#but one sided of course bc Jack’s head over heels

[livesincerely]

“So, uh,” Jack starts hesitantly, turning to Jacobs. “I’m real sorry ‘bout all that.”

“Uh huh,” Jacobs says, looking supremely unimpressed. “Sure.”

“No, honest,” Jack insists. “It was about time someone knocked that smug look of his face. Do you, uh,” he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, not sure what to do with himself. “Do you want some ice for your hand? That was a mean left hook—“

“I am just fine,” Jacobs interrupts, his tone biting. “So feel free to spare me the All-American, Boy Scout routine. If you really want to help⁠—” the look on his face makes his opinion on the quality of Jack’s help perfectly clear, “—then you can make sure assholes like Oscar DeLancey stay the hell away from my squad. And if he comes within spitting distance of one of my girls again, I’ll have his dick in a vice.”

A razor sharp smile. “So glad we had this talk.”

And with that, he marches away.

“Oh, fuck me,” Jack murmurs to himself, utterly enraptured as he watches him go. He’s real pretty and he’s real mean: Jack’s heart is already doing loop-de-loops around his chest. “‘M so fucked.”

[sweaterkittensahoy]

#mota#curtis biddick#curt my beloved <3#i blame sweaterkittensahoy bc now every time i look at him i think “that's jack's man!” lol

Let me be clear I LOVE this tag so much.

SO MUCH.

Have a ficlet:

Bucky puts him down half a block--or whatever the Brits might call it; Curt sure as shit does not know and does not care--from the pub, and Curt takes a moment to straighten his tie and his blouse and take shoulder pats from the other fellas walking by.

Jack, of course, is at the very back, just after Harry and Bubbles, and he has Curt's jacket tucked neatly over one arm.

"Fair enough for you?" Curt greets, grin wide and adrenaline still thrumming through his body. It gets a little faster when Jack cuts him a look, sharp and pleased. A look he'd never thought he'd crave from someone, but the way Jack looks at him when he decides Curt's done good. Shit.

"Very fair," Jack answers. He shakes out Curt's jacket and holds it open. It's a violation of regs, technically, a senior officer holding a coat open for a junior, but everyone else is meandering farther and farther ahead, so it's just the two of them on this quiet little cobblestone street lit by the moon.

Curt steps forward and turns, offering Jack his arms. Jack slides the jacket up his arms and then turns Curt to make sure it's settled on his shoulders. Make sure it's buttoned up right. He even makes sure Curt's tie is tucked back into his blouse properly.

"Hand," Jack says.

Curt holds his hand out so Jack can angle for the best light and inspect his knuckles. "Got him with the side of my fist," he says.

"I thought maybe you had," Jack replies. He brings Curt's hand to his mouth and kisses each knuckle, then the side of his fist, then his palm.

"Careful, you'll get me pregnant," Curt says.

Jack huffs a laugh--a major victory Curt's always glad to earn--and noses down against Curt's wrist for a moment. "I have one minor disappointment from tonight," he murmurs.

Curt steps close, gets his free arm around Jack's waist and shifts the hand Jack's holding so he can cup Jack's cheek. "Yeah, what's that?"

Jack looks him over, pushing a stray bit of hair back into position with the rest of his carefully laid curls. Curls he'd crafted for Curt with his own two hands because Curt's never had the sort of patience to actually make the finger waves. "Wish it could have been Buck or Bucky getting swung at."

Curt snorts and bumps his chest against Jack's, rocking back on his heels so Jack rocks forward into him. "Still pissed about the promotion, huh?"

"Probably until the day I die," Jack answers, mild as anything, but Curt knows him better than anyone. Knows the way his jaw shifts how angry he really is. How hard he's trying not to show it.

"Hey," Curt says. "Hey, sweetheart, eyes on me."

Jack meets his gaze. Steady and cool, but his jaw's still working overtime.

"It's bullshit how they sprang it on you. I don't think I've said that yet. And I'll tell 'em both the same if you want. Hell, I'll pop 'em both right on the mouth if they try to say otherwise or just because you want me to. Buck at least should have told you he was gonna put your name down like that."

Jack breathes out through his nose. He pushes back that same curl again. Curt doesn't bother telling him it's a lost cause to try and style it. He likes the touch. He likes how Jack pays attention to little things like that. Makes a guy feel seen. Feel cared for. Feel loved.

"The full truth, though?" Curt continues, waiting for Jack's nod before he says more. "If Buck had come to me and asked what I thought of the plan, I'd have signed my name to that letter beside him."

"What?! Curt--"

"Not without warning you," Curt interrupts. He rubs his thumb back and forth along the line of Jack's jaw. "Fuck no, I wouldn't do that. Hell, it'd be less fair if I did it than what Buck already did. But. Honestly." He shakes his head.

"What is it?" Jack asks. "There's something you haven't told me that ties into all this. I can see it."

Curt chuckles. "Of course you can," he says. He works his neck back and forth, then sighs out a breath. "Bucky had me punch him the other day. Just before he went to meet Harding."

"What?"

Curt chews his bottom lip and looks away. Jack touches his cheek, and he turns towards him again without thinking. He can't help it. Jack wants him to look at him, Curt will fucking look.

"Explain," Jack says, the command soft. Not a superior officer demanding an answer, just his sweet Jack needing the whole story.

"He was up all night drinking," Curt says. "And I mean all night. He was still lit like a candle when he left to meet Harding."

"Jesus," Jack breathes out.

"And he says he can't feel anything, and I should hit him. I tried pulling rank, but he told me ranks were off, then he said it was an order--"

"I'm going to kick his idiot ass--"

"Hey," Curt says, and watching the way some of the anger just drops off Jack makes him feel ten feet tall. "He was drunk. He was hurting. All he wanted was to be up in the air with the rest of us."

"That's all I want, too," Jack says. "And he and Buck took that from me."

Curt nods because it takes a moment to get his words together. "I trust you with my life on the ground and up the air, Jack. If all my engines shit the bed and you came on the radio and said I could fly home on a thimble full of gas, I'd believe you to my bones--"

"Curt--"

"Lemme finish." Curt pauses to wait for Jack's nod. "And I know you can't say the same thing on the radio down on the ground, but I know you'll want to, and you know I want to come home to you, and if I had to choose to ground Bucky or ground you to be Air Exec, I'd rather it be you because I know you'll be pissed--and you got every right--and I know you'll hate it a lot sometimes--and again, you got every right--but I know above all fucking else you will do so right by every one of us in a way that Bucky just fucking can't."

Jack stares at him for a long time. Curt doesn't break his gaze. "What do you mean?" Jack asks.

"Bucky loves us all," Curt says. "But not the way any of us need for an Air Exec. Every guy he can't bring home, it'll cut a piece off of him. But you, you're different. It'll cut you. I know that. I know how deep you care, Jack. It'll cut you hard. But those cuts will heal up. The scars won't disappear, but you won't have open wounds. You hear me?"

Jack sighs. "Bucky'd just be an open wound," he says. He closes his eyes. "Shit."

"Not trying to force you to keep the job, but of all the guys with the rank, you're the only one I think can finish things whole."

Jack opens his eyes and stares over Curt's head. "I wish you didn't know me quite so well."

"Well, joke's on you, I'm in love."

Jack looks at him and touches his cheek. "Me, too," he says. "It just...I won't hurt less to be flying next to you if you go down, but to be on the ground and have to hear it on the radio with the whole control tower. That--it doesn't feel right."

"Won't promise not to go down," Curt says. "But I promise to try to be the one to say it on the radio first, okay? So you hear me tell you."

Jack presses his face into Curt's hair. Curt feels a few more of his fingerwaves get knocked loose. "Fuck, that's where we are, isn't it?" he says. "At promises like that."

"The last promise we made to each other is that we wouldn't try to rescue the other if it put the others at risk," Curt says. "I like this one more than that one."

"I love you," Jack murmurs. "Whatever happens, Curt, I'll love you the rest of my life."

Curt tips his chin up, offering his mouth, and Jack kisses him sweet and deep and slow. "Love you the rest of my life, too," he says. "And I'll still punch the Bucks in their pretty mouths for you."

Jack laughs against Curt's smile and pulls him close. "Not tonight," he says. "But consider it a favor owed."

Curt laughs with him, and they start walking again, the only two people on the whole street as the moon watches over them. It's romantic, Curt thinks. Just him and his fella. He crosses himself and thanks God for all the different versions of Jack, but especially the one who loves him so much that he'll listen and take care of the whole fucking mess of them while loving Curt the most.

maybe if you bombed during the day, you'd hit your targets.

[astroluvr]

ok i have a blurb idea listen y/n interviewing jack at the met gala after she walks down the carpet and she stands on a little platform with her puffy slippers on bc her heels are so high and she can’t stand them. then jack making a comment on them like “they are cute and you are also very much cute”🥺🥺

im not sure if i wrote this 100% how you wanted, but i really liked your request and enjoyed writing this a lot! i hope you enjoy!

***

“Do I look weird with the slippers?” you laughed to the videographer as you stood off the stage.

“You look great, honey.” they laughed as you smoothed down your long silk dress. You weren’t really concerned about being on theme, but your team made sure that you looked stunning enough that the viewers wouldn’t care.

Over the course of the night, you’d interviewed various celebrities, some that you were familiar with, and some that you wished to never meet again. Being in your branch of journalism caused for you to come in contact with a lot personality, but one that you were most eager to meet was Jack Harlow.

He was an interviewer’s dream, the way he spoke and how he knew how to balance his sense of humor with his maturity surrounding his work made him tantalizing. And if you were being completely honest, he was your dream too. Handsome, tall, charming, and polite- there wasn’t much that he was missing. You couldn’t even begin to wrap your head around to how lucky you were to meet him and achieve a part of his authenticity.

“Alright, we’re coming off commercial, Y/N.” you flashed a thumbs up as the camera crew began their countdown.

“Hi, guys, welcome back to the Met Gala! I’m your host, Y/N L/N, and I will be giving you side-step access to the biggest night of fashion... arguably.” you added with a chuckle. “So far, we’ve seen the beautiful Blake Lively, Venus Williams, and Lori Harvey.”

After a few minutes of rambling to your viewers, you finally caught sight of Jack making his way up the steps. You swallowed nervously and your cameraman, who was well aware of your admiration of Jack, smirked behind the device. You made a noble attempt to keep talking in hopes that the viewers wouldn’t notice and draw connections between your uncharacteristic stumble and Jack’s presence. As Jack made neared your area, you paused for a minute to give a half-hearted overview of the carpet. You described elegant dresses and caught up on recent pop culture while hoping you could capture Jack’s attention without blatantly calling him over.

You wavered in disappointment when he stepped past you, posing for cameras with his signature smile. You turned back around to the camera and plastered a smile. “And Jack Harlow has just passed us. The very-talented rapper is wearing Givenchy tonight.”

As you continued to speak, Jack started to walk back up the steps and into the event, but stopped short when he saw the dress that clung to your figure. He inadvertently allowed for a good thirty seconds of him staring off into the distance and when Jack spotted you. As casually as he could, he slipped his hands into the pockets of the suit and approached you.

You had already moved on from the event and decided to take the loss, so you really weren’t expecting to see the camera pan away from you. You started to crack a joke to your camera man, but when you saw him laugh, you turned to the side and saw Jack next to you glowing, and you weren’t particularly sure if it was from the fantastic lighting or his natural aura.

“Hi.” he introduced himself softly as if the two of you were at a dinner party.

“Hi, how are you?” you responded just as quietly, savoring the personal moment for the short time you could.

“I’m good, I’m good. Happy to be here.”

Before you could continue the conversation, you bought your mic up to your lips and hoped that the look you flashed Jack would make him understand that you weren’t trying to cut him off. He nodded as if he did, and licked his lips before following your lead.

“Alright, I’m here with Jack Harlow! I’ve already discussed how amazing you look. You are absolutely making this look, Jack.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” he grinned, gripping the blazer of the jacket and taking a step back in front of the camera. “Givenchy hooked me up tonight. I look good, I feel good.”

“That’s what I love to hear! Are you nervous at all to be here?” you asked him, tilting the microphone to his lips.

“Do I look nervous?” he cocked his head and held his blue eye to yours.

“No.” you whispered, and Jack chuckled, taking note of your behavior. “Sorry, you’re just really... up there.” you cringed at your description of his height, but Jack compensated for your embarrassment with his loud laugh.

“I am pretty tall. It takes a lot of folks off guard.”

“Yeah, I’ve kind of underestimated it. You’ve been interviewed by my colleagues and I’m like, he seems so tall, but in person it’s insane.”

“Boosting my ego a little bit, pretty girl.” he said to you, turning his body more to you than the camera.

You were immediately thrown by the nickname he had gifted you just so quickly. While you scrambled for a way to reroute the conversation, Jack’s eyes fell to the ground for a moment and he caught sight of your slippers.

“Before you continue,” he started, and you turned back to him. “Can I ask who you’re wearing?”

“Oh, this isn’t designer.” you laughed and you should’ve seen what was coming next when he smirked.

“I’m talking about the slippers. I might have to snag a pair.”

Your cheeks warmed and the camera crew all laughed. Unfortunately, the dress you wore wasn’t long enough to entirely hide your feet, which meant Jack got a perfect view of your fleece slides.

“Look, you try to walk around in heels all night!” you tried to laugh it off, but you had taken a true hit to your self-confidence.

Jack joined in on your laughter and put his hands up in self-defense, letting out sparse giggles while he laughed. “I’m not hating! I’m being for real. They’re almost as cute as you. Almost.”

It was then that you ducked your head to hide the girlish grin that took over your face. You tried to recount all of the interviews you’d seen Jack do and he had never been like this. Of course, he was, by nature, a flirtatious man by nature, it seemed, but this was to a different level. It was more subtle and less of a show, as if he wanted you to know that he was being genuine. He was making you feel like you were at a club and not work. You had half the mind to give in to whatever trap he was setting up, but you took a deep breath to regain your composure and shook your head as you looked back at him.

He had his head leaned against his shoulder as if he was trying to see the face that you were hiding from him. “You are... really something, Jack Harlow.” you breathed out.

“So, you gonna tell me where you got them from or no? What do they say on TikTok?”

“Please.” you giggled, rolling your eyes as he snapped his fingers trying to think of the word. “Gatekeeping?”

“That!” he exclaimed suddenly, clapping his hands. “Gatekeeping. Why are you gatekeeping? Maybe I want to cop a pair of not-as-cute-as-Y/N fuzzy slippers.”

Determined not to become overwhelmingly nervous again, you locked eyes with Jack’s soft ones and gave in. “Target. I got my slippers from Target.”

“Those not-as-cute-as-Y/N slippers came from Target?” he pointed down as if he were in true shock and you shook your head. “I take all my hot dates there.”

You faltered at his joke, but let yourself chuckle anyway. “Well, I’m sure they’ll love a pair of these.”

“I’ll have to tell them they’re not as cute as you, though. The girls and the slippers.” he clarified, voice becoming deeper as he stepped closer to you for a moment.

You swallowed and only bit your lip in disbelief. For the past seven and a half minutes, Jack Harlow had managed to make your knees go weak at the Met Gala. You didn’t want to believe it. From the corner of your eye, you saw a member of the crew tap their wrist to signal that time was running low. You had probably run into commercial time.

“U-um,” you cleared your throat and plastered another smile. You expected Jack to walk away, but he remained there and smiled at the camera with you. “That was Jack Harlow! I’m turning it back to the studio and then we’ll be right back with more exclusive interviews and looks from the carpet.”

“Great.” your camera man mumbled, hitting a button on the camera and leaving Jack to wrap his hand around your hip as he got close to your ear.

Your heart pounded and you turned back around to see him as he spoke. “It was amazing to meet you, Y/N. You made my night. I think I have to keep it moving, but do me a favor?”

“Mmhmm.” you hummed, not trusting yourself to form a coherent response.

“Don’t let it be the last time.” he whispered, grabbing your free hand that clung to the side of your dress and kissing it sweetly. “I’ll get in touch with you.”

“For sure, yeah.” you blinked, holding your own hand when he let it go.

You were sure you looked like a deer in headlights, but Jack found it to be beautiful. He nodded and shoved his hands back in his pockets before smiling at you once more and walking away.

“They’re bringing it back to us, Y/N. Fifteen seconds.” you heard your camera man say the moment you and Jack met eyes again.

The photographers caught their best shot of the night. Jack standing at the very top of the stairs and looking straight down at you, his white teeth gleaming in a prideful smile with both of his hands over his heart, blushing when you smiled back and waved at him.

[perperam]

Do you have any Harlivy fic recommendations? Preferably something that is already completed?

OH I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE

okay okay so quick little tangent fact !! I actually just finished my undergrad degree in "english literature analysis & writing" and reading fics is so fun bc I get to analyze them and break them down and if it's particularly well written the stars align and it's just UGH so good. 

ratings are: E (explicit) M (mature) T (teens and up) and G (everyone) anyways here is a HUGE list of my favorite fics to date, their stats/details/plots, reasonings as to why they're on the list to begin with, and a short analysis:

SHORT STORIES (less than 30k words)

for your convenience they’re in order of length bc I’m focusing on this super hard rn

KISS YOUR BEST FRIEND CHALLENGE (T)  STATS — 340 words, shenanigans, fluff PLOT — Harley, TikTok and general Social Media queen, decides to do the trending challenge to kiss your best friend. The best friend? Her roommate and the woman she’s been crushing on for fucking ever: Poison Ivy.

AM I TOO CLOSE? (CAUSE YOU FOLD INTO ME LIKE A HEART WITH A BEAT) (G) STATS — 839 words, fluff, shenanigans PLOT — Harley genuinely wasn’t looking for trouble, but it’s hard to just have a day out when you’re one of Gotham’s most wanted. Running into Ivy, she takes drastic measures (and her hoodie into the mix) to distract the police from looking in their direction.

I’M HOME (G) STATS — 892 words, domestic fluff PLOT — After a long and rough day at work, Ivy comes home to Harley. Relaying the details of her day, she basks in the comfort of her girlfriend, who provides gentle questions and is a phenomenal listener. General cuteness.

CONFLICT DIAMONDS (G) STATS — 990 words, wedding shenanigans, banter, humor PLOT — Batman and Renee Montoya respond to a break-in at a jewelry store, except even though the owner is duct-taped to the wall, it isn’t really a break-in; Harley’s just trying to shop for a ring for Ivy, and that’s difficult to do when the owner is screaming in the corner. Batman and Renee both pitch in to help pick something nice for Harley’s girl, resulting in hilarious banter.

OF COURSE (T) STATS — 1.1k words, hurt/comfort (kinda), harley quinn animated tv show centric PLOT — In the aftermath of Ivy’s death, rebirth, and the fall of Joker Tower, Harley collapses onto the ground. Since she never mentioned that her parents are the reason for most of her injuries, Ivy isn’t sure why she’s so out of it.

PERFECT MORNINGS (T) STATS — 1.1k words, domestic fluff/bliss PLOT — Ivy, who usually wakes up early and before Harley, takes a moment to look at the countless muscles, ridges, scars, and tattoos on Harley’s body as she sleeps. General cuteness.

I’D LOVE TO CHECK YOU OUT (T) STATS — 1.7k words, university au, fluff PLOT — Harley visits the library virtually every day, and it’s definitely not because she needs to work on her university courses and homework. She finally works up the courage to speak to the alluring redhead she sees there every day while absentmindedly looking at a book on sharks. 

I’LL LOVE YOU IN THE MORNING (NOON, NIGHT) (T) STATS — 2.1k words, angst, hurt/comfort PLOT — A snapshot look into Ivy and how she comes to know, care, and love all the sides of Harley—from psychiatrist to criminal to girlfriend. She loves her throughout it all. 

DAY-DREAMING (T) STATS — 2.2k words, shenanigans, psychiatrist Harleen PLOT — Ivy’s falling for her psychiatrist—her humorous, intelligent, caring, and downright gorgeous psychiatrist. It’s difficult, to say the least.

WHAT HAPPENS IN THEMYSCIRA (DOESN’T) STAY IN THEMYSCIRA (T) STATS — 2.3k words, humor, wedding shenanigans, angst with a happy ending PLOT — In a surprise twist of events, Harley and Ivy were drunkenly married at Themyscira. When asked at the wedding if anybody had objections to the union of Ivy and Chuck, Wonder Woman and the Queen of Themyscira herself come to object. Ivy, for lack of a better word, wants to die a little.

NOT A ROCKER CHICK (T) STATS — 3.1k words, rock band au, fluff PLOT — The last thing Ivy wants to do is go to a rock band concert with her best friend, Selina. Despite her best efforts, she can’t help but completely fall into the rhythm of the band and their music, so different than her own norm. And okay, maybe the singer (who Selina was friends with and called “Harley”) was also kinda hot...

A TENDER HEART AMONG THE GREEN (T) STATS — 3.2k words, gotham city sirens raise Lucy au, domestic bliss PLOT — Harley and Selina come back home to the apartment to find Ivy passed out asleep with Lucy cuddling into the crook of her neck and Selina’s cats cuddling her legs. Knowing that Ivy would rather be caught dead than in such a compromising situation (after all, she is the Poison Ivy, who “hates humans”) the two take a photo, since it lasts longer. Shenanigans and cuteness ensue.

BUILDING YOUR GIRL’S SECOND STORY (M) STATS — 3.3k words, university/grad school au, angst with a happy ending PLOT — Snapshots of Harley’s battle with her violent and abusive boyfriend, Jack, and the way in which Bruce, his boyfriend Clark, and her best friend (and potentially lover) Pamela all love Harley and will do anything, anything, to make sure she gets the help, care, and love she needs.

A DIFFERENT KIND OF NORMAL (T) STATS — 3.6k words, coronavirus pandemic/quarantine au, family au PLOT — Ivy is requested by the Justice League to help create and manufacture a vaccine for the COVID-19 virus. As she works on the vaccine, she video calls Harley and their daughter Lucy, both of whom miss her very much. 

RABBIT IN THE GARDEN (T) STATS — 4.4k words, implied suicide attempt, hard angst PLOT — Winters are difficult to Ivy. When Harley comes home one day to see her submerged fully in water in the bathtub, the only thing Harley can do is cry and take her out. Ultimately Ivy is alright—but it doesn’t make it any easier.

WE WILL BE (EVERYTHING THAT WE’D EVER NEED) (T) STATS — 5.8k words, high school au, angst, hurt/comfort PLOT — Harley and Ivy are best friends from high school, living in the middle of Arizona. Ivy is absolutely head over heels for Harley, but the latter is in a growing and increasingly abusive relationship with the older “bad-boy” (literally) Jack. Eventually, the two grow together in more ways than one.  

WHERE THE RED FERN GROWS (EXCEPT NO DOGS DIE) (M) STATS — 9.7k words, domestic bliss, no powers just botanist & psychiatrist au PLOT — After her abusive ex-boyfriend tries to maniacally tear down the front door of her apartment with an ax as her best friend, Selina, pushes the table against the splintering wood, Bruce recommends that Harley gets a dog. She gets two German Shepard brothers—Bud and Lou—who lead her one day on their walk to the most beautiful flower shop owner Harley’s ever seen. The story of Harley and Ivy, told with Bud and Lou present to witness every moment.

THE MOMENT I AWAKEN GHOSTS (T) STATS — 11.7k words, falling in love, feelings & realizations PLOT — A deep look into Ivy’s feelings and how they evolve from general hatred against Harleen the psychiatrist at Arkham to a blooming, kind and gentle love towards Harley Quinn, the crown jester of crime. 

HARLEQUIN’S ISLE (T) STATS — 17.5k words, hurt/comfort, happy ending, shenanigans, humor PLOT — Harley and Ivy decide to go on a vacation on Bruce Wayne’s new eco-friendly plane, but in a surprise twist of events, things go terribly wrong, Ivy falls out of the plane, and the two (as well as all the other rich and wealthy big-name CEOS on the plane) get stranded on an island with someone actively trying to rob the investors. Harley and Ivy will fight them, god damn it, because they deserve this vacation and they will have it.

LONGER STORIES (30k words to 100k words)

YOUR LOVE (DÉJÀ VU) (G) STATS — 33k words, slow burn, mild angst, canon divergence PLOT — A what-if-Harley-found-Ivy-first fic, YOUR LOVE wonderfully illustrates Dr. Harleen Quinzel treating Ivy in a wonderfully humane and kind way, including learning floriography, the language of flowers, in order to better relate to her. Ivy is taken aback by her doctor's genuine care and begins to develop feelings, all the while Harleen falls hard and fast which wholly confuses and frightens her. The one caveat is that while this is happening, Harleen is also treating the Joker as well, who tries (keyword: tries) to manipulate her. Ivy and Harley dance a timid tango around one another as they try to navigate this new playing field of romantic feelings for one another, and things come to a breaking point when Harleen realizes that, perhaps, all of her patients have a point and that the real villains are not the ones inside the asylum, but rather the ones running it. FAVORITE DETAILS — I just love the way this is written. It provides a wonderful and almost skinny-love like romance (except this takes place in an insane asylum) as Harleen and Ivy both try to understand their strong feelings for one another. The way in which the rogues and other inmates/patients all look out for one another was very heartwarming, and Waylon and Eddie's thinly veiled camaraderie with Ivy—and her thinly veiled appreciation for it—were both lovely and created a really warm environment. It really underlined why Harley loved them because you love them too in the process, and see how she reaches her breaking point.  CHARACTER DEPICTIONS — Harley, as she is in all of my favorite fics, is depicted as an incredibly intelligent and talented psychiatrist. Her caring nature is wonderfully outlined in this fic as she helps Waylon, Eddie, Ivy, and everybody else in the asylum be treated with genuine respect and care, going as far as to get them personalized gifts. Her psyche fracturing slowly never once makes her seem unintelligent to the reader, even as she actively places a ditz persona in order to fool the rest of the asylum staff (and the Joker). Ivy, on the other hand, is illustrated in a way that perfectly shows how all she genuinely needed was someone to listen. She's sometimes harsh and crass but you can see how she begins to soften as Harley helps her and treats her with: you guessed it, genuine respect. FINAL VERDICT — I would get this tattooed on my ass if I could

NOVEL LENGTH WORKS (100k+ words)

ACROSS THE WAY (M) STATS — 128.7k words, slow-burn, tattoo artist & flower shop owner au  PLOT — Botanist and flower shop owner Pamela Isley moves to Gotham from Seattle in search of a new life. Her shop is located directly next to a tattoo shop—one that is incredibly loud and bothersome. Upon walking in to give the shop a piece of her mind, she meets one of the resident artsits, Harley Quinzel, and cannot get her out of her mind. The two become best friends, and feelings slowly start to develop. On a night when Harley is most vulnerable and in need of a place to escape, Pam offers her apartment as a refuge, and from that point on things are never the same again (in the best way possible).  FAVORITE DETAILS — The SIT sessions were a wonderful touch and I loved seeing the recovery of both Ivy and Harley, because it was so real. I also loved how once Harley got out, she did everything in her power to protect both herself and Ivy from Jack, and we got to see her and Ivy grow into their wonderful, healthy romance. CHARACTER DEPICTIONS — I love how all of the characters are illustrated; Selina, who is the caring best friend and genuinely does her best to help others around her all the while being her cocky, usual self. Pam, who escaped Seattle and started anew in Gotham and is the crass botanist and also the insanely kind and caring lover. Barbara is the adorable coffee shop owner, Floyd is the caring figure for Harley that she never had, and everyone is just wonderful.  FINAL VERDICT — literally go read this rn, what are you even doing

MAD LOVE: THE BEGINNING & MAD LOVE: THE FINAL CHAPTER (M) STATS — nearly 400k words total, angst, canon divergence, domestic fluff, slice of life PLOT — imagine YOUR LOVE except this is much longer, much more heart-wrenching, a whole lot more angsty, and Harleen's break with Harley is a lot more prevalent. Another what-if scenario of Dr. Harleen Quinzel meeting and treating the illusive Poison Ivy instead of the Joker, MAD LOVE shows an interesting depiction of the way they manipulate, hurt, care, and love one another. The entire story is riddled with well placed metaphors, recurring themes, and both Ivy and Harley's characters are illustrated in the most complex and interesting way. All throughout both the initial and the sequel, Ivy and Harleen play a metaphorical chess game in manipulation as a means to gain the upper-hand on the other, which creates a dangerous foundation for their following love story. In the sequel, "The Final Chapter," the story starts with Harley and Ivy—already married near the end of "A New Beginning"—having two kids and the entire piece spans over Harley's lifetime until she's on her deathbed, with Ivy still stuck at 33 years old beside her. I personally stopped reading the story after Harley died (I was too emotionally vulnerable to continue on) but if you continue reading on, you get to see Ivy move on and appreciate Harley's impact on her life as she finds love and happiness again after the loss of her wife. FAVORITE DETAILS — We get insight into both Ivy and Harleen's trauma, and how not everything can be fixed with love. Neither Harleen nor Ivy (or their actions for that matter) are characterized as perfect in any way, and the story never excuses any of their more-than-questionable actions; in fact they make MANY mistakes and manipulate one another throughout the story, and both have power over the other (Harleen is her psychiatrist, but Ivy could easily kill her, so emotional power over someone with immense physical power). CHARACTER DEPICTIONS — Harleen is depicted as an incredibly intelligent and capable psychiatrist, and the story somehow wonderfully mixes Harley's desire for violent chaos with Harleen's desire to help others. v Ivy is illustrated as the epitome of "I hate you and will not be nice unless you're literally either my wife or kids." She is seldom kind to others, is often crass, but an entire softy when it comes to Harleen and their children. She's a hard worker and is heavily involved in her research. Harleen, on the other hand, is equally cunning but more lighthearted, extremely athletic and active, the "fun" mom, and less into power trips (unless it's about Ivy). FINAL VERDICT — definitely the most interesting fics I've ever read in my entire fucking life, it's so complex and wonderful and a literal minefield of analysis worthy literature, I'd also get this tattooed on my ass if I could

[libraryofloveletters]

Could I request a fake dating with Hotch where you’re upset bc you’re nervous about going to a friends wedding bc you know your semi recent ex will be there so Hotch comes with you as your plus one. But obv you both like each other and you never acted on it before and get together for real at the end?

Cover For Me

Aaron Hotchner x Reader 

Warnings: fem!reader, cursing 

Category: fluff 

Word Count: 1.5k

Author’s Note: I wrote this at like 4am oops, hope you like it sweets! 

----

The pretty yellow envelope sat on your desk. You knew exactly what was in it, an invitation to your friend’s wedding. You didn’t want to go but she insisted on you being there. Your ex was going to be there and although you ended things on good terms, you weren't ready to see them just yet.

Everyone had left for the night, it was just you and Hotch at the office. He was headed out when you went to throw the envelope out. “Are you okay l/n? You were done with your work hours ago. Why are you still here?” he seemed genuinely concerned. 

“Just throwing out some stuff” you smiled at him 

“That’s a bright envelope” he chuckled, glancing down at the envelope in your hand. 

“Yeah just an invite, but I'm not going.” you told him 

“Where aren't you going?” he asked you 

“My friend’s wedding. She wants me to bring a plus one but everyone’s busy. Spence’s going to see his mom, JJ and Will have a party, Emily has her annual ‘sin to win’ weekend and Penelope’s going with her and Derek’s going out with some girl he met. As for Rossi, everyone’s just gonna think he’s my sugar daddy and I’m not in the mood for their judgement” You explained to him your lack of a date

He chuckled, “Maybe I could go with you? If you don’t mind of course and well, if you’re even going” 

You were shocked he offered to go with you, you knew he spent his weekends with Jack. “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you cancel your plans to go to some wedding with me.” you looked at him, he smiled. “I didn’t have any plans, Jack’s with his grandparents this weekend. What time should I pick you up?” 

“Is 3 alright?” 

“3 is perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow” he gave your arm a little squeeze before heading out leaving you in the office by yourself. 

----

It was now 2:57 and you were waiting for Aaron to come pick you up. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t nervous. Your boss offered to be your date and also because your ex is going to be there, with their new partner. 

You took a look in the mirror, adjusting the front of your dress. It was a black silk dress Emily had convinced you to buy a while ago. It was floor length and backless, it fit your body like it was made just for you. It had red embroidery going down one side, from the shoulder to right above your hip. 

The doorbell rang, you took a deep breath in before opening the door. Aaron was wearing all over black, the two two buttons on his shirt undone. There was no denying that he looked handsome.

“You look beautiful” He smiled at you.

You chuckled “Hello to you too Mr. Hotchner” 

A red tint spread across his cheeks, he smiled “Hi y/n” 

“You don’t look so bad yourself” you leaned against the door.

There had always been this unspoken level of attractiveness between the two of you. You opened the door wider for him to step in, “give me two minutes to find my shoes and I'll be ready” he nodded and shut the door behind him as you walked over to your closet. You pulled out a pair of black heels and slipped them on before walking back to Aaron. Even with your heels on, he still towered over you by a few inches. 

“Ready ?” he asked you, looking you up and down. “Yeah, I'm ready”

---- 

The service was beautiful, your friend was the ideal image of a blushing bride. Everyone was at the reception and Aaron had stepped away to take a phone call, leaving you with the chance to get yourself a drink. 

“Uh, a rum and coke please” the bartender nodded as you leaned against the counter. Your ex made their way over, you looked away praying that they wouldn’t come talk to you. 

“Y/n! It’s so good to see you” They smiled at you 

fuck fuck fuck, this is what you wanted to avoid. 

“Hey! Good to see you too” you gave them a fake smile. Where the hell was Hotch when you needed him. You glanced around hoping you’d see Hotch and excuse yourself but he was nowhere to be seen. 

“How have you been ? Oh! Have you met Sam? They’re my partner” 

“Mhm nice to meet you Sam” you gave the two of them a fake smile. Aaron had seen your ex once or twice from pictures so he knew who was talking to you when he walked back over to you. 

You felt his arm wrap around your waist, his hand on your hip rubbing it softly. “Hey baby, I'm sorry it was work” He gave you a kiss on the cheek. 

You smiled at him “It’s alright. Oh, this is (ex’s name) my ex” Aaron looked at them and nodded, not saying anything. 

Your ex stood there trying to make a conversation with you but Aaron kept whispering in your ear. It wasn’t anything important, just stupid little dad jokes which made you giggle every time. Your favourite song came on, your ex glanced at you. 

“Dance with me sweets? I know this is your favourite” Aaron asked you. You were surprised he knew your favourite song. “Of course I'll dance with you” The two of you walked to the dance floor hand in hand leaving your ex behind. 

Aaron’s hand rested on your hip and the other was holding your hand. The two of you swayed to the beat, not a care in the world. It felt as if the two of you were the only people in the room, in the world. The world and everything in it melted away as the two of you spun around the dance floor. 

Before you knew it, the song was over and the two of you were still standing there, holding onto each other. 

---- 

He drove you back home, still playing the part of the boyfriend. He opened the door for you, holding your hand and helping you out of the car. You smiled at him as he walked you to the front door. 

“Do you want some coffee or something? I have cake in the fridge” you look at him, back against the door waiting for his answer. 

“Coffee sounds good” 

You unlocked the door and walked in, he followed you in and shut the door. You pulled off your heels and left them by the door before heading to the kitchen. When Aaron got to the kitchen, his jacket was off and his sleeves were rolled up. 

You could feel the butterflies in your stomach, something about him had always made you want to be close to him. Tonight didn't help your feelings at all, everything felt so normal, so domestic. 

Your coffee maker beeped, snapping you out of your dream world. Aaron was filling water into the machine, “sorry, I was supposed to do that” you said to him. “It’s alright, you zoned out for a second there. Are you okay?” he asked, leaning against your counter. You hopped up onto the counter beside him and he turned to face you. 

“Tonight was nice” you whispered, barely loud enough for him to hear 

“It was, I had a good time” he said back 

You fidgeted with your fingers, his hand rested on top of yours. “y/n, what’s on your mind?” he asked you, he shifted closer towards you. You shook your head, “I’m fine, why do you ask?”

“I know you, you only fidget with your fingers when something’s on your mind or if you’re upset.” he admitted to you. You took a breath in, depending if you should tell him how you really felt. You knew either way, he’d figure it out eventually but you wanted to tell him, you should tell him. 

“I didn’t thank you for being my date tonight” you looked down at your lap, he smiled. “You don't have to thank me, y/n. I’m glad I could go with you” 

You rested a hand on his cheek, unsure how he’d react. His head leaned towards your hand, nuzzling his cheek into your palm. 

“I like you Aaron” you whispered, looking up at him. You could feel him smile against your palm, he turned his head to press a little kiss in your palm. 

“I like you too. Honestly, I thought I was over my feelings but tonight showed me that I wasn’t” he told you, stepping forward to stand between your legs. His hands cupped your cheeks as he leaned forward, you leaned closer as you felt his lips touch yours. The kiss was gentle, but passionate.

There was 4 years of chemistry in that one kiss. 4 years of small touches, over the shoulder glances, pining, lust and want poured into this kiss. This was magical and for the second time that night, you felt as if the whole world melted away. 

[sunflowersteves]

most hated || j.t.

summary || you’ve always hated Jack and he’s always hated you. You wouldn’t dare change that. 

author’s note || this is my first time writing for jack so please go easy on me!

warnings || enemies to lovers, angst, fluff

Masterlist

You place a file smack dab in the middle of Peggy’s desk. She purses her red ruby slightly while her eyebrows raise.

“You finished paperwork already?”

You nod at your fellow agent and friend, a smile ghosting your lips. You had a coffee cup in your other hand, its warmth tingling your fingertips.

You take a sip of the bitter liquid, relishing in the perkiness of caffeine.

“Did you know that Jack got promoted to chief?”

Your eyes widen, big and bulging out of the sockets. You practically choke on your coffee in unison; which triggered a coughing fit prompting Peggy to hand you a napkin. You thank her while your coughing fit starts to die down.

“I’m sorry- that asshole got what?”

Peggy shook her head a bit in laughter at your reaction. Ever since you got transferred from L.A. and moved to New York, you and Jack have never gotten along. Sure, Jack was known to have a cold heart but with you, it’s like that cold heart was in a fire and the pits of hell.

The two of you always bickered and any time you were around each other, the whole room fell silent from the thick tension. Any time anyone of you got in trouble even, there would be sly smirks and smug expressions. It was like an ongoing competition between the two.

“You know, he’s not as bad as you think he is.”

You turn slightly to see Daniel lean on the door frame to Peggy’s office. Peggy agreed as she gave you a quick nod. You just rolled your eyes and groan at your friends for giving that shit for brains some benefit of the doubt.

“But he doesn’t treat you both like utter horse shit when you’re around.”

A sigh both leaves their lips as they couldn’t argue with you on that one. Ever since you arrived, it was like Jack had this unspoken hatred towards you. Everybody had mentioned he was cold but he was at least avoidable. It was like Jack specifically sought you out to annoy the living shit out of you.

“Wow, agent y/l/n, you sure curse a lot for a lady.”

A scowl forms on your face as you see Jack smugly leaning against the door frame of Peggy’s office. There’s a stupid smirk dancing across his features at your scowl and all you want to do is punch his stupid face.

“Mind your own business, Thompson.”

“That’s chief Thompson to you, agent.”

That stupid smirk is still etched across his face when he waltzes away. Your face was practically radiating anger as Daniel tried to somewhat calm you down. He always seemed to push the right set of buttons.

~~

Luckily, throughout the day you hadn’t seen Jack since. Your desk was in a corner situated on the other side of the precinct, which you sometimes groaned about but in this case, it came in handy.

You could see Jack go in and out of his office occasionally talking to other agents but you were able to avoid him. You could see sometimes that he was angrily yelling at some agents for messing up something. He would always shout and then that little vein on the top of his forehead was always prominent. Not that you would stare, of course.

A smile slowly turned up as you looked at the clock. It was five on the dot which meant it was time for all the agents to go home.

You placed a couple of files into a bin on your desk, making sure to put any last-minute things in proper places. Peggy and Daniel walked by to say goodbye before most likely going to dinner to relax for the rest of the night.

You pick up your bag and started to walk towards the exit, ready to go home and relax for the rest of the evening. A sigh escapes your lips as you hear a certain agent call your name from his office.

“Y/n? You still there?”

You purse your lips slightly, considering not answering and just quietly escaping the building. Another sigh brushes against your lips as you knew you couldn’t do that, you’d help him whenever you could.

“Yeah, Thompson?”

He peaks his head out of the office and urges you to come inside. Your heels click on the floor as you go inside the chief’s office. Most of it was empty and filled with unpacked boxes, considering it was his first day.

“I was wondering if you could help me with a certain case.”

You nodded and took the file that was handed over to you, looking at the contents inside. Your thumb skinned over the name Dolores and your head snapped up to look at Jack.

“But she-” He nodded, taking a hard gulp as his eyes flickered towards yours.

“I know. I think she’s working undercover. I think she may be working for the Russians.”

Your mouth was agape, now often were you fully shocked at much. You’ve been through a troubled life and had stumbled upon the agency. Luckily, you passed all the tests and were able to become one of the best agents out there.

~~

So, you stayed and helped Jack try and piece little things together to understand what was going on. His desk was fully covered in papers right now, you were also able to pin some of the things happening around the SSR like missing files and dead agents.

She was clearly sent to disrupt the SSR and gain control over everything. Especially, since you all have been having issues for the past months.

“Wait.”

Jack’s head perked up at the sound of your voice, his hands letting go of the papers in his hands—letting them be buried amongst other papers. You scooted your chair next to his so he could see it, reading the words on the paper.

A gasp left his lips and his eyes widened in glee. “Y/n, this could destroy her. This is enough to turn her in.”

A bright smile returns to your face and Jack’s heart skips a beat. Your smile was radiating and contagious. He leans a bit closer to relish in the moment and then you both realize how close you actually were. Your noses were almost touching and you were able to feel his breath fan onto your face.

You cleared your throat and scooted back slightly, “you know, you should probably go home.” His eyebrows furrowed and he scoffed, waving off your statement.

“Me? I think you should be going home. It’s getting late.”

You roll your eyes at the agent next to you and huff, arms crossing over each other. You definitely didn’t want to go home. Not when you finally had evidence to bring Dot down into the ground. You wanted to make sure the evidence was palpable.

“What? I’m the one that found this information. You should go home.”

Now it was Jack’s turn to huff and roll his eyes at you. “You’re insufferable.”

You furrow your eyebrows and make a scowl, now was definitely not the time for your disagreements to get into the middle of such a devastating case.

“Well, I-”

You couldn’t even get your whole sentence out as a soft pair of lips. Your eyes widen slightly in shock but his lips never left yours, it was almost as if he was getting closer and closer to you. You let your body relax into his embrace and savor the sweet taste of his lips.

His lips felt addicting, your saliva was mixing with each other. He tasted like candy, sweet ecstasy clouded your mind as your kisses got needier and desperate.

Your hands immediately went to his hair, pulling slightly. A moan vibrated against your lips as his hand lightly glided around the small of your back. His heart was beating way too fast, your plump lips devoured him and he couldn’t get enough of the burning sensation your hands left on his body.

A small whimper left your mouth when he pulled away, a smug smirk growing on his lips. He sat up quickly, brushing every single paper and small nicknack off the desk and right onto the floor. He pushed your back onto the wood-carved desk, your legs had wrapped right around his torso.

He leaned forward and connected his lips with your neck, nibbling slightly which prompted a moan. He could feel his body tingling at the sound, he definitely thought it was the hottest thing he had ever heard.

“You drive me crazy, y/n.” He went over to nibble and kiss your ear. “Ever since you walked through that door, I’ve had my eyes set on you.” He left a trail of kisses down your neck, his fingers ghosting your stomach and the line of your bra underneath your dress shirt.

“You always get on my nerves, arguing about everything and anything with me. Not to mention, that goddamn mouth on you.”

His fingers start to fiddle with the buttons on your shirt, successfully opening one. You yelp in ecstasy as he bit down on just the right spot that met the divot of your neck.

“God, y/n, I’ve got to admit that I tried to suppress it. I tried to hate you and pick a fight with you but then you waltz right back up to me and I’m done for.” His lips join yours again, this time more bruising and passionate.

He parts again and stares at you, your legs still wrapped around his. Your back ached slightly at the hard surface but you didn’t give a fuck at the moment.

“Jack-”

You were interrupted by his tongue soothing out the now bruises that most likely covered your neck. His hands cupped your face which then slid down onto your now exposed stomach. 

“You really are a prize.”

He then starts to unbuckle your dress pants, pulling them down harshly. Your hand stops his and he quickly does the same, wondering if you were okay.

“Are you sure about this? In here?”

“Well, I am the chief, aren’t I?”

The two of you laugh at his statement but he was able to successfully pull down your pants. He then reconnected back towards you, kissing down your stomach and looking at you with lust-filled eyes.

Sure, you’ve hated the guy for quite some time but you could definitely get used to this new side of him.

~~

Permanent Taglist: @hailmary-yramliah​ @kitkatd7​ @captainchrisstan​ @angstysebfan​ @teenagereadersciencenerd​ (also tagging @fandomsandxfiles​ bc it’s jack thompson)

[phoebehalliwell]

Hello, I just wanted to say I'm a major Charmed fan and love all four sisters! That being said, as much as I love Paige, I've still always hated that Prue had to die (even though it's been over 20 years, I'm still not over it), and I hate even more that Prue and Phoebe's relationship never had a chance to truly recover from her lie about Cole. Also , I think could see why you shipped Prue/Jack, there relationship certainly had a Moonlighting like dynamic to it, didn't it?

yeah wait we did just clear the twenty year anniversary of prue dying in may huh crazy how time works but like. like okay because ik the whole the way the story goes was ~they didn't know if they were killing off shannen or alyssa~ they left it ~open ended bc they didn't know which sister would die~ but like. they knew. oh bro they so knew. like dude. phoebe got a hot new steamy love interest filled w drama and intrigue who was like integral to the plot after basically two seasons of being love-interest-less prue got what? justin?? prue got an episode coming to terms w the fact she will die. like. they knew okay. and like. what breaks my heart is prue as a character like deserved So Much More like she deserved to break free of this narrative of matriarchal sacrifice that she had been locked into like prue practically had to sacrifice her childhood to raise us yeah yeah but like bro there are genuinely so few places where she got to like actually experience life outside of protecting her sisters and then she died protecting her sisters like aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. like aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa. like bro u knew u were going to kill her and you end her & phoebe on that. even if we're sticking with the narrative they didn't know which sister would die there was the very conscious choice to end the narrative on that. so like. 🤬

of course like. tbh. i don't think prue & phoebe's relationship needs to like fully like "recover" from cole i don't think this is nearly as big of a rift as say roger bc i think between the past three years like they've really grown as people and have a new respect for one another that really had yet to be unearthed in it pilot but it's still like. like phoebe was in the underworld trying to save cole when prue died (& piper almost died!!) and we never do see her grapple with that. like even when we're sowing seeds of doom by making cole the source and have phoebe go full dark side like even in the midst of tanking phole we never bother to get some good old fashioned anger self hatred and making the wrong choice like. like that good have been really fun.

but then!! circling over 2 prue/jack bc i do really love prue/jack i think like my favorite thing about it is like. just like how fun and stupid it is. like. like okay so for starters i will say i love the idea of jack as the one to be prue's first real love interest after andy because with andy like you really did have this whole childhood friends to lovers this deep mutual understanding and trust and love and passion like definitely set up to vibe like soulmatism and then he fuckin bites the dust. but like. it's 1999. it's shannen doherty. she can't be an shw forever like you need your female characters to have love interests that's just kind of the way the world works but how do you top andy? how do you beat like the love of her life her perfect man? do you try to go well here's her perfect-er man,, this one's even better than before!! that we did so many countless times with phoebe no because that shit's fucking stupid instead they said here's jack sheridan & he fuckin sucks. & i love it i really do for starters excellent representation for women who are into lame ass guys like i know it's easy to say like haha i'm into guys and aren't they all lame but i'm talking specifically a man being lame is what makes him unreasonably sexy it's a mental condition i know i suffer from it it's bad but it's also like. really funny. but it's also bad. but that's not the point. the point is prue/jack was always supposed to be something kind of stupid something with an imminent expiration date you know? this is not andy. i mean from the moment we met andy we're like hearing wedding bells right from the moment we meet jack we're like ew wtf lol??? like both prue And jack know goddamn well entering this relationship that this is pointless. this is only here to end. and yet!! in spite of that!!! genuine love blossoms!!!! like. whether or not prue was ever in love with jack is definitely debatable i don't think she ever was like in love with him per se mainly because she didn't like. she didn't want to be. she didn't want to do love again that wasn't the point of this relationship so she's not gonna do it. and then for jack theoretically it should be the same thing because like he does constantly play it so nonchalant like he's not head over heels fucking in love with her but he is!!!! he took this relationship that was meant to be casual and stupid and over in a month and he fuckin blew it man he fell So So In Love With Her. like. drives me crazy it does i love that dynamic. and there was something there from prue's side too like. like over and over again she's telling him like you're not the guy for me you're not the guy i'm going to end up with But right now you're the one i want. like. like she has this vision definitely this andy-like figure someone who will you know be the stable father to her kids and her steady husband for many many years to come and her brain's going yeah no way that's jack but at the same time she doesn't care??? like, she likes him right now? she wants to spend time with him right now??? like fuck that potential future mr. right because he's not the one prue wants to spend time with right now she'd rather spend the night with jack like!!!!!! there are some vastly underrated dynamics going on with pruejack that definitely make me start munching on drywall every time i talk about them but like Oh My God. them <3. lol.

[neerasrealm]

... okay. but. poly slenjack with y/n. and y/n has a child, maybe three years old, from an old relationship which didnt work out. and them meeting over the child and y/n watching Lj and Lj thinking its their little sibling, bc apparantly y/n looks younger than they are. and yeah- than they meet slender and everythings fine, and then the shock. the child called y/n a parent name :o okay weird but Im tired sorry qwq

I’ve had this ask sitting in my inbox for forever and I’m SORRY I didn’t have any ideas for it until a few weeks later and then some stuff came up and I just didn’t have energy to work on anything but- it’s finally done. Sorry it’s short but- I did my best eheh-

‘’Alright, we’re here.’’

You stop your car and look into the back seat where your child sits. Their name is Sam, and they’re the smallest cutest thing, with short curly hair the exact same colour as yours and big innocent eyes. They look up from their small plush rabbit and stare at you. You smile gently. They’re a little sweetheart, and a little shy, but what kid isn’t? 

You open the car door and step out. You unbuckle their car seat and take their tiny hand in yours. ‘’C’mon sweetie.’’ you say gently. ‘’There’s someone I want you to meet. I think you’ll like him.’’ you smile down at them. They look up at you with big, curious eyes. The two of you walk through the park to the kid’s playground. Despite the fact that you’re supposed to be the responsible parent, you can’t help but feel excited as you approach the park. Why? Well- you have a crush on a children’s performer. Specifically one that dresses like a clown and speaks in a thick cockney accent. Your taste in men is amazing, I know.

His name is Jack, and you've only met him a couple of times. Funnily enough though, not through him being a performer, but instead Jack's- well er- his husband. Yes, you're crushing on a married man but-! He's already in a relationship with two people. He has a wife too. And well- both of his spouses are attractive. You may or may not be crushing on both of them as well. 

As you approach the playground you spot him. He's not hard to miss. Jack is tall, extremely so. He dresses in striped socks and sleeves, along with shorts and a short grey shirt that only really covers his chest. Oddly, he covers his torso with bandages, and on his shoulders he wears tufts of feathers. It's an odd costume, but certainly an eye-catching one. You smile and pick Sam up. ‘’C’mon sweetheart. You’ll like him, I promise.’’ 

It’s still early, so Jack hasn’t attracted too big a crowd yet. Just a few kids and parents. You watch him stretch, then grin at the few kids watching him. He backs up, then bolts forward into a cartwheel, that goes into a series of flips followed by ballet spins and-

‘’AAH-!’’

Jack spins directly into you and you stumble back. You hear him yell in surprise and something grabs you, keeping you from falling. You blink in surprise and right yourself. Poor little Sam is clinging to you in fear. 

‘’Ah- sorry abou’ tha’ luv! I didn’ see ya,’’ Jack’s rough voice makes you look up. He gives you a worried smile. ‘’Ye okay?’’

‘’Yes, I’m alright.’’ you smile at him, then glance at Sam. ‘’You okay sweetie?’’

‘’Mmm-’’ Sam buries their face in your shoulder, glancing at Jack in fear. You bounce them in your arms slightly. Jack smiles and leans down to look at them. 

‘’Ey kiddo.’’ he coos. ‘’Did I scare ya? I’m sorry abou’ tha’.’’

Sam stares at him. You comb your hand through their curly locks and smile at the clown. ‘’They’re a little shy.’’ you murmur. Jack smiles, glancing up at you for a second before looking back at Sam. 

‘’Tha’s alrigh’,’’ he steps closer and leans down, holding out a bony black hand. ‘’Me name’s Jack. I’s nice ta meetcha, kiddo!’’ he chirps. Sam doesn’t shake his hand. Jack moves his palm up and cocks a brow instead. ‘’High five?’’ Sam reaches out and pats their tiny palm against his. He grins and chuckles. You smile to yourself. ‘’Who’s yer friend, kiddo?’’

Sam looks down at their plush rabbit, then up at Jack. ‘’...Christopher.’’ they mumble. Jack breaks into a wide grin. 

‘’Tha’s a grea’ name!’’ he chirps. You gently put Sam down and let them step slowly towards Jack. He crouches down to them and smiles. ‘’Ye ever seen me shows b’fore kiddo?’’ he asks. Sam shakes their head. ‘’Wouldja like ta?’’ Sam gives a nod. Jack grins and stands up, gesturing for them to follow. You smile gently and watch Sam follow quickly after him. They’re both so cute...your heart flutters. Jack is good with kids- maybe you could use that as an excuse to get to know him better, then you two could get close and- 

‘’Good morning.’’

You whirl around in surprise and see- Jack’s husband. He’s tall, thin and very pale. Almost white. His hair is a very fair blonde, and he’s wearing a proper black suit. He smiles at you. You smile back. ‘’Oh-! Good morning!’’ you smile a bit. ‘’I didn’t think I’d see you here.’’

Jack’s husband, who’s name is Guy, laughs gently. ‘’I wasn’t planning on coming down, but Jack forgot his lunch,’’ he holds up a plastic lunchbox. ‘’But then I saw him with you and little Sam and- eheh, I thought it was cute.’’ he pauses for a moment, looking at Jack with a soft smile. ‘’He’s such a sweetheart, isn’t he?’’ 

You nod. ‘’He is...they both are.’’ you chuckle a bit and look back at Guy. He strides past you and over to Jack.

‘’Sweetheart,’’ he calls. Jack looks up and quickly hops to his feet, grinning. Guy smiles. ‘’I brought you lunch.’’ 

‘’Oh! I forgo’ i’?’’ he tilts his head at Guy as he walks closer. He nods. 

‘’Yes you did, you silly thing.’’ he replies, holding out the lunchbox. Sam runs away from Jack’s side and toward you. 

‘’Mama! Look!’’ they call. You look down and see Sam is holding the biggest most colourful lollipop you’ve ever seen. That’s definitely more sugar than you’d ever allow but- well, too late now. You smile a bit as they run over and stop at your feet, holding the lollipop up excitedly. You laugh a bit and pat their head. 

‘’Sam’s your kiddo?’’ Jack says. You look up in surprise.

‘’Yes?’’ you frown. He blinks in surprise.

‘’I though’ they wuz ye’re siblin’!’’ he replies. ‘’Ye look so young!’’ Guy shoots him a stern look. You break into a smile, then some soft laughs. 

‘’Well thank you!’’ you exclaim. ‘’Not often someone good looking tells me that.’’ you add with a grin. You really hope the slight flirt doesn’t annoy Guy. Jack blinks, then his cheeks flush pink. Guy glances at him and smirks a bit before looking at you again.

‘’Admittedly I thought that too-’’ he says. He tilts his head at you. ‘’Are you...raising them alone?’’

You nod. ‘’Yeah- the uh- other guy didn’t wanna be a parent, things didn’t work out…’’ you look down at Sam and ruffle their hair. ‘’So it’s just us. But I wouldn’t have it any other way, right Sam?’’

Sam nods and smiles a bit. You look back up at the two men. Guy smiles softly. ‘’That’s very sweet…’’ he murmurs. Jack gives him an odd look you can’t really decipher before looking at you again. His eyes dart to Guy a second time and he smiles a small bit, like he knows something you don’t. Huh. ‘’You know, me and Jack have children too. Of course you’ve already met Sally and Slendra...and Jeffery, haha- but if you ever want Sam to have some children to spend time with, we’d be happy to arrange something! And the three of us could get some coffee or something like that while they play.’’ 

Jack smirks a bit. ‘’E’s always tryna ge’ th’ kiddos ta make more friends. Don’t mind ‘im.’’

‘’Jack!’’

You laugh. ‘’I’d love that, actually.’’ you tilt your head and smile at him. ‘’How about...Friday?’’

Guy brightens up, clasping his hands together. ‘’Friday is perfect! I’ll bring Sally and Slendra along, will I?’’

You nod. ‘’That’d be great.’’ you look down at Sam and smile. ‘’You wanna make some new friends, sweetie?’’

Sam rocks on their heels. ‘’Will Jack be there?’’ they ask softly. You and Jack both snicker and you give a nod. 

‘’Yes, yes he will.’’ you murmur with a very satisfied smile.

[sortasirius]

For the kissing prompt: life or death with cas’s life on the line. Place: with Sam and jack bc let’s be realistic if there’s life and death situation. Interested to see what you’ll come up with :D ps I love your writing

Wowwowowowow thank you so so much! I’m

I hope you like!

Words: 913 (who says brevity is the soul of wit lmao)

It’s exactly the type of thing that Dean had always dreaded. One of those fights with a monster that just…got the better of all of them. It’s in an abandoned barn in North Dakota, middle of winter, brutally, viciously cold.  Dean’s teeth are chattering despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins as he slides in and out of the shadows with Sam on his heels, Cas and Jack on the other side, lying in wait for the pack of vampires to return from a nightly hunt.  They had already taken are of the sentries, dragged their bodies to the frozen lake nearby.  Everything had gone off without a hitch, so why did Dean’s chest ache like something was going to go wrong at any second?

“It’s fucking cold,” he whispers to Sam as they huddle in their corner of the frigid barn.  Three layers was not enough for North Dakota weather.  Hell, they were practically in Canada all the way up here. Dean hated it.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Sam rolls his eyes as Dean’s whole body shakes, “You’ll be fine, don’t be a baby.”

Before Dean can snap back, they hear loud and raucous voices approaching the doors, and, for some reason, Dean searches for Cas in the darkness, and he feels like their eyes connect even though he can’t really see. He takes a breath.  Everything was gonna be fine, it’s just another hunt right?

It’s a bigger group than they thought, and they’re armed.  Man, even monsters are fucking packing these days, it really is the end times.  The leader has a shotgun that she throws carelessly across a cards table in the corner, the others following suit, dropping their weapons across the room, one of them starting a fire in the center. Dean and Sam pull back from the orange glow, in spite of the fact that Dean wants to lean into it.  He really felt like his fingers are about to fall off.

The fight is supposed to be mostly stealthy, until Jack knocks over a bottle on a table that goes crashing to the floor, shattering in a million pieces, and then it’s an all out brawl, ten against four.

Dean takes down one, then two, then….bang!

Dean feels like the gunshot goes through his ribs instead of Cas’.  He’s across the room when it happens, one of the vampires takes out a pistol and takes the shot at Cas, hitting him in his lower abdomen, and Cas crumples immediately, hitting the floor like a ton of bricks, machete falling from his hands.  Dean runs, with no regard for anything else, doing anything he can to get to Cas, lying prone on the ground as the vampire who shot him stands over him, ready for the deathblow.  He doesn’t get the chance, because his head is rolling as Dean makes easy work of his head with his machete.

It’s weird, Dean had always heard of that thing where people can’t hear anything, where everything just goes dull, but he never thought it was real.  Until, of course, Cas is lying, mostly unconscious on the ground in front of him, bleeding profusely and so terribly human that Dean can’t fucking breathe.  Jack and Sam are still fighting the other vampires, and Dean wants to scream for Jack to come fix this!  Come fix Cas!  Cas’ eyes are on Dean, but they’re getting glassier by the second and Dean can only babble as he tries to remember the first aid he had administered on himself about a thousand times.  This time, his hands weren’t shaking from the cold.

“Hey buddy, stay awake for me, okay?  This is gonna be fine, Jack’s gonna fix you up okay?  Stay with me Cas.  Stay awake, yeah?”

He feels Cas’ hand in his hair, and he meets his eyes, still frantic and shaking and trying to make a compress out of his flannel shirt. Cas is trying to say something, but he’s so quiet that Dean can’t hear him, so he leans up to Cas’ mouth, trying to hear him, but Cas has other ideas, and, if he’s being honest, so does Dean.

It’s such a gentle and soft brush of the lips that Dean isn’t actually sure that it happened, but Cas is smiling this soft smile, and Dean nearly forgets that he’s trying to stop him from bleeding out.  He nearly forgets, until Cas’ breathing slows and slows and slows and Dean realizes he is far too close to losing him again.  He turns wildly, looking for Jack, but Jack is already at his side, moving Dean’s blood-covered hands away from Cas’ wound, light filling the room as Cas’ side mends itself.

Cas sucks in a loud breath and tries to sit up, but Dean meets him, setting his hands on Cas’ shoulders.

“Take it easy, Cas.  They’re gone.”

Cas looks from Dean, to Jack, to Sam, and then…back to Dean.

“Thank you, Jack.”

“Sure, of course.  Do you, um…need anything?”

Cas has not taken his eyes off of Dean’s face. Normally it would make Dean blush, but he’s still too scared to care.

Sam does that loud throat-clearing thing he does when he’s uncomfortable.

“Come on, Jack, let’s go warm up the car.”

Dean doesn’t wait for them to walk away to lean in and kiss Cas again.  

“Don’t do that again.”

He feels Cas smiling against his mouth, it’s enough to drive him crazy.  This he could get used to.

Link to OG post

Prompt me up!

[marvinswriting]

Shoulder Devils

Prompt: five times Janis tried to fake okay and the one time she just couldn't OH MY GOD I LOVE 5+1S OFC (this was supposed to be posted next week but i got it written within a few hours and just wanted to post it now bc holy shit its 5+1 and janis angst, my two favorite things.)

The knot in her stomach felt wound up too tight, like it would tear her insides at any moment. 

Calm down, Janis, it's only the first day of school. The common sense part of her brain told her. 

But every other part of her was screaming a different story. 

It's your first day of high school after being homeschooled through the end of middle school. Nobody has seen you since you were plastic and you'll be totally alone during your tiny only classes.

She subconsciously gripped the shirt underneath her tighter. 

Janis was on Damian's shoulder as they walked to their first class of the day. 

She knew deep down she'd feel better if she vocalized her worries to Damian, that way an outside source could ease her stress, but Damian had his own worries. He was in charge of not only getting him but also Janis to their classes on time- spare her tiny periods.

Janis had unintentionally made him stressed more just by existing.

Now, that's a little dramatic. The common-sense voice in her head said. It eerily sounded like Damian. Quite fitting.

No, it's true. The other part of her brain said. This one sounded like herself. 

Janis felt like she had her own tiny people on her shoulders. Just these were devils and angles, not best friends. 

Damian stopped in front of a classroom.

"English, co-sized, room 148, period one."

Sure enough, they stood in front of room 148. Janis could see kids she recognized at their grade, no longer eight graders but now freshman. 

"This won't be middle school." Janis mumbled to herself, trying to be reassuring.

"What?" Damian asked as he stepped into the room.

"Nothing," Janis said, a bit to fast. "Just talking to myself."

So much for that no worrying Damian part. 

"Okay," Damian said slowly.

He doesn't believe you, you fucked up. Shoulder devil Janis taunted.

Damian sat in the front row of the class so Janis would be able to see the board.

"You're gonna do great today," Damian reassured her, like he could tell exactly what she needed to hear. "If you need me at all during the day, just text me, okay?"

Look, failure, you've got him all worried. Shoulder Janis mocked.

No, he's just looking out for you, like friends should. The reasonable Damian sounding subconscious said. 

"I'm fine, really." Janis said with a soft smile.

-

Janis was pro at keeping her freakouts internal. As a plastic, she learned it better to just keep her problems to herself, bottle them up till she's lying in bed at night and they explode, like a mento in cola. 

Damian didn't like the method of emotional management that Janis adapted, but old habits die hard. 

Janis knew Damian wouldn't tell her to shut up like Regina would.

But he'll still judge you. Shoulder Janis reminder her. They all judge you. 

So she kept her freakouts internal. 

Until one night. She was at Damian's house for a sleepover. For the longest time, Janis would sleep on a makeshift bed next to Damian's nightstand. It was safer that way. Even though both Damian and Janis knew when Damian fell asleep he slept like a rock and didn't move, it wasn't worth the risk.

Cuz you're small and fragile and nothing but a worry. Shoulder Janis said. The reassuring mind Damian was quiet. 

Nothing to say, because I'm right.

Janis looked over to Damian on his bed. He was lying on his back with his eyes closed, but Janis could tell he was still awake. She shifted slowly in the tiny bed, not wanting to worry Damian. 

He deserves better than to be worried by you.  The devil Janis sneered. 

Janis knew logically that these were her own thoughts, but it felt like somebody else was saying them to her, confirming everything she feared. She was just a burden who got in the way. An irritant to all. A hassle to Damian, who had to take her everywhere.

Just like that, the mento fell in the coca-cola.

She quickly brought her hand up to her mouth to cover a cry. She didn't want to disrupt Damian. Not while he was still awake. She could fall apart when he was asleep. 

Her shoulders shook as silent tears slipped down her face. Janis wiped them away briskly. 

"Janis?"

Damian was sitting up in bed, looking at her small girl. 

Even though the dark room, Janis could feel his eyes on her.

"I'm fine." She said abruptly. Her defensive tone cueing that she was in fact, not fine.

You fucked that one up.

Janis rubbed at the ghost tears on her face, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. 

Damian reached forward and scooped her up gingerly, his fingers wrapping around her gently as he laid back down on his side. He held Janis to his chest, like a kid holds a teddy bear. He didn't say anything or question her, just held her close. 

"I am fine, y' know" She said, but Janis gripped onto Damian's shirt despite herself, listening to Damian's heartbeat as they both fell asleep.

-

Janis? Where are you?

Janis glanced down at her phone. She was supposed to be meeting Damian at the tiny pick up zone, but instead, she was hiding in an empty classroom trying not to have a panic attack.

Nurse.

Janis typed back quickly, no point in telling the truth and getting Damian all worried.

Sorry if I made you wait too long and you're late to class.

You okay?

Yeah, im tits. dw about me

She placed her phone down, leaning against the cool concrete wall of the classroom. Damian would be heavily annoyed if she asked for help every time she felt this way.

He probably feels heavily annoyed with you no matter what. The inner Janis taunted.

"Right."

-

Janis knew Damian could tell she was upset. Janis also knew he wasn't gonna push her to talk about or bring it up first. And on top of all this knowledge, Janis knew she was in no way gonna vocalize her feelings. 

Sucks for her.

They were sitting in class, and Janis was trying to face forward and do her work, but her mind went anywhere other than algebra. 

She could feel Damian staring at her, but she refused to turn around a make eye contact. Janis did a shit job at hiding her emotions that morning, but she wasn't the type to admit when she was wrong.  Especially not after saying she was fine so many times earlier. 

Even though all she wanted to do was sleep in Damian's pocket until she had to go home, then sleep some more, she knew she just needs to push through the day under everyone's radar.

Because she was fine.

Yup, sure you are. Shoulder Janis was back, and as annoying as ever.

-

Janis was pretty sure her 'shoulder angle Damian' was just her brain spitting out anything positive Damian had ever said to her back out at her. 

Because it all sounded very familiar.  

But it all also got drowned out by the shoulder devil Janis, who was loud and mean and most importantly, she was right.

Anything shoulder Damian said, shoulder Janis had a counter that made more logical sense.

Does Damian actually like you?

Of course, he does, he's your friend! Why else would he carry you around all the time and care so much?

Pitty.

That one word made Janis's head spin because it made so much sense. 

Poor space dyke. Outed in front of her whole class in middle school. A tiny who can't do jack shit by herself. Who wouldn't feel bad?

"Janis?" She was sitting on Damian's shoulder as they (no- Damian) walked to lunch. She hadn't noticed they'd arrive because she was so lost in thought.

"I'm fine." She said.

-

"I can't spend every second with you, its not my fault you're like in love with me."

They were at the Hubbard's. Cady was long gone. But her words still echoed. 

Damian was holding Janis to his chest, one hand underneath her, the other gently pressing her there. 

Janis wasn't crying. She told herself she wouldn't cry over something like this again. 

But crying or not, she felt sick. Like Cady physically ripped out her heart and stomped on it.

"Janis?" Damian asked, his voice vibrating through her small body.

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not." Damian says. For once he doesn't ignore it or move along.

"You're allowed to be hurting, you're allowed to not be okay. I'll still be here with an okay Janis and a not okay Janis because you are my best friend and I love you. I know I can't make the hurt go away but I want to help and I can't do that if you shut me out and say you're fine"

It sounded like something shoulder Damian had said so many times, but hearing the real Damian say it, it drowned out the shoulder Janis, and suddenly, Janis wasn't fine. But that was okay.

Damian didn't move or interrupt her as she cried, blubbering about everyone thinking she's a stupid lesbian.  

Damian didn't leave like Cady did, or judge her like Regina did.

Because he wasn't Cady or Regina.

He was Damian.

Janis felt bad for lying to him this whole time. 

Of course, Damian wouldn't leave her, or make fun of her, or take pity on her.

Damian hung out with her because he loved her, and Janis didn't need any small shoulder people to tell her that.

Tag list: @musicallygt @realmisspolarbear @smallsoysauce @sourishlemons

[peter-pan-on-neverland]

Drunken night

Request: Felix and y/n get drunk and accidentally make out and when they wake up, naked, they are all confused bc they never really liked each other before. Some fluff xx

I decided to add a Christmas twist, I hope you enjoy :)

Pairings: Felix x reader

Warnings: fluffy, Smutty 

I had lived on Neverland for many years, so the celebrations which Pan often threw for Christmas were no surprise to me at this point, the boys hollered and cheered in excitement as beer flowed through the camp on this special occasion, intoxicating the lost boys while they danced around the roaring campfire. Out the corner of my eye I could see my best friends, Pan and Felix, lurking with smiles on their faces and cups in their hands. Felix’s icy blue eyes slide over to meet my gaze, a smile spreads across his sharp features as Pan quickly turns around, flashing me a smile before waving me over.

“Y/n!” Pan exclaimed, the alcohol had clearly gotten to his head already, “Come and drink with us!”

Before I was able to give any kind of answer he shoved a cup into my hands before walking off somewhere.

“I’ll leave you two alone.” The boy gave a wink as he stumbled off into the crowd of happy, festive lost boys..

My cheeks flushed as my face suddenly grew hot, what was wrong with me? Was it the wink that the leader sent my which which made me suddenly blush or the thought of Felix liking me, I couldn’t tell. Ether way I knew that the boys actions and words meant nothing, after all he was drunk.

He let out an awkward chuckle, what was wrong with him? The stone faced boy had never been nervous around me or anyone before, so why start now? Maybe he was drunk like the rest of the boys? I tried to convince myself, but everyone on the island knew Felix could hold his liqueur well, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him drunk once. Before I had the chance to ask him about his sudden change in attitude he took a very long gulp from his glass, I followed suite letting the bitter fluid flow down my throat. 

“Guys!” Devin shouted, slightly swaying on the spot with is cup in hand, “We should play a game!”

The lost boys slurred out an agreement before arguing over what to play. Soon all that could be heard from every corner of the island was the boys bickering. I laughed to myself, quietly observing the intoxicated boys while taking another short sip from my cup. I wasn’t the type to get drunk, sometimes Pan or another lost boy would convince me it was a good idea so I did but it would only end up with Felix playing the big brother roll and carrying me to bed.

“Boys, boys, boys” Pan spoke, stumbling towards the crowd of drunk teenagers yet somehow still maintaining his cool facade, “We can play more than one, after all, the night is still young and this is a special celebration!.”

We started with hide and seek, the boys darted... well tried to dart off into the forest, picking a place to hide among the shadows while Jack was left to count.

Wondering around the dark jungle for what felt like hours I searched and searched for a place to hide but so far I couldn’t find one.

“Psssst, Y/n.” A low familiar voice giggled, “Come here.”

I spun around on my heel, trying to find out where the voice was coming from, that’s when I saw Felix pop his head out from beneath a bush. His cheeks had a slight pink tint to them as his low chuckle sounded through the air.

“Oh my god, Felix, are you drunk?” I asked, my eyes going wide from shock.

“What? No.” He tried to brush me off, but anyone could see that the boy was lying.

I raised my eyebrows at him as a cheeky grin spread across his face, "You are drunk." I let out a tipsy giggle, placing my hands in my hips.

"I," Felix announced, standing up with a bottle in his hand and leaning forward as if he was about to take a bow, "do not get drunk."

I could smell the alcohol on his breath, it was only then I realized how close we really were to each other, his rum stained breath tickled my delicate skin causing me to shiver. His breath fought away the cold air on my neck, I wanted to feel that warmth all over my body.

"Now m'lady." He said while awkwardly bowing, "would you like to follow me?"

Felix seemed to laugh at his own joke before taking a seat behind a tall bush, which was sure to hide us well. The second in command seemed to have a secret stash of drinks, bottles were piled up next to one another.

"Felix how much have you had!?" I practically yelled.

He placed a finger on his lips, his eyes staring directly into mine until I was a little scared but at the same time kinda turned on. The blonde boy seemed to lean in closer and closer towards me and I made no effort to stop him, "Secret." He whispered into the night sky.

The boy seemed to stop leaning froward the moment our noses touched, he froze as if he understood what he was doing but didn’t know why he was doing it. His actions lit a fire inside of me, I had never felt this way about Felix before, he used to be just plain old Felix. But now, those stormy blue eyes seemed to hold my gaze, capturing my eyes and not letting them be set free, his scar which I once thought was cool seemed to appear more beautiful and sexy.

Why were all these thoughts running through my head? Was it the drink talking? Or just the thought of falling in love on Christmas night which appealed to my brain?

“Felix.” I whispered, his name fell from my lips without a second thought as if it were the most delicious thing in the world.

Before I knew it he had closed the gap between us, his cold lips were on mine, melting away the barrier I had put up so long ago which managed to convince me I didn’t have feelings for this boy. My hand trailed up his neck before tangling themselves in his hair, this felt so right, it felt like his lips were meant to be on mine. Pure bliss coursed through my veins while happiness took over my body as we pulled away, gazing into each others eyes.

A smile spread itself onto Felix pink lips, for once his eyes didn’t seem hollowed out but full of joy before they grew to the size of boulders.

“Y/n!” The second in command exclaimed, “I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t know what came over me just then, I-”

“Felix, it’s ok.” My words only seemed to confuse him further, “I liked it.”

He let out a sigh of relief at my words, “Y-You... you did?” He questioned.

“Yeah.” I told him, suddenly growing shy.

The scarred boy smiled to himself before picking up a lock of my hair, repeatedly twisting it around his finger and letting it fall back down again. It felt nice to have him so near, I wish time could stand still and I could be stuck in this moment forever.

My e/c eyes traveled up, dancing over the features of his face. The scar which winded up his cheek stood out the most, It added to the reputation he had, there was no doubt about that, but they mystery behind it drew me in even more. He hadn’t told anyone besides Pan how he got it and since I had been on the island I had wanted to find out so bad. Then, my eyes rolled along his cheeks down to his lips, those luscious lips that I wanted to kiss so badly, I longed for them to be on mine once more. Quickly, my e/c orbs darted up to his eyes, his icy cold gaze that still held some warmth seemed to staring back at him.

“Is everything ok?” He asked, with a smirk on his face once he realized I had been looking at him the whole time.

I could only nod in response, no words seemed to fall past my mouth. Suddenly, I found myself leaning closer and closer to him, my eyes fluttering closed as I placed a soft kiss upon his lips, just as I was about to pull away his hands found themselves in my hair, pulling closer toward him. His strong arm seemed to wrap itself around my waist, pulling me on top of him, all the while our lips never parted once. 

I could feel my body getting hot, feeling just how turned on I was just by this kiss, but this was not just a normal kiss, it was lustful, demanding, full desire and for god's sake I wanted more. Felix pushed me off him and rolled me over, his tongue exploring my mouth and the longer we kissed, the less he tasted like liqueur. A soft moan escaped the lost boys lips and he pressed his mouth even harder against mine, just like his body. I could feel the bulge in his pants pressing against my stomach, wanting to be touched by me so badly. I could tell Felix found it more and more difficult to hold his hands from me, with his palms softly caressing the small of my back when all he wanted was to rip off my clothes and finally take me. he groaned into the kiss and if I were honest I wanted him too. I wanted him to claim me as his and only his. I didn't expect this when I followed him, even if a small part of me begged for this to happen every night I went to sleep, things escalated quickly. I needed to feel my naked skin against his, or I would surely lose my mind.

Rough hands slowly slipped down from my waist trailing over my curves before slyly pulling up the hem of my cloak, his cold fingers on my skin caused me to gasp but the deceptive boy only took this as an opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth as his fingers played with the side of my panties. Without warning he pulled them to the side before dipping a finger into me.

“Mmm.” I let out a moan at his sudden action.

I could feel the smirk crawl onto his face, “You’re so wet already.” He whispered into my ear as my cheeks turned red.

He began to pump his fingers in and out of me as I let soft moans slip past my lips, burying my face into the crook of his neck as I did so.

“I can’t find them!” Someone yelled, causing my to jump up off the blonde giant.

“Come on Felix!” I whisper-yelled, “There looking for us!”

The second in command only gave me a smile as I pulled him along by his arm, guiding him through the forest so we wouldn’t be seen by any of the lost boys. The forest was thick on this part of the island, twisted roots stuck up from the ground as if they were purposely trying to trip someone up. As soon as we stepped out from the overgrown pit of trees we came into a clearing, the vacated camp was in out sight as we stalked forward.

"Come with me." Felix whispered, lacing his fingers through mine as he lead me to his tent.

Letting out a little giggle we sneaked into the cover of his make shift house, trying to be as quiet as possible.

“Now then,” Felix spun my round so that my face almost collided with his chest, placing a slender finger under my chin he made my gaze meet his, “Where were we?”

“Well, If I remember correctly, we were round about here.” I whispered before looping my arms around the tall boys neck, having to stand on my tippy toes just so I could attach his lips to mine.

Our kiss was full of passion, lightning sparks inside of us. He started to guide me towards the bed before we both crashed down onto it, he sunk into his soft mattress as I straddled his waist.

Felix’s fingers messed around with the buttons on my cloak, egare to tear them off my body as my lips left a trail of sloppy kisses down my neck. Suddenly a rush of cold air hit my now exposed skin as Felix slowly dropped my clothes onto the floor, my cheeks flushed red with embarrassment as I sat on him completely naked. 

His large hands trailed over every inch of my skin causing it too feel like he had set it alight, he worked his way up, first gliding the rough palms of his hands along my thighs before squeezing my ass. Stroking the flesh along my waist, shorty after cupping my bare breasts, using the pad of his thumb to rub my nipples, sending waves of pleasure through my body before his hands rested on my cheek. Pulling me in for another one of those magnificent kisses, this time I moaned into the kiss, giving it all I had, putting all of my feels for him into one simple act of love.

Soon a mischievous idea popped into my mind as a smirk spread onto my face, I placed a trail of hot kisses down the neck of the second in command, nipping on his sweets spots as I made sure to leave a mark.

I could hear his breath hitch in his throat as my sudden actions, but I wasn’t going to stop here, I carried on going, removing his shirt before continuing to kiss all the way down the boys muscularly, bare, chest. Stopping as I reached the hem of his trousers, I hooked my finger around them, pulling them down at an agonizing pace. 

Before I knew it his big cock sprung up, Felix looked at me in the eyes, silently begging for me to play with him. I licked my lips before sending a wink his way and I could see his cheeks flush pink, only for a moment.

Sticking my tongue out I licked a big stripe all the way from base to tip, his hands flew into my hair at the speed of light while he let out a breathy moan, I did it again, then again, just to tease him a little before the real thing. 

“Please.” He managed to huff out, “Stop teasing me.”

With a dark look in my eyes I took all that I could into my mouth and started to suck, moans fell passed his lips as his hip bucked into my mouth more and more with every second. I traced circles round and round his tip, making the only sound that could be heard were his moans, as soon as he let one slip past those pink lips more followed suite.

My mouth did all the work while my hands jerked off any part of him that I couldn’t fit into my mouth, the bot seemed to be in pure bliss. His hand gently pulled on my hair, guiding my mouth up and down his cock before I took it out completely. The only ting which connected the two of us was a thin string of saliva from my lips to his tip as I peered into the boys eyes, slowly, I started to crawl back up his now exposed body. Lying down on his as we sheared a kiss, his hands soothingly rubbed the small of my back all the while pushing me closer and closer towards him.

Suddenly, without warning, he flipped us over so now he was the one with the upper hand. Attacking my neck with dozens of tiny, welcomed kisses as he grabbed my wrists, pinning them above my head. The wet trail he made down my flesh sent shivers down my spine as he got closer and closer to my breasts, he looked at me in the eyes, there was a something dark behind those blue orbs of his, a darkness which I think is ready to come out and play.

Warn hands cupped my breast, while his mouth went to work on the other one, his tongue swirling around and around my bud like a merry-go-round. I could feel the heat between my legs only grow more intense as he carried on, I wanted him, and now.

Felix chuckled to himself, the vibration of his laugh sent my skin to erupt in goosebumps, he knew what thoughts were running through my head, he knew he held all the power.

In one swift movement the boy pushed himself up, his lips pleasantly tickling my ear as he slowly grinds his hard cock against my dripping pussy.

“I know you want me,” He whispered. 

The only response I could give was bucking my hips to meet his, coating his cock in my juices. A smirk ran onto the boys face as his once happy eyes started to turn darker and darker by the minute, he plunged a hand down toward his cock, taking it in his hands while he moved the tip up and down my wet slit. A moan tumbled out of my mouth at the slight contact, I needed him, so bad.

“You want it, baby?” He asked, there was a hint of something sinister in his voice, peering down at me I looked at him with wide eyes, egarly nodding in response.

Biting his lip he slowly pushed it into me, letting my walls adjust around his big member before he rocked his hips back and forth, moans fell quickly and loudly, slipping past my lips one after another. I gripped onto his shoulder as he continued to pound into me, soft grunts came out of his mouth while the bed quietly squeaked.

He gripped my hips, digging his nails into my soft skin, making sure to leave his mark on my body. The knot in the pit of my stomach tightened but Felix gave no mercy.

"I'm close." I whispered to the boy who seemed to be seeing red, caring about nothing apart from me and him.

As soon as those words left my lips the second in command seemed to quicken his pace, pounding faster and harder until I was practically screaming, his name fell out of my mouth so easily, so everyone in the island knew who I now belonged too.

"Mmm, Felix." I moaned as the knot in my stomach untwisted, causing nothing but pleasure to take over my body as my juices coated his cock.

Shortly after, I could feel him spray inside me, my name came out of his mouth just as his came out of mine. He stayed where he was for a minute, his shallow breaths slowly returning to normal before he pulled out, laying beside me. The alcohol in his system had long since worn off, he wasn't drunk, he was him again.

We lay there in silence for what felt like an eternity before his arms circled around my waist, trapping my body next to his, Felix's head found a comfy place to rest on my shoulder and I could feel the smile radiating off his face. Before I knew it the boy had fallen asleep with me in his arms, there was no use in trying to move and I would be a liar if I said I wanted too, I let my eyes flutter closed as sleep took over my body.

I wasn't woken up by anything or anyone, but when I did wake up and my eyes fluttered open the first thing I saw was the second in command, playing with my hair.

A smile played on his lips as soon as he saw I was awake, "Good morning." He spoke sweetly.

"Morning." I couldn't stop the smile from spreading across my face when I saw him, his eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas, speaking of which, "Oh my God, its Christmas!"

"Yeah, it is." He chuckled as my, placing a hand in my cheek, "Merry Christmas, Y/n."

"Merry Christmas, Felix." I whispered before he placed a sweet kiss on my waiting lips, as he pulled away he rested in forehead on mine, looking into my e/c eyes.

"I got you something," Felix spoke, sticking his hand under his makeshift bed and placing it in my palms, "open it."

Carefully, I tore off the neat paper, tossing it on the bed beside me, inside the box was a seashell attached to a chain. I glided my fingertip over its rough surface, feeling every bump with a smile.

"I love it." I gleamed, "I got you something too, but it's in my tent and I'm kind of.... you know....naked."

A light blush coated my cheeks as Felix bit his lip, his blue eyes scanning my exposed skin with delight. Protectively, the second in command wrapped his strong arms around me before covering out warn bodies with the quilt of his bed, making sure nobody but him could see me like this. We lay there in silence for a while snuggled up in each others arms, just enjoying one others company, that's when Felix broke the comfortable silence.

"Y/n, there’s something I've wanted to tell you for a while now." He spoke slowly, his hands became calming as he tried to force his eyes to look at mine, "last night, it wasn’t just sex for me.... I love you and I want to spend every night with you, not just last night."

"I love you too." A grin spread across my features as I looked up at him, “Felix, when did you start liking me?”

I could see his cheek turn a light shade of pink, this time not from the alcohol, “I’ve liked you ever since you set foot on the island, I knew there was something about you, I just didn’t know what. I only realized a couple days ago, that’s what me and Pan were talking about last night.”

Stretching my head up I stole a kiss from his lips before snuggling back into his arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whoop Whoop, happy 1st of December everyone!!! I hope you're all in a festive mood because I am!! 🎄🌟

I hope you all enjoyed this story, sorry if it was bad ❤❤ xxx

@nevereverlandboys @lady-of-lies @lonesome-loser @n0rthern-litez

[highqueenofelfhame]

“why are you lying to me” “do you even still love me?” FOR ROWAELIN IDK WHAT AU I JUST WANT SOME AnGST

PART TWO OF THE EXES AU I didn’t include the do you even still love me bit bc it doesn’t fit hOWEVER. Here we go.

The rest of the weekend went almost identical to Friday night. Aelin called Rowan drunk in the middle of the night, he picked her up from the bar and took her home, she begged him to stay until she fell asleep, and when she woke up he was gone.

Monday morning he sent her a text to make sure she was okay, because despite Aelin always drinking in some capacity, the amount she was drinking over the course of the weekend had worried him. She said she was fine, just taking a break from reality over the weekend, don’t worry about it. Right. Like Rowan Whitethorn would ever not worry about Aelin Galathynius.

It was around eight thirty PM when she called this time, about six hours earlier than her other calls, and she wasn’t drunk. In fact, she was sober, her voice as clear as her bright blue eyes.

“I just came out of the office and everyone is gone for the day, and I have a flat. Aedion isn’t answered so I just…can you please help me? You know I’m not good at these things,” her voice was a little muffled, rubbing against her shirt or something as she likely dug around in her trunk. She wasn’t good at these things because she never had to be. They were supposed to have gotten married and Rowan would have taken care of all of this for her regardless for the rest of their lives. Rowan rapped his fingers on his kitchen counter and shoved his box of takeout into the fridge.

“Yeah, I’ll be there in fifteen.”

“Gods, thank you so much. I owe you,” she quipped, the end of her sentence trailing up an octave in relief. He hung up and stuffed his phone into his pocket, snagged his keys off the counter, and made his way to Kingsflame Technologies, her parents business that she was now CEO of at the young age of 26.

When he pulled up, she was sitting with in the open back of her SUV, spare tire and manual jack on the ground next to the completely deflated tire that was still attached to her car. No, she wouldn’t have been able to get anywhere on that thing. He parked, inspecting the tire as he approached, shaking his head slightly.

“Do I or do I not have the most absurd luck you’ve ever seen?” She asked him, pushing off the back of her car. Rowan nodded his head in agreement, acutely award that this was the first sober conversation they’d had in six months. He dropped to the ground and got to work, jacking the car up off the ground, too aware of the way her eyes trailed over his arms. He didn’t say much as he worked, but then neither did she, just standing to the side and watching, most likely absorbing the instruction of how to change a tire so that maybe next time she could do it on her own. She was smart that way, a genius actually, her IQ so high that nobody had ever doubted that Kingsflame would thrive under her control when she took over. Nobody ever thought it would be so soon, though.

When he finished, he pushed himself to his feet and wiped his hands on his jeans, finally giving himself a moment to actually look at her. She was looking at him, too, her turquoise and gold eyes sad, the smile she gave him not quite reaching her eyes. She also looked exhausted, just completely and utterly exhausted, which he honestly expected after the weekend she’d had.

“I’m sorry for this,” she gestured to the mess on the ground, “and for this weekend. My phone kept dying and you’re the only number I really have memorized anymore. I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’m stupid.”

“You’re not…stupid,” he said, and the hesitation in his voice made her laugh, a real laugh, the laugh he loved and dreamt about every fucking night of his life. Then he was laughing, too, the specific laugh that only ever came out around Aelin. The laugh that only she had ever coaxed out of him, it was warm and happy. Sure, he laughed with his friends, but this was something different. A sound his friends hadn’t heard since she broke up with him.

Their laughter died shortly later and an awkward silence filled the space between them, Aelin rocking back onto the heels of her shoes before they reconnected with the ground with a loud slap. She cleared her throat, chewing on her bottom lip – a habit she had since before Rowan had known her.

“I should let you go,” she said softly, bending to pick up the tools, the mess off the ground. Rowan quickly joined her, taking the heavy jack from her hands and tucking it back into it’s compartment, making sure everything was in the right place before he shut the back of her car. “Thank you, Ro.” She moved like she wanted to reach for him, to hug him, but didn’t, awkwardly turning and getting into the drivers seat. He stood there, leaning against his car as she drove away, unable to take his eyes off the place she’d been standing before him moments ago. Unable to unhear the words she’d said so sadly. I should let you go.

-

On Tuesday, it was because her smoke alarm was chirping and she couldn’t reach it. Apartment maintenance wouldn’t be able to come by until the next morning, and she wouldn’t be able to sleep if it kept beeping. Aedion was in Rifthold on business for Kingsflame, and Fenrys was going through a breakup. Lorcan, though dating her friend Elide, didn’t like her enough to help her do anything, unless it meant pushing her down a set of stairs. So when Rowan’s phone rang at six in the evening, when he was finishing up at work, and Aelin gave her whole spiel of how everyone else was busy – he drove to Aelin’s house and stood on a chair and changed the batteries of the smoke alarm. He checked all of them around her apartment, and the carbon monoxide detectors, ensuring that those batteries were good to go, too.

“You should be all set,” he said, hopping off the dining room chair. His landing was quiet as a bird in flight, hardly making a sound when his feet landed on the ground.

“Thank you, Ro. I’m sorry,” she said again, chewing on her full bottom lip, braiding the ends of her hair absently. He merely nodded and left moments later.

-

On Thursday, it was because the toilet was running, and it seemed silly to call her apartment’s maintenance team for such a small job. Aedion was still out of town, Fenrys was still sad, and Lorcan still hated her guts. So when she called Rowan at ten thirty as he stepped out of the shower, he got dressed and went to her apartment, finagling the insides of the toilet tank until the running ceased and everything was in working order.

The whole time, Aelin stood by the door, bouncing on her toes impatiently, golden hair braided over her shoulder. She wore a large t-shirt with a band logo and shorts that barely covered anything. Her feet were bare, toes painted a dark, emerald sort of green.

When he finished this time, it had only been ten minutes, but her hands were raw from wringing them as though she were overly anxious about him being in her bathroom. The bathroom that they used to share, that they had spent three years worth of mornings brushing teeth next to one another. The bathroom that he had taken her on the counter of after a shower.

He wiped his hands on a towel, and she moved from the doorway, letting him exit into the bedroom, watching him go out into the sitting room. Still, she chewed on her bottom lip, so much so that it was a bright hue from being gnawed at.

“Thank you, Ro,” she said, her voice soft. Softer still than it had been days ago, softer than when she had asked him to stay until she was asleep. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he said, but they both knew that wasn’t true. She had broken his heart, left without explanation, asked him to move out after telling him she didn’t want to be with him anymore. She had done plenty. And that lip, sucked between her bottom teeth as she tried not to cry, was another thing she kept doing, the anxious gesture twisting his gut because he wanted nothing more than to kiss her worries away. But he couldn’t. So he grabbed his keys off the kitchen counter and moved toward the door. When she thought he was going to leave, she started to turn to retreat back into the bedroom, but his voice made her pause.

“Why are you lying to me?” Aelin froze, turning slowly on her heels.

“What?”

“About everyone else. Fenrys would have still come. Lorcan would have probably come if Elide asked. You know you could have called maintenance and they could do these little things when you’re not home. And I know you stabbed your tire or something, there wasn’t a nail and the gash was too big. So why are you lying to me?” He didn’t sound mad, his voice was even, maybe just curious. That lip was back between her teeth, growing more red by the second.

“I,” she had to pause to swallow the lump in her throat, her voice cracking on the single syllable. She leaned against the door frame of her bedroom, toes digging into the plush carpet in an attempt to ground herself. “I miss you so much that I can’t breathe and I’ve been trying to let you go for six months and all I can think about is that you should be home. And I can’t – you still came when I called. That first night was an accident I really couldn’t remember anyone else’s number but your’s. But you still came. And you carried me upstairs and tucked me into bed and sat there until I fell asleep because I asked you to. And seeing you felt too good. It felt…I felt whole? So I got hammered all weekend just to call you to take me home. And then I put bad batteries in my smoke alarm, and broke my toilet and slashed my own tire just to see you. Because I knew you’d still come,” she was crying now, bent over with her hands on her knees, tears dripping onto her legs, running down her thighs. She wiped at her nose with the back of her hand the same time she heard the front door close. She let out a sob – she was alone.

@but-she-was-aelin-galathynius @thebitchupstairs @musicmaam @starseternalnighttriumphant

[honestsycrets]

Change the Tab

❛  summary | JDBJS THAT PIC OF ALEX MADE ME THINK, for 5cw can we get modern!au bjorn sending nudes to the wrong person (reader, his friend)??? It doesnt get as awkward as he thinks tho bc youre into it?? 👀

❛ pairing | bjorn x reader x halfdan

❛ type | oneshot 

❛  warnings | some smut, threesomes, squishy!halfdan

Man, what the fuck.

Halfdan loved his bro Bjorn but-- sometimes, he hated his stupid habits. The big blaring chunk of man meat gripped in his pale hand, splattered across his screen told him that of course, yet again, Bjorn failed to change the tab.

So now instead of pretty bitches in scant bikinis-- Halfdan was stuck staring at his best friend, other than Harald, fisting his fat dick. Because of the influx, he abruptly had to stop from cringing at his friend’s size and pick up his own phone again and scroll past his flexing muscles and shaved package.

It was made even worse knowing that they were roommates. As if it wasn’t enough that Halfdan had to hear Bjorn’s headboard slapping the back of the wall at obscene hours of the night when only the alley cats were about, making their howls in conjunction with the whirling sirens.

“Bjorn.”

Halfdan stood in the middle of Bjorn’s doorway, lazily swinging his phone between thumb and middle finger. Upon the bed you snuggle in the space of Bjorn’s neck, your hands stroking over his tattooed chest.

“What’s up?” Your boyfriend rumbles, turning his arms around your waist that cuddles underneath a warm throw. He warms the doorway while trying to formulate a plan of action as to how to approach one of his best friends and yeah, you.

“I’ll talk to you later.” Halfdan defaults, almost turning on his heel when you call out to him.

“Halfdan!” You call. He turns his face, the tuft of blonde hair covering his tired eye while you giggle from behind the blankets. He’s not sure what you’re doing under there when you shift, flicking a stringy pair of panties out from underneath the blankets.

“Come into bed!”

His face drops as he tries to piece together what just happened. Bjorn lifts his eyebrows, his lower lip pursing out as he pulls up the sheets, offering Halfdan a space in the bed you normally shared with Bjorn while he was jacking off alone. He looks down the hall, both ways, before leaning in.

“Is this a joke?” Halfdan asks.

What woman chucked her panties off knowing and relishing that Halfdan was there to soak it in? He was definitely not your boyfriend… but Bjorn looks completely relaxed in the fact that you were spreading your legs from the covering of your dark slip, exposing your folds to him.

“I thought it was too.” Bjorn scoffs, bringing his fingers underneath your dress. He slips up your dress, his hand gently massaging your pretty pussy right in front of his friend. Halfdan’s mouth feels suddenly dry, looking down to his phone.

“Is this what your pictures were about? A lure?” He says.

“It brought you over here, didn’t it?”

“They weren’t very good. You know how I feel about men, Bjorn.” Halfdan scrunches his nose, pulling the door behind him shut. The door clicks with a lock before he slides closer, pulling himself upon the bed. It creaks under his knees, low as he crawls across the bed watching Bjorn’s fingers gingerly massage your cunt. Each small, purposeful rub brings you moans into the air. He can almost taste it. Then, he can’t take it anymore.

He feigns a small groan as he slips under the blanket with the two of you, shifting comfortably on the other side of you. Halfdan exchanges a small glance with Bjorn before tenderly slipping under the warm blanket you hold close. You feel the scratch of his beard against your mound before the hot puffs of air from his lips, wretching jolts of energy through your stomach. Your nipples perk under the blankets, but you curiously lift up the blanket to the man between your legs. Halfdan pulls your body down, guiding your legs to splay open.

“Oh!” You moan outright at his first broad lick passing your lips, spread by Bjorn. A small, shy giggle slips from your lips. You’ve never done this before-- not with two! “That’s-- mmm.”

“Relax.” Bjorn leans over, scratching your face with his short beard. “He’s getting started.”

Halfdan is a quiet lover. His tongue sweeps against your exposed pussy in smooth licks that seek out the good responses to ones that were, well, less so. He’s boding with a tongue that would race between your inner folds down to your soaked entrance, prodding and flicking his tongue as if it were a finger inside of it.

“Tell him he’s doing a good job. He likes that.”

“He’s good, baby.” You moan. Your hands slip down to the thin blonde hair that normally curves over his face, pawing him shyly forward. “He’s soo good.

Halfdan smiles against your lips-- but that quickly dies when Bjorn’s big hand cups the back of his head, shoving him forward to grind his nose against your cunt to rectify his pace. His slow and impassioned pace is too much for him. Your boyfriend drops his fingers to your clit, flicking his thumb over it with a hard jerk of his fingers over and over again.

“Could be better.” Bjorn huffs.

“Shit, shit, shit, Bjorn--”

Halfdan reaps the benefits of Bjorn’s actions, your nearly salty sweet taste spilling over his tongue. The older man knows when he’s almost there, dipping his thick fingers inside of your entrance in one smooth sweep of his fingers. Like that with a deep moan, you spill over Halfdan’s tongue, oozing over his fingertips as he finger fucks you through your orgasm. Your chest rises and drops when Bjorn shifts you over. He gives your ass a playful slap.

“On all fours.”

“Babe, what are you doing?” You ask. Unfamiliar hands take your hips, and if you were guessing right, you’d say that it wasn’t Bjorn that was sliding into your overly sensitive pussy at that moment. The thrust is too smooth and sweet. A light brown beard tickles your shoulders and as you look up, you flush.

“Halfdan.”

It was going to be an interesting night.

@igetcarriedawaywithyou, @kylobien, @titty-teetee, @breathlessouls, @nejijjeoroo, @bcat1291, @readsalot73, @mslothbrok, @romanchronicles, @captstefanbrandt, @ailucascen, @michaeliskindahot, @cbouvier23, @naaladareia, @cbouvier23, @the-geeky-engineer, @dorned, @lisinfleur, @funmadnessandbadassvikings, @tephi101, @akamaiden, @ethereallysimple, @venusloviing, @happylittlepuppydog, @beyond-the-ashes, @slutforrpg, @hipsternoionlylikeunicorns, @mixedwiththemoon, @sparklemichele, @alicedopey, @lif3snotouttogetyou, @rubyquartzshades, @noregretsandyeteveryregret, @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol, @deathbyarabbit, @unacceptabletatertots, @beyond-the-ashes (no sig), @babypink224221, @ivarandersen, @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla, @moose-squirrel-asstiel, @icarus-fell-in-spring, @end-of-night, @gruffle1, @lol-haha-joke @arses21434,  @smileyparrots, @Moosemittens13, @miss-artemis-wild, @two-unbeatable-beaters, @wonderwoman292, @wish-i-was-a-mermaid, @fangirls94, @mcuimxgine, @killerb00sdeath, @heartbeats-wildly, @boo20017, @acacheofstrange, @shaelyn102, @astoryoffireandlight, @smokealone, @shaelyn102 @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly--canthrope@cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking , @inforapound @wichesterwife27 , @ladyofsoa

[astralshipper]

ALRIGHT SO UHHHH i need a MEGA fix it fic for tonight’s ep of spn for many many reasons but for NOW i fixed just. one thing. don’t read this if u don’t want to be spoiled for 15x03!!! this is basically me just. being absolutely wild over belph sooooo hope yall don’t mind me fawning over a demon!!!!!!!!

this is incredibly incredibly INCREDIBLY self indulgent but it’s definitely not the most self indulgent thing ive written for this fandom jalnbfue youve been warned!!

warnings: language, supernatural elements (ofc), angst w a happy ending, kissin a demon bc we’re all sinners anyways 

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Dean shouted at the retreating back of the demon. Belphegor never turned, his steps never even faltered. He kept his hands stuffed in the pockets of Jack’s blood soiled jacket and continued on towards the entrance to the crypt.

Astra watched him with a concerned gaze. “I’ll go get him, you guys stay here. Try to figure this out, okay? There’s gotta be a way.” She punctuated her sentence with a turn on her heel, and she set off after the demon.

She missed Jack, there was no doubt about that. Jack was a close friend, very close, part of the team, all of that. She missed him to bits, and her heart still hurt every time she saw his body and knew it wasn’t him manning the wheel. But still, something about the personality now residing in that head made her heart rate pick up and her stomach to erupt in butterflies. Even still, she tried her best not to focus on it. Even if the world wasn’t ending again, and they hadn’t just made an enemy of God himself, she still wouldn’t be able to even think about trying anything. At the end of the day, he’s a demon, and she’s a hunter, and the team would never be okay with anything like that.

“Belphegor!” Astra called as she exited the crypt. She picked up her pace and began jogging towards him. “Belphegor, wait up! Come on, you can’t- you can’t just leave us! Not after all we’ve done, you can’t just give up!” She pleaded.

Suddenly, Belphegor stopped moving. He halted in place, hands never leaving his pockets, but never turning around. He hung his head low as it lolled limply on his neck. Astra slowed her pace, but continued moving forward. 

“Belphegor? Come on, Belphegor, come back with me. Don’t leave us like this. We can’t just give up.” She was practically begging at this point. Her mouth hung slightly ajar as she tried to think of what else she could say to keep him there. She wasn’t even sure, at this point, if she was fighting for him to stay with the team, or for him to stay with her. It didn’t matter anyways, she reminded herself. It was the same thing, right?

He removed one hand from his jacket to pinch at the bridge of his nose. A heavy breath released from his nose. “I can’t do this,” he muttered under his breath. Astra’s brows furrowed and she took another tentative step towards him.

“Bel? What do you mean? Of course you can, we just need to work together. I know the rest of the team doesn’t totally trust you, but I do, okay? And we can fix this, but we need to do it together.” Her voice broke repeatedly as she spoke, and she was thankful for the extra step she took. She wasn’t sure he would’ve heard her soft voice if she had been any further away.

Belphegor shook his head wildly against her words. “No, no no no no no, you don’t get it. You don’t get it, that’s not what I mean. I mean, I can’t. Do. This.” He jabs his chin towards the large gash in the earth, from which the spirits of the damned continued to escape in droves. Astra’s eyes flickered from the flying wisps of smoke back to the squared shoulders and back mere inches in front of her. 

“I-” She began, only to cut herself off to swallow the rising lump in her throat. “Belph, I don’t understand... What are you talking about?” Her voice shook with her uncertainty. She twisted her neck in an attempt to see his face, feeling uncomfortable with this way of conversation.

She didn’t need to struggle for long, as mere moments later he whirled around on his heel to face her. He stood so close, his flaring nose brushed against hers as he bent to her level. His jaw set with his clear anger, clenching and unclenching repeatedly. “I’m a demon,” he reminded her.

She raised a brow in question. “Oh really? I hadn’t noticed,” she mused, heavy on the sarcasm. 

An annoyed huff escaped his nose, his lips curling into a dark, venomous smirk, void of any and all amusement. “You don’t get it. You trust me. You shouldn’t trust me, Astra. I’m. A. Demon. That’s basically day one at hunter school, right? Don’t trust the assholes with the black eyes?”

She gave a vague shrug. “Well, to be fair, you don’t actually have eyes...”

He let out a frustrated groan. “This isn’t a joke. I know that’s kinda hard to believe with me, but for once in my life, this isn’t a fucking joke!” He snapped, finally breaking his spell on her by turning and storming a few feet away. She blinked at the sudden loss of his presence so close to her, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. 

She watched as Belphegor threaded his fingers through his hair and tugged at the light brown strands. He paced back and forth through the tombstones littering the grounds. “You shouldn’t trust me. You shouldn’t. After all this, you trust me, and you shouldn’t.”

“Why not? You’ve helped us, you trapped all the ghosts and saved the town, saved the world! All we have to do is get them back in Hell,” she tried to reason with him. Her words trailed off as he continued to shake his head.

“But that...” This time, it was his turn to force down the lump rising in his throat. “That wasn’t my plan, Astra,” he admitted in a soft tone, a tone she hadn’t heard since that body was being used by Jack. It almost knocked her off her feet to hear it again after all they had been through the past day or so. 

Her blood turned to ice in her veins. Surely she was misunderstanding him. “What are you saying, Belphegor?” The hurt and betrayal seeped deep into her words, soaking them in her denial. Belphegor continued running his hands to the back of his head, where he interlaced his fingers as he hung his head.

“I’m sorry, Astra,” he continued, confirming her worst fears. “I’m not just that perfect little soldier I wanted everyone to think I was.” He barked out a harsh laugh, a laugh that was hollow and lifeless and sent a shiver down Astra’s spine. “I’ve been planning this for centuries. Not this situation exactly, obviously, but over the years? Acting like I’m just the perfect little lackey, getting close to Lilith and Crowley and just, anyone that came into power, all I had to do was get close, and then wait. And when Crowley bit the dust, I thought this is it, this is my chance. And when the big guy cracked the universe open like a teen’s skull in a slasher film? I took that as my cue.”

Astra could no longer feel her hands, or her feet, or her legs, and the numbness continued to travel up her arms with every word. All she could move was her head, which she shook back and forth in denial. “No,” she whispered. “No, tell me you’re kidding. Tell me this is another dumb joke and tell me we can laugh about it and go back into the crypt and work on fixing this together. Tell me anything, anything other than this. I’m begging you, Belphegor,” she pleaded with him. The tears welling up in her eyes were reflected in the wet sound of her voice. She noticed the visible, full body wince the demon gave as her voice broke in her desperation.

“I can’t do that. I’m done lying to you.” He dropped his arms to his side and slowly turned back towards her. His fists clenched by his sides. His mouth hung open just a bit, and his head tilted to the side as he seemed to be studying her in depth, trying to see into the depths of her soul with a glance. “Who are you?”

The hunter blinked in surprise at his question. “What?”

The demon let out a huff and shook his head. The grin on his face was sour and held no amusement. “I’ve had this plan for hundreds and hundreds of years. I had the perfect plan to take over, rule not only Hell, but Earth, Heaven, everything. I’d be a god. I could have everything. It’s been all I’ve focused on for so long, and then... then you come along, and you just... you... fuck!” Once again, he was grasping at the roots of his hair in frustration. “I hardly know you. You’re some random hunter, you shouldn’t matter. You shouldn’t get in the way of anything, not when I can have anything I want. So, why can’t I go through with this now? Why am I standing here, worrying about what would happen to you? Why am I ready to give up everything I’ve worked towards for all these years just because it could hurt one human? And a hunter, no less!” His voice was a growl, but none of his questions were meant to be answered. So she remained silent, and she decided to let him figure it out himself. She simply offered a concerned gaze in support. 

He let out a shaky breath. His eyebrows relaxed and his shoulders dropped in defeat. “I could have everything,” he repeated softly. Astra nodded. “I could have power. I could be a god.” Once again Astra nodded, slower this time. “It’s so close. It’s right there...”

She gave him a pained smile. “I know, Bel.” Her words barely reached his ears with the softness of her tone, and the sound of her voice seemed to knock the breath from the demon’s lungs. 

A moment’s silence passed between the two. The chaos continued to rage on around them, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t phase them whatsoever. Then, slowly but surely, Belphegor stepped back towards Astra. Back towards the crypt. Away from the hole.

Away from his whole plan and all of his power.

His strides grew in length as he made his way back over to her, and once he was within reach, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest. She grabbed desperately at his jacket and burrowed her face in his neck. One of his hands threaded through her hair to scratch softly at her scalp. His nose buried into the crown of her head, nuzzling into this newfound comfort greedily. 

The hand at the back of her head trailed down to her jaw, where he hooked two fingers to tilt her face up towards his. Her tear stained face pouted up at him, and her eyes remained red rimmed from the emotions of the past few minutes. He leaned down with great hesitation, pulling away multiple times with his uncertainty. Astra remained still and allowed him to make the decision himself, though she had to admit, it was difficult to hold back from just connecting with him in a kiss.

Finally, he bit the bullet and pressed his lips against hers. She melted into him and snaked her arms around his neck instinctively. His arms wound around her waist to pull her closer. 

Neither of them were sure how much time had passed by the time they pulled away, but it didn’t really matter in their eyes. Astra stayed on her toes to nudge her nose against his, attempting to get him to smile. Much to her delight, it worked, and he let out a soft chuckle.

“Who the hell are you?” He wondered aloud.

Astra gave him a soft smile. “I’m not really sure yet. You mind sticking around to find out?”

[thejamesoldier]

A Single Frayed Rope

AO3 Link :)

Prologue

A/N: So Arthur's got his own horse (of course not poor Boadicea) like the other gang members do and not that Tennessee Walker pinto you get in the start of the game bc reasons and artistic license :)))))))

Chapter 1 ~ Colter I

The Northwestern Peaks of Grizzlies East, Ambarino ~ Unknown Date

You know for sure you're dreaming this time.

Blue clear skies reign above you, a mountain sleeps below you, and green grass rolls gently over the steep rock inclines on either side of you. Wildflowers humbly greet the sun as dawn breaks the fasting cold of night, life slowly awakening as light hushes into the world. An eagle soars a few leagues above you, great wings flapping as it lowers itself with its talons extended to a rock that sits behind what looks to be a, a simple grave.

Something draws you forward, a single rope tying you irrevocably to whatever lies in the distance -- whatever is on the other end. You pick your way slowly across the uneven terrain as sweeping curtains of warmth brought by the proud dawn part before you. Despite the sun tingling against your skin, you hold yourself tight to brace against the stubborn morning chill nipping at your heels like loyal hounds, urging you to move faster towards the inevitable. There's a silence that settles around you then, broken only by the sound of your footsteps that crunch against the gravel as you walk. You stop a respectful foot in front of the humble resting place unsure of what to do but strangely not questioning why you're here. Flowers the exact color of sunset are planted in a thoughtful cluster around an erected cross, a circle of wood rounding atop all three protruding ends of the cross distinguishes it from a normal grave. A sentence is carved there while a name is displayed on the horizontal center plank.

"Arthur Morgan," You whisper softly after a moment, reading the name carefully but lovingly etched into the fresh wood. The name feels foreign on your tongue but none the less it yanks on that rope anchored deep in your chest.

Before you can read the rest of the epitaph the eagle takes off with a cry as the wind picks up suddenly, startling your gaze away from the grave. The wind doesn't gust into you as you expect it to by the swift way it lifts the eagle high into the sky. Instead it sings, harmonizes with itself, as it banks against the mountain face behind you after dragging chilled fingers along your cheeks. Its as if speaking the name of the man who rests here evoked something within the surrounding nature, the moment feels sacred somehow, and in the distance you notice a stag -- proud head lifted high as it faces you. He's about a mile off, standing in a large green valley that rests just after the mountain's sheer incline gentles into sloping hills. A thick heavy morning fog curls about his hooves, the sun barely reaching him as it crawls slowly over the jagged line of the horizon and glows softly within the frame of his antlers -- a phantom of strength and beauty. Even after you meet his gaze and hold it, exposed and stripped of everything material, the great beast remains unshaken.

Maybe this isn't a dream.

Maybe it isn't dawn but its dusk.

And maybe...maybe this is a memory.

--

A Glacier Northwest of Colter ~ May, 1899  

Arthur doesn't understand what he's seeing at first.

Javier gives pause beside him too as they spot John and then notice the curled up form beside him. They both sway slightly on their feet when they eventually work out its a naked unconscious woman. Arthur's body jolts him forward on its own in order to begin working his way down to get her -- John, to get them both. John doesn't even seem like he knows she's there as he calls for Arthur in that raspy familiar voice of his, the sound of it reopening a wound deep in Arthur's chest that he's been constantly attempting to repair ever since John returned to the gang.

He left us.

Arthur clenches his jaw as he approaches him, shoving the hurt away as violently as he can even though he knows it'll float back up through his subconsciousness and haunt him later. Worry, of all things, takes his sorrow's place as he really assess John's condition. But as soon as John meets his eye, spirit nearly broken as his body is, Arthur feels his familiar wall of anger spring up around him at the vulnerability, swiftly separating him from the world, a veil against his reality -- his coping mechanism polished and efficient from years of use against pain and loss. Arthur offers John a few clipped words of comfort as he bends to collect John's nearly frozen body. Its not until he heaves him -- albeit a little more roughly than necessary -- up over his shoulder and starts to pass him to Javier to carry out of the small sunken ditch they're in, that John even acknowledges the woman lying a few feet away.

"The girl, the woman-n A-Arthur, the woman, she ain't dead, t-take her too." John gets out through his violently chattering teeth.

Arthur doesn't quite know how to respond to that as he was already planing to take her with them so he doesn't, just wordlessly bends down and gently pitches the woman up into his arms, trying to avoid looking at her nakedness as he does so.

How the hell did a woman end up running about on a frozen mountain alone and naked, of all things?

Putting her over his shoulder didn't feel right, made her seem too much like a corpse, so instead Arthur carries her bridal style and holds her as close to his chest as he can as he minds his footing while navigating his way off the ledge to higher more solid ground.

Once they reach their mounts Arthur speaks over the wind that's starting to pick up again,

"Marston! Where did she come from?"

John winces as he gingerly adjusts himself behind Javier on the back of Boaz,

"Dunno, I was r-runnin' from them wolv-ves and we kind of found each other. T-Took to the high cliffs to escape."

Arthur only grunts in response as he struggles to loosen his saddle enough to pull the wool blanket that served as a saddle pad out from underneath the leather seat. Once he's wiggled it free he quickly covers the limp woman in his arms with it, hoping the heat from the worked horse settled deep in the fabric would help her thaw or at least stop her from losing any limbs if she hadn't lost them to hypothermia already. He lifts her up onto his mare Sabine after re-tightening the saddle, hushing at her when she nickers in protest at the loss of her blanket, before mounting up himself. Arthur's fingers shake with the cold as he unbuttons his thick layers of coats and pulls the woman tight against his chest. He does his best trying to button the both of you in together, forcing the stiff worn fabrics to stretch.

"Why the hell is she naked?" Javier asks, since no one else was willing to, as he turns Boaz in a direction that looks like it holds the safest path back to camp.

John shrugs only to instantly regret moving, the deep open wounds on his face pulling themselves wider as he lets out a shout of pain.

"Let's just get back to camp and ask questions later," Arthur orders as he positions the woman's body to curl in to him, hooking her legs over to one side of the horse and guiding her head to rest in the pocket of warmth between the side of his neck and the thick fur of his coat's flipped up collar. Any of her skin that isn't covered by his coat Arthur tucks the saddle pad around.

He pushes aside all sense of propriety as he feels Javier and John watching him maneuver her as they wait -- not judging Arthur, just uneasy with the overall absurdity of the situation. Every inch of her is pressed against him, uncomfortably so, in favor of making sure she doesn't die. He knows bare skin against bare skin is the most efficient way to share body heat, he knows this is a life or death situation going by the fact that she's starting to chill Arthur to the bone with how cold she is. The severity of her condition helps him ignore his bashfulness and follow Javier's lead with his head high as he guides the small group back to camp.

Arthur promises himself he can be embarrassed and furious about all this later.

--

Colter ~ May, 1899

The first thing you register is the absence of the cold. It's strange because you had grown so used to it, you felt oddly naked without it.

And that becomes the second thing you register: course fabric against your skin.  

You slowly stir yourself into consciousnesses, feeling like you have molasses in your veins and a heavy stone for a brain. Your body protests sharply though as you attempt to sit up once you understand you're in fact alive and no longer freezing. The pain is a deep stabbing ache that seems to have no origin but just exists in every cell of your body, and it bullies you back into stillness. Once your suffering ebbs a touch, your other senses take over.

"Is the lost lady waking up?" A small nervous voice asks, a child.

"Dunno Jack, but if she does she's in enough pain that I reckon she couldn't hurt us even if she tried." A responding voice hushes, tone firm but comforting and intimate. The mother.

"Okay."

You keep your eyes closed at that, thinking maybe you should pretend to be asleep a little longer (and you don't think your eyes could handle any form of light right now anyways). Your head throbs as being awake starts to prove to be painful and exhausting, your tongue lies heavy and dry in your mouth, and you agree with the woman -- your limbs feel like lead, so heavy you don't think you could lift your pinky finger.

Weak, you feel so weak.

And with that thought you're pulled back under the dark surf of unconsciousness.

--

"Dutch, Dutch we got a lot of folk to feed now," A man's worried voice accompanied by a door banging open yanks you out the grey fray you were lost in, "If you keep savin' lost souls and taking hostages then we gotta act accordingly. We're responsible for them now and we gotta take care of everyone else! We can't do that if you go gallivanting off with the strongest in our gang robbin' trains and shootin' up O'Driscolls!"

"Hosea I don't know what to tell you, I've said this a hundred times, we'll be fine. We always are. We made it back alright from that O'Driscoll camp, and we will make it back from this train robbery in tact and that much richer. We need this money. How are we gonna move everyone to a safe place without cash?"

"We at least need to leave the goddamned snow, Dutch! Once we get to country that's inhabited by people then we can think about a big take, but right now food and not freezin' to death are our main concerns."

"Arthur and Charles found us some food, we'll be fine --,"

"No we are not fine. The two stags, both of which were starving too by the way, aren't going to last us. Arthur and Javier brought back John and a half-dead woman who we know nothing about, and then on top of that you found poor Mrs. Adler and now another O'Driscoll! Christ alive Dutch, half of us are dyin' we can't afford to risk --,"

"Hosea," The sound of hands grasping shoulders fills the pause between the man's words, "Hosea have faith in me, trust me to get us all out of this alive."

Silence reigns then. You figure you're in a small room by the way their voices don't carry too far in the space. Wind howls outside, banging on doors and rattling windows fighting to get in. The confusion that hits you once you really catch on to their conversation alarms you so severely you begin to shake.

Gangs?

Shooting?

Robbing?

What the fuck is going on? Where are you? Who in Gods name are these people?

"I trust you Dutch, you know that, but think about this, please, for me. Think about all the people that need to be the priority right now, Colm will still be there, trains and coaches and rich people to rob will still be there, but John might not make it, the woman with him who was naked mind you and already half dead when they found her will probably not make it, Mrs. Adler might not make it. Davey died, Dutch. Jenny is dead. We've got family missin' too, Mac and Sean --,"

"You don't have to remind me Hosea!"

"Okay, I know, but we gotta think about them and who is left. We gotta put the gang first, and ridin' out like this isn't going to help or save anyone."

"I've, I've made up my mind Hosea. This money is what we need, it will help us be comfortable once we've left the mountains."

"Dutch there are other ways to help, I know you're desperate to do something -- anything that's useful, but this isn't the way to go about it --,"

"It's too good a chance to miss and I'm taking the risk."

"Dutch!"

The door bangs open again and the two pairs of angry footsteps leave. The wind bursts in as they exit and lathers you with its icy breath, making you shake harder as the door closes and leaves you alone with the cold and a growing sense of unfathomable fear. With more effort than it should take, you finally open your eyes, your lids sticking a bit as your irises protest even in the dim lighting of the room. Once you're able to take in your surroundings your panic only increases.

A bare wooden cabin that looks like it could be blown over if the wind pushed a hair harder turns out to be the room you've been in, a pathetic fire struggles in a fireplace with strips of cloth, twigs, and stray handfuls of hay to serve as its logs in the corner nearest to you. You're laying on a cot of some sort with no blankets, just the fabric of your clothes to shield you from the cold seeping through the generous cracks in the wood-plank walls. You finally sit up after four separate attempts once you realize you're alone. Your head swims with the change of position and your stomach gives a nauseating drop but you firmly ignore it as you try to quell the panic that's slowly inflating in your chest like an iron balloon, inch by inch it doesn't yield, growing steadily -- inevitably -- and stealing your sanity.

The urge to run spikes in your system, your flight instinct kicking in as savagely as it did when the wolves chased you.

You grunt as you make yourself stand, swaying dangerously on your feet you grip the splintering mantle of the fireplace to stop yourself from collapsing. Struggling to fight the buckling in your knees, you feel the adrenaline slowly feeding strength into your dead muscles, injecting you with empty energy causing you to shake and shiver like a crack addict but none the less giving you the push to get your body into motion. You stagger to the door and wait as you hear the sound of muted hooves thunder away, a small stampede charging the smirking maws of the mountains. When the voices left behind simmer down and everything seems quiet enough, you crack the door open an inch to get a look outside. You recoil almost immediately at the brightness of the sun reflecting off the blanket of snow covering everything. It takes your eyes a good ten minutes to adjust and for you to really get a sense of your situation.

No one seems to be out, though you know people are in the cabins that line both sides of what you assume is a street or main path in the center of this small cluster of sad buildings. Everything is dilapidated and falling apart, well tread paths clue you in to which buildings are most heavily inhabited. Horse hitching posts stand lonely and bare a bit ways down and your mind struggles to wrap its head around everything.

Where are the cars? The street lights? The telephone poles? Or any sign of genuine civilization?

You swallow against the bile that rises from the back of your throat as panic only suffocates you further. Its bare of people outside so you could probably sneak out, but how the hell are you supposed to survive out there in nature by yourself? Especially in your condition. It's not like you could make a phone call or steal someones cell phone as you spotted none in the room on the way to the door. It's not like you could escape by stealing a car, or a... a horse since that's what these people used instead of technology. Are you on some sort of farm? Is this a Mormon colony? Is there a driveway or garage further down the snow covered road you just couldn't see? All the questions swirling in your brain distract you so much that you don't hear the door that connects this room with the adjoining one open.

"You're awake,"

You startle and collapse to the floor as three people behind you raise their hands in surrender while you shake with your back against the wall. Its the man you nearly froze to death with, a woman, and a child -- a young boy.

"Woah okay, you're okay," The woman says in what sounds like a heavy southern accent, though it registers as slightly different from what you remember a southern accent sounding like. You can't put your finger on it.

The woman doesn't attempt to move closer to you as she is supporting the weight of the man, but she does push the boy who you assume to be her son behind her with her free hand. You just stare and shake, unable to do much else. Now that you're on the floor it seems impossible to try and get back up, like all the adrenaline you had before has now twisted into fear and its paralyzing you instead of helping you move. They're all dressed like they're straight out of a western film, or like they're part of some high budget reenactment. The theory that this is some sort of Mormon colony dissipates like smoke in the wind because you're pretty sure established Mormons don't wear tattered rags and live in poverty like this. This only adds to your confusion and mounting anxiety. It's not until you wrap your arms around your knees that you realize you're wearing almost the exact same thing the woman is, a dull coarse frock of some sort with a heavy shift and thick skirts.

"W-What," You croak out of your unused throat, beginning to hyperventilate.

Why are you also wearing old fashion clothing?

"Hey, okay you're okay, you're safe," The woman tries to emphasize gently like she's speaking to a wild animal, but you don't really hear her as your heart starts to beat too fast, your breath turns to ash in your lungs, blood rushes from your head, your ears start to ring, and all sense of reality slips from you.

--

"Poor thing," Abigail murmurs, glancing over at the woman in the cot adjacent to John's while she unwraps the bandages on John's face.

Abigail had moved her with the help of Miss Grimshaw back to her cot after she blacked out on the floor.

John stays silent but does look over at the stranger too. The wild desperation he saw in her eyes the first time he met her on that mountain had morphed into a kind of savage panic. He feels sorry for her as she lays there exhausted and weak and scared, and is reminded how lucky he is Abigail gives a damn about him. He couldn't imagine being alone right now, being as vulnerable as he is and being on his own. He never should have left Abigail and the gang -- never should have left his family.

"That would be me if it weren't for you," John finds himself whispering to Abigail, voice thick with rare emotion that echos out through the deep earthy brown of his eyes.

Admitting out loud that he needs her strips John down to a state of vulnerability he has never exposed to Abigail or anyone before. John knows how horrible Abigail and him are at telling each other how they feel, its endless guessing and fighting and passion and push and pull and sex and hate and give and take. This gentle moment between them is precious, and John knows Abigail recognizes this as she tenderly brushes some of his tangled matted hair away from the swollen scars on his face. Abigail avoids his gaze, afraid to shatter the moment -- afraid to scare John and this fragile intimacy away -- and only dabs gently at John's facial wounds with a cloth drenched with near frozen alcohol. A forcefully neutral expression strains her pretty features as the true weight of his words settle in her heart. John knows he is nowhere near forgiven but he's wanted, as painful as it is for her he knows she wants him. Wants him to love her in the way she deserves, wants him to love Jack, wants him to let her love him, wants him to be a good man...

"I like her." Jack offers offhandedly, breaking them out of the moment as he stares in his own little world at the sleeping stranger with that fearful curiosity of his.

John wants to say something to stomp out the magic in Jack's eyes, to erase the air of mystery around the woman, but he manages to bite his tongue. He hates when he has urges like that, urges to destroy everything that brings Abigail's boy some semblance of joy or wonder.

A good man? John thinks bitterly, the word good doesn't even exist in my vocabulary. 

--

Returning from the successful train robbery should feel like a victory, feel good, but Arthur just can't manage to gather any ego under him as he spots Hosea talking fiercely with Dutch by one of the cabins. Hosea always knows when shit is going downhill, is the brain behind Dutch's colorful brawn, and when Hosea is worried its usually a good sign that everyone should be worried. Arthur had felt hesitant about the robbery job too, but he trusted that Dutch knew what he was doing. Hell he'd follow Dutch off a cliff if it was asked of him.

"That's it girl," Arthur murmurs at Sabine, his wild Hungarian Halfbred mare he managed to tame as the gang had been chased up into the mountains. He missed his Boadicea but this mare has an air about her, has so much fight in her he originally had thought she was a stallion. With a solid black coat that shines like polished onyx in the sun and a build that towers over everyone and everything -- even Bill's Adrennes, the majestic audacity of her stuns him almost everytime he looks at her.

Arthur guides his girl over to the hitching posts and stiffly dismounts, the cold making his muscles clamp up a bit. He brushes her as best he can with the saddle on still trying to get her used to him. He has to be really strict with her, has to really use his legs to get her to listen (especially in tense situations) since being heavy handed on the bit and tearing her mouth up would only enrage her, not encourage her to work with him. But he knows that once he's earned her trust and they both work out their special language of physical and verbal cues, that she'll make one hell of a partner in crime. Arthur sneaks her a stale oatcake he found at the bottom of a barrel Pearson had stashed in the makeshift kitchen, and pets her thick glorious neck as Dutch and Hosea's unintelligible arguing carries over the clearing to him. It sounds like its really starting to get heated and it makes Arthur's heart heavy. He sighs before giving Sabine one more rub behind her ear, getting a hard snort of attitude for his trouble, and heads toward the cabin he knew John and Abigail were holed up in.  

--

You have been awake and pretending to be asleep for what feels like hours now and its due to the fact that you're terrified to face reality. You keep convincing yourself that if you listen in on one more conversation everything will finally make sense. But honestly, the more you eavesdrop the more confused you become.

"It sounds like Hosea is gonna try and move us soon, probably tomorrow since the storm has finally broke." The woman who tried to comfort you during your panic attack earlier -- the mother -- says earnestly. You've since learned that her name is Abigail.

"Well good, I never wanna be cold or see snow again for the rest of my life." The man who had almost froze to death with you replies, his name you discovered is John.

Their son (or at least Abigail's son, you weren't sure if John is the father; the two of them argue quite nastily about it whenever the boy sleeps), who you eventually figure out is named Jack, has been silent for awhile. Though when you hear a rustling of fabric -- small hands readjusting their grip in his mother's thick skirts to keep warm, you know he's still in the room.

The door is thrown open before Abigail can respond and you hope no one notices how sharply you flinch.

"Still alive there Marston?" Comes a new voice to accompany the freezing draft that's let in, one you don't recognize but still sounds familiar somehow.

"It'll take more than a couple of wolves and a snow storm to get me out of the picture." John immediately shoots back, tone defensive -- completely losing the softness it courted when speaking with Abigail.

"Yeah, I reckon you could find a simpler excuse to cut and run again than that."

"Arthur!" Abigail snaps and you realize that this isn't playful banter between friends, its a roomful of predators bearing their teeth at each other, "I will not have you speak of that again!"

"My apologies Abigail, I just haven't forgiven the fool as quickly as you have."

"He is a fool you're right but he's my fool, he's Jack's fool, he's ours. And I'll have you remember he was your fool too once, you were brothers --,"

"Abigail stop!" John cuts her off in nearly a shout, the rough texture in his voice a sign that dangerous emotional territory was just breached.

Before anyone can say anything more though the door opens again.

"Everyone get packing, we're moving out tomorrow at first light!" It's a woman's voice, older -- a bit scratchy, kind of reminded you of a vulture's caw, "Miss Roberts you organize John and Jack's things, Arthur you come help me ready this woman for traveling."

"We're taking her with us? Has she even woken up yet?" The man you now know to be Arthur asks but doesn't argue.

"Unfortunately yes, Hosea and Dutch's orders. And I believe she's had bursts of consciousness so we'd be killin' her if we left her here."

"Doesn't Dutch think she's an O'Driscoll spy? Why would he want to keep any more of them rats alive, we already got one why keep another?"

"I don't know Mr. Morgan, if it was up to me I'd shoot them both and be done with it."  

Your heart freezes over as you realize with mounting horror that they are talking about you.

A spy? What the actual fuck?

You petrify with fear as two pairs of footsteps, one quick and determined and the other heavy with intent and the promise of violence, approaches you. If you woke up now it would be obvious that you were listening in and it would make them trust you even less than they apparently already did. Who automatically assumed a naked lost woman on a frozen mountaintop was a spy? Who were these people?

"If you wouldn't mind moving her to the ground while I take apart this cot that would be a great help Mr. Morgan."

"Why do we need the cot?"

"Bill wants it. Says he can use it to torture the two O'Driscolls on when we get to warmer country."

Your blood runs cold at that before solidifying into ice as big hands grab you, manhandling you like you are a cheap rag doll, and hauling you up into the air. You force yourself to remain limp in his arms as he holds you bridal style, trying not to cower and flinch as you're not so gently adjusted in this man's grip. You're ready to be lowered back down again presumably on the floor but you remain firmly in Arthur's arms. But this does little to pull you from your worries.

Now they're talking about torture?

You hadn't thought your terror could get any worse but you were oh so wrong.

While Arthur is warm, a great furnace wrapped in what feels like thick coats, it does nothing to comfort you. In fact tears line your closed eyelids and slip out of the corners of your lashes. The physicality of being in the arms of someone who wanted -- or at least didn't care if you were tortured, left here in the cold, or died made everything too real. Made the fear that has plagued you since you woke in that silent forest naked and alone crumble what little control you had maintained in the mock safety of the Marston family cabin.  

"She's shakin'," You hear Arthur murmur under his breath, tone as deep and vast as the bottom of the sea, sounding like he hadn't meant to speak out loud. Then deliberately, "She's shakin' and cryin'," And when that doesn't get him a response, "Miss Grimshaw?"

He sounds unsure, edging on panic ironically enough. Probably just ready to be rid of the discomfort your display of manifested terror is giving him.

"She'll be fine Mr. Morgan, she's just weak is all. It's better this way anyway, we'll get more outta her faster when she comes to enough to interrogate."

"She seemed real scared when she was awake," Abigail intercedes from what sounds like the opposite side of the room, "I don't think she's a spy."

"Well then if she's not a spy for the O'Driscolls then she is most definitely one of their whores." Arthur tightens his grip on you at this, "Who runs around as naked as the day they were born like that? There was probably an O'Driscoll camp near by," There's a short sound of hollow metal being dragged across the floor, "And she wandered too far away. There is no one else living up here, where else would she have come from?"

John mumbles something about you then but you don't hear it as you spiral yet again into another full fledged panic attack.  

"She's really breathin' hard are you sure she's alright?" Arthur says with a quality of alarm in his voice you don't have the mental capacity to analyze right now.

"Mr. Morgan I really don't understand why you're so bothered, let her suffer, easier to break her when she wakes." There is a tense pause, the sound of rusted metal joints dislocating and folding, then, "Alright, toss her on the floor there. We'll move her to the cart that will be carrying the other O'Driscoll in the morning."

You can't help but tense a little as Arthur starts to shift under you, but instead of tossing you to the floor as this Miss Grimshaw had suggested, Arthur sets you down with thundering gentleness. It shocks you so much that it brings you out of your panic for a second, wrenches you so swiftly from what you believe your reality to be. Your chest heaves out a sob as your head, cradled like fractured glass in his wide calloused palms, is laid carefully down atop the worn wood of the floorboards after the rest of your body has been transferred from his arms. His fingers linger a second on either side of your face near the cliffs of your jaw, and it makes you sob again. He withdraws all touch from you at the sound like you had burned him, like he thought he might be the reason for your pain. And in a way he is, but largely the universe is at fault.

Time traveling is not of mortal grace, something Greater is to blame for this. Since you don't know what or who is responsible, you curse them all, curse everything you can think of. Because as you sob and shiver on the floor in some cabin in the middle of nowhere surrounded by dangerous strangers in a time you have slowly come to realize is not your own, you arrive at the notion that survival is least likely. But damn it all, you will survive. Out of spite you will survive. And heaven help the force that tries to keep you from success.

--

It's the middle of the night and the people in your cabin -- John, Abigail, and Jack -- are all asleep trying to get some rest before traveling tomorrow. You manage to find a full waterskin by a few other pouches in front of the fireplace, and you down the entire thing in one go, not realizing how thirsty you were. The next thing you scavenge for in the dark room is food. Sick and tired of feeling like you'll collapse any second you silently grab one of the pouches and find that inside is what you assume is the leftover salted venison you over heard the men called Dutch and Hosea arguing about a day or so earlier. You're not sure how long you were under after passing out on the mountain, but judging by the weakness in your body more than long enough. You recoil at the taste of the jerky but gnaw at it anyway, giving up on chewing it half through and just swallowing it whole out of desperation to nourish yourself.

You're a bit shocked you haven't woken the small family (if that's what you could call them) yet, but you don't question your luck as you move as quietly as your uncoordinated body will allow after being still for so long. You scan the black night once you crack the door open enough to get a good look and struggle to see anything. After a few minutes of letting your eyes adjust you spot a row of horses hitched to posts farther down across the main road. They're huddled together for warmth, a few blankets thrown over their backs to protect from the cold. There's only one that is saddled though, its a giant black horse that seems to be the most awake too. It's odd that its saddled but again, you don't question your luck you just hope its a snowball effect and things will just keep working in your favor. It's the least you're owed for the level of fuckery you've had to endure these past few days.

You wait another beat before slipping out as quietly as possible and streaking across the path to the horses. All the rest seem to ignore you except the saddled black one that raises its great head and snorts a warning at you. To be fair you know close to nothing about horses but you do know that this one will definitely pitch a loud fit if you don't calm it down. You quickly come to the realization that you don't know how to calm a horse down and the momentum you were running on to escape wobbles dangerously under your feet. You want to cry in frustration and fear but your body is too dehydrated to produce actual tears, so instead your sinuses burn like Satan himself took up residence in your tearducts, stirring the headache you have been nursing these past few days into a full fledged migraine. Also even with the night so still, the chill in the air is deathly cold as it pierces right through your shift and skirts. With a growing sense of dread you know you won't last out there like this, whether you manage to steal a horse or not. You also don't know where you are and where to go if you did escape. Your plan disintegrates like cotton candy in warm water as you once again are slapped across the face by the reality of your situation: you are well and truly fucked and you are a prisoner with no hope of immediate escape.

You need to be smarter.

The intimidating black horse gives a harsh whinny as you slowly approach it. The saddlebags attached to its side look quite full and you figure are worth checking before retreating back inside. You know nothing about picking locks or what not, but you figure it might not hurt to snatch anything you could find that might provide you an out when you're inevitably treated like a spy or prisoner or worse starting tomorrow. You don't think you can get away with faking unconsciousness any longer. If the situation gets dire enough, anything be it hairpin or bottlecap could be the one thing keeping you alive. You'd watched enough of those survivalist shows to at least understand that.

"It's a yeet or be yeeted world, and I refuse to be the latter." You declare mostly to yourself but also to the horse that's started picking its front hooves up in mini rears and stomping them back into the snow, clearly pissed that you're not backing off.

--

Arthur concludes after a couple of beats that the woman had indeed spoken some form of English, but he can not for the sorry life of him derive any coherent meaning from what she just said. He watches her debate with herself in the middle of the dark courtyard, absolutely sure she is not an O'Driscoll spy. She had completely missed Arthur leaning against the wall just inside the makeshift kitchen directly facing the posted horses. She stands not six feet from him and is totally unaware he's there.

Some spy.

Arthur has always liked night shifts when its his turn to take watch, and observing her trying to approach Sabine, who is seconds away from alerting the entire camp that something is wrong, is the most entertaining thing Arthur has witnessed in a long time. When he finally cops a glance at her profile in the hopes of gathering some clue as to what in God's name she thinks she's going to accomplish, he eventually puts together that she's apparently attempting to steal from his saddlebags. Arthur is dizzy with perplexsion and amusement as he watches her struggle to hush Sabine who's nickering louder and louder at her in warning, tossing her head and snorting hard through her nostrils as she paws the ground and flicks her tail -- all signs that a horse is about to teach you a goddamn lesson in personal space. The aggressive streak his mare has on top of the fact that she's green (freshly broke) and still wild in spirit only makes this situation worse, Arthur knows no amount of panicked shushing is going to get rid of that look in his girl's eye. He's tempted to let Sabine bite and or kick the shit out of the woman but something in the way she grapples for the buckles of his saddlebags -- frantic and desperate -- convinces Arthur to confront her instead of leaving her to the mercy of his mare.

"Ma'am," He says as he heaves himself out of his causal lean against the wall and steps out into the open, announcing his presence to her and trying to keep the curl in his voice that drips with his amusement neutral and intimidating instead.

The woman jumps like she's been struck by lightening, and before she's even turned all the way around to face him, an apology is ripping its way past her lips.

--

Yes no maybe so? Idk this chapter kind of came together in a weird way so forgive me if it kind of read weird too. Let me know what you think if you want to, or message me if you feel like freaking out over anything RDR2 related bc im so down and also I need to know that everyone else is suffering too bc arthur morgan deserved better :''''')  

Chapter 2

Masterlist

[winterscaptain]

it doesn’t get easier. abigail x john

NOTE: The dialogue in RDR1 is that Abigail and John had their second baby after he left the gang, but I’m gonna put this before RDR2 and nobody can stop me!! Ha! Ha! Suspension of disbelief! I work in theatre! Roll with it! I just need John’s boys with him for this okay?

Let’s also suspend our disbelief that Abigail and John aren’t Fighting All The Time at this point in their relationship. 

Fun and games aside, this is pretty goddamn sad and I cried writing it. 

CW: stillbirth

for @cannot-find-a-veinn | tagging: @softarthurmorgan bc ily emi xo

The hours grew more and more excruciating as they passed. Abigail’s groans and wails set John’s teeth on edge. He paced. He paced and paced and paced, but could do nothing. It’s just like last time. Nothing to worry about, Marston. Just like Jack. She was fine. Just like last time.

Mrs. Grimshaw had been by her side for hours, holding her hand and cooling her with a wet cloth. Karen had been in and out, looking paler each time.

Arthur handed John a lit cigarette, and John pulled hard, flicking the ash as he continued to pace.

“You’ll wear a trench in the dirt pacing like that.” Arthur sat at the table, playing cards by himself. The rest of the men left camp when Abigail’s labor started, Dutch included. Only Hosea and Arthur stayed behind, both for John’s sake and their own peace of mind. Tilly took Jack into town and had elected Arthur to send word when the baby arrived.

Hosea pretended to read in his usual place by the poker table. The tight set of his crossed ankles betrayed his nerves for Abigail, John, and the baby.

“It doesn’t get easier, listening to her in pain like that.” John’s shoulders climbed toward his ears and his jaw was tight.

Arthur shook his head. “No, it doesn’t.” His eyes did not lift from the cards. He thought of Eliza.

John kicked himself. Of course. Arthur was there when Jack was born. Arthur knew. He didn’t have to explain himself to Arthur of all people.

John lit a cigarette with shaking hands and continued his pacing, pulling heavily. Ash fell at his feet and his remaining hand ran roughly through his hair.

“Sit down, Marston. You’re scaring the women,” Hosea said.

John took a shaking breath and tossed his cigarette, grinding it into the dirt with his heel. He sat next to Arthur, his knee bouncing violently.

A wild, feral cry came from the tent and John’s heart nearly stopped. 

The silence, cut only by Abigail’s breath and Mrs. Grimshaw’s muddied, soothing encouragement, was deafening. Arthur and John found themselves on their feet. Waiting, like they had for Jack, for a cry. They held their breath.

It didn’t come.

Inside the tent, Mrs. Grimshaw washed the little girl of her birth. She had seen enough babies to know that the bluish purple tinge of her skin wasn’t right. She didn’t cry. She thought she got to the cord in time. She had moved so fast to uncurl it from her neck…

“She’s not breathing,” she muttered to herself. She patted her back gently with one hand, clearing her nose of debris with the other. Please, sweetheart. Breathe. Breathe for me. For your momma. Just one.

There was no struggle, no fight, in the little newborn.

“Susan, why isn’t she crying?” Abigail’s tight voice barely veiled her panic. She tried to sit up, her face devoid of color and shining with sweat. “What’s wrong?” This question was a wail.

John crept toward the tent, Arthur at his shoulder. He couldn’t hear anything. Wasn’t he supposed to hear something? Hosea stood, closing his book. He watched, hawkish.

“Just a moment, my darling.” Mrs. Grimshaw tried to keep the tears from her voice, though they were rolling down her cheeks. She wrapped the little girl in the linen set aside for her and brought her back to Abigail.

Abby hiccupped a sob, reaching out for her. “Rachel, my Rachel,” she whispered to no one in particular. Susan placed her in Abigail’s arms. “My sweet girl. I love you. I love you so much. I’m so sorry.” Her murmurings continued, making little sense. Tears rolled down her face and down her bare chest. She held the little girl to her skin, rocking back and forth.

“Take your time. I’ll get John.” Mrs. Grimshaw leaned over her, smoothing her hair back and pressing a tender kiss to her forehead.

Susan stepped out of the tent and met John’s eyes. They said enough.

“John, darlin’…” She started. In front of her, she saw not the man, but the twelve year old boy Dutch brought home for them, so many summers ago.

John’s knees buckled. No.

“Abigail’s alright,” Susan rushed to add. She stepped toward him, hands reaching for his cheeks and shoulders – anything she could touch to give him even a little warmth.

Arthur caught him before he hit the ground, his arms under John’s. “Go to her. Share this with her. She needs you.” His arms grounded John to reality.

John pulled himself to his feet, numb. Loving and gentle hands led him to the opening in the tent, steadied him, and disappeared.

When his eyes adjusted, he was alone with his wife. She stared at him with an empty grief that scared him to death, a tiny bundle in her arms. Saying nothing, he crossed to her, sitting at her side. She gave him some space, and he curled around her, seeing his daughter for the first time.

She was painfully peaceful, her eyes closed with lashes resting on soft, round cheeks. He saw himself in her pursed mouth. But there was no life. Born still. He’d heard this happened all the time. But Abby was so healthy. The baby…

They sat in silence for a long time, stroking her tiny face and letting the tears fall.

Oddly, John thought of Arthur. He was so angry when I left. I never…I never understood. He sniffed, swiping at his eyes with his sleeve.

“Rachel,” Abigail whispered.

“Rachel Elizabeth.”

She nodded, looking upon her daughter’s face. Abigail leaned into the man she loved, and gave into her exhaustion.

Abigail stared at the marker, made by Hosea and Arthur out of her favorite kind of tree from New Austin. John stood beside her, an arm around her waist. She had just returned to her feet, but she was immensely sore and on limited activity until cleared by Mrs. Grimshaw.

John kissed her temple. “I love you.”

She swallowed, trying not to cry. She felt she’d been constantly damp with tears since Rachel’s birth. It would be nice to break the habit. “I love you too, John.” She looked up and smiled at him, shaky and watery. “I’ll never hate you less, though, so don’t let it go to your head.”

John’s lips upturned. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

RACHEL ELIZABETH MARSTON June 18th 1897 Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth.