#oh to be a woman laying with her man in a field

[infernaloverkill]

[phoenix-art-official]

Stan did things to survive he wasn't proud of. Just now, he was using his teeth to break off the locking mechanism of the car trunk he was tied up in. He felt cracks and jolts of pain, and he kept having to swallow blood, and every moment that passed was another that he had to think about everything that had lead him here.

Betrayal, mostly. Cruelty, definitely. Stupidity, sadly.

Stan knew he was stupid. He thought he had wised up over the years, but it turned out he was just as gullible and hopeful as he had ever been. Even now some small part of him was planning on finding the closest payphone as soon as he got out of here, so he could waste a couple of quarters calling a man who he hadn't spoken to in years and who hadn't cared about him in even longer.

He'd made friends on the road. Or he thought so, anyway, but it turned out those "friends" were actually "enemies," and those "girlfriends" and "wives" were also "enemies." Go figure.

His shoulder cracked from where it lay on the floor and he groaned through his teeth. He thought for sure he'd popped the damn thing back in its socket. Oh well. He liked to brag about being able to pick any lock with his hands tied behind his back and blindfolded, but so far that didn't seem to extend to field medicine. Or maybe that was just because he had already wriggled out of the blindfold.

He was maybe panicking a bit. Which was good, he needed the adrenaline. It helped him keep yanking and tugging and cracking against that stupid latch, no matter how often he had to pause because he felt enamel crunch between his jaws instead of metal. That familiar beating in his chest, in his head, in his soul.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

Sur-vive. Sur-vive. Sur-vive.

Eventually, the trunk popped open. Eventually, a haggard, sweaty man covered in blood wriggled out and flopped onto the sand. Eventually, he pulled his hands down around his feet and in front of himself, popped his shoulder into its socket again, and broke the zip ties around his wrists and ankles. Eventually, he levered himself upright and shivered in the cold Nevada night air, looking at the miles of stars above and desolate nothing below. Eventually, he saw the light pollution down the road and began stumbling towards it.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

Well, he hadn't died this time. That was good. And what was more, he currently had a grand total of a dirty dress shirt, some jeans, some loafers, a fleece hoodie, and... oh yeah, absolutely fuck-all else. He was also beat to hell, probably concussed, thirsty, hungry, cold, and...

Huh. How did he feel?

The physical, bodily complaints were always loud and easy to pinpoint. But emotionally, where he expected a white-hot boiling furnace of rage in his chest, he felt instead something icey cold, heavy, and leaden.

Hm.

He made it to a gas station. There was a payphone under flickering sodium lights, a single car being filled with gas- Stan still couldn't say he missed not being able to siphon gas, everyone pumping it themselves made it so much easier- and a young woman doing the filling. He started towards the payphone, not even really thinking about what he would do when he got there, and then someone screamed.

It was the woman. She stared at him. He stared back. The light flickered over her wide eyes. A long moment passed where Stan didn't really know how to fix that.

He lifted a hand to wave reassuringly at her, spin some tall tale, maybe ask for a bit of change.

"Stay back!" she shouted. Then she took off a shoe, screamed, "Scram," threw it at him, and got into her car, driving off into town.

The shoe hit him in the face.

It didn't hurt that much. It was just a shoe. Everything else hurt way more. Especially his jaw.

So why did he feel like he was dying?

Maybe because it was always like this. People shouting at him, throwing things, telling him to "Get off my lawn," or "Stay away from me," or "Keep your mouth shut."

"Stay in line." "Get back in your cage." "Sit down." "Don't ask stupid questions." "Don't come back until you've made millions."

"Go." "Sit." "Stay." "Shut up."

People sucked.

Stan looked off in the direction the woman had driven in.

People were after him. Sooner or later, they'd find out he was still alive, and try to correct that mistake. There were no people who would try to keep him alive. Just him. Always him. Stanley Pines against the world. Alone.

He looked up. The stars looked dimmer from here.

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

Just until the heat died down. Just until it was safe. Just until he could stomach the looks he was going to get. The hate. The disgust. The disappointment.

Stan crept toward the back of the gas station and hid.

[trulyumai]

Looking Past the Fire

Paring: Messmer x Reader

Synopsis: Between the shadow lands, laid Messmer. And between that? His darling wife.

Warnings: Talk of Death

A/N: Ive officially began the DLC and I am WASHED. Also this big nosed fella has been taking over my mind please send help. (I love it)

Enjoy!

For whom could ever love him as much as his wife once did? 

She would be there, to carry his heavy soul, kiss the bruised skin and wipe away the rotting blood. 

His wife was ever so patient; wiping at his dirtied frame carefully, cautiously. Like he was someone who deserved it, needed it. He got used to such loving touches, it was dangerous. His family scoffed behind his back- mumbled about his newfound weakness. But between his own blood was a wall of fire, and between that was her. 

In truth, he craved coming back home, to her, and her adoring frame and sappy expressions. 

He would always call out to her. 

“My love?” His voice was so soft, much more than one would ever guess a man like him would- could carry. 

A man of death and flame. 

“Over here, darling!” And he would see the back of her head, peeking up from the windowsill that laid just in front of their kitchen. 

She would always be in the flower filled garden, tending to each plant with care until her fingers were overtaken with blackened dirt.

She’d lift herself high then, peek over at him with blinking lashes. A serene expression always to be seen when gazing upon the red haired man. 

Messmer without thought would walk forth, to her, and her sun kissed cheeks. 

As if in a daze the man wouldn’t dare avert his eyes; for the goddess in front of him was enough to hold the attention of such a man of power. 

His head ducked under the wooden back door. His back would crack loudly almost every time, and sometimes a groan of protest would leave the pale man’s lips. 

And he would reachout, gently coaxing the woman to him once more, he wanted- needed to feel her soft skin against his rough and war torn body. 

She’d listen of course, and would press her frame to his without further delay. 

Messmer would allow his arms to wrap around her, with his nose digging into her neck to smell the sweet scent of sweat sticking to her damp skin. 

“Husband,” she giggled, hearing his sighs of contentment. 

“I’ve missed you, has the trip fared well?” 

The wind picked up, the giant yellowing trees swayed with the breeze and Messmer could no longer subdue his mind to the stress it was in mere moments ago. 

Right before he placed himself in his wife’s presence, the worries of the palace laid upon his shoulders. 

His command, his power, his reign- 

“Husband?” 

How would she react to the bodies littering the field, the broken families, the hierarchy?

Her fingertips grazed his cheek.

“Hm? Oh, yes, the trip was easy, my wife,” 

The knight picked a fallen leaf that had laid upon her hair carelessly. 

“I’ve established safe perimeters. None shall lay harm to the south for quite some time.” 

She smiled. 

“Of course you did, my strong Knight. For who could be more of a protector than you?”

Bile reached up to the man's throat, it burned his insides with spite and regret. 

His wife was ill informed, she hadn't heard of the burning castle walls- with its soldiers laying crumpled and burnt in his wake. 

In fact, he hadn’t been a knight for the order in many moons, his siege had taken over much of the shadowlands, in which he was close to winning.

For none could stand the fiery ambition held between his sword and gaze 

He was a protector yes, but only for her. 

Messmer let out a deep laugh, it was short and muffled by his lips. 

The knight leaned down and began to trail kisses down his wifes temple, to her jaw, then finally, her lips. 

With a tilt to the head their mouths met, he placed a pale hand on the back of her head, pushing her to meet his lips with more strength. 

Nipping lightly the girl's hands fisted upon his armor, lightly trying to push herself away from the man- most likely for air. 

He complied, and smiled as she let out a gasp for air with pink cheeks and lidded eyes. 

Taking his thumb he brushed it upon her chin, clearing up the saliva that had dribbled down. 

She leaned into his palm, and Messmer once more felt the bite of regret nip at the edges of his mind. 

“Are you staying the night?” Her voice, barely above the howling wind, brought him back. 

Messmer hummed, his hand found the back of her waist. 

“I have dinner going, i'll make your place at the table.”

He only nodded his head as she padded off, not taking his eyes off the darkened clouds approaching their vicinity. 

From the corner of his eye, Messmer eyed the rising smoke. 

The south let out a plethora of darkened fumes, the village there laid in smoldering, blackened ash. 

Of course the south laid safe and ill of enemies; for he had cleared its population down to nothing. 

The land may never return to its original state with its burnt hills and mountains.

“It's ready, my love!” 

Messmer turned back, meeting the gaze of his lover by the doorframe. 

Little drops of rain plopped onto his loosened hair, no longer did light shine through the gray skies, but muffled streams of sun. 

He turned his back to the village, the smoke and bodies. 

For a more important matter was at hand now; the happiness of his wife.

[kiwi-on-ice]

Welcome to Tumblr!!

Would it be possible to request some Reinhardt x fem (nb) Reader where reader accidentally gives a drunken confession that they've had 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 thoughts about him??

Reinhardt x fem!reader

Summary: Always being drawn to the older and chivalrous crusader, a celebratory party after a successful overwatch mission causes secrets to be spilled, and pleasures to be experienced.

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: 18+ smut, reader dresses fem and has a pussy but no she/her pronouns used, reader is a combat medic for overwatch, age gap, size kink, fingering, creampie (no threat of pregnancy).

Notes: Hope you enjoy sweetheart! Kinda went all in on the size kink and age gap so sorry about that lmao.

Something about your commanding officer, Reinhardt Wilhelm, had always captured the attention of your mind and body.

Whether it was his hulking frame that could make anyone feel small, his thundering voice that could be heard across the battlefield, or the sweet and chivalrous personality that lay beneath the rugged exterior; something about him was a pull for you, a magnet that you couldn't help but be drawn to. He may be older than you, more reckless, more of a fighter...but it didn't matter.

You remember as clear as day the first time you had been assigned to be trained under him, a new recruit wanting to make a difference in the world. Since Dr Zielger was responsible for taking you under her wing for the medic side of your job, lieutenant Reinhardt was to ensure you could handle yourself in a fight. And in walks the most intimidating man you've ever seen, 7'4" of muscle, wielding a hammer practically the size of you and then some. But when a bellowing chuckle erupted from his mouth, the sense of intrigue uncurled it's way from your stomach. From then on, intrigued was an understatement. Your eyes followed him everywhere. The movements of his arms on the field, or in the practice range when he'd wear a tank top that extenuated every part of his body as he trained. But then he started to help you, carefully moving your arms to show you good positioning and blocking, the feel of his fingers and how they practically consumed your hips or arm with their sheer size.

Reinhardt was special, and oh so gentlemanly. Even when he'd walked in on you changing, shielding his eyes and saying 'I didn't see anything!" as he backed out. Most men you know would have tried to catch a glimpse, but not him. He was special. And god did you crave him so badly. Craved the experience of showing him just how depraved your thoughts for him were. But you knew deep down it was a bad idea.

Not only was he your lieutenant, but he was much older than you. You knew he would never pursue you, too honorable. He deserved a woman of his own age, and you'd seen the way Captain Amari would glance at him when she thought nobody was watching. These fantasies should stay just that. Fantasies. Nothing more.

So after a particularly successful mission carried out, you wanted nothing more than to drown the sorrows of your unrequited lust in the complimentary champagne being offered at the closing party. Still, you'd dressed for the occasion, your dress flattering your figure nicely as you practically clung to the walls, glass tight in your grip. The garment isn't overly revealing, but certainly gave people a taste of how ravishing your body truly is. You can't help but glance around, noticing the way fellow agents laugh and discuss plans. When your eyes find Reinhardt, discussing something with Captain Amari in a hushed whisper, you down the champagne in one and search for another.

After more than a few glasses, the familiar blanket of haze runs over your brain as you walk rather disorderly to the bar stool. Settling yourself, you tap your fingers against the dark wood as you let your mind drift.

"Ah, enjoying the free booze i see."

That familiar voice always sent a shiver up your spine, but with the effects of the alcohol you feel yourself practically jolt into an upright position as the object of your daydreams settles on to the stool next to you.

"I myself am enjoying the revelry, quite a nice break from crushing omnics skulls open." he exclaims with a grin, as you barely fight the blush rising to your cheeks.

"Yeah, you look great tonight."

Oh my god did you just say that? Without too much thought of your blurted out compliment, he laughs heartily and shakes his head.

"Ah this old thing? Only comes out for times like this." he says, brushing some fibres from his suit lapel. The way the fabric clings to his body has your thighs pressing together urgently. "But I assure you liebchen that you look radiant as ever."

His sweetness just serves to fluster you more, as you bathe in his tone and words, despite how friendly they seem to be. You smile, the alcohol messing with your inhibitions as you gently poke his arm.

"Seriously, how do your muscles fit in here?" You feel the stretched fabric of his suit jacket.

"Oh, well i-i did get this tailored." he admits, a little sheepish as his eyes are firmly on where you placed your hand. When you squeeze, he has to force himself not to react.

"It's so impressive, you're so big Reinhardt..." you mumble, and god the innuendo makes him feel like such a dirty old man for the way his breath catches.

"You flatter me." he says, a little quickly. "My muscles protect those closest to me, as well as the world. I suppose that means they are..."

"Big." you finish his sentence for him, squeezing your bicep again. The rational part of your brain is screaming at you to stop, to realise what you're doing. But you can't seem to care. You're touching him, feeling him.

"Dear I..." he trails off, not quite being used to being in this position. With how hard it's been since the omnic crisis started, he's rarely had time to enjoy the company of someone, much less someone of your age.

"I meant it..." you blurt out again, your mouth seemingly having a mind of its own... "That you look great tonight. You look great all the time though..."

"How much have you had to drink? Perhaps it might be time to go and get some rest."

"No...want to be here with you. Always want to be here with you."

Looking away, Reinhardt truly is lost for words; an occurrence that doesn't happen often. The feeling of your touch, your words, they create a symphony of lust and desire to swirl in his chest, the attention of such a pretty young thing as intoxicating as the whiskey in his glass. But he knows he can't...he shouldn't...

"You're just so...hot. Especially after you train, I um..."

Seemingly your brain kicks back into its senses as you stop yourself. Oh my god, you just called him hot. Before you can run and hide from your embarrassment, he turns to you.

"You, what?"

You shake your head quickly, trying to save yourself whatever shame you still had left. But he presses.

"No, I'd like you to finish that sentence. After I train, what do you do?" he asks, knowing he's playing with fire here. You know there's no real way of getting out of this, so you drink the last bit of liquid from your glass to pluck up the courage.

"I go back to my room and i fantasise about you."

This knocks the air out of Reinhardt's lungs. He holds onto the whiskey glass so tight, cracks form.

"Scheiße" he mutters under his breath, before looking you dead in the eyes. "You want me? Is that what you're saying?"

You can't help but nod, embarrassment and rules be dammed. His breathing becoming laboured only helps further embolden you, as you run a hand down his front slowly. "I want you...more than anything."

He finds himself shivering under your touch, before he catches your wrist. "We can't."

You let out a petulant whine at his dissmissal, leaning further into him. "Why not?"

"Look at you maus, you're practically half my age. It isn't right...it isn't the way it should be. You need a nice boy your age to look after you."

"You'd look after me." you interject. "I know you would...you're such a gentleman."

"Gentlemen don't want to fuck the pretty recruit they train." he says rather gruffly, shaking his head. "Besides, you're drunk. I'll take you to your room."

He left no room for argument as he pulls you along, taking you up to your room. Taking this as a hint, you rub at his arm again before you get to the door.

"Goodnight...please think this over. It isn't a good idea." he says, the words sounding strained in his throat as he opens the door for you.

The next morning, the sunlight streams through your blinds like tiny daggers as your head feels like it's splitting. You really shouldn't have drank so much, blinking softly as you sit up in your bed.

Oh no. The memories of last night hit you like a train, the way you came on to him...the way you felt him up. Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god, you're screwed. Scrambling to get in the shower and get presentable, you pace around the room to think about what you should do. Ignore it? Pretend you didn't do anything?

You can already feel the awkwardness that that would bring, so with reluctance you find yourself walking towards your lieutenant's door and knocking on it softly. Opening the door, you swear you almost feel yourself gasp as he stands there in a t-shirt that clings to his body like you're desperate to.

"Oh, good morning!" he says cheerily, which makes the pit in your stomach get deeper. The word vomit seemingly spits out before you can hope to restrain it.

"Reinhardt I am so sorry for my inappropriate behaviour last night, I don't know what came over me I had too much to drink i-"

A hand on your shoulder interrupts your train of thought. "Dear, why don't you come inside a moment."

That statement clearly takes you off guard, as he guides you inside and closes the door behind you. Shyly, you take a seat on the small sofa and glance at the minimal decor idly as he walks over. The seating clearly wasn't meant for someone his size, as your thigh is pressed against his own as he takes a seat next to you.

"You don't need to apologise...about the way you feel." he starts, and now your stomach is fluttering for a different reason. "And I'm not trying to be cruel, it's just....not right. You deserve-"

"Don't" you interject, "Don't say I deserve someone better, or my age..."

He sighs, low and heavy as his hand balls into a fist in his lap. "Liebling, I am trying to be a gentleman here."

You swallow, realising his need for you. It's addictive, knowing that his breath is heavy and his muscles are tight because he feels like he needs you. Needs you just like you need him. So you gently place your hand on his arm, squeezing.

"I know, and I want you to be a gentleman. I want you to take care of me Reinhardt." you whisper, words sweet like honey to his ears as he feels the heat in his crotch.

His sharp breath fuels you, as your hand traces over to his broad chest, the warmth radiating in waves. With a smile, you angle yourself fully towards him, feeling up and down his chest as you gaze up at him. Catching your wrist just like last night, your gasp sends tingles down his back as he pushes towards you.

"oh gott, I thought you wouldn't..." he starts, before seemingly his self control snaps and he pulls you into a kiss. It's deep and passionate and oh so perfect, everything you wanted from him as his hands practically dwarf your waist. Yours go up to his shoulders, grasping on for dear life as he lifts you and places you on his lap. Feeling the slight scratch of his beard against your face as his tongue gently traces your lip has your mind reeling, and your hips buck on instinct. This is met by a slight groan from the older man as he grips your waist tighter to keep you still.

"Not so fast, let me enjoy you." he mutters as he gently starts to kiss down your jaw to your neck. He worships your skin with kisses like you're holy, like bathing in your essence would grant him salvation. His teeth gently scrape your pulse point as his hands start to move smoothly up and down your waist and hips, memorising your every curve.

Fingers slip under your shirt, tracing your torso before tugging your shirt up and over your head. He lets out a groan at the sight, his eyes looking over your exposed body as his scarred hands run over everywhere he can. Not putting on a bra or undershirt this morning, your chest was now exposed to his gaze. He gently pinches at your nipples, chuckling at you gasp before fondling as a gentle apology.

"Look at you...don't know why you're interested in an old man like me." he laughs in a self deprecating way as he moves you so you're straddling his thigh. Getting the hint, you begin to grind over the muscle, your thin shorts doing nothing to dampen the delicious friction.

"You're so handsome." you seek to reassure him, causing his cheeks to warm as he chuckles again.

"You flatter me." he mumbles, kissing over your shoulders and collarbones as you grind over him, feeling your pussy dampen your flimsy shorts.

He tenses and relaxes his thigh, making you gasp and your hips stutter in pleasure. Huffing out a laugh at how eager you seem to be, he runs his hands back to your hips and controls your pace. You feel so small in his grip, chest to chest against the older crusader as you use his leg to get off.

"So lovely and pretty," he praises you, before snapping the waistband of your shorts, "Shall we take these off?"

"Only if you take this off too." you say, pulling at his shirt. As he pulls it over his head, you can't suppress the noise that escapes your throat as you greedily run your hands over his chest without any pesky material in the way. His muscles look strong and capable, cutting a stunningly strong shape. His scars, of which there are many, perfectly frame him as a warrior, a protector. It all causes you to grind harder against his thigh, your fingers tracing a particularly bug scar on his stomach.

He lifts you up with ease, gesturing for you to shimmy out of your shorts which you do...which is when he realises you didn't put any underwear on underneath. He groans, deep and guttural as you're now fully exposed to him.

"Oh look at you...how has no man already snapped you up liebchen?" he asks rhetorically, as he gently places you fully on his lap, his fingers dancing on your inner thigh. You whimper and go to take his shorts off too, but he tuts and stops you. "I am...a big man. I don't want to hurt you."

At your pout he chuckles and continues, "Please, let me open you up for me."

His finger brushes, against your core and you forget what you were even pouting about as the pleasure settles deep inside you. He teases your clit with his finger, rubbing firm circles to get you even more drenched than you already are. Your hips move a little before he grips one side with his free hand, keeping you nice and still for him as he touches you.

"So beautiful, I'm going to ease it in now, okay?" he asks, and with your nod he sinks his finger inside you. God, if this is the size of his finger, you don't know how you're going to take the real thing as he fills you up with just one digit. He pumps it slowly, getting you used to the stretch as noises fly out your mouth.

"Gripping my finger so tight, such a small maus i've got." he teases with a smile, rubbing your hip soothingly as he works you open. He gently eases another finger inside, stopping momentarily at your slightly pained noise. He coos at you, telling you how good you're doing for him as he slowly but surely gets two big fingers inside of you. He keeps a slow rhythm, curling them to brush against that spot inside you. It's clear that he's an experienced man, given his age and looks that hardly comes as a surprise to you, as he prioritises your comfort and pleasure as he fingers you gently.

After a while though, you get a little restless, trying to fuck yourself on his digits which causes his eyebrows to raise and a stuttering breath to release from him.

"Oh that's it, ride them. Show me what you want." he encourages, as you keep your hands firmly exploring his chest as your hips rock against his fingers, slightly lifting your hips and lowering them to get the most pressure on your g spot. With your moans, he start to moan too, so hard in his shorts it hurts. He can't remember the last time he's been this turned on, this desperate for someones touch as you writhe and squirm on his lap.

"Please, I'm ready." You tell him, eyes pleading with him before he nods, removing his fingers. He quickly places you at his side as he tugs his shorts and briefs down, and you feel your breath escape in a choked manner. He's huge...biggest you'e ever seen, let alone taken inside you. He smiles reassuringly as he places you back on his lap, his cock pressing against your stomach.

"Don't worry mein herz, we will take it as slow as you need."

You nod at his words, breathing deeply as you lift yourself up and position him underneath you. The head brushes against your aching clit and you whimper, rubbing it around your pussy a few times as Reinhardt gasps quietly. With it wet enough with your juices, you slowly sink down on him, getting about a third of the way down before moaning out. The stretch burned, but in a delicious way that had your head spinning and your hands grabbing his broad shoulders tightly. A deep groan escapes the older man as he keeps a firm hold on your hips, not moving you yet.

"So tight...So feucht." he grunts, it's taking all the willpower in the world not to just thrust up and bury himself deep inside your intoxicating cunt.

At his reactions, you sink down slowly, nearly taking all of him before moving up and slowly moving back down again. This slow rhythm has you both moaning, broken and desperate as the months of unspoken sexual tension comes to fruition. He guides your movements slowly, being able to support your weight as you move on him.

Nails gripping into the skin of his shoulder, your cunt feels impossibly full as you keep moving on him. You aren't sure how any other man is going to satisfy you now you've had a taste of the crusader, his cock reaching places you didn't even think possible. Your movements get a little faster as you ride him, still fairly slow but the more even pace has him groaning.

"You're doing so well, so good...so jung und süß" he breathes out, his voice deeper as his eyes close for a moment. However he realises he's no longer able to see your gorgeous body taking him so well, so he opens them to the sight of your chest rippling with every bounce. One hand reaches up to massage your nipple, callous fingers creating a beautiful friction as your back subconsciously arches into his touch.

You cry out at the sensations, your thighs shaking as you ride him faster now, addicted to the feeling of his cock filling you up completely and utterly. Nearly reaching the base now, Reinhardt can't resist bucking up, completely filling your pussy and causing another choked cry to escape you as the older man is completely inside you. He takes this as a positive, and holds you in place as he begins to thrust up in a steady pace. Knocking against your g spot with every thrust, it's like your breath is knocked out of you with every movement; all you can hope to do is hold on for dear life as you let him do as he pleases.

But you'd asked for this, you'd asked him to take care of him, your words rattling around in his mind as he grunts and fucks you with a passion he hasn't felt in years. He will, he'll take care of you, he'll give you what you need.

"Oh...oh it's so good." he moans, never one to be quiet in any situation, letting you know how good your pussy feels enveloped around him.

You nod eagerly, crescent marks being left on his shoulder as your nails really dig in. Not being able to move your body on him, you just moan and cry out as he pushes his cock up and up inside you. However he seemingly tires of this position, moving you underneath him gently so you're on your back with your pretty eyes on him. He holds your thighs apart before thrusting once more, moving a pillow beneath your hips to ensure he's hitting your g spot.

"Du bist schön, my pretty thing." he gasps out, his thumb reaching down to rub at your clit. Immediately your walls tighten around him, making him moan and double his efforts.

You're pretty sure you're in heaven, his thrusts deep and powerful but passionate, making you feel all of him. The added pressure on your clit causes the pleasure to build and build rapidly, scrambling to hold his arms.

"Reinhardt i'm close." you warn him, before he grunts.

"Oh please come for me, make a mess of me." he practically begs, his voice strained. "ich brauche dich"

It only takes another few deep thrusts before you're cumming on his cock, your back arched and your moans whiny and breathy. The older man's rhythm falters at your stunning display, cock throbbing as he feels dangerously close to bursting right at that moment. But ever the gentleman, he asks where you want him to finish.

"Inside...I-I take the birth control shot that Doctor Ziegler offers...I want to feel you inside of me please." you beg him hazily, barely conscious as you still feel so full yet so sensitive.

This causes Reinhardt to moan loudly, thrusting a little harder as he reaches his peak, reverting back to his mother tongue as he grunts out. "Ich komme...Ich komme gleich...oh gott..."

With a final push, he buries himself deep inside your cunt and cums, filling you up so completely you feel your eyes roll back. Both of your heavy breaths fill the air, coming down from the intensity of the experience before he pulls out slowly. His release seeps out of you, and he groans at the sight of it, of the idea of you being his in that way. Gently he wipes away some, before he moves off you with a slight grunt, his joints a little sore.

"Stay there, i'll clean you up." he promises, and he keeps it as he grabs his towel and cleans you up, before heaving you into his arms and taking you to his bed. You feel completely enveloped by his strong arms as you cuddle against him, fingers gently tracing warm skin. You know this moment of bliss won't last forever, that you'll have to face the difficult conversations of what this means for you both moving forward, but you try not to think about it too much. Instead you're content with closing your eyes and letting your breathing sync as you relax together.

[sttm99]

Only Ever You and Me

Prince!Bakugo x reader.

Part 2 of Till Death Do Us Part

After the wedding ceremony, you and Bakugo retired to your chambers for the night. He sat at the edge of the bed, faced away from you, his elbows on his knees as he tried coming to terms with everything.

He'd just gotten married. He'd just been wed... to you. He turned back to look at you, watching you as you sit by the large vanity by the windows, pulling at all the pins that held your hair up.

You seemed so calm with this, so at ease despite the fact that you'd just gotten married to a man you'd met no more than 3 times before. Despite the fact that you'd practically claimed ownership over him just moments ago, despite him confessing to you that he loved someone else.

Your possessiveness had thrust him into an unfamiliar playing field. He'd expected someone timid, meek, a woman whom he could intimidate into keeping shut whilst he snuck around with the maid.

But you? Frankly, you intimidated him instead.

He'd realised what he found off about how perfect and regal you seemed. Sure, there was the fact that you may have slight obsessive tendencies laying claim to him like that. But before then, he'd realised that you just intimidated him.

You were the perfect royal, the perfect ruler his people deserved. From all he'd seen about you; you could reassure people, play court so effectively, and you had an energy that made people want to serve you.

He watched, breath hitching as you stood and began untying the sashes that held your dress up, walking towards the divider at the other side of the room, where your wardrobe was.

Even the way you walked was perfect.

You were so... perfect.

The perfect queen for his people.

He frowned as he stood from the bed. He pulled off his coat, threw it into the hamper at the edge of his bed, and then pulled his undershirt over his head and did the same.

"I've been thinking..." he turned his head to face you as you stepped out from behind the divider, now dressed in a flimsy, pale nightgown stopping just below your knees.

"About what?" Bakugo asked harshly with furrowed brows as he sat back on the bed.

"That servant girl you were looking at." You say as you go over to the bed, sitting atop it, a few spaces away from him. "How long has it been going on?"

He frowns deeply at that, glaring at you. "Of what use is that information?"

You shrug, leaning over to him. "These women, you know.... what if she's keeping your child or something-"

"Excuse me?" He spits out, growing angry at your words. Not only had you called her 'this woman', but also insinuating that he'd father a child out of wedlock.

He had some honour, at least. He wouldn't do that to her, to his love. He wouldn't have her keep a child who couldn't even call him his father.

But you just scoff and roll your eyes. "Oh, please. I'm being cautious. I don't need some bastards contesting the crown with our sons when the time comes."

He glares, a brow raised. "Our sons? Contesting the crown? You're thinking too far ahead."

"Far ahead? There's no far ahead with us, Katsuki. We're husband and wife, we should think of our chil-"

"In paper only." He cuts you off. "We're wed on paper only. The history books? Paper. The marriage contracts? Paper! My heart will always be with someone else! With her! You? You're just a position. Even if not you, there would have been another princess for me to marry!"

His words have you glaring, and you're standing, facing him from the other side of the bed. "We've been promised to each other since birth. There is no other princess to marry, Katsuki. It has always been me for you, and you for me. I was always going to be the one you end up with."

There's a glint in your eye as you speak, a sternness and finality in your voice that has him faltering in imagining a reality where he wasn't married to you, as though there really was no one else for him.

"This- this thing you have with that woman is nothing. It's not real. But us? We have the opportunity to create something real, okay? We're married now. We have all our lives to learn to love each other!"

"You're delusional!"

"I'm real!" You yell out. "What's delusional is you going ahead to cultivate a romance with a girl you knew you'd never be with. You've always known you had to marry me, and yet you went ahead to start something with someone you could never have!"

You pause then, taking small breaths as you look at him. "I've always known I'd end up with you. So I didn't bother giving my heart to anyone else." You glare. "You think I'm delusional. But here you are, tricking yourself into believing you could ever be with anyone other than me. If that's not delusion, then tell me what is."

.

.

.

There's silence for several long moments. Bakugo's frozen, hands clenched by his side, chest heaving and lips parted.

You're right.

You're obviously right.

He's always known he would end up with you. He'd always known he'd have no one else but you. Yet he went ahead and started something he knew would have no end. There was no future for him and the other woman.

Because that's all she'd ever be.

The other woman.

The only one he could be with was standing right in front of him.

"I-" He tries to speak, tries to find the words to convey how he's feeling.

"You should send her away," you say as you climb into the bed, settling under the covers. "You'll only break your own heart, allowing her to continue to stay here."

You try to drift off to sleep, try to block out the sounds of Bakugo shuffling into the bed. Until he's pressed up against you from behind, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"What- what are you doing?" You whisper, still facing away from him.

But he just sighs into your neck and pulls you closer to him. "You're right," he murmurs into your skin. "It was only ever going to be me and you... there's nothing else it could have been."

You hum, letting yourself relax in his hold. He's warm, and he's big, his large frame practically folding over you.

"I'll send her away," he says softly, pressing his lips to your neck.

"Good," you murmur, letting your hand rest over his on your stomach. "It'll only be you and me."

And he nods, "Only you and me, my wife."

[creatie123]

CHOI SU-BONG/THANOS X PREGNANT!PREADER PART 2

Part 1 Part 2 part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6.1 Part 6.1

tw: mentions of suicide, abusive tendencies, strong language, light manipulation, emotional whiplash, drug use

“Green light!’ the doll calls out.

We all start walking forward. When the doll calls out red light the man, 456, shouts out for everyone to freeze. I can't help but flinch every time. We have made it to about half way when a girl starts screaming. She laughs and says something, then there is a loud bang. 456, starts yelling orders. For people to not move. I'm confused until a lady screams and people start running. There are many loud bangs as the voice on the intercom reads out a list of players that are eliminated. 

456 finally gets everyone's attention telling them to get in single file lines with taller people in the front. I hide behind a tall girl. She was the girl who I was behind in the stairwell. The intercom repeats the rules before the doll calls out ‘green light’ again. 

We have almost made it to the finish when my stomach starts cramping and I lean over to grip the girl's shirt groaning in pain. 

“Hey are you ok?” she asks.

“Yes yes. Just.. just a stomach ache.” If people know I'm pregnant they may think I'm weak.

When we cross the finish line I look back out over the crowd and see the amount of blood sprayed over the field. I double over and spill my guts.

“Celina.” I hear his voice.

I freeze and go to walk away but a hand on my upper arm spins me around.

“What the hell are you doing here?” su-bong asks me.

His pupils are huge and I give him a disapproving look. I shrug his hand off my arm and turn to walk away, getting mixed with him is not something I want to do right now. Once again I find myself being forced to look at him. 120 grabs me and pulls me behind her. Glaring down at him. He scowls up at her before turning to walk away.

She turns too look at me with concern. “Friend of yours?”

I place my hand on my stomach. “Uhm..”

Her eyes widened “oh.. Oh!”

“Shhh. Please I cant have people thinking i'm not a good teammate.” she nods.

When we are all taken back to the main room I feel fatigue set in and I immediately go to lay in my bed thankfully I don't have blood on me like most players so I don't need to take my jacket off yet, not like I want to. The scars that litter my arms I know would cause unwanted attention. 

“Uhm… 121?” I hear a soft voice behind me.

“Hm? Oh 222, hi.” I say

Behind her are an elderly woman and a younger boy. 120. Is also with them.

“Can I help you guys?”

“We were wondering if you would want to team up with us?” she asks.

My eyes widen and I feel unnecessary tears well in my eyes. I nod my head

The sliding suddenly opens and the man with the square mask starts talking. A lady begins begging for him to let her go. Before I know it we are in the process of taking a vote for who wants to stay and leave. We started with 456, I watched su-bong skip up to the button and press the o, our eyes met for a second before I turned away. When my number is called I slowly walk up to the button my hands trembling. The internal debate of getting out alive but the mountain of debt I have. I hope to survive and get out with the money. Suddenly I felt a kick in my belly. I gasp and lean over the button. Guilt racks my heart as I forgot I am not deciding for only myself anymore. A tear escapes my eye, as I hit the x, the room shining red for just a second. I hear a mix of sighs of relief and disappointment. I receive my patch and go to stand beside 222 and the elderly lady. Even without looking I can feel his eyes on me. When the voting is done I feel tears escape my eyes when I see that we will be staying for another game. I walk back to my bed in defeat. When I got there su-bong was already sitting there with his friend.

“So I wasn’t just high. You really are her babe.” he says getting up.

I back away from him falling onto someone else's bed.

“What are you doing here babe?”

“Don't call me that su- thanos.” he would always get annoyed if I called him su-bong in public.

“Don’t be like that, I have missed you girl.” he says grabbing my wrist and pulling me down so I am sitting in his lap.

Panic as his arms wrap around my stomach and his body stills. At that exact moment my child has chosen now would be a good time to be active. And I can feel him kick my stomach. Right. Against. His. hand. 

“What the fuck. Are you-” I shoot up out of his hold and bolt off to the bathroom.

Slamming the door open I kneel in front of the toilet and empty my guts. Tears burn my eyes at the burning feeling in the back of my throat and the aching in my chest. The door to the bathroom slams open and I hear su-bong calling out my name. He sounds beyond furious. I sit huddled on the toilet clutching my stomach. I remember all to late that the door is not locket as its slams open omitting a crashing sound when it hits the wall.

“Are you.” it wasn't a question at this point.

I simply nod, I try but the tear will not stop.

“Is it mine.” again it was not a question.

I nod. Before I can blink he is kneeling in front of me staring at my stomach. He reaches out slowly being met with a little kick in return. His face is full of hurt confusion and anger.

“How far along are you.”

“24 weeks.” I whisper, dropping my head.

“How long have you known.”

“I found out at 14 weeks.” 

“And you left me at 10.”

“Su-bong I-” I am cut off with him slamming his fist into the wall. I flinch and shrink into the toilet seat.

I yell out as his fist tangles in my hair and yanks my head back to look at him. His jaw is tense and his pupils are shot.

“How did you find out.”

“I-I.”

“Dont fucking stutter when you talking to me bitch.” he spits yanking my hair again.

My scalp burns with the abuse. “I found out when I was at the hospital!” I cry.

“Why the fuck where you at the hospital, celina.”

“Su-” a sharp tug on my hair corrects me. “Thanos, please stop hurting me.” I sob.  

“Baby you know I hate repeating myself.”

“I wanted to die!” I sob.

His motions freeze. I think I could hear his breathing stop for a moment.

“You. you tried?” I nod the best I could with his grip on my hair.

Before I know it I am being pulled into my ex’s arm. He cradles my head to his chest and I bury my face in his chest letting out all my frustration and sadness and anger. And god damn it i missed him. I missed my su-bong.

“Can I see?” I hear him whisper.

Sniffling, I pull back and look at him, “see?”

He looks at my stomach.

“My arms are… gross.”

He just cocks his head at me like a stupid fucking puppy not understanding why its getting scolded. This is why I hate it when he is on drugs. He gets so bipolar.

“I want to see,” he says placing his hand on my stomach again.

I sigh. With trembling hands I unzip my hoodie and let it slide down my area. My short sleeve shirt is just slightly too tight against my growing bump. Despite wanting to see my belly his eyes immediately lock onto my arms and his face contorts into an emotion I have never seen on his face. I wrap my arms around myself. 

“Before I came here.” he pauses, placing his hands on my shoulders and running them down to take my hands. “The recruiter found me on a bridge. I was gonna jump. There was my debt and then the drugs and before I knew it you were gone and I didn’t know where you were. I missed you so much baby.” 

I’m the one to pull him into me this time “su-bong-”

The door to the bathroom slams open, cutting off what I was about to say. We both whip around to look at who just entered.

~~~

hi everyone I am happy that I got to post this chapter so soon, I am sorry about the second cliffhanger in a row, I cant say anything other than I hope you think them as much as do. Let me know what you think! or if you want me to take a brake from this story and focus on a specific request, my requests are always open!

till next time

-Creatie

[iwoulddieforher]

Rigid | Casey Novak × Alex Cabot

Author's Note: This got super out of hand with the length- I think this is the longest fanfiction I've ever written. Hope you enjoy it, though <3 ~16k+ words

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff. I like the idea of Alex being neurodivergent in some way, even if she doesn't know it herself, so some of her self-descriptions will come off that way.

Summary: Alex wants desperately to be able to relax like she sees her colleagues doing, and a night watching a coworker she has her eye on- Casey Novak- might present itself as the opportunity to get what she wants.

Porcelain dolls strung up by small transparent strings were significantly less rigid than Alex Cabot currently felt. How she usually felt, even.

High-class family, posh preparatory school, strategically made connections rather than real relationships were all she grew up knowing. Everything had a meaning, a purpose, a reason for why it was so, and that also applied to every detail of her appearance and demeanor must similarly be intentional. She grew up internalizing that, and thus, as an adult she utterly lacked the ability to let her spine curve into a natural slump, to lay in bed without wondering what it would look like to a non-existent observer, to kiss someone in a way that focused on the intimacy rather than the shifted facade that she displayed in order to appear desirable.

It felt inhuman. She really hated it. The feeling she coped with daily made her skin crawl as if it was begging to be torn off to reveal a real person behind it instead of the ever-complicating mask.

It was especially noticeable to her on days like these, where a high-profile case had just been absolutely devoured by her colleague, Casey Novak, so the squad room was positively thrumming with excitement and a collective sense of triumph. Olivia, the one Alex had made a habit of perching herself by, was currently at the corner store to pick up a bottle of something to share, so the attorney was standing almost aimlessly against the brunette detective's desk. Across the desk was Stabler, in his respective chair, looking up at Casey who had chosen to place herself on the edge of his desk. Munch was in his rolly-chair, with Tutuola leaning over the back of it, Cragen standing stiffly but not uncomfortably near the commotion like a proud father.

"And that absolutely little weasel of a man-" Casey chirps, as much as a voice as low as hers could sound like a chirp, interrupted by a bark of laughter from Stabler, "Sorry, that boot-licking short ass bottom-feeding rodent-"

"Casey!" Stabler admonished, although his eyes were shining with amusement, and the faux blonde woman laughed and swatted at him half-heartedly.

"Yes, okay, I'll mind my manners. The defense counselor, before the trial, told me that because I'm pretty if I want after the duration of court he'll give me some tips on improving- and now I won, and when he was walking out, I managed to shoot him a smile and say 'if you want any tips, just call Novak at the DA's office'- I thought he was going to deck me right there-"

Casey's storytelling is rewarded with a roar of laughter from the men, her face shining with victory and the aftereffects of a battle well fought, and Alex can't help but find her beautiful. Casey Novak was anything but rigid, and Alex wished she was more like that- even if Casey's temper did get her in trouble more frequently than one would wish.

"Okay, well, don't let your victory get you all haughty, I'm still going to kick your ass tonight." Stabler snorts, after the laughter had died down, which sends Casey into a refreshed cascade of giggles.

"You? Kick my ass? Oh, you wish."

"Wait," Alex cuts in, everyone's eyes flickering to her as if they were slightly off guard that she was still following the conversation, "what's this about kicking each other's asses?"

"I'm going to hand Stabler his balls on the softball field tonight-" Casey starts before Stabler swings at her playfully and she gets distracted by shooting him a playful warning look. Alex forgot how much they acted like siblings sometimes, but the way they seemed to bounce off each other and banter so smoothly made them seem like twins. She could very easily imagine them in early teens kicking each other under a dining room table.

"Recently we've all started getting together to play softball together," Stabler interjects, granting Alex a serious response, "after big cases on the weekends we get together with some other cops and some other lawyers at night. Good way to blow off steam if justice isn't served or good way to celebrate if we do."

“It used to be a big thing, there were inter-department tournaments at the DA’s office or whatever, but now us who liked it so much just play for the hell of it, and also against the cops.” Casey nods, finally done with Stabler after managing to flick him in the middle of the forehead with her finger, which he glares at her for.

"And us who don't play softball get drunk while watching 'em." Munch says, leaning back in his swivel, with Tutuola adding a nod from just above him.

Alex bit her tongue, blinking in mild surprise. Back before she had 'died', they had gone to bars together to celebrate such things, and she didn't know any of them had really had any penchant for sports outside of Stabler occasionally mentioning his daughter's soccer or basketball results. She certainly had no clue Casey was apparently formidable enough on a softball field to hold on against a built detective such as Stabler.

"Speaking of drunk, I'm back." Olivia announces, strolling into the precinct once more, finding her way to stand beside Alex while cradling two bottles of some discounted wine, holding one up as evidence.

"Oh I got the worst fucking hangover from that shit-" Fin fires off immediately, who then gets silenced by a snort from Olivia, and the warm atmosphere is immediately resumed, Novak and Stabler beginning to chatter about proper swinging technique and which one of them was doing it wrong while Munch, Benson, and Tutuola start arguing over alcohol. Alex felt rather out of place.

Tone switching over to something light and banter-y was usually a bit difficult for her after grueling caseloads, and today especially she was just done. She didn't want to leave, though, she didn't want to be alone or god forbid find company with other stiff-necked attorneys to chat with hollow words about unnecessary topics, but involving herself in this easy exchange- especially since she wasn't entirely sure if she was invited- was hard.

"Oh, how about you join us, Alex?" Olivia suddenly exits her own argument to turn towards the blonde, her face soft the way it usually was when it came to her. "I know it's not your type of thing, probably, but it would be nice to have you there."

Her voice is earnest, and Alex had been wishing someone would invite her to accompany the drinkers, so although she entertained the puppy-eyes Benson made at her for a few seconds longer than necessary she did ultimately accept.

"Does this mean we can put bottles of something more worth drinking on Cabot's platinum card?" Munch mutters, pushing his dark glasses up the bridge of his nose, and Alex snorts.

"Tough luck, but if we go to a bar after I'll carry a round."

Olivia's head whips around and stares pointedly at Casey, firing off a quick, "No tequila," to which Casey makes the most indignant face Alex could possibly imagine on the copper-headed woman.

"Hey, that was not my fault- and also only once-" Casey defends, and Stabler starts laughing, slapping his fist on the table.

"Do you remember the whole thing with that-"

"Yes," Casey snaps, "I'm sure mostly everyone does, and if they don't then-"

"Casey, Alex wouldn't know." Olivia says lightly, elbowing the mentioned blonde, "Come on, Alex, aren't you curious? We should retell this for your sake, right?"

Alex's icy blue eyes met Casey's dense green ones, and she was momentarily indecisive. She wasn't friends with Novak, and she wasn't going to pretend that she was, as much as she enjoyed watching the copper-headed attorney play with the coworkers she was genuinely close to. She wanted to know, but as soon as she saw the guard up in Casey's posture, the way that Alex's rigid demeanor was mirrored immediately by the younger woman, she faltered.

Alex was stiff. Her spine was held to an excessively intentional angle. Even though to everyone else she seemed almost as natural as the rest of them, learned iron in her veins commanded her to be a degree of rigidness that came close to robotic. And Casey was the farthest thing from imperceptive.

In the courtroom, it was necessary to shoot the same metaphorical bullet as the one that had been fired at you, and Casey did nothing short, her vertebrae stacking above one another as she readjusted herself, jaw growing more firm, her eyes flickering to become hard and sharp in a way that would almost seem predatory had it not been for Alex's recognition that this was entirely procedural for the younger attorney. Alex knew in her head too that if she was interacting with someone else like this, she'd have done the same thing.

Lawyers had a way of exchanging thoughts without verbalization, and Casey and Alex were currently having an odd back-and-forth that happened within a fraction of a second completely unbeknownst to the rest of the room. Casey registered the swirl of thoughts in Alex's mind and her inability to formulate a response in time to seem natural, and with the ball in her court, decided to give the blonde attorney an out.

"Okay, fine," she huffed, as though she was actually unwilling to share, despite the fact she was fully aware Alex would not have moved to force her to and she could easily tamp down or distract the eager detectives, "long story short, Olivia and I started fighting, and she made a jab about me no longer being white collar's youth prodigy, so I tried.. to prove how youthful I still was- er, still am."

Alex wrinkled the tip of her nose, pursing her lips to stop from laughing at that, and Casey twitched an eyebrow jokingly before shaking her head.

As soon as her head turned, the copper-headed attorney decided to release the inelastic facade she had just momentarily constructed, leaning backward once more. To the eye of the others, nothing that demanded the level of thought that had just been executed had come close to occurring.

The older attorney wasn't entirely sure how to reward Casey for her kindness in that exchange, but she felt like she should. She made a mental note that she owed Casey something- perhaps if the copper-headed woman snarked at her sometime in the future, she'd let it go without question, or some similar social grace. Her uncle has drilled in the 'advice' that one never forgets what they owe another, lest suddenly be surprised when the other expects to collect.

"She ended up kissing this random blonde woman who was going through a divorce." Munch supplied helpfully, who earned a glare from Casey in return, and the seconds returned to passing at a more natural rate rather than the slowed pace Alex had just felt like they moved in. The conversation was resumed.

"No, the bad part wasn't even that she made out with her, but the fact her flirting consisted entirely of legal jargon-" Olivia filled in, and Alex snorted softly as Casey's head whipped in the other direction to glare at her instead.

"Okay, okay, listen- first of all, she was not a random woman, her name was Jane and we did keep in contact for the duration of her vacation here-" Casey raised a finger, cutting Liv off, "and if you understood any sort of vocabulary past fifth grade, it would have made perfect sense to you."

Alex paused, deciding this was probably a point at which a response was required to reestablish her presence so she could stop relying on Olivia to make her involved, "Well, it does seem like a- ... youthful thing to do?"

Casey's jaw fell slightly agape, and then she closed it with a huff. "Okay, well. Olivia's just pissed because I can actually involve myself with women."

"I'm not gay!" The brunette protested indignantly, to which Casey and Elliot exchanged a look that read as what-is-she-on.

Olivia was silenced for a moment, bristling, before extending her arm to rest on Alex's. "Alex, help me out, us straight girls need to stick together with all this-"

"Straight?" Alex questioned, an uncomfortable chuckle in her throat, "Olivia, you didn't know I'm-?"

"What?!" Olivia cried, straightening immediately, not affronted but apparently incredibly surprised, which Alex internally sighed at, only to be distracted by a low whistle from Casey that she decided not to respond to.

Internally, Alex was grappling with the new information that Casey was sapphic. She was too, although she understood why Liv hadn't known, she wasn't super forthright with her identity- but Casey?

After a moment's contemplation, she realized that this actually made a lot of sense and she felt mildly stupid for not having realized on her own.

"Yeah," Stabler says after a pause, "I think this is our cue to get going to the softball diamond before Liv has her whole am-i-gay breakdown right here in the squad room."

The rag-tag group collectively nods, shuffling for possessions, with Olivia still apparently on edge and lost in an internal conversation with herself about the possibility of homosexuality. After a few more moments of collecting items or putting things into respective places, and after Casey pats Olivia sympathetically on the shoulder, they begin to head out to the parking lot.

Alex clicked the key to her Cadillac, briefly pausing to obtain the address of the sports place as well as a time, since a few people wanted to drop by home to discard professional belongings or change, and because a few members of the DA's teams were still in session, before studying the exits of her colleagues.

Tutuola and Munch separate to respective vehicles, with Olivia being given a ride by Stabler as usual, and Casey splitting off from the group entirely to unlock her bike. Cragen excuses himself with the explanation that he's not going to meet up with the rest of them, he doesn't play softball nor does he drink so he's spending a nice night in instead.

Everyone's method of transportation seemed in some way reflective of themselves. Munch's windows were so tinted Alex was vaguely concerned about the potential illegality of it and Fin's car is beat up in a way that shows he doesn't abide by the physics of curbs. Olivia and Elliot's carpooling constantly served as a testament to their bond as detectives, and Casey...

"I still can't believe you actually bike here every morning. While wearing the suit? Jesus." Stabler bantered, leaning on the hood of his own car while watching Casey fumble with the lock on her bike.

"Well," she replied in a curt rasp, straightening, "that's why my legs are toned and yours would snap under water pressure-" she stopped to point at him almost accusingly, "and don't get me started on cardiovascular health."

Olivia drags Elliot into his car before the two start bickering again, and that leaves Alex watching Casey out of the corner of her eye as the attorney fixes her bike locks to the luggage rack before swinging one leg over the seat and taking off, her chin nestled in her scarf, her mid-length hair swirling behind her.

For a second too long, she lingers, but then Alex climbs into her cold car, groaning slightly at the feeling of the stiff leather on her back, before driving without picking out a destination. She didn't have anything she felt uncomfortable leaving in her car, nor did she have anything to pick up, so going to her penthouse was somewhat pointless. However, with about an hour until the designated time, staring out the window at the city streets far below seemed more interesting than staring at said streets on the ground level while seated aimlessly in her car, so she went home.

The elevator opened directly into her apartment, so she needed to use her key in the elevator pad itself, and when she did and the doors opened she dropped her briefcase right next to the door- it fell exactly the same way it would've if she had intentionally placed it, which makes her mildly irritated.

She didn't bother to kick off her shoes, placing herself on the couch in her apartment, and staring blankly at the wall. Her spine was straight, her legs angled to the side in the way her mother had taught her to make them look longer, her hands folded in her lap. Her apartment felt desolate. Her skin crawled.

She tried to focus on something- anything, really, in her apartment- but all she was met with was cold, smooth marble that her eyes slid off of. Plaquettes held her accomplishments that suddenly felt utterly pointless, framed pictures of her family or college friends that seemed impersonal. She couldn't keep a plant alive and she had never actually gone decor shopping herself, so the place was devoid of color, only shades of grey.

Alex groaned and placed her hands over her eyes under her glasses, tilting her spine backward until it hit the back of the sofa. It felt wrong, everything felt wrong, and her skin felt like it was crawling, her bones turning and burning inside her like she imagined cement would feel. It was uncomfortable in a way that wasn't painful- but that didn't stop her from fixating on the discomfort immensely.

The attorney rolled to the side, swinging her heels up onto the couch, one hand cradling her head and the other reaching to tug off her glasses. Strangely, in the dim blue lighting of the sun setting behind heavy clouds, her mind shifted to the opposite of said cold color- it landed on the shade of Casey's hair.

In the DA's office or in court when they crossed paths, Casey was stiff in the way every lawyer Alex had ever encountered was. The degree of rigidness that was learned by years of constant practice of saying and acting exclusively in intentional ways. Still, though, her eyes were always warm, in a way lawyer's eyes seldom were. But when she relaxed, which she was able to do, unlike Alex, she was simultaneously the same and also a completely different person.

She'd be lying to say she didn't know Casey was athletic- despite her unaware that she played softball, or was to any degree interested in her own physique the way her exchanges with Stabler today suggested- Alex had let her eyes linger on the other woman's arms on occasion in warmer environments when the redhead rolled her sleeves up. Her mind constructed the image of running her finger along the toned curve of her forearm, up her arm, and towards the delicate curve of her neck. In her imagination, Casey's skin was warm, and it only warmed further at Alex's motion. When she met Casey's olive-colored eyes, she was already looking back at her, eyes only half-lidded.

She felt her own cheek flush in her palm, and she sat up, shaking off the thought, but the sensation of warmth in her cheeks and the imagined feeling in the pad of her fingertip was enough to pull her off the couch, to the bathroom, where she took off the makeup she had done for court, tugging her suit jacket off, fumbling off her belt.

She wanted out of the porcelain, out of her skin for a night. She had seen the way Casey's guard had flickered up when she had faced her in the squad room, holding a mirror to the rigid body across from her, and she wanted out. The solution to that was to try to force the stiffness out of her soul so Casey wouldn't have any such thing to mirror. She had a reputation to uphold with the rest of the squad, with Liv and with Stabler, but Casey was more perceptive than Liv was- at least when it came to her- and she felt as though she knew enough to play it safe while still getting what she wanted. It would be an issue if Liv or Stabler or any of the other detectives or such lost respect for her professional standing. She was diligent, and hardworking, and she valued that about herself immensely, and she was not about to make the mistake of letting that persona fumble for a night’s activity. But still, she wanted a night where her skin felt like it belonged to her. If Casey's eyes didn't harden when she looked at her, maybe that would be close enough.

Her formal attire was replaced quickly, boot cut jeans instead of her slacks and although she didn't remove her white blouse she layered it with a loose sweater. She ran her fingers through her hair, intentionally messing with it, before nodding with satisfaction at her now slightly more casual appearance. The collar of her blouse sticking up through the neckline of her sweater was enough to not shift the persona the detectives identified with her, but she decided it was enough. It was enough that her uncle would click his tongue at her for wearing jeans while around a colleague.

She then proceeded to sit almost aimlessly on her couch again, drumming her fingers on her lap while waiting for the time to elapse so she could go to the softball field without being the first one there. In her mind, she debated writing up some notes or preparing for a case in the coming week, but she knew if she went back into lawyer mode it would just be worse trying to shake it off again. Unfortunately for her, as a kid all her hobbies were dictated- fencing, equestrian, ballroom dance and such, and since she never really grew attached to any of them and then failed to procure a hobby or pastime in her adult life, she didn't have much else to do.

Her phone chimed and she picked it up, assuming it would be something idle or law-related, only to find a text from a number she recognized, her heart thrumming insistently when it realized whose message she was currently reading.

Casey Novak→ Hello Alex, this is Casey (Novak, the one you work with, in case you know another)

Casey Novak→ Apologies for jumping this on you, but any chance we could carpool tonight? My bike is having a technical issue I can't be bothered with fixing it currently.

She waited a couple seconds before answering with,

← Seems doable. Send me your address?

Casey responded to that within a minute and Alex exhaled, mentally registering where that was, before standing up. With the detour of picking up Casey as well as the fact it doesn't really matter if she's early now because she's accompanying a player, she feels soothed to leave soon.

← Would you find it alright if I came in about a half hour?

Casey Novak→ More than alright, you have my thanks

← I'm more than happy to help.

After a pause, the message goes on read, and Alex doesn't really know what she had expected as a response. Mildly discontented, she put her phone down.

If she wasn't about to be driving, she would drink a glass of wine, but alas that was quite literally the point so she could not indulge herself. She pondered briefly the logistics of getting drunk when she was at the softball diamond, but worst comes to worst she’d just have to taxi. And, she supposed, would have to take Casey also in said taxi.

She felt her jaw grow a bit firmer at the constant resurfacing of Casey Novak in the back of her mind. Alright, sure, now they actually had plans and she was picking her up, so it made sense. But still. It wasn't exactly unlike her to develop random infatuations, desires to knock people she admired and simultaneously was irritated by down a peg, god knows the mistake with Jim Steele- but… Casey seemed… different.

Her heart muttered that Casey seemed warm and alive and her skin seemed soft and she was entirely unlike anyone Alex had ever grown attached to, Casey was not a power play, Casey was not a mind game. Casey was Casey. Alex didn't really understand what that meant.

She clicked her tongue to herself and then decided that no, she would not pursue anything with Casey. She had been toying with the idea of making that dream of tracing up Casey’s forearms with her fingertips a reality, perhaps as a flirty joke she could pass off as drunken boldness. But now her heart started to fumble in her chest at the thought, and not only in a good way. She wasn't exactly sure why her mind was suddenly reeled in the polar opposite direction of what she had been fantasizing about only a couple of minutes ago, but now she felt mildly stressed. Her skin crept little patterns on her nerves like ants blacking out a lamp, eating through power cords.

Maybe the fact she didn't really understand Casey is what sent little alarm bells ringing in her mind. To pursue meant to trust and to trust meant she had to know it all. She felt like she knew essentially nothing.

Sometimes Alex really wished she was less self-aware. She analyzed every thought or feeling she had like it was someone else’s, and therefore frequently felt as though she was drowning in someone else’s brain when in reality she was still sitting on her couch in her apartment in her clothes in her- supposedly her- skin.

It was time to leave now, anyway, so she cut herself off from her own train of thoughts to stand, and collect some items in one of her more used purses in case alcohol was split, it got snatched, or some other random misfortune that may occur to a handbag. Once she was pleased with her level of preparation she double-checked the contents one last time- car keys, one of her more mildly used wallets, phone, power bank, medical emergency kit, a notepad, a block of sticky notes, her pager, and a pen. She pulled a scarf on as an afterthought, not entirely sure if the temperature would drop as it got dark out but decided not to take that risk.

With that, she left her penthouse, standing stiffly in the elevator on the way down, staring at herself in the reflective wall the metal box had. Hmm.

Within twenty minutes, and exactly on time to the thirty minutes she had offered Casey earlier, she was parked on the street outside Casey’s address, looking up at a rather elegant brownstone. Sometimes she mused to herself that the modern aesthetic of her apartment complex far outranked the sort of shabby, oftentimes falling apart older buildings, but this seemed.. it seemed vaguely Elysian. She approved of it.

← I’m outside

Casey Novak → I’m sorry, I’m running a little late. Would you like to come up? I’ll buzz you in.

← I can wait in my car, I don't want to intrude.

Casey Novak → I’ll feel better if you just come on in. I’m inviting you. Please.

Alex blinked at that message, slowly typing out,

← Okay, then. If you're sure.

She exited her car with a furrow in her brow, locking the vehicle, and then continuing the steps up to the doorbell placard, where she found Novak’s name printed in a thin, flat font. She pressed the small silver button next to it, making a mental note of the floor and roughly which door it should be based on doorbell placement. A startling buzzing sound went off that Alex was thankfully prepared for, and she pushed open the frankly unnecessary large wood door. She traveled up the steps, to the third floor, deciding that she should start exercising more often if going up only three floors already had her inhaling a bit sharper, and she didn't need to wander reading the names next to the ringers because Casey’s door was open ajar and she was peeking her eye through the crack.

Alex caught a glimpse of Casey’s smile through the small opening, before the copper-headed woman disappeared in a flash, waving Alex in. She did as instructed, closing the door behind her tentatively. Immediately, she could not see Casey in her own apartment.

“Sorry,” the woman called, “I decided I wanted to shower beforehand so I need to straighten my hair again. That's why it's taking me a minute. Just sit down wherever you like, I’ll be done in just a second.”

“You straighten your hair?” Alex asked curiously, standing awkwardly in the foyer. Although Casey had instructed her to sit, she couldn't imagine pulling a chair out anywhere or settling herself on the younger attorney’s couch.

Inhaling deeply, she resigned to studying Casey's apartment interior with interest.

The interior walls were a smooth ivory, the floorboards a dark wood that matched the accents- the window and door frames, the stairs. Casey’s apartment was a lot more vertical than her own- where Alex had half of a floor, so her apartment was wide horizontally as well as deep, the walls were only a couple of feet on each side in the entry hallway and Alex couldn't imagine the rooms being, well, anywhere as large as her’s. But somehow, the comparison did not change the charm of the apartment.

Perhaps that had something to do with the atmosphere. It smelled like sandalwood and caramel, and the walls were lined with memorabilia- which Alex considered briefly was strange, because Casey's desk and office were almost barren considering some of the other workstations she had seen. She skimmed over smiling faces, Casey with dozens of people she’d see in this photo and never again. Casey with a little girl propped up on her hip, holding a little boy by the hand on a beach, all three smiling at the camera, but in a way that made it seem like it was almost unintentional, like someone had captured a moment in a camera which usually only existed in fond memory. Casey kissing a man with short brown hair, her arms, which seemed slightly thinner in the photo than Alex had grown to know them, (although the woman was always slim,) wrapping around his shoulders. She looked younger, happy, smiling into the kiss, and he did too. Probably during college, Alex mused. Casey’s finger, resting lovingly on his shoulder, was adorned with a silver band. Alex blinked.

She chided herself to move on with her inspection. Whoever this person was, it didn't seem like they were still in her life, unless Casey had been cheating on him with ‘Jane’. Stabler didn't take well to cheaters, so Alex really doubted that. She wasn't sure what the thrum of her heart was meant for- so she just exhaled. She couldn't drag her eyes away from it, though.

When she inhaled again, she was greeted with the scent of whatever hair products Casey was currently employing. It dragged her out of her thoughts, and it made her twinge with guilt at the thought of analyzing Casey’s history through her personal pictures. Casey was kind enough to be undeserving of an inspection.

There was no door between the foyer and the kitchen, so Alex turned to focus on that instead, her blue eyes skimming over what appeared to be a sourdough starter. Music played quietly out of some surround sound speaker, somewhere, something idle, and indie.

The dark brown of the floor was complimented well by the constant appearance of plants- not flowers, but succulents or similar. Apparently, Casey was in the middle of repotting one, because the table had a large tray with items that would suggest that.

“Oh, sorry about that-” Casey mused, appearing suddenly next to her, “I was trying to swap out pots for that one- roots were getting too big, you know, but then I got buzzed for a warrant this morning and dropped it.”

She smelled really good, and Alex wasn't happy that that was the first thing she noticed, but she did. Casey’s perfume, which Alex had noted a couple of times in the DA’s office, had just been freshly reapplied, and her hair was perfect in a way that only lasted a couple of moments after styling it. She looked in a way that Alex could only describe as warm.

Casey was dressed in a blue softball jersey that had ‘Sex Crimes’ bolded on the front in a lacy font and tracksuit pants. The usual frustration carried in her eyes and eyebrows was gone entirely, replaced with lights of excitement that showed in the way she held her hands and smiled. She wasn't wearing any makeup, only a dark lip balm that Alex now wanted to know the brand of.

“And yes,” Casey said, replying to Alex’s comment from a moment ago, despite it having felt like an eternity since then to Alex, “I do have to straighten my hair. Not all of us can be blessed with locks like yours, Miss Cabot.”

Ignoring the teasing nature of her voice as she said Alex’s more formal name, the blonde still lifted her eyebrows as if pained and shot her a look. “Please never call me ‘Miss Cabot' again- It’s just Alex to you.”

“Alright, ‘just Alex’-” Casey said, with an amused huff, before turning and waving at her abode, “verdict? You seemed interested.”

“I-” Alex pursed her lips. Casey was not stupid. If she hadn't been interested, she would've sat down like Casey had initially instructed or been on her phone, or been staring off into space. “I like it. You have a very lovely apartment. It suits you.”

“Thank you.” Casey smiles, pleased, before glancing back down at the houseplant activity. “It would feel better if I had gotten to finish this, though. My mom insists I keep them all.”

“Why?”

“You know how in law school, you’d stay shut in all the time, sleep at horrible hours, and keep the blinds drawn? She bought me a million plants and kept making me show her they were still alive to make sure I was airing my dorm and letting sunlight in. And that I was looking up from my laptop at least for a minute a day.” Casey snorts, but she seems fond of my memory. “I guess she doesn't really insist I keep them anymore. She hasn't checked, anyway. But I got used to it. I swapped out her delicate plants for succulents, though, because I forget to water them sometimes. I’m not here very much.”

“Your mother seems like an attentive woman,” Alex comments, watching as Casey’s eyes grow momentarily heavy, staring still at the plant, before she blinked it off.

“I’ve been blessed,” she answers smoothly instead, “with a wonderful family.”

There's an awkward beat of hesitation, where neither knows what to say, before Casey exhales and forces a smile. “Have you eaten anything? If you're going to drink with Tutuola, you probably need something to eat. And I need to grab my gear and such. If we leave now, we’d still be significantly early.”

“I had breakfast-” Alex starts, before seeing Casey raise an eyebrow at her, “but it was a large one, Casey, I’m not trying to tear up your kitchen.”

“Sweet or savory?” Was the other woman’s only response as she strolled into her kitchen, opening cabinets and ruffling through items.

“I don't have the time to make you something properly right now, but God help it if I let you leave here without eating something.”

Alex stood uncomfortably in the doorway to the kitchen, a small unsure frown on her face, so Casey shot her a pointed look, walked over, grabbed her arm, lightly guided and then shoved her into a chair, and then went back to trying to find something to offer her.

“You seem,” Casey looked at her as if studying her brain through her skull, “as though you’d have a sweet tooth.”

“Why do you say that?” Alex looked at her, slightly indignant. Outside of being used as a method of intimidation, it was normally rude to brazenly note observations as such in the world she was used to. It was far more polite to make it sound as though it was a question.

But Casey just laughed softly, pulling a box out of the fridge and popping the lid. She fumbled with the contents for a few seconds. In the chair Casey had set her down in, Alex could not see what it was until Casey approached, holding a dessert fork in one hand with her other carrying a plate with a generous portion of red velvet cake.

“Fancy ass cake for a fancy ass lady. I made this yesterday, so I think it's still fine to serve you, even if the frosting set a bit more than I prefer. You don't have to eat it all, but I hope you at least try it.”

With that, and not even waiting for a thank you, Casey brushed past, going to collect her sports gear. Alex felt like her head was spinning slightly with the lack of normal procedure. She was being left alone to eat cake in Casey’s apartment? Wasn't the redhead worried she would- well, Casey had commented on the fact she knew Alex was borderline snooping, but to leave her alone after that? How trusting was she? Unless this was some sort of test.

Alex decided to proceed as if it were. What would Casey be testing? How much Alex trusted her? Maybe she thought Alex wouldn't eat food a stranger gave her, well- not entirely stranger, but still. But she couldn't fault her for that, could she? Regardless, Alex wasn't like that anyway. Maybe she was testing if Alex was too prudish to eat what she had provided. That sent a small jolt down her spine- she really didn't want Casey to think she was a snob- so she lifted the fork and in small, precise movements separated a small piece from the slice.

As soon as she felt it on her tongue, she immediately broke off a much larger portion to follow it with. Fuck. It was delicious.

Soft vanilla cream coated somehow equally soft red velvet generously, but not overwhelmingly, and once Alex separated off the middle she could see it was triple layered. The flavor was delicate, but in a way that made every taste bud in her mouth moan.

If she had to go celibate for the rest of her life to eat something like this again, she just might have to consider that. This was better than sex.

“Grandmother’s recipe,” Casey purred, reappearing with a large duffel slung over her shoulder, leaning in the doorway. “Well, not really, but it was one of the first things she made after she got access to the Internet and all the baking blogs one can find on there.”

Alex was physically startled, too engrossed in her eating to have realized Casey’s presence had reappeared. Casey easily could have murdered her while she was eating cake, and she wouldn't have looked up once.

She pushed the plate as if making to stand up, holding a hand in front of her mouth as her mother had taught her- it was impolite to see people see one chew, after all- but Casey shook her head quickly and took a seat next to her, leaning back, the duffel hitting the floor with a soft thud while Casey stretched out her arms, arched her spine languidly. Alex tried not to let her eyes linger on the soft amount of muscle coating her.

“By all means, I don't mean to interrupt your indulgence.”

Alex sheepishly turned back, pausing only for a fraction of a second before returning to shoveling the cake into her mouth as gracefully as she could. Casey looked very pleased, so that settled her nerves by a fraction. She couldn't and also wouldn't complain about Casey's bemused grin.

“It's- it’s just been a while since I’ve eaten anything this good.” Alex said after a swallow, straightening in her chair a little bit, looking at the remaining bites on her plate as if they were whispering sweet nothings into her ear.

“You look good like this,” Casey said, which Alex’s eyes widened at, blinking up from the cake to Casey, who strangely looked equally delicious, “you're normally so tense. Glad my baking can fix that.”

“I- uhm,”

Casey chuckled at Alex’s fluster, resting her head in her hand. “Just teasing you. But really, I am glad you're enjoying it.”

“How did you learn to bake like this?” Alex murmured, decided to switch tracks since she wasn't very sure what was happening.

The copper-headed woman only shrugged. “You learn in a family as large as mine. I mean, if both of my parents were busy, I’m not about to let all the younger ones go hungry because the older one decided to order something only for herself. And now all my nieces and nephews demand I make them sugary shit when I’m over, so my pastries are decent enough.”

In the back of her mind, Alex was now a bit upset that she couldn't cook. Casey’s reasoning that it was due to her family made sense, but it also twinged Alex’s mind that if her parents were busy and she had nothing to eat, they'd just call for the private chef to come up and make her something nutritious enough. When she was in college, on her allowance, she had just kept ordering delivery. Casey and her seemed to contrast each other notably in that way.

“How many siblings, if I may ask?”

“Four. I have an older sister, and then there was me, and then two twin brothers and my baby sister. Not that she’s much of a baby anymore- she graduated college last year- but still. She'll always be little to me.” Casey exhaled, evidently very fond, before glancing back up. “And you, Alex?”

“I’m- I’m an only child.” Alex said, after a second, and before she could stop herself, “they needed an heir.”

Casey paused, looking up at her thoughtfully, before nodding. “I wished I was an only child a lot growing up. It's different now that I have my own life and everything, but… mm. Families are complicated.”

Alex nodded sagely at that, finally finishing her cake, and then after a small pause asked, “Did you want your own?”

The second she said it, she felt like it was wrong. It was an intrusion, and she was already in Casey’s apartment in Casey’s chair eating Casey's food with Casey's utensils. She was overstepping everything, and she was asking something from Casey she could not possibly believe she was entitled to knowing, without giving her an out.

Casey froze, her eyes icing over. She stared at Alex for a long moment, who now was sure she had done something horribly wrong, but then Casey’s eyes shifted from blank shock to mildly upset.

“Sorry- yes, I did. It didn't work out that way.”

Alex swallowed, and realized this was a decisive moment. She had relaxed, and she had slipped up, and now Casey was rigid, and if she bounced back off of Casey and tensed, she’d never get what she wanted.

So then, biting back her nature and what she was taught to say in such situations, she said softly, “It didn't for me, either.”

The atmosphere shifted entirely, so much it seemed like the colors had changed spectrum. Alex was now used to how fast her colleague could run through emotions and facades, and although that familiarity was from the courtroom, Casey’s demeanor now changing into something almost like solidarity reminded her a lot of it. Casey dropped her momentary coldness as fast as Alex could put down her form, but unlike when Alex changed the face she wore in order to elicit the response she wanted, Casey seemed like she genuinely just had a change of emotion.

“You're still young, Casey,” Alex continued, encouraged by the attorney’s return to warmth, “it’ll happen.”

“Oh, please. Alex. You’re what- two years older than me?” Casey chided, her voice light. “And you're hot as hell, so I’m sure you have suitors.”

“Casey, have you looked in a mirror recently? If I have suitors, you must have a line from here to the DA’s office.”

“Oh, you charmer.” Casey scoffed, but Alex meant it. She slid her hand underneath the now empty plate, bringing it to the kitchen, before picking up her duffel once more. “And now you get to be my driver.”

“I’m honored,” Alex smoothly joked back, collecting her purse and standing up.

She glanced around Casey’s kitchen, then glanced around the foyer, one last time before she followed the redhead out of her apartment. She noted the shift of atmosphere the second she stepped over the doorstep, and internally found herself hoping it wasn’t the last time she was there.

A more sensible part of her brain reminded her just now that she had decided against pursuing Casey, so such thoughts were not worth lingering on. Another part of her brain indignantly riled that she could enter someone’s apartment without any sort of connotation. A third part of her brain wanted to reexamine the circumstances of the decision to blacklist Casey from the possible companion category, while a third sighed loudly and wished they would all shut up. A fourth part snarled that she was not going to allow herself to be vulnerable with this enigma- yes, despite her niceness and her willingness to provide her with cake she still didn't have any grasp on Casey's psyche, so that's what she was- until she had enough to cover her ass if something went wrong. A fifth part just wanted to see Casey smile at her in the kitchen like that again. The fifth part managed to distract most of the others with daydreams.

Casey understood that Alex was in thoughts, so she did nothing to compel a response, although Alex was sure she thought she was musing about family or law or such.

Nothing was said until they reached the front door of the building, which Casey opened and offered, and then resigned to follow Alex to where she had parked. She gave a low appreciative whistle when she climbed into the front passenger seat tugging her duffel down and into the legroom.

“Fuck. I knew from the outside you had a nice car, but… jesus christ, Alex.”

“What? Oh.” Alex glanced behind her as if only just now registering that. It was a nice car. Her Cadillac had been a birthday present from her uncle, especially because her Bentley was sold off after her death. “I- thank you. Well, only the best for you, right? Now that I’m your cabbie.”

She was rather pleased with the hints of a surprised blush forming on Casey's cheekbones. If Casey kept throwing out random compliments at her, she should return that, right?

“It's just because of my bike-���”

“Please. You’re so quick to dish out the teases until I do so?” Alex hummed, amused, and Casey only huffed in response, pointedly looking forward.

Alex set the softball arena as her navigation’s destination, and allows Casey on aux, the same melodious background sound filling the car speakers as they begin on their way. Being the driver is good. If she was the passenger, she’d be darting her eyes too constantly to look at Casey. Casey apparently does not have this struggle.

“So tell me, honestly,” Alex starts, to fill the silence with a topic she knows Casey will yap over, “between you and Stabler, who has the better swing?”

“Me,” Casey says, with absolutely no question in her voice. “Elliot is good- but he’s too used to his job. In softball, most of the swing is supposed to come from the rotation of the shoulders, not the movement of the arm. Elliot relies so much on the idea of punching he doesn't really get that. He tries to push his palms forward and pushes one shoulder down. Besides, I’ve been playing softball for a much longer time than him.”

“How long?” Alex asked, glancing over at her in the passenger seat. Casey was so forthcoming with information- well, yes, Alex had asked, but…

“Since my sophomore year of high school,” Casey answered, “There was this fight involving one of my little brothers and I- well, that's beside the point. Regardless, the coach took me aside the next day, said he’d never seen someone swing like that, and asked me to try out. I did, and that was that.”

Alex let out an exhale that felt like a soft laugh, so Casey quipped in response, “Have you ever played any sports?”

“Fencing,” Alex offered, “and equestrian, for a little.”

“Equestrian?” Casey perked up, “Wow, that's amazing. I’ve always wanted to try riding a horse.”

“I didn't really enjoy it much-” Alex looked over again, and she realized that was a mistake, because Casey was looking at her with such interest in her eyes that Alex felt as though she needed to run for the hills. “I- I… it just wasn't for me.”

“Why not? If I can ask.”

“My instructors had to scold me constantly for being too stiff,” Alex murmured, trying to make it sound lighthearted despite to some degree admitting the biggest self-struggle she had, “when you're on a horse, the horse has to be an extension of you, the same way when you hold a bat- actually, I’m not entirely sure of that, I’ve never played a ball-sport, but- when the muscles of the horse move, you need to adapt and move with it. Otherwise, the horse becomes vexed.”

“So young Alexandra was just being a vex to horses?” Casey chuckled, and Alex tilted her head at the jest.

“But if you tell anyone, they’d never believe you.”

“Oh trust me,” Casey snorted, “I’m not about to let other people know about baby Alex being a thorn in some training horse’s side. That’s something only I get to know.”

“Hey. You just used the adjective ‘young’, and now ‘baby’- am I regressing? And I was more a pain in their back rather than side, unless I very immensely misunderstood where you're supposed to ride horses.”

In reality, the small thrum in her heart that she now associated with the younger attorney was very pleased with the information Casey apparently felt territorial on information regarding her. She couldn't describe to herself why that made her happy, but it did.

“Sigh. ADAs and their technicalities,” Casey shook her head, “and no, I could never accuse you of regression. You only ascend.”

“Good. Quick study, Casey.” Alex purred, the words a bit too soft and a bit too smooth, although she hadn't really thought about it that way until she saw Casey shift and decided she was very pleased she had said it.

It was Casey’s turn to fall into a blushed silence, her eyes fixing suddenly very straight on the road, as if she had never seen New York City before. Alex felt victorious, and she basked in that feeling.

They arrived at the softball field shortly, and as soon as they pulled over in the dirt parking lot and Casey stepped out of the vehicle with her duffel she was essentially jumped by a collection of random people Alex believed she probably had seen previously in the DA’s office- other ADAs, a couple interns. They surrounded Casey eagerly, spouting game talk- apparently feeding Alex cake had delayed her arrival, and she was the last one, so they had been waiting for it. The copper-headed woman gave her an apologetic wave over the shoulder as she was yanked off, and Alex felt uncomfortable. She tried not to feel as though she had just been shunned. If she had spent less time in her intern years sucking up and networking with her uncle and her uncle’s friends, perhaps she would know some of them. Her career was jump-started, she did not have the bond the others seemed to share of watching each other pull themselves up the ladder- despite knowing logically some of them must have also come from nepotism, at least to some degree.

The softball field was fenced in by wired mesh, and ‘softball field’ was really the only way she could describe it, because it was nothing else. There were a couple of bleachers that reminded her of a cheap high school movie- her school had definitely never had anything like that- but otherwise, it was just a meshed-in square in the middle of a flat field, with a large brick box-like building on the side. She spotted Munch already seated on said bleacher, though, and although she didn't know him as well as she knew Olivia, who her mind had been looking for initially, she wandered over.

“Hey,” he greeted her on arrival, motioning to the place next to him, which she tentatively sat down on after her eyes skimmed it to ensure there wasn't a layer of filth (there was, but she ignored it) “Liv's trying to hype up Elliot. He really wants to get Casey back for the last match.”

“What happened in the last match?” Alex muttered, not especially interested but aware she was required to continue the conversation, inspecting the floor of the bleachers for a place to put her purse. She decided directly beneath her was probably the cleanest.

“She- well, nothing exactly. She’s just ridiculously good. Not many of the DA team have her skill, but so long as she’s there she continuously wipes the floor with ‘em. MVP, easy.”

Munch turns to her, almost accusingly. “Oh, you're rooting for that team, aren't you?”

Alex considered that for a moment, then, “I’m rooting for Casey.”

“But, team-wise, you're on our side?”

“I’m just rooting for Casey.”

Well, we had the whole gay talk in the squad room earlier, so-”

“Careful,” Alex chided, cutting him off with a harsh look in her marble blue eyes, “your boyfriend is here.”

Munch looked over with confusion, then saw Tutuola walking towards them, and shot Alex back a glare through his dark glasses. As if on cue, Olivia materialized and plopped herself down next to Alex, handing her a flask and wiping her mouth with the back of her palm indicative of the fact she had just taken a swallow. “El has been given the best pep talk I physically know how to give. If he doesn't win, I’m done showing up to these.”

“Alex is rooting for the enemy while drinking our alcohol,” John fired, but Alex turned to him and, apparently intimidated, he visibly backed off. Olivia just laughed.

Alex took a swig from Olivia’s flask, grimacing at the feeling of vodka burning down her throat, but she took a second swig almost immediately. She already felt uncomfortable, skin prickling and writhing, and being drunk would make it better.

The game began with little issue, and Casey had meant it when she said it wasn't a real tournament so much so as a large group of very competitive friends being cheered on by a large group of friendly drinkers.

She was bored until Casey took the batter’s stand. Alex had absolutely no clue how softball was played, but Casey looked perfect.

It was probably the alcohol talking. Between her and Olivia, they had made quick work of the flask, Liv because she had started to become anxious on Stabler’s behalf, and Alex because she was double-thinking her decision to show up. But if she hadn't shown up, she never would've gone to Casey’s, she never would've gotten that cake and she never would've seen the younger woman's reaction to being told she was good.

And God, Casey was good. Alex watched her sprint, the way she swung so relaxed but so intentionally, completely in her element. It was dark other than the stadium lights, which definitely were not up to standard, but when Alex caught a glimpse of Casey's eyes she could see very clearly the glint of fierce determination.

John Munch had been very correct that the DA’s team- Casey’s teammates, were not comparable to the copper-blonde’s skill. But to that matter, neither were most of the detectives. Alex noted the reality in the way that Stabler swung as if he was trying to hook something instead of swinging a bat- Casey was right- but he still did fairly well.

Not well enough to keep up with Casey.

Every time she hit the ball with a heavy ‘thwack’ that reverberated in Alex’s spine, every time she started darting, long legs stretching out to slide the last meter, the furrow in her brow, the light reflecting off her hair. Alex felt positively dizzy. That last part could very well be from Olivia’s vodka- or so she reminded herself.

She had tied her hair into a bun- Alex mused to herself it was unnecessary for her to have straightened it, then- but it bounced as she walked up to take- no, own the stand. Her lips were pressed into that thin line she made when she was concentrating in the courtroom and was similarly undeniably attractive here, except the corners of her mouth tugged up in a fierce smile. Her movements were fluid and Alex decided that if she would've done well in equestrian, with the way she moved- her intensity was elegant, her movements as refined as a swimmer’s. Alex felt her chest tighten and her heart pounding as she watched, feeling almost greedy for more sight of Casey.

Other than her, she was displeased with essentially everything else. The people next to her were becoming progressively more drunk and more rowdy, cheering and applauding and calling out encouragement or jests to active players, who would yell incoherently back at them. The bleachers had grit stuck in the groves in the aluminum and she mused to herself she’d need to get the pants she was wearing cleaned.

The game simultaneously lasted fucking forever and was much faster than Alex thought it would be. Casey's team won, so Alex had to deal with Olivia huffing and chastising the DA’s team next to her and John giving her a very pointed look, competitive in the way of the observer, that she returned coldly.

Casey didn't come around until the detectives were almost ready to go. Stabler had returned, clenching his jaw after trying to convince a couple people to do some more practice runs with him, and Olivia bolted to her feet to sympathetically pat him on the shoulder. Alex, after a fraction of a second, rose too, and followed. “I don't get how she does that,” He kept grumbling, and Alex had to agree- but her opinion of that was different.

Alex watched out of the corner of her eye as Casey bounced around- literally bounced around, some of the younger interns were literally jumping with the adrenaline and Casey was mimicking it for their benefit- and they hugged each other tight around the shoulders, fluid motions and hearty laughs, until their noses and cheeks were tinted pink with breathlessness. Casey was here celebrating a win- a double win, now- but apparently, some other girl on the team had just lost a major suit according to someone Alex had overheard on the bleachers and the DA’s team was clearly playing on the enthusiasm and adrenaline to cheer her up. Alex watched as Casey grabbed the other lawyer in a tight hug, then pressed a kiss to her cheek, and her stomach fluttered and she looked away very quickly. She hoped no one noticed.

She looked back in time, though, to see Casey shaking the woman off her arm, and that settled the unease in her bones quickly. The other woman held her hand for as long as possible, looking at her with eyes akin to a lost puppy, but Casey only flashed her a bright smile and kept walking, letting her arm fall loosely over to her side as she walked away. She quickened her pace of exit when she saw Alex looking in her direction, jogging over.

“So, Alex?”

“So yourself. You were fantastic.” Alex chimed, and even though Casey was sweaty and was coated in dirt from the floor of the field she extended an arm to give her a half-hug and Casey took it, resting her head on Alex’s shoulder for a moment before letting go.

The others in the group shared similar observations, albeit half-heartedly, while Casey just grinned apologetically at Stabler who stood staring at her blankly. After a moment, the two exchanged a very informal fist bump, and tension eased from Elliot’s broad shoulders.

They chatter about the game for a while, recounting moments of note or teammates that were new or actions that were game-changing, until it was randomly noticed they were the last ones outside, the other legal system workers apparently having moved on to their own after-party that Alex noted Casey apparently had turned down and the other detectives had sullenly collected belongings and dipped.

“So, McMullen’s?” Stabler muttered, “I could use a beer after all this.”

“That's the one all the way near the precinct,” Munch argued, but Alex interjected with, “Let's do it.” That place was familiar- she had grown accustomed to it, and selfishly it was also very close to her apartment. John was left alone in his argument and they all nodded, separating towards cars with the knowledge they’d meet up shortly.

“You may have to drive,” Alex murmured, “I’m above the legal limit. That okay?”

“I get to drive your fancy-ass car? Hell yeah!” Casey cheered, “That's a reward on its own. Come with me, though, I have to grab my things.”

There was a small building off to the side, big enough to serve its only purpose as being a locker room. There were two doors and no windows, effectively a brick block that had no aesthetical component at all, and the lights flickered on as Casey went into one of the doors and hit the light. It kept flickering, though.

Alex stood in the doorway for a second, wrinkling her nose at the smell of very heavy spray deodorant and sweat, but Casey was talking to her, so it felt rude to let the door close separating the two, and after a second Alex stepped in behind her and tugged the metal door closed behind her.

“Did you mean it, though? That in the fourth inning I-”

“Yes, Casey,” Alex interrupted her, “you played very well. I don't say things I don't genuinely stand behind.”

It was rather endearing that Casey wanted her verbal approval, despite the fact Alex was completely aware Casey knew she had played well. She had been getting a stream of compliments and attention from her peers. It made Alex salivate that Casey had chosen to ditch the girl who had reminded her of a dog to talk to her instead. Maybe that was the alcohol talking. Maybe she should keep reminding herself that it was the alcohol talking.

“Hold on- look away, I’m going to change really quickly, and then we can get going.”

Alex felt her cheeks grow warm but she obediently turned on her heel to face the metal door, hearing the tug of a zipper as Casey stripped off her pants, then the rustling of fabric as her shirt came off, and Alex ground her teeth against each other trying not to imagine what was directly behind her. Casey sighed deeply, and Alex bit into her cheek.

She stayed like that, staring bolts of lightning into the door, until she felt Casey tap her shoulder, relinquishing her of the obligation. “Alright. Car keys, counselor?”

Alex pawed them over from her pocket wordlessly and Casey offered her a confused smile but did not press the issue, letting herself out of the locker room and heading towards the car.

She had changed into a white polo shirt, the top two buttons missing to dip and show her distinct collarbones, the cut of the sleeves emphasizing the subtle but firm muscles of her forearms. Beneath it, she carried dark jeans with a leather belt. She hadn't removed her hair from the bun, even though several strands of hair had fallen out near the front, and Alex tried to fixate on the shape of said bun on the back of her head while following her towards her own car.

Her internal monologue was failing to come up with reasons why she shouldn't be allowed to touch Casey's shoulders just a little bit. She could see the groves of muscle through the polo shirt- a little bit, right? Just a little bit?

Alex turned the music up in the car when Casey put it back on so she wouldn't need to make shaky conversation, and Casey seemed content enough with that. The duffel bag had been discarded in the back, Alex now in the passenger with Casey in the driver.

“You seem happy,” Casey commented finally during a lapse in the music- a long outro, or a long intro- and Alex just smiled slyly back at her. She was.

The bar was wonderfully familiar. Alex followed Casey to the booth in the back, the one their group always frequented, and the others were already there, looking up from menus no one really needed because they'd been there so many times everyone already had a signature.

Alex ended in between Olivia and Casey, the brunette on her left towards the wall, and Casey in the gap between her and the end of the couch. Casey struggled slightly- the booth wasn't large enough to accommodate a group of six people, but Alex was more than happy that it forced Casey to try to curve into her side. She didn't move over, didn't try to shove herself against Olivia to make more room for the redhead. With one leg crossed over the other and her shoulder firmly on Alex's, though, Casey made due.

They chirp orders to a bartender who wanders over, Alex graciously agreeing to carry this first round as she had earlier mentioned. Stabler ordered a beer more expensive than the type he normally drank, and Casey shot him a pointed look. He looked mildly apologetic, and Casey rolled her eyes.

John and Fin quickly began chattering about things below Alex’s pay grade, so she turned her attention towards Olivia and Elliot, who were discussing an upcoming event at Stabler’s children’s high school- a fundraiser, or some other such thing- and Casey listened eagerly. Alex stayed mostly quiet, unaware of how to participate in a conversation about public schools and children.

Besides, she had a much larger problem to attend to.

Casey's arm had snuck around her waist and was currently resting on the slight ridge of her hip.

Logically, she could reason that it was because she was intentionally making it more difficult for Casey to sit comfortably, the younger attorney still awkwardly very close to the edge of the faux-leather booth, but still. Her thumb was resting directly on the iliac crest, and if Alex paid close attention it was almost as if Casey was moving it, the rest of her fingers snaking just below it, grasping at the fabric of Alex’s pants. Maybe this was her punishment for enjoying forcing Casey to wriggle and balance on the very end of the seat.

She opened her mouth to join the conversation, but Casey, as though experimenting, ran her thumb in a line across the jut of her hip bone and Alex stiffened on impulse. As soon as Casey felt her spine tense like that, she hastily let go. Alex wished she could ask her to leave her hand there, though.

Why are you thinking like that, she internally chastised herself, Alex, you don't- you said you wouldn't try to do anything with… but she’s pursuing you, now, isn't she?

“Yes, Alex?” Olivia asked with a note of confusion, and she realized she had made to speak and then lost herself in thought. She didn't really remember what she was going to say, though. Her jaw was still open, but she just snapped it shut and shook her head quickly with a ‘never mind’.

Casey's hand did not return for the rest of the hour or so spent chatting at the bar, despite Alex’s struggling attempts at manifesting. She was uncomfortable, now, not because of Casey, but because of Casey's absence. She was pressed so close to her side but somehow it felt as though Alex had messed up, prematurely rejected her, and that something would shift in the dynamic now. The itch and ache behind her skin got progressively worse as she tried to mask her anxiety behind the mask, when really all she wanted to do was talk to Casey. The copper-headed woman’s conversations always included either Olivia or Stabler or Munch, though, and there was never a moment in which Alex could separate her off to start a banter or a hushed conversation between the two of them alone. So, mostly, Alex just sat there, watching her coworkers indulge in the moment while feeling isolated and cold. Her spine was not able to relax after Casey’s hand had left.

She started to feel sick with the rigidness of her body. She wanted to peel it off.

“You seem distracted,” Casey murmured lightly, her breath warm over the side of Alex’s face, her mouth precariously close as she leaned her face towards the side of Alex’s jaw, speaking into her ear. Alex hadn't even realized she had moved.

She steeled her eyes and turned to stare at Casey coldly, almost as if trying to scare her off, a habit she regretted the second she realized what she was doing- I won't let you get this close, I'm warning you- it said, but Casey simultaneously picked up on it, picked up on her regret, and simply grinned at her. She seemed pleased, even, that she was eliciting a response. Alex fumed inside of her mind at the amount of control the redhead had attained over her in the span of a night that wasn't even over yet.

“I’m fine.” Alex said in a hushed whisper, “Just- just drunk.”

Casey provided a low hum in the back of her throat, placing her jaw on Alex’s shoulder, blinking up at her through slightly narrowed eyes.

“Aren't you, Casey?”

“I assumed I’d be driving. I had a beer, but that was around an hour ago, now.”

“Oh.” Alex shifted, her face heating up slightly, “You're taking me home?”

“Do you not want me to do that?”

“I- but, how would you get home from mine? I don't- I can't really give you my car-”

“I can walk from yours,” Casey responded easily, to which Alex shook her head quickly.

“God, Casey, I’m not letting you walk home alone in the middle of the night, just-”

“Are you two planning on leaving soon?” Olivia interrupted loudly, who had drunk a bit more than both of them and seemed irritated in the way drunk people were. “I cannot wait to get away from this guy here,” the brunette sighed, jabbing a thumb at Stabler, who stared at her incredulously. Like Casey, he had also refrained from drinking so he could drop Olivia and John off.

“Olivia, I’m driving you home, and I stand by what I said.”

“But that doesn't even make sense!” She scolded him, “Why is the plural of mouse mice and the plural of goose geese and the plural form of moose still moose? Who the hell has ever said ‘Oh yes, what a lovely pack of moose there in the distance’-”

“Liv, I didn't say it didn't make sense, I just said it wasn't relevant-”

“Excuse you. This is very relevant to my day-to-day life.”

They blinked at each other for a long, slow moment, and Alex decided she did in fact need to get away from them. But, as she reached for her purse to drop what she owed, shame bloomed suddenly in her heart. Fuck.

She groaned quietly, her index extending automatically to rub the base of her glabella, tilting her head backward and squeezing her eyes shut with frustration and also an unwillingness to share what she definitely needed to.

Her discontent at her mistake triggered something else in her stomach, and she felt the familiar sensation of everything inside of her moving uncomfortably, skin aching and turning. She felt like she was about to be scolded by her father- or worse, her uncle- for lacking composure, for forgetting to keep track of every minor detail and interaction held.

It was important to be on top of everything constantly- no, it was necessary. She needed to. It was drilled into her as much as her skin was part of her anatomy, and regardless of how stressed it made her, she needed it compulsively.

She wanted to be someone else, and now she'd have to pay the price for it.

“Alex?” Casey’s voice sounded mildly concerned, and Alex tried her best to hide the embarrassment in her voice when she turned to the redhead and conspiratorially muttered, “I forgot my purse.”

She knew exactly where it was- well, unless it had been stolen since then, but she knew where she had left it. Putting it directly beneath her on the aluminum bleachers of the softball field had not been a wise choice given the principle of ‘out of sight, out of mind' and her lusting after Casey and Casey’s ridiculously attractive shoulders had not helped to remind her to grab it before they left.

Luckily she always kept three hundred dollar bills in her phone case in case of an emergency, so she popped it open and removed one to cover the table, waving off the others who tried to offer her change and similarly dismissing people offering to cover her drinks the next time the group joined at a bar.

“Well, we’ll just go back for it, then.” Casey replied smoothly, and Alex thanked the heavens Casey had not taken this as an opportunity to try to tease her, because Alex genuinely would've gotten mad if she had.

“But that's- that's half an hour each way,” Alex sighed, “and I’ve had too much to drive, but I don't want to ask you too-”

“Extra time with you? I can't complain. Come, now.” Casey grinned, swiping at her shoulder gently the way she had with Elliot earlier, and Alex couldn't help but crack a weak smile and follow her and she made her way out of the bar, waving goodbyes to the others.

“I meant it, though,” Casey starts once they're outside of the building, “you did seem distant back there. Is everything… alright?”

“I-” Alex started without meaning to, clamping her jaw shut and watching Casey unlock her car so they could both climb in, Casey placing the duffel in the back again as prior.

She watched the younger attorney raise an eyebrow inquisitively, which she responded to with a loose sigh.

“Nothing.” She said blankly, and listened as Casey echoed her sigh.

Alex could see the gears churning in Casey's head as they both clambered into Alex’s Cadillac, Casey’s eyes roving over the interior with awe once more. The copper-headed woman wasn't verbally pushing her to explain her issue but Alex wasn't stupid enough to think Casey would let it drop. She briefly worried that Casey thought it was her fault, but if she did, maybe she wouldn't provoke an explanation, and Alex was okay with that. She didn't feel like she wanted to verbalize this discomfort with Casey.

This car drive was again quiet, but not because Alex was in a state of drunken content, but rather because Alex was fighting personal demons and Casey was trying very hard to run through every possible list of what could've upset the older attorney.

“It was just one of my mulberry set, so it doesn't matter that much if it's actually missing or if someone stole it.” Alex said finally, to fill the void of silence.

Casey squinted at her, trying to figure out if that was sarcasm, but it didn't seem to be.

“I’m not going to grant that a response,” she said finally. “You rich kids are something else.”

Alex thinned her lips into a straight line but didn't respond. Casey was right, of course, they had very different upbringings. That's why Casey's skin suited her body, and Alex’s was constantly irritating her.

Neither attorney tried to fill the void of silence after that, not even with music, Alex staring blankly out of the side window while Casey focused on the dark road in front of her. Alex had moved on from her demons to anxiously smoothing her thumb in little patterns on her wrist, very uncomfortable without a distinct reason. This wasn't really about the purse, to put it plainly.

After what felt like an eternity, Casey pulled over, and Alex stumbled out of the car. The place was utterly devoid of people, although the lights were still on for some reason, and it wasn't hard to spot the dot of her bag in the distance even with her glasses. There was a light behind the bleachers that illuminated the spaces between plates of metal and she could make out a shape that blocked out the light exactly where she had been sitting. Without checking to see if Casey was following, she set out, wincing at the feeling of gravel and damp dirt beneath her shoes.

She had picked up her purse and slung it over her shoulder before she registered Casey’s presence again, behind her, and the attorney's voice was soft as she spoke.

“Put it back down, Alex, play ball with me.”

Alex froze.

“What?”

“Play ball with me,” Casey echoed, and when Alex turned around the copperhead was simply tossing the softball up and down in one hand without even looking at it. Casey’s eyes were instead fixated intently on her.

Alex shrugged her purse strap tighter to her side as if it were a life raft of sorts. “I don't play sports, Casey-” she tried, but Casey just shook her head slightly, the bun that had slowly been coming out over the duration of the evening bouncing along with the rotation of her head.

“Just catch it,” Casey soothed, “and if you really hate it we’ll go back to the car. Put your purse down- come off the bleachers, come over here.”

It was hard to disobey when Casey sounded so direct, so after a moment of hesitation and a minor internal thrashing Alex set her bag down once more and stepped off the bleachers, onto the grass where Casey was. She knew her face must be exerting a twisted, concerned expression, but although Casey’s eyes were soft they were also immensely firm. Determined.

“I don't know… how to catch a ball.” Alex said lamely, holding her hands out stiffly in front of her. She was rewarded for her confession with Casey’s chuckle.

“Don't think about it,” Casey said, “just focus on me. You’ll catch it.”

The redhead paused her casual toss-catch rhythm, cupping the ball in her palm and letting her arm hang down by her side. She smiled reassuringly at Alex, who hadn't felt nervous like this since grade school.

“You've been doing fine focusing on me tonight,” Casey teased, after Alex hadn't answered, and Alex flushed, “so- should be doable. Ready?”

Alex wanted to curl into a ball and hide, honestly, so no, she wasn't ready. Straight spine, stiff shoulders, her head feeling like it was propped up on a pedestal rather than a neck. Her hands still were held loosely in front of her, as though someone was passing her a wine glass to nurse rather than a ball to catch, and her feet were right beside each other in the ‘natural’ resting position for her- which had been very unnaturally taught, and then forced, until young Alex did not automatically stand any other way. Casey’s brow quirked as if this was amusing to her.

The blonde’s brow furrowed in anxious concentration, and she took a quick breath, trying to focus on Casey as the redhead had so advised. And despite her teasing tone, she had been right, it was easy for Alex to focus on her.

It was really dark out, now, so Alex could only see the parts of Casey that were illuminated by the overhead beam, but it was angled in a way that she could still see most of her. Casey’s eyes were teasing but attentive, and her posture was entirely relaxed. She didn't look like she had when she was actually playing, which relieved Alex immensely.

When Casey had been playing, she had seemed athletic and agile, with muscles that rippled under her skin the way that a leopard’s might as it pounced. Now, more similarly to her courtroom appearances, her arms had relaxed back into how they normally appeared- although they always looked wonderfully lean- only slightly more built than the average woman’s. Her fingers were lithe as they wrapped around the softball she held, a degree of comfort interacting with the object that read easily as years of experience. Alex tried not to note the details of how the white polo shirt clung and accentuated her bust, or the curve of her waist. Casey’s stance- leaning slightly, more weight on one leg than the other casually, did not help Alex scrape her eyes off of her figure. She felt herself relax, slightly, drawn in by the details of the other woman’s form. She supposed it was easy to stop paying so much attention to herself and everything that was right or wrong in herself and her posture when she was given permission to study someone as- well, frankly, hot- as Casey.

“I’m ready,” Alex said after a long pause, running her tongue over her dry bottom lip to ease the nerves. She wasn't sure what prompted her to say it.

Casey eased her arm in a low arc, passing it once, then twice, the arc getting larger each time, before curling her fingers around the ball as she let it go in a firm underhand toss. Trained as she was, it flew in a bow formation, slow and controlled as it made its way directly towards Alex, who caught it instinctively, trapping it between her two palms.

She looked up at Casey with eyes as concerned as if she was carrying a grenade, and Casey laughed, her hands on her knees, evidently pleased.

“Good! Go on, throw it back to me.”

Alex’s nose scrunched up with focus as she tried to recreate the same motion Casey had done, her limbs feeling weird and disjointed, stiff and loose, unlike the fluid motion Casey had produced. But regardless, she threw it.

Casey catching it was entirely due to the redhead’s own ability, because unlike when Alex had caught it due to Casey’s precise aim, Alex had no clue how to direct the ball properly, and it fell short by about a meter, which was anticipated the second the ball left her hand by Casey who scrambled to get it, achieving the fear with only a mild degree of difficulty.

“You did it!” She cheered, bouncing with excitement the way she had when she had won the softball match hours prior, and Alex couldn't help but acknowledge her enthusiasm as very infectious. A small, genuine yet shy smile played on her lips and Casey darted backward again, taking her stance to throw it once more, which Alex did not move to protest.

Unlike last time, when Alex had caught it very close to her chest, the blonde with some degree of determination reached her arms slightly higher, managing to catch it while it was still in the air above her. She still used both hands, but it was a stark degree of progress.

Alex's face split open into a grin of genuine emotion, now, a smile that awkwardly expressed the strange pride she felt at managing the relatively very simple task, and without hesitation she threw it back to Casey, using enough force this time- correcting her precious mistake- so the ball was easily once again resting in Casey's hand.

“Look at you go,” Casey beamed, the corners of her eyes angling with the intensity of the smile she flashed Alex with, “now, this one’s harder, okay?”

This time, Casey threw it overhead, albeit still much gentler than she normally would. Her previous throws were meant to land directly at Alex’s stand, but this one aimed for a foot or so behind her. The blonde, however, had seemingly gained enough understanding of the ball’s arch to realize, hastily taking a few steps backward to once again encase it.

Alex mused to herself that she felt as though she was getting the hang of this, so she returned the ball once more, still using underhand, watching as Casey bounced backward twice to give them more distance. She threw it, and Alex realized it was flying too far to the side, and she scrambled in that direction, bending down strangely but managing to catch the softball before it hit the floor.

She looked up with a very sheepish expression, but was rewarded with the sight of Casey smiling as if it were Christmas morning, and she relaxed, standing up. Casey had apparently taken a few more long strides backwards, away from her.

“I can't throw that far, come closer.” She called, but Casey shook her head.

“You can make it to me- try out throwing overhead.” Casey urged, “And if it falls short, I’ll run and get it anyway.”

Alex stood, awkwardly still for a long second, staring at Casey, who just kept her bright smile. After a second, she glanced at the ball in her hand, and, mimicking Casey’s movement once again, extended one arm behind her slightly, rotating her torso, and then shot it forward, leaning forward into her swing.

Although she stumbled, looking up prematurely to see if the throw would arc the way she had wanted it to, it did fly almost all the way to the other attorney, who easily lifted a singular hand to catch it in her palm.

This time, Casey did not wait for Alex to recompose before swinging- and she did it differently, this time, lifting a leg to fire the ball at her the way she had during softball except with a bit less force. Enough force, though, that although Alex again scrambled for it, the softball flew too far to the side and the blonde woman ended up on her knees in the shortly clipped grass. She turned her head to stare indignantly at her companion, who just poked the tip of her tongue out of her mouth nonchalantly and motioned for Alex to go fetch.

She would never do anything so.. unpretentious. However, with Casey patiently grinning at her, Alex sighed, standing, brushing off her knees quickly, and then briskly pacing to retrieve the ball, which had landed only a few meters to her side.

“Are we done, counselor?” Novak called from her place a ways away, and Alex raised her eyebrow at the other woman incredulously.

“After that?” She scoffed, and threw the ball again more forcefully, purposely not really aiming at Casey who thus had to hasten towards it, reading its path but still needing to scurry multiple meters, catching it but only just barely. Alex refused to note how elegant the motion was, despite how awkward it really should've seemed.

Alex did not have the time to further study Casey’s elegance because the redhead was already firing back at her, one leg raised high at the knee as prior, and that only really made her understand how attractive Casey’s legs were- her undivided attention to the attorney’s arms had made her miss out on something else equally appealing.

This time Casey was gracious enough to aim at her once more, and Alex caught it, each grab easier than the previous.

They repeated this exchange, Casey’s throws were much smoother and intentional, except she kept occasionally throwing slightly higher or lower or to either side to force Alex to move herself. Alex occasionally missed her grab or not being able to close the distance in time, which only fueled her play intensity when she returned the ball. Alex’s throws were mostly loose, but for the most part, they went far enough, and Casey was more than happy to scramble for them, ending up on her knees multiple times but never failing to catch it firmly.

Casey had started laughing, at some point, delighted to be playing no matter how bad her play partner was, and Alex hadn't even realized when her grin became permanent and her exhales started to sound like breathless giggles.

Eventually, Alex’s breathing started coming faster, and there was a thrum in her heart unrelated to Casey, and said woman realized the blonde was starting to get tired. She stopped the back and forth once the ball returned to her palm, choosing instead to jog over.

“Let's try something- hold this.” She murmured, tossing the ball into the air, which Alex now easily and casually managed to snag.

She reached over and adjusted Alex’s position, smooth hands gliding to shape the rotation of the older woman’s shoulders, lightly pressing to move her hips, gliding across her arms to rearrange the assortment of limbs.

She then turned to stand beside her, mirroring the posture she had just moved Alex into, looking at her with a sly grin. “Now, when you throw, I want you to curve like this-” she demonstrated, her motions causing the fabric to ruffle, her shirt rising up slightly at the hem to tease Alex with a thin strip of the woman’s abdomen, “and raise your leg like this, and then,-” she made a hushed whooshing sound, a cartoonist version of a ball being thrown.

Alex nodded obediently, starting to prepare herself before Casey shook her head quickly. “Give me a headstart- I go on two, and you go on zero. Okay?”

The blonde was now mildly confused on what Casey was attempting, but regardless nodded, frozen in the position Casey had sculpted.

“Five, four, three..” Casey counted down, slowly creeping her body down into a low lunge, “two-!” she bolted forward, and then Alex understood, mentally counting down the last two numbers before flinging the ball as hard as she physically was able to.

She was then content to straighten out, catching her breath, while watching Casey sprint after it. Her strides were so long and so light Alex wasn't sure she was even really touching the ground. With the movement, her ever-loosening bun snapped open, and auburn hair flowed as if cascading behind her, and Alex's breath caught still in her lungs.

Even though the ball did manage to outfly her sprint, she was damn near close when she dove for it, sliding on one knee to retrieve it, skidding to a halt a little ways away from where she had initially landed. She jumped up, shook herself off, and then jogged back, a breathless grin on her face.

“I thought I had it,” she panted, “I’ve always wanted to try doing that.”

The copper-headed woman proceeded to flop down on the grass, rolling so she was lying on her back looking up at Alex who was still breathing with a little more labor than she’d like to admit from their previous shenanigans. After a second, Alex carefully sat down next to her, near but not close enough to be on her loose hair by accident.

“You were very close,” Alex agreed, eyes never leaving Casey’s enthusiastic ones. “I didn't know people could be that fast.”

After a brief second, she reached out and rested her hand on the front of Casey’s shoulder, who blinked up at her. It was a reassurance that Alex’s earlier silence wasn't her fault, Alex tried to convey, that Casey had done nothing wrong and everything right.

Casey sat up to look at Alex more directly, but she raised a hand to keep Alex’s fingers resting on the flat of her chest and an inch below her collarbone. Her face was close to Alex’s leaning forward so boldly Alex almost thought to lean back.

“You look good like this,” She cooed so lightly it was almost smug, almost victorious, “you’re normally so rigid, so overtly mannered.”

It was then that Alex realized she had not registered anything of herself outside of trying to figure out how to position her arm to throw better for the past while.

Nothing had seemed to exist outside of Casey laughing gleefully across the field, bouncing from one foot to the other while waiting for her to launch her softball back to her- as much as Alex could launch it- and as soon as the ball had left her hands, the only thing she thought of was the sight of Casey running to snatch it midair, her hand itching to feel the leather again so she could try again, see if she could throw it farther, and more forcefully.

See if she could make Casey laugh harder, the giddy sound almost echoing in the night, filling the void and almost creepy vacant softball field with audio so genuine it made Alex’s heart flutter. See if she could elicit another called praise, or another witty comment from the woman she had been eyeing so intently.

Her limbs and joints felt loose but connected, blood racing through her veins happily as if finally allowed to dart around her body, resurfacing energy and releasing dopamine in a way she hadn't felt in what must now be years. Her bones felt as light as a bird’s, and her skin was so enthusiastic at the play it nestled onto her body like a puzzle piece that finally clicked into place, and even now that she was finished, it felt like her own. For once, Alex had earned the right to feel comfortable in her own skin.

She hadn't cared to ponder what she must look like, in a blouse layered by a sweater in a field with her glasses, tripping over herself to try to play ball with a woman who could pass as a semi-professional athlete. Her chest must be heaving in an effort to catch her breath, her lungs entirely unused to anything more strenuous than stairs, her legs long but her ability to use them only equivalent to a fawn’s. But whenever she had caught Casey's playful eyes, they looked at her like her stumbling self was a million bucks, and that was enough for her.

This was enough for her. Her goal for the night had been realized in full.

“What are you thinking about, counselor?” Casey breathed, and Alex realized she had leaned even closer, dark green eyes searching her’s as if she could read words in Alex’s pupils.

Alex almost thought she was assuming something until she caught the microaction of Casey’s eyes darting to her lips, before glancing up a fraction of a second later with a hint of shyness in her expression- something Alex had never seen, but certainly wasn't complaining about- and Alex was more than happy to indulge her, seeing as how Casey had spent the last hour trying to ensure Alex could ease some of the rigidness from her soul.

She left the hand Casey had touched on her collar, but brought her other hand up to cradle the back of the redhead’s skull, closing the small gap between their faces, and pressing her lips gently against the other woman’s.

Casey let out a small, whimpered sound, and Alex tried to let her go, only to be tugged back with ferocious intensity.

The younger woman pushed her into a more structured sitting position, one leg swinging over Alex’s lap to straddle her hips, Casey’s hands cupping the sides of Alex’s neck, one thumb on her jaw. Her lips were so soft, but so exhilarating, Alex felt as though she could melt, Casey pulling them apart every couple seconds just to come back closer a second later. Due to the nature of their position, Alex had to crane her neck to angle her face up at her, the column of her throat exposed, and Casey was clearly thrilled, her hands exploring her jaw and below it, soft touches that felt rather greedy.

Alex was finally able to take what she had been fantasizing about- when Casey pulled them apart for a second, panting for breath much harsher than she ever had while exercising, she untangled her hand from the auburn locks she had grasped and ran her hand instead down Casey’s shoulder blade, reveling in the feeling of the soft muscles and the small noise Casey made when she did so, catching the woman’s mouth once more to swallow the sounds she made as her hands both moved to smooth over Casey’s biceps, her triceps, her forearms, and then back up again.

“Alex,” Casey breathed into her mouth, before Alex shifted, pressing her back into her lips, to which Casey had no protest. The copper-headed woman’s hands stopped so much exploring as they did holding for support, and Alex mused to herself- the first coherent thought to break through the haze of bliss she had found herself in- that Casey must have thought she’d be the one to have the other squirming. The thought amused her, and only compelled her to continue feeling her up.

“Alex-,” Casey was whining now, Alex’s hand slipping behind her lithe figure to her shoulder blades again, running her fingers down savoringly before turning her attention to her ribs, using her thumbs to brush against her breast only slightly before moving down her to waist, utterly enraptured.

Alex bucked her hips, startling Casey as the blonde pushed her off entirely, and then kept pushing, rolling them over until Casey was flat on her back, and Alex was over her, her knees buried hard into the dirt to keep her above in a way that would've made her quite upset at the grass stains they’d be sporting later had she not been so enchanted by the feeling of Casey moving, Casey’s muscles bunching and twitching as she moved against her.

“Oh,” Casey gasped, and Alex paused, raising her hands to either side of Casey’s head so she could smile down at the woman whose cheeks were so red they almost matched her hair.

Her blonde hair fell to frame Casey’s face, who breathlessly tried to push it out of the way so she could see the triumphant gleam in Alex’s eyes, and then Casey propped herself up on her elbows to land a soft kiss on Alex’s grinning lips.

The normally overtly composed woman broke into a giddy laugh, sitting up, before rolling to the side so she could lay next to Casey in the dark grass. Casey snorted lightly at the sound of it, rolling to the side so she could study Alex’s gorgeous side profile as the woman looked up to the dark night sky above them.

“I guess this solves the issue of us going to separate apartments with only one car,” Casey breathed, and that just made Alex laugh harder, lulling her head to the side to meet Casey’s eyes and see her quiet smile.

All of Alex’s strings had been cut. Right now, she felt anything but stiff. Anything but rigid.

[yup-thats-me]

My heart goes out to all the (anime) fathers!

Men who will one day come to you while you’re chopping up some vegetables for the meal, men with the guts to stare at you straight in the eyes and say, “Y/n…let’s get a divorce. I found someone much better than you.”

He asks for a divorce. You have a knife in your hand.

Without thinking, you rush after him. “Who’s the other woman, goddamn it! I swear to god I’ll kill you then I’d kill myself!” what else was your husband expecting after you spent eight years of your life together, not to mention you even have a five-year-old daughter for heaven’s sake!

“Mama, stop!” your daughter called out, her little eyes filled with tears. “You cannot kill my husband!”

Did she say “My husband’’?

Oh so that’s what made your husband say that. Looking back at the man, you almost killed him off with that stare. He had no choice but to shrug, gesturing to your daughter.

“Baby, can I ask why Daddy is now called ‘my husband’?” The little girl stayed silent, looking at her ‘husband’ who was instantly by her side and picked her up.

“Woman, I cannot have you make my lovely bride-to-be cry!” He would say while smirking.

Sighing, you soothe your daughter. “Baby, see this ring? Daddy has one on his finger too,” The girl’s eyes almost popped out at the revelation.

“That means Mama and Daddy are married. You cannot marry Daddy, baby.”

Loud wails filled the house. It took an ice-cream and a cookie to make her stop. When she did, the terrifying news was brought up again.

“That’s why, Daddy can’t marry you.”

“…then will I get my own ring too?”

Her question made one of you giggle while it made the other’s vein pop on his forehead. “Of course! My little princess will find a lover who will get on one knee and give the ring to her.” The little girl was relieved.

“NO! I won’t let it happen!” Your husband cried, making the girl cry again. He received a smack on the head and the laundry for a week.

tr: mikey, shinichiro, baji, chifuyu, kokonoi; kny: sanemi, zenitsu, tengen; jjk: gojo, yuji, inumaki, sukuna; bsd: ranpo, dazai, nikolai; windbreaker (aged up, ofc): umemiya, kiryu, sakura + your favs!

Men who wakes you up with coffee on bed. It’s no special day today but it was decided that the family of three would go out for a picnic, and the weather could not have been any better.

Men who would not even bother to ask you to make preparation of food and other requirements for the picnic. They would get up at dawn when it is still dark outside and silently begin the preparations for the day.

They would make countless dishes, each one better than the next, and pack them up so beautifully. When done with cooking, they would pack the blankets, wine, and juice for the kid(s), and get your favorite book packed and of course, he cannot miss out on his camera! He has to take many pictures of his family on their day out.

Men who would choose a quiet flower field away from the bustling city; perfect for a quite yet enjoyable trip. They would even lay out the food and help feed them to you.

They would lay in your lap while you read your book and your son close by, doing something with flowers. Your son would run up to the two of you, a flower crown in his hand and ask for your husband to sit up.

The little boy placed the crown on his father’s head, giggling all the while. “Daddy looks so pretty!’’

“Yeah, doesn’t he?” you agree with the boy. “But what about mommy?”

“I’ll make mommy a flower bouquet! Wait your turn!” The boy ran away again, skipping in his track.

Your husband’s lips found yours; soft and sweet. “I love you,” they would say softly. “And our soon,” with a chuckle.

“And I love you two, too.”

tr: draken, mitsuya, inupi, kazutora; kny: tanjiro, rengoku, muzan; jjk: NANAMI, geto, yuta; bsd: chuuya, akutagawa, fukuzawa, poe, atsushi, sigma, fyodor, kunikida; windbreaker: hayato, togame, hiragi + your favs!

do not copy, steal, or translate my work on any other sites. all belong to yup-thats-me on tumblr

[mcumorningstar]

A Rose By Any Other Name || Part Three

part one part two

series pairing: tommy shelby x reader, hints of john shelby x reader, hints of tommy x lizzie

warnings: 18+ minors dni, implied rape (the aftermath so no detail), mild violence, typical peaky blinders content

summary: After a change of plans, you find yourself wondering why Tommy invited you to the Epsom Derby at all.

author’s note: I wanted to include the Shelby’s gypsy roots (however brief) but I do apologise for any inaccuracies. I have started a taglist for this series so let me know if you want to be kept updated :)

Tommy banged on your door late on Friday. At first, you worried you slept in but it was still dark outside. Slightly drunk, he walked through the threshold without an invite and leaned against the wall in the kitchen.

“I’ve got business in London,” Tommy’s deep voice rumbled in the dark of your house, “You’re to get the train to Epsom with Polly tomorrow at 9.”

“Polly?!” Your eyes widened and Tommy whispered, “Easy, ey, she can smell fear.”

An amused scoff escaped your lips. Tommy Shelby just made a joke. The pleasant rumble of his laughter softened your nerves. Tommy may be the devil by reputation but the man stood in your kitchen was... different.

“What’s in London?” It was a risk to ask but he was in a mood you’ve never seen before. There was a playfulness to his usual self.

“Arthur. Arthur is in London. May I smoke?”

You nodded and he lit a cigarette. Eyes trained to his every move, he was a vision in your humble living space as smoke fell from his lips.

“I’ll come find you tomorrow,” He pointed at you with his cigarette between two fingers and licked his lips, “You owe me a drink, remember?”

Failing to conceal a smirk, you raised your eyebrows at him and he turned to go, the shadow of a smile on his lips. You haven’t even fucked him and you were starting to understand Lizzie’s infatuation with him. He was unlike any man you’ve ever met.

The Epsom Derby was a magnificent spectacle; people with more money than sense flocked in the masses to the grand occasion. Everyone was in the best clothes, ready to indulge in a long day of drinking, dancing and gambling.

Alongside you, Polly strutted around the place as if she was King George himself and you meekly followed, taking in the extravagant sites.

“Chin up,” Polly grinned around her cigarette as you walked through the Derby, “Don’t let these bastards think they’re better than you. You’re a Blinder today.”

Lost for words, you accepted that fate and wondered if Tommy told her why you were there. From her statement, he must need you for a business dealing but that still didn’t make sense.

Why would he require your amateur assistance on one of the most important days of his career?

Stopping by a white fence, Polly scoped the area. Racehorses were displayed on the other side of the fence, trotting by with their trainers holding the reins.

Among the crowd, you spotted Tommy as he rushed down a set of steps with a blond woman in white and pink. A risky colour to wear in a field. Was that May Carlton, the posh horse trainer Lizzie told you about?

“Are you going to lay a bet, y/n?” Polly asked cheerfully, although her eyes scanned the crowds in search of something, or someone.

“I’ve never gambled before,” You realised, making Polly laugh, “But why not start at the most prestigious gambling event in England?”

She smirked at that and looked over at you, “I see why he likes you.”

An inaudible sound fell from your mouth as you struggled with what to say. What did she mean by that?

“Oh there’s Lizzie and Jeremiah,” Polly pointed to the pair as they walked through the crowd.

Panic rose in your chest, pulling at your lungs until a sharp gasp fought the taut struggle for air. Polly turned to look at you, sizing you up.

“Lizzie doesn’t know I’m here.”

Polly rose her eyebrows at that, amused by how boringly ridiculous it was.

Sighing you looked over to Lizzie, “She can’t know Tommy invited me. I don’t why he did and I can’t have her thinking there’s something going on. And I could hardly say no to the devil himself.”

“I think this is the most women my nephew has ever juggled at once,” Polly sounded a little impressed, “He has his father’s devilment. Lizzie’s a fool if she hasn’t realised it yet.”

Taking a deep breath, you nodded and listened to her. Tommy looked around fruitlessly before heading up the stairs with Lizzie a few steps behind.

Jeremiah disappeared into the crowd again before Polly called his name. The man approached with a warm smile.

“Jeremiah, this is y/n. I’ve some business to attend to so would you be kind enough to accompany her? You can look away when she lays her bet,” Polly addressed him but kept a comforting hand against your shoulder.

“Right this way,” Jeremiah smiled, gesturing through the crowd. Polly squeezed your arm and disappeared in the opposite direction. Jeremiah was a preacher, a friendly one at that, and so your nerves were at ease as you walked to your seats.

The race started and finished before you saw anybody else. Police officers left their posts and swarmed like flies on shit.

Now things started to make sense. The Blinders were burning other bookies’ gambling licenses, eliminating the competition. More money and business for the Shelby’s.

Bypassing the hysteria of the police and the indifference of the toffs, you made your way to the bar.

The blonde woman in pink and white stood by the bar in a heated conversation with a woman in red. Are these the women Polly joked were being juggled?

Abort, abort!

As the bar was off-limits, you redirected yourself to find John or Arthur. Surely they’ll know where the man who invited you was.

Sitting at a rickety table was the two Shelby brothers and Lizzie. Her glassy eyes caught you before you saw her.

“Y/n?” Her voice was weak and her hair fell in front of her face. A cigarette hung from her fingers, hands shaking as she held it to her lips.

Arthur’s thunderous voice, fuelled by the cocaine he was lining up, overpowered Lizzie’s meekness.

“What you doing here?”

Fuck it. Lizzie’s seen you now.

“Ask your brother,” You took a seat, “Fuck knows why, haven’t seen him all day.”

Lizzie glanced across the table at you, her head hung low but her eyes now fixed on you. A croaky gasp caught in her throat and a wave of sobs spilled from her.

“Lizzie?” You dragged your chair beside her and rubbed her back, “Lizzie, what’s happened?”

Sitting closer, you could see a bruise was forming on her cheek and a bloody scrape stretched across her forehead.

John leaned over your shoulder, the warmth of his chest against your back, “She was working. Caught a nasty toff. We’ll get her home safe.”

His face was so close to yours as your head snapped towards him in shock. Genuine sympathy was in his eyes and a soft smile graced his lips.

“But-“ You began before Lizzie cut you off, her voice thick with tears, “It’s fine.”

Your brows pulled together as you watched her wipe her wet cheeks. Lizzie didn’t whore anymore. Her only exception was Tommy.

“Is he here?” You turned to John, who shrugged with a mouth full of whiskey. Sighing and silently seething, you helped Lizzie to her feet, “Let’s get you home.”

As if she was in a daze, she complied and she didn’t speak another word for the rest of the day.

Once John and Arthur dropped you off at home, Thelma helped you get Lizzie to bed. Her wide eyed stare bore into you, “What happened, y/n?”

But you didn’t have time to explain. Lizzie was in safe hands and you had a man to find. From the limited time you’ve known Thomas Shelby, he was entirely focused on business and, after an event like the Epsom Derby, you knew exactly where he’d be.

Dusk had long settled and the danger of Small Heath loomed over you but it wasn’t long before you stormed into Shelby Company Ltd.

The double doors to Tommy’s office were wide open, as he and Michael toasted a whiskey. In a fit of rage, you marched right towards him.

“Y/n?” Michael asked, his eyebrows pinched together as he looked between you and Tommy. Your eyes didn’t waver from Tommy, grabbing the lapels of his coat and shoving him against his desk. His glass tumbler fell from his hand and hit the wooden floor with a thud.

The open palm of your right hand met his cheek, clipping at his ear too. So swift and firm that his head shot to the side.

Shaking him, you demanded, “What did you do?! She can barely fucking speak!”

You slapped him again and shoved at his chest. It was nothing compared to his past pains, you knew that, but you didn’t care. Tommy grabbed your wrists and you were powerless to stop him. He simply held you there as you struggled in his grip.

Michael put his glass down and approached you with his hands in front of him, like he was trying to calm an angry bear.

“Y/n-“ Michael started but Tommy spoke, keeping his eyes on yours, “Leave us.”

Michael nodded and hesitantly left you alone. You stopped struggling, almost collapsing into Tommy’s chest at the exhaustion of the past few hours.

“Is that why you invited me?”

It was out there now. A question you didn’t know if you wanted to know the answer to.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like that,” He screwed his eyes shut and met yours again, “The path was blocked off for the King. I got there as soon as I could.”

He was telling the truth. Genuine remorse.

“Is that why you invited me?” You repeated with a sign, resigned to your fate.

Tommy let go of your wrists and wrapped his arms around your waist. As soon as his hands landed on your back, you shoved them off and stepped back.

“You,” You spluttered at his nerve, “You seriously think that’s appropriate for this conversation? I’m not going to be another woman on the roster.”

“Ey?”

“The woman in pink and white? Was that May or was that another woman at your beck and call? Lizzie’s on there too but rule me out,” The finality of your statement crumbled slightly as you caught his eyes.

Tommy cleared his throat and, when you crossed your arms over your chest, he sighed and said, “I dreamt of a deer, walking along Garrison Lane. The next night I met you.”

“I don’t..?”

“Polly says a deer in a dream is a good omen. That gentleness and innocence will cross your path.”

“Are you suggesting the deer meant me?” Your jaw was slack as you tried to grasp what he was saying. Tommy tilted his head to one side in a non-committal display of likelihood.

“But I’m a whore and I slammed a door in your face.”

“Polly is rarely wrong.”

Tommy reached for you and pulled you closer once again. You weren’t touching but you could feel the warmth emanating from him. Calloused hands cupped your face and blue eyes held you hostage in his gaze.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like that and you were never going to be involved.”

Foolish as it may be, you believed him.

Dried blood spread across his temple caught your attention, “You’re bleeding Tommy.”

He brushed it off as your fingers delicately held his face to inspect the cut. It wasn’t deep but you kept your eyes trained to it as you spoke again.

“Why did you invite me?” Another bold question you were scared of knowing the answer to. A man like Tommy Shelby wasn’t accustomed to being questioned.

“You’re my good omen. We took Epsom,” A soft smile graced his lips, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone, making you meet his dizzying stare.

You were speechless. The Shelby’s are a gypsy family so his superstitions made sense, but is he sweet on you because of the dream or is this rooted entirely in his superstition?

Rendered a fool by his bright eyes and soft touch, you asked, “Who were the other women?”

Tommy pursed his lips, “Nobody worth your time.”

“If I’m gonna be your good omen, I need to know the truth,” You said softly, resting your hands on his stomach. Tommy fought a smile, wrapping his large hands around your biceps.

“May trains my horse. She deserves better than me,” Tommy’s voice rumbled lowly between you, “The woman in white and pink, is Grace. She’s married, sailing back to New York with her rich husband.”

There was resentment behind his words. Interesting that she returned to him now that he’s rich.

“She said she loves me, not him.”

Standing there in his office, between his legs as he sits on the edge of his desk, you wondered how many others had been in this position. How many women were weak to Tommy Shelby?

“So why is she sailing away?” Your fingers idly fiddled with the buttons of his waistcoat.

“Because I told her to,” Tommy was no longer touching you, his hands busy lighting a cigarette.

“You don’t love her?”

Tommy gave a short laugh at that, “She’s of the past. I do not concern myself with matters of the past.”

“Maybe if she’d been in your dreams..” You teased, hoping his guard was lowered around you. Tommy laughed, his blue eyes glistening, and pulled you closer, “You may be my good omen but don’t push it.”

His strong arms wrapped around your waist, securing you in place. A tension lingered in the silence between you and Tommy’s gaze drifted to your lips.

You were here to punish him, to hurt him for hurting Lizzie. Poor Lizzie… and you were here, a devilish smile and a compliment away from letting Tommy Shelby kiss you. What were you thinking?

Breaking you out of your stupor, you blurted, “I should go.”

Like Icarus and the sun, your resolve began to melt away. Tommy rose to his feet, your bodies now pressed against each other.

“I’ll drive you,” Was all he said.

Taglist

@sherbitdibdab

[bones4thecats]

Hello (again lol) Can I request Ne Zha x fem pregnant reader please? :3 ✨

Ne Zha's Fem! S/O Being Pregnant

Character: Ne Zha Requester: @bellatrix2901 A/N: While many say that Ne Zha is a minor (specifically around 12), he is a deity, meaning he has lived for thousands of years. He is portrayed as an older adult/teenager, so we're going off of his canonical age and his status as immortal, yet-youthful looking man. ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: NONE ⚠️

••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●••●•

»»————————————-　 Ne Zha 　————————————-««

🪷 The sound of a pair of geta sandals hitting the ground over and over echoed in the building. And with the sound of rushing water, many would believe this to be a calm environment, oh how wrong were they

🪷 Pacing around you and Ne Zha's shared halls, a nervous whisper rummaged throughout your head; did Ne Zha want a child?

🪷 Eventually, you ran into one of your oldest servants, whom looked at you and laid a hand gently on your shoulder, making you turn to look at her. Small tears were threatening to fall from your eyes, and the elderly woman smiled and offered her arms for you to cry into

"Masashi..." you began, "do you think Ne Zha would even- you know- want a child around the house? I mean, he's a deity with a lot of responsibilities, would a kid and pregnant wife be too much?"

🪷 Masahi looked into your eyes with her narrowing blue ones and chuckled, a slightly hoarse voice coming out as she spoke

"Lord Ne Zha would never see you or your child as a burden. He loves you more than anyone else I have seen. And I've been breathing for 68 years. Take that for experience."

🪷 You smiled and nodded at the woman you saw as a Grandmother. Her smile always lit up a room, despite her constant battle with illnesses, she never stopped working, despite your pleas. She was a fighter and was very observant, so hearing this made you settle slightly

🪷 In the next couple weeks, Masashi readied you for when Ne Zha came home. It had been 14 weeks, and your baby bump was slightly showing through your long pink and blue dress. And while you were slightly nervous, the presence of Masashi calmed you

🪷 Here goes nothing.

»–•–«

"Would you like anything to feast on, my Lord and Lady?"

🪷 Looking up and smiling at the well-dressed man, you asked for a mooncake with soy sauce. Which while the servant found it normal and didn't react, Ne Zha looked at you in surprise and confusion. A mooncake with soy sauce?

"I'll just take a cup of sakura tea."

"Alrighty then. Your mooncake and teas will be out here momentarily, my Lord and Lady."

🪷 You smiled and looked back at your husband, who sighed and interlocked your fingers with his. You could tell he was tired and in desperate need of a nap or at least a happy story

🪷 Mustering up your courage, you thanked the servants who brought your food and tea before clearing your throat and saying the deity's name. His eye's sight connected with yours and he hummed, a signal for you to speak

"Do you remember those young deities who ran around the fields with large amounts of sakura flowers in their hands, just throwing them around and smiling like- well, children?" You asked.

"Yes. I remember them like it was yesterday. Holding a freshly fallen basket of the petals, I have to admit, it was quite endearing seeing them playing and being the children they are."

🪷 You smiled once again and chuckle at his eyes widening slightly as he spoke, he may not show it often, but he was truly a sweetheart. Despite what many like Sun Wukong said

🪷 Laying your teacup down on the saucer and onto the tabletop, you adjusted your position before mumbling a slight 'screw it' and walking to sit beside your husband, making him cock an eyebrow and summon a pillow for you to sit on again

🪷 Reaching out to hold his hands, Ne Zha looked at you in confusion and slight shock once more. What were you doing? And why were you holding his hands to your stomach?

🪷 Wait... is that a slight bump...? It cannot be...

"Y/N are you..."

"Pregnant? Yes. And don't worry, it's not Wukong's. I think I'd die with his hell-spawn in me."

🪷 Ne Zha stared at you in shock before you noticed his eyes watering over and begin to spill tears. The smile that covered his face made you smile yourself

🪷 Wrapping his arms around you tightly, Ne Zha began to sniffle and choke on his happy cries. He was going to be a father! Why would he ever be mad?

[brummiereader]

PREVIOUS PART

Killing Me Softly (PART THREE/ DARK!TOMMY)

Summary: You and Tommy have barely said a word to eachother since your wedding night, the tension building, Tommy's facade finally drops.

Warnings: Language, angst, psychological mind games, manipulative behaviour, controlling behaviour, Dark!Tommy (this is a dark fic, please read the warnings before continuing)

"Where's my wife?" Tommy asked looking up from his newspaper as he sat at the end of the large dining table, a cigarette in his mouth.

"She's still in bed Sir, she said she's not hungry" Frances answered nervously clutching onto her apron. It had been almost two weeks since your wedding day and the tension was palpable. You and Tommy had barely said another word to eachother since your wedding night, sleeping in separate rooms you had been avoiding him at all costs. You hadn't left the house in five days, and even when you did it was only to venture out onto the grounds of the property, one of Tommy's henchmen always a few feet behind you. You had neither seen nor heard from your mother, friends or Tommy's family since your arrival at Arrow House, everyone giving the happy newlyweds space, that's what he said. The truth was, Tommy was keeping them from you, keeping you from telling them how miserable you truly felt. Folding the newspaper in half Tommy threw it onto the table In front of him, his chair scrapping across the wooden floors beneath him as he stood up.

" Tell her I expect to see her sitting there at that table, at noon, for when I come back" he said sternly as he walked towards the entrance.

" Yes Sir" Frances nodded as she closed the dinning room door.

"Oh and Frances" he stopped as he got to the door. "Tell the chef to make lamb" He smirked as he looked up at the large wooden stairs in the foyer.

" Yes Mr Shelby" she dutifully answered as she watched Tommy walk out the front door.

Laying in bed you flinched as you heard the door of his car slam shut. He was gone, breathing a sigh of relief you sat up looking over to his side of the bed, this was not how you thought your first two weeks of being a married woman would be, even for an arranged marriage.

Deciding not to lay in bed all day and worry about your already fragile marriage, you got up putting your light pink silk dressing gown on, one you could only imagine Tommy had picked out for you, like everything else he had chosen on your behalf. Walking down the large wooden staircase you was met with Frances waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs.

" He's gone then?"

" Yes Mam" she answered with concerned eyes.

" Did he say anything?" you questioned as your fingers picked at the wooden banister.

" He said he would like to see you at lunch Mam"

"I doubt he said it as nice as you" you smiled as you placed a hand on her arm." Thank you, Frances" you added as you walked off into the kitchen in search of something to eat.

"Mrs Shelby please, let me get you something" she called out.

" It's ok Frances I don't mind " you replied, still not used to being waited on.

Sitting by the window in the study, a book on your lap, you looked out at the gardens In front of you, Tommy's horses galloping in the fields behind them. How had things gotten so bad so quickly? You pondered as you spun your wedding ring around your finger over and over again. Tommy was a man who always got what he wanted, never to be talked back to, never to be refused, and when you did just that on your wedding night he had clearly not taken it very well. Was it all your fault though? You questioned yourself, doubting every conversation and action you had done and had over the past two weeks. You just wanted to get to know him again, did he not want that too?

"Mam, it's Miss Polly Gray on the phone, should I tell her to call you back another time?" Frances asked as she opened the door to the study.

" No no, it's fine, I'll take it, thank you Frances" you said getting up, placing the book down on the chair you was sitting on. Hurrying to the phone you quickly picked up the receiver placing it to your ear.

" Polly?"

" Y/N, how are you love? We haven't seen you in a while"

" I'm so happy to hear your voice Polly" you replied, your emotions threatening to be made known at any moment.

" Enjoying newlywed bliss?" she chuckled over the phone, completely unaware of the current state of things.

" Something like that" you sighed with a small laugh as you played with the cord of the phone.

" What's wrong Y/N ?" nothing could get past Polly, she always knew.

" Me and Tommy, well ...things have not been going that great" you replied in a shaky voice, your eyes starting to fill with tears.

" Oh love... right I'm coming over, this afternoon at four, I will have my driver bring me" Polly replied, concern In her voice, knowing too well how Tommy could get.

" Ok" you said as you sniffed back your tears.

" I'll see you in a few hours, don't worry we'll sort it all out.

" Ok, bye Polly" you said as you put the phone down. Was this a good idea? What would Tommy think of you talking about your marriage to someone else. But Polly could help, she was his Aunt after all, family, someone Tommy knew.

Looking up at the large clock in the foyer you noticed it was nearly noon, Tommy would be back any minute. Hurrying back upstairs you quickly shut the bedroom door, hoping to avoid him once again.

" Mr Shelby" Frances greeted Tommy at the door.

" My wife?" he asked as he handed her his suit jacket.

"She's upstairs Sir" she replied nervously as Tommy cocked an eyebrow in surprise.

" Did you not tell her that i expected to see her in the dining room?" He asked, his voice getting irritated with each second that passed.

" Yes Sir, she's very tired, I think she needs rest" Frances said trying to excuse you from his anger.

" Tired" he scoffed as he started marching up the stairs to your shared room. "I'm fucking tired, tired of this shit" he said under his breath, his steps echoing through the house as he walked up the stairs. "Seems my dear wife needs a helping hand getting of bed Frances!" he called out angrily as Frances hurried off, not wanting to get in the middle of a marital dispute.

"Y/N!" he bellowed as he got to the top of the stairs, throwing the bedroom door open.

" Tommy..." you replied in surprise as you sat up, eyes widening as you watched him storm over to your side of the bed.

" Been laying in bed all fucking morning eh?" he asked as he pulled the sheets away from you, scoffing when you closed your dressing gown tightly around your body.

"Why are you not downstairs in the dinning room, like I asked, hm?" he demanded to know, grabbing you by the hand as he pulled you out the bed.

" I'm not a child Tommy, you don't get to talk to me like that" you answered, irritation in your voice as you pulled his hand off you. Tommy was right behind you as you marched down the stairs to the dining room, you swore you could feel his eyes piercing into the back of your head, your stubbornness only angering him more. Once again you had disobeyed him, and this time he was going to make sure you knew it. Spinning you around, Tommy pulled you flush against his body, his arm hooked around the bottom of your back.

" Stop fucking acting like a child, and I'll stop treating you like one, ok sweetheart?" he said quietly into your ear, his breath hot against your skin, his words laced with anger as his hand traveled slowly up your back grabbing a handful of your dressing gown. Firmly holding onto your robe, Tommy spun you back around in one quick motion, pushing you down onto the dining table chair.

" Good" he said, hitching his suit trousers up as he sat down next to you, satisfied you hadn't talked back. What would be the point in arguing with him, your words would only go unheard, Tommy always had to be right. You decided not to say anything, instead you pinned all your hopes on Polly's visit, praying she could get through to her nephew and help your already rocky marriage. Lighting a cigarette, Tommy watched you as he inhaled the tobacco. He had you just the way he wanted, eyes cast down, submissive, subservient, the perfect little wife.

A knock on the dinning room door had you both looking up as Frances wheeled two plates of food in. As she made her way around the dining table you noticed almost instantly what had been prepared, your eyes darting to Tommy you watched the smirk form on his lips as he flicked the ash of his cigarette into a glass dish.

" Is there a problem?" he asked, a devilish darkness overtaking his eyes as he watched you look down at the plate of food now in front of you.

"I can get you something else Mrs Shelby?" Frances asked as she looked between you and Tommy.

" No it's fine, thank you" you answered as you breathed in the gamy smell of the lamb, your stomach already turning at its odor. His pettiness was blatant, you knew exactly what he was doing, it was childish, immature, and you refused to play along.

"Eat" he said as he nodded to the plate of food In front of you. Picking up your knife and fork, you cut a small piece of lamb, raising it to your lips as Tommy watched you intently. Placing it in your mouth, you looked over to him as the smugness spread across his face, he was enjoying this, enjoying his cruelness play out.

" You invited Polly to come today?" he asked as he took a sip of whiskey. Nodding, you slowly chewed on the piece of meat, swallowing harshly as Tommy watched your throat bob up and down as the food made its way down.

" Next time you invite someone, you ask me first"

" Tommy this is my home too, I don't have to inform you of everything I do" you replied, dropping your fork onto the plate, unable to eat anymore, your frustration mounting with him.

" But you do love" he said as he grabbed your chin turning you to face him. " You're my wife, so you'll do as I say. Now eat" he said picking your fork back up.

" I can't Tommy, I don't feel good " you answered. Was it the taste of the lamb already, or his controlling words that had your stomach churning, you couldn't tell anymore. Staring at him your eyes started to fill with tears. Taking a drag of his cigarette Tommy looked at you unsympathetically as one lone tear fell down your cheek. With your hand to your mouth, you bolted up, running as fast as you could to the closest bathroom. Bending over the toilet you threw up as you tried to hold back your hair away from the toilet seat.

"Hey, hey..." you heard softly from behind you as Tommy bent down next to you, collecting your hair into his hand as he rubbed your back while you hurled into the toilet once more.

Wiping your mouth you turned to him as you flushed the toilet.

" Why would you do that?" you asked weakly, tears streaming down your face.

"Do what?" He questioned a look of confusion in his eyes as he tried to fool you with his bewilderment, but all you could see was the smirk playing on the corner of his lips threatening to expose his cruelness. Turning back to the toilet you threw up again, gagging at the taste in your mouth.

" You see what happens when you don't talk to me hm, when you ignore me? How am I suppose to know anything about you, if you never say anything to me eh? he said as he continued to stroke your back.

" But...Tommy at the wedding I told you that..."

"Shh shh" he hushed you, pulling you into his chest as he gently caressed your hair, exhaling at the close contact of your warm body.

" Let me take care of you Y/N, stop fighting it." he said as he kissed the top of your head. In your weak state you found yourself leaning into his embrace, clutching onto his chest as he responded by holding you tighter against him, placing another kiss to your temple. Had he forgotten what you had said at the wedding? His sudden behaviour was confusing, he blew hot and cold with you as quick as his temper changed, you couldn't keep up.

For another hour you laid in bed, Tommy telling you to sleep as he worked in his office, ordering his men to go home for the rest of the day now he was back. But sleep was the last thing you did. Your thoughts had been consuming you as you bit anxiously on your nails. He was playing with you like a child plays with a toy, he hadn't forgotten, he knew exactly what he was doing. Having had enough of his constant change in personality, you decided to be as petty as him and play along with his little games..since he clearly enjoyed it so much. Marching down the stairs you walked right past his office as he looked up from his desk.

" Y/N, why are you not in bed? " he asked, getting up from his chair, following you as you walked out the back door to the gardens. Scoffing at him you ignored his question. In bed, exactly where he wants you to be, knowing where you are, doing what he wants, controlling you.

" What do you think your doing?" He said as he caught up to you.

" Going for a walk " you answered as you started making your way to the woods behind the house." Is that a problem?" you said sarcastically, echoing the words he would often use. Clenching his fist he watched you as you walked away from him.

" You'll get lost!" he shouted as he stood by the door.

" I'm a grown woman Tommy" you shouted back, your arms folded as you stormed off. So tempted to see his reaction, you turned around to see him staring at you, brushing his hand down his face as he then gripped his chin with his fingers.

A satisfied look spread across your face, you enjoyed the fact your defiance was getting to him, just like he enjoyed toying with your emotions. Was this a dangerous game to play though, for how long could you really keep this up?

It had been an hour since you stormed off, and you was officially lost. Fuck. Looking down at the floor you kicked a pile of sticks in frustration, Tommy having been right only angering you even more. Looking around in a panic, you tried to remember the route you took, but everything looked the same. A noise Suddenly caught your attention as you span around, your eyes trying to look through the endless row of tress in front of you. This was England, you tried to rationalise to yourself. The chances of a bear coming out at you, zero to none, a wolf maybe, or it could be the devil himself, you laughed to yourself. Is that what you was calling him now, your husband? Then you heard it again. Walking in the opposite direction you quickly picked up the pace as you glanced behind you once more, the rustling suddenly got louder, and that's when you saw it, a small rabbit not far from where you was standing, a sigh of relief swept over you as you walked over to the small ball of fluff. Bending down you put your hand out coaxing it forwards.

" Hello little guy, you scared me" you said as it quickly bounced off in the opposite direction. Your senses no longer on alert, you hadn't noticed the real threat standing next to you. The snap of a branch had you suddenly turning back around.

" Lost little bunny?" Tommy said a smirk on his face, as he leaned against a tree watching you, a cloud of smoke bellowing into the country air. Of course he had followed you, was he afraid you would run off and leave him?

" You followed me" you said, upset that no matter where you went or what you did he would always have his eye on you.

"Maybe you would prefer rabbit for lunch next time" he joked in a sister tone. " Come on, you've had your little tantrum, now let's go" he said taking your hand only for you to push it away.

" No. I'll go when I'm ready" you said adamantly as you watched the anger rise in his already tense body.

" Y/N, you're coming home with me now or els..."

" When I'm ready" you said sterner, Interrupting him.

" Fine. Spend all night here. See if I fucking care" he replied turning away from you, storming off as he threw his cigarette onto the ground. That was the last thing you wanted to do. You watched the route he took back as you slowly followed the same path.

It had been more than an hour until you finally reached the front door to your house. Walking in you glanced up at the clock it was nearly four, you hadn't missed Polly's visit. Walking through the foyer, you was met by Tommy as he walked out the living room, Polly following behind him.

" My loving wife has returned" he said sarcastically as he took a sip of his whiskey.

"Polly" you said ignoring Tommy's remark as you walked up to her, giving her a hug as you looked over her shoulder to see Tommy smirking at you. I'm glad I didn't miss you, I was out for a walk and got a little lost"

" You did miss me, love" she said kissing your cheek, smiling to you.

" But...you said you was coming at four"

"Polly arrived an hour ago Y/N " Tommy said staring at you, his mouth slightly open as his eyes glistened with mischief.

" It's alright love, you must have forgotten. One of the secretary's left a note saying you rang and changed the time to three" she said as she started to put her coat on.

" I...I didn't rin.." you stopped, looking to Tommy as he swirled the whiskey around in his glass. And then the realisation hit you, Tommy had changed the times.

With Polly adjusting her coat in between you both, you and Tommy stared eachother down, your anger at boiling point. Neither of you saying anything you just glared at eachother waiting for the other to do something.

"I can't stay love, i have to get back. We will arrange for another time" she said as she kissed your cheek once again. "Tommy told me everything, you'll settle in soon" she whispered quietly into your ear. You watched on in disbelief, what had Tommy said to her? As soon as the door shut, you marched over to your husband, anger in your face ready to confront him.

" You did that on purpose! What did you say to her?" You shouted at him, pushing his chest with both of your hands.

" You sure you're not still sick love? Don't have a fever do you?" he said, a cocky smile on his lips as he turned away from you, walking to his office.

" You changed the times of her visit, am I not allowed to see anyone?" you asked in desperation, as you tried to stand In front of him, trying to get his attention. Annoyed by your insistence on the matter Tommy Slammed you against the wall as he pushed his body onto yours.

" What if I did hm? What was you going to tell her eh? How it's been so hard for you? My poor little wife, she's suffering so much. I have given you everything Y/N, everything. Do you not remember our agreement hm?" He said angrily as he held your head between his hands, his leg between yours to keep you in place.

Nervousness building inside you, you watched as his eyes turned that sinister black you feared so much. Tears streaming down your face you looked at Tommy pleading with unspoken words to let you go. Brushing away a tear with his thumb, Tommy let out a frustrated sigh.

" Look, the sooner you start acting like my wife the better things will be" he said, gently caressing your cheek as he leaned in to press his lips to your tear stained ones.

"Kiss me back Y/N" he moaned against your mouth, desperate to feel something from you.

" Still playing hard to get eh?" he hummed against your lips as he pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes closing as his hands stroked down your arms.

" I hate you" you said quietly as your voice trembled in fear. Tommy's forehead still pressed against yours, his eyes darted open meeting the fear in yours, fury spreading across his face as you pushed him away from you. Running up the stairs you turned around to see him staring at you, his eyes never once moving from you as he watched you run up the large wooden stairs.

You didn't hate him, Tommy reasoned to himself as he sat in the dark green upholstered arm chair, blowing a cloud of smoke to the ceiling. You was just getting used to your new life he quickly justified . You're words were laced with anger though, he thought to himself as he clenched his jaw, flicking the flame of his lighter on and off as he watched you sleep in the bed in front of him, the freshly cleaned bed sheets draped gently over your body. Taking another drag of his cigarette Tommy leaned forward, his hand slowly stroking up your uncovered leg as he watched you sleep. Your skin was so soft, so delicate under his fingers, why wouldn't you let him near you? let him hold you, kiss you... touch you. Frustration building up he pulled his hand away, his shoulders tense, his jaw tightening. You shouldn't test him, he didn't want to lose his temper, he didn't want to hurt you. Stirring you started to wake up, the smell of tobacco filling your senses. Sitting up you looked In front of you to see an empty chair at the bottom of the bed, a lit cigarette still burning in an ash tray on a small table beside it. Your eyes darted around the room in panic.

"Tommy" you called out as you looked to the the landing light beaming through the half opened bedroom door. Clutching the bed sheets to your chest, fear rose in your body.

He had been here, he had been watching you...

NEXT PART

Tag list: @litteltourtius @aesthetic0cherryblossom @swordofawriter @casa-boiardi @muhahaha303 @fmo166

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Hazband 2: Band AU

Buckle Up, Buttercups. This is gonna be looooooooooong.

-"Insider Bands" playing on VH666 streaming services on a computer monitor / TV screen sitting on the desk against the far wall-

Charlie: (laying on her belly on her bed and chewing her nails like a cartoon goat chews through a field of grass as she watches the TV)

Riff Rascal: Alright, dudes, dudettes, non-duders, and rock-aholics! That was Simple Plain's newest single "Why Are We Kids?!". Coming up next, our guy, our big shredder, our big bad-

????: Dammit, Riff!!!! Just get on with it!!!

Riff Rascal: Yo, sorry, boss lady! Coming up next, we have our expert in all things metal and shredding, Axel Steelgrave, conducting a super secret, super exclusive interview with one of Hell's latest and greatest! Stay tuned!

Charlie: (whines and plasters her face into the comforter) Fuck! I really messed up! I shouldn't have released that album, guys! What if Vaggie doesn't like girls outside of the metal scene?! Then I'm just the creepy, stalker, pop diva who messages her on Sinstagram every once and a while! And likes all of her posts! And comments on each picture! And-

Razzle: (trying to finish polishing Charlie's hooves after a full pedicure and hoof care) Baap?

Charlie: So? It was only ever mentioned once in a tabloid that she was once in a poly ship with a man and woman before. Nothing set in stone. Who listens to tabloids anyway? She said she was a lesbian in her last interview with Angel Metal Monthly.

Dazzle: (brings up a wide array of nail polishes) BaaaAaaAp?

Charlie: Yes! She messages me back almost immediately after every message I send her, but that doesn't mean the's interested in me. She hasn't been online in a week! (rolls over and flops onto her back, covering her eyes with her arm) Not since Katie Killjoy did that whole news segment on my new single music video and album.

Dazzle: (painting Charlie's hooves in a deep red hue called "Wicked Sinister") Baaaaaaap. BaaaAAaaap. Baap. (clicks his hoof in a way that's supposed to look like a sassy finger snap and blows heated air over the paint)

Razzle: Baap! (scowls) Baaap. Baaa. Baap!

Charlie: Thanks, Razzle. No, Dazzle. I really don't think this is some kind of rebound. I really started liking her during the Battle of the Bands gig over at the Jackpot Hotel and Casino. She was the first person who didn't openly laugh at me being there even though I was the only pop singer there.

-VH666 blares back with a heavy metal guitar riff-

Axel Steelgrave: Hey, good evening, everyone. How's it going? Tonight, we have a very special guest. (camera pans out to show Vaggie sitting next to Axel in an interview chair) Lead singer, guitarist, and rocking girl, Vaggie the Steel Vagina from Fallen Angels.

Charlie: WHAT?!?!?!?!?! (crocodile death rolls around in her excitement and falls out of bed, completely wrapped in a burrito, and worm crawls over to the TV) RAZZLE!!! DAZZLE!!! TURN IT UP!!!

Razzle: (salutes) Baap! (grabs the remote and turns up the volume)

Dazzle: (sad bleats as he looks at the mess of nail polish everywhere) baaaaaap.....

Vaggie: (trying not to snarl at the name) It's just Vaggie, Axel.

Axel Steelgrave: Oh, sure. Sure. Well, thank you so much for taking the time to come and see us. Not gonna lie. We were shocked to hear that you were coming out with a new single so quickly.

Charlie: (plasters her face to the screen) New Single?!?!?!?!?!

Vaggie: (blushes slightly) Well, I figured after hearing the Princess's new album and call-out, I should work on a reply.

Angel: (from behind the camera man) You wouldn't have had ta write and record a whole new song and music video if you just sent 'er a video of you jacking it all week! I've never heard dat vibrator work so hard in its life! I swear I smelled smoke last night!

Charlie: (squeals, gasps, and shrieks all at once and falls backwards)

Vaggie: (jumps up from her seat) Angel! What the Fuck?!

Axel Steelgrave: Well, well, well, I guess that answers my next question. I take it this new single is going to be good news for the Princess?

Vaggie: (still steaming as she sits back down and tries to compose herself) I know you have the video on hand. Why not play it and let the fans see for themselves?

Axel Steelgrave: I couldn't have said it better myself. (to the camera) With that being said, let's take a look at a sneak peek of Fallen Angel's new single: "Dear, Charlie - For Somewhere Better".

-Video cuts to some random point in the music video where Vaggie is standing in black leather skirt that has the leather ripped into strips in a hoola-skirt style, black halter tank top, thigh high leather heeled boots, and black fingerless gloves, holding and shredding a guitar. Angel is a pink, fabulous gay disaster on drums while one set of hands works a keyboard.-

Vaggie: (singing) We'll ignite. Still dreaming wide awake. On the hunt for "Somewhen brighter". Pull me close now, and I'll dream until my dying day. Till we create a new "Somewhere better". The promise of a life. Like a thousand suns inside my broken heart. I can see through your eyes. And embrace the flame that guides me through the night.

-Video Cuts back to the interview-

Axel Steelgrave: (freaking out excitedly) Wow! That's quite the statement! Good on you, Steel Vagina!

Vaggie: Vaggie.

Axel Steelgrave: Before we end this exclusive, is there anything you want to say to the Princess in case she's watching?

Vaggie: (Face falls briefly as her eye widens and a blush colors her face) Oh.... (shakes her head to compose herself, looks into the camera, and makes a telephone gesture) Call me~

Axel Steelgrave: (laughing) Alright! You heard it here first, folks. "Dear, Charlie" will be available on HellTunes tonight at midnight. Thank you all so much for tuning in. And, as always, stay rocking.

Charlie: (finally managing to unravel the blanket and sitting on the floor with a bright red blush) C-Call.... Her.... She wants me to call her... (jumps up and down like a teenager in a bad "not another teen movie" while holding Razzle and Dazzle's hooves) SHE WANTS ME TO CALL HER!!!! (pauses) How?! I don't have her number!

-DING!-

Charlie: (dives for her phone on the floor and opens a new Sinstagram message)

FallenAngelVaggie: Hope you got a chance to watch "Insider Bands" tonight. Talk to you later? Maybe over coffee? XXX-XXX-XXXX

Charlie: (takes a deep breath) SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

Vaggie: (leaning against the wall of the VH666 studio, holding her phone against her chest, and taking a long drag of a cigarette)

Angel: Hey! I thought you were quitting! (yoinks the cigarette and plops it between his lips)

Vaggie: Dammit, Angel! I said I'd be done once my case is empty! (digs in her pocket and pulls out an angelic steel cigarette case) It still has four left! I haven't even lit up in nearly six months!

Angel: I know! Proud of you for that. That interview rile you up that much that you gotta wreck six months of hard work?

Vaggie: Ugh! (slams her back into the wall) You think Charlie got the message?

-squeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!

Angel: (looks up at the sky towards the Morningstar Mansion where it looks like fireworks are going off on one of the balconies) Oh, I think she got it~

[say-hwaet]

If I Had to Do it All Again

Chapter One: Find Your Place Previous: Prologue Next Chapter: II Summary: You try to adjust to your new life with Arthur's gang, and learn some information about his past. Meanwhile, Arthur opens up to the only one who will really listen. Word Count: ~7,300 Warnings: Mature Themes, sexual harassment, language

The steam envelops your face as you pour the hot water from a wooden pail into a wash basin. You hold your breath a minute, as the heat mists your face, and once the water is poured out, you set the pail onto the ground. 

You then look at the pile of dishes beside you on the table and after swishing the suds around, you take a handful of stew plates and dip them in. 

Kitchen duty, nothing that you aren't a stranger to. This used to be second nature. After all, a waitress doesn’t just wait on tables. 

Wow. It’s been a long time since you’ve thought back that far. You were so very young, then. Eighteen. Working as a waitress since you were orphaned at 16. You had companions in Bethy, the sassy middle-aged woman who you looked up to,  Clarence, the cook who you thought of as a brother, and Joe, the soft-hearted boss with a sand-paper exterior. They were like family in their own way. 

Oh, it’s been years. 

“Once you’re done with all those, I’ll have you wash the stew pot,” Pearson, the swashbuckling personal chef of the gang, tells you as he walks behind you. “It’s been due for a good cleanin’ and your fine work has got me inspired.”

He isn’t rude to you, by any means, and you’re grateful, but you still feel so out of place. It’s only been four days since you’ve, for lack of a better word, joined, the gang, but you feel more of a stranger now than when Arthur was telling you stories about all of them. 

Arthur. You miss him. Every moment he’s out of your sight you long for him. He’s all you know. 

He’s gone off with Hosea on a job. You question the pairing of people when Dutch sends his boys off. John and Bill, the rising stars, with their brazenness and energy as they run off and come back as they were bid. Arthur and Hosea, the two fading lights, who are suspected to take longer and to keep sounding off their hums of dissent or supposed doubt. 

You can’t help but feel protective. Hosea stood up for you and already knowing enough about him, you trust him, just like Arthur does. 

Whenever he comes back from a job or a hunting trip, you are the first to race out into the field, baby in your arms. You always find yourself stopping short of ramming into Boadicea and standing awkwardly while he dismounts and then takes Alice from you to hold her. 

He has hardly touched you or even kissed you. It almost seems impolite, to dare in the presence of the other men and women. You’re back in that limbo again…just like you were years ago…just right after Isaac was born. 

You lift your head to keep an eye on your son. He’s close by, on some flattened grass, keeping an eye on his baby sister as she soaks in some sunshine. You have her laying on her tummy and will soon put her back in the fabric carrier you had fashioned years ago for when you gardened with Isaac. You’ve always liked working with your hands free and have grown to be quite creative over the years. 

“I knew a cook once,” you start to say, but then realize that Simon probably doesn’t want to hear your stories. You exhale sharply and rinse off the plate before setting it down on a nearby towel. 

“Well, are you gonna keep me in suspense?” Pearson’s raspy chortle startles you and you stand straight and look over your shoulder. He brings down a meat cleaver on some deer leg, looking at you expectantly. “Was he a navy man?”

Still stunned, you softly shake your head. “No…” You swallow. “We worked together at a restaurant. Back in what is now Utah.”

His eyebrows lift, his forehead moving his balding scalp. “Utah, huh?” He points the blade of his cleaver in the direction of where Arthur and Hosea left four hours ago. “I thought here is where, uh, you and him met?”

He’s curious? You don’t know enough of the deeper dynamics of the gang to know if he’s a vocal piece for everyone else’s inner thoughts, but you don’t see any harm in answering his question. “It isn’t. He came to the restaurant one day.” You look down and smile, the memory painting a picture in your head. You were so captivated by the tall figure sitting at the table, his dark hat shading his eyes. Your small frame was frozen until Bethy shoved you in his direction. “Wanted some pie.”

Pearson chuckles. “Didn’t think him the type. Always seems to gnaw on jerky all the time.”

You manage a smile as you speak with a soft, but prideful tone. “Not my cooking. He’ll lick the plate clean.” Your eyes widen at your sudden openness as your face loses its color. “Erm…”

But Pearson doesn’t seem to mind, laughing heartily at the thought of Arthur actually doing that. “I find that hard to believe…!”

Not pushing your luck, you decide to drop it. “Anyway, Clarence, our cook, he always had better ideas and recipes than our boss did. He wanted to save enough to open his own restaurant someday.” You lift your eyes. “I hope he made it.”

Pearson sees the thoughtful look on your face. He knows that you are like a fish out of water here, or rather, a mermaid out of the sea. He studies your long, chestnut tresses, the sun-kissed face, and freckles that scatter across your cheeks. If you were resting on a rock near the cape, all bare and singing, he could very well mistake you for a siren. He shakes it out of his mind. While it is not crystal clear, there is something between you and the newly outcast enforcer. “Do you know any of his recipes?” He asks, hoping to remove his thoughts. 

You nod, completely oblivious to his musings. “I remember how he cooked turkey and a couple of stew recipes. They were delicious.”

Pearson smiles. “Maybe you could write them down for me sometime.”

You turn to meet his gaze. “Maybe.”

You continue with the dishes in silence, listening to Pearson as he chops more of the deer leg and disposes of the bone. You hear Isaac giggle as he plays with his sister, talking nonsense to her as she tries to look around. She’s already starting to hold up her head, and her smile is one of the few things that bring joy to you, outside of Arthur’s homecoming each day.

After finishing the dishes and putting them back in the chuck wagon, you go over to your children before moving on to your next chore. Chores are something to help keep you busy when you aren’t reading to Isaac or feeding your daughter.

Isaac sees your shadow cast over him and his sister and he lifts his head as he lays on the grass. He smiles at you. “Hi, Mommy.”

You beam. “Hi, darling.”

He looks back at Alice. “I think she wants to talk.”

You decide to pause and enjoy this moment with them, so you motion to sit down. “She’s too young to say words, but she does try.”

Isaac doesn’t seem too concerned. “What was my first word?”

You pause to think about it. You had been much to busy to record every milestone. It wasn’t until two years ago that you started writing in a journal. You wish that you had done it much sooner.

“It was Mama, I think.”

He almost seems to frown, but it is clear that he tries to hide it. “Not Daddy?”

You aren’t sure how that would be possible. He was only ever around every few months. Isaac was too little to discern the difference between coming and going. “I don’t think so, sweetheart.” You reach a hand and card your fingers through Isaac’s hair. “Your hair is getting longer, I’ll have to get out the scissors and trim it.”

Isaac shakes his head. “No, I like it like this.” His hair sweeps over his eyes and he giggles. “See?”

“I think the problem is that you can’t.” You chuckle and reach over to pick up your baby. Alice squirms in your arms, batting her tiny hands at the air with a gurgle of delight. The sun in the sky, warm against your back, makes the red in your hair reveal itself, and in its light, you see it cast a similar shade in your daughter's fine wisps. “You have my hair,” you say softly and you bring her close to kiss the top of her head. You love the smell of her skin, her sweetness, and how she has hardly given you any grief. 

Isaac gets up and leans against you, watching his little sister. “She likes it here.”

You can’t help but pinch your brow, do you really want to hear your son say that? “Is it because Daddy is here?”

He pauses before answering. “I don’t know.” The melancholy in his answer gives away a hint that that is the reason why and before you can ask him to clarify, he walks away, the distant call of a coyote mixing with the rustling of grass in each of his steps.

In the waves of the grass, you turn your head, scanning the horizon where the sky meets the earth in a line so thin it almost slices the world in two. You imagine yourself like a doe with her fawn, exposed to anything and anyone that could be hiding beneath the grassy waves. Your heart tightens with a pang of worry for Isaac. His small figure seems so vulnerable against the vast, untamed wilderness.

“Eliza?”

You nearly jump and notice the shadow over you. Looking up, you see the soft, round face of Annabelle. You feel yourself relax, but your hold on your baby doesn’t lessen.

She must sense your unease and so she crouches down to your level. “Isaac is following Susan around. She doesn’t mind.”

You look back at your daughter and she coos with a gummy smile. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

Annabelle clicks her tongue. “No one's a burden here, Eliza. This is family, this is what we do. We look out for each other.” Her voice holds a firm conviction that soothes you momentarily. She looks over your shoulder, her eyes tracing the path Isaac took. “He’s just curious, and Susan loves the company.”

Your gaze doesn’t lift from your daughter, and you let her words sink in. “I thought this was a gang of outlaws. A family hardly seems to fit in around here.”

Annabelle could reply quickly to that, but what you need is a guiding hand. Patience. She has faith that you will come around, as she did when she met Dutch. She looks at your baby and wrestles with whether or not to share something in the hopes of removing some of your doubts. “I…I had a child…once.”

You lift your eyes and look at her, dumbfounded. “Was Dutch…?”

She shakes her head softly. “No. I was…in bad circumstances.” Annabelle looks away, eyeing Isaac as he tries to grip onto Susan’s skirt. She quickly turns around, chuckling, and gives chase as he tries to flee from her. Their laughter carries over to them. Annabelle continues, “I had lost my husband and baby to cholera. I was a widow, trying my best to make ends meet.” Her green eyes look back into yours. “When I met Dutch, I had hope again.”

You shake your head. “I wanted to come here, once, like in a fairytale storybook.” You chortle bitterly. “I guess I got what I wished for.”

Annabelle, unsure how you feel about her, takes the risk to put her hand on your shoulder. You don’t flinch and with a feeling of relief, she offers some thought-provoking words. “Is it truly all bad? Being with the one you love so dearly?” Your eyes widen and you feel your face grow hot. And she smiles. “It’s only been a few days, but I see the way you look at him.”

Your throat tightens, the weight of her words hanging heavily between you. You glance back at your daughter, her bright eyes oblivious to the complexities swirling around her. You swallow hard, the reality of your situation pressing in. "It's not him, Annabelle. It’s this life... this uncertainty.” You haven’t cried in days, and you wanted to make a habit of it, but now you feel them well up in your eyes. “I had a home. A place of my own.” You tuck your chin and let Alice grab your finger as she lays against your bent knees. “I’ve ruined things for Arthur, just being here.”

Annabelle’s lips flatten to a thin line. She can’t deny things are bad between Arthur and Dutch right now, even Hosea. But they are the dynamic trio, the old guard. About 15 years they’ve been together, surely things will work themselves out. She rubs your shoulder with her thumb in compassionate sweeps. “Don’t worry, Eliza. things have a way of resolving themselves. You’ve not ruined anything. Believe it or not, we are as close to family as Arthur has ever had, and families fight. They also face hardships, but they endure. It’s what makes them a family.” Her voice is soft yet firm, carrying a certainty that you desperately want to believe. And seeing her words sink in, she rises to her feet. “Let Isaac explore a little. He’s got more people to watch him, now.”

After what happened four days ago, you have been more cautious than ever, but you so desperately want to relax. You want to go a few minutes without looking over your shoulder. You nod at Annabelle with a feigned smile and she turns to leave you with your daughter.

***

Arthur pulls back on the reins and Boadicea skids to a stop on the top of the hill. He hears Hosea and Silver Dollar slide up beside them.

Down below into a grassy valley is a herd of antelope. Food. Another way to help his family not starve.

Dutch is being petty, bitter. Not letting him go on bigger jobs to bring in money, so he isn’t deserving of any praise at all. Sure, food keeps bellies full, but there’s nothing like the shine of coin to stir Dutch’s heart.

Arthur knows that it isn’t like the old days, when they took gold bars from banks and offered them to the poor and orphaned. Since that first clipping, the stakes have been higher and the money box needed to be kept full.

Even so, he knows that it isn’t Hosea’s way. Hosea has always taken on tasks that involve little to no violence. Just some good fun to keep things interesting. Arthur has begun to like those jobs more. It makes him use his brain, though he would never say that out loud.

“Just look at them,” Hosea sighs. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

Arthur nods softly, his mind still somewhere else. “Shoah.”

“What’s say we take down a couple? If we get decent enough pelts, we could sell ‘em, or have Pearson craft something.”

Now, that is a thought. He could craft a gift. A gift for you, perhaps?

Hosea sees the soft smile on his son’s face and forms a glint in his own eye. “I see that look. You thinkin’ of something good?”

“Maybe.”

“Don’t begrudge an old man his pleasures, what is it?”

Arthur turns to look at his mentor and father figure, and leans back. “Old? I’d hardly think at your age you’d be callin’ yourself old.”

Hosea shakes his head. “Never stick with flattery when you do con work, son,” he chuckles. “It doesn’t suit you.”

Arthur lets out a low laugh, the tension easing from his shoulders as they both look down at the valley again. The antelope graze peacefully, unaware of the hungry eyes scrutinizing them from above.

"Alright," Arthur finally says, his voice firm yet still carrying a hint of warmth from the exchange. "Let's do this.” and he readies himself to spur Boadicea on.

But Hosea stops him. “No, not just yet!” And he takes Arthur’s wrist. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

This has been the most conversant Arthur has seen of Hosea since Bessie died. Something has changed, or healed, for him to want to talk at all. There isn’t a bottle in his hand and he is actually smiling for once. He didn’t quite feel as guilty for wanting to leave the gang and go to you and Isaac, but now, he feels the pang of it. What would Hosea have done if he wasn’t there to support him? It seems that nobody cares about Bessie anymore, or they’re so quick to pack up and go, that they have begun to do that with their feelings, too.

Hosea can feel his eyes intensely looking at him. “What is it?”

Arthur shrugs. “How do I begin?”

Hosea grins. “From the beginning, of course.”

Arthur chuckles. “That could take forever.”

Hosea pats Arthur’s wrist before letting it go. “So, get started.” But he then decides to offer a little help. “Tell me about Eliza.”

Oh, that. That’s what he wants to know. But if he were to tell anyone, it would be Hosea. Arthur swallows. “Well, she’s a waitress I met.”

And Hosea seems to be ready with questions, he isn’t about to let Arthur leave out any details. “Where?”

“A settlement in Utah.”

Hosea thinks on this, and remembers that they had been out that way. He thinks of you, your face, your hair, and suddenly he remembers.

That thin, young lady with the pencil and tablet, taking down orders of flapjacks and coffee. Dutch sat beside him.

“Ah,” Hosea sighs. “I remember now.” And he smiles. “She was a young thing, wasn’t she?”

Arthur nods. “She was eighteen when I met her.”

Hosea nudges Arthur’s arm. “And a strapping buck like you somehow swept her off her feet?”

Arthur feels his face grow hot. “Not exactly.”

“What, got too fresh?” Hosea teases.

Arthur leans back. “No!”

“What then?”

Arthur begins to feel embarrassed talking about this. He only ever had written thoughts like these in his journal. He pauses, searching for the right words. "It... it weren’t like that. She was different, Hosea. Sweet, but curious about everythin’. She always talked about Rome and her eyes always…just…” He runs a hand over his face to cloak his bashfulness. “Not just a girl to pass the time with. She... she mattered."

Hosea's teasing smile softens into something more understanding. "I can see that," he says gently. "Tell me when you knew she did.”

He blinks, thinking it through. “When…when someone else saw it, too.”

Hosea furrows his brow. “Who?”

The memories begin to flood back to that time. When he had heard a ruckus at the edge of town. It was dark, and he was going to scope out new leads, as usually all towns have their dark crevices to look into. That’s when he heard the low tones, the sheepish threats.

It was trouble.

With each calculated step, Arthur closes in on the source of the commotion, carefully avoiding the bright lights and staying hidden in the shadows. He sees you, the waitress from earlier today, pressed against the bank wall with a man looming over you like a predator ready to strike. The man's back is turned towards Arthur, but his expression is unmistakable - one of sadistic pleasure.

"Why do you always try to run from me?" The man taunts, his hand reaching out towards your face. But before he can touch you, you slap it away with a fierce strength that even surprises you.

The man, now revealed as Willy, takes a step closer and snarls,"Oh, the little doe fights back, huh?" He then leans in close to your trembling form. 

"Leave me alone, Willy," you manage to choke out in a feeble attempt at defiance.

Willy tilts his head and leers,"And why would I do that?" His eyes gleam with malice as he prepares to unleash his full intent on you.

Arthur's patience snaps like a brittle twig. Without hesitation, his hand instinctively reaches for his gleaming revolver, fingers wrapping tightly around the grip as he takes determined steps toward the glowing light on the ground.

You desperately try to scare off Willy with another empty threat, but your voice quivers with fear. "If you lay a finger on me, I-I'll scream."

Willy's response is slick and slimy, dripping with wicked intentions. "That's what I was hoping for." His hand inches closer to your face, leering at you as his mind continues to wander, his eyes traveling your body with hunger.

But before he can touch you, Arthur's gun is out and aimed at him, his arm extending into the light while his face remains shrouded in darkness. He speaks through gritted teeth, a low growl of warning. "Touch her and you're dead." The tension in the air is palpable as both men stare each other down, ready for a deadly showdown.

As you turn your head, you catch a glimpse of him and your eyes narrow with suspicion. But when you try to follow your gaze, all you see is darkness. Willy slowly lowers his hands, a sly smirk spreading across his face. "We were just having a little fun," he says with a shrug, his tone dripping with suggestions. “Heck, you could’ve—”

But Arthur takes a step closer, staying hidden in the shadows cast by the street lantern. "How about I end you before you finish that sentence?" he growls, his voice low and dangerous.

Willy's expression turns from smug to contemptuous. It is clear to Arthur that this chump doesn't understand the meaning of no. "You wouldn't dare," he spits out defiantly, but there is a hint of fear in his eyes.

With a cold, calculated movement, Arthur closes the distance between them until the barrel of his revolver is pressed firmly against Willy's temple. He relishes in the sound of the hammer being pulled back, a satisfying click that echoes through the tense air.

"Try me," he challenges with a deadly calmness. 

Like a coward, Willy raises his hands in surrender. But as he begins to back away, he makes one last desperate move, reaching for your face. You instinctively turn your head just in time to narrowly avoid his grasping fingers. With a smirk of false bravado, Willy taunts, "Catch you later, doe." But there's a hint of fear in his voice that betrays his false confidence.

You quickly avert your gaze, feeling your chest tighten as you inhale sharply. Willy doesn't even acknowledge the shadowy figure who saved you, instead disappearing into the darkness behind the partially constructed bank.

Silence envelopes the two of you for a moment, broken only by your heavy panting and the frantic beating of Arthur's heart. He slowly holsters his gun and approaches you, his voice gentle and concerned. "Are you alright?"

You nod, still in shock from the adrenaline rush. Your eyes flicker with recognition, but it’s clear to him that you try to play it cool.

But Arthur can see through your facade and he steps into the light, revealing those piercing marine eyes that seem to hold all the secrets of the ocean. As soon as you see him fully, your breath catches in your throat. "It's you!" you gasp.

A soft smile spreads across his face as he takes in the sight of you. "Hi, brown eyes."

“And so I walked her home,” Arthur's voice carries on the gentle breeze as he finishes his story. The graceful antelope have moved on, but both men remain seated, still captivated by the conversation unfolding between them.

Hosea nods, content with the tale he has just heard. He knows it a privilege to hear much more than he ever would have gotten if he wasn’t sitting here on his mount beside Arthur. "And the rest is simply history?" he asks inquisitively.

Arthur's boisterous laughter echoes through the open plain. Far from it, but he’ll keep that to himself for now. “I guess so.”

***

It won’t be long before you have to put Alice down for bed. She will be awake in the middle of the night for a feeding, and the sooner that gets started, the more sleep later into the night you and Arthur will get.

Alice is in the wrap you fashioned as you feed the four chickens that the gang appears to own. You’re grateful for a little piece that reminds you of home. Aside from Farm Boy, you didn’t get the opportunity to take Little Maid, your dairy cow, with you. You miss her, as cumbersome and stubborn as she was. If anything, she got you to get outside when you didn’t feel up to it. Lord knows, you needed fresh air.

“It’s nice having someone who knows how to work.”

You turn your body to see Susan Grimshaw approach you. She hasn’t spoken much to you, but you can tell she has some holding power on the gang. When Dutch and the leading men aren’t around, most seem to respect and listen to her. Arthur hasn’t spoken to you much on her history, and it really isn’t your business.

But by golly, if you aren’t curious.

“Yes,” you say, then remembering what she was just talking about. “I mean, I am certainly trying.”

Susan crosses her arms and studies you. “Arthur said you had a homestead?”

“Yes, we did.” You rarely have ever included Arthur in that topic, given that you are the one who had done all the work yourself, but it only seems fit and proper to include him for the sake of showing his worth and accomplishments. Maybe, eventually, they will reach Dutch’s ear just like everything else around here. “He’s good at building things.”

Susan doesn’t seem too enthralled, as she crosses her arms. “Uh-huh.” And she goes quiet for a moment before speaking again. “Does…uh…Isaac take after his daddy?”

You narrow your eyes, your brown eyes piercing. “Of course, he does.” You only hope that she asked out of curiosity, not in the spirit of the Spanish Inquisition. Arthur is the only man you’ve had, or ever will have, and you aren’t about to encourage rumors being spread about anything otherwise. "Alice does, too. I don’t doubt that she has his eyes.”

Susan looks at you long and hard, almost sizing you up. You remain still, your expression unflinching as you toss out another handful of corn. Her gaze lingers a bit longer before she nods, a small, almost imperceptible movement. Then, just as quickly as the moment of tension had arrived, it dissipates as she turns her attention to the chickens pecking at the ground.

"Well," Susan starts, shifting her stance slightly, "it's good to have young ones around again. Keeps everyone on their toes, and gives us all something to fight for." Her voice softens just a touch, a rare hint of warmth in the typically stern woman.

“Again?” you ask.

Susan actually lets out a smile. “Well, Arthur and John weren’t as young as your little ones, but they could sure keep me, Dutch, and Hosea on our toes.” She looks at Alice, contently pressed to your breast in her wrap. “Like yours do, no doubt.”

You nod, feeling the tightness in your shoulders loosen slightly. "They certainly do."

The moment of understanding between you and Susan is cut short by a distant thunder of hooves. Susan's head snaps up, her eyes narrowing as she peers into the distance. “Riders,” she mutters, her voice hardening.

You feel your heart skip a beat. Riders could mean trouble—bandits, lawmen, or…

Instinctively, you set the pail of feed on a lone tree branch, and hoist your skirts as you break into a jog, careful not to jostle your baby too much.

You hear Isaac calling out to you, clearly aware of the oncoming sound. “Mommy…!”

Your curiosity lets you stick your neck out most times, and with this chance, you are rewarded.

It’s Arthur, riding in with Hosea.

They have several ducks tied to their saddles, the corpses dangling near Boadicea and Silver Dollar’s legs.

Your heart beats even faster, and not for the short jog. Arthur stops his horse near the others that are grazing, and they seem unperturbed. He dismounts, leaving the ducks tied to the saddle, and walks in your direction. 

You stand there motionless, your eyes never leaving his as he draws closer and closer to you. 

Suddenly, something brushes up past your skirt and you look down to see Isaac running in the space between you and his father, arms outstretched. “Daddy…!”

He wears a warm smile at his son, and that makes you happy.  Arthur sweeps Isaac into his arms, lifting him high above his head before setting him down with a gentle roughness that only a father possesses. He then looks over at you, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "Miss me?" he asks, a playful tilt to his voice that you hadn't realized how much you'd missed until now. His presence, strong and reassuring, washes over you like the first rains after a long drought.

"Yes," you reply, your own voice a mix of relief and nervousness. "But what about those ducks? Looks like trouble followed you home."

Arthur's smile grows at your tease and he nods toward Hosea. “Ask him.”

Hosea dismounts and waggles a finger. “Don’t you go blaming me, son. We would have had those antelope if you didn’t stop to chat.”

Arthur whips around, scoffing. “Me? You talked my ear off the whole ride.”

You haven’t seen Arthur this happy in a good while.

The light-hearted banter fades as the dust settles behind the returned riders. Hosea slaps Arthur on the back, then walks over to join you. His eyebrows knit together under the brim of his hat, casting his eyes in shadow. "We need to talk," he says quietly, just loud enough for you to hear.

Hosea? Talk to you? Why on earth for? You look for Arthur to return his gaze at you once he sets Isaac down. He does and seeing your confused gaze, he only shrugs his shoulders.

Well, that isn’t much help.

“Keep an eye on Isaac. Dinner will be done soon.” You turn and follow Hosea as he walks to a more secluded spot on the other side of camp. You fold your arms and feel the silence unbearable. Is he going to bear the bad news? Dutch has finally decided to kick you and your children out?

You need to prepare yourself for the worst.

So, you give yourself the opportunity to say something first. “Hosea, before you say anything, I just want to—”

“Please, Eliza, I don’t mean to interrupt, but I have something very important to say.”

You blink, caught off guard by his forwardness. But if you thought about it longer, it wouldn’t really be that surprising. “Oh.”

He takes off his hat, his blonde turning silver hair shining like wheat in the fall, and he looks softly in your eyes. “I know who you are.”

Your brows pinch, trying to read his calm expression. “I wasn’t hiding anything.”

Hosea then lets out a smile. “Of course not, but I know where I’ve seen you before.” He lets there be a pause before saying it, “The restaurant. Joe’s Place.”

You let out an exhale and nod. “Yes. You and Dutch came for breakfast.”

Hosea nods, letting out a chuckle. “Did you buy into our stories? No doubt Arthur told you we were gold prospectors.”

You nod. “Yes, but he acted like he was alone.”

Hosea’s smile falls. “I could see why. He wanted you all to himself.”

This untoward comment shocks you. “What?!”

Hosea quickly raises his hands. “Oh! Please don’t mistake me, Eliza. I only mean that he didn’t want anyone to know you. It is clear to me that he did that for good reason…on account of Mary and all.”

Your eyes widen and you feel your heart plummets to your stomach. Mary? You’ve never heard that name before. Ever. 

As you struggle to process this new information, Hosea sees the fear in your widened eyes and senses the tightening of your chest. He realizes his grave error, but it's too late to take back his words now. His voice trembles as he speaks again, "He never told you about her, did he?"

Your response is sharp and cold, laced with betrayal, "No."

He tries to reassure you, his voice hesitant and filled with longing. But deep down, he hopes that Arthur will be the one to tell you. It isn't his place to speak of something so personal and heartbreaking from his past. “It was a long time ago, before he met you. We…we knew it wouldn’t end well.”

Now your curiosity is piqued. You can't help but wonder why this news has suddenly come to light. If you had been with another man, you would have told Arthur without hesitation. You were always open and honest with him about everything that mattered, at least in your mind.  

You fold your arms, hoping to shield yourself from the feelings welling up inside you. “Oh…”

Hosea touches your arm. “Let him tell you. I’m sure he has healed by now.”

Was it all a convenient coincidence? Had he been pining for Mary while out at camp, only to return to you when it was convenient? Were you just a temporary escape for him when you first met years ago? Just a naive young girl, easily charmed by a knight in shining armor? The thought makes your brow furrow and your breaths come sharp with anger and hurt. 

“Eliza?” Hosea asks, concern in his voice. Your gaze hardens, steeling against the churn of betrayal and confusion. "I’m fine," you say, your voice barely above a whisper but slicing through the tense air like a knife.

Hosea hesitates before speaking again, his eyes darting left and right as if searching for a way to salvage this moment. "He told me how you met.” And then his eyes return to yours. “Back in Utah.”

You snort. “I’m sure he did.” It seems he will tell everyone about himself except you. Most of it you had to figure out on your own.

He shakes his head. “It was also what he thought of you.”

You find the intensity in your eyes lessening, and your desire to know daring to push out your hurt, if but for just a moment. “What did he say?”

Hosea smiles again, sensing his chance to make things better again. “He said that you mattered.”

You feel conflicted at this. Love was what you were looking for, and while you normally would have settled for such vague, empty words, you aren’t sure you’re willing to buy into it this time. “I’ve mattered for the last five years.” And you motion to walk away. “But that isn’t good enough anymore.”

You begin to head back into camp and Hosea calls out to you. “Eliza!” You stop, looking over your shoulder. “He’s only a man and you’re only a woman. You both have a place with each other, even if you don’t see that.”

You feel your heart soaking in his words. You feel yourself leaning into them, but just as quickly as the feeling appears, it leaves, the bitterness cloaking it all.

You walk away.

***

After dishes are cleaned and put back into the chuck wagon once again, everyone beside those on guard duty retires for the night. Dutch had been quiet all evening, and only chose to talk to those who were in his good graces for the time being. The charismatic savior that Arthur praised in his stories looks less than the heroes in the fables you read to your son. Fictional, unreal. You can't make sense of him, and you aren’t sure you want to.

You finish tucking in Alice after feeding and changing her and you begin to hum the melody of the Scout’s Lament. You used it with Isaac when he was fussy of has had a nightmare, and it still seems to work on her.

You hear the tent flap open, and turning, you see Arthur come in. For the past four days, he has continued to sleep on the ground beside the cot, and now, after what Hosea told you, you aren’t sure how you feel about it. On one hand, you still desire him, need him, his presence a mere symbol of safety and care. On the other, you want to push him back, resist the temptations that you have wrestled with, and snuff out the flames for good. Your focus should be on your son and daughter. If anything, you can keep the peace for them.

Arthur regards your position as you kneel beside the cradle. You’re in your nightgown, your figure hidden beneath the straight cotton and ruffled cuffs. Your hair is in a loose braid, and it drapes over your right shoulder like a long rope. He wants to touch it, maybe lure you closer to him.

The look in your eyes when he came home, it brought a heat into his belly. Maybe he can tell you now, now that some things have settled. He can tell you the reason why he had come back that day, and why he’s carried a small box in his pocket for the last month.

He smiles at you. “Hey.”

You don’t look up at him as you reply. “Hi.”

Instantly he feels something is wrong. Your words, the sound that came from your lips, was a dullness without any feeling at all. Your hand is in the cradle, Alice clutching onto your forefinger. He swallows and decides to try to lighten your mood. “Pearson said you helped cook the supper tonight. Shoulda known, it was too good.”

You don’t smile.

Then, he decides to not beat around it. “What’s wrong?”

And you, still looking at Alice, speak three words that cause him to freeze. “Who is Mary?”

His eyes search you, his heart beginning to thrum. “Who told you?”

“Why shouldn’t I know?”

His voice tenses up. He doesn’t want you to be concerned over something that has nothing to do with you. “‘Cause it was a long time ago. It don’t matter no more.”

That’s when you turn to look at him. From the lantern hanging, he can see the shine in your eyes. “It matters to me.”

His nose wrinkles and his brow pinches. “Why? She ain’t here now, is she?”

“Would she have been?”

His breath hitches. Would Mary have been here if things went how he had planned? If she did agree to marry him and run away with the gang? Would her lavish ways and upstanding manners have lasted, or would she have adapted and grown to love the wind in her hair, and the sound of a firing gun? How does he answer that?

And since he doesn’t answer, you ask another hard question. “Did you love her?” You blink. “Be honest.”

Hell, you had to ask that question.

He shifts on his feet, the dead grass crunching under the weight of his hesitation. His gaze drifts away from yours, out toward the flickering shadows cast by the small lantern. "Yeah," he admits, the word barely more than a whisper. "Yeah, I did. Once."

Your eyes narrow slightly, and he can see the hurt flicker across your face, quick as a prairie storm. "And now?" you ask, your voice steady but low, carrying a weight that makes his stomach twist.

He turns back to you, sees Alice's small hand in yours, and feels the crushing weight of his past decisions.

But I love you, he thinks. Say it, you fool!

But he can’t find the words. Just like last time. Like a fool. How long can this go on? “I don’t anymore. Mary…Mary’s just a ghost from my past.”

The room goes quiet aside from the steady breathing of your two children. Two living examples of something that was more real to you than anything else. And now, a stranger, a name, has entered in it, and Arthur’s answer has only made it more concrete. You look away. “Okay.”

What? That’s it? The tears? The quivering lips? And all you can say is okay?

Arthur doesn’t want it to be like this. If you are mad, say it. Do it. Tell him why.

“That ain’t just it.”

Your voice is still calm and you rock the cradle absentmindedly. “It is.”

“Eliza—”

“It’s fine, Arthur.” And you won’t let him say anything more. Not tonight. “We should get to bed.”

Like this? No.

Hastily, Arthur bends over, reaching below his cot to grab his sleeping roll. He makes his way out of the tent. “I have guard duty in a couple hours. Don’t wanna wake you.”

And he leaves you alone with the children.

The wind picks up outside, howling like a lone wolf on the prairie, shivering its way through the canvas of the tent. Arthur quickly glances back to make sure the flap is secure, and satisfied that you’re safe, he continues on, tucking the roll under his arm. 

He makes his way to the edge of camp, to one of the few scattered trees. Standing a few feet away from the tree is John, gun ready and eyes watching. 

“My turn, Marston,” Arthur states, holding out his hand for the gun. “Go now.”

John, not realizing who was behind him, whips around. “Arthur?” And in the moonlight, he sees the gloomy expression on his brother’s face. “What’s eatin’ you?”

Arthur takes the gun right out of John’s hands and points back to camp with the barrel. “Go now.”

John knows things are uneasy right now, and while they haven’t always gotten along, they always seem to be there for each other. John has never admitted it, but he’s looked up to Arthur, the closest to a brother he’s ever known. He’s never made above-and-beyond attempts to get sentimental, but knowing now that Arthur has the capacity to father and love children, he’s been questioning what else is Arthur holding out on?

“Arthur,” John begins, unable to remove the raspiness from his voice, but managing a softness that shows compassion. “What’s wrong?”

Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. Except I found out a heart can be broken twice. 

But that isn’t what he says. He lowers his head to where the brim of his hat covers his eyes. “Go to sleep, John.”

John, realizing that his attempt to be open is futile, quietly leaves Arthur to the howling wind and moon. 

Alone, you sit in the tent, the weight of the conversation anchoring your heart to the cold ground. Alice stirs slightly in her sleep, and you gently rub her tummy, soothing her into sleep.

If only Arthur's presence could soothe the turmoil churning inside you as easily. But even if he were next to you, you know it wouldn’t be so. It’s better this way, he’s out there now, under the vast expanse of starlit sky, wrestling his own demons in the silence of the night.

You don’t know his thoughts, and he doesn’t know yours. That’s the trouble. If only you both could just get over the fear of losing one another and speak what you ought to have said, maybe things would be better. 

But just like Hosea said, you both have a place with one another, even though you don’t see it. 

Thank you so much for reading! Leave a like if you want the next chapter!

Tag Requests:

@photo1030

[astoryshark]

Would you be able to write a Goku×Human Reader fic? Maybe some kind of meet-cute where Goku is introduced to the reader? You could also maybe have them meet as children. Tysm! ~blushinggoku

A new training partner - Son Goku x f! Human! Reader

This is my first Dragonball fic so bear with me! I hope I got Goku's character somewhat right :o

Enjoy! @blushinggoku

"Come on Krillin! Show me what you got"

"Of course! Don't underestimate me Goku!"

Son Goku and his long childhood friend Krillin are training together in an open, green field. Its far out in the wild since their training sessions can get very heated and this way, they can't disturb other people and or destroy people's properties. Son Goku, who recently won the martial arts tournament and saved earth from demon King Piccolo, is having the upper hand. His last fights made him a lot stronger and even though Krillin knows that he won't give in easily. He also has his pride as one of Master Roshi's students.

In one swift motion, Goku uses a mismove of Krillin to his advantage and sends him flying. However, it seems that the black-haired fighter has underestimated his own power since the distance grows and grows and doesn't seem to stop anytime soon. Goku's expression scrunches up "Sorry Krillin!" he shouts after him and gets going to see where he went.

Little did they know that there was somebody else who was enjoying the quietness of the nature and the big, open fields for their own training. A young woman focused on the movements of her kicks and punches, her body and mind moving as one. Her eyes lit up as she notices a foreign source of Ki coming closer to her location. Her eyes focus on the direction and before it can hit her, she catches the smaller man and holds him upside down on his ankle.

"W-Woah hey! Let me go!"

He sounded nervous, wriggling around in the woman's iron tight grip.

"Who are you and why did you try to attack me?"

She asks in a strong voice, glaring down at him. Krillin gulps.

"W-What? No No, this is a misunderstanding! I did not try anything! I was about to crash into you because I-”

Before he could explain himself, there was a second source of Ki coming closer. It was on a completely different level, making the woman feel a bit uneasy. Whatever it was, it was strong, but it did not feel hostile.

"Krillin? Are you okay? I didn't mean to throw ya away this hard!"

Goku catches up to his friend and as he sees the situation, he tilts his head in confusion.

"Whos that? Are ya training a new technique or something-?"

"No! Now help me, please!"

Krillin sounds desperate, the blood already getting into his head from hanging upside down for so long. The womans eyes widen a bit.

"Wait, who?"

Her e/c eyes look him up and down. His black spiky hair, the very well-trained physique, the orange Gi and the strong Ki that radiates from him. Now it clicks. She looks down at Krillin, his face started to get pale and his expression screams that he is not feeling good at all. She lets him down carefully and holds up her arms in defense.

"I deeply apologize! I thought your friend wanted to attack me!" she bows down, and her face is tainted in a light, embarrassed blush.

Goku processes her words and then smiles

“No worries! Krillin can take that” he answers with a chuckle.

His best friend lays on the ground, the blood slowly running back into his body

“Y-Yeah..absol..absolutely” he mumbles in a defeated voice.

The fighter stretches his hand out to the woman

“Names Goku by the way! Nice to meet ya!”

He introduces himself with a warm smile. Y/N takes a deep breath and takes his hand, shaking it with a firm grip

“Nice to meet you too, my name is Y/N. I actually heard a lot about you” she answers with a small chuckle.

“Oh really? hope it's nothing bad then!” he answers and then helps his best friend up from the ground.

Krillin shakes his head to regain focus and brushes some dust off his Gi, the smaller warrior looks up to his friend

“Thanks man. I think I was about to pass out” he mumbles the last part quietly to himself.

Y/N shakes her head

“No, no don't worry. I know you from the tournament to be exact. I watched you fight and have to admit that your skills are very impressive.” she answers, a small shy blush makes itself present on her cheeks. It's not that she only watched one fight, she watched all. His fighting style and lighthearted personality caught her interest quickly.

Goku smiles brightly at the compliment and his eyes light up, as he thinks back to the tournament

"It was an amazing experience! There were so many strong opponents to fight. Man..thinking about this makes me feel all pumped up!"

He says energized and Y/N can pick up on his Ki raising slightly, mimicking his excitement for a good fight. Goku then holds his chin, thinking for a moment

"Wait a minute"

He then points at his friend, "Krillin was flying quite fast since i threw him with a lot of force" , his finger moves over to Y/N who starts to get a bit uncomfortable "And you caught him! Means your reflexes are quite good"

Krillin's eyes widen at the statement, and he looks up to the woman

"He's right! Hey Y/N, are you a fighter by any chance?"

Y/N starts to sweat nervously and looks to the side

“A-Ah..uhm..yeah but like I-” she gets cut off by Goku's strong hands gripping her shoulders

“I knew it! Then come, join us in training!” he suggests excited, his dark pupils sparkle “This will get all of us stronger!

Krillin smiles and nods in agreement

"He's right, the more the merrier"

Y/N starts to blush at the sudden contact, her eyes wander over to his toned arms that are gripping her shoulders pleasantly firm. She snaps back to reality quickly, not wanting anyone to notice her nearly drooling over the fighter. She then looks back up into his puppy like eyes. How could she ever say no to his request?

“Okay okay, I'm in! But my level of skill doesn't match yours in the slightest so..I don't know if you guys really benefit from training with me” she answers a bit nervous, avoiding eye contact.

Goku smiles and squeezes her shoulders reassuringly before letting go. Y/N already misses the contact.

“Doesn't matter! Any kind of training will get us stronger so come on, let's get right into it”

Y/N nods and the three of them start to get into a fighting position. The woman is utterly nervous, her limbs shaking a bit. //I have to try my best! No way I will miss this opportunity//

Krillin does not like the thought to fight against a woman at first, but he gets into the mood quickly after seeing how hard Y/N tries and that she surely knows how to throw some good punches. Even against Goku.

Goku smiles brightly and encourages Y/N to try and show some more, hyping her up. He can feel how much potential is hidden inside of her. How she partially blocks her Ki out of nervousness and not believing in herself strong enough. He wants to change that.

After hours and hours of training, Y/N falls onto her knees. Her breathing is heavy, and her body drenched in sweat, an amazing feeling if she is honest with herself.

Goku sits down beside her and smiles “That was great! You are really tough” he compliments her, stretching his limbs to prevent any after-training cramps.

Y/N’s cheeks start to blush in a deep red which is not coming from the exhaustion. Hearing such a compliment from him, a fighter of his skill, is really making her heart race

“T-Thank you..It was a lot of fun to train with you guys” she answers with a warm smile.

Goku stretches his hand out to her and helps her up, giving her hand a light extra squeeze before letting go. He looks down to her

"There is a lot of potential hidden inside you, Y/N. I can feel it!"

Y/N looks questioning at him

"You're limiting yourself through your mind" he taps at her forehead softly "Stop questioning yourself and your abilities and start believing in them! It will help you grow in no time." he adds and smiles warmly at her.

Y/N eyes widen a bit, something about his words tickle her emotions in just the right way. Her chest feels all warm and fuzzy. She looks up to him, his buzzing, strong but gentle Ki radiating of off him. She needs to smile and nods.

"Thank you Goku, your words mean a lot. I will definitely work on that"

Goku grins and lays his arms behind his head lazily

"Im looking forwards to next time already!"

Y/N blinks a few times, a faint blush creeping up on her face again

"Next time?"

[decaffeinatedpartymuggoop]

Okay, we all know being a demigod is a shit position. Its scary and gets you killed in really nasty ways. But I feel like being a Big Three Kid has to be the shitiest position in all the shit positions.

Like, imagine being Thalia Grace. Your dad is king of the gods, lord of the skies. Led a war to get rid of a tyrant. And the only thing you get is his scorned wife AND brother, who both try to kill you (with one technically succeeding), a drunk of a mother, and brother who you thought was dead. Oh, wait, he’s not dead! No instead he was used as an offering to appease your dad’s wife and help fight in a war and prevent mass destruction.

Or maybe you can imagine being Percy. Son of the sea god, the stormbringer, the earthshaker. You get to live with a disgusting, abusive man for around 6 years. Who smells like literal shit. All because your scent as a demigod is too strong, BECAUSE of who your father is. You see things that you aren’t supposed to see and do things that people can’t do and go years thinking something is wrong with you. That your the problem. Then you get to the one place where you’re supposed to be save. But! Here is the kicker! You’re not! Your uncles hate you and you’ve been accused of stealing a symbol of power. A series of events that will kick off a war, and guess what. You’re a center point for it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood.

Mhm, but then there’s Hazel. Daughter Pluto, god of the underworld and riches. But that doesn’t really change anything does it? She’s still living in 1930s America, in a red state. One where confederate flags still hang if you go deep enough into the city. She go to a school where the kids are supposed to be just like her! They still don’t like her tho. She’s got no idea who your father is, only that he left her with a parting gift. Only it’s not really a gift. Sure, she can pull rubies and diamonds from the earth, all worth millions. But anyone who’s ever gonna touch it will die. She lives with her mother, a woman gone so mad with greed it kills her. And Hazel, by the way. Laying dead Alaska, inhaling oil. But it doesn’t end there! She can’t have her mother suffering for eternity, can she? The answer is no. Hazel gets to spend the next 70 years in the Fields of Asphodel. It still doesn’t end! Because when she’s brought back to life, she gets to fight in a war against giants, her sad story seemingly never ending.

Nico’s a son of one of the Big Three, one of the most ancient and most powerful. But most people look at him as something bad, something not worth taking a second glance at. Something too look away from, mostly. He’s from the 30s, spent years in a magical time casino with only his sister at his side. She doesn’t stay for long though, she dies soon after they discover their heritage. And he doesn’t remember his mother much, a name without a face. A face without a name. He survived an attempted assassination at 2, though it wouldn’t be the only time his was life was threatened. He clings to his sister, even though she’s dead. He’s the son of the god of the underworld, is he not? There had to be a way, and there is. Only she won’t talk to him, she seems more concerned with communicating with the guy who got her killed instead. She chooses rebirth, and he decides to lay it to rest. She’s not coming back, and he has a war to fight in. (He gets stuck in a jar and forcibly outed a few years later, but that’s a lot to get into for now.)

Jason Grace is a pillar of New Rome, their golden boy, their American boy. He’s a son of Jupiter, a natural born leader. He’s been at camp for as long as he can remember, he wants to be praetor soon. He’s had a rocky start, but maybe he’ll be one of the lucky ones. Retire a veteran and live a long life with Reyna in New Rome. Only that never happened. He has no idea where he is, there’s a girl holding his hand, and she’s cute but it feels wrong. They get attacked and people come in and call him a Greek demigod, familiar, yes, but still wrong. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t put things into perspective the way it does for Piper and Leo. He’s goes to a quest to rescue Hera, the name sounds wrong. He nearly dies but at least he remembers who he is. He spends the next 6 months trying to get back home, even though he isn’t too sure on where or what home is. He gets there, eventually, but it doesn’t stop there. He’s dragged on quests and battles and fights in the war but at least he survives it, he’s still there. Apollo needs help, he and Piper give him aid. He gets dumped. He doesn’t get to he a veteran in New Rome. Not with Reyna, not with Piper, not with anybody. He doesn’t get kids or grandkids. No, he gets shot down, another demigod buried.

You could be any one of them, really. Pick your poison, but I guarantee you won’t like any of them. Spending years trying to find a place where you belong, where you feel safe. Only for it to never come.

Percy, who, if you really look at the books, isn’t really all that well liked until he’s at least 2 years into camp. Only to then be sidelined because the courages, brave, fearless daughter of Zeus is back from the dead. Nico, the son of one of the most feared and hated gods. Who has death written all over him, who excludes it so much animals can smell it and humans can sense it, who’s been ostracized and pushed off to the side since he was 10. Hazel, who was treated like disease as soon as she stepped foot on camp soil. Who’s gone her whole life looked as something that’s cursed, that will only bring misfortune, a bad omen.

Shit positions, all of them.

[whatitshouldvebeen]

I was thinking after I read your newest post about Johnny flirting with other girls even while in a relationship, and how he called the reader “his special girl” 😭 I feel like later in she (reader) would start to realize just how unhealthy the dynamic is, kind of like Melanie Martinez lyrics like “If I’m so special, why am I secret?” Just a thought, idk why I’m writing this out but anyways 💁🏽‍♀️

This is a follow up to this ask

"Johnny, I dont think this is working," you whispered, anxiety flooding you when his eyes snapped to yours. You were laying on his chest after another night of restless sleep.

"What isn't working?" He asked, his arm tensing beneath you.

"This. Us. I- I'm clearly not enough for you," you said, tears pricking at your eyes.

"What makes you say that? You're my special girl. Of course you're enough," he said. He sounded sincere, and you could see concern in his eyes. It killed you to know that concern was completely self-serving.

You cuddled up closer, savoring the feel of his skin beneath your fingertips despite your words. "Johnny, you've cheated on me more times than I can remember. I don't think you're a one-woman man."

"It don't count if we kill 'em baby. No one but you and me are gonna know it ever happened. It basically never did, if you think about it," he said. And you found some desperate part of yourself aching to believe him.

After all, you were the only girl who slept in his arms. Who got to hear about his day, and spend nights drinking and goofing off in the sunflower fields. Johnny loved to chase you, pull you into his arms, and spin you around laughing.

If only you could convince yourself that was enough.

Johnny sat up, laying his hand over you possessively. His dark eyes were sharp, as if he hadn't just been sleeping peacefully. He always slept best the night after killing someone.

Except last night, you were the one who killed. A young woman, her image etched into your mind's eye. She was taller than you. Did Johnny prefer girls her height? Her hair was a different color than yours, should you dye yours? Her eyes were the same, though. Maybe he liked to see you in them. Watch the light die in eyes that matched yours.

He'd slept with her to make you jealous, of course. Johnny loved making you feel strongly about him, no matter what that feeling was. But he didn't expect you to kill her, and you could tell it excited him. So when you said this wasn't working, he was thinking the opposite.

"You know I can't let you leave, baby," he whispered softly, soothingly. Like a promise.

"Please, Johnny. I killed someone now too. If I ever said anything, we'd both be in jail. I won't ever tell, please let me go," you begged, tears welling in your eyes.

Johnny's eyes narrowed. His hand that had been soft on your stomach turned harsh, his nails digging into your skin. "And I thought you were so perfect, sugar," he said, tsking. "Turns out you're just another dog."

He shoved you out of his bed, then, and you crashed to the floor with a yelp, looking up at him with wide, scared eyes. His expression was cold, oh so cold, as he sat up on the side of the bed and grabbed you by your hair, pulling you close to his face. The face that belonged to the man you'd come to love. The man that never once truly loved you.

"You can love me, or you can hate me," he said, tugging you even closer, his fingers painfully digging in to your scalp.

"But you ain't never gonna leave me."