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alloftheimagines · 1 year

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joel miller | shelter

masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

note: this can be read as part two of survive

words: 2.4k

warnings: 18+. please do not continue if you're uncomfortable with discussions surrounding rape/sexual assault, violence, blood, and cannibalism. spoilers.

synopsis: after the events of episode eight in which reader takes ellie's place as david's hostage, joel finds a cabin where he can take care of you in the middle of the woods. hurt, comfort, and fluff ensues. reader x joel, reader x ellie, and joel x ellie interactions, but mostly joel cleaning you up after a horrific experience.

tags: @sweetbabygirlsworld @m4tthewmurd0ck

It feels like you’re walking for miles before you find the abandoned, dusty cabin in the middle of the woods.

Your teeth chatter as Joel leads you inside, Ellie following behind. The smell is stale and it isn’t much warmer, but you’re out of the snow and that’s enough for now. When you see snow, you see blood, too.

“Alright, here we go,” Joel says, propping his gun against a ratty couch and looking around.

Ellie shuts the door on the howling wind, raising her brows. “Not bad.”

“Let’s see if we can find anything to clean up with.” Joel begins searching the small cupboards above a sink still stacked with plates.

You don’t know what to do, don’t know how to think about anything but the blood in your hair. His blood. You need it off you, need to rid yourself of any hint that he ever existed, ever hurt you. Absently, you scratch your arms and wander over to the fireplace. Charred tinder and ash sit in the hearth, and beside it, a pile of logs have been stacked haphazardly. You throw a couple in and shrug off your backpack, your fingers trembling as you find a lighter. Anything to help you feel something other than this yawning emptiness, this black hole, this disgust and this fear.

“Fuck, yeah!” Ellie exclaims, yanking her gloves off and warming her hands. You offer a wry smile, perching on the closest couch and trying to focus on the orange glow.

But then you think of the candles in the restaurant. The way you set David alight with them. The stench of burning clothes and hair as you walked away.

You close your eyes, your fingers curling so tightly into your palms that they leave marks behind.

“Hey,” Ellie says softly, kneeling in front of you. “You’re safe now, y’know?”

“I know, kiddo.” You put on a brave face for her benefit, though she’s smart enough to know you’re not okay. “Thanks.”

“What did… What did he do to you?”

Before you can answer, Joel’s stern voice echoes around the cabin. “Ellie, go see what you can find. There should be a bathroom, washcloths, somethin’.”

Sighing, Ellie offers you a kind expression, which you return, and then she disappears into the next room.

You cast Joel an impatient look. “You don’t have to do that.” You push off the couch and wander over to him. “How’s your wound? Any pain?”

His jaw ticks, and he shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

“You need to rest.” It was hard to believe he was still standing at all, and you hadn’t missed his bloody knuckles. You wonder what he’d done, who he’d beat just to get to you. James, maybe, and the men David threatened would find them. It’s a miracle any of you are here.

“You need to drink.” Joel pulls a bottle of water from his pack and hands it to you, watching you carefully like he’s just waiting for you to break. “I’ll go hunting first thing tomorrow. Get you some food.”

You think of the ear in the kitchen, the meat on the plate David offered you, and your stomach turns. Using the counter for support, you take a steady breath.

“Baby…” Joel is there in an instant, his hand caressing the small of your back.

“I’m okay,” you lie.

He hesitates a moment. “Did he…?”

You know what he’s asking. Did he rape you? “No. No. He tried.” A wave of anguish rolls up in you, so thick in your throat that you feel like you might throw up again. “I slaughtered him, Joel. I… I couldn’t stop. There was so much blood.”

Joel’s nostrils flare with suppressed anger, but he pulls you closer, smoothing down your matted, tangled hair. “He deserved it.”

“I didn’t think I was getting out of there,” you admit, voice cracking with tears.

“You did, darlin’.” He sighs, wrapping his arms around you. “You got out. I've got you now. You’re safe.”

You’ve never accepted comfort so readily before, always desperate to prove to Joel that you can be just as strong as him, that you can carry his burdens as well as your own. But you’re losing your grip tonight; on yourself and on everything that you know. Something has changed in you after seeing the monstrosities that men like David can commit. It’s like he’s poisoned you, and you can feel it creeping beneath your skin.

Ellie reappears from the other room, waving a bottle of what looks to be shampoo in her hand. “The bathroom’s well-stocked. And I’m calling dibs on the bed, by the way.”

“Like hell you are,” Joel grumbles, giving you a final squeeze before urging you forward. “C’mon. We’ll clean you up now.”

***

You look in the grimy mirror and don’t recognise yourself. Blood is splattered all over your face, clothes, hair. Your wrists are blistered, angry red welts covering your skin where you tried to wriggle out of your rope ties.

Joel has sent Ellie back into the other room to warm up more water, and you’re glad for that.

“You mind if I check that cut on the back of your head first?” Joel asks gently.

You shake your head, watching his reflection as he moves behind you and separates through your hair to see your injury. You don’t remember how you got it now. You were knocked out by James, but David gave you a beating too before you…

You give a sharp intake of breath as the memories flood back again, and Joel pulls away quickly. “Sorry. Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“No. You didn’t.” You swallow. “I was just… remembering.”

Understanding crosses his features. “Sit down,” he offers, as though he knows that you can’t bear to be haunted by your reflection for a moment longer. You do, perching on the edge of the bath. He goes back to checking your injury.

“It’s not too deep,” he murmurs, his touch feather-light. “Should be okay once we get it clean. ‘S it hurt a lot?”

“No.” Nothing hurts, though you know it should. You can barely focus on anything but the aching heaviness in your chest, the unease in your stomach, the thought that you’ll have to live with this now. Knowing that the world is even more broken than you thought, and it almost killed you.

“Gonna clean your face first. That okay?”

You nod, and he rolls up his sleeves as he kneels in front of you, wringing out a washcloth in the sink of water he’d warmed by the fire. You want to tell him you can do it yourself, but you can’t. You don’t want to be left alone in this bathroom. You don’t want to watch the blood drip into the water. You don’t want Joel to leave you when you thought you’d lost him for good not too long ago.

Carefully, he runs his thumb over the bruise on your cheek. “I should'a got there quicker.”

“You were a little busy trying not to die,” you remind him. You take his hand, finally allowing yourself to acknowledge his bruised and bloody knuckles. “They came for you, too?”

He grimaces, pulling away as though ashamed. “Don’t you worry about that. I took care of it.”

“You always do,” you say, throat feeling raw. “You always take care of us.”

He softens, brushing your hair behind your ear. “You took care of yourself just fine today, baby You shouldn’t have had to, and I’m so… I’m so sorry.”

“Stop saying that. Please.” Tears slip down your cheeks. “It isn’t your fault. Please don’t make this your burden, Joel. This one… this is all mine, and I’ll gladly take it if it means you and Ellie’re okay.”

“We ain’t okay if you’re not.” He wipes your tears away. “I thought… I thought I’d lost you.” Now it’s his voice that fractures, and it leaves you sinking with pain. His pain and your own. “I was so scared. Could barely breathe. I’m never letting that happen again, you hear?”

You can only dip your head as you choke on a sob, wishing you could be stronger. Wishing all of this was easier.

Joel begins dabbing your face with the washcloth, holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger. You close your eyes when you see it come away red, trying to focus on the water lapping in the sink when he rinses it and squeezes it out.

“That’s it, baby girl. Close your eyes. Let me take care of it.”

You do, and his touch keeps you grounded, keeps you from slipping back into that cage, or worse, back into David’s arms. For a moment, you’re not in an abandoned cabin, twenty years into a pandemic. For a moment, you’re home, letting the man you love take care of you without guns or threat; with only a washcloth and a tender hand.

He’s careful against your bruise, and he doesn’t leave any spot unclean; your jaw, your neck, behind your ears.

“Almost done,” he promises, but you wouldn’t mind if it took all night.

He lets the water swirl down the drain when he’s done, and Ellie comes in soon after with another heated pan.

“Thanks, kiddo,” you say, blinking the droplets from your eyelashes.

“Is there anything else I can do to help?”

Joel gives her a warm smile and squeezes her shoulder. “We got it covered. Go get the couch ready. You know, since you’re sleeping there tonight.”

She groans in a very teenagerly way, trudging out of the bathroom as though she hasn’t spent many a night on forest floors. You can’t help but let out a small laugh, and Joel smirks at the sound.

“Pain in the ass," he comments with more adoration than annoyance.

“You love her and you know it.”

He only hums, grabbing a cup. “Lean your head back for me.”

You do, feeling renewed when the water trickles down your scalp and into the dirty bathtub. It reminds you of being a kid again, not yet old enough to wash your own hair. Somehow, the nostalgia leaves you emotional, and you’re trying not to cry again.

“Hey, hey,” Joel says, putting the cup down. When you sob, he breathes, “I know. I know. C’mere.”

He pulls you into his chest without caring about how you dampen his shirt, and you clutch onto him as the grief, the terror, all rush through you. You can’t control it. It’s been pent up for too long, and this is your last straw. The thing that has pushed you over the rocky edge.

Joel only whispers again and again: “I know. You’re okay, baby. I got you.”

***

Later, after you have stopped crying for long enough to let Joel shampoo your hair and the fire has died to embers you can’t risk rekindling, you crawl into your sleeping bed on top of the double mattress that Ellie so desperately wanted to sleep in. You smell like strawberries, and your skin is brand new, having scrubbed it top to bottom once Joel left the bathroom. You’re wearing one of the shirts he picked up at Bill and Frank’s over your own sweater, and it carries his musk, his warmth.

Joel is looking out of the windows. After so much danger, you know it’s hard for him to settle. To believe that you might just be okay for one night.

“Joel?”

“Hmm?” The room is dark, but you see him glance your way, eyes shiny in the moonlight.

“Come to bed. Please.”

His brows furrow, and he sits on the mattress slowly. “I can take the floor if you don’t want—”

“I do. I do want.”

“You don’t think I should keep watch?”

“I think we’re in the middle of fucking nowhere. Only things that’ll be bothering us here are the birds and the deer.” You regret bringing that up as soon as it leaves your mouth. You think of the deer you hunted, the thing that brought you to David, and stiffen.

Joel must sense it, because he slouches in resignation and kicks off his boots. “Okay. Just for a little bit.”

You scooch over in your sleeping bag in the hopes he’ll understand what you need.

He does. He slips in, holding an arm out so you can curl into him, so you do. His chest is warm, breaths steady, and if you can just stay like this for a while, maybe you’ll be okay again.

“Sleep, darlin’,” he whispers into your hair. “I’ll be right here.”

“Do you think we’ll make it through this in the end?” you wonder aloud. “Ellie, the cure… if we make it out alive, if all this turns out to be worth it, what will we do afterwards? Where will it leave us? We can’t go back to Boston.”

“We don’t have to worry about that now.” He strokes your arm, and goosebumps rise on your skin.

“I need something to hold onto, Joel,” you admit. “I need to imagine it won’t always be this bad.”

Moments pass, the silence a cold, unwelcome blanket across you. But then Joel folds it away. “When this is over, we’ll go back to Jackson. You, me, and Ellie. We’ll get us a real house, live a boring life with Tommy. Go watch movies and yell at Ellie for being a little shit.”

You snort at that, and her voice echoes from the front room: “I can hear you!”

“Go to sleep!” Joel yells back.

“I would if I wasn’t lying on an old uncomfortable couch with the fucking fleas!”

You roll your eyes, rubbing his chest lovingly. “Just get in here and stop complaining!”

“Seriously?” he murmurs, though there is no surprise there; only something warm, amused. If you can find that after a day like today, you can find it anywhere, you think.

Before you can reply, Ellie’s hopeful face appears in the shadows. She clutches her sleeping bag, a cheeky grin on her face. “Shift over, old man.”

Joel glares, but he pulls you closer so that Ellie can lie on the other side of you. You wrinkle your nose as she jumps onto the bed, kicking herself into her sleeping bag with little grace. He huffs and puffs, murmuring into your ear, “Regret it yet?”

“No,” you say, and you’re not just talking about the offer for Ellie to join you anymore. You pull her into you so that you’re sandwiched by the two people you love most in the world, and finally, with Joel’s warmth at your back and Ellie’s ponytail in your face, you feel safe.

Joel’s fingers trail up and down your spine as Ellie settles, and they stay there as you slowly fall asleep.

If this is what Joel’s boring life will be like, you’re ready for Jackson. You’re ready to go home with your family.

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siempre-bucky · 2 years

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Take Me to Bed

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader

Summary: you swore off sleeping with Navy men, not wanting to be the subject of their locker room talk. Harvard opens his mouth about you and Jake's ready to take him to an early grave.

warnings: brief mentions of smut

wc: 1.4k

a/n: soft defensive boyfriend Jake? Yess. Sorry to Harvard my baby boi

The sounds of the waves were like music tonight, or you thought they were. All you could hear was the muffled jukebox from inside and the low groans Jake emitted as his lips attacked the side of your neck. His strong hands firmly held you in place by your hips, his knee slotted in between your legs. “Jake,” you whined as he dragged his teeth over a sensitive spot.

He slowly pulled away and looked at you with lust in his dark green eyes. You loved this look, you’d never tell him or it’d go straight to his head. “Let me take you home tonight, darlin’,” he flirted, his voice low and accent thick. His tanned face was inches from yours, the mint on his lips faintly entering your airways. Still didn’t hold a candle to his cologne that was simply intoxicating.

“Jake,” you sighed as if you were scolding him like a child. He frowned, his dimples no longer in sight. “No.”

The aviator bit down on his lower lip, rejection over these past few months had been becoming easier but it still stung. “I could show you a good time,” he chuckled, bringing one of his hands up to cup your cheek.

Your lovesick expression faded, looking up at the sky solemnly before pushing him away. He retreated and put his hands on his hips in annoyance. “Jake we do this every time, you know I’m going to tell you no.” You lurched off the wall and started to make your way back inside the Hard Deck, thinking that you’d once again successfully managed to keep Jake out of your pants.

“You know I don’t want to just sleep with you, Y/N,” he huffed. You stopped walking as you sensed the irritation in his tone. “That’s not my intention—”

“I know,” you interrupt, turning back around to look at him standing in the golden light of the lamp. “I know what your intentions are, and uncharacteristically I actually believe you,” you pouted, looking down at the sandy floor that divided you.

This all happened months ago when you and Jake were assigned to the uranium mission. He was still the same cocky pilot from your first squadron, but somehow he became more of that southern gentleman he always claimed he was over the years. Sweet dates that ended with kisses on cheeks and late-night drives along the coast with his fingers intertwined with yours that rested in your lap. He respected your space, never pushing or questioning why you didn’t want to have sex with him—until now.

“Why won’t you let me have sex with you? Make love, fuck, or whatever you want to call it?” Jake swallowed hard, clenching his jaw so he wouldn’t lash out.

You took in a deep breath, the salt air helping calm you as you walked up to him, crossing your arms over your chest as a means of protection. “I don’t sleep with guys in the Navy,” you confessed.

“You- you what? Why?” He raised his eyebrows in confusion, cocking his head.

“The walls are extremely thin in those locker rooms, Jake. I hear all you guys talk about the girl you had in bed the previous night and the disgusting things you say about them. How they felt around your cock, what you rated their performance, judging them when you finally got their clothes off,” you spat. Jake knew you weren’t directly talking to him, in his distant past he joined in the locker room talk, but he grew up a little unlike some of the guys walking around Top Gun.

He bobbed his head as he listened, allowing you to finish. Your face had softened, your lower lip quivering as you desperately tried to remain stone-faced, “I won’t be the subject of that—I won’t- I won’t do it no matter how much I like you.”

You liked him, but you didn’t trust him, he noted. That was fair, you knew him more than most people; his reputation preceded him, it still hung over him. “Hey, hey, hey,” he cooed, putting his hand on your shoulder and gently squeezing it. “I wouldn’t do that to you, whatever happens behind closed doors stays there,” he tried to reassure you. You looked away again, you wouldn’t succumb to the glimmering green eyes of Jake Seresin.

“I wanna believe you,” you said weakly, pulling out of his grasp.

He stood by your side, taking your hand, “Let me drive you home, kiss you on the front porch, and I’ll go to my home where I’ll fall asleep dreaming of you,” he offered charmingly, his cocky smirk returning to his handsome face. You could ignore the eyes, but you couldn’t ignore the charm.

“Take me home, Bagman.”

—

Jake tiredly sat on the wooden bench of the locker room after the day's training session, his clean t-shirt sticking to his still damp skin. He sat there with a towel over his hair, trying to get rid of the beads of water that clung to the blond ends. Fritz and Harvard were loudly talking about their time at the bar last night behind him. “Did you take that chick home?” Fritz egged on, wagging his eyebrows.

“Her ass was a solid nine out of ten, of course the fuck I did,” Harvard snickered from his locker. “Should’a seen the way she rode me.”

Jake stood up abruptly, silently walking over to his locker trying to avoid their conversation.

“Hangman,” Fritz hummed with a smirk. Jake looked at him through the reflection of the small mirror that hung on the door of his green locker, and he knew Fritz could see the annoyed look he wore. “What’s the deal with you and Circe?” He stilled at the mention of your call sign, his eyebrows beginning to furrow.

Don’t entertain him, he thought angrily to himself. He decided on shrugging as he put his dog tags around his neck.

“You fuck her yet?” Yale chimed in from the showers.

The tall man scowled, “Doesn’t matter,” he answered shortly.

Harvard smirked and sauntered over, his frame becoming closer in the mirror. “That’s a shame man, she looks like she puts out. You gotta tell us what her tits loo-”

Jake slammed the locker shut and whipped around, the room falling to a quick silence, eyes locked on the two men. The blood roared in his ears, a burning red flush rose to his cheeks. Harvard remained ‘chill’ as Hangman angrily got in his face. He understood why you didn’t want to sleep with him, he didn’t want your name mixed in with a bunch of assholes “You say one more fucking thing about her and I will put you in a grave,” he threatened lowly, the rasp in his voice sent a chill through Harvard’s spine.

“She’s just a girl man, we all talk about them. If she’s a prude you can just tell us,” he chuckled. Jake’s fist rose and sudden shouts of the men rang out. Rooster, bless him, walked out of the shower just in time to catch Jake’s wrist with the hand that wasn’t holding up his towel.

“I’ll break your fucking nose!” Jake shouted among the other voices.

“Alright! Alright! Calm the fuck down!” Rooster shouted, pushing back Harvard by his puffed-out chest.

“Jesus. Relax,” Harvard laughed, rolling his eyes at Jake.

The two men were locked in a bitter stare-down as they were separated. Jake grabbed his stuff hastily and looked at Harvard one more time, “If I hear her call sign, her name, or anything about her out of you, son, I will rip your lips off,” he warned before opening the door and exiting.

He stormed out of the room, barreling down the hallway with his sights on the doors. “Jake!” your sweet voice called, echoing through the empty hall. He turned and his stiff muscles relaxed, his lips turning up into a smile as you hurried over. You had that power over him, no matter how angry he was, you managed to make him smile.

“You’re still here, sweetheart? Thought you were already done for the day,” he smiled, eyeing you up and down in your flight suit. You stood there for a moment, looking up at him with an unreadable look on your face, your fingers fidgeting at your side.

You shook your head and lunged forward, gripping the sides of his face and pulling him down for a searing kiss that rivaled any kiss you two have had before. “Y/N-” he breathed as you pulled away.

“I heard you and Harvard,” you broke out into a wide grin, “you defended me, Hangman.” you giggled as you punched him in the arm. He winced and grabbed his bicep to protect it from your fist.

“The walls are thin,” he whispered, remembering what you had said the night before. You nodded and allowed him to wrap his arms around your waist, his duffle bag falling to the floor with a soft thud.

“I can’t believe you did that,” you marveled, trying to suppress happy giggles from escaping.

“No one talks about my girl that way, I’ll put them all in an early grave before they disrespect you,” he told you firmly, his eyes staring into yours in hopes that you would believe him, trust in him.

You ran your hands up his arms and stopped at the base of his neck, your thumbs swiping along the light-colored stubble that was growing in. “Take me to bed, Jake,” you said to him, your eyes falling to his lips. You had the rule of no Navy men for far too long… and Jake? He was the perfect person to break it with. A man that defended your honor instead of fluffing his own ego in front of his friends. You liked this Jake, maybe you loved him.

His eyes grew wide, his expression brightening as you spoke, “Really? Are you sure? Y/N, we don't have to, you don’t have to,” he wheezed.

“I mean it, Seresin,” you grinned, “don’t make me regret it.”

He kissed you swiftly before taking your hand and guiding you back towards the locker room, “Hurry and get your things, you can shower at my place,” he commanded playfully, kissing your hand before letting you go. He blushed, looking at you softly as you looked at him happily one last time before retreating behind the doors.

#jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fanfic #jake seresin oneshot #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x fem!reader #hangman imagine #hangman oneshot #top gun #top gun maverick

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prwcess · 6 months

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Under the floorboards

Mizu x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT!!!!! also blood, weaponry, fighting, and argument Lol!!!!

(reader believes Mizu is male)

The wood creaks under me and dirt tumbles around my ankles as i climb up from underneath the ancient home of a “Tanzaki”. Who knows who this man is, but as an assassin, i don’t think that’s my buisness.

I scurry through the surprisingly well kept tunnels as if a rat living under the floorboards, listening in to find several pairs of footsteps. Mainly from up ahead, yet it seems as through something’s .. sneaking up on me?

Drawing the illegally sold and bought european gun from my waist band and stand in silence, planning my next move as the steps get closer.

With no idea what to do as the door creaks open i aim the gun at the height of an average man’s head and steady my breathing, I hear the man draw a sword.

two steps.

two steps and i recognize those bright blue devil eyes.

I feel as though i’ve fallen into a trance, the familiar face rushing towards me causes no reaction. I lower the gun as i watch Mizu retreat.

“what are you doing here?” i ask, the last time i saw this man was after traveling with him place to place for a year, unknowing of his plans. I kept watch for new job opportunities, and once Mizu and I were done, we moved on to the next city. That was until we reached kyoto, where he disappeared leaving a trail of blood.

“i could ask you the same question.”

“well I-“

“why are you carrying that?” Mizu cuts me off and steps forward eyeing my gun, obviously brand new.

“I think i asked you a question first, did you leave all your etiquette back in kyoto?” i remark, genuinely forgetting the job I need to get done before sunrise.

“Im here to kill Tanazaki.”

he states quite plainly, the blank expression never quivering.

“well, i’m getting paid to do exactly that, and im not leaving here unless I do so myself.” i finish off and turn to step forward, ready to face whatever group of men in the next room, yet as I take a step I notice something… a lack of…

flooring.

I fall through into a darker and wider candle lit room, pillars on each side and walls with no doors.

coughing and hacking i look up as maxi climbs down under as well.

“don’t you have something you need to attend to?”

“you still talk a lot.” he mumbles examining our surroundings.

it seems as though there’s no exit, just one door in front, which i plan to let mizu explore as much as he wants.

I steady myself off the ground and attempt to launch myself off the wall to latch onto the ridges of the floor above, failing miserably.

“who’s there-..” i heard as my thud echoed throughout. Is that new? did they not hear my thud before? I loose myself in thought once more as I hear a creak. the hanging tapestries move and reveal a door. Something i should’ve been wary of before coming to kill the leader of a human chop shop.

As the newly discovered back door stained in blood creaked open I felt a quick jab to my waist up to my neck. Pulled behind a pillar with a hand around my neck and jaw and my mouth covered shut. In the moment, i lost my breath, a shiver falling down my spine from his cold touch. We listened in silence as 3 pairs of footsteps fell out the room, mumbles and chuckles. Do these men feel pity? Shame? Do they enjoy slaughtering innocent people to sell? The men fall into the next room and I pull my back off of Mizus chest, catching myself before i fall into a deep trance of thought.

i attempt stepping towards the bloody door, only to be held back by my wrist.

Without a word mizu let’s go and steps in front of me, waking towards the door. The room is empty. The remains of an old merchant lay on the table, filling the room with the scent of death.

“do you still care about what happened in kyoto?”

His sudden words perk me up,

what kind of question is that?

“did you care at all?” i snap, maybe a bit too hard on.

“i do.”

he says, facing away from me.

“you didn’t have the time to find me?”

i ask, truly curious why such a man would try to act like he cared.

“i think you stayed in the back of my mind. I have things to accomplish y/n.”

“interesting.” I look off to the side, acknowledging the old remains rotted to the bone, who knows who they could’ve been.

who knows what we could’ve been?

in just a flash i find mizu in front of me, staring down at me. “i need you.”

“excuse me?”

(Absolutely flabbergasted)

“travel with me again.”

“i need you, and your company.”

same full facial expression never faltered.

“maybe you just need my skill?” i find a smile on my face as I leaned against the bloody table, teasing the man who should clearly know Im accepting such an offer. No matter how angry I could’ve been i’ll always take an offer from Mizu.

“i want you, i don’t care about your weapons or your stealth.”

I watched him step closer and admired his hands as he rested them on my waist.

did he truly crave my touch or was he checking for another unknown weapon..?

as his cold hands made their way under my waistband i couldn’t help but give in to his touch, there’s no teasing or denying left for me.

“mizu…” I whisper softly, turning my head away to face the door.

“mm?”

his cold grasp releases one side of me and clutches my jaw turning me back to face him. Without hesitation he pressed a lustful kiss upon my lips and within nanoseconds the connection was back. Pushing him back slightly to create room never breaking said connection, I push myself on the table.

Mizus cold hands run deeper under my waistband, under the silk protecting me.

Before anything I open my eyes and put a hand against mizus chest,

“what about..” and without time to even notice the door Mizus spare knife is flung to stab the door shut.

#mizu #mizu x reader #blue eyed samurai #blue eye samurai #blueyesamurai #blueyesamuraixreader #anime #netflix

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dietmountaindewb8by · 6 months

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Prologue

alright peeps, here we go. the yandere will be a bit of a slow build and y/n and five will spend a considerable amount of time apart. later (MUCH LATER) i will make a post stating which chapter they first truly interact. for now, it is hopeless pining and torture on the other side

PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU WANT TO BE IN THE TAG LIST--NO ONE IS TAGGED IN THIS ONE, I JUST GOTTA HOPE IT REACHES THE RIGHT PEOPLE LMAOO

warnings: neglectful five, references to a past abusive relationship, references of verbal abuse, injury, five just being weird ig

His fingers were threaded through his hair, a pale white against the black masses stuck to his head that felt as if they were suffocating more every second they remained. His bones had long turned brittle and his muscles ached as he poured himself over the same sheet of paper over and over and over again.

Stark white against the mahogany beneath his elbows. Bones against dust.

The candle Allison had placed next to him as a comfort emitted the smell of fresh peaches and suddenly he yearned for spring again. The season where you were happiest prancing around fields and plucking flowers from their place tucked into the earth. Even in your old age you were spry, zipping through meadows whenever you could.

Of course he wouldn’t join you without a price, but you paid it all the same and were glad when he made his appearance next to you. It wasn’t as if you two were near each other all that often, anyway.

More often than not, tears stained your cheeks and his face was flushed red with anger and everything and nothing all at once.

He hated you. You loved him.

Only when he saw the sea of red leak from your side–all for him–did he realize that maybe you were not one to be hated. You were too kind for that, too much like the flowers that you adored so much.

And so as you grew colder, realizing the monster he was, he touched you more. Held your hand. Whispered in your ear at night.

He was planning to kiss you upon your landing in 2019. When he brought his hands to his face–no longer wrinkled and calloused with wisdom and long days of labor–he realized that they were meant for yours.

“Y/N,” he whispered, ignoring the faces of his siblings to search for yours. His brows furrowed as panic grasped at his chest. “I–”

He whirled around, his eyes scanning for something. Anything. A body, a heap, a pile of bones. Something.

He took Klaus by the lapel of his jacket. “I had a girl with me. She–did you see a girl? Any of you. Did you see a girl fall through with me?”

His siblings looked at one another, and he had his answer.

So there he sat before the same page that got you two into this mess. Over and over in the margins of the lined mass of numbers he would scratch the line of your jaw into the paper, a gentle swoop but one that reminded him of better days all the same.

The world was safe enough, he decided as he stood up on shaking legs, stuffing his gun deep into his jacket pocket.

He stared at the lines he drew before taking an empty notebook and putting it in a satchel along with the few bottles spared in the late Sir Reginald Hargreeves’ liquor cabinet before he stared into the abyss.

And he blinked.

#yandere five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #yandere five #dark five #diet mountain dew baby new york city #yandere tua #yandere umbrella academy #dark five hargreeves #yandere the umbrella academy #yandere #dark umbrella academy

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mallowmaenad · 2 months

Text

It gets on my fucking nerves when me and the other freelance mech pilots have to share a table in the mess hall with one of those aug'd up murder junkies. I don't mind the scarring and the corpse-like complexion they just go on and on about how obsessed and dependent they are with their handlers that pump them full of drugs while calling them a good dog or some shit like we all haven't had kinky drunk sex with a superior officer before in this business. I might as well be neutered too with how fucking hard it is to take off my plug suit AND I shoot better when I hotbox the cockpit which I don't even get fined for because I'm not fucking doing the equivalent of sucking on the barrel of the enemy's gun to get within stabbing distance unlike SOME pilots who signed on for some bdsm indentured servitude shit because their company doesn't pay attention to the research that prolonged neurostim use burns people out like birthday candles because it's cheaper for their bottom line to recruit the next slack-jawed NEET with a submissive disposition than to let any of their pilots live long enough to actually develop a sense of skill. You're not special.

#microfiction #mechposting #mech pilot #empty spaces

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writing-havoc · 2 years

Text

Both

♡ Summary: You have a nightmare about Kaz. He helps a little more than you thought he would

♡ Pairing(s): Kaz Brekker x GN!Reader

♡ Fandom: Six of Crows

♡ Warning(s): Blood

♡ WC: 2.5k

Just a small moment between Kaz and the reader. It's a little rushed, written in about 45 minutes (save for grammar corrections) but I like it.

While I did edit it, please excuse any grammar and spelling errors. Hope you like it <3

∘₊✧──────────────────✧₊∘

Your heart pounds in your chest as you shoot out of bed, gun drawn as you look wildly around. Flashes of figures and people flicker in your eyes and disappear as you blink. Your hands are dripping with blood and yet there's not a single speck of red on them.

Sweat drips off your eyebrow and onto your cheek, but as you hurriedly wipe it away you realize your cheek is drenched.

With a start, you remember you had a nightmare. Adrenaline pumps through your veins, ramping up your heart and shortening your breathing. There still people in the corner of your eyes, your hands feel sticky with what you now realize is sweat and you can't stop shaking, gun clattering to the floor.

You wait for a round to fire off, but thankfully nothing happens. Thunder cracks in the distance and you hate with every fiber of your being how you jump at the sound. Who jumps at thunder?

Your eyes drool with tears, spilling them down your face faster than you can clean them. Without a notice from your brain you begin to pace, trying to think and yet /not/ think.

Sweat plasters your shirt to your body, and you peel it off- actually, damn near rip it off as the frigid air begins to cool your slick bare skin. But it's not enough because it's still too damn hot and freezing at the same time.

You try sticking your arms in the air, giving your skin room to breathe instead of crushing it together. You can hear yourself talking, feel the muscles in your jaw moving, but there's not a single coherent syllable tumbling from your lips. You want to scream and throw your nightstand through the window.

But you have to be quiet. You have to be quiet because if you start breaking shit you'll wake up Inej and Nina and Pim and-

Kaz.

It's like your heart leaps directly out of your chest when you think of him. So much so an audible sob escapes your lips and your knees nearly buckle.

That's what the dream was about. That's what you're crying over.

But he's fine, right? He's Kaz Brekker. Dirtyhands. Bastard of the Barrel. A fucking monster among men. Secret sweetheart. He's fine he's fine he's fine.

Yet you can't think of anything but the blood and the people and his body drowning in its own crimson lake. There's always so much and it just spills everywhere. Sticky and dark and metallic.

You grab your discarded shirt and wipe your body down, soaking up as much sweat and tears as you can and lunging for a clean one on the foot of your bed. Tugging it on, you had just barely the mind to check your pants and socks before opening your door.

The dream itself didn't make sense. There's no way you and Kaz would be on a mission alone without backup, surrounded by his enemies, and practically defenseless. But the feeling you got, the way everything sounded and the texture of his shirt and blood were all real, all things you've felt and heard before. And that was enough to send you hurtling over the edge.

You don't even know you're going to him until you see the light shining underneath the door to the attic.

There was no thinking as you opened the door to his office, stepping in and searching wildly for the man from your dream. There was a candle lit and a cup of his day old coffee on the corner of his desk. You shut the door behind you, jumping when you bump into his coat rack. His hat and coat were here, so he has to be home.

It didn't take long at all for him to appear with an annoyed expression on his face from the bathroom. The expression morphed, however, when he saw the state that you were in.

It took everything in you to not run up to him and just touch him. That wasn't allowed. But you wanted to. You wanted to feel the warmth in his body and the blood pumping in his veins. You wanted to feel something that would tell you he was alive.

He was upright and walking, eyes full of as much life as they could be with the job he works and his past, but looks are easy to deceive. His voice was like gravel, tickling your ears in a way that is wholeheartedly and completely familiar, but that could be faked too.

"... you doing here?" You only just registered the words coming out of his mouth, his form now closer to yours. You were both in the middle of the room, you staring tearfully at him and him looking you over while keeping a distance. It was startling to see that his hands were bare, the pale white skin of his slender fingers on display.

That definitely wasn't like Kaz at all.

Your mouth opened and closed like a fish, staring at his chest. It was covered by a white button up shirt with faint, thin blue stripes going vertically on the torso and horizontally on the arms. If you reached out you could touch him and check his pulse. You wringed your hands together.

Saints, what could you even say?

'Sorry I busted in your room at an unholy hour of the night. I just had a horrible nightmare of which its focal point was you dying right in front of me and I woke up inable to distinguish reality from my hallucinations and I'm genuinely not sure if you're alive right now even though you're standing right in front of me.'? He'd probably have you kicked from the Dregs for being a fucking lunatic.

So instead you just went with, "Bad dream."

He was silent as he seized looking you over, now truly noticing your glossy focused eyes and roughed up appearance. You don't doubt there was little white streaks all across your face, smudged from your shirt and newer ones tracing your rough edges.

"I'd say 'bad dream' is a bit of an understatement, dove." He looked around his room. "Considering you barged in here at a little after 3 bells and your shirt is inside out, I'd lean more towards nightmare."

You looked down. The seams were showing.

Fuck.

This was all wrong.

You nodded, shuffling on your feet. You chanced a glance up at his face and found him staring directly at you. As tired as he appeared to be, you could tell he wasn't planning to sleep anytime soon.

You opened your mouth to say something, anything, explain yourself maybe, but nothing came. Its like your throat was closing in on itself. You took a step backward and began pacing, just like before. What could you even do?

Kaz was silent as he watched you. From the corner of your eye you could see him begin to retreat back to the bathroom. Bright red panic flashed in your body at the thought of him disappearing from your sight. There was too much red. Everything was red.

The rapid pattering of your feet stilled on the ground, his own turning to see what happened. Shock was evident on his face. You gripped your hand harder, etching crescent moons into the back of your hand.

Why were you being such a baby? He can handle himself. You know he can. You went over this.

But the blood.

"I'm just going to get my gloves." He stated calmly, continuing into the bathroom slowly. You moved to the left, watching him every step of the way but never moving closer. True to his word he grabbed his gloves and left the room, walking back towards you with that familiarly uneven gait.

It eased your heart a little.

He came back to a stop at just the same distance in front of you as before, his slender fingers sliding back into the confines of his gloves. He was starting to look a little more like himself.

But still.

"Are you-" You began in a whisper, clearing your throat to speak up. "Are you alive?"

"I should hope so, otherwise we'd both have a little bit of a problem on our hands."

You stared at his chest again. If you looked more closely maybe you could see his heart beating through his shirt.

Kaz shuffles on his feet, leaning towards his good leg.

"This nightmare of yours... it was about me I reckon." His tone was calm, and surprisingly soft. Not guarded and grating like usual.

There were so many mixed signals.

You nodded, looking away but keeping him well within your peripheral.

This was horrifically embarrassing. But nothing was working. Him standing in front of you was helping a little, but not enough. Nothing was enough.

You flapped your hands, trying to shake the electricity out of them. Your wrists protested at the jerking and bending, but you ignored them.

"You..." You sucked in a breath. "You died, right in front of me. And you just... you laid there and there was so much blood." Your breathing became ragged, the images flashing in your mind once again. "It was like a fucking lake and it wouldn't stop. It was on the ground on my shoes on my hands-" you them on your shirt, the sweat on them feeling much too similar, "and everybody was angry and they just killed you and they- they almost got me too but-"

A sob broke from your throat. "But you just got up and stared at me and I touched you and you were cold as ice even though you were only dead for a few seconds and your voice-" you shook your head, hands grabbing at your hair as fresh tears streamed down your face.

"It wasnt yours." You couldn't manage more than a whisper, a whine even as you just repeated it over and over. Kaz wasn't saying anything and you're not even sure if you wanted him to say anything at all. What would he even say?

You sniffled, trying to clear your throat. "And I know you can handle yourself and it wasnt real but saints Kaz it felt so real." You dried your eyes with your hands, wiping them off on your pants as you did so. "Hell, I woke up standing in the middle of my room with my gun drawn. I don't know why I'm so freaked out and I'm so sorry for just coming in here but I just needed to know you're at least here but its not enough-"

A glove was held toward you, pale skin shaking ever so slightly.

The shock of the action was enough to ground you temporarily. You looked up at him and saw his eyes looking right at yours already, like they never moved from before.

"Kaz what-"

"Put it on."

You had to have heard him wrong. You had to have.

"What do you-"

"I need you to put the glove on for this."

For... oh, fuck.

Hesitantly, you took the glove, taking care not to touch his bare hand and slipped it on. It was big, a good half inch of glove left over on the fingers. The inside felt nice, though. The material wasnt uncomfortable and definitely felt like they were made for long term use.

"I'm not sure you'll be able to feel warmth right away, or at all." You could tell he was trying to keep his tone even, teeth a little gritted, but he reached for your hand. You pulled away slightly, just out of reach.

"Kaz you don't have to do this. I know how uncomfortable you are- well, I don't know, but I know how you get. You don't have to force this on yourself if you don't want to, really. Im just being a big baby-"

He let out a sigh, but you caught the whispers of a smile on his lips. He waited for you to calm before speaking. "I know more than anyone that I don't have to. Now give me your hand. The gloved one, preferably."

Well... okay, then. You cracked a smile and stepped forward, placing your hand (the gloved one) in his. With a gentleness you hadn't seen on him before, he brought your hand forward, placing your palm directly to his chest.

Immediately you could feel his heart. It was fast, faster than a heart should be. But it was there, and that's what mattered.

Very quickly heat began to seep through the leather, flanked by Kazs hand still holding onto yours and pressing it harder onto himself.

You took a deep shakey breath in, your bubbling anxiety trickling away.

He's here. He's here and he's alive and he's okay.

The people in the corner of your mind fell away, the sticky blood runs clear, and Kaz Brekker stands before you. Warm, snarky, and alive.

You sit here for a little while, feeling his pulse continue its steady high rhythm as your own syncs to his. It was a little rushing, to feel your heart beating so fast, but it helped you feel alive and present, grounded. Because it was his you were sharing this beat with.

The shaking stopped, but you could see the way his temple flexed as he grinded his teeth, a very very fine sheen of sweat plastering on his forehead. Distantly, you wondered just how long he'd be willing to put up with this.

Eventually though, you needed to give him his space. You pulled your hand back, gently taking it out from beneath his. Your fingers dragged along his chest.

He shuddered under the touch.

It felt strange, not having the thumping against the palm of your hand, but it wasn't going to kill you.

You pulled at the fingers, sliding the glove off and handing it back to him. He would need it. And that much was clear as he gave you a grateful nod and slid his hand back into it. He flexed his hand, comfortable to have a solid barrier between him and the world once more.

"I want to apologize, again, for barging in here. I promise, or at least hope, this doesn't become a regular thing." You rubbed your thumb into the palm of your hand. "I'm more than aware you can take care of yourself-"

"Y/n."

"Yes?"

"Dont hesitate to barge in."

You swallowed the spit collecting in your throat. "You sure?"

He flicked between your brows, earning a hurt chirp from your mouth. "Im sure."

"You're gonna regret that one day." You rubbed your forehead.

"Which one?" He asked, walking to his desk. "The offer or the flick?"

"Both."

"We'll see about that." He opened the window behind his desk, dusting off the surface with his hands. "For now, I do not regret it."

You walked over as he patted the rest of the dirt away, hopping up onto the sill as he brushed his hands together. "Not even a little?"

Kaz looked at you, and smiled genuinely. "Not even a little."

"The flick? Or the offer?"

He smiled, a private smile meant only for you. "Both."

This was definitely Kaz Brekker.

#kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #six of crows x reader #six of crows fanfic #six of crows #shadow and bone fanfic #x reader #soc x reader #fanfic

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sweetlittlegingy · 2 years

Text

Something That Will Haunt Me When You're Not Around

✦ Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Better Man Universe

✦Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Single!Mother

✦Word Count: 13.1 K

✦Warnings: Angst, Assault, Past Abuse (including rape), Knife and Gun, Blood, Panic Attack, Bruises and Cuts, Miscarriage, Pre-Mediated Homicide, Protective! Jake, Emotional! Jake, Protective! Bradley (it's a lot, but let me know if I missed anything)

✦A/n: Oh boy, she's intense... it has a fluff ending. Not as fluffy as I was hoping, so there will be a third part to this specific set

✦Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

You rifle through the extra diaper bag, not finding the candles in the back seat. Your form is tucked in the side of the pickup as you lean over to reach on the opposite side of the cab. The breeze washes over the back of your thighs, and you silently curse Jake for stealing your panties earlier.

A small giggle falls from your lips as you think about the little romp the two of you had only moments ago, you would never be able to look at those pool tables the same way. A harsh sigh falls from your lips as you push yourself up, and yet remain halfway in the truck hoping that they only slid under Jake’s seat.

“You always did look better from behind.”

The voice stills whatever searching you were doing, encasing you in the memory of the last time those words were uttered to you. The buckle of your knees has you falling farther into the truck, grasping onto the only sense of support for your frozen body. Your eyes blink rapidly as the air seems to be ripped from your chest, and you quietly wonder when the ringing in your ears started.

…

The tightness in your throat only increases, as you swallow, and no words form. Yet tears can form. The tears that stream down your face only increase as your shaky hand rises to brush against your swollen eye. The touch makes you hiss, as a harsh laugh rings through the room and your eyes focus back on Adam.

The grit of your teeth, as you force back the small cries, cause your jaw to ache and you wonder if the cracking of your teeth could replace your current pain. Your sight remains blurry through the tears, though you can still see his menacing form as he stands above you.

You glance at the bedroom door and find it shut. You don’t remember Adam locking the door, but the flip of the nob proves that it is. A breath releases from you in relief, with the door, locked there was no way for Maty to get into the room.

Your sweet 12-month-old had just started trying to walk, and you knew that he would be trying to get to you. He was a momma’s boy, always had been, but he was safer in the hallway. Everything was child locked and he couldn’t hurt himself. He was safer out there than he was in the room, he shouldn’t witness what was about to happen.

The quick movement of Adam crouching down to you, has you spiraling back, pushing as far away from him as you can until your back meets the bedroom wall. Your eyes track around the room, looking for anything to grasp onto, though you find nothing and the only form of defense you can take is when you wrap your arms around your knees. Clutching onto yourself, you dip your head down to cower away from the next hit.

“You shouldn’t have fought it, Angel.” His hand rises to clasp onto your cheek and pulls your face up, so you can’t hide. The soft stroke of his thumb against your cheek does nothing to calm you. “If you would have listened, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

Your face jolts away from Adam, though the action only ends with him grasping the back of your hair and yanking you. Your figure tumbles forward as he drags you back towards the bed, and you don’t notice the small cuts that litter your fingers as you claw at the old hardwood floors.

Your lips shake as muffled cries fall from your lips. With each push you make away from him, the harder he pulls on your hair, and you wonder if it’s going to be enough to rip it from your scalp.

You miss the action, as the world around you moves in slow motion, though the harsh swing of your head to the side and the sting in your lip, confirm the hit. You can only taste metal, the harsh flavor coats your tongue and you silently pray to whichever gods may be listening.

The moments in time flash before your eyes and it feels like you’ve been pulled from your own body. Like every action happening to you, isn’t actually you.

It’s not you that’s being thrown against the white comforter. Not you that can’t breathe, from your face being pushed so far into a pillow that you consider suffocation. It’s not your body that’s being used and manipulated, clothes ripped in ways you never considered a possibility, torn from your body, and yet all you can do is cry into the pillow. It’s not your head that has a harsh hand against it, pushing it down farther.

It’s not you… It’s not you.. Breathe… It’s not you… Breathe…

IT CAN BE YOU

Then why is his voice ringing through your ears, “You always did look better from behind.”

It’s numb, everything is numb. The push and pull of your body against the sheets should hurt, the red marks that litter your body will prove it in the morning. Though for now, it’s numb.

…

The crack of gravel behind you has your back straightening and flipping around on instinct alone. Though you had recognized the voice, seeing Adam in front of you sends a chill down your spine and your idle hand remains wrapped around behind you, grasping onto Josephine’s car seat.

You do your best to hide the small tremble in your body as your eyes make contact with his dark brown ones, though the haunted smirk on his face lets you know that he’s noticed. You’re not sure how your mouth had gotten so dry, though the pain with swallowing is evident as your ears pop.

You want to stare him down, to show him that you weren’t the same girl that he had so easily pushed around. Though with him now in front of you, you’re surprised that you haven’t collapsed. The lock in your knees is your only support, other than the truck, though your likeliness of fainting from having your knees locked has you bending them.

“What are you doing here?”

You’re surprised that your voice doesn’t tremble nearly as much as you thought it would. A harsh laugh releases from him and you flinch slightly when it looks like he’s going to step toward you. The clenched fist at your side is starting to ache, and you’re sure that you will have crescent-shaped cuts in your palm from your nails.

“I’m here to see my son.”

His voice holds a certain questioning, yet authoritative tone in it and has you immediately looking past him to the beach. Jake hadn’t been able to park right up against the sand, and a parking lot that once seemed small now looks daunting and endless.

“He isn’t yours; you signed your rights away.”

Your eyes remain on the horizon. The sunset no longer has a calming effect on your body, as darkness settles over the California landscape. Creating a blanket of disguise for the things that go bump in the night.

“He’s still mi–”

“No, he’s not!”

You had never been able to lash out at Adam before and the stunned look on his face is proof enough of how much you’ve changed.

“He has a father, and it’s not you.”

The statement is ballsy, you knew how easily upset Adam could get, but he had no right to claim Mathew as his. Jake was his father and you’d be damned before anyone tried to take or ignore the title.

You don’t miss the anger that flashes in Adam’s eyes as he looks at your left hand hanging by your side and takes in the sight of your engagement ring and wedding band.

It’s quick, the flash of a tattoo crossing your line of sight as your breath is ripped from your chest, in a fraction of a second. You should have noticed the signs, the way he always pulls back his hand before he swings. You would have before, though you’ve healed in the past six years and your response time has slowed.

The harsh slap rings through your ears and sends you tumbling to the side. Your unsteady hands barely catch yourself in time and as your vision clears, you stare at the metal door frame littered is specks of blood. A shaky breath falls from your chest as you rise to face Adam and ignore the blooming pain that radiates across your face.

The taste of nickel burns in your lungs, as a line of deep red falls from your lips and coats the yellow sun dress. The lace now ruined, as a stream of dripping blood falls, and taints the gift from Jake.

You can’t bring yourself to lift your hand and wipe the blood from your face. You can’t bring yourself to do anything other than stare at the monster from your past. The stream of blood coats your mouth and as you spit in the gravel, the bright red splatter spreads across the gravel. The amount of blood coating the ground is unsettling, and you wonder if your nose is now bleeding as well.

Your stare remains on Adam, though you can’t really see him as black spots fade in and out of your vision, making the world look distorted. A cloudy fog settles over your mind, and you can’t think of anything other than the pulsing ache that covers the left side of your face.

“Not so mouthy now are you, Angel?”

The name makes you recoil back into the pickup, and a small form of comfort holds you, as Josephine’s car seat digs into your back. Your babies weren’t here, they were safe. The small mantra plays on a loop in your mind, a minuscule but still present lifeline, that keeps you from slipping and crumbling into the girl you once were.

You hated the nickname, and not just because of the way it spilled from his tongue.

…

You’d grown numb to the cold spray of water cascading over your shivering form. The water had started hot with steam boiling over, and it had initially helped the tightness in your throat, though as the water cooled, your body had re-stiffened with it.

A shuddered gasp falls from your lips, as a sharp kick is felt in your middle and the small croak of air has you winching in pain. You move your shaking hand up over the spans of your neck and flinch as you make contact with the skin. You can feel a ghost of pressure still grasping at your neck; the weight of his hand closing around your throat as light black spots coated your vision.

The weight of the light t-shirt you wore drastically increased as it soaked up the water. Whether it was the events of the day, the fact that you were 7 months pregnant, or that your shirt actually did weigh a million pounds, didn’t matter.

You had still ended up in the same place, with a new set of bruises forming. You didn’t remember crawling to the shower, one minute you were against the hallway wall, and the next you were under the stream of water. Your lashes flutter as the weight of life rests on your shoulders, and for a moment you wish that you could slip into the abyss.

The crash of the bathroom door has your eyes flying open and your body pressing up against the shower wall, clinging to the white tile as Adam appears. The shaking in your body increases ten-fold and you no longer wonder if it is the freezing water.

Your hair hangs across your face as the water washes through it making it hard to see Adam, though you make no effort in clearing your line of sight. You can see his form enough to see the way he kneels down next to you and reaches out with a hand to touch your face. You can’t pull back any farther, no matter how hard you push into the wall in hopes of falling through, it doesn’t budge.

“You finally coherent, Angel?”

His tone is anything but worried and the name is one you haven’t heard before. A small nod and quiet ‘yes’ is all you give him, it was painful to talk, but you knew the consequences for not answering would hurt worse.

“You like the new name?” the hand against your cheek dips and pulls your head up to face him. “You just wouldn’t stop mumbling, begging for someone, something, to save you.”

You couldn’t remember any of what he was saying, sure you had begged before for it to be over, but you couldn’t remember doing it earlier.

Your bewildered expression, has him laying a slap against your face and the clatter of your teeth against the tile wall rings through the bathroom. You wince as Adam laughs, the sound pulses through your mind and eggs on the migraine that’s already formed.

“I can’t believe you don’t remember.” There’s a humor in his black eyes as he watches you, though your memory doesn’t recall anything. “Your little screams were music to my fucking ears. You just couldn’t stop begging to be saved. Angel, no one’s coming for you.”

The open-ended sentence catches your attention and causes you to look up at him, needing to know what happened in the span of time that’s missing from your memory.

“God doesn’t save fallen angels, y/n.”

You watch as he rises back up, away from you, and turns to head back out the bathroom door. Though before he closes it, he peers back over his shoulder at your shaking form.

“He leaves them to pay for their sins.”

…

The ache in your head only increases with every memory that flashes before your eyes, the rapid-fire succession of every gut-wrenching moment. The streetlights surrounding the lot start flashing to life and though it’s still daylight, the summer sun is quickly fading.

You hadn’t brought your phone with you, and you can only hope that someone comes looking for you. You were sure that it had been at least ten minutes, though the current state of your mind hinders you from believing in the accuracy of time.

Your eyes had remained on Adam, but unfocused and blurred. The movement of your head from side to side is slow, and you’re unsure if it’s the world or yourself that has fallen into a frozen moment of time.

Your world feels like it’s underwater, as only muffled voices pass through your ears. With every blink you take, your eyelids drop lower and beg to fall shut. Your mind only clears when your head is ripped up from its dipped position against the glass window of the pickup door.

Your vision centers on Adam as the hand grasping your chin slides down to tighten around your neck. You want to scream, to yell and fight back, but the only sounds you can make are mumbled pleas.

The hand grasping your neck tightens and finally you react, both of your hands fly up to clutch at Adam’s forearm. You claw at the skin and try to get him to release you. Though as your feet kick out, he slowly lifts you from the ground. Higher and higher, until you can’t support your body and the weight is focused directly on your throat, cutting off oxygen.

Your breath fails you, as small desperate puffs of air make their way past your lips. Its only when your head starts to lull to the side, and the flutter in your eyes slows drastically, that Adam finally drops you back to the ground.

You don’t catch yourself this time and the gravel of the lot digs into your knees, as your head falls forward just barely missing Adam’s body. Harsh gasps fall from you as your chest heaves, trying to drag in as much air as possible and gain back your sight. Your lashes flutter, though the black takes ages to disappear. The palm of your hands dig into the gravel, pleading for anything to ground you.

The blood surrounding your nose makes it so you have to gasp for air, and with each wheeze, the nickel taste in your mouth grows stronger. As your vision clears, you lift your head though it falls once again as your neck gives out under its weight. A curtain of hair falls around your face and moves ever so slightly with every shutter your body makes.

“You thought a new name and a pretty ring would change who you are.” A hand rakes through your hair as Adam pulls your trembling face up. “No Angel, I still own you and I don’t appreciate your little disappearing act.”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, no matter how much he yanks on your hair. It was too much. His presence suffocated you and pushed you into back into that hole of darkness. With no light, not for you at least.

“I know all about your little life, Angel. Your big happy family, the adorable little house he bought you, and how Mathew now has a sweet baby sister.”

Your head instantly snaps up at the mention of your family, of your babies, only to find a twisted smile watching you. The sick look has you spitting at him and a small laugh falls from you, as your blood and saliva drips down his cheek. The snap of the back of Adam's hand against your cheek no longer phases you. He could hit you, spew words laced with venom, and threaten you in every way, but he wasn’t allowed to mention your family.

“Fuck you.” The words fall from your lips with a rasp and a small chuckle leaves you. “I’ll die before I let you near them.”

Specs of blood fall from your mouth with each word and the consistent drip from your nose has you lifting a hand finally to wipe at your face. The wet warmth covers your hands and a small glance at your hands has you wiping them off on your dress. It was already ruined, what were a few more handprints added to the soiled fabric.

Your eyes settle on Adam, waiting for the expected out lash from him, though he only holds your gaze. You catch the slight twitch of his hand at his belt, though he doesn’t make a move for you. When he dropped you earlier, your form had landed farther from the truck and provided you with more space. You both remain watching each other, eyes never faltering and waiting to see who would make the first move.

Though your gaze quickly shifts to the side of Adam, as you hear a call for you. Both your gazes find Mathew, standing still at the front of the truck and staring in silent horror. Quickly your eyes shift to Adam, whose face hasn’t left Maty. The look on his face has your gut twisting, the depth of his eyes only seems to darken as he watches Mathew.

“Run.”

Your eyes connect with Mathew’s and you silently plea for him to listen to you, to get as far away from Adam as possible. The crunch of gravel has Adam’s eyes flying to you, your eyes hadn’t left Mathew until he had turned to run and in an instant, your blood-coated hand flies up without a second thought. The crack of bone against bone pierces your ears as Adam stumbles back slightly. Your form springs forward, and your sandals fall from your feet as you move to follow Mathew.

Though the moment of relief is quickly taken from you, as a sharp pain radiates through the back of your head. You don’t have the time to regain your balance, as another sharp pull sends you tumbling to the ground.

There is no saving your falling figure as the gravel embraces your body, and your head smacks down. The pain from Adam ripping is completely forgotten, as another takes its place. A small whine emits from your lips as your hand grazes the back of your head, only to be met with the sticky wet feeling of blood.

Your head falls to the side, hoping to get the pressure off the open wound and stop any gravel from further embedment in your skin. Your eyes just barely catch the sight of Mathew’s running form, and you think he’s screaming, but you can’t tell. Everything hurts, and the prospect of darkness is welcomed.

You barely register the feeling of Adam clambering on top of your still form, your dress raises slightly, and you almost laugh at the fact that Jake stole your panties. The nudge of his leg between your thighs holds no weight, and the cool blade pressed against the column of your throat barely fazes you.

“You know, I am sad that you lost the baby.”

The words ring through your mind, and your lips silently tremble. The tears forming along your water line beg to fall, as your vision catches sight of a figure running towards you.

“I had planned to kill it myse–”

...

“Daddy!”

The scream echoed across the beach, and as if time had slowed each of your family members turned with Jake’s sprinting figure. He could feel it, Jake could feel it deep within his gut that whatever waited for him at the top of the hill was going to change everything.

His legs trembled as the sand slipped from under his feet, and his hands reached out to grasp Mathew’s shaking body. What felt like hours, was only seconds, and the sight of Mathew's tear-stained face made him Jake’s first priority. Mathew was shaking as words failed him and the mumbled sentence was barely auditable through his harsh sobs. Jake had crouched down and ran a hand throw the hair they’d both worked so hard on, calming the boy with each stroke.

“Momma. Momm–”

The mention of you had Jake’s eyes looking across the parking lot, only to find you, unmoving, with a man on top of you, and blood covering your face. Jake would have cried, and screamed at the world for what stood before his eyes, though the only thing that filled his body was white-hot rage.

“Jake wh–”

It was Rooster that had filled in the space behind him, having not seen you yet, he was still confused about what was happening.

“Get him out of here.”

Jake had made sure that Rooster had Mathew in his arms before he took off across the parking lot. The sight of you becoming clearer the closer Jake got, and the slight mumble on your lips was the only relief he found. You were still breathing; he hadn’t lost you yet.

The overhead light of the streetlamps cast a dull light over your blank face, and the glimmering flicker of a knife held against your neck. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think of anything other than protecting you.

The man hadn’t anticipated Jake, or the impact of his body crashing into him, activity ripping him from your still body. His body and mind hadn’t caught up with each other, and Jake was running on pure rage and instinct alone.

The gravel digs into Jake’s legs, the shorts not protecting him at all, though the pain was minimal in comparison to the agony that consumed his heart. He’d gotten the man on the ground, and the two of them tumbled until Jake was straddling his waist.

And finally, Jake saw his face. You had shown Jake pictures of Adam before, and he knew what the bastard looked like. Even with the blood, your blood, spattered on his clothes and face, Jake knew him.

The bastard that had hurt you so much in the past was right in front of him, and without a second thought, his fist crashed into Adam’s waiting face. The crack of Adam’s nose does nothing to calm his anger, as the picture of your vacant face flashes across his mind.

Jake lays another hit into his face, though Adam finally reacts and the knife laying idle in the gravel is quickly back in his hand and aimed for Jake. Whether it was anger, adrenalin, or a mix of the two, Jake couldn’t feel the slice of the blade across his torso.

Adam moves the knife again, this time aiming to stab at Jake’s chest. But before it can make contact, Jake’s own hand snaps out to grasp onto the wrist holding the knife. Then with the other hand, he’s ripping it from Adam’s hold and throwing the blade under the pickup.

“You fucking bastard.”

Punch after punch, the overwhelming need to see the asshole in pain drove Jake, and has a gasp falling from his lips. Jake is positive that tears are dripping from his eyes. It was as if his chest was on fire, the bastard had done this to you. Had ripped you apart and Jake wasn’t there to protect you. He should have checked on you sooner. He shouldn’t have let Mathew check on you. It was his fault that you were bleeding out.

Jake hadn’t realized that with every swing of his fist, small mumbles fell from his lips. Quiet pleas that you would be okay. He only stops for a moment to grasp at the bastard’s shirt and lift his head off the ground.

The smile that crosses Adam’s face makes Jake’s blood run cold. It’s pure reaction, with no thought, as Jake brings his fist back and lays into the man once again. Though this time the smile falls from Adam’s face, as his body goes limp in Jake’s hold. The blood coating his face wasn’t enough, it would never be enough.

Jake’s bleeding knuckles do nothing to ease the pain in his chest or the rage, that runs ramped through his veins. Whatever Jake did to the bastard, would never heal how much his heart had broken at the sight of you.

A loud gasp of breath has Jake’s head on a swivel looking back towards you, only to find Phoenix and Penny surrounding you. The pair of them work together in hopes of getting the bleeding to stop, changing out towels, no they had been using Josephine’s burp rages, and the blood had completely covered the baby pink towel his mother had given you.

Jake must release a sound of pain while looking at you because your eyes snap to him instantly and cause you to wince slightly. You find his gaze and focus in on him, his own eyes focusing on the rise and fall of your chest.

He had never seen your eyes look so lifeless. Your body was depleted of your soul, of the light that normally surrounded you, and left was a shell of the woman that he loved. Your lips move, though nothing comes out and with one last punch to the barely moving man under him, Jake is crawling towards you. The gravel is unnoticeable as it digs into his skin, as he settles next to you unsure if you want him to touch you. Though it’s your hand that releases Penny’s and grasps onto Jake’s like it was the anchor that kept you alive.

He had somehow missed the fact that your friends and family surrounded you, but with a glance at Rooster and Javy, the pair grab onto Adam’s motionless body and drag him behind the truck.

Jake knew he wasn’t dead; Jake hadn’t done that yet.

But once he woke up, Jake wasn’t sure that anyone could stop him from ending the asshole’s life.

…

You gasp for a breath of air, chest heaving to take in as much as possible. You can’t will your head to move, you knew that it was Jake who pulled Adam off you, but the ache in the back of your head was enough to hold you in place. To keep you from looking for your husband.

Your eyes flutter shut for a moment and play a countdown in your mind as numbers from 10 to 1 flash across your mind. You needed to breathe and slow your racing heart, though the task was easier said than done with the fire spreading through your chest.

You were sure you were going into shock, as your surroundings grew unnaturally quiet. Slowly you raise your hand to your throat, needing to feel if any damage was done. Though before your hand can make contact, someone’s hand is grasping onto your own and stopping you. Your eyes fly open again in panic, but the sight of your sister has you calming again.

Your eyes try and track the rush of bodies surrounding you, though it only makes your head hurt worse with each quick pass. Another body stops on the left side of you, placing a cloth against the back of your head, and bends to kiss your temple. You spot the flash of dark hair out the side of your eye before Nat comes into full view.

She looks at you with such pain and the silver along her waterline begs to fall. You squeeze Pen’s hand that is wrapped around your right one and flinch as your knuckles ache. Your mouth moves, though words won’t process, and your throat feels drier than the dessert. Your lip trembles, jumping with every shuttered breath you take.

“My babies?”

“Lacey has them. Don’t worry, they’re safe.”

The words barely make it out of Penny’s mouth before you gasp in relief as tears pool against your cheek. Your tears are unrelenting, though the broken sob to the left of you has you turning to look. Nat helps you turn your head, keeping the cloth against the back of your head and using enough pressure to stop the bleeding but not hurt you worse.

Your eyes instantly find Jake’s green one, and the sight of him makes another sob release from your chest causing it to heave. He does nothing to wipe the tears from his cheek, and before you know it, he’s clambering to you. You catch sight of his bleeding torso and the gravel burns on his knees, though neither seems to faze him.

He stops by your head but doesn’t reach out to you. He doesn’t look directly at your eyes, instead, his eyes remain on the middle of your chest that heaves with every breath. You can’t take the distance anymore; you needed Jake like you needed air.

You suck in a sharp breath of air as you release Penny’s and grasp onto Jake. The flash of pain that moves through your chest feels minimal in comparison to the need that you had for Jake. Your hair lays matted against the back of your head, but as Jake moves your head to rest in his lap, his fingers gently comb through it. He avoids the gash in the back of your and moves the rag that is slowly working to stop the bleeding. Instead, he focuses on the hair covering your face, brushing it gently to the side away from your eyes.

Jake’s eyes move across your body and take in every bruise that’s forming, the clear hand marks around your neck, and each speck of blood that litters your face. He has to force himself not to get up and start in on Adam again, wanting nothing more than to see him in just as much pain. Though he couldn’t be pissed right now, no matter how much he wanted to kill the bastard, he couldn’t. Not with you in such a fragile state still. Jake would make sure that you were okay, and then he would figure out his next move.

…

The Hard Deck was closed for the night, though from the outside it looked like it was up and running. The light from the bar looked like a beacon in the dark Californian night, mirroring the late nights of drinking and laughing that the squad had every Friday night. Though the shadows tonight, are those of your frantic family that works to clear a space for Jake to set you down. The late night at Hard Deck was anything but cheerful and happy.

Jake had checked with you outside, to see if you thought that you could be carried, and you had given a quiet ‘yes.’ He had scooped you up without a second thought and carried you into the bar bridal style, just like he had the night of your wedding.

Everything moved in slow motion, though you’re sure what seemed like hours to you was only minutes. Your eyes remained on Jake, his face provided a central focal point to watch and focus your hazy mind on. You could hear the voices of your family echoing off the walls, though everything slipped in one ear and out the other. Your head remains pressed up against Jake’s chest, as he whispers sweet nothings into your hair. His foot taps away as you wait for Nat to get the pool sticks and balls off the table before sitting you down.

The anxiety is unrelating as it courses through his body and each scenario that flashes through his mind gets increasingly worse. Jake’s hands never leave your body after he sits you down, moving to the side only when Penny or Nat appear with water and a blanket.

“We need to call an ambulance or take her to the hospital; we don’t know the full existe–”

“No.”

Your voice cracks, but it's loud enough that it stops Maverick from talking. You had yet to talk after they got you inside. Only releasing quiet whispers of ‘yes’ when asked, though the crack of your voice echoes across the bar and encases the room in a silence that has everyone looking at you.

“Y/n.”

This time it’s Penny that is trying to get you to agree, but your eyes stay focused on Jake. Begging for him to listen to you, to think of the effects that taking you to the hospital could cause.

“Sweets, we need to take you in. You don’t need to be scared; I’ll be with you the whole time.”

You almost laugh that your husband. You weren’t scared for yourself, far from it.

“Baby, you just got Lieutenant Commander.” Your voice cracks slightly and your release a broken cough. “I would be putting you in a position for someone to claim, disorderedly conduct.”

“Y/n that's highly unlikely.”

Your eyes cut from Jake to Mav as he says it, “But it’s a possibility?” He doesn’t make any move to correct you. “Exactly, and I won’t let it happen.”

“Sweets, my position doesn’t matter, as long as you’re okay.”

The hand resting in your lap rises to rest against Jake’s cheek, and your thumb gently strokes across the hidden dimple. You move forward slightly and lean up to place a kiss on his lips. Pulling back after your nose bumps into his and causes you to wince in pain.

“I’m saying no.” The protest is on the tip of his tongue, though you stop him before he can. “Jacob, you have never and will never make me do something I don’t want to. That’s one of the many ways you're different from him.”

The room sits in silence as everyone watches Jake. Each of them waits for Jake to tell you that you had to go in and that there was no decision to be made. Though your eyes remain focused on each other, and you slowly see his resolve chip away.

A stiff nod is all your get in answer, as he brushes a broken kiss across your brow. The harsh breath he releases is all the more proof of how much he disagrees and how he wishes he could tell you no. He wishes that he could make you listen, to demand you go in. No matter how terrified of losing you he was, he couldn’t push you. He wouldn’t force you to do something, even if his whole body begged him to.

“I’m going to listen to you, but that means you don’t protest what I do next.”

His voice is hard and chipped as he looks at you. His green eyes slowly track over your body and a sigh is released from his chest. You know that it’s just stress towards the situation and not aimed at you, but you can’t help be to feel horrible for putting him through this. You nod your head in answer, as you try and push yourself back farther on the pool table. Though the easy task proves to be difficult as a curse falls from your lips, and causes Jake to grasp your hips to lift you farther back. Jake’s hands rest on your hips and you give him a small grateful smile, before nodding along to his statement.

“Javy, call Monica and tell her to get down here.” The comment is thrown over his shoulder and you see Javy tense slightly before muttering an okay and going to make the call. If you hadn’t been in so much pain, you would have laughed at his shocked look.

Monica was a doctor on base, who Javy had been “seeing.” He claimed that they weren’t serious, but the message that showed up on his lock screen, while he was in the bathroom the other day, said differently. You hadn’t been snooping, he left his phone on the couch next to you and when a text showed up from “Baby” stating she loved him, you were quick to pull Jake to the kitchen and gossip.

“She needs to bring her med bag, Jav.”

He nods in understanding before heading outside to make the call. Penny brings over a warm wet cloth and the three of you work to wipe the blood from your face and body. The process is slow and makes you flinch when they ghost over a particularly sensitive spot. Occasion curses fall from Jake’s lips as he helps you. Though each swipe of the rag across your body seems to hurt him more than it does you.

He is quick to notice you watching him and a soft smile covers his frown, though your heart still aches to see him in pain. You had never been more thankful for Jake than you did at that moment. He protected you and made sure that the kids were safe, you would never be able to repay him for what he granted you. Though you hoped that your love for him would be enough of a thank you.

“He – Maty, he saw me.” The words bubble from your lips, and you can’t stop the way your lip quivers at the thought of your baby seeing you like that. “Is he okay?”

Your head falls to rest against Jake’s chest, as your tears finally break. He wraps a gentle hand around the back of your neck, and his thumb traces the base of your skull as he presses a kiss against the crown of your head.

“He’s okay sweetheart, they both are.” Your release a pained breath that causes Jake to tighten his hold on you slightly. “Lacey and Bob have them. The only thing you need to worry about is healing.”

You give a small nod, though you can’t help but feel bad that Mathew saw you like that. So broken and small, near lifeless. Everything you had been protecting him from for so long, was thrown out to lay in front of his feet. You hadn’t protected him from seeing it, just prolonged the inevitable.

…

Before long you're as clean as you’re going to get without a shower, and your shoulders finally relax as you release a tight breath. Penny moves to grab the pile of blood-stained bar rags from beside you on the pool table and goes to throw them in the wash. Your eyes finally track around the room and see everyone from the Dagger Squad still present, except Bob and Lacey.

You were thankful that they had taken the kids, they shouldn’t have to see you like this. Though the thought of a pregnant Lacey having to take care of your babies, makes you feel slightly guilty. She might have only been four months, but you knew that she was still having trouble with her nausea.

Almost everyone had dispersed around the bar after making sure that you were somewhat stable. But without everyone fluttering around you, your mind is left to wander. And wander it did. To the rasp of Adam’s words just before Jake ripped him off you, and what those words implied.

Jake had left you with Nat, to go talk with Javy about how long Monica would be, considering it was late at night and she was just getting off her shift on base. Though you’d tunned her voice out, even when she promised she’d be right back, you hadn’t heard. Not as your mind trailed off, each second leading you deeper, waiting to tip over the edge.

“I had planned to kill it myse–”

Adam hadn’t finished the sentence, but you knew what that final word was. You knew what he planned to do if you hadn’t miscarried. He wanted to rip your baby from your body. He hated you so much that he would have killed your sweet baby boy.

You miss it, the way that your body starts to rock back and forth, while your knees come up to tuck under your chin. The blanket in your lap drapes off the pool table, though your death grip on it keeps it from falling. Your eyes might have been open, but you couldn’t see anything other than your baby boy left to lay out in the gravel.

It would have been your fault because you couldn’t protect him. You hadn’t protected him anyway, and you lost him. Your baby boy was still dead, and it was your fault. You hadn’t stopped it then, and you wouldn’t have been able to stop it now.

You’re not sure when the tears started tracking down your face, but with each rock back and forth, your gasps for air only get more desperate. It’s the shaking that has you gripping onto the table, the green fabric doing nothing to ground you.

The words morph and distort with each loop around your mind. He planned to do it. To kill him. But he couldn’t because you’d already lost him.

You lost your baby.

You lost Elliot.

It was no one’s fault, but your own.

A scream rips from your chest, broken and full of agony. Though you’re not sure if it's real or if it was the constant screaming in your head, and you were finally hearing things. Had you finally tipped over the edge?

You couldn’t breathe, not when every breath ended with you screaming. The hands working against your arms feel like fire on you, and even with the silent pleas begging you to breathe it didn’t matter. You couldn’t see them, not anymore.

You couldn’t see anything but him.

Your eyes clench shut, as you beg and plea for the images to go away. You had been so numb, Adam wanted to kill you and yet you were numb to it. You would have done anything to be numb again. To have the pain that bloomed in your chest, be numb. To be able to cure the ache of losing him. You would have given anything, prayed to any god.

But Adam had been right, God wouldn’t save you.

Losing Elliot would be your punishment.

How had you screwed up in life so much that the universe hated you? That it deemed you such a horrible person, that you had to live with a gaping hole in your chest.

…

It’s the final scream that echoes across the Hard Deck, and out onto the deck that gains Jake's attention. He’d only left you for a moment to figure out how to handle Adam with Javy, though as he comes through the twin doors, he hates himself for leaving you.

Nat and Bradley grasp at your arms and try to pry them from your hair, to stop any further damage to your scalp. Jake is quick to knock their hands away and push them away from you. Panic attacks were rare for you, but when they happened it was never easy. Never small.

Your rocking form doesn��t still, though the delicate hand Jake places on your cheek make your back-and-forth movement stutter slightly.

“Sweetheart. Baby. Darlin’.”

The names fall from his lips broken and full of pain, and yet through the fog they reach you somehow. It always amazed and scared Jake how easily he could get through to you. He loved it because he was always able to help you. Though it terrified him, because he didn’t know what would happen if he died. If he wasn’t there to pull you back.

“Y/n. Sweets, breath for me baby.”

…

The comforting hand against your cheek pulls you, and his voice echoes over the ones in your head. Soothing and drawing you from the depths of your mind. Pulling you slowly from the hell that encased your mind and soul.

The sight of Jake’s emerald eyes staring into your own has a choked plea falling from you, as the world around you is forgotten. Anything that wasn’t Jake or the delicate words that fell from his lips disappeared. He was the anchor that held you in place, even during the worst storms.

Your lip only trembles slightly and though tears won’t stop falling, your breath slowly starts to even out. Your face leans farther into the hand resting on your cheek, and even though the pain in your chest is eased, it won’t leave.

Your voice is barely a whisper, though the words are clear as day for Jake.

“He wanted to kill Elliot.”

You hadn’t told your friend and family the name of your baby boy, you both wanted to keep it tucked away, only for the pair of you. Though as the name of his son plays through his mind, Jake couldn’t care if his family found out.

“Sweets?”

The name is question enough for you, as Jake’s lip trembles, and his eyes never drift from your own. Your breath had finally calmed and the hand grasping your own gives a small squeeze in question.

“Adam knew about him.” Your eyes fall shut and the words sit on the tip of your tongue. “He was going to kill Elliot if I hadn’t lost him.”

A shuttered breath leaves Jake and it’s your hand squeezing his in comfort. Losing your baby boy was like you had lost a piece of your soul, but anyone that said that a miscarriage wasn't as hard on fathers as it was on the mother, didn't know Jake.

“He said he was going to kill him; the bastard was going to kill my son?”

The question is choked and has Jake stepping back from you, as Penny reaches for you. You can only nod your head, as you slowly watch your husband break all over again. A hard gasp leaves his chest, and the hands resting on his knees threaten to give out.

The words fall from his mouth on repeat. You knew you had to tell him but to see Jake in pain all over again, made you wish you hadn’t. I was like the both of you were losing Elliot all over again. The wound had been ripped open and you didn’t know how to or even if it could be closed again.

…

It’s Bradley’s hand resting against his back, that has Jake standing up again. His tear-stained eyes look at you and find that you’ve calmed, that you were okay in Penny and Nat’s embrace. A harsh breath is sucked in through his nose and released out of the mouth. The deep breath does nothing to calm him and without a second thought, Jake places a gentle kiss on your brow, before heading out to the parking lot.

He can hear the guys behind him, Javy and Rooster calling out to him to slow down, but he couldn’t. The streetlights are the only thing that lights the pavement as Jake makes his way to the truck. They had thrown Adam in the bed of the truck and tied his wrists together, so they could figure out what they were going to do. Though the new information already has Jake’s mind made.

Jake moves without any hesitation as he cuts through the lot and looks up momentarily when the lamp post above him flickers. He rips open the front door of the trunk and grabs the keys from his pocket to start it up. With a flick of his wrist, the headlights beam across the lot and light the deserted area.

Jake doesn’t bother with shutting the door before he moves towards the back of the truck. The cool bite of the metal is harsh as his hand finds the latch on the tailgate and yanks it down. Jake knocks a hand into the base of Adam’s foot, waiting to see if he came to, before grasping onto the bastard’s boot and pulling him out. Adam’s body collides with the gravel and the man releases a deep moan. Rooster and Javy stand at the front of the truck, silently watching as the scene unfold, neither of them willing to step between Jake and the man.

The harsh landing doesn’t faze Jake, he doesn’t care if it hurt Adam. Hell, Jake wanted him to be in pain. He would be in pain; Jake would make sure of it. Instantly Jake’s hand is grasping onto the back of Adam’s shirt and dragging the man past Javy and Rooster, to throw him out in front of the headlights.

It was as if his skin had been set alight, and the only way to calm the flame would be through the bastard's misery. Jake watches Adam and takes in every shift or movement he made, as he slowly evaluates how he chooses to proceed. His hands were tied behind his back, meaning there wouldn’t be much of a fight, but a fight is exactly what Jake was looking for. To be able to hurt the bastard just as much, if not more, than he had hurt you.

“Knife, Rooster.”

His wingman watches him, unsure if he was willing to give Jake the knife. Bradley wasn’t sure how far Jake was planning to go, and he would rather not get yelled at by you for not stopping him. The knife rests in Bradley's hand, though he makes no move to give it to Jake and causes a deep groan to fall from Jake's lips, before walking to Bradley and ripping the blade from him.

Javy is quick to throw a hand against Bradley’s chest and stop him from following Jake. Javy had seen Jake like this before and he knew better than to get in his way. Unless you wanted to be the one that the knife was used against, you stayed out of Jake’s way.

A sharp kick to the ribs has Adam rolling from the force alone and Jake watches as he withers around, working to release the zip ties from his wrists. Though the movement only causes Adam’s face to press farther into the gravel, and he releases a deep groan in discomfort. Jake watches for a moment and enjoys the look of terror that crosses Adam’s face as he catches a glimpse of the blade.

Though the image of you breaks through the barrier Jake had put up and he can’t see anything, other than you laid out lifelessly. A round of feet scuffing against the gravel lets him know that the rest of the guys had come out, though he doesn’t glance back at any of them, not even Maverick.

A heavy foot is placed on Adam’s back and causes the man to jolt, though Jake only focuses on cutting the zip ties from his wrists. The push and pull of the blade across the plastic is rough and hurried, leaving Jake to hope that the knife would “accidentally” cut the asshole in the process. The snap of the plastic has Jake pulling back from the man, and moving to hand the knife back to Rooster. The group of guys look at Jake in question, though a blank stare is the only reaction he gives them.

“Get up.” It’s a demand and the kick laid against Adam’s side plays as motivation. “You might be a piece of shit, but I’m not.”

He’s pacing, circling the bastard as if he was on the hunt and maybe he was. Jake Seresin wasn’t a man that anyone fucked with, he didn’t believe in new-aged laws. No, Jacob Grant Seresin believe in an eye for an eye, and he was out for blood.

“If we’re going to fight, it’s going to be real and not me taking cheap shots like you. When I’m finished with you, I want you to know that you couldn’t win, not because I fucked you over, but because you are a worthless piece of shit.” The crunch of gravel echoes through the silent lot as Jake crouches down and leans close to Adam’s ear, before uttering words specifically meant for him. “You are a fucking spoiled child, that only preys on people that are more vulnerable than you, and I can’t wait to turn the fucking tables.”

Jake watches as Adam gets up to stand, pushing off the ground himself and a small smirk crosses his face when he sees the black eye forming on Adam’s face already. Though the dried blood around his nose is only slightly rewarding, given the fact that it looks like Jake hadn’t broken his nose after all.

Jake waits for the man to acknowledge what he said, though he wasn’t excepting a smile to break out across the bastard’s face. The look has Jake clenching his fist, more than ready to move on Adam without a reply.

“Is it because you pity her? She has nothing else to offer, why else would you be with her.”

Jake’s breath catches in his throat, completely stunned that the asshole had brought you up. He not only brought you up but degraded you and acted as if you were nothing. Was he stupid enough to think that Jake wouldn’t react or was that the exact thing Adam wanted.

Jake doesn’t bother with replying, instead his fist makes contact with the side of Adam’s face and causes the man to stumble back. The naval ring resting on his hand catches Adam’s lip just right and splits it open, and the trickle of blood that falls from his lip has Jake smiling.

Adam bobs slightly, before grounding his feet in the gravel and moving towards Jake. His feet push forward, though they’re slow and uncalculated as if they held twenty-pound weights. With each step Adam makes towards Jake, Jake bounces lightly on his feet. Skirting around the ring of light as if the fight was only a game.

He pays no mind to the group of pilots surrounding them and remains focused on Adam, waiting for him to make a move. Adam’s hands move as slowly as his feet, and Jake easily steps back, dodging the blow.

Jake’s quick movement catches Adam by surprise and he falls forward, past Jake’s shoulder and nearly landing in the group of pilots. Adam’s anger only rises with each movement Jake uses to evade him, and the broken snarl he releases has Jake scoffing.

“I really expected more from you, thought that you would put up some form of fight.”

That signature smirk rests upon Jake’s lips, taunting the asshole in front of him and waiting for him to break. The words pull the wanted action from Adam, and an array of movements are aimed at Jake. Most fail to make contact, though a blow to Jake’s side has him wincing. Adam had taken the cheap shot, just like Jake said he would, and inflicted the blow on the cut he’d given Jake earlier.

The sharp intake of air has Adam laughing and pushing forward toward Jake. The green in Jake’s eyes only darkens with each step Adam takes closer and he’s quick to right his form.

“You really are only getting my scraps; y/n and the boy.”

If looks could kill, Adam would be 6 ft under. Left to rot with the Earthworms and fossils. Though Jake can’t seem to stop him, not yet. He needed to see just how far Adam would go if he could only spew venom at you.

“Even had one with her, a little girl. Yeah, she sure is cute. Miss Josephine.”

This time it’s not Jake stepping forward, but Rooster. He moves before anyone has time to react and lands a blow to Adam’s nose. Blood sprays from impact and coats the gravel, if it wasn’t broken before it was now.

“You don’t fucking talk about them.” Rooster jabs a sharp finger into Adam’s chest, as he stands chest to chest, more than ready to deliver another blow.

Though Adam pays no mind to Rooster and looks around him at Jake. The surrounding group is eerily quiet and waits in hope that the fight might finally be over. Jake was sure that Adam had a death wish, no person in their right mind would utter the words that he does next.

“Then there’s the fact that she lost your baby. Y/n got the job done before I had the chance.”

Time seemed to stop, Rooster might have delivered a second blow, though for Jake time stopped. The group watches as Jake moves, ready to cut in if he goes for Adam. Though Jake avoids Adam completely and goes to the open door of the pickup.

The words settled any doubt that Jake might have had about how worthy Adam was to live. He had sealed his own fate and Jake would be happy to play the grim reaper in Adam’s ending. Jake’s hand meets the cool metal handle that sits under the driver's seat and pulls a lock box from the small space.

Jake doesn’t have to look as he enters the code, flipping the lid open and grasping onto the handgun. You had known that Jake had a license to carry and while you weren’t one to handle firearms, you both decided that as long as it stayed in a locked box, Jake could have the gun in the pickup for safety reasons.

The gun remains unloaded, and Jake has to reach over into the glove compartment to grab the box of bullets. It’s second nature as Jake loads the gun and moves back out to join the group. Javy catches sight of the gun before any of the others and moves to rest his hand on Jake’s shoulder.

“Jake, you do this and there’s no coming back.”

“There was on coming back after the bastard threaten the lives of the people I love.”

…

Penny and Nat had helped you move to a group of couches in the back corner, settling you in the worn leather with the blanket Penny always had in her office. Your sister had disappeared just after she got you settled, and Nat had kept you talking to keep your mind from wandering again.

“I still never found the candles.”

A smile crosses your face and has Nat instantly laughing along with you. Though your laughing is cut short as sharp pain cuts through your head. Your hands gently rise to rub at your temples, before glancing at Penny as she comes out of the back room.

“Pen, do you have any Tylenol? I hurt all over, but my head feels like been beaten in.” The two other women slightly grimace at your choice of words. “I mean it was technically.”

Their wide eyes watch you, unsure how to react. You can’t stop the smile that breaks out on your face as you start laughing and fall back against the couch. Your laughing slowly fades, and the smile on your face falls as your eyes slightly glaze over and fall to stare at the coffee table.

“Y/n, honey talk to us.”

Both of their hands rub up and down your arms, though you sit quietly. You had almost lost everything, if Jake came 5 seconds later and you would be dead. Your eyes flutter up to look at Nat and Penny, both sets of eyes look at you with tears in their eyes. All you can do is hum as you nod your head and your lips twist into a grimace.

“How about I go ask Javy how long Monica is going to be?” Your eyes stay cast to the ground, missing the way Pen and Nat look at each other. Defeated gazes that don’t know how to fix everything, from women that lived in control their whole lives.

“I’m just going to pop outside; you stay with her?”

Penny gives Nat and small ‘yes’ before leaning over to you and placing a kiss upon your brow. Her arms wrap around you, to hold you like she did when you were a child and you easily sink into her embrace.

…

He was seconds away from pulling the trigger. Jake had made his peace, he knew the consequences if he pulled it, but it felt like the only option. Adam didn’t deserve to live not after what happened in the past, and certainly not after what he did tonight.

“Jake, I want to kill him as much as you. Y/n’s like my little sister, but she needs you more than she needs him dead.”

Jake couldn’t take his eyes off Adam’s bleeding face, not even as his lip trembled, and tears threatened to fall. The night air had gone completely silent as if nature knew about the disturbing acts that had taken place in the last few hours. Every good piece of nature had scurried away, to hide from the broken man. Who was willing to lose everything, as long as it meant the people he loved were safe.

Jake hadn’t heard Nat show up to the circle, hadn’t heard the gasp that fell from her lips as she took in the scene. The headlights were blinding, though the sight of Jake with a gun in his hand, aiming directly for Adam’s forehead, wasn’t something she could miss.

The small tremble in Jake’s hand caused the gun to brush harshly against Adam’s forehead, and another choked sob falls from his lips.

“Why does he get to live.” Another sob eased with clenched teeth. “The bastard has assaulted, raped, mentally, and emotionally abused my wife, tried to kill her, traumatized my son, and admitted to planning to kill my unborn baby, but he gets to be let go.” The gun slowly falls from Adam's forehead, as Jake turns around to look at the people that had become his family. The tears rolling down his cheeks weren’t something anyone, but you saw. Though now as his lips and body tremble, it’s clear how much Jacob Seresin held in. “She may never be the same.” The fractured yell echoes, across the night, and falls into a whisper. “How is that fair?”

He was a broken man, that would never have enough time to grieve what he had lost, what you all lost.

It's Nat that steps forward from the group and moves towards Jake, slowly getting closer until she is right in front of him. Tears fill her eyes as she lays a hand to rest upon Jake’s cheek, and a defeated smile crosses her face.

“It’s not fair, I know, and I am so sorry.” A gentle hand slowly reaches out to Jake’s side and nudges the gun from his grasp. “But it will hurt them more if they lose you.”

The gun drops from Jake’s hand and Nat is quick to hand it over to Mav, who begins unloading it. Without a second thought, Nat pulls Jake into a tight hug, as sobs rack through the man’s body. She slowly pulls back, as her hands trace up and down Jake’s arms before giving his shoulders a reassuring squeeze.

“Here’s what’s going to happen; we are calling Y/n’s mom and dad, I know they are at a conference, but Admiral Benjamin needs to know. Then we are calling Cyclone, he loves Y/n like a daughter and even though we piss him off regularly, he will listen to what happened.” Nat’s eyes track around the group making sure that everyone was listening, they would all need to be on the same page if they wanted the plan to work without a hitch.

“Adam assaulted Y/n and Jake, as well as admitted to premeditated plans for murder. Every single one of you heard it, Coyote said Adam said it in front of you guys. Correct?” A round of nods come from the group before Nat steps away from Jake. “Adam can and will be tried in military court, and we are also filing for a restraining order.”

“What about the gun, Nix.”

“Bradley, my chicken, that’s easy. Adam had a knife, he cut Jake and had it against Y/n’s throat. Jake having the gun is the same level of confrontation, and he was reacting out of fear for his life.”

The tension seems to leave the group with the new plan in place. Though before they can disperse Nat, slowly walks toward Adam. “And if he tries to tell anyone different, he’s going to be going against nine of us. They won’t listen to anything he has to say.”

“Don’t tell Y/n right now, about what we’re doing. She’s already stressed.”

The last sentence falls off the tip of Jake’s tongue, just as Monica pulls into the open lot. A final look around the group confirms the decision and Jake already has his phone to call your father, while Javy and Nat take Monica to you.

…

Monica hadn’t asked any questions about what happened, her sole focus stayed on you and helping in any way she could without going to the hospital. She checked you for a concussion and said you had a minor one, and to expect blurry vision as well as avoid things that required your eyes to work. She promised that you would be fine, but it you started throwing up or your headaches worsened you had to come into the hospital immediately. Checking your cuts and bruise had been easy, while you would be sore, there was no apparent permanent damage done.

Four staples were added to the back of your head, but they were easily hidden by your hair. Jake also got ten stitches across his torso and was scolded for not placing a compression on it. The final piece to look at was the bruises that had been forming on your throat and face. Monica told you that you were lucky, that the line across your neck should have been a cut and you should thank whoever was watching over you. Your throat would be sore for a while and swelling was expected, but it could have been much worse.

You had given her a quiet thank you, before exchanging numbers. You both told Javy it was for medical needs, though in reality, it was so you could plan a get-together.

Throughout Monica looking you over, the Dagger Squad constantly bounced back and forth between coming inside and going outside. Though as each of them made rounds, they each stopped every time to check on you. You had no energy to question what was going on and just wanted to get to your bed, you could worry about their scheming tomorrow.

Finally, you were able to head home, Bob and Lacey texted and said they were keeping the kids for the night. While Nat and Bradley had already gone down and cleaned up the beach, putting everything in their car to be worried about later. The last thing was getting you in the pick-up, to which Jake insisted on carrying you.

On the way out, your eyes fell on Cyclone and Warlock who were talking to Mav while a group of naval personnel surrounded them. Cyclone had caught your eye and gave you a small smile as well as a wink before his attention was back on the jeep at the side of him. Your eyes followed the direction and found Adam cuffed in the backseat.

“Jake wh–”

Your words are quickly silenced, as Jake cuts you off and places you in the truck. He reaches across your waist to buckle you in, before placing a soft kiss on your lips, then each cheek, and finally your brow.

“I will explain everything in the morning, Sweets.”

You would protest, but you couldn’t remember the last time you were this tired and instead nod your head as you mutter ‘okay.’ The night drive lulls you into a peaceful sleep, with your head resting against the window while you track the condensation. The 20-minute drive slips passed you, one minute Jake was buckling you in, and the next he was carrying you to your shared bedroom.

The push of the front door against the wall echoes through the quiet house. The silence in your home is eerie and slightly unsettling. The house was never quiet, not with two kids and the ensue of pilots that were always coming and going. Jake shuffles you slightly in his hold as he kicks his shoe off at the front door, causing a momentary disturbance through the house. You never liked a silent house, silent homes were for when the kids were sick, Jake was deployed, or at bedtime and even then, the house was never this quiet.

Jake easily carries you to your shared room, while avoiding anything that may bump into you and cause you any more discomfort. He settles you on the bed slowly and you grimace at the way your blood-stained dress stands out against the pristine sheets and comforter.

Getting out of your dress proved to be difficult, while it would have normally slipped over your head and off, each movement you make has some part of your body aching. Though with Jake’s help, the two of you were able to get it off you without too much hassle.

“Come on Sweets, let’s get you showered and ready for bed.”

A hand is placed against your bare back and the two of you slowly make your way to the ensuite. Though your head spins in the short distance to the bathroom, and after you stumble the second time, Jake scopes you up to set you on the vanity.

“Sorry.” Your voice is meek as you say it and your eyes stay cast down looking at the tile. The small catch in your throat makes Jake’s heart clench, as your voice trembles. “Everything is still swaying.”

A small scoff falls from Jake’s lips before he is tipping your head back to look at him.

“You have no reason to be sorry.” A tear falls and Jake’s thumb is quick to catch it and wipe it away. “Nothing that happened today or in the past is your fault. Okay?”

Your lips tremble as you nod once. Jake might have said it wasn’t your fault, but that didn’t make it feel any less like your fault. Your eyes move from Jake’s eyes and the look of pity it feels like he’s giving you. You knew that he wasn’t, Jake never looked at you like that. Though Adam had reopened boxes that you had buried away and ways of thinking that revolved around self-destruction.

You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror behind you, and a harsh gasp falls from your lips as a new onset of tears fall. You hadn’t seen yourself all night, though now looking at yourself you don’t know how to feel.

Jake brushes his lips against your cheek, as your opposite hand comes to trace along the bruise that’s marring your face. You flinch slightly as you barely touch the dark purple and red that’s focused around your eye socket. You hadn’t noticed it before, but now looking at your face you can see the blood vessels in your eye that popped from impact. Your stomach rolls at the sight, though you can’t bring yourself to look away.

It’s when your eyes travel down to your neck that you have to look away. A loud sob falls from your lips as you bury yourself in Jake’s chest. A clear line sat across the front of your neck, and you can’t help but wonder how you hadn’t been cut. Monica’s words echo in your mind and you silently wonder. There’s an array of bruising that wraps around your throat and collarbones, though you can’t bring yourself to look at them. The small glance was more than enough.

You shake as tears fall and gasp quietly into Jake’s chest. Both of his arms wrap around you, to create a blanket of security as his fingers trace up and down your spine. One of his hands gently catch in your hair and you wince as a tiny whimper falls from you. Jake gently undoes the tangles in your hair, but your sobs only get louder.

He hadn’t meant to, but the slight tug of your hair only triggered memories of what happened today. You had ended up cutting your hair just after you moved to Florida with Adam, it had been after a bad fight when he had ripped a chunk of your hair out, from pulling it so hard. From then on you had short hair, and it stay at shoulder length up until the point you moved home.

It had been freeing to be able to grow it out again and over the last 6 years, you had never been worried about your hair getting in the way or how it could be used against you again. That was until tonight, and now the thought of it made you sick.

In such a short time period, all of the progress you had made was thrown into the wash. He had ruined something that you loved so much and made it into this heavy reminder. Another physical carrier of your trauma, bruises would fade, and cuts would heal. Though if you didn’t take the step, it would be a permanent reminder.

A quiet nagging voice every time you look at it; with his hands running through it, as the whites of his knuckles light up with each strand that wraps around his hand.

“I want it off.”

Jake’s hand drops from your back immediately as you start you shake and cry, his hand instead moves to hold onto your tear-stricken face. He brushes the stray strands of hair on your face back easily, so he can look at you as mumbled words continue falling from your lips. He watches silently as your eyes flutter around the room, and never stay focused on one place.

“I need it gone. I can feel his hands, Jake.”

Both of his hands grasp onto your cheeks lightly, but steady enough that you can’t look away from him. The tears cloud your eyes, as one of your hands comes to wrap around the back of your scalp, cradling the area that the pressure radiates from.

“Darlin’ look at me, what do you need to be gone?”

A broken sob racks through your chest, as it heaves to gain any sort of air, and stop the looming feeling of suffocation.

“My hair, Jake. I can’t stop feeling his hands in it, how he wrapped it around his knuckle. He used it against me, used it to pull me back from Maty.”

Your words are broken and desperate as Jake wraps you tightly in his arms and kisses the top of your head. You try to pull away, disgusted with yourself and what happened. Though Jake doesn’t let you and as your crying amplifies, your fists work against Jake’s chest.

An on slay of emotions and thoughts; hatred, panic, heartbreak, anger, confusion, anxiety, and hatred, at yourself, at the world, at Adam. Haunted sobs of the past push passed your lips and with each one, you pound into Jake’s chest. Though he doesn’t let go; he won’t let you pull away to face this on your own.

Sweet nothings are whispered into your hair, and finally your tire yourself out. To the point that the small shutters that encase your body are the only movement, you’re capable of. You pull back from Jake and you had never felt such defeat in yourself, to see how strong of a hold Adam still has on you.

“He broke me.”

The words are dull and lifeless as they ring through Jake’s ears and for a moment, he wishes Nat wouldn’t have stopped him. That Jake would have been able to pull the trigger and tell you that you would never see the bastard again.

“You, my beautiful, amazing, strong, loving wife, are not broken.” You lean farther to the hand resting against your cheek, as his thumb rubs small circles against your cheekbone. “And even if you were, I would find every single piece and put you back together, no matter how long it took.” A gentle kiss is placed over each tear-stained cheek. “You amaze me every single day, and I couldn’t ask for a better wife or mother for my children.”

You sniffle slightly, as your tears slow and your nose becomes overly stuffy from the amount that you’ve cried. Your lips tremble and the small ‘really’ that you release in question, cracks Jake’s heart a little more.

“Yes, my Sweets. I hate that you can’t see how extraordinary you are.” Your eyes fall shut as you lean into Jake’s chest and place a kiss on the spot where his heart rests. “Though if we need to cut off some or all of your hair, to feel free, then we are doing it.”

A true genuine smile crosses your lips, and you wonder how you had gotten such an amazing man. You’re unsure of who you tricked because you most defiantly didn’t deserve Jake, not with all your baggage. But somehow, he had come into your life and decided that your baggage was his.

“I love you.”

“Darlin’ I love you so much more.”

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sithbvcky · 6 months

Text

Gimme Shelter: Part Three

70s gangster bucky barnes x fem!reader au. Warnings: mature themes, drug use, alcohol, guns, blood, violence.

Synopsis: James "Bucky" Barnes, better known by his fearsome moniker, The Winter Soldier. It's Los Angeles in 1977 and only one man owns the city. Until someone decides to challenge the king for his throne.

Warning: mild smut, 18+ only, read at your own risk.

Note: I do not give permission for my work to copied or translated anywhere else but this blog.

Masterlist

Sam and Steve were at Bucky's side not long after you left. Bucky had his hands gripping the chrome railing, his eyes scanning the crowd of revelers.

"Does Lang know?" He asked.

"Yeah, I told him. He just asked not to make a mess of the place. If it gets ugly it goes outside." Steve replied.

Bucky pushed himself off the railing and turned to face his partners.

"I don't plan on getting ugly, that's what he wants. He's trying to rile me up so I make a fool of myself." Bucky cocked a hip as he considered which hand to play. He rubbed his jaw with his left hand.

"What's the move, boss man?" Sam crossed his arms over his chest. Bucky looked to him then to Steve.

"He wants me to look weak in front of my clients. Coming for Y/N directly, he knows my weakness and that's not good. We need to get info on his and exploit it immediately." Bucky spoke.

"I can have Tasha get on it." Steve added. Bucky nodded,

"Go tell her and have her bring Y/N back out."

Steve and Sam looked at him confused.

"But you just said she's your weakness?" Sam questioned.

"I know but shoving her in the back makes me look scared and I'm not giving him the satisfaction. From now on, Y/N is with me 24/7. As long as I keep her in my sight he can't do anything." Bucky explained.

"I'll go get them." Steve jogged down the stairs and made a B line for the back office.

"Sam, call Clint and tell him to get his ass down here ASAP."

Sam nodded and moved to leave when Bucky stopped him,

"After that call Logan. I need more muscle."

"On it." Sam left and Bucky turned back to look out at the dance floor. Everything was normal, the party was going smoothly. Nothing seemed amiss. His meeting with Lang went well and they planned to continue doing business with each other. Lang also promised to push new clients Bucky's way. This whole mess with Stark was going to be snuffed out like a candle flame. He'd be sorry he ever came to town.

---------

Steve came to retrieve you and Natasha, simply saying Bucky changed his mind and wanted you with him. You quickly darted from the room not bothering to listen to whatever Steve was telling Natasha. Bucky wanted you and that's all you cared about.

You found him sitting in the VIP lounge, legs spread wide and his arms resting on the back of the seat. He smiled slyly as he saw you approaching.

"Come here, baby." He patted his lap and you eagerly obliged. He brought his left arm to wrap around your waist while he started nuzzling your neck.

"What changed your mind?" You asked, reveling in his touch.

"No one can keep you safe better than me." He breathed against your skin and you felt chills ripple through your body.

"I'm not gonna let some bozo try to separate us. You're staying with me no matter what." He continued, looking up at you. His blue eyes were dark with lust and you knew he'd have no qualms throwing you back on the lounge for the whole club to see. It would be a display of power to any and all who tried to intimidate him.

"Does that mean I get to come with you everywhere?" You wondered, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. He smiled, your noses brushing against each other.

"Everywhere. I'm not letting you out of my sight." Both his hands were off the seat now, one holding your thigh and the other resting on the back of your neck.

You couldn't hide the smile spreading across your face. You'd wanted nothing more than for him to let you in just a little bit more than he already did. Of course, the situation wasn't ideal and you knew this was a protective measure but it still made you happy.

"Why don't we take this party home?" You flirted, dragging your index finger down from the tip of his chin to his chest. You knew he was making a show of sitting like a king on his throne, that this Stark fellow was watching somehow and Bucky was making sure he saw how much he didn't care. Like a spider to the fly, he wanted Stark to make a bigger move before he showed his true hand.

"You know I can't refuse you." Bucky kissed you quick and gave your thigh a squeeze before letting you go.

"You're such a liar." You giggle, he has refused you plenty of times before except when you dangled sex in the air like a dog bone or insisted so hard he couldn't say no. Bucky chuckled,

"But you love me anyways." He squeezed your ass as you stood up.

"You bet your ass I do." You took his hand and led him down out of the VIP section.

Bucky had the valet bring his car around and he tipped the young boy extra. Perhaps guilt for accosting the poor waiter earlier.

"Did you tell the others we left?" You asked as he sat in the drivers side.

"I saw Sam on the way out, they know." He replied. "Now the only business I wanna discuss is what I'm gonna do to you when we get back." He winked and you felt the goosebumps rise up on your arms.

Back at the penthouse, Bucky barely locked the door behind him before his hands were on you. His lips melded with yours and your own hands reached up to grip his long hair. He shuffled you backwards toward the bedroom. He pulled the straps of your dress of your shoulders, it fell down to your hips baring your breasts to him. You kicked the rest off, leaving you in nothing but panties.

You broke away from kissing him to help him shed his clothes. You ripped his shirt open and ran your hands down his muscled abdomen as he undid his belt. You pulled at the waistline of his slacks, teasing ever so slightly.

"Enough of that." In a swift motion he scooped you up and tossed you back onto the bed. He crawled on top of you, kissing you roughly from your lips down your body. You let out breathy moans of pleasure and reached down to unbutton his slacks. You need him now, the playfulness at the club was enough to have you rearing to go. It took a lot of strength not to make him stop the car and fuck him right there in the drivers seat. But you were patient and now it was time.

Bucky kicked off his slacks and reached back down to pull your panties down before pulling down his own underwear. You pulled him back down to press your lips together in a greedy, desperate kiss. As you held him there you felt him enter you softly at first, then his thrusts became stronger and stronger.

Your hands clawed down his back, moans and gasps of ecstasy escaping your mouths. You looked into his eyes as he hovered above you, wild and ragged. This was a love you'd never find again and didn't want to. You'd never give him up, come hell or high water, and you saw that reflected in his eyes.

With a fervent kiss, and screams of pleasure you reached the end. Bucky flopped onto his back beside you, chest heaving and slick with sweat. You let a moment of silence pass between you. Listening to the sound of each others breathing start to steady. You turned onto your side to face and him and he did the same.

"You know I love you, right?" He said, his blue eyes now a calm sea.

"Of course I know. I love you too." You replied.

"I want you to know that no matter what, I will always love you. Till the very end and even then I'll still love you."

You giggled,

"What's this all about? You high on sex?" You joked. He grinned and let out a chuckle,

"Maybe a little but I mean it."

"I know. You don't have to tell me."

"I do. Just in case." The grin disappeared from his face and you felt a nervous tinge in your chest.

"James, don't talk like that." You rarely used his full name but this was a conversation you didn't like.

"For my own selfish reasons I just want to make sure you know. That's all. I'm not made of steel." He continued.

"I know you aren't and I appreciate the reminder but this feels an awful lot like a man who's certain death is knocking on his door and he's afraid." You retorted. You knew this business was risky and his life was constantly on the line but he never talked to you this way before and it was scaring you.

He looked at you softly, smiling.

"Fear of death is not my issue." He said. "I'm sorry for ruining the night with this, I just-" He paused and reached his hand out to caress your hair.

"You didn't ruin the night, but you will if you keep it up." You sassed and he grinned.

"Come here." He beckoned, and you snuggled up against him, resting your head on his chest. His arms wrapped around you and it didn't take long for you to fall asleep enveloped in his warmth.

You didn't know what time it was when you heard the knock on the door and felt Bucky leave the bed. You sat up and turned on the bedside lamp, rubbing your eyes. There were muffled voices coming from the living room, a moment later Bucky came back into the room.

"What's wrong?" You mumbled, your eyes still adjusting to the light. Bucky ran a hand through his hair,

"Nat's missing."

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apricotg0rl · 5 months

Text

Wedding dresses and funerals 🕰️🪦��

Tommy x reader

Genre: angst?

Word count: 540

Warnings: guns mentioned and blood as-well as a considerable age gap -forced marriage

(If there was a warning or something triggering I forgot to mention please message me so I can correct my mistake)

Side note: my small oneshot was inspired by this painting ‘signing the register’ 1920 by Edmond Blair Leighton as I feel it’s fitting once again towards the atmosphere of Tommys character and taking into the account of Mr Gold’s daughter and how arranged marriages have been a major topic of history and marriage was more a business arrangement than something to do with love.

So yeah if I got anything wrong tell me because I normally tend to not reread my writing out of embarrassment hence why the multiple incorrect grammar in the last post.

“And as I write this I scramble to find a drop of sincerity in this marriage and hope that I will find love within its contract that bind us together but deep within I mourn. Mourn for my innocence, mourn for the young girl who was promised jewels made from cut stone but here I stand with a ring stained with blood and the lives he took just to slip it on my raw fingers. “

After pondering at the scraps of paper Y/N carved into she looked around to see the presence of the monotonous man she was wedded off to.

“Will I just be another trophy for you to show off?” She asks with distain in her voice while dropping her head to the floor as she drowns in shame. “Or will I have a somewhat value to you other than being paraded around?” She knew her youth was a beneficial gain for him but the taboo circumstances circulating it left it to be unsaid leaving a lingering tension between the two and the spectators that had witnessed the ceremony. It was obvious that very little of his family agreed with the sickening idea as spiteful whispers lurked the halls of the house while she stayed locked up in her room suffocating in a ridiculous wedding dress.

“Can you just behave and come downstairs” tommy demanded while staring down the gaunt girl drowning in the white fabric that had her desperate for air as it clung tightly onto her skin.

“How can I possibly behave when I’ve been married off to a monster?!” She spat at him whilst attempting to soak up her translucent tears. Once her words reached his ears he wrinkled his nose in disgust “monster?!” He remarked at her tensed up expression and he took a glance at her following with an intense gaze at her heaving chest which resulted with a sharp pang of guilt.

“I am not to blame..it was your father who proposed the idea” he replied shaking his head in disbelief at the girls outlandish behaviour yet still acting like a child himself playing the silly game of who did it first.

Y/N’s jaw went slack at the idea of the very man who promised her own safety since her first breath selling her off to the next man who could “tame” her.

“I tried to take the responsibility but I can’t have my wife hating my very own existence and cursing the day I was born”

Y/N retched at his use of words and stood from her chair in pure disbelief that was now intertwined with venom. The assertive man stood within her eyeline and palmed the gun from his pocket and slammed it on the table infront of her looking for something other than contempt in her eyes. “If you want to take out your anger he’s downstairs with the rest of the family” he exclaimed, almost tempting her like the snake from the genesis story that had fooled Eve, as the choice of life and death rattled around her mind like a marble in a wheel.

“But if you decide to become vengeful you can no longer live on that pedestal that you look down on me from when blood is spilt on your hands” he spat as he roughly grabbed onto her shoulders trying to shake the insanity out of her that dwindled like a flickering candle flame.

“Is that what it takes to become a Shelby?”

#fanfic #tommy shelby fanfiction #peaky blinder imagine #cillian murphy x reader

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littlemissmiller · 1 day

Text

𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒃𝒍𝒆

Pairing: billy the kid x fem!reader

Summary: you’ve been billy’s best friend since he came to Santa Fe. You two always got into trouble together, but lately he’s been distant. one night, billy gets into a fight after a poker game gets out of hand. he comes to you, hoping you’ll bandage him up without giving him anymore trouble than he’s already been in. as you help fix him up, you can’t help but notice how truly handsome he is and then, one thing leads to another…

Warning: 21+ (drinking), heavy fluff, smut, p in v , oral (f reviving) slight dirty talk

Word count: 3.8k

A/N: hello hello hello! i’m back with another lil spicy read. this one is so cute and fluffy and took me forever to write but here we are and i hope to get more out with the show being back. unfortunately I haven’t had time to watch the new episodes but i plan on it tonight. also i do take requests (i mainly write for pedro pascal and tom blyth, but I do a lot of other fandoms too so just ask.) so yeah…it’s a hot fan fiction summer y’all so get ready for the heat 🔥🥵 enjoy loves ♡︎

★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆

It is a warm night. The kinda night that smells fresh and ready for adventure. Billy’s favorite kind of nights. The kind of nights that Billy just loves to make memories getting into trouble. When you and him were kids, there was nothing better than sneaking out with Billy. Going out into town, sneaking into bars mainly, but occasionally the two of you would ride out into the hills, just to get a better view of the stars. Sharing a bottle of stolen liquor from the local boarding house, the two of you would gaze up, trying to count them all and connecting the dots into your own pictures and making up your own stories. You always had a soft spot in your heart for him, and truly felt as if that feeling only extended to a friendship. That’s what you told yourself anyways.

So tonight reminded him of one of those many nights he had shared with you. As he enters the saloon, he feels lucky and optimistic. But as he exits, he stumbles into the dirt pavement as he’s pushed back onto the ground by another patron.

“You’re a damn cheat kid!” A burly man yelled down at Billy

He spits the blood out of his mouth and glances his eyes back onto the man who hit him. He stands over Billy, his angry scowl growing on his face.

“I play fair. Can’t help you, can't take it on the chin like a real man.” Billy spits at him

With that the man moves in, running up to kick him in the stomach. Billy, quick as ever, turns over and runs back up on his feet. He holds his hand over his holster, ready to defend himself if need be, even though he was still practicing his quick draw in his mirror, he wasn’t a bad shot. The man strode forward, snarling at him, drunkenly raising his right hook. Billy easily avoided him, but suddenly another man grabbed his shoulder and he tried to wrangle himself free. The drunk man launches forward, aiming for his face, missing, but still landing a nasty punch to his stomach. He spits out more blood, but holds his head up. The man swings again, this time landing him square in the jaw. Billy could feel the cold metal of his ring as it grazes against his chin.

Billy grunts, the man holding him from behind knees him hard under his thighs and Billy decides he has had enough. In a moment of quick thinking, Billy kicks in the kneecaps of the man holding him, and he falls back. Billy whips out his pistol, and points it at the drunk man. The drunk man, seemingly not aware or afraid of the gun in his face lunges toward him, but in his drunken state, he falls down. Billy spits on him, kicking the dirt up in his face as he runs off, heading in the direction of your house.

Meanwhile, you’re still awake, deeply immersed in an old copy of Romeo and Juliet. The flame from your candle was slowly lulling you into sleep and just as you’re about to blow it out, you hear a rapid knocking on your door. You have a feeling you know who it is, but nonetheless you call out asking “who is it?”while opening the door.

Billy stands at your doorway, holding his stomach, bent over slightly. His lip is beat and bloody. His eyes look up at your own briefly as he whines in pain. You usher him inside and he limps in.

“Christ Billy, what happened?”

“Man couldn’t handle a poker loss.” He explains, reaching into his back pocket and lays down a wad of cash, about $10 worth.

“You won that?”

“Yeah. Gotta keep some money safe for my Ma. Those assholes were so drunk they forgot how to count chips” he groans, stumbling into your kitchen chair. He continues to hold his stomach in pain.

“They think you tried to cheat them?” You ask

He nods, wincing, his face scrunching up in pain. You rush over to him, kneeling at his side.

“Well, your ma is going to be in a fit if she sees you like this.” You say, fingers dancing across his jaw. You move his chin to get a better look at his swollen lip. Whoever had fought him, had given him.

“Yeah. Plan is to be out all day tomorrow. Let the swelling die down. But for now, can you help patch me up?” He groans

“Oh” you scoff jokingly

You stand up, smiling at him, and heading into your bedroom to grab a first aid kit. You were no nurse, but you knew how to help bandage him up enough so that you can make him look pretty again. It was hard to deny that your best friend is unbearably handsome. It wasn’t something you had noticed before, especially growing up, but this summer he had changed. His face had lost all its round baby fat, and his sharp features showed just how handsome he really was. You think it’s his eyes. They are a deep blue, and stand out from the rest of his features. They capture you and draw you into him.

Nowadays, every time you look into them you nearly drown. Your thoughts get carried away with the thought of him bare on top of you, those same eyes trailing down your body, admiring your beauty. You have to frequently remind yourself to think of other things.

You scurry back into your kitchen. You run over to your liquor cabinet, grabbing the highest proof whisky you have. You turn and kneel back beside him. You open the kit, and get out some bandages. You unscrew the cap to the whiskey and pour some of it on a cloth.

“I’d much rather just drink it.” He smirks

“Fine, but I still need to clean your wound.” You explain, dapping the cloth on his split open mouth. He winces at the sting of the alcohol. He pulls back in pain, grabbing the bottle and taking a swig.

“Fuck” he grits

“I know I know I’m sorry…just let me…” you apologize, dabbing under his lip and on his jaw where a fresh cut had been sitting on his chin.

“This cut? Did one of them have a ring.”

“I guess so.”

You sigh. He sounds so reckless. So careless in his demeanor. Yet, as you clean him off you can’t help but admire how smooth his skin is, how this closeness felt strangely intimate. The overwhelming feeling to kiss his perfect jawline was a temptation like no other. The way his beautiful eyes occasionally glances at you makes your heart melt, and your breath feels shaky. You calm yourself and refocus your attention back on his bloody face.

“Oh Billy…” you sigh, shaking your head.

“Ain’t my fault I’m a good card player. Ain’t my fault I’m young and better enough to beat them old men at their own game.”

“You just need to be more careful Billy. One of these days you’re gonna get really hurt.” You warn

“I can handle myself.” He quips

“Yeah apparently enough to go on adventures all by yourself now huh?” You raise an eyebrow at him

He scoffs and hangs his head, turning away from you.

“You know one of these days Billy you’re gonna get too ahead of yourself and get into real trouble. Real trouble you ain’t gonna get yourself out of. Then what?” You ask, cleaning up the last of the blood.

At this point, Billy was on the brink of losing it. Why are you giving him so much grief over this? A bar fight nonetheless? Something as naturally occurring as the desert heat in Santa Fe. Angry, you force him to look at you, turning his chin toward you.

He huffs, his breathing heavy.

“Do you really want your poor Ma to visit you in a jail cell?”

You take it too far. Even you know it. The moment the sentence spills for your lips it hits Billy’s ears like a ton of bricks.

“I just- I’m sorry I just…”

Billy grabs your hand, forcing it away from his chin and into your lap.

“No. You’ve said enough. I thought you were my friend. Why you talking down on me like you raised me?” He sneers

“Because I don’t want to see you hanging from a tree!” You shout

Billy’s eyes widen and yours fill up with tears.

“And one of these days I’m afraid that that’s the last I’ll ever see of ya! Since you like to run on your own now. I guess I ain’t good enough to tag along with you anymore either?”

“Is this what you’re mad about? I don’t understand you’re worried I’m gonna get myself into trouble, but you also want to seem to tag along. So which one is it?” He asks, shaking his head.

“Maybe I want to tag along to make sure you stay out of trouble.” You whisper harshly, holding back your sobs.

He hangs his head, sighing your name.

“Maybe I don’t take you anywhere no more to keep you safe. You know I ain’t nothing but trouble these days.”

“You say that like it’s written in stone somewhere. Like it’s meant to be. Why Billy? Why do you think you have to be no good?

“I don’t think I have to be, but if I wanna protect my family then I may have to do things I ain’t proud of…especially if I have to protect you…” he breathes

“What do you mean?”

“Ain’t it obvious, darling?”

You shake your head in confusion and raise an eyebrow

“No?”

He sighs and leans in.

“Because you mean everything to me.” He gasps and not being able to control himself any longer, he swiftly cups your face, dragging your face to his own and kisses you deeply. You moan in surprise, letting his soft lips consume your own. He pulls back all too quickly though, feeling guilty for being so bold. What if you didn’t like him like that? Then you nod and he smiles. His lips look so soft and inviting and you lean back in. You firmly press your lips against his, your hand clutching the back of his head, pushing him towards you. You run your fingers through his brown soft locks. You’re kissing him back, and seem to want more, which Billy didn’t expect.

“See you what I mean?” He mumbles against your lips, smiling.

You nod in response.

“Billy…” you whisper

“Yes, darling?”

You stand up and slide onto his lap, wrapping your hands around his neck.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for that.”

“Me too, I thought maybe you’d reject me.” He smiles, gently rubbing your thigh, hiking your dress up slightly.

“Why do you think I was so upset with you? You smile and with his other hand, he strokes your cheek with his thumb.

“I’m sorry I was so distant, but now you know why I’ve been acting like you’re nothing to me. I’ve been a complete ass I know. Let me make it up to you?”

He leans in again as you nod. Now that your collective previously unspoken feelings have come to light, there is no holding back. For both of you. Billy moves more quickly, his mouth becoming more needy for you, and you love it. He pokes his tongue through, exploring your mouth. You let him in, wanting more of whatever he gives you. You can’t help but moan against his mouth and he holds your face tighter. You can barely keep up with him, it’s so apparent that he wants you based on the way he practically consumes you. Every kiss feels like a flame that burns your lips, seering the very memory of his lip on your own. You could do this for hours. Kissing Billy was one thing, but completely losing yourself in this messy, raw passion was another. He pulls back to look at you, capturing the moment and image of you to memory. You can tell he wants to say something, but you already know.

“I know Billy, me too…”

He smirks and places a quick kiss on your lips. He smiles, giving you the most goofy, boyish look. He rubs your cheeks in his hands, feeling ever so loved by him. He moved them to your neck and continues to kiss you. He moves his mouth slowly to your chin, down to your jawline and onto your neck. You move your head to the side to give him more space and he practically attacks you. You gasp as he moves his hands down under your dress and up your thighs.

“Can I?” He breathes

“You can…take me to my room first” you whisper, batting your eyes at him. He nods enthusiastically, waiting no time to swoop you up into his arms. Your legs dangle from the crook of his elbow and you hang onto him. He kisses your neck and jaw and he carries you into your bedroom. Once there, he sets you down on the bed and slips his suspenders off his shoulders. He starts to unbutton his shirt, then falls onto you, catching himself and caging you with his arms. He just can’t help himself. He wants to kiss you now that he has you all to himself. He unbuttons the rest of his shirt, tossing it aside and dancing his fingers up to the strings of your dress. You admire his lean figure, his body so toned and handsome.

“Now can I?” He smirks

You nod and he starts to untie the front of your dress. His eyes meet your own, and you start to feel lost in the ocean of his irises. Once he loosens your dress he pulls it past your shoulders, his fingers dancing over your collar bone, following the delicate fabric as it falls down your body. He leans down, kissing the crook of your neck, shoulder and just along your cleavage. You grasp the back of his head, close your eyes and let yourself go under the touch of his lips. You start to slowly and quietly chant his name, fingers running up and down his neck as the sensation of his touch sends you into bliss. He smiles as he presses his mouth against your skin, soaking in the way you melt under him.

“Is this ok?” He asks

“Of course, Billy. Please, don’t stop…” you plea

He slips your dress down more, revealing your chest to him. He gaps in awe, starting to cup and knead your breast. He pinches the nipple before diving down and sucking. You arch your back in response, moaning and biting down on your lip. He swirls it around his mouth, before moving his lips to give the other breast the same attention. His other hand moves down to hike up your dress and he finds the lining of your panties. He looks at you again for approval and you mouth “yes” to him.

With that, he pulls them down and tosses them aside. He trails his fingers to your core, finding your heat and rubbing your clit. He is slow and you love it. He wants to take his time with you, show you how much he loves you and wants to please you. You spread your legs, knees drawing closer to your chest. He shuffles his body more in-between them. He starts to move his hips against you, excited at the idea of seeing you fully bare before him. You simultaneously shift out of your dress, Billy helping to pull the rest down. Once you are fully naked, he takes time to take you in.

“Christ darling, you’re a beauty.”

He rubs your hips, running his hands up to your waist and gripping tight. He pulls you forward as he slides down the bed onto his knees.

“Billy you don’t have to…” you breath

He kisses your thigh and smiles greedily.

“Believe me I want to. Let me?” He practically begs, doe eyes glimmering with desire.

You push your hips forward, readjusting to get closer to his face. You nod wordlessly and he kisses up your thigh. Once he reaches your core, he cautiously presses a kiss to your clit. You gasp, resting on your elbows as you start to feel your body relax on his tongue. He licks a curious broad stripe up your entire slit, before giving it small, precise kitten licks. Then, he wraps his mouth around it, sucking and pulling at the sensitive bundle of nerves. Meanwhile, you let your moans and whines stumble from your lips. He loves it, your sounds of pleasure showing him just how much you wanted him.

At this point Billy feels drunker than whiskey off the taste of you, your juices a delicious, exotic, elixir to him. Like water in the desert, he drinks you up. He holds your thighs in his arms, massaging them while he moves his face as he also moves his tongue. You grab his hair, his soft brown lock tangling in your fingers. You also grab onto one of the hands grabbing your thigh. He glances up at you, pulling back for a moment to smile at you and appreciating your affectionate attention. You love the way he makes you feel and he can tell.

“Feels so good, fuck keep going…”

“So vulgar.” He smirks

“Are you kidding me, my best friend is eating me out and he’s doing a god damn spectacular job of it. How could I not let my tongue get the better of me.” You smirk, lips sliding into a satisfied grin.

“I’m still just your best friend…”

“Maybe a little bit more than a friend after tonight. Is that what you want?” You ask, dreamily

“Yes, darling, more than anything.”

He dives back in, lapping you up and greedily drinking your juices again. He’s almost animalistic as he moves his month, hands moving to grope your ass. You lift your hips to allow him. He moans against your core, needing more and more of you. He gives your clit a few soft kisses, then pulls back and climbs back on top of you.

As he does, he loosens his belt and starts to pull down his pants. He slides out of them, showing you the growing bulge in between his legs. He takes himself in his hand, stroking and you gawk at him. You had always heard that taller, leaner men had the real tools to satisfy a woman and it seems Billy was living proof. His cock was so long and thick, tip red and ready. He wipes the pre-cum along it, moving it down his shaft, slightly lubing himself. You love that you and him are bare like this and you readjust your hips in anticipation. He licks his hand then places it on your pussy, swirling his fingers.

You clutch his biceps, mouth agape as he rubs your entrance with his tip.

“Please…” you beg

He slides in, stretching you out perfectly.

“Mmmm oh fuck, you’re so perfect wrapped around me.”

He sinks in deeper and deeper until he hits your cervix. You let out a loud groan, adjusting to his size. He cups your face, going back and forth in between your beautiful eyes and the place where his cock meets your entrance. He moves his hips slowly, afraid that he might hurt you. After a few thrusts you start to feel your pleasure return, and you ride your new wave of ecstasy. He feels so incredible, his length filling you up so perfectly and as he speeds up, you feel overwhelmed. The rhythm of his cock so relaxing and mesmerizing, it almost lulls you to sleep. He notices and kisses you.

“Fuck Billy, I wanted you like this so bad.”

“Me too, so fucking bad.”

He quickens his pace, giving you more of him and you smile against his lips. You let out a few breathy laughs and he rocks you on the bed. He keeps going like this for a while, kissing you and admiring your beauty.

“Maybe we should withhold our feelings from each other more often, because I don’t know about you but admitting your love for me like this feels incredible.” You mumble

“Mmm I could be in you all night.” He responds

“I have no quarrel with that.”

Billy and you both share a small, quaint laugh and he rolls you over. He starts to sit up and his lips lock with your own. He starts to move your hips and in return you pick them up and bounce. He pulls back, gasping and watches you as you move on him. He utterly transfixed on how your waist and hips move smoothly, how your tits bounce, and how elegant you are. You’re made for him. He moves his hand up and down your stomach and you steady yourself, placing your hands around his neck. Tempted by the way you move on him, he pops one of your breasts into his mouth, sucking at your flesh. He pulls your nipple into his mouth, making you groan and clutch his head.

“My god how did you get to be so perfect?” He questions

“Am I perfect?” You snicker

“More than that, if even possible.”

“Now you’re just being nice” you huff

“Not true darling, not true at all.”

Before you can protest, his lips silence you. Billy pumps into you, lips refusing to leave yours as he feels you clench down on him. You’re close and you cling to him as he sends you over the edge.

“Oh Billy, Billy, you’re gonna make me…you’re gonna make me cum…1fuck!”

He nods into the crook of your neck and you feel yourself becoming undone. You writhe on top of him, arching your back and letting the euphoria overtake you. You reach a peak then slowly come down, catching your breath as you do. He flips you over, eager to satisfy his own needs. He pumps his length into you, messily, his actions becoming more and more sloppy. You can feel he’s close.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna cum on your stomach okay?” He informs and you nod.

A few more pumps and then, he pulls out. Strings a warm, white cum spill onto your stomach and even up to the valley of your breasts. He rubs himself as the last few drops spill from his tip. He catches his breath, looking around for something to clean you off with. He reaches over on the night stand and takes the towel from inside the wash basin. He cleans you up, then kisses you softly.

“I love you. I always have.” He whispers

“Me too Billy. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

꧁✩★✩꧂

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fortheloveofbuddie · 3 months

Note

Oooo I’d love to know more about “ Bratty probie Buck/ new lieutenant Eddie” and “Confessions in the dark” pleaseeee 🙏🙏

Hi Matt! 🫶

I answered bratty probie Buck/ new lieutenant Eddie here (be sure to check out @disasterbuckdiaz’s fic about it, I got the inspiration from her 😘)

Whispers of the dark is one of the first fics that I made an actual moodboard for and I can’t wait to provide y’all with another little snippet 🌹 (dw, he won’t be Evan the entire time but it’ll last a while)

(Ask me about my wips 💌)

Snippet under cut ✂️

As Evan moved his hand out from his jacket, the priest turned to face him, backlit by the glow from the burning candles, his features bathed in the golden light.

It wasn’t exactly what he had in mind when he pictured a priest - this man was young but older than him, Evan’s bet would somewhere in his mid to late thirties, tall, with caramel skin and dark brown eyes that appeared to be looking right through him. Below the clerical robe, Evan noticed a faded white scar, tracing from the middle the priests collarbone to the side of his neck - it was wide and appeared to have been fairly deep, the scar tissue thick and bumpy.

It ended right below his pulse point and Evan raised a brow, a puzzled expression on his face as he searched the priests face for a reaction.

“Unburden yourself and this house of worship will be a place where you can feel the light of your own soul and be able to feel the peace that you so clearly long to feel. Otherwise you would not be here. Am I correct?” The priest stepped closer to him and Evan stood his ground, not trusting his actions. Or showing any signs of weakness. But he also knew that the priest was right. He wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t looking for some sort of absolution or a break from being who he is, who he was always destined to be.

“No” was the only word that came out of Evan’s mouth. He didn’t know what he was saying no to. To unburden himself? To feel peace?

Eddie looked at the man in front of him - blue eyes that looked like they contained the weight of the world, pink lips pursed together and an unwavering stance in a suit that seemed to have been tailored to his exact measurements. Eddie knew who he was. He was pretty sure everyone in L.A. knew who he was. And that he was completely and utterly untouchable.

“Then I’m afraid that you’re going to have to leave the premises. I do not want guns in my church. If you truly seek to change your ways, you’ll come back unarmed” Eddie stood his ground, the subtle bulge underneath Evan’s jacket more than visible.

“You and I both know that I can’t do that, Father” Evan said, a flicker of defiance in his eyes as his jaw tightened.

Eddie, with an unwavering gaze, felt a pang of recognition deep inside of him. There was something in Evan’s behavior, a silent echo of a past that he couldn’t quite place.

“Then perhaps it's time to confront the shadows that haunt you, my son. Come back when you're ready to lay down your burdens and find a new way of life” Eddie spoke, his eyes never leaving Evan’s.

Using this as my seven sentence sunday (although it’s way more than seven sentences lol)

I was tagged by @tizniz @daffi-990 @diazsdimples @dangerpronebuddie and @theotherbuckley 😚

Tagging!! @cal-daisies-and-briars @watchyourbuck @honestlydarkprincess @jeeyuns @jesuisici33 @thewolvesof1998 @butraura @giddyupbuck @actualalligator @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks @puppyboybuckley @poughkeepsies @wildlife4life @elvensorceress @wikiangela @underwater-ninja-13 @devirnis @disasterbuckdiaz 🦋🩵

#buddie wip #caro gets mail #wip tag game #having Eddie talk like this feels so unnatural ahahajsj #itll get better i promise #but right now he just needs to uphold his priestly status #buddie #seven sentence sunday

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becauseicantthinkwritings · 2 years

Text

The Agony of Desire

Part 12// Masterlist

Warnings: Canon- typical violence, blood, guns, mild gorey descriptions, wounds, I'm saying violence twice for emphasis, forced marriage, being held at gunpoint, reader gets slapped... again.

A/N: I appreciate your patience with this. Thank you 💗

I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

~Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

You're trying so hard not to stumble. Focused on kicking the dress forward before taking a step, attempting to breathe normally as if your heart isn't racing in your chest and your stomach isn't threatening to divest you of the lunch you had hours ago.

You can't see much through the veil, your vision narrowed and focused on the worn red of the carpeted aisle in front of you, trying not to bump into anything or fall.

He'd warned you about making mistakes. He'd gripped your arms earlier, looking right into your tear-filled face with a clenched jaw and narrow eyes.

"If you ruin my wedding day, I'll take it out on you." He'd threatened, his eyes had been cold and unforgiving and you'd decided to oblige- unsure of what this new version of Ward was capable of.

You wanted Billy. You wouldn't stop imagining him appearing in your room while you got dressed like he did before, ready to sweep you back into his arms, run off with you to a secret island and take all your worries away.

But that hadn't happened.

And you were right back here where you started, Ward's trophy. An object to be owned.

Your lips tremble, the sadness rises in your throat, demands to be seen, demands to be heard and though you fight it, the feeling is too strong to resist.

You begin to cry.

Your shoulders shake and tears spill down your face as you keep walking, too scared to stop. When you get to the end of the aisle, and Ward takes his time raising the veil, the first thing he sees is your tear-filled face.

He looks at you for a long moment, before tugging the handkerchief free from his pocket and dabbing it against your face. He's extra rough over the semi swollen part of your cheek where he'd slapped you earlier. A quiet warning to behave, before pressing the material into the palm of your hand.

You don't make another sound, staring at him with all the hatred possible in your eyes, while you wipe stray tears away.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today..." The priest starts, and you immediately tune him out. Your eyes land on the bible sitting on the altar in front of him though, heavy and weighted no doubt, with beautiful gold carvings of crosses and swirls on the outside. You imagine bludgeoning Ward with the book until he's unconscious.

What would happen if you tried to run, here? Surely he wouldn't hit you in a church. Your eyes dart, looking for an exit.

It's hard to spot him, the pews are only illuminated by soft electric candelabras, mimicking the dancing yellow light of a candle without any real flame. You have to squint to make out the vague shape of his silhouette, letting your eyes get adjusted to the light, you're not sure it's him at first, but there he is.

Beautiful and angry, dark eyes locked to yours and you heart jumps into your throat. There he was, unable to save you, because he'd already been caught himself.

There's a sudden silence, and you look back at Ward, with a racing heart, to realise that both men near you are looking at you expectantly.

"What?" You whisper, unsure of what you've missed.

The priest clears his throat, adjusts his glasses, "Do you, take this man to be your husband, to live together in holy matrimony, to love him, to honor him, to comfort him, and to keep him, in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?" he repeats.

You blink, good lord- you think you hated weddings now. The permanency of the situation sinks into you. 'For long as you both shall live' echoes in your head and you're grasping at any attempt to stop this. You try one last time to reason with the man beside you.

"Ward, please. You don't have to do this." You say to him softly, desperate to be set free from him, unwilling to bind yourself to him for what currently looks like the rest of your life- however long that would be.

Ward doesn't say a word, stepping forward. You shake your head with pleading eyes, backing away. He grabs your wrist suddenly and you try to pull free.

You repeat it again and again, trying to pull away from his grip, please, Ward, don't do this, please, I don't want this.

His eyes are empty when he rears his hand back and slaps you hard across the face. You cry out this time, your face on fire as the past pain interacts with the fresh hit, amplifying your discomfort.

There's a scuffle in the back, and you miss most of it. But when you look up, Billy has disabled the man sitting behind him and is on his way down the aisle to you.

Hope simmers in your chest, having never seen him that angry. The rage on his features would frighten you if you didn't know it was on your behalf.

He really loves me, you realise. It wasn't a ploy to get access to your family like Ward had suggested, it wasn't fake in any way.

Billy loved you, and the anger in his eyes showed you just that.

But you'd been too distracted staring at Billy to notice that Harold had stood up, pulled out a gun, and aimed it right at Billy.

You blink when the shot goes off, the sound echoes in the church, and your mouth drops open in shock.

When you look again, Billy's nowhere to be seen. Had it hit him? You didn't know.

Ward pulls at your wrist, squeezing it tightly, he pulls you into his chest. Your back to him as you feel the cold barrel of the gun against your head. You go perfectly still.

"I'll kill her if you don't come out, Russo!" Ward shouts, you flinch at his loud voice in your ear.

There's a long moment of silence, and then you hear the safety of Ward's gun click off.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

"Don't you dare." Billy says calmly, you open your eyes to watch him stand, unharmed, from the back of a pew.

He raises his arms in surrender, moving toward Harold, his eyes burning into Ward's.

Harold keeps his gun pointed at Billy, while Ward lowers his.

"I'm just bluffing," Ward says with a laugh, "I wouldn't kill her."

You watch one of Harold's guards, pull Billy's hands behind his back and secure them in place.

You feel a sense of hopelessness take over your thoughts as Billy gets pushed into a seat.

Before anything else can happen, the doors at the back swing open, and you stiffen as a large frame fills the doorway.

Wilson Fisk.

You're unsure if this is good or bad, acknowledging that this could swing either way. But the way things were going, you doubted that he'd ever help you.

"I'm not too late am I?" Wilson asks, making his way down to where Harold and Billy is.

"Not at all, Mister Fisk," Harold greets, "My son's about to get married."

You frown, turning to look at Ward angrily, seeing no remorse in his eyes, you decide that the next chance you get, you're going to kick him in the balls. The consequences would be worth it.

You watch as Wilson sees Billy.

"Russo," Wilson greets, and Billy looks up at him with a stoic expression on his face.

"Thank you for bringing my documents, I know we had a deal, but it just doesn't benefit me enough to align myself with you."

Billy has the confidence to roll his eyes. It almost makes you laugh.

"I hope you enjoy the power you have while it lasts, Fisk." Billy responds calmly, looking away from both men to meet your eyes.

When Fisk turns to face you, you fight the urge to take a step back, taking inspiration from Billy's confidence.

"What a lovely bride you make, Y/N. I'm so glad to see you back and well. Shame your father couldn't make it."

You let out a huff of annoyance, the faux conversation was getting old.

"I'm glad my associate didn't kill you all those years ago, look at the things I've benefitted from because you're alive today. I have an alliance with the Meachums, and I even get to put down scum like Russo here."

You swallow before speaking calmly.

"You're the one who tried to have me killed?" You ask.

"It's not my best work, I'll admit, but it got the job done. It got you exactly where you needed to be today."

"Why?" You ask, you can't even look at Billy, too afraid to see his reaction to this. That everything had been by Wilson Fisk's design.

Wilson waves his hand dismissively, "For... many reasons... your family is too important to be wasted on trash like Billy Russo for starters."

He moves to sit.

"I won't get into it, I'm here for a wedding after all." Wilson raises his hands, gesturing to you and Ward at the altar, "Shall we continue?"

You look over at Billy. The man of your waking dreams, the love of your life. His face is mostly stony, but there's a pain in his eyes that makes you pull at Ward's grip again, trying to get away.

"I'll kill him if you don't cooperate. And I mean it this time, I have no reason to keep him alive." He hisses into your ear.

His words make you settle. Your face is calm when you turn back to him, nodding your head in compliance.

The priest asks his earlier question again, and you cut him a nasty sideways glance, before saying the most painful words.

"I do."

He turns to Ward next as if you haven't been giving him a murderous glare, and you guess whatever they must be offering him is beyond worthwhile.

When Ward says his 'I dos,' it finally sinks in that you're about to lose everything you've ever had.

It's why you don't think before you raise your bouquet of flowers and smack the priest over his head.

His glasses scatter in some unknown direction, and when your hand rears back for another hit, Ward grabs your wrist, pulling you into him angrily and you use the opportunity to bring your knee up firmly between his legs. He shoves you instead, and your fall is cushioned by the dress.

When you hear the gun go off again--

You watch Billy falls to his knees.

He was almost to you when Harold puts a bullet in his back.

He watches you spin to face him. Your mouth drops open, your eyes widen as you scream his name.

It hurts a lot, the initial impact stuns him, but it's not as bad as it could have been. The lightweight kevlar doing it's best to slow the bullet, but unable to stop it fully.

He makes it an act. Drops to his knees, falls to his back, uses the distraction to reach for the lock pick tucked into his belt. He gets his handcuffs free just as you crawl into the spot beside him.

"I'm okay." Billy whispers to you as he watches your eyes swell with glittering tears.

"I'll be okay, baby, just breathe. We're gonna be fine." He says, trying again to get through to you.

He can feel your hand, snaking it's way under his shoulder blade, feeling gently for the wound. When you pull your hand back it's stained with his blood.

"It's not bad I promise." He murmurs to you, but it's like you can't hear him, and then he sees Ward moving toward you.

That's when the doors slam open and the shooting starts.

You don't know where it's coming from, it sounds like it's from all directions. Instinctively, you throw your body over Billy's.

He's trying to say something to you, his hand circled around your bicep, but his voice is drowned out in the din.

It takes a moment before you hear a woman calling out, "FBI! Don't move!"

You're happy to obey.

You raise your head a little, and you can see both Harold and Wilson's men fighting back and slowly losing. The volume of government officials pouring in is just too much. You lower your head, your body shakes with the fear that you could be hit with a stray bullet.

You gasp when someone grips the back of your dress, and hauls you up.

It's Ward. He fists your hair when you struggle in his grip, and you try to flail your hands backward to scratch at him. You glance at Billy, who you see is on his feet now, going hand to hand with someone else.

"Let me go, Ward!" You hiss at him and jab your elbow back, landing a solid hit to his stomach.

He grunts, his grip on your hair loosens, and you use the fancy heels he bought you to stomp on his foot.

When his grip loosens enough, you pull away, his hand catches the veil pinned to your head in an attempt to hold on to you and you feel it tear some of the strands of your hair out as it detaches from you.

You don't hesitate, don't give yourself anytime to think before you're grabbing the heavy bible you spotted earlier on the altar.

You hit him right across the face on the first swing. His face instantly goes red.

Ward cups his cheek in shock, looking up at you with something like genuine surprise on his face.

Did he think you wouldn't hit him? After all the things he's done?

It's what makes you swing the bible again, and this time he raises his hands to block the impact. You don't let that slow you, raising the book to bring it down on the top of his head. The gold carvings on the book leaving red imprints wherever they land.

Eventually you get another good shot right at his face and this time, you make him bleed.

He lunges for you angrily and you kick him between the legs reflexively, watching him fall to his knees in front of you, and then he's fair game. You raise the bible again, aiming for a knockout this time.

Billy's fighting his way to you when the shooting stops. He glances around to find that the FBI has done a good job in keeping Harold, James and Wilson in place.

He turns to find you, blinks when he spots you beating Ward's unconscious body.

Madani is also stopped, just watching you.

"You're not gonna stop her?" Billy asks curiously.

"Eventually," Dinah says, "But I think she deserves to have this for a little longer."

A smile pulls on the corner of his mouth. He watches Ward's blood splatter onto your dress.

"She really is something." Dinah murmurs.

Billy nods, deciding to put an end to this before you actually kill Ward.

"She really is." Is all he says to his past lover as he steps forward to stop his girlfriend from killing her ex-fiance.

He says your name so softly, afraid to touch you in case he startles you.

But you stop anyway, the sound of his voice intruding into your very violent thoughts.

You say his name, turning to him. Ward's blood is splattered over your face and chest. It bleeds into your dress, tainting the white material with crimson droplets.

Billy has never seen a more beautiful sight.

You drop the book. Your hands are aching from the constant swinging and impact, reaching your arms out for him, he gladly opens them for your embrace.

"Is it really over?" You ask, breath catching against his shoulder, you fight tears of relief.

He smells like a mixture of his cologne, sweat and gunpowder and you squeeze him tighter because for a minute there, you almost lost him for good.

When he grunts in pain you remember the bullet.

"You're hurt!" You say, pulling away with a gasp.

He stops you from pulling too far away, cupping the back of your head gently.

"It's just a bullet baby, I'll be alright." He says, pulling you in closer to place a soft kiss on your mouth.

Your eyes squeeze shut, savouring the feeling.

You break the kiss hastily to speak, to voice the emotion you've been feeling for so long now.

"I love you." You say, stomach turning, looking up at him carefully to gauge his reaction.

He gives you a boyish grin, the excitement in his eyes makes you smile happily.

"Yeah baby? I love you too." He murmurs and then you're kissing again, your hands on his cheeks, holding him close but you hiss in pain when he tries to mirror your actions.

"Ow," you murmur, "Ward hit me earlier, I'm bruised under this makeup."

You see the anger simmer in his eyes.

"He'll never hurt you again. I swear." Billy promises, and you feel inclined to believe him.

You look around the room for a few moments, watching the aftermath of everything, some people are being treated for wounds, Harold is being maneuvered away by some policemen.

You lick your lips, looking back at Billy.

"You lied to me. Again."

He has the nerve to look bashful.

"I'm sorry. But the less you knew, the safer you'd be." He tries to explain, but you screw your face up in disapproval.

He snorts in amusement.

"I spent years gathering that info. Wanted to get Fisk put away for good. Knew he'd double cross me." He smiles when you continue to give him disapproving looks, "I didn't know he'd end up working with Harold, but the plan went my way... mostly."

"You got shot." You protest.

Billy grunts, "Minor detail, the Meachums have what's coming to them."

His face goes stern, you appreciate the beauty of his anger.

"I need you to trust me." He says, taking your hand and pulling you away from the altar, "I need you to trust that I'll always keep you safe."

You gulp, nodding.

"Always." You say.

"Good." He says softly to you, "because I have one last loose end to tie up."

You try not to stumble when you see that he's guiding you in the general direction of Wilson Fisk, in handcuffs, awaiting a proper transport vehicle.

"I saw your shitty plans coming from a mile away, Fisk. How does it feel to get beaten by New York's street trash?"

You gulp, hearing the challenging tone in Billy's voice, disliking the way he talks about himself.

"Don't forget I made you, Russo. I gave you everything that Rawlins couldn't and you'll never have more power than me." Wilson responds with a gruff voice.

Billy gives Wilson a delighted smile that doesn't meet his eyes. His hand squeezes yours as he turns, and walks away.

You don't understand the point of the altercation, looking up at Billy, confused as you try to keep in step with him.

You were unfamiliar with the sound of metal snapping. Having never heard it before, you didn't think to turn around until people start yelling.

It all happens so fast, you turn, and Wilson Fisk has already disarmed the agent nearest to him, raising the gun and pointing it in your direction.

You don't get a chance to feel scared, only shocked, that this is what would probably be the last moments of your life.

The very last thought you have is horror. That you would be dying in this monstrosity of a dress-

-And then the gun goes off.

Brain matter is really gross, especially when it's exploding out the back of someone's head, and your throat closes up as you watch Wilson Fisk's brain leave his body.

He doesn't get to fire the gun, he doesn't get more than a look of surprise on his face before he hits the floor.

Pandemonium breaks out. An active shooter somewhere in the church has agents scrambling for cover.

Over everything, Billy's voice rings out.

"Stand down, everyone! That's just Frank."

You blink in surprise, everyone in the room settles.

A woman approaches, one with beautiful eyes and curly hair that fights for release from her bun.

"You didn't tell me Frank was here." She complains to Billy.

Billy nods, looking apologetic.

"Sorry, he's only supposed to step in if someone's in danger."

She seems to accept the explanation, looking over at you for a moment and giving you a smile.

"Tell him to bring the gun in for processing." To you, she extends a hand, "Hi. Dinah Madani. I'm going to need a statement from both of you."

You nod, introducing yourself and returning the grip of her hand.

"Can we do it at the hospital?" You ask.

"Are you hurt?" She asks in mild concern.

"No- uh- Billy got shot in the back." You explain, looking over at him. Billy looks at Dinah, he gives her a small smile from the corner of his mouth and you blink as jealousy rears his head.

Was this the agent that he- ?

"I'm only sad I didn't get to do it myself, Russo. Come on, I'll get you an escort." She moves ahead, not waiting for you to follow.

When he catches your suspicious gaze, he laughs, using his good arm to tug you closer.

"It's only you, baby." He whispers lowly in your ear, and you don't fight the tingles that spread under your skin.

You lie in bed later, thinking about everything.

Two years ago, Wilson Fisk had tried to have you killed. It made Billy break your heart into pieces in an attempt to keep you safe.

Two years of agony and one arranged marriage gone south lead you right back here.

Billy's asleep, drugged out on the pain medicine, lying on his stomach with no idea of the things swimming in your head.

Wilson had probably roped your father into borrowing the money somehow... maybe... you could only really guess on that part. Marrying you to Ward had probably been the plan from the very start.

You frown, shuffling in bed. You didn't want to think about Ward.

Billy had explained earlier, that Wilson had actually turned down his offer to pay off the debt, which meant that Billy had to play an even higher card- using the evidence he'd gathered of Wilson's crimes as leverage to pay off your dad's debt.

You were a little upset that he'd lied about that, but it really was inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. What would knowing the truth really change for you? You'd still be here, next to him, listening to him snore gently in his bed.

You smile at his sleeping form, inching closer to him, the gentle trace of your hand over his bearded cheek before you fall asleep.

💜💜💜

(This isn't the end btw)

#billy russo #ben barnes #billy russo x reader #my writings #billy russo x female reader #the punisher #the agony of desire #billy russo x you #billy russo x y/n

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