#petticoat on demand

[myclothing]

Tesvery : Women's Clothing

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Overall, Tesvery is a popular women's clothing brand in India that offers quality, trendy, and affordable apparel options for women.

[whereisloe]

Tough

“Like a .38 made out of brass” ꗥ arthur morgan x fem reader

a lil dutch x reader action cuz i’m just that girl - warnings n/a

𓆝. 𓆟

“You have my condolences for your father. He was a very valuable man” You watched Angelo Bronte carefully from your black fan that covered half of your veiled face. You had to really sell this mourning look if you wanted to fool such a powerful man so, that you did. Getting all dressed up in your black attire everything matching from the black, layered ruffles of your petticoat to the lacy parcel carried by your escort. “Because of his loyalty, I will extend my offer of protection onto you so as long as we still do business together, hm?” He took a sip of his glass before leaning back onto his loveseat with his legs crossed.

“I thank you, truly, Mr. Bronte. But, the extra protection won’t be necessary. We’ve got our own guns for hire on our land” You maintained a harsh stare onto the man across from you as he savored another sip from his wine glass. He laughed amused with your simple answer before tipping his glass to you. “Ha, your father says the same thing. Like daughter, like father then”

“Mr. Bronte, I am no fool to business. With all due respect, I did not come here to reminisce nor, have you invited me here to, no?” Bronte gazed up at you from across the table. Eyes narrowed and unreadable as though he couldn’t figure what to think of you. “You are a very…smart girl” You felt your mouth twitch as he continued his speech. You couldn’t stand the man’s voice, how degrading his words were as you feigned oblivion to obvious exploitations that were about to leave his mouth. “Your father received 10% of all government related endeavors. Whether it was busting criminals or busting vaults, didn’t matter to me just so long as I got 20% of his business.” He paused as he licked at his lips. “Your father did not remain in good standing with me for the money. Instead, he wanted security. Security, that nothing would happen to him or his precious daughter while he worked with me, and security I provided” This man reeked on lies, your father had been shot doing a job for this man but only after he demanded a raise in his cut.

“I can assure you I am not my father. I am here for money, security is something I may provide myself” You gestured over at the guns you hired not too long ago before this meeting. “Daddy was never too smart when it came to funds. Thinkin’ our oil plant would be enough with no back up money to lean on” You lightly began to fan your face as you felt yourself get worked up. “Then we was robbed, Daddy may have turned a blind eye to it but, I ain’t one to show weakness”

“I take it you want my help with this” He gestured to the air before pulling a cigar from a tray. “this show of strength” You nodded and carried on with your story.

“Those boys you’re in good spirit with robbed us good and as a long devotee to your cause, Mr. Bronte, I don’t take too kindly to it”

“My dear, as much as I appreciate your kindest regards, you must understand this business. If I was worried about my clients opinions of one another I’d be the poorest man in Saint Denis. The most I can do is keep them out of your business but, they’re fickle men…not to be trusted” He blew the the smoke of his cigar off to the side as your foot tapped rapidly. You were ready to lay your cards out, prove a point that your father raised woman fairly gifted in her trade. “I completely understand, I just request that I may also be in kahoots with these outlaws”

“Why? So you can get them arrested?”

“Precisely, Mr. Bronte. Of course, on your word. But, if I get in good standin’ with the law they’ll send some men over to the plant. That way we produced more, with less risk” Your foot halted its tapping pausing as the man in front of you thought carefully of your words. On paper, the plan was foolproof and a win-win. “So, whaduya think?” You attempted to expedite the man’s response but was only met with another deafening silence.

“I think I’ve been doing business with the wrong (l/n)” Angelo stood from the loveseat before offering you a hand to follow. You smiled, accomplished with the reaction you received before resting your freehand in his. “I must ask one favor of you, though” You nodded before lifting yourself from the seat. “I need you to host one of my official parties. To test if these men can be trusted, I’ll give subtle hints about your booming business.”

“Are ya fixin’ these men to rob me?”

“I’m fixing you an opportunity to meet these men…” He took your silence as compliance before continuing on. “The plan is, you catch these rats red handed and negotiate, later you tell me if they’re treacherous. If not then I’ll set up a meeting for you and the boss.” He scoffed at word as though he was amused by the thought of it. “And do not worry, I’ll have men everywhere for this event”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Mr. Bronte” You both shook on it before he walked you up to the front gate. The sun beamed down on you the second your foot met with the cobbled path of the front patio. Your escort was quick to your side with your parasol before you could even muster the words to complain. “The details will be delivered shortly, a presto, miss”

Today was the day.

You could finally put the face to the name that robbed you. Van der Linde Gang. You sighed at the name, as you fixed the headdress adorning your maintained curls. You still kept your attire relatively dark as your father’s death was still fresh in the press. All you had to do was briefly preside over the party from your balcony, allowing Bronte enough time to present you to his friends new and old. Maybe you’d commute down to your gardens to briefly acquaint yourself with your guests.

“Are you ready, Miss” Your maid questioned from your balcony doors. You adjusted yourself one last time before standing from your seat. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I suppose” You promenaded your way towards the doors as your maid rushed behind you as to raise the dragging silks of your skirt just enough to hover the dirty concrete of the balcony but not enough to reveal your petticoat or bustle. You stood straight presiding over all your guests that took it upon themselves to socialize. None of these men meant anything to you except two.

You noticed Bronte with two men, who cleaned up well considering their circumstance, as they prattled on about god knows what. That was until one of seemed to motion up to you.

Nice shaven beard, tall and broad, with a subtle slick to his hair. None of these men would be able to tell but, you’d been admiring the man from afar staring down at him with shameless eyes. “Miss, your stares could be noticed as rude” Your maid whispered to you having you straighten yourself out before giving the man one last glance. Now, the other one had looked up at you but only briefly. He wasn’t too bad himself.

Perhaps, you wouldn’t mind going downstairs and acquainting yourself.

“My goodness” You spoke breathlessly to your maid. “Aren’t they some neat lookin’ fellas?” She hid her smile as she giggled at your unserious behavior.

“They are quite the sight—”

“Ohh, I bet you were lookin’ at the boss, Mr. Van der linde, hisself, huh?” You waved for the older lady to follow you inside as you teased her with your antics. “Well” She began while she laid the train of your dress neatly against the wooden boards fixing the bunched up silks that rested on your bust, “I won’t deny such a thing” the maid smiled softly as you laughed, briefly allowing yourself to calm down.

“Shall we get acquainted with them?” You turned to your maid, fixing her cascading curls as you waltzed past her. “C’mon, this is excitin” By the time you and your maid made it down stairs you could practically feel your heart beating out your chest. You hadn’t the slightlest clue why you were so nervous like some young faced girl talking to a boy for the first time. “Goodness, I’m nervous” You turned to your maid with a hand resting on your cheek.

“It’ll alright, miss. Just remember, you’re here for business negotiations not suitors” She chimed amused with your rather inappropriate reaction. You laughed to yourself as her words hit you. “I’m actin’ ridiculous…alright, cmon”

“Ah, There she is, the woman of the hour” Bronte was quick to call as you approached the men now facing you. You felt your nerves burning you up inside as you grabbed Bronte’s forearm and greeted him with il bacetto, an Italian courtesy you’d learn amongst the time you’ve spent with Bronte. Once you pulled back your attention was instantly on this so called boss standing off to the right of Bronte.

“Missus (l/n)” The man held out his hand as his eyes never left yours. You smiled, masking the slight in embarrassment you felt as you corrected him. “Miss, is just fine.” You placed your hand in his allowing him to kiss your knuckles. Amongst all the intense eye contact, you would think with how you felt moments ago, you’d be a flustered mess just right about now. But, your gut was telling you something serious was up about this man. You’ve been played a fool by many before, and you’ve caught almost just as many amidst their schemes. That glint in his eye, even the courteous gesture was a warning. This man was plotting and it all began with buttering you up.

Subtly, you recalled your hand before carrying on conversation. “I take it, you’re the one that runs things. Mr. Van der Linde, if I’m not mistaken”

“You wouldn’t be, miss. And here my…consort, Mr. Morgan” You noticed the slight pause in his speech before motioning over to the other man. Your head was quick to turn as you stared over at him. Eyes widening as you noticed his attractive features now closely. You smiled and nodded as a greeting to the man. “Ma’am” He returned your gesture with his slight acknowledgment. Couldn’t really hear it in the boss’s voice but, with Mr. Morgan’s you’d instantly picked up on the western candence.

“You don’t sound local, Mr. Morgan. You all from the west, I take it?”

“We’re from all over, Ma’am” He was short with you and rather mysterious, more than likely to hide his western drawl. But, they’ve got something greater to hide, you could feel it. “Mr. Bronte, may I ask a favor of you?”

“Anything, dear” He took a huff of his cigar before you suspiciously looked around for any ‘peering eyes’. “I’ve got the money but, there’s been talk of some group of boys runnin’ around robbing folk—You boys wouldn’t know anything of them, no?”

“No, we certainly do not. Saint Denis is new to us as well as its crime” Van der Linde was quick to respond. You nodded and grabbed his hand with a feigned concern and furrowed brows. “You all stay careful out there. They’re robbin’ houses and coaches from what I’ve heard. I could lend you both a couple of escorts, tonight as well”

“We appreciate the concern but, we’ve got ourselves handled” He reassured with a palm covering your hand.

“Alright, alright” You turned your attention back to Bronte. “The money’s in Daddy’s old office, I a-ain’t know what to do with it—”

“Calm down, the money will be fine. Go on, enjoy yourself.” Bronte played along with your little performance you put on. “What should I do with it? I ain’t never ran a business before.” Bronte tutted his tongue before leading you further into the gardens where all the officials rendezvoused.

“We’ll be back, boys. Help yourselves to some drinks while you’re here” Bronte spoke back to the men as the both of you, alongside your maid, disappeared in the crowd.

“Go find out where that money’s at, Arthur” Dutch wasted no time before turning to Arthur and bringing his voice down to a whisper. Arthur looked over toward him with a practical disbelief.

“Jesus, you ain’t serious? The girl’s daddy just died, now we’re robbing her of her own inheritance”

“Her daddy just died. Meaning that other people are gonna to rob her and, I’m not too sure about you but, I’d rather it be us that gets that money” His voice stained against the low volume he attempted to maintain before lighting a cigar. “I need you to trust me, Morgan, now…” Dutch backed away before tipping his hat to the man. Arthur sighed and made his way inside where the more quiet and intimate conversations took place.

By the time, Mr. Morgan had snuck his way upstairs you’d already been sitting in your father’s office chair shotgun light in your grasp. You had snuck your way around toward the back entrance of your estate which led straight up into the room. You double check the chamber making sure that you were sure to shoot if needed. Growing anxious with nothing but the drowned out voices from outside to distract you, you placed a cigarette to your lips before striking a lonesome match against the underside of your heel.

You’d get through half your cigarette before the soften floorboards creaked from the other side of the door. Quickly, you smothered the stick with the ashes of previous cigarettes your father burned through.

The door crept open and you were slowly met with the deadly end of a revolver and soon after an arm. “I’d put that down if I were you, Mr. Morgan” You stared down the barrel of your shot gun as the man slowly crept from behind the door. “Nobody has to get shot, I’m here to negotiate. Come sit with me, Mr. Morgan”

“Arthur.” He said curtly, clearly fed up with this whole event. He slowly holstered his weapon before seating himself in the chair sat on the opposite side of your desk.

“Arthur Morgan” You let his name slip your lips as you tested it. “You’re quite notorious, you know that?” You spoke clearly and watched him with your gun pointed toward him as you figured him out. “I’ve got family, down in Blackwater, sir. Say, they know all about you.”

“Do they now?” You nodded, slowly as your heel tapped against the wood. “What exactly are ya lookin’ to negotiate, Miss”

“I want to hire your gang as some guns and in turn I’ll keep this and your relation to the Blackwater massacre secret. And, if things play out as I’ve planned, I could probably get those Pinkertons off ya, for a moment anyway” You leaned back into the leather chair before setting your gun off to the side. “I’m tired of listenin’ to these men talk, empty promises followed by another all they is. Leviticus Cornwall for one, Angelo Bronte for another”

“Don’t you have your own men to escort you, why us?” Arthur questioned before leaning back as well, in his wooden seat legs spread and arms crossed. “I ain’t hirin’ y’all on a babysitting job. I need money, gold. I’d be sending y’all on robberies, I need experienced men not no, rich cat on a high horse” You licked your lips before getting desperate. “I’m tryna to buy off an oil plant from Cornwall but, I can’t do that without Bronte keeping the police distracted off of my daddy’s debts. With my daddy dead and me being a woman, my percentages have taken a hit. I can’t pay ‘em both”

“You sure are in a situation—”

“So are you. You need Bronte to trust you and the Pinkertons to fuck off. You need me.” You both stared at one another for a moment before letting your eyes soften. Even though, you’d been mid negotiation, you couldn’t help admiring his blue eyes, warmly lit from the lantern in front of you. God, what you would do just to be able to hold his face in your palms as your thumb rubbed the rosy blemishes of his cheeks.

“You ain’t wrong.”

“I know I ain’t. Now, would you escort me down to your boss, Mr. Arthur Morgan” You spoke sweetly before making your way over to his side and grabbing his arm. You would be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying every second of holding this man. With your one hand wrapped around his elbow and the other gently gripping his bicep, you followed his lead as you both left the room. “You know, you had me fooled back there…playing all helpless” You looked up at the man with a curious gaze mostly because you hadn’t heard the first half of what he was saying to you. “That was a set up, right? There ain’t no money.” You shook your head and smiled up at the bachelor to keep up a friendly appearance as you passed up some guests of yours.

“Bronte wanted to see if y’all were worth trustin’. ‘S nice to know if you lot like robbin’ helpless women” You winked before laughing at the matter only to get a rather dry chuckle from Arthur in return. “It’s alright, I won’t tell a soul, I promise” You placed a reassuring hand to his chest before letting it fall once you both reached the garden. “You know, you’re a handsome fellow, Mr. Morgan. Are you married? I can’t imagine that bein’ easy being in a gang and all.” You started up some small talk as the two of you walked around in search of Dutch.

“I ain’t married, no”

“What about your boss?” You urged.

“Well, he ain’t neither. Got a woman, though…back at camp” They had a woman traveling with them? You held back questioning about her before carrying on. “I take it you don’t, then? No women waitin’ on ya at home?”

“Not in that sense, no” Arthur said plainly as he maneuvered the two of you through the crowd carefully accommodating for you. “Y’all got more women traveling with you boys?” Your eyes brighten with the assumption you made. He nodded and watched as your face lit up. “You should bring ‘em over if this conversation with Mr. Van der Linde goes over well” You spoke outwardly not even thinking about what context the two of you were in currently. “You’re quite odd, Miss” Arthur chuckled before waving Dutch over with his freehand.

“Arthur. Miss (l/n).” Dutch greeted the both of you before visibly growing curious of the atmosphere. Your smiled faded as you grew more serious with the other male.

“Mr. Van der Linde, how would you feel about bein’ business partners?”

[the-fiction-witch]

Secret

Media The Artful Dodger (Pre Show Release)

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Sweet + Cute

Warnings - Sexual Trauma / Rape/ 1800's Abortion

I was beyond fearful.

A thousand thoughts flew through my mind.

I worried about what my fate would be.

What would happen to me?

What little I could even do?

All with the knowledge, that this was a ticking time bomb. And the longer I lingered, the less time I would have.

This secret would not stay a secret forever, and every moment I waited jeopardised the potential of my secret being revealed. And if it were, there would be problems, to say the least.

So I had no alternative, I had to do something about it.

I dressed for the day in my boots, hosiery, bloomers, petticoats, frock, jacket, hat and parasol and headed down the stairwell to the front door.

"Where do you think you're off to?" My father spoke up as he arrived from his study, a glass of whiskey in hand.

His brother, my uncle beside him with his own and a cigar between his lips.

"Just off to the market," I lied as I tried to stare at the door and not glimpse at them both.

"I'll Accompany you," My uncle proposed with a smirk.

"No." I snapped, "No thank you, I think I would like the walk alone,"

"Alright, Be back before dark." My father demanded before he headed back to his study, I grabbed my gloves from beside the door and slipped them on in a rush to get out when my uncle came close, he rested his brown oxford shoe between my legs, pressed himself tightly to my body and came so close I could smell his whiskey, his cigar and the horrid scent of sour apples.

"Don't be late darling," He whispered in my ear

I didn't answer him so he just skulked off back to the study with my father, I squandered no time and scurried from the house I made sure to be seen at the market but I didn't make a single purchase I just wilted around and spoke to a few to make sure I would have been seen if anyone asked about me.

Once that was done, I made my way to the familiar house often frequented by those like me in circumstances with little hope, often as a last resort. The house was stunning; it couldn't be disavowed, the house itself was small, only really existing on the upper floors, with the bottom the office, storerooms, prep spaces and all other things required for the profession of he who lived in the house.

I made sure to journey there discreetly not wanting my presence to be witnessed as I rang the bell and lingered, each second felt like hours until ultimately the door was yanked open.

There he stood in black shoes sludgy from their wear, a pair of black trousers well pressed and fitted to his thin body, a faint thin white shirt with his sleeves wadded up to his elbows, a green fabric tie loosely knotted around his neck, a pair of cream and black suspenders over his shoulders, a blue well-worn waistcoat, his hair in its typical fluffy way mostly thrown to one side, His brown eyes looked wide as he opened the door unsure who to be expecting behind it but his lip upturned into a small smile.

"Ohh, Hello Miss Y/l/n this is a nice surprise," He smiled.

"Hello Doctor, Could I come in?"

"Yes of course" he smiled happily let me in and closed the door behind me "To what do I owe the pleasure then?" he asked.

"May we speak... privately?"

"Ohh course, come into the office nice and private in there," he ushered me through to his small office just off the operating room and down from a small store room. He got a cushy chair for me and moved it by the fire with another "There we are, Would you like a cup of tea?"

"No thank you, Doctor," I answered as I took a seat nervously and uncontrollably picked at my nail beds,

"Just Jack you've known me long enough," he chuckled, as he took his chair across from me "Are you alright?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, you're picking at your cuticles, you haven't made eye contact with me since I opened the door and you look... like you're about to either smack me or start crying." He said, "So? What's going on?"

"Well" I began, as I battled back my tears. "I'm sorry this isn't easy..."

"What's wrong y/n?" He asked, as he tilted forward to gently take my hand in his own.

"I had to come to visit you today, I wish it was under more pleasing circumstances," I explained, tears uncontrollably flooding down my face. "I'm so sorry Jack but I must ask you to keep a secret,"

"Of course,"

"No, I mean it. I'm serious. This must be a secret," I explained.

"Y/n, I promise no matter what you tell me it's a secret, just between us," he said, as he lifted from his chair and fetched me some tissues from his desk before he returned to his seat.

"You promise?"

"I promise. Not a Word of it will pass my lips, not a sound of it will leave this room, I swear I won't tell a soul,"

"I need your help, Jack."

"With what?"

"... I know you, haven't always walked on the Side of lawfulness,"

"hey!" He pouted "My thievery has been very occasional," he corrects playfully.

"I hate to ask, I know it would be a risk for you to do such a thing for me,"

"Well... what is it?"

"I- I'm sorry." I began as I choked up with tears again.

"It's alright, whatever assistance you need I'll be here for you. you just have to tell me what it is,"

My blood ran cold, my words stunted but I knew the time was ticking and I couldn't let these words linger behind my teeth.

"Jack, I'm pregnant."

He froze up, his hand on mine went clammy, and the colour drained from his face for a moment. He moved back to press himself into his chair, he ran a hand through his hair and down his face rubbing on his jaw before he spoke.

"...Okay." He nodded, as he brought his hands together and broke the silence that lingered between us and the fire. "Why would you need my help if you're pregnant?" He asked.

"Why else?" I told him.

"It's not my area of expertise. You should see the midwife-",

"No!" I snapped, "She's a chatterbox you know that. That girl couldn't keep a secret If I stitched her mouth shut,"

"Good point," he chuckled.

"Even so, she wouldn't endorse what I'm doing,"

"Understandable,"

"I don't trust anyone sufficiently with this. Anyone but you Jack,"

"Thanks, I guess," He smiled, "What do you intend to do?"

"I don't have a choice. no one can know, my father will find out and he'll send me away, if not worse. He'll call me a whore and ship me off or worse," I explained, "If anyone in town found out they'd lock me away," I explained "Jack... I can't be pregnant. I need to not be pregnant."

"Okay," he nodded, "This is illegal you know that right?"

"I do. But I don't have a choice."

"if anyone ever found out, we'd both be in a lot of trouble."

"I know," I nodded. "I understand if you can't Jack. I understand if you can't stake your-",

"I'll do it."

"You will?"

"If it's what you want." He nods.

"You don't have to do this for me."

"I want to." he reassured, "I can't endure to see you like this, Can I ask something?"

"Alright,"

"Who's the father?"

That question froze me to my core. "Why do you ask?"

"Don't you think you should tell him?"

"No. No, I can't."

"Does he know you're pregnant?"

"No."

"Do you think it's possible... Just hear me out! maybe if you told him? you think he'd marry you?"

"He might. but I don't want that."

"Why not? you liked him enough to let him-" He began, but all I could do was look at him. "You did let him, didn't you?" he asked and I shook my head as I fought back my tears, he ran his hand over his face "I'm sorry I shouldn't-",

"It's okay," I nodded.

"Come here y/n," He offered.

I got up from the chair and stepped over to his own, he happily took my hand removed my gloves gave my skin a soft kiss and tugged me gently into his lap so I could sit over him my head against his chest as he ran his fingers gently across my frock, his other hand ran his fingers over me removed my hat and gently ran through my hair, every so often he kissed the top of my head.

"I'm so sorry y/n." He whispered, "You don't need to worry, I promise not a soul will know, we'll sort this out as soon as possible," he explained.

"Thank you, Jack."

"It's okay" he cooed, "How long has this been happening?"

"A while now,"

"Okay," he nodded. "Before you go through with this, will you listen to what I have to say?"

"Of course Jack,"

"I know it must all seem frightening now, and like you need to hurry knowing every day this is developing inside you, and I'm sure it must hurt you to even think about this child given its conception and the peril it now poses to you," he explained, "But... we would have to keep this secret until the end of our days, not a soul could ever know if anyone did find out we'd be fortunate to be locked up. Even so, this... procedure isn't straightforward, it carries a grave risk not only of failure, of pain, but of threat to you. If something goes awry, it could kill you," he explained.

"I know that."

"You can't expect me to be alright with conceivably killing you,"

"Isn't that the risk every one of your patients accepts when they decide to lay on the operating table?"

"Well yes but-",

"But what Jack?"

"But... that's not a fate I want for you." he said, "Is there... anyway I can talk you out of this?"

"No,"

"There's no way that deep down he might be an agreeable gentleman?"

"Unquestionably not,"

"Okay, is there any way you could go someplace?"

"I can't,"

"Any suitor boys you could sharply marry before you show?"

"None to mention no,"

"Is there any chance you're going to regret this? And want to keep your baby? Because once I do this that's it. Babies gone forever."

"I'm certain Jack."

"What if..." he began "I married you?"

My heart stopped beating a moment as a panic rushed over me unsure I heard him correctly.

"If you what?"

"What if, I married you?" He asked, "I'm a surgeon so your father would be happy to wed me his daughter, I have a house with plenty of space and not a soul to share it with, I have a decent income so you'd only need to be a housewife, you wouldn't even have to clean the theatre if you didn't want to." He explained, "I feel you and I get along better than I do with most other ladies, in fact, I feel I get along best with you above everyone else in the world. I am happy to keep your secret, you and I can go to your father in a few days. I can ask for your hand and by the end of the month we can be married. Long before you start to show, you can grow the baby to term and I'll be there to hold your hand when the baby comes, and I'll welcome our little one as if they were my own. The world outside these walls and the baby needs never to know any different."

"Jack, you'd truly do that for me?'

"Of course I would,"

"You don't have to do that,"

"I know. I want to" he smiled, kissing my head. "I'd adore to have you as my wife,"

"That's so lovely Jack," I smiled, sitting up a little. "But I can't."

"Why not?"

"It's not fair for you to squander your life marrying me just because of this,"

"Y/n, I wouldn't ask if it was just because of this. Honestly... I've been considering it for some time now just never really got the opportunity to ask you."

"You mean it?"

"I do,"

"I... I can't - I'm sorry Jack." I said, "I'd love to marry you, I really would but I want this procedure, it has to be done,"

"Okay," he nodded "If that's what you want," he said, "After the procedure would you still want to marry me?"

"I would," I blushed "If that is you'd be happy to marry a-"

"Don't you even say that," he warns, "Don't you dare. You're not broken. You're not damaged. You're not some glass bottle y/n you're a woman. I don't care what's happened to you. If you're happy to marry me then I'd be happy to marry you too."

"Really?"

"Really." He nods, "So how about tomorrow morning I come over and speak to your father, ask him for your hand, we can be married by the end of the week and we can go through the procedure then, and I'll take my new wife up to bed once it's over and take care of you until your all better."

"That sounds perfect,"

"And maybe once you're all better we could... start on a little one of our own? Once you're comfortable of course,"

"I'd like that very much, Jack." I smiled and I nuzzled into his chest.

"Perfect. Then it's decided." he smiled and wrapped his arms around me tightly to pull me close into a cuddle "I'll see him first thing tomorrow morning, and as soon as he'll let me I'll make you Mrs y/n Dawkins,"

"Sounds pretty,"

"It suits you" he cooed, kissing my forehead. "So? Will you marry me, sweetheart?"

"I will Jack," I blushed.

"May I kiss my bride-to-be?" he whispered against my hair intertwining his fingers with my own.

"You normally have to wait for the wedding day for that,"

"I'm impatient," he shrugs playfully.

"Well... I suppose," I smiled, sitting up a little and resting my chin on his shirt.

He smiled squeezing my hand so I squeezed back his other hand came and stroked the back of the knuckle of his index finger across the length of my cheekbone ending with a playful bop on my nose before he smiled and leant in capturing my lips in a gentle kiss, he smelt like oak wood, old iron and petrichor, I could taste his earlier tea still lingering in his lips, his skin soft but his lips scarcely cracked from the heat and the sun, I enjoyed our kisses as I'd never enjoyed anything before, his kisses reminded me of sweet summer toffees, of birds cooing in the morning sun, of the sweet embrace of a warm soft bed. I felt comforted, sweetened and protected in a way I haven't felt since I was small.

When we pulled away I couldn't stop my smile as I snuggled back into his chest.

"humm now I have to marry you," he cooed.

"Do you?"

"I think if just a little kiss makes me feel like this, then I must be kissing the girl I should marry," he cooed.

We lay snuggly for a good while until finally, he broke the silence between us.

"Will you tell me? Why do you want to get rid of it so badly?"

"Because of its conception,"

"Understandable. Who's the father?"

"Jack-",

"Please, I promise I won't tell anyone and I'll all be over soon anyway. I just want to know,"

"My Uncle Warren," I answered, nuzzling as deep into his waistcoat as I could.

I felt his skin go cold, his heart slow, and his hands freeze up.

"Warren?" He asked and I nodded, "Your UNCLE!" he yelled and I nodded.

"Please don't be angry with me Jack," I whispered.

"No no no! Y/n sweetheart no I'm not angry at you I promise," he reassured, "I'm sorry but I have to make sure I heard you right," he said picking my face up in his hands and holding us so my nose was against his "Your uncle, Did this to you? Your father's brother, who lives with you, who has lived with you since you were six, did this to you?"

"Yes Jack," I nodded.

"How often does he do this to you?"

"At least twice a week. He'll come up to my room after dark and-" I began to cry.

"sh sh sh it's okay." He reassured, "You know what. I changed my mind. Let's go see your father now," he said as he got up.

"Are you sure Jack?"

"Ohh I'm positive sweetheart," he said as we gathered our things and headed to the door "ohh before I forget," he said as he rushed to the prep room a moment, "Perfect, that'll do," he smirked, as he returned with an impressive knife often used in his surgeries to cut through skin and muscle tissue.

"Jack?" I asked curiously.

"Come on then," he smiled, as he put the knife in his jacket and came to the door.

"Jack, what are you doing?"

"Going to talk to your father, come on," he smiled, as he took my hand as we headed out into the sunset of the evening.

"Jack why are you taking the -"

"We're just going to have a nice little chat." He said, "A nice little chat."

"You're not going to -"

"I just wanna talk to him,"

Finally, we arrived at my door and he knocked and held me close even if I was beyond frightened.

The door opened to my father who instantly saw me.

"There you are, girl! we've been worried sick about you -" he began, "ohh Dr Dawkins? This is a surprise what are you doing here?" he asked as he saw Jack with me perplexed as to why the two of us were together.

"Just popping by, may I come in?" Jack smiled,

"Of course come in, we're in the study," he said, as he ushered us both inside and into the study. I quickly sat on the short sofa by the fire and picked up my embroidery to try and preoccupy myself and keep myself silent as they often requested.

My father went to his small bar tray fixing himself a drink and one for Jack, both of which he set on the table between us all, before he sat on the sofa beside Warren. Jack found his seat on the chair in the centre, he gave me a small smile even if his eyes lingered on my uncle.

"What do we owe the pleasure doctor?" My uncle asked, but he looked at me as he asked,

"Well, I won't bother with pleasantries. Y/n. I want to marry her,"

My uncle spat his drink.

"You what?!" my father asked in shock.

"I wish to marry y/n,"

"Uhh, right? Are you sure?" My father asked, "A handsome, trained, gentleman such as yourself surely you'd be more interested elsewhere?"

"I am interested in her,"

"Well, the surgeon is certainly better than I'd thought she'd do. I was assuming she'd be a spinster or sell her off to the milk boy's son" He explained, "Well you'll be living in your house I presume?"

"Of course,"

"You'll take care of her? Treat her well?"

"Undoubtedly."

"Well, Alright." he shrugged, "So long as you're sure? That's my only rule you can't bring her back," He joked.

"That will not be a concern, sir."

"Alright, well I am pleased to allow this engagement," He smiled, "Congratulations you two,"

"You're alright with the wedding being soon? We don't really want to wait."

"The sooner the better!" My father smiled, "We must celebrate, I'll fetch us some champagne," He smiled and got up from his seat and gave my head a little kiss as he passed and headed out of the study.

"This is good news indeed," My uncle smirked. "Very sudden," he smirked, as he got up and came to loom over me "You really believe you're going to get away from me that easily?"

"I'd step back if I were you," Jack warned him and pressed his knife against Warren's chest and he forced him to move back,

"Why should I? She's my niece,"

"Yeah, and I know what you've been doing to her."

Immediately he looked furious "Whatever she told you, It's a lie."

"Forgive me if I make my own assumptions."

"Fine, I'll back up," he said, as he moved back a little.

"Good. Now I hear that you're anywhere near my fiancé, or that you've done anything to her I'll cut your cock off,"

"You wouldn't dare!"

"I would." he warned, "And I'm a surgeon. I know how to do it and make sure you survive to suffer,"

"Fine," He said as he returned to his sofa.

Jack smiled and sat beside me as he hid his knife away and gave my cheek a little kiss as my father returned with some champagne.

I was skittish but I knew this had to happen. The last few days have been so busy. Our wedding was so precious even if it was small and brief, I had moved into the house and it very quickly felt like home, Jack had made sure of that. He had made the place cosy for me, often checking in on me to see if I was alright and so far he had been the best husband I could have ever wished for. I strolled through the locked-up house by the glow of my candle, only my cotton nightgown against my skin I had accepted this would be the last time I would likely wear it. I reached the theatre, the stalls were dark and empty, the windows blacked out, and even the door to the prep room bolted and curtained with only the door I walked through left open for me. The chandelier hung above the bed lighting this room enough to see, the table prepared freshly cleaned with a cover over it, and sawdust under the table to aid in cleaning.

The room was utterly silent.

Jack stood in front of his small table, lining items across the table from a Water Basin. The tools all lingered there in the boiling water already freshly cleaned, he took them from the water and dried them with a new cloth before setting them in their place on a covered table. All this was far more covered and more cleanliness than was typical of Jack and his work but I suppose in his mind, It's not every day he operates on his own wife. I stepped In and closed the door behind me, I bolted the lock and turned to give him a grim smile. He smiled back a little more optimistic than my own smile silence still between us in the hope that everything we were to do tonight would be a secret between only us and the ghosts.

He offered his hand so I set my candle down and went over, I took his hand and he softly pressed a kiss there, he stroked my cheekbone and playfully smiled as he gave my nose a little bop and then a kiss before he helped me up onto the table.

"Just relax sweetheart," he reassured, as he adjusted me slightly, "Any discomfort?" he asked,

"I'm very hungry and thirsty," I admit,

"I know sweetheart," he smiled and kissed my forehead, "I'll make you some soup and a nice big glass of juice as soon as we're done I promise," he said as he used the buckle belts on the table to restain my legs and arms even my stomach and for a moment I giggled.

"Ohh Jack, if you were into that sort of thing you should really have told me before we got married,"

"Don't be cheeky Mrs Dawkins Or I'll give you such a spanking," He warned

"You'll be gentle? Won't you?"

"Of course I will," he reassured, "As gentle as I can be." He smiled, "I mean it's in my best interest too, you're my wife."

"I suppose you would be very interested in maintaining that part of me," I blushed.

"Well yes. But I was more thinking, you're my wife. I'm the one that's going to have to deal with you. I cause you too much pain I'll never hear the end of it,"

"No, you won't," I told him.

"Okay, you ready?" he asked.

"I'm ready," I nodded.

"I'll take care of you, I promise," He reassured me as he offered me the little cup that contained the anaesthesia. I happily swallowed it even if it tasted terrible, "There we go, you get some rest sweetheart, I'll take care of you,"

"Thank you, Jack," I smiled. We shared a sweet kiss before I began to drift away falling into a deep sleep.

I woke up and I felt sore, my whole body ached, my body lay in my bed with blankets and pillows, and everything hurt but it was a pain I knew well as it reminded me so much of my monthly pains.

"Sweetheart, Hey? Are you feeling okay?" Jack asked as he came through into the bedroom with some soup and juice that he sat by the table

"Everything hurts," I answered.

"It will do," He smiled, sitting beside me and giving my forehead a little kiss, "but it's all done. Nothing to worry about any more,"

"It's gone?"

"Gone. Now I'm going to be taking care of you until you're all better," he smiled, "You need to rest, take it easy, be gentle with yourself, No baths you're going to have to shower I'm more than happy to help with that," he winked, "And two, maybe three weeks you'll be good as new,"

"thank you, Jack,"

"You're welcome, Go on have your soup you need anything at all just call alright I'll be in the office" He explained, he gave me a sweet kiss before he went to head out of the bedroom.

"Jack?"

"Yeah y/n?"

"I love you," I giggled.

"Love you too sweetheart" He cooed as he blew me a kiss and headed down to his office. 

[sassenach77yle]

“I feel much better,” I assured him. “Shall I have a look at it?” He was wearing the loose petticoat breeches the sailors wore, in which he could easily have concealed three or four dead mullet, let alone a fugitive firmness. “You shall not,” he said, looking slightly shocked. “Someone might come in. And I canna think your looking at it would help a bit.” “Well, you can’t tell that until I have looked at it, can you?” I said.

“Besides, you can bolt the door.”

“Bolt the door? What d’ye think I’m going to do? Do I look the sort of man would take advantage of a woman who’s not only wounded and boiling wi’ fever, but drunk as well?” he demanded. He stood up, nonetheless.

“I am not drunk,” I said indignantly. “You can’t get drunk on turtle soup!”

Voyager

[chic-a-gigot]

Le Petit écho de la mode, no. 29, vol. 17, 21 juillet 1895, Paris. 2. Grands cols lingerie. Ville de Paris / Bibliothèque Forney

(2.) Grands cols lingerie. — La mode dédaigne totalement ces cols en guipure style Louis XIII. Les voici remplacés par les grands cols Louis XIV en linon brodé qui empruntent à l’imprévu leurs plus hardis caprices et dessinent poétiquement le cou et les épaules. Cet harmonieux encadrement rend la tête si fraîche, si fine, si jolie que les grandes mondaines l’adaptent â leurs chemises de nuit. C’est la variété du goût aristocratique dans sa plus originale expression que les créations en ce genre de la maison Jeanne d’Arc. Les Parisiennes raffinées et les riches étrangères accueillent ces types inédits, d’une si exquise distinction, comme une inspiration de leur renom d’élégance. Les prix établis pour ces grands cols sont les suivants: 10fr.50, 12fr.50, 15fr.50, 20 francs, 25 francs et 30 francs. Le nouvel album créé par Mme Desbruères est mis à la disposition de toutes nos lectrices; il suffit d’en faire la demande. Ce catalogue donne tous les prix des corsets avec buse ou sans buse, lingerie, trousseaux, jupons de soie, ainsi que la manière de prendre soi-même les mesures. Il suffit d’écrire à la Maison Jeanne d’Arc, 265 rue Saint-Honoré, Paris.

(2.) Large lingerie collars. — Fashion totally disdains these Louis XIII style guipure collars. Here they are replaced by the large Louis XIV collars in embroidered lawn which borrow their boldest whims from the unexpected and poetically outline the neck and shoulders. This harmonious framing makes the head so fresh, so fine, so pretty that great socialites adapt it to their nightgowns. It is the variety of aristocratic taste in its most original expression that the creations of this kind from the house of Jeanne d’Arc. Refined Parisians and wealthy foreigners welcome these unique types, of such exquisite distinction, as an inspiration for their reputation for elegance. The prices established for these large passes are as follows: 10.50 francs, 12.50 francs, 15.50 francs, 20 francs, 25 francs and 30 francs. The new album created by Ms. Desbruères is made available to all our readers; you just need to request it. This catalog gives all the prices of corsets with or without a busk, lingerie, trousseaux, silk petticoats, as well as how to take your own measurements. Just write to Maison Jeanne d’Arc, 265 rue Saint-Honoré, Paris.

[melinoelliones]

Vincent had a long days work ahead, files and documents covered his desk from top to bottom. However, he had just called you to his office, what could he need from a maid?

MINORS DNI/AGELESS BLOGS DNI/ANTI DC DNI/18+

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist 

Warnings: Slight manipulation, choking, affairs, blowjob, cursing, teasing, crying, lust, one night stand? fem reader

1.7k words

This is so rushed i’m sorry Black Butler fans!!!

“Are you just going to stand there? I called you down here for a reason, now come” he demanded, not even lifting his eyes off of the stack of documents on his desk. “Oh, sorry, yes master” you shuddered, jumping out of your trance and making your way over to his side, not forgetting to bow, “Why are you acting so shy and modest all of a sudden, this wasn’t the side you showed me the other night now was it”.

Your master, Earl Vincent Phantomhive had thrown the party of all parties a couple days before for all the elites, one thing may have led to another which ended in you sleeping with him. It was not what you had intended to do, you were his maid afterall, if anyone was to find out it would be a disaster. Why would he bring it up now? Especially considering after it happened he had said to keep it between you both.

“W~What are you talking abo~ ah” you shrieked ever so slightly as you felt a hand between your thighs, riding up your dress, “stop being so loud she’ll hear you, but back to why I called you here, will you be ever so kind as to help your master relieve some of this stress” Vincent asked as nonchalantly as could be, again eyes never leaving the papers.

“How would you like me to do that? I could get Tanaka to maybe make you some tea, let me go get hi~” “you know that's not what I want” he looked up at you, pushing his chair out from under his desk to grip onto your dress as you attempted to walk away. “But I’m just a maid”, “a maid who’s almost begging for me to touch them? How foolish do you think I am exactly?” he laughed, your eyes widening as his eyes turnt to you for the first time today.

“Ever since that night I’ve noticed you avoiding me, claiming to be unwell and taking days off yet you seemed perfectly fine to me when you were getting off to me in your quarters. Or did you think I wouldn’t know?” he crooked his head, wondering how you would dare to respond to those accusations. As you attempted to think of a lie he cut you off, “even now your dress has less petticoats, I can practically see your entire body, this was what you wanted no?”.

You couldn’t even deny it, this was a fantasy you had had for a while but you hadn’t expected it to play out like this. Not with him in control of the situation anyway, but you were not going to let it slip away that easily.

“A lady mustn't reveal all her secrets, my lord” you smiled, taking a step between the desk and chair before moving to your knees under it. “That's what I wanted to see” he smirked, freeing his cock from his trousers. A small gasp leaving your lips as he took it out, the night you spent together was nothing but a blur so you hadn’t remembered him being as big as he was.

As you took his piece in your hands you were met with a slight groan from him, letting you know how pent up he was, which was perfect for you of course.  You gently moved it towards you, molding it in your palm as it grew with each movement.

“Show me what you’ve been so desperate to do.” Vincent grinned peering at you under the desk, “yes, my lord” you nodded, placing your fingers on the cusp of his cock, pressing tightly as you stuck your tongue out letting a drop of your saliva cover his tip. “But why must we rush, you like to tease do you not?” you jested, watching his thighs tense up.

Whilst you kneaded his aching piece in your fingertips he huffed, unsure of how you would steer the situation, “only one of us is in the position to do the teasing, you are still just a common whore that so happens to be my wife's maid”. Your body responded for you, tightening as he chuckled “Oh, does that turn you on?” he smirked.

Without another word you skimmed your tongue along his girthy shaft before parting your lips attempting to take his entire length in your mouth, your warm breath adding to the lingering burn in his stomach, “A~Atta girl, you got it”.

You bobbed your head up and down taking as much as you could, your saliva mixing with his precum engulfing his cock in a wet heat. “Fuuuck, full of surpr~rises are we”, he asked as his hand slid to your hollowed cheek, caressing it before bringing it to the back of your head, a slight pressure being added. His body turnt back to simultaneously finish his work on the desk whilst his fingers curled around your tied up hair.

You hadn’t expected the Earl to be so forward with you, not when you knew his wife could be almost anywhere in the manor, either way it was turning you on little by little. Your heated cheeks along with the large ache between your thighs almost taking over your body as you squeezed them together, allowing yourself that bit of pleasure.

Vincent's groans became sloppy and incoherent as your tongue slid across the slit in his piece before taking it back in, humming to allow it to slip back down your throat, the vibrations adding to the overwhelming closeness he was feeling. You slid a hand between the folds of your skirt, “f~fuck” you cried out against his cock as you ran your fingers across your sopping underwear, the friction from the fabric against your swollen clit sending you into a spiral. If only you could see the sloppy handwriting you were causing the Earl to have.

As the scene was at its peak you heard the door creek open, both of you freezing almost instantly, “Goodmorning my love, have you seen that girl anywhere?”. Although you could only hear the woman, you knew exactly who it was, Vincent gave you the fiercest of expressions before lifting his head to his wife, “Who are you referring to my dear?” he asked, acting oblivious.

“That maid you hired for me, I remember her saying she felt a bit under the weather so I wanted to see if she would like to take a stroll with me down to the river, the fresh air could do her some good I think” Rachel beamed, completely unaware of the scene just on the other side of the desk. Your body ran cold as she spoke, Rachel was the sweetest and most patient of women and always treated you almost like an equal yet here you were, sucking off her husband.

“Oh is that r~right”, “darling, are you alright?” “YES, yes I’m fine, don’t step any closer” he commanded, his body folding over the papers on his desk at your actions. The guilt of the situation had weirdly given you a boost, it was almost as if you liked this. In the middle of the conversation you had run your hand down his cock, toying with his balls.

“I think she’s c~closer than you t~think” he hissed, pushing your head further into him as you choked out, his crown hitting the back of your throat constantly as tears ran down your face. “Oh, okay dear thank you, I will speak to you once you’ve finished up those papers” she curtsied, pulling up the door to continue her search.

His eyes widened as he lent back in his chair, before he could even say another word you felt him shudder, and as if on cue he released, you could feel it cascade down your throat coating it completely, his breath hitching as you continued to deepthroat him, holding whatever remained in your mouth. “W~Well I didn’t e~expect this”, you could hear his subtle whines as the overstim started to consume him, the delirium swirling inside him as the suction intensified.

“G~od you’re fucking amazing, now cmon and show me the mess you’ve made”, his voice bellowed, watching you slow down, using your tongue to take in the elixir of cum and saliva encasing his cock cleaning him up. You could almost feel his member throbbing as Vincent used your hair to pull you off his cock. You gazed at him alluringly, tear stained cheeks on display as the trail of liquids from his shaft and the sides of your lips broke, allowing you to show him your tongue.

“Perfect, now swallow” he ordered, pulling you up from the ground to your feet, his piece still on display as you took it all down. “You have no shame do you, tears down your cheeks yet you didn’t seem to slow down as my wife spoke. She would be so disappointed in you right now” he sighed sarcastically, using his thumb to wipe the corners of your lips, your pathetic face almost laughable.

“Well? Why are you still in my presence, your ladyship is looking for you is she not?” The stern Earl scoffed, your body not even sure of how to react. “Oh, um, yes, my lord” you stuttered, slowly edging towards the side of the desk, his blank stare burnt into your mind as you turnt to face the door. Had this all meant nothing?

As you went to push off the desk you felt a presence, “How amusing” he cooed in your ear as you stomach hit the desks face, his body hovering above your back. “Taking our time are we? Well, what should I do with you now” he growled, a hand inching your skirt up as he nibbled your neck. His bare cock pressed up against your lower half, you needed him badly. 

Watching your pitiful attempt at leaving was almost comical to the Earl, but he had never intended for you to leave so soon, not when he knew you were a whore with no morals. He was more than ready to make use of his wifes little expedition, your body was his for the taking and you were more than eager to give it to him. He would not stop until all his stress was gone.

[bloodchapell]

tiffany's lolita coord - armin a.

brief summary: finally asking armin to let you style him, you expect him to ask to look like yoshiki or atsushi but he requests something unexpected. dressing him in your clothes, styling his hair and even putting makeup on him sparkles a new light in both of you.

what to expect: alt and very nerdy reader, equally nerdy armin, mutual pinning, physical touch, lots of tension, cross dressing, #who is tiffany!?

your sword’s note: this was lowkey how i got the idea for the whole series, id just love to dress armin in egl. all past and future parts of this au series available in my mistresslist

“Mana-sama?” You repeat after him.

Armin had been listening to Malice Mizer non-stop, and was fascinated by Mana-sama. He also had seen you already in the beautiful black dresses traditional of gothic lolita and he was sure you couldn’t look more beautiful. He secretly wished he could completely change at least for one day and look as cute, and though he kept it precisely as a secret, when you two started talking about your shared wish for him to get styled by you, he saw the opportunity and ran with it.

“I want to look like Mana-sama.” He demands as soon as he agrees to your question.

“This is for the books .” You mumble fascinated to yourself, getting off your bed and looking for the ancient looking box under your bed that had the clothes you couldn’t fit in the closet. Before you start looking for one you decide to take his measurements and see which dresses would fit him instead of trying all of them. You ask him to stand up too and after grabbing the measuring tape and tell him to take his knitted sweater off so the measuring is more accurate.

His eyes trace the movements of your hands carefully, still kinda nervous of having you so close. You extend the tape and ask him to lift his arms, then wrap the tape around his chest and tell him the measurement so he can write it down in the little notepad you gave him. You measure the length of this arms, torso, waist and the distance from his waist to his knees; you do not measure anything else, you’ll figure it out without the measurement of his hips.

Now with his measurements you kneel back down and look in the treasure chest for a dress that fits him. Armin is a little taller than you by a few inches, but the difference from his built to yours is still notorious. There is only two dresses that you determine fitting. He chooses the black one and you nod, looking around for the undershirt, stockings, petticoat and other accessories. You explained in what order and how to wear every garment and he nodded hesitantly.

“Here, I will leave the room and you can change, let me know when I can walk back in.” You give him the things and now that the whole thing seems actually serious he gets hesitant.

“This is going to sound very ignorant but is it wrong to wear this?” He asks holding the clothes, adverting his gaze from meeting yours.

“What do you mean?” You asked without completely understanding what was he implying as being possibly wrong. “It’s really just clothes. I don’t think it’s wrong for anyone to wear any clothing unless it is meant to offend someone in any way or if it’s something inappropriate in front of kids or stuff like that.”

“I just don’t want you to think wrong of me… I was too quick to jump and say Mana-sama.” Armin fidgets with the fabric. He doesn’t want to say it and you know what he is trying to say and why.

“I won’t think wrong of you Armin.” You take the clothes off his hands and put them in the bed so you can hold his hands. “I dress like a guy sometimes and that doesn’t mean I am mocking men or I am any less feminine… it doesn’t mean I become gay for it, though I do like girls too but that is not the point…”

He blushes at your words. He had seen you dressing oddly masculine sometimes but had brushed it off as just ambiguous… and he didn’t know the rest.

“You like girls…?” It was almost possible to physically hear his heart stopping and shattering. His mind was already racing to make him overthink.

“I like people, why should I care about what they are if they’re cool.” You summarized and he felt his soul crawling back to his body very embarrassed. It made sense.

“I shouldn’t really be complaining, an essential part of vkei is androgyny and I know it…” His blue eyes are just focused on your hands, his teeth playing nervously with the piercing on his lip. “I’m just insecure… I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay…” You lift your hand from his and place him by his cheek, moving a strand of hair behind his ear, trying to make him look at you and at the same time comfort him by caressing his cheek. “I used to also worry if it made me less of a girl to dress like a guy, but that was just me doubting it. Still if you don’t want to do it there is nothing wrong with it.”

“No, I still want to do it.”

You gave him a smile and let go of his other hand to pull him in for a hug; your arms wrapped around his neck closing the distance. He didn’t know how to react at first, differently to the hugs you’d give him when saying bye, this felt more intimate because you were hugging him tightly. He took a second to reciprocate but eventually he gave in and wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his forehead on your shoulder. Your heart was beating so fast that he could feel you exhaling trying to calm down, but he didn’t notice because he was worried you could feel his unsteady breath on your shoulder from how nervous he was. The hug lasted for a while because you both didn’t want to let go plus you were also afraid of facing each other after such a moment.

“Get dressed and let me know when you’re done.” You pulled away from the hug leaving the dorm and closing the door as fast as humanly possible so he wouldn’t notice the heavy blush on your face.

It took him longer than expected.

“I think I need your help…” He peeked outside the door. You nodded and walked back in the room. He looked so cute that you could’ve had a heart attack.

The problem was that he couldn’t tie the ribbon on the back on the dress that gave form to the shape of the waist.

“I’ll get that for you.” You reassured and stood behind him. Your hands straightened the fabric in the front and moved slowly to the back to rectify that it stayed straight and close to his body, once in the back, you put the lace through the holes crossing it from side to side and once finished you pulled the ribbon to tighten the dress around his body and tied it in a bow. You then moved around to stand facing him and take a look at him. The dress suited him perfectly and though it was intended to be a little longer than other dresses, it seemed normal on him.

“You look so cute!” You praised making him turn around for you to take a closer look. He smiled when hearing you complimenting him. “Now let me continue.”

You made him sit down in the desk and wait while you brought your makeup.

“Isn’t my hair too short?” He wondered and you looked at him.

“Well yeah but we can’t magically make it grow.” You answered but then a sinister idea came to your mind. You looked back on the treasure chest and pulled out a black wig with curls and bangs. “So Mana-sama esque!”

You put the wig cap on his head and opened the makeup bag. You laughed looking at his bangs being out of his forehead for the first time, he looked so handsome…

Proceeding with his makeup you started by applying moisturizer to your hands and gently massaging his face. His face was blushed completely. After some sunscreen, you applied some primer, then concealer to correct some uneven tones in his skin, applied a little blush on his cheekbones upwardly to shorten his face and make him look cuter, then applied your lightest foundation on his face and blended it out.

“Wasn’t the blush after this?” He asked opening his eyes to look at you.

“It’s a cream blush so it’s kind of strong, I put it before the foundation to give it a more natural look. I also don’t like that it’s a warm coral, so after I put some setting spray and translucent powder I will put a little powder blush that has a cool tone to cancel it out. It’s more accurate to your skin tone and it looks very similar to the actual pale pink in which your cheeks blush.”

“Stop!!!” He demanded laughing ashamed and covering his face without actually touching to not ruin the base of the makeup. You laughed softly at how cute he was.

Continuing the makeup you applied some white concealer in his eyelids for the eyeshadow to show more vibrantly and started to do his eyeliner in a way it made his eyes look bigger and rounder, then mascara in his eyelashes and you drew bottom eyelashes to make his eyes look even bigger. Since he asked to look like Mana-sama, the eyeshadow was inspired by one of his looks, you applied a good amount of mascara on his eyelashes. For the lips you put a black lipgloss on his lips and asked him to even it out. To add the last touch you applied again setting spray.

“I feel odd..." He said looking in the mirror while you put the black wig over his head. "It feels wrong in a good way I guess..."

With the black wig on, Armin look like a completely different person. His soft features that were even more softened with the makeup and the curly wig made him look like a girl. And the frilly and poofy dress adorned his body delicately. His blue eyes kept looking over every detail of his new and unfamiliar aspect in the mirror as in trying to digest the whole thing.

From the treasure chest you pulled out all the headpieces that matched the dress and he chose a black headdress, so you secured it to the wig and tied it under his chin.

"Well you are now done, sadly our shoe size is very different and my shoes won't fit you." Finishing twirling around the synthetic curls to define them more and combing with your fingers the bangs over his forehead you said only to move in front of him and take a good look at him. Armin looked stunning, he looked so beautiful that you were even a little envious of how cute he could look.

"I have some black boots." He looked so different that he himself didn't recognize his image and could mistakenly fall in love with the cute girl in the mirror.

"Do you want me to go get them?" You asked and he stood up.

"I think I want to go out like this." He said looking at himself in the mirror for a long time, turning around to see himself from every angle. You turned around surprised, definitely not expecting him to say that.

"Well, let me get dressed and I will show you my favorite spot in town to be cute." You said excited while getting your things. After finishing getting dressed and applying makeup, you made sure to wear tall shoes to be on Armin's height. "Now we are the same size so it doesn't look weird that the "girl" is taller than the "guy"."

"That is so full of prejudice! There are tall girls and I am one of them." He joked pretending to be mad and you couldn't help but laugh.

There is no need to say how shy he was to walk out of your dorm. He had walked in differently and was now walking outside as a total different person. He kept complaining that his white sneakers didn't match the look and was completely embarrassed for it, which to you was nothing but cute; it’d be hard for you in the past to believe you if you said Armin was complaining about his shoes not matching his outfit.

"I love your fit." On the entrance of your dorm some girl told him and he nodded smiling too nervous to speak. You two walked from your building to his, he got a few looks from people passing by and you had to remind him that they were looking at him because he looked like he had escaped from a magical girls anime and not because they knew it was actually honors student Armin Arlert crossdressing through campus.

Once at his dorm, you sat down in the living room while he looked for the shoes in his room but then you both heard the very far away but approaching loud voice of Eren.

"What do we do!?" Armin started panicking and though it made you laugh initially you tried to not do so to not make him feel bad.

"Calm down, get into the bathroom and call Eren, tell him you gave me the keys to pick something up... and that I brought over a friend because she needed to use the bathroom." Pushing him into the bathroom you said.

Armin called Eren and said exactly what you told him, so when the door started to open, the brunette already knew and wouldn't be surprised at your presence in his place.

"Oh my god! I can finally meet you!" Eren jumped to shake your hand once he saw you, his green eyes looking you up and down and mentally taking a note agreeing with Armin's scarily accurate description of you. "Armin is so evil for not letting me, his basically brother, meet you before. I'm..."

"Eren, I know." You smiled and he nodded. After some small talk you realized that if you didn't stop him, Eren would talk your ears off. "Uhm, I think we need to get going to meet Armin, right Tiffany?"

You knocked in the bathroom door and for long minutes Armin stayed quiet, but eventually he came out, with the shoes already on.

"That is your friend?" Eren asked, probably referring to what Armin had told him in the call.

"Yeah, her name is Tiffany and she is a... uhm... childhood education major." You made the story up, knowing that behind all that foundation Armin was insanely red. "But yeah... we need to go, I don't want Armin waiting too long, it was nice meeting you Eren."

You rushed out of the door holding Armin's wrist.

"Bye!" He said in the door seeing you both run away. "Bye Tiffany!"

Once out of the sight of Eren, you both started laughing.

"Tiffany? Seriously?" Armin asked kinda out of breath. “Quit it Tiffany, that is your new persona when you are wearing lolita.” You affirmed to him while trying not to laugh. With the boots on, his coordinate looked more complete.

You two walked the longish way to the bus stop and waited while listening to Best of Blood. In the bus you taught him how to act like a noble from the eighteenth century. Initially he wanted to speak with an accent but he decided to follow Mana-sama’s example and just don’t talk at all.

“Hey uhm… I hope this doesn’t come off as weird but you are very pretty… could I possibly take you on a date?” While walking to the mystery place to told him about, a guy wearing the varsity jacket of your university approached him while you were looking t the window of a store. Armin looked at you with a mix of panic and laughter that he could barely contain on his face.

“Yo she has a boyfriend bro…” You grabbed Armin’s hand and tried to speak with a lower tone than the normal one of your voice.

“I’m so sorry bro, no hard feelings.” The guy seemed genuinely sorry and even offered his hand to dab you up as he assumed you were the alleged boyfriend and left completely embarrassed.

For a second you both stayed quiet, seeing the guy walk away.

“Did that guy just hit on me?” Armin slowly said, turning a little to see you. It felt odd for him to see you being slightly taller than you. “It appears so. too bad Tiff is cuffed.” You said showing your hand over his and laughing but he didn’t laugh. His heart was racing and there was only so much the foundation on his face could do to cover his severe blush. The awkward feeling of another man trying to take him, or more accurately, trying to take Tiffany on a date was completely erased when you jumped to help him implying that you two were dating. You implied that you two were dating.

It didn’t matter to him that you said you were Tiffany’s boyfriend, if he was a girl and you were a guy he’d date you, he’d also date you if he was a girl and you were a girl too, hell he would date you even if you were a guy because as long as it was you it didn’t matter to him what you were as long as it was you, because he liked and loved you and every aspect of your personality, plus you could really rock anything you were or decided to be.

“Yeah.” Armin managed to respond, too lost in his head to formulate a proper reply. His hand slowly grabbing yours back as you started walking —still holding hands— towards the place you had told him about.

“We’re here.” You said opening the door for him, as a true “gentleman” and he thanked you.

“Tea house.” He read from the sign in the door.

There was some French song playing in the store while you two sat down, both in the booth side of the table. The air felt tense as if both of you wanted to do something, anything, grab the other’s hand, maybe throw in for a hug, or even lean for a kiss… The growing feeling inside you both started to turn unbearable, a kind of heartache that came only from longing so hard that the months you had known each other for felt eternal and equivalent to a whole lifetime of being fathoming about the love you had for the other.

When the tea and pastries arrived, Armin saw his reflection on the golden liquid in the ceramic cup, easily mistaken his true self for Tiffany, but he still could see himself in his eyes, his self that had something against him and would not let him believe for any reason that you could like him back; there was some sort of insurrection because a strange shine in his eyes screamed for him to do something.

[asphalt-cocktail]

Lead Us to Temptation- Chapter 2

Chapter 2- Good Old Fashioned Catholic Guilt

Summary: In the small town of Eden Ridge, you knew several things to be true: church happened every Sunday, the saloon served free lunch with the purchase of a drink on Thursdays, coal miners left work at 7PM sharp, and Bucky Barnes was a man sent from the depths of hell dangling the threat of temptation and sin right in front of your face. All you need to do is reach out and grab it.

Pairing: Outlaw!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Nicknames, heavy religious themes in this chapter, mentions of threatening with a gun and criminal activity, thunder storms, smut, oral f receiving, virginity kink (sorry but also I’m not), arguing, talk of marriage, good old fashioned catholic guilt

Word Count: 4.2k

Masterlist

Read me on AO3

Chapter 1- Precious Lord Take my Hand

Dinner with Bucky in Thunder Creek was… well it could have been better. The dinner itself was lovely, the part that soured it was the big gray storm clouds that created a contrasting line against the bright blue sky. You could feel the humidity weighing the air in the restaurant and feel the sudden drop of pressure along with the cold breeze that blew in with the storm.

April showers did in fact bring May flowers. 

They also forced you to bed down for the night in the local hotel. There was no way you’d be able to make the two hour ride back home and avoid ending up soaked to the bone or having a tree fall on you from the violent winds that whipped. You’d catch your death if you stayed out in this type of weather too long.   

The spring thunderstorm promised the renewal of life to the brown and yellow earth, it brought both anticipation and fear. Fat raindrops fell from the sky, once a bright cloudless shade of green is now a tempest of charcoal gray as heavy storm clouds cover it. The heavy drops of rain were swallowed up by the thirsty ground turning the streets into muddy rivers.

Bucky licked his lips, deep in thought and looked down the street to the hotel. It was only a matter of time before the last rooms were taken by the other visitors in town. He handed you his jacket for you to cover yourself and wrapped an arm around you, sprinting at a leisurely but rushed pace to salvation. Mud splattered up the back of your boots, sticking to your tights and soiling the bottom of your dress. The creaky wooden floor boards just outside the hotel sag and groan under the weight of water as you step into the hotel, wet and shivering like a stray dog. 

You didn't know how, but he’d managed to finesse the last hotel room in town. It was something close to a miracle you thought. Bucky would never tell you that he pressed the barrel of his six shooter deep into the side of the clerk and demanded a room while you looked at the various taxidermied game that hung like trophies on the wall. 

After a nice warm bath your clothes were dry enough for you to pick the dried chunks of mud off the hem of your skirt and brush it off your boots. Since it was night time, you didn't even bother changing back into your petticoat, bodice, and dress. Instead you hid behind the changing screen, mind consumed with the fact that you and Bucky would have to share a bed tonight.

The rain swelled to a great deluge that is enough to drown out the conversations in the hotel lobby, people angry that there are no more rooms left and arguing with the clerk. Outside the trees bend and sway, the weaker branches snapping loudly and falling to the ground. There was no way you’d be able to make it home, not in a storm like this.

Thunder rumbled, low and menacing as you played with the little tie on the front of your chemise. You were scared, scared of what your father would say when you returned in the morning, scared of what Father Liska would say during your confessional. You didn't have to worry about what the women would say at their bible study groups. They already loved to talk about you out of both sides of their mouth. 

You felt exposed in the thin white fabric, it did very little to hide your womanly figure. You’d never been in such a state of undress in front of someone before, not in your entire adult life at least. Nerves flipped in your gut as lightning struck outside, flashing and illuminating the low lit room followed by the low rumble of thunder. 

The changing screen did very little to help you feel less exposed, knowing that all that stood between you and Bucky were a few tall wooden panels. You poked your head around the corner of the screen and saw Bucky’s back to you. He had already stripped down to his cotton drawers and was shedding his shirt. 

Your eyes were drawn to a scar on his shoulder, it emerged from his skin like the smudge of a brush stroke, edges jagged and uneven, the skin taut. The pink hue stood out against Bucky’s tanned skin, starting at his shoulder and tracing the contours and muscle of his arm before it tapered off at the elbow. You could only imagine the terrible memories that came along with it. 

You forced yourself to look away, now distracted by broad planes of his back, built from decades of intensive labor and living off the lam. The muscles rippled with Bucky’s movement tempting you to touch him.The sight made you a bit light headed and your stomach throbbed with an unfamiliar feeling. Stiffly, you stepped out from behind the changing screen. 

The creak of the floor boards under your feet alerted him. He turned, it felt like Bucky’s eyes were going to burn your clothes right off with how hard he was staring. You didn't want to look up and meet his hungry gaze, but you could picture exactly what he looked like as he devoured you. 

“Please stop staring.” You tried to sound biting, but it came out weak. Nervous even. You crossed your arms over your chest to try and allow yourself some modesty. 

In one large step Bucky was in front of you. His hands lightly grasped your arms, and gave them  a light tug. You rested them against the firm planes of his pectorals, “I'm just thinking about all the fun we can have tonight.” He dipped his head, kissing the corner of your mouth, “Just me and you.”

You gasped, breath stolen by his suggestive words. They made your gut twist with nerves. Every God-fearing part of your brain was burned away with a hellfire that warmed your body. You swallowed thick and exhaled through your nose, “I’ve… I’ve never…” you trailed off almost too embarrassed to let the words come out.

Bucky let go of you, hands jumping away like he just touched hot iron. The sudden distance between you both had you feeling exposed, vulnerable even. 

Was it something you said? Did he not want you now? 

“Bucky?” Your voice was meek.

You were a virgin? 

Jesus Christ of course you were a virgin how could he be so stupid. So inconsiderate!

He wanted to skip all of the prose, all the ceremony of courtship and just take you here in this hotel room. He was thinking with his dick and not his brain. You must have been horrified at his advances. 

He sat down on the edge of bed lost in his own head.

“Are you mad at me?” You didn’t know what else to ask. You pull him from the deep recesses of his brain and shattered his heart with the nerve in your voice. 

“God sweetheart,” he huffed and grabbed your arms pulling you close and looked up at you, “Of course not.” His arms wrapped around your waist comfortingly. 

If things were going to continue as they were he had to lay out all his secrets, even the ugly ones. He let out a soft exhale and looked away from you, “Look, if you’re going to be my woman there’s some things I need to tell you first.” 

Well if that was supposed to comfort you it didn’t. It made you more afraid. What was he going to say? He had a secret family in Pennsylvania? He was wanted by the Pinkertons? He was a Protestant? That would truly be the worst out of all three of the options.

You wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if you were bedded by a Protestant. 

He swallowed hard. Bucky desperately wanted to keep you hidden from his alternative lifestyle “I’m a wanted man babydoll.” His information served as a warning for what you would get yourself into should you continue seeing him. 

His low, gravely tone sent a shiver down your spine and made the hair on your arms stand on end, “What do you mean?” You spoke in a hushed tone. You knew what it meant.

Well at least he wasn’t a Protestant. A criminal you could handle, something that could be forgiven.

“I’m not a good man.” He cleared his throat, his tone was almost pleading, “I’ve done…I do bad things.” He killed people, lied, stole, all without mercy. Bucky was not a nice man, he was mean and callous, calculating and manipulative. “But, Jesus, woman, I'd walk the line for you if it meant I could have you.” But for you, he’d get on his knees and beg for your love. 

It should have made you push him away, seek the closest stagecoach, alert the town sheriff, run for the hills and call the Pinkertons, but hell it made you want him more. The air of danger around Bucky Barnes pulled you, like a moth to a flame, “You don’t have to walk any lines to have me.” You didn't care about his rambling ways. You wanted all of him, all his sins and imperfections. Your head spun with an intoxicating mixture of nerves and excitement, “I’m your woman now?” 

“I don’t sit through Sunday mass for just anyone.” He reminded you. It was true, he’d manage to attend mass with you every Sunday and even stomached the post service lunch your family always had. 

The heavens opened up and rain continued to fall from the sky, spraying the windows in waves. But you didn’t have half a mind to pay any attention to that now. Not when Bucky’s hand was sliding up and gripping the meat of your thigh so close to your butt, “Come on, sweetheart.” Bucky cooed and pressed his face between your breasts and kissed the valley. 

Not when he was doing things like that. 

“Lemme take care of you.” He coaxed your fear of damnation away with a few simple words. You moved, kneeling on either side of him and sitting on his lap, “That’s my girl.” He said softly, resting his hands on your thighs.

He kissed you softly, his beard scratching against your skin. You shyly opened for him, allowing his tongue to move and caress your own. You expected a rugged man like him to be a lot less gentle with you, but he was letting you set the pace tonight. 

You could taste the sweat in his lip and the lingering tobacco from the cigarette he smoked an hour earlier. You relaxed into his touch as his hand slid up and snaked around you deepening the kiss. 

Bucky’s hands roamed up your body, feeling the soft curve of your hips before grabbing your tits. He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours, noses barely touching, breathing in each other's labored breaths. His thumb brushed over a hardened nipple and you gasped at the foreign sensation, back arching slightly. 

He wanted to watch you, see how your body reacted, see how your brain broke from the pleasure he gave you. His fingers kneaded the flesh of your heavy breasts and he pinched and twisted your nipples until they were sensitive and peaked. 

Your cheeks reddened from embarrassment as he untied the front closure of your shift and pulled open the small split in the front, he kissed your neck then your chest before he pulled the thin white fabric down where it shelved beneath your breasts. You felt indecent. Exposed. 

The cool air chilled you to the bone and made you shiver. Bucky mouthed at the sides of your tits licking and sucking on one and then the other until your back arched and you whined beneath him. 

God if this was how you reacted to him playing with your tits, he couldn’t wait to hear how you sounded when he fucked you. But that wasn’t going to happen tonight, he was a gentleman after all. He couldn’t go having dessert twice in one night now could he? It was a bit too self indulgent for him and maybe too much of a shock for your poor catholic conscience. 

But he was still planning on eating tonight. He was going to absolutely devour you. “Lay down.” You followed his command and moved, laying flat against the lumpy mattress and watched Bucky lay on his stomach and settle between your legs. 

You sat up on your elbows, shuddering as you felt him kiss your thighs, getting dangerously close to your dripping cunt, “What are you going to do?” Your breathing quickened when you saw Bucky lick his lips and draw his lip between his teeth. He nuzzled the apex of your thigh, inhaling the natural heady scent of your arousal. The scent was so distinctly feminine, it made him ravenous. 

“Bucky!” You squeaked, shocked at his behavior. 

“Oh sugar, we haven’t even gotten started.” He said and kissed the top of your mound. In that moment you were certain Bucky Barnes was the serpent in the garden of Eden, beckoning you towards a life filled with sin and temptation, and by god you were going to take his hand and let him lead you there. 

You gasped loudly, feeling the broad flatness of his tongue lick a stripe up your cunt, then back down again and shuttered at the foreign sensation. You flopped back onto the bed and hand immediately knotted itself into his dark hair gripping a fist full of it, hanging on for dear life, “Oh my god.” You huffed in disbelief. His mouth was really down there, licking you, and he was enjoying every moment of it. 

His tongue traced little circles around your clit before he let out a groan and sucked on it, his actions hedonistic and greedy as he continued to indulge. The wet noises that came from between your legs mixed with the overwhelming pleasure that warmed your body and made you feel dizzy.

Just as you thought you couldn’t take any more, a thick finger traced around your entrance before he stuffed it inside you. His finger penetrated your cunt, stuffing itself deeper inside you until the knuckle of his hand rested against your slippery skin. He pulled back and quickly added a second, stuffing them back in and curling them against your sinfully wet walls. You felt stuffed to the absolute brim, full with a delicious burn that made your fists clench the cotton sheets of the hotel mattress.

When you finally gained half a brain cell of consciousness you opened your eyes looking down and seeing his face coated in wetness. 

Your wetness.

It coated his chin and cheeks, your thighs, drenched his hand as he fucked you with it. It was like the floodgates of heaven opened up from the Great Deep and the tide swallowed him whole.  

The flat of his tongue found its way back to your clit, rubbing down and making you whine with pleasure. You dug your nails into Bucky’s scalp pulling a satisfied deep groan from your lover's mouth as he continued to devour you.

Bucky’s thumb replaced his mouth and he licked a spot of wetness from your thigh, “I can’t wait to fuck this tight little pussy.” He mumbled and pulled his fingers out, lightly slapping your sensitive, swollen clit. You hissed at the feeling and at his lascivious words before he stuffed you full once more and pressed his thumb against your clit rubbing it in a circle, “You want that?” He asked and you nod your head, “Want me to fuck this tight virgin cunt of yours?” 

God he wanted to split you open, carve a hole for himself deep inside your untouched hole and fuck you stupid. 

“Oh god yes,” you could feel your pussy throb as he continued to beat his fingers into you at a brutal pace and suck hard on your clit, pulling you closer and closer to the edge.

You clenched a fist full of his hair, grinding down onto his face, sloppily trying to meet the rhythm of his hand. The only sober part of your brain was thankful for the thunderous rain that continued to hammer the windows and covered the sounds coming from your hotel room. 

Finally, your back is arching off the mattress, cunt pulsating and squeezing his fingers as he digs them further inside you, rubbing them against your walls and pulling more pleasure from you. Your body trembled, spasming around his fingers, flooding his face. 

Bucky watched you in awe, your body writhing and twisting against the sheets, hair haloed around your head, lips kiss swollen and body flush with arousal. You were absolutely gorgeous. Responsive and gorgeous. He couldn’t let a girl like you go. 

He was going to marry you if it killed him. 

Bucky’s hands slowed and he licked your wetness off the soft skin of your thighs and stomach not wanting to waste a single drop of it before he pulled his fingers from you and sucked on those too groaning like he’d just had a tasty meal. 

Watching him only fed sugar into the fire. You leaned up, pulling him towards you and sloppily kissed him, all tongue and teeth as you pushed down his drawers. Bucky smiled against your mouth and pushed your hands away, pushing you back onto the mattress, “Patience, sweetheart.” He scolded, and then laid next to you sighing with content.

“Aren’t we going to… well you know.” He stared at your confused expression and looked amused, “Have sex?” You finally said it out loud and it felt dirty. It felt like someone had dropped an anvil through the ceiling and it fell on your chest. 

“Not tonight.” He answered, “We’ll work our way there, don’t worry your pretty little head about it. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“But I thought you said I was your woman” you didn’t know if it was because Bucky gave you an earth shattering orgasm, or what but you were just plain confused now. 

“You are my woman.” He said and pulled you into his side, “One thing at a time love.” He wedged a leg between yours, tangling them together. 

The following morning when you returned to town, braving the mud and fallen tree branches, the doors to the church seemed almost intimidating. You already knew how your father was going to react to your absence from the family home last night. Your brain was wrought with an overwhelming sense of guilt as Bucky took your hands and opened the tall wooden doors. 

Father Liska’s homily only further propelled you into a cavern of guilty unholiness. It was like God himself told the father of what happened last night, of the wanton sin you committed. Laying with a man before marriage? How could you be so foolish? 

“God does permit us to be tempted” Father Liska stood at the pulpit, usually his words of wisdom helped comfort you, “Not so that we fall, but so we grow in holiness,” No, this just made you feel worse, “Temptation forces us to rise up and make a choice for God or to succumb to the devil's temptation.” 

You were going to be sick. 

During the Rite of Peace you couldn’t bear to look at your father as he shook Bucky’s hand, death grip, jaw clenched, a bitter “Christ’s peace be with you.”  

Bucky shook your fathers hand back firmly a smarmy smirk plastered across his face, “Christ’s peace be with you too sir.” 

Then Bucky hugged your mom and kissed her cheek with a smooth “Christ’s peace be with you ma’am” which pissed your dad off too. Everything about Bucky pissed him off. 

Once you were in the privacy of your family home, seated at the dinner table, Bucky next to you, parents on either end of the table, brother and sister-in-law across from the you, you father took it upon himself bring some good old fashioned shame to the table, “You didn’t return home last night.” He said loudly, breaking the uncomfortable silence. 

Your mother said his name in a scolding tone, “No I didn’t. I’d have caught my death in that storm.” You sat up a bit straighter. It was true. Traveling two hours back home in the rain in wet clothes would have signed your death warrant. 

“What were your sleeping accommodations like?” He probed further, trying to figure out a way to make you feel even guiltier than you already did. Remind you of the devil's presence in your life and how you succumbed to his temptations. 

“Bucky paid for me to stay at the local inn. Is that what you want to hear from me?” You shot back sharply, “I don’t understand why you’re making such a big mess over it.” You threw your cloth napkin onto the table and pushed your seat back and stood up to leave. 

“Sit down!” Your father snapped, “I’ll not have that disrespectful tone under my roof,” your father spoke sternly and then turned towards Bucky and pointed at him, “And you,” he said dramatically, “Are going to bring nothing but trouble for her and you know it.” 

Bucky rubbed his hands in his trousers and leaned back in his seat, his casual posture contrasting your fathers intensity, “What makes you say that sir?” He was genuinely curious. There was no way your father would have known of his criminal history. Not when they were so far from the last town they’d committed a crime in and even then their faces had been covered. Bucky struck a match and lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply and waiting for the answer. 

If he wanted to sit through someone pissing and moaning about how he lived his life he’d go talk to his own father, God rest his soul.

“You have no steady work, no land, no history outside of the few months you’ve been here. You parade around with a troupe of delinquents and bring good young women like my daughter down into the cesspit of a life you live. “ 

Bucky licked his lower lip, “With all due respect sir, it isn’t like your lifestyle is any better.” When your father scoffed loudly, throwing his hands up in disbelief, Bucky continued speaking before he could interrupt, “Wrath and greed might serve you well now, but you can’t buy your place in heaven.” 

Your father was greedy, he was like a dragon who sat upon a hoard of black coal and iron, pillaging the Earth, taking what he wanted,  and draining the life force of his workers. There was no way your father didn’t have as many, if not more lives than Bucky. His hands were undoubtedly stained red.

God spoke out, let there be light and your father damned his employees to a life beneath the ground. He probably didn’t even know their names, just the numbers crudely written on their mining helmets that correspond to his payroll ledger. 

“Keep on digging, boy, that’s why you were born.” Born to serve the company, born to keep your fathers pockets fat and their own empty.  It was a cruel, greedy joke that had been said too often. 

Bucky took one more drag of his cigarette before he stubbed it out. You frowned, ultimately this was your mother’s fault, she was the one who had Bucky come by for after service lunch. Now here your father and Bucky were, making a scene in front of God and all his followers, “Now sir, I plan on marrying your daughter sooner or later, so I suggest you get all your acrimony out now because we will be seeing a lot of each other in the future.” 

Your father opened his mouth to speak back and quickly your mother spoke up, “Not another word.” She hissed at him when he opened his mouth to speak back to Bucky, “James, dear, we’re extremely grateful you took care of our daughter. Aren’t we, darling?” 

Your father didn’t answer her question, instead he stared, eyes narrowed at your lover. He didn't want Bucky to marry you. He wanted you to marry a rich, god fearing catholic man from town. Perhaps the son of the livery stable owner and farrier, maybe even the son of the Union Pacific RailRoad representative in town. Not some drifter with a silver tongue.

“It was truly my pleasure ma’am.” Bucky smiled sweetly at your mom. 

Despite Bucky’s statement about taking your hand in marriage at lunch earlier you still couldn't help the internal barrage of guilt your brain waged against your heart. If Bucky was planning to marry you then it wasn't bad, right? You wondered if God could hear your pleas and if he would answer your prayers for clarity. You looked at the walls of your room, dimly lit by lamplight, the crucifix you’d gotten at your communion watching your internal struggle. 

Your revelation was a self confession from the heart-To experience love and be loved was a gift, to sin was to be human. Perhaps love was the holiest form of rebellion, something that burned away dogma leaving something raw and utterly human, something to be forgiven with merciful grace.

Chapter 3- Hell Hath No Fury

[constance-emmeline]

She's a highly qualified lawyer in a major legal firm and has been promoted to 'Partner' ... ! ... X

Such a senior position at so young an age! ... X

Mummy and Daddy are so very proud indeed! X

But even more ... they love ... how their 'little girl' ... as they see her still ... gladly leaves her wife each Christmas ... to come home ... and spend some time with her Mummy and Daddy (as she addresses them still) ... and be 'their little girl' again!

She still loves all her childhood toys ... her 'dollies' and especially her 'teddy' ... and this lovely Christmas decoration her late Granny gave her when she was only five years old. X

Mummy is so pleased her beloved daughter still likes - and always wears - a petticoat ... a full slip!

Even if it is a 'little shorter' than Mummy would like to see and still wears herself ... but Mummy understands her daughter must conform to current fashions ... and 'look right' ... in today's demanding work place!

Mummy loves to spend this special time of year with her beautiful daughter! Mummy loves to read her daughter the same bedtime stories she used to read ... all those years ago! And 'kiss her goodnight' just like she always did, each night. X

Daddy isn't really as involved as Mummy in these matters. At all. But Mummy and their daughter know he still loves them so ... and always shall! X

[kimmipettie]

7/19/24 - A recent Christeen Classic

___________________________________________________

4/19/24 - 2415 - Oh so true! Our Miss Chris is now a lovely young lady and hardly a boy at all.

And so in demand! Advertisers like Coca Cola are flocking to Chris. Mademoiselle is now Chris's official agent.

Debuted 4/19/24 on Andy Latex. Thanks Andy and Christeen. Visit Andy at SMOOTHSLICKNSHINY.BLOGSPOT.COM

_______________________________________________________

No longer meek, but still petticoated for sure, Chris wouldn't dream of going out and about in anything but a pretty dress with her petticoats flaring out.

[resplendentoutfit]

The non-resplendid Outfit: What poor women wore in the mid to late 1800s, Victorian era

Housemaids, early 1860’s. They are dressed in their best for the photographer, but look at their hands. From Victorian Working Women. They could perhaps have scullury maids, who were a lower ranked of housemaid.

Fig. 1 - Washerwoman and young girl • Mid-1800's

Fig. 2 - From 'Street Life in London', 1877, by John Thomson and Adolphe Smith. "The accompanying photograph represents a second-hand clothes shop in a narrow thoroughfare of St. Giles."

Fig. 3 - These women were referred to as "tip girls". Their job was to unload mine refuse from train cars and on to the "tip" of the mountains of mine waste. Tredegar, Wales, 1865. Photo by W. Clayton from Victorian Working Women

fig. 4 - This dress features a loose fitting, unlined bodice gathered gently under the bust and at the center back. The sleeves are cut moderately to encourage movement and feature a short cuff with button closure. The semi full skirt is gathered into a waistband and attached to the bodice. The skirt is hemmed to the ankle with a single turn hem. The gown closes at the center front with buttons. Shown over over a quilted petticoat and extra full petticoats. Typically worn between 1840 and 1890. This dress is a replica based on research.

Working class women in the Victorian era couldn't afford the latest fashions. They wore simple, practical clothing in a style dependent on their ooccupation. In figure 1, The woman is wearing a simple dress and cape. Her clothing looks clean because she's a washerwoman; her clothing only exposed to water and soap. Her dress is very similar to the one in figure 4.

In figure 2, the women working in the second-hand clothes shop are also performing work that isn't likely to soil their clothing. It's interesting to discover there were such shops. I always assumed poor women of this era made their own clothing.

A job such as handling coal (figure 3) was such dirty work that the clothing worn for it had to be made from thick, rough fabrics and cut loose to facilitate movement. The dirtier and more physically demanding the work, the rougher the clothing.

[the-fiction-witch]

Criminals

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating CUTE

Warning For Hanging 

I walked the hot dusty Port Victory streets kicking the dust along with my boots, my case in hand as I walked. The sun slowly set on the horizon as I walked I noticed a couple of ladies on their way home with parasols in hand. They of course began to giggle,

"Good evening doctor dawkins," They cooed,

"Evening Ladies," I smiled as they passed me and I moved my hand quickly with my nibble fingers managing to snag the bracelet of the lady closest to me slipping it into my pocket,

Once I arrived back at the little house I headed in setting my bag by the door and emptying my pockets of chains, necklaces, coins and various other things I had picked up from my day hiding them in the small draw in the cabinet as I kicked my shoes off and set them on the rack, at the end of the month I'd empty the draw and sort things out but for now I just hid everything there. I hung up my coat and my hat by the door and headed through the house finding it mostly empty, so I headed up to the bedroom and smiled as I saw her there.

Y/n stood in the bedroom looking at herself in the full-length mirror, dressed in her tall boots, stockings, bloomers, and black dress with very little petticoats honestly I wasn't convinced she was wearing a crinoline at all, her corset laced right and her black button dress over her, as she slowly braided her Y/H/C hair,

I smiled and went over wrapping my arms around her waist and peppering kisses up her pale neck,

"ohh... Hello Jack," She laughed,

"Hello, sugar," I smiled, "Don't you look beautiful,"

"Aww thank you, well you always look handsome," she cooed stroking my chin and bringing our lips together for a sweet and perfect kiss,

"You flatter me, you are far too sweet sugar," I told her rubbing my nose on hers,

"I do my best, how was work?"

"Fine, sneed being sneed, a few surgeries, got locked up in the morgue for a while so I'm sorry for being late home,"

"It's alright, dinner on the stove for you,"

"Oh? Ahhh I see." I nodded, "I should have guessed, So? where are you off to looking so beautiful?"

"Going to bridge with the girls,"

"Aww alright, you enjoy yourself, Y/n," I smiled kissing her cheek, "Maybe as you're going out I might pop out and play some cards for a bit,"

"Of course, you go enjoy yourself, Jack," she smiled as she finished with her hair, "Don't wait up,"

"You either," I told her,

She nodded and we shared another kiss before she headed out, I had myself some dinner and changed my shirt grabbing my lucky coin as well as some cash to go down the cat and bagpipes for the evening.

I headed through the dark woods the only light the gentle glow from the moon, my black cloak around my black dress to keep me and myself concealed. I reached my usual spot out by the graveyard and I opened up the small chest I hid under a tree I covered my face with the cloth inside and pulled up my hood to hide my Y/H/C hair, and I grabbed my pistol making sure it was loaded, I watched the horses pull the coach along through the darkness. So I made sure I was hidden before I out onto the road pointing my pistol at the driver. He panicked and pulled the carriage over, so I opened the door and pointed my pistol at the canoodling couple who both screamed.

"You're money. or your life," I told them putting on my rough voice,

"Ahh! Okay okay!" The man said handing me his money,

"And you madam," I demanded,

"I don't have any money- Please please- take my necklace!" She said handing it quickly over to me,

"Thank you kindly, you have a pleasant evening," I smirked taking it with me and disappearing back into the dark woods letting the coach go and waiting for the next one. This went on all night pulling over any carriage or horse that seemed worth my time once my bag was full of jewellery and cash I put my pistol back in hiding and headed home leaving my cloak by the door and hiding my bag of cash in my hat box. I headed inside and saw the kitchen was flickering with light so I headed in and saw Jack having some water,

"Awww Hello Jack," I smiled going and cuddling him,

"Awww Hi sugar, how was Bridge?"

"Lovely as always," I kissed him, "how were the cards?"

"Good, I made seventeen pounds,"

"Ooohh my clever boy,"

"Aww thank you, I would have made more but Darius was being a cunt,"

"I don't know why you play with him," I rolled my eyes,

"Cause he has money," he laughed, "But I'm just having a drink to keep the hangover off, Are you ready for bed?"

"Very ready for bed," I nodded, "I'll see you up there," I smiled kissing him before I headed up to the bedroom,

"You think I could get a cuddle before bed too?" He called,

"If you're fortunate Jack,

I headed home with a wide smile on my face, it had been an easy day at the hospital and my pockets were heavy with my cut from the recent heist of the governor's estate, I had a plan for the cash of course I'd finally get my lovely Y/n a pretty ring, it was only right after so long together. I always promised her I would, and honestly, I had been saving up for a while I wanted to get her something truly impressive. I arrived home and emptied my pockets as usual hanging my coat and hat by the door before heading up to see her in the bedroom once more fixing her hair from a bath.

"Awww there you are sugar," I smiled kissing her head, "Dressed up again?" I asked noticing her black dress,

"It's Tuesday,"

"Yes... of course Tuesday bridge. Silly me," I chuckled, "But... maybe tomorrow when we both get up maybe we could go out?"

"Ohh where? it's your day off don't you usually just want to become a little bed slug?"

"I know, but maybe... after a little while of bed slugging, did you wanna go out?"

"Aww, I'd love to Jack, where are you going to take me then?"

"I thought maybe... down to the jewellers?"

"...Wait... really!"

"Yeah really!"

"I'd love you!" She squealed hugging me tightly, "You mean it?"

"I do, I have plenty saved up to get you something lovely, and as you're off to bridge... I might even pop down the cat and bagpipes and see if I can worm my way into a few more pounds to get you a nice box for your ring too?"

"Well I can-"

"No. I told you. I'm paying for this I don't want you using your savings for us,"

"Fine, but I get you to buy our wedding rings,"

"That's a deal sugar," I cooed kissing her sweet lips, "So tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow, I can't wait." She smiled, "See you later,"

"Have fun,"

We shared another kiss before she headed off for her bridge game, I smirked and took my cash to get sorted for tomorrow.

I grabbed my pistol as I pulled my hood over my head watching the carriage get closer, I jumped out from the trees and forced the driver to pull over, then I forced open the door but I was taken back as I saw Captain Gains with guards all with their pistols on me,

"Shit-" I began trying to bolt but the guards rushed out and grabbed me disarming me and dragging me kicking and screaming at the Captain,

"Well, well, The shadow of port victory," he said as he pulled back my hood and cloth to see my face, "... not what I expected I admit. But your time of judgment has come young lady,"

"Fuck you!" I yelled,

"Take her away." He demanded,

I headed home with a wide smile my pockets heavy with cash after a good night at the cat and bagpipes almost doubling my money for tomorrow, I hid it away and headed upstairs expecting to see Y/n in bed already given how late I got back but... no. Hu... that's odd she's normally back by now? Maybe she got held up or something?

I got changed and got into bed wrapping myself up even if I did feel lonely without her here to cuddle, but I'm sure she'll be home soon.

I woke up very strangely mostly the alcohol I imagine sitting up in bed with a yawn, "Good Morning Sugar" I cooed as I stretched, but I looked over and saw the bed empty, "Y/n?" I asked, "Y/n?" I asked again but nothing I got up out of bed and wandered the small house checking every room and calling out to her but she wasn't here... where... where is she?

I sat angrily in a cell, I was so angry I was caught but I felt this horrible sadness in my stomach. Jack would wonder where I was, he would have no idea where I'd gone... it would probably break his heart, that we had planned to go out and buy our engagement ring and I suddenly ran off never to return, He'd think I left him. I wish I could just see him, just speak to him one more time to tell him how much I adore him... but I know I am going to the rope. I had tried asking for a doctor in the hope they'd send him but they always said they'd fetch Sneed and I didn't trust him to tell Jack, I wanted to ask for Jack to ask to see him but I was worried they would think he was involved with me and thus get him hung alongside me. Besides we were unmarried so I had no right to see him even if I begged to.

Soon enough Captain Gains came to me and stood outside my cell he began with the paperwork his pen scribbling along my papers,

"Any final confession?"

I spat in his face,

He wiped it away and glared at me before he called his guards, who opened the cell and forced me out, "A rainy day today, and as always we make sure to hang twice. Just to be sure." He smirked before they dragged me out.

I walked the rainy streets still looking for Y/n, I had been asking all over Port Victory but no one had seen her, I even checked at the hospital just in case something happened or if she'd gone there looking for me, I was so confused... why would Y/n just disappear like this? it's not like her, much less when we had such lovely plans. The thought... had crossed my mind that she might have... But she wouldn't! surely... surely she wouldn't. Even so, all her things were still at home, and her savings jar was still in the pantry. Nothing pointed to her leaving, so I was worried she had gotten hurt somehow. I heard a bunch of hangings going on but I didn't pay much attention still asking around the market if anyone had seen her, I found Charlie a young street boy who I'd saved his leg some months back, he was at the front watching the hangings.

"Hi, Charlie,"

"Hi doctor Dawkins," He nodded,

"You uhh you haven't happened to see Y/n have you?"

"Y/n? Your misses?"

"Yes, my misses," I chuckled,

"Isn't she up there?" he asked pointing to the gallows,

I looked up through the dark rainy clouds that gave the day a blue hue, on the wooden gallows I saw her... and my blood ran cold, she stood in her black dress, her Y/H/C hair a mess, her hands chained, and the noose around her neck. I was breathless and panicked, but before I could even open my mouth the floor dropped-

I couldn't look, I turned away unable to face watching that swan-like neck snap my eyes flooded with tears, I could barely face it but I looked up and saw her neck hadn't snapped, she was slowly struggling for breath.

But I wasn't going to let her die, I saw a guard so grabbed the bottle I keep on me at all times... just in case things go wrong, I doused a rag and sealed it over his nose and mouth forcing the pistol from his belt as he dropped to the floor, I lined it up and fired one shot breaking the rope she hung from causing the crowd to scream and panic. I bolted over and managed to catch her before she hit the ground,

"Hi sugar," I cooed,

"Hi Jack," She coughed as she got teary holding me tightly I gave her a tight squeeze back,

"Let's get out of here," I told her holding her hand and keeping the pistol as we bolted through the street together, "Why were they hanging you!"

"Long story!"

"Well now or never sugar!"

"Ughh well... you know those reports in town about a shadow highwayman?"

"what the stranger mugging coaches outside of town?"

"Yes."

"what about him?"

"I am him."

"... Ohh..."

"Yeah..."

"...Hu.... Well, if we are being honest, you know all the pickpocketing and thievery been going on?"

"yes?"

"yeah... me."

"Ohh... I was curious why you weren't concerned about that," She laughed,

"We are both criminals,"

"Hardly. you're a pickpocket, I'm a highway girl at most were... moral lacking,"

"They'll still hang us!"

"Good point," she laughed, "What's the plan?"

"Get home, get all the loot I've saved up. Hop on the next boat out of port victory."

"We can take mine too, get us stable and sorted," she nodded,

We quickly got home and immediately we packed up our things, the small trinkets we couldn't bare leave, some clothes and both of our stocks of loot all together we had more than another to get out of port victory, enough to find somewhere new and to start a new life happily.

We loaded ourselves up and we shared a sweet kiss,

"I love you so so much, Y/n,"

"I love you more Jack," She cooed "Let's get out of here,"

"Don't have to tell me twice," I smirked holding her hand as we quickly left before anyone could come after us giving her hand a good squeeze confident I was never letting her go again.

[turnwashingtonsbaddies]

Ngl some of Ben's "sexist" scenes are entirely valid.

I get secondhand embarrassment every time I watch the scene of Anna meeting Washington cause girl WHAT are you doing?? You don't just make commands of THE George Washington? On top of that, Ben tried his best to give her SOMETHING. He got her a whole ass cart and gave her a way to move and operate between the camp sides when everyone else had tents or less, and she didn't express any gratitude. You don't just roll up to an army encampment and demand better treatment or opportunity than even the soldiers girly pop 😟 All Georgie knows is that you hung up a petticoat, he's not gonna give you a job before other men who have literal army experience bffr

And don't even get me started on Mary who was risking her and Abe every five minutes for no damn reason, Ben had every right to get annoyed with her 🫢

I'm feeling a little controversial, so I'll outright say that Ben wasn't really sexist for the time period. (And if we go my historical accuracy, bro literally wrote a damn essay about letting women into colleges)

If anyone is sexist, it'd be Rodgers, who anytime he's on screen with a woman, he's threatening her or putting her in danger 💅

again i have resigned myself to be a neutral party this so.....

i'll throw this one to the audience

[honorhearted]

@morgansmornings cont. from (x)

The smell of blood and smoke laid heavily in the air, burning through Benjamin’s lungs as he narrowly avoided a volley of artillery fire. His horse nickered with displeasure, but otherwise kept galloping through the fray, leading him to safety while all around him, men clashed with sabers and musket-shot. Gritting his teeth, he encouraged his mount to ride faster.

No longer just a reverend’s son, Benjamin was continuously forced to drop his Bible in favor of a sword – to protect, to serve, to fight for the very friends and family he one day hoped to be reunited. Holding his saber aloft, he moved to charge toward an officer when he felt a strange rippling sensation.

Perplexed, he turned his head, but received a shock once the force of something – a fist? An improvised weapon? – smashed into his ribs and sent him hurtling from his saddle and onto the ground. Benjamin rolled and rolled, dizzy and discombobulated, before the force from striking his head against earth painted him out in a sea of black.

–

When he awoke again, the trees overhead were gone, and in their place were... Blinking rapidly, Benjamin opened and closed his eyes, attempting to make clear just what he was gazing upon. He was no longer outside -- had someone taken him indoors for m.edical treatment? Had they won? -- and feeling nauseous, he rolled over onto his knees, dizzy and swaying as he attempted to rise.

Toppling into the door on his left, he quickly tried jerking it open -- why wouldn't it budge? -- before someone spoke behind him. Crying out, Benjamin fumbled for his firelock, only to quickly stand down once he realized it was a woman. A very odd, very inappropriately dressed woman.

"Your petticoats," he choked, still feeling a touch ill. "I can see your...I-I see..." your figure.

The dizziness increased tenfold, and then the woman was muttering a bunch of nonsense. Tongue dry and sticking to the roof of his mouth, he accused, "Madam, by keeping me here, you are enacting a form of treason. If you release me now, I'm certain His Excellency will be willing to disregard your oversight."

Surely, she would be spared due to female ignorance?

Unfortunately, the woman seemed in no hurry to cooperate. “Now I have to ask," she treaded, "who are you?”

Benjamin bristled. "You i.mprison me in your strange home against my will, and yet you have the gall to demand answers?" Straightening, he reminded her, "I could very much ask you the same question, madam."

Patience, he tried to calm himself. No enemies were ever won over by bitterness and vitriol.

With this reminder as his primary incentive, he exhaled through his nose, then offered a stilted bow. "Major B.enjamin T.allmadge of the Second C.ontinental Light D.ragoons. At your service." Whether he wished it or not.

[xxstraymoonchildxx]

This Couple is Unusual

Prev. / Next

Chapter 2 This Couple, investigating

cw: bad humor, graphic description of a corpse in the second half

You didn’t know who looked more perplexed. Satan or the, admittedly handsome stranger with the pitch-back hair.  They still stared at each other, both bent down to touch the felines, it was almost comical. Slowly they stood up, both with a kitten in hand. Satan cleared his throat. The other person did the same. They eyed each other for a long moment, the felines meowing and tugging at their dress pants begging for attention. It reminded you of Mammon and Asmo.

“I did not expect to run into another person with a love for cats,” the stranger said while bowling politely with a practiced smile on his lips.

“Likewise. Well, there is much to appreciate about them obviously.”

You weren't sure but it looked like they were bonding telepathically. 

/Is this the beginning of a new romance?/

Whatever it was that was happening in this non-verbal dialogue, it was cut short quickly.

"Sebastian, what are you doing?!”

A small person a few feet away appeared out of nowhere, a scowl on his young face. He couldn't be much older than twelve or thirteen. It was obvious that he tried to appear more mature from his fashion choice - a top hat and high-heeled shoes and in his hand a walking cane like the other gentlemen walking around the area. 

He clicked his tongue, watching the cats with disdain. The blue shade and style of his hair reminded you of Belphegor’s and he had the youngest sibling-energy around him to match; now you couldn't unsee it (It would be funny if he had a twin). 

“Please excuse me, it was my pleasure, Sir. Farewell.”

“I apologize for the wait, young master.”

“Tch, let's hurry already.”

“That was weird. But they kinda remind me of some people I know,” you deadpanned, watching the duo with the interesting dynamic leave until they vanished between buildings. 

Satan checked into the hotel. Not that you weren’t capable of doing it yourself but you had to follow the customs in this era whether you liked it or not.

It did come with a bonus. Satan was in uncharacteristically high spirits from the moment you stepped into the hotel room together. Unbeknownst to you he was happy that he could spend this and the coming nights with you, in the same bed, without having to worry that one of his brothers would barge in, demanding time with you - and way too kind you, usually folding. 

You readied yourself for bed, longing to sink into the mattress from this exciting day but first you had to shower -  technically you’d have to do with a sponge bath but luckily you were a sorceress and had the right spells on hand to do the trick, courtesy of Asmodeus. Satan helped you with your dress, opening the back for you. The outer material pooled at your feet. “This dress sure has many layers,” you couldn't help but complain as you stepped over the striped dress, untying the padded bustle from around your hip, shaking off the thin petticoat and the corset cover. Satan watched you twiddling with the lacing of your corset while walking into the bathroom. He respectfully looked away, pulling out his nightwear, a dark blue pajama.

In the modest bathroom, you dropped the rest of your undergarments “Spirit of water and wind, I, the sorcerer y/n command thou to clean and dry my earthly vessel.” 

After everything was done, you changed into a simple tank top and a pair of satin shorts and handed the bathroom over to Satan, who joined you in bed fifteen minutes later. 

There the two of you lay, snuggled up together with you tucked under his arm and him with a book in hand for you to read.

Wasn't all this wonderfully domestic?

The next day 

Bold letters hung above the entrance door, spelling the word “Undertaker” and a skull on top of the sign.

You decided to visit him after getting an approval letter from Scotland Yard. The wine did wonders! Anyway, the funeral parlor looked very interesting from the outside! On the right two anthracite coffins and three sotoba - you had to ask Satan what those even were - were leaning against the brick wall. On the left were two tombstones and a flag leaning against one of them. The cobwebs were a nice detail, too. /Guess you need to stand out from the competition/

A little bell jingled when you stepped inside. It was dark and it took a moment for your eyes to adjust. The candle chandelier didn't do much to illuminate the place. Satan didn't have this problem, his bluish-green eyes observing the unfamiliar room.

Coffins were standing around, even the counter was a massive exemplar. Large shelves with various bottles and jars containing questionable items crosses on the wall, skulls, and a human skeleton in the back. The place had cobwebs inside and out and needed a good dusting. 

Not that he was any better with his room back in the House of Lamentation but at least it was squeaky clean.

“Hehehe”

The coffin on your left suddenly squeaked open. A set of dark long nails tapped the wood, pushing the lid to the side. 

“What a nice surprise, customers in the making!” the man said in a squeaky voice, giggling like a madman. An interesting entrance for sure. As unique as the person itself. A crooked top hat sat on top of long silver hair, the bangs hid his eyes, leaving only the lower part visible which displayed a wide, crazed smile and a prominent scar running from his cheeks up and over his nose. 

With swift steps he glided over the floor, stopping himself just right in front of Satan, leaning in. “What brings you to me, care for a test lay in one of my first-rate coffins? We have a pair, brand new~ Care for a fitting?” Irritation oozed from the blond, so you decided to step in. “Excuse us, Mister...eh” His head snapped towards you, still grinning “Undertaker~”

“Yeah, I can see that?”

“Hehe, no, that's my name,” he slyly boobed your nose with his long index finger or rather his nail. Asmo would love to paint them. 

“Oh, like a pseudonym for an artist. Noted.”

Undertaker twirled around, the long black coat fluttered along with his movement and the mourning lockets around his waist clicked together. “Artist! Oh my, how flattering! It sure is, preparing my guests for their most important day.”

“So?” the funeral director drawled out, propping himself up against the counter and crossing his legs. (You noticed the slight shift in his demeanor, planting the thought inside your head that he looked kind of cool when he didn’t act like a weirdo). Satan cleared his throat “My name is Holmes and this is my wife. We are journalists from America and have permission to write about the Whitechapel murders in all their detail. We were informed you are in charge to autopsied the victims”

His wife. You blushed. 

You did talk about playing a married couple while undercover but hearing the term from his mouth and addressing you made your head all fuzzy while Satan felt pride swelling in his chest that rivaled Lucifer's. 

Undertaker hummed like he already knew about you. “It will cost you,” he grinned.

“How much?” Satan was ready to pick out his wallet but Undertaker beat him to it. In the blink of an eye, he dashed forward, halting close to Satan’s face. “I don’t desire the queen’s coins. What I want is…” 

A dramatic pause.

“...a Joke. Make me laugh~”

/This human is unreal-/ Satan’s left eye twitched. 

“Well, they do say ‘A kingdom for a joke’” you chirped in while Satan gave you a side eye. Undertaker giggled excitedly, plopping down on one of the coffins. You raised your hand as if in class. “Let me try!”

You took a moment to ponder over your options, searching for a joke that wasn’t too modern. 

“A man and his son are driving past a graveyard. Suddenly the son leans forward asking “Do they ever bury two people in the same grave?”

Surprised the father said “Of course not! Why ask such a question?” His son replied “Well, I read a gravestone that said “Here lies a lawyer and an honest man”

Silence. Satan sweatdropped. 

You were worried for a moment, thinking /Maybe I should have told the orphan/ graveyard joke/

“BWAHAHAHA”

To your surprise, the silver-haired director threw his body back, maniacal laughter blasting through the building. He held his belly, kicking his feet like a child. He laughed for two minutes straight, without taking a breather until he finally calmed down, sitting himself up properly and rubbing his eyes with the long sleeves of his coat. 

“Wonderful,” he quaked “Consider the payment done. My newest guest just arrived today and I was about to start the autopsy before you came in” 

Undertaker hopped down from his coffin and with the movement of his finger, he ordered you silently to follow him down the stairs.  

A disgusting smell of blood, disinfectants, and death hung in the cold air and instantly hit your nose. It smelled disgusting and you were glad you skipped breakfast this morning. Satan was less affected, the lucky demon! The reason for the stink was lying on two metal tables each, partly covered by an old linen cloth. Elizabeth Stride and Catherine Eddowes were the recent victims of Jack the Ripper as the silver-haired man informed the two of you. 

“I must warn you, this is not for the faint heart” Undertaker warned but nevertheless guided you towards Eddowes, carefully petting her hair peaking out from under the fabric “This one was not as lucky as her friend over there” 

“How so?” Satan asked, confused as both women were dead after all. 

With a knowing smile, Undertaker pulled away the cloth over Catherine's body, showing you all the gruesome work of her murderer. Thank whatever deity that you skipped the breakfast. The intestines had been stuffed back messily into her body, perhaps for the transportation of the corpse, and her throat had been slashed open. Her eyes were wide open from horror, having faced the killer just upon her death and mutilated nearly into unrecognition. 

“The killer slashed both victim's throats first, but this one was mangled much worse,” Undertaker explained, amused by your ever-changing facial reactions to the unsightly sight. “The killer was perhaps disturbed and searched for the next victim, finishing their work on dear Catherine here~ She was found with her intestines hanged over her shoulder, so they could reach for something else” He pointed towards her uterus, or rather where it should have been “My guest isn’t a whole woman anymore to add to the insult of dying in their own puddle of blood. The left kidney is missing as well, a minor detail but might be important as well.”     

/This is disgusting af/ you tried to stop breathing the foul odor in, holding a tissue to your nose. How Satan, who was deep in thought, was able to handle it was beyond you. “The kidney taken could mean the killer was involved with organ trafficking but the uterus? Very unusual…” He said it more to himself than anyone. “But the unsub very likely has experience in the medical field. They must be right-handed judging by their slashing movement”

“You refer to the killer as ‘they’, Mr. Undertaker,” you chimed in “The Yard and the public usually address Jack the Ripper with a male pronoun. Do you think the culprit could be a woman?”

The mortician hummed “That is a possibility yes, although they prefer poison, well, judging by my usual patronage.” 

“Nevertheless, the unsub most likely has personal feelings towards prostitutes in general. The victims have done something to anger the killer, the uterus and kidney are most likely some sort of trophy, usual for serial killers. As you said, the uterus is exclusively female and the kidney has significance in several cultures. In Egypt, for example, they were left in mummies because they connected the kidney with judgment and moral decisions. In Hebrew, it was understood as the seat of emotion together with the heart and bowl. And during medieval times they were regarded as the seat of our conscience. Fascinating.”

/Satan - Google, who?/

Undertaker regarded the blond with a cheeky smile “You sure are a smart one, Mr. Holmes. Interesting deduction.” 

You beamed, proud of your husband. If Undertaker looked closely, he could see the hearts floating above your head. 

“We thank you for your time, Mr. Undertaker” You curtsied politely, glad you finally left the mortuary, which bad smell hopefully didn’t stick onto your clothes and hair. “It was my pleasure. I hope you’ll tell me another joke one day.”

Satan deadpanned (He loved you, but those dad jokes…)

“Oh, I have one for free. Wanna hear?”

“What do you call it when an orphan visits a graveyard?” 

“Oh, please tell me~”

“A family reunion” 

Silence. 

/Too offensive?/

A chime of a little bell forced all of your attention to the entrance door. The young boy from the day before stepped inside forcefully, the man dressed in black from head to toe by his side. “Are you here, Undertaker!?”

You were not sure that the funeral director started to roar with laughter just because of your joke.

What an unusual man, that Undertaker.

Sorry for the long wait. Hope you like it.

[alwaysonthemend]

Part III: Three Sheets to the Wind

Word Count: 4506

Warnings: Violence / talk of prostitution / vivid descriptions of death and injury / threat of sexual assault (sexual assault does not happen - if you would like more information before reading, please feel free to send me a message and I will be more than happy to explain further), / talk of unrequited love.

I think that is all but if I am missing something please tell me.

18+ only. Minors DNI

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨:

Voices wafting through the wooden panels of the door draws me back into consciousness. The rocking of the Starcatcher had lulled me to sleep in my exhausted state, but now the constant to and fro makes my stomach roil with nausea. I keep my eyes closed against the hot, acidic waves in my belly.

“Miss Y/n?” 

It’s Daniel’s voice on the other side of the door and I sit up, doing my best to smooth over my hair as much as I can. It’s a lost cause. 

“Yes?” I call, voice cracking with sleep. 

“I have breakfast for you, miss.” 

“Come in.” 

Daniel’s broad frame comes into view as he opens the door, a tray of food balanced precariously in one hand. In the other he has clothes folded across his arm. 

“The Captain sent these clothes for you.” He says kindly, placing the tray of food in the bed next to me and holding up the garments. The blouse he holds up is white, along with a pair of brown trousers that look to be my size. 

Sitting up, I furrow my brows in confusion. 

“These are women’s clothes. Where did the Captain get women’s clothes?” 

Daniel only smiles tersely at me. 

“Belonged to a friend.” He answers, laying the garments across the foot of the bed. “We’ll be hitting land soon and the Captain has requested that you stay on board for the duration of our visit.”

Rising to sit up fully, I appraise Daniel with a raised brow. 

“I assume that is a demand and not a request?”

“Aye.” He nods once and begins making his way back to the door. “I’ll leave you to it, miss. Won’t be long before we’re ashore. We shouldn’t be staying long.” 

“Thank you, Daniel.” 

– 

Breakfast had been nothing but strips of salted beef and grapes but I had scarfed it down quickly – finding myself still shockingly ravenous despite my earlier nausea and the food had done well to settle my stomach.

Daniel had not been lying when he said that we would be landing ashore quickly, as no sooner had he left the room, the whole ship had rocked and lurched as she was anchored to land. I’d listened intently to the sound of the men moving about on the deck above, their heavy boots pounding against the wood and making the whole room shake. 

After I’d finished eating, I puttered about below deck for a while, trying my best to familiarise myself with the ship. Though, after noting that an hour had passed since last I’d heard movement, I quickly grew restless. Daniel had said that they wouldn’t be long on shore, but time was inching along slow as molasses. 

Deciding that the Captain had no right to order me about like the rest of his crew, I changed into the clothes he’d provided for me and slipped up the stairs. I climbed back out onto the deck and squinted as the light of the sun hit my eyes. Judging by its positioning, it must be just an hour past midday. 

– 

As soon as my feet touched the ground, my senses were assaulted by a foul smell. It wasn’t overly pungent, but rather seemed to be leaching from the very ground itself – stale and unavoidable as I made my way across the dock. 

The streets in front of me were crowded – bustling and busy as men in all sorts of dress made their ways to and fro. Some were dressed in Navy petticoats with feathered hats and leather shoes. Others were dressed in clothes hardly worthy of being called such – stained and ripped and hanging off their sinewy frames. The ramshackle buildings that lined the streets were all wooden, each looking as if it had been thrown together as an afterthought. Not a single structure looked as if it had been planned; only haphazardly thrown together at the last second. As I eyed the chaos in front of me, the name of this place struck me like a ton of stones. 

This is Nassau. 

Nassau. The place where Benjamin Hornigold had managed to establish a safe haven for pirates from all across the seas. I’d heard mutterings of it from fisherman back in Easthallow who had been unfortunate enough to cross paths with those seafarers who consider themselves a part of this God-forsaken pirate republic. Though a “republic” is a kind term for this place. No real official dealings took place here – only pissing contests between men like Hornigold who happened to have garnered enough prestige amongst these heathens to be able to call himself their leader. This island is no place for a woman – least of all on her own, but no sooner had the realisation of where I was hit me, a man was already approaching me with a determined stride. 

He’s tall – broad shouldered and his long black hair lays matted across his shoulders. His skin is tan. So tan, in fact, that his skin looks more like leather. His clothes are not so tattered as some of the others that I had seen, but they were still a far cry from the Naval petticoats that others were wearing. I cannot help but to take a step backwards, ducking my head and shrinking away from his imposing figure. 

“How much?” The man asks as he steps in close to me, his hot breath carrying with it a foul smell as he speaks. 

“I beg your pardon?” His question took me off guard. 

“I asked how much?” He repeats, tone already bleeding with impatience. 

I stare at him for a moment, brain working overtime trying to figure out what he means. Though, as soon as I do, I wish that I hadn’t. As I glance around, I see no women populating the busy streets. No doubt, the only women who come to a place like this only come for one reason: money. Money gotten by selling their bodies – a last ditch effort to keep themselves alive and fed in the only way that they can. And this man thinks that I am one of them.

Deciding that there is no way that this man will believe me if I tell him that I am here on business (though not of my own), I instead just shake my head at him. 

“I’m.. I’m not working at the moment, sir.” I manage to stutter out, taking yet another step away from him. 

“Not working?” His thick eyebrows raise and disbelief and I worry for a moment that he’s going to become angry. Instead, he merely shrugs his broad shoulders before shuffling away in the opposite direction. 

I release a breath, my own shoulders untensing as he takes his leave and relief floods through me. That could have gone south quickly and there would have been nothing I could have done to stop it. 

Brushing my sweaty palms across my thighs, I scan the bustling streets in search of a familiar face. Daniel, preferably, but anyone would do at this point. Seeing no one that I know, my eyes land upon a tavern across the road. I scan my eyes side to side one last time before darting across the road, doing my best to avoid the puddles of water and mud. 

– 

The tavern is dimly lit – the windows completely covered by the shutters. I scan the crowd, taking note of each man inside. There are a few slumped over at the bar, eyes half-lidded and chins glistening with rum. Some sit tucked away in shaded corners, hunched over the tables and whispering amongst themselves. 

The room reeks of alcohol and sweat and the back of my neck prickles with unease. Coming here was definitely not one of the wiser choices that I have made. 

Though truthfully, I cannot help the awe that fills me – a bit reminiscent of child-like wonder at the sight of Nassau. Growing up. I had heard from countless sailors about the dreaded pirate republic tucked away in the Bahamas and always the idea had intrigued me. A place where men do as they please – free to go and do as they wish. A place where even freed slaves might find a place as part of a pirate crew. And here I am, seeing it for with my own eyes. If only my younger self could have known.

Scanning the crowd, I still find no faces that I recognize and figure that I should most likely take my leave of this place before things go awry. But, as if the universe can read my thoughts and is intent on making things more difficult, just as I turn to leave a man locks eyes with me. He’s incredibly tall, with long black hair and a thick beard on his face. He stands as he spots me, taking large strides in my direction and the thud of his boots on the floor are like a countdown to my own doom. 

Sensing his intentions, I dart back out the door, rounding the corner blindly in an effort to lose him. It’s a cramped alley, smelling of shit and rotten food. I press myself against the wall, praying that the man will not follow. 

My prayers are not answered as he rounds the corner as well, his eyes locking onto me almost immediately. 

Dear God, his eyes. Dark, wild looking. They practically glitter as they rake up and down my form. 

I swallow around the lump in my throat, my hands beginning to shake slightly. 

“This be no place for a girl like you t'be alone.” He mutters, stepping closer and using his body to block me from going anywhere. Behind me there is nothing but a cobblestone wall – too high for me to climb. He’s got me caged. 

“I- I’m here with someone.” I tell him, mustering up as much courage as I can to meet his gaze. 

He glances around, comically searching for a moment before glaring back at me. 

“Don’t see any'ne but us, lass.” 

“He’s a captain.” I manage to say meekly as he begins to step even closer. There is some hopeless little part of me that thinks maybe he’ll leave me alone knowing that I am here with a captain of a ship. 

He doesn’t stop until he’s standing just a foot away from me. His smell is rank – body odour and rum. It makes me want to hold my breath. 

“I am too.” He says, tilting his head and grinning lewdly. “I don’t see him nowhere near, though. Jus' you an' me, it would seem.” 

He leans his head downwards and I turn my head to the side, closing my eyes and pressing myself into the wall as much as I can. His lips hover just above the skin of my cheek. 

“What say we pass the time a bit… until your Captain comes back?” He murmurs, his rough hand coming up to grip my arm tightly.

I try to yank free but he’s far too strong for me to overpower. I feel helpless – like a caged animal. He is large – far larger than me. And the cutlass on his hip means that I truly cannot hope to fight him off. 

“Please let me go.” I plead, heart thumping madly in my chest. I know how this ends. 

“Make me.” His other hand comes up and grips my jaw, forcing me to face him. His eyes dart down to my lips and my stomach roils. 

“Help!” I scream and immediately his calloused hand presses over my mouth, muffling any sound. 

“Shut it.” He says through clenched teeth, pressing his body into mine. I can feel him – hard and hot against my stomach and I whimper past the hand over my mouth. 

“She said stop.” 

Both of our heads whip to the side to see Jacob, his dark eyes glaring menacingly at the man in front of me. He’s got his hand on the handle of his cutlass, ready to draw it at any moment. 

“Is this your Captain, lass?” The man mocks, looking Jacob up and down. 

This man is far larger than Jacob – taller and broader. As thankful as I am for him coming to my rescue, I fear that he is outmatched. This man is nearly twice his size. 

“I am.” He nods, before pointing at me. “And she’s mine. So I ask you to please step away from her. I don’t want to hurt you.” Jacob says, voice eerily calm. His face is passive – no emotions. 

The man laughs loudly, tossing his head back as he does so. He steps away from me and shoves, sending me crashing to the ground gracelessly. 

“I’d like to see you try, boy.” He says, drawing his own cutlass and pointing it at Jacob. 

Jacob doesn’t move – his hand still lays still on the handle of his cutlass. He doesn’t draw. Instead, he waits. Dark eyes watching like a lion watching its prey. I can do nothing but sit there as the man walks towards him, slowly closing the distance between Jacob and his sharp blade. 

I wait with baited breath – desperately wishing that I could do something but seeing nothing near that I can arm myself with. 

With a gruff cry, the man lunges – his blade cutting through the air with wicked speed and I watch in horror thinking that it will slice through Jacob. 

Instead, Jacob only side steps, just barely avoiding the blow and moving his body to the side. The man – having thrown his entire body into the cut, stumbles forward and loses his balance. In the blink of an eye, Jacob’s cutlass is drawn and the sharp blade presses into the man’s neck. He freezes, half kneeling on the ground and glaring up at the Captain. 

“Are you hurt?" Jacob asks, his gaze softening ever so slightly as he glances at me.

I stand with a wince and shake my head 'no' as I make my way slowly to Jacob’s side. His eyes sweep up and down my body, looking for injuries. When he finds none, he jerks his head towards the road. 

Understanding his silent command, I step past the two of them – keeping my eyes trained on the man, and move past them out of the alleyway. 

Jacob moves to follow me, keeping his blade pointed at the pirate on the ground.  

“Don’t touch what isn't yours.” He says darkly, before turning his back and lowering his blade. 

Though I know he’s only making a point and that he is by no means calling me his, heat still rises to my face. Though out of necessity, he’d defended me; saved me from what would have been a horrific and vile experience. All at the risk of himself. I cannot help but to feel a warmth in my belly.

I turn to Jacob, intent on giving him my thanks but instead I gasp as I see the man lunge forward. 

“Jacob!” I call, but it’s too late. 

His blade slices through Jacob’s forearm causing his cutlass to clatter to the ground. Jacob groans and his other hand grabs the wound, red seeping through his fingers in a worrying gush. He stumbles backwards and the pirate lunges– shoving him with all his might. Jacob grabs him by the lapels and pulls, effectively bringing both men crashing to the grown. The breath leaves Jacob’s lungs in a huff as the man falls on top of him, but still he immediately begins to grapple with him for his blade. 

On sheer impulse and adrenaline alone, I stoop downwards and wrap my hands around the handle of Jacob’s cutlass. With a cry of my own, I shove the man off Jacob and he falls to the side with a growl. I point the blade down at him but my will falters.

Jacob is up and off the ground in a flash and rips the cutlass from my grip and plunges the blade into the man’s stomach before he has a chance to take advantage of my hesitation. He cries out, a sick, wet sound coming from between his lips. Blood spills down his chin and he collapses backwards as Jacob pulls the blade out. He seems to struggle for a moment, a grotesque rattling sound coming from his chest before he stills, one last exhale coming from his nose as the life leaves him. 

I stand there, the adrenaline finally leaving and in its place, ice cold dread. Jacob is breathing heavily as he wipes his blade on his coat before sheathing it again. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He demands, whirling around to face me, his face twisted in anger. “I told you to stay on the fucking ship!” 

I can make no argument. He is right. He told me to stay and I had disobeyed, and now a man lays dead at our feet. A horrible one, surely. But still a needless battle with bloodshed that could have been avoidable. 

“I am sorry.” I whisper, eyes flooding with tears that I refuse to let fall. 

“You should be.” He grabs my arm, fingers digging into the place where the man had done the same just moments before and a wince slips past my lips. Jacob’s grip softens, and his eyes flash with something before the mask falls back in place. “The men are already back on the ship. We got back and I found you to be gone.” 

I nod, feeling shame wash over me. If I had just waited for a while longer, none of this would have happened. 

– 

The trek back to the Starcatcher had been completely silent. Not a word was spoken as we boarded, nor even when all the eyes of his crewmates swept to us as we came onto the deck. Their eyes were filled with countless questions – especially Joshua’s as his eyes finally landed on Jacob’s bloodied arm. 

“What the fuck happened?” He demands, eyes turning to me with an accusatory blaze. 

I expect Jacob to tell them everything of my foolishness – to make a mockery of me for defying orders. Instead, he only shakes his head and waves a dismissive hand in Joshua’s direction. 

“All is settled now.” He says placatingingly, tucking his injured arm behind his back. “But we should leave.” His voice pitches lower, turning just a tad more serious. “Quickly.” 

His men had taken the hint, and the ship is quickly put into motion. 

Guiltily, I turn to the Captain, my eyes cast downwards to his feet. I cannot bear to meet his eyes.

“May I help?” I ask him quietly, aching at the knowledge that he'd gotten hurt in defense of me.

His eyes sweep to mine questioningly.

“Your wound.” I clarify, nodding my head to the arm he holds behind his back. “Please.” 

– 

By some miracle, he relents and follows me back down to his quarters. He sits before me at the foot of his bed, shoulders weary and eyes tired

It’s silent between us as I make my way to the lantern and light it – casting the room in a warm glow. He watches me as I grab my pack and pull from it a linen blouse that I had grabbed the night we left. 

I rip the fabric, causing Jacob’s eyes to widen subtly as I tear a long strip. 

“Do you have any alcohol in here?” I ask him, wadding up the rest of the shirt in my hand. 

“Under the bed.” 

I stoop downwards and sure enough, a bottle of rum sits waiting. I grab it and make my way over to him, crouching down on my knees at his feet. He’s got his left hand clutched over his right, his knuckles white. His face does not show it, but the wound must be hurting him. 

“Here.” I gently pry his fingers away and dip a corner of the ripped shirt into the rum.

The cut is not too deep - but it is long. It runs from the crook of his elbow all the way down to his wrist. Blood oozes from it lazily and there is no doubt in my mind that most people would be crying out from the pain.

I press the rum-soaked fabric to the wound and he hisses through his teeth, yet still says not a word. His body is tense, rigid as stone. He’s shed his coat and belt, leaving him in nothing but a pair of black pants and a white shirt. His sleeves - one of them stained red, are rolled up. He looks so much less imposing without his coat and cutlass and it feels almost sinful to see him so… exposed. 

As I carefully clean the wound, I cannot help but to let my eyes roam the exposed skin. His forearms are thick, riddled with old scars and his skin is tanned and weathered. His hands, rough with callouses, lay limply on his knees. The veins on them stand out clearly - a testament to the strength of them. It takes everything in me not to stare.

He hisses again as I pull the now red cloth away from him. 

“Captain,” I say softly.

He glances downwards at me, lips pressed together. I cannot read his face. 

“I am sorry. For disobeying your orders.” My eyes fall, unable to meet his piercing stare. “And for causing your injury.” 

He is silent, and I think at first that he is not going to answer. But finally, his voice – soft in a way that I have not heard before, breaks the silence. 

“All is forgiven.” 

My eyes snap to his, shocked at his tone. I had been expecting further reprimand. Perhaps even to be yelled at again. But instead, his voice remains quiet and smooth. Though he does not look at me as he continues to speak, I sense no anger in his words.

“I am upset with you for disobeying. I told you to stay here for your safety." He begins, brown eyes swirling with what I can only describe as worry. He had been worried for me. The thought is somehow comforting. "But you are not the cause of my injury. That man was.”

I only nod as I grab the strip of linen that I had ripped from my blouse and wrap it tightly around his forearm. I am grateful for his words, yet still... shame courses through me. 

“Y/n.” He says, drawing my focus back to him. It is the first time that I have heard him say my name in such a manner. I think that I could listen to him utter it for eternity. “What that man did… what he tried to do, that is not your fault. Yes, you chose to leave the ship. But it was him who attempted to do something so vile. That is no fault of yours.” 

His words ease the black ball of guilt and shame that had lodged itself in my sternum, melting it away to nothing but gratitude. His kindness – rare as it may be, makes my heart race and my cheeks warm. 

“Thank you, Captain.” I murmur, tying a knot in the fabric. “I’m afraid that this is the best that I can do.” I tell him, rising from my knees to put the bottle of rum back in its hiding place beneath the bed. 

Jacob rises too, flexing his hand and testing the bandage. 

“It is far more than I am usually afforded.” He says, lips tilting upwards at the corners in a barely-there smile. 

I wish suddenly that I could see a real smile on his face… one that reaches his eyes. I imagine it must be a beautiful thing. And as much as I want to push the thought away, this new, kinder side of him makes it impossible. So I covet the feeling, burying it away deep in my heart and storing it there to dissect later.

“Thank you for saving me. And thank you for letting me sleep here.” I nod my head towards his bed. “If ever you would rather me sleep somewhere else, just ask. Your hospitality is appreciated, though unnecessary. It is your bed, after all.”

“I don’t mind.” He says, watching me as I stand before him. “I prefer not to sleep in here, anyway.” 

“Why?” The question slips past me before I can think better of it and I tense, expecting his walls to go back up as they always seem to do when I ask questions. 

Instead of growing angry, he only shakes his head. 

“A story for another day.”

I nod, letting silence fall. As I turn my head away from him, my eyes land on the painting on his desk. They must linger there for a moment too long, as when I look back at him, his face has fallen slightly. Instead of anger, there lies only weariness. 

“I know that I have not told you anything. And please know that I am thankful for you agreeing to help me as you have.” He starts, his own eyes downcast. “But there are some things that I would just rather not speak about. Not just to you, but to anyone.” 

“I understand.” I tell him, and I am shocked to find myself truthful. As much as I ache to know the meaning behind his quest, as much as the secrets had angered me at first, I sense now that this is not something that he is yet capable of talking about. Perhaps in time it may change. But for now, I must be content in knowing nothing. 

“Thank you.” He says, bowing his head once before turning to leave. “Dinner will be sent down to you soon.” 

He steps through the threshold and then stops and I wait with bated breath. Without turning back to face me, his head turned down to the floor, he speaks ever-so quietly. 

“She is my wife. And I am trying to bring her home.” 

With that, he’s gone. 

I collapse numbly to the bed, my thoughts running rampant with possibilities. I look back to the painting, the woman’s dark eyes staring back into my own. 

His wife. 

There is no doubt in my mind now that whatever this quest may be… it means far more to him than I could ever understand. The sadness that he carries, the anger that is always there – just barely simmering below the surface, suddenly makes sense. 

He is hurting. Suffering. He lashes out like a wounded animal.

And somehow my fate has been entwined with his to help him find this woman again – wherever she may be. Whoever she may be.

As I sit, the feeling that has been brewing deep within me since the moment I met him finally comes to the surface. It is not love – not yet. But I know myself well enough to feel certain that it will become it.

There is something about him… an aura that surrounds him that seeks to pull me in. And as much as I hate the feeling, as much as I hate myself for falling for a man like him (and under such circumstances), I know in my heart that I will stop at nothing to help him find this woman whom he loves. 

It’s a scary thing – to care for someone enough to aid them in their search for happiness that does not live with you. It aches in the way old wounds do – a dull throb that is almost constant. But I cannot stop myself. I will help him find her. Whatever the cost. 

There is a knock on the door. Dinner, surely. But I do not rise to get it. I am not hungry. Instead, I lie down on top of the covers, feeling as though I have suddenly aged one hundred years. My eyes catch the painting – her dark eyes seemingly staring into my very soul. I roll over. 

:¨·.·¨:☾☆༺ 𓆩⚔︎𓆪 ༻☆☽:¨·.·¨

Part IV

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