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malibuhearts · 2 years ago

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*scandalized gasp* AMELIA

JESUS CHRIST THIS HAD NO REASON BEING AS HOT AS IT WAS IT MAKES ME WANT TO JUST- AJSHVUHEDVHEVFUVUGVFGUEVFGUVGUEVUG

i want to ride this slutty motherfucker and that’s all i need for christmas.

BUT SLUTTY ROOSTER!!! YESSSSSS!!!!!!

and so it goes

synopsis: bradley accepts maverick's invitation to spend christmas in the mountains, not realizing penny benjamin's hot niece will also be there.

pairings: bradley bradshaw x fem!reader (no y/n)

wc: 4.1K

warnings: an emphatic 18+, minors please dni, swearing, explicit smut, unprotected semi-public sex in a hot tub (writing this made me want to take a cranberry pill, please be safer than these two), thigh riding, dirty talk, a dash of exhibitionism, a sprinkle of praise kink

note: i... can't believe i wrote this. if you read we'd run inside out from the cold, i make a brief reference to bradley spending christmas skiing in the mountains. and somehow, here we now stand!

summoning @theharddeck (thighs) and @bioodforbiood (rooster is being slutty again) and a few people who wanted we'd run inside smut (if this isn't the worst thing you've ever seen, i'm working on that part two, i promise): @blue-aconite @thedroneranger @dhwanishah09 @six-bloodyminutes

“We should probably go inside…”

…is what Bradley should have said 20 minutes ago when Penny and Maverick turned in for the night, leaving him alone in the outdoor hot tub with an open bottle of champagne and oh yeah, Penny Benjamin’s niece.

December is frigid cold in the mountains, especially at this altitude, but from the deck, Bradley has a clear and perfect view of the mountains, peaked with snow and ice, glittering in the bluish moonlight.

He also has a clear and perfect view of you, sitting across from him in a bikini top that barely covers anything at all. Steam rises from the surface of the water, doing precious little to obstruct the sight of your smooth skin, the barest tease of cleavage with your every shuddering breath.

Are you breathing like that on purpose? Bradley wonders, almost accusatory, then feels like a complete asshole.

You could be having trouble breathing this high in the mountains. You shouldn’t risk altitude sickness, just because Bradley can’t look at your face without drifting down to your chest.

And once again, Bradley could've suggested going inside.

He didn’t do that, choosing to instead refill his champagne glass, and now Maverick is probably going to let the damn missile take him out next time. He could’ve spent Christmas in San Diego alone. Not risking death at Penny Benjamin’s rented cabin.

He’d met you a few times at the Hard Deck, covering a shift at the bar for your aunt, like a good and dutiful niece. You were damn sweet too, taking orders and serving up drinks with a wide smile and an untouchable brightness in your eyes, even against the rudest patrons who’d had too much to drink.

You would smile all the way to the bell, ringing it without missing a beat, calling the nearest and strongest-looking Navy guys over to throw the asshole out in the sand.

Hangman was the first one on the team to meet you, which was a little unfortunate for you. You did catch him in Relationship Jake mode when Jake had just started dating another Naval aviator on the team who was way too good for him. He wasn’t as much of an ass as usual.

Walking into the Hard Deck, dressed in his usual open Hawaiian shirt, Bradley did a full-on double take at the unfamiliar bartender that Hangman was chatting with. You were effusive enough to dim the lights and the noise, drown out the loud music and chatter. He walked closer without even realizing it, drawn in.

He didn’t catch the whole conversation, only the tail end.

Where Hangman had said something like, “Aren’t you sweet?” with a scheming edge to his expression, something that the new Hard Deck bartender wouldn’t know to catch, not knowing him like Bradley did.

And with a subtle shake of his head, Hangman tucked it away, buttoned behind his signature smirk, and caught an eavesdropping Bradley around the shoulder.

“Bradshaw! You meet Penny’s niece yet?”

Hangman shoved him forward, and Bradley stumbled into the bar hard enough to nearly knock the empty glasses from the counter. He turned to glare at the other man, but Jake had already melted in the crowd, no doubt seeking out his girlfriend – and again, too good for him – in the masses.

You were watching him with raised brows, clearing away the glasses that had nearly shattered in the chaos and wiping down the counter. An expectant look on your face.

He looked you up and down, like Bradley had been looking anywhere else for the past three minutes straight, and offered you a sheepish smile and a handshake. You met him with a warm smile and slipped your hand into his, telling him your name.

“Pretty name,” Bradley repeated it, holding your hand for a half second longer than was strictly polite. You looked down at your hands, still joined over the counter, the cutest wrinkle in your forehead. He gave you your hand back, already mourning the contact. “I’m Bradley.”

You eyed him and asked, “Bradley Bradshaw? What kind of name is that?” with a teasing lilt to your voice, passing him an IPA and opting to linger for a moment, despite the Hard Deck patrons clamoring for your attention on the other side.

Rested your elbows on the sticky counter and leaned in.

He nodded a confirmation. “Bradley Bradshaw.”

Women had always complimented him on his hands, wide palms and good fingers, and Bradley made sure to circle the bottle in his hand right in your line of sight, lingering there, not lifting it to his mouth. You watched him the whole time, an expression on your face that was unreadable. Not self-conscious though.

You didn’t seem to care that Bradley noticed.

“You can call me Bradley.” He traced a knuckle through the condensation on the bottle, watching you watch him, gaze flitting from his face to his hand and back again. “Rooster works too. Hell, I think I’d probably answer to Bradshaw.”

“Oh, so I can call you anything I like then?”

Something shifted in your expression, warmed that bright smile into something more knowing, more flirtatious. Look at that, Bradley thought, taking another sip of his beer, fist tight around the glass. Teeth dented your lower lip, and Bradley wanted to reach out and pull your lip from between them.

He wanted to sink his own into it.

He opened his mouth to let out his best line when Penny appeared from the back and called your name. You shot him a parting smile, rescuing a few crumbled bills from the counter on your way over, and Bradley was left to watch you go, mind spinning with the possibilities.

And now, Bradley doesn’t have to imagine the possibilities anymore.

Sure, Maverick will probably sabotage his snowboard on the Black Diamond tomorrow and make his death look like an unfortunate accident, all in the name of Penny Benjamin, but Bradley is feeling a little daring right now.

You last all of 10 minutes alone together before Bradley has you in his lap, grinding down on his bare thigh under the bubbling water with the damp fabric of that obscenely small bikini top balled up in his fist.

And in his defense, Bradley makes a gallant effort for those 10 minutes.

He really does.

He pulls out all the good conversation starters. Such as…

“Moon looks really cool tonight.”

He whips that one out around the 2:45 minute mark, after Bradley already finished his champagne and offered the rest to you in the name of being polite and like, a goddamn gentleman. Forgetting that Maverick had taken your glass inside.

You reassured him, “Oh, I don’t need a glass,” and proceeded to pour champagne directly into your open mouth. It bubbled over your parted lips, spilling over the edge of your chin, trickling down your neck and collarbone, and Bradley had to look at the stars overhead and count backwards from 200.

200, 199, 198… You can’t fuck Penny Benjamin’s niece and ruin Christmas, or Maverick will leave you for dead in the wilderness… 197, 196, 195…

And Bradley’s tried and true check out the moon distraction doesn’t work out so well for him either. You can’t see it well from your spot in the hot tub and end up moving next to him to get a better angle, and now, Bradley has a front-row seat to the steam drifting off your skin.

Not your best work there, Bradshaw.

“So…” Bradley tries again, around the 5:00 minute mark, after finding and losing Orion’s Belt six times. “You’re Penny’s niece, which makes you like… the daughter of her sister, right? That’s… cool.”

You send him an odd look and don’t respond, closing your eyes and leaning your head back on the edge. Tuning him out.

He probably deserves that.

And around the 9:30 minute mark, Bradley has thought too hard about the steam rising from your skin and the flush that is spreading down your torso from the temperature. You get to your knees to look out over the dark blue mountains, and Bradley watches a droplet of moisture run from your shoulder down the length of your spine.

He can’t get out of the hot tub like this. He’ll need to wait you out.

It is fine. He can wait.

He can stay out here all night.

Less than 30 seconds later, Bradley is digging his thumb into the hinge of your jaw, opening you up to him, licking inside your mouth. You are sticky warm from the steam. A stark contrast from the chill of your lips, cold from the below freezing temperatures.

He’d seen you sucking on a peppermint stick all evening, twirling it around a spiked hot chocolate, and Bradley can taste the rich chocolate and mint on your tongue. He could probably lick your neck and taste the spilled champagne.

He wants nothing more than to lift you onto one of the wooden lounge chairs and press his face between your thighs. He wants you to ride him into oblivion and make his last Christmas alive a good one.

Maverick can kill him on New Year's.

He doesn’t want to risk moving much closer to the still-dark cabin, so Bradley catches you around the waist, pressing and grabbing at any available skin. You make an encouraging noise against his mouth, and Bradley gets bolder, covering your breast with one large palm and anchoring you in place with the other one.

He bounces his thigh, grinding you down on him at the exact same time, and god-fucking-damn, Bradley could come from that delicious sound alone, as gasping and needy as the hands that cling to his slick shoulders.

He does it again, soaking in those gorgeous noises.

Bradley breaks the kiss, hooking a thumb underneath the loose sting of your bikini bottoms that are still on for some fucking reason. You don’t need them anymore. He needs to feel you.

“Get these off,” Bradley whispers against your throat, pressing a hot kiss to the spot below your jaw. A quick taste confirms what Bradley suspected. You taste like champagne and sweat.

“Take them off then.” You look at him with a challenge in your eyes, a twitch in your lips giving away your amusement. “I’m comfortable right here.”

And to demonstrate your point, Bradley feels you rock down on his thigh once more, moving your hips without his guidance. He watches you, incredulous and turned on behind comprehension, and as retaliation, Bradley doesn’t bother unknotting the tie.

He closes his fist around the strings and pulls hard enough to make them snap in two, shoving them to the side. Fabric floats up to the middle of the jacuzzi, joining the untied bikini top. It is damning evidence, and Bradley will need to remember to grab those on their way inside.

You go still on top of him, and Bradley bites back a smirk.

“Oh… my god, Bradley. I didn’t bring another swimsuit.” You slap your wet palm against his shoulder, looking about as menacing as Bradley has ever seen you look. Like a little baby kitten with a fluffed tail. “If I can’t use the hot tub for the rest of the trip because of you and your… your caveman hands…”

“Oh yeah? You seemed to like my caveman hands a minute ago,” Bradley teases, testing his luck to the max.

He grips your thigh in his ‘caveman’ hand, hard enough to leave marks, and yanks you forward. His swim trunks ride low on his hips, so Bradley can feel you against his torso, smooth and warm and spread wide.

“What changed, baby?”

You shiver, and Bradley sneaks a hand between your bodies, pressing the pad of his thumb right on your clit. Nails dig into his bicep, urging him on, and Bradley smiles again.

“You still like them, don’t you?”

“Maybe…” is more of an exhale than an admission. You look at him from under half-lowered lids, mouth slack from the feeling of Bradley gently circling your clit with his fingers. “But… I really did want to use the tub again. It’s, ah…” He sinks an index finger into you without preamble. You take him like a dream, all honey and silk around him. “It’s relaxing.”

“You need to relax?”

You nod, and Bradley nibbles at your neck, licking away the drops of champagne that still cling to your skin. He feels buzzed. It is probably just your proximity, the feeling of you on him.

“I’ll help you relax. Sweet thing like you, always looking out for everyone, aren’t you? Always helping everyone. You need someone who’ll be sweet to you too, don’t you, honey?”

He winds your damp hair around his fingers at the base of your skull, reveling in the way your mouth falls open, the way you clench down around his fingers, absently canting your hips into him. God. He is hard enough to hurt, watching you like this.

You don’t answer, and Bradley gives your hair a gentle but firm tug.

“Answer me, sweetness. I need to hear you say it.”

A sharp inhale brings your chest against his, and Bradley can feel your hardened nipples. He’ll get to those later, right now Bradley is too busy watching your face, feeling you flutter around his fingers.

“Yes.”

“Yes…?” Bradley prompts, capturing your gasp with a crushing kiss against your open mouth. He pulls away, letting your hair flow through his fingers, moving that hand back down to hold tight to your hips. He stills you, ignoring your whimpered protest. “Gotta be more specific than that.”

You look him right in the eye, despite the embarrassed flush that’s overtaken your cheeks. “Yes, I want you to be… I want you to be sweet to me, want you to help me relax. I want all of it.”

“Good girl.”

Bradley pulls away all of his fingers except the one that’s teasing your clit. You give him this sad, mournful look and open your mouth to complain, maybe even to whine, but Bradley slides you back down onto his leg. He slots his firm thigh between yours, bends his knee to push against you, and the only sound that passes your lips is a breathy ‘fuck’ that makes him groan.

“I’ll take care of you, baby. I’ll be sweet to you,” Bradley promises, guiding your hand to the front of his swim trunks. He is so big, straining against the loose fabric. You tug your lip between your teeth. “But I need to get you ready for me. I need you to be good for me. Can you do that?”

“Yes, I… Tell me how.”

“I need you to come all over my thigh.”

You really shouldn’t let him talk to you like this, shouldn’t be in this position at all, completely naked on the broad thigh of the cute Naval aviator who sometimes smiled and flirted with you at the Hard Deck.

Actually… You should probably give yourself a little more credit here.

You knew Bradley was interested in you. Had been able to tell from the moment Hangman called him over on the very first night when Bradley had been hovering only a few feet away, obviously listening in.

He’d smiled at you, all big and unassuming brown eyes that probably got him both in and out of all sorts of trouble. He was built like a brick shithouse, tall and wide and completely, utterly hot.

Hot enough that when Penny asked you to come on the annual Northern California trip while Amelia opted for a tropical Christmas in Hawaii with Aunt Penny’s ex-husband…

You might have not so subtly asked whether Captain Mitchell had any plans to invite Bradley there for Christmas, accepting the invitation after Penny snorted and informed you that yes, Maverick had asked him. You choose to ignore the knowing undertone of her response.

You hadn’t been expecting anything in all honestly, more curious about whether Bradley would act any different towards you outside the familiar environment of the Hard Deck. Hoped for a kiss under the nonexistent mistletoe at most. Maybe even a dinner invitation back in San Diego.

Nothing like this.

Bradley is still holding you between his hands, a crooked knuckle stroking and teasing at you under the water. It’s… different doing this here, hot water sloshing around your elbows, a fine layer of steam rapidly cooling on your skin in the cold mountain air. You didn’t expect to like it so much.

Snow starts to drift down from above, melting on the surface of the water, and Bradley is looking at you with liquid warmth swimming in his deep brown eyes, an intense concentration on his face.

Right. He asked you a question.

Not a question. He told you how to do something.

How to be good for him.

Shivers run down your spine at the thought.

“I think…” You aren’t doing all the much thinking right now to be honest. It is mostly overwhelming arousal and radio static up there right now. “I can do that. I want to do that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And the corner of Bradley’s mouth kicks up into a self-satisfied smirk. “Better get to work then. Don’t know how long I can stand having you spread open for me and not fuck you, but I’ll wait for you, baby.”

Something about that flips a switch in you, the idea that Bradley is holding himself back from grabbing you and sinking you down on his cock. You pick up your previous pace, rolling your hips forward and down on his thigh. He meets you at your level, working your clit, letting you push against the palm of his hand.

It feels unreal.

Before Bradley even really gets talking.

“Look at you, baby,” He hums the words against your neck, littering the skin with open-mouthed kisses, sometimes pausing to suck and bite in the places that could easily be covered with a scarf.

“You’re so fucking sweet, aren’t you? Everyone loves you. Such a sweet little angel, and yet, I’ve got you out here riding my fucking thigh. Someone could come out and see us. You don’t care, do you?”

You can’t help the clench of your thighs, the too loud moan that bubbles from your lips. He shushes you and continues to torment you with dirty words whispered in your ear, voice deep and rasping.

Pleasure is building and building.

You are hot enough to burn.

“Fuck yourself on my thigh, angel,” Bradley instructs, pressing down on your clit. Everything disappears in a streak of white for a moment, and then Bradley comes back into focus, an apparition in the steam, urging you on. “Come for me. Come all over me, and then I’ll fuck you. You want me to fuck you, don’t you, baby?”

You can’t get the words out, too drunk on the sensation of his hard thigh slotted against you, the perfect friction of it. Feeling more benevolent, Bradley accepts your nod as an answer this time. You can feel him, hard as a rock against your thigh, and in your pleasure drunk state, fumble with the band of his swim trunks to free him.

It takes a few attempts, and one particularly well-placed thrust from Bradley almost makes you give up. You manage to get him out though, taking him in your hand, thick and heavy, running your thumb over the top of him.

It’s no small satisfaction that Bradley seems as needy as you right now, as unbalanced, groaning into your shoulder.

“Come for me,” Bradley repeats, low and warm against your skin.

It doesn’t take much more than those words and a few more strokes, and Bradley has to catch you against his chest, shaking and shuddering around him and over him, miles away from here.

You can barely make out the soothing praise that Bradley mumbles into your damp hairline. Good. Good. So good for me. Did so well for me. He is throbbing in your hand, and as soon as the white-hot pleasure has cooled, Bradley is pulling you back over him, sinking you down on him in one smooth thrust.

A large hand comes over your mouth to muffle the high-pitched cry that threatens to echo through the damn mountain range, and Bradley’s dark gaze flits between your eyes, waiting for your nod.

He doesn’t waste much time after that, seeming to realize at the same time as you that time is limited. Riding his thigh might’ve been a spiritual experience. It doesn’t mean that Penny and Maverick aren’t currently sleeping in a cabin less than 15 feet away.

Sweat drips down his neck as Bradley lifts you up and lowers you back down again, fucking you in deep and unrelenting thrusts, filling you up over and over again. You pulse around him, still sensitive from the aftershocks of that orgasm, and still moving in you, Bradley drops his head back against the edge of the tub, letting out a pained exhale.

“You’re so fucking tight. Taking my cock like a fucking dream. So perfect for me.”

He hits a spot that makes your toes curl, makes electricity shoot through your entire body. You cling to his chest, pulling at his broad shoulders and insanely muscular arms. Kiss the underside of his jaw, cupping his jaw.

You’re not even sure Bradley is aware of the words coming out of his mouth right now, eyes screwed shut, thrusting into you with increasing sloppiness, both of you growing closer to the edge.

“God, baby, I wish I didn’t have to be quiet right now, I want to hear your moans and screams. Want to hear you scream my name.”

“When I get you back to San Diego, I’m going to keep you in my bed for a whole fucking week, make you come on my tongue and my cock over and over and over.”

"Bet you'll be so fucking sweet. Can't wait to..."

“Fuck, I think… I’m…”

He brings up his fingers to pinch at your nipples, to get you there with him, and barely 30 seconds after your second orgasm of the night pitches you forward, Bradley is spilling inside of you, moaning your name.

Later, Bradley wraps you in a towel, carefully fishing the ruined bikini from the cooling water and grimacing down at the hot tub with his hands on his hips. He picks up the bottle of champagne, weighing it in his hand.

“Do you think if I tell Mav that I spilled champagne in the hot tub and not to use it for the rest of the trip…” Bradley starts, tugging at the towel that sits low on his hips, squinting at the remaining liquid in the bottle. “…that there is any chance he’ll believe me?”

A smile quirks your lips. “I’d say an even 50-50 split.”

“Good enough for me,” Bradley says with a shrug and dumps the remaining dribbles of champagne into the tub, tossing the bottle in after it. He looks proud of his work, tugging the cover back into place.

You are both silent on the walk back to the cabin, lost in thought. You are watching the snow that’s started to fall from the sky again, wondering what… all of that meant for the future.

Bradley is gnawing the edge of his lip, probably thinking about the champagne or the slopes tomorrow or…

He loops a naked arm around your waist without a word.

Giddiness warms your chest.

You clear your throat, trying not to let it show in your voice. You deserve at least a veneer of coolness after letting him fuck you senseless in a hot tub, what with the infection you’re definitely going to get from this.

Worth it.

“So...” You remember his earlier words, the ones from the heat of the moment that Bradley probably doesn’t even remember saying out loud. “‘When I get you back to San Diego’, huh?”

He scratches at the back of his neck, and in the dim light, you can make out the softest flush that creeps over his bare chest. How Bradley could be embarrassed now is beyond you. Sheepish is an adorable look on him though.

“Did… Did I forget to ask you out?”

“It might’ve slipped through the cracks.”

“Ah,” Bradley says, looking down at you with bright eyes and color high in his cheeks. Snow catches in his lashes and his mustache. You have the sudden and overwhelming urge to kiss it away. “Well, I’d like to take you out back in San Diego. How’s that sound to you?”

You stretch up on your toes to kiss him, right there in the snow, dressed in nothing but your towels. He is warm enough for the both of you right now, skimming his palms over your shoulder blades, cupping your nape.

You give your answer.

“Thought you’d never ask, Bradshaw.”

(...anyway... thoughts?)

#bre's recs #bradley rooster bradshaw

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appolojustice · 4 months ago

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"My least favorite genre is nonfiction —" Nonfiction is not a genre anymore than fiction is.

#'Give me your best nonfiction recs!' Girl do you want memoir? biography? self-help? cooking and craft guides?#science? what kind? history? name your time period. you're gonna have to be more specific #Life According to Bre

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writer-rider-flirty-thirties · 1 year ago

Note

Fanfic Writer Asks: 6, 14, 27?

6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time? Um, now listen. That list is way too long so I'll randomly pick three. - When Three Wrongs Make One Right (Miraculous) - The Sparrowkeet Series (Avatar: The Last Airbender) - The Moment (by one of my favorite people ever @miraculouslymundane)(Miraculous)

14. If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick? I've answered this, but for a quick answer: Rainy Days

27. Is there a fic you were nervous to post/share? Why? I'll share a different one this time!!! It was actually one of my earlier fics (for Miraculous): One Last Time (and also Blackhole Sun) because there's a lot of things happening and it leans heavily on grief and accepting death (and the fact that BHS isn't finished yet and I have big plans for the fic make me super nervous.)

#thanks for asking!#ask me #BHS #OLT #Bre's fics #fic recs #They're amazing #lukadrienette #zutara #adrinette

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unda-dsk · 2 years ago

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Appropos of nothing, if you haven't read Reallocated yet, you should! I'm doing a re-read because I fell off when my mental wellbeing imploded a little while back, so I'm catching up. It's so good, it's Hal and Dave!

#READ IT.#fic rec #reallocated #also bre is very sweet and evil

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malibuhearts · 2 years ago

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FROTHING AT THE MOUTH

talk with my hands, maybe take it real slow (jake seresin x fem!reader)

Pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader (no y/n)

Synopsis: Jake's roommate has a new tattoo and can't stop itching at it...what kind of friend would he be, if he didn't help distract her?

Warnings: this fic is 18+, minors please DNI – we go pretty quickly into smut, featuring the usual--explicit oral sex (both receiving, bc we're feminists like that), and then also PiV sex, including but not limited to, condescension, overstimulation (bc what's the point of fiction if we're not wringing multiple orgasms out of our self insert?) and creampies (do not have unprotected, unnegotiated sex pls)

Length: 7.8k

A/N: sorry about the moodboard being lacluster; I couldn't find a tattoo pic that wasn't on a size 0 thigh or white, so we went without

You hadn’t considered yourself to be a person with particularly awful self control, but then again, you’d never had a tattoo healing on your inner thigh, driving you mad with the need to scratch at it. It’d been 3 weeks since the appointment and your ink was probably 95% healed; the redness had faded entirely and a couple raised patches of roughness were all you had to show for the fact that it was new. Which somehow made the incessant need to itch all the more frustrating, because you were pretty sure it was mostly phantom at this point.

“Listen, honey, you gotta chill.” Jake’s voice interrupted your inner monologue, from his seat on the couch across the living room.

Your roommate had started in hard on the Southern pet names when he’d seen that they’d flustered you. Honestly, there was precious little the man wouldn’t do, if it meant making you unnerved. You two didn’t have what you’d call a friendship, but the playful Something between the two of you felt safe and fun. Even if it did mean that Jake seemed to take a little more pleasure than he should’ve, in the face of your pain.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you replied drily, “are the literal thousands of abrasions on my skin irritating you?”

Jake rolled his eyes at your melodrama. “I can feel you thinking from over here, and it’s taking up real estate that belongs to Maya Hawke,” he gestured to the TV where the latest season of Stranger Things was playing.

“It itches,” you mumbled, hearing the complaint in your voice and knowing it was pathetic, but too over it to care.

Jake cut you a long look, like he also heard it, and was embarrassed for you. “Want me to get you some ice?” he asked, and it was sweet of him to offer, but…

“We’re out of ice,” you sighed. “I went through the last two trays in, like, record time, and they’re refreezing now.”

“We have like fourteen trays,” Jake frowned.

“Yeah, well someone,” you paused meaningfully, “drastically depleted our resources when he decided to have a bourbon tasting over the weekend.”

Jake had the grace to look guilty for a moment. Then it was his turn to sigh dramatically, lifting his arm to the back of the couch and swatting at the cushion next to him. “Alright, kid, c’mere.”

In retrospect, you probably should’ve asked why, or at least deliberated for half a second before doing what he asked. In reality, you pushed off the settee you’d been lounging on, and flopped ungracefully onto the couch next to Jake. You shared a bathroom with the man and he’d seen you on the second day of your period; dignity was a distant memory.

Still, it didn’t prepare you for Jake pulling your legs apart with one of his large hands, and spreading his fingers over your tattoo, all while calmly turning up the volume of the TV with the remote in his other hand.

“Jesus, Jake,” you choked out, telling yourself the goosebumps erupting over your whole body were entirely because of your surprise, and not any other reason. “Buy a girl a drink first.”

Jake chuckled, somehow managing to shake his head at you while not looking away from the TV. “You’re the one who’s always telling me my hands are cold as ice.”

Had you said that?

It sounded like something you’d say.

But Jake’s hand on your leg felt anything but cold. Okay, no, if you separated your brain from—well, from anything—you could recognize that his fingers were quite cold, and it was incredibly soothing having them over you. His thumb was brushing lightly over your skin, while the rest of his hand stayed still, and you knew that ice cubes couldn’t do that, but damn, it would’ve been great if they could. You settled back into the couch, relaxing into the soft material and the relief brought by Jake’s hands.

It was a wonderful two minutes.

Good to know that that was how long it took for the fourth law of thermodynamics to kick in, and for Jake’s fingers to warm up after extended contact with your skin.

Then a new problem was presented—you couldn’t scratch at yourself without scratching him. You shifted slightly, to see if you could get any type of friction, but Jake’s touch was light enough that he moved with you. You snuck a glance at Jake’s profile, still fixed on the TV screen, and his expression could best be described as incredibly pleased with himself.

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” you muttered accusingly.

“Absolutely,” he said, smugly. “You could fidget up a storm over there, but here you have to just deal with it.”

You pressed your lips together to keep yourself from sticking your tongue out at him petulantly. You folded your hands in your lap, determined to ignore the rising propensity to scratch at yourself. At some point, you’d sunken into the couch until your shoulder was pressed against Jake’s arm, and you shifted so your cheek was resting against him too. His tshirt was soft, and he smelled clean, like a freaking linen candle, which was annoying, because it didn’t help clear the riotous tangle of thoughts rushing through your head.

You did stop fidgeting, though.

“Atta girl,” Jake said quietly, his thumb still moving over your thigh.

Was it hot in here?

It had to be hot in here.

Because this was Jake, your roommate, who’d never shown an ounce of interest in you, being calm as anything with his hand literally on your thigh, and saying things that would’ve sounded like come ons from anyone else.

You tried to focus on the TV, and whatever ridiculous shenanigans the children on it had found themselves in, pulling a deep breath through your nose.

(Immediate mistake, because of said linen candle bullshit).

On the TV, Nancy’s hair got frizzier, Steve’s life got shittier, and all the while your leg was getting itchier and itchier.

You reached to press a hand over the skin distractedly, forgetting momentarily that Jake’s hand was there until you encountered his fingers instead of your skin. He turned his hand over, his knuckles pressing against your skin while his fingers intercepted your own.

“Where’re you going?” he asked, voice lightly mocking, and you wrinkled your nose. It wasn’t fair that he wasn’t affected, his hands so close to your burning skin, and he still had the wherewithal to tease you for your poor impulse control.

“Jake,” you whined, trying to untangle your fingers, but his grip was unrelenting, “I’m not gonna scratch, okay, I just need to do something.”

He looked down at you, which you had to admit, was a hell of an experience when your head was practically on his shoulder.

He blinked slowly, looking at you closely before he opened his hands, letting your fingers go. You pulled your hand back, eyes closing in relief when you pressed them against your skin. It wasn’t as good as scratching, but the pressure helped, and you shifted your fingers—and your nail accidentally dragged against your skin.

Which was pretty much the worst thing that could happen, because it was like a tease and it shouldn’t have felt as good as it did, but you were half a second away from clawing up your thigh when Jake’s hand closed around your wrist again.

“Seriously?” he asked, amusement coloring his tone.

“Just let me,” you pleaded, trying to pull your wrist back. “It’ll take like two seconds and then it’ll hurt and I can stop.”

“You could also get infected or mess up the ink placement,” he said, and you stopped pulling for a moment.

“When did you learn so much about tattoo care?” you grumbled, and Jake chuckled again. It sounded different this close to him, deeper.

“When my roommate decided to mark up the inside of her leg,” he replied easily. “Now don’t you have a lotion or something you can put on this?”

“I do, but it doesn’t help,” you said, annoyed that he was right.

“Well, let’s at least try it, yeah?” Jake asked, and you rolled your neck, sighing.

“Fine,” you pushed yourself off the couch.

You felt Jake’s eyes following you to the bathroom, so you didn’t scratch at your leg, not wanting to hear more of his teasing. You found the jar of lotion, dropping back onto the couch as you unscrewed the lid.

“It’s just gonna be sticky and leave white marks on the couch,” you groused, looking confusedly over at Jake when he held his hand out. “What?”

“What do you mean, what,” he retorted, like it was obvious. “I’m not gonna let you do this; you have zero impulse control.”

You were too stunned to resist when he plucked the lotion out of your hands, dipping his fingers into the jar.

Had you said that the worst thing was an accidental nail brush against your tattoo?

That wasn’t true.

Because the actual worst thing was having to sit there, pretending everything was fine and normal, as your ridiculously hot roommate started spreading Aquaphor on your inner thigh.

Jake was nothing if not thorough, his long fingers smoothing the cool lotion over your skin, pressing slowly into you and fucking kneading into your thighs, but that wasn’t the worst of it. The worst of it was that he was entirely serious. Gone was the teasing condescension, the knowing look, and in its place was an unfamiliar gentleness.

Jake’s head was bent, some of his perfect hair falling in front of his eyes, as he properly tended to your leg like he was a nurse and these were doctor’s orders. Like he wanted to be absolutely careful as he looked after you, like looking after you was even something he did. You swallowed, forcing your breathing to remain even.

This was fine, this was normal.

This was absolutely not complicating the tenuous relationship the two of you had, and wasn’t causing you to read into the pet names, the caring, the fact that his big hand was literally between your legs.

He had to stop, or you had to stop, because now was not the time to be thinking risque things about your roommate, not when he was genuinely being sweet and trying to help.

“I think that’s good,” you said, hoping Jake couldn’t hear the tremor in your voice.

Jake tipped his head to the side, considering his work, then nodded to himself, satisfied. He rubbed his hands together, wiping the excess lotion on the backs of his knuckles, and screwed the lid of the jar back on. You were readjusting on the couch when he leaned across you to leave the jar on the coffee table and when he shifted back, one of you messed up, because his forearm brushed against your chest.

“Uh, sorry,” Jake said quickly, “I wasn’t—”

He was interrupted, of course.

Because you could tell yourself you were fine, everything was fine, all day long, but turns out that the slightest, accidental brush of Jake against your breasts had an ungodly whimper spilling out of your mouth before you could stop it.

He froze.

Shit.

“Shit,” you said aloud, hands covering your face in embarrassment, “no, I’m sorry, that wasn’t—uh, we can ignore that—I don’t know what’s going on with me, sorry to make it weird, it’s not your fault—”

You stopped babbling when Jake’s hands closed on your wrists, and, for the upteenth time that night, you let yourself be guided by him. When he pulled your hands away, your breath caught at how close he was, and the unfamiliar expression on his face as he looked between your eyes.

“I need to know right now,” he said, his voice serious as anything, “if you’re apologizing because you’re embarrassed, or because you didn’t mean it.”

You pressed your lips together, not trusting what sounds would come out of your mouth with Jake’s hands holding your wrists, and his eyes this intense. Whatever he read on your face had Jake’s lips parting, a shaking breath drawn in through them, before they thinned in a lazy smile.

“And here I thought I was the perv, taking any excuse to get my hands on you, darlin’, when you’ve been wanting me just as bad.”

Your jaw dropped at his blunt words, but what, were you going to say he was wrong?

Jake’s head cocked sideways when you didn’t say anything, and he guided your hands to the back of his neck, before letting go of them. Your fingers wound around his neck, the ends of his hair brushing your thumbs, and you realized he was waiting for you to say something before this—whatever ‘this’ was—went any further.

“Probably worse,” you admitted, not even trying to hide the breathlessness in your voice, “if I’m honest.”

Jake’s eyes darkened and his grin grew wider. “If that’s how honest sounds, I think I want to hear more of it,” he said.

Fuck, he was going to ruin you.

“Kiss me and find out?” you managed, and Jake huffed out a laugh before reaching for you again. His hands settled on your waist and he lifted to drag you towards him.

“Yes ma’am,” he whispered before his lips crashed into yours.

You were still reeling from the title, and how you liked the sound of it a little too much, but Jake’s mouth against yours drove that thought from your head. He kissed you like he’d wanted it for longer than you could’ve expected, his teeth biting at your lower lip, his tongue soothing after it. You shifted to help him as he pulled you towards him, both of you gasping when you settled in his lap. You were thankful his flannel pajamas could stand a bit of residual lotion, just as you were thankful for the pressure of his hands on your waist, fingers pressing into you and pulling you closer. Jake licked at the seam of your lips and you opened for him; when his tongue swept into your mouth, you felt it in your core. And suddenly, or maybe not suddenly, maybe finally, after months of build up, you were desperately needy.

Your fingers pulled through his hair, and Jake’s hips pressed up when you pulled lightly on the strands. At the motion of his rolling hips, your pajama shorts pressed tightly into your core and the friction felt like building, and Jake broke away from your mouth with a gasp. His hands tightened on your waist, holding you still, and while you appreciated his restraint, you wanted to feel him again.

You whispered his name as he trailed kisses down your neck, and your breath quickened when he found your pulse point under your jaw. Jake hummed, the vibration echoing over your skin, through you, and you realized he was muttering things against your skin.

“D’you know how hard these last three weeks have been,” he whispered, lips ghosting over your skin as he pressed kisses to new goosebumps, “with you always in those tiny shorts, saying it’s because you can’t have tight clothes over your tattoo?”

You felt lightheaded at the idea of Jake wanting you this whole time, maybe longer, locking it away and refusing to act on it because he didn’t know what you felt.

“It’s true,” you managed, and Jake laughed, a puff of warm air over your skin.

“And if that wasn’t enough,” another kiss, another soft suck, “you’ve been so whiny, haven’t you? Always pouting, always needy, making me wonder how you’d sound…”

Your eyes were closed, your world distilled to the heat of his mouth, the heat of his words. You pulled at him, needing his mouth over yours again, and Jake obliged. He was so much softer than you expected, gentle but firm, and he tasted so damn good.

With him distracted, you rolled your hips again, rewarded by the friction over your core, and you could feel Jake hardening in his pajama pants. It was addictive, and you sought him out again, pouting when Jake stilled your hips again.

“Baby,” he murmured, and heat shot through you at the pet name, not one he’d used jokingly before, “what was the point of the lotion if you’re going to grind it off against my flannels?”

“You can reapply it later,” you rationalized, but Jake shook his head, smiling in spite of himself. His lips were swollen, his cheeks reddened, and you loved the look of him like this, almost dazed.

“C’mon,” he prompted you, and guided you to stand. Your legs felt weak, but you managed, and Jake’s hands smoothed up the outside of your thighs. You were between his spread knees, and his hands played with the hem of your shorts before he pulled them down your legs, taking care to not scrape them over your tattoo. The air felt cold on your exposed skin, and Jake swore quietly as he dropped the shorts, staring at you in your underwear with something that felt dangerously close to adoration.

He leaned closer, and at first you thought it was so he could be more gentle with your fragile panties, but then he pressed a kiss to the outside of your thigh and you jumped, pushing him away, embarrassed again.

“You don’t—” you started, pursing your lips, “um, you don’t have to…do that. We can—”

Jake’s hands smoothed over your thighs, coming around to cup under your ass. Had you said his hands were cold earlier? You were sure they were burning, leaving trails of heat wherever he touched.

“Nah, baby,” he whispered against your thighs, his nose brushing the soft skin there, as his hands squeezed you, “nothing ‘have to’ about something I’ve been dreaming ‘bout for months.”

Well, fuck, when he put it like that…

“Okay, then,” you said quietly, weaving your hand into his hair again, and Jake flashed a smile up at you.

“Okay, then,” he echoed, and his fingers pulled your underwear over your hips. He scooted to the front of the couch, a motion that should’ve been cute for his enthusiasm, but instead was simply devastating. He looked so good like this, eager and hungry, and your breath caught when he licked his lips, your hips canting towards him.

He didn’t look away from you.

His green eyes locked on yours as he leaned closer, not pausing when his tongue crept past his lips and you were the one to break, your head tipping back when he licked you. His tongue was flat against you, like the first taste of ice cream, and your head spun at the shamelessness of it. You whimpered when he pulled away, and Jake’s breath was warm as he leaned back again.

“There’s that sound I was after,” he murmured, his soft words a cutting juxtaposition to his filthy tongue.

He teased you with soft licks, lapping at your arousal that’d only grown since he’d first touched your thighs earlier tonight. His hands snuck around to pull you apart, spread you on his fingers like he needed his tongue closer, tasting you and drinking you. He was unhurried and it was maddening, and you pulled at his tshirt distractedly, needing to feel his skin.

“Ah, honey,” Jake muttered as he pulled back. “You taste so good, fucking unbelievable.”

You opened your eyes to find his chest heaving, his eyes dilated and your slick smeared across his chin. He looked so good like this, drunk on you, and you imagined you looked nearly as wrecked. He leaned back to pull his tshirt over his head, and your fingers smoothed over broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin, as it was bared to you.

He tossed the shirt aside and a moment later he was leaning back into your cunt, nuzzling your clit with his nose as his tongue lapped at you. Your knees nearly buckled at the sensation, and Jake groaned, the vibrations only increasing the intensity of the feelings flooding you. His strong hands held you up, spread before him, and he lifted his mouth to tease at your clit. You whined when his tongue rolled around you, alternating tight circles and slow, and your eyes rolled back when he closed his lips and sucked.

“Jake, oh my god,” you gasped, feeling your stomach tighten. It was too soon, you knew it, but you also couldn’t fight it, and it was practically crashing over you—

Jake pulled back.

You whined in confusion, looking down to find him looking up at you, a familiar expression of smug awareness on his face. He turned his head to press a gentle kiss to your thigh, amusement sparkling in his dark eyes.

“Told you I’ve been waiting on this for months, honey,” he teased, another wet kiss slightly higher on your thigh. “You didn’t think I’d let you off that easy, did you?”

Nothing about this felt easy. Not the way he had your body primed for release, every nerve wound tight, not the way you felt it slipping away, and your desperation only climbing.

You whimpered his name, too gone to be embarrassed by how fucked out you sounded.

“Aw, baby…” Jake cooed, and you saw his shoulders shift as he repositioned. Before you could anticipate his next move, a broad finger was stroking through your folds, and you cried out, your hands flying to his shoulder to steady yourself.

“So pretty like this,” Jake soothed, pulling his finger through you, stroking back over you, the pressure perfect, but not enough, “needy. Desperate.”

“Jake, please,” you cried, appalled to find real tears were pushing behind your eyes. After being so close to release, then being denied, then held steady wherever his fingers pulled you, you couldn’t be responsible for the way your body was shaking.

“Bet you’d beg me for it, wouldn’t you?” Jake said, voice even and unbothered. He added another finger, still not entering you, just teasing over you, languid. “You’re all proud when you’re strutting around in those shorts, cute when you ask for help, but not like this, huh? Like this, you know who’s in charge.”

Any response you had was cut off when he plunged both fingers into you.

No warning, no easing, just sudden pressure and thickness and your body tightened around the sudden intrusion, unrelenting and unexpected and fucking perfect, and you couldn’t stop your orgasm as it ripped through you.

“Oh, fuck,” Jake groaned, as he recognized your walls tightening around his fingers. “Thatta girl, come on, give it to me.”

You moaned, your core clenching as your denied release rolled over you, scalding and strong and you felt it in your toes. You didn’t know how you were still standing, you knew the sounds pouring out of you were unbridled, and Jake was proudly talking you through it.

“So beautiful, baby, you’re doing so good,” he said, his other hand stroking up your neck to support your head. You turned your head desperately, pulling his thumb into your mouth and sucking on it, needing to be grounded.

“Fuck, baby,” Jake moaned, and his fingers kept their pace inside you. You felt the edges of your orgasm soften as he worked you through it, and as the fingers not in your mouth brushed against your cheek, you realized he was wiping away tears. You were shaking, it was perfect, but his fingers inside you were pressing deeper and if he wasn’t careful, he was going to push you higher again.

“How we doing, honey?” Jake asked, and you lifted your head to meet his eyes. He was watching you carefully, and he pulled his thumb from your mouth so you could answer him.

“Good,” you whispered, through the clearing haze, “really, really, good.”

Jake hummed, tilting his head as he considered you. His fingers scissored inside of you, and you clenched down on him, hands grasping his shoulders.

“Then I think you should give me another,” he said, smile growing as your eyes widened.

“Jake, wait—” you protested, but you went without opposition when he pulled you back to the couch. His fingers paused their exploration but he didn’t pull out of you as he guided you onto your back, propping your knees up carefully.

“Have to be gentle with that thigh,” he said, his voice growing husky as he settled between your legs. He stroked his fingers again, and your core clamped down on them, still not fully returned from your first high. Any other protest you had died when he bent down again, his mouth returning to your cunt.

You’d had his tongue, you’d had his fingers, and they’d made you cum like you hadn’t in months. And now suddenly you had both at once, and you were pretty sure it was going to cost you your mind.

“Jake, fuck,” you keened, your back arching off the couch.

Jake didn’t respond, too busy lapping up your release and thrusting into you. His tongue traced a maddening pattern over your clit as his fingers pressed deeper into you, stretching you.

“You taste even sweeter like this, baby,” he mumbled into you, and you moaned as you felt his words. His fingers brushed something deep inside of you and you couldn’t breathe; you reached for Jake’s hair, pulling desperately, hoping he could read how impossibly taut you were.

“You know something,” he mused, like it was the calmest thing in the world, “you came so quick, didn’t you? Came once you had something fucking you, and it was so beautiful, honey…but I never got to hear you beg.”

“Jake,” you whispered, his name the only word you could manage, the only thing you could say with his fingers brushing that spot and his mouth just a breath away from you.

“Nah,” he said, his voice low, “I know you could do it so prettily. Won’t you do it for me, sweetheart, won’t you let me hear it? Let me make you cum again?”

He kissed you again, his mouth light and teasing, brushing caresses over your mound but not where you were aching, throbbing, for him. His fingers slowed, torturously, pushing you closer but not fast enough, and you felt your eyes filling again. What was he asking for?

What was anything, what did he need?

“Jake, please,” you gasped, your voice thick. “Please, please—”

“Please what, baby?” Jake asked, another soft kiss. “What do you need?”

“I need to cum,” you practically sobbed. “Please, need it so bad, please, Jake—need you so bad, need you to—”

“That’s right,” Jake practically growled, his voice lower than you’d ever heard it. “You need me. And I’ve got you, honey, so you can let you go, since you asked so nicely, and I’m gonna take care of you…”

His forearm was banded across your waist, holding you still as his fingers found that spot inside of you, pressed up against it, and your thighs shook as your second orgasm bowled over you. Jake’s tongue was over your clit, then his lips closed, and when you thought you might be ready to let go of the high, he sucked, and you fully shattered. You could feel your nails raking into his back, feel his responding groans through the mouth still pressed to your cunt, as your world dissolved into white heat. It swept over you and you stopped trying to ride it, just let yourself be thrown, buffeted by Jake’s mouth, Jake’s fingers, Jake’s soft words.

“Fucking gorgeous, baby, you did so good,” Jake was murmuring into the skin of your stomach. His fingers were still inside of you, gently rocking but no longer trying to stimulate you. It would’ve brought tears to your eyes, if they weren’t already streaming, how tender he was being with you. The whiplash was incredible—how quickly he’d brought you to orgasm, how easily he’d denied you, how thoroughly fucked out you were, now that he’d given it to you.

God, and you hadn’t even had him yet.

“Jake,” you croaked, your throat hoarse, and he lifted his head to look up at you.

“What is it, honey?” he asked, voice soft. He was propped up on his elbows, and he shifted slightly, pulling his fingers out of you. You pressed your lips together to stop a whimper from escaping and trying to ignore how empty you felt, and watching quietly as he wiped his hands absently on his pajama pants before looking back up at you.

You lifted a hand to brush away some of his hair that’d fallen into his face. You shifted slightly, pulling the hem of your tshirt down to wipe at his chin, clean him up a little. It was rough, not the intended purpose of the garment, and Jake laughed a little at the clumsiness of the action, pressing his jaw into your cotton-covered hand, to help you as you wiped at his face.

You bit your lip, more to stop yourself from smiling so wide it made you hurt, looking down at him, propped up on his elbows

He looked proud.

He looked content, and it made your heart swell uncomfortably in your chest, that he’d look like that after taking care of you. But the longer you looked at him, something like doubt flickered behind his eyes and he cleared his throat, looking away.

“If…” he started, and he shook his head, like he was clearing the fog after a night out. “Uh, you know, if that’s too much…or not what you wanted, or something, we can just say it was a distraction. You know, to get your mind off the tattoo.”

You hadn’t thought about the thing in what felt like a lifetime.

More importantly, you saw Jake still wasn’t meeting your eyes, like he expected you to say that that’s all this was, and he was worried you’d see too much if you were looking at him when you said it. It broke your heart, that he would push away his own repressed feelings, if it meant protecting yours.

Although, to be fair, you’d both been more honest in the last thirty minutes than you’d been in the months before, so it was probably on you, as well as him.

You carded your fingers through his hair again, waiting.

It took another couple seconds, but Jake steeled himself and looked back at you.

You hadn’t realized you’d missed the green of them.

In the height of everything, they’d been hooded and dark, the bright color nearly lost in his blown pupils. But like this, clear and sweet, you thought you might like this better.

“It wasn’t too much,” you said, simply.

Jake’s shoulders dropped, just slightly, and you saw him wanting to contest it, and so you shook your head.

“I think that’s a conversation for later,” you said gently, “when we’re both a little more clothed, hmm?”

“Oh,” Jake said, his head turning quickly as he looked around for your pajama shorts. “I can reach—”

You wanted to roll your eyes and you wanted to pinch him, just a little, to get him to listen to you. “That’s not what I meant,” you corrected. “I’m not…I’m not ready to be done. Besides, we han’t gotten you off yet.”

“Oh, that’s okay, that’s not what this was about,” Jake said quickly and you tilted your head, pushing yourself up to sitting.

Jake was still between your spread knees, your faces close together now, and you pressed a kiss to his cheek, a quick reassurance before you reached between the two of you.

Jake jumped when your hand slid over the front of his pajama pants, and you felt like cooing. Even through the thick cotton, you felt him respond to your touch. The fabric had to be adding to the illusion, because he felt enormous under the flannel.

And it was very gentlemanly that this was for you, that he didn’t want this to be a thing about reciprocity, but in a much more tangible way, he’d made you feel infinite, just a few minutes ago. If you could do the same for him, you imagined you’d probably feel just as proud as he had, to see you come undone.

“What’d you say,” you asked innocently, your fingers trailing up the length of him, “about distracting me?”

When you looked back up at Jake, his eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling slowly, deliberate, like he was holding his breath.

Sweet man.

You leaned back up to kiss him gently, waiting for him to kiss you back. It took only a moment, and you bit back a moan at the taste of yourself on his lips. You kissed him softly for a minute, gentle lips, gentle tastes, coaxing. When you pulled back, Jake’s lashes fluttered before he opened his eyes to look at you.

“I don’t know,” you lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “I think I’d be pretty distracted if I were choking on your dick, Jake.”

“Jesus,” Jake whispered, and his hips bucked into your touch. “I just don’t want you to feel like you have to–”

You licked your lips, his words from earlier coming back to you. “Nothing ‘have to’ about something I’ve been dreaming about for months.”

Jake surged forward, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you to him. You tasted his longing in this kiss, the tight reins he held himself in check with, and how desperately he wanted to give them to you, if only for a moment. You wanted that, and maybe for a little longer. So you kissed him for a moment more, then slid off the couch, settling between his knees like before, but this time, he stayed with his back against the back of the couch, and you were on the ground.

“Wait,” he said, leaning over to grab a pillow, and gesturing for you to use it under your knees.

Forget rolling your eyes or pinching him, did you want to marry him?

You shook the thought out of your head, settling on the cushion and reaching up to help Jake slide the pajama pants down. He hooked his boxer briefs along with them, and once they slid past his hips, his cock sprang free.

“Holy fuck, Seresin,” you whispered, looking up at his face. Jake shrugged, a kind of bashful you hadn’t seen him before. One of his hands fisted his cock loosely, like he needed something to do, and you reached up to pry his fingers away.

No wonder he walked around like he did.

As you wrapped your hands around him, replacing his fingers, you couldn’t deny a fresh wave of arousal washed over you. His wasn’t the longest dick you’d seen, but he was thick, a dusty rose color that you’d kill for a lipstick match of—which just made you think of why you were waiting so long to get him in your mouth.

But he’d teased you, and when you glanced up at Jake, his hands clenched at his sides, his stomach tight, you figured he was due for a taste of his own medicine.

You kissed up his thighs slowly, loving the contrast of wiry hair over smooth skin, and when you got to his cock, you let out a warm breath over the tip. As you watched, a smooth drop of precum appeared at the edge of his cock, and you frowned in mock sympathy, knowing how worked up he must’ve been from finishing you, while denying himself.

“Bet you’d beg something pretty yourself, Jake,” you teased softly, licking at the drop of moisture and pulling his salty taste back into your mouth. You hummed, immediately salivating for more, but Jake’s hips jerked up as he choked in a breath.

“Darlin’...” he said, his voice low, and you had mercy on him, not needing to hear the words to know how badly he wanted this.

“Good thing I’m nicer than you, hmm?” you asked, before you licked at him again.

Jake’s head fell back limply as you tongued his tip, teasing the sensitive head before you licked up the length of him. This was supposed to be for him, but as you were here, you were lost in the exploration of him—the gorgeous weight of him, the musky scent of him, the rich taste, and the sounds he was making.

You kind of loved how quiet he was being, when it was clearly costing him dearly.

It meant that when he did burst, it was going to be loud, and you wanted that break. You kissed your way lightly back to his tip, before opening your mouth and pulling him in.

You’d been joking earlier, about it being distracting, but fuck. The ache to your jaw was immediate, your mouth open as wide as it could to accommodate his thickness. But it felt so good, deeply satisfying, to be able to hold him like this. Warm and thick in your mouth, stretching you—you moaned around him, imagining him filling you. You hollowed your cheeks lightly, sucking, and Jake groaned above you.

There it was.

You pushed yourself deeper onto him, holding your breath and fighting your gag reflex, and Jake’s hands shot out to hold the back of your head, his breath a low moan that was the most beautiful sound you’d ever heard.

You clenched your thighs together, the sound of him and the weight of him had you feeling so empty, while you knew you were physically stretching to your limits. You pulled off of him, a trail of saliva falling from between your lips and his tip, and Jake swore softly at the sight.

“That mouth, baby,” he groaned, and you felt his thumb trace your lips, smearing your spit across it. You opened your mouth, holding out your tongue and Jake groaned again, feeding his cock back into your mouth.

You felt like he could see straight through you.

That was how it felt, his eyes boring into you as his cock stretched your jaw and his hips pressed slowly deeper. Your nostrils flared and your eyes were streaming again, but you wanted this, wanted him, wanted him to find his release in you, as you had in him. You couldn’t take him all the way down your throat, not now, although you relished the idea of training, so you found a rhythm that seemed to work for both of you.

Jake’s hips rose slightly to meet you, as you bobbed your head up and down his length, alternating sucking and swirling your tongue over his tip. Your other hands stroked the part of him that you couldn’t fit, squeezing and pulling and you heard Jake’s breathing getting heavier. You were lightheaded, overwhelmed by him, but you couldn’t stop, not for something as simple as air.

The stretch of him was so good, unrelenting and perfect, and the steadiness with which he held himself in check, it felt like a promise. It made your core ache, throbbing and empty, but you reached up to play with his balls. One of your hands cupped him lightly and then Jake was pulling you off of him.

You choked at the sudden influx of air as Jake set you back on your thighs, his hands smoothing over your face as he checked you were okay. You couldn’t remember a time you’d felt better, lightheaded and dreamy, but you nodded obediently in answer to the unspoken question, and Jake pulled you to standing. You weren’t sure where he was taking you, but you knew with absolute certainty that you’d follow him.

Mercifully, it was just around the couch, and when you understood his plan, you whimpered slightly, hoping you could take it. You braced your forearms on the armrest of the coach, rocking back on your hips, presenting your ass to him, and Jake was already behind you, covering you. His long arms draped over yours, pressing you into the couch, even as his knee worked between your thighs, spreading your legs. You moaned when you felt his cock slap against your thighs, and one of Jake’s hands fell to between your legs to cup your cunt.

“Oh, baby,” he whispered, voice somehow both rough and awed. “Is this new? You work yourself up, getting me off?”

You meant to say ‘obviously, asshole’, or ‘as if you didn’t know it’, but what came out was a truly pathetic, “Jake, please…”

He chuckled, his body stretched over yours, and the sound broke off when he guided his cock towards your core.

“Honey, you’re so wet and warm, fuck. Need to be in you, baby, need to feel this tight cunt—”

“Do it already,” you cried, rewarded by another deep laugh from Jake, and then you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, because that thick cock was pushing into you.

It was a good thing he was holding you up.

Your body was shaking to accommodate him, already loosened from your orgasms and his fingers, but the stretch still bordered on painful, and you dropped your head to your forearms as he pushed into you. You weren’t doing anything, you were simply there, letting him fuck into you slowly, and you couldn’t think of anywhere better to be.

“Fuck, honey, you’re so tight,” Jake groaned, and you knew he was trying to go slow, but that didn’t make the stretch any more attainable.

“Need you,” you managed. “Please, Jake, want to be full—”

His hips slammed forward and you cried out as he bottomed out into you.

You felt impaled, you felt him in your throat, you felt like this was everything you could want and you trembled but held him in you. You felt full, and it was so, so good.

“Honey,” Jake gritted, “I’ve got to move, but I need to know you’re okay.”

“I’m good,” you whispered, “let me feel you.”

He groaned, another gorgeous iteration of that sound, and when he pulled back, you clawed at the edge of the couch. It was like he was shifting your center of gravity, but the pull was re-orienting. You had no choice but to surrender to it.

Your whole universe was balanced on the edge of the sofa.

Jake’s thick cock, stuffing you. Jake’s strong chest, pressed against your back, his arms holding you up, pulling you to him. Jake’s sweat, dripping off of him and onto you, sweet and sticky and heady. The pull and push of him, overwhelming and deep, remaking you.

You weren’t going to cum from this; it was too much, but it was too good to stop. You’d already had yours, and you could hear how good it was for Jake, could feel it in the tight clench of his hands and the short length of his thrusts.

Jake groaned, a throaty sound that jolted through you as he pulled you back onto his dick.

“Sweetheart you feel so good…is this what we’ve been missing out on? This tight as fuck cunt, that I can just feel clenching around me? Touch yourself, honey, I need to feel you come again, want to feel you come on my cock.”

You couldn’t be sure if you were crying or babbling, but when Jake told you to play with yourself, you summoned your boneless limbs to do as he asked.

When your fingers brushed your clit, you immediately pulled back; it was too much.

“I can’t,” you gasped, hands falling back to brace against the couch. “It’s too much, Jake, I can’t–”

“Poor baby,” Jake gritted, and one of his hands smoothed down your back before dipping around to your stomach and finding his way to your clit. Your knees buckled and your hips jerked away from his hand, but a moment later you were pressing into him, needing the perfect pain of his touch.

“Honey, you’re doing so good,” Jake’s voice was tight. “God, you feel unreal, clenching down on me like that. Are you gonna cum again? Is this pussy going to cum for me?”

“Jake,” you sobbed, his name the only prayer you could manage.

“That’s it, baby,” he soothed, his touch gentling, even as his hips sped up. “I’m almost there; I know you are too. Where can I come, honey, where do you want me–”

“Jake,” you moaned, your head thrashing from side to side. It was too much, it wasn’t enough, but you knew you needed him. “In me…please..Jake...”

“Holy fuck,” Jake groaned. “Baby, are you sure I–”

You bucked back into him, the thought of losing his heat and his presence nearly unbearable. “Need you,” you whimpered. “Jake, please–”

“I’m right here,” Jake’s hips pistoned impossibly faster. “Fuck, I’m here, I’ve got you. Shit, honey, you feel so good, you’re gonna make me cum, baby, please–”

He ground his hips deep into you and rolled his fingers over your clit once, twice, and you shattered. Your legs gave out and you felt Jake grunt as he caught you, his hips pounding into you a couple more times and he stilled with another beautiful moan as he pumped his release into you. You felt him, hot and pulsing inside of you, and you wanted to curl up into that feeling forever—warm, full, safe.

Jake summoned some kind of strength as he turned the both of you, him settling onto the ground and you on his lap, your cunt clenching around him, like you still couldn’t bear the thought of him leaving. You turned into his chest, and Jake wrapped his arms around you, cradling you, somehow knowing how intense that had been and that you needed the warmth of his chest before you could come back down.

You were shaking, incredibly exhausted but deeply satisfied. And as you drifted back, you became aware of the tangible things around you—Jake’s chest hair prickling your face. Stranger Things still playing, on the TV. The cool air in the room around you, the sticky remains between your thighs.

You lifted your head to find Jake looking down at you, his expression careful, like he was worried what he’d see. Your eyes closed again, and you managed a smile before you turned your face into his chest again, pressing a kiss to whatever was closest. His hands were locked around your back, but you could feel his thumb brushing over your skin, lightly. And it was wild, that that was what had started this all, and if you’d had the energy for it, you would’ve laughed.

You could deal with the repercussions later, what this meant for your roommate situation, if your thigh was any worse for wear, any of that. Because that motion, that comforting gesture that Jake didn’t even seem to be aware he was doing—that meant that this was always where you were gonna end up.

tagging: @bradshawsbitch @callsign-fangirl @laracrofted @datemephoenix @mandylove1000 @withahappyrefrain @gigisimsonmars @babyonboardfloyd @blue-aconite @mxgyver @hangmanbrainrot @lt-bradshaw @wildbornsiren @fuckyeahhangman @double-j @sebsxphia @javihoney @jadore-andor @teacupsandtopgun @thedroneranger

#bre's recs #jake hangman seresin #there's no way in hell that that man doesn't have a breeding kink because BRO

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fallinallincurls · 2 years ago

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Which hockey romance book are you reading? Do you have other recommendations for hockey romance. I have read a few but need more!!!

currently i'm reading the advanced reader's copy of light up the lamp by kit oliver which is being released on may 16th!! BUT i have plenty of hockey romance recs omg. the off-campus series is always the first one mentioned here, but icebreaker by hannah grace (nathan hawkins is SUCH a book boyfriend omg), the good luck charm by helena hunting, cold day in the sun by sara biren and breakout by stephanie kay are a few others i've read and loved!! there are SO many available on kindle and plenty series i have saved to read as well but hope this helps!

#asks #ask bre #lovely anon #book recs #i always have plenty #hockey #let me know what you think if you read any of these!

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appolojustice · 9 months ago

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I've made the switch to buying coffee and books local when I can and now I've been trying to like, have a better handle on my own sense of style so I'd love to find some local/smaller places to buy clothes but that's kinda hard when 1. You've never been a fashion person so you don't know where to start and 2. You need plus size

#If anyone has any online recs they like hmu!!!! I need like. At least a 4x as an option #Sometimes 3x works but it really depends #I'm not used to spending a lot on clothes but if its high-quality stuff from smaller companies id be willing to splurge more #Life According to Bre

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ashrayus · 3 months ago

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PLSSSS MORE FANFIC RECOMMENDATIONS OF JASON TODDDD!

DUDEE!!!! really happy u asked but also omg this got long agaiN who would have thought (!) i added summaries this time tho :)

here is part one of my fic recs XD

andd heres the new ones!! pls give them some love if u read them :D

Dick and Jason:

how lonely to be something that nothing wants to kill by sunlitlemonade

There were blood drops dripping down his fingers to the ground. The puddle was big enough for it to have spread around more than half the tub. His breaths shuddered, they were shallow and waning. But he was breathing and Dick’s world centered around that.

starting strong with Angst go read all of sun’s fics i always die and get revived <333 pls mind the tags on this one

cast on/cast off by hellsreluctantheir

“This is surprisingly non-destructive for Jason,” Dick comments, lightly. In the parking lot, Jason pulls a grenade out of one of his pockets, yanks the pin, and tosses it through the roller door and out of sight, before tearing out of the parking lot in chase of the truck. “Well, for a minute there,” Dick amends. He takes a step back towards the alley the batmobile is parked in, giving Bruce a quick glance. “We following? “No,” Bruce says, as the grenade goes off. “He’s cleared the warehouse. We can get into the office.” Dick sighs again. But Jason knows he can call in if he needs help.

time loop!!! read most of this writer's fics and fell in love with them all,, go read fr

bloodstained by hellsreluctantheir

“I know where the clinic is, asshole,” Jason said. The wad of gauze he was using to keep pressure kept slipping against his shoulder. The knife had caught the space between two panels, split to allow movement. Lucky shot. “Ok, let me make sure you get there without passing out from blood loss,” Dick said, a deliberate evenness to his tone, like he was doing his best to accomodate someone who was being completely unreasonable. Shithead. “I’m not going to pass out,” Jason said, ignoring the fact that he was actually feeling pretty unsteady on his feet. He caught himself with his good shoulder on the entry to the bathroom, took a deep breath. “What would Daddy Bats think if he knew you were here, trying to help me?” “I assume something like, ‘Wow, Dick, you’re such a good brother, trying so hard to make sure Jason is ok even when he’s being a complete idiot about it,’” Dick sniped.

heres another one from them. jasons scars and dick. andd another one next

brothers in arms by hellsreluctantheir

It wasn’t like none of them went undercover. Jason practically lived there. And he’d punch anyone who tried to make it a sob story for him, to cluck over the times he’d been alone in a pit of vipers, act like it was some tragedy. But given half a minute to think about it, Dick somewhere completely cut off from everyone but Bruce, no allies on hand, surrounded by enemies. Angry as he was at the lie, there was something about that he just fucking hated. or Thinking your brother is dead and then finding out he's been alive the whole time really has a way of making you rethink the relationship.

Shelter by Ptelea

Two safe houses, two nights dealing with the aftermath of fear toxin, multiple conversations, several meals. Written for Sholio's September 2020 Comfort Fest for a prompt from Musesfool. Warning-wise, there's nothing graphic here but there are definitely references to past canon trauma for both the characters.

the way they are written here <33

Rotten Fruits by couldyoublameme

“I’m fine,” Dick assured gently, sitting up slightly. “Just a bad night, is all.” It’s a familiar phrase he has used so often. Whenever the addiction crawls back into his mind, a parasite he can never truly get rid of. The family knows what it means. Knows what the ‘bad’ is. Knows what to do. “Oh,” Jason says. “Why?”

absolutely murdered me. pls do mind the tags

You Can Do Better Than That by AlexaAffect

All Jason could hear was his own ragged breathing. He desperately gasped for air, each breath more exhausting than the last and his lungs and throat burned with the effort. In. And, he needed a second longer with every breath he took, out. His arms had been suspended for the last… 15? minutes? Jason had quit keeping track of the time, he’d been too preoccupied trying to hold himself upright, trying to ease his position, switch it up, anything to prolong the guaranteed death. “Red Hood?” That was Dick’s voice. Huh. So they had found him fast enough. Or alternatively; Dick finds a kidnapped Jason shortly before he asphyxiates.

this fic is just oddly comforting to me idk. very precious

Equivalent Exchange by Lysical

Apparently favors don't expire on death. --"What do you want, Dick?" "For you to be happy, Jay." Dick leaned over and pinched his cheek. Jason reached up and swiped at him, scowling. "And world peace."

ADORABLE and fun

Just for Now by Lysical

Jason was back in Gotham and the timing couldn't be worse for him to need assistance on a case. He didn't want to see any of the Bats and he was sure the feeling was mutual. Nightwing was the worst option for Oracle to pick to help him out.

To Reconcile by CasualDanger

“Babs slapped me at your funeral.” Jason goes to laugh, but it’s just a cough and his mouth barely even twitches up. “She hated me in that moment. I mean, really, really hated me, like I did Talia after I found out Damian had died. And I wondered,” his voice cracks, eyes glassy now, “did you hate anyone when I was gone? Because I was gone?”

he ain't heavy, he's my brother by someplacewarm

Dick's been putting off meeting with Jason for a while now, but when a distress call comes through, he has no choice but to answer. Or the one where Dick and Jason talk, fight, get high and cuddle. In that order.

making gold out of it by vmkhoney

Dick talks himself back down on the bathroom floor, clinical and detached. (For someone whose primary skill is manipulating his body, it’s not very often that he feels connected to it.) - Or, five years after Blockbuster, Dick begins teetering on the ledge of processing what Catalina did to him.

a wonderful dick grayson fic, and jason is there being a good brother. mind the tags

What Hurts You by blueyeti

Dick comes to Jason's aid when he's injured in a fight, or at least he thinks he has.

jason has no scars!! and thats also sad

at me, too, someone is looking by bacondoughnut

Dick Grayson knows he's got problems when the Red Hood's busted leg somehow becomes his concern. aka; How Dick Grayson finds out Jason Todd is alive. A story about healing.

a rather long one for my standards XD (very short attention span) but this made me sit down and read. very fun jason

Bruce and Jason:

Saltwater and Desperation by bacondoughnut

Jason's not sure how he even manages to get himself out of the harbor. He's just glad Bruce is there when he does. Not that he'll ever, ever admit as much out loud.

same writer, love this jason (and bruce) so much

Insomnolence by navree

It's not like he slept much as a kid anyway; this is just a return to the status quo. He's not overly tired, and even if he's been sleeping less than his already limited amount throughout April, that's still not any of her business. Bad memories are already bad enough even before they spend the next few years in the aftermath becoming nightmares.

navree being The bruce and jason writer for me all of their fics are so o(- (

Ash Into The Wind by navree

This is his dad in there, the first man he ever called Dad, at any rate, and even after everything, booze and jail and Bruce and death and then death again, there's never going to be a part of Jason that isn't gutted that he's dead. One night, a wraith in a red helmet slips onto the grounds of Blackgate Penitentiary to steal one specific thing.

another one from them

Trapped by lurkinglurkerwholurks

BatFam Week 2018, Day Two. Prompt: Trapped Yes, the prompt is "trapped" and it's a Jason fic. I'm so, so sorry. (Not really, though.) Please see tags for potential triggers.

binge read this writers fics recently they write them so nice

Overcoming Our Antecedents by Batbirdies

Bruce swallows, closing his eyes for a brief moment before he takes another, steadying breath and presses both hands to his face. He just needs a moment. Needs to remember where he is, what year it is, that Jason is not actually fifteen, he only looks like he is. This is temporary. This is just a temporary problem that needs to be contained until they can change Jason back. This is not a repeat of events already passed. This is not a second chance.

Jason and Batfam:

Names and Neapolitan by Muddell

“Goddamnnit Robin,” Hood is there, pulling him into his arms. Robin sees that helmet, he sees the green eyes, the dark hair, he sees open, gray, Gotham sky, and hears tires squealing, and then he sees stone. He sees the cave. Bruce is there. Alfred is there. Dick is there. And Hood is there. Robin rolls in and out of consciousness. He reaches out, snatches the smell of copper and the touch of leather, and he holds Hood’s hand and he does not let go. He’s allowed to say it now. “Jason,” he says. “Don’t leave.” Or, following Dick telling Tim about his older brother, to Tim actually knowing him.

read a couple fics from this writer all so good!!!

Six Ways to Sunday by Muddell

Jason catches Duke hiding a headache and says, is anyone going to deal with that?

same writer!! really love their jason

Settle Down and Sleep by OberonBronze

A series of vignettes about seeking comfort. Damian tries his hand at being a comfort animal; Tim shows up at Jason’s place for an impromptu sleepover; Jason bonds with his older brother after a damaging fear toxin trip; Dick and Bruce have a long-overdue conversation.

really liked jason and dick in this :)

Tuck Me In by OberonBronze

Bruce Wayne and his long-standing habit of tucking his kids into bed.

think how great it is to fall asleep (and how terrible it is to wake up) by mikkal

Jason was fifteen, barely five foot, and underweight for his age when he died. When he came back to his body, suddenly he was too tall, too scarred, too much, too different. And he just... never got used to it. (Or: 5 times a Bat noticed/discovered his body dysphoria post resurrection)

Stranger Danger by alchemistsarego, whumpinaheartbeat (alchemistsarego)

There was never one particular moment that Damian registered that he was losing consciousness. Everything simply flashed from one thing to the next, even though some part of him understood that time had been passing in between. He had been sitting upright, rolling his eyes at something someone had said, then he was on the ground being pinned by some unknowable weight. All at once the weight was gone again, replaced instead by something not only lighter, but much warmer too. A blanket? No, a jacket.

jason and others:

Past Experience by Rookblonkorules

He thinks he might be dying. Again.

clark and jason :)

Bats in the Belfry by endlessnepenthe

Hal idly wonders how long he has before he's found. Probably not very. The Bat's freaky like that. (Or, Hal goes to Gotham and discovers that Batman's brand of freaky isn't exactly one of a kind.)

jason and hal jordan??! and slade? and magic.

#jason todd #dick grayson #bruce wayne #dc #jason todd fic #fic rec

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malibuhearts · 2 years ago

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tthis...was a lot to unpack. i’m getting started on finishing the better man series and then rr it for comments with a further like...understanding of the series. but yeah, this was- it was a lot to take in.

first of all, domestic abuse is one of the most unreported forms of abuse in the us and around the world, more prevalent in other countries than ours but still very high. and it’s completely horrifying to witness and watch and know is happening and i can’t imagine how awful it must be to be a parent in a situation where its you or your child.

and it just proves how strong she is. to get out and raise her son and be as strong as she is and manage to keep going even when she was scared.

furthermore.

adam is a dick who i hope rots in hell and doesn’t even get the chance of life with the possibility for parole after everything he’s done. he deserved everything jake was willing to give him and more.

anyways i’m putting this under a cut bc it’s a lot of words and words are hard

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

IT CAN BE YOU

god that made me just. i shivered. i felt my spine tingle.

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

i’m- wow.

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

jake. sweet sweet jake. oh how much i love you. this, ladies, gents, and the androgenous, is the man you need. one who loves you and protects you and knows you deserve so much better than the cards you’ve been dealt

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

oh. oh. oh god. i swear- the emotion. i want to cry i sob

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

i love him. that’s all i have to say. i love him.

woah.

okay so that was a whirlwind and i loved it and i swear that nothing, nothing, can compare to how beautifully written-and how real it felt-that this was. the pain, the anger, the grief, the fear, the love that was encompassed in this chapter that i felt alone was out of this world. i loved it and i love this series.

🤍🤍🤍

Something That Will Haunt Me When You're Not Around

✦ Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Better Man Universe

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

✦Word Count: 13.1 K

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

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

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

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

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

“You always did look better from behind.”

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

IT CAN BE YOU

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

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

…

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

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

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

“What are you doing here?”

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

“I’m here to see my son.”

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

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

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

“He’s still mi–”

“No, he’s not!”

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

“He has a father, and it’s not you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not so mouthy now are you, Angel?”

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You finally coherent, Angel?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He leaves them to pay for their sins.”

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Run.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I had planned to kill it myse–”

...

“Daddy!”

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

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

“Momma. Momm–”

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

“Jake wh–”

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

“Get him out of here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You fucking bastard.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

“My babies?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

“Y/n.”

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

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

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

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

“Y/n that's highly unlikely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

“I had planned to kill it myse–”

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

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

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

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

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

You lost your baby.

You lost Elliot.

It was no one’s fault, but your own.

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

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

You couldn’t see anything but him.

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

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

Losing Elliot would be your punishment.

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

…

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

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

Your rocking form doesn’t still, though the delicate hand Jake places on your cheek make your back-and-forth movement stutter slightly.

“Sweetheart. Baby. Darlin’.”

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

“Y/n. Sweets, breath for me baby.”

…

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

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

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

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

“He wanted to kill Elliot.”

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

“Sweets?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Knife, Rooster.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

“I still never found the candles.”

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

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

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

“Y/n, honey talk to us.”

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about the gun, Nix.”

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jake wh–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I want it off.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He broke me.”

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

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

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

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

“I love you.”

“Darlin’ I love you so much more.”

#bre's recs #jake hangman seresin #no i totally didn't cry while reading the ending what are you talking about

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bridenore · 4 months ago

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HD eight year fic recs : 20k to 30k words

Here are a few drarry eight year fic recs that are between 20k and 30k words. Posted in alphabetical order, as always.

You can access my rec lists for eight year fics that have less than 10k words here and between 10k and 20k here.

12 Days of What The Fuck by @bixgirl1 [26k]

When Potter starts paying unusual amounts of attention to Draco as the holidays draw nearer, Draco can’t figure out where it’s coming from—possibly because he’s gone stupid from all the fantastic sex. But what happens when he finds out that there may be another motive behind Potter’s sudden interest? Or: A fic in which Potter is hotter than Draco ever let himself admit, Draco didn’t fill out that fucking form, and Pansy may or may not lose all of her hair.

1,000 Points From Gryffindor by @blithelybonny [25k]

The story of how Harry Potter single-handedly lost Gryffindor the House Cup while attempting to have a “normal” year at Hogwarts. Featuring Harry’s suspicious nature turned up to eleven again, a new DADA teacher who is so not here for Harry’s fame, multiple detentions, Slytherins being sneaky, Hufflepuffs being sneakier, and the mystery of Draco Malfoy’s hoodie because seriously Hermione who gave that to him and is he wearing it just to torment me? This is ridiculous!

Dear Diary by AWickedMemory [20k]

// This can’t possibly go worse than the last time I kept a diary. // After the war, Harry picks up a journal to write in… and it writes back. Luckily, it’s not a Horcrux on the other end this time.

Don’t mind if I keep your tie (And your heart, babe) by Ingi [21k]

The Eighth year common room has a parrot in it, courtesy of McGonagall and her mad search for interhouse bonding. Most of the time, it’s just there, until one day it repeats “Potter has a damn fine arse.” And the Slytherins know exactly who the parrot’s mimicking… Draco is not amused.

Heartache by @bixgirl1 [25k]

“Harry doesn’t think about Malfoy anymore. Not really. Not intentionally. What if the one person you least expect is the only one who really understands what you’ve gone through?

Hungry by birdsofshore [24k]

The first thing Harry knew about it was when he woke up lying on a bed in the hospital wing, with his arm firmly stuck to the scrawny, milk-white arm of Draco bloody Malfoy.

Into You by @andithiel [28k]

There were many things that Harry had anticipated when arriving back at Hogwarts for his eighth year. Having his body switched with Draco Malfoy’s was not one of them.

An Issue of Consequence by @faith2wood [20k]

Draco has woken up in an alternate universe. Or he has woken up utterly insane. Nothing else can possibly explain why Harry Potter suddenly seems to think he’s Draco’s boyfriend.

It Takes a Village by Saras_Girl [25k]

Eighth year isn’t exactly going to plan. Harry is definitely not running away, Draco is definitely not impressed, and it’s almost definitely not going to stop raining.

Life is a Twice Written Scroll by lauren3210 [22k]

The new world order hasn’t been kind to Draco and his family, and he wishes it could all be different. So does Harry, although not for the same reasons. But as Draco works to fix the mistakes he made in the past, he finds his reasons for doing so changing in a way he never expected.

The Lip-Lock Jinx by cassisluna [20k]

It’s a jinx that renders the victim mute, unless he/she serves the purpose of the jinx and kisses the person that they desire. It’s just Harry’s luck that he’s in love with Draco.

Love, Harry by Zzzara [26k]

Harry Potter keeps a huge secret: that scary thing he can’t tell anyone about. Until a mysterious penfriend changes his life, because he keeps a secret, too.

No Greater Victory by @dictacontrion [26k]

Back at Hogwarts after the war, a defeated Draco Malfoy is prepared to settle for life’s simpler pleasures: snark, sex, and Slytherin scheming. That is until Pansy, newly in possession of Malfoy Manor, offers to return his ancestral home. Just one condition: he has to win, and break, Harry Potter’s heart to get it. That’s no problem. Draco’s got this situation completely under control. Completely. At least until he doesn’t.

Pensieve For Your Thoughts by @fencer-x [22k]

Ostracised from the more discerning social circles after the war, Draco decides to spend his final few months at Hogwarts attempting to ingratiate himself with the Boy Wonder in the hopes he might be able to salvage his reputation in the doing. But when has anything involving Draco trying to be Potter’s friend gone right, really?

Project (or Curse?) by venis_envy [21k]

In order to build trust and inter-house unity, the Ministry School Board has designed an obligatory N.E.W.T. project for the eighth year students. Paired off, each team will be assigned a Charmed puffskein and required to share a room with their “families” throughout the term. If they all survive that long.

Recalibrate by Saras_Girl [20k]

Sometimes, you need to step back and think about things from a new perspective. Other times, you’ve just got to open your eyes to what you needed all along. HPDM 8th-year FILTH

Sparks by @annanother-thing [20k]

“I’m sorry,” Draco turned to him, “are we boring you?” Greg looked up. “No, I’m just hungry, and you’re taking far too long to just tell them that you and Potter are soulmates. Do you have to be this dramatic?” There was a moment of silence, before all hell broke loose. Harry didn’t know soulmates existed until he was fourteen. He wasn’t sure what he imagined it would be like, but he knew it wasn’t this. But that’s not to say he didn’t like it.

Strange Bathfellows by @bixgirl1 [27k]

It started with a bath. Or a potions accident. Or maybe it started before that, but who can tell anymore. Featuring: Uncomfortable wanking, more comfortable wanking, mutual wanking, bath sharing, inappropriate betting, secret shagging, those secrets at Hogwarts that everyone knows, and oblivious Harry who knows one thing: he’s falling in love.

Symbiosis by fireflavored [20k]

sym·bi·o·sis (sĩm'bē-ō'sĩs) n. Biology A close, prolonged association between two or more different organisms of different species that may, but does not necessarily, benefit each member.

Then Comes a Mist and a Weeping Rain by @faith2wood [21k]

It always rains for Draco Malfoy. Metaphorically. And literally. Ever since he had accidentally Conjured a cloud. A cloud that’s ever so cross.

The Ties That Bind Us by @faith2wood [27k]

An accident leaves Draco and Harry bound tightly together. Literally.

Two Wands Make a Right by dannyfranx [21k]

Harry’s wand is playing up and Hermione thinks she knows the answer, but why does she have to be right all the time, why does Draco Malfoy have to be so god damn difficult and why is he wearing his tie backwards?

Your Destiny, My Destination by valinorean [20k]

Life is a series of events that shape your past and determine your future. Ten years after the war, Head Auror Harry Potter accidentally travelled back in time where he met 18-year-old Draco Malfoy.

I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I did!

#my recs #drarry #drarry recs #theme rec

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sl-walker · 7 months ago

Text

Username Fic Game

Tagged by @shadowmaat. Take each letter of your username and rec a fic whose title starts with that same letter! Then feel free to pass it on to your friends.

S - Slings and Olive Branches by Gibraltar - The first tale of the Starship Reykjavik. If you love awesome characters with many layers and also some supremely badass moments, Sam's the author you wanna read. Every bit as skilled at character, world and plot building as any professional, Gibraltar's stories of the Reykjavik are funny, heartfelt and Nandi Trujillo will just win you over literally in this first, short story.

L - Land of Song by @b-radley66 - Generally, you know that when B writes anything, it's going to be plot-heavy, dense and guaranteed to require at least one spreadsheet. But the ability to keep all of that not only in-line but also moving forward is a skill not many authors can claim, and B is an expert at it. Plus, his OCs are so good that you'll be hunting various wikis going, "But wait, they're not canon??"

W - When the Lights Come On by @btwxsixesandsevens - A beautiful little original tale set in the Star Wars universe. I love the atmosphere of this one; the way that it correlates so much to memories of my own childhood. Some things are pan universal, I think. And the author is a master worldbuilder who did stunningly cool things with zabrak culture that I still think about regularly.

A - A Higher Power When You Look (Also on Ad Astra) by @daraoakwise - An absolutely, mind-blowingly epic retelling of a lot of the Original Series cast's tales for the AOS. Dara takes a lot of the sillier premises in the AOS line and makes it all make sense. Her character work and world building and plotting are out of this world.

L - Lost… and Found by @shadowmaat - SURGE SQUAD!! Shadowmaat's OC clones (and jedi!) are incredibly charming and this is where the tale begins. Guaranteed if you read it, you'll knock out the whole series and want more. (And I am still excited for the Blackbirds crossover that will one day happen!)

K - Kaminoan Copyright by independent_variables - Awesome world-building, which seems to be a thing for me. LOL! But it's a short, punchy tale about what the chips entailed for the clones and how things change when Anakin -- of all people, but it makes perfect sense! -- finds out about them and word spreads. Sweet ending, too.

E - Every Moment a Step Forward by alyyks - Bail/Bre/Maul is one of the ships/tags I pioneered, so it's an outright thrill everytime someone writes it. And alyyks is an awesome author in general, so not only do you have an awesome author writing my own faves, but the story's excellent. It touches on a Maul who is very much living with his damage, and how important the steady love and support of a family is to his quality of life. Just a psychologically excellent tale.

R - Rest and Ruckus (archive locked) by @sharpest_asp - A gift that made me beam, this one is Corry and Scotty going camping up in the woods of Maine, with all the inherent chaos that usually accompanies those two. Sweet, funny, in-character and atmospheric, it's a quick and lovely jaunt with a bunch of excellent mental images.

Tagging: Everyone who sees this. Because spreading love of your favorite fics and authors is important!

#fic recs

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malibuhearts · 2 years ago

Text

oh oh he’s gotta go!

i don’t like ryan. i never did and i still don’t. only now it’s more evident why i didn’t: he’s a fucking asshole.

anyways...

i’m watching you ryan

My Future in You | 1.5 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: Bradley’s twenty-two years old and not where he’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to be out of the academy by now. Instead, he’s retaking his senior year of college and praying to god that he gets into flight school. Mav’s gone, his mom’s gone. He’s mad at the world. Then, a hook up at a Halloween party changes his future even more than he could have imagined.

Warnings: accidental pregnancy, references to abortion in a few chapters, angst, will be fluff eventually, will be smut so 18+, enemies to lovers kinda thing — mentions of hospitals, stitches and check ups on pregnancy after accident but no loss etc

…

“I don’t even want to go.” It’s almost a whimper, you drop down to sit on the edge of your bed and rest your hand against your forming stomach. Maybe it’s wrong to expect sympathy from Ryan after everything you’ve put him through, but you’re still surprised by the anger on his face when he turns to face you.

He’s been ready for twenty minutes, you’re sitting in the fourth outfit that you’ve tried on for the night, already on the verge of tears. It’s just frustrating learning to accommodate something you’ve never had to deal with before. It’s not just the bump that’s causing issues — you’ve had bloating make you feel worse. Your boobs have gotten bigger, they’re tender now and all of a sudden, everything you wear is too hot.

It’s February and you’re considering not taking a coat.

“You want to look good because he’s going to be there, don’t you?”

There’s immediate disbelief in the way that you lift your head to look at him. He’s staring at you, brows knotted, serious.

“I want to be comfortable, Ryan,” You answer him, frowning as you lift yourself off of the bed again and stand. Maybe there’s a part of you that does want to look good tonight, but that’s got everything to do with the cheerleader that Bradley’s bringing and nothing to do with the idiot himself.

Bradley has seen you throw up until you pass out and still tried to sleep with you in the same day, you figure that you’re somewhat past putting a pretty dress on for him.

“Can you stop being so snappy?” You sigh, stepping around him and pulling open your closet once more. He watches you flinch at yet another offensive smell. That’s this week’s issue — scents. Everything from your favourite perfume to the onions your roommate was sautéing yesterday now has the power to make you gag.

His face softens. He brushes a dark curl back off of his face as you instinctively step back away from whatever the scent is — fabric softener from doing your laundry at Jake’s.

“I’m sorry. Why don’t you go have some water or something? — I’ll pick some options out for you.” He offers, resting one hand on the small of your back and the other on your stomach. It’s really popped this week. It happened on Tuesday, specifically. You’ve asked everyone, there was a definite overnight change.

It happened to be the nights that your boobs jumped a cup size that your bump also went from maybe just bloating to definite pregnancy. It’s been an adjustment. Ryan has been a little tense, and you can’t blame him, but he reminds you every single day that he’s doing his best in his little efforts like this.

You soften, pressing your lips gently to his clean-shaven jaw and whispering a quick thank you.

Things feel easy again once you’re on the way there. You feel pretty in the cream, fitted dress that Ryan chose for you, and you’re grateful for the autumnish Sherpa jacket he paired it with — because it is actually still cold outside, despite your spiked body temperature.

“You look beautiful.” Ryan tells you tenderly as the car stops in a space, he reaches across and rests his hand on your stomach. It’s accentuated by the fitting dress, but now that the secret’s out, you don’t mind.

You lean forwards and press your lips softly to his.

“This was a bad idea, we should go—“

Kenzie grabs Bradley’s forearm, curling her manicured nails into his skin just enough to let him know that she’s serious but not enough to hurt him. They’re parked in the space opposite, facing Ryan’s shitty Honda Civic, watching you kiss him.

“It was a bad idea two weeks ago when you agreed — you had time to cancel and that time has passed. Let’s go.” Kenzie releases his arms and they both begrudgingly exit the bronco. Bradley feels a little better knowing that your boyfriend has a shitty car.

You’re the first to notice the two of them as you pull back from the kiss. Bradley’s scowling at you. Ryan follows your gaze towards the father of your child, and then at the girl to his side. Admittedly, Ryan had been expecting Bradley to either cancel or be lying about having a girlfriend — he hadn’t ever really been expecting this date to happen.

It’s as awkward as he would have expected it to be. Bradley’s girlfriend tries to break the ice a few times. First, as you’re waiting to be seated. Second, as you’re looking over menus. Third, when you’re sipping on alcohol free drinks.

Bradley glares at you across the table. Maybe he has made things difficult between you and Ryan in the past, but at least he has tried. It’s clear that you have no intention of keeping up conversation with Kenzie whatsoever. Her bubbly personality can only keep things together for so long.

For the third time in ten minutes, Ryan catches Bradley’s gaze slip downwards. The dress isn’t particularly low cut, but you’ve got some cleavage in it — especially with the recent growth.

“Hey.”

Bradley lifts his gaze from the golden R necklace dangling between your collarbones and looks at your boyfriend, frowning slightly.

“Do you mind?” Ryan frowns. You look between him and Bradley, lost. Bradley appears equally lost for a moment, you watch him mentally retrace his steps and figure out what he’s in trouble for now.

His eyes fall back on the necklace.

“Oh — no,” He shakes his head quickly. He’s not staring at your chest. He noticed the difference before you even got out of the car, but he’s not an animal. “I was looking at the necklace. It’s cute.”

You glance down, then give your boyfriend a reassuring smile. Ryan doesn’t seem convinced.

“Wonder if he got it from Claire’s.” Bradley mutters under his breath. Kenzie has been doing her best not to encourage his dislike for your new boyfriend, but she snickers softly at the comment.

Looking up, she catches you staring at her. It’s clear that you don’t like her, and she can’t say that she blames you. She imagines Bradley probably hasn’t explained their situation, or if he has, he hasn’t done it very well.

Still, she offers you a sweet smile and plans to explain once the two of you get a moment alone.

Jake gets a phone call from Kenzie at 9pm, whilst he’s hitting second base with a girl from his economics class — he’s mad when he first picks up the phone, and he’s even more furious when he sets it down.

After first apologizing profusely, Jake finds himself driving to the emergency room half-way across town because his baby sister needs him.

You eyes widen, face softening. Ryan feels you relax, relieved at the moment you spot your big brother.

“What the fuck happened?” Jake breathes out, rushing forwards at the sight of you in the hospital bed. He lifts your chin and examines you for any damage.

Frowning, you swipe his hands away from your face and instead pull him in for a hug. Once he is released, Jake turns his head expectantly towards Ryan. Kenzie’s sitting in the waiting room, filling out forms and Bradley’s not answering his phone.

“She — it was all a misunderstanding, and-“

“I fell, and I haven’t felt the baby move since. They just want to do some tests.” You tell Jake softly. There’s an incompatibility in your answers, and you can see the way that Jake readies to round on your boyfriend.

You squeeze his hand softly. He meets your gaze. Not here, not now. You don’t need another fight, you just need your big brother.

The technician swings open the door.

“Hi, Miss Seresin — I’m Todd, just here to do a scan for you.” He announces, walking over to the machine at the side of the bed. “You can go ahead and lift your dress for me.”

You’re grateful that you decided to wear boy-shorts under it.

“She’s right, she did kinda fall.” Ryan whispers to Jake.

“You can tell me what happened after all this.” Jake’s tone is deadly calm, serious. Ryan sits back in his seat and swallows, nodding softly.

“Alright, I’m sorry — which one of you is the father?” The technician interrupts, resting his arm impatiently against an expensive looking machine as he looks impatiently around the room.

“He’s getting stitches.” Ryan declares from behind the cold compress.

“Should we wait?” It’s the wrong thing to say, you can feel Ryan’s gaze burning daggers into your side the second that it leaves your mouth. As furious as you are, this could be serious — you don’t want Bradley to have to hear it from someone else.

“This isn’t a routine scan, Miss Seresin,” The technician reminds you snidely. He’s just doing his job but you still can’t help but feel scolded. “We don’t have time.”

Jake stands up. He can see the worry on your face and he isn’t going to let Bradley make this any harder on you than it already is.

“I’ll grab him, you go ahead.” Jake reassures you. Your face softens slightly, giving him a grateful nod.

You regret the dress now, as it’s bunched up around your middle and the air conditioning in the room feels borderline freezing. You flinch as the jelly is spread onto your stomach, Ryan’s fingers curl around your hand gently. It’s supposed to be a comforting gesture, but you pull away from his touch sharply.

It’s hard not to pass blame.

His stupid game of ‘who’s dick is bigger with Bradley’ put you in the hospital and he still hasn’t apologised. You rest your head back and close your eyes, silently apologising to the little one in your tummy for the chaos around them already.

“Alright, so you said you haven’t felt movement since the restaurant?” The technician asks calmly, his eyes focused on the screen. His shoulder blocks your view, you’re half tempted to tell him to move. Instead, you answer him politely ‘no’. “Okay, and were you feeling movement regularly before?”

The door swings open and Jake shoves Bradley inside.

Bradley’s hand is bandaged now, but other than that he looks fine. He steps around Ryan swiftly as Jake slips back into the other seat in the room. You’re glad you chose to wear shorts under your dress today. Bradley plants himself on the edge of the hospital bed and slides his hand into yours.

Ryan watches your fingers curl around Bradley’s, moments after you flinched away from his touch.

“Um, it felt kinda fluttery. Not kicking or anything, but yeah, I feel stuff sometimes.” You explain. Bradley’s gaze turns towards you, eyes soft, brows knitted together in a mixture of concern and curiosity. He hasn’t ever asked you about this.

He wishes he had.

“Heartbeat’s good and strong.” The technician declares as the growingly familiar sound of that sped up little beat fills the room. Jake sits forwards slightly, his eyes meeting Bradley’s. This is his first time hearing it. Jake’s gaze turns towards you, softening, he gives you a small smile.

“He’s just fine. Little guy’s growing perfectly, but you did the right thing by coming in.” It isn’t until the technician turns back towards you that he realizes he may have misspoken. Four equally surprised faces stare back at him.

Jake’s the first one to speak up, “He? — It’s a boy?”

The technician does a double take and looks back at the image, “Well - um… you haven’t had your anatomy scan yet?”

You remain silent, finding yourself unsure as to whether this is by choice or a symptom of shock.

“It’s not for a couple more days.” Jake answers for you. You’re reeling, waiting for the technician to tell you that he made a mistake and that he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

Bradley stopped listening after the first ‘he’. He heard it loud and clear, and he hasn’t heard anything but his own heartbeat in his ears since. Blinking, he turns his head to look at you. You’re already staring at him.

“Oh my - I’m so sorry, I thought you already knew.” The technician begins to apologise profusely, but neither you nor Bradley are paying attention to him.

Bradley’s brows knit together slightly, his entire face hardening with concern, he squeezes his fingers softly around yours in the hopes that it’ll get you to stop looking at him like that. You study his features.

Physically, there’s never been a flaw that you were concerned about your child inheriting from him. Those pretty puppy-dog eyes that you already knew your child was going to use to sucker you into letting them stay up late. Curly hair that lands somewhere between auburn and caramel. Rounded cheekbones that give him away even when there’s the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips.

The baby was always going to be fifty-percent Bradley, and it hadn’t bothered you in a while now. Not since what had happened over Christmas. Staring at him now, your heart sinks.

He watches as your gaze falls to rest on his bandaged hand. The tears that have been brimming in your eyes for a good few seconds already finally spill out onto your cheeks. He has misread the situation before, but Bradley knows that there’s not a chance in hell that these are tears of joy.

“Hey, it’s okay—“ Jake sits at your other side and wraps his arm around your shoulder. He rests his cheek on top of yours, his eyes landing on Bradley’s. It’s hard to pretend he isn’t excited at the prospect of having a nephew. Bradley doesn’t match his excitement, instead, he stares at the teams spilling onto your cheeks.

“What is it?” Bradley knows you well enough by now to know that you aren’t just disappointed that you aren’t having a girl, that there’s more to this.

You swallow through the burning sensation in your throat long enough to say what he needs to hear, and wipe away your tears long enough to look him in the eye as you say it.

“I don’t want him to be like you.”

Even Jake almost flinches. Ryan’s eyes widen slightly as he looks between you and Bradley. He’s still sitting off to the side, knowing that it isn’t his place to get in the middle of this. His lips quirk just slightly at the lack of emotion on Bradley’s face.

Bradley pulls his hand away from yours. He has tolerated a lot of painful information in his life. That wasn’t the first, and it likely won’t be the last.

Part of you thinks that maybe he doesn’t react because he doesn’t care. Jake knows better than that. As you turn your head and cry into Jake’s shoulder, Jake stares at Bradley and knows how much that hurt to hear.

Jake knows more of what Bradley has been through than you do, and even he doesn’t know everything. The usual pink flush to Bradley’s cheeks is gone now, his eyes dark as he watches the way you grieve.

“Bradshaw, wait-“

You don’t lift your head to look, but feel the bed shift as Bradley stands.

“I’ll - I should take Kenzie home.” He mutters tiredly, turning on his heel. The door swings shut behind him. You whimper softly as you try to stop the tears. It’s a useless effort, they just keep coming regardless.

…

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#*i'm watching you kazowkski. always watching*#vibes #also wtf did ryan and bradley do #i'm just- ugh #bre's recs #bradley rooster bradshaw

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