#him putting his weight on top of me would push me over the edge probably

[teddybeartoji]

i think my first time with toji would be so fucking embarrassing i am fucking sobbbingggg and drooling and passing out bc he FUCKSSS okay

[dollfacefantasy]

ADD TO THE COLLECTION ♡

pairing: rick grimes x fem!reader

summary: rick finds an old halloween mask out on a supply run. he brings it back to you, and the two of you put it to good use

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, mask kink, praise/degradation, cnc sorta

a/n: yes i wrote another ghostface mask kink fic. idc idc. you can pry that idea from my cold dead hands. every single man i simp for will have one if it's the last thing i do <3

kinktober slot: day 4 - mask kink

"Ew. You know that thing probably has like a billion diseases, right?" you say, a wide smile spreading across your face as you look at the raggedy Halloween mask in your boyfriend's hand.

The slender, pale face stares back at you with its motionless expression of horror. You hadn't seen one of them in a long time. Certainly not since the world went to shit.

"A billion? I don't know about that. Maybe a million," he teases.

Rick enters the room and approaches where you sit on the bed, wanting to show off his find from the supply run a bit more.

"Don't bring it too close to me. I don't wanna catch something," you say with a hand raised in defense.

"So dramatic," he mocks, "I'm not gonna put it on you."

The wooden floor creaks below his boots as he steps to the edge of the mattress. He sits down, the foamy surface dipping with the addition of his weight.

You can't help leaning forward a little bit out of curiosity. Scooting closer to his side, you look between his face and the mask.

"Were you guys raiding a Spirit Halloween or something?" you ask, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He chuckles. His hands rotate the mask between them. It actually isn't in horrible condition. Maybe a little dusty, but there aren't any huge stains or tears. Visions of him wearing it rise to the front of your mind. You could imagine his head turning, the hollow black eyes following you as he watched your figure move about. The thin fabric fanning out over his shoulders also comes up. Your favorite though is the thought of how it would look above you while he thrusts in and out of you.

Shaking those images out of your head, you refocus when he answers your question.

"No, nothin' like that. I just saw it and thought of you," he tells you, turning his head and pecking your cheek, "I remembered you tellin' me how you used to love those movies."

You almost visibly swoon. "That's so sweet. Slasher movies make you think of me," you coo, "How did I get so lucky?"

Your arms slide up and drape around his neck, bringing you closer so you can nuzzle the side of his face. His skin scratches at you a little bit. The prickle of stubble was rising again.

He returns your affection and pushes the mask aside in favor of pulling you into his lap. The two of you melt into each other and then back onto the bed. One of the perks of living in Alexandria now was not having to wait until everyone fell asleep for the night to go at it.

Rick could be so soft for you. Ever since the two of you met, he seemed so naturally protective. He always lets you hold his hand. Your safety was his top priority along with that of his kids. Before the world went bad, you'd bet he was the kind of guy to hold the door open on dates and call women "miss" or "ma'am."

You're pretty sure that's why you want to see him in that mask so bad.

You knew Rick had another side to him. Something beneath the mask of being the good guy. You'd seen it before a few times. The nights where he ended up soaked in someone else's blood, the sticky crimson liquid coating his facial hair, staining his clothes.

A week after he first found that mask, he comes to your room at night wearing one of the pieces of clothing that's been marred with someone else's insides.

The mask over his face has been cleaned. He clearly washed away the dust and any other sign of mileage on the thing. The ivory plastic front shines without a spot of grime while the black fabric draped atop his hair sits there, dark as the night sky outside.

It's a sharp contrast to the white t-shirt he has on. The cloth pours down his neck and over his shoulder onto the light garment. But the abdomen of this top isn't as pristine as the collar. Blood speckles across the snowy threading, the pattern spatters in a way that makes it look like one of those ink blot tests. If you were the one being questioned, you'd say it looks sort of like a tree.

He stands there against the frame of the doorway in silence, waiting to be noticed. You had been cleaning your boots. When you finally finish, you rise from your spot on the edge of the bed and tuck them in their normal spot against the wall. Sighing, you lean back and prepare to finally have nothing left on your to-do list.

But you feel the other presence in the room. You catch him in your peripheral vision, and a gasp tears through you. Your heart springs from a calm resting beat to erratic thrashing against your ribcage. Thoughts melt from your head while breaths grow spikes in your lungs.

Once you turn your head fully and give your brain a second to register that it's only him, you start to calm down. You let out a deep sigh and put your hand across your chest.

"God, don't do that," you huff, "You scared me."

He doesn't respond.

You continue to catch your breath before looking over at him again. Your eyes scan up and down his figure. He leans against the wall so casually. His arms cross over his chest while his ankles hook one on top of the other below. Even though you can't see his gaze, you can feel the intensity of his pupils on you.

"You're lucky I didn't have my gun on me," you tell him and narrow your eyes.

Again, you get no words out of him. But this time he does push off the edge of the entryway and step forward. He swings the door shut behind him and continues to stare you down.

It's weird. Having him just stand there, digs a pit in the bottom of your belly. For a split second, your mind floats the possibility that this isn't him. The paranoid sector of your head poses questions like what if this was someone else who just found the mask? What if they just looked like Rick?

But then his arms drop from his chest and you see the silver of his watch glimmer in the pale moonlight. 

It doesn't kill the tingling in your nerves any; rather, it transforms the sensation. It's a different kind of strange seeing Rick act like this. It wasn't the version of him that came out for a true threat.  He was never so silent when that was the case. In moments of desperation, he became feral - eyes darting around, limbs taut with the preparedness to strike. But that's when you realize this isn't a moment of desperation. He's the one in control. He's the threat in this situation.

"You're not even gonna try to run, little girl?" he asks, his voice coming out in that familiar drawl but with a little edge to it.

Your spine lights up like a fuse. Excitement seeps into your bones. Everything feels jittery. You don't know what to do or say. In this moment, you just want.

"You're in the way. I don't have anywhere to run," you say. Your voice waivers almost as if you naturally fall into the role of the helpless victim.

It's weird hearing yourself like that. In the world you lived in, you never wanted to sound like that. Showing weakness meant death. And hearing it from someone you loved meant their time was coming to end. Being able to express it now though, it felt different. You weren't sure how to articulate it, but that could be due to the fact that you'd never been so turned on before in your life.

He approaches you further. The wooden floor boards creak beneath his slow steps. You try to back up but your knees hit the mattress.

"No runnin'? You're gonna make this too easy for me," he chuckles, "Put up a little fight."

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip. He leans in closer to you, reaching up to drag his fingers down your cheek. You try to lean back but end up having to sit on the bed and scoot away on the mattress to create some distance.

He just laughs and grabs your ankle, preventing you from getting too far. You try wriggling your leg a little bit, but he tightens his grip and grabs the other one.

"Tsk, tsk. Pathetic," he taunts, "You're just gonna let me take what I want?"

You try kicking a little harder, but it's of no use. Each jerk of your leg goes to waste. Nothing changes. There would be no difference if you didn't move at all and just made what he said true.

"So cute," he mocks, "Just tirin' yourself out for me."

"It's not fair," you whine. You roll yourself onto your belly and try to drag yourself away by grabbing the edge of the bed. He doesn't let you though. Even though Rick was lean, he didn't lack strength. That coupled with his training as a pre-apocalypse police officer meant he knew how to restrain people. You whimper and buck your hips to try and create some momentum to get away, but it's all of no use.

"You cheated. You didn't give me a chance to run," you continue to pout before repeating your prior sentiment, "Not fair."

He laughs and whips you around onto your back again. This time he leans forward and tugs your hips harshly, dragging you over the collection of blankets so that your ass is flush against his semi-hard bulge.

"Who said I have to play fair, princess?" he asks, "Weak little thing like you wouldn't have made it far anyways."

Another whine bubbles from your lips as you squirm. He looms over you, keeping you accessible to him with the weight of his body. As he closes in, your breathing becomes heavier. The white ghostface stops inches away from the tip of your nose. You stare into the expressionless eyes of the match while your cunt throbs against the heat of his pelvis.

"You're lucky I caught you here. Spares you the embarrassment of getting dragged back, kicking and screaming. Or even worse, me pounding you into the grass out there where anyone could see," he breathes.

You shudder at the images his words create in your head.

He can feel the tremble of your limbs, and he pushes the mask up slightly to bare his lips. For a second, you think he's going in for a kiss. And in a way, that's true. But it's not on your mouth. Instead, he ducks down to your throat. He attacks it with fervor much more intense than what you usually felt from him.

These kisses are hot and open-mouthed. The tip of his tongue tickles your pulsing skin. His lips feather against it while his teeth nip and tug. All you can do is melt under it. You try to keep in character and put up a bit of resistance, but it's not a strong performance.

His fingers hook over the top of your little sleep shorts and panties and pull them down to your mid-thigh. That was all the room he needed. His hand not clutching one of your biceps slides down between your thighs. He can feel the slick on his fingers in seconds, and he huffs out a laugh.

"Oh, you're a bad girl, aren't you? The slightest bit of attention, and you're dripping. I didn't even have to do anything," he says.

After those words hit your ears, he pulls back. He tugs your shorts all the way off to free your legs before he shoves his jeans down far enough that his length can spring free. He's almost fully hard. The sight of your slippery cunt makes it easier to take it from almost to solid.

He strokes it and watches you. It's obvious how ready you are, but he can't help but want to draw it out a little more.

"Take off your top," he commands.

Your breath hitches, and you swear you feel your heart stutter. Of course, he'd seen you naked before, but it felt new here. This wasn't Rick's cool blue eyes gazing down at you with love. It was the dark, empty patches of painted plastic.

Nevertheless, your hands venture down and peel your shirt from your body. Once it's gone, your tits are left exposed to his view. He doesn't touch them, and you can't see if he stares directly at them, but it feels like he does.

He pumps his cock a little faster. A small groan rumbles from his mouth.

"I don't even have to say it twice. You didn't even need to see my face to listen. I either have you so well-trained, or you're just the most natural slut out there, babydoll. Just waiting for orders to follow like a little puppy," he rasps.

He pushes forward and slides his leaky tip against your folds. A small whine sneaks out of you at the pressure on your clit. The head nudges it before gliding down toward your entrance again where it pops in.

You both hiss at the feel. On his part, you're already so warm and tight. For you, it's the mild stretch combined with the satisfaction of having something inside you. Either way, it's just a taste of what's to come.

He sinks in more, guiding the rest of his shaft into your pussy. Whimpering, you arch your back off the bed the tiniest bit. His hand lands on your tummy and pushes you down again though. He forces you to take it all and then rocks his hips back and slams forward again.

"So sensitive," he teases.

His hands curl around your hips before he starts thrusting. Like the earlier kisses, his pelvis snaps against you with more force than usual. Your eyes roll back from the bouncing rhythm while your fingers clutch the linens beneath you.

"Poor baby. You never had any fight in you to begin with," he teases, "You give in so easily."

"It- it's not my fault," you whimper. More moans seep out of you. It feels like every slap of skin on skin knocks a new noise from you.

"Oh yes it is," he grunts, "You didn't even try because you want this. You just wanna be filled up. Don't even care who's doing it."

As he says that, your hazy eyes look up at the mask. "Do too..." you pout.

Your walls squeeze around him tight at the sight of the haunted face watching you. It bobs a little with his motions as well, shaken by the force of them.

He laughs at you from beneath the mask and speeds up a little. You clench around him in tandem with your toes curling. He leans in and bends you further in half on the mattress.

"Ok sure, sweetheart. That's why you didn't even need to see my face before I slid my dick inside you," he breathes.

Your little clit throbs at the words. As if he can sense it, one of his hands rises to thumb at the nub. Your hips buck in response, eager for more. Deep, whiny sighs flood into the air from you. He can't get enough.

"That's right, keep squeezin' me, darlin'" he says, arousal infecting his tone now too.

You nod like you have a real say. The way he was battering your pleasure spots and swiping at your clit had you tightening up involuntarily. He still moans with the feeling though. His head tilts back. You can hear his panting getting louder below that mask.

A few strokes later, he reaches up and yanks it off, dropping it to the floor next to his boot. His hair hangs damp against his forehead while his cheeks are a little flushed from the heat. None of this stops him from fucking into you though. It's as if he can't stop. The chase for release captures him on a deeper level.

Even without the help of ghostface, his stare is intense. His pupils glare into you as he provides you with more pleasure than you know what to do with.

"You think you're gonna cum for me? Gush all over my cock?" he croons mockingly.

You nod. Your arm weakly flies up so you can grab at his wrist. "Need it, Rick," you whine.

He chuckles, a small smirk teasing his lips. "You can have it then. Let it go for me," he says.

Your hips buck in time with the next handful of whimpers that leave your lips. The climb to the top feels so fucking good. Your core sizzles up until it reaches a fever pitch and you explode into white hot pleasure. A low, satisfied hum reverberates from you as your eyelashes dust your cheeks.

He fucks you through the feeling, one hand on your throat, the other down at your clit, swirling around the small nub a few times to give you the extra boost. It makes you nice and tight around his dick. Your walls squeeze like a vise. He has no choice but to let go.

As desperate as he is to fuck it deep inside of you, he stops himself at the last second and pulls out. He grabs his cock at light speed before that feeling can vanish and pumps it at the same rhythm he'd been thrusting into you.

Warm, milky ropes of cum shoot out onto your belly. The splatter across your skin, glimmering in the cool light of the night. You force your eyes open when you hear his deep moan. You're almost certain you've never seen anything as beautiful as Rick's face when he releases. His brows furrow while his jaw relaxes. He parts his lips in a small o. You watch with droopy eyes, the haze of lust still not totally gone yet.

When he's finished, he stares down at you in a similar fashion. His hand cups the back of your neck so he can bring you up to give you a kiss before he goes and grabs a towel. The bloody shirt he'd been wearing is gone when he returns. He cleans the spend off your belly and then crawls back into bed with you.

You snuggle up to him, ready to close your eyes and conk out. But then you think of something.

"I knew it was you before you took off the mask," you say. The flesh of your cheek smooshes against this chest.

He looks down at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Cause your watch," you say proudly, as if you'd discovered some great clue.

The information registers but then his lips break into a grin. "Hmm, smart girl. I'll have to keep that in mind if I ever put on the mask for something secretive," he teases before yawning and tugging you closer to his side.

"Mhm, cause I'd figure you out right away," you murmur.

"I'm sure," he agrees, pressing a few kisses to your head. "Get some sleep, baby."

[somerandomdot]

Random Nsfw Halsin Headcanons

Hello I’m just trying something out, if you like it or have a different opinion or would like to share yours you may. Id appreciate if you suggested kinda, anything! Thank you for reading)

Omg I love his eyes in this GIF bro, his puppy eyessss

First off, for some reason this part in my brain just screams that this man has a dry humping kink, or any kinda of just pinning in general.

BIG MAN HANDS ON ME. Sorry, okay his hands are on your waist, shoulder, honestly any part he can grab at. His hands are either on your body or in your hair. He is a handy man.

One hundred percent this man has a breeding kink, I mean obviously… as nature intended

Going back to the pinning thing, I feel like with how large this hunk of a elf is he generally wouldn’t want to use much strength being worried of hurting you.

Honestly I feel like him putting half of his weight on top of you, or pushing himself against you is already crushing enough. So he’d be rather soft and slow at first.

We already know Halsin already is a giver when it comes to head, but one thousand percent he would like the same treatment. But would not really ask for it, so you’d probably have to ask him, since he’d never expect you too, caring about your pleasure and getting off on it.

If he’s on the receiving side of head, I feel like he’d not be the whimper type at all, but just groans, heavy breathing and saying your name/praises while you work on him with your mouth.

This man cannot keep his hips still, he’d be bucking into your mouth every so often, then apologizing for it as you’d gag from the unexpected thrust.

I can imagine this man is, rather large and thick when it comes to his sizing, rather on the more thick around the tip and thinning out to the base.

I feel like he wouldn’t be into heavy kinks, unless you’d ask to try something else/share kinks your with him. I feel like he’d be more into passionate sloppy sex.

His favorite position is either picking you up while he’s standing, your legs around his waist, back against any surface or none at all and his hands on your hips or wrapped around you as he controls the momentum by either thrusting up into you or literally lifting you up and down by your hips or just bear hugging you. (Had too) Or either the classic missionary, legs over his shoulders or around his waist as he thrusts into you as you layback and enjoy it.

Halsin enjoys long sessions rather than short ones, taking his time and edging himself and you. Agonizingly slow soft thrusts to than picking up his pace and roughness for a bit then continuing onto the slow soft ones.

He’d slowdown once you announce that you’re getting close, but if he unsuccessfully edges you as you hit your climax he wouldn’t punish you. If anything he’d make the session last longer enjoying the way you twitch and shudder beneath him or against him.

Eventually when he’s done edging himself and you he’d change his pace to a slow but rough thrusting, while he praises you or either has his head pressed into you neck, occasionally bites and nibbles on your neck and shoulders.

Only time I feel like he’d actually moan or whimper is while he puts it in or while he is comes.

He has, A LOT of ‘ammunition’, honestly feel like he’d come quite a bit, three to four shots. Making a nice cream pie.

Obviously he is an amazing person with aftercare, cleaning you up, helping you get dressed and healing if necessary.

Man’s loves cuddles, no shit he’s a big teddy bear, but due to his protective instincts he’d be holding onto things while he sleep, either it be a random pillow, you or wrapping his arms around himself he always sleeps holding something.

You made it!! Thank you so much, if you have any opinions, suggestions or any advice I’d love to hear it! Enjoy the rest of your morning/afternoon/night!

[yiiyiiwrites]

| The Bold and the Brave |

Summary: Azriel looking after your fox whilst you fulfil your diplomatic duties in the dawn court on behalf of winter. Azriel trying his best when he has no clue what he’s doing. [acotar masterlist] 2752words

Azriel x winter court reader

“You want me to what?” Azriel said, peering over his book at you. The hard cover hanging together by a few threads at the spine and by the way your mate had tightened his grip you were convinced it’d finally fall apart.

“It would mean a lot to me, I’m going to the dawn court and I can’t keep on eye on him.” Your gaze flickered to the white furred fox curled on your lap, warm nose nudging your palm as you waited for a response.

-

Azriel’s shadows curled round his ears hissing at him to decline, but he always crumbled as soon as your brows dipped as if you expected to be denied anything you asked. It had been like that for centuries before you met him.

So he found himself not putting up a fight, agreeing to look after the winter fox.

Balto.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, Azriel would do anything for you. Balto however, had never shown him any attention other than lunging at him whenever he opened the closet and biting him when he was taking you away.

Not even a day since you’d left, Balto paced the creaky floorboards, tail dragging along behind him. His canines snapping whenever a stray dark wisp got in his way.

Balto’s pointed ears twitched each time Azriel dipped his pen into the ink jar. The scratching of metal on parchment raising the tuft of fur at the back of the fox’s neck.

“Stop that,” Azriel snapped, not glancing up from his desk. Balto huffed, pesky shadows hovering a breath away from the fox, neither knowing who the shadow singer had spoken to.

A flash white zipped past Azriel, the ever growing reports stacked on the table crashed to the floor. Balto’s wet nose leaving a trail on the letter he’d just finished, blue ink smudging the paper. He sniffed around the desk, swiping a paper weight off the edge. Which Azriel caught before it could topple over.

Shadows tore towards the fox, twisting around its bushy tail as they tried to lessen the damage. The action only making matters worse as Balto tried to snap at the wisps, running in a circle and landing in Azriel’s lap.

They both paused, Azriel’s hands frozen in the air and Balto’s mouth hung open. Lowering his hand gently, his fingers scratched the top of Balto’s head, onyx eyes closing for a moment. A moment, because as the cool shadows traced the raised fur at the back of Balto’s neck, he sunk his sharp canines into Azriel’s hand.

“Bloody menace,” Azriel snarled pushing Balto off of his lap and nudging him away with his boot. His shadows hissing as if they too had been bitten.

He inhaled a deep breath, gazing to the beams of the ceiling. Three days, he had three days to figure out how to manage a winter fox. It was the first time he’d been left alone with Balto, you were always here and when you wasn’t, the fox trailed after Nesta. Another warm lap to fall asleep in the library.

A white bushy tail flicked around the gap of the door, tapping claws against the hallway tiles merging with Cassian’s heavy footsteps. He shouldered Azriel’s office door open and stumbled through, Balto walking in between his steps.

“Well hello Balto,” Cassian chuckled, he leant down and petted the fox’s head, a little too roughly that he pushed back against his palm. “He’s probably hoping I’ll take him to Ness,” he said straightening up and meeting Azriel’s narrowed eyes.

“He likes you,” Azriel said, his brow furrowing at the thought. Why didn’t he like him?

Cassian fell into the chair opposite, tapping his lap in invitation and too Azriel’s surprise the fox leapt into Cassian’s lap and curled up, head tipped back as he tried to lick the hovering hand above him.

“He likes my scent because it’s merged with my mate that he adores,” Cassian said scratching under Balto’s chin. “I know that look brother, only time will help.”

Mate. Azriel couldn’t understand why Balto had never warmed to him, even after the mating ceremony when your scent entwined with his. Balto should be seeking him out for comfort, but it was the opposite.

“Are you going to the mountains? Check up on the training there?” Azriel tapped his fingers on the desk, hand dropping as Cassian’s gaze found the bloody teeth marks there.

“Yes…” Cassian smirked, large hands framing Balto’s face, a tinge of pink on his white fur near his canines telling enough.

“Good,” Azriel nodded, “take him with you.”

A deep laugh shook Cassian’s chest, Balto pawing the spot. “I can’t take him to the mountain, there’s no snow right now. He’d stick out and become dinner for who knows what.” A smirk tugged his lips, he was enjoying this too much.

“At least let him roam around the house with you, I’ve got all this still to do,” Azriel said, straightening the papers beside him which were all out of order thanks to Balto.

“Fine, but just an hour. I’m sure you’ll come find him when it’s up,” Cassian called over his shoulder. Balto chasing him out the door without another glance in Azriel’s direction.

He glanced down to his lap, long white fur stuck to his dark trousers and clumped together as he tried to brush it off.

One hour turned into three as he pushed through the work on his desk. His shadows were oddly calm, no interruptions since Cassian had bid him goodbye.

He wondered how you were doing in the dawn court. Much of your work involved smoothing over alliances between friendly courts, words being more powerful than weapons in your line of work. Not that you couldn’t hold your own, you’d been fighting monsters in the winter mountains your whole life until you’d met Azriel. Then you started to think more smarter, how you could still serve winter and live with him in Velaris. The diplomatic position giving you the best of both worlds.

Your absence seemed to be a sore spot for Balto, the longing sinking into him too as he watched the fox huff and puff all day. It hadn’t even been a day and he was wishing you were here.

Balto, he hadn’t seen since. He pushed out of his chair and blew the flame out from the lantern. He aimlessly walked the house of wind, shadows peeling away from him to squeeze under the doors and check for the fox.

The faintest of whimpers echoed down the hallway. Dark wisps struck his chest, but he pushed through them till he found Balto curled up on an armchair in the library.

Your chair, he could still smell your scent as if he’d stepped into the winter court. Fresh snow and pine invading his senses.

Nesta leant against the chair, her head resting on the cushion as she stroked Balto’s thick fur. The book in her lap discarded, pink ribbon marking her place. She murmured the softest of words, coaxing the fox’s heavy eyes shut.

“Az.” Nesta clicked her tongue and turned to him still looming in the doorway. “Poor things missing her, what have you been doing with Balto?” She raised a brow, as if she could see through the thick leather of his glove hiding the teeth marks on his hand.

“He bit me,” he blurted out, unsure why he needed to tell her. “I don’t know why he won’t warm to me.” His shoulders drooped, wings tucking behind him. The weight of a whimpering Balto pressing down on him, another reminder that you weren’t here. You always knew what to do.

The many times you’d crawled under the bed and calmed Balto, stayed until he felt safe enough to come out of his hiding space. Or when he’d be snarling and snapping, your silent presence sitting on the floor as you waited for Balto to come to you. As if teaching Balto that he had a choice, no forcing or punishing for feeling an emotion as big as fear.

You’d told him before that Balto had gone missing in the winter mountains when you were a child and it changed him. The only person he fully trusted and didn’t bite was you. There were many similarities to you and Balto.

“I will watch him for a while, go finish your reports,” Nesta said, voice soft and gentle like the hand smoothing Balto’s fur.

Azriel spent the rest of the day compiling reports and tidying his desk. The darkness crept in around him, the small lamp snuffing out beside him as the wick was nothing but ashes.

He flexed his hand, deep teeth marks now a scratch after a few hours of healing. His shadows whispered in his ear, echoing Balto’s name.

At times his shadows were no better than the fox, chasing its tail and whistling in Balto’s ear. He tried his best not to let the dark wisps monitor the foxes movements, but a few strays did what they wanted and watched.

When Azriel finally got back to his bedroom, a furry mound was curled on the bed. Sometimes Balto liked to sleep at the bottom of the bed by your feet, but he’d never slept on it without you.

He changed into his night clothes and slid into bed, trying not to pull the blanket from underneath Balto’s snoring form.

“Just for tonight,” Azriel whispered, smoothing his palm along Balto’s curved spine.

·•✦•·

Azriel’s body felt heavy as he dragged himself along the hallway. Wings skimming the walls as if they were trying to keep him upright. The pounding in his head amplified as he pushed his palm against his bedroom door.

In the middle of the bed, Balto’s teeth locked on a pillow, Azriel’s. He growled, shaking it in his hold.

“Balto!” Azriel didn’t mean to shout, the ache of his muscles whining as he raised his voice.

The day he’d had, checking on his contacts for intel went completely south and he ended up taking things into his own hands. The last scrap of patience falling away as feathers ripped from his pillow.

It was only supposed to be a couple of hours, but it turned into nine. The second day almost over.

Balto dropped the pillow as Azriel went to tug it. Pointed ears pushing back and head dipping, tail tucked between his legs.

Azriel stilled, blood coating his hands and staining the lilac pillow he clutched. “Balto,” he said, low and soft. His knees sinking on the mattress as he reached out slowly.

Dark wisps danced with the feathers floating in the air around Azriel, but his gaze was fixed on Balto.

In moments like this, it reminded Azriel of you. The way you used to snap at everyone who tried to reach out for you. Afraid that if you accepted that hand, you’d get hit by it later. Cold and detached, one letter answers so that no one could ask too much of you.

“It’s okay boy,” Azriel said, stopping as Balto scrambled backwards. He lifted his hands and rose from the bed, walking back to the bathroom. He opened the closet door on his way, knowing Balto would seek refuge in the layers of chunky knitwear that smelled of you.

Space, that’s what he’d give Balto. The blood and grime marring his flesh and leathers wasn’t helping. So he’d clean himself up, hope that the lingering scent of you would help him calm a frightened Balto.

He removed his weapons, setting them on the counter gently trying to make as little sound as possible. Pulling off his fighting leathers, he let them fall to the tiled floor and kicked them out of the way.

The harsh water beating against his back soothed his aching muscles. Azriel watched the red water spin down the drain until it was clear. He scrubbed every inch of his flesh, it was no wonder Balto was scared. He hadn’t realised how terrifying he looked. That and the fox’s heightened scent did not help his case.

Azriel pulled on some clothes and exited the bathroom, out of the corner of his eye he found Balto peeking through the folded jumpers in the closet. He stripped the bed and scooped up the feathers, stuffing them in a new pillow case and tying a knot in the end.

The three days were nearly up, only a few hours left till morning. Azriel put new sheets on the bed and tossed the old ones in the basket. He opened the other closet door and pulled out his winter coat, Balto following his every movement.

Balto nipped Azriel’s hand as his fingers traced the folded jumpers. A smile tugging his lips as he scratched under Balto’s chin. Space seemed to be the best remedy for Balto.

“I know, you miss her. So do I,” Azriel said, leaning against the shelves of the closet. “Let’s go meet her in winter, what do you say boy?”

Balto lunged out of the closet and landed on Azriel’s shoulder, paws trailing along his back as he dropped to the floor. His tail curling around one of Azriel’s legs waiting for him.

Scooping Balto up from the floor, he place the fox in his bag. The one you normally carried in when you winnowed to winter with Balto. He settled into the fur lined bag, huffing as Azriel tried to push his busy tail in the bag too.

He’d never travelled with Balto through the planes of darkness. Too afraid the fox would leap out and he’d never be able to find him. But he needed this as much as Balto, the open space of the winter mountains was somewhere that reminded them of you.

The strap hung from his neck and he clutched it to his chest, shielding Balto’s eyes as he snapped his wings into flight. As soon as he was able to travel, he let the darkness wrap around him and guide him to the winter court. His fingers stroked Balto’s head, a part of him checking he was still there.

The crunch of snow beneath his boots and the howling bitter wind welcomed him in winter. Balto jumped out of the bag and dove into the crisp white snow. Azriel couldn’t help but smile as he watched the fox tunnel underneath, jumping on the untouched snow and disappearing.

Azriel spent all morning walking the mountains, Balto trailing not far behind him. They checked in on your cabin, both napping by the fire and eating lunch. A kind patroller offering him soup, after seeing the smoke from the chimney.

Balto lay in front of the fire, pointed nose resting between his paws. His ears dropped back and pressed down into the tuft of fur. He crept forward on his stomach, pausing as a pesky wisp skimmed over his head.

To anyone else they’d think Azriel was still in a deep slumber, he leaned into the rhythmic deep breaths and let his hand drop to the floor. Balto stopping once again, before he inched closer and closed the distance.

A warmth nudged Azriel’s hand, his shadows telling him of the furry friend out of his eye-line. Balto licked the back of Azriel’s hand, tongue swiping the faint teeth marks he’d given him a couple of days ago.

“Thanks, boy,” Azriel said, his palm tapping the top of Balto’s head. “Why don’t we go find our favourite person.” He rose from the sofa and pulled on his coat.

Balto yapped in agreement, darting to the open door as fast as a lightning bolt. Azriel couldn’t keep up with furry blur, snow too deep as the fox burrowed underneath it.

Every now and then he’d catch a glimpse of Balto leaping up out of the snow and trying to chase a bird. Whenever you finished your duties for winter, Azriel would meet you there if he wasn’t away working. It’s times like this that he savours the cold. Reminds him of you.

He feels the charge of energy between you before he sees you. In your absence the heat is unbearable that he longs for the cool touch against his burning flesh.

You slide your arms around his waist and tucked yourself under his arm. “Did you give him winter berries?” You asked peering up at him as he kissed your forehead.

“No,” he said pulling away from you, “should I have?”

“Gods no, we’d never be able to catch him.”

This has been in my head since I did the winter read headcanons

[toasterpancakes]

Go get em’ tiger

Austin Butler Fanfiction

Austin Butler x you | Drabble

Summary: A snippet of domestic life with Austin before the Golden Globes.

“Come in,” you call out absently, your fingers giving no pause as they continue to fly across the keyboard in front of you. You’ve become so accustomed to the occasion knocks to the door of the room you call your home office that have peppered the last few hours of the day. It had started with Austin’s personal assistant coming in to ask if you had seen the spare keys to one of his cars, and followed with his publicist (“Do you want a coffee? We are ordering in”), a stylist (“I’m so sorry to ask you this but did you have any extra safety pins by any chance?”) and ending with his personal assistant again (“We’re grabbing dinner for everyone, do you want something?”) coming in to ask various questions.

You finish up the sentence you are currently working on as you hear the door creak open before it shuts with a soft click. You expect to hear a question thrown your direction, but the silence has you puzzled. You toggle your mouse to hit the save button - a habit which you’ve formed years ago after having lost a document too many after being bested by technology failing on you, and crane your neck to peer over one of the two screens which you have in front of you. A pair of blue eyes meet your gaze, and you find your lips splitting into a smile.

“Am I disturbing?” His voice cuts through the space between you. Austin doesn’t move from where he is leaning back casually against the door. You drop back down into your chair, legs shuffling slightly, wheeling the office chair slightly to your right so you have an unobstructed view of him.

“Most definitely,” you say without so much as a pause, and you see Austin’s lips quirk upwards into a half smirk.

“I see,” Austin hums patronisingly in response, playing along, as he pushes himself up, legs striding across the floor of your office with an easy gait, easily reducing the space between you. He perches himself in front of you, on the edge of your office desk, “well I’m sorry to be interrupting such important business.”

“Very important business,” you say with a nod which you follow with a tilt of head towards the computer screen.

“Nothing less,” Austin says as he eyes you from his perch, arms crossed loosely across his chest. You content yourself with letting your gaze drift from his face down the rest of his body taking note of his styled hair, face with barely there make up for the red carpet to cover blemishes. He still has on a loose flannel, the top three buttons undone, and dark sweat pants. Austin’s gaze follows your hand as you reach out to tug the end of his shirt lightly.

“Don’t you have to change soon?” You ask only for him to shrug.

“Yeah, probably,” he says unfazed as he reaches out to envelop your hand with his. Austin’s palm is warm, and slightly calloused. You follow the tugging motion coming from his palm and limber to a stand. Austin manages to manoeuvre you into the space between his legs. Your place your palms flat on his thighs as he weaves his arms in the gap between your arms and body, pulling you as close to him as the position would allow.

“Are you very sure you don’t want to come?” He asks, his fingertips finding themselves wandering beneath the back of your top to meet the skin of your lower back. He moves to lean his forehead against yours only for you to retract your head. It makes Austin frown, a brown lifting slightly in question.

“They’ll kill me if I mess up their work,” you say opting instead to bring a hand up to the nape of his neck, your thumb rubbing the space below his ear in a circular motion. Austin lets out an audible sigh, but he doesn’t say anything - because he knows better than to grumble. Austin knew the value of hard work and wasn’t one to mess up work that someone else had put themselves into. He settles instead for letting the weight of his neck sag into the palm of your hand while letting his eyes flutter shut.

“I wish you were coming with me,” he says, eyes still shut.

“Well you know, important business and all,” you joke. Truth to be told it wasn’t work which was keeping you from going as his plus one to the Golden Globes, but more because, as you had told him, this was all Austin, his time to shine - and you didn’t want to take away from it by having the media and audience overshadow him and his work with less savoury headlines.

You could see it now, an article titled “Austin Butler and girlfriend sighted at the Golden Globes - trouble in paradise?” - with a long, entirely false and made-up story about how you both were on the rocks all because you walked two steps behind him on the red carpet. You both were out as a couple, but liked your privacy and kept your relationship out of the public eye as much as possible; yet it only made the media vultures worse, spinning every little glance they could get into a sensational, elaborate rumour.

Austin sighs as he opens his eyes. He lifts the weight of his neck off from your hand, taking your palm in his, he skims the back of your knuckles with his lips - a move that wouldn’t mess up his hair or make up - before dropping both your hands in between your bodies.

“I’ll be home after.”

“You should go for the after-party,” you tell him as he rubs his thumb along the back of your hand, “you’ll have lots to celebrate.”

Your words make him huff out while shaking his head in true Austin fashion - always doubting himself, slow to believe he was as good as they said.

“I rather celebrate with you,” he says an undercurrent of doubt running through his voice, clearly not believing that there would be anything to celebrate.

“I’ll be here when you get back,” you promise to the blue eyes staring back at you, “with peanut butter and jelly,” you continue and you see the twinkle that lights up in his eyes. Peanut butter and jelly - unusual, you would think if you looked at Austin, but it was a comfort food of sorts, something that you knew reminded him of his Mom.

He opens his mouth to say something when a rap of knuckles against the door of your home office interrupts. Austin does groan outwardly this time, because work was work but he hated when work took him away from you.

“Yeah,” he calls out, knowing that they’re looking for him. The door creaks open and his publicist sticks her head in.

“They need you for outfit now,” she says, darting a glance at you both. Austin had his head turned so his side profile faces her, while also effectively shielding you from her view, as if he were trying to keep distinct his work and private life.

“I’ll be out in three,” he calls and she nods, stepping and shutting the door behind her.

“Go,” you say, offering him a smile.

“Say bye before I leave?” He asks, an almost child-like quality to the deep, raspy voice.

You nod in agreement and Austin brings the back of your hand up to his lips again. He keeps his gaze connected with yours as he presses a kiss into your knuckles.

“Go get ‘em tiger,” you say with a wink as he slides off the table.

“Yes m’am,” he offers you a lopsided grin, as he goes hands in pockets towards the door towards his first golden globe.

[spnbabe67]

Makin' Messy In The Sheets

Kinktober Day 11: Caught Masturbating (J.S)

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Fem Original Character

Warnings: Smut, Mutual Masturbation, Masturbation (F&M rec.), fingering, oral (M rec.), feels

Summary: Tatum walks in on Jake having some "self care" time and decides to lend a hand

Word Count: 1495

Authors Note: Title based off the song Touchin' Me by Chandler Leighton

Tatum hadn’t intended on walking in on Jake in such a compromising situation. Mav had worked them all hard today, running drills and pushing them past their collective limits. Normally, Tatum would have welcomed it, the challenge, the rush of adrenaline whenever she was in the skies. But the only thing the recent challenges had brought was stress, putting her on edge. As of recently, Jake was her favorite method of taking the edge off, which surprised her because usually he was the reason she needed a stress reliever. Once they established this thing between them, they’d established an open door policy; if they knew the other was in their room, then there was no need to knock. 

She’d subtly asked Javy where Jake was, framing it as her making sure she could be where he wasn’t, sussing out that he was in his room after they’d all eaten dinner. Tatum had simply showered, putting on a pair of sweats and a sports bra with a flannel over top; she at least had not bothered to put in much effort regarding lacy underthings, especially on days like this where she couldn’t be bothered to put much effort into her appearance. If Jake didn’t like her simple bikini style panties and worn bras then he could fuck off. 

If she hadn’t been so engrossed in her phone, catching up on texts and emails from coworkers and friends alike, she would have heard the suspect grunts and groans slightly audible from behind Jake’s closed door. She would have heard her name on his lips, dripping with lust. But she didn’t, opening the door none the wiser to what was going on inside.

“Hey Seresin. How about-” Tatum stopped mid sentence as she beheld the erotic sight before her. 

Jake was lounged on his bed completely naked, all tanned, sandy haired and muscled like some greek Adonis carved from sandstone.That big cock of his was fisted in his hand, head thrown back in pleasure, exposing the lean column of his neck. It was insanely hot, especially as her moaned her name, jerking his hand up and down his length. Her lips parted, tongue flicking across her lower lip, feeling the memory of the weight of his cock on his tongue. Tatum almost regretted being so loud coming in as he startled up, eyes snapping to her, stilling his ministrations on himself. He had the likeness of a fish, mouth open and closing as he stuttered, probably trying to make excuses.

Tatum smirked, feeling her panties go damp as she closed the door, leaning back against it. “Oh, by all means, continue. Please.”

Jake sat up, moving to get up but Tatum walked over, putting a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down to the bed. “Let me rephrase, continue. Now.”

Jake smirked, settling back against the head of the bed. “So bossy. I like it.”

Tatum bit her lip as Jake set a rhythm, sliding his hand up and down his shaft, low groans emanating from the back of his throat. A blush bloomed across his chest and across his face as Tatum watched him languidly stroke his cock, gaze never leaving her, scanning her face to read her expression.

“That’s it.” Tatum settled on the other end of the bed, the softness of her sweats brushed against her legs as she slid them down and off, exposing her slick pussy.

He groaned as Tatum snaked a hand between her legs to where watching Jake stroke his cock had lit a fire low in her belly, brushing against her already sensitive clit. She gasped as she rubbed circles on her clit with her thumb as she slid her middle finger into her tight channel, rubbing it in and out in time with the rhythm Jake had set on himself. 

“Hey,” Tatum nudged Jake’s shin with her foot as his eyes fluttered shut, speeding up his strokes. “Keep those pretty eyes on me.”

He blinked his eyes open, gaze glazed over with arousal as they traveled down her body to where her fingers slid in and out of her pussy in time with where his grip on his cock had him slowly working up to his orgasm. He damn near came on the spot as Tatum’s hand, slick with her own arousal wrapped around his cock, taking over his movements. 

“God, Tatum.” Jake choked out, bucking his hips up into her hand.

“Yeah?” Tatum straddled his legs, gripping him tightly, jerking him faster than he had. “Feel good, baby?”

“So good.” 

Each moan she pulled out of Jake had Tatum feel like she was on cloud nine, her pussy wetter than she’d ever been. A sense of pride warmed her knowing that his pleasure was literally in her hands. Tatum leaned forward kissing him deeply, sweeping her tongue into his mouth. It was sloppy, uncaring, dragging her mouth down his jaw, down his neck. She could taste the sweat from his chest and abs as she kissed her way down to his cock. Tatum felt Jake’s ragged moan shoot right to her throbbing core as she laved her tongue up the underside of his cock. He was red and painfully hard under her tongue and hands. She worked his thick length into her mouth, taking him in one small, short thrust at a time. He was heavy against her flattened tongue, the head of him bumping against the back of her throat. Tatum, glanced up watching Jake watch her as she let his cock slip down her throat with ease, the muscles working around him tightly as she swallowed. 

“God!” Jake yelled out as the heavenly sensation. 

Tatum pulled off of him, fisting his cock tightly, grinning at him. “Nope, just me.”

She didn't give him time to respond before taking him back in her mouth. This time Jake did cum, his cock throbbing and pulsating as he came in spurts down her throat. Tatum coughed, feeling the soreness in her throat as she pulled off him, a trail of spit and cum dripping from her lips, connecting her mouth to his cock. 

Jake groaned, pulling her further up his body to kiss her, licking away the combination of his cum and her spit from her lips as his hands gripped her hips, grinding her down against his cock, already starting to harden again. He yanked and tugged until her sports bra pulled off her body and tossed away, her breasts springing free.

Jake nipped at her collarbones, his lips sucking marks on her chest. “You’re incredible.”

Tatum moaned pressing her chest closer to him, her hands finding their way into his hair, letting her nails scrape against his scalp, grinding her hips so that Jake’s hardening cock rubbed between her folds and against her needy clit. His skin was so warm against hers, his possessive grip on her body only fueling that fire within her. 

“Kiss me.” Tatum whispered to the air between them, pulling his face back up to hers.

Jake complied, kissing her with fervor, sliding a hand between them to strum at her clit, tweaking her sensitive nub until her slick covered his hands. Tatum reached behind her, guiding his cock between her folds until she sank down on him. Jake touched his forehead to hers as they both breathed heavily as her tight walls clamped around him, sliding down, down, down until he was fully seated inside her.

“Fuck,” Tatum breathed, sloppily kissing him. “You feel so good.” 

Tatum rolled her hips, grinding her pussy down onto him and his hand, still pinching and rolling her clit between his fingers. Jake moaned as Tatum’s inner walls clamped down on him, pulsating around his shaft. Her hands slid out of his hair to cup his face, sucking in a breath through her teeth as his cock filled her so, so good. Tatum matched Jake’s fervent kisses, all heated and wet, moaning breathily into his mouth. Jake felt her shudder under his touch as her orgasm came over her in a long, strong wave that had her keening loudly. 

“That’s it baby.” Jake praised, his own hips stuttering, thrusts becoming sloppy and uneven as he came a second time, enveloped by her warm and velvet soft pussy. 

Tatum let Jake guide her down onto his chest as he slouched back onto his bed. He hissed a sigh as she slid him out of her, keeping her leg draped over his pelvis. Jake tipped her head up, kissing her tenderly than he ever had. Tatum didn’t know how to feel; on one hand it was nice to be here, wrapped up in his arms. But on the other hand she felt uneasy. This was getting too deep, but she was already too far in to try and claw herself out now. So she simply rested her head on his chest, trying to remind herself that this, now matter how good it felt, was only temporary.

[tosuckmyweenis]

Just wanted to share a thought but infinite darkness older Leon is 100% the kind of man to buy his girl those vibrating panties as a “romantic” gift and also take full advantage of the fact that he has the remote for it and abuse his power

That is all

Anytime!! Anywhere!!! Absolutely!!

I tried to write a full fic, but I had a few ideas and couldn't decide; the worms aren't worming yet, so enjoy these bits and bobs for now Anon 💕

It's in a slightly weird formatting, but I hope it doesn't bother too much. I'm kind of on the fence about these because i read them over too much but fuck it we ball.

In public while doing mundane tasks?!

The only day Leon is home is, of course, the day you chose to get all your errands done; he only tags along once he convinces you that today would be the perfect day to test out that little gift he got you, wagging the remote in one hand and the black lace in the other. After all, he sounded so convincing, and with that smirk plastered on his perfect face, you weren't going to say no.

Starting off with just the lowest setting on the way to the first store with the reassurance that he'd be on his best behaviour.

Staying close behind you, staring shamelessly at your ass while you're pushing the cart in some grocery store, making your way through the isles trying to grab the box of cereal you needed off the top shelf, he refuses to help.

Waiting until you're on your tippy toes before cranking the power up to max. He loves how your body jerks in shock at the sudden intensity and clamping your hand over your mouth and the inside of your cheek to stop a moan from slipping out. Then, he takes the opportunity to press himself against you to grab the item before leaning down and whispering into your ear. 

"Careful, Sweetheart, You wouldn't want to cause a scene, would you?" Finally lowering it once he tosses the box in the cart, continuing to do the same thing for every item you reach for over and over, never letting you cum though

"Why should I risk letting other people see your pretty face? It's meant for my eyes alone. Although, you'd probably like that, wouldn't you?"

Finally, getting everything you need and checking out, loading everything into the back of the jeep. 

He'd just hand you a bag, and when you bend over to put it away, smack your ass, and when you turn to yell at him, he's just leaning on the side, holding the remote and turning it up with a shit-eating grin. 

"Leon, please," shamelessly begging him at this point, your legs finally giving out.

"Sorry, what was that? Please, what?" 

"Please let me cum, s'too much; I need to" 

"Since you asked so nicely, I'll give you what you want." 

Deciding to go early in the morning before rush hour was the smartest decision you made that day.

At home while you do chores?!

Doing chores was at the bottom of your list of things you wanted to do today, but things needed to get done, and you refused to ask Leon for help; the poor man works enough as it is and deserves to relax a little.

You were grumbling about it until he brought up a little positive reinforcement, which is how you ended up with a death grip on the edge of the kitchen sink.

You lost count of just how many times you came so far, panting like you just ran a mile, legs trembling, barely able to hold weight anymore.

Staring at the back of his head while watching a movie, his arm lazily tossed over the back of the couch, his thumb mindlessly moving the controls around in no particular rhythm, periodically stopping to give you a break before resuming.

"I don't hear any dishes being washed."

Rinse and repeat until you're just a crying, overstimulated mess.

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Badge Bunny Part V

Masterlist Here!

Summary: It all comes to a head with Roy. Will Gator let the sins off his past dictate his future or will he be the better man that he knows you deserve?

18+ Only! Minors DNI!

CW: Reader is referred to as "Bunny" or "Bun". Minimal use of Y/N. Canon type violence. Gun use. Gator is wounded - no graphic detail. Mild angst. Smut! Unprotected P in V. Creampie.

WC: 8.7K

“Something's going down at the ranch. I think Roy's finally lost his goddamn mind. Feds are headed over there.” Andy rushed out, breathless as if he'd run all the way here, face a little bloodied and bruised. He was still in uniform, though it was dirty and disheveled, sans his duty belt.

“Gator?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

He nodded, gaze falling to the floor.

“He's been there all morning.”

“What's going on? And don't lie to me Andy.” Pushing your finger roughly into his chest.

“I want the full story. Not some half-truth bullshit.” Tired of sitting in the dark, you needed some answers.

You took him to the back so you could talk in private without the whole bar hearing about the sorted affair. They would all know soon enough. Small town gossip spreads like wildfire, especially if it involves the Tillman family in any way.

Roy had the entire ranch on lockdown. He'd somehow gotten wind of a traitor in his midst that was feeding information to the FBI.

Andy was an immediate suspect. After the entire incident with your kidnapping and sending those blood samples off despite Roy telling him not to, it had earned him a spot at the top of the man's shit list.

“They had me tied up in one of the sheds. If it weren't for Gator, I…” he swallowed thickly, as if he were reliving it all once again. “I don't know what Roy would have done. He showed me some tunnel on the back of the property. Helped me escape. I flagged down a car once I made it to the main road and had them bring me here.”

“Oh my God, Andy! Why didn't he come with you? What the fuck is he doing?” You groaned, swearing then and there if he made it out of this shit alive you were going to kill him.

“He told me to place a call to the feds and made me promise to make sure you stayed put. There's nothing else we can do.”

You stopped pacing back and forth looking at him with a dumbstruck expression.

“What? So, you are working with them?” Trying to wrap your head around everything that he was trying to tell you.

“No, Y/N. Gator is!”

Not even Roy could have seen it coming. Everyone pegged Gator as the Sheriff's idiot son. A fuck up so blinded by getting his father's approval that no one thought for a second he could have been the informant.

If Roy asked him to jump, he'd ask him how high but that all started to change a little over a year prior.

There was only one thing that would make him flip on the old man in a heartbeat.

You.

He'd asked you to trust him. Told you whatever happened it was for the best. Now you truly saw why. He was taking Roy down. It was his way out.

“Andy, how am I supposed to stay put when you know what Roy is capable of? If he even thinks for a second that it's Gator…” You trailed off. Taking a seat at the edge of Henry's desk to let the weight of it all sink in.

“I think he's got this. There's nothing else for Roy to do but surrender.” He tried to reassure you with a half-smile but you saw right through it.

You sighed, standing back up.

“Let me clean that cut up for you. It's the least I can do. You're a good friend to me and Gator.” You grabbed the first aid kit and went to work. It was deeper than you thought, probably needed a stitch or two but he was dead set on keeping the both of you here.

After Gator helped Andy find the underground passage, he made his way back to the main house where he knew Roy would be waiting.

He took a deep breath before entering. Knowing his part, he has to play it cool just until the feds get there. He gave Andy strict instructions to let them know what they were going to be up against.

The kitchen was left in shambles. Roy told Karen and the girls to leave before they finished breakfast. At least he seemed to care enough to spare them from some of what he had planned that day.

From that point on it had been madness. He'd called in what was essentially his calvary. A lot of armed idiots that had no business holding a gun.

Somehow, he'd gotten word the FBI was coming to raid him. Gator was still unsure of where it actually came from, but he knew Roy had friends in high places.

He wandered down the small hall that led to the back of the house where Roy's office was, the door sitting ajar.

He didn't bother knocking, pushing it further open and taking a step forward. Roy's eyes shot up as soon as the door opened.

“Gator, what are you doing here? I told you to watch the goddamn shed with Bowman.” He hissed out.

“Yeah, uh… Andy and Bowman are both gone. Shed's empty.” His gaze fell to the floor briefly before looking back to Roy.

“Gone? Both of them?” His face flashing confusion.

“Yup. Suppose Bowman moved him? Ya’ give him the order to execute or somethin’?” He asked, trying to draw his suspicion.

“Fuck.” He gritted out between clenched teeth getting up and coming around his desk. “I didn't give any kind of order. Get your ass out there. Tell everyone to start looking for them.”

“Yeah, course.” Gator turned, making his way back down the hall and out to the porch telling the rest of the guys to start looking.

He was sure it had given Andy enough time to get to the highway. No one knew about that escape hatch except himself, Roy and the other being Bowman, who was currently unconscious and tied up in said escape tunnel.

He set about pretending to help look for the two missing men hearing the sirens in the distance, breathing a small sigh of relief. It would all be over soon.

As Roy stepped out onto the porch, pulling his hat down tight upon his head the caravan of black SUVs made their way down the highway stopping at the front gate.

He had the entrance blocked by his armed cohorts.

“Well, here we go.” He said, looking over to Gator with a sinister smirk.

“Dad,” he said, sounding more like a frightened boy than the man he was trying to be, as Roy turned back to look at him. “No one has to get hurt. Ya’ could just… just give yourself up.”

“Give myself up? You do realize you're going to prison too, right? It's not just me going down at the end of all this.” He fixed him with a glare before turning and mounting his mare. “Shut the hell up and find those two idiots.”

He nodded, biting his lip as he watched him mosey toward them, taking a leisurely pace as if he was unbothered by the entire scene. Roy seemed to see it as more of a nuisance than any kind of real threat.

He couldn't tell what was being said, so he made himself scarce trying to bide his time.

The feds already had a plan in motion. Gator told them about the hatch and tunnels that would lead them to the back of the property. It would be easy access and they could take everyone from behind while they were still occupied with the front gates. They knew once they had Roy the rest would give up without their so-called fearless leader.

Gator made his way to the back of the property, meeting about 10 men dressed in SWAT gear along with FBI Agent Joaquin.

“He's in his office, but ugh… y’guys mind if I have a word with him before ya’ barge in there?” He asked.

“I think we can spare a few minutes. I can give you head start but if bullets start flying, hit the deck.” He waved Gator off turning back toward his team ready to give their orders.

He made his way back to the house, hitting his vape trying to steel his nerves.

This time the door was shut, so he quickly rapped his knuckles against the smooth wood.

“Yeah?” Roy grunted, as Gator popped into view.

“Son, what the hell is it this time?” He was exasperated dealing with him for the day.

“I need to talk to you. Man to man.” He stated, coming to stand in front of his desk. Roy finally looked from the window to face him.

“Well, spit it out.” He hissed.

“The feds are on their way, already on the ranch. Thought it would be better to hear it from me.” Roy watched him intently but stayed silent letting him continue.

“If you had just left her alone.” He looked him dead in the eye as he spoke. “You tried to take away the one thing that matters most to me.”

Roy had gravely miscalculated just how much you'd meant to his son. He saw you as nothing more than a bump in the road assuming that Gator would eventually get bored of his new, shiny plaything.

He was losing that grip on him little by little thinking his only way to get it back was to get rid of you.

The kidnapping had gone according to plan, just like Roy intended, until it didn't. Those idiots he'd hired had gotten greedy. Threatened to let you go if they didn't get more money but before he could take matters into his own hands Gator had found you.

The FBI had reached out months prior, it was only after that stunt that he finally placed the call that set everything into motion.

“So, that's it then? Turn your own father in over what? Some fuckin' whore. I should have fuckin’ killed you a long time ago. You're nothing but a sniveling worm. I'm ashamed to even call you my son.” He was seeing red, reaching for his gun.

Gator grabbed his own, before Roy had the chance to flinch. His words had no effect on him. He'd all but given up hope of ever winning his father's affections and praise. He didn't care anymore. He had you.

“Don't.” He aimed right at Roy's chest, finger on the trigger. He never wanted it to end this way.

Shouting down the hall pulled Gator's attention for a split second, as his eyes drifted from their target giving Roy enough time to get his hand around his own pistol.

Two shots rang out as the swat team swarmed the house.

“So, what should we do? How much longer do we just sit and wait?” You'd finally asked after thirty more agonizing minutes. You'd both made it back out to the bar, taking a booth in the corner.

Your knee was bouncing, unable to keep from chewing your nails and looking out the window every few seconds.

“He wants you to stay put. So, we'll stay put.” Taking another sip of his soda, watching you over the glass. “Don't even think about it.”

“What? I wasn't thinking about anything.” The way you glanced at your keys sitting next to you told him otherwise.

“Y/N.” He warned, with a glare.

“Fuck, fine.” You crossed your arms, continuing to look out the window with a huff. “I'm going to get a drink. You want a refill?” Asking as you got up.

You had your back toward the door when an SUV peeled into the parking lot. A woman with short, dark hair got out and made her way into the door.

“I'm looking for a Miss Y/L/N.” She announced, looking around the near desolate place as she removed her sunglasses.

You whipped around.

“Um, that's me.” Voice coming out meek. You knew she had to be FBI. You suddenly felt sick, preparing for the worst.

“I'm Agent Meyers. We need you to come with us please.” Her curt tone left no room for arguing as your eyes cut over to Andy. He got up and met you both.

“I'm Deputy Andy Tate. I'm the one that called you guys. You mind if I tag along?” He didn't want to let you out of his sight, even if they were supposed to be the good guys.

She looked him up and down before nodding.

“Sure, follow me.”

-

Agent Meyers wasn't much for small talk. She had explained you were needed but didn't go into detail. Apparently, it was a need-to-know basis, and you didn't need to know.

Your stomach was in knots as you watched the world pass by outside. Andy tried to soothe you, telling you it would all be okay, but every doubt was swirling within you.

As you pulled up to that familiar gate and picture-perfect farmhouse that was anything but, you saw they had people lined up and handcuffed on their knees against the fence.

They'd managed to round up and arrest everyone. As predicted, when they found out Roy was done, they all gave up without a fight.

There were two ambulances, one pulling off as you all pulled in the other parked directly in front of the house.

“Where is he?” You anxiously asked.

“He'll be over there.” You opened the door and shot out running before they had the chance to come to a stop.

“Hey!” Meyers yelled, but you didn't hesitate. You needed to see him. Needed to make sure he was okay, and your worst thoughts had not come to fruition; make it all tangible.

He finally came into view, sitting on a gurney at the back of the vehicle. His shirt was removed. They were bandaging up his shoulder as you shouted his name.

He turned, standing up as you slammed into his chest wrapping your arms around him as the tears began to flow.

He groaned with the impact, pain shooting through his shoulder and back, but he didn't care, wrapping his arm tight around you pulling you into him.

Roy had managed to shoot him in the left shoulder, while Gator's aim had been much more accurate. A shot straight into the gut. He'd been taken by the other ambulance for emergency surgery and then he'll be swept off straight to a federal prison halfway across the country.

“Gator… I …” You sniffed, looking up at him. “I thought…” Your hands roamed his chest, easing over his bandaged shoulder taking it all in. Cupping his cheeks, your thumb running under a slight bruise that was blooming under his eye.

He pressed your head back to his chest, kissing your temple.

“It's okay baby. I'm okay. We're okay.” His words soothing as they washed over you.

You just held each other for a few more minutes before someone cleared their throat from behind you.

“Sorry to break this little moment up but it's time to go.” Agent Meyers spoke.

Gator nodded, as you looked between the two of them.

“Bunny, look at me.” His eyes pierced yours as he spoke calmly.

“We’re going to be okay. But I have to go with them. There's a lot of shit I did, that I'm not proud of I still need to answer for.”

You knew what he meant. For all the good he did, there were still things he would have to pay for which still meant prison time.

“I'm proud of you.” You looked right into those soft, hazel eyes as you spoke. He looked so downtrodden, but you lifted his chin.

“I'm so proud of you baby!” You stood on the tips of your toes, smashing your lips to his. They were a little chapped but warm as you melted into him.

It suddenly crossed your mind this may be the last time you get to feel him for a while as his tongue grazes your bottom lip. Allowing him entry, you glide against one another so effortlessly it was easy to get lost in the moment.

You broke apart only to catch your breath. Whispered “I love yous” were spoken before he was handcuffed in front of you.

“Okay, Mr. Tillman.” Agent Meyers guided him to an SUV, sitting him in the back.

His eyes were filled with worry as they shut the door, mirroring your own. Andy sidled up beside you as they drove out of sight.

5 Months Later

“You don't have to keep coming every week.” The way it came out let you know he was tired but so were you. Tired of him acting like you were just going to give up and leave him to rot in a prison cell.

Since he'd helped the feds, they had given him a nice plea deal with a reduced sentence of 18 months. With good behavior, he might be out in 12.

It was the best he could have hoped for with all the involvement in Roy's dealings, but Gator had given them enough to send him away for the rest of his life.

It was still going to be agonizing but you wanted to be there for him every step of the way.

“Yes, I do. Who else is going to bring you these nasty cookies you love?” You teased. Packing another overnight bag for your 8-hour trek.

“Y’gonna make me fat, if ya keep bringin’ those.” He chuckles on the other end. “But seriously, if the drives gettin' to be too much, ya’ don't have to.”

“I don't have anything else to do. I know that sounds pathetic but it's true. All I do is work, and then come home. The only thing that's getting to be too much is how quiet the house is. I miss you.” You said it earnestly, sighing into the phone sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I'm sorry Bunny, if there had been another way…” he trailed off, sighing on his end as well.

“No. Don't start that. I am so damn proud of you, Gator Tillman!”

Of course, it was all over the front pages, but they left out the part where he had been an informant. Everyone assumed the very worst about him, just like Roy. But he was your hero.

If only you could see the grin that split his face any time you told him that. The way his eyes lit up. He had sought Roy's approval for so long, it felt refreshing to hear that he'd done something right from the one person who truly loves him for him. All the fuck ups, all the short comings he saw in himself that you never judged him for. You loved him. You were proud of him.

“I love you, be safe. I'll see ya’ tomorrow.” He had his one-minute warning come through the line.

“Ok baby. I'll see you tomorrow. I love you more!”

“Not possible.” He grinned again, as the line clicked dead.

He'd been sent to FCI Sandstone, a low security facility in Minnesota. It was a little over 8 hours from Lehigh. Thankfully Roy was sent halfway across the country to a maximum security facility so neither of you would ever have to cross his path again.

In the few months that he's been away, it's been a struggle. You were left on your own again, but you could breathe a sigh of relief. The entire town felt like a weight had been lifted. No one was looking over their shoulder fearing they might be on the bad side of Roy Tillman.

Andy was appointed interim Sheriff, since half the department went down with the raid. Andy and just a few others were left to pick up the pieces and start from scratch.

He was a good man. Gator made sure that he was never implemented in anything to do with Roy or himself. He was doing a great job, weeding out the few left behind and hiring new, upstanding deputies to help run things. There was no doubt he'd be running and win the upcoming election.

-

You had your routine down, leaving out every Tuesday afternoon after your shift. Hitting up the same motel halfway there. Waking up before dawn to go the rest of the way. Spending Wednesdays with him at the prison.

They'd give you one-hour allotments of visiting time. You'd been his only visitor.

You drive through the gates, flashing your smile and waving at the guards. They knew you by name at this point.

“Hey Bill!” You greeted the guard at the entrance.

“Hey, Y/N. Must be Wednesday.” He chuckled, waving you through the X-ray. You knew the routine. Tossing everything into the bin to go through, then yourself. Pat down examination and you were off to the designated visiting area.

You'd always sit at the table closest to the window, furthest away from the guards. It was quiet. No one bothered the two of you.

You sat the cookies in front of you. The one thing you had actually taken the time to learn how to make and you'd gotten good at it. He loved them.

You were staring out the window, when the buzzer went off alerting you to the door being opened.

He walked out, hands cuffed in front of him wearing that prison issued bright orange jumpsuit you were now so accustomed to seeing. His hair was never slicked back anymore, but he kept the cut the same. Soft brown locks hung down against his forehead.

He donned that crooked smile that made your heart melt as he made his way over to you.

“Hi baby.” He sat across from you extending his hands as the guard unlatched the cuffs. He rubbed his wrists before placing his hands to the table.

“Brought your favorite.” Shaking the Tupperware in front of you, then sliding it over.

They allowed some touching in the visitor's area but not enough. You longed to push the hair from his face and kiss those lips you've missed.

He took the lid off and immediately dove in, taking a cookie and humming around the sugary taste.

“I think these get better every time, Bun.” Finishing it before looking back at you, a crumb at the edge of his lip. You reached up, and brushed it away with your thumb, lingering just a moment.

“God, I miss you.” You whispered, dropping your hand as he reached across the table intertwining his fingers with yours.

“I'm right here, and hey, if I stay off the naughty list I get conjugal visits next month.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively making you laugh and roll your eyes fondly.

“As much as I would love for you to fuck me senseless, you know that's not what I mean.”

“I know, baby.” The grip on your hand becoming a little tighter.

You fell into an easy conversation. You always told him about what was happening since he left.

“Spoke with Andy. They're expecting and he's absolutely over the moon. They're still planning on getting married, but they're going to wait until after the baby.”

You were still talking but he was hung up on that first part. He felt like a failure all over again. That could be you and him. Happy. Engaged, maybe even married. But no. He was stuck here because of all the stupid choices he had made long before he'd met you. He knew he didn't deserve you.

You stopped talking when you noticed his crestfallen appearance. Eyes glossy, and pouty lips.

“Hey, what's wrong?” You shook his hand lightly. “I know that look. Don't.”

“It's just…” he began but you cut him off. He got like this from time to time.

“I know what you're thinking. Stop, ok. We'll get our happy ending once you get out of this place.” You smiled.

A happy ending. What you truly wouldn't give. You'd both been through too much to not see this through.

“Plus, I'm moving closer. I can get another job, another place to live. We don't have to go back to Lehigh. Nothing ties us to that place.”

“Bunny,” his gaze softened. He truly didn't deserve you.

“Nope. I know what you're going to say. I've already made up my mind.”

“Fine, just make sure to clean out the house good before you do. Attic too.” You looked at him with confusion, knowing you had never stored anything up there.

He simply smirked and winked at you.

“Um… ok weirdo. If you say so.” You eyed him warily. “I…”

“Tillman, times up!” The guard shouted, interrupting you.

“I’ll call you tomorrow to make sure you got in, sweet thing.” He said, winking before his hands were cuffed once more.

You watched as the guard led him away. It was always inevitable, but it didn't hurt any less each time.

It scratched at the back of your mind on the drive home. He was so adamant about checking the attic. It was going to bug you the entire way.

This time you wouldn't stop halfway to rest. Making the drive back to Lehigh in one go, making a few gas station runs but nothing more.

You got in late that night, feeling dead on your feet as you walked into the house throwing your bag on the couch making a beeline for the hall where the access to the attic through the ceiling lay.

You reached up, straining, barely grabbing the thin string but you were able to pull it down as it fell open with a creak.

You took the rickety steps one at a time, grabbing your phone to use as a flashlight. Your head popped up looking around but not immediately seeing anything. To your right, there was a duffle bag you didn't recognize but this must be what he was alluding to.

Your hand gripped the handle, it was fairly heavy, as you brought it back down slowly, placing it on the kitchen table.

Taking a deep breath, you tugged the zipper, gasping when the contents were finally revealed.

The bag was full of cash. More than you'd ever seen at one time in your life.

What you hadn't known is that Gator found that bag when he had rescued you, immediately recognizing it because it was the same one, he had seen at Roy's a few days before it all went down.

That was his turning point. The final nail in the coffin. If Roy could do this to you, there was really nothing he wasn't capable of.

The feds had been whispering in his ear for a few months. After you had broken it off that morning, that was his first call. Even if the future with you was uncertain, he had to keep you safe and taking Roy down was his only choice.

As the initial shock wore off you noticed an envelope sitting to the side.

You tore it open immediately to find a handwritten note.

Bunny,

I figured sooner or later you'd find this before I got out. Knowing you, you're ready to high tail it out of Lehigh and I don't blame you.

Get out of Lehigh, you deserve better than this. Better than me. I never understood why you stuck around, you're too good for me.

On the off chance you still love me, there's enough to get you by until I get out, if you want to wait for me. I understand if you don't. I'm writing this knowing what lays ahead of me.

I know you're going to be pissed, but I did it for us. For our future, if you'll have me. I know I should have done it sooner, and I'm kicking myself for writing it in a letter instead.

There's a velvet box hidden in my sock drawer, if you haven't found it already. I promise I'll ask you proper once I get out. I love you Y/N, more than anything.

Love, Gator

PS- Got your necklace fixed. Missed seeing it around your neck.

Tears began to stream down your face as you clutched the letter reading it over once more before your feet started carrying you toward the bedroom you once shared with him.

You hadn't touched any of his things since he'd been gone. So, you'd never happened upon the small velvet box he was referring to.

You shoved his socks out of he way until your fingertips brushed up against it. You hesitantly pulled it into view, holding it in your hand until you sat on the bed.

You were still crying as you lifted the edges. Your necklace slipped out, catching it before it hit your lap. It had been broken during the kidnapping but with everything that had gone on since you hadn't thought about it but were now grateful to see it again.

Your eyes roved over the ring that was held within. It was simple, modest by most standards, but it was perfect. You'd never expected this from him.

It was a thin, gold band with three diamonds. A center cut with two smaller ones flanking each side. You hesitantly lifted it from the box, sliding it down your ring finger and holding it up to examine it more closely, as it caught the light and sparkled with your movement.

Finally, you clasped the thin gold chain back around your neck, holding the delicate “G” between your fingertips once more.

You knew he'd be calling around noon the next day, expecting you to have stayed at the hotel overnight. You had an idea, not letting on that you'd found everything laid out for you, instead surprising him on your next visit.

It was bittersweet, packing up your things and getting ready to leave Lehigh. The first home you shared with someone you truly loved.

Since you'd let him know you were moving to Minnesota to be closer to him, it had been a whirlwind of emotions and planning. Your next weekly visit was tomorrow.

In a week's time you had already found a small apartment for rent not far from the prison that would be perfect until he was released so you started the packing process.

During your calls, you'd never let on about the duffle bag. He couldn't say anything, so there was no way he'd mention it over the phone which played to your advantage. Keep him waiting and wondering.

Today when you walked through the gates you were positively giddy. Not only were you surprising him, but this would be your first conjugal visit.

Unlike before, they led you to a small room in the back of the prison. It provided privacy with a small bed and seating area, a counter dividing the room in two.

You were instructed to sit. They'd bring him in.

Your knee was bouncing with anticipation at the thought of finally being able to touch him after 6 long months of waiting.

The feel of running your fingers through his hair, his arms wrapped around you in a warm embrace, vibrating at the thought.

You moved the container of cookies to the small table in front of you as the door swung open.

Gator stepped in, a wide grin splitting his face, as he walked further into the room. His eyes never left you, licking his lips as he turned his body toward the guard so they could unshackle him.

“Alright Tillman, you've got an hour. Just be dressed by the time I get back.” He nodded, “ma’am” leaving the two of you alone.

“Hey, sweet thing!” He rubbed his wrists, watching you ease up from your seat crossing the room, quickly advancing toward him, barely giving him enough time to move his hands out of the way before you pummeled into his chest throwing your arms around his waist pulling him into a bone crushing hug.

“Damn Bun! Miss me that bad?” Letting a small chuckle escape, circling his arms around you, kissing the top of your head.

“You know I miss you!” Melting further into his chest. The fabric of his worn, orange jumpsuit scratched at your face, but you just buried it deeper, breathing him.

You held each other for a few moments before finally lifting your head. As your eyes met, he moved his warm, calloused palm to your cheek before he moved in letting his lips crash to yours, nose pressing into your cheek as he tilted his head pulling you further into him.

He immediately deepened it, hungry for more. His tongue darts out, licking at your lower lip as you part your mouth for him. You hummed at the taste of him, almost making you weak in the knees and rushing a spark to your core.

You finally broke apart, panting as your foreheads came to rest together.

“It would have been a yes, you know.” You whispered. “You should have just asked a long time ago.”

His brows knit with confusion as he pulled away to look down at you, his eye catching the glint of gold around your neck immediately cluing him in to what you meant as his gaze softened, and a lopsided grin returned to his face.

“Yeah? That so?” He reached for your left hand, pulling it into view. The ring was situated on your hand perfectly. “So, you still want to be with me?”

“Of course I want to be with you! I love you, you idiot! And you absolutely are asking me properly once you get out of here!” You giggled as he lifted you excitedly, peppering kisses all over your face as you tried to squirm away from the sudden onslaught of affection.

“So, does that mean I'm fuckin' my fiancé today?” Setting your feet back on the ground.

“God, is that all you're worried about?” Rolling your eyes, slapping at his chest.

“No. But Bun, I'm dyin’ here. It's been six fuckin' months.” He suddenly pressed his hips into you, his already hard length pushing into your lower stomach.

“Sure you haven't fallen for your burly bunkmate? I know it can get really lonely in here.” You laughed, as he groaned.

“Real cute, Bunny.” He was walking you back as he spoke, suddenly lifting you up on the small counter stepping between your legs and crashing his lips to yours once more.

The kiss turned more heated as you both tilted your heads, melting into each other as you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him further into you by the collar.

He began to trail lower, kisses to your jaw to that little spot below your ear that has you releasing a breathy moan that instantly has his cock twitching between you.

“Oh fuck, I've missed those sounds.” He hissed out, helping you shed your jacket letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor reattaching his lips to you, trailing hot, open mouthed kisses down the side of your neck.

Your fingers trailed up his chest finding the zipper on the orange jumpsuit you've come to loath, slipping it down as he let you pull it from his shoulders, letting it fall open to his waist. He wore a plain white shirt underneath, fisting the material in your hands as he pulled your hips closer to the edge of the counter.

His hands drifted under the fabric of your top, sending goosebumps across your flesh, as they roamed higher. Raising your arms to let him discard it alongside your jacket.

He's quick to drift to the clasp of your bra, undoing it with ease, letting the fabric fall away from your chest as his large palms engulf your soft flesh, kneading it a little roughly only spurring that now prominent ache between your legs when his thumbs graze over your nipples causing your back to arch further into his touch.

“Oh fuck, baby!” You moan out, gripping the bottom of his shirt trying to pull it up. You were needy. It felt like a lifetime since you'd been able to give him so much affection. Feel his warmth, skin to skin, lips skimming over your soft flesh. Reacquainting with each other's bodies.

Once his shirt was discarded, his hands traced your curves sending a shiver through you.

Your eyes caught the scar on his shoulder that hadn't been there before. A harsh reminder of what he's had to go through.

He follows your eyes, as your fingertips trace over the bit of gnarled, dark flesh.

“I would take a million more as long as I knew you were safe.” Whispering between you.

“I know you would. I just wish you didn't have to. I love you.” Whispering back, moving forward to place a kiss there before placing another to his lips that quickly turned heated once again.

You pushed at the jumpsuit, he helped you discard it and toe off his shoes as you worked quickly on your jeans.

Once his attention came back to you, he helped you lift your hips and slide them down your legs. His hands were immediately back to you, roaming any of your exposed flesh he could reach.

He took a moment, pressing his lips to your forehead, hand to your jaw.

“I've missed you so fuckin’ much Bunny. I love you.” Leaning his forehead to yours, closing your eyes, feeling the warmth of his palm to your cheek.

“I've missed you too.” Whispering as he captured your lips once more, less rushed. His lips glide across yours, tongue ghosting along your bottom lip begging for entry as you parted them. Tongues moving against one another in a slow, passionate dance.

He closed the small gap, as you wrapped your legs back around him. His clothed length pressing into your core as your hips seemed to move on their own accord grinding down against him, catching your clit on the downward movement eliciting breathy moans from both of you.

His hand slips between you, finding the damp spot on your panties, pressing the pad of his thumb into the soaked fabric.

“Bunny, you're so wet. All this f’me? Fuck, I'm a lucky bastard.” He hissed out, finding the edge of your underwear pulling them to the side and letting his fingertip trace your slit before pushing at your aching entrance only breaching slightly, making your hips chase his hand for friction. He trailed up, finding your swollen clit as the pad of his thumb swiped deftly before pulling away. The band of your panties snapping back into place.

“You wanna move… this over t’the… bed?” He rushed out between pants and feverish kisses.

“Please.” You manage to get out before he's gripping your ass, hauling you up and over across the small room without his mouth ever leaving yours.

His knees find the small bed and tosses you down. The springs are a little hard and unforgiving squeaking under your weight with a small bounce that makes you giggle all the same as you lean back to stare up at him.

He's long and lean, looking a little more toned than you remember. Boxers doing nothing to hide his raging erection. His hard cock straining against the fabric, now eye level with you.

You reach up, tracing a finger down the length of him, leaving him gaping and throwing his head back.

“Fuck, I need you.” He hisses out, as you gingerly reach up pulling his boxers down his toned legs, finally releasing him. His length bobs against his abdomen, standing at full attention. Your cunt clinches at the thought of getting him inside of you. Never satiated properly for the last six months you were aching.

He didn't miss the way your thighs rubbed together as he looked down at you, as you took him in your hand, bringing your lips to his soft, ruddy tip, placing a soft kiss there before shifting your head as you ran your tongue up his entire length.

“Oh fuck, baby.” He pulled your chin up to look at him, as you smirked. “Hey sweet thing, as much as I would love to have your mouth, I need your pussy.” The end came out as almost a growl as he began to ease you back onto the bed, his fingertips grabbing at your panties as he practically ripped them from your legs as you heard an audible rip but you didn't mind as he tossed them somewhere across the room.

Crawling between your thighs, parting to accommodate him eagerly. His thick chest hair rough against your nipples, as he presses himself to you taking his length at the base, suddenly running it up your soaked folds making you moan out and arch further closing any gap between you.

“That's it baby. Need it as much as I do, huh?” He hummed, bumping your clit on the way up that made you whine as he captured your lips once more, lining himself up as his head catches your dripping hole.

Your hands grip at his back, running your fingers through the short locks at the nape of his neck pulling the strands when he pushes himself in an inch more.

The toys at home could never fill you the way he could with his thick, long cock. It began to sting as he pushed further. A moan caught in your throat, as your head hit the back of the bed, mouth going slack at the feeling.

“Goddamn, Bunny. You're so… mmmph…. Fuckin' tight.” He grits out, face turning soft once he looks up to notice your brows pinched tight.

“Hey, Bunny. Relax f'me, baby.” He coos, cradling your jaw, thumb rubbing soothingly under your bottom lip.

“I'm relaxed, you're just a lot, baby.” You finally say, opening your eyes gazing into his lust blown irises, nearly black save for the thin mossy ring around the outer edge.

“Yeah?” Lopsided grin returning. “Too much for that tight little cunt?” Not letting you answer before finally burying himself completely as your nails dig into his back with a near pornographic moan escaping your lips only spurring him on.

He slowly pulls out, feeling your walls stretch and flutter around him before quickly plunging back in, feeling impossibly deeper before rocking his hips into yours at a brutal pace.

The stretch and sting slowly subsides giving way to pleasure as he pushes in and out, a fresh wave of arousal soaking you both. You can't suppress the filthy moans falling past your lips.

“That's it baby, let them know how good I'm fuckin' MY pussy. Ya’ don't have to be quiet in here.” He continues roughly pushing his hips into yours as you gasp and writhe beneath him. The sounds of your slick as he drives into with each thrust would have you blushing, but you were too wrapped up in the feel of him to care.

The way your walls were sucking him in and pulsing around his cock, like you were made just for him, was enough to make him cum right then and there.

“Mmmph, Gator you feel so… g-good.” Managing to squeak out, the head of his cock continually massages that spot on your frontal wall with ease.

“Missed this pussy so fuckin' much. Been dreamin’ about the day I could… fuck… cum in her again.” His thrusts get more urgent, as your pussy flutters around him once more.

“Yeah, Bunny? Want my cum? Stuff you full until you can't take anymore?” You whimper at his words, that coil within you winding tighter with each in and out motion working you both toward your high.

He nips at the soft skin at your bared throat, gaining your attention.

“Huh, bunny?”

Barely able to think or speak at this point, you nod at his question knowing he wants an answer. He moves his mouth higher, taking your bottom lip between his, sucking lightly before letting it go with a slight pop. He loved you like this. Too cock drunk to speak and about to fall apart only for him.

He moves his hand between you, expertly finding your clit, as he begins rubbing circles against you working in tandem with his thrusts bringing you closer to the edge. Your back arched off the bed, crying out.

“Fuck! Don't stop!” You huffed out.

“Wouldn't dream of it, sweet thing. Need you t’cum f’me. Gonna leave you so full I'll be leaking out of ya’ for days.” Another whimper slipped out, just as that coil began to snap.

You didn't have time to warn him before your pussy clamped down around him.

“Oh fuck! There she is.” He hissed out, taking his hand from you so he could pound you into oblivion, chasing his own release while working you through yours.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, sure they were drawing blood at this point from the grip you had on him. Your orgasm hit so hard that your toes curled as sparks flew behind your eyelids.

A few more thrusts and he follows behind you, his dick throbbing and kicking up inside of your tight channel as his balls tightened, painting your walls with his spend. He continued to fuck it into you, cursing and panting before collapsing onto your chest.

“Oh fuck Bunny. Goddamn, I missed you.” It came a little muffled, his lips pressed up against you where his head lay in the crook of your neck.

“I missed you too, baby.” You hummed, as he finally pulled his softening cock from you, laying on his side, so you could be face to face kissing the tip of your nose and pulling you close.

“You're an idiot, if you thought I was going to run. We've come too far to give up now.” You whispered, with warm affection and brushing his hair softly from his forehead before leaning in for a kiss before you were so rudely interrupted with a loud knock.

“10 minutes Tillman!” The guard shouted through the door.

“Fuck.” He hissed, leaning his forehead to yours. “That went by too fast.”

“Yeah, it did.” You giggled, kissing his cheek, sitting up.

“Hey,” grasping your hand, once more looking at the ring on your hand. “I’m sorry ya’ fell in love with such a fuck up.”

“I'm not. You're a good man, Gator Tillman. You just needed a push in the right direction. No one ever thought you were a fuck up except Roy and look where he is.” You placed your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

You finally pulled away to get up and get dressed, as he followed suit knowing your time was dwindling.

“You better grab a cookie, while you still can.” Pulling your shirt back over your head.

“Bun, I got my sugar fix.” Grabbing you from behind, pulling you back into his chest, kissing your cheek as you melted into his touch. “Just needed my sweet thing.”

The door swung open, jarring you both from a few moments of bliss.

“Thank God your dressed.” The guard sighed and laughed as you both rolled your eyes.

You faced him quickly, stealing away one more kiss.

“I'll be back next week.” Smiling softly.

“I know, baby.”

You watched him go, winking at you before he walked out the door.

The next few weeks were a blur, seemingly going by in the blink of an eye.

You had said your goodbyes in Lehigh. Henry throwing you a small going away party for the hell of it. There were a few tears and lots of well wishes. Of course, Maggie made you promise to keep in touch.

You could have easily used the money that Gator had supplied for the next couple of months, but you didn't see a reason to waste it all. Using it more for a nest egg for the both of you.

Finding a job wasn't difficult. Every bar or diner usually had a high turnover, easily securing a waitressing job at a diner not far from your apartment.

Life went on for the next few months. Seeing Gator weekly, phone calls every other day to get you by.

As it drew closer to his incarceration hitting the one-year mark, you became anxious. The parole board would be looking at a possible early release and you had hoped the feds would put a good word in for him, but it wasn't a given.

“So, by this time next week we'll know if you're finally a free man?” Phone pressed to your ear, sitting on a wooden crate by the dumpster out behind the diner.

“Yup. Warden told me yesterday that the parlor board was already reviewing the case.” He sounded hopeful but you weren't convinced.

“That’s great baby.” Voice coming out a little weak, ready for all of this to just be over and done with.

“Cheer up, Bunny. I have a feelin’ it'll all work out.”

You hoped he was right. Never failing to believe what came out of his mouth. He had a way of sounding so sure of everything.

The day of the hearing, you sat by the phone practically chewing your nails down to the quick. Busying yourself with whatever would distract you, but it wasn't working, as you found yourself glancing at the nearby clock every few minutes the closer it drew to noon when the hearing would begin.

You knew it may be a while before you would hear from him, but anticipation and anxiety were getting the better of you.

12:15, 12:30, 12:45

Still no word. It felt like torture, every agonizing second drawn out.

Suddenly that familiar number popped up, quickly pressing that green button with frenzied energy.

“This is a call from Sandstone Correctional Institute. To accept this call from Gator Tillman please press 1.”

You held your breath as it connected him over.

“Bunny?” His almost breathless voice came through the line.

“Hey, baby. I'm here.” You rushed out, heart pounding in your chest.

“I'm coming home.”

Home. Such a funny notion to him now.

He didn't think of the house on the ranch or even Lehigh. He only pictured you. Your kind smile that captivated him the first time he laid eyes on you. That unruly mouth that could knock him down a peg but was heaven all the same. He loved everything about you.

The only person that had ever made him feel truly loved.

He was coming home to you.

-

Processing was completed and 48 hours later you were sitting outside the prison gate, leaning against your car.

The loud buzz signaling the gate opening grabbed your attention as he strolled out. That cocky demeanor was still intact, dick first, head held high; smirking when he spotted you across the lot already running toward him.

You jumped straight into his open arms, being fully enveloped by him burying your head into his chest. It was like you could finally breathe for the first time in months.

“It's finally over?” You spoke timidly, holding tight as if he might be wrenched from your grasp.

“It's over.” A simple but all-encompassing answer; both free to live the lives you want.

“So, where to handsome?” Starting the car and looking over to him.

“Well, I thought we could make a stopover in Scandia.”

You quirked an eyebrow his way.

“Uh… My sister, Nadine, well Dot reached out to me a couple of days ago. Thought we might swing by.” He smiled and shrugged.

“You have a sister?”

“Yeah. Well, she was also my stepmom. Long story.” He chuckled.

“Gator, what the hell?” Rushing out with a look of abject horror on your face.

“Bunny, it's not what you think. I can tell you all about it on the way. She's expecting us for supper.” He leaned over, kissing your cheek.

“God, your family is more fucked up than I thought.” Pulling out of your spot and getting onto the highway.

He grasped your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

“Yeah, but you still agreed to marry me.” He grinned.

“I haven't agreed to shit. You still have to ask.” Giving him a smirk in return but admiring the ring proudly situated on your left hand. You wouldn't trade him for the world.

You'd gone through literal hell, and you weren't about to let him go now. It didn't matter where the two of you ended up as long as you were together.

[belle--ofthebrawl]

Belle i am hiding behind anon right now because i'm about to play devils advocate (in a sexy way, not an anti feminism podcast way dont worry)

Ok. So the thing is...Swiss should get to make the new bug piss. As a little treat for how hard he has been slutting it up for us on that podium all tour. I know we are all thinking it i'm just saying it ok😭

Take my hand. We will do this.

(This part's a bit softer.)

"Oh no," Aeon says in a tiny voice. He's trembling something fierce now and Swiss isn't even doing anything to him anymore.

Physically, anyway.

"Got a little bit left in you, dontchya?" Swiss leers. His hands are still, finally still where they sit on the flare of Aeon's hipbones but the way his fingers push into Aeon's skin, not to tickle but to grab and own and-

"Asked you a question." Swiss says and Aeon's breath hitches. He could call it here, if he wanted. He's got his already, Swiss will probably flip him over and fuck his thighs, then throw the both of them in the shower, but. He's never...y'know. And it not like he wouldn't, isn't obscenely curious about it but he'd thought his first time trying it out would be with Rain and to be entirely honest, he'd thought Rain would be the one, uh. Letting loose.

He's never really thought about himself in such a vulnerable position.

He stares up at Swiss with wide eyes, still trembling from his orgasm and the torture that preceded it. He's weak. Helpless. If he called it, he'd have to stand on shaky legs to go to the bathroom. Maybe Swiss would give him his space and Aeon can't bear the thought of losing the comfortable weight of the multi-ghoul on top of him right now. He wants to. He's just gotta get over the mental block saying he can't.

"Swiss…" Aeon says softly, not entirely sure where his head's at right now and the façade drops. Swiss loses the look of a predator and softens around the edges.

"Hey." He says back, reaching up to pat Aeon's cheek. "Just running my mouth, yeah? Thought it might be hot but if you-"

"I want to." Aeon insists and grins at the way the other ghoul's eyebrows jump into his hairline. "Just, uh." Nervous isn't really the right word but it's not like he's got the brainpower to dig around in his mental thesaurus for the perfect one. Swiss seems to understand anyway though, thankfully. He lays himself down over Aeon like a big cat, and even though Aeon can feel his erection poking the vee of his hipbones, Swiss puts his own pleasure aside for the moment.

"You're fine." Swiss says nonchalantly. "If you decide you don't wanna, we can just roll you over and I'll thighfuck you."

Aeon smirks. Called it.

"Can we…" he begins, starting up a gentle rock, maneuvering Swiss so his cock's pressed right up to the swell of Aeon's. It might be easier if he can't see himself do it. "Like this? Rub off on me?"

"Sure." Swiss says. Props himself up to catch Aeon's mouth in a deep, languorous kiss. Aeon trills into it, clutching at Swiss when each pass of his hips catches his soft, spent cock just right. It's on this side of too much but anything less wouldn't be enough.

Swiss likes it well enough from the way he's starting to breathe heavily. He pulls Aeon back into each roll of his hips, giving him a little jolt of sensation. His hands hurry to undo his pants, gets his thick cock out and pokes the blood-dark tip of it on the sensitive underside of Aeon's, rubbing it against the cum-wet fabric.

"Wanna see you messy in all kinds of ways," Swiss breathes, letting the weight of his cock slap down a few times to watch the way it makes Aeon jump before he's bending back down and resuming their casual frottage session. Aeon feels anything but casual, the words lighting up the same weird area of his brain the tickling had. He bites his lip, spreads his legs wide and holds Swiss tight, presses their chests together so close Aeon swears he can feel the other ghoul's heartbeat as he focuses. It's calm, compared to the rapid thudding of his own and Aeon takes a deep breath.

It's like his body knows not here! Not now! from the way a few hot drops dribble out to roll down his skin, the fabric of his underwear too wet to absorb anything more before the flow is cut off by his instincts.

"Do it," Swiss demands, sounding wrecked. "Wanna feel it, get me wet, do it."

Aeon opens his mouth to speak, say something like I'm trying, but all that comes out is a weak, feminine little "ah!" as Swiss rolls himself down hard and the pressure is just what he needs, the little bit of force to-

"Yeah," Swiss groans as he feels a new heat well up between their bodies. "Good boy, good fucking boy, that's it, gonna make me cum-"

"Hnnn!" Aeon squeaks, locking his legs around Swiss' waist as he wets himself, gets the both of them soaked with it. He feels it wash away the cum, drip down the cleft of his ass where it puddles there. He's shaking even more now, one raw nerve from head to toe but Swiss' encouragement makes it easy, make him easy, willing to go along with whatever the other ghoul wants, and if he wants Aeon to piss himself, he'll do it. Satan, he's so weak for the praise. He'll do anything if Swiss just keeps saying-

"Good boy, good boy," Swiss is chanting, thrusting frantically, practically bouncing the both of them on the mattress with how desperately he's humping away at Aeon to his own end.

"Swiss," Aeon says, sounding just as desperate "Swiss, oh no, I can't, please-"

Can't what, he doesn't know. But maybe Swiss gets it, has seen others like this before and nods, covering up Aeon's mouth with his own and swallowing down his whimpers as he groans, deep in his chest and rich with pleasure as his own cock starts shooting, emptying his balls over Aeon's and adding even more to the gross, sticky mess.

"So good," Swiss exhales as Aeon shakes and sobs below him. He's vaguely aware of a hand finding his own and twining their fingers together. "So fucking good for me, Aeon."

Aeon hugs him tight as the other ghoul begins to purr, hoping Swiss won't notice the new tears of relief welling up in his eyes quite yet.

[sour-ggrapess]

𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐌𝐄 - ❝will you sleep with me?  i know how that sounds i just mean—  i feel safe when you’re there.❞

pjm. fluffy smut. subby jimin

btw i put 3 request in one cuz i really wanna start a series

"yeah?" You responded, peering your head back in the doorframe to see what Jimin wanted as he called your name. His eyes stuck on you, as he had a sad glow in his eyes. "Im sorry, nevermind." You could sense a hint of vulnerability in his voice, making you curious about what was bothering him. "Are you sure everything's okay?" You said it gently, offering your presence as a source of comfort. Stepping back into the room as you pushed the door behind you, You noticed Jimin's hesitance, wondering if he would open up to you. 

 

"Will you sleep with me? I-i know how that sounds... I just feel safe with you next to me."

He said this, looking hopeful, as if he were waiting for you to say yes. "Uhm, yeah, ok, I'll stay." You replied, slightly taken aback by his request but understanding the vulnerability behind it. Jimin was always protective, and you knew he would do anything to make sure you were safe, so why can't you return the favor and just do the bare minimum to put his mind at ease? You pull back the covers and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. His practice is warm and comfy, as it helps you get comfortable as you softly whisper "goodnight." His soft voice whispers it back as you turn over to face the opposite side of the room, feeling a sense of peace and contentment. You drift off to sleep before the dreams take you on a journey through your subconscious mind.

 

light off the walls, casting a warm and comforting glow throughout the room. Soft groans and breaths fill  the air as the weight next to you shifts closer to you, a pair of arms snake around your waist, and the light feel of Jimin's breath against your neck.  

He smacks his lips as he nuzzles up into your backside as his cock rests at the top of your ass , sending a shiver down your spine. You can't help but surrender to the intoxicating sensation. His erection grows against your body, from soft and breathy to uncomfortable groans and shifting of his body, causing you to slowly awaken.

Eyes slowly opening as his monas turn into whimpers as he ruts his cock up against you. "Jimin, what the fuck are you doing?" You scoot away and turn to face him , horrified by his actions.  "His eyes open as he looks at you with heavy eyes and an open mouth "Wha-what?" he asked with sleep decorating his words before he looked down to see his cock poking through his pajama pants. "I'm so sorry," he stammers, quickly pulling away and covering himself. "I'm going to get ready to leave," he says, his face flushing with embarrassment. He got off the bed as you thought about how bad you probably made him feel.

He was hot, and maybe you could help him. The thought of you taking his cock in your throat made a wave of slick leak out of your now socked hole and onto your pants. "What if I could help you with your situation down there?" you asked as you looked at his dick poking through the cotton pants  as you took your lip between your teeth. His eyes widened in confusion and shock as he exclaimed, "Huh?" You almost beg, "Let me suck your cock," as you stare at him with round, wide eyes, craving the taste and sensation.  As you crawl to the end, the mattress moves. You maintain eye contact and motion for him to approach. He walked forward as he placed his nicely folded clothes back on the dresser before towering over you with a smug  smile on his face.  "Tell me what you want, baby; tell me how badly you want to touch me," you said as you slid your hand up and down his toned and slim torso. "I want to fuck you so bad that you won't be able to walk straight for days," he whispered in your ear, his voice dripping with desire. "I couldn't stop thinking about you bouncing on my cock the whole time I was next to you." He whined, "I need you to touch me; please touch me." He begged as you pulled his now tight pants down along with his boxers. His hard and red cock twitches with arousal as it fights to stay up.

"Are you ready, baby?" you asked as you mocked him with a whiney voice , knowing that you were in complete control of his pleasure. He despondently nods his head  right before you start to pump his shaft with skilled precision, making him gasp and moan uncontrollably. Your lips meet his tip, sucking hard as if you were trying to drain all the semen out of his balls. His mouth hangs open and his eyes are tightly shut as he gasps for air , overwhelmed by the intense pleasure coursing through his body. His hands turned into fists as he inhaled a sharp breath through his clenched jaw. Releasing his tip from the grips of your mouth with a pop causes him to moan loudly as the boy's hips shutter. 

"Tell me that you're mine while I suck you good." You take half his length into your mouth, feeling his warmth and hardness against your tongue. Your tongue slides along the underside of his shaft as you bob your head up and down on his length. savoring every inch of him as you jerk the rest that won't fit. "I'm all yours, fuufk." He yelps as you lick between his slits, sending shivers down his spine and making him moan in pleasure. "Can I fuck you?" He breathes heavily, his voice hoarse and desperate. "No baby" You get up and push him on the bed, causing his eyes to widen at your action as you climb on top of him, taking control. "I'm going to fuck you, understand?" You assert yourself confidently, a wicked smile playing on your lips as you crash them on his. Saliva seeps as Jimin's tongue fights for dominance against yours. You pull away as you lift up your body and pull down the  tight, now wet sleep short

s, tossing them to the ground along with his pants. "Please, can you fuck me?" he begged as he rubbed his hands along the curves of your ass. "No, baby, you've got to ask nicely to touch me," you replied with a mischievous grin. You plopped down on his cock with a loud smack, causing you both to moan loudly. Loud slaps as you bounce up and down on his member, feeling every inch of his cock inside you. the perfect curve of his manhood hitting the spot you didn't know was there , sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. loud moans spilling from both of your throats as you both reach the pinnacle of ecstasy. "Fuck, can I please touch your boobs?" He pleads with a hoarse voice from not being in use for so long. "Tell me yours," You say as you place your hands on his throat. "Tell me." His eyes shut tight as he exhaled a shaky breath, finally surrendering to your demand. "I'm all yours, yN, all yours; I belong to you." "Good boy".

Tank top now, along with all the other clothes, as your boobs bounce In his face. "Oh my f-fuking god, Jimin, your cock is so big." Your words made his lips quiver, along with his legs. "I'm going "let it out, baby," you say as you bounce sloppier than before, chansing your own orgasm as your excitement builds as his cock twitches inside of you. Hot spurts of smen shoot out, coating your walls as Jimin moans out your name. His hands fly to your ass, making you cum all over him, making it mix with his and pool on his balls. 

 ense pleasure consumes both of you, leaving you breathless and satisfied. you falYoulat on his chest as you both bask in the afterglow of your passionate encounter.

"You had no panties on the entire time?"

 ⊹˚. ♡taglist - @chimmy-licious @shescharlie @bangtanattic

© sour-ggrapess | TUMBLR

[timeofjuly]

And Four Papyri in a Pear Tree

Chapter 1 - Smooth Operator

Summary: Rus takes you ice skating for the first time and despite some initial wobbliness, only one of you ends up on your ass.

Notes: The first chapter of And Four Papyri in a Pear Tree, my four-part holiday series focusing on festive-themed dates with Rus, Edge, Stretch, and Papyrus.

Tags: Reader/swapfell Papyrus, ice skating, fluff, established relationship.

Read it on AO3 or read it below the cut!

“lookin’ a little wobbly there, baby doll,” Rus teases, looking unfairly steady on his skates. Behind him, a vast expanse of glistening ice stretches out under the open sky, reflecting the soft glow of twinkling lights that adorn the perimeter of the skating rink. The air is crisp, carrying the faint scent of freshly fallen snow and the rhythmic sound of blades gliding over the smooth surface.

Your own skates slide perilously against the ice, your legs clenched tight to stop your knees from slipping out from underneath you.

“Nuh-uh,” you say, willing your fingers to loosen their grip on the barrier. “I’ve just got knives attached to my feet, what’s scary about that?  It’s not like ice is slippery or anything.”

Rus chuckles. “c’mon, don’t’cha trust me? if you’re that scared, it’s not too late for me to get you a penguin.”

As if summoned by the cruel forces of comedic timing, a small child breezes past the two of you pushing said skating aid. They seem entirely at ease and as you watch, they remove their hands from the penguin with an elated whoop.

“Look, no hands!” they call out, presumably to a parent.

Your resolve, which has previously been a gelatinous mass quivering at the pit of your belly, hardens. Like hell you’re being shown up by a kid. “Nope,” you say to Rus, “I’m good.”

You aren’t, though. You’re nervous. You probably shouldn’t have watched that video about the top ten career-ending ice hockey accidents last night. Ah, hindsight. At least you’re wearing a thick scarf; hopefully that’ll protect your neck from any errant skating blades.

“if you’re sure,” he says. In contrast to the pitiful display you’re putting on, Rus looks completely at home on the ice. More graceful than he is on solid ground, even, though that’s not necessarily that high of a bar. There’s a natural ease to him like this, a confidence that you’ve only caught snatches of before.

“i’m ready whenever you are,” he says. His thick woollen sweater reads FESTIVE GUY and is a particularly fetching shade of eggplant.  His cheeks are faintly lilac from the cold that nips through the air, his long, delicate hands encased in cosy mittens.

Those mittened hands are held out to you now. Anxiety flickers in your chest but then you look at him again, at how steady he is, how the long lines of his body are looser and more relaxed than you’ve ever seen them outside of the safety of privacy, and that gives you all the bravery you need.

You take his hands, the chill of the rink being chased away through your gloves. Your fingers curl between his phalanges in a grip that would surely be bruising if he had flesh. As you step further onto the ice, you wobble perilously, struggling to find your balance. Your ankles feel heavy and clumsy, your feet dead weight. How do people make this look so easy? You’ve never felt so unwieldy in your life.

“you’re okay,” he says, holding you steady. “that’s perfect.”

The standards for perfect must be low.

You’re too busy concentrating on not falling on your ass – no, hands and knees, the video you watched in preparation for this said that letting your arms absorb the impact is the safest way to fall – so you can’t articulate that thought into an appropriately clever remark, so you just settle on responding with a dubious look.

His grip tightens reassuringly – you feel like he’s holding all of your weight at this point - and he begins guiding you across the smooth surface. He’s making it look so easy, skating backwards with practiced, smooth motions. You feel like a newborn giraffe in comparison, if someone was to sneak into the zoo, strap knife-blades to its hooves, and set it out onto the ice.

"first lesson: find your centre of gravity," he says, his voice low and encouraging. "keep your knees slightly bent, and let the skates do the work."

“What does that even mean?” you say, a little panicked, but you quickly mimic his stance. It’s awkward at first – you’re ready to tip face-first into him at any moment, but with enough gradual, tiny adjustments, you start to feel a little steadier. The tempo of the music playing over the rink's speakers helps you keep your movements rhythmic, and you find yourself feeling more and more confident.

“there you go,” he says. Despite yourself, warmth floods your chest at the praise.

“I feel like you’re doing all the work, not me or the skates,” you say. “How the hell are you so good at this? I’ve seen you trip over your own bone constructs.”

He lets go of one of your hands to press a wounded hand to his chest and you flail in its absence, letting out a startled eep.

“hey, i am beauty and i am grace. ’specially compared to you right now.”

He snatches your hand back before you can really panic, but as you recover, you realise that you probably weren’t in any danger of falling anyway. One, you trust that Rus would catch you and two, you’re feeling a little steadier on your skates now. Maybe you’re getting the hang of this! The Zamboni isn’t going to run you over after all.

“Aw, you don’t think I’m pretty?” You affect an exaggerated pout.

He laughs, but his cheeks tinge purple. “’course i think you’re pretty. you’re my cute little baby squirrel, slippin’ around on the ice. like in ice age.”

“… thank you?”

“you’re welcome, scrat.”

Eh. You can live with that. Dude has tenacity you can appreciate.

Besides, all this teasing is distracting you from looking down at your own feet and throwing yourself off-balance. Rus continues to glide you around the rink and the sounds of the other skaters seem to fall away, leaving just the two of you and the sounds of your skates sliding against the ice. You gently lap around, each pass making you feel more and more comfortable.

“Still, there’s got to be a reason you’re so good at this,” you press. “There’s not some secret winter Olympics Underground I don’t know about, right?”

He snorts. “hah. nah, nothing like that. not much time for organised sports when everyone’s tryin’ to avoid being dusted. i just did a lot of skating on my own, back when i was in stripes,” he says, and though the tone is off handed, you get the sense that this is far more significant than his voice is letting on. “spent a lot of hours out on the ice. with enough practice, angel eyes, anyone’d pick it up. even you.”

He lets go of your hand again, this time to boop your nose. When he takes it again, his grip is far looser, and you find that you’re staying upright of your own volition. Part of you is tempted to let go completely and see what you can do on your own now that you’ve got the basics down, but fuck, the enjoyment you’re getting from holding his hand is overriding your competitive spirit.

He’s also still towing you around and you have no idea how to actually make yourself go, but little details.

“There’s not much ice or snow from where I’m from, so I never learnt,” you say. “We’d get this gross, dirty sleet sometimes in the winter, but not much else. I used to be so jealous of kids who got to have white Christmases. Did Black teach you to do this?”

Fondness colours his features. “yeah, he did. he was good like that. not many of the other kids liked to go out onto the ice, so i think he thought that if i stayed out there, they wouldn’t pick on me. when i got older, it was a good way to get away from everything for a while.”

You imagine a younger Black taking an even younger Rus by the hands and leading him out onto the ice, guiding him in the way he’s guiding you now. You wonder what being picked on as a kid looked like in their universe, that cruel, brutal place. You doubt that it amounted to simple teasing.

Your chest aches at the thought, but you quash it down. Today is a day for good things; you’re not going to dwell on a past you have no way of changing.

“You must’ve learnt some pretty cool tricks, then,” you say, pushing levity into your tone.

The words chase away the hint of melancholy that had been lurking on his skull. He grins at you, lazy and languid and confident, and says, “oh, sugar plum, you have no idea.”

The two of you both glide to a stop on the side of the rink. You let go of his hands and grasp back onto the barrier. You feel safe now to stay standing without his assistance.

“Go on, then,” you say, angling your chin towards the ice. “Impress me.”

He takes the ice, his movements fluid and confident. The chilly air echoes with the scrape of blades against the smooth surface, and he shoots you a mischievous grin. With each stride, he gains momentum, twirling effortlessly with a grace that makes you dizzy. Your breath catches as he executes a flawless spin, his body a whirl of controlled motion. The ice seems to respond to his every command, and he carves intricate patterns with finesse.

With a final, daring leap, he lands with a flourish, a triumphant smile lighting up his face. The ice seems to shimmer in approval of his performance.

As he skates back to your side, there's a glint of anticipation in his eyes, silently asking if he managed to impress.

And in that moment, under the twinkling lights of the ice rink, you can't help but feel the warmth of his efforts.

Fuck, you’re getting mushy. You can’t find it in you to be upset about that, though.

“well?” he says.

Your applause is muffled by your gloves, but the intent is the same. “That was amazing! Do you reckon I could learn to go that fast today? Oh, or even backwards? Both at the same time seems a little ambitious.”

“maybe just a little,” he says, cheeks flushed from your praise. “we can work on it, though. just getting you to go under your own power today is a good goal. that you’re standin’ with no support now is impressive on its own.”

You look down at yourself and then at your arms and huh, would you look at that. Granted, you’re not moving yet, but you’re getting there!

You cast your eyes back out onto the ring to see the small child from earlier gliding around the ice, skating aid now discarded. You point a gloved finger towards them.

“Do you think I could at least go faster than that kid today?” you say.

Rus looks amused but doesn’t question your choice of a benchmark. “maybe, but don’t stress if you can’t. you’re doing really good for your first time on the ice,” he says. “i don’t want you fallin’ and cracking your head open because you bite off more than you can chew. don’t worry, we can come back for more practice. if you want. it’s okay if you, don’t, though, i -.”

“We are definitely coming back,” you say. You’re determined to at least learn one trick before the holidays are over. “You’re stuck with me now, coach.”

“does that mean you’ll get one of those leotards?”

“If you wear one too, sure,” you agree. “Maybe we can get matching ones.”

He takes your hands again and starts pulling you around the ice, slow and deliberate. You do your best to match his movements. The two of you make another slow lap and though you’re too focussed to be chatty, the silence doesn’t feel awkward. He gives you the occasional helpful, if teasing, pointer and your confidence continues to grow.

“well, how’s your first time on the ice shapin’ up so far?” he asks you after another lap. “everything you were hoping for?” The words are joking, but you can see his sincerity.

Your chest feels all warm and soft and suddenly, you don’t feel the chill of the ice at all. You steel yourself and use your handhold to pull yourself closer to him, slowing your pace, and then let go of his hands altogether, bringing one now free hand to cup the side of his skull. Your gloved fingers splay across his zygomatic arch.

He nuzzles into your palm, sockets drooping.

“Good,” you say. Your voice is soft. “Really, really good.”

“i – heh.” He ducks his head, but he can’t hide the colour that flushes his skull.

In an attempt to recover gracefully, he takes a misstep, his skates catching an edge. Before you both know it, he's tripping over his own feet, arms flailing in an attempt to regain balance.

To no avail. He crashes down into the ice, bony ass first. You narrowly avoid getting taken down with him.

“Oh my god,” you say, unable to stifle the laughter that bubbles up your throat. “Are you okay?”

Rus attempts to clamber to his feet, trying – and failing – to get his legs back underneath him. With each slip back onto the ice, the vivid mauve dusting his cheeks deepens further.

Eventually, he rights himself, skull blazing purple. “’m fine. that was exactly what i was going for. grand finale. ta-da.” The words are said with accompanying jazz-hands.

Still laughing, you pluck one of his hands from the air and pull yourself towards him.

“Real smooth,” you say. “Come on, you charmer. I want to have another go.”

[84reedsy]

Okay but picture Scott, Roddy or whoever you think fits this best saying this to you " You know i love you right? Good, because im about to fuck you like i don't"

Yeah...I went with Scott...

Scott Hall was in one of those moods. One that told Michele to steer clear of him until he cooled down.  He would never hurt her,  but to avoid a fight or making things worse,  she kept herself busy in the bedroom, folding clothes,  organizing the bathroom and finally settling on reading a book she'd been putting off for way too long. 

A heated call with his ex, a contentious conversation with his boss, and her credit card statement arriving in the mail - all three within the matter of an hour understandably set him off. Making herself scarce was the best move. 

She could hear him stomping around,  mumbling to himself as he moved through the house as if his little tantrum would solve his problems. She smiled behind the pages as she turned them.  Scott could be such a hot head,  but he always more than made up for any cold shoulder. 

She felt bad that part of it was her doing,  but if he'd just let her get the mail, he'd have never even seen the bill. The dark stare over the top of the creased paper directed at her as she'd walked in his office made her shiver even now as she thought back to it. 

“When were you going to tell me about this?” He had dangled the paper in front of him.  She'd fidgeted, knowing she'd broken her promises to watch her spending. 

“I was gonna…”she lied through her teeth.  Scott only huffed an annoyed sigh out of his nose as he stood,  nearly slapping the paper on his desk. 

“Just my fucking lucky day isn't it….” He'd growled, walking away to blow off steam. 

She could hear him now in his gym, weights being racked, music playing loudly,  and even his strained grunts echoed through the halls as he tried to burn off his frustrations. He hadn't even bothered to come to the room to change into workout clothes.  He had to have been pretty upset to work out in jeans. 

Michele tried to think of ways to make it up to him - she could get a job to work while he was gone to help pay it back. She wrinkled her nose,  rereading the same page a second time due to her own distraction. She would apologize and mean it of course…but that probably wouldn't be enough. 

“He likes a good steak…” she mused aloud, wondering if a nice dinner reservation might help.  But her trying to throw money at a problem seemed to be part of the issue,  so she scratched that idea, “Maybe a little excursion to The Landing Strip…” Scott still enjoyed a visit to a strip club or two. Michele had to admit she didn't mind him going and she loved going with him even more. 

Of course being around that many naked women turned him on. She did not feel jealously when he'd slip a few dollars in a g-string or ample cleavage, because only she was what his hands touched. They'd barely make it to the car before he was inside of her in some way. 

Michele grinned thinking about the time they only made it to the car…but not in it.  It was a miracle they weren't arrested. Perhaps there might be a private room available for her to reserve. 

-----------------------

Scotts muscles bulged under the heavy weights. He pushed himself past his limits. His negative energy was coursing through him. He pressed the heavy bar upwards a few more times before racking it safely above him.  His chest was taut and sweaty,  rising and falling quickly with each labored breath. He sat up,  raking his hand through his damp hair. Grabbing his discarded shirt, he dried the sweat from his face. 

Adrenaline and testosterone were fueling him now,  the irritation he felt dictating both. He had a lot more things he'd thought of to say to his ex.  He had a few choice words for his boss that he honestly hoped the tiny man would choke on. 

And as for Michele, while she didn't purposefully push his last button - she'd sent him over the edge today. Whether or not she had so on purpose, she was here and she'd have to deal with what he wanted. 

-------------------

Michele hung up the phone,  knowing the room she'd reserved might have been a risk with the deposit she'd put down. But she seem his cares all melt away before with a good lap dance.

She was feeling proud of herself, smug as she tried to find where she left off in her book. She jumped though when the door to their room flew open and Scott stalked in, slamming it behind him with his foot. She looked at him wide-eyed and holding her breath a little. 

There was a hungry look in his eyes and it was anything but gentle. 

“Scott, I-” she started with an almost meek voice,  but he cut her off abruptly.

“I don't want to hear it,” he said bluntly. She felt her mouth grow dry as her book fell to her lap slowly. 

“You know I love you, right?” He asked, already knowing the answer as she nodded slowly, not taking her eyes from his. Her heart hammered heavily against her chest,  knowing what he wanted and what he would do to get it. 

“Good,” he undid his belt roughly, slipping it out of the belt loops in an aggressive, swift move,  “because I'm about to fuck you like I don't,”

[eddieschains]

Missing A Corroded Coffin Show

Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader

Yeah i saw this and couldn’t help myself

i also just busted this out on my lunch break and barely proof read it so sorry lmao

TW: 18+, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), backshots, let me know if i missed anything!!

You’d had a long grueling shift at work full of displeased customers and co-workers not wanting to carry their weight, resulting in you working 3 hours past your scheduled shift. Eddie had a show with Corroded Coffin tonight and while you’d never missed a show before, Eddie could tell how tired you were when you got home and told you he’d be fine if you stayed home.

“Baby look at you, you can barely keep your eyes open.” He pointed out.

“But i’ve never missed a show. I should be there to support you.” You pleaded, near tears either from feeling so guilty or from being dead tired. Probably a bit of both.

“Come here.” He pulled you into his chest, placing a kiss on the top of your head. “You have every other show to come to. We’re not going anywhere. Now go put some comfy clothes on and take a nap. I’ll leave as soon as i can after the show to come cuddle you.” He smiles as he stuffs his guitar in its case.

“God i love you. I’m sorry, i promise i’ll be at the next one.” You tell him, walking him out to his van.

He pulls you in for one last hug, pulling back to give you a long deep kiss before hopping in the van and starting the engine. “Get some sleep, see you a few hours.” You wave him off as he screeches down the road.

You decide to kill some time by taking a warm bath, putting one of Corroded Coffins mixtapes on to bring a little bit of the show to you. Once you were satisfied with your bath, you changed into a pair of Eddie’s sweatpants and one of his old t-shirts. You rarely wore your own pajamas to bed since Eddie had so many old clothes you liked to wear instead. They were comfier and you liked that they smelt like him. You slept next to him every night and could smell him just by rolling over, but that was besides the point.

You cuddled up underneath the covers of your shared bed and lit a candle before pulling out the book you were currently reading. You had gotten through another couple chapters before your eyelids began to feel heavy. Instead of fighting off the sleep like you normally would, you place your bookmark inside the book and blow your candle out before turning the light out.

You were woken up a couple hours later feeling Eddie’s chest pressed against your backside while his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You let out a deep breath, relaxing your body under his touch. You feel him slowly grinding his half hard length against your ass as he drags his hand down your side, rubbing circles on your hip.

“Good show?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. He mumbles a mm-hmm in your ear. He usually felt frisky like this after a show with the adrenaline running through him.

“Tell me about it.” You place your hand on his, pulling it down to your core. He groans in your ear, wasting no time in slipping it under your sweatpants, dragging his finger up and down your slit.

“We got a bigger crowd tonight, about 30 people.” He toys with your entrance before slipping his middle finger all the way in. “Played that new song i wrote about you.”

“You tell everyone- fuck- tell everyone about me?” He curls his fingers into you just the way he knows you like, while his thumb is rubbing circles on your clit.

“Yeah i did baby. Told everyone how fucking hot you are. And how you’re mine, how this pussy is mine, how you belong to me.” He pushes a second finger in, fucking you harder, feeling your walls start to clench around him. “Told them how much i love you, and how much i wished you were there. How i couldn’t wait to go home and fuck this tight little cunt.”

Your legs start shaking, his words sending you over the edge as your orgasm hits. You arch your back into him, feeling his cock pressing harder into your ass as his fingers continue to milk you through it.

He pulls his fingers out of you and pulls his own pants down his legs as you do the same.

“Why don’t you show me how bad you wanted to fuck my cunt.” He sits up on his knees, flipping you onto your stomach. You can hear him spit into his hand and start stroking his cock from behind you. The sounds of his hand rubbing his wet shaft were almost enough to end you once again.

You start bucking your hips back and forth with sinful moans leaving your mouth, begging him to take you already. He places one hand on your hip while the other pushes your head into the pillow. He drags his dick up and down your slit one last time before slowly pushing inside of you.

“Jesus christ.” He whispers, pulling out slowly and slamming back in. “She takes me so fucking good. All the time. Like she was made for my fucking cock.”

He continues thrusting in and out of you at a faster pace each time, with your moans being muffled by the pillow. He brings on of his hands to your ass, smacking it over and over making you whimper as your pussy twitches around him.

“Fuck me Eddie. Make me cum. Make your good girl cum all over your cock.” He snaps his hips up to yours, pulling your head up to his by your hair. He wraps one arm around your waist while the other holds on to your neck.

“You wanna cum baby?” He grunts into your ear. You shake your head, responding with nothing but a moan. “Good girls use their words. Tell me what you want.”

“Wanna cum for you. Wanna be your good girl please Eddie. I’m so fucking close.” You respond, bouncing up and down to meet his thrusts. His grip on your throat gets tighter, while his mouth starts sucking on the spot just below your ear.

“Then be a good girl.” He whispers, and with those words your shaking again, screaming his name so loud you know the neighbors can hear. You fall out of his grip and back onto the bed as the wave of pleasure takes over.

He grabs onto your hips, his grip so tight you’re sure it’ll leave bruises in the morning. He starts pulling your body into his for his last few thrusts. A loud curse of your name falls out of his mouth as he pulls out and you feel the strings of his own cum dripping down your ass.

His body falls on top of you, still grinding his dick on your ass to ride out his orgasm as he places wet kisses all down your spine.

Once he regains his strength again, he’s skipping to the bathroom to find a towel to clean you up. He lays back down on the bed, pulling you into his chest while running his fingers through your hair.

“I’m sorry i wasn’t there tonight.” You say, placing a soft kiss on his chest.

“I’d say you made it up to me pretty well.” He laughs.

“Did you really tell everyone about how much you wanted to fuck me?”

“Only a select few.” He smirks as you slap his stomach. He pulls you in for one last kiss before closing his eyes and drifting to sleep.

Must’ve been a hell of a show.

[happysaddca]

Can you hear the maniacal laughter of someone who thought he was burnt out from his fucking masters in fine arts only to be unleashed and write over 5k words in two days?

It's me. Hi, I'm still working out the kinks for the Constellations redux and I'm honestly feeling pretty pleased. Probably gonna have a piece for Sun soon.

If you don't know what's happening, go here!

In theory, there are many positives to a second Daycare Attendant in any given pizzaplex, especially one so big and busy as here. They could act as a second in command at the daycare, or provide extra security, or even draw more people in to using the daycare while the primary Attendant continued their duties. In theory, the world was their oyster. 

Reality hit a bit different. 

Sunny has always been protective of his role as Attendant, which is understandable, given the virus and all that he and Moon had gone through. So the mere idea of sharing his space and duties was something that sent him into a bit of a tailspin. You’d barely suggested it before realizing how stupid of an idea it was, but it still took the better part of a day between you, Moon, and Gemma convincing Sunny that he was both allowed to be upset by the idea and to express that without feeling like he was going to be shut down or replaced. A second Attendant existing within fifty square miles of himself was putting him on edge enough. There was no way your Sun and Moon would be allowed to help in the daycare without someone suffering. 

Moon is more amenable to sharing his nightly duties, but given Sunny’s distress more is not much of a stretch when applied to “lukewarm lack of enthusiasm.” You’ve… had trouble reading this Moon. When you talk to him, you often catch him staring at your face or arm. He doesn’t mean to, but it makes you self-conscious, knowing that he’s all too aware that his own claws could fit neatly into the scarring left behind. Sunny had been eager to talk about it, to share the experience, you suppose, but Moon? 

Moon kept his thoughts of everything to himself. 

Of course, none of this mattered at all because ultimately the new Attendant couldn’t be caught by the higher ups. You and Gemma and Anika are taking a big risk rescuing and bringing back a decommissioned bot, let alone a duplicate, let alone the very bot that had you nearly fired after nearly dying. All the ways you tried to spin this into a positive paled at the fact that you and your friends would very much be fired and imprisoned, your Attendant shut down and probably scrapped, and Sunny reprogrammed if you were caught. 

They spent most of their time around the bakery. 

That’s because you spent most of your time at the bakery. You don’t like it as much as the overnight janitor gig, and sometimes you’re asked to man the till and have to put up with parents and guardians poorly disguising their horror at your mangled face, but it’s where the powers that be decided you belonged now. You make cakes and cookies and avoid the front of the little building with the creepy cupcake statues and staring adults as much as possible. 

I’m coming up.

There is one benefit to your Attendant’s new body: wifi accessibility. You can text them now. And you do, constantly, backfilling the years with memes and stories and pictures and videos you’d saved just for them. It also meant that when you decided to do something vaguely fool-hardy, like climb into the rafters to find Moon, you could warn them and know that they’d be above the bakery within minutes. 

You’ve barely made it to the top of the ladder when oversized hands wrap around your torso, helping lift you into the rafters with your weight roughly held about your armpits. Record timing. You give a wiggle, giggling at the gravelly tut it elicits. “You are going to hurt yourself climbing up here.” 

“But I wanted to see you and Sun.” You do wait until Moon’s set you solidly on one beam, turning in its hands and pushing into it for a hug. You can hear it mechanicals ticking away inside its chest, solid and comforting and real. And you can feel when it leans down, its teeth pressing gently into your hairline in a pantomime of a kiss. “You can’t come down when the plex is open, and I’ve got a lunch break anyway.” 

“No lunch,” Moon says, and you lift your head to glare at him. The glare is ruined by your inability not to smile. 

“Tell Sun if she wants to critique me, she has to come out herself and not send our boyfriend to do the pestering.” You push up on tiptoes, and Moon immediately moves to support you, keeping you centered on the wide beam and safe in the loop of its arms. You lean against it, fingers catching at the edge of Moon’s faceplate to tug down (it’s not fair, even with this shorter unit you still barely make it to their shoulders). You kiss Moon’s teeth and nose, peppering your lips over unyielding silicone while a laugh bubbles up in Moon’s speakers. It’s Sun’s laugh, almost, just pitched down and made a mess. But it’s a relief too, knowing Sun is still there. 

“Gemma is trying to source parts for a new exoskeleton.” You’re sitting with a sandwich Moon had fetched from the bakery fridge, eating one handed. The other is too busy holding Moon’s. “It’s just been difficult with the faceplate. Your old one was pretty unique for the attendant lines I guess.” 

“We appreciate the costumer replicating our old outfit.” Moon shifts, running its free hand down the blue striped pants covered in soft silver stars. “As much as we appreciate our twins’ looks, it was rather jarring to awaken like that.” 

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s my fault. We probably should’ve waited for you to look more like yourself but I was selfish.” The prickle of self-doubt isn’t helped any by the soft bonk from Moon against the side of your head. “You can’t deny it Moony. If I had been more patient, maybe Sun would be willing to come out.” 

“The Sun will rise soon. They just need time.” It’s an ill comfort, and your sandwich feels dry in your mouth. You chew hard to swallow. “She loves you.” 

“I know.” You squeeze its hand tightly, pulling it into your lap. You’d lean—but you are a good forty feet off the ground and terrified of heights. Even having your legs dangling off the edge like this is vaguely terrifying. “I still miss her. I wish we could talk directly because I’m still worried about everything t-that… everything that happened.” Ugh, you’re crying around your fake eye. It’s the weirdest feeling, still being able to cry out that socket, not having any control over it. You have to let go of Moon’s hand to scrub at it, the eye rolling uncomfortably under your palm. 

“The other Sun talked to us a little about the virus.” Moon’s hand joins yours, pulling your hand away so it can lift your chin and fix the eye for you. You try to hold still, face growing warm as you find yourself staring at Moon’s hat. “About the conversations you’ve had with him.” 

“No wonder my ears have been burning,” you mumble, closing your eyes once Moon’s fingers were clear. His hand didn’t leave, and you lean into it, kissing his palm. 

Moon laughs his normal laugh, thumb stroking over the uneven texture of your face. “If that were the case, you would be burning all the time. Sun and I have had much to talk about.” 

There’s another moment of fear and self-doubt, did I do the right thing, what if they hate each other, what if they’ve hurt each other, but Moon’s voice cuts through the fog. “—blame me.”

“Huh?” 

Moon laughs again, more softly this time. “Cotton in your ears Starlight? I said, Sunny explained how you’ve never, not once, blamed me.” 

“Why on earth would I blame you for anything?” you ask, and Moon’s fans pick up, the LED lights of his eyes flickering. Oh, have you upset it? It’s harder to tell with this faceplate, but the fans are usually a decent indicator of some major emotional change.

“Because of this.” Moon’s grip tightens on your cheek, just briefly, dropping down to the scarring on your throat next. “This. And here.” Its fingers are invasive, pulling the sleeve of your shirt up, pulling at the straps of your elbow brace. “You’re scarred, mutilated, by my hands.” It pauses as it pushes up onto your shoulder, under your shirt. Just Moon’s fingers are big enough to cover the entire joint, its palm pressing lightly against your upper arm. It’s not even that you’re small. “You would be dead if it weren’t for Sun.” 

“I would’ve been dead if it weren’t for both of you.” You take Moon’s hand, pulling it free of your sleeve. You can’t quite look Moon in the eye, knowing that your broken socket is already leaking (you can hardly call it crying). You push on the tip of Moon’s fingers, watching the claw flip up like a switchblade, testing the tip of it. It’s blunter than before, but the thin metal still hurts as it presses against your finger. Moon pulls away. leading you to chase after its hand and hold it tight once more. 

“I don’t remember much of that night,” you admit, your voice going soft to keep from cracking. “I don’t remember most of the year after either. The doctors say I got thrown really hard and cracked the back of my skull. Like reverse whiplash from a car accident.” Moon tries to pull away again, but when you hold on, it has to stop or risk unbalancing you. “Don’t. I don’t blame you Moon; I never have. Because you could’ve killed me from the very start and you didn’t. We both know you’re faster than me, even without the wire.” 

There’s a click from its voice box, but you shake your head hard, sniffling. “No, shut up, I’m not done. You’re faster than me. You’re stronger than me, but it’s my right side that’s all messed up, not my left.” Not your dominant hand, your artist hand, as Sun had taken to calling it. “You were holding back.” 

“You can’t know that.” Moon’s voice clicks audibly, erroring out into static as his fans pick up. He can’t pull his hand away; you’ve got it with both of yours now. “Sun held me back.” 

“You could’ve shut him out,” you retort, and you do look at Moon then, the dimness of his eyes a dead giveaway for how little he’s enjoying the conversation. You don’t like it either, but this is important, and you’ve been holding it in since your first conversation with Sunny. “The other Attendant told me. His Moon blocked him out entirely. They couldn’t communicate, and he couldn’t see anything when he wasn’t in control. He never had a chance to Eclipse. But I remember that. I remember seeing Clips. I-I remember being held by you both.” 

Moon’s hand has curled up in yours like some dead thing, so you take the time to smooth out its fingers, pressing its palm over your sternum, roughly over your heart. Its fingers brush heavily over the bottom of your jawline. “This right here is because of you. That virus, whatever it was, would’ve killed me if you hadn’t held it back, if Sun hadn’t eclipsed you. Moon, you would never hurt me.” 

The words are an echo, a promise given, a promise kept in your mind. Moon is looking away again, hand pressed limply against your chest. You can feel the slow brush of its thumb against the scar tissue on your throat. You swallow, and its hand goes very still. 

“I hated it,” Moon finally says, lowering its hand until it sits in your lap. You take it with both of yours again, watching Moon as it stares down at the sparse crowd. Humans, parents and children and siblings milling about, eating and laughing and talking, the music just loud enough to drown them out. “The way Sun has described her anxiety, you your intrusive thoughts, it was like that. A constant, cloying need to give in. If I didn’t, if I refused, it dug in deeper, circling around, waiting for me to slip up and let the prompt through. And the games…” Moon stops itself, wiping at its faceplate. tugging at its hat until the bell jangled. “We stopped boogeyman, then chase, then Sun suggested we stop naptime until things were better. It wasn’t until I actually. Hurt.” 

When Moon stops again, you scoot a little closer, leaning into its space. “That’s when Sun banned me from the daycare,” you prompted softly, but Moon shook its head. 

“That was later. Sun caught me digging through our memory files, trying to sort where that thing had come from. And I’d been deleting other things without realizing. Or… it had been I suppose. Safety protocols. Mobility limiters on things like our claws. Files about you.” It holds there a moment, its hand on your lap turning to hold tight to your thigh. “That’s when Sun banned you and banned naptime. She tried to keep us safe in the daycare, and it, it worked mostly. I couldn’t hurt anyone if I wasn’t the primary program. Except for you.” 

It looks to you again, leaning close until it can gently bonk its faceplate against your temple. You smile weakly, pulling it down for a kiss, soft and short and once again a little awkward given the stiff, unexpressive material. You have to let go of Moon’s hand so you don’t feel off-balance, and you can feel it move up from your lap to your belly and side, holding you in place. “It hurt to be shut out but… I can’t say I did much better,” you mumble against Moon’s teeth. You are reluctant to pull away, face growing hot. “I just left. After I was released from the hospital, FazCo said that I could finish college and have my medical bills and tuition covered, or I could go to jail for interfering with their property. And I left.” Traitor tears are building into a great flood that can’t be sniffed away. “I left you and Sun to rot in the basement and I thought about that every day, not knowing if you’d been wiped clean or discarded entirely. Because I’m a coward Moon! If I had been braver, I could’ve saved you! We could’ve been together longer!” 

“Oh Starlight.” There’s a trip in Moon’s voice again, less gravel, more Sun, but it’s still Moon’s pet nickname, and Moon’s gentle hold that’s pulling you (still so high!) into its lap, tucking you against its chest so you can hear the thrum of its mechanicals through its exoskeleton. “You are no coward. You could’ve waited ten, a hundred, a thousand years, to find us again, and we never would’ve thought you a coward.”

You can’t help but let out a shaky giggle. “There’s no way I’d have been around in a thousand years.” 

“You never know,” Moon says, its voice catching into the tail end of a song. “And we would’ve loved seeing you again as much as we love seeing you now.” You’re safe in Moon’s arms, hugged tightly against its chest as it tilts its face down into your hair. “Seeing you, holding you, hearing you. We love you.” 

“I love you too.” You say the words into their neck ruffle, check pressed against the oversized bell that hides the clasp. You snuggle in deeper, ignoring the stiff wire holding the silk in place. “I missed you so much. I love you.” 

It takes a minute and for your phone to go off, your manager wondering where you’d disappeared to, for you to compose yourself. Moon helps you to the ground and you’re about to leave to finish your shift when you remember a question that’s been bothering you for a long time. 

“Moon?”

“Mm?” It’s busy fixing your shirt sleeve, fighting where the cuff is trying to curl up on itself. 

“When they shut you off, were you and Sun… separated?” 

Moon’s fingers pause, rubbing over the fabric instead. “Separated?” 

“You were Clips when we were found. Did they force you to restart before d-decommissioning you?” Were you and Sun alone when you were killed?

Moon must’ve picked up on the unasked question because its hand moves to cup your cheek, the unmarred side of your face soft and warm against its metal. “No,” Moon says softly. “We were still Eclipse when they shut us down. And you were still in our arms.” 

“Oh.” Your ribcage is suddenly too small for your heart, and you fling yourself into one last, bitterly tight hug. “I’ll see you after work.” 

“Don’t climb into the rafters,” Moon warns, and you can’t help but snort. 

“Why not? I know you’ll be there to keep me safe.” 

You know Moon’s current face is static, but you can’t help but think that it seems just a little happier as you disappear into the bakery to finish out the day. 

[gobbogoo]

Ranking The TF2 Mercenaries on how long they'd survive in The Amazing Digital Circus:

Ah, the joy of smashing your new and old hyperfixations together like a child playing with action figures... who is this post for? Me, of course!

Weeks:

Demoman: It's a world without alcohol. Even without his physical body's reliance, Demoman's psyche is a patchwork of unaddressed trauma held together entirely by booze. He'd be " jus' a one(thousand) eyed bloody monster" in like a week. Either that or he'd reach some sort of state of enlightened sobriety and discover true inner-peace.

Medic: The man was already balancing on the brink of madness, and being trapped in a world without biological functions and family-friendly restrictions would 100% push him over the edge. He'd initially be very interested in testing the limits of his fellow humans' unique digital bodies, but after a couple weeks all he'd have left would be his sadism, and that'd make him spiral FAST.

Sniper: While seemingly stable, the guy would last a couple months, tops. Sniper is an outdoorsman who takes himself very seriously. He would DESPISE everything about the Circus, from its artificial aesthetics to its goofy antics. He'd go full conspiracy-theorist looking for an exit, shut himself off from everyone else, and inevitably end up exactly like Kafmo.

Years:

Spy: If you were to design a personal hell just for Spy, it would probably look exactly like The Amazing Digital Circus. Tacky colours, goofy antics, all-seeing eyes, and 100% family friendly. He'd cope for a few years just as he put up with the other mercenaries, but it'd inevitably wear him down. Once he became certain he wasn't ever leaving this place, he'd probably consider madness the logical next-best option.

Scout: He'd last quite a few years by turning every adventure into an opportunity to show off, and would bask in every meaningless reward, but his general obnoxiousness would be his undoing. He'd inevitably isolate himself, and at that point Caine's validation would begin to lose its lustre. Eventually he'd have one hell of an existential crisis, and there wouldn't be anyone around to pull him out of it. The family-friendly rules wouldn't help, either.

Decades:

Engineer: Engineer would be able to survive for a good few decades exploring and documenting the circus's inner-workings. His self-reliance and general lack of empathy would ensure he never got particularly attached to anyone else, and his practical outlook would keep him from dwelling on the existential horror of his situation. However, once the projects dried up he'd have nothing to point his extremely powerful mind at, and the boredom would eat him alive.

Heavy: Heavy voluntarily spent something like 30 years isolated with his family on a mountain, and even after working as a mercenary, he was 100% willing to return to that lifestyle until the day he died. So-long as the circus gave him something to punch every now and again, he'd settle into a routine and be perfectly content with it. Madness wouldn't come for him until he was either the only one left, or he'd been there longer than a century, when the mind begins to struggle with the weight of experienced time.

Forever:

Soldier: Soldier has the unique advantage of being very dumb, and in possession of a stable sort of insanity. The existential horror of the circus would never occur to him, and his brand of enthusiastic masochism plus his shoddy memory would mean he'd never grow tired of the endless adventures. He'd treat each and every one like a life-or-death mission given to him by "The President," and would probably forget he was even trapped there to begin with. Because he'd never grasp that it was all fake, I could conceivably see him surviving within the circus indefinitely.

Pyro: Pyro wouldn't just "survive" in The Amazing Digital Circus, they'd THRIVE. It's basically Pyroland made "real." They'd love everything about the place, from the aesthetics to the NPCs to the adventures. Pyro would adore Caine, but more importantly they'd be the first/only person that actually aligns with Caine's skewed understanding/expectation of humans. Caine would likely love having someone who so genuinely loves all his antics. Even if Pyro was the only non-AI left, I can't envision a scenario where they'd ever go mad.

TL;DR:

The Adventures of Soldier and Pyro, from now until the end of time!

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 19: In the Bleak Midwinter

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Grace Burgess x OC

Summary: Tommy begins to recover and Lucy visits a church--but not for absolution.

Word Count: 6,599

Notes: Warnings for depictions of violence, blood, mild sexual content, and references to sexual assault.

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Chapter 15: Sinful Rosary

She didn’t leave his side until he could stand on his own, watching anxiously from her chair when he braced his hand against the doctor’s, the other pushing down on the bed, face hardening with silent determination as he rose to his feet. Steady. 

He’d made great improvements over such a short amount of time. It really shouldn’t have been that surprising. It was Tommy after all.

They’d removed the halo brace, though they’d kept the patch of hair on his head shaved until the stitches from his incisions were ready to come out. But he looked considerably better; the shadows around his eyes had retreated, color returning to his face. He’d lost maybe a little weight from his time laying in the hospital bed, but not enough to lose too much of his muscle definition. When he caught her staring at his naked torso from where she was folded into her chair, he shot her a smirk, eyebrow raising smugly.  

Handsome bastard. Even with that ridiculous bald spot on his head.

But he wasn’t cleared for sex yet. Nor would he probably be for a while. Which wasn’t that much of a problem while he was still in hospital, but it might prove to be once he was allowed to return home. They never had been particularly good at keeping their hands off each other. 

Okay, it was a little bit of a problem even with him still in the hospital. But that was only because he’d apparently decided to forgo clothes during his recovery. She was pretty sure he hadn’t put on anything besides his white cotton boxers the entire time he’d been there.

“I can feel you staring at me,” the rumble of his voice brought her back to herself, pulling her out of her lewd daydreams while she watched the muscles in his back flex when he lifted his cigarette to his lips, head tilted upwards towards the windows. Imagining how those muscles in his back would flex when he…

She shook her head, forcing herself to stop that particular train of thought before it got out of control, even as her thighs squeezed together. “Sorry.”

He looked over his shoulder at her, smirking. “I don’t mind.” 

Rising from her chair, she went to join him, humming happily when he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer until her head was resting on his chest. She looped her arms around his torso, still handling him gingerly even though he kept insisting that he was fine. 

“You’re sure you’re feeling alright?”

“Better than I have in a while actually, love.”

“That’s just ‘cos you’re still on the morphine.” 

“Probably,” he kissed the top of her head. “You said once I was able to stand on my own you would look into if anyone talked.”

“Mhm. I had some of our boys look into if there was any suspicious contact made to Hughes or any of his associates within the few days before you tried to kill him.”

Tommy loosened his grip on her, sitting down on the edge of the bed, tapping the ash of his cigarette into the tray on the bedside table. She sat down beside him, taking the cigarette when he offered it to her. 

“Scudboat says that he spoke to some people who were attending church on Good Friday. They told him that there was a woman that came in who insisted on being seen for confessional even though they weren’t holding any that day. Figured I’d start there. The priests who work there are associated with Hughes.”

Tommy nodded slowly, bringing the cigarette to his lips after she passed it back to him. “I don’t want you going down to that church all on your own.”

Lucy frowned. “I’ll be careful–”

“So was I and I got my head smashed in.”

Okay, fair point. “I’ll take Johnny Dogs with me.”

The idea seemed to relax Tommy somewhat. “Okay. Good.”

“Ada said she would be coming by later.”

“You mean to babysit me while you’re off gutting a priest?” but he smiled good naturedly when she opened her mouth to argue. “It’s fine.”

“It'll make me feel a little better.”

“I know.”

She kissed his cheek before standing, halfway to the door when he called after her. 

“There are some reports from last week that need to be reviewed and signed. If you wouldn’t mind stopping by the office while you’re there.”

She glanced back at him from the doorway. “Yes, boss.”

His eyes snapped up to hers, and even from across the room, she could tell his pupils had dilated a little. “Careful,” he growled, tone playful. Lucy grinned, trying to ignore the flutter in her core, and stepped out into the hall. 

∗ ∗ ∗ 

She met up with Johnny a few blocks away from the church, laughing when he pulled her into a bear hug. 

“Lucy, you little demon! How are ya?”

“You know, I’ve had better years, Johnny.”

His smile wavered. “How is he? Really?”

“He’s recovering well. Doctors are saying that if he continues improving at the rate he is, he can come home soon.”

Johnny nodded. “Good. Don’t know what we would do without the bastard.”

“Yeah,” she jerked her head. “It’s this way,” she started to guide him down the road that would eventually lead them to the church.

“So what is it that you wanted me to do?”

“Ideally? Just stand there while I talk to him. Watch the doors and make sure I don’t get ambushed by any soldiers for hire that may or may not be lurking in any corners.”

“I don’t mean to be rude, Lucy, but isn’t this something you could have just done on your own?”

“Probably, yeah. But Tommy didn’t want me to go alone after what happened to him.”

Johnny’s lips pulled into a grin, a knowing twinkle entering his eyes. “Ah.”

Lucy rolled her eyes, stuffing her hands into her pockets and looking away so he wouldn’t notice the slight pink blush blooming across her cheeks. Johnny had always been enthusiastically accepting and encouraging of her particular relationship with Tommy. It made sense, considering that Johnny himself had multiple wives. 

“So does that mean that Tom’s alone over there at the hospital?” Johnny asked. They’d rounded the corner, the church at the end of the road coming into view.

“Ada’s with him,” reaching into her pocket, she plucked her revolver from its holster, checking it. Satisfied, she put it back, snug against her ribs. When they got to the church steps, she hesitated, staring up at the huge doors disdainfully. 

“Lucy?” Johnny asked. She sighed, taking a deep breath, and stepped forward onto the consecrated ground, letting out a small sigh of relief. Johnny looked at her in puzzlement. 

“Sorry. Bad memories,” she explained. All churches, especially Catholic churches, inflicted the same queasy feelings of uneasiness within her. Less than happy moments from her childhood dredged up to haunt her. That and the always enduring fear that stepping inside one would cause her to burst into flames. Johnny’s expression turned sympathetic, following closely behind her up the steps and to the doors leading into the church. 

Flexing her fingers once, Lucy rolled her neck from side to side, drawing herself up to her full height, clearing her throat. Then she slammed the doors open with a resounding boom that echoed throughout the entire building, ensuring that she stepped with enough force that every footfall thundered loudly. It was the middle of an afternoon on a weekday, so there weren’t that many parishioners; the few that were kneeling or sitting in pews looking up at the comotion. 

“Get out,” Lucy ordered, voice loud and echoing like an explosion in the otherwise silence of the church. “Now!”

The people in the pews scrambled, grabbing at their coats and bibles before filing out towards the doors. 

“Check the confessionals,” Lucy told Johnny, stalking to the altar, where a priest was standing, frozen with his mouth half open in shock. She could hear Johnny opening the doors to the confessionals, glancing in to make sure there was no one hiding in the dark shadows of the little booths. She waited until the big wooden doors swung closed behind the last of the parishioners, coming to a stop in front of the priest with her hands clasped behind her back. 

“Hullo,” she smiled sweetly. The priest finally gained back enough of his motor functions to close his mouth, swallowing harshly. Lucy cocked her head. “Were you the priest taking confessions here on Good Friday?” 

“There were no confessionals offered on Good Friday, miss,” he spoke in a shaky voice. Good. Scared was good; useful. 

“Ah, but there was, wasn’t there? One, according to our boys. A woman. She came here and demanded a priest take her confession.”

The priest pressed his trembling lips together. Lucy looked him up and down.

“So. Was it you who saw her? Or was it one of your fellow clergy? And don’t lie,” she added when he opened his mouth to answer. “You won’t like what I’ll do if I think you are.”

“It was me,” he straightened his back. Trying to be brave despite the slight tremor she could see in his hands. With Johnny Dogs there watching her back she could focus her full attention on the priest, picking apart each and every one of his little reactions to use against him. 

“Hm,” she pressed her lips into a small smile, eyes narrowing. “Who was she?”

“I can’t-I can’t say–”

“Oh, yes you can. And you will. It just depends how much pain you would like to go through before you do,” she considered whether she ought to use the razors sewn into her hat, or the blade sheathed in her belt. The razors would allow her to slash as she pleased, but the blade would let her be more precise in her cuts…

Decisions, decisions. 

She took a step towards the priest, and he cringed back. 

“You can’t…not here…” he said. Lucy raised an eyebrow.

“No?” she drew the blade from her belt. In one quick movement she slashed out with it, slicing through the air and catching him across the cheek. Not cutting deep enough to do any real damage, just enough to draw blood. The priest yelped, jumping away with a hand flying to his face. “Hm. It seems like I can.”

“I cannot divulge what was spoken to me during confession!” he cried out. 

“Ah but you already have, haven’t you?” with every step he took back she took one forward, carefully angling her movements so she was beginning to back him into a corner. “You told another priest, didn’t you?”

He stared at her with steadily paling skin. 

“Yes, love, we already know about that,” she purred. They hadn’t really. Though he had just as well confirmed it through his reaction. And it was the only thing that made sense: the woman who’d come for confession had said something that tipped them off, and this priest had informed Hughes.

“Please, please, I didn’t know what he was going to do…” his back hit the wall, eyes widening. Lucy paced back and forth in front of him.

“Tell me who the woman was that came to confess..”

He whimpered, and she twirled the knife between her fingers. 

“Or I’m going to have to start hurting you.”

The priest jammed his eyes shut, mumbling a prayer under his breath for forgiveness. Lucy rolled her eyes, but waited until he finished.

“I think she was drunk. Or…off her head with something, at least. She came in staggering, demanding to be seen for a confession,” he began. 

Lucy had her suspicions of who it was. But she needed to be sure before she did anything about it.

“What did she tell you?” she demanded. Maybe the woman had just rambled and said nothing useful. Maybe what happened with Tommy and Hughes really had just been bad luck. 

“Many things…many things that didn’t make sense. Something about killing a policeman. She said he was a bad man. That she felt no regret. Something about…about hearing a voice…um…”

“What else?” Lucy asked, even as her shoulders tensed at the mention of a murdered policeman. The priest stuttered. She sighed, flipping the knife in her hand and raising her eyebrows, watching the way his gaze tracked the glint of the lights and candles off the blade.

“She said something about…about there being a plan in place for the death of a holy man.”

Lucy felt her nostrils flare, jaw clenching. “And you relayed that information to Father John Hughes, yes?”

“Yes.”

She took a few steps forward, until she was standing directly in front of him, dagger still clutched at her side. Using the tip of it, she pressed it to the underside of his chin, forcing his head to tilt up from where it had fallen to bow against his chest, so he was looking at her. 

“What was her name?” she asked, even though she already knew the answer. The priest hesitated, and she placed a little more pressure on the blade. Not enough to puncture the skin, but enough for him to know she wouldn’t hesitate to if he annoyed her.

“At first she just said her name was Shelby. But later she said it was Elizabeth Gray.”

Lucy let out a long, slow exhale of air. Her grip tightened on the dagger. Fucking Polly. It was because of fucking Polly that Tommy had nearly died.

It had been her suspicion since the beginning, but she’d forced herself to keep the rage that the thought created at bay until she knew for sure. No use getting all worked up over something and making accusations without having confirmation that she was right. 

But with it now confirmed, there came other questions.

Because Polly had always been jealous of Tommy. Ever since he came back from France. While the boys were away, she had enjoyed a much larger amount of power and control over the company than she’d ever gotten before. And then the men came back, and she was pushed into her old position while Tommy seized control over everything. Lucy had seen, time and time again, the bitterness and frustration behind Polly’s eyes when things weren’t done her way. The contempt and buried resentment she held towards her nephew for taking the place in the family she believed should be hers. 

It was possible that her visit to the priest had not been a drunken mistake, but a calculated, purposeful warning.

Lucy found it hard to believe that Polly would actually want Tommy dead. For all their arguing and disagreements over how the company should be run, she’d always figured that somewhere, deep down, Polly really did care for her nephew. At the very least she acknowledged that without him, the entire thing would fall to fucking pieces. 

No, no. It did not seem right. And while she did not think that the suspicion was wholly unfounded, it made no sense. There was no real reason for Polly to suddenly decide she wanted Tommy dead now. Besides, if she did, there were far better ways to go about it than a contrived, risky visit to a confessional booth that could easily be traced back to her. 

And Lucy had no doubt that Polly was smart enough to know that if she was going to kill Tommy, she would need to kill Lucy too. Otherwise she would never stop coming after her.  

With that possibility omitted, the pieces started to come together in her mind.

The priest said that Polly seemed drunk out of her mind, and Lucy remembered the sight of her, laid up in a chair the day following Good Friday. 

So Polly had staggered into this church, drunk off her ass, demanded to be seen for confession, and then proceeded to spill the beans on not only her past murder of Campbell, but of their plans to kill Hughes.

Intentional in the pain it had caused or not, it was stupid and careless. And she had not come forward to admit what she had done even as Lucy had their men running about trying to find the source of any leaks in their organization. 

And no matter what Polly had meant to accomplish when she stepped foot inside this church, the outcome was the same: Tommy, laid out on a surgical bed while doctors worked feverishly to save his life. He would spend months recovering. Even if it had just been a simple mistake, it had been a colossal one. 

She had almost lost Tommy. All because fucking Polly couldn’t keep her fucking mouth shut. 

No better than any of the others, even though she thought of herself at a higher standard than them. Careless. Reckless. Stupid. 

The wrath she had managed to keep at bay while sitting watchfully at Tommy’s bedside whilst he recovered was foaming up. She and Polly had never been friends. And while at first she hadn’t actually held any ill will towards her, years of being on the receiving end of nasty, backhanded comments and passive aggressive attempts to drive a wedge between her and Tommy had planted multiple seeds of bitter animosity in Lucy towards the woman. 

And now she had almost been the cause for Lucy losing the most important person in her life. 

She wanted to strangle her with her own bare hands.  

“Now, listen, I’ve told you what you wanted–” the priest began. Lucy’s face snapped towards him. She’d had just enough of these fucking priests and their holier than thou dispositions. Their leery looks to the choir boys and girls as they passed them by. How they preached about love and forgiveness, and then exposed their hypocrisy through acts of violence, oppression, and rape, and somehow thought that because of the white collar and rosary around their neck, they somehow would be exempt from burning in hell like the rest of them.

She hated them all. Every last one of them. 

Before the priest could finish his sentence, her arm holding the dagger slashed outwards and cut a clean, horizontal line across his eyes. Whatever words the priest was going to say were swallowed up a scream, hands flying to his face, clutching at the bloodied sockets where his eyes had been but a moment prior. 

Seizing him with one hand around his shoulders, she pulled him to her, driving the knife into his torso, just below his ribs, and twisted it. The priest’s wails echoed throughout the empty church. Drawing the dagger back, she stabbed it into his stomach again, and again, and again. Steady, sharp jabs that had blood spurting from his abdomen. His hands clawed at her, but she batted them away with ease, sliding the knife one final time into his chest, directly into his heart, just holding it there, hands shaking with rage. She pulled it from his flesh like one would slice through butter, taking a step back and letting him crash onto his front on the ground, a burbling, whimpering sound still whining from his lips, body twitching until he finally went still. 

“Jesus Christ, Lucy,” she heard Johnny mumble behind her.  

Wiping her hand across her brow, she sighed, head tilting up, fishing around in her pocket for a handkerchief to clean the blade of her knife with before returning it to its sheath. 

“Clean that up, will you, Johnny?” she asked, adjusting her coat on her shoulders, turning to begin to walk towards the door.

“Yeah, but…wait!” he moved to follow her, hand out like he was going to grab her arm, though he pulled it back when she cringed away from his touch. “Where are you going?”

“To the betting shop.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s the most likely place that Polly will be.”

Johnny’s eyes widened. “Do you think that’s a good idea right now?”

She sighed, head tilting up. “Look, I’m not going to kill her, okay?” she huffed again at his unconvinced expression. “I’m just going to talk to her. Then I have to go take care of a few things at the office, and catch the train back to London,” reaching into her pocket, she pulled out her cigarettes. “Thanks for coming with me, Johnny.”

“Ah, it’s no problem, Luce.”

She pointed to the priest. “Weigh him down and throw him in the cut.”

“You don’t want your handiwork put on display?” Johnny asked. Sometimes they did that. As a warning or a message. She shook her head. 

“No. The last thing we need is for them to try to retaliate. It’s better if this one just disappears.”

Johnny nodded, stepping over the priest. “Alright.”

“And Tommy wants to speak with you. After he’s recovered. He has a job for you. You and your wives and kids can camp out near the valley by Arrow House. No one will bother you.”

Johnny’s eyes sparkled at the suggestion that his family could relax in peace without fear of being chased off by angry landowners. “What sort of job, Lucy?”

“He’ll tell you when the time comes,” she promised. “For now, just enjoy the land and some peace.”

He flashed her that famous Johnny Dogs grin in response. Satisfied, Lucy nodded to him once gratefully, turning on her heel and walking to the door.  

It wasn’t a terribly long walk back to the betting shop, one hand stuffed in her pocket while the other periodically brought her cigarette to her lips. All the while rage continued to simmer in her veins. She was well aware that she probably wasn’t the safest person to be around at the moment. The smart thing to do would be to just go to the office and then catch the first train back to London. But she had to get out what she needed to say to Polly. Or else it was going to eat her alive.

Stomping out her cigarette on the street, she pushed open the door to the shop, almost instantly hearing the buzz of Polly, John, and Arthur’s voices from the kitchen. 

She didn’t bother taking off her cap, fingers twitching and flexing at her sides, walking slowly through the front sitting room towards the kitchen. Taking deep breaths to remind herself not to completely lose it.  

When she stepped into the kitchen, it was to find that the double doors leading into the betting shop were closed. John was leaning against the wall, Arthur seated at the table in the center of the room while Polly stood near the counter.

The moment she saw her, any of the fragile self control Lucy had managed to cobble together evaporated in one single breath. 

Every time she blinked, all she could see behind her eyelids were the stitches still in Tommy’s head, the blood running from his ears while she cradled him in her lap.

She strode across the room in a handful of quick strides, seizing Polly by the front of her blouse and slamming her back into the nearest wall, face crowded in close to hers. “You fucking bitch! Do you have any idea what you did!? Do you!?” she roared it in Polly’s face, giving her a small shake. “Do you know what you did!?”

Polly let out a small, surprised yelp when she first seized her, staring at her, mouth half open in sock. Lucy could vaguely hear Arthur and John shouting at her, grabbing at her shoulders and trying to pull her off of their aunt. She was practically shaking with anger, unable to think of much else aside from Tommy laying still in that hospital bed, the way that the doctors had told her about how they had to cut open his head and piece his skull back together. How heavy he’d been when he went limp in her arms on Ada’s stairs.

Her hands were dangerously close to Polly’s throat. She could feel her face twisting in a snarl.

“You fucking–”

“Lucy, stop!” 

She was finally yanked away from Polly, John and Arthur shoving her away, placing themselves between them. 

“What the fuck!?” John shouted, looking like he was seconds away from pulling his revolver on her. 

“Lucy,” Polly had a hand on her chest, smoothing down the fabric of her blouse where Lucy had been clutching her. “Lucy, why…?”

“I know it was you who tipped off the priests,” Lucy growled. Polly froze, eyes widening. John and Arthur shared puzzled looks with each other. 

“What?” Arthur asked. Lucy ignored them, not taking her eyes off Polly, who’s lips had thinned into a firm line, jaw clenching.

“Now, listen–” Polly started, drawing herself up to her full height as she prepared to defend herself.

“He almost died!” Lucy continued to rage. “He almost died because of you!”

She could have sworn Polly paled a little at the statement.

“You were drunk. Right?” wiping her mouth with her hand, Lucy started to pace from side to side across the small kitchen, her body desperately needing something to do with all the furious energy burning through her. 

“Yes,” Polly said, voice steady despite the odd expression that had passed across it. Something that Lucy thought may have been guilt.  

A scathing scoff passed Lucy’s lips, smiling humorlessly and shaking her head. “How could you be so fucking stupid?”

Polly’s face hardened. “You don’t get to talk to me like that–”

“Tommy’s in the hospital because of you, I can speak to you however the fuck I please,” Lucy spat, stopping her pacing with her hands on her hips, rocking back and forth on her feet, unable to fully stand still for fear that she would lunge at Polly again if she did. “God,” she laughed humorlessly, shaking her head, staring upwards. “You were supposed to be one of the smart ones,” she sighed, and when she looked back at Polly, she saw that that was probably the most hurtful thing she could have possibly said to her, the Shelby matriarch's cheeks turning pink, anger and humiliation building behind her dark eyes. 

A sudden flood of tears welled within Lucy’s eyes, and she blinked them rapidly to try to keep them from escaping, shrugging her shoulders helplessly to Polly. There wasn’t much more she could do or say, she realized. The rage within her had not dissipated, but it had suddenly lost its activeness. No longer did she feel the need to scream and kick and snarl. Instead she just felt rather numb. 

She realized, with a considerable amount of surprise, just how crushingly disappointed she was in Polly. Certainly she didn’t like the woman, nor did she often agree with her ideas or way of going about things, but fuck…

She at least had thought her competent enough to not stagger into their enemy’s lair and spill their secrets.

It was going to hurt Tommy to know it was Polly. He may not have always been the most obvious about it, but he cared greatly for his aunt. And he thought a lot of her. There was a reason why he allowed her such a high place in the company and family business, after all. 

“You were careless and you were stupid,” Lucy said, drawing in a shuddering breath. “And now Hughes is still alive. Tommy will spend months recovering from his injuries. So I hope you’re fucking happy,” she could feel John and Arthur also staring at her, but she kept her eyes trained on Polly’s. 

“Pol, is that true?” Arthur asked, turning around to stare at her. Polly didn’t look at him, continuing to glare at Lucy. But just beyond the hardness within her eyes, Lucy could see a flicker of shame and regret. Her jaw remained tightened defiantly. Lucy glanced briefly at Arthur and John, both staring at Polly expectantly as they waited for an explanation. When she gave none, Lucy looked back at her, cocking her head.

“Nothing to say?” Lucy asked. She doubted that Tommy would ever get an actual apology from her, let alone any of the rest of them. Polly was too proud for that. Lucy shrugged. It was more or less what she’d been expecting. “Okay,” she let her hands fall to hang loosely at her sides, giving one last shake of her head and a scoff. “This is why we don’t tell you things.”

None of them said a word as she stalked out the door, slamming it ragefully behind her.  

∗ ∗ ∗ 

By the time she got to the office, she had calmed down a considerable amount. Getting out what she’d needed to say to Polly had certainly helped, though there was no doubt that it wouldn’t exactly help improve her relationship with the woman. 

Whatever. There was nothing on earth she would be able to do to change Polly’s mind about her anyway. 

Rubbing the heel of her hand against her eyes, Lucy pushed open the doors, slipping off her cap and stuffing it into her coat pocket.

“Hey, Lizzie,” she mumbled. Lizzie looked up from where she was sitting at her desk, typing away at her typewriter. 

“What are you doing back in town? I thought you would still be at the hospital.”

“Needed to run a few errands. Could you get those reports from last week for me? Tommy wanted me to review and sign them before I catch the train back.”  

“Sure,” Lizzie stood to go to Tommy’s office.

“Thanks,” pulling another cigarette out while she waited, she swung around while lighting it at the sound of one of the doors opening, Michael stepping out, hands sliding into his pockets.

“Lucy,” he looked nervous. She raised an eyebrow.

“Hullo, Michael.”

“Didn’t expect you to be back yet.”

“I’m not. Not really. I’m just doing a quick thing for Tommy and then catching the next train back to London.”

Michael nodded, looking down at his shoes. Lucy frowned.

“Is…uh…” he cleared his throat. “Is he taking visitors yet?”

“Not unless it’s an emergency.”

“Oh,” Michael wasn’t meeting her eyes.

Tommy hadn’t been in a particular mood to see anyone besides her and Ada. But as she took in just how nervous and jittery Michael seemed to be, she felt her curiosity being piqued.

“...Is there something wrong, Michael?” she asked gently. He looked up at her, then around the office. Taking a step back, he pushed open his door with one hand, standing back in a silent invitation. Lucy’s brows pinched. 

Well now she had to know what was on the kid’s mind. Walking into the office, she took a seat in the chair across from his desk, a sudden, unnerving feeling washing over her when he closed the door behind them. 

“I…um,” he leaned his hip against the desk, twiddling with his thumbs. “There’s something I need to talk to Tommy about.”

“Okay…” Lucy said, waiting. Michael sighed, looking everywhere but at her.

“It has to do with the priest.”

Shifting in the chair, she fiddled with her cigarette. “I’ve already dealt with the leak, Michael,” she didn’t offer any further explanation. He would probably hear about it all soon enough anyway.

But Michael shook his head. “It’s not that. It’s…” shoving his hands back into his pockets, his shoulders heaved when he sighed, suddenly looking far younger than he was. Like a lost little boy. “Father John Hughes, right?”  

Her fingers tightened around the cigarette, jaw clenching at the name. “Yes, that’s right.”

“I know him.”

She went still. “What?”

“When I was…” he still wouldn’t look at her. “When I was a boy, before I was adopted, for a time I was in the care of the holy fathers.”

Lucy felt her stomach drop to her toes.

“I know…” he was struggling to get the words out. “I know things about him, Lucy. Things that might be useful.”

Her lips parted, nodding slowly. “Okay. I’ll tell him,” her voice was soft, but it suddenly seemed very loud in the quiet of the room. “You can come by the hospital tomorrow.”

Michael’s hands pulled free from his pockets, fiddling with each other, his eyes finally meeting hers. 

“When you and Tommy killed the men who hurt you…” he trailed off, frowning. Lucy waited patiently for him to finish. “Did it help?”

She blinked slowly. “Yes,” she was surprised at how sure her voice sounded when she said it. “The nightmares didn’t stop,” she coughed. “Or the flashbacks, or…any of the rest of it, but knowing that they were out there, walking around, living their lives, and that at any moment they could show back up and…” she trailed off, biting her lip and unable to finish the sentence, instead looking down at the wooden floor. “It helped knowing that they couldn’t hurt me anymore. Or anyone else. They got what they deserved. And they died afraid and in pain. And I get to sleep at least a little more soundly at night knowing that.”

Michael was staring at a space on the wall across from him. “I want to kill him, Lucy.”

She knew all too well the rage she saw within his eyes. It was the same wrath she’d seen reflected back at her in the mirror every day since her ex-fiancé and his friends dragged her into that alleyway in the dead of night, her screams useless thanks to the roar of the thunderstorm booming above them. 

“I know,” she said. “But we have to be careful. And it has to be at the right time,” glancing at the clock on the wall, she stood. “I’ll talk to Tommy.”

“Thank you,” he looked back at her cautiously. “I don’t want my mum to know.”

“Okay.”

He nodded, grateful, hands going back into his pockets. “I’ll come by the hospital tomorrow. Unless I hear otherwise from you.”

“Sounds like a plan,” moving to step around him, she stopped, gingerly resting her hand on his shoulder in what she hoped was some semblance of comfort. “I’m sorry.”

Michael looked down at the floor, a small pained sound coming from his throat, shrugging his shoulders. Lucy gave him a little pat; there wasn’t much else she could say, and slipped out the door. She glanced hastily over and signed the files Lizzie had set out for her, handing them back and bidding her goodbye, heading out the door and beginning the short walk to the train station. 

∗ ∗ ∗ 

Tommy didn’t say much when she reported to him everything she’d found out. He didn’t seem all too surprised when she told him about Polly. He was carrying the same suspicions that she was, after all. But he’d been quiet ever since. Not even her reminder that the doctors finally said he could go home soon seemed to improve his mood.

Poor Tommy. He was clearly trying to hide just how hurt he was over the knowledge of what Polly had done. 

Sitting on the edge of his bed, she watched him where he was standing in the middle of the room, cigarette in one hand, eyes focused upwards at the dim, bluish light filtering in through the windows.   

She couldn’t wait to be out of this place. It was far too dark and dingy for her liking.

Reminded her of being underground.  

In his other hand, Tommy clutched a spoon, pouring helpings of morphine from a little bottle onto it, sliding the silver utensil between his lips. His features relaxed, eyes closed and features relaxing into bliss.

He was higher than a fucking kite. 

Lucy frowned, not taking her eyes off him even as the door opened a nurse announced Michael’s presence to them. She knew that the morphine was necessary at the moment to keep him from being in insurmountable pain, but she’d heard about the addicts who’d gotten hooked on the stuff when they were taking it while healing from injuries during the war.

He needed to be careful to not over do it. 

Michael said his piece, nothing particularly new from what he’d already told her, which she in turn had relayed to Tommy. And Tommy himself wasn’t much use, eyes still focused up at the windows, not even turning to face Michael when he spoke.

“We’ll let you know when it’s time,” Lucy assured Michael before he left. When she spoke to Tommy about it earlier, he’d been agreeable to the idea of Michael getting a chance at Hughes. 

Would probably be best to talk about it when he was more lucid, though. His pain had been bad today. 

He took another spoonful of the morphine, and she stood, watching Michael leave and close the door behind him.

“Give,” she held out her hands, taking the morphine and the spoon from Tommy, cupping his chin gently and angling his face so she could examine his pupils. “I think you’ve had more than enough, love.”

His eyes blinked at her lazily. “I feel like shit, Luce,” he mumbled. 

“I know. Come lay down,” she guided him back to the bed, ushering him to lay down while she sat down on the edge of the bed again. “Doctors said some days will be better than others,” she glanced at the stitches in his head. No puss or other signs of inflammation or infection. He was healing well. 

Tommy just closed his eyes, head resting heavily against the pillows. Lucy looked him up and down, unable to fight back the feeling that his sudden drop in mood didn’t just have to do with how he was feeling physically. 

“I’m sorry about Polly,” she said, touching his hand. Tommy grunted, eyes downcast. Her heart broke for him a little bit. “I’ll get to take you home soon,” she tried again to raise his spirits. “We’ll get to see Charlie. And Asher. And the horses. Get to sleep in a real fucking bed rather than this piece of shit,” she poked the lackluster mattress for emphasis.

“Yeah,” Tommy was just staring at the ceiling. Lucy tried not to be too put out at his reaction, considering he wasn’t really all there with her at the moment. But when she stood, his eyes snapped to hers, hand reaching to loop around her wrist. “Don’t leave me.”

Her eyes widened at the sudden desperation in his voice. “I’m just gonna put these down, love,” she held up the morphine bottle. He let go, albeit reluctantly, and she set the bottle and spoon on the bedside table. Sitting back down at his side, she smoothed his dark hair away from his forehead, giving him a gentle kiss there. “Try to get some rest.”

“Mm,” he closed his eyes. “You could lay down,” one hand patted against the center of his chest. “Right here.”

Lucy fought back a smile. “We tried that, remember? We got scolded by one of the nurses.”

Tommy made a face, mumbling something about getting the woman fired while he readjusted himself against the pillows. Lucy snorted.

“You get better fast, and then we can go home and I can lay on you as much as you want.”

He hummed like the thought pleased him greatly. “You promise?”

She raised an eyebrow. Jesus, he really was out of it. She wondered if he would even remember anything come morning. 

“Yes, love, I promise.”

Whether her agreement brought him enough peace to fully relax, or he simply was that exhausted, it only took a few moments until he was sound asleep. 

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