props and figures onto the table. after he insisted on you joining him to his hometown, cater took you on a date across town so you can see all the wonderful places the Shaftlands has to offer. you smiled as he already began to take pictures, not hesitating to join in. “they’re adorable, cater! i really like this figure right here.”

you picked up said figure and smiled admiringly at it. cater took in your expression, feeling entranced before snapping out of it. “welll, if you like it so much you can have it!” he exclaims, causing you to shake your head. “no, no! you bought it, it’s yours. i just thought it was nice is all.” you protested, but he wasn’t going down easily.

“well i’d do anything to make my partner happy, so if you like it, it’s yours. no take backs ☆!” he giggles, causing you to pause. “..thank you, cater.” you flash him a smile before watching him take out his phone for a quick photo. with little to no time to react, he had already snapped a photo of you with a huge grin on your face. “hm.. you’re so photogenic, yknow?”

you feel your cheeks get warm at his words, but you came to your senses once you realized you both were in public. “we should pack up the things and get ready to go.” you suggest, cater already being a step ahead of you by packing everything back into its packaging and bag.

a man walks oddly close to the table, but you had decided not to question it. suddenly, in a swift movement one of the expensive props were gone, the man dashing away. “HEY!” you shout, cater looking at you with a look of confusion. “[MC]? is someth— WOAH!” before he could finish, you sprinted towards the thief. the culprit looks back, seeing your angry and annoyed face before turning forward.

“shit..” he mutters trying to pick up the pace. cater follows behind you, feeling tired from running and carrying the bags. “S-SLOW DOWN!” he shouts, but you had one goal in mind. you charged at the mystery thief, a yelp escaping him as he hit the concrete floor. “Give it back.” you stated sternly, pinning his hands behind his back and keeping him in place.

cater catches up, running out of breath as he walked towards you. “hey, what was that about— WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” the culprit struggles, trying to get up off the ground. “LET GO OF ME, FREAK! I DIDN’T DO NOTHING!” you furrowed a brow at him before grabbing the loose stolen item off the ground. “don’t lie. you tried stealing from us. i’m reporting you to police so no poor soul has to deal with you.”

cater looks at you with a puzzled expression before realizing one of his props WERE missing. “i guess i’ll call police then..?” cater awkwardly adds, pulling out his phone to dial the number.

the police eventually show up, taking in the culprit to discover this has happened more than once. he sells these stolen goods for drugs. cater looks at you, a hint of admiration and a little fear could be seen in the glint of his eyes. “hm?” you hum, noticing his staring.

“remind me not to ever steal from you.” he states, replaying the scene back in his head. “you didn’t need to tackle him, it was just one figure!” you shrug before taking his hand in yours gently. “i guess i didn’t want him stealing from you. especially since it was one of the more expensive props.”

“..you’re such an angel.” he states with a look of awe, causing you to laugh. “definitely not, but thank you.” suddenly, an arm pulls you in. your arm comes into contact with caters as he leans in and snaps a quick selfie of you two. he adds the caption before hearing your phone get a notification.

it reads: “my heroic partner ❤️❤️❤️”

you feel your heart beginning to beat faster and your stomach starting to do backflips. just cater doing the bare minimum was enough for you to feel this way. “isn’t it perfect?” he asks, chuckling as you get pulled out of the trance. “..yeah.”

“i like you being my hero.” he smiles, planting a quick kiss on your cheek before tugging your hand. “now cmon, i know this totally adorbs café on the next block and i’ve been dying to take you!”

A/N: WRITERS BLOCK ABSOLUTELY KILLED ME WITH THIS ONE, NOT TO MENTION THE EXAMS UGGGGHHHH

date published: 5/12/24

© temiizpalace — don’t steal or copy my work!