#I've just been hit with this strong feeling of being trapped and caged | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

girlpornparadise · 4 years

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The Caged Bird Moans (pt 1)

Pairing: Diego Jimenez/f!Reader (Power - Starz)

Word Count: ~2600

Warnings: It's a bit Stockholm syndromey, but that's not a real thing anyway (look it up). Not exactly non-con, but it skirts the idea, so if power disparities aren't your jam, please move along. It just real dirty. SMUT!

Personal ramble: Would anyone actually react like this to the situation I've set forth? No. But just as the pizza guy is never hot and doesn't offer you his extra sausage, this is porn people! So suspend your disbelief and don't hate on me for my bullsh*t.

I also wrote all this nonsense a week ago before I read anything from the lovely @1zashreena1 , @heresathreebee or @nicke0115 so sorry if it looks similar, I swear it's a coincidence.

"Ouch", you think to yourself but instead swallow the pain. Your arm hurts under the firm grasp of the thug dragging you from the elevator into the spacious penthouse.

"Be careful with that." Says a commanding voice from across the room.

The grip loosens, but he's still using your momentum to force you forward. You stumble, unsure of just how much danger you are in.

As you take in your surroundings the owner of the voice turns around and approaches you. He looks you up and down, examining you like a prize he had won.

"We can't afford to damage her." He states plainly, looking at the man still holding you in place.

As he examines you, you examine him right back. Whereas he is doing it in an obvious way, head nodding to rake his eyes over you, you move your eyes only, unable to control your body in this moment. You follow the carefully polished boots up past the fitted black jeans to the black buttoned up shirt with the slight sheen to it, that accentuates his frame. Everything is obviously expensive and very deliberately chosen. As your eyes settle on his face, a recognization dawns on you. Diego Jimenez. One of the heads of the Jiminez cartel. His reputation was well known to you. An unstable, merciless man whose penchant for partying made him a big name in certain circles. You were scared before, but now your body goes rigid with fear and your gaze hits the floor with force.

Though you're no longer looking at him directly you can sense his smugness and satisfaction at knowing you are now showing the appropriate amount of fear for the situation you're in. Maybe it's your hind brain telling you you are in the presence of an apex predator. Maybe it was the clipped snort he let out, tinged with amusement as he nodded with approval.

After what feels like an eternity, but was probably mere seconds, he speaks again.

"Take her to the guest room." He orders the man still firmly gripping your arm. "Lock this little bird in her cage."

Dragging you again, this time down the hall, Diego's orders are followed to completion. You are practically thrown into the room as the door slams shut behind you.

You stumble, catching yourself on the bed. You collapse onto it as tears prick your eyes and subsequently fall down your cheeks. You begin to sob, but muffle it in the covers, assuming someone is standing guard outside and not wanting to seem even weaker in such an intense situation. But the tears flow freely as the shock of what's happened slowly wears off and you begin to process the details of your abduction.

You hadn't grown up in this world, though your ties to it were strong. You were part of the Bennet family, a rival cartel, headed by your grandfather. He insisted you grow up distanced from this world. A world of violence and cruelty. A world of drugs and guns and transactions ending in death. Based on your current reaction, you couldn't help but think maybe it was because you're so weak. Both you and he knew it was true, you were too soft to be a part of the business, too kind to do what would be required of you. So he kept you away, from his city and his dealings and all of the darkness that came with it.

You were in town for a rare family visit when you were taken without warning, snatched from the street at gunpoint. They were able to do it without drawing attention, entirely professional, and you complied with their every demand as a sense of terror ripped through you.

And now here you were, trapped by a barbarous stranger who could end your life at any moment without a second thought.

As you wore yourself out from crying, you began to take in the room, determined to get your bearings. It was sparsely decorated, obviously the work of a man unattached. It was also immaculately clean, obviously the work of his maid. As your breathing slows and your senses sharpen, you become aware that the comforter you are still on top of is plush and expensive, like the kind found at a swanky hotel.

Curiosity returning with your senses, you walk over to the window that stretches from floor to ceiling and take in the impressive view of the city. If the long elevator ride weren't a clear enough indicator, the view tells you that you are in the penthouse of a very upscale building.

Next to the window is a large bathroom and you walk in. You splash cold water on your face and dry it on one of the plush towels. You can't help be momentarily amused by how well stocked the room is with soaps and lotions. There were definitely worse places to be trapped. Was this the definition of a gilded cage?

As you settle down, you take off your shoes and sit back down on the bed. You're exhausted to your core, and you sink into the mattress, wanting to disappear. You want to keep your wits about you, alert and on guard, but instead the stress combined with the late hour forces you to sleep.

You are woken up abruptly the following morning when the door swings open and you are literally dragged out of bed by the same man as yesterday.

You're a bleary eyed, rumpled mess and the same fear and pain shoot through you as you remember where you are and how you got there. Your breathing is shallow as you try not to panic.

You've been dragged before Diego who is standing imposingly before you, hands clasped in front of him, chin slightly upward so he can look down his nose at you.

He examines you once more and you can tell he's disgusted by what he sees.

"Get our guest something to wear." He barks. "And get her something to eat. We can't bargain if she's broken."

As he turns away from you to resume whatever you interrupted, you catch the flash of the gun in his waistband and the fear settles once again in the pit of your stomach.

You are escorted back to the room forcefully and your mind is racing. You know everyone who comes through the penthouse is armed to the teeth and there's no chance of escape. You're not just weak, you're helpless. You assume you're being held for some kind of ransom, probably territory or resources as opposed to money, and you silently pray that a deal for your release is struck quickly so this nightmare can be over.

Soon after, the door opens and a housekeeper enters carrying a couple of bags of clothes. She doesn't look you in the eye and you wouldn't know what to say to her anyway.

Once she has left, you rummage through the clothes. There's nothing there you'd pick for yourself, but you settle on a white fitted t-shirt and jeans. You carry them with you into the bathroom along with a handful of drugstore makeup you find in the bottom of the bag.

You look at yourself in the mirror and the reason for Diego's revulsion becomes clear. Your clothes are wrinkled and creased and your mascara is smudged under your eyes. You lock the bathroom door behind you, strip down and take a shower. The running water calms you and once you finish you get dressed and approximate your normal makeup routine with what you have. If you're going to put on a brave front, you need to be as put together as possible.

When you emerge from the bathroom a tray of breakfast is waiting on the nightstand next to the bed. Eggs sunny side up and toast, simple and straightforward. You devour it greedily since you haven't eaten since lunch yesterday.

The day passes with 2 more meals brought to you by the same housekeeper at the appropriate intervals. In the absence of your phone, you distract yourself with mindless TV on the rather large set opposite the bed. You don't take in much as you think about your predicament and then try to force those thoughts of the worst case scenario from your mind.

Your sleep that night is restless.

You are brought before Diego once again in the morning, shortly after you wake.

This time you are allowed to walk under your own power, though your legs feel wobbly and your feet unsure as you approach him.

You're wearing a cotton t-shirt and shorts, the closest thing you could find to pajamas. As he looks at you, you become painfully aware that you're not wearing underwear, his eyes seeming to stop at all the places where it should be.

You are at least able to look at him and take in more this time. He's clad in a similar black button up shirt and black jeans as yesterday, a uniform of sorts to convey his status. His hair is neatly cut and accentuates his angles, sharp jaw and well placed cheekbones. His greying facial hair gives him some earned distinction and his expression is hard and deliberate to elicit a specific reaction of fear. Through the careful tailoring of his shirt you can see that his body is sturdy and muscular. His tense posture using his frame to his advantage, making him seem larger than he actually is. You know to fear him, but he may be the most attractive man you've ever seen in real life.

He obviously cultivates an aura of power, and you can't help but be drawn to him as an Alpha Male. As you steel yourself, you dare to look him in the eyes. His eyes are cold but impossibly magnetic and you can't look away. He's looking back at you now, into you. Your heart forgets how to beat in rhythm and you swallow thickly.

He sees your fear and is clearly amused by it.

"Breakfast will be ready soon. You should go take a shower." He says, his lips curling upwards.

"I, I was going to." you stammer.

"Good girl." It comes out as almost a purr and sends a shiver down your spine.

This time it's Diego, not his associate who accompanies you back to the bedroom. His hand is hovering above the small of your back, ushering you forward while maintaining a small distance. You enter the room and the lock clicks behind you.

You turn to see that he's still in the room and with his gaze set upon you, you begin to back away towards the bathroom, afraid to turn your back on him. This was clearly his intended effect.

You expect him to leave, but he's doing the opposite. He is stalking forward. Your heart is pounding out of your chest and your uneven breathing becomes gulping for air.

As he closes the gap between your bodies, he repeats his suggestion. "You should go take a shower." It's not a suggestion though, it's a command.

He leans in. "Go on." His lips are close enough to your ear that his breath catches in your hair.

His thick body is now urging you through the bathroom doorway by its approach. You back through it, still transfixed by his gaze.

You glance side eyed to your left at the shower that takes up the far wall. It's one of those large walk-in showers with a stone floor and a rain showerhead. It suddenly seems less like a shower and feels more like a trap about to spring shut.

"Take off your clothes." He says. He's not asking.

You gulp, your eyes have gone wide at the demand.

"Take. Off. Your. Clothes." He repeats in a tone that is both amused and losing patience. He raises his eyebrows slightly as he says it.

You look away, ashamed, and slowly and nervously acquiesce. You stand before him completely naked and try to avert your gaze. You are drawing your body inward, trying to conceal yourself in any way you can.

"Turn on the water." he says with his wicked smile widening.

You turn on the shower and wait for it to warm. It dawns on you that there's no shower curtain to protect you or glass wall to hide behind. You are fully exposed and will remain so.

You step under the water, unsure of what to do next. You'd obviously showered hundreds of times, but this wasn't a shower. It was a show.

"Wash yourself." His voice is quieter, more of a harsh whisper.

You grab a washcloth and pump the foaming body wash onto it. You rub it on the back of your neck and slowly work your way down to your shoulders. Your nerves have subsided a little as the water washes over your skin.

He's mesmerized by the motion of your hands and you drag the washcloth across your collarbones and down to your breasts, where you languidly rub them with the cloth as well as your free hand.

Your nipples harden at your own touch. He notices and his tongue drags over his bottom lip. You close your eyes in an attempt to momentarily escape.

When you open your eyes you notice him shift his weight and catch a glimpse of the shift in his muscles under his shirt. You get a rush as you feel the power dynamic shift slightly. You are slow to rub the washcloth down your legs and you arch your back slightly as you bend over, purposely sticking out your ass more than you naturally would.

His eyes are dark with lust and you can feel the warmth radiating from between your own legs.

"Rub your clit." He says, reclaiming his power.

You look at him with shocked eyes and your eyebrows knit.

"You heard me." he says. "I won't ask again." His head tilting slightly.

You put the washcloth aside and tentatively slide your middle finger between your thighs to your bundle of nerves. You notice how wet you already are and using gentle pressure you begin to rubbing in circles.

You close your eyes and swallow as your walls contract and release. Your breathing gets heavier and heavier until you're panting. Panting and touching yourself for this fixated man.

"Cum for me." He demands. "I need to see you cum."

You think to fake an orgasm. To end this little game he's playing, but it's too late. Your finger presses harder on your clit and you tremble as the real thing rips through you. You close your eyes and cry out with abandon.

When you regain yourself you look at him. You are raw and exposed and at your most vulnerable. His mouth is in a wide smile and his eyes gleam with satisfaction.

He reaches out to you, towel in hand. You steady yourself, turn off the water, and take the towel from him. You wrap it around yourself, suddenly panged with shame at how readily you revealed your most intimate self to this menacing stranger. Your posture closes, and reflects your return to shyness.

"Good girl." He says, and you feel the words like honey dripping in your ears.

He turns and leaves, his confident stride drawing your attention to how his jeans hug his perfect behind.

You dry yourself off and as you get to your inner thighs you're reminded of how wet you are. How wet you are for him. You want to blame the shower, but you know the truth. You're spellbound by this man, and god are you in trouble.

#maurice compte #diego jimenez #starz power #fic #smut #moar diego #moar growly murder panther

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sir-crocodile-smile · 3 years

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I promise, last set of questions for the Punching Bag, if it's alright with you please ignore this if it's too much, oh and please rest up since I've been continuously asking you this, I'm sorry and thank you! :3

If Kid did found out before they broke up, what do you think he'll do?

Killer is a smart fellow, didn't he realize what his ex s/o does to him is wrong?

If that topic wasn't known to the crew and his ex s/o was still in the ship when reader finally arrived and get together with him, what do you think will happen?

How did the break up go with ex s/o? More shouting and punching and blaming Killer??

When reader finally confronted Killer about his past in your fic, did it finally dawn on Killer that 'Yeah.. that was more messed up than whatever Kid throws up in the toilet..'?

What mindset was in Killer's mind when he was with his ex is it a) they're weaker than I am so I should just let them hit me or b) I deserve it, it's my fault or c) if I don't let them hit me they'll think I don't love them and they'll break up with me

Thank you again! 💖💖 And I hope Killer's abusive ex trip down and scrape their knee :3

Hi again! I don’t mind it! In fact, you can message me privately to talk more if you want. These answers got pretty long so bear with me! As always, Potentially triggering stuff goes under the cut. If you’re not into angst, please scroll on by, I promise I won’t be upset if you don’t read this.

It broke my heart writing these because I love Killer so much... I’m so sorry bby!!

TW: Domestic abuse, mental/emotional abuse, angst, be prepared to be so sad for Killer

If Kid did found out before they broke up, what do you think he'll do?

Like I said, mans snaps. He would want to murder Killer’s s/o, and he would need a lot of convincing in order to not immediately resort to violence. If he manages to be calmed down, it would be because Heat and Wire are there and volunteer to help because they care about Killer too. Kid doesn’t deal with feelings well, so he would need some help in figuring out how to approach the situation with Killer. Likely, Heat and Wire would be assigned to have a sort of intervention with Killer to talk about what’s been going on and help him. Kid would definitely corner Killer’s abusive s/o and say “I know what you did to Killer. Get the hell off my ship and never return, or I’ll make you wish you were never born.”

Killer is a smart fellow, didn't he realize what his ex s/o does to him is wrong?

A person’s intelligence has nothing to do with it. I can’t stress that enough. Abusive relationships don’t start with violence, and abusers don’t walk around with neon signs over their heads to let people know they’re an asshole. Abusive relationships start like any relationship, and slowly become abusive over time. It can be hard for anyone to recognise early warning signs, no matter how smart they are.

Abuse doesn’t start out as physical, it starts as mental/emotional and slowly morphs into something physical. Killer has a lot of insecurities and probably wouldn’t think he’s worthy of his s/o’s love in the first place, so it’s not a far reach to twist that self-loathing into a cage that traps him in an abusive situation. I also think that Killer, who didn’t have a loving childhood, is someone who desperately craves love and affection, even if it’s a crumb. So by the time Killer was first hit by his ex, he probably thought he was so lucky to be “loved” that it was easy to forgive a singular outburst of anger. Then it became a pattern, and he got used to it. He’d do anything for his s/o, for their “love”, so what’s a couple bruises? He’s a big, tough guy. He can take it. (my god, this is breaking my heart… ;-; my sweet pasta boy, ily bby)

If that topic wasn't known to the crew and his ex s/o was still in the ship when reader finally arrived and get together with him, what do you think will happen?

I honestly don’t think his ex would stay with the crew after they break up because that’s a death sentence. If Killer tells anyone what happened, the whole crew will be out for blood and Killer’s ex would be lucky to die quickly. Like, not even divine intervention could save their ass from the wrath of the Kid Pirates. Plus, being Killer’s ex on the Victoria Punk is the definition of a hostile work environment. Killer would be crushed after the breakup, even if he initiated it, and that turns his ex into Eustass Kid’s number one enemy. He would make their life a living hell even if he didn’t know the full extent of what happened.

How did the break up go with ex s/o? More shouting and punching and blaming Killer??

If Killer initiated the breakup, it would be because his self-loathing took hold and convinced him that his ex deserved better than him. He would push them away even though it broke his heart to do it. This would definitely get Kid’s attention, and he’d want to know what was going on. Kid would definitely confront the ex about it, like “What did you do to him? What did you say? I’ve never heard him talk so badly about himself, how dare you do this to him!” If the ex just decides to leave, Kid won’t waste any energy on the ex and will try to help Killer (with Heat and Wire’s help, of course). And if the truth comes out… it’s murder time.

If the s/o initiated the breakup, I think it would be because they are interested in someone else or got tired of traveling with the Kid Pirates. They’re not a good person, so they’d probably just pack up and leave, not saying goodbye but leaving a breakup letter for Killer. This would shatter the man. He always felt like he was never good enough for them, and now this was proof. Thank goodness he has his crewmates to help him through it, because he needs it.

When reader finally confronted Killer about his past in your fic, did it finally dawn on Killer that 'Yeah.. that was more messed up than whatever Kid throws up in the toilet..'?

I think Killer knows that his ex was shit, but didn’t really realize they were abusive until after the interaction in “Punching Bag”. At first he doesn’t understand why he was so emotionally compromised after the reader told him that they would never hit him. He’s overwhelmed and confused as painful memories flood back to him, and he needs some time to sort through things before he can talk about it. Eventually I think he would have a breakdown where he confesses what happened in his last relationship because he realizes now how badly he was treated by his ex, and it hurts him so much because they took advantage of his trust and love. He convinced himself that things weren’t as bad as they seemed to try to cope, but he can see things clearly now that he’s in a good relationship. There will be a lot of long nights where he needs comfort as the healing process begins. He needs reassurance that you don’t think any less of him for what he went through, reassurance that he didn’t deserve to be treated that way, and that you really meant it when you said you’d never hurt him. Lots of cuddles, gentle kisses on his forehead, and combing your fingers through his hair to calm him down when things get really hard for him.

Ah, this will truly break my heart. It’s a little bit of all three, and some extra sadness. He’s strong, so he thought he could take anything his ex dished out. He also would blame himself for whatever made his ex angry because he already feels unworthy of their “love”. Additionally, he felt that no one but his ex could ever love him and was so afraid that they’d leave him that he put up with pretty much anything.

Here’s an example of poor Killer’s thought process during that dark time: “It’s not a big deal, just a black eye. I wouldn’t be a pirate if I couldn’t take a couple hits. They just get angry sometimes, but that’s because they care. If they didn’t care, they wouldn’t get so upset that I’m such a fuck-up. God, I’m such a fuck-up, why do they even love me? I can’t even show people my face because I’m a freak, and they love me anyway. What’s wrong with me? Why do I always test their patience like this? I’ll do anything to make it up to them. I’ll be their punching bag, I don’t care. I can take it. I deserve it anyway.”

And now I’m going to cry about this headcanon all day, my sweet pasta boy...

#smile talks #tw abuse mention #tw domestic abuse #tw domestic violence #tw emotional abuse #angst #;-; i hurt my sweet pasta boy

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stanbillyhargrove · 4 years

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Ghosts chp 16

Billy x Katrina

A/N: this is a multi chapter series that will contain smut, angst, fluff, substance abuse BLOOD, BODY HARM, ABUSE

Billy's POV

"Neil?"

Her mouth twitched into a smirk, "very good."

"I swear, if you hurt her," I growled.

Neil tsked at me, "relax. It's corn syrup, like in the movies...well, most of it."

One of her arms lifted, just enough to show a shallow cut on the inside of her bicep that had already scabbed over.

"Had to check my control."

"Why? Why are you doing this? Why her?"

"I could have picked anyone really, she wasn't the only one I followed...but, you really want to know why I picked her?"

My jaw worked but no sound came out, I was frozen.

She spun the knife in her hand, stopping to point it at me, "because of you and your mother. She was fascinated with this girl, loved her like her own, that's why I started following her. And then she found you and you made it too easy. You're both so weak, it's pathetic really."

"Neil," I ground out, "why?" I could feel my eyes stinging with tears and clenched my jaw to stop it from wavering.

"You always were a weak bastard," Neil sneered, "never stopped fucking crying. Blubbering about like a baby. I tried to make you strong and I see I've failed. You're my biggest mistake."

"I was a child!" I yelled, "I didn't need to be strong!"

"You were weak!" She screamed back, stepping up to get in my face.

She followed me as I backed up, pinning me against the wall to grab my chin and hissed, "you are weak! You're too much like your mother."

"Katrina," I pleaded, "please, you're stronger than this, stronger than him. Come back...please."

Neil let out a cruel laugh, fingers tightening to bruise skin, "you really think that'll work? She can't hear you, she's gone," her hand came up to her chest, groping at her breast, "this body does have perks though. I quite like it."

I looked away, clenching my jaw, "don't."

She smirked and stepped back, "calm down. Your precious Katrina has no idea, can't feel a thing," the knife spun to point at herself, the tip pressing against the side of her stomach, "shall I test her? See how much I can do before she notices?"

"No!" I shouted, lurching forward.

But it was too late. The blade had sunk into her skin. She didn't flinch, even when slowly pulling the knife out, releasing a stream of blood.

"See? We feel nothing."

Katrina's POV

A handful of golden blonde hair, holding her close as she rocked against me. A hushed whine, muffled by her mouth against my neck. It sent shivers down my spine. Sent my hips stuttering up as I released inside her. We relaxed into each other, leaning back against the seat of my car. Shared lazy kisses as we caught our breath and sweat cooled on our skin.

"I love you," she whispered against my lips, "don't go."

"I'll be back. Before you even realize I'm gone," I caressed her face gently in my hands, "and when I get back, we'll get married and have lots of babies."

She giggled, "lots?"

"Don't you want lots of children?"

She shook her head, "just two, a boy and a girl."

I kissed her, softly murmuring, "anything for you, my love."

"Marry me, Olivia."

She smirked, "what? You mean when you get back?"

I shook my head, "no. I want you as my wife before I leave."

"Neil, you leave tomorrow."

"So we go down to city hall and get married today. We can have the party when I get back, what do you say?"

I cradled Olivia's cheek in my hand, using my thumb to gently pull her lip from between her teeth. She looked up at me with those ocean eyes, shimmering with salt water.

"Don't cry," I murmured.

"Will you write me?"

I smiled, "as much as I can."

I pulled her into my chest and pressed my lips to the top of her head. Her hands wrapped around my back, twisting in my shirt to keep me close. I could feel her back shake under my hands when she let out a shuddering breath and sighed, holding her tighter.

"Can I stay?" She whispered.

"Of course, my love," I answered, shifting her under my arm so I could walk her inside.

Olivia curled back into my chest when I leaned against the wall. I held her like that for a while, just relishing in this time with her.

"Hey," I whispered, tilting her head up to look at me, "just be here, now, don't worry about later."

A small smile tugged at her lips before she kissed me.

She let me lead her backwards down the hall, giggling when she stumbled a little only to be caught by my arm. I swung her to the side and pressed her against the wall, trapped her there with my lips. My hand trailed down the swell of her hip, to the thigh that had hitched up around my waist. She jumped and I was holding her up, both her legs wrapped around my waist.

We were lying in my bed, a sheet draped loosely over bare waists. My fingers lazily combed through Olivia's golden curls as she hummed quietly against my chest, her fingers drawing idle designs on my skin.

"Liv," I murmured, "I need up."

She whined in protest when I slid out from under her but quieted when I leaned over to kiss her softly, "I'll be right back."

I came back from the bathroom to see Olivia at the end of my bed, the sheet wrapped tight around her chest. She was running her fingers over my army bag, the carefree happy smile on her face replaced with sadness again. I crawled onto the bed behind her and kissed her shoulder.

"Do you have to go?"

"Yeah, I do," I sighed, "I signed on before I met you. But, all I know is now I want to stay here. Just want to stay here as long as I possibly can. You're all that matters anymore. If I could take it back, unsign my name, I would. You know that, right?"

She nodded and tipped her head against mine, "I put something in your bag, to remember me."

"How could I forget you, my love?" I smiled, wrapping an arm around her, "come on, don't think about it. Let's get some sleep."

I no longer saw the sunshine in her golden curls, couldn't find the joy in a chubby cheeked child. I had been chewed up and spit out. Thrust back into this life that I didn't know how to be in anymore. My thoughts were consumed with the faces of fallen brothers and my own bloody hands.

Anything for the mission.

I was sent back a hero after being liberated from the enemy camp. My knowledge of the enemy would lead the troops to victory. But my twisted psyche meant I wasn't fit for duty. I missed the victory because I had learned to enjoy my mission. Enjoy the pain I inflicted on others, the feeling of warm blood rushing over my fingers, the sting of another scar decorating my ribs.

No matter where I went, I was reminded of it. Men clapped my shoulder to congratulate the famous Butcher. Women fawned over the rumors they spread. It started making me feel caged and angry. Angry at the world for not leaving me alone. Angry at my wife, for pestering me, pushing me and angry at that little bastard that just never stopped. He was so god damn noisy all the time, crying and babbling. Attached to his mother like a pathetic extra limb.

Currently, he was sitting in a heap on the kitchen floor, tears streaming down his face.

"God, would you shut him up!" I yelled from the table.

Olivia whipped around from the counter, "he is a child, Neil! Your child! You could try spending time with him."

The chair I was in toppled to the ground when I stood up and I was across the kitchen in an instant, holding Olivia's chin tightly in my hand.

"Do not," I growled, "disrespect me like that again. Shut him up. Now."

Her eyes turned down away from me, "I'm sorry...I'll take him outside."

I stepped up behind Olivia, wrapping my arms around her waist and setting my chin on her shoulder.

"Let's go out tonight," I murmured, "just us."

I could see the bruise on her chin tremble.

"Neil," she whimpered.

"I didn't mean to, Olivia. I just lost my temper, you know how I get. It won't happen again, just, go to dinner with me."

"Neil!"

Olivia lunged forward, putting herself between me and our son. I stood up fast, swinging my arm out.

Two cracks, in quick succession before she thudded to the floor.

One when my hand hit Olivia's jaw, sending her falling down. The other when her head hit the edge of the countertop. Then she was on the ground, blood pooling on the tile.

I could feel myself coming back to my body, slowly waking up. I couldn't move myself but I was starting to become aware. I could hear his voice in my head.

"Good morning, pet."

"You're...Billy's dad?"

"Ah, yes, I could feel you rooting around my memories."

"Why are you doing this?"

I started to slip back into darkness as I heard, "We all go a little mad sometimes."

I groaned, finally coming back to my body. All I could feel was pain, hot and sharp as it radiated throughout my body. The back of my head, my stomach, everywhere was overwhelming pain. I tried to take a deep breath only for it to catch with a gasp.

"Katrina? Is that you?"

I struggled to open my eyes to see Billy hovering over me and realized my head was in his lap.

"Billy? What...?" I tried to move again but cried out instead when the tensing of muscles caused a spark of white hot pain.

"Billy, keep her still!"

"S-Steve?" I looked down to see him kneeling beside me.

It took me a moment to realize that the triplets were here too, all crowded around with worried looks on their faces. To really see that Steve's hands were covered in blood as they pressed into my stomach.

"How long until the ambulance gets here?"

Riley's hands were shaking as she tried to hold the phone to her ear, "fifteen minutes."

"Fuck, I need towels. As many as you can find. Hurry!"

The three of them scrambled to their feet and ran off, leaving me with the boys.

"Billy," I murmured, "I'm sorry...your...your dad. It's...him."

"Hey, it's okay," he soothed, "it's okay, we know."

I could feel things starting to get hazy and looked up at Billy with watery eyes.

"How...bad?"

"It's pretty bad but you're gonna be okay. You hear me? Steve's gonna make sure you're okay."

My breath hitched, starting to come quick and shallow.

I choked on tears, "Billy, I...I don't want to die...I don't want to die here."

His jaw clenched, "you're not going to. You listen to me, I'm not going to let you. Just stay awake, keep talking to me, okay?"

@alias-b @charmed-asylum @champagnesugamama

#billy hargrove #stranger things #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove series #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington

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dorotheajanegilmore · 5 years

Text

Devil’s Daughter

Previous: 1 , 2, 3, 4, 5, 6,

Chapter seven

I had been staying with the Winchester's for just over two weeks now. My purple case looked great against the brown walls of the guest room, really made it feel like home.

The first night I stayed at the bunker (Before visiting parents in NY)

"Sorry it's so plain." Sam has said when he first brought me in here.

I shrugged. "It's much better than my dorm."

He chuckled and nodded. "Yeah I know how ya feel. Stanford."

"NYU." I admitted and he nodded with an impressed face. "Creative writing."

"Law."

I cringed. "Smarty pants."

Instantly an attractive smile broke out across his face and he shook his head, blushing wildly. "No. I never graduated."

"I don't think I will either, at least not yet." I told him truthfully.

"I hope that decision isn't because of us? I know how it feels to have your studies cut short and if I could go back..." Sam paused before he shook his head, laughing at himself. "I actually wouldn't go back."

I laughed at his honestly and shook my head. "No, I've been contemplating dropping out for a while. This whole angels exhausting and paternity testing is just the push I needed."

"Right." Sam wondered over to the bed and sat down beside me. He looked at me with a face of concern. "How are you feeling? Honestly."

"Honestly?" I asked and he nodded. I let out a deep breath, letting my shoulder sink. "I feel...like it's not real. I haven't thought about too deeply or really acknowledged it properly. I know that's not healthy but I just don't know how to accept this. My family life has always been rocky, my mother hates me."

Sam recoiled and pulled an offended face, as if I had just delivered a blow to his stomach. "I'm sure she doesn't hate you." I knew that his situation was difficult at the moment. Dean told me that their mother was trapped in some sort of apocalypse world.

"Don't defend her, I promise. You'll see tomorrow, she hates me." I emphasised it again but he shook his head, not having it. I decided to just continue because there was no way in changing his mind. "So, how did Dean recover so quickly? Those guys tortured him too."

Sam shifted on the bed and adjusted his watch on his wrist. He was clearly uncomfortable the way he was sat because his legs are way longer than mine and even my legs ached. We were both sat criss cross and I couldn't take it any longer.

I moved to sit at the edge of the bed, Sam sighing in relief and copying me as he answered. "Castiel healed him. Dean was supposed to save you from those guys but they ended up injecting and torturing him too. Demons aren't really fond of us, we've made a name for ourselves as hunters and they didn't know he was working with Crowley."

I nodded understandingly. I bit the inside of my cheek as I thought about asking the next question. My curiosity got the better of me and so I asked. "Did you, do you and Dean think I'm evil?"

Sam thought for a moment, before gently taking my smaller hand in his larger one. "I won't lie to you. When Rowena told us that Lucifer had a daughter and we needed her help...I definitely believed you to be evil. I thought that we were gonna find you at a bar murdering people or eating babies." Sam laughed at that last part.

“Why eating babies?" I tilted my head to look at him, confused as to where he'd get that from.

"Because ya'know, Lilith eats babies? At least in mythology and all of my text books-"

As Sam rambled on I looked down at the ground. I had forgot about Lilith being my true mother, I was so busy worrying about the devil I forgot about his first demon.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." Sam put a gentle hand on my shoulder and I shook my head.

"It's not your fault, Sam. I just can't believe I'm not a product of Christian and Rose. That Hallie and Alex aren't my blood related siblings. They'll always be my family, regardless of what a test says but I had that I don't have an actual connection to them. I hate that my blood isn't their blood. I hate that my blood is...evil." I sobbed as the word evil left my mouth.

Sam shook his head and wrapped his big arms around me, pulling me into him for a supporting hug. I cried into his red plaid chest as he held me tight. "You're not evil, Elle."

"You don't (hicup) know that!" I shook my head, feeling him hold me tighter. He began to rub his palm up and down my back, as if he was soothing a crying baby.

"No I don't, you're right. But if raising Jack has taught me anything, it's that we can't make quick assumptions."

———

Present day

(Two weeks living in the bunker)

I sat in the library with a book under my nose. Every waking moment of the passed week has been spent reading up on Lucifer, and learning my powers.

So far I have discovered my psionic energy blasts can be used in blasts, streams, waves and bolts to move things, lift and even throw things. Allowing me to hit, push or pull a target, potentially exerting enough force to destroy them. I had also improved my telepathy, I can control when to and when not to listen to thoughts so I could actually focus now.

As I was reading about Lucifer's cage I felt a presence enter the room. I was already on edge from all of the reading, Satan's not a happy guy. Feeling threatened I spotted a pair of scissors on the end of the table and used my new found powers to lift them up and send them at the person watch me.

As I span around, hands glowing red I realised who it was. Dean was stood at the door with wide eyes and hands held up in the air alarmed.

The blade of the scissors, surrounded by red wisps, hovered just inches away from his neck.

"I didn't mean to scare you, little red." He pushed the scissors away with his index finger. They landed in the floor with a snap and I sighed in relief.

"Dean, sorry about that." I felt immediate relief, so happy that it was him and not some creature I had been reading about. I cringed, hoping he wouldn't be to mad at me. "I'm reading about monsters so I'm a bit on edge.

"A bit?" He smirked, amused. He pulled out a seat opposite me at the table and sat down. "Is that why I was nearly executed in my own home?"

I nodded and slid the book over to him. I pointed at a paragraph and he quickly skimmed over it. It said;

The powers of a nephilim would be to great to raise such a creature on earth among mortals. A human woman could never contain a baby nephilim for very long as it could tear them apart. A nephilim will grow at rapid speeds, much faster than a human woman's body could contain. Once born a nephilim will reach adulthood within a matter of hours.

"Yeah." Dean nodded, confirming that the information in front of me was in fact correct. "Jack was born and within twenty minutes he looked like he was twenty years old.

"So how come I have baby photos? Actual picture evidence of me growing through the years. Every birthday party photo shows a year of progression. Am I slow? Am I broken?"

Dean chuckled at my outburst and shook his head. "Elle, there's never been an angel, demon cocktail baby. You're the first. Perhaps Lilith's genes are much slower."

"Or." Came a Scottish voice from the doorway. Rowena stood with a mischievous smile on her face as she danced her way over to the table.

"Perhaps I did a wee spell to aid in your human growth. I was there when Lucifer chose your parents and he made sure that Rose would be strong enough to encapsulate you for nine months, not to raise your relatives eyebrows at a two month unholy pregnancy. The spell made sure that Lucifer's child would grow as a normal human until she reached adulthood, then her powers would slowly blossom. That's why it's important that we found you." She lifted her martini up as if to cheers us before taking a large sip.

"I thought you want me to put him in a cage?" I raised a brow, wondering why she was adding to her story now.

Rowena shrugged. "That’s for the after party. Once we’ve rescued Mary from the apocalypse world, you and Jackie boy can work together to put him in a new cage, a stronger sturdier cage. Come on, had I told you this earlier you would’ve been overwhelmed and scared away. We need you, Red.”

Dean shook his head and pushed the book away. "Damn it, Rowena! Any other information you'd care to share?"

Rowena bit her lip and tapped her finger against her chin in thought. ”Aside from Lucifer wanting Jack and Elle back? No, not that I can think off.”

Next: 7

Tags: @lilulo-12 @vicmc624

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