SET ME FREE

JACKSON LUCA

[spellofwinter-deactivated202605]

requested by @snarledblack

[lucaxjack-archives]

isaaclandon‌:

Tourists. Isaac was watching them like a large cat on the prowl, his eyes taking in each and every human with a clear harshness and disgust. Supernaturals being trapped here, and the word of such a large population lingering within the confines of the town had most certainly drawn adventurers to its roots, feeding on the thrill of being in such close proximity to beings that may or may not be human. They thought themselves safe due to written agreements and verbal contracts, but in his presence, they were less than the filth wallowing in the swamps. He wanted to kill one, and tonight, he most certainly would. 

Isaac’s probing mind drifted from each man to women, reading the same naive thoughts until he reached both a mind and face that drew a very new expression from him. The warlock smiled his gaze cutting through the lines of people from where he sat, reaching out to mentally tap at Jackson’s conscious. Behind you, dove. Come sit with me a moment, will you?

@lucaxjack

The day was young with the sun still high in the air, a gun holstered and hidden underneath the dark-haired man's shirt as he walked down the sidewalk. On his way to a ‘job’ an easy hit job, someone hired him to kill their overly obsessive boyfriend. An easy enough hit, one he wasn’t committed to going through with. The girl was barely a teenager and paid him ahead of time so he had absolutely no obligation to go through with his side of the bargain. So when he was pushing past people on the street, wandering aimlessly through the crowded ‘downtown’ area of the small town; he had no problem stopping to try and figure out what the hell he just heard in his mind. It was a strange feeling; to hear someone else's voice instead of your own inside your head. There was only one man he could recall having that sort of ability; and he felt a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips as his head turned to spot the well dressed, mysterious man perched in his spot like a piece of artwork.

“Isaac,” Jackson greeted as he made his way over to him, sliding into the spot beside him, “Its been a while since I’ve last seen you,” Jackson let his eyes trail over his body with a quip of a raised eyebrow, “Still causing chaos where ever you go?”

[lucaxjack-archives]

silasowens‌:

@lucaxjack

Silas squinted at the nightstand in the dark, at the military standard clock read 3:23 in bright, blocky numbers. Time to go. The warmth of the body beside him wasn’t enough to keep the chills away. He’d laid awake, too afraid of what dreams would come if he slept, feeling that cold creep back in through his fingertips, climb the sinews of his arms and take root in his chest, curling possessively around the heart it had found. Silas was little more than a vessel for the thing. Hesitantly, the wolf let his eyes fall on  Slipping the dead weight of the arm draped across his abdomen, the man carefully maneuvered to sit on the edge of the bed, hazed in the muted city lights through the loft window. He combed his numb fingers through his mat of bedraggled hair, looking out across the battlefield of shed clothes, the pool of red wine slowly sinking into the hard wood floors. They’d crashed together, explosive and addictive, and he was left again with the mars of his lust to show for it, enough to remind him that he was living, bleeding, hurting. A moment of life, and then the numbness slipped back in. Strangely, he didn’t regret it.

He began collecting clothes in the darkness as quietly as he could manage. The better part of his judgement pleaded for him to cut ties now, but it hadn’t stopped him before. He poured himself the last dreg from the open bottle, downed it quickly as he scratched out a note. Silas’ gaze drawn back to the figure splayed in bed, and something dangerously close to sentiment warmed him at the sight. Quietly, he approached, plucked his keys and wallet from the nightstand, biting his own sore lip as he debated waking him. No, he decided, Jack wouldn’t be expecting any more from him. With the barest of touches, he brushed a raven black strand of hair from the man’s face, fingertips hovering over the jut of his cheekbone before pulling away. He placed the note by the clock, and made to leave before he could overthink it. 

Memories of the day crept unbidden to the forefront of Jack’s mind, settling on him like a weight. The drunken buoyancy he felt only moments ago evaporates, leaving only a tired – and still slightly drunken – heaviness in its wake, his shoulders slump some as he exhales a long breath. Sitting on the dark stained wooden coffee table looking out the large window that looked over the life of the city. Elbows resting on his knees with a glass, empty with two partially melted ice cubes clinking together with every minor movement. Staring into nothing with a blank stare while his mind whirled and stomach sank. A sadness crept over him that he couldn’t understand or explain. An empty feeling of remorse and exhaustion that sunk deep through his core. He had tried subduing the feeling with alcohol – a bottle of whiskey sat empty in the kitchen across from him. The text was sent without a second thought; Jackson didn’t want to be alone and he wanted to lose himself in Silas.

The night had escalated after the two bonded briefly over a bottle of wine before they both were engulfed in firey passion through the rest of the evening. Resulting in Jackson passing out pretty soon after. The room a dishevelled mess of discarded clothes, wine, and two partially empty glasses of wine on the bedside tables. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours when Jackson woke up, feeling the disturbance of the bed when Silas stood up. Barely stifling a groan at the shocked feeling of cold where Silas’ body heat once had been. Tired, disorientated eyes flickered open as he sat up. Casting a glance to where he found the werewolf standing by the door, hand on the knob. “You’re just going to leave?” he spoke before thinking, voice a hoarse whisper. Jackson wasn’t sure why he stopped him, he was just another ‘booty call’ a warm body to occupy his time. Unable to admit that he could be anything more. “Don’t?” 

[lucaxjack-archives]

[ stare ] your muse staring mine down . ( kat )

The loud dancing music and chatter from the occupants in the club were distracting and droning. Impossible to do much of anything but dance or drink. Jackson Luca was currently drinking. Trying to enjoy himself. That was. Until he spotted dark eyes watching him from across the room.  There was no softness in that gaze. It was a look that conveyed a bubbling hatred. Disgust perhaps. Yet she was a stranger, or at least he thought she was. He searched his memory for possible people he could have wronged, which was a pretty long list. Jackson held her look for a couple more moments.

Before getting frustrated and storming across the room between sweaty dancing bodies to confront her, upon getting closer he knew exactly who she was, “Hope you’re wearing your favourite outfit, you’re going to die in it.”

[lucaxjack-archives]

[ lit ] your muse lighting a cigarette , spliff , etc. for mine . ( roy )

Sweet-smelling rain-washed darkness, the water stopped maybe an hour before the two had set foot into the chilled air. The sky freckled with stars, a poor illumination compared to the smudgy glow of a lamppost that stood overhead them. They had briefly met in the overcrowded bar, having been yelling over the roar and laughter of occupants. The sudden silence of the outside world was almost deafening. Casting a dark glance over the man, a man whose name he had merely forgotten the moment he’d introduced himself. He was handsome, there was no doubt about that. Under the dim glow of the street light and bars neon glowing OPEN sign, he looked about as seductive as the devil himself. Pulling a box of cigarette’s from his back pocket and lifting one slowly to his lips. He didn’t expect Roy to move with such confidence and conviction. His thumb flicking over the spark wheel of the lighter, the glow of the flame lighting up both their faces in the dark night. Jackson couldn’t stifle a smile that curled to the edge of his lips, with the smoke of the recently lit cigarette circling through the air between them he broke the silence, “Want to come back to my place?”

[lucaxjack-archives]

devotedecay‌:

❥      NON - SEXUAL   ACTS   OF   DOMINANCE . 

feel free to edit or elaborate as you please .   ( add  ‘ reverse ‘  to your message if you’d like to see how my muse would perform the action ) . otherwise , send in one of these for my muse’s reaction to   …

[ lit ]  your muse lighting a cigarette , spliff , etc. for mine . 

[ order ]  your muse ordering for mine at a restaurant or bar .

[ guide ]  your muse putting a hand on mine’s back to lead them .

[ pay ]  your muse paying for mine at a store , bar , restaurant , etc . ( you can specify where or for what . )

[ open ]  your muse opening a door for mine .

[ dry ]  your muse drying mine off with a towel after a shower , bath , swimming , etc . 

[ instruct ]  your muse giving mine instructions / telling them what to do . 

[ groom ]  your muse adjusting mine’s appearance , such as straightening a tie , fixing their hair , or buttoning their shirt for them , etc . 

[ direct ]  your muse taking mine by the chin and telling them to look yours in the eye .

[ disagree ]  your muse sternly telling mine  ‘ no ‘ .

[ rest ]  your muse resting their arm over mine’s shoulder / s .

[ clean ]  your muse cleaning a smudge of something off mine’s cheek , forehead , etc .   feel free to specify what and how . 

[ answer ]  your muse answering a question meant for mine . 

[ coat ]   your muse holds mine’s coat out for them while they put it on .

[ pilot ]  your muse taking mine by the arm , hand , shoulder , etc . to lead them . 

[ stare ]  your muse staring mine down . 

[ placement ]  your muse telling mine to sit down .

[ teach ]  your muse taking control of mine’s hand , arm , hips , etc . to make sure they do something correctly .  

[ patience ]  your muse telling mine to be patient .

[ tears ]  your muse wiping away mine’s tears .

[ swat ]  your muse swatting mine’s hand away from something they’re not supposed to touch .  

[ jewelry  ]  your muse clasping a piece of jewelry for mine , such as a necklace , or earrings . 

[ enough ]  your muse commanding mine to stop talking . 

[ retrieve ]  your muse requesting or ordering mine to retrieve them something .

[ invite ]  your muse inviting mine to sit on their lap .

[ lean ]  your muse inviting mine to lean into their side while they’re sitting or laying together . 

[ calm ]   your muse telling mine to  ‘ just breathe ‘ .

[ scold ]  your muse scolding mine for something .

[ comfort ]  your muse pulling mine into a reassuring hug .

[ approval ]  your muse complimenting mine on a choice they’ve made .

[ beckon ]  your muse beckoning mine to them without speaking . 

[ laces ]  your muse lacing , tying , or zipping something for mine , such as shoes , a dress , or a jacket , etc .

[ stay ]  your muse telling mine to stay in the car . 

[ defend ]  your muse defending mine’s reputation , dignity , or safety for them . 

[ feed ]  your muse feeding mine something , feel free to specify what .

[ volume ]  your muse demanding mine speak louder .

[ read ]  your muse reading something to mine .

[ refill ]  your muse refilling mine’s glass for them . 

[ possessive ]  your muse resting their hand on mine’s leg or the small of their back while they’re sitting beside each other . 

[lucaxjack-archives]

49%  Motherfucker 51% Son of a bitch

[musingisms]

“Act like you trust people, but don’t.”

— Anonymous (via terrible)

[regencyresource]

[silasowens-archived-deactivated]

wolf like me.

[lucaxjack-archives]

silasowens‌:

@lucaxjack

The wolf was awake, shaking the cobwebs from auburn fur, rebelling again in the salvation found in blood, in death. For too long it had been caged, growing in gumption as it fed for weeks on it’s host’s pain, growing all the stronger from fighting his efforts to contain it. A wake of carnage was left in his path. Blood sprayed into the trees, pelts strewn in ribbons the only trace of anything that dared run. Not for hunger, not for the sport, but for the insatiable lust for violence. For the sheer fucking cruelty of it, he killed. 

A scent caught on the wind, flagging the most promising prey yet. Man. Excitement flared and he picked up speed, huffing each haggard breath as he closed in on the trail. The wolf knew well that no blood was sweeter, no pain more deliciously felt than that of man. His mouth watered at the thought of it. A sweep of light through the silhouetted trees passed, and then was gone. Road, he thought. From the shadows, the wolf singled out his prey. He watched as Man walked, alone. Stepping from the brush, the wolf announced his presence with a guttural snarl from the depths of his throat. Coiled, he awaited that first flash of fear across Man’s eyes, baring his fangs to the moonlight. Run, rabbit.

Kicked out of the bars after drinking too much and getting himself into a couple of bar fights, it appeared as though his night was coming to an end. Or it would be if he could find the damn way back home. It was dark and he was pretty intoxicated. Shuffling down the empty street, nothing but the street lamps were on, which was the only thing illuminating him and his path, “All I do is sit insiii-iiide oh lord~” he started singing to himself, that damn yodel kid song. One remaining bottle of beer in his hand. Pausing his steps when he heard a rustle in the bushes. Staring in the direction for a long time before continuing his walk. Only when he heard it a second time did he stop and see a massive creature step from the shadows.

Perhaps the biggest wolf he’d ever seen. Jackson was acquainted with werewolves but never had he seen one so huge, so close, and coming straight for him with teeth that looked the size of kitchen knives. “Oh dear god,” he felt himself breath out. That hot tingle of panic biting at his neck. Dropping the beer bottle, which created a deafening shatter. All instincts screamed at him to run, so that’s what he did. Bolting down the street, nearly running straight into a telephone pole as he skidded around the corner, trying to find somewhere to hide, a building that was open. Anything. Still dressed as a cowboy he had guns, two pistols which only carried about 6 rounds each. Which Jackson knew would not be stopping a rampaging werewolf. Kicking down the door to an abandoned factory he busted in and looked for high ground to hide. Or find something to hide his scent. 

[lucaxjack-archives]

campbellashes‌:

Count on Ashton to run into the one person not paying attention to the goddamn cripple hobbling down the sidewalk. He would have shifted to the side if he could, but he’d assumed the guy would give him room, and turns out drunks weren’t so courteous. The rough hit near had him stumbling over, but the hand caught his arm, forcing one crutch to fall to the ground as he was roughly turned. At least he was able to adjust his weight on his good leg, but he was really not wanting to get busted up and sent to the hospital again.

“Look, I can’t exactly jump out of the way.” Ashton sighed, smelling the liquor on the man’s breath and cursing his real lack of luck lately. “Can you let me go?” There was irritation in his voice, because it agitated him to have a damn gun and not be able to grab for it. “I’ll buy you a drink at the very least, just…fuck man, the arms aren’t fucked up and I’d really like to keep it that way.”

Jackson’s dark gaze wandered over the boy who had gotten in his way and he couldn’t hide a toothy smile at just how pathetic he looked. The crutch that felt clacked against the pavement and Jack found himself in an interesting situation. “You can’t be serious,” his laugh was loud and almost sinister as he looked down the sidewalk at partiers before returning his gaze back to the boy, his grip on his arm loosened as he bent down to pick up the crutch, however refrained from handing it over just yet, “You’ll buy me two drinks,” Jack negotiated as he brought a cigarette to his lips, “What are you supposed to be anyways? a trauma patient on the loose?”

[lucaxjack-archives]

The night was still young and Jackson had managed to drink his body weight in liquors in a matter of a few hours. Dressed as a cowboy he only found it suiting that he played the part, hell he even had two real guns holstered at his hip as he wandered drunkenly down the street to the next bar to his next dose of alcohol. On his way towards one of the partying buildings serving copious amount of alcohol he ended up bashing shoulders with someone else. “whoa whoa, watch where you’re goin’, dicklips,” he snapped grabbing them by the arm to force them to turn and look at him, “y’gonna apologize?” 

[benjamemebarnes]

[lucaxjack-archives]

benedictsaez‌:

location : pandemonium 

He should’ve expected a vampire bar to be this pretentious. Halloween night, and the place was packed full of undead and living alike, swaying in form-hugging costumes that did nothing to curb his appetite. Beneath the music, the air thrummed with electricity that stirred as he parted the crowd, paled figures leaning in to catch the scent of the blood that surged beneath the shifter’s skin. Black and red velvet spilled from the vaulted ceilings like offal, and the mortal was swallowed whole - pulled into the belly of the beast by the siren song of drink. As he approached the bar, it became obvious that the amorous couple tucked in the corner weren’t necking, but feeding. The glint of amber eyes in the darkness sent a shiver up his spine.

“Just my crowd.” Ben plucked an empty glass off the counter, buffing the coppery stain out of it before whistling for the bartender. He leaned back against the island with a crooked smile. Best not to keep your back to a congregation like this. “They got anything to drink here that isn’t still beating?”

There were certainly other things that Jackson would’ve been more interested in attending that night; entering the dragons den of vampires and other creatures of the night was not on the top of his list. Granted, this sort of affair had to come quite naturally to him - the machinations and agendas of the court had to be as familiar to him as breathing. A glittering room full of wealthy, pampered, spoiled fools who had more money than sense, and who did what they pleased with no consequence. That Jackson could admire. The young warlock was clearly in his element. The dance floor was like walking through a trap of unrestrained piranas looking for bite out of an unsuspecting victim, finding his way to the bar was a feat in itself, sliding a hand through black hair; pushing strands out from in front of his face as he begun to chat up the bartender. Who was a human no less and seemed just a compelled as the rest of the drunken lot.

Eyes slid down the bar to a man beckoning for the bartender to fill a glass, and Jack’s expression split into a delighted grin as he made his way down with a full bottle of whiskey to split. The lone man stuck out like a sore thumb with the way he sauntered and acted among the crowd, no doubt whispers about the mysterious shifter would ghost throughout conversations through the night, “I wouldn’t bother,” Jack purred as he purred the liquid into Benedict’s glass before filling up his own, motioning to the bartender with a lopsided shrug, “he’s not much of a conversationalist.” 

[lucaxjack-archives]

Jackson’s Halloween Costume

“I pity you broke hoes”

[lucaxjack-archives]

barczaks‌:

location: pandemonium

The vampire gave the muscular bouncer a tap on the arm, eyes still set on the drunk who’d just broken his second bottle a few moments ago. “Why don’t you show him the way out?” The guy knew what he meant and readily moved to take the guy outside. Henryk let out a low sigh. “Love the money, hate the crowd.” He’d been walking around the floor. Hallow’s Eve was a full night and he foresaw a headache or two. Nothing that couldn’t be handled though. “You alright over there?” He asked as he approached another client.

The night was still young and unfortunately, Jackson was still very much sober. That morning he had thought he had convinced himself that was wasn’t going to attend any sort of festivities. Yet here he found himself, nursing his third glass of wine while watching the club fill up with all sorts of different people and their obscure costumes. Looking up from his drink at, Henryk, the vamprie who had approached him, “I’d be doing alright if you didn’t allow just anyone in off the street,” he huffed bringing his glass to his lips as he finished off the red wine, “Some of the costumes these people are wearing are horrendous.”

[shilon-avatars]