#there is “recommended reading” in the back instead

[cumikering]

Alex Keller x tatted reader

3.6k | smut, deepthroat Alex discovers your piercings

Slow Saturdays were rare for Alex, especially ones when he had the energy to be out and about. That sunny evening, he’d decided on a cup of coffee, one from the charming cafe with the second-hand bookstore attached to it near his place.

Despite the café being almost empty, the barista apologised in advance for the delay of his drink as they were backed up by a massive takeaway order. As he waited, Alex headed to the atrium where the books were. If he was lucky, he’d find a read to accompany his coffee.

In the history section, there you were in a flowing summer dress, brows furrowed in concentration. His steps faltered as he neared, and pretty eyes looked up to him from the book you held.

“Scuse me,” he muttered.

You gave him a polite smile and turned to the shelf to allow him space.

He squeezed behind you, and it was a pleasant surprise to discover that your dress was backless, showing off the sword tattoo down your spine.

A fan of body art, like he was.

How bad was it that he turned to catch another glimpse? Instead, he was gifted with another sight. The bodice of your dress hugged your figure, emphasising the way your hips jutted out as you leaned against the shelf.

He wanted to know your name. It was a sudden thought, and ill-mannered, but it was only natural to want to put a name to such an attractive woman, no?

Was he allowed start a conversation? The focus on your face certainly wasn’t encouraging, and he wasn’t that kind of person, but he could say something. Maybe something about the title you were holding – that was a safe conversation starter, right?

He bargained with himself for a few seconds before bottling up his wish. He minded his own business by browsing the section as he’d intended.

“Hey,” you called, making him turn to you.

Fuck, she knows, she knows.

You smiled kindly at him. “Sorry to bother, but do you mind if I ask for recs?”

He cleared his throat, closing the book in hand. “Sure, I’d be happy to help if I can.”

“I’m looking for a gift for a friend. She just got into history, and I figured you’d know better than me.” You laughed, nodding at the hardcover he was skimming through. “Could you recommend something?”

“Of course.” He smiled, noting how pleasant your laughter was. “So something a little light…” He leaned in to scan the spines of the books. “Is there anything specific she’s interested in?”

“Nope, she said to surprise her with anything from this shop. It’s her favourite.”

He laughed. “It is my favourite too. They make good coffee.”

“So I heard.”

After scanning the rest of the section, he picked out two titles. “I’ve read these, and I can recommend them. This is more economic history-“ he lifted the one in his right hand then his left- “and this is more environmental.”

You pointed at the second one. “That sounds good. I think she’d like it.”

“This one it is.” He handed you the book, putting the other back.

“Thanks so much for your help. I would have been stuck here for a while otherwise.”

He turned to you, the way you smiled up at him took the words out of his mouth. With the proximity, it wasn’t weird he noticed how good you smelt, right?

“Americano for Alex,” the female barista called.

You glanced at her at the counter. “Is that you? Sorry for taking up your time. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Don’t worry about it, was just killing time.” He paused before blurting, “Can I buy you a coffee?”

You tilted your head, your smile turned teasing. “What if I feel like tea?”

“Anything you want.”

“Pick something for me.”

While you paid for your book, he placed your order before leading you to his favourite table in the corner of the shop.

You nodded at his forearm as he stirred his iced coffee. “I like your sleeves.”

“Thank you. These are really old, from all over the place.” He chuckled scanning his inked arms, thinking of the random shops he’d visited out of the boredom from being deployed in a quiet area too long.

“You’ve got more?”

“On my back, yeah.” I don’t mind showing you. “Yours is very nice too.”

You smiled. “What about piercings, are you-“

The waitress placed your matcha latte on the table. You lit up, thanking her before turning to the forest green drink.

“It’s so pretty! Thanks again, Alex,” you said before having a try. “Oh, that’s really good. It’s bright, but earthy, a little bitter. Reminds me a bit of chocolate actually.”

“I like their matcha too, but felt more like coffee today.”

You took another sip with great delight before scrunching your face. “Just had a brain freeze,” you said with a small laugh. “It’s really good, but really cold too.”

“Happens to me too.” He smiled, admiring you. He shouldn’t want to look at you so much, but you were beautiful with your expressive eyes and teasing smiles that he couldn’t help it. “You were asking about piercings?“

His gaze lowered to his glass as he took a sip. Instead, he choked on his coffee. He barely managed to mask it as a cough as he almost had a heart attack.

Under your dress, your nipples had hardened. He shouldn’t have been surprised you were braless in the attire, but it wasn’t that – the barbells on either side of your nubs were visible against the fabric.

Alex was going to pass out. If he wasn’t sitting, he’d have collapsed.

He certainly didn’t have to ask about your stance on piercings.

His blue eyes darted away, unsure where to avert his gaze. His throat felt dry as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“Sorry, I’m alright now.” You smiled, seemingly none the wiser about what he’d just experienced. “Oh, I wanted to ask, how did you get into history?”

“Right-“ he swallowed, blinking away the daze. “It was my bunkmate, he was a history buff.”

“Bunkmate?”

“Yeah, in bootcamp, army. Didn’t have much to do and read his books. Been hooked ever since.”

“You’re still in the army?”

“Moved to another unit, but yeah, still in the military. What about you, what do you read?”

Listening to you made him smile, but his loose white shirt only grew heavier, like it was sticking to his skin. The room seemed to have turned blistering hot.

Your puckered lips were dangerous as you sipped your drink. It was an innocent act, but it brought his mind into dark pits.

It was embarrassing – it wasn’t like he had never seen a woman before, so why was he acting this way? But the discomfort in his jeans only increased. Would he get the chance to readjust inconspicuously under this tiny table? Okay, maybe if he just moved his foot-

“Ow,” you winced when he stepped on your toes.

“Fuck- I’m so sorry.”

You stooped down to inspect your foot, but it only revealed your cleavage. It took another second before he remembered to cross his legs, an attempt to hide the state of him. He couldn’t risk you thinking he was some weirdo.

“Are you okay?” He glanced at your feet, clad in strappy sandals. “I’m really sorry.”

You straightened up, telling him you were fine with a reassuring smile. As the talk continued, Alex managed to diffuse his situation. You were funny, inquisitive as you discussed his interests, like you genuinely cared what he was into. It didn’t feel like a one-sided conversation and he didn’t want it to end.

His glass had long gone empty, but he didn’t realise how long you’d been there until you sipped the last of your latte.

He should offer you another one. Did it make him a degenerate, how much he liked the effect it had on you? But you liked it so much - how could he not want to see such a pretty smile on your face?

“Can I get you something else?”

“Thanks so much, but I don’t want to be too full for dinner.”

“We can get something to eat if you want. I drove, so we can go anywhere.”

Was he being too obvious? He certainly didn’t want to be pushy, but he wasn’t the only one feeling it, was he? At least, he was allowed to try his luck, right?

You agreed on a nearby restaurant, something a walking distance. When you stepped out onto the pavement, he turned to you.

“I don’t mean to be too forward, but may I ask for your num-“

“How come you haven’t kissed me yet?” you dared with a smile.

He laughed, looking away. You didn’t have to call him out like that. He could only wish the embarrassment didn’t manifest into a blush.

“Didn’t want to be rude,” he muttered, a hand on your waist as he stepped in.

You fisted his shirt, pulling him close, lips crashing against his.

In the hour he’d had the pleasure to sit in front of you, he’d imagined what you’d taste like: how soft and sweet you’d be. As he’d discovered, you were all that and more. But oh, how did you know he’d wanted to? Was he that easy to read?

You pulled away, a little breathless wearing an amused smile. What were you doing, fucking him with your eyes like that? Were you trying to kill him?

Your eyes flicked to his lips, hand sliding down his chest. “Would it be okay if we postpone dinner?”

The drive to yours wasn’t long, but the way your hand massaged his thigh made it feel much longer.

You led him by the hand to yours, your smile – a mix of assertiveness and youthful bounce – made his heart race. He didn’t know what it was about you, if it was your bold eyes or your energy, but it stirred something in him from the very start. You knew what you wanted, and it would be his pleasure to give whatever it was to you.

He couldn’t keep his hands off you anymore. As soon as you shut the door, he pushed you against it, lips meeting yours. He gripped your waist, massaging it as he committed your shape into memory. You pulled him in by his belt loop, your other hand tracing the bulge forming in his jeans before resting your hand on the base of his neck.

The friction against his cock was delicious, and you must have thought so too with the way you rolled your hips against him. He traced up your side, ghosting over the side of your breast. The image of your nubs sent a tingle down his spine.

You arching your back towards him was his green light. His thumb swiped over your nipple, already hard again. He palmed you, kneading your breast as his lips trailed down the side of your neck. You let out a breathless moan when he playfully bit down on your shoulder as he pinched a nipple.

He took his time planting kisses across your collarbones, admiring your skin, basking in your scent before licking the cuff of your ear, making you shiver. You slipped off the straps of your dress, revealing your perfect tits, nipples taut and ready for him.

He kissed down your sternum and around your areola before licking a wide strip over it. Your head tilted back when his hand massaged your other breast. He continued to suck and nip, his hot tongue flicking your bar, earning him a hiss of pleasure from you. Moving back up, he kissed the other side of your neck, but it only made you whine, grabbing his ass to pull him closer.

“Impatient, are we?” he teased against the crook of your neck.

Grasping his hair, you led him back to your lips. “Want you, Alex,” you panted between kisses.

How could he say no to you?

He sank to his knees, undoing the clasps of your strappy sandals. He gathered your dress in a hand, revealing your panties where a dark patch had formed. The sight made his cock twitch in interest. Did he do this to you? How long had you wanted this?

You held your dress up around your waist, allowing him to palm and caress your thighs. With a thumb, he swiped along your leaking slit and you let out a satisfied breath. He looked up to you biting your lip, your eyes half lidded and full of want. He planted a small kiss over your clothed clit before sliding your soaked underwear down.

The top of your clit piercing winked in the light. If he wasn’t on his knees yet, he sure would have been. You could get any hotter?

“Fuck, look at that,” he said under his breath before kissing your mound. “You keep surprising me.”

He parted your lips, revealing the entire piercing, dripping with your juices. He pursed his lips around it, sucking gently. You let out a pleased sigh, tilting your head back against the wall. His tongue flicked the vertical bar, swirling around it as his fingers ghosted over your drenched opening, coating himself in your wetness. Your hips bucked towards him. You were ready, needy.

He guided your leg over his shoulder, tongue unrelenting as he pushed two fingers in. You gasped, clenching around him, soaking him further. He palmed your ass, squeezing as he pulled you into him, wanting more of you.

The wet noises and you muffled moans only urged him. His cock strained painfully against his jeans - left alone too long now - begged for a touch, but he was too busy drinking you. His hands were full, just like yours were as you pulled at his dirty blond hair, grinding onto his face.

You could only hold off your moans for so long. Another slipped past your sweet lips as your legs shook more, your pussy pulsing around him. His cock pulsed in interest, imagining it was elsewhere-

“Couch,” you said between heavy breaths.

He toed his boots off before you led him to the couch. You laid down, skin radiant and hair ruffled with your dress pooling around your waist, your perfect tits bare and pussy dripping wet for him. That look in your eyes, it was like you’d never wanted anything as much.

He settled between your legs to go back to his treat, lapping at your hole. Your hand found his hair again as he rubbed circles over your clit. When his eyes flicked up to you, you’d propped yourself up, biting down on your lip.

He slid his long fingers back in, curling upwards as he hit that spot again that made your thighs quiver. You shuddered, throwing your head back in pleasure, stifling yet another moan. The heat was pooling deep in you.

“Let me hear you, sweetheart.” He stroked your thigh with a free hand.

“I’m close,” you said breathlessly.

His gaze stayed on you and you clenched down on him.

“Give it to me, need to taste you.”

He went back to your clit, flicking and sucking, the squelching almost inaudible under the moans filling the room. Your slick only seeped out around his fingers as he picked up his pace. You were making a mess on him, one he was more than willing to clean up.

You lifted your head, watching him devour you like you were his favourite meal. He could feel it. The band was about to snap.

“Alex- right there, right there- yeah.“ You pulled his hair making him hum against you. “Keep going. Fuck, you’re going to make me c-”

Your walls spasmed around his thick fingers as you moaned, thighs shaking on his shoulders.

There was a satisfaction in watching you unravel. A woman so gorgeous giving him the honour to bring you to such a state?

His fingers slowed, letting you come down from your high. You covered your face with a hand, but it couldn’t hide the giddy smile you wore.

He climbed over you with a small laugh, rubbing your hip and thigh. “That good?” he asked, kissing you all over your cheek and temple.

You nodded, uncovering your eyes, but the bashful smile remained. His mouth and chin trickled with your juices, but you didn’t seem to care as you pulled him for a kiss. Did you like your taste on him?

Your hands slipped under his shirt, palming his muscled back before trailing down to his flexed biceps as he held himself over you. He hoped you didn’t mind the scars his tattoos couldn’t bury. Your fingertips ghosted over his abdomen, making his breath hitch, but when you pinched a nipple, he was helpless against the moan that escaped him. You smiled, like you got him where you wanted.

You undid his belt, caressing his hardened length through his underwear making him shudder. You freed his leaking cock, jerking it lightly before spreading his slick over his head with your thumb. The whine that left him allowed you to slip you tongue past his lips. Breathless, he rutted into your touch, eager for more.

You broke the kiss and pulled his shirt up and over his head, tossing it to the side.

“Sit back,” you instructed.

And who was he to not listen. “Yes, maam.”

His face was burning, down to his ruddy chest like he’d had a drink too many. Alex Keller was an aching, blushing mess for you. But if the drink was you, he’d have another one in heartbeat.

You sank onto your knees between his legs, pulling his jeans down his thighs. With half-lidded eyes, he watched you: so eager for him, just like he was for you. But you already knew that from the way his cock trickled in anticipation.

The sight of you wrapping your pretty fingers around him made his head spin, and the way you stared back at him from under those lashes as you stroked him made his stomach flip. He let out a low groan when his tip slid past your lips. You flicked the underside playfully, swirling your tongue around it before sinking down on him, his length disappearing into your hot, wet throat.

He hissed, grabbing your hand on his thigh. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

You bobbed on his aching cock, cheeks hollowing as you sucked his shaft. His breath deepened. With the amount of desire pressing against his ribs, he felt too close to the end. It had been hours of him leaking and throbbing over his thoughts of you.

You pulled out with a pop, a string of saliva connecting those luscious lips to him. You planted kisses from his balls up to his red tip, your hands feeling up his hips and abs. The tingles running down his spine made him buck up against your lips.

Oh, to have him slip in and out of those perfect, glossy lips. The thought made his throat dry.

You smiled teasingly. “Impatient, are we?”

“Touche.”

He was at your mercy, but he wasn’t going to give in and beg, no matter how much he ached and twitched and flushed.

“Want you to fuck my mouth with this gorgeous cock,” you said, licking up his length.

Holy fuck. He couldn’t believe it.

He fisted your hair, heart racing as he guided you down his cock, your hands spread on his thighs. “Give me a tap and I’ll stop.”

Your throat opening up against his tip was his cue to start. He thrusted up into you, groaning as you maintained eye contact with him. You were the death of him.

To describe the sounds you both made as pornographic was an understatement. It was wet and messy as your spit dripped down his length and balls as he rutted into your mouth relentlessly. You were perfectly tight around him when your throat pulsed, pretty on your knees as he fucked that gorgeous face. The sight brought his orgasm right before him.

“Fuck, fuck,” he hissed, eyes shut in swelling pleasure. “I’m not going to last if you keep doing that.”

It only spurred you on: sinking deeper and deeper, nose pressing against the neat curls at his base before coming back up. Despite his hands in your hair, not once did he apply pressure on you, giving you free reign over him, letting you set your own pace.

You gripped his ass, pulling him to you and he thrusted again.

“You’re going to make me come, sweetheart,” he panted.

Your hum was his approval. When his hips stuttered as did his moans, you swallowed him all the way as he came down your throat. He tipped his head back as he grunted, pleasure washing over him.

When his cock stopped pulsing, you licked him clean and gave his tip a small kiss before coming up next to him.

With a grin, he pulled you to his chest. “Holy shit-“ he said against your temple before planting a kiss on your lips.

You laid on his chest in silence, a small smile on your face as you listened to his heartbeat even out. In the comfortable silence, he held you close as he rubbed your arm. Over his heart, he clasped his hand over yours- his stomach rumbled.

You laughed, pulling away to look at him. “Is it time for dinner?”

He drank in the kind sparkle in your eyes. “I might be greedy, but I’m more interested in dessert.”

More Alex: Masterlist Your date was interrupted Comforting his plus-sized partner Rescuing a mermaid

@tiredmetalenthusiast @indigosunsetao3 @astraluminaaa

[falling-star-cygnus]

thinking about Charles’ earring

there’s NO WAY he got away with just the one right? like, considering his time period and his dad and his just- overall circumstance?

SUMMARY: Official boyfriends Edwin and Charles relax on their couch, a thing scarcely big enough for one of them but just right for a snug cuddle, after a long case. It’s nice, it’s them, but as the pale boy’s hand wanders down to the shell of his boyfriend’s ear and further still to the lobe, he finds something peculiar. Something he hadn’t noticed before..

ao3 fic: here please leave a comment or reblog if you enjoy!!!

•-•-•

This was nice.

Charles thought it was, at least, the feel of Edwin’s hand in his curls and the steady thrum under his cheek- born from his boyfriend’s [boyfriend’s!] smooth voice. So, unbelievably nice. And just for him.

Who would’ve thought it, Charles Rowland on the receiving end of gentle affection instead of the giving. Not Charles, that’s for sure.

Their position was comfy, as far as comfort for ghosts go, and he found himself hoping he’d never have to move. His head was pillowed against Edwin’s chest, his arms lazily strewn on either side of his waist- the Edwardian’s legs bracketing both sides of his hips.

One of them was bent upwards, the one not against the back of couch, to prevent a tumble down onto their floorboards.

Which was slightly mortifying and slightly sweet, when one considered that that very thing had happened last week. All embarrassment he feels at remembering such a mishap fades away under the gentle scratch of Edwin’s nails upon his scalp, though.

Like a breeze over light dust.

Charles sighs contentedly, relishing in the feel of his boyfriend’s [and that title will always make him giddy] ungloved hands and burrowing closer to it.

Edwin pauses, and then repeats the motion, “I take it you like that, then?”

“Mhm. Don’t stop, yeah? Please? Unless you’re getting tired of cuddling.”

He can practically hear the Edwardian’s fond eye roll.

“Do be serious, Charles.”

He can’t help the smile that overtakes his face, boyish and so so pleased, “My bad, then.”

Like all good things, however, it must come to an end. Edwin’s hand meanders down his head, thoughtless and nice, to the curve of his ear- still reading from the book held above them.

It traces over the shell next, and maps out the old cartilage hole that had never quite closed up, right down to the clunky clasp of his gold star earring.

He tugs at it, playfully- teasingly- and.. and…

Charles flinches.

He doesn’t mean to. Logically- as logically as he can be really- he knows that Edwin would never hurt him, knows it deep in his now nonexistent bones. He’d never.. never do what- well.

He just wouldn’t. So there was no reason for his chest to be clenching up so suddenly. For him to be so scared.

Edwin’s hand backs off, just as his voice does when he registers the muffled mip of discomfort his boyfriend makes.

“Charles?” he ventures, worry coloring his tone.

“I’m alright,” Charles is quick to throw out, quick to assure, “You just caught me a bit off guard, yeah? No worries.”

That slender, pale hand cautiously comes back down- slowly, as if attempting not to spook a wild animal- and gently traces its knuckle down the apple of his cheek. Feather light.

"I'm terribly sorry," he murmurs, brushing so so tenderly over that same ear, "I hadn't thought- ...oh."

And there it is.

It was a small thing to notice, near impossible really unless you were that close or that touchy [although Edwin typically was neither] but Charles' earring sat just slightly too right- just slightly too close to the edge of the lobe for what was typically recommended.

"May I?"

Charles really rather he didn't. This was usually the part where he would pull away, after all, when he would skitter off to wherever would worry people the least and wait them out.

But this was Edwin. And he'd made a promise to start talking about these things. Sharing. So-

He nods.

These things were easier with his nose buried in soft- er, probably soft- fabric anyway.

Edwin's fingers apply just the barest hint of pressure to his lobe, to the split that ran down its center. Almost reverent. Far too gentle for what Charles deserves.

His dad- obviously his dad, it was always his dad- hadn't been pleased when he'd shown up with only the one pale silver stud, which he'd got through.. admittedly less than safe means, looking back on it. How he wished that was the reason he'd been angry about. Worry.

Sometimes the salt of the sweat on his palms still lingered on Charles' lip- from where hands much crueler than Edwin's had held him down and ripped it clean out.

Clean in- well a subjective sense, anyhow. Those meaty digits had held the clasp closed when tearing it out, either on purpose or uncaringly, so.. it was safe to say the stud hadn't remained silver looking for very long when it was left in a puddle of his own blood.

He hadn't let that stop him from getting one, though, clearly. Went out the next day, sore and determined, and got himself the one he wore now. A star on a hoop and a chain to match.

Gold went much better with red anyway, he'd learned.

"Fascinating," Edwin says, almost playing with the disconnected pieces in morbid curiosity.

Still, though, Charles nestles closer. Like he could make himself a new home in Edwin's ribcage and soak up all this affection like a greedy sponge. He lets his boyfriend examine him, lets himself think he could deserve this reverence one day- in it's terrifying entirety.

"You think so?"

"Oh, Charles.."

With the book long abandoned, the Edwardian has a hand free to tip his lover's head up. And his eyes.. they boast of nothing but adoration.

"That was never in question."

[rock-omelette]

Zookeeper

Rating: E

Relationship: Dr Eggman | Dr Ivo Robotnik/Agent Stone

Add Tags: Mafia AU, pet play, undernegotiated kink, undernegotiated play, non-consensual voyeurism, dom/sub play, coming in pants, cock ball torture, hoo boy, torture, implied/references torture, BDSM, Dom Robotnik, Sub Stone, Dead Dove do not eat, original character death, implied/referenced original character death, don't play with me.

Summary: The Mad Doctor interrogates a caged rat, and gets into a bad mood. Luckily, Stone is always there to lift his spirits.

A/N: I recommend reading my post on my Mafia AU lore for a full immersive experience. However, it is not necessary. Just know that Ivo is part of the mafia and Stone is his right hand man.

Stone sees it first.

He'd been waiting for it since they'd dragged the filthy miscreant into the room, kicking and screaming as two of Gerald's guards cuff him down to the bolted steel chair in the middle of their "interrogation room", which was just a fancy way of calling one of the walled off rooms beneath the mansion.

There is no purchase here—only stale air smelling faintly of copper; cold, grey cement over rough brick walls and a single, bare lightbulb, humming a loud, irritating tune as it that crackles over the silence like sandpaper over a bare wound. Fluorescent light glares down their traitorous rat like a rain of dehydrated piss, and Stone's lip curls just looking at him.

"Look at that glare, Stone." Said the Doctor, bemused. He stands, but doesn't come closer, instead raising his cane to push its tip into a bloodied cheek. The rat bares blood stained teeth, and Ivo ooohs appropriately, chuckling darkly to himself. Stone sees him consider digging the cane deeper, deeper, deeper into the cheek, like he's hoping to skewer his skull all through the other side, but it would make their whole trip down here awfully redundant.

Instead, Ivo brings the cane back down, and the rat continues to glare.

"Listen, Mr...what was your name again? Sue? Sue Allen?"

Sullivan, was the truth, which of course Ivo knew. Ivo so did like playing with his food.

"Listen, Mr Allen." Ivo leans his upper weight against his cane, inspecting the tips of his gloves. "I don't like wasting your time."

Sullivan's eyes narrow.

"I don't!" The Doctor insists. "I am a very, very busy man, Mr Allen. My time is money, and in order to waste your time, I'd have to waste my time and my money, and it all goes back round and round and round blah blah blah, and here we are. One week in and you're still holding. On."

Sullivan breathes in , breathes out, deeply, shaking in rage.

"Now, I have to respect that." Ivo said, insincerely. "I'd clap for that. I wouldn't. Stone would, wouldn't you Stone?"

"I would, Doctor." Humored Stone.

"He'd clap for that." Ivo echoes. He gestures to the Badniks, who make appropriate canned cheering sounds, their lasers still pointed unneringly onto Sullivan's temple. The noises were too loud, too close, echoing between the enclosed walls of the room. "Yeah, hype it up! Come on, clap and cheer for the big boy! Alright! Winner, winner, chicken dinner. Huh?" He lifts the cane, thwacking it against the side of Sullivan's wounded temple as he walks—counterclockwise—around him. "Huh? Big, tough boy?"

He reaches back to Sullivan's front, leaning forward—close, far too close. Stone steps forward, ready to intervene.

"Tough boy, huh?" Ivo whispers. "Last one standing?"

Stone could see the moment the implications dawn on him—last one standing, the survivor, winner—with an uninhibited flash of horror, and Ivo leans back as Sullivan roars, finally. Struggling against his cuffs, the chair, the ropes around his knees and ankles. Ivo laughs. Stone watches.

"No more Pepper!" Ivo cheers, stomping his cane into the floor—a cheerful tapping beat as he dances, beautiful and sinister. "No more Archie and Bass and not even their little dog, too! Poor, poor Sue Allen, all alone, all alone-,"

"You fucker," Sullivan screams, red from blood, flushing up and outwards. "He was a kid, you evil cocksucking motherfucker, he was a fucking kid-,"

"Oh grow up, Allen." Ivo blew raspberries. "He's some nothing bitch from Brooklyn, tons of twinks to go around-,"

"I'll fucking kill you-,"

"He didn't even have anything to say." Ivo rolled his eyes. He lifts his cane again, pressing it's chrome steel tip to the middle of Sullivan's sternum. "But you? Oh boy, Allen, I bet you have plenty to say."

"Fuck you," Sullivan spits. Stone clenches his jaw, but Ivo is far enough away that the spittle doesn't reach him. Hovering over Sullivan's left side, the Badnik Ivo called Veronica (VCRK-44) whines, long and loud in warning. Sullivan looks foolishly unperturbed. "I've got nothing to say to you, you cock-sucking sissy freak."

"Oh, but I disagree, Mr Allen." Ivo leans forward again, the tip of his cane still pressing, pressing, insistently into Sullivan's chest. "Look around. Rub your two single braincells together. Nobody is coming for you, least of all death. Think of the week you've had, and how we could keep that going for days and months and years, driving you insane—I'd take my fucking time with it. I could break all your bones, one by fucking one, keep your heart beating so you could feel every rotten break, and I could flay you alive and salt you. I could starve you and keep you in the same room as the rotting corpses of your friends, and get you to eat them, like the filthy little rat you are." Ivo taps the tip of Sullivan's nose. "So many choices, so little time."

Read the rest on Ao3

[e-louise-bates]

I will admit that it never occurred to me that I would need to check the history book that claimed to be scholarly to see if it used references and footnotes, because how could a book be a scholarly work on history without such things, BUT NOW I KNOW BETTER.

[unrealisticsunovabish]

I am not getting sucked back into the tadc fandom I am not getting sucked back into the tadc fandom I am not getting sucked back into the tadc fandom I am not getting sucked back into the tadc fandom I am not getting sucked back into the tadc fandom I am not getting sucked back into the tadc fandom I am not getting sucked back into the tadc fandom I am not getting sucked back into the tadc fandom I am not getting sucked back into the tadc fandom I am not getting sucked back into the tadc fandom I am not getting sucked back into the tadc fandom I am not getting sucked back into the tadc fandom I am not getting sucked back into the tadc fandom I am not-

[toscrollperchancetomeme]

I must not fear the bad take.

Fearing the bad take is the mind-killer.

Fearing the bad take is the little death that brings total obliteration.

I will face the bad take.

I will permit it to pass over me and through me.

And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path.

Where the bad take has gone there will be nothing. Only my media literacy will remain.

[queer-reader-07]

i love seeing normal people recommend books/movies/shows because they're just like "i enjoyed this! i think you'd enjoy it."

meanwhile when i recommend books/movies/shows i'm like "here is a fragment of my soul. here is one of the many threads that weaves me together. here is something i will love with every fiber of my being until those fibers come undone at the end of my life. hope you like it too!"

[sarcasticgaypotato]

This cat has a PhD

---

Fanart for Panthera by @idrewacow

I cannot recommend this fic enough, it is an absolute delight so far. It's a classic, traditionally lighthearted fanfiction trope being handled dead serious and it's everything I didn't know I needed. It doesn't hesitate to dig its claws (haha) into visceral discomfort for our lead, but it still has moments that made me laugh out loud. Can't wait to see what happens next!

[inactiveshrine]

gonna be real bud if your fic relies so heavily on intense triggering themes and shock value that you're averse to putting warnings on it to "maintain surprise" and "avoid spoilers", then you act like you did nothing wrong when people are upset that you didn't make any effort to turn them away and allow them to protect themselves, while also telling them it's their fault that they read something that upset them when they could have never known it contained specific things that will upset them, i think you are a tar pit

[andthemoonwalks]

AOUGH the the dynamic between everything I've ever let go of has claw marks in it and the person I am is just pieces of the people I have known

[planetkiimchi]

"Last Wednesday, the Israeli Supreme Court held a hearing in response to a petition brought forward by Israeli rights group, HaMoked, to reveal the location of a Palestinian X-Ray technician detained from Nasser Hospital in southern Gaza in February. It was the first court session of its kind since October 7."

if people in israel can speak up against this genocide, as someone who will not be subject the legal repercussions they are likely to face, how can you stay silent?

Concentration camp.

They built a concentration camp.

I don't think words can describe what this other than genocide.

[tizeline]

Save youself, I'll hold them back by My Chemical Romance

I highly recommend listening to the song while reading the comic btw!!

BEHOLD MY MAGNUM OPUS! Bro this took more than 2 months, in part because I was really busy IRL during one of those months, but even then this was a pretty large project for me compared to what I've done before. BUT NOW I'M FINALLY DONE! 😭 Save yourself, I'll hold them back is just such a Leo-coded song, especially if you include the whole bad timeline, I just had to make something rottmnt-related with it. I actually envisioned this at first as an animation, but I lack both the skill and motivation to animate so it became a lyric comic instead lol.

[pa-pa-plasma]

hey buddy do you think the Wild West was a safe place to live or did you just not read my tags that are literally right there

No, kids should not have unsupervised acess to the internet.   Yes, I got that and it was the best thing that ever happened to me.    Its a paradox.

[hachiane]

things that are not talked about enough in Love and Deepspace

i'm surprised i haven't found something like this for LADS, so decided to document some interesting things I found while playing. i limited myself to Main Story, Kindled Memories, Moments posts, texts, interactions, (or stuff you can proc while playing) and did not include limited time events or the chibi comics.

(i've definitely missed out on many so feel free to reblog and add your own encounters!)

read part 2!

Sylus and Xavier are big eaters

Rafayel gets seasick, despite being a fish

Sylus got lost in a train station once

Rafayel can hear fish scream

Nobody comments when Sylus polishes a gun in public at a cafe

Xavier and MC lived in the same building for 6 months before they find out

Sylus’s heart rate can reach up to 150 bpm, and he wants MC to sync to it

Nobody recognises Xavier while he’s wearing the Lumiere mask

Rafayel scolds a cat

Rafayel then made MC choose between him and said cat

This happens twice

Sylus goes ice fishing, often with little success

Xavier also goes fishing, often with more success

Nobody comments when the boys show up to the cafe in nothing but bath towels

MC has said that the dual-prong claw reminds her of a really big fork

Rafayel makes you choose between him and a cat printed on a badge

Sylus has implied that his muscles and abs are not real

Rafayel synced his phone to MC’s steps tracker at one point

Sylus also does this

Xavier names every bird that visits his house

Rafayel used a piece of bread as an eraser, then ate it afterwards

Sylus sleeps sitting up

MC loses a fight against 12 crabs

Zayne believes in mythical creatures (or, at the very least, unicorns)

Sylus’s nickname “Lil S”

Rafayel paints with the blood of his slain people sometimes

Xavier found a bird egg in one of his flower pots one day, and wants to boil and eat it

Sylus guides a scared duck back home

This happens twice

“I’m pretty sure there’s bad juju in that custard bread.” is a line Rafayel once said

MC accidentally grows garlic instead of daffodils

Zayne mistook a plastic bag for a white cat

Sylus gets his motorbike stolen

Sylus and MC were spotted on a joyride because they were wearing glow-in-the-dark glasses

Xavier’s Hunter Uniform is popular with kids

Xavier takes a photo using a public telephone

Sylus recommends tequila as a dinner option

The account named rafayel_ridable_fish_dinner

Zayne’s nickname at the cafe “Large 100% Sugar Latte To Go”

Sylus expressed an interest in baseball

MC is a true crime watcher

MC gifts Zayne a jar of air, and he recommends her to get a MRI scan

[butyoudidthis4what]

No Man's Land

Jack Abbot x f!Reader

5.1k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || C.W.: mentions of blood, mentions of guns and shootings, mentions of death/dying/coding, CPR, anxiety about partner's safety, Jack's traumatized, reader's traumatized, mentions of dissociation and compartmentalization, poor description of medical events, potentially incorrect medical descriptions/knowledge, very very light smut, angst, age gap kind of implied with Jack but not explicitly referenced, no use of y/n or related, not proofread, no beta, I think that's all but if I missed any please (nicely) let me know.

Summary: This is my Pitt-Fest-But-Not fic. Development of your relationship through vignettes of the past and conversations between Jack, Dana and Robby. There's a shooting where you work. Jack is at the ED when the dispatch comes in and is terrified when he can't get in touch with you.

A.N.: If my Robby reads like John Carter I'm sorry, except that a little bit I'm not. I feel like I'm struggling with my Jack characterization but can't tell if that's just me hating everything I do. This is my take on one of my fave tropes where reader is in mortal danger. I needed a physical location that could be associated with reader and settled on a courthouse, but what it is reader does there is not described. Probably (definitely?) needs a part two. If you get the nickname, thank you, I feel seen. If you don't I explain it at the end. This is absolutely something I would call him, in part to fuck with people who know his real name. I would love to know if you enjoyed and to hear any thoughts you'd like to share.

“He has a girlfriend,” Robby smirks at Dana. 

She blinks at him. “I’m sorry, I thought we were talking about Jack Abbot.”

“Oh we fucking are.” Robby stifles his smirk and forces his lips to remain closed and as neutral as possible. 

“You’re shitting me.” Dana’s incredulous look breaks Robby a bit and he starts to laugh, tries to turn it into a cough when both he and Dana look up to find Jack staring at them as he takes his snow dusted beanie off. He gives Robby a ‘really?’ look even though he knew Robby would rat him out to Dana the second Robby had dragged it out of him. 

Dana looks back at Robby. “Who? How did they meet?”

Robby holds up his hands. “You now officially know as much as I do about her.” Dana makes a noise of vague discontent but knows Jack well enough to know Robby is telling the truth. That’s all that’s been revealed. 

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

“It’s not worth it,” you whisper. Jack blinks and looks around, unsure if you’re talking to him. He has no idea who you are, has never seen you before in his life but it appears that you are in fact whispering to him in the middle of this bookstore. 

He raises his eyebrows. “It’s not?”

You shake your head, give him an almost conspiratorial smile. “No, he must have gotten a new ghost writer. It’s really bad in comparison to his other stuff. Save your time and money. I’ll give you a summary right now for free if you’re that curious.”

Jack smiles to himself a little bit as he sets the book back on the shelf. There’s something about you, your smile, the way you just randomly spoke to him. He’s drawn to you. An alarm goes off in some part of his brain telling him to ignore it, ignore you, he could get hurt. He pretends to weigh his options as he turns to face you fully. “How about for a cup of coffee?”

Your brows furrow in confusion for a moment. There’s simply no way this unfairly attractive man is asking to buy you a cup of coffee. “The summary?” You clarify. “That I’d give for free. You want it to cost a cup of coffee instead?” You let out a nervous laugh and some part of his heart aches because you’re so adorable. “I just want to make sure I understand before I potentially make an even bigger fool of myself.” 

“Yep.” He can’t help but laugh a little. “You give me the summary over coffee. Actually, you know what? You’re going to have to give me a recommendation too because now I’m going to have nothing to read.” He clicks his tongue at you. 

“Well,” you laugh out, all breathy as you try to pull yourself together. “You drive a hard bargain but I think I’m willing to accept those terms…” you glance at his name badge, “Dr. Abbot.” You give him a full smile and Jack knows then and there he’s totally fucked in the best of ways. 

“Jack.” He smiles at you as you both begin walking towards the café. “Call me Jack.”

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

Everything quiet enough after handoff, Robby walks out with Jack into the morning sun that does little to warm the breeze pulling leaves off the trees. “Any chance you can cover a shift on Saturday night?” Robby is asking, yes, but he knows it’s not really a question, Jack is always willing to work.

“Can’t.” Jack says simply, shrugging his shoulders. “Sorry.” There’s an expectant silence that hangs between the two as they keep walking.

“Care to elaborate?” Robby finally asks.

“No.” Jack turns and smirks at him. “It’s none of your and Dana’s business.”

“Ha!” Robby laughs. “So it’s her, it’s about her! The ever elusive girlfriend. Will we ever get to meet her? Or does she not want to meet us? Is she real?” Jack stops walking and gives Robby one of his looks. “Holy shit, is it someone here?”

Jack snorts at that. “No it’s not someone here. She’s not even in the medical field.” He sighs, half longing and half resignation of some kind. “She’s honestly dying to meet you guys, especially you and Dana, but I’m trying to protect her from this hellhole. It’s hard with schedules too, to find a time.”

“That’s such fucking bullshit,” Robby laughs. “Are you afraid to truly commit? Think bringing her here will make it too real?” 

It’s a valid question but one that Jack nevertheless resents. “No, actually, if you must fucking know Saturday is our one year anniversary. We have plans. So you’ll have to find someone else to cover. But I’ll bring her around soon,” he laughs through his nose to himself at your stubbornness, “if I don’t she’s liable to just show up one of-”

“A year?” Robby laughs, incredulous. “A fucking year? How the hell did you hide it for three months before I dragged it out of you?”

Jack ignores him. “Also, I’m moving to days. It’s better for us.” He’s so nonchalant about it, just states it like he’s saying the sky is blue, like it’s not going to make Robby’s eyes widen and mouth drop open like it does.

“I don’t,” Robby huffs a laugh, “I don’t even know where to fucking begin.”

“Then don’t.” Jack smirks, starts to walk again while Robby stays frozen, running a hand through his hair. “Go do some actual work.”

“I thought you found comfort in the darkness?” Robby yells after him. 

Jack slows and turns around but keeps walking backwards, one hand holding the strap of his backpack to keep it over his shoulder. He glances down at his phone and the photo of you that is now his wallpaper. He smiles to himself a little, yells back. “Guess I find it somewhere else now.”

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

You giggle, honest to god giggle and Jack could lose his damn mind as he nibbles at your collarbone. “You know if my anatomy class had been this fun, I might have become a doctor too.” 

You’re laying on your back in bed as Jack kisses your sweat slicked skin all over as you both come down from your last round. He’s taken to 'teaching you anatomy' like this, identifying different parts of the human body with his mouth.

“Hmm,” Jack hums against you. “I’m glad it wasn’t then. Fuck doctors.” He starts to kiss down your chest. 

“That has become quite the favorite pastime of mine, yes,” you smirk. “Fucking one specific doctor, actually.” 

“Getting fucked by one specific doctor more like it,” he murmurs into your sternum. He kisses laterally, lips hitting your breast and moving towards your nipple. 

“I think we’ve established what those are,” you moan softly as he takes your nipple into his mouth. You let your hands run through his salt and pepper curls that you adore so much. 

“Can never be too thorough.” You giggle at him again and can feel him smile against you. “But fine, you want something new?” You nod, let your nails scratch gently at his scalp. 

“Nipple,” he kisses your nipple and then down your torso to right above your belly button, “to navel is no man’s land.” He continues to lavish kisses on the soft skin of your stomach before looking up at you when you don’t respond. 

“I can’t tell if you’re fucking with me or not.” You eye him with mock suspicion. 

He laughs and it’s your favorite sound in the whole world, you swear. Well maybe second, only behind hearing him tell you that he loves you. 

“I’m not. Nipple to navel is no man’s land. It’s a real thing. It’s one of the worst places to get shot or stabbed because there’s so many organs that could be hit and the place we’d expect to get hit would depend on whether the person was breathing in or out at the time, whether their lungs were inflated or deflated. And we generally have no way of knowing. It can be difficult to get clear imaging.” He starts kissing lower, down below your belly button, rubbing his stubble along your skin to tease you as he gets lower and lower. “It’s never a good time. Lots of poor outcomes.”

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

It’s supposed to be his day off and yet Jack finds himself staring at the board and running a hand over his face. “It’s still so fucking weird seeing you here during the day and it not meaning something catastrophic has happened.” 

Jack turns to look at Dana. “I’ve been working days for a month now and it’s my day off.”

“You can go, we’re fine for now,” Robby nods at Jack. “Thanks for the brief assistance brother.”

“No, no,” Dana interjects, “he’s not allowed to leave until we nail down a time to meet his girl.” 

Robby raises his eyebrows and starts to tilt his head and open his mouth to agree with Dana. A dispatch comes through before anyone can say anything else and Dana grabs it, pinning Jack down with her eyes, daring him to leave before discussing meeting you. 

“Saved by the bell,” Jack huffs, taking his stethoscope off and starting to walk away. 

“Shooting at a courthouse,” Dana relays to Robby, “not a mass cas, just a few people, two a little iffy, one they’re already doing CPR on, a few caught in the race to get out. Two dead on the scene.”

It takes a few seconds for Dana’s words to truly register with Jack, but when they do his hearing fades to only a sharp ringing in his ear. This wasn’t happening. He’d been so reticent at the beginning of your relationship, waited so long to give in and define it and hand his heart over to you, terrified he’d lose you because of himself and who he was, his imperfections, his past, his trauma, his PTSD, his baggage, as he thought of it. He feels so stupid now, in the moment, not having worried about how he could lose you from a random act of violence, that in the moments he can’t be there to protect you somebody could come in and rip you from him. Just like that. With the pull of a trigger. 

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

“You know, I can confidently say this is the most unique date I’ve ever been on,” you tease Jack. 

“Hey,” he pants, “me teaching you CPR is a great date.” 

“It would be better if you took your shirt off,” you whisper and wink at him before letting your eyes linger on his arm. 

“If I did that you’d be so distracted you’d learn nothing,” he smirks at you, sweat glistening on his skin just a little. Just enough to drive you nearly feral for him. 

 “I think I’ve got the compressions part down, but I may need more help learning the mouth to mouth part.”

He rolls his eyes at you. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You fucking love it,” you shoot back at him, leaning into his space and bumping him with your shoulder. 

He can’t help but kiss you. “Yes,” the word is muffled against your lips, “yes I do.” He gives you a firmer kiss this time before he pulls away. “But really. You should know how to do it, just in case. It will help you feel in control in the moment if the need for it ever arises. You’ll know what to do.”

You bite your lip and smile at him. 

“What?” He eyes you with suspicion. 

You shrug. “Nothing, I just love you so much. Sometimes it overwhelms me, how much I love you.”

He can see it in your eyes, how much you love him, can almost feel it physically squeezing him like a tight hug. He’s really not sure what he ever did to deserve you or your love. “I love you too, Doll.”

“I love you more, Peter.” Your face pulls up into that usual self-satisfied and silly grin you get sometimes when you call him that nickname. It’s a recent thing. You’re calling him it more and more though, it’s becoming a natural way of referring to him. From anyone else he would hate it, hearing it between another couple would make him roll his eyes. But from you? He loves it more than you’ll ever truly know. 

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

Jack spins around.

“Jack you can still go, we’ve got it covered.” Robby looks at Jack for a minute and then meets Dana’s eyes as she looks to him after taking her own look at Jack. 

“What courthouse?” Jack asks. It’s quiet, controlled and clipped and almost missable in the chaos of the ED. He’s not looking at either of them, staring past them at a wall with a chest heaving more and more by the second as his face grows paler. 

He tries to keep it together. Dana will say the name and it won’t be your courthouse and he’ll go straight to your actual courthouse, grab you, take you home and never let you leave. A perfectly reasonable reaction, he thinks.

“Jack-”

“What fucking courthouse?” It’s louder this time, almost enough to pause the chaos of the ED. 

Jack’s voice drips with what sounds like rage to most of those who hear him but is unmistakably fear to Dana and Robby. 

Neither of them have ever seen Jack like this, this scared, struggling this hard to keep it together, truly raising his voice for anything other than to quiet down an unruly patient. His eyes find Dana’s and they’re glassier than she’s ever seen them, the intensity of his gaze making it painfully clear he’s hanging on every word and the wrong ones will shatter him. 

She swallows and opens her mouth and Jack knows what she’s about to say before she even says it. And she does. The name of your courthouse. 

“I’ll triage.” He says it before Dana has even finished, the words hollow and breathless and commanding all at once. He spins and starts off to the bay doors with nothing more. He obviously knows from the report Dana gave that they won’t need triage. He just needed to get out of there and try to create an excuse to stay in the ambulance bay. He knows Robby won’t let him, that Robby and Dana already know you’re at that courthouse, could be a victim. 

Robby and Dana share another look, So you work at a courthouse. This courthouse. “Fuck,” Dana mutters, “I really hope we don’t end up meeting her today.”

Jack’s hand dives in his pocket as he strides to the ambulance bay. He already knows in his heart that there’s not going to be a text from you saying that you’re okay. He hasn’t felt his phone buzz. He never even kept his phone on him until you. 

Even though he knew he wouldn’t have any messages, waking his phone and seeing none hits him like a freight train all the same, right in the chest. It threatens to bring him to his knees, make him sick, but he can’t. He sets it all aside. If you do come out of one of the ambulances he can hear in the distance you’re going to need him at his best. But what if you’re one of the two people dead at the scene? He has to shove that out of his mind too, can’t give into the complete panic that threatens to consume him. 

Disassociate. Compartmentalize. Do the job. ABC. Assess. Stabilize. Repeat.

His fingers fly across his phone automatically, calling you having become so routine. He prefers it so much to texting, hearing your voice, communicating more directly. “Call me,” he starts, “the second you get this message. Or fucking text me,” his voice breaks, “please. Fucking please.” He hangs up and calls again, knowing he’ll get your voicemail again but trying anyway because it’s all he can do. 

He’s helpless, powerless, he can’t do anything to try and save you and that threatens to swallow him whole. 

Your voicemail recording telling people to leave a message plays again and all Jack can wonder is if this is all he’ll have left of your voice in his life. Your voice on your mailbox, maybe some voicemails you’ve left him, videos, voice memos you’ve sent. All distorted by recording, not your real voice. He can’t remember what your real voice sounds like all of the sudden. What your laugh sounds like, how you sound when you’re sleepy or in the throes of pleasure or telling him you love him. God, did he even tell you he loved you the last time he saw you, when he said goodbye? 

“I need you to call me,” he says into the phone again, pauses. “I love you.” He takes a ragged breath in and speaks through his teeth. “I love you so fucking much, so you have to be okay and you have to fucking call me.”

He sends a series of texts asking you to call him or text him or call the hospital or do anything to let him know you’re okay, asking if you are okay, asking where you are as though you’re going to respond. He already knows you’re in the back of one of those ambulances because of fucking course you are, because he’s not allowed to have anything good in his life apparently. How could he be so stupid to think differently?  

“Hey, we don’t need triage for this. The numbers are controlled.” Robby walks out to stand next to Jack in the ambulance bay. “If you want to stay you can, but you can’t wait out here to see who shows up, you have to-”

“Yeah, yeah, jump on the first patient that pulls up, I know, I got it,” he interrupts Robby. 

There’s a silence as Robby passes him a gown and ties for him before he does the same for Robby. 

“Jack, if she’s in one you cannot-”

“Like fuck I can’t.” It’s just a statement. Cool and collected and a projection of indifference. It scares Robby more than if Jack had yelled. 

“No, actually brother, you can’t. I’m telling you right now. You’re not working on her. We don’t work on family, on significant others, and you would tell me the exact same thing. It’s too risky, you’ll be too clouded.” Robby watches Jack’s jaw clench and roll as he stares out at the street. 

He wants to argue that of course he’ll be clear, he’ll be focusing on saving you, he’ll have never been so clear in his life. But part of him knows that seeing you like that on his trauma table, your blood all over the table and him and his hands might make him freeze.

“Fine.” Jack whispers. “But if she’s,” Jack has to pause and take a shuddery breath. “If she’s gone or really going and it’s inevitable you have to let me in. You have to let me try to save her. You have to let me code her, Michael.”

He can taste the rising bile in his throat just at having to talk about coding you.

The first ambulance pulls up before Robby can respond and Jack’s on it so fast Robby’s surprised Jack doesn’t get smacked in the face by the door opening. 

It’s not you. It’s someone who is very much not you and is clearly one of the iffy ones. 

Disassociate. Compartmentalize. Do the job. ABC. Assess. Stabilize. Repeat.

Jack forces himself to go emotionally numb as he listens to the paramedic rattle off vitals and history, trying so very hard to focus on this, something he can do, even if it’s not for you. By the time they hit trauma one Jack’s fine and in full swing, running it like he would any other trauma. Nobody on the team in the room with him suspects anything is amiss.  

He hates the way he can’t see the other’s who come in, that he has to stay with this patient until they’re stable and can’t go looking for you. He chastises himself for not having brought you here before or at least having you meet Dana and Robby. They don’t even know what you look like, couldn’t identify you.

“Jack!” He glances at Dana who stands at the door as he preps for the chest tube. “What’s her name?”

He yells your name at her, impassive and stoic as he reaches for the scalpel, ignoring the looks everyone throws each other at the slightest tremor in his voice.

“I’ll look for her.” Dana promises. He doesn’t respond. He can’t. He’ll fall apart. 

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

The restaurant you’re at has to be the fanciest place you’ve ever been to. It’s the hottest place in the city and you have no idea how Jack snagged reservations here for dinner to finish out celebrating your one year anniversary. 

The lighting and low hum of other patrons talking to each other and glasses and silverware and plates tinkling is cinematic. You feel like the main character. But then that’s always how Jack makes you feel. 

“I got you something.” He pulls out a wrapped rectangular object. 

You click your tongue and tsk at him. “We said we’d do them at home! I didn’t bring yours!”

“I know. I have something for you at home too.” His eyes sparkle in the flickering candle light, a little smirk pulling up. “I didn’t mean for it to be a double entendre, but both are true.” You snort a laugh at him and take the gift from him. “Open it.” He’s still smiling, eyes still sparkling,  but there’s something there. He’s nervous. It makes you even more curious. 

You carefully unwrap the object until it reveals itself as a hardcover book. That same one Jack had in his hand a year ago and that you told him was bad and gave him a summary of over coffee. 

“Oh, Jack,” you say softly, eyes getting a little watery. It’s so perfect. So sweet and sentimental. The book that brought you together, that gave you each other. It’s almost like a physical representation of the foundation of your relationship in a way. 

“You have to open it,” he instructs you in a whisper.

You raise an eyebrow but do as he says. 

‘Move in with me?’ is written on the blank first page. 

You look between the page and Jack. “Is this?” You look back at the page and then up at him again. “Are you really asking…?”

He nods. “Move in with me. Or move somewhere with me, we can get our own place, it doesn’t have to be my apartment. We basically live together anyway at this point. Let’s just make it official, yeah? Wherever you want, you can decorate however you want. Just as long as it’s our place.”

You bring a hand to your mouth for a second before using your napkin to dab at the inner corners of your eyes to stop the tears from falling and look back at him. 

“You’re a romantic, Jack Abbot,” you hum all dreamily. 

“You better not tell anyone. Can’t have you ruining my street cred.” He smirks, but his expression and the way he fidgets show he’s still anxious. “So?”

You realize then you never actually answered him. Sniffling a little laugh and letting a few tears fall you give him his answer, voice thick and full of emotion. “Yeah, I think I’m willing to accept those terms. I’d love to move in with you… Peter.”

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

He hears you counting to yourself before he sees you. “One, two…”

It’s not loud, just said in a normal voice, softer if anything because of how you’re panting, but Jack is so on edge and so desperate to find you he’d subconsciously been listening closely to his surroundings, military training kicking in. His head snaps to you and he doesn’t even know what to think when he sees you being rolled in on top of a gurney, performing CPR that would rival the quality of his own. 

“Why is she..?” He hears Robby question the paramedic as you roll in. 

“She was performing them just as well as we could and it was better to just scoop and run,” the paramedic explains. “She must have had one hell of an instructor.”

“Peter!” You yell, without looking up, not sure if he’s still here. You’re so used to it by now that the nickname is just what comes out of your mouth as you look for him. He’d texted you to let you know he was going in for a bit.  

Jack could sob and the entire team in the room with him can feel a crushing tension shatter. Maybe he does get a little teary just from the sheer relief. He tells himself it’s sweat in his eyes.

“Yeah Doll?” He yells back, not giving a fuck about everyone hearing him call you Doll, and you calling him Peter, knowing full well he’s going to have so much explaining to do about this entire situation, the confusion in the room palpable. 

“I’m okay!” This time he does laugh to himself. 

“Yeah I’d say so,” he mutters, smiling. He’s still anxious to see you, get his own eyes on you, feel you with his own hands. 

It’s only about thirty more seconds before his patient is stable enough and he can rip his gloves and gown off and start putting fresh gloves on as he walks into the trauma room you’d been wheeled into. Normally he’d yell out for someone to talk to him or ask what they’ve got but not this time. This time he doesn’t even care about who’s on the table, only the person who came off it. Only you. 

You’re standing to the side now, watching Robby and the rest of the team work, impassive as pink tears stream down your face from the dried blood on it. You’re just so fucking overwhelmed by everything and now that you’re not doing CPR everything that’s happened is hitting you at once. 

Jack says your name as he moves to you, needs his hands on you. 

“Are you hurt? Were you hit?” He rushes out. His voice brings you back and you look up at him with wide, terrified eyes. He goes to look you over but you latch onto him, hugging him tightly, shaking a bit. 

“I’m fine, I’m okay, I’m, I’m sorry,” you start to rattle off, fisting at his scrub top and clinging to him like he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. In the moment he might just be. 

He hugs you back just as hard, kisses the top of your head. He doesn’t care who sees right now, all he cares about is you. “It’s okay, you have nothing to apologize for. I’m just so fucking glad you’re okay. I thought… I thought you were…” He doesn’t have to finish, you know what he means. “I can’t fucking lose you. I love you way the fuck too much.”

You’ve been so wrapped up in each other neither of you have noticed that Robby’s patient, the one you were doing CPR on, has started to code again. “Abbot, need you here!”

You let him go, nod at him. “Go on,” you whisper, “I’ll be right here. I’m okay. I love you more.” Jack nods at you and walks over, jumping in and assisting Robby.

It’s once you’re out of Jack’s arms, away from his warm body and more grounded in reality that you notice how cold you are, how you’re swaying because he was supporting you far more than you realized, how lightheaded you are, how your abdomen and chest really fucking hurt. You chalk it up to the adrenaline wearing off and being sore from the chest compressions you just did. 

On the other side of the room an instrument tray gets knocked over, metal hitting the floor in a loud clang. It startles you, makes you jump and twist quickly to see what it was, if it was another gun, another shot. You feel something almost tearing, a sharp pain across your abdomen and lower chest, a feeling of sticky warmth against your shirt.

You sway a little, start to realize how much worse the pain is now. It’s bad enough that you can’t even make noise to express the pain. There’s no air in your lungs, you swear. You realize your lightheadedness is now much, much worse, that you’re shivering from how cold you are. Or are you just shaking? You can’t tell. It doesn’t make sense. The room isn’t even that cold. You shouldn’t be so cold. Not unless.

You pull your shirt up slowly and look down and run your hand over your skin and sure enough, there’s a bullet hole seeping blood, about half way between your nipple line and belly button, skin now covered in a dark bruise. 

You cough a little, it’s quiet. It starts feeling like there’s water in your lungs. Like you can’t get any oxygen in even though you’re in a room full of it. The metallic taste in your mouth is what manages to seep into what’s left of your consciousness next. You cough again, into your hand, and feel something wet hit your skin. Blood. 

It hits you. You’re drowning in your own blood. That’s why it feels like you can’t breathe. You’ve been shot. In a bad place, one of the worst places, Jack had told you that night. You get scared, feel your heart pounding. It feels like you’re dying. You don’t want to die, don’t want to leave Jack. You’d just finished moving into your new place together, were going to spend all weekend unpacking and painting and getting furniture where you wanted it. You were going to make your home.

Time. You were supposed to have more time together.

“Hey, Jack,” you slur softly, struggling to keep yourself standing. Luckily he hears you. Your use of his first name and the slur to your voice has him panicking again already. Time slows as he turns around to take you in, eyes going from your face and the blood coating your teeth and trickling from your mouth as you try and smile reassuringly at him, down to your torso where you’re still holding your shirt up just enough for him and everyone else in the room to see the bullet hole and bruising marring your skin. “I think, I think I’m not good, it’s not good.” Your vision tunnels so fast you can just barely see Jack’s expression of sheer abject unadulterated horror and panic as you get out your last words. “Nipples to navel… no man’s land.”

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

Peter. Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter. Yes, I worked in a bookstore through college.

Part Two is up!

[pearlymel]

A dance— Capitano

Synopsis : your relationship with him grows, and he seems sweeter than ever.

Wc : 3.2k

Warnings : contains NSFW content, fem!reader, reader is mostly called 'wife', he's super sweet, soft sex, unprotected sex, breeding kink kinda, reader wears a dress and heels.

Notes : part 2 is heree! I highly recommend reading part 1 here. And part 3 is out here!

You've tried creating art, you've tried cooking (with the help of your personal maid, Marina), you've even tried planting.

Yeah, you're a plant mom now. Not only that, you're a cat mom too. Saving the poor kitty from the harsh rain one day, you couldn't leave the poor little one outside. It's mother seeming to abandon it.

All because you have become extremely bored on the days where Capitano wouldn't be here, and he forbade you to even clean your shared bedroom because he thinks it's useless when there are servants present to do the job. (He doesn't want to tire you out.)

Come to think of it, the last time you saw him, he kept avoiding you. Whenever you tried striking a conversation during dinner, he would only hum and nod. Or when you suggested to have another picnic, he flatly refused, and it felt like the hardest rejection to your face.

It's like he had his own mood swings that you had to deal with. One day he would indulge you in the activities you wanted to do, then the next he would refuse.

Like last week.

“I used to do this when i was young.” You tell him with the softest smile to yourself, your fingers working carefully with the flower petals and strings. You were determined to make this flower crown, and you were taking your sweet time just to have him by your side.

Capitano silently listened to your words, his gaze fixed on your gentle movements as you delicately fashioned a flower crown. The air between you was calm, "You have a talent for making flower crowns," he eventually responded, his deep voice breaking the tranquil silence.

"Did you learn it from someone?”

“No… just by myself.” He couldn't help but be impressed by your innate ability to create such an intricate accessory without any formal instruction. "Self-taught." He mused, "You have an unusual aptitude for discovering things on your own.”

You hum back while adding the finishing touches, and he watched your proud display of the finished flower crown.

“this is for kitty!” You smile at the thought of the little one purring with a pretty crown on it's head.

Kitty? Capitano is confused once you start talking about the cat, you seem even more excited when you described how you cuddled with it.

"You just happened to come across this crying feline in the rain, and you brought it home with you?”

“yes! Ah, well… i hope you don't mind.”

“i don't.”

And that was the last of your conversation, and it's been a week since you last saw him.

“my lady,” You recognise the voice of Marina as she knocks on the door, and you grant her the permission of her entry.

You set the sleeping kitten on the fluffed up pillow to reach for the letter she hands you.

An invitation to the grand ball… you read the contents of it, scanning every word as you pull the paper down.

“like a party?” you ask, glancing up at her, "Yes, that is correct. A grand ball is taking place tonight. It's a gathering of the higher-ranking Fatui members and a few... select guests.” she trails off, unsure of what else to add on.

“I can see that this invitation is for Capitano, not to me.”

“lord Capitano doesn't normally attend these grand balls. So my lady, you will have to go instead.” Marina explains this and you feel like you're going to have a headache.

All you wanted to do today was sleep in with the kitten. Not to trouble yourself in some party.

But… if it's for the sake of your husband's reputation, then you are willing to do it.

You hope you don't pass away too quick from your social anxiety.

“Marina, does this really suit me?” You stare at your reflection, and Marina looks at you approvingly, her eyes taking in your stunning appearance. "Sì, my lady, it suits you perfectly," she assures you, "The dress brings out your features beautifully and fits your figure perfectly.”

“and the colour?”

"Oh, yes, the color is exquisite. It complements your skin tone perfectly. You look like a princess attending a royal ball.” and you smile shyly as you take your seat, “You flatter me too much, you know?”

Marina chuckles softly, moving behind you to work on your hair with practiced ease. "It's not flattery if it's the truth. You look truly radiant today." She begins to style your hair, weaving intricate braids and pinning them in place with delicate silver pins.

Though you can't even lie to yourself, you looked absolutely gorgeous, even when you felt a little down since you would be going alone, and you barely knew anyone.

Marina pauses in her work for a moment, her expression becoming sympathetic as she sensed your nervousness. “It's natural to feel that way. But I believe you will be fine. You are strong and independent." She resumes styling your hair, her fingers moving nimbly to create elegant curls.

You smile at her, looking at her from the mirror, “thank you.”

"It is my honor to serve you.” As she finishes your hair, she steps back to admire her work, a satisfied expression on her face. "You are ready, my lady.”

You are ready.

You are not ready.

Because why was everyone's eyes piercing bullets through you as you entered the main hall?

The whispers and murmurs start almost immediately, the guests clearly intrigued by your presence. However, you manage to keep your composure, straightening your back and walking forward with confidence, just like how Marina taught you.

Stay calm they won't eat you, you tell yourself, trying to maintain your composure under the weight of their gazes.

You were here to make friends, hopefully.

You scan the room, hoping that someone would approach you to engage in conversation. Yet nobody, not a single soul, seems to have the courage to do so. The guests continue their conversations and dances, seemingly ignoring your presence.

And so, you find yourself standing alone, sipping on a glass of champagne, feeling lost and slightly out of place.

Well this is boring. You could've stayed in with Kitty and Marina, but at least you get free food. They always taste better, right?

Everyone went silent all of a sudden, but you ignored it at first and continue taking sips of your drink.

But the silence becomes uncomfortable, just what happened to the party?

You turn around, your eyes widening immediately in surprise as you see Capitano walking towards you. Your heart seems to skip a beat as you watch him approach, his presence commanding attention and authority in the room. Capitano stops in front of you, you can't make up what his face must be like right now, but you think he has a stoic expression on his face as he takes in your appearance. His eyes roaming up and down your figure, seemingly appreciating the elegance of your dress.

“husband?” You blurt out, setting your glass aside to greet him.

"Wife," he says simply, acknowledging the fact that you have finally addressed him by that term.

The tension breaks when soft, elegant music begins to play, signaling the start of partner dances in the middle of the ballroom.

Capitano seems to realize this as he glances around at the couples already making their way to the dance floor. He then turns back to you, his expression unreadable as he silently contemplates the situation.

He can see the slight tension in your shoulders, the way your hand clutched at your dress.

"I suppose we should dance, wife.”

“you want to dance?”

"Yes," he responds. "It appears it's customary for couples at these events to dance together." He extends his hand in your direction, gesturing for you to take it. You take his hand, wrapping it gently around his gloved one. His fingers close around your hand, his grip gentle yet firm as he leads you towards the dance floor.

You notice the whispers and murmurs among the guests growing louder. But you chose to ignore them.

Capitano guides you to the center of the dance floor and positions himself opposite you, his hand settling onto your waist, and your hands on his shoulders.

"Do you know how to dance?" You whisper to him, making sure no one listens, and your eyes are on him.

"I may not engage in these social events often, but even I understand the basics of dance." His hand on your waist pulls you closer to him, you follow his lead.

Interesting.

He leads the dance with of assurance and grace, his movements fluid and confident. As you follow his lead and swirl together across the dance floor, your eyes meet his, and you find yourself unable to look away. The closeness between you makes it feel as if the rest of the world has faded away, leaving only the two of you dancing together.

You notice how he seems to turn his head slightly to look at others, mimicking their movements swiftly, it makes you smile to yourself.

His hand on your waist feels warm, almost burning even through the fabric of your dress. It's a strange sensation you've never felt when touching him, despite having already kissed (once) before.

”my dress,” you whisper amidst the graceful dance, “what do you think of it?”

You figured you always needed to give him a little push when initiating things.

His attention drift down to take in the sight of your dress once again. His gaze roams over the fabric, lingering on the way it clings to your figure, and how the color contrasts against your skin.

"It's... " he pauses, you're just wearing a dres, but he finds it difficult to describe what he feels, "Very pleasing to the eye.” he manages to continue.

"You look rather well tonight, as well.”

“Thank you, wife.”

The music suddenly shifts to a slower tempo, and Capitano instinctively adjusts his hold on you, pulling you slightly closer as he continues to dance with you.

You totally ignore how your face is almost pressed up against his chest.

As interesting as the party was, the worst part of was walking back to the estate. Why? Because the carriage decided to break down, or maybe the horses were sleepy, you don't know.

You're glad your husband is with you, or else you might've been sacrificed to the dogs at night, now even ants will fear this big guy.

But what's worse? Your damn heels are killing you. The sides of your pinky toes are already aching that you are sure it will cause nasty blisters by tomorrow.

"Perhaps next time you should wear more comfortable shoes." He stated bluntly, his deep voice betraying no pity for your situation. “but they look pretty, plus i feel elegant in them.” you stop at your tracks, looking up at him with a defeated expression.

"I'm well aware." he says dryly, "But at what cost? You're practically torturing yourself with those heels.”

He's half right, your point still stands. Beauty is pain. And now you'll have to sacrifice your beauty.

Bye bye heels. You slide them off your feet, bow having your poor feet to walk on these rocky grounds. You do feel a little better after, though.

“stay still.” He utters, and you're confused, until he takes your heels in one hand before you feel a shift of your weight off your feet, finding yourself being carried into his arms.

you wrapped your arms around his neck silently, your eyes glancing up at him as he continues walking like he you weigh nothing.

The air around you is peaceful. You feel safe with him, he's not like the scary man you hear from the others. Maybe to others he was, but to you? He was soft for you.

Your head leans on his chest where his heart rested, the beats of his heart makes you sleepy, but you refuse to sleep just like this, you want to spend every single second savouring this feeling.

Capitano carried you all the way to the estate, and through the dark corridors, making his way to your shared chambers.

The soft moonlight filtering through the windows was the only source of illumination, the atmosphere around you quiet.

He gently deposited you back on your feet, you're back home safely.

“thank you.” You whisper, your hands reaching to take the pins out of your hair to let it breath from the scruffy yet beautiful hairstyle, and Capitano starts taking off the heavy layers off him as well, with the helmet out.

You don't notice how one of your dress straps seem to fall off your shoulders, but he notices, and oh did that make something in him stir.

His steps closer from behind you, his hand reaching to put the strap back in place, but instead, he glances at the other strap.

It looked rather lonely being on your shoulder, his fingers delicately sliding the strap down which makes you ultimately still in your place.

Your entire body trembled slightly as Capitano's hands caressed your skin, tracing gentle paths across your shoulders and back down to the zipper on your side. “May i.. help you out of your dress?” His low, gruff voice, asking for permission to help you out of your dress, made your heart beat faster.

You could only nod in response, your voice silenced by a mixture of anticipation and desire. Capitano's touch was meticulous, his thumb and index delicately moving down the zipper with deliberate slowness, prolonging the tension.

Capitano lets out another low hum as he watches the dress slide down to your ankles, now leaving you only in your undergarments. His hands traced the contour of your body, his touch delicate yet possessive. His own breathing became ragged, the sight of you partially undressed igniting a fire in his eyes.

“Will you allow me to touch you?”

The question makes you turn your head, of course he can.

When you don't stop him from wrapping his arms around you, his chest pressed against your back, he takes it as a green light to continue.

His hand first brushed your hair out of the way, to allow his lips to come in contact with the nape of your neck, “you're so beautiful..." he whispered, his hot breath sending jolts of electricity through your core.

“I don't…” he hesitates, wanting to move his hands away, “i don't want to do anything you don't like.”

And your expression softens at his concern, you turn around to take his face into your hands, your thumbs caressing the apples of his cheeks and he nuzzles into your touch, wrapping a hand around your wrist before pressing a kiss to your palm. You further reassure him by littering his face with your lips, giving every empty space of his skin with at least one kiss.

“Allow me to experience this with you, and i shall take care of you till i take my very last breath.” he hoists you up easily into his arms, rough hand under your thighs as you wrap your legs around his waist, he laid you down on the soft sheets, his body covering yours as he looked down at you.

“You occupy my every thought,” he starts, “that it feels sinful to even look at your way.” He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss as his hand continued its exploration, ripping your bra off to cup your breast, feeling your nipple harden under his touch. He rolled it between his fingers, pinching it gently as he deepened the kiss when you gasp, his tongue delving into your mouth, savouring your taste and angelic sounds.

He leaned down afterwards, his mouth latching onto your nipple, sucking it into his mouth and your hands find his ling strands instantly, tugging on them while being careful not to hurt him.

His fingers traced down to your hip, giving them a firm squeeze before ripping your panties off next, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit, feeling you writhe and tense up under him.

It felt like an unknown territory you've yet to explore.

Upon sensing your discomfort, he presses his lips to your eyelids, then to your neck, taking his time until you relaxed, until you started feeling good based off how you were bucking your hips now.

Oh how he wanted to take his time with you, but he was aching so bad that if he continues touching you he might just burst embarrassingly fast in his pants.

“Let me in, my wife.” He gently starts massaging your thighs as he parts them, making you feel more exposed than ever, but he distracts you by softly kissing you again and again while he's unbuckling his pants and pushing them down, revealing his throbbing thick, hard cock.

“Capitano—!” you try to squirm away when you feel his tip push into your tight hole, your lips parting from the way he stretched you open, but at the same time you felt relaxed with his soft whispers of ‘take your time’ and ‘you’re doing well, my wife.’

Your cunt soon takes in every inch, swallowing him whole until you were a panting mess, and you didn't even start.

Capitano then began to move, his thrusts slow and deep at first, letting you get used to his size, to how you feel, to how he feels as he makes love to you for the first time together.

You feel your heart up to your throat and ears, it felt incredible, something you've never felt before, your soft moans echoing in the air along with a few groans coming from him.

He shivered when he felt your fingertips trace the few scars littering his shoulders and back, his dick twitching almost instantly before his thrusts grew faster, more urgent.

His hand reached down, returning back to draw circles around the bundle of nerves, and he could feel your body tense, your walls clenching around his cock as he continued to rub your clit.

“come for your husband,” he breaths heavily next to your ear, and you come undone, your moans filling the room as he felt you milk his cock. He could feel his own release following after, his balls tightening before he slammed into you one last time, spilling thick ropes into your womb, until you were filled to the brim.

Your legs were shaking slightly around him, yet his warm embrace afterwards made you melt, eyelids heavy with him still being buried inside you.

—

You groggily woke up, still half in a dream-like state, the room bathed in shadows due to the closed curtains blocking out the morning sun.

As your senses slowly returned to reality, you heard a soft meow next to you, and sure enough, your little kitten had made itself comfortable in the middle of the bed. To your surprise, Capitano, who was still asleep beside you, didn't seem bothered in the slightest by the creature's presence.

“pst,” you whisper to your husband who only hummed in acknowledgment of your attention. “Can we go have a picnic this early morning? With our baby kitten of course.”

Tags: @sayastyx, @nastylilcvnt, @bigboygoose,