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megalony · 3 months ago

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You Called My Wife?

This is a new Jake Seresin imagine, my first request for Jake and I hope you will all like it. Please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro

Masterlist

Summary: The Dagger squad don't know much about Jake's personal life. And when he gets hurt during an exercise, they are surprised who comes to look after him.

Enjoy.

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Reaching into his back pocket, Jake pulled out the pair of sunglasses he had been carrying around with him for the last few weeks. The sun here back at home was intense and he couldn't stand the migraines it gave him. Even when he was up in the air, he often had his sunglasses on. He didn't care about the way the glasses pinched his ears or gave him splitting pains in the sides of his neck.

If Bob could wear his prescription glasses to see, then Jake could wear his sunglasses to stop him squinting so much and relieve the headaches he got that were becoming chronic.

His hands fell to his hips once his visors were perched on the bridge of his nose and he looked around.

It hadn't taken Jake nearly as long as he thought to complete his physical. They were doing physical assessments and training every other day to get them ready for their next assignment. They were going to be going against gravity, travelling up to G9 range and it would cause problems with breathing, taking in oxygen and could starve their brains for a few seconds, if not longer.

They all needed to be at their best physically and mentally to prepare for this and up to now, Jake was ready and rearing to go.

Today was training exercises on the ground rather than in the air. They were all doing different activities and now that Jake was rejoining the rest of the squad after his physical, he was supposed to be doing safety and maintenance checks.

He took a look around the open air field. Bradley was over to one side, looking like he was trying to do some physical exercises, but he kept stopping to quietly argue with Maverick who was following him around like a dark, looming shadow. Jake wasn't going to be going over there. He noticed Phoenix and Bob were at their aircraft in the middle of their maintenance. While Coyote was off to one side doing pushups; he had messed up somewhere if that was his punishment. And Jake had already passed Fanboy who was on his way for his own physical.

He busied himself finding one of the clipboards and he jogged over to his aircraft, smiling and patting his hand against the bulk like it was an old friend he was meeting up with.

He circled the aircraft like a vulture, checking the wings, the engines- which had had a run in with a flock of birds two days ago which Jake had been lucky hadn't completely ruined his left engine. He checked the wheels and made sure they were all clipped and chained down so the craft wasn't going anywhere without him.

Once all the outside checks were done, he climbed up the ladder and hopped inside.

It always felt weird to sit in the plane without his proper flight suit or his signature red helmet, but he wasn't going anywhere today. He was only turning the engine on to check everything was working and making sure he got all the right responses to show he would be ready for whatever training exercise he had to go out on next.

He slouched back in the seat, spreading his knees apart with the clipboard in front of him and the pen twisting between his fingers.

After ticking a few boxes, Jake tilted his head back and poised the pen behind his ear while his hand shifted to undo the first button on his uniform. He slid his hand beneath his shirt until his fingers found the familiar silver chain hanging around his neck.

He imbedded the ring into his palm that hung on the end of the chain, always tapping and jostling against his chest whenever he moved.

It felt safer to have his wedding ring on his chain rather than his finger. If he had any accidents and needed to be taken for a scan or for surgery, they would cut his ring off. Rings got in the way, jewellery got in the way and got lost but a chain around his neck was private and secure and more importantly, Jake had that ring as close to his heart as possible.

A soft look crossed his face as he brought his hand to his mouth and kissed the ring that had created a halo indent in the centre of his hand.

"I'll be home soon." He murmured against the ring as a picture of (Y/n) flashed before his eyes.

The last deployment Jake had been on had almost killed him. Three and a half months away from home. Three and a half months where he couldn't see, touch or feel his wife in his arms or have her lips against his or her body pressed up against his own. All he got were a few brief phone calls or five minutes of faceTime every other day, if he wasn't being shipped straight out from dawn until dusk.

He was much happier here where he could spend each night in his own bed, safe in his home with his wife. He didn't have to sleep alone or feel like he was going insane from having absolutely no physical touch or contact with (Y/n). Never before had Jake thought or believed in having withdrawal symptoms for another human being until he got married and had to face the prospect of leaving (Y/n) behind.

When he was done with his checks, Jake heaved himself up to his feet and climbed down back to level ground again.

He waved his clipboard up and down in front of his face like a fan, relishing the slight breeze it created to his melting skin. If he were back home in this heat his shirt would already be off and he would be lounging around in a pair of shorts. Or be would be on the beach in this weather. Either of those thoughts sounded very appealing right now.

He stood still for a few moments, taking in his surroundings and wondering what the next task would be, but his mind kept wandering off to the girl waiting at home for him. Exactly where he wanted to be right now.

"Bob, are you almost done?" Phoenix tilted her head back with an exasperated sigh, one hand clamped around her hip as she the other held onto the ladder Bob was perched on top of.

He was filling up their aircraft with fuel, they had half a tank but it was better to be safe than sorry because they didn't know how long they would be out on their next flight exercise. The last thing they needed was to be marked down and sent to do two hundred push ups because they thought half a tank would be sufficient.

"Almost." His voice was as passive as ever while he swiped his arm across his temple, wiping away the beads of sweat glistening in the afternoon sun.

"Bob, come on we've got other stuff to do."

He didn't know what happened.

One moment Bob was pushing his glasses further up his nose, rolling his eyes at his impatient partner calling up the orders below him. But the next, a shockwave was rattling up the ladder he was perched on and set him off balance.

His hands scrambled to steady himself before he fell off and he subsequently dropped the fuel line that had been in his right hand just as he unclipped it from the air craft that was now fuelled up. Bob scrambled for balance, bashing his legs into the side of the plane and earning a cut down his left forearm that scraped along a jagged edge on the ladder.

But it was the fuel line he was concerned with. It wasn't like filling up a car at the fuel station. The air crafts were large with tanks high up at the back. They had to use large funnel lines that looked like double sized garden hoses with a large round metal clip on the end the size of Bob's hand. That metal created a sizzling sound that sliced through the air when he dropped it.

The line swooped through the air like a bird trying to land but Bob could of cried when he heard a sickening crunch below him. He didn't want to imagine what it collided with- who, it collided with. His eyes snapped closed and he clung to the ladder, trying to gain his balance back so he didn't fall and break an arm or a leg.

The resounding crack echoed around the base and shuddered through everyone within close range. It was a sound no one expected to echo through the open air like that, it travelled far and wide and had everyone coiling in on the spot.

The metal end of the fuel line pelted down, gaining strength and speed as it swung past the ladder, lifted slightly into the air and smacked straight into the right side of Jake's head. Upon impact, his sunglasses snapped and flung off his nose and took flight on a course of their own, six feet across the base.

An awful crack shuddered through Jake's ears and rattled through his head as his eyes automatically snapped closed and his shoulders hunched up. Both arms recoiled into his chest as his clipboard slipped through his fingers that twitched and spasmed, unsure what to do as his body seemed to shutdown and recalibrate all at once.

The force sent his head snapping backwards until his neck got whiplash and his body followed his head's sense of direction, thrusting backwards until he landed harshly on the concrete floor.

Shockwaves rattled through his body causing his legs to shake and spasm out against the floor as if he was kicking and throwing a tantrum and all the air left his lungs when his back hit the floor. It took a few seconds for his diaphragm to loosen and allow his lungs to take in a deep breath, but when he did, a choked moan escaped his lips.

It felt like he'd been shot in the head.

He could feel his pulse throbbing through his temple and circulating all around the circumference of his head like someone pelting round a relay race. He could feel his veins throbbing and the blood steadily trickling down the right side of his face. The feeling of blood oozing down the bridge of his nose and around his eye socket made his nose scrunch up in disgust.

His hands curled and twisted against his chest, desperate to move but the sudden onset of trembling in his bones made it impossible for Jake to coordinate his body properly.

The trembling continued even as Jake suddenly realised he couldn't hear anything around him. He couldn't open his eyes. No sounds broke through the static barrier building up in his ears. He had no control over moving a single part of his body. It felt like his head had been severed from the rest of his body.

"Jesus Bob, what the Hell?!" Bradley spun on his heels and made into a sprint towards the three of them, Maverick hot on his heels.

The sight of Jake, laid out on his back, body overwrought with trembles and blood pooling steadily down one side of his face was a sickening sight none of them ever wanted to witness.

"I wasn't- didn't you see the ladder?" Bob hissed like a snake as he shakily slid down the ladder onto unsteady feet.

His hands began to rake up and down his thighs, wiping the sweat onto his trousers as his glasses started to fall down the bridge of his nose. He hadn't done that on purpose. He didn't just let go of the fuel line; Phoenix bashed into the ladder and knocked him off course. He would have fallen if he didn't scramble for his balance. It could just as easily have been Bob's head split open if he fell the other way or completely lost his footing on the ladder.

"I'm sorry-"

A groan spluttered past Jake's lips and stopped all their ramblings. He managed to curl his fingers around the middle of his shirt and he scrunched it up in his fists as tightly as possible. His legs continued to thrash against the floor but when he tried to open his eyes, he couldn't seem to do it.

"Oh God." He tried his best to reach his hand up towards his head but he could barely lift either arm from trembling against his chest.

Without his glasses that had been broken and flung off somewhere on the base, the sun was beating down on him with unwavering strength. His right eye was blinking furiously to try and stop the blood from getting into his eyes that were rolling to the back of his head that was pounding like a drum.

"Everyone shut up." Maverick's voice snapped through the air like a whip and stopped all their ramblings at once.

He crouched down beside Jake with Bradley on his other side with Bob and Phoenix hovering anxiously in the background and Coyote running over at the sound of commotion.

The wound looked bad. Maverick tilted Jake's head back and tried to touch his hairline to get a proper look. A large slash line went from his hairline towards his eyebrow and the skin had been split apart so neatly it looked like it had been cut with a sharp knife. Blood oozed out in every direction and splattered across Jake's temple and down his nose towards both his eyes like a jam donut had been tossed at his head.

He couldn't see his skull or any bone which was a good sign, but the blunt force could have been enough to crack his skull and give him a fracture. He most definitely had a concussion which meant he could have side effects.

He could start throwing up, he could black out or go fully unconscious, he could have a seizure if the impact was bad enough.

"Get him down to the medbay now." With a click of his hand over to the left, Coyote hurried forward and knelt down behind Jake while Bradley shuffled forward.

The pair of them carefully took one of Jake's arms each and looped them around the back of their necks.

"Alright, up. Let's get you up Hangman." Bradley looped his right arm around Jake's waist while his left hand gripped Jake's wrist. He held his breath and slowly pushed up onto his feet, slowly pulling Jake with him who looked very worse for wear.

Jake's head flopped forward as soon as he was sitting up. He groaned again, spluttering through a moan, spit forming on his lips and blood still trickling down his face. He could feel the shock setting in because even his neck was shaking now and once he was on his feet, his knees wavered and his legs felt oddly heavy and useless. He could barely stay upright and when his knees gave way, he slumped down like he was trying to sit on an imaginary chair.

His hands scrunched down around Coyote and Bradley's shoulders as each of them held his waist and kept him up on his feet.

Both Jake's feet bent awkwardly and the toes of his shoes scraped against the floor as the pair of them dragged him slowly towards the open hanger doors. He tried to move his legs and he did somewhat help them, but he relied on them to drag him along because he felt like collapsing to the floor and curling up into a ball.

He managed to find the will to open his eyes once they were inside, but the sight of the tiled floor disappearing and all the lines blurring before his eyes made his head swoon.

He found his eyes rolling around in his skull before he jolted forward with a croaky "Gonna puke."

True to his word, Jake tossed up his lunch the moment the boys paused in their quick shuffle towards the medbay. He felt a little better after that and he managed to lift his head once the three of them began their awkward tandem walk together.

By the time they were near the medic bay, Jake managed to place one foot in front of the other. He did an awkward walk and started to help them so they didn't have to heave him the whole way there.

"We've had an accident. The fuel line cracked Hangman straight in the temple and knocked him out. He threw up on the way down here." Bradley looked between the two medics idling around and waited for one of them to point towards the bed in the left corner of the large bunker space.

They trotted to the left and turned around, carefully easing Jake down until he was sat in the middle of the bed.

He felt more alive and a bit better once he was sat down. His head flopped back until the base of his head was touching the back of his shoulders and his shaking hands gripped the edge of the bed with intensity to keep himself sitting upright. It took all his effort to stop himself trembling and he tried to take deep breaths to ward off the sickness and the wave of dizziness that overwhelmed him.

"Okay Seresin, let's take a look."

Coyote and Bradley backed up until they were stood to one side. Neither of them fancied going back outside to finish off their exercises when Jake didn't look in his best shape. They would rather wait here to make sure he was alright and then head back to the rest of the team and tell them how he was fairing up. It was clear that Jake would be going home early today, he was lucky not to have been killed with that force, there was no way he was carrying on with any work today after this.

Jake begrudgingly lifted his head when one of the doctors stood in front of him. He let the man hold his chin and tilt his head from side to side to assess the damage and when he shone a pen light across his eyes, Jake winced.

A frightful yelp left his lips when the man tried to touch the wound and he reeled back with a groan.

"Afraid I'm gonna need an X-ray before I can stitch it. I'll clean the wound and get you some painkillers first." They were lucky the wound was on his head as they had a small, portable X-ray scanner in the back room they could use just to double check they didn't have to send him to hospital for urgent treatment. But if it looked okay, he could get some pain relief, be stitched up and sent home for the day.

"Great." Jake winced, trying to form a lopsided smile, but he couldn't quite manage it.

At least he would get to go home earlier than he thought.

***

"Hey," Bob groaned as sweat dripped off his body and onto a small puddle forming on the stone beneath him. His arms trembled as he tried to continue his push ups now that he was well into the hundreds. "Who's that?"

He nudged his nose against his shoulder to push the glasses further up his nose while he indicated his head to the left, signalling Phoenix's attention towards the person advancing across the base.

Maverick had told Bob and Phoenix to finish off Jake's safety checks, prep his fuel tank too and then do a set of two hundred push ups. They both knew they should have been more careful and they shouldn't have started squabbling like children when Jake was hauled off to the medic bay.

Phoenix lifted her head and glanced her eyes around, trying to find out who Bob was referring to. When her eyes set on a woman walking their way, her brows furrowed and she watched where she was walking.

She wasn't in uniform, whoever she was. She had on a baby blue tank top and a pair of denim shorts that stopped just before her knees. Her bag was hung on her shoulder, the strap clutched tightly in her hand and there was a nervous look plastered across her face.

The woman seemed to spare them a glance, noting that they were both sweating through their uniforms, before her eyes set on Maverick and she made a beeline for him.

"Mav, where is he?" (Y/n) bit her lower lip nervously when she reached Maverick who greeted her with a warm smile and a hand on her elbow.

"He's with a doctor, come with me."

(Y/n) nodded and let Maverick lead her inside the base. She couldn't quite believe how high up the ceilings were or how large the bay doors were, it was like everything was amplified as if giants worked and lived here. It felt strange to be walking round here with Maverick when Jake always said he would give her a tour round one day. Plans changed.

She had been expecting much worse when Maverick rang her and said Jake had had a 'minor accident' at the base, but knowing it was nothing to do with a crash or him being in a plane at all made (Y/n) feel better. It stopped her from having a breakdown or a panic attack as she drove down here, but she couldn't fathom what had happened. What kind of accident would her husband have when he was supposed to be safe here on the ground?

She glanced over her shoulder, noticing that the two others who had been doing press ups were now following after her and Maverick, presumably so they could see Jake too. They must be part of his team.

"What happened?"

"Phoenix and Bob, behind you," Maverick tossed a look over his shoulder and pointed his thumb in their direction. "Had a mishap when they fueled their plane. The pipeline dropped and caught Jake in the temple. I think he's got a mild concussion, but he'll be fine."

(Y/n) brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, hearing her shoes clicking loudly against the tiled floor as she followed Maverick around three corners and down a long corridor until they were in front of a medical wing.

That didn't sound too bad. That wasn't nearly as bad as she had been expecting, but it still wasn't good.

Her husband shouldn't be getting into accidents like this at work. He shouldn't be getting smashed in the head with their equipment. He was a pilot, an aviator. He was training every day to be in top physical performance and here he was with a concussion because his team had clearly lacked concentration.

It took all the effort (Y/n) had not to run ahead once they walked into a large open unit almost the same size as the open field outside. There was only one patient in here and (Y/n) set her sights on him immediately.

Jake was sat on the side of a bed, his legs swinging back and forth like a child at a doctor's appointment. His hands were clutching either side of the bed, his lips were set in a firm line and he kept squinting and closing his eyes as a doctor was stood in front of him, cleaning his wound.

Once they were close enough, (Y/n) hurried past Maverick and dropped her bag down by the foot of the bed. She didn't want to get in the way when the doctor was clearly trying to assess Jake and sort him out, but the moment Jake glanced to the left, his eyes widened and he jerked out of the doctor's grip.

"Baby." The surprise was evident in his voice and he let go of the bed to reach an arm out in (Y/n)'s direction. As soon as he started curling his fingers in a grabbing motion, (Y/n) smiled and moved forward.

Jake immediately coiled his arm around (Y/n)'s waist and reeled her closer until she had to plant her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. His fingers squeezed her hip tightly and he kissed the top of her chest before he glanced over her shoulder towards Maverick.

"You called my wife?"

The shock was evident in Jake's voice, but it was the looks of the rest of the team that made him wince. He hadn't mentioned to any of them that he happened to be married, that knowledge was on a need to know basis and as his superior, Maverick was the only one who needed to know. For emergency situations like this if Jake ever got hurt or shot down or sent to hospital.

There was no way they could let him drive home and since he had been injured, Maverick knew it was best to call (Y/n) and let her know so she could come and pick him up.

"You got concussed and you won't be able to drive home. Yes, I called your missus. You're welcome."

Maverick placed his hand on his hip and tilted his head to one side. Once Jake was silenced with that one look, Maverick nodded to himself and turned to leave. He knew none of them would be doing any more exercises today and he was okay with that, they would call it a day and start again tomorrow.

"You're married?"

"You never mentioned you're married to such a stunning girl."

(Y/n) tilted her head to the right, figuring the man that said that must be Bradley, the one Jake said was close to Maverick. He had a raised brow and his lips quirked into a smile beneath his moustache while both arms folded tightly over his chest.

She could feel the glares Jake was sending towards Bradley, squinting and glaring over in his direction before he looked back up at his wife.

With a quiet groan, Jake moved his hands from (Y/n)'s hips so he could bind his arms tightly around her waist. His hands feathered up and down her back and he pushed forward until his lips attached to her exposed chest just beneath her collar bone.

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"Why did you need to know?" He countered, smirking tiredly against (Y/n)'s chest and he twisted his head so the left side of his face could press down against her skin. His cheek nuzled into her chest and he looked over at the team, watching the blush that rose to Bob's face that tilted down to look at his shoes and the way Phoenix rubbed the back of her neck bashfully.

He hadn't told them because it wasn't their business, they didn't need to know. He was in love, he was head over heels in love with his wife and in Jake's eyes, she was his little secret.

He didn't want the team teasing him or asking about her or trying to make jokes that he was tied down. He had dealt with that in the past with other people he worked with and he didn't like it. He smiled when people flirted with him in bars, but he kindly turned every one of them down and didn't let them get too close. (Y/n) was the reason why.

Sometimes it felt safer to keep (Y/n) as his little secret. What they did was dangerous, they had all lost friends in this job and it was hard to bring friends and family into this life. Jake didn't know if introducing (Y/n) to his team would be too much.

For him, it felt better to keep work and home life separate.

With a sigh, Jake lifted his cheek from (Y/n)'s chest, his lips forming a thin line as he stared up at her despite the headache that was swirling around behind his eyes. He scanned his eyes around the team who were all watching on eagerly like this was their favourite tv soap.

"Darlin', this is the dagger squad," Jake waved his hand around, muttering their call signs to which (Y/n) nodded earnestly. "Guys, this is my wife, (Y/n)."

"Nice to meet you all, even under strange circumstances," (Y/n) quirked a brow when Bob tipped his head down with his hands clasped tightly behind his back. Clearly he felt guilty for the accident and (Y/n) was sure she heard him mutter a soft 'sorry again' clearly directed towards Jake.

He wasn't going to hold a grudge. It had been an accident and a few stitches was much better than some of the injuries he'd gotten on this job. But he would be holding this over them in the future and he knew he had earned himself a few free beers down at the Hard Deck for this.

"How bad is it then?"

Jake felt shockwaves coursing through his blood when (Y/n)'s hands moved from his shoulders to gently cup his face in her hands.

He loved the feeling of her thumbs brushing across his cheekbones just beneath his eyes and the way her fingertips tapped behind the tip of his jaw near his ears. His lips curved into a smile, despite the aching in his temple that had gone down a little when he took the aspirin and painkillers he was given.

His eyes squinted up at his wife whose lips curved into a pouting smile while her head tilted to the side, inspecting the wound on his temple.

All the blood had been cleaned from Jake's face and neck and his head had been X-rayed and dabbed with anticeptic, all he needed now was stitches.

"What am I gonna do with you?" (Y/n) murmured softly while she tilted Jake's head down in her hands so she could pepper kisses against the middle of his temple which no doubt would be aching. She didn't want to touch or go too near the wound, she knew even a light touch was going to hurt and she didn't want to hurt him. But he leaned into her touch and groaned, tightening his arms around her waist while his hands slid further down her back.

"I can think of a few things."

"I don't think I wanna see that." Coyote ran a hand down his face and patted Bradley's chest before he began to walk. He would see what Maverick wanted them to do, whether they were all getting the afternoon off or just Jake. He murmured a soft "Nice to meet you, Mrs Seresin." And laid a hand on (Y/n)'s shoulder as he passed her.

"Yeah, us neither. Sorry again, Hangman, we'll owe you a few rounds when your back in action." Phoenix waved her hand towards Jake and dipped her head before she headed out with Bob following in her wake.

He uttered a soft "Nice to see you, sorry Hangman." before he followed Phoenix, silently praying they wouldn't have to finish the last twenty six push ups they had skipped when they followed Maverick and (Y/n) down here to the medic bay.

"Well, you look like your in good hands, so I'll catch up with you later. Maybe we'll see you soon, Mrs Hangman."

Once Bradley disappeared, (Y/n) managed to untangle herself from her husband's arms, causing him to grunt and pout dramatically. His hands reached out for her but she didn't move far. She stepped out from between his legs and moved to stand on his left side near the end of the bed he was perched on. Her arm looped around his back and her hand gave his shoulder a squeeze while she kissed the good side of his temple.

"When can I take him home?"

"I'll just do the stitches and then he's all yours."

Jake couldn't hide the grimace that flooded his face when he saw the needle and thread. He didn't like the inconvenience of stitches. His eyes briefly glanced up at (Y/n) before he shimmied round on the seat so his back was towards her. And he slowly reclined his head until the back of his head was settled down on (Y/n)'s shoulder.

He did his best to keep his head steady and his eyes fell closed when he saw an injection needle coming close. The numbing agent to make the stitches more bearable.

A low whistle passed his lips and when (Y/n)'s free hand curled over his thigh, Jake reached down and curled his hand over hers. He squeezed tight and tried to take slow, deep breaths when the needle finally started puncturing through his skin. It didn't exactly hurt, but he felt a sharp sting and each time the thread was pulled tight, Jake could feel his brow lifting as the skin was dragged back together.

Six stitches later and (Y/n) could barely feel her hand from how tightly Jake was squeezing it. She leaned her head down and kissed the top of his head, nudging her nose against his soft wavy hair as Jake finally opened his eyes.

"You're good to go with a mild concussion, Seresin. No flying for twenty-four hours, and if you go any higher than G7, I'll need to see you back here for a check over."

"Copy that."

"Thank you for patching him up."

When Jake hopped up from the bed, (Y/n) moved her arm lower to secure around his waist and she pressed a quick kiss to the side of his jaw which caused his lips to pull into a wide grin. He draped his arm over her shoulders, feeling much better than he did earlier.

The last thing he wanted to do was lean on (Y/n) and have her dragging him out of here like the guys had heaved him in earlier. He could walk on his own two feet again.

"That's going to leave a scar." (Y/n) murmured softly, reaching her left hand up to graze her fingers over his brow just beneath the row of navy blue stitches on his temple. It wasn't going to leave a dent or a prominent, deep line, but it would leave a faint streak of white like a dash of paint across his skin.

She pressed another kiss to Jake's jaw until he tilted his head down and captured her lips in a soft, burning kiss instead. "I know," He muttered softly against her lips, kissing her again and again as they walked as slow as possible out of the base.

"But I know you love my war wounds."

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endlessthxxghts · 1 year ago

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Use Me

No outbreak!Joel Miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈1.2k

Summary: You tell Joel he can use you in an unconventional way. Will he take you up on your offer?

Content/Warnings: No physical description of reader besides clothing. SMUT 18+ MDNI. Somnophilia. P in V sex (unprotected). Creampie. Finger fucking. Sweet aftercare. A moment of insecure Joel, but you comfort him.

A/N: Literally no motive behind this drabble besides the fact that I couldn't stop thinking about Joel (more than normal LOLL) in the past 24 hours. So, enjoy my delulus. Also… this Joel is one with no outbreak…but for this particular scenario, I’m picturing him physically as post-outbreak…do with that what you will.🥴🥴🥴

MASTERLIST

Joel’s coffee nearly spilled through his nose with how off guard your question caught him. “You want me to what?”

“Well, I’m not saying like every night or something, I’m just saying. If you ever wake up in the middle of the night, hard and wanting, you can…” your gaze breaks from his. “You can use me.”

Joel usually doesn’t have middle-of-the-night erections that wake him up and force him to take care of the issue immediately. However, with your suggestion being a lingering thought in the back of his mind all damn day, he finds himself, in the middle of the night, hard and wanting.

Your usual sleep attire is a tiny shirt with no bottoms below, and tonight, lying on your stomach with your ass to the air, you’re looking particularly tempting with the way his cock pulses when his eyes meet your glistening cunt.

“Always so fuckin’ ready for me, ain’t ya?” He groans to himself, debating whether or not he’s actually going to take you up on your offer.

But just like the unintentional ironic little fox you are, you roll your hips and let out a little whimper as you go, your pussy on full display to him, even wetter than mere moments ago.

He sits up on his haunches, walking on his knees to settle himself behind you. He brings his fingers to your slick entrance, running along the entire seam and to your clit. He circles it a few times. Your hips twitch in response, a breathy sigh leaving your throat.

“Fuck,” he rasps. He removes his now wet fingers from your entrance to rub it all over his cock, pumping himself a few times before he scoots slightly closer to you and lines himself up.

He runs the head of his cock through your slick this time. His tip catches on your clit and pulls another moan out of you. You’re stirring now, but you’re not completely awake yet.

Unable to tease himself much longer, he grabs onto your hips and sinks into you in one sweet thrust, your warm, tight pussy pulling him faster to the finish line than he was anticipating.

You let out a moaning gasp — you’re definitely awake now — followed by an already blissed out call of his name. “Oh, fuck,” you cry, your hands curling its grip into the bedsheets below.

“Shit,” Joel moans, his hips fucking into you harder now but maintaining a steady pace. “This what you wanted, girl?” He grunts. “Wanted me to fuck this sweet pussy whenever I fuckin’ wanted?”

“Ohmygod,” you rush out in a near yell, “yes, Joel, yes! Just like that, baby, fuck-”

“So fuckin’ good to me, sweet girl, ohhh fuck-” he moans, his hips faltering in its rhythm. His hand moves around your waist and to the front of you, the pads of his fingers finding your clit and circling it — just the right amount of pressure to get you to your finish line before him.

You’re a babbling mess at this point — his name mixed with expletives the only vocabulary he’s reduced you down to. “‘M close,” you’re able to utter out.

“Cum for me, baby,” he breathes. He bends his body over you, his lips near your ear as he damn near snarls, “Soak my fuckin’ cock, baby, let me feel you.”

His ministrations on your clit don’t stop, but the desperations of his thrusts increase, harder with every pump. He bites down on your shoulder, trying to ground himself so he doesn’t finish before you, and the radiating pain and pleasure from the pressure sends you roaring to your climax — the room filled with nothing but the wet squelches of your slick and your high-pitched moans, loud enough to wake the neighbors.

Your sweet sounds sends him into a frenzy, his eyes rolling back at the way he’s literally slipping in and out of you now. “Gonna cum, baby?” you whine at him, nearing overstimulation but truly not wanting him to stop.

“So fuckin’ close, baby,” he tells you, he’s back up on his haunches, both his hands back at your waist, chasing his own impending orgasm.

You muster up some strength and lift your ass up to meet his hips, your back arching like a cat in the sun. You give him some pushback, meeting his every thrust as you make it a point to squeeze him each time.

“Atta girl, fuck-” he takes a shuddered breath, “‘M gonna fuckin’ cum, where do ya want it?” he grits out.

“Inside!” you blurt out, all your inhibitions and logical thinking gone from your brain as he fucks you into oblivion. “Inside me, please, baby, please, love feeling you inside of me- love having you drip out of me just for you to stuff it back inside-” you’re cut off mid ramble with a gasp, you feel his cock pulse as his warm release paints your walls, a rugged groan from Joel filling the air.

“Goddamn, baby,” Joel utters as he catches his breath, slipping out of you, but not going anywhere just yet. He watches your filled cunt, and in moments, his hot cum is leaking from your hole — his cock tries to jump at the sight of it. He takes his fingers, scoops up the residue, and pushes it back into your hole, fucking you slow with his fingers for a moment as your breathing picks back up, moans threatening to escape as your hips squirm against him.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he tells you. He helps flip you on your back, leaning down to kiss your tummy as he slips away for a few moments and returns with a warm cloth to clean you up.

He’s gentle with it, thoroughly wiping the outer areas while patting the more sensitive areas clean. You still whimper at the feeling, more so because having him touch you down there sends butterflies fluttering all throughout your body. “I got ya, darlin’,” he soothes.

“I know you do, baby,” you say as you reach your hand out for his face. He tosses the cloth into the hamper in the corner of the room as he leans into your hold. You pull him in for a sweet, lengthy kiss, your tongues tangling as Joel finds himself wrapped around you once more tonight.

You’re dozing off again when you feel Joel’s voice vibrate your chest. “Say that again, baby?” you mumble sleepily.

“Was this…was this okay?” he asks softly, sleep filling his voice but too much concern lacing it to allow himself to submit to his fatigue.

You grab his face again, lifting your head to meet his lips.

“It was perfect,” you smile at him. “Now go to bed, so I can wake you up in the morning.”

He gives you a smirk that heats your cheeks. “Goodnight, darlin’,” he mutters as his head rests on your chest again, dozing immediately.

My current brain capacity is telling me that I want to write, but I can't deal with really big storylines right now.. so. A bunch of stories on the shorter side it is - at least, for the time being🥰 I love you all, and thank you for the endless support. Also !!! Gif above is courtesy of @/nicolethered

Tags: @javierpena-inatacvest @katiexpunk @janaispunk @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @lilynotdilly @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @pedrostories @akah565 @getitoutofmymind @axshadows @joels-shitty-puns @its-nebuleuse

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future stories or would like to stop being tagged altogether! Xo

EDIT: As of the new year 2024, I no longer do taglists!! Follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs and turn on the notifications to be updated when new stories come out!!

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saphiccarma · 15 days ago

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Hi, can you write something where Nicky gets lost in the forest and Rio and Agatha are desperately looking for him, or they find him with a witch in the forest and she's playing and showing her magic to him and it's cute? Please?

- Where Did You Go?

Relationships - Agathario x Reader

Summary - When Nicky goes missing Agatha instinctively panics. She doesn't expect to find him wth a strange witch who has unknown healing powers.

Warnings: None

A/N: Eee this was a fun little thing to help me get rid of the small writers block. Sorry it's not very long, but I hope you enjoy. Requests are still open it may just take me a minute to get to it

One minute, Nicky was right next to her, walking close as he was supposed to, and then he was gone. Panic surged through her as she noticed the absence of his small, and rather frail, form. Agatha had no idea what to do. They were in the middle of nowhere, with no town nearby, so he shouldn't be missing. Her eyes scanned the tree line, the large forces of nature surrounded her on all sides.

Nicky could be anywhere.

"Nicky?" she called, loud enough to attract his attention, but keeping her voice soft even as it broke, "Nicky."

There was no response. Agatha retraced her steps, trying not to let her panic consume her, and kept a careful eye on the tree line in case he magically appeared. Rio couldn't have- he couldn't be- No. She shook her head absently. He couldn't be gone yet.

Dirt was scuffed up as her steps became more frantic, her eyes scanning every inch of the area in front of her. All she was met with was trees that towered over and birds cawing. Desperation clawed at her as she grew more and more worried.

"Nicolas?" By now her panic had turned into something stronger, something raw and real. Her hands started glowing purple, a nervous reaction and a physical reaction to the anxiety that ran through her.

In an act of desperation, Agatha snatched a stick up off the ground, her hand clasping around the rough material. She traced a circle into the ground, adding an X through it and stood outside. The circle glowed bright green, the symbols illuminating the space that was steadily growing darker with the setting sun, before slowly fading. Rio stood in front of her, a flower twirling in her hand as she eyed the circle on the ground. Her feet scuffed it up, breaking the spell that trapped her inside and she stepped out.

"You called?" she asked, quirking a brow. The flower, a bright pink one, spun between her fingers as she took a step closer to Agatha.

She clenched her jaw and forced the words out, "I can't find Nicky."

Rio pinched the flower, one of the petals falling to the ground.

"You lost him?"

"I didn't lose him," Agatha snapped, purple flaring around her fingers. Rio eyed it with a hint of nerves, not for herself but for Agatha. The younger witch took a deep breath, reigning in her powers, and repeated her statement, "I didn't lose him."

"Hm," Rio hummed. She slid the flower into Agatha's hair, not caring for the other woman's scowl and the fury that radiated off her in waves. Taking off skipping, Rio moved through the woods, something pulling her towards Nicky.

There was always something pulling her towards him, a sense of death that kept her tethered to him. Rio never knew if it was because he was her son, or because he was meant to be dead. She didn't want to find out. The woods were getting darker the longer they went on, and Rio could hear Agatha clenching her hands impatiently as she trailed behind. As the force that was pulling her towards Nicky grew stronger, Rio felt another force of magic.

It was...soft. A soothing feeling that washed over her, calming all her worries and made it seem as if she had no responsibilities. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Agatha relax, hands falling limp at her sides and jaw unclenching.

She pressed forwards, stomping through bushes, but promptly stopping at the sight she was met with. A woman stood there; a green dress not so different from Rio's own covered her form as her hair covered her eyes. A red ball of magic swirled in her hand as she made shapes and figures with it, a small smile on her face as her tongue stuck out in concentration and she twisted her fingers. She looked so innocent. Untouched by the dangers of the world.

The magic, heat radiating from it so strongly Rio could feel it from here kept Nicky's attention. He didn't notice his mother's approaching. Flaring up in a way that could be compared to a flame, the magic wrapped around the two of them, and Nicky giggled loudly. It was a joyous sound that Rio wished she would hear more often.

But that joy was snuffed out when he coughed, hunching over and burying his face into his elbow. The other witch, with her red magic and innocent face, leaned forward and placed a hand on his back. It glowed a soft red, not like the strong color it was moments ago, and Nicky's coughing stopped. He looked at her with awe coating his face.

There was a knowing glint to her eyes as she glanced up at Rio, the smile on her face shifting from innocent to teasing. Her eyes flickered towards Nicky then back to Agatha and Rio. The woman paused in her magic making, making Nicky pout, his arms crossing.

"I am sorry," you said softly, "Your mothers are here."

The child, you think his name is Nicky, snapped his head around, his eyes locking onto Agatha's. You stood and out of the corner of your eye say Nicky's sheepish smile. He waved at his mothers.

"Hi mama, mami." He sprinted towards Death, a sight that you never thought you would see, and launched himself into her arms. Death herself laughed, burying her face in the child's hair and planting a soft kiss there. Even if she embraced him happily, you could feel the tension rolling off her in waves, unease etched into every one of her features.

"Hello my love," she said quietly, almost so softly you didn't hear it.

The other witch, one you didn't know, but you could feel the motherly presence radiating off her, eyed you suspiciously. You waved a hand in greeting, red still twirling around it as if it had a mind of its own. She eyed it like it would set the whole forest alight. It could if you wanted it to.

"Who are you?" the unknown witch asked, her voice terse and strained.

You smiled softly, "Y/N, protection witch."

"Fire," Nicky whispered softly, wiggling out of his mother's grasp and taking a hold of one of your hands, "Show them? Pleaseeeee?" He made his eyes wide, staring up at you with a puckered lip. You laughed, gently tugging your hand out of his grip and sparking a small flame to life in it.

Death eyed you oddly, her eyes transfixed on the fire while the other witch tugged her son closer, a protective arm rested on his shoulder. Wiggling your fingers with a small smirk, you put the fire out, dropping your hand to your side.

"Fire," you repeated.

"Who are you?" The unknown witch asked, and you smiled brightly. You glanced at Nicky who stood at your side, wide eyes imploring and innocent as they stared at you. But you knew he had seen so much more than he let on.

His sickness wasn't hard to notice, with the way he hunched over and even at a young age had dark bags under his eyes. Both women looked at him like he was such a fragile thing, ready to break at a moment’s notice. But most of all, you could just feel the death he gave off. Death shrouded him like a large coat. You knew that you could rid him of the death that clung to him stubbornly, cure him of whatever illness plauged him.

"Like I said, my name is Y/N. I'm a protection witch."

#agatha harkness x rio vidal #agatha x reader #rio vidal x reader #agatha harkness x reader

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vilentia · 11 months ago

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Physical Touch

George Weasley x reader

Summary: George Weasley discovers his love language of physical touch in his relationship, leading to a deeper understanding and connection.

Just wrote something short to get the idea out of my system.

****

In their sixth year at Hogwarts, George Weasley and you had stumbled into a relationship as unexpectedly as one might stumble upon a hidden room in the castle. It was fresh, exhilarating, and filled with the kind of magic that didn't require a wand.

In the bustling corridors and beneath the ancient trees of the Hogwarts grounds, George had a way of speaking without words. His fingers would absentmindedly play with a strand of your hair during study sessions, his hand would find yours under the table in the Great Hall, and during quiet moments in the common room, his thumb would draw invisible patterns on your skin. These small gestures were his language of affection, his way of saying you mattered in a world that was often too loud and chaotic.

One crisp autumn day, as you both lounged by the Black Lake, watching the giant squid's tentacles occasionally break the surface, Fred Weasley, George's inseparable twin, ambled over with a mischievous grin. "Merlin’s beard, George! Do you need a magical adhesive to keep your hands off her for a second?"

George's smile faltered, and a shadow of doubt crossed his face. You laughed it off, assuming it was just Fred being Fred, but something shifted in George after that.

He became hesitant, his touches fewer and more restrained. The corridors seemed colder, the classes longer, and the common room a bit less welcoming. You felt the change but couldn't understand it. Why had George, always so warm and playful, suddenly turned into a distant echo of himself?

One chilly evening, in a quiet corner of the library, surrounded by ancient tomes and the soft glow of candles, you decided to breach the silence. "George, what's wrong? You've been acting so differently."

He looked up from his book, his eyes meeting yours with a vulnerability you hadn't seen before. "I... Fred made a comment the other day. About me always touching you. I started thinking, maybe it's too much. Maybe I'm making you uncomfortable."

You reached out, your hand covering his. "George, do you know what love languages are?"

He shook his head, confusion written across his face.

"They're the ways we express and feel love. Yours, I think, is physical touch. It's not too much, George. It's just your way of showing you care. I love it. It makes me feel close to you."

A small, relieved smile broke through George's uncertainty. "Really? I never thought about it like that. I just... feel more 'me' when I'm close to you."

Grinning, you nudged his shoulder playfully. "Well, feel free to be 'you'. Hogwarts can be a big, lonely castle, but your touch makes it feel a lot more like home."

From that moment, George's hesitancy melted away. His touches returned, each one a silent word in a language only the two of you understood. And in the middle of a school full of magic and mysteries, you found comfort and warmth in the simplest magic of all - a touch, a look, a connection that needed no spells to be real.

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #george weasley one shot #george weasley oneshot #george weasley angst #george weasley drabble #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fluff #george weasley fic #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley x oc #george weasley x fem #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x reader #george weasley blurb

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graphedpaper · 4 months ago

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Renter Problems 2

yandere!celebrity x fem!reader

Synopsis: You're trying to find a place near your university to stay, and you've managed to find a mansion owned by a celebrity to live in. His name is Jacob, and you've known him since middle school, living in the same city as him. He's blown up as the new, hot celebrity thanks to the movie he's starred in, though, while you're just struggling to pass by. But he's been acting strange, and you're determined to .move out Details: Physical and verbal abuse, manipulation, gender neutral reader, kidnapping

Your head pounds with throbbing pressure from sudden exposure to the singular light of a fluorescent fixture overhead, unsure what happened that lead you to here.

Here, a foggy room of hard gray walls and cold gray floors, it's simplicity unnerves you, a human instinct, maybe.

Your eyes squint from the brightness and you're unable to open them.

Your mouth feels dry, your throat needs water now. You feel sick and nauseous, like almost a fever. Your right arm is sore and bruised, like you had a very bad work out.

It must be earlier in the morning, or maybe it's the afternoon...

You feel a cool, cold, but tight sensation on your wrists and realize your arms are hung up and stretched out individually to thick pipes with handcuffs and chains.

Your screams start to form, an instinctual, guttural, screech of terror that comes rushing out of your mouth with no hesitation.

"Help!" You scream, but your dry throat and dizziness restricts you from yelling loud enough.

Your heavy, tired head droops over and creates a resemblance to a crucification, only this time your raw knees press on the concrete that pushes against your slumped figure.

If not for the handcuffs holding you up, you would fall face flat and crack your forehead.

All you can do is gasp for air into your dry throat, the air stinging your channel that begged for hydration, all sense of a functioning brain and body is gone. Your arms feel numb, all blood rushing to your core. You start to yank your wrists away from the pipe in vain. The heavy metal around your wrists press and brings you another source of pain, the marks all red.

You force your neck up to look at this strange room again. Last thing you can make out before passing out was telling Jacob you were leaving.

What had happened exactly? You forced yourself to dig through your shattered memories.

He had slapped and tossed you across the living room, then he-

Your eyes droop closed. Even with the fear pounding your heart, something is still slowing your thinking. It softens your movements like walking in deep water, fluid, yet thick and weighted.

"Oh. You're up. Couldn't tell from all the screaming." A sarcastic sound hits your ears.

A clear voice calls down to you from the stairs leading up to a now open door that you had not been able to see before.

He looks so satisfied, up on the staircase, hands stuffed in his sweatpants and looking down at you. While you were kneeled on raw ground, face red and puffy from yesterday's event, his face was neat, hair tousled gently, and smelled of aired cotton sheets, he was superior.

"What did you do- What did you do Jacob? What did you do to me?" You rasp out, no energy in your body. "Don't say that precious, I did nothing. You did this." He replies approaching you.

Your eyes widen in panic and you pull on your restraints once again. The metal shakes and rattles, making unpleasant sounds that echo throughout the deep basement. "Don't come near me! I swear, don't take another step!" You don't order, you don't ask, but beg. Beg him to stop.

You cry out screaming when he doesn't stop and calmly descends the stairs, hands still in pockets. "God, shut up! Shut your fucking mouth y/n." He snaps.

He crouches down to my level and he stares at me, like he's studying an animal he hunted down.

"If you want to get out of..."

He pauses.

"...Out of those then keep still and behave."

He hesitates to say handcuffs, like he's avoiding shattering his little dream world where we're apparently a couple. Because even he knows couples don't do this.

"Let me go please. Let me go!" You beg him, using your strength to rattle the chains connecting to your bondage.

Jacob scoffs at your behaviour. You're so pathetic, begging him to let you go. Let you go where? You'd be begging on the streets then. Better him than random strangers, right?

"Y/n stop it." He grabs your chin and pulls it upwards with his right hand. "You're acting like a fucking bitch right now." His eyes stare right into yours, it's dark. The back of your neck feels strained from the awkward angle.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-" You jump to apologize. It's obvious this is someone unlike anyone you'd meet around town. Inhuman.

A sharp kick to your side pushes you back. It leaves you unable to think, or speak. The impact was unexpected.

He laughs at your shock. "Are you ready now?" Jacob's lips pout slightly, speaking in a mocking tone.

You can only stare at a corner of this room, mouth gaping like a suffocating fish. Still, you manage to nod slightly.

What bad luck.

What horrible luck that your friend recommended you the house of a psycho.

In this moment, you curse your parents and your friends slightly.

Jacob kneels down fully to the ground and slips out a key from his back pocket of his jeans. He swiftly unlocks the segments that connect the individual handcuffs to the chains.

What a joke, of course he wouldn't take the handcuffs off like you thought, he's only separating you from the pillars-

He takes out a second key and takes his time to release your sore wrists from the 2 metal bracelets.

You remain as confused and fearful as ever. What did he have planned now?

"Jacob, why did you do this, why did you put me in these handcuffs?" You ask him, in a raspy voice. It's hoarse from the screaming.

You observe his facial expressions carefully, like a small rabbit may to a lion. He's unpredictable.

He ignores your questions and continues to work at the handcuffs.

"You know y/n, I think you don't remember how terrible of a person you were to me all throughout our teenage years. How much of a bully you were. And that hurts me."

No. No, you were never once a bully to him. But he was to you, spreading rumours, getting his friends to gang up on you. What was he on about? He was insane. You wanted to ask him what he meant, you deeply wanted to argue against this statement. But that wouldn't save you, would it?

"I'm so sorry Jacob, I'm sorry for hurting you like that in the past, but like you said, we can all change." You bite your tongue and hope for the best.

Silence fills the room up to the ceiling, and he pauses working on the last handcuff around your wrist.

"You refused to go out with me, y/n." He stared at you.

What could you say except sorry to this psycho?

"I'm so sorry Jacob." You reply.

"You thought I was a stupid idiot, huh! You thought you could just walk all over me and I would accept it?" He yells.

"Jacob, please, I'm not sure what I did to you, I'm sorry!" You cry out, terrified. Your body starts to shake reactively towards his agression.

His move star face contorts into one of an ugly monster.

"You... you don't even know? You don't even care?" He stands up with a look of angry disbelief.

"No, no, Jacob, please, please, let me out of this place and we can talk it over, okay?" You beg.

He checks his watch then glares at you.

"You're lucky I need to go and do an interview to promote the new movie."

He kneels back down, and before he unlocks the final handcuff, he puts the other set between your two wrists like how it normally would have been used, then takes off the first handcuff that was connected to the chains on the pillar and one of your hands.

He grabs onto your handcuff and drags you up behind him to the first floor. The stairs are long and high, like the architect knew a rich person would need to have somewhere to take out their sick desires.

When he opens the locked door and tosses you to the floor of the other room, you realize its the big, airy living room from last night's dinner. You look around and see no traces of yesterday's fight. Did he get a cleaner in?

Jacob locks the door behind him, and then turns around to look at you.

His facial expression changes from stressed fury to a calmer, serene face.

"Oh y/n, you're too gorgeous to act this way, why can't you just be my perfect partner, huh? Why did you have to try and leave? Weren't we building a connection? We even had a dinner date." He rambles his thoughts to you, like you're a stuffed rabbit toy.

He grabs your hand and leads you up to his bedroom. You've never been in it.

While he's approaching his bedroom door, you decide to attempt to get out of this horror.

You'll ask him to unlock your cuffs and then you'll call the police...

Jacob pushes you onto his bed.

"Y/n, stay in my room and don't have even think about leaving until I'm back from work. There's alarms."

"Jacob, please can you get me out of these handcuffs? Let me go please, I won't ever tell anyone, I wouldn't dare ruin your career, " You try.

Jacob stops moving at your audacity to beg. You're daring, he'll admit that. Begging for him to let you go? His girlfriend?

"I'm not worried about you ruining my career, you'd just be another crazy bitch out for a young man's growing success."

You're stunned by the bluntness of his words and your face finds its way into a grimace.

"Aww. Poor baby didn't like that, huh?" He asks with a sarcastic tone.

You stare at him not sure what to say.

"I'm going to go now, but you have to be a good girlfriend while I'm away." Jacob tells you.

He forces you to kiss him on the cheek in an awkward position and leaves you on his grand bed with the door locked.

You collapse and begin to sob.

Hi, this short text is part of a larger story you can find on Wattpad, @graphedpaper, if you liked this, you should check it out there.

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kiwriteswords · 18 days ago

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Hii I love your writing!! I just wanted to ask if you could write a little Hotch x BAU!reader oneshot where the reader is on her period and Hotch takes care of her!! I need that right now

A Quiet Kind of Care

Masterlist || Ao3

AN: I could have used an Aaron Hotchner last week when this was me! Thanks so much for sending this one in, Anon. It was a fun one to write on my day off today!

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: >1k

Tags/Warnings: Secret Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Tender Moments, Reader who gets a period, Soft!Hotch

Sypnosis: After a long, grueling day on a case, you push through your discomfort to keep up with the team, all while secretly dating Aaron Hotchner. When you finally retreat to the privacy of your hotel room, Hotch’s quiet attentiveness and subtle gestures of care remind you just how much he understands your needs, offering a moment of solace and connection away from prying eyes.

Aaron's keen observation skills were not just a professional asset but a personal one, too. His years of marriage to Haley had honed his awareness of the women in his life, including you. He could discern the subtle signs of discomfort and weariness that often remained unspoken, understanding that even the strongest women needed a little extra care at times.

He’d caught on gradually—the way you’d press a hand to your lower back or shift uncomfortably in your chair during long briefings, the slight furrow in your brow that signaled more than just stress. There were times he noticed you reach instinctively toward your abdomen, only to lower your hand quickly, as if not wanting anyone to see. He saw these little signs, things the rest of the team might overlook but which he couldn’t ignore.

As he watched you navigate the case with more determination than usual, Aaron didn’t need to ask what was wrong. Instead, he offered a steadfast presence, quietly supporting you in small ways throughout the day—taking on more physical tasks, and giving you brief respites, all while keeping a watchful eye on you.

When the day finally wrapped, he made his way to your room, ready to be there for you in the way he knew you’d never ask but that he was more than willing to offer. One of the things he loved most about you was your strength and resilience. And yet, as much as he admired it, he wanted you to know that you didn’t always have to be strong with him.

The hotel hallway was quiet; the sounds of the bustling day long faded into stillness. It had been a grueling day on the case, with too many close calls and endless hours spent in the field. You were exhausted, your entire body aching, and the discomfort of your period only worsened your fatigue. Despite the pain, you’d managed to keep it all under wraps, not wanting the team to notice or, worse, worry. But Aaron—Aaron always knew.

As you leaned against the doorframe, waiting for Aaron, a wave of relief washed over you at the thought of being alone with him. The quiet knock on the door signaled his arrival, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of calm and anticipation.

A quiet knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts. You opened it to find Aaron standing there, his gaze gentle, softened with concern.

“Come in,” you whispered, letting him in quickly and quietly.

Once inside, he closed the door softly, turning back to you with a small, knowing smile that held all the warmth and reassurance you needed. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a gentle, steady embrace. His hand settled at the middle of your back, his fingers spreading wide, grounding you as he held you close.

Slowly, he began to run his hand up and down your spine, a soothing rhythm that seemed to melt away the tension you’d been carrying all day. His other arm tightened around your shoulders, drawing you even closer as if shielding you from the day’s lingering stress. You rested your cheek against his chest, listening to his heart's steady, calming beat, letting it lull you into a place of warmth and safety. His chin came to rest lightly atop your head, and he exhaled as if he, too, had needed this moment just as much.

You felt the day's weight slip away in his arms, replaced by a quiet sense of peace that only Aaron could give. For a moment, it was just the two of you, wrapped up in each other, the world outside the door forgotten.

“You’ve been pushing yourself all day,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with concern. “You could’ve let me help sooner, you know.”

You sighed, leaning into his shoulder with a small smile. “It’s just part of the job. Nothing I can’t handle.”

He looked at you, the hint of a smile on his lips. “You don’t have to hide with me. Here—sit down.”

Aaron guided you over to the bed, settling you comfortably. He’d brought a small bag with him, and you watched as he pulled out a few items: a water bottle, some painkillers, and a small heating pad. You raised an eyebrow in surprise, touched by the thoughtfulness.

“When did you even get those?” you asked softly, feeling a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the heating pad.

He chuckled, settling beside you, reaching to plug the heating pad into the outlet beside the bed.

“I have my ways.” He placed the heating pad gently against your stomach, and the warmth was an immediate relief, easing the cramps that had been gnawing at you all day. “You don’t think I’d let you suffer alone, do you?”

You leaned more fully against his shoulder, feeling the tension start to slip away as he wrapped an arm around you. His hand slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, fingertips tracing gentle, soothing lines across your stomach, each movement easing the ache a little more. He stayed quiet, his steady breathing a calming rhythm, grounding you as you let yourself relax into him.

“You know,” he whispered after a while, “it wouldn’t hurt to tell me these things sooner. You don’t have to act tough with me.”

You looked up at him, catching the glint of tenderness in his eyes. “I didn’t want to be a bother.”

He gently kissed your forehead, his lips warm and soft. “You could never be a bother.”

You stayed wrapped in his arms, the silence between you filled with the quiet understanding that was so uniquely yours. Moments like this, hidden from the rest of the world, were precious—just you and Aaron, no titles, no cases, just two people caring for each other in the simplest, truest way.

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fallingdownhell · 10 months ago

Note

Could I request angst/comfort with Diluc, Ayato, Al-Haitham and Kaveh's s/o who is afraid of loud arguments, due to hearing her dad argue with her mom a lot (over dumb stuff that he gets mad about), hearing the boys angry at or arguing with someone and running to hide? And when the boys find her, she's shaking like a leaf and in tears even when they comfort her.

I really like scenarios like this. Hope I did this justice! Characters Included: Diluc; Kaveh; Ayato Content: gender neutral reader; established relationship; hurt/comfort; mentions of past trauma/abuse (not from the boys); mentions of shouting/arguing; the boys are apologizing to you Word count: 2,3k words Enjoy<3

Diluc

It's quite often that he's having arguments with Kaeya. Well, not so much arguments, but rather pesky little fights and petty quarrels. You, and everyone else, were used to it at this point. That's just how it was between those two now. Doesn't mean that you like it, but there's just not really much you can do about it, either.

However, this time, it was different.

Usually, when Kaeya and Diluc fight, it's snarky remarks and sarcastic comments thrown at each others heads. It never included any shouting, loud arguing or even physical altercations.

But apparently, there really is a first for everything.

Kaeya came by at the Winery today, which in itself isn't a problem, he does that from time to time, because even if he doesn't say it out loud, you know that he probably just misses his home.

When Diluc came back later that evening as well, they started to throw comments at each other again. You had no idea, how or why it escalated to this point, but somewhere along the way, they each began raising their voices at each other and for the past few minutes, they had been standing in the middle of the foyer, shouting at each other at the top of their lungs.

When it started getting louder, you were already trying to make yourself as small as possible on your spot on the couch, being reminded of your youth, when similar things regularly happened in your childhood home.

You were coiling yourself in, hands pressed to your ears in an effort to drown out the voices, but it just didn't work. Although you couldn't hear what they were arguing talking about, it didn't help to reduce the volume of their voices at all.

And then suddenly, your eyes snapped open in shock as you heard something break, shatter, on the ground. Suddenly, memories and flashbacks came crashing back to you, and your instincts took over.

You needed to hide. Now!

With newfound fervor, you got up and ran upstairs, dashing into the bedroom you shared with Diluc. You didn't even stop to consider your options, you just rounded the bed and sat down on the floor next to it, hoping that it would sufice in keeping you hidden from prying eyes..

You had no idea how long you were sitting there on the ground, legs pressed against your chest, your hands again pressing against your ears. Your whole body was shaking like a leaf in a storm, tears were running down your face, but you just couldn't bring yourself to care about that right now.

You were sure that you were in the middle of a panic attack right now, breathing becoming more and more difficult. It felt like you just couldn't get enough air into your lungs anymore, no matter how much you tried. The memories were just too much to handle.

The sheer panic, that he would come into your room any second now, hurting you again..

Then suddenly, you feel a gentle touch at your shoulder. Your eyes snap open and you look up to see Diluc, sitting in front of you, a worried and apologetic expression on his face. He quickly retracts his hand again, not wanting to make you uncomfortable in case you didn't want to be touched right now.

He begins talking to you, calm and collected, his voice slowly breaking through the fog that has clouded your mind. The more he talked, the more you seemed to come back into reality, out of the memories of much darker times you have been trapped in.

Diluc talks calmly to you, apologizing for his behaviour, even though he knew that right now wasn't the best time to do so, but he wanted to say it anyways. He would apologize properly again, later.

Right now, he needed to calm you down again. He waited and sat with you, until you calmed down enough to the point were you allowed him to touch you again. Immediately, he pulled you into his arms, holding you against his chest.

He continues to speak calming affirmations to you, gently brushing through your hair while you rest your head against his chest, listening to the sound of his beating heart.

"I'm sorry, (Name). I'm so sorry. I have no idea why I let things get this out of hand. I should have known better. I promise, I won't ever let this happen again. You're safe here, you're safe with me. Nothings going to happen to you. Not anymore. I won't allow anything or anyone to harm you again. I will always protect you."

Kaveh

Kaveh was well aware of the things you and your mother had to go through in your childhood. Living with an abusive father and husband can do things to someone, and he always tries his best to be understanding and supportive of you.

When you first told him about the things you went through and what you struggle with now, as a result of that, he vowed to you, and himself, to never put you in any type of situation where you could feel unsafe around him.

He wanted to be a safe space for you. Where you didn't have to fear anything bad coming your way, especially from him.

And for the most part, things were going fine. Kaveh helped you overcome a lot of things, and even when still struggling with some, he's always right by your side, never pushing you into anything, always the ever supporting boyfriend.

However, mistakes still tend to happen.

One such mistake on his part, was taking a client of his back to the house with him, to talk over some points of a new project. Kaveh had thought nothing of it, having done that a few times already.

You were home as well, offering to brew some tea for the two men so that they could discuss their work over something to drink. They agreed and while you disappeared into the kitchen, they began talking about the project.

However, talking soon turned into annoyed comments, which in turn became an argument over different view points. None of the men realised how loud they had raised their voices until they suddenly hear the sound of glass shattering on the ground, followed by a door being slammed shut soon after.

Kaveh instantly realised what had happened, knowing that he fucked up big time.

Without further explanation, he told the client to get out of the house, not paying any further attention to him. His only focus now was to find you and comfort you.

Kaveh went into the bedroom first, hoping to find you in there, curled up in the bed or something. When you were not to be found in there at all, he began to feel uneasy. He didn't want you to be alone right now. He needed to be there for you.

Frantically, he searched the entire house, until he found you in the bathroom, sitting in the corner, eyes blown wide with fear and shaking like you were standing barefoot in the middle of a snowstorm.

Quickly, he rushed to get you a blanket, knowing that you don't want to be touched directly, yet he didn't want to just leave you like this. He returned and gently tucked the blanket around your shoulders and on top of your head, creating some sort of shield from the outside world. He kept his arm around your shoulders, putting only very light pressure in it.

When that didn't seem to help, he began talking to you. He knew that telling you things to do wouldn't help you right now, so instead, he began to ramble. Telling you things about his day, what he had seen and done today, making sure that his voice was soft and calm, while he spoke in a slow manner, trying to convey to you that everything was okay, no danger anywhere near.

After a few minutes, it seemed to help, you began to calm down a bit. When he had the impression that you could properly hear him again, he nudged you to do some slow breathing excercises with him.

Slowly, you followed his lead, breathing in through your nose, and out through the mouth. He asked you to focus on certain things and slowly but surely, the panic began to subside and you could think clearly again.

When you turned and saw Kaveh sitting there in front of you, a relieved smile on his lips, you fell right into his arms, holding onto him like he was your lifeline and you couldn't afford to ever let go of him.

He returned the embrace, holding you in his arms, but making sure that his hold wasn't too tight.

Whatever it is you need of him right now, he's willing to do it. Anything, if it only makes you feel better again. He can't live with the thought that it was his fault this happened to you in the first place.

"(Name)... I'm so sorry. I have no idea what happened back there, I wasn't really thinking about it. I know that's no apology for anything, but I want you to know that this was not my intention. I promised to never make you feel uneasy with me, and yet, I broke that promise like the idiot I am. I will do anything to make it up to you again, I promise. I love you so much."

Ayato

When you had first told him about the events that happened in your childhood, Ayato was appalled by the actions of your "father". He may not know everything there is to know, but what you had told him was enough.

Enough for him to understand, why you had issues with certain things and may not be able to easily handle certain situations like others would. He didn't mind that at all. It's one of the ways that made you special. Not in a bad way, of course.

He always offered you his support, wether you want to work on your "issues" or not. He would support your decision, since it's not his place to judge or interviene. So long as you are happy with the way life goes for you, he can't complain about it, either.

However, due to this, he does tend to keep you out of matters with his work, especially when it involves meetings with people. He knows first hand that some of them can get a bit out of hand and he'd never willingly put you through that if he has anything to say about it. Which he does, luckily.

However, this time, you had told him that you wanted to be present at the next meeting he had. It was about an upcoming festival, and the organizer has asked to meet the both of you, regarding finances and other regulations.

Ayato, having worked with the man before, knew that he tended to have a short temper. So, he asked you if you were really sure about this, telling you what might come your way if you decide to participate.

You insisted, telling him that you wanted to work on yourself, not wanting to hide away from confrontations forever. Reluctantly, he agreed.

And so the next day, you were sitting next to Ayato, the organizer of the event in front of you. In the middle sat a small table with feshly brewed tea provided by Thoma. You had beed taking sip after sip while Ayato and the man discussed the finances of the project at hand.

Everything seemed to be going just fine, until it wasn't. The man disagreed with the budget provided to him, demanding more funds from the Yashiro commission.

While Ayato remained calm and collected, his usual smile on his face, the man grew more and more agitated. He began raising his voice and with every passing second, Ayato could feel you growing more uncomfortable next to him.

He tried to deescalate the situation, continuing to talk calmly to the man. However, his efforts proved to be in vain and when the man then slammed his hand on the table, that was when things got to much for you.

You flinched at the sudden banging sound, hiding your body behind Ayato in fear of this man in front of you. He reminded you so much of your father right now... He had done so terrible things to you, for much less..

Immediately as this happens, Ayato calls for his guards standing outside the room, ordering them to escort the man off the estate. He was quickly taken away and removed, leaving the two of you alone in the room.

Quickly, Ayato turned around to you, pulling you into a soft embrace, wrapping his arms around your head and letting your head rest against his chest.

He ignored the shaking of your body, ignored the tears that were staining his clothes and just focused on calming you down again. He spoke softly to you, his voice nothing more than a soothing whisper in one of your ears, while the other listened to his slow, calming heartbeat.

Taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, you try to focus on the present.

You kept telling yourself that you were safe, you're with Ayato now, not back then with your father...

Hearing Ayato talking to you through everything helped a lot, too. It grounded you and soon enough, the shaking and the tears stopped again

"Shh, it's alright, (Name). Everything's okay. You're safe here. He's gone. He's not gonna hurt you. I won't allow it. Here, take a deep breath with me, listen to my voice. It's okay. Nothing is going to happen to you, I promise."

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jellyfishoreo1206 · 3 months ago

Text

Shush (Sebastian Solace x Reader)

Notes: Part Three of Painter and Sebastian on the surface, small bit of angst in the beginning? But it's not really angst. I apologize if Painter really isn't written that often in this little series of mine, little computer needs the attention :(

Anyways, I seriously cherish all of you who read the last ones! I hope you guys have an amazing day and a wonderful sleep :33

Also! Series will be named Slice of Life, it's a bit boring but it fits

Credit for the dividers to @cafekitsune

The distant squeak of a door opening wakes you.

Eyes snapping opening, you hurriedly sat up, glancing around your room to see if anything is out of place. Oh god, oh god what is it? Where is it? Is it a Wall Dweller? God those things can't even leave you alone-! You stopped when you realized you're still in your room, you're still in bed. Wrapped up in blankets. Nothing is coming after you anymore, nothing. Eyes still darting around the room in confused panic, attempting to find anything out of place.

Dresser by the door, your messy desk pushed up against the wall, your coats hanging off the coat hanger in the corner of the room; turning your head, spotting the potted plants growing by the window, the dark sky speckled with shiny lights. You're home, not down underneath the sea anymore.

Letting out a sigh, you slumped down, using your hands to cover your eyes. It's tiring. This has been a routine for several days now; you wake up in the middle of the night to the slightest noise, thinking you're back down in the facility back with Sebastian and Painter scavenging for supplies, attempting to avoid death and survive.

~~~

"Fucking shit-!" You turned too late, a Wall Dweller jumping onto you, the force of it causing you to fall towards the ground. Damnit, you were too busy with the circuit that you didn't hear the damn thing! Its blood-stained claws dangerously close to your throat, your arms pushing back with all the strength you could muster.

Panic swells in your whole entire body, your heartbeat beating loudly in your ears as you struggled to push that damn thing off. But to no avail, its claws were barely touching the column of you neck now.

Tears began pricking at the edge of your eyes, no no no no nononononononononono-! This can't be how it ends, you're so close to your goal-!

~~~

A light knock startles you out of the memory, head snapping up to the door. Did you imagine it? A few seconds passed.

*Knock knock*

Getting out from underneath the covers, you cautiously walked over to the door, slowly opening the door knob as you peeked in through the gap. Only did you open it fully once you saw the tear-stained face of Sebastian, concern written all over your face.

"Seb?" Calling out gently to the man, he looked down at you, a sadness in his eyes. Silently reaching up, you cup the side his face, slowly swiping your thumb underneath one of his eyes to rid of a stray tear. "Seb what's wrong?" He merely nuzzles into the palm of your hand, his eyes shut, a frown tugging at the edges of his mouth. His other hand merely grabs at the your unoccupied hand and intertwines his larger fingers with yours, the third merely resting on your forearm.

A rush of heat flushes across your cheeks, but you quickly pushed that down, scolding yourself. Sebastian needs comfort right now, no need to get flustered. You've done this several times!

But no matter how many times it happens, butterflies still erupt in your stomach.

There has been several instances where you seen Sebastian like this— all rare—where he just couldn't hold in the stress he felt or the amount of nightmares he attempted to endure by himself. So in order to combat that, you suggested something like physical touch, since that was something that helped when you when you were stressed. He rejected it at first, saying something along the lines that he, "wasn't a baby that needs to be consoled whenever it cries". But when it happened again, he went up to you and silently held your hand, eyes purposely avoiding your gaze.

A small frown settles upon your lips, your hand currently intertwined with his giving it a soft squeeze. "You wanna come in?" You whispered, sweeping a stray hair behind his ear fin. Flickering his eyes open, he merely nods, half-lidded eyes looking down at you as he nuzzles deeper into your palm.

~~~

"Careful, don't want the whole entire thing to fall on us.." Dresser pushed to the side, coats laid on your bare bed, your chair missing from your desk; all used to make a cozy blanket cove. Since your bed wasn't big enough for the two of you, this would have to suffice. You even dug around a few old boxes in your closet and found some fairy lights you had, using them to give the inside a feeling of warmth. Pillows large and small and fluffy blankets scattered the inside of the fort, even a few plushies scattered around.

You even went out of your way to grab a few snacks and drinks from the kitchen, said snacks in a little corner of the cove.

"This is stupid." The man remarked, lying down on his back, a good portion of his tail peaking out the entrance of the fort. His head resting his on your stomach as he pops in a piece of dried mango into his mouth, your legs spread out comfortable.

"Shut up, it's not stupid," Using the brush to comb out the small knot in his hair, "-it's genius." That earned a playful scoff from Sebastian, small grins appearing on both your faces. "Oh it so is stupid." He counters, offering a piece of the dried fruit up to your mouth, a quiet thanks slipped out of your mouth before you ate it.

"Shush, none of that." Once his hair was combed and fully free of knots, you began separating his hair into three sections to be braided. Now that you think about it, this kind of feels like a sleepover, the whole blanket fort, the snacks, hell even the braiding.

"What are you smiling about?"

"Just . . . this kind of reminds me of a sleepover." A chuckle leaves your lips right when you're finishing Sebastian's braid, looping the hair tie one last time before letting go, "Done."

Sebastian stays laying in your lap, now looking up at you, an unreadable expression present. You gotta say though, he looks very pretty with his hair up, all his eyes present with a few stray hairs here and there.

". . . I never had a sleepover." He mumbled sitting up, adjusting himself so he was lying down on his stomach, bringing over a pillow to rest his head and upper arms on. His third one looked for your hand, quickly intertwining them once he did. The fluttering feeling came back tenfold, a blush threatening to appear as he peered up at you with those half-lidded eyes.

Quickly brushing it off, you leaned over to the small corner, grabbing a juice with your free hand before leaning back, "Really? Not even as a kid?"

"Nah."

Silence overtook the fort, mulling over a response as you took a swing out of your juice, "Well, we're going to have to fix that now, aren't we?" You smiled broadly at Sebastian, giving a squeeze to your intertwined hands.

Genuine surprise overtook his face, the fins of his ears perked up at your statement, a blue flush flooding his cheeks. "R-Really?"

"Yes, absolutely." Turning on your phone, you took a glance at the date, "How about this, every Friday, we'll make a blanket fort. I'll go out and buy whatever snacks and drinks you want, and we'll put on a movie. Hell, even let Painter join, let them have some fun too." Turning back to him, you grin, "How about it?"

He merely stares in silence, eyes wide as the words process in his mind. "You're . . . really serious about this?"

"Of course, we'll make up some other things you missed out on as well!"

". . . you're so stupid."

"HEY!"

". . . yeah, I like that idea."

Last Part, Next Part

#sebastian solace pressure #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian solace #pressure roblox #roblox #my motivation to write has come back once school has begun #slice of life pressure ☀︎

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thesamoanqueen · 5 months ago

Text

Anatomy of an affair II

A/N: second chapter and I think I'll finish this mini series in the next one, but I hope this isn't useless anyway because I really tried to build a particular tension... y'all know what I mean. Once again, dedicated to Aly~

The first lessons had been... an experience, let's say. The classroom was always packed, a crowd just waiting for him as if he was somekind of an event. Throngs of students in the front row hanging on his every speech, giggling and sighing at every word, always waiting at the door as if gaining the best seat and attempting physical assault at the end of the lesson would somehow make the difference or attract his attention. Writing his reports and some notes for myself, I learned that that kind of technique didn't work. Not that I wanted to look for the right one, on the contrary... I tried as much as possible to keep my feet on the ground, my mind clear and my legs closed so as not to reduce myself to those levels.

It was difficult though. The rough sound of his voice as he talked about muscles, bones and organs made it a challenge to focus, especially now that he was starting to get serious with lessons and I had to work hard so as not to end up like most of those desperate people who now couldn't find the show so entertaining anymore. My eyes constantly fixed on his muscles and organs, a perfect example of what a man should have been like in anyone's dreams, as if mother nature had taken special care of him to teach ordinary mortals. It was probably my unconscious seeing him like this in search of my well-deserved revenge on Tobert or maybe it was some kind of psychological test of my twisted mind to prove my dedication was stronger than temptations, but sooner or later would have been time for a real test and along with it, the others I still had to finish preparing for.

I was close going crazy, I knew it and with a sigh I ran a hand over my face, checking my phone to understand what would occupy my only hour of break that day. Lunch was already taken, but not by my meal and as if I had summoned him, Professor Reigns appeared in front of me again, almost making my phone fly out of my hand. I suffered from PTSD after our first face off and I had the impression he liked it.

- “So?” – he asked, with an amused smile, seeing me immediately get back on my feet like a soldier.

He absolutely liked it.

My mouth opened without a sound, unable to form even a silent insult, but as soon as my synapses began to do their job again I understood. The lesson, he was talking about the lesson. He wanted the report and didn't care what I was doing with my phone or my life. Of course.

- “It was... intense” – I admitted, seeing him listen carefully – “I think more than a few people got lost towards the middle now that we’re going deeper. There are already requests for more information, should be the same topics I wrote down during the lesson, I have the note here...” - I started rummaging in my bag looking for the notebook in which I had taken them, realizing with a silent curse that it was identical to the others that I constantly dragged with me to study everywhere.

- “It's here somewhere... just a moment, it's right here” – I apologized, already feeling anxiety increase as seconds passed and he waited, looking at me in silence.

I hadn't lost it, I couldn't have lost it, I had put everything back in my bag leaving the room empty, I had been very meticulous, but what if it had happened? Was it a possibility? If I forgot a notebook I could forget a gauze during an operation, a doctor could never be so absent in them mind!

- “Here” – he interrupted me, ignoring my search to hand me one of the cups he had in his hand.

I took it quickly, trying to continue with my free hand, but he stopped me, shaking his head, lifting my chin with a finger. The sensation, however quick and innocent, paralyzed me and I looked at him with wide eyes as he pointed the matcha he had passed me.

- “We’ll take care of your notes later, drink now” – he ordered more seriously this time and if my eyes were wide open before, they must surely have rolled out now, like in one of those cartoons I watched in Tobert's living room when we were both kids.

- “Me?!”

- “I'm a big guy but two is too much even for me” – and yes, he was right, but I still couldn't believe that he had bought something for me.

None of the professors I knew, not even the ones I was close with, had ever offered me anything. Usually it was students who did it, a show of respect, the opposite was strange, it couldn't happen... or could it? He had done it and he was acting like it was no big deal. Maybe he felt obligated because it was almost lunch time and he had asked me to stay longer, hadn't I seemed happy? Had I made a bad impression?

Trying to regain myself, I followed him as he headed down the avenue that led to the residential area of the campus.

- “It wasn't necessary, I could have taken it myself if”-

- “Tea is a natural cortisol inhibitor and you should keep your levels low.”

I had to keep what low? Jesus, I wasn't sleeping well and I had so many thoughts on my mind but was I really in such bad shape he suspected I was unwell?! I looked at myself in the mirror that morning, I wasn't so horrible, I had also put on a cute new jacket.

- “It’s some kind of dyagnosis”

- “It's a lesson. You are used to doing multiple things at the same time, but add the load of studying and unnecessary activities, it means more stress on a daily basis and when the brain detects a stressful situation the HPA axis is activated, releasing cortisol. High levels of cortisol for long periods of time risk damaging the brain, changing its anatomy in some cases. Drink it, it can become a good habit” – he explained and my stomach did a flip.

I wasn't a kid anymore, but I had been taking care of myself for so long I wasn't prepared for that kind of attention. I had always taken my responsibilities seriously and he had noticed my efforts after just a month of working together, he had noticed what I did even outside of the tasks he entrusted to me. Tobert had never noticed anything, I could have been sick and he would have only noticed if I threw up on his shoes, for the shoes obviously, not for me. Yep, it was a strange comparison and had nothing to do with it, we didn't have that relationship, we didn't have a relationship, but it didn't change the fact he had been attentive to me.

- “... thanks sir” - I murmured, unable to formulate anything else, overwhelmed by a sudden sense of embarrassment and he smiled one of those absolutely inappropriate smiles, watching me suck from the straw to hide my lack of words.

- “You must be in a good shape” – his comment almost made me choke, but he didn't seem to notice, walking unbothered under the yellowing trees of the campus with his takeaway.

He hadn't said it in that sense, there was no sense, what on earth should I have been in shape for if not to work?! I just had to stop thinking and follow him. Yes, I had to, but I didn't know where and I was only realizing it now. In fact accepting without knowing what I was getting myself into, it was becoming a dangerous habit with him.

- “Where we going? The next meeting will take place this afternoon” – I remembered, trying to play it cool.

I was sure of it because I had checked before joining him in the morning, so as to know when he would be free and consequently I should be free too, but he had blocked me as soon as the lesson was over, while we were still in the classroom.

- “My apartment” – I heard him reply with his usual nonchalance.

The sound I made in response wasn't a word, it wasn't even a noise, I didn't even know what it was, but I started drinking my matcha again like my life depended on it because I definitely needed to lower my stress levels now.

***

The apartment the university had provided for Professor Reigns was nowhere near the dorms and had nothing to do with mine, in comparison I was paying for a stable to share. It was an big apartment, a real one, furnished and with all possible comforts, it had its own private parking space and a delightful view of the central building with its characteristic bricks and avenues. It gave the impression of a movie location, especially because despite being used by a man it didn't seem to be. It was tidy, clean, impeccable just like its current owner, there were even carpets. Professor Reigns had given me a copy of the key, so I could use his house instead of the office that was constantly besieged by students and once I had overcome the anxiety of being in his most private space, I was grateful to finally be able to study and work for him without risking collapse between lessons or unpleasant looks from other students.

With my laptop open and the last notes for the test I would have on monday in my hands, I heard the front door open and after a while I saw him emerge, his hand already scratching the beard that was starting to turn salt and pepper, in that gesture I had learned to decipher. He was incredibly dutiful, but seemed to have a limited social battery and quickly became disinterested in matters that were not indispensable or fundamental to him.

- “Something wrong?” – I asked, watching him take off his jacket to make himself more comfortable and go directly to get some coffee in the kitchen.

- “We have to review my agenda next week, some appointments are not really necessary and take up time from the research project for the course” – he explained and I hid my smirk, nodding with my head down.

Oh yes, that battery ran out quickly and he didn't even bother to recharge it. It was crazy how he was gifted with everything that attracted attention, but he didn't care. There were men who would have given anything to have a position like his and that kind of success in every field, when instead he kept his distance.

- “Chemistry?” – he asked, glancing at my notes.

- “I had answered all the emails and the outline for the next lesson is ready. I made a copy, it's in the other room along with the preliminary test drafts” – I replied quickly, closing the laptop, while he sat down with a sigh.

- “Stop making excuses Savannah, I told you to do it this way and you're doing it. It works, right?”

- “Yep… it's more comfortable than the office” – I nodded, seeing him mutter a "good" before silence fell.

I had been working as his assistant for a month now, trying to make the most of the opportunity he had given me, but I still hadn't been able to talk to him about why it all started and why I kept making excuses, even though he always seemed more likely to tease me than make me pay for something. I had prepared for that discussion, reciting it in front of the mirror, to my roommate, I knew what to say, in the beginning it had been the only reason why I had gone looking for him and yes, maybe now I could have pretended nothing had happened because we seemed to work well together, but I already had another pending conversation with Tobert and that was enough. I needed to get another man off my shoulders and another thought out of my head.

- “Professor” - I started, but he stopped me immediately.

- “Roman. At least when we're alone. I'm not a professor, I told you.”

Roman?! I tried to start a conversation that was difficult for me and he cut me off by demanding I call him by his government name?! It was a joke. As if I could ever talk to him with enough confidence to reach those levels! Yes, we weren't that far apart in age, I was sitting in his living room minding my own business, after the agreed time, while he was there sipping coffee in that decidedly too tight shirt and staring at me, but he was still a professor, a famous doctor. It was very clear in my mind whenever other thoughts crossed my mind: don’t push the boundaries.

- “I don’t think I”-

- “I do.”

Speechless, I watched him put down his coffee, those eyes that I struggled to get used to focused on me without the slightest intention of giving in, with the expectation of actually seeing me do it.

It was inappropriate. We didn't have that relationship, we couldn't, it was forbidden by university rules. I thought, I hadn't checked and I wouldn't, it had to be and even if it wasn't, my mama had raised me well. She had taught me to be respectful, not to put myself in unseemly situations, and calling him by his name seemed like the kind of thing that would push me over boundaries. Yet the idea of not doing what he told me, with his full attention, made me lower my head and nod.

I was thinking too much, he wasn't asking for intimacy, he probably just wanted some normality and I instead needed to focus on what I had to say to him to make things right.

- “I still haven't apologized for what happened the day we met” - I started again – “I... I didn't want to sound rude, Im sorry, my mind was somewhere else and I didn't realize I was actually there and not alone.”

I wasn't that kind of person, I didn’t like myself people who always made a scene, but Tobert had hurt me without even caring, I felt so humiliated and offended that I freak out. I still couldn't tolerate the thought of having wasted so much time on someone who after a month didn't understand I knew and kept acting as if nothing had happened. But I was trying to move forward, I was dedicating time to myself and not wasting it.

Something in the way Professor Reigns, Roman... looked at me seemed to change and I saw him tilt his head to look at me, thankfully without a trace of resentment to me.

- “It was quite obvious” – he commented at the end, almost with understanding and although I could finally have sighed with relief, I nodded, sucking my teeth before speaking.

- “I could have avoided it. It wasn't worth it” – I said, pressing the pen I was holding in my hand with annoyance.

Wasting tears on a boy – he wasn't even a man with his little shrimp between his legs – like that had been an insult to myself that I regretted terribly. I had known Tobert forever and yes, I had feelings for him, but he had never been perfect, not even close to being perfect, me more than anyone knew that. It was like adopting an ugly stray dog that you become attached to. The amount of stupid things he did or got involved in was unquantifiable and he hadn't mentally grown a day since we were sixteen. I couldn't continue to close my eyes, pretend I still didn't see like his mama, if after having put my future at risk to support him, he was now also disrespecting me sticking his little thing in every available hole instead of building a life together. The asshole would have paid me with interest, I would have made him miserable. I just had to figure out how.

- “You need help?” – Professor Reigns asked and I straightened my head, for a moment fearing I had spoken out loud, but he pointed to the notes in front of me with amusement.

- “Oh, no, absolutely not, I can do it by myself, in fact it's better if I go” – I hurried, recovering everything I had scattered around while he was away.

It was already enough to witness the process of him creating his lessons and preview his notes, I couldn't stay there and use him as a personal tutor when the week was already over. Plus it was also getting late and it was best to avoid staying until the evening, people loved talking about everything and he seemed to be one of the favorite topics for a good portion of the students on campus.

In silence, feeling his eyes on me, I put everything in my bag as quickly as I could to meet his gaze just before leaving.

- “See you next week then Sav” – he greeted me.

- “Have a nice weekend.”

***

After days Tobert decided to make himself heard. Our circus was doing great, it was actually the third time he had called me in a month and he had had the courage to ask me if I was thinking of coming back in the next weekend. As if I were rich or had someone to see again in that shitty city! But I knew why he was asking, unlike him I had a brain whose cognitive functions did their duty and by imposing calm to myself, knowing what I was up against, I had hit social media as soon as our unforgettable three-minute conversation was over. I obviously hadn't found any trace of abandonment syndrome symptoms on his pages, but another video had showed up, this time on the page of one of his coworkers who I had also known for years. A new butt in the background, the umpteenth night and I had started writing my confession to the police for when I’ll dissected him, I was ready to take my credit.

Taking me out to calm down – or more likely distract me from murder – had been my roommate's idea, but between tequila, spicy food and cocktails it had been inevitable and both Mya and my friend Shanice had joined, watching endlessly the new video sitting at the table of one of the many clubs under the Memorial Bridge.

- “You could wait and say no to him at the wedding” – Mya proposed, cleaning her fingers from the loaded fries with which we had tried to buffer the effects of the alcohol.

- “As much as I'm sure you'd be able to wait that long, he'd have to propose first and I don't think that'll happen if he acts like this” - Shanice echoed, shaking her head in disgust at the sight of Tobert enjoying himself without a single thought in his mind.

The proposal. I had never imagined such a moment, I was more practical than romantic, but I had always taken it for granted it would happen, sooner or later, because what other alternatives could we have after all those years together? The answer was more than I thought and they all led to that fat unknown ass that he was enthusiastically groping thinking I didn't know anything.

- “He's too miserable to afford a ring” – I reflected, downing yet another shot of tequila like it was water and both Shanice and Mya looked at me.

- “Damn Sav…”

- “Yep, maybe it's better stop drinking and watch it. Eats, is gonna help”

It wasn't the alcohol that made me talk, I was simply disgusted. There had been a moment, however brief, when I thought maybe I should give him a second chance, be the bigger person once again, for all the years we had spent together. The first kiss, the first time, I gave him everything, but that stupid asshole forgot everything as soon as I loosened the leash, to drool over a bunch of total strangers who wouldn't even answer the phone in a moment of crisis and certainly didn't know him like I did.

- “Is that…” - I heard Mya call me, pulling me by the shoulder and I turned to look, choking.

- “Why is he here?!” – I asked, staring shocked at the bar counter, where Professor Reigns was discussing with a group of friends.

With a beer in hand and a less serious outfit he didn't look like a professor at all, but rather the kind of trouble most women would look for, the red flag you hope for. He was smiling, joking, in the yellowish light of the place, with music and voices filling the room, I watched him captivated as he emptied the rest of his beer, those hands capable of feats in the medical field tightly wrapped around the bottle, his throat in sight, his dark beard. I felt like I could smell him even from where I was sitting, no chemicals perfumes, just the smell of him and it was a strange sensation that made my body tingle. I shouldn't have dwelled on certain details, I shouldn't have noticed them, but he attracted my attention like a magnet.

- “Well, he has a life outside of university, busy one too it seems” – Shanice noticed, eyeing him without the slightest discretion and she wasn't the only one.

We had only noticed him now, but he certainly hadn't escaped the eyes of the other women in the club. A couple of them sitting not far away continued to stare at him and chatter, probably waiting to meet his gaze for their silent invitation. I knew the moves well, I saw them every day in class and when we walked across campus together, more or less brazen attempts to which he didn't even react, almost as if he didn't see. And maybe it was like that or maybe he didn't stoop to pay attention to anyone because he was already taken, I had never suspected anything since I worked as his assistant, but a man like that had to be taken. He was the kind who would never stay on the market with that perfect body and a successful career.

- “You know, he could be your solution” – Mya mused, sipping her cocktail with a thoughtful face.

- “I know, that's why I keep working as his assistant.”

- “So you can smash him?”

- “What?!” – I almost screamed – “No! I was talking about exams! He can help me with my goals!”

- “Nah, stop it, you'll pass them anyway, your goal at the moment is to make that asshole of your boyfriend, ex or whatever he’s, pay and you could get revenge riding him. Mya is right. Sex helps with a lot of problems”

- “He’s a professor, my professor, a well-known doctor and Im his assistant.”

Hello?! Was it just me who noticed and had a problem with it? It wasn't something to do! It couldn't be! They shouldn't have suggested it to me!

- “More practical, no one will find out. You said sometimes you two worked in his apartment to.”

- “He gave her a copy of the key.”

- “Uh! Yeah!”

I had worked and saw his living room, nothing more and they knew it, I had told them!

… and also his kitchen, for coffee yes. And the bathroom, I went there too, but I spent hours in his house working, I had to use it sooner or later! But nothing more! I would never have dared, I was even careful no one saw me going in and out of there at inconvenient times.

- “It's on the campus, inside the university, y’all can’t be serious?!” – they couldn't make me think certain things, they had to support me, help me, not create bigger problems.

- “I would do it”

- “Same here. It's such a good idea!”

- “I mean, why not?! You get it?”

- “If not her someone else, take the opportunity sis!”

- “Louder!”

- “Ok, good, I've heard enough” – I silenced them, getting up and leaving my money on the table.

The weekend was already testing me enough, I couldn't stay there a second longer and put other ideas in my head, there were already enough of those on a daily basis and that I had to keep at bay without having received yet another delusion or getting drunk.

- “What? Where you going? Come on, Sav! Get over here” – Mya tried to stop me, but I had already taken my bag and jacket.

- “I'll take an uber, see you at home” – I said goodbye, taking my way out of the club.

- “Don't you dare start studying again!”

- “And don't open IG!”

I was no longer listening to their recommendations, too busy with my phone to understand how soon I would have a car to go back. In that part of the city there were many clubs, it was very busy, but to my series of bad luck was added the only uber available was fifteen minutes away from me and resignedly I tightened my jacket once outside, peering across the road, where I could see the bridge and the skyline over the dark sea.

This night had only served to give me other thoughts and certainly hadn't helped distract me from what Tobert had done, again. Part of me knew that if I didn't do something soon I would go crazy, every revenge deserved a plan to get some justice and satisfaction back, but I needed to explode, to punish him immediately for the wasted years and humiliation. Knowing he was out there doing what he wanted, thinking I was so stupid to don’t understand or find out, filled me with frustration. I was better than him and would probably be even better if I hadn't spent my entire life babysitting him, how could he even conceive of treating me like this? Me?! And with all due respect, for someone who seemed like the cheap experiment of a pervert who had never left home!

- “I thought you had an exam on Monday” – the tone scared me to death and I turned quickly, discovering I was no longer alone.

- “Professor!”

- “Roman” – he corrected me.

- “Yep… I have it, it wasn't a lie” – I hurried to explain and immediately bit my tongue.

I was justifying myself. In a very bad way too, I wasn't even credible and it was frustrating because it was clear I could have avoided it since being off campus wasn't a crime.

- “Breathe, you’re always so tense” – he suggested to me, his voice calm, low, so reliable.

Gripping my phone, I nodded, avoiding his gaze as silence fell between us and his words echoed in my head. I had the feeling the alcohol in my body had suddenly decided to make itself felt now he was there next to me, a mixture of anxiety and heat that went from my neck down to my chest, my belly and lower, made me feel vulnerable and certainly the conversation with my friends before leaving didn’t help. I hadn't thought about meeting someone I knew, I hadn't thought about seeing him or talking to him, I was just trying to get home as quickly as possible and try to sleep with one or better two pills to keep me out of trouble. My fifteen minutes of waiting, however, were becoming an eternity and my eyes went to the blank screen, a gesture he obviously noticed immediately. He noticed everything, always.

- “Are you waiting someone?” – he asked, checking the road.

I was far from home, on the verge of exhaustion, there was no one waiting for me. Just hours of studying and too many thoughts... maybe Shanice and Mya were partly right, it would have helped me distract myself with someone, but I had too much dignity to risk picking up another idiot, a life with Tobert had made me almost completely insensitive to men. Almost.

- “I wanted to go back to the dormitory” – I explained and he turned around again.

- “That's not the answer to my question” – his tone was more peremptory this time and I looked at his tense jawline.

We had gone from not having to give excuses to explaining why I was there with my phone without even noticing and the way he was standing in front of me was making me wish for more tequila in my body.

- “Im waiting my uber. It’ll be here soon” - I said, unable to look away now.

He was an exception. He wasn't one of the many idiots inside a club. He was a grown man, with a successful career, goals similar to mine, plans for the future. I knew all that glitters wasn't gold, I could see it in his brown eyes, in his dangerous smiles, in the way he seemed to capture everyone who walked by him into his orbit, but it was the kind of risk someone would even seek. And he was fascinating, so damn perfect he made the air between us and my legs tremble.

- “I'll give you a ride. My car is there, cmon”

Something in my head told me to accept immediately, a part of me even cheered at his words, the impulse that during lessons made it difficult for me to take notes and filled my mind when we were alone with thoughts I had never had for anyone else. My friends would have pushed me without even thinking about it and the alcohol was playing its part, but I still shook my head no, looking up at him from the distance that separated us in a weak attempt to resist and remind myself, him, there were boundaries I shouldn't have crossed.

He was my professor, he could have become my mentor, I would have gotten into trouble.

- “I can wait here” – I tried, but my words didn't seem to reach him.

- “I won't let you go with a stranger, get in my car Sav” – he decided for me, without listening any replies, taking a step in the direction of the street before looking back at me.

For a moment, I clutched my phone, praying for something, for someone, anyone, to interrupt whatever was going on between us, but it might have been fifteen or thirty minutes, nothing happened and I moved numbly, following him with my heart racing and sure I was about to do something I never imagined.

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megalony · 6 months ago

Text

Resemblance- Part 5

Thank you all for the lovely feedback on this Evan Buckley series, I hope you will all like this next part. Please let me know what you think.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

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Series Taglist: @lunaroserites @swanshells @moonlovers34 @bartkevicius03 @btskzfav @papafritarancia @shortchubbybibi @essienoe

Series Masterlist

Summary: When Evan introduces (Y/n) to Eddie, she resembles someone he used to know. And he can't help himself when he's around her, leading to frightening behaviour.

Enjoy.

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

Evan's hand gripped the gear stick so tightly he was about to rip it out of place. He shifted up into a higher gear, revving the engine as he moved into the outside lane and sped past the only other two cars on the road this late at night. He hoped no police would be out on patrol to catch him speeding, but he did have a good excuse if they did.

He had to get home. He had to find out what the Hell Eddie was up to and what he was doing round at his place.

"Buck? What's going on, are you okay?"

Maddie's voice flooded the car and snapped Evan out of his trance. He felt bad for calling her. She had been on shift all day and she had Jee to look after when she went home and here was Evan, ringing her at midnight, something he never did unless it was an emergency.

"I'm on my way home… Eddie's gone off the rails."

"What do you mean?"

"He's let himself into my place, Maddie. (Y/n)'s home alone and he's gone round there and I have no fucking clue what he's doing. I tried to call her and- I don't know what was happening but, but Eddie cut me off. Bobby's gonna meet me there. I don't know what Eddie's gonna do."

For the second time in less than half an hour, Evan brushed away stray tears that were falling freely down his face.

He couldn't speak to (Y/n) when he tried to call her, but he heard the utter fright in her voice and he knew she had been crying. And he just knew when the call hung up on him that it had been Eddie.

But he didn't know what was happening back at home. Evan didn't know if Eddie had hurt (Y/n). He had no idea if Eddie would physically hurt her but Evan had a horrid feeling in his gut that Eddie had done something. Whatever he was doing, Evan had to get home to stop him. He couldn't be left alone with (Y/n) and something must have set him off for him to go round in the middle of the night and let himself into Evan and (Y/n)'s apartment.

"Oh God, Buck. You don't… you don't think he'd actually hurt her, do you? He never hurt Shannon."

Evan didn't have the answer to that because he truly didn't know what his best friend was capable of anymore. He had no idea if Eddie would hurt (Y/n) to punish her or to punish Evan. He didn't know if Eddie would hurt her by mistake or how far over the line he would go tonight.

"I don't know."

He had never hurt Shannon. Eddie prided himself on trying to be a good person, a moral, loving, kind man. He worshipped the ground Shannon walked on and he would never dream of hurting her. But this wasn't Shannon, this was (Y/n) and if Eddie's delusion broke, who was to say that he wouldn't hurt (Y/n)?

"Do you want me to come over?"

"No, no it's okay, Bobby should be there by now and I'm almost home."

He wasn't quite sure why he rang Maddie. He had woken her up in the middle of the night and frightened her and he knew his big sister wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep now. She would stay awake fretting and worrying until Evan or Bobby called her to update her and let her know what was happening. Evan had just started a domino effect of panic for his sister and brother in law and the rest of the team when they eventually found out what was happening.

But he couldn't help himself. He couldn't drive home in silence and Bobby wasn't answering.

He had called the station to get hold of Evan and when Evan rang him, it had been a short and panicked phone call. Bobby said he was dressed and heading down to Evan's apartment and that Evan needed to meet him there as soon as possible.

But Evan didn't want to sit and stew on this in the car ride home, alone. He wanted to talk and the first person that came to mind was Maddie.

"Okay… call me when you know what's happening, and Buck, you need to be careful. He's going to crash hard when he realises Shannon is gone and (Y/n) can't give him that second chance he wants."

Evan croaked a quiet "Okay," before he hung up and focused on turning the next corner towards the apartment block. He dragged his hand up and down his face and pulled into his designated parking space.

He had no idea what state of mind Eddie was going to be in. Did he believe (Y/n) was truly Shannon? Did he know she was never going to be his wife? Was he under the impression that (Y/n) could somehow save him or redeem him or give him the closure he so desperately wanted? What was he trying to do?

Evan pulled up and jumped out the jeep, scrambling to shove his phone in his pocket and lock the jeep while he pelted across the grass towards the main door.

Relief couldn't have overtaken Evan sooner when he realised Bobby and Athena were hurrying up the path too.

They looked disshevelled. Bobby's short hair was stuck up on end and in frantic directions. Panic was written across his face and pooling in his eyes. His shirt was on inside out and his belt wasn't done up tight enough, leaving his jeans to sag on his hips and jiggle up and down as he speed walked towards the main door.

Athena had tamed her hair as much as she could in the car on the way over. She was wearing a vest tucked into an old pair of jeans, trainers instead of her usual high heels. She had a thin jacket pulled tight around her shoulders but what frightened Evan was her gun and badge he could see attached to her hip.

She was here on duty. She had woken up and come along in case she needed to arrest Eddie.

Was she going to have to arrest him? Was Eddie going to be in such a state that he needed to be taken into custody? Was he going to hurt one of them and land himself in jail for the night? Would he need to be sedated or taken down to the hospital for a psyche hold?

Oh God, when was this night going to end? How was it going to end?

"Buck," Understanding flooded Athena's voice as she sighed his name and reached a tender hand out to squeeze his bicep.

"Have you managed to get hold of either of them?" Bobby placed his hands on his hips and waited for Evan to fish out his keys and unlock the main door. He had a strong feeling that Evan hadn't gotten hold of Eddie or (Y/n). Bobby hadn't called (Y/n) back when she hung up on him.

He took that as a sign that Eddie was approaching her and Bobby didn't want to call her and set Eddie off into a raging episode. But once he and Athena got in the car, Bobby tried again to call her, but the phone just kept ringing and ringing and no one answered.

Evan shook his head and held the door open for them to follow after him. He called (Y/n) four times in a row after he got cut off, and she didn't answer. He tried calling Eddie but as expected, he didn't pick up either.

"Do either of you know what he's doing here?" Athena followed them both up the stairs as Evan took them two steps at a time and Bobby tried to keep up with Evan's pace.

"(Y/n) said he let himself in, she didn't say what he wanted or what he was doing."

"I told him to stay away from her… I told him I didn't trust him, and he laughed." Evan shook his head at the memory.

The last time he spoke to Eddie properly after their fight, he told him to stay the Hell away from (Y/n). He said he didn't trust Eddie around her after what he said at the station and what he did when he came round last time. And Eddie laughed at him. He laughed as if he didn't believe what he was hearing or as if he was taking this as some sort of personal challenge.

Maybe it hadn't been the right thing to say. Maybe Evan should have told Eddie that he needed to keep at a distance for a little while. Put it in kinder terms so he didn't isolate Eddie or make him feel broken and unheard.

But Evan had no idea what Eddie thought he was doing tonight or what his aim was.

Had he come round tonight with the intention of hurting (Y/n) to get back at Evan? Was he trying to get her to go somewhere with him so they could be together? Did he want to talk to her and try to move past this? Or was he there because he wanted to delve into this fantasy of her being Shannon? Was he trying to mould her into his wife and keep her for himself?

Evan hopped up the stairs two at a time until he got to the fourth floor and he was out of breath. He slowed down his steps so they didn't thunder down the hall and his hands began to shake at his sides, rattling his keys back and forth as he approached his home.

Was it even going to feel like home after he walked inside and finally found out what was going on in there?

Tears welled up in Evan's eyes and he suddenly didn't know how to breathe when he tried to get his key in the lock, but it wouldn't turn.

"He- he's left the key in the lock. We're gonna have to break it."

***

Small, shuddering breaths slipped past (Y/n)'s lips and her eyes snapped closed when she felt Eddie's lips against the side of her neck.

She could feel him whispering something into her skin, leaving hot, panting kisses in his wake as he kept tilting his head up and down. Every now and then, his nose would brush against the tip of her jaw and across the bottom of her ear before he kissed down towards her collar bone.

He was still crying. Silent, sticky tears soaked into (Y/n)'s cheek and neck which was already wet from his lips and felt like it was bruised from how frequently Eddie kept nudging his chin into her neck. And every so often she felt his teeth grazing her skin when his unrecognisable words became desperate.

She managed to make out another "I love you," panted against her skin before he bared his teeth and sank them into her neck like a vampire, causing her body to quake in his arms.

She couldn't help but dig her nails into his arm that pinned tighter into her throat that was bruised while her windpipe was surely going to be crushed if he continued to hold her like this for much longer.

His knees were jabbing into her legs and his thighs were tensing and squeezing her upper thighs that were going numb with pins and needles.

Her back was aching from rocking back and forth so much but Eddie's arm around her stomach was imbedding more and more into her skin and she knew if he didn't stop, she was going to pass out or be sick. But he wouldn't let her go and no amount of pain would make him release her.

She bit his hand upstairs and he barely flinched. She scratched his arms and he wouldn't budge an inch. She tried pushing and writhing and tearing out of his arms and he held her tighter and screamed until she started to shake and gave up fighting.

"I feel sick," She whimpered, scratching her nails into his arm as she pushed back into his chest. "Please let go now."

"No." That one word word passed through Eddie's lips on a loop, again and again until he was screaming and (Y/n) sobbed loudly in response. She could barely catch a proper breath and when Eddie started to growl, (Y/n) did the only thing she could think of.

She thrust her head to the right and bashed the side of her head into Eddie's temple.

Her head rebounded to the left and she closed her eyes, feeling her breath get caught up in her lungs as static built up in her ears and her mind started to reset itself.

She heard Eddie's horrific howl as his head snapped back and his arms momentairely loosened around her.

(Y/n) took that as her moment. With her eyes still tightly closed and her body being shifted around in Eddie's arms, she pulled away from him.

Her nails scratched the floor and her hands scraped against the laminate as her knees thudded and banged against the floor to try and heave herself up. Her head felt cloudy and full of cotton wool, her stomach was churning, her throat was raw and her eyes were as sore as they had ever been from crying so much.

She couldn't get her legs to work and there didn't seem to be much point in trying to stand up. She shuffled, crawled and flopped across the floor, aiming for the bathroom or the front door, whichever she could reach first.

Her hand locked around the bathroom door but she stopped when a familiar voice caught her off guard.

"(Y/n)? Eddie? What's going on in there, can you let me in please?"

Bobby.

He was here. He had done as (Y/n) asked and come to help her, he was going to sort this situation out.

He was going to come in and get Eddie away from (Y/n) and help her work out the best way to help Eddie and sort this out. Bobby would be able to talk some sense into Eddie and show him that what he was doing wasn't right. Eddie would listen to him. Hopefully.

Her momentary pause gave Eddie enough time to grab her before she reached the bathroom.

Before she knew what was happening, Eddie's arms were around her waist and her back was pinned up against his chest. She stayed stiff in his arms, not bothering to fight because it wasn't going to do any good. The tears Eddie had been shedding earlier were all but gone now and he was back to kissing her cheek and her temple, almost lifting her off her feet with his force and strength.

"Eddie, c-can we let him in?" (Y/n) clenched her hands around Eddie's arms but she could feel the panic radiating off of Eddie.

He didn't know what to do.

They were so close to the front door, less than five feet away. All they had to do was walk over, unlock the door and remove the chain. Then Bobby could come inside and they could try and diffuse this situation.

But letting Bobby in would break the fantasy Eddie was trying so hard to keep hold of. He had Shannon in his arms and if he opened that door, Bobby would snatch her away from him. Forever.

"No."

(Y/n) all but whimpered, sniffing as she leaned her head back on Eddie's shoulder but it seemed to be the wrong move to make when he kissed her cheek. Then again. And again before he was suddenly kissing her lips and sliding his tongue into her mouth.

He turned her round in his arms and backed her up into the wall beside the bathroom, halfway between the bathroom door and the front door. So close to two ways of escape, but she couldn't reach either of them.

Her shoulders wriggled against the wall and her fingers scrunched up in Eddie's shirt. Her heels scraped against the floor, trying to keep herself upright but she could barely put any weight on her left ankle that kept giving out beneath her.

It didn't matter about keeping herself upright, Eddie did that for her. His hands clamped down on her hips so fiercely (Y/n) felt like she was going to pop like a berry. He released her lips and left a speck of blood in the corner of her mouth from where he bit down harshly on her lower lip.

Eddie tucked his face into the crook of her neck and breathed harshly into her skin, pressing his groin into hers and pinning his chest down on her collar bone, pinning her in place.

"Eddie, what's going on in there. Are you both okay?" Bobby's calm, solemn voice flooded the apartment again along with a soft knock on the door to gain their attention.

"Leave. I don't want your fucking help."

"I can't do that, not until you let me in and I know everything's okay."

Bobby could feel Evan pushing against his shoulders, trying to get past him but he couldn't. Not when Bobby was stood with both hands on the door frame, blocking it off from Evan who had Athena holding his arms to try and comfort him and keep him at bay.

They didn't want to break down the door, not unless it was their only option, their last resort. Breaking the door would be a lot of effort when it had two locks and a security chain and it would cause their biggest problem.

The police.

If they broke the door, Evan's neighbours would surely find out what was going on and they would call the police. Athena was here as a friend, as family and a curtesy so she could try and diffuse the situation. Calling the police and making an official report and arrest would cause problems for all of them. They didn't want to arrest Eddie, he needed help, not being taken to the station and questioned or charged.

"You'll take her away from me!" Eddie's voice barked through the corridor and none of them recognised him anymore.

The pain, aggravation and turmoil was clear in his words. He was frightened that this was the last time he was going to be around (Y/n) because he knew once they got in here, they would separate her from him.

He wouldn't be able to see her anymore. He wouldn't look into those eyes that he loved so much. He wouldn't be able to kiss those sugary lips or hold her close or hear her heartbeat and know that Shannon was here, that she was back. Eddie wouldn't be able to get her to forgive him and he wouldn't be able to hear her say she was sorry or explain why she had left him all those years ago.

He wanted an explanation. Eddie wanted to know why. He wanted her to come back. He wanted to take her home and have the family they built together.

Bobby nodded his head when he felt Evan hit his shoulder and ask if (Y/n) was okay. They hadn't heard her speak. They couldn't hear anything in the apartment right now. Was she still there? Was she okay? Was she hurt?

"Eddie, the last thing I want to do is take her from you. Can you tell me if she's okay?"

"I- I'm okay." (Y/n) could hear the tremor in her voice and she gasped when Eddie slid his hand up from her hip to hold the back of her neck. His fingers dug into her skin, scratching until blood was welling beneath his nails and he had (Y/n)'s head tilted back against the wall.

"That's good. Can I come in? Eddie, we can talk this through and work out what to do from here but I need you to open the door for me. I'm not going to take (Y/n) away, she can stay with us-"

"No. Y-you're not doing this… just let me take Shannon home." The way he sobbed into (Y/n)'s neck had her shivering and almost sliding down the wall if it wasn't for his tight hold on her.

She didn't want to go anywhere with Eddie.

She just wanted him to let go and leave her alone. Why couldn't he seek help? Why couldn't he let his family help him? Why did he have to do this in his own twisted way and make things worse?

Why did she have to resemble his dead wife so much?

"Come home. Let me take you home."

When (Y/n) silently shook her head, her lips curved down at the corners and tears spilled over her eyes. She could see the change happening in Eddie again. She could see that manic look taking over his pupils that were expanding until his eyes were nothing but black holes, devouring everything in their path. Absorbing every emotion (Y/n) had and taking it for himself.

His upper lip curled into a snarl and his hand left her hip so his knuckles could smash into the wall beside her head, creating a dent in the plaster.

(Y/n) cowered to the left, hunching her shoulders up as she snapped her eyes closed and moved her hands near her face. A sob bubbled past her lips when both his hands moved to grab her face.

The pads of his fingers were rough. The heel of his palms pressed bruisingly into her cheeks. His fingers dug into the sides of her jaw. He squashed her lips like he was trying to make her pout and when she tried to look away, he shook her head and forced her to look up at him.

The way his eyes narrowed and how his lips parted made (Y/n) tremor because he looked at her like she was an enigma he just couldn't work out. She was the embodiement of a Rubix cube. A real life puzzle with all the pieces slotted into place, but Eddie couldn't work out what the picture was supposed to be.

He was looking at his wife, but she was staring back at him like she thought he was the devil in disguise.

He leaned to the right, then to the left, following (Y/n)'s gaze until she had no choice but to stare at him. And he leaned closer, nudging their noses together and brushing his lips teasingly across hers. Their tears mixed together on their lips, the salty, tangy taste felt like the embodiment of sorrow itself and made (Y/n) whimper.

She clutched at his wrists but Eddie kissed her again, sucking her lower lip between his and tugging on it and biting like it was a sweet he wanted to demolish.

"Come. Home."

"I am home."

What good would it do her to go along with Eddie's delusion? If she went with him back to his place, what next? Would she ever leave? Would he try and make her stay? What would happen if Chris found out what he was doing? This would traumatise him and he didn't need or deserve that.

(Y/n) couldn't play along with this game because Eddie was becoming dangerous and it wasn't safe. She needed Bobby to get in here and get Eddie away from her.

"You're my wife!" Eddie's voice crashed through the apartment as he thrust (Y/n)'s head back into the wall like he was trying to drill his words into her skull. His knee jabbed between her thighs and pinned against the wall, parting her thighs around him while he pressed his groin against her leg and pushed all his weight onto her chest until she was gasping and croaking.

"Eddie, what are you doing? Please, you need to stop-"

"She's mine." Such a possessive growl emitted from the back of Eddie's throat and it had (Y/n)'s knees buckling and sent her stomach up into her throat.

It was clear that something had changed now. Eddie knew Evan was outside, he had just heard his voice. He felt like Evan had stolen his wife and now here he was trying to do it again. Well, Eddie wouldn't let him. He wouldn't let Evan take his world away and ruin what was left of his life.

(Y/n) felt her head cloud over and her vision turned to water colours when Eddie kissed her with so much force that he slammed her head back into the wall. Again.

Her hands let go of his wrists and fumbled around her to grab for something, anything to hold her up or use as a weapon against Eddie. But all she managed to grab was his shoulders that stopped her from sliding down to the floor, and her touch only spurred him on even more.

His hands let go of her head that swayed from left to right, sliding against the wall as her neck ached, too floppy to hold her head up any longer.

A spark of adrenaline rebooted her brain when she suddenly felt Eddie's hands on her thighs.

His touch was hasty, his fingers were rough and his movements sloppy but he managed to rake her shirt up her stomach, exposing her underwear.

"No! Stop- stop it!"

All of her effort went into leaning forward and creasing over to try and make Eddie's movements halt. Her thighs pinned together, her knees bent out and her hands slapped and thrust at Eddie's wrists and when she felt him scrunch up her shirt near her hip, she knew the material started to tear.

She heard the unmistakeable sound of seams splitting apart and the cotton stretched until it started to tear.

Her scream overrided the tearing sound and her knee smashed into Eddie's groin when she was sure his other hand was about to paw at her underwear. Whatever he was about to do- something Evan would never be able to forgive him for- he had to stop. He couldn't do this. (Y/n) couldn't let him do this.

She knew she heard Evan scream in response to hers. His voice sounded so shrill and deep and broken and it made (Y/n) cringe. He didn't even know what was happening and there he was, pounding on the door he was trying to break so he could get to her.

(Y/n)'s legs started to twist and cave beneath her while her hands balled into fists and she slammed them down onto Eddie's shoulders and into his neck, desperate to make him stop.

"Eddie you need to stop whatever you're doing. We're coming in!" The panic was undeniable in Bobby's voice as he and Evan tried to kick the door to break the locks. They couldn't stand and negotiate any longer, they had to get in there before something happened, if it wasn't already.

The little bit of momentum (Y/n) had managed to push Eddie backwards so (Y/n) was no longer pinned to the wall.

But she couldn't hold herself upright when her ankle kept cockling and giving way on her and she was shaking so much that she didn't seem to have any control left over her own body.

Her eyes closed on instinct when Eddie's hand squeezed her waist and his dingers dug into her back so harshly he was going to give her bruises and blood wheels beneath her skin. His other hand gripped her jaw that clicked into place when he pulled her head roughly in his direction and caused tears to flood down (Y/n)'s face.

They were like magnets, pushing and pulling, propelling each other in different directions. And when (Y/n) screamed, Eddie reciprocated and yelled back at her.

"Evan! Evan p-please-"

"Why don't you love me anymore?!"

She couldn't tell whether Eddie was shouting at her or if his words just seemed volumous in her ears because of how close his lips were to hers. Maybe he was crying. Maybe anger was present in his eyes. Maybe he was shaking her head from side to side or maybe she was simply shaking her head in response to his words. (Y/n) didn't know anymore.

All she did know was that when Eddie pushed her, the wall was no longer behind her to catch her fall.

They had moved without knowing it. They had push and pulled each other in different ways and now they were falling.

Why did the bathroom door have to be made of frosted glass?

Why couldn't it have been solid wood or plastic or even metal? Why glass? Why something so easily broken and so easily turned into a weapon when broken?

(Y/n) didn't realise they had been falling hard enough to crash into the door, but their combined force and weight smashed right through the glass panes and took out the small wooden beams supporting the panes. Glass licked and nipped at her back and arms, but it seemed to bite into the back of her left thigh so venomously that it almost felt like Eddie had sank his teeth into her flesh.

His full weight slammed into her as they both screamed until they were breathless. Landing on a cushion of glass, broken wood, splinters and a freezing cold tiled floor.

(Y/n) wasn't sure what her head slammed into. She wasn't even sure when her body had turned sideways, but either the sink or the toilet- possibly the bathtub if she had turned that much without realising- smashed into her temple on the way down.

Static danced through her ears and turned her brain to mush. Everything switched off.

***

"Eddie what the fuck was that? What are you doing?!"

She had been crying out for him. Evan heard her. He heard his name tear past (Y/n)'s lips before Eddie began screaming. He heard (Y/n) screaming and he had no idea why, but he had a feeling he knew what Eddie was trying to do behind that door.

And he wanted it to stop. Now.

Both Evan's boot and Bobby's shoulder rammed into the door for a third time before it finally swing open. The chain hung loose on a broken bracket, the door groaned as it opened to allow them inside. And the doorframe was split into fragments right in the middle with the metal lock cylinder hanging on by one screw.

Evan didn't waste a second. He bolted past the door, his eyes wild ad rabid, pupils blown wide as he tried to find them.

They had been close. He heard them screaming, he could almost hear Eddie panting and (Y/n) crying and hear them banging on the walls. They couldn't have been in the living room or upstairs. They had to be in the kitchen or near the hallway for Evan to hear them so clearly.

And something had definitely broken. Such a loud crash echoed out into the hall when he and Bobby started to break the door. It sounded like glass. Had Eddie thrown a vase? Had (Y/n) found a glass or a jug or a ceramic bowl to crash over Eddie's head to subdue him? What had they been doing?

When his eyes landed on the glass littering the floor in front of the kitchen, Evan's blood ran cold. His head turned to the left so fast a muscle in his neck twinged and he was sure he had just gotten whiplash.

Legs. He could see a tangled web of limbs sticking out the bathroom doorway. Oh God. What had Eddie done?

Bobby almost pushed past him until Evan's legs finally got back into working order and his work boots stomped over the glass that crunched beneath his thick heels. He reached the bathroom doorway a split second before Bobby and Evan hated the sight in front of him.

Eddie. Laid on top of (Y/n). Their legs tangled together, his head in the crook of her neck. His lips visibly attached to the side of her neck. One hand cupping her jaw while the other planted down on the floor so he could try and lift himself up.

"Get the Hell off her!"

His hands scrunched around Eddie's shoulders with enough force to dislocate the joints and in one motion, he lifted him up. He felt Bobby hovering beside him, both of them wedging their tall frames inside the bathroom to try and lift Eddie who was laid on top of (Y/n).

Groans and coughs tumbled past Eddie's lips when they heaved him up and dragged him out of the bathroom, two feet away from the doorway where he was safe from the broken glass. A safe distance away from (Y/n).

But once Eddie was sat on the floor, his body slanted back at an angle into Bobby's legs, he seemed to come alive. His hands were moving in front of him, his legs were kicking and he was doing his best to push forward. He didn't care about the blood trickling down his right arm from a deep cut in his elbow. He didn't care about the glass littering his hair like glitter or the cut to his brow or the slash marks in his jeans.

"Shannon!"

"Shut up!" Evan pointed at him with a dangerous look in his eyes and his whole arm trembling from his shoulder down to his fingertip.

He gave Bobby an uncertain look with the devil swirling around in his eyes and Hell's fury bubbling through his blood. He could see Bobby was holding Eddie down, keeping him sat on the floor with both arms under Eddie's armpits to hold him at bay.

"This is Athena Grant, off duty, batch 1275, I need an ambulance to my location, apartment 4B. There's been a domestic, we have two injured needing medical assistance."

Athena had no choice. They needed an ambulance here because she could see (Y/n) wasn't moving. There was no twitch in her foot or jolt of her legs. She wasn't moving her arms or trying to sit herself up. Her head wasn't turning from side to side and no noises were passing through her lips. She was unconscious, surrounded in glass. She needed help.

The least Athena could do was call an ambulance, and the most she could do was try to play this incident off as a domestic situation that didn't need police back up. She could spin a lie, assure dispatch that this wasn't a fight or domestic violence and say someone's night had just gone a little wrong.

She wouldn't arrest Eddie when he needed to see a doctor and she wouldn't try and get any other officers involved. Not unless Bobby and Evan explicitly told her they wanted Eddie charged. Both men had told her on the way here that they didn't want to call the police.

They knew arresting Eddie wasn't going to get him the help he needed and they all had Chris to think about. If anything happened to Eddie, Evan was the one who would be looking after Chris and he could hardly do that if he was the one to call and get Eddie arrested in the first place.

"Baby? Baby please…" Evan crouched down beside (Y/n) and took the time to look her over.

Cuts were dotted up and down her exposed skin from all the glass, but Evan knew he could see a few patches bruising into her skin from where Eddie had clearly grabbed and manhandled her.

He pressed his fingertips to her neck, counting her pulse that was uneven and quite high. But it was there and she was breathing. That was all he needed to feel right now.

A growl tore at the back of his throat when he looked down at what she was wearing.

Why was her shirt ripped down the side near her hip? Why was it bunched up on top of her hips? Why was the collar hanging down over one shoulder in a way that wouldn't happen just by falling through a door?

Why was her underwear skewed and partially pulled down?

A shudder tore down Evan's spine at the thought and he tried to brush it from his mind. If he continued on that train of thought he was either going to explode or commit murder on his best friend.

He could feel his nose scrunching up and his lips curling into a grimace when he looked at (Y/n)'s face. She was out cold, but she had blood smeared all around her nose and mouth. She'd bashed her head at some point and given herself a nose bleed.

His eyes travelled south again and he looked down at her left leg that was pressed against his knees. There was a puddle of blood beneath her thigh.

His cold fingertips were delicate and soft when he gripped her knee and slowly lifted her leg up to try and see the damage. A chunk of glass had sliced down the back of her thigh towards the groove at the back of her knee and it was bleeding out fast.

"Fuck."

His hands fumbled for one of the towels from the towel rail on the wall and he wrapped the navy blue cotton as tightly around her leg as he could before he sank back on his heels. His bloodied fingertips moved to his belt and he made quick work of unbuckling it and snapping it free from the loops on his trousers.

Once it was out, Evan carefully looped the belt around (Y/n)'s thigh, just two or three inches down from her hip near her underwear. He was suddenly glad she was unconscious so she wouldn't have to feel or acknowledge that he was cutting off her blood supply with his belt.

"There we go," He whispered softly as he lowered her leg back down to the floor, trying to avoid the glass as much as he could so he didn't give her any further cuts to her skin.

"Shannon! Get the fuck off me! Let me help her-"

"Eddie shut up or I swear I'm gonna deck you-"

"Enough!"

Athena's voice cut through the air as she moved to stand in the doorway to the bathroom. But before she could say anything else, all their eyes were going back to (Y/n) and Eddie was writhing in Bobby's arms to try and see what was going on.

She was coughing- no, she was choking.

"Athena," Terror pulsed through Evan's voice as he looked up at her before he crouched down to be level with (Y/n).

His hands cupped her bloodied face to try and see the problem. Her lips were parted but she was gasping and spluttering. Droplets of blood coated the back of her teeth and welled up on her tongue as her chest began to convulse and push up from the floor.

"She's aspirating! Move her- Shannon please," Eddie writhed until he was laid forward on his chest with his hands scraping the laminate to try and drag himself across the glass towards the bathroom.

She was still bleeding from her nose and the blood was trickling down the back of her throat. She was unconscious and inhaling the blood into her lungs, if it carried on she was going to drown and choke on her own blood.

Athena moved to kneel against the bathtub so she was behind (Y/n). "Okay honey, okay." Her voice was soft and lulling as she cupped the back of (Y/n)'s neck and held her hip while Evan helped to turn her on her side.

They kept her on her left side so she was facing Evan and Athena pushed her head down as much as she could so the blood would flow out her nose and down onto the floor. They couldn't have her choking like this.

"Shannon!"

"Out! Get him out or I'll kill him!" Whatever Evan's hand curled around first, which happened to be a lump of wood broken from the door, he launched it out into the hall. He threw it like a javelin until it smacked into Eddie's chest, but it didn't impact him or even make him wince.

If he continued calling out for his dead wife, Evan was going to let Hell loose on him and ravage him. He would give Eddie as bad a nosebleed as he had given (Y/n) and he wouldn't feel bad about it afterwards.

Eddie needed to leave before he made things any worse. But as Bobby tried to lift him up and drag him out, he kicked his feet. He raged, thrusting his elbows back, slamming his legs down, pushing forward. He did anything he could to try and get into that bathroom.

He wanted her. He wanted Shannon. She was his. Evan couldn't have her this time.

#evan buckley #911 imagine #imagine #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley imagine #buck x reader #buck imagine #eddie diaz #bobby nash #resemblance

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thefallennightmare · 6 months ago

Note

HC noah being protective pls?

@thescarlettvvitch @mitchhbitch @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @bngurngheart @lma1986 @dsireland86 @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @exitwoundsx @shayzillaaaa @lookwhatitcost @badomensls @princesspeach-00 @burning-outx @shadowseve @collective-heartbreak @klutzy-kay24 @sorrowsofsilence @sweetlittlekitsune @shilohrosechicken @itsafullmoon @toospooktocute @niicoleleigh @thatchickwiththecamera @hoe-for-daddywise @whenthesummerdies @cookiesupplier @concreteemo @thisbicc @sammyjoeee @pathion @flowery-mess @tashka

Noah was fuming.

His usual dark eyes were darker than normal as he watched you from across the venue.

He couldn't do anything because it was the middle of the show and if he stopped it for you, everyone would know about the two of you.

You'd been dating for nine months now, somehow being able to keep it a secret from the public eye.

But with the way this guy kept trying to talk to you while you were doing your job at the merch table, it made something burn low in his gut.

Even with the crowded venue, your eyes could find Noah's in a heartbeat when this random guy kept leaning forward against the table.

"Come on, Bad Omens is playing right now. You can sneak away for a few minutes," the sleazy guy licked his lip.

You turned up your face at him. "I'm not surprised that it only takes you a few minutes to fuck."

The guy's smirk turned into a scowl. "You're a real bitch ya know that?"

You waved him off. "Please, you're not telling me anything I don't already know. Now, if you're not going to buy merch, then please leave me alone."

Just as Bad Omens were finishing Broken Youth, your eyes met Noah's over the heads of everyone in the crowd.

'You alright?' His gaze read.

It was a smaller venue so you knew he'd be able to see you shake your head.

"I'm sure a good fuck will loosen ya up. You're too uptight," the guy grabbed your wrist, keeping you from moving to the other end of the booth.

"HEY ASSHOLE!" Noah's loud voice came through the speakers, interrupting the beginning of the Miracle break. "Don't touch her!"

The crowd was dead silent, everyone was shocked to see Noah stop the show.

"What are you going to do about it, pretty boy?" The guy shot back with a loud voice over to Noah.

My eyes snapped over to Matt who was in the sound booth a few feet away from where the merch table was set up.

"Son of a bitch," he mouthed.

Suddenly, Noah disappeared from the stage, and thinking he won, the guy turned back towards you with a smug smile.

He then yanked you halfway over the merch table and your screams echoed.

"I don't see why everyone is so-."

He was cut off by a swift punch to the jaw, knocking him down to the ground.

You followed those familiar tattooed hands up to the face you loved so much, seeing the rage fester in those almond eyes.

"I told you not to touch my girlfriend, asshole," Noah seethed.

The guy wiped the blood away from his mouth before spitting on the ground, rising to his feet.

Noah motioned for you to hide behind him, which you did.

"Girlfriend, huh? Seems like you won't have her for much longer once your career tanks after everyone talks about how you punched an innocent fan."

"Innocent?" Matt chuckled as he came up behind the guy with two security guards in tow. "Everyone here saw Noah protecting his girlfriend from someone who physically assaulted her."

You gripped the back of Noah's tank top, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

Usually, you could stand up for yourself.

But with the way the guy yanked you towards him it really scared you.

Noah knew and he wrapped him into his embrace and then directed towards Ash and the other guards. "Get him the fuck out of here."

"With fucking pleasure," Ash said, dragging the guy out of the venue.

"Are you alright?" Noah questioned while cupping your cheek.

"Everyone's staring," you mumbled, afraid of the phones pointing at the two of you.

"I don't care about them. I care about you, angel. Are you hurt?" He brushed away the hair from your face now.

"I don't know," you breathed a shaky breath. "I'll be fine. Don't cancel the show. I'll just hang out on side stage with you."

Noah agreed almost immediately and placed a quick kiss on your lips. "Whatever you want, angel."

#tina talks #thefallennightmare #noah sebastian #noah sebastian headcannons #bad omens #bad omens headcannons

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the-kr8tor · 5 months ago

Text

Snake Eyes

Pairing: Cowboy! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 7.6k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), TW death, CW blood and gore, CW violence, TW abuse mention, CW injury, CW guns, Cowboy AU, Wild west AU.

Our Place in the Middle of Nowhere Masterlist

Navigation

CHAPTER 6 >>> CHAPTER 7

Hobie looks at you before he exits the train car, wind blowing in his face, the loud chugging of engine roaring in his ears— but the only thing he could think of was you, you who stands behind him quietly as if you weren't right behind him. He'd take your hand in his, grasp blindly from behind to hold you and make his heart feel at ease with the simple gesture. He'd take your hand in his if not for his hands occupied with instruments of death. He hates that he can't stand not seeing you.

He still feels that he doesn't deserve you, he still feels that he hasn't done anything to deserve his atonement. In his entire life he has faced the worst things, dodged a hundred bullets, shot a hundred more, endured the soil in his lungs and faced death itself— but this is nothing compared to those, because you weren't there to see it, you weren't there to experience it just like how he did. You weren't caught in the crossfire, until now.

“Hobie,” your voice cuts through the fog that envelopes the mountain side where the train tracks wrap around like a snake eating itself. Your hand lays on top of his own that tightens around the doorknob to the next car. The same calloused hands that carry the weight of all of his wrongdoings and death he has committed. And yet, you still hold on to his rough hands like light at the end of a dark tunnel. “You're trembling,” he flicks his eyes downwards, seeing his hand shake under your own. “We can do this.” You smile, brightening up his view.

“What if we just leave.” His mind speaks before he even lets the thought escape. You blink, sliding your palm over to his thundering pulse. Everything overwhelms him, how his lips felt upon yours, how the smoke clings to his clothes and how everything is loud in his ears akin to lightning hitting and splitting a tree. He feels like that tree. “Uncouple the caboose and take the horses out of ‘ere.” He already knows what you're about to say. Leaving means giving up on the innocent bystanders behind the door, but if it's between them and you? He'd choose you everytime.

“And leave them?” You point towards the car door with your head. “What about Clementine and her family? We can't leave all those people behind, Hobie.” Your eyes shine in the moonlight, and he nods.

“Alright,” Hobie's vision plays tricks on him, he sees blood and carnage all over you. Your once hopeful eyes now lifeless, staring back at him without the shine he's used to. His heart pounds in his chest, he can tell that you're terrified too. “Just stay close to me, yeah?”

You grip tighter on his hand, feeling how cold he is and none of the usual warmth you're used to. “I'll stay close, I promise I got your back.”

“The second I open the door you duck and find a table or a fuckin'—”

You cup his jaw gently, “we'll be fine, we'll get out of this and ride into the sunset with Bucky and Cherry.” You try to be positive for him.

Hobie inhales, letting your honeyed scent waft over him. “If we get separated, head towards our cabin. We'll meet there.”

“And then what?”

He nervously chuckles. “I've got no bloody clue, love.”

“Me neither.” You snort, laying your forehead on his bicep briefly. “You ready, Mister Larry Brown?”

That puts a smile on his face. With a twist of the doorknob, you're met with a handful of men wearing shiny gold pins on their chests. They're startled by the sudden sight of you, and Hobie takes their shock as an opportunity to fan his gun, palm on the hammer, trigger finger pressing, bullets flying and hitting its mark quickly. They couldn't even take out their guns. The sound of their bodies hitting the ground made you sigh in relief. You think it's awful of you.

“Good shooting, Hobs.” You pat his back, hand lingering on his coat. Maybe it's your own nerves that's making you say such things.

Hobie recognizes that this is how you cope. “Rate it?”

You crack a wobbly smile, gun heavy in your hand. “Eight point five.”

He makes a face, “not that bad—” The sound of a bottle rolling across the floor immediately has Hobie raising his gun. An old man you recognize as the conductor comes out of the bar, hands raised in surrender. You both now notice the passengers hiding under tables and behind the bar. They're all unharmed, except for a few bruises and scratches. “How many?” His gun is still comfortably in his hand aiming below just in case. He's not taking any chances.

The older man doesn't speak, only shaking his head. He might be afraid of you and Hobie, seeing how the man next to you just flattened five men without hesitation. You want to tell him that there's nothing to be afraid of, but you fear that he won't believe you.

“He doesn't know. Knowing our bounties— if I was them I'd bring the whole cavalry.” Hobie mumbles, thanking the man with a nod. He takes bullets from his belt, immediately reloading the ones that he used up, metal rains down on the carpet. With a click, he gestures for you to follow while he walks towards the other side of the car; stepping over dead bodies and leaving blood trails in his wake. There's determination behind his jade eyes, and anger swirling behind them like a dust storm rolling just across the field. “They brought out the whole bloody lot of them for us.”

“Guess we're special.” You crouch down to take a rifle from one of the dead men. It's weirdly looking, there's a hunting knife strapped above the muzzle, all tied together by a thick rope— a makeshift bayonet. You figure the former owner is a psychopath for adding a blade on his gun, it's not like the bullet wasn't enough but he still wants his pound of flesh. A part of you is glad that he no longer breathes. After taking the rifle, you then lift up his torso to grab his bandolier, putting it over your shoulders and wearing it like a sash. Taking inventory of the gun, checking if it has jammed, Hobie takes watch on the door, peeking from the sliver of opening from the ajar door.

“You good, love?”

“Yeah, I'm a better shot with a rifle.” You holster the gun Hobie gave you as your last resort.

He knits his brows. “I've never seen you hold a rifle back then. I taught you with a six shooter.”

Shrugging, you hold the rifle in place, the butt of it is rough against your shoulder, barrel cold on your palm. “I taught myself with a rifle.”

“Huntin’?”

You sigh, giving him a weak smile. “Sure. I didn't see Clem or her parents behind the bar.”

“They might be inside their cabin.” Hobie understands the worry behind your words. “We'll find them.”

You nod shakily, licking your dry lips. “We will, I know it.”

Hobie gives you a once over, he doesn't ask if you're alright or to tell you to stay behind because he knows the answers to both of those questions. “Okay, opening the door now.”

The wind rushes inside as he flings it open, rusty metal squeaking on the door hinges. Droplets of cool water hits your cheeks, knees aching a bit, cold breeze howling and nipping at your neck. Rain is coming.

You stalk behind Hobie, he enters the door, you follow. He shoots, you shoot the stragglers that can still hold their gun up. It's an elaborate dance of death.

Blood seeps into the floorboards and on the soles of your boots. Your eyes are alert, heartbeat raging in your ears as you don't falter in your aim, trigger finger always on the metal. You smell like gunpowder and steel, and there's crimson splashed across the men's once gilded badges.

“You still good?” Hobie asks in front of you, his footsteps are calculated and silent save for the soft clicking of his spurs. “Y/N,” he asks once again when you don't answer within a second.

“I'm okay, sorry, I was looking for them.” You scan the dining car. The tables have drops of red coating the white marble, plush chairs reeking of gore. It's devoid of any passengers, you're not sure if that's a good thing or a bad one.

Hobie is already positioned at the door, waiting for you. “Alright,” his mind keeps telling him that your luck will soon run out. That the element of surprise won't be on his side the next time he opens the door. He's never been this afraid since he was buried alive five years ago. You arrive at his side, he can finally breathe. “The next car is the kitchen. They might've heard us coming by now.”

You nod, you're terrified but not for your own safety but for Hobie's, and the passengers. You've made your peace that you might not make it out of this alive just like how you've done when you escaped that horrid place. “I'm ready.”

He looks at you for a second before sliding his hand over your cheek, calloused hands that almost feel soft atop your skin. His thumb rubs along your cheekbones, silently wishing for an outcome where you both live to see the sunrise. “Don’t die on me.”

You lean to his touch, moving your head slightly to kiss his rough palm. He stops breathing for a second. “I won't die on you if you don't die on me.”

With a soft smile and a peck to your forehead, he nods his promise. “I promise.” He opens the door, the drizzle has turned into a downpour, it soaks his clothes, sticking to his scarred skin, and cold water splashing over his hat and atop the warm barrel of his gun. He opens the door with a creak after crossing the small distance.

You're both met with a barrage of bullets, Hobie pushes you to the side, effectively hiding you behind a counter while he gets nicked by a bullet across his thigh as he jumps behind a metal box.

“Fuck!” He yells, taking off his bandana to wrap it around the wound. Crimson immediately drenches the cloth, turning the already dark bandana into a darker shade.

“Hobie!” You call for him above the sound of guns going off and bullets hitting where you stood. Your breath gets stuck in your throat when you see the identical gold ring wrapped around a piece of twine, the necklace sits pretty on his clavicle, shiny and well taken care of; A stark contrast to the jagged scar lined on his neck.

He gives you a thumbs up, unbeknownst to the mixture of emotions you're experiencing. He even winks at you while he groans in pain. Your eyes are full of longing, tears pricking at the corners. He points at the gunmen, counting down, waiting for them to use up all their ammo.

He puts a finger down, three. One by one, the guns click.

Two. You hear panicked yells behind the counter.

One. The bullets stop flying. They frantically reload, metal scraping against metal.

Hobie nods and quickly lifts himself off his cover, fanning his gun, he shoots them down while you do the same. You both hit your marks just as when the last of your ammo pings out— metal meets flesh in a firework of rubies and torn insides. The entire kitchen smells of iron and gunpowder, you hide behind the counter again to reload.

“Shit.” You whisper as you reload the rifle, it makes a ping sound when you take out the cartridge. Fingers sliding on the metal from how the rain water has slicked your palms. Your pulse beats to the tune of the thunder outside the train. Trees whizz by the windows, raindrops clinging to the fogged up glass outside. Just as you finally finish reloading, you see Hobie stand up and confidently walk forward with his gun raised, shooting until not a single one of them twitches. You watch him work in awe.

The door next to you suddenly opens, the unmistakable silver muzzle of a gun peeking from the door that hides the man from your view, strong hands aiming directly at Hobie who's reloading. Without hesitation, you shoot the door where you've calculated where the man's torso is supposed to be. Splintered wood flies all over you, the gunshot rings in your ears, and your face is covered in something warm.

Hobie watches as the man goes down, almost dead, choking on his own blood for you have shot at the stranger's trachea. He scrambles towards you who's covered in blood. Crouching down, he slowly moves the barrel of the rifle away from him to wipe your face clean. Your eyes are wide, staring at the body lying just a few feet away from you. The man still desperately breathes, hand uselessly cupping at his gaping wound, blood seeping through his fingers, teeth stained with crimson, and dark bloodshot eyes looking at you. You watch as the light in his eyes goes out, and you realize, you're the last thing he ever saw.

Your ears stop ringing and you can finally hear Hobie call your name. “Love, just breathe.”

“I'm okay,” you say, blood smudged all over your soft skin. “I'm okay.” You utter it like you're trying to convince yourself. He hates that he has made you into this, a killer.

“Can you stand up?” His hand clasp your own, fingers kneading at your shaking palms.

“Yeah, I-I think so.” You stand up on wobbly legs, inhaling deeply, a mistake on your end, for the air has gone stale with iron and boiling water from the abandoned pot.

Hobie's palm is on your chest, encouraging you to breathe. In and out, in and out, you almost gagged. “You're doin' great, just keep doin' that—” A shot rings out, two men enters the train car, one is huge in form, brandishing a pistol. The smaller one has a shotgun with a crazed look in his eyes. The bullet misses your head by mere inches, leaving a gash across the shell of your ear. “Fuckin' wankers!” Hobie exclaims, the hand on your shoulder makes you sit back down, the other shooting at the men. Your blood soaked your once pristine collar. You don't feel the pain.

“Not her, you moron!” The bigger one shoves the other, Hobie is emptying his bullets, gunpowder permeating the stale air, mixing in with the iron and heat.

Everything else was a blur to you as you look at the pool of blood that's slowly making its way towards you. You hear your heartbeat quickening, the metal of the rifle in your hand stings, leaving indents on your palms. With a pained yell from Hobie, you wake up from your trance, just as you stand up, you're met face to face with the man who wields a shotgun. He yells, the butt of his gun aimed at your head. But you're faster, so you jab his stomach with your rifle, digging the bayonet into his flesh, blood seeps out of his white shirt from the knife. Despite his size, you've got the advantage, you've got everything to lose if you fail, so you fight, and survive, and will fight again because you promised Hobie.

Your attacker's gun falls from his grasp, staggering on his own two feet. He yelps as you push and push him into a table as you launch yourself quickly. The edge of the table stabs the small of his back, groaning, adrenaline rushing through you, you don't hesitate in pulling the trigger.

“No, wait—!” There's a gaping hole in his stomach, his entrails lay bare to you. That warm liquid is on your face again, it coats your white shirt, on your shoes as it drips down, and now your hands.

Hobie hears the gunshot, he looks over his shoulder to check, a mistake for he gets a punch to the gut. Hobie desperately fights the other assailant, dodging fists as they've both run out of ammo without time to reload. The man is visibly bigger than him, taller, and with more muscle. He's outmatched but he's not going to give up. Hobie has his fists shielding him, standing just a few feet away from you, if the man wanted to get to you, he had to get through him first. while the lawman does the same, both of them spit out blood that stains their teeth. The stranger smirks, eyes flicking over to you who just shot his partner. Before he could rush towards you, Hobie leaps up effortlessly, hands gripping a metal pipe above, swinging his legs towards the man to kick him. Steel toed boots hit his chest, but it's no use, even with the momentum, the kick barely fazed him.

“Fuck—” Hobie groans as the man grabs his middle, pouncing on him, trying to take him down but Hobie's grip on the metal is too strong. His legs wrap around his opponent’s neck, squeezing in hopes that it’ll choke him. Hobie’s side stings while the attacker takes a few hits in, using him as a punching bag. He squeezes tighter, trying to twist and snap his neck. The man gasps for breath but his fists still connect to his side.

You take out your gun from the man's dead body, rushing towards them, rifle aimed at Hobie's attacker. You pull the trigger but it clicks and nothing happens. It's jammed, your mind quickly decides for you, with the adrenaline rushing, mind addled, you pick up the boiling pot with your bare hands. It's hot, but only for a moment. You fling the searing water towards the man's back, Hobie lets go before the water hits him, lifting himself on the pipe, legs raised up and perpendicular to his body as he dodges the boiling water. Steam and water flies, landing directly at the lawman's face just as he turns towards you. He screams in pain, his shirt now burning into his skin, melting into his flesh. Hobie drops down, the pot clangs as you let it go.

The screaming gets into your ears, worming its way into your ear canals, so you do what you should've done to the man behind the door while he suffered— you put him out of his misery. Quick drawing the six shooter Hobie gave you, you shoot, hitting your mark as his body falls loudly on the floorboards.

Hobie heaves, and you stare at the carnage before you, carnage you've had your hand in. You suddenly feel rough hands on your own, he helps holster your gun back before checking the damage on your palms. The pot burned your skin, it's red and angry, lines in the shape of the handle have permanently etched into your flesh, right next to the scar Hobie helped stitch years ago. Weirdly enough, you can't feel the blinding pain.

“‘m sorry,” he says, reluctantly letting your hands go as he picks up his fallen gun off the corpse-ridden floor.

“What for?” Your voice cracks, barely recognizing it as your own.

“For everythin’, we shouldn't have gotten on this train in the first place, or any train.” Hobie sees how dull your eyes have become, the iris of your eyes have become restless, always moving, always checking for threats. You've become like him in the span of a few minutes.

You try to smile, it ends up looking like you're in pain. “Apology accepted, make it up to me by surviving the night—!” There's a lasso around your neck, you see Hobie's face contort into horror as you get pushed down on the floor, noose getting tighter as you gasp for air. Before he could shoot the one on the other end of the lasso, you're quickly dragged across the floor, body flailing like a ragdoll as the one dragging you around laughs.

“No! Y/N!” Hobie's thundering footsteps follow behind, shooting someone behind you. But you're still getting dragged around through train car to train car, rain battering your body whenever the person hauls you outside, the rough floor stings against your back. “Let her go!”

Black dots dance around your vision as your fingers try to get between the harsh rope and your neck. Your other hand reaches desperately at your gun holster. Fingers brush along the cool metal, ceilings whizzing above you. You're running out of air, and Hobie's running out of ammo. His panic and the rattle of the train makes his aim terrible. The man continues to lug and pull you as if you're a prized doe that they just hunted down.

The rope is choking you, leaving you with a mark around your neck and a skinned back from the floorboards that slash at your coat.

Gasping, you lift your leg up, finally reaching for the gun, quickly pushing down the hammer and leaning your head back to aim. The man dragging you about keeps moving from side to side, you shoot a couple of times but to no avail, panic sets in as your arm gets weaker, breath getting shallow, and your eyesight blurring. Your gun falls from your grasp, left behind as darkness envelops you.

Bang!

A body thuds, Hobie runs after you, the barrel of his gun still smoking as you lay limp on the carpeted floor. He gets to your side, immediately untying the noose around your sore neck. Your eyes fly open and you gasp for air, laying on your side as you try to take in breaths. You blink away the black dots and you're met with Clementine’s familiar eyes. Her mother holds her to her chest, hands covering her daughter's ears. While her father shields them both even with blood coating his forehead. They're terrified, you wonder if they're terrified of you.

Hobie pats your back for you to breathe better. “‘m sorry, fuck, Y/N,” he gingerly holds your face. “Look at me,” there's unshed tears in your eyes. He was almost too late, if his aim was just a few inches off— he doesn't want to think about it. Your eyes are glued to Clementine’s terror filled expression. “Oi, love, can you look at me please?”

You turn your head, neck aching and tender, you're met with soft viridescent eyes that smile when you finally stare back. He briefly turns his attention to the family cowering in their cabin before turning towards you again. “I have a plan,” he says while you hold his wrists, unable to speak. Hobie's heart aches at the sight of your bloodshot eyes. “We need to get to the engine, there's more comin', I can hear them.” Hobie struggles to breathe, so you slide your palm on his chest just like he did to you, wordlessly telling him to breathe. Nodding, he inhales deeply. “Uncouple the engine from the rest of the train. That's the only way we can get out of ‘ere.”

“What about them?” You manage to let out, you don't recognize your own voice. He knows what you mean.

“They're after us, not them. The most they can do is question them.” He tries to convince you even though he's not convinced himself.

You gesture towards Clem's father. “He's bleeding from his fucking head, Hobie—!”

“I'm alright,” Jesse chimes in, his wife nods along but she doesn't let go of Clem or his hand. “I got this because everyone started running away from the gunshots. I got trampled but I'm fine now.” His eyes pleads with you. “He's right, they won't touch us.”

“What if they do?” Tears cling to your lashes.

“There's more of us than them.” You don't expect him to chuckle, the pistol in his hand glimmers under the yellow light of the cabin. “Trust me, we're more trouble for them. I'm from the south, these kinds of things happen on the regular over there.” The scar on his brow tells you of his struggle, telling you that he can protect his family. “Worry about yourself.”

Hobie nods, thanking him silently while he still holds on to you.

“Get out while you can, sweetheart.” Florence addresses you. “I don't know what you two did but we don't care about them, just you. And you've got a good heart, so go.”

“Thank you,” you say, voice breaking. “Get to the caboose, there's more people there.”

They take your advice, standing up while Florence carries Clementine. Jesse goes in front of them, gun at the ready. Hobie helps you stand up and you watch as Clem waves goodbye to you.

“Bye, Clementine.” You whisper, a jar of honey rolls around the cabin and you frown, mind telling you that you might've traumatized the poor kid.

“They'll be alright.” Hobie brushes his knuckles against the back of your hand, careful of any injuries you're not telling him. “Let's go, love,” as he leads you outside of the cabin car, you spot a few more passengers running towards the back of the car.

You swallow thickly, neck stinging, burn marks left at your palms and neck. Your back throbs, but all the pain doesn't compare to the torture back home. Your great aunt throws despicable words at you, as if her jabbing you with stationary wasn't enough, with your so-called uncle always watching every punishment from the corner like a peeping tom. And him, he'd do worse than those two combined, perhaps he learned how to hurt you from them. And perhaps he has mastered the torture.

Suddenly, you're back at home in your pretty dress, pristine and looking like the perfect lady. But your velvet sleeves and satin skirts hide the tiny pin pricks and drying blood, the expensive jewelry outshines the apocalyptic look in your eyes. The ring around your ring finger keeps it all hidden— they call you lucky, they say that you glow under the chandeliers like the diamonds around your neck, yet, they pretend to be blind from how you stare outside the mansion like a doe caught in a bear’s trap longing to be free.

The rain hitting your face wakes you back to the present. Hobie's arm is around your middle, hovering just above your wounded back. With the cold raining down on you briefly, entering the next car, a group of men greet you on the other side.

“Finally made it.” The man in the middle says, he has a gilded star on his chest, twirled mustache on his face, and crow's feet around his green eyes. There's a hand cannon on his hand, the metal is all worn out and scuffed. “The name's Lee, I'm the sheriff around these parts.” He says, stubbing his cigarette atop a plush seat. You're in a regular train car that's lined with seats for the ones who're not in for the long haul. The rain outside keeps battering the windows, their guns are aimed at Hobie. “There’s a bounty on your head, Mister Brown. And I heard someone's lookin’ for you, pretty lady. You two got us running without our heads out there while you were on the dodge. But we got you now, eh?”

Hobie gets shoved from behind, and you both stumble forward. A couple of Lee's men appear, pushing you both closer to the sheriff with the muzzle of their guns. Hobie holds on tighter to you, and your gaze pierces the man in front of you.

You're surrounded. And Hobie feels like he's being buried again.

His eyes flick towards the windows, behind the water droplets lie a familiar view of a large lake— he knows this place, he knows where they're heading, all he needs to do is stall for time.

“You're lawmen, not bounty hunters.” Hobie taunts, “government not paying enough, sheriff?”

The man in front of you chuckles, lighting up a new cigarette with a flourish. You feel the acrid smoke enter your lungs. “A man's gotta eat, y’know?”

“Yeah, I know. Just like dumb and dumber who tried to ambush us by the river.” Hobie has a smug look, acting nonchalant, but his grip on you says otherwise.

You're worried when the lawman drops his confident stance. “What are you doing?” You whisper to Hobie, eyes never leaving your enemies.

“When I tell you to run, you run.” He whispers back, glancing briefly at you.

You don't protest, trusting him completely. You don't say, ‘alright,’ or ‘okay’ for confirmation that you'll follow whatever he's planning. Instead, you say the three words you've wanted to say to him, the real him, not the one from your dreams or hazy illusions— Hobie, your Hobie who used to greet you with a boyish smile under the oak tree. “I love you.”

His brave façade falls, you smile sweetly at him as you lean your head against his clavicle. Hobie makes an oath right there and then that he'll say it back when he deserves to say it to you, when he gets you to safety. For now, he holds onto you like how he desperately grasps onto the memory of you while you were thousands of miles away from him.

“That's a sweet sight,” the sheriff drawls, “looks like she knows that it's all over. But I can see that you don't.” He exhales smoke, it fills the cabin with sickly air. “You're off to the widow, mister Brown.”

Hobie smirks, you can see the cogs in his mind turn. “I think I remember you now, old man.”

Lee licks his teeth, the men at his command adjust their hold on their guns. “You remember now haven't you?” His spurs click against the floor when he moves closer, you notice he walks with a slight limp that he tries hard to not be noticeable. Hobie flicks his eyes outside.

“Yeah,” Hobie laughs to your surprise, “how's your leg? Or better yet, how's your son?”

“You motherfucker! Hobble your fucking lip!” Lee finally raises his pistol, cigarette ash falling from his lips that curls around the stick. It makes Hobie more amused. “Bet you don't even remember his fucking name.” He says through gritted teeth.

Hobie tilts his head, clicking his tongue, pretending to think. “Was it Jerry? Or Ronald? I don't remember, he didn't leave much of a mark on me.”

“I should shoot you right now.”

“Why don't you?” He raises a brow. A tall willow outside whizzes past. Hobie counts down in his head.

“Because the pay is higher if I bring you alive.” The man's green eyes stare at you. You feel like you're being scrutinized on stage. “Besides, I don't want to shoot you in front of your woman.” He gives you a toothy smile. “Why don't you come over here, sweetheart, I won't do you any harm. I'm just going to bring you home.”

You shake your head, trying to act brave now that the adrenaline has sapped out all of your energy. “That's worse than hurting me, sheriff.”

“Now why is that? Your family misses you.”

“I'd rather you shoot me with him than bring me back home.” Hobie listens in, guilt gnawing at his insides.

Sheriff Lee makes a face, befuddled by your words. “You’d rather die?”

“Without hesitation.”

He nods, looking like he's weighing his choices. “Now that's the love of a woman right there. I've only seen it a couple of times, one is from my own wife.” More ashes fall from his cigarette, the stick getting smaller and smaller with every exhale. Hobie uses it as a countdown. It's near, he can feel it from the rumble on the tracks.

Hobie scoffs, “‘m surprised that your wife stuck around with your ugly mug.” His fingers subtly unclasp the whip hanging on his belt.

Lee runs out of patience, clicking the hammer of his pistol, “this is for my son.” The last of the ashes from the cigarette falls, light completely going out from the stick.

Your eyes widens, body already moving to shield Hobie. In an instant, He yells, “Run!” Darkness engulfs the entire train car, gunshots let out muzzle flashes of light as the lawmen shoot with panic in their trigger fingers. You run forward, bodying Lee in the process. You hear the crack of a whip as you shield your head with your arms.

You land on the metal door, vision still dark while you blindly feel for the doorknob. Panicking, a familiar form presses behind you, immediately finding the doorknob and opening it for you. Stepping outside in a rush, you almost fall off the train if not for your reflexes making you hold onto the railing beside you.

With a creak of the door closing, gunshots muffling, you spot Hobie's silhouette amidst the darkness, you can't decipher what he's doing with the door. Noticing the rain has stopped, you look above, but in a second, rain hits your form like a waterfall, and the moon shines brightly. You were in a tunnel, and Hobie knew that the dark would give you an escape.

“Holy shit!” Like a thunderbolt, you whirl around to face Hobie to either kiss him or hug him. But you're met with his pained face, hand clutching his side as blood seeps out from his fingers. “No, no, no!” You press hard on his wound, he yelps, but he's grinning at you. “This isn't funny!”

He smiles wider, you think he has lost it. “It isn't, I just can't believe you told me you love me in there.”

You'd smack his shoulder if not for his injury. “You're an idiot, Hobie Brown,” he laughs, you smile, “a brilliant idiot.”

“I am quite brilliant.” You nod, tears mixing in with rain water, kissing his cheeks, you hear a muffled, “I can't believe that worked.” From him, so you pepper more kisses on his wet cheeks. “‘m lovin’ this, but we need to uncouple the cars. And we have an audience.”

You look over your shoulder, hands still on his wound. Two men look at you from the smokestack, one pauses from shoveling coal into the engine while the train driver blinks rapidly in shock.

“We're commandeering this train,” Hobie straightens up, jumping over the gap to get to the controls. Both men don't even protest, just silently raising their hands in mock surrender. He makes them stand in the corner that's further away from the controls, they obey. “C’mon, love.” He beckons you over, fingers opening and closing.

You hold out your hand just as when there's loud banging on the other side of the doors. Jumping the gap, you stand chest to chest with Hobie. There's hope yet for you two to safely escape.

The door doesn't budge from how Hobie locked it using his whip to tie the doorknob around the railing on the side. But it won't hold on forever.

The scenery has changed from the mountainside to a straight muddy plain. The tracks seem to go on forever, and you can see the next station just a few meters away.

“Alright,” He looks at the confusing controls. “Which button to unclasp the cars?” He thanks his adrenaline for keeping him on his feet.

“No button,” the one with the official looking uniform says. “You have to do it manually.” He glances at the floor where there's metal connecting the engine to the carriages.

You immediately get on your knees, wet hands sliding on the rusted metal. Desperately pulling on the large nail that connects both winches. You keep trying to pull it off. Your hands slide off so you try again. And again. Your hands smell of rust. And again. But it's all in vain, the hold is too strong.

“Shit—!” Hobie tries to help by crouching down but his wound denies him. Wincing, he lays his head against the wall, eyes flicking between you and the door that's barely holding on. He weakly raises his gun, seeing the chambers now devoid of any ammo. “Fucker.” He tries to find more bullets from his bandolier and pockets, but he finds none.

You look at the two men wordlessly watching you fail. The rain and harsh wind still smacks your face. “Please, those men on the other side will kill us if you don't help.”

The driver shrugs and joins you on the floor, but instead of pulling onto the nail, he leans further down, sliding his hand underneath the winch and turning a wheel counter clockwise.

“You turn, not pull.” He says to you, continuing to loosen the connection.

“Now you tell me.”

Hobie tells the other person to keep shoveling in coal so when the engine is free, the four of you would be way ahead of the car. The engine runs hotter with every coal shoved inside, you suddenly feel warm, clothes slowly drying from the intense heat.

You can see the metal loosening, you'd exhale a relieved breath but the door bursts open. Sheriff Lee comes out covered in blood with a pistol. One eye closed and bleeding. Behind him, you can see the bodies of his men littered around the car, all shot to bits, the seats covered in their blood. Only Lee and a couple of them survived who now stood beside him while clutching their gunshot wounds.

“You made me shoot my own men!” He seethes, without a beat, he shoots but his aim isn't straight. The bullet pierces the man helping you. His headless body falls limp and falls out of the train and under the tracks, leaving crimson trails behind.

You don't have time to scream when his warm blood splashes across your face and sleeves. Hobie grabs you to the side, a small sliver of metal wall shielding you both. His hand shields your head, arms encasing you. The train passes by the last station in a blur.

The other train worker does the same, crouching down on the other side, shielded by the same small wall. Hobie sees the man's pistol hidden in the waistband of his denim jeans.

“Oi!” He yells above the gunshots, “throw me your gun!”

“What?! No!”

“You're not even bloody using it!”

“You're an asshole!”

“Just give us the fucking gun!” You yell back in a quick tone.

With a shake of the stranger's head, he reluctantly tosses you the gun. Lee sees the opportunity and shoots the guy's hand. He screams as blood gushes out, the gun clangs on the floor just an arm away from you.

The poor man's screams get louder, and suddenly he stands up, pushing himself off the floor and jumping out of the moving train and into the muddled swampy ground. You don't know if he survived the jump, or if the gators got to him first.

Hobie whispers a shocked, “what the fuck,” in your ears. He groans as his wound gets rattled by the tracks. “The gun,” before he could even get a toe outside, a bullet nicks the steel point of his boots. Taking his foot back, he curses and punches the wall behind him in frustration.

You stare at the weapon that's slowly moving downwards and into the space between the cars and engine. It's going to fall off if you don't act fast.

“They need to reload.”

“What?” Hobie asks tiredly. He hears the guns click, indicating that they've run out, “wait— Y/N, no!”

Without missing a beat, you reach towards the gun swiftly before they finish reloading. Hobie yanks you back the second you get the gun in your hand. A bullet pierces the floor where you were just a second ago.

“Get the fuck out of there!” Lee taunts.

You clutch the gun on your chest. Checking the chamber, you only see two bullets in it. Hobie leans over to see it. “Fuck!” You both say simultaneously.

“We've got two shots at this, Y/N.” Hobie looks at you, his green eyes gets darker even though dawn is just about arriving. His hand slides around the gun and your hand. “Let me do it.”

You shake your head, briefly laying your forehead on his. “No, you've done more than enough.”

He furrows his brows, “let me do it, love, I owe you that much.” It's not because he doesn't trust you and your aim, he knows better than that. He just doesn't want you to be in their crosshairs again.

The gunshots seize, without a reply, you leave his side, sliding on the floor to shoot. You find no one on the other side, just a brief last look at Lee's retreating back. Hobie pulls you back in, “they left.” You say, confused. Standing up, you help Hobie up, eyes widening at the front of the train.

“Cowards.” He says with a victorious smile. He expects you to smile back but you only have a look of terror. “What is it?” He follows your line of sight, and sees the lack of tracks looming closer and closer. “Fuckin' hell!” Hands immediately trying to pull down the brakes, he ignores the pain on his side as he keeps trying to push it down with his weight. “Y/N!” Looking over his shoulder, he sees you crouched down, uncoupling the car from the engine. Within a second, you free the train cars, leaving it in the dust as it slowly comes to a stop. He thinks of Bucky and Cherry, and the innocent passengers.

You turn to face him with glossy eyes, the rain has subsided, grey clouds parting away for sunlight. Hobie shakes his head, refusing to give up as the train chugs on, smoke billowing out. Pushing the brakes down, he feels your hands wrap around his own.

“Together.” You say, smiling softly just like how you did amidst the crowd back home.

He nods, your hands are uncharacteristically cold against his own. “Together.”

With one final push from the two of you, railway workers run away from the tracks they're working on as they see you continue to move fast. They yell and wave their hands to get your attention, but your eyes are only on Hobie's face. Everything happens slowly, the brakes screech, sparks flying as metal hits steel, but the momentum is too fast, and the engine bursts from the speed and heat. You slam against the controls with a sickening thud. Arms embrace you as the train crashes and you're once again in darkness.

—

Hobie's head throbs, he feels numb, fingers tingling, and his field of vision is blurry. Blobs of colours fly past him, screams muffled in his ears as if he's caught under the tides. He tries to blink the fuzziness away, after a few weak tries, he sees your bloodied soot-covered face, and feels your hands on his cheeks.; desperately holding on to him.

“Hobie!” You cry. He wants to comfort you and tell you everything will be alright. “Someone help us please!”

His perception darkens, inky spots appearing just as he sees a metal beast creak and groan while it burns in the fiery destruction. There's hundreds of fiber-like metal bursting out from within, like an angel losing its wings, fallen from grace. That's the last thing he sees before he succumbs to the pain.

—

“Try to keep him awake!” An unfamiliar person says.

Hobie feels like there's water inside his head, sloshing around in his pain-addled brain. He forces his heavy eyelids to open, Bucky's face greets him. I'm dead, he thinks, then your hands wrap around his own, squeezing a dozen times. “I'm in heaven then,” he tries to speak but it only comes out as a jumbled mess of words.

“Stay awake, Hobie!” You yell, “please! Hurry up, mister! He's starting to bleed from his ears!”

“Love—” he says before blacking out again.

—

His nose picks up something musty in the air, it's humid, crickets chirping outside, and he's sweating a lot. His head still aches, a pounding pain right behind his eyes. Hand reaching upwards, he feels bandages wrapped around his head, groaning in pain at the simple gesture. He smacks his lips, realizing that his throat is dry. Time has passed, he surmises based on how his wounds are starting to itch, indicating that it has been at least a few days.

He opens his eyes wide, panic settles in his stomach, remembering your terrified bloody face looming above him. Sitting up from the lumpy bed, his sight darkens for a second from how fast he sat up. Whispering your name, he coughs dryly, arm perching him up. He calls again, a bit louder this time, but he doesn't hear a pip anywhere except for the rushing water outside and the insects.

“Love?” He heaves, rolling to the side. Moving his heavy head up, he sees your coat draped over a lone armchair, but still no you. “Y/N!” Yelling with all his might even though his head bangs against his skull. After a few seconds, his ears pick up your muffled voice that seems to be coming below him. He calls once again with a soft smile on his lips, hands fisting the sheets when a wave of pain crashes down on him.

Ears ringing from the blinding pain, he's sure he hears numerous unfamiliar voices downstairs. He blinks the warbling vision away, then his heart picks up pace from the sound of a loud thud. Eyeing the plain door, your piercing scream brings his greatest fear come to life.

Support banner by @/cafekitsune

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knightwithakay · 3 months ago

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swordfighting observations

when I had only been doing HEMA for a little while, I turned to a friend and said: "this is going to ruin fictional swordfighting for me, isn't it?" and he said, immediately: "yep."

THAT SAID, a lot of live fencing still happens too quickly for me to really track and process what is and isn't happening. so the one fictional swordfighting thing I've always wondered about is the only one I'll speak to here, and that is

TWO SWORDS CLASH IN THE MIDDLE DISTANCE, BLADE TO BLADE. A WITTY QUIP IS EXCHANGED. ONE FIGHTER LEANS IN, TRYING TO EXERT POWER; THE OTHER DOES THE SAME; ONE BEGINS TO GAIN GROUND, FORCING THE OTHER BACKWARDS FROM SHEER FORCE ALONE

hey guys, I'm always thinking at this point. hot stuff, but couldn't you just like...move the sword as soon as it's clear brute force ain't gonna do it?

So I will be talking about the longsword concepts of binding and winding and also some anecdotal observation of my year and change learning both longsword and greatsword.

Obligatory caveat that I'm specifically speaking to concepts as I've learned em as German KDF longsword fencing, or as montante fencing, and I don't do shit with one-handed weapons.

First up: Binding. In longsword, your priorities are as follows: 1) keep the other person from hitting you 2) hit the other person, in that order. In the course of 1, it is pretty frequent that your swords will hit each other and hold. This is called the bind. I'm told that with sharp swords the bind is actually fairly literal; when two sharpened edges, potentially with burs and other rough spots, come into contact, they do lock into place rather than sliding around.

You can have a strong bind, when the lowest and more powerful part of your blade is in contact with the upper portion of your enemy's; a weak bind, when your upper sword is trying to exert pressure on their lower sword; or a neutral bind, where you both meet in the middle, as our lovebirds are doing.

Keeping the bind is actually pretty desirable sometimes, for a very straightforward reason: you know immediately where your enemy's sword is if you're in contact with it, and you have some leverage over it. Being in physical contact with the sword as it moves is much more immediate feedback that trying to visually track and defend against it. So the idea of these two homoerotic duelers maintaining contact long enough to quip is not actually that crazy.

Just sticking there and leaning at each other, however, is. Enter winding! In a nutshell, winding is the act of keeping your sword in the bind but positioning it such that you have an advantage. This can look like moving from a neutral bind to a strong bind, moving the tip of their sword from a threatening position to one where they can't reach you, or getting into a place where you can stab them in the face from the bind or even hit them with the pommel (classic). Physically, you're shifting the placement and direction of the sword, moving from guard to guard (from low on your hip to above your head, or switching side of the body) to try and find the advantage while maintaining pressure on their sword.

With two people who know what they're doing, winding can be very fluid and almost dance-like, as both fencers react to the other person, maintain contact, and fight for control through a series of different positions.

So! In summary, I want to see fewer fictional duelists wrenching their arms and shoulders by struggling to physically shove someone via sword, and more elaborate and flashy maneuvers as they negotiate via swordplay who's on top.

MONTANTE ANECDOTE TIME:

Because the weapon I prefer and click with more is a giant fuckin sword, I am not very good with binding. This was actually the first instance I noted of my greatsword stuff influencing my longsword stuff; when meeting another sword, I have a tendency to try and swing straight through it instead of arresting momentum to meet in the bind. With a montante, this is very easily done, because of the greater weight and momentum, and in fact a big component of the style; you're meant to be constantly in motion to maintain momentum, and you knock weapons away and then swing back around for the second hit. Trying to suddenly stop a montante is how you hurt yourself.

With a longsword, this has mixed results. Benefits: most longsword fencers aren't expecting me to do that, because it's the type of shit a beefy fella very confident in his strength would do, and I am only slightly more intimidating than a pasta noodle. So it sometimes tricks them into trying to react to a bind that doesn't come, and sometimes places my sword out of reach before they know what's happening, and if I am correctly maintaining my own momentum and being smart I can get the hit. Cons: it moves my sword out of position, and when I'm not presenting a threat I get hit. Additionally, if I meet one of those aforementioned beefy fellas and try this I may just get stopped cold, and then I have to wind. Figuring out how to implement this more purposefully than instinctively is on my to-do list as soon as it's cool enough to put on all of my padded sparring gear again.

#a kay in the life #HEMA #longsword #montante #greatsword #sword practice #sword fighting #writing reference

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a-court-of-fics-and-errors · 5 months ago

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Keep Moving Forwards, Part 40

Azriel x Reader Fic

Summary: After finally deciding to leave your abusive and manipulative mate for good, you find unexpected companionship with Azriel, the Shadowsinger of the Night Court. As you navigate the aftermath of your traumatic relationship, you struggle to understand where the mating bond went wrong and contemplate your path forward, vowing never to return to the past.

Find other parts here: Master List

To follow this fic, follow tag "Keep Moving Forwards Fic" or comment to be tagged in future parts.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of extreme emotional manipulation and abuse, detailed descriptions of direct physical abuse, and scenes of men hunting women with implied sexual assault. Please read at your own risk.

Word Count: 5.3K

Author's Note: This is a multi-part series. Unlike my previous works, this fanfiction delves deeper than just fluff, exploring complex emotional landscapes. As I navigate this new writing journey, I kindly ask for gentle feedback. The topics addressed are profoundly impactful, touching many lives with diverse experiences. Please be gentle with yourselves and others. Healing is a journey, and everyone processes it differently. Be kind to yourself. Take what resonates, and leave what doesn’t.

Please continue reading, being aware of the above content warnings, ensuring you are in a healthy headspace. Give yourself time to process and be gentle with yourself.

The nightmare that plagued you every night was just one of many torments your mind conjured up to punish you. Despite the comforting presence of Azriel's arms wrapped tightly around you, his protection wasn’t enough to ward off the relentless attacks from your own subconscious. Each time you woke up drenched in sweat, eyes wide and screaming, Azriel would do his best to hold onto you, to ground you in reality and remind you of who and where you were. But even as he tried to anchor you, your mind would still be lost in the grips of the dream, where Azriel was not himself but a monster wearing his skin. As much as he worried about you, you worried right back for him. Though your own eyes were now perpetually bruised and blue-tinged, Azriel's lack of rest was also beginning to take its toll on him. You would often find him falling asleep at his desk, struggling to stay focused during conversations, or napping on the couch in the Town House in the middle of the day, desperate for some respite. But he never complained, never mentioned being tired, no matter how much you pressed him to admit it.

No one spoke of what happened that night. Not even Azriel. There were no more discussions about your newfound bloodline and its potential consequences, no whispered conversations about how it might impact your work as a member of the court. It seemed like business as usual for everyone else, but deep down, you couldn't help but wonder if there were secret meetings happening without your knowledge. Perhaps they were trying to protect you from any further trauma or pain. You held your breath every time Azriel returned home from meeting with Rhys, hoping for any sign or clue, but all he ever did was smile and kiss you before going about his day as if nothing had changed. And so you tried to do the same - put on a brave face, return the smiles and kind gestures, maintain a sense of normalcy like everyone else seemed to be doing. But in moments when no one was looking, whether it was in the shower or alone in the Town House or hidden away in a quiet alley of Velaris, you would break down into sobs that wracked your body and left your head throbbing with pain. After all the time and effort the members of the Night Court had put into helping you heal and get better, you couldn't bear to burden them with your struggles again. Especially since there didn't seem to be any immediate threat looming over you.

Philip hadn't attempted to contact you again, and perhaps his only intention was to throw another jab at you and hope to destabilize you or the court. And unfortunately, it worked - on the inside, at least.

A niggling feeling persisted in the back of your mind, a conversation that took place just a few months ago. You were standing outside the door of the House of Wind in Velaris, straining to hear what the three males inside were saying before Rhys escorted you to the city gates. It was something that had slipped from your memory until that night when Philip approached you. Azriel had posed the question, his voice laced with doubt, "Do you think he could be her father?" And Rhysand's response had been filled with certainty, “I would recognize that voice anywhere.” At the time, it hadn't struck you as important, but now as questions and unexpected answers arise, you realize the gravity of that moment and how it has come full circle. As you stood once again in Velaris, a place you never thought you'd return to after you first left, everything falls into place like puzzle pieces finally connecting. —

You rap your knuckles on the heavy oak door of Azriel’s study, the aged wood creaking slightly in response. The door is already cracked open, and you can hear the sound of pages being turned from within. “Come in,” his deep voice calls out. You push the door open, the hinges squeaking slightly as you enter the room. As your eyes adjust to the dim light, they immediately lock onto Azriel's beautiful hazel gaze. It shines like a beacon in the shadows, drawing you towards him. He smiles at you, and your heart flutters in your chest. “Hi,” he greets you softly.

You walk towards him, your steps hesitant and slow, each one feeling like a weight dragging you down. You return his smile with a small one of your own. “Hey.”

Azriel leans back in his chair, his wings unfolding gracefully behind him as he runs his hand through his already tousled hair. “What’s up?” he asks.

You make your way over to his desk, leaning against it with your hips as you wrap your arms around yourself. Azriel's gaze never leaves yours, that smile still firmly planted on his lips. Your hands rub up and down your arms instinctively, as if trying to ward off the cold even though you know the only chill is inside you. You look down at him, chewing on your bottom lip nervously. He notices your discomfort and furrows his brow slightly. “Everything okay?” he asks, leaning forward slightly.

You nod, glancing away from him briefly before shrugging lightly. Everything isn’t okay, or it may not be after you ask this question.

At your shrug, Azriel tilts his head curiously. “What’s up?”

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you let your hands fall to your sides and brace yourself on the desk as you focus on the wall behind him. One leg bounces lightly, tapping against the wooden floor. “I wanted to ask you about something,” you start, your teeth finding a loose piece of skin on your lip and latching onto it, chewing lightly.

“Yeah?” Azriel responds, still maintaining a casual tone but there is a hint of trepidation in his voice.

You already begin talking yourself out of the conversation. “I may be remembering this wrong,” you shake your head slightly as if trying to dislodge the memory, “But back when I first came here-"

Azriel leans forward even more, resting his forearms on his thighs as he listens intently.

"When I was leaving, I overheard the end of a conversation you were having with Rhys and Cassian." Azriel's eyes harden slightly, and you can't tell if he's searching through his own memories or trying to come up with a plan to respond to where you're leading.

"It was after that night that Rhys had to go into my mind to pull me out of that dream, and he saw my mother with a male." Azriel nods in understanding.

"He said he recognized that male's voice," the small piece of skin finally comes free between your teeth, causing your lip to throb slightly. "And you asked if that could be my father."

Azriel's intense gaze never leaves yours as you turn your head to face him. You search his eyes, desperately trying to find any indication that he might deny it. But all you see is silence. It speaks louder than any words he could have said.

"Azriel, did you know?" Your voice trembles with emotion.

An oppressive silence hangs in the air, stretching out for what feels like an eternity before Azriel finally breaks it. His voice is hesitant and filled with a heavy weight. "I had suspicions," he admits.

You remain silent, your eyes focused on a point on the bookshelf across from you. In this moment, both of you are shrouded in stillness, but Azriel's eyes never leave you as he speaks. Your mind struggles to make sense of the situation, to form some coherent thought. Finally, you settle on one question. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Azriel leans back in his chair, his hand finding its way into his hair as his leg begins to bounce nervously. He may try to appear brooding and enigmatic, but you know him all too well. You can read his tells, and right now, he's fighting to keep his composure. "Rhys didn't want us to," he explains.

"Why not?" You turn your gaze to him, hardening.

Azriel's eyes search yours before he responds carefully, "He didn't think it mattered at the time."

"Did any of you consider it mattering anytime after that? Like when I got back? Or when I met him at the party?" You ask harshly, more than you intended. But your blood is boiling under your skin and you can't help the sharpness in your tone.

Azriel nods lightly, "It didn't cross my mind until I saw him."

"And you didn't think it might be helpful to pull me aside and clue me in on that little detail?" You hiss, your anger flaring.

"Y/N-" Azriel starts to defend himself, running a hand over his face in frustration.

You cut him off sharply. Your gaze hardens, your nose scrunching up in disgust as you continue,

"It's my life, Azriel."

"I know," he whispers, his face turning pale.

You shake your head, your knee bouncing harder with agitation. "Azriel, why would you keep this from me? How could you?"

"You have to believe me when I say it wasn't intentional. Y/N, I only wanted to keep you safe," Azriel pleads, his palms facing towards you.

You scoff and let out a bitter laugh as your gaze falls to the floor. Your foot kicks at an imaginary speck of dust as you seethe, "Certainly seems intentional. Was safety more important than my right to know the truth about my own family? Or is it because of Rhysand’s orders?"

Azriel looks down hesitantly, “It wasn’t just about Rhys. I couldn’t risk…”

You interrupt him, your voice breaking. “Risk what? My feelings? My trust in you?”

“I… I didn’t want to lose you. And I didn’t want you to get hurt in the process. That's why I had Cassian go get you that night," Azriel admits, looking remorseful.

You turn your hardened gaze back to him, your mouth filled with spite as you ask, "So who else knew?"

Azriel pauses for a moment before considering his answer. "Don't lie to me, Azriel," you warn.

"Only Cassian, Rhys, and myself," he confesses.

"That's it?" You confirm.

Azriel nods solemnly. "That's it.”

You nervously bite your lip again, trying to control the overwhelming emotions bubbling within you. Your tear-filled eyes glance back at the bookshelf, unable to meet Azriel's gaze as you struggle to find words. "Azriel," you begin, your voice quivering with emotion, "Why would you keep this from me?"

Azriel lets out a heavy sigh and leans forward, his intense eyes scanning your face. "I just wanted to keep you safe," he says softly.

Your eyes flicker up to meet his, filled with pain and betrayal. "What were you so afraid of? Me leaving? Or Rhysand, or whoever else decided it was best to keep this dirty little secret?" Your voice grows angry and accusatory.

Azriel swallows hard, looking pained. "Maybe we should talk to Rhysand-" he starts, but you quickly cut him off with a shake of your head.

"No," you say firmly, holding up one finger to stop him. "This isn't about Rhysand. I'll deal with him later." Your gaze hardens on Azriel's hazel stare, which looks empty and lost. "This is about you and me. And the fact that I've spent the last few months getting falling in fucking love with you while you've been keeping such a huge secret from me, someone who you claim to care so much about, because Rhysand told you not to share it with me. So tell me, Azriel, what the hell is wrong with that picture?"

Azriel stands up, taking a hesitant step towards you with his arms outstretched as if wanting to comfort you. But you take a step back, your throat catching in a sob as you hold out your hand to stop him. "Don't touch me," you hiss through gritted teeth.

"Y/N," Azriel pleads desperately, saying your name like a prayer. "You have to understand that I only did it to protect you."

"Well that clearly didn't work," you retort, your voice laced with bitterness. "In fact, it backfired spectacularly." You feel the hot tears welling up in your eyes as you shake your head in disbelief.

"I know," Azriel continues, trying to close the distance between you. "And I'm so sorry."

You let out a bitter laugh. "Everyone's always so damn sorry. It’s like the background of my life." You shake your head again, feeling the sting of betrayal and heartache. "You're all the same, aren't you?" You hiss out, anger seeping through your words.

Azriel's eyes widen in shock and pleading, begging you not to finish that thought.

"You just manipulate us and string us along," you continue, the words tumbling out faster than you can process them. "You tell us what we want to hear and keep anything that might disrupt your perfect little world hidden from us." You pause for a moment before adding, "So I guess I'm sorry too. Sorry that you wasted your time trying to fix something that was never meant to be fixed."

Azriel's face contorts with pain and desperation as you hold back the sobs that threaten to escape your throat. You stand across from him, feeling the tether between you fray and snap with each passing second.

"Please," Azriel insists, taking a step closer, but you shake your head resolutely. His eyes fix on yours, pleading. "Just let me get Rhysand here so he can explain."

You meet his gaze with steely determination. "Even if he explains it, it doesn't change what you did."

Azriel nods in understanding. "I know that." Your stare is unwavering, but inside your heart is breaking. "Can I please bring him here?" he begs.

You wipe away tears with trembling hands and nod reluctantly. Azriel's relief is palpable, but you can't bring yourself to comfort him. He speaks to Rhysand through their bond before refocusing on you. "He’s on his way."

—

Your gaze pierces through the High Lord of the Night Court, sharp enough to cut through metal. Rhysand sits across from you at the coffee table, Azriel standing stiffly by the mantle watching the two of you square off.

"You knew." You hiss at Rhysand, your voice filled with frustration and accusation.

"I wasn't sure," he responds calmly, calculating every word.

"You were sure enough.”

"What if we were wrong?" He challenges. "What if we told you our suspicions and it turned out to be a mistake?"

"Then I would still be grateful that you trusted me enough to share and we wouldn't be having this conversation." You reply sharply.

“It would have put you in more danger" Rhysand counters.

"Then tell me not to go. Tell me your suspicions and give me all the details. Don't hide it from me," you retort, frustration boiling over.

"At the time, you were leaving," Rhysand continues.

"Then what harm would have come from telling me? I was already out of your hair, just tell me," you argue, feeling your emotions getting the better of you.

"We were trying to protect you, to keep you safe," Rhysand insists.

"By keeping me in the dark?" You scoff incredulously. "That's not protection, Rhysand. That's control."

"Control?" Rhysand repeats, his voice dangerously low. "Is that what you think I'm doing? I care about you; I would never put you in harm's way intentionally."

"You care about me?" You snap, disbelief coloring your tone. "If you truly cared, you would have trusted me enough to handle the truth, instead of treating me like some fragile porcelain doll that needs to be shielded from every harsh reality."

"I have spent centuries protecting those I care for, making difficult choices to ensure their safety," Rhysand counters, his expression darkening.

"But that doesn't give you the right to decide what I can handle, Rhysand," you retort. "I've spent my entire life being controlled by others, being manipulated and thrown around like I'm nothing. And this is just another example of that."

Silence settles heavily between the two of you as you both glare at each other, the tension crackling in the air.

Finally, you break the silence. "I am not a pawn in your game, Rhysand. I am not your possession to be guarded and controlled at your whim."

Rhysand's expression darkens even further, wounded pride flashing in his eyes. "I have always only wanted to keep you safe," he says, his voice strained with emotion.

"Safe from what? The truth?" You scoff, unable to mask the hurt in your voice.

"You may not understand the weight of those responsibilities," Rhysand says quietly.

"I may not understand them," you admit, "but that still doesn't give you the right to take away my agency and treat me like a child."

For a moment, it looks like Rhysand might explode with anger. But then his expression softens and he looks at you with genuine regret. "I never meant to make you feel that way," he says sincerely.

You let out a bitter laugh. "Well, you did. If you had told me, I would have been prepared," you say, frustration still lacing your words.

"But what if it had turned out to be a false alarm? We didn't want to cause unnecessary panic," Rhysand counters.

"I would rather have been prepared and panicked than caught off guard and vulnerable," you argue, feeling your anger flare up again.

Azriel shifts uncomfortably behind Rhysand, sensing the tension crackling in the air. He opens his mouth to speak but closes it again, wisely choosing to stay out of the escalation.

"Do you really think I'm capable of handling anything that comes my way?" You ask him seriously. "I've fought for myself my entire life. I can handle the truth."

"I know you can," Rhysand says with a hint of regret in his voice. "But I still wanted to protect you from the burden." Rhysand’s gaze drops to the floor. “You already have so much riding against you.”

"I don't need your protection, Rhysand," you say firmly. "I need your trust."

The intensity in Rhysand's eyes gives you goosebumps as he speaks. "Y/N, I can't undo the past. I can't erase the pain that still lingers inside of you," he says, his voice heavy with regret.

You scoff, crossing your arms tighter around yourself. "Excuses won't change anything, Rhysand."

He takes a deep breath, his gaze unwavering. "But what I can promise you is that there will be no more secrets. No more lies or manipulations. You have my word on that."

Your gaze shifts to Azriel as you stand up, determined to hold him accountable as well. Rhysand watches with a hint of unease as you make your way to the shadowsinger, who remains perched silently in the corner of the room.

"Swear it," you demand, your voice dripping with venom.

Azriel's eyes search yours, a flicker of pain crossing his features before he nods. "I swear," he whispers.

In that moment, a burst of tingling energy spreads across your arm, leaving behind intricate black spirals that coil and dance like living creatures. Simultaneously, a matching tattoo appears on Azriel's skin, a symbol of the unbreakable vow.

You turn back towards Rhysand, who watches in a mix of awe and concern at the bond forged between you and Azriel.

"Are we done here?" you ask sharply.

Rhysand nods slowly, understanding dawning on his face. "Yes," he replies softly.

Without another glance back at either of them, you stalk out of the room, your hand trailing down the newly marked ink on your arm.

—

As you slip out of the house, the heavy wooden door slams shut behind you. Your feet carry you with a sense of urgency, desperate for some kind of refuge amongst the fae who have no ties to your life. Each step feels heavier than the last, as if trying to outrun the anger that has taken root in your heart. The bustling streets are alive with activity, colorful storefronts and vibrant market stands lining the cobblestone path. Families laugh and play, while others seek pleasure in the lively city. But you hardly acknowledge them, lost in your own thoughts and troubles as you trudge without direction.

Time seems to pass by in a blur as you weave through the throngs of people. It's long after dark when you find yourself back at the Town House, its warm lights flickering invitingly inside. You exhale deeply as you stand at the base of the steps, before finally making your way up and slipping inside.

You kick off your shoes and toss them into the closet before removing your jacket. As you do, Azriel pops his head out from the sitting room entrance with a look of surprise and relief in his eyes.

"Hey," he says softly. "I didn't know if you were coming back." He steps closer as you hang up your coat.

You brush past him without a word, heading straight for the kitchen. Azriel follows behind, only a few steps behind. You open the cabinets, pulling down a bowl and a batch of granola that Elain had made and left for you. The crunchy mix falls into the bowl with a satisfying tinkling sound as you fill it with milk. Perching yourself on the counter, your feet dangle above the floor as you begin eating.

"I can make something for you," Azriel offers, lingering in the doorway.

You don't bother looking up from your bowl as you continue to spoon in mouthfuls of the sweet mixture. "I'm already eating.”

Azriel watches you for a moment, shifting his weight from side to side as he debates whether or not to say anything else. "I just wanted to say again how sorry I am.”

Your eyes flick up to meet his gaze for a moment before returning back to your food. "It's done now," you shrug indifferently.

Azriel hesitates for a moment before approaching you, perching himself on the opposite end of the counter. He searches your face for any sign of forgiveness, his shadows flickering restlessly around him.

"I know sorry isn't enough," he starts, his voice laced with regret. "But I truly am. I should have been more transparent with you from the beginning."

You swallow another spoonful of granola before meeting his gaze. "Transparency would have been a good start," you reply coolly.

Azriel nods, his silver eyes reflecting a mixture of guilt and determination. "I understand if you can't trust me right now. But I want to make things right.”

You gently place your bowl down, turning to meet his gaze. His eyes, once vivid, now appear faded with a haunting hue of remorse and anguish etched across his face. It's as if the weight of your disappointment is physically unbearable for him to bear. "How do we move forwards?" Your inquiry is heartfelt, a plea born from uncertainty. Every fiber of your being yearns to seek solace in his embrace, those strong arms that have held you through countless nights, relinquishing control. Yet, a persistent ache at the back of your mind warns you; it reminds you that Azriel may not be different from those males who have caused you so much pain.

Azriel bites his lip, his voice tinged with earnestness. "It’s about rebuilding trust," he proposes.

"So, it all rests on me making a change?" Your words carry a hint of accusation.

"No," his tone deepens as he reaches out, clasping your arms, positioning himself directly in front of you. "No, I need to also prove to you that trust can be restored."

Tears well up in your eyes as you shake your head in turmoil. "I want to believe in us, Azriel. Truly, I do."

A flicker of hope lights up his features, uncertainty melting away as he realizes your genuine desire to bridge the gap between you both.

Tears welled in your eyes, "I wish I could stop all of this." Your confession falls from your lips in a soft pained whisper. The weight of the world presses down harder on you, and you wish for nothing more than to make it all stop.

Azriel’s hand moves hesitantly, cupping your chin and lifting your gaze to meet his. In his eyes, there is hope, light, and certainty that feels intoxicating, but you can’t help but worry if you can ever feel the same.

"If I could take it all away for you, I would," he whispered, his voice laced with determination. "I would drain oceans for you, fight dragons and demons, even slay the Mother herself if it meant making things better for you."

You smile lightly at his declaration, a small laugh escaping your lips. Azriel’s own smile grows wider as he leans closer to you. "I would tear mountains from the ground and burn the deserts," he continued.

"Oh, would you?" You question, a single tear slipping down your face.

"The things I would do for you would land me in a dank dark dungeon somewhere," he admits, a hint of humor in his voice. "But for you, it would be worth it."

"To suffer me?" You ask with a shaky voice.

"I will suffer you day after day," he responds without hesitation. His forehead presses against yours as you giggle lightly. Azriel’s lips tug into a smile revealing his teeth before it falters, his eyes shutting. "I'm so sorry, Y/N."

You hesitate for a moment before wrapping your arms around his neck. "I know," you say softly

Azriel's hands moved down to your hips, gently grasping them as his fingers brushed against your exposed skin.

The kitchen was dimly lit, but the warmth radiating from Azriel's embrace made you feel safe and calm. Though a nagging feeling of distrust lingered in the back of your mind, it was drowned out by the sound of his steady heartbeat and his intoxicating scent. You found yourself leaning into him, savoring this moment of peace together.

Azriel opened his eyes and smiled at you, causing your heart to skip a beat. His hands remained on your hips as you leaned back against the cabinet, your legs swinging off the edge next to him.

But then Azriel spoke up, breaking the silence. "I do have one thing to ask," he said, his voice laced with humor.

You raised an eyebrow in response. "You really think you're in any position to make requests?" you teased.

Azriel shook his head and chuckled. "No, not like that. Just a clarification," he clarified.

Curiosity piqued, you turned to fully face him, waiting for him to continue.

His hazel eyes met yours as he spoke the words that made your heart stop. "You said you were falling in love with me."

Your eyes widened in surprise, but quickly masked your reaction. "No I didn't," you denied, shaking your head even though deep down you knew it was true. You remembered that moment when you had accidentally let slip that small secret of yours.

Azriel only looked at you with a knowing expression. "Pretty sure you did. When you were yelling at me...you said it."

Biting down on your lip with trepidation, you carefully weighed his words. "Can we just pretend it was a heated mistake?" you asked, trying to shrug off the gravity of his implications.

But Azriel's tone turned serious as he spoke again. "Listen, Y/N," he said, his voice grave. "If you didn't mean it, if it was just a slip of the tongue, then I'll understand." His intense gaze locked onto yours, his expression unreadable. "But I need to know...do you truly mean it?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you searched for any hint of deceit in his captivating hazel eyes. But all you found was a deep desire and longing that threatened to consume you whole. He seemed to be begging for an answer, but which one did he want?

Summoning your courage, you made a decision. "No more hiding," you whispered, leaning closer to him.

He nodded in understanding.

With adrenaline coursing through your veins, you spoke the words that had been weighing heavily on your heart.

"Azriel," you paused, feeling his heart stop beating at the sound of his name, "I am falling deeply in love with you."

Azriel's breath hitched at your confession. For a moment, time seemed to stand still around both of you as the only sound was the pounding of his heart in his chest. His eyes widened in disbelief, a glimmer of hope sparking within them as he studied your face for any signs of falsity.

"I..." Azriel struggled to find the words, overcome with emotion. He reached out and gently cupped your face in his hands, his touch featherlight. "I never dared to dream that you could feel the same way."

His words hung in the air, a fragile moment suspended in time as you both stood on the brink of something new and uncharted. The weight of your shared confessions resonated off the walls of the kitchen, entwining your fates in ways you never thought possible. Azriel's touch was both tender and intense, threatening to consume you with its passion.

As you looked into his eyes, you saw a reflection of your own vulnerabilities staring back at you. The walls around your heart trembled under his penetrating gaze, daring you to open up completely. In that moment, you made a choice - to trust not only him but also yourself.

Taking a deep breath, you steadied your nerves before meeting his unwavering gaze head-on. "I do," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I mean it, Azriel. I love you."

Azriel's eyes shimmered with unshed tears, his grip on your face tightening ever so slightly as he processed your words. The weight of the moment hung heavy in the air, the tension crackling between you both like electricity. Emotions swirled around you in a tumultuous storm, threatening to drown you in their intensity.

A moment passed in silence before a slow, disbelieving smile spread across Azriel's lips, illuminating his features with a radiant joy that took your breath away. Without a word, he pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you as if he never wanted to let go. The world around you faded into insignificance, leaving only the two of you wrapped up in each other's arms.

"I love you too," Azriel whispered against your hair, his voice raw with emotion. "More than anything in this world and the next.”

Sitting in the warm, cozy kitchen you shared, wrapped in each other's arms, you were enveloped in a sweet and intoxicating scent that seemed to emanate from the intertwining of your bodies. As you breathed in sync with each other, it felt as if the pieces of yourself that had been scattered were slowly coming back together, drawn by a magnetic force. You could hear his steady heartbeat, but also feel the rapid beat against your chest as his hands adjusted and gripped onto you, as if trying to hold onto your very soul. In response, you found yourself clinging onto him even tighter, your legs wrapping around him for a more intimate embrace. Gazing up at him through misty eyes, you noticed tears staining his tanned cheeks. "I'm still pissed at you, you know that right?" You said with a hint of playfulness in your voice.

Azriel let out a soft laugh, sniffing lightly as tears still clung to his lashes. "As long as you say you love me, you can be pissed at me until you're red in the face."

"Well," you teased, trailing a finger up his back towards his wings, "I think perhaps it's time you started making things up to me."

He shuddered slightly as your finger traced around the base of his wing, his eyes rolling back in pleasure as he let out a soft moan from his pink lips. "Anything," he whispered breathlessly, "for you, anything."

Readers: Raise your hand if you are interested in the smut scene that comes after this as a bonus scene for tomorrow? If you're interested I can post it along with the next chapter as a lil bonus treat for you. If not then we'll just move forwards! Okay love you byeee

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