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#tips from person familiar with guns
intoxicated-chan · 3 months
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𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬
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Summary ➳ Daryl allows himself to become vulnerable with you.
(A/n) ➳ This is my first take for writing S2 Daryl, feedback is definitely appreciated and needed!! I just started S3 but already know about spoilers so it’s cool! Also, thanks to @celtic-crossbow for the tips!!
Word Count ➳ 790
Content Warnings ➳ Female Reader, Season 2 Daryl/OOC Daryl, sexual content, penetration, unprotected sex, riding, foreplay but no prep, Angst?-to-fluff… Let me know if I missed anything!
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You could always tell how Daryl was feeling by his eyes. How they shifted around the room whenever he felt annoyed or tense, how his eyes slightly relaxed when he was doing something he enjoyed. He wasn’t an open book, he was a closed person and a person who was difficult to understand.
But under his usual demeanor, he could be vulnerable if he’s given the chance. But that’s a blue moon, a rarity. You’d never ask him for more, Daryl is enough in your eyes.
Daryl had you pushed against the tree trunk, his crossbow on the ground, resting next to your gun. His hands slipped under your shirt, unclipping your bra to take it and your shirt off. Your hands remain on his shoulders, avoiding his back and spots that you know he doesn’t like you touching.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, wrapping your legs around his waist. The two of you continued to kiss as he carefully laid you down on the cold grass. Daryl pulled back only to unbutton your pants, desperately ripping them off along with your underwear.
He hovered over you, you could see that familiar look in his eyes… His vulnerability. You could see him swallow in nervousness.
He stood to his feet, his hands reaching for the edges of his shirt, and stripped himself, one by one. Articles of clothing fell to the floor. He watched you closely for a reaction. For the slightest signs of disgust or discomfort.
But he didn’t see it. You had yourself propped up on your elbows, you watched him with adoration. His face didn’t show how anxious he felt. He looked composed.
Once Daryl finished, he stood in front of you, completely nude. He could feel your eyes on him.
You stretched out your hand for him to take. With a smile and your eyes watering. “Come here.” You uttered.
Daryl took your hand, squeezing it as he came down back to you. He kissed you again, and your other hand found his hair, giving it light tugs.
His other hand grabbed his cock, guiding himself to your hole. He gave himself a few seconds before he pushed himself in bit by bit.
Your eyes tightly shut as your mouth opened, letting out an airy moan. Once he was completely in, Daryl thrust, keeping himself at the perfect pace. Not too hard or fast.
You felt full, biting back moans as you felt him moving inside of you. He stared down at you, clouded and intoxicating he was to look at.
You threw your head back, your other hand moving from his hair and to his shoulders, nearly touching his back. But you weren’t going to push. Not ever.
He kept a tight grip on your hand, refusing to let go. Even when you managed to roll on top of him, he lay flat on the ground. His free hand gripped your hip tightly so that you were sure that he would leave a bruise.
Daryl breathed heavily as he felt you rocking your hips back and forth, you honestly tried to be quiet. But with his cock kept hitting your spot, it was difficult to do so. You were drunk on the feeling since it felt so different than before.
It was usually a quick and hard fuck with Daryl but he took care of you after. But he seemed to be taking his time with you, savoring the feeling as well.
The feeling of your cunt was almost hard to believe, you squeezed around him.
He sat up, kissing you once more. You didn’t stop bouncing on his cock, you quickened your pace as you felt the feeling pool in your stomach.
Daryl could feel it too, shoving his head in the crook of your neck. Even when you felt the hot liquid spill into your cunt, even when you stopped moving, Daryl didn’t stop. He quickened his pace.
His eyes remained shut as he choked on his moans. His face was flushed, as well as the tip of his ears.
Your hand tapped his shoulder. “Daryl, Daryl…” You said in between gasps and moans. “It’s alright.”
Daryl’s movements halted and he just laid his head on your shoulder. His breathing was rugged, he shook in your grasp.
“Can you look at me?” You panted.
He lifted his head, his lips slightly parted. There was no need to say anything, you pressed his forehead against his.
“It doesn’t matter where I am, I’ll always be with you.”
Daryl made a vow, he was going to do everything to keep you protected. If his hold on your hand couldn’t get any tighter, it would. And refuses to ever let you go.
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© Intoxicated-Chan 2024, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission.
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…Feedback, please. I’m seriously begging you all.
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orchidsangel · 3 months
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PERFECT DUET (JASON TODD)
notes/cw ~ GN!reader, angst !!!, childhood friends to lovers set up, (1.7k wc)
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You remember the day Red Hood came rolling into town, news stations spoke of a masked man, slinging guns and antagonizing Batman while simultaneously lowering Gotham City’s crime rates. He was a force to be reckoned with, his brutality leaving criminals and civilians both cowering in fear day in and day out. Men and women alike debated whether or not petty crimes were worth committing if it meant a potential run-in with Red; but soon enough, the city of Gotham, New Jersey, would realize that he didn’t waste his time with small-time shoplifters and carjackers. No, he had an agenda. An agenda that included the crime lords of Gotham and you.
Even though you had never and would never commit a crime, you constantly felt like you were being watched as if you were on a most wanted list. Months, you spent looking over your shoulder, wondering if you might have caught the eye of a crazy person, wondering if one day you’d come home to find security cameras installed in places where privacy was sacred. To you, this never coincided with the Red Hood's arrival in Gotham; and yet you did come home one day, but not to cameras, to Jason. Red helmet in hand, with a singular flower, and an apology on the tip of his tongue.
Yeah, he looked different. He was bigger, taller, and more muscular than when you’d last seen him. His face had matured, baby fat you used to pinch, replaced with hollow cheeks and a sharp jawline. He looked different, but you could tell without a doubt that it was him. The color of his eyes, albeit a little more green than you remembered, had the familiarity of a childhood stuffed animal; of an object that had meant something to you in a past life. You knew it was him, and yet he had died, and a part of you died with him. You had seen his cold, lifeless body in that velvet-lined coffin, traces of the boy you once loved under thick layers of waxy funeral makeup. He had died, and yet here he was, in front of you and holding a flower in place of an olive branch.
The following days felt like months, a reminder of the agonizingly slow aftermath of his death. You had learned throughout life how to compose yourself when your emotions were starting to get the best of you. This time was no different. Instead of a normal reaction like an onslaught of questions spilling from your mouth, breaking down into tears on the floor of your apartment, or even an awkward hug; you had given him a little more than a once over—just enough to take in his appearance—and then locked yourself in your room for the rest of the night. You could feel Jason's eyes burning a hole through the door, could swear he was on the other side watching and waiting for you to come back, to jump into his arms like you used to under the guise of friendship. But when you woke up the next morning he was gone, no trace of him being there to begin with, and you almost thought you had dreamed it. When you finally stepped outside the next morning, for the first time in ages, you didn’t feel you were being watched, and you knew then that it wasn’t a crazy person whose interest you’d piqued, it was Jason's.
Months passed before you saw him again. The disassociation had been getting worse by the minute since that night. You’d been living life on autopilot, a ghost of the person you’d grown into. Layers of armor built up after the night Alfred rang your home phone, gone. Leaving you raw and exposed to memories you’d thought better left in the past. You never wanted to forget him, but the agony that was growing without him by your side left your brain choosing self-preservation over anything else. You had chosen it then, on the day before junior year when you locked away every physical memento you had of him in a box and put it in the attic of your childhood home, and you’d chosen it again now when you pushed the recent events of his reentry into your life, to the back of your mind.
An unpredicted rainstorm vetoed your decision, leaving you stuck in some cafe in the diamond district. The combined smell of imported beans and high-end perfumes left you sick to your stomach; but not nearly as sick as when you locked eyes with Jason, sitting in the corner of the establishment, book in hand, but clearly not reading. You had been acutely aware of his presence the entire time; you couldn’t not be. It made the room spin, knowing what you knew about him in such a public place. It made you queasy and faint, like the entire world would soon turn black and you’d end up on the cold tiled floor waiting for someone to hold coffee beans under your nose in an attempt to wake you up. You almost made a run for it out the door; but the heavy sheets of water sliding down the glass windows, blurred the outside world into more of a watercolor painting than your reality, and you deluded yourself into thinking none of it was real, and anything said inside those four walls would cease to exist when the rain stopped.
A few steps taken towards him and you were ready to turn back around, but the clarity you felt, the fog that had incapacitated your brain for so long, was gone in that moment; and you knew if you stepped out into that rain, it would come right back. You remember his face when you sat down across from him, even after your moment of rejection, he still looked at you so fondly. “I always knew I’d see you again.” He had said with so much certainty. And you would come to find that all of the tears for him that you had held in would be shed anyway in the coming years.
Picking up where you left off proved to be impossible, and resuming a years-old friendship with a years-long break wasn’t something either of you could do. Not with both of your hearts tucked away with the other for so long. Not when you had spent years stealing glances at him in class when you were supposed to be working on labs and taking pencils from him from the opposite end to avoid touching his hand in fear that he’d feel the heat radiating off of you. Not when you were green with envy when he got his first girlfriend and rearranged his schedule to spend more time with her, leaving you feeling hopeless for a couple of months. Not when you practically jumped for joy when he came to you mopey and sad because she’d broken up with him to get with a star athlete, not knowing he was jumping from buildings and doing backflips in his spare time. Not when you’d taken him down to the pier, treating him to funnel cake and cotton candy with babysitting money you’d been saving up for a rainy day. And not when the two of you sat at the top of the Ferris wheel, feet dangling over Gotham and wind blowing in your face. His lovelorn eyes, bluer back then, peered over the bar that kept you from falling. He sat back with a sigh, his boyish features had sorrow written all over them. “I’d never hurt you like that.” is what you wanted to say that night, but instead all you could manage was an, “I’m sorry.” followed by, “Do you want to come over for dinner?” 
Not when a month later, your mom shook you awake in the middle of the night, calling your name with the same tone of voice she saved for when a close relative passed. Vision blurred and heartbeat quickening, “Is grandma okay?” you asked, rubbing sleep out of your bleary eyes. Pale, that's what her face was when she said, “No- yes. Grandma's fine.” she pursed her lips, trying to keep her composure but the lack of color in her complexion told you something bad had happened. “It’s…” You were alert by then, waiting patiently to hear whose funeral you’d be attending soon. “It’s Jason.” 
Lovesick. Sick with love. Sick with something. Whatever it was, it kept you from moving past the depression stage of grief for ages. Denial, anger, bargaining, they all came and went rather quickly; but the depression never left, not even when you had seemingly slipped into the acceptance stage. Your family watched you go back to your normal routines, continuing life the way it had been before. You got up in the morning, went to school, and came home exactly as you’d done when he was still alive. Of course, they didn’t see how you struggled to breathe when you saw his seat empty in homeroom, they didn’t see the way people stared at you walking the hallways alone for the first time in years, the boy typically beside you, now six feet under. They didn’t see how you cried yourself to sleep on his birthday that year, and how you subsequently cried yourself to sleep every year after that. No, they didn’t see any of it, and truthfully, they didn’t want to; you couldn’t blame them, not even you did. 
Lovesick. Sick with love. Sick with something. Sick with, “how long were you dead?” 
“Six months.”
Six years of grief for only six months of death. If you were still fifteen you would’ve jumped for joy, thrown a party, and invited your friends and families. You would’ve laughed yourself silly at how absurd it was that he was back with you so soon, how everything was normal again, and how this would just be a funny story you’d tell as an adult. In your early 20’s it was no longer so soon, it was no longer something to throw a party over, you wouldn’t invite friends or family, you wouldn’t even know how to explain any of it to them, and you certainly wouldn’t be laughing about it. All you could do was nod silently, taking the occasional sip from the cup of chamomile tea in your hands, trying your best to let him explain before anger got the best of you.
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ro's first time writing angst, how do we feel ?? wrote this in the midst of a BAD case of writers block but fuck it we ball yk, inspired by perfect duet by ed sheeran and beyoncé but if you listen to it and wonder where the happy lovey dovey stuff is plz know i intend to write a pt 2 (key word, intend. i'm not great on follow ups), also if someone wants to give me a lesson a grammar and punctuation plz do bc it's kicking my ass !!
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parkerdoeswriting · 7 months
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I'll Crawl Home to You
(Spencer Reid x GN Reader)
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part two:
category: angst and fluff oneshot
summary: reader gets held hostage by unsub, reader and spence both like each other
warnings: gun, being held hostage, a really creepy unsub, dead body, the word “pretty” being used to describe reader in a gender neutral way, bruising on temple, crying, paramedics, like a singular mention of “blood and gore” (not going into detail)
word count: 1.8k
A/N: this is my first ever fanfic so PLEASE don’t go hog wild on me, i also don't know how to really do warnings so I'm sorry if i miss anything!!
The BAU team had been out in Detroit on case for the past week trying to catch an unsub who’s been killing government agents. We got a tip about the unsub’s killing location in an old abandoned warehouse in the middle of nowhere. The team splits up alongside a few cops from the local police precinct as we search for the suspect, you and Spencer are paired together.
“Anyone got eyes?” you whisper quietly into your radio, my gun is drawn as Spencer looks behind him to check on me.
A murmur of quiet no’s fill your radio, Spencer shakes his head as he proceeds further into the warehouse. Quiet rustling can be heard from deeper into the building, both of your guns drawn tighter to the noise. You both head into an area that was almost pitch black, so dark you almost can’t see Spencer in front of you.
Shuffle Shuffle…
“Did you hear that?” you say quietly to Spencer, looking around.
Spencer nods, stalking more into the warehouse where he thinks the noise came from. You look over your shoulder, hearing soft footsteps behind you. The cock of a gun is heard, and then the feeling of cold medal on your temple is felt. You try to scream, why can't you scream? You can’t see Spencer, where is he? The person behind you drags you back, further away from Spencer as his dirty hands cover your mouth.
“You FBI?” A snakelike voice whispers in your ear, sending uncomfortable shivers up your spine.
You nod quickly as the unsub reaches for your gun, grabbing it and kicking it away.
“That’s unfortunate for you,” the unsub snickers, “How many other agents are with you?”.
You don’t respond, which causes him to become irritated, pressing the barrel of the gun harder into your skull.
“Give me your radio” he hisses in your ear.
You begrudgingly obey, passing him your radio so he doesn't shoot you. He takes it from your fingers, holding it close to his mouth before speaking into it.
“You guys really suck for looking after your own, here I am with such a pretty lil agent, and no one’s noticed they are gone.” he snickers into the radio, his hands still pressing you to him.
“REID” You try to scream against the unsubs hands, it only comes out as a muffle.
“Shush” the unsub whisper shouts in your ear, his hand roughly pushing against your mouth.
“FBI, hands up or we’ll shoot” I hear the all too familiar voice of my best friend, I look up and see him.
Spencer has his gun aimed at the unsubs head as he calls for backup. His eyes flicker from him to you, your eyes red and puffy from trying not to cry.
“How about- you drop your gun- and I won’t shoot this pretty lil agent right here in front of you” the unsub snickers sadistically, his gun pressing more into your skull.
You furiously shake your head at Spencer, silently begging him not to comply, your lip quivering as you do. You can almost see as Spencer almost considers dropping his gun, just to keep you safe for a while longer. But his gaze catches yours and he realizes that it’s not a good idea at all, his grip tightening on the gun instead.
“Step away” Spencer sternly commands, his face looking absolutely pissed at the situation.
“You know, you and I could be the next famous murderer couple, a real modern Bonnie and Clyde” the unsub snickers in your ear. “That is of course, if I wasn’t gonna kill you”
“Please, you don’t have to kill me” You stumble over your words, your brain losing its ability to think clearly as the seconds pass. You can feel your chest tightening, it's getting harder to breathe, you need to focus, calm down god damnit. Your eyes flick to Spencer, your only light in this dark situation.
“Please- just- let them go okay?” Spencer says, frustrated, his eyes tearing up as well.
“I don’t think so, they’re mine now” the unsub snarled, his grip once again tightening around me.
“Spencer” I cry out softly, my salty tears dripping down my face.
By then, the rest of the team had finally found the three of you, gathering around the unsub. You can feel the unsub tense up, knowing he’s outnumbered and won’t get out of here alive and free. Your eyes shut, muttering silent words under your breath.
The unsub starts spiraling as he shouts irrational words at you and the team, the gun against your temple almost leaving bruises from the pressure he was putting on it. The barrel is shaking slightly alongside the unsub, who seems to be way more nervous then at the start.
BANG!
You can hear the loud bang of a gun go off in your ear, the loud noise causing ringing in your ear. You can feel as the arms around you become loose and the pressure in your temple almost disappears. More tears flow down as you hear muffled footsteps around you, confusion taking over your brain.
“Hey… hey, are you okay?” someone says, but you can’t quite put it to a face.
You can’t control yourself as you feel yourself fall to the ground, crawling away from whatever scene was behind you. Your body is tense as your tears fall to the dirty concrete floor below you, your head unable to even process what happened.
“Hey, open your eyes please? It’s me, it’s just me, Spencer” the voice comes into play again as he kneels in front of you, less muffled this time as you can finally put it to a face.
You breathe in heavily as your eyes open, you can see the rest of the BAU surrounding the dead body of the unsub, causing your head to get dizzy.
“Look at me, please” Spencer says, gently redirecting your focus to him instead of the gruesome sight of blood and gore. His hands rub your back reassuringly, trying to comfort you as you come to terms with what happened.
Your body lets out a strangled sob into the palms of your shaky hands, your shoulders tremble with each desperate cry. You can’t help it, your brain is just so overwhelmed with emotions and thoughts.
“Shh, you're gonna be okay, you’re safe now” he whispers, his arms wrapping me in a comforting embrace. He hugs you in a way you’ve never been hugged before, his arms emitting a cozy and protective barrier around you both.
Your body still wracked with sobs as you cling onto Spencer, you can hear Hotch call for medical backup and the coroner in the background.
“You were so brave” Spencer says, his arms bringing you up to your feet and supporting half your weight.
He helps you walk out of the warehouse, your face burying into his shoulder as you cross the death scene on the floor, you don’t want to look at it at all. You sit down in the open trunk of one of the BAU’s SUVs, waiting for medical to come and check you over. The whole time, your hand was held reassuringly by your best friend. You definitely needed him at this moment, here with you, comforting you.
Eventually an ambulance and the coroner's vehicle show up, taking the unsub’s body away in a bag as the paramedics check you over. They concluded that you didn’t have any serious physical injuries, just a bruise on your temple. You got up from the back of the ambo, heading back to where Spencer was watching.
“What did the paramedics say?” he says, meeting you halfway from where you were walking, his hand going against the small of your back.
“I’m good to go, just gonna have a killer headache” you say, burying your head into his chest.
You stay like this for a while, his hand rubbing your back gently as you press your face into his sweater vest. He smells nice, like vanilla and the light scent of wool.
“Alright everyone, let's head out” you can hear Hotch say as he gets us into the two SUV’s.
You get into the SUV with Spencer, Derek and Emily. Emily sits in the passenger side as Derek drives, you and Spencer in the back as you lay your head in his lap. You fall asleep rather fast, your hands clinging at the fabric of his pants as if he might slip through your fingers if you don't. His hand subconsciously going for your hair, his slim fingers playing with your hair.
“You really love them, don't you?” Derek speaks up after driving for a while, noticing your sleeping body in the rearview mirror.
Spencer stops playing with your hair as he hears Derek, his face heating up.
“Well- of course I care for them, they’re my best friend” Spencer mutters, moving a strand of your hair away from your face.
“Come on kid, they’ve been laying in your lap for the whole car ride.” Derek laughs “they like you too, you know, everyone on this team can see”
Spencer looks down at you as you rest, admiring your sleepy face as he ponders the possibility of you feeling the same.
“No.. no they don’t, they’re way out of my league” Spencer replies quietly, his eyes not leaving you.
“You think they don’t? Look at where they’re sleeping right now, they like you enough to sleep on top of you” Derek jokes, and Spencer can hear the quiet laughing of Emily in the passenger seat.
“You really think they like me?” Spencer smiles softly, his hands returning to your hair once again.
“If you ask them out, I don’t know why they wouldn’t say yes” Derek shrugs.
“Morgan, I’m a socially awkward genius who’s never been on a date before, I don’t even know where to start!” Spencer quips, fidgeting nervously with his shirt sleeve.
“Just tell them you like them and would like to get food with them. I’m sure whatever you do, they’ll like it, they even like the same nerdy things you do!” he teases Spencer.
A beat…
“I think I’m gonna ask them out” Spencer smiles, looking up at Derek as he drives.
“Good, because the team is sick of you both making goo goo eyes when you both aren't looking” Derek teases him.
“No we don’t” Spencer blushes, gently caressing your face as he thinks.
He can feel as your grip on his pants gets tighter, your head readjusting carefully in his lap.
“For a genius, you are quite stupid” Emily finally speaks up, Spencer’s eyes widening.
“Come on Spencer, how can you not see it?” she adds as her body twists, looking behind her.
“What do I do then? I don’t want to ask them out and then have things be weird between us!” he replies nervously, feeling like a love-sick teenager.
“Just be confident Reid” Emily smiles, giving him a thumbs up.
The team finally pulls into the hotel parking lot after a very long day. He looks back down at you, brushing your hair out of your face.
“Just be confident” he repeats in his head, sighing.
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psychedelic-ink · 7 months
Text
𝐃𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄.
DAY TWO OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN
prompt: murder plot au (lets kill this person together) + "crawl to me"
pairing: childhood best friend!dave york x f!reader
genre: explicit smut, minors dni
summary: The only good thing about coming back home with your fiance is getting to see Dave York again, your best friend since you were four.
word count: 4.6k
warnings: angst, abusive fiance, verbally abusive family, hurt/comfort, neighbor au, childhood friends to lovers, oral (fem receiving), dacryphilia, blood, you and dave kill your fiance, then crawl to him because why not, soft gun kink, possessive!dave
a/n: this is not edited at all but I hope you guys enjoy it anyway
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The only good thing about coming back home is getting to see Dave York.
His family moved in when you were four, and you've been close friends ever since. Both of you moved away at around the same time; he became a CIA operative and got married, while you were still trying to figure yourself out. Your family wasn't supportive of this "self-discovery" stage in your life, which didn't really surprise you. They had never been supportive, always reminding you of your failures.
Then you met Chris, got engaged, and for the first time, your family was happy. Shortly after, you heard about Dave's parents passing away, followed swiftly by the CIA terminating his program. His divorce had been finalized earlier this year. You called him, letting him know that if he needed anything, he should reach out. He assured you he'd be okay, finding other work and moving back into his parents' home.
Ever since you heard he was back, you've been excited.
But now that you’re here, standing at his door, you feel like you’re four again. Butterflies erupt in your stomach, their wings tickling you from the inside out. How long has it been since you’d last seen him? It’s been too long, for sure. 
Dave is one of those friends that you could just continue from where you left off no matter how long time had passed. It’s just like pressing the pause button on a remote. It doesn’t require effort to feel close to him again, and you’re glad of it. Dave had been your rock during your teenage years, when you’d been adamant about crying yourself to sleep, he would throw pebbles at your window. It would always surprise you how he’s just known you needed him. It didn’t take you much convincing to leave your room and the two of you would venture on into the darkness until morning. Your parents non the wiser.
Those nights were your favorite. 
Heat licks at your spine, the tips of your ears burning when your mind drifts to a night that smelled of the salty sea. If you think about it hard enough you can still feel the sand caressing your back while Dave pushed deep inside you, his mouth feasting on your neck as the waves tickled your feet. 
God, you’d give anything to return to that night. 
Taking in a sharp breath, you finally knock on the door. The sound echoes and soon, you hear steps coming closer and closer, every thud making your heart skip a beat. 
With the door opening, you feel a gentle rush of cool air caressing your face, a scent that smells so purely of Dave following through. Without noticing you take a deep breath, filling your lungs with the familiar smell. Your eyes flutter shut. In hindsight, thinking about the night you lost your virginity probably wasn’t smart. You wonder if it would still feel as good. 
When you open your eyes, he’s staring at you with an amused smile, eyes twinkling like he knows the precise memory you’re thinking about. 
“Dave!” you exclaim and throw your arms around his broad neck. He's bigger now, taller, and notably more muscular. He hugs your tight and lifts you slightly off the ground, your toes brushing against the patio, biceps flexing against your frame. 
He squeezes you one last time before loosening his grip, your body slides against his, your tight nipples brushing against the width of his chest. A gasp parts your lips, a gentle tremor to your legs. You purposefully brush your nose into the crook of his neck and take a deep breath in. “God, I missed you,” you murmur. 
“I’ve missed you too,” his hands remain on your waist, eyes briefly scanning to see if there’s anyone with you. When he sees there’s no one, he raises a sole brow. “I thought your fiance came with you?” 
Despite yourself, your frown is instant, your stomach clenching painfully, “He did,” you answer. “He’s with mom and dad, getting pampered.” 
“Ah,” he clicks his tongue. “Sounds fun. So. . . they like him?” 
“Surprisingly yes,” you smile. “I don’t think I could’ve brought him here otherwise.” 
He hums and pulls himself back, you want to follow his touch but stay rooted in place. 
“I’m a bit worried if your folks like him so much,” he scratches his chin. “Do you like him?” 
The question gets under your skin, festering inside of you like a nasty wound. You look away. “He’s okay,” you say dismissively and quickly force a smile. “ “Do you want to join us for dinner?” 
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Dave’s question had bothered you more than you thought. 
You’ve never had anyone burn for you, never had anyone willing to move heaven and earth for you, never had anyone who’d do anything to see you smile. You never experienced the love you’ve read about in books, and after a while, you just stopped looking for it. Women like you don’t receive that kind of love; women like you don’t get the hero or a prince.
After you’ve found Chris, you thought that’d be as good as it’ll get. 
Honestly, you were quite surprised when he proposed, your relationship was mediocre at best. You blamed yourself for thinking like that. You’d always been a dreamer. Someone who had their head in the clouds. And since your parents loved him so much, you were inclined to say yes. Not because your parents controlled your every move or something like that, it was just nice for them to finally spare a compliment, even though the said compliment was depending on you finding someone that would typically not spare a glance at someone like you—according to them. 
You head for the kitchen, helping your mother set the table. She says nothing as she shoves four plates into your waiting arms. You drag your feet to the dining room. 
It shouldn’t have surprised you that the things you disliked about Chris only heightened after the engagement. Sarcastic remarks and condescending tones turned into full dismissal of your opinions and talents. Venomous comments that were made behind closed doors became a part of his normal interaction with you among friends and family. No one seemed to care. Only a couple of friends had come to warn you, or offer help, but you felt ashamed, embarrassed to reach out to people who didn’t know how mess of a person you were—how broken. They didn’t know that to a degree, you might’ve deserved the insults. 
Unlike Dave, talking to Chris wasn’t easy. It was a constant mental exercise and took the fun in being with someone. You had to be sharp always, if not, he’d happily remind you how worthless you are in the guise of a joke. 
Letting out a sigh, you place the last plate down on the table. Chris comes up from behind you, sneaking his arms underneath your own and tugging you to his chest. 
“What are you sulking about?” he asks, the lips that touch your skin making you flinch. “
“You know it’s hard for me coming back here,” you answer. “I kinda wished you’d hang around instead of hanging out with my dad.” 
Much to your relief, Chris pulls away, “I like your dad,” he says. “Besides they’ve been nothing but kind to me so I don’t get why you want me to treat them like a beast I need to defeat.” 
Your eyes drop to his hands. He’s flexed his fingers outwards and balled them into fists. The rest of him is calm, relaxed, every part of him except for his hands. Your body goes rigid. You don’t know what to say to him. You’ve explained your childhood a million times; a mother who reminded you of every physical flaw, a father who just wasn’t around, only showing up during important accomplishments. You understand why Chris likes them so much, the three of them are basically the same. 
“I’m not telling you to fight with them,” you murmur. “Just wanted some support because they’re not kind to me.” 
“God, what do you expect?” he rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest. “They have a daughter who’s still trying to ‘figure things out’. Be grateful you’re not my daughter, I'd be furious.” 
“It’s not like I’m taking their money,” your gaze snaps to him, piercing. “Nor yours, for that matter. So I can do whatever I want.” 
He whistles, lips curling into a nasty grin, “Someone’s feeling courageous. I thought you needed my support? Seems like you’re able to defend yourself just fine.” 
You hear the blood rush in your ears, your knees shaking with frustration. It’s always the same—that smug look he gets whenever you decide to stand up for yourself. 
Your lips pressed tight, you turn your head away. He’s right to a degree though. You’re feeling surprisingly brave for someone who’s been silent for months— as if by the night you won’t be climbing into his bed. You have a sense of why that is. Dave always made you want to believe in yourself, unlike the ones closest to you, he made you think you were worth the trouble even though you know you probably aren’t. 
The silence growing between you, Chris closes the distance with a short amount of steps, he hooks two fingers under your chin, and forces your gaze back to him, “No no, don’t go silent now. I like it.” 
The tension in the air suffocates you. It tastes like poison on your tongue. Chris draws mockingly soft circles over your skin, taunting you. You don’t feel small, not exactly, you just feel powerless, as if he’s ten feet tall. Your teeth bites into the smooth surface of your inner cheek. He leans closer and his breath hits your face. He’s going to kiss you, you’ve enjoyed plenty of those kisses in the past but right now you’re the furthest away from ever wanting him to kiss you. 
A loud knock intervenes perfectly. 
But Chris doesn’t pull away. 
“That’s right, we were expecting company weren’t we?” he rolls his tongue. “Who was it again? Your childhood friend?” 
“Dave,” you breathe out, relief swarming you like soft feathers. Chris is about to pull away so you can go answer the door but before he gets the chance the door opens with a soft click. 
Both of you turn towards the sound. Dave stands at the threshold holding a bottle of wine, eyes flitting between your and Chris. 
“Hey, there,” Chris chirps, all of his fault behavior disappearing into the air. “You must be Dave, nice to meet you!” he extends a hand. Dave, is eyes still fixed on you, accepts your fiance’s hand and squeezes it. Tight. 
“Nice to meet you. Chris, was it?” 
“Right on,” Chris walks around him and shuts the door. “Let’s head to the dining room, we’re about to eat. Isn’t that right?” 
It takes you a moment to realize the question is directed at you. 
“Right,” you murmur, your eyes dropping away from Dave’s. “I’ll go check with mom. Be back in a sec.” 
Just as you’re about to leave, Dave’s voice stops you, “Need any help?” the tension that dissolved settles back over your shoulders. You turn slightly, enough to see him. A brief shadow crosses his face, making home in his eyes—you blink. You find yourself swallowing hard as his gaze causes your throat to contract.
“I’m good thanks. Make yourself comfortable.” 
You haven't cried in months. Not when Chris taunted you, not when your mother made unnecessary comments about how you should be. None of it fazed you anymore. Not the same way it did when you were a kid.
So why are your eyes suddenly teared up now, struggling to hold back?
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“Mom, stop it.” 
All eyes turn to you; Chris’s, your father’s and Dave’s. You swallow around the knot lodged in your throat. You mother narrows her eyes, lips a tight line. 
“Stop what?” she asks, voice strained. “I just said I can help you threading those stuborn hairs above your lip.” 
Embarrassment settling at the base of your spine, you cover your mouth with your hand, absolutely mortified. You fight the urge to squeeze your eyes shut and instead attempt to calm your racing heart. You can’t tell if you’re overreacting or not. Your mom rolls her eyes, waving a hand, she dismisses your emotions entirely. A tremor overhwhelmes you, starting from your legs and going all the way up to your shoulders. Dave’s sitting right next to you, his expression indifferent, calculating. He’s the last person you want to look at right now, finally you two meet up again after years only for him to see that nothing’s changed. 
“You and Dave have been friends since four, I doubt he cares if I mention it. It’s for your benefit,” she shrugs and turns to Chris, placing a hand on his arm. “Don’t worry, dear. I’ll be sure she’s proper by the time of the wedding. She’s always been horrible at stuff like this, I never understood why.” 
Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. 
Your ears are ringing. 
Tears well in your eyes once more, the need to throw up overhwhelming you. 
“I’m not a prized calf, mom. I don’t need your help.” 
Her eyes turn back to you, momentraily dropping to your plate before looking back up again. “Have you decided on a dress?” 
Your brain short circuits for a moment. You want to throw your fork at her as always your dad is silent, and Chris is no help whatsoever. Sometimes you feel as if he enjoys this visits. Enjoys making you see that he’s not all that bad—or he justs enjoys using it as an excuse to show that if everyone in your life behaves like this, something must be wrong with you. 
Then, suddenly, there’s a soothing presence on your knee. 
Dave. 
He squeezes twice, then circles his thumb over your knee, replacing the anxiety with pleasant tingles. You blink with surprise and turn to look at him but he’s staring at your dad, you hadn’t even realize the conversation had shifted from you to something else entirely. 
Dave leans into your ear, his breath welcome as it ghosts your skin, “Breathe,” he whispers. “And excuse yourself from the table. I’ll find you.” 
Your nod is barely noticable. You do as he says, excusing yourself and heading upstairs. No one really took notice of your absence, they believes you to be dramatic and they were no strangers to you suddenly deserting the table. 
You sigh as you climb the stairs and instead of your shared bedroom with Chris, you head to your childhood bedroom. 
Climbing into your old bed, you pull the pillow to your front and wrap your arms around it. Street light stretches shadows into your room. You remember the times you stared into Dave’s bedroom, how he’d talk to you through giant notes. 
Ten minutes later, your door opens. 
“Hey, are you alright?” he asks, every word spoken carefully, scared you’ll bolt through the door like a spooked deer. He pushes the door closed and takes a seat at the end of your bed. You notice his eyes scanning the bedroom. “Brings back memories,” he mutters. 
“Yeah,” you nod, hugging your pillow tighter. “Bet you didn’t miss the mess downstairs though.” 
“To be honest I got a little preview before you and Chris arrived,” the muscle above his jaw twitches. “Your parents really haven’t changed in the slightest.” 
“Too bad they didn’t die instead of your parents—” you cut yourself short, clamping a hand over your mouth. What the fuck is wrong with you? “Shit sorry–I didn’t—” 
He says nothing. Instead he wraps his fingers around your ankle and tugs your leg over his lap, “Don’t be. I wish the same thing too sometimes,” he lets out a breath. “Never would’ve thought you’d get engaged with the combination of both of them though.” 
Shame. All you feel is shame. 
You slightly tug at your leg but he doesn’t allow you to recoil from him. “Let me help you,” he says, taking you by surprise. 
“Help me?” you ask. Without thinking you let go of your pillow and move towards him, entranced by the way the light sharpens the edges of his face. “Help me how?” 
“Let’s kill the fucker.” 
“W-What?!” surely you didn’t hear him right. You shake your head. “Did you just say kill?” 
With a tender brush of his lips against yours, the world falls away. A doft whimper echoes in your throat and he presses forward, the tip of his thumb tracing the seam of your lips. You open wide for him, allowing Dave to lick deeper into your mouth. Your tongue press together, years of longing and wait adding to the kiss like salt in chocolate. You don’t ever want it to stop. 
“I still hear the waves from that night,” he murmurs, soft pillowy lips brushing against your own. “Tell me to stop and I will. But if you want this, want me—All you have to do is say the word.”
Again, tears well in your eyes. It’s sudden and uncomfortable. You choke on the words you attempt to speak, shaking your head violentls as a shudder rolls down your spine. He presses a comforting palm on your cheek. “Dave I’m a mess,” you hiccup.  
“So am I,” he says matter-of-factly, he grinds the pad of his thumb into your cheekbone. “You can cry, sweetheart. I’m here for you.” 
Before you get the chance you’re being pushed back against the mattress. He slowly tugs down your pants, removing them enreily and leaving you in nothing but your underwear. He stares at you like you’re everything he wants and needs. Your skin prickles, his words finally settling in. 
This man wanted to kill for you. 
And not a bone in your body wants to object to it. 
“You’re not broken,” He pushes your shirt up, laying a kiss on your stomach, a bit of tongue following the purse of lips. “Every part of you is perfect, tender, and right.” 
The damns break with a hiccup. Tears flow effortlessly down your cheeks; salty drops going down your neck and being absorbed into the fabric underneath. You swallow, over and over, it’s difficult to breathe, so hard to catch your breath while your eyes never seem to dry out. 
Dave hovers above you, arms caging in your head. His gaze reminds you of a curious cat, wide, observant. He leans in and with the flat of his tongue, he tastes the sadness on your skin. He follows the traces down your neck, nose caressing your jaw as he licks all of it away. You feel the thick outline of his cock against your bare stomach, arousal heats between your legs and when you arc your back, he groans at the way you soft flesh grazes his length. 
He moves lower and lower, kissing a trail from between your breasts and all the way down to your quivering cunt. He tastes your through your underwear that dampened with arousal. Dave pushes his tongue, forcing himself deeper, groaning at your taste before pushing the fabric down to your knees. 
“I couldn’t help you back when we were kids—with your family,” he mutters into you, his breath chilling your wet folds. “Let me help you now.” 
His lips trace your folds, slipping his tongue and kissing your where no one has ever kissed befor leisurely. Dave takes his time with it, slipping his tongue and pulling it back like he’d do with your mouth. Your crying subdues into loud sniffles and his hand reaches out, cupping your chin. “Cry for me, baby. Don’t hide your sadness from me.” his grip tightens and nips the sensitive flesh right under your pelvic bone. “Cry.” 
You do so with a hitch of breath. However, your cries swiftly shift into moans when he closes his lips around your clit, sucking loudly at the sensitive nub. Your legs brackets his face, with a smile he spreads them open with both hands, moving his jaw as he glides his lips back down, pushing his tongue against your pulsing entrance. 
“You know what my biggest regret has been all this time?” he muses, the words don’t register but you nod anyway. He brings a hand to your mound and slips a finger in, curling it knuckle deep. Your chest heaves at the pressure, making your entire upper body jolt. “Not tasting this sweet pussy the first time we were together.” 
Daves crawls back up, pressing lips to your neck and then to your cheek where the tear streaks had begun to dry. “I wanted to do so many things that night, but you were looking at me with those big beautiful eyes, completely in love. . .” he takes a deep breath, and growls as he exhales. “I wanted to ruin you but I coudn’t, I didn’t want you to think that was all I wanted from you.” 
“What about now?” you gasp, gaining a moment of clarity. He chuckles, the sound resonating deep from his chest. 
“Now,” he purrs and goes down you again, licking a fat stroke into your cunt. “I still want to ruin you. And I will. But you’ll know that’s not all I want. Isn’t that true, my sweet girl.” 
Again, your vision blurs with tears. 
“Answer me.” 
“Yes,” you stare at the ceiling, your eyes drying out whilst tears still drip from the corners. “I know that’s not all you want. Please, Dave, ruin me. I’m yours.” 
“I know you are, sweetheart,” his tongue delves between your soaked folds, the curve of his nose causing delicious friction against your clit. Pleasure tightens in your stomach, your inner walls squeezing his finger tight. “You’ve been mine ever since I laid eyes on you.” 
He sucks and slurps, moving his head from side to side as he quickly brings you to the edge. His mouth feels so damn good, and the raw emotions coursing through your veins only add to the pleasure, heightening your senses. You cry out as he pulls out his finger, only to replace it with his tongue, pushing deep. When you look down the bottom half of his face is buried gully into your pussy, the only visible movement being his jawline moving. 
Sweat beads at your forehead. Your heart is pounding, your breath ragged as Dave increases the tempo of his tongue, exploring every inch of you greedily. His fingers seemed to have a mind of their own, rubbing and massaging your clit expertly and sending sparks of pleasure electrifying through your body. The sensation is overwhelming - so much pleasure, it's almost too much.
The pleasure builds and builds until it feels like it is consuming every inch of you, making it hard to remember that your family—or Chris��might hear you. You close your eyes and let out a moan as Dave continues to work his magic. Your back arches as the pleasure intensifies, and each breath feels like a jolt of lightning shooting through your body.
“Let them here, baby,” he rasps, briefly parting from you. “You’re mine now. They should know.” 
You throw your head back, crying out in pleasure, as it finally sweeps over you. Every muscle in your body tightens as the intense waves of pleasure ripple through you, and you clutch desperately at Dave, gripping his shoulders until the convulsions of pleasure finally die down. He hums happily, not letting up as he licks every inch of you clean. 
Dave works his mouth on your clit, tongue swirling around it lightly, then licks and sucks it hard, sending wave after wave of pleasure through you until the tide of orgasm crashes over you again and leaves you trembling. Dave doesn't stop until every last bit of pleasure has been wrung from your body, until you can do nothing, nothing but lie there and process what just happened. 
When Dave finally does stop, you can barely move your limbs. He drapes himself over you, his warmth calming your raging heart. 
“Invite him to my place tomorrow,” he says. “I’ll take care of the rest.” 
“Wouldn’t my parents get suspicious?” 
“If they do,” he kisses your eyes one by one, still wet and aching but done with the tears. “I’ll take care of them too.”  
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You hate to admit but Chris looks good tied in a chair all bloody and bruised. 
“Fucking tell him to let me go,” he barks at you but his pleas are cut short when Dave comes behind him and yanks his head by the hair. He yelps in pain, eyes squeezing shut when Dave presses the barrel of the gun into his neck. “You two are fucked in the head,” he murmurs. “Just let me go, I won’t say anything.” 
Your body becomes rigid, tense. You don’t regret this, and it feels good to finally see him break. He’s been doing the same to you for months. Belittling you and finding amusement in treating you like thrash. 
Dave’s gaze finds your own, you find it hard to look away. 
“Come here,” he says voice growing soft. “Don’t be afraid of him, sweetheart, he can’t hurt you anymore.” 
Despite all his fear, Chris still manages to glare at you. “You could’ve just broken up with me. It’s your fault.” 
“Mine?” you finally say, your voice hoarse. “I didn’t feel like I had a choice. You made sure of that.” 
“You’re not thinking clearly—” 
Dave’s voice cuts through the air. 
“I’ve had enough.” 
He pulls the trigger. 
The bullet leaves the barrel of the gun in complete silence. 
You don’t even flinch when Chris’s head drops, blood pouring from between his lips and down his chest. Dave doesn’t bat an eye as he sits on the end of the bed. You’re left standing in front of Chris, not looking at him directly, but hearing the last of the gushing sounds of the bullet wound. 
You should feel remorse. 
But all you feel is relief that he’s gone. 
The realization makes you drop down to your knees, you hear the bed creak as Dave attempts to get up but you stop him with the raise of your hand. “I’m okay,” you gasp. “Just. . . in shock.” you turn to him. “Are. . . are you okay?” 
“Okay as I’ll ever be,” gun still in hand, over his thigh, he spreads his legs as he settles back down. Your eyes are immediately drawn to the gun, a sudden hunger flashing in your eyes. His lips stretch into a grin, his hands sliding to hand loose over the inside of his thighs, he gestures for you to come closer with the gun. “Crawl to me.” 
A thrill shoots up your spine. You move slowly, crawling towards him until you are close enough for him to reach out and touch you. You watch him carefully, studying the gun still clenched in his hand before meeting his gaze. You settle yourself at his feet, never taking your eyes away from his. 
Dave slowly reaches out and takes your chin gently in his hand, guiding your mouth closer to where the gun rests. He leans down, his face inches away from yours, and whispers, “You want to taste the weapon that ended that shit-heads’ life?”
You take a deep breath and nod. 
Before he can give the command, you open your mouth wide, sticking your tongue out. 
His pupils dilate as he guides the barrel into your mouth, against the flat surface of your tongue. It’s cold and the metallic taste overwhelms you but you enjoy it. Dave pushes deeper until you’re gagging, you close your lips around it, your eyes dropping where his finger still rests on the trigger. 
“Look at that,” he murmurs, mesmerized. “Your life is in my hands, all it’ll take to end it is one trigger.” 
You moan at the thought, you’re wholly his, and nothing can stop that now. 
Dave touches your cheek with his other hand, his fingers kind.
 “I’ll treat it with care.” 
488 notes · View notes
juletheghoul · 6 months
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AN: The gif of this man as a sheriff, sent my ass into a SPIRAL and this is what happened. I originally wanted to post this for my birthday, but with Canadian Thanksgiving falling on the same weekend there was no way I would have been able to finish lol. I am still trying to post more often, please be patient with me, hopefully this makes up for the lack of posting for the last few weeks. Special thanks to @wheresarizona for betaing and just general wonderfulness, to @just-here-for-the-moment for screaming at me through comments and in whatsapp over this, and to @frannyzooey for screaming at me through discord lol (And for making me some super awesome edits that I will post after!) Hope you enjoy xox. 
(PS, I have an idea for a part 2, let me know if you’d want to read it!)
Pairing; Sheriff Frankie Morales x f!reader (Blue / Bluebell as a nickname)
Warnings;  sweet, lovestruck Frankie needs his own warning I think-piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, Frankie eats pussy like the champion he is, a non-consensual creampie, angst, longing, yearning, some violence (involving guns / war, accurate for the time period-I tried not to let it get too gory or graphic) brothel mentions - let me know if I missed anything.
Word count; 13k 😅
reblogs are appreciated
Masterlist
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Dust swirled around him as he made his way into town from the train station, the sun beating down on his every step, and although he hadn’t been home in over a decade, he still knew the way just as well as if he’d never left. Difference was he’d left practically a boy, and now he’d come back a man. 
People he both did and didn’t recognize passed him as he carried his suitcase down the sunny high street, some of them smiled, most of them ignored him. It made no difference to him. He would be their new sheriff just the same. Besides, there was only one person he cared to see again. There would be time enough for that later, though. First, he had to get settled. 
The brothel was busy, a surefire sign of the town’s growth evident in the number of horses tied up in front. 
“Well, hey there, sugar–” He tipped his hat and smiled at the young lady calling out to him, smiling as she leaned against one of the columns flanking the entrance, “-you coming to make a woman out of me?” She batted her big eyes at him. 
“Don’t count on it.” His tone was polite, his smile in place. She tsked, giggling at his manners before being called away by someone inside.
Sweat was starting to collect on his brow with the effort of lugging his suitcase all the way from the train station, and he let out a relieved sigh when he finally stepped through the doors of the sheriff's office. It was somehow even hotter on the inside. 
“Can I help you?” A kid no older than he’d been when he’d left greeted him from one of the two desks in the small room. 
“I’m Francisco Morales, I’m here to see–”
“He’s here to see me, he’s my replacement.” A grizzled but familiar voice sounded from behind him, “You’re early.” The older man walked past him on his way to the second, bigger desk, where he put his cowboy hat down before turning to face him once more. “I was under the impression you’d be here by the end of this month. You in that much of a hurry to retire me, boy?” 
He set the suitcase down before wiping at the back of his neck with his handkerchief. 
“No sir, just wanted to get settled in, have some time to reacquaint myself.” He put the cloth away. “Fix up the house before starting. Thought I’d check in with you first, though.” He’d gotten in plenty of trouble growing up, and most of the time, this man had been the one to pull him by his ear and make him smarten up. It was a novelty to be in this office and not be in trouble. 
“Well, you’ve checked. Go on and get settled. The desk and the badge will still be here in a week.” Sheriff Carson had always been one to speak plainly, and he did so now. 
“Yes, sir.” Francisco picked the suitcase back up and braced himself for the glaring rays that would greet him just outside. 
“Son,” He turned at the sound of the old man’s voice, “I was sorry to hear about your folks. They were good people.” He nodded back at the old man once and made his way back out the door.
“Try again.” You crossed your arms, “We both know I’m not paying that much.” You kept both your voice and expression as neutral as you could, keeping your real interest in the supplies he had close to your chest. Interest and necessity always cost more. 
He narrowed his eyes, and you raised your eyebrows in return, holding your ground. 
“Price is an even one hundred dollars; had to ride halfway around the world to get most of it-” You curled your lip in disgust.
“Bullshit, Dale! You rode to the nearest town, and that’s only a day's ride at the most. I’ll pay fifty, and that’s twice what it’s worth.” 
“You tryna rob me, woman?” He crossed his arms, mirroring you, “I’ll go down to eighty, but that’s final.” He rose to his full height, his posture making him look like some giant, petulant child. 
“Seventy-five. And I want some tobacco.” 
“Goddamn, you drive a hard bargain. Fine.” He extended his hand, and you shook it with a satisfied smile. 
“Good man. Pleasure doin’ business with you.”
“Yeah, yeah, robbin’ me more like.” He grumbled good-naturedly and unloaded the supplies while you counted out the money to pay him with. “Goin’ back in a couple weeks, make sure you let me know what you’ll be needin’ before I go.” He tucked the money away and left. The rest of the morning was spent restocking the various bottles and cabinets with your new stock.
It was therapeutic, sitting behind the big mahogany counter to take inventory of your shop. The shop that had taken you years to finally acquire. Every so often, you took stock of all the work you’d put into it and felt a significant amount of pride in what you’d accomplished. All of it done on your own. 
The customers came and went throughout the day, buying tinctures and tonics, and you helped them all to the best of your ability until the end of the day eventually found you, and you locked up the shop. With a final sweep to ensure everything was in its right place before closing up for the night.
The sun was blessedly low as you made your way home, but the streets were busy. Ethel, the youngest and friendliest of the girls who worked in the brothel a few doors down from your shop, was smoking her pipe on the porch, waving and smiling as you passed. 
“Hey Ethel, how you keeping?” You called out to her, “Fall in love again today?” She laughed, a plume of smoke wreathing around the halo of her hair. 
“Of course, saw a tall drink of water today. Think I’m gonna marry him.” She winked, a devilish smile on her pretty face. 
“Uh oh, sounds like he’s in trouble.” You laughed, waving as you passed by the house. 
“He will be if he ever comes in here, bye Honey, see you later.” 
The buildings thinned as you moved further and further away from the main street, giving you a clearer view of the surrounding ranches and houses scattered throughout the plains. Your own house came into view, and you smiled to see it. The view of it had the pride swelling again; it had been run down and ragged when you’d purchased it, but money wasn’t the only thing you’d invested. That house was the result of your blood, sweat, and tears. Hours and hours of elbow grease, blisters, and bruises, cuts, and had you not been very careful, it would have cost you a few broken bones as well. 
There was another house on the way to yours though, one that wiped the smile right off your face as you passed it. It was a house that drew your eye no matter how many times you walked past, no matter how many times you tried to ignore it. It was empty now, but years ago, it had been full of life, full of love and mischief and happiness. It had been full of hope and promises. It was empty now, one of the windows broken, much like the promises had been. 
You couldn’t help but watch it as you passed; something flashed in the window, but you ignored it. There hadn’t been anyone there for years. 
Wish it would just burn down or sell. Wish the ground would open up and swallow it whole. 
Your feet ache when you finally make it to your house, eager to unlace the boots imprisoning them. You did your best to hurry through all your chores and feed yourself, the promise of a hot bath and sweet-smelling soap carrying you through. 
The house was so much worse than he’d thought it would be, and he’d thought it’d be bad. A couple of windows had broken, and half a town's worth of dirt and dust had blown in through them. He sighed at the state of it, knowing his mother would never have let it get this bad, and for once, he was grateful she wasn’t around to see it. 
He set his suitcase down and made a mental list of what needed to be done. First thing first, he needed a few things. 
With a wagon full of supplies and considerably less money in his pocket, he began the long process of making it habitable. With a stiff brush and an even stiffer broom, the dirt was returned to its rightful place outside the house. The windows that weren’t broken were opened to let in fresh air, and floors and counters were washed. Food and supplies were put away; the bed was made with new, expensive sheets and linens. 
He worked his fingers to the bone throughout the day and most of the night until he’d done as much as he could. There was nothing to be done about the windows; the glass had been ordered, but it would be a few days, possibly even weeks, until he could fix those. 
By the time he’d boiled water to bathe himself with, he could barely keep his eyes open, and once clean, he dropped into bed and into the sweet abyss of sleep. 
-
It was strange for him to wake up in the same house he’d grown up in, even stranger for him to wake up in the bedroom his parents had owned. He’d been so dead tired that he’d forgotten to close the shutters, and the room was flooded with the golden light of dawn, chasing away any and all hope for a few extra hours of rest. 
Those earlier years were vivid in his mind now that he was here, in this house. He could practically hear the younger, wilder version of himself climbing out his window to go find her. Could still taste the stolen kisses in his mouth, could still hear her delighted laugh when he’d wrap her up in his arms and declare his undying love.  
He rose, trying and failing to leave the memories of her behind, and got ready for the day. The coffee he’d bought from the general store wasn’t half bad, and he drank the whole pot with gusto, making a mental note to make sure he picked up some more before he ran out. 
The current sheriff didn’t want him underfoot while he settled his affairs, and he didn’t plan on making Carson’s life harder, but he did want to reacquaint himself with the town he’d soon be the law in. He figured the best way to do that would be to go into the businesses and talk to the people, and make his presence known. 
You should be looking for her, give her an explanation–demand one in return. 
He shook his head, ignoring the rational part of his brain. After all, he didn’t even know if she was still here. He thought about her as he left his house, imagining he could see the two of them as they’d been before. He, in his transition into manhood, her in the bloom of her youth, the two of them inseparable. The ghosts caught up to him though, and then he saw her–the real her, standing just outside the apothecary, waving someone away. 
She saw him too, and his heart raced. She was even more beautiful to him than he remembered; it was as though for a brief moment, all of the years between them melted away. 
A very brief moment. 
The look of shock and hurt, and what he hoped had been love on her face was replaced with a look that, thankfully, could not hurt him. It was pure and unadulterated anger, no–fury. 
His legs moved, bringing him towards her. This was definitely not how he wanted this meeting to go. He just hoped she’d listen, but judging by the way she stuck up her middle finger at him, it didn’t look good. 
The nerve of him. The unmitigated gall! 
“Wait–” His voice sounded as you turned to make your way back inside the shop. 
“No!” You yelled back over your shoulder, not even bothering to face him, even as your heart raced to see him again. 
“Goddamnit, woman, wait! Let me talk to you–” He was closer than you thought, barely managing to avoid you slamming the door in his face. 
“Don’t you ‘woman’ me, Francisco Morales!” you yelled up into his handsome face, hating how gorgeous he looked, how his neck- one of your favourite parts of him- stared you in the face. “Do me a favour and take off for another fifteen years. Leave me be.” 
“Come on, Bluebell, you gotta let me explain.” He managed to slip through the doors before you had a chance to lock them, but it didn’t matter, the pet name he called you stopped you in your tracks and rocketed the fury to new heights. 
“Bluebell?” You couldn’t hide the edge of violence in your voice, “How dare you call me that? I am nothing but a stranger to you at this point. You lost any and all privileges to call me anything at all when you left.” He was taller than when he left, but his eyes still burned into yours the way they’d done when you were young and in love. 
It would make you laugh if you weren’t still so hurt about how everything had gone down. The way he was standing in front of you, hands on his hips, frustrated frown in place. You didn’t give him an inch, but it hurt to admit just how badly you’d missed him. You shooed the swirl of feelings for him away, focusing on the one easiest to deal with: anger.
“Will you listen to me at least?” 
“Why should I?” You turned from him, busying yourself with putting a few of your jars back in their place. 
“Well, because I owe you an explanation–” You let out a bark of cruel laughter.
“That’s an understatement.”
“-I know, I always intended on coming back for you. You have to know that.”
“Do I? Do I just have to know that Francisco?” You all but slammed the jar into its slot on the big cabinet, taking up the whole wall behind the counter. “You know, you have some goddamn nerve–” the little bell above the door jingled when the Sheriff walked in, his bushy, white eyebrows raised into his hairline as the look on your face. It didn’t take an overly in-depth investigation to see that Francisco wasn’t exactly in your good books.
“You never could stay out of trouble, could you, son?” He moved past him to stand at the counter before you, “You want me to come back later, sweetheart?” 
You sighed, doing your best to smile at the older man. 
“Not at all. I have the tonic ready; give me just a moment to wrap it up for you.” You did your best to smile and ignore the big, aggravatingly effective puppy dog eyes shining at you from your peripheral. “Here you are, Sherriff, that’ll be thirty-five cents.” He dug into his pocket, counting out the right amount and handing it over before thanking you and turning to leave.
“You make sure you let me know if you need anything–” He gave Francisco a frown, “-and I mean anything.” 
“Yes sir, thank you.” With another jingle, he was gone, but other customers made their way inside, and Francisco sighed. 
“You can go ahead and leave. I am at my place of business.” 
“I will come and find you later. Then we can actually talk.” He took a few steps back, his hand on the door handle. 
“I won’t hold my breath.”
Much to his annoyance, the sheriff was waiting for him outside of the apothecary. 
“Can I help you with something, sir?” He spoke the words through a tired sigh. 
“Boy, I do believe that woman hates you.” 
“No sir, that woman loves me. If she hated me, she would have shot me.” He moved away from the sheriff, ignoring the raucous laughter that followed his every step. He ignored it and set about doing what he needed to do, telling himself that he’d be able to deal with it later when she let him explain himself. It made no matter what he told himself, though, his mind wouldn’t let her go. 
Instead of using the time productively, he found himself counting the hours until she closed up the shop, loitering around the door like some lovestruck teenager. He scoffed to himself, ignoring the cloying heat of the sun. Isn’t that all he was? Just some lovestruck fool? She couldn’t know that, though, not with the way things had gone down. 
Any hope he had of her cooling down throughout the day died at the narrowing of her eyes, her expression now as she locked the apothecary door so different from the one that had kept him going throughout the years he’d spent away. 
“Still here, shocking.” She waltzed past him, “Just leave me be.”
“I can’t do that., I need you to listen to me.” It took him a few long strides to catch up with her, “Can I please just explain?”
“Why? What does it matter at this point? I don’t want to hear you–” He stood in her way, blocking her path on the dusty sidewalk.
“Listen! Please!” He held onto her arms, keeping her still so he could look into her eyes. “I know you aren’t happy with me–” She scoffed, and he spoke over her, “I know, but you have to know that I missed you all this time. I didn’t want it to happen like this, but I can’t help that now.” She shrugged out of his grip, crossing her arms. 
“You okay, Honey? This man botherin’ you?” An older woman shouted from the porch of the brothel, her hand on the gun at her hip. 
“No, Ma’am, I’m fine. I know him–well, I knew him.” She turned towards the madam and smiled, “I got it under control.” She sighed and walked around him, turning to him after a few steps. “You have until I get home.” 
He rushed behind her and kept the smile to himself.
“I see you’ve done really well for yourself. It makes me really happy to see how you’ve been–” 
“This isn’t an explanation. You’re wasting your time with flattery I won’t respond to.” 
“Right, I’m sorry.” He frowned, trying to keep pace with her. “I sent you letters–”
“You sent me a few letters, all of which I responded to.” She spoke loudly, cutting him off. “A few letters in almost fifteen years–”
“I sent you dozens of letters.” It was his turn to frown and her turn to slow down, “I wrote to you as often as I could, even after I stopped getting your responses.” He knew he wasn’t exactly the kind of man her parents had wanted her to end up with. He remembered the sour looks on their faces when he’d come calling.
“I got a few letters the first year and then nothing else.” Her expression was wary, her eyes narrowed. “Did you really write to me? Or are you saying that so I’ll forgive you?” She crossed her arms, stopping to gauge the truth in his words. 
“I wrote to you for years, figured I would have to come and talk to you in person, but then I thought maybe you’d met someone else, or moved away, or worse. Then I told myself I’d come and find you, but life is the way it is, and things got in the way. When I heard they needed a new sheriff, I sent word to Carson to see if he’d consider hiring me–I was shocked when he responded yes.” She stared at him, eyes bright but mistrustful. “I swear on my mother's grave.” He took her hand, holding it to his heart. “I should have come sooner-” She pulled her hand away gently, fire still burning in her gaze, but now it was coloured with sadness as well as fury. 
“Yes, yes, you should have.” She sighed and continued walking towards their homes, “I am so angry at you, Francisco. I am angry you left and angry you came back.” She looked away from him, her hands flying to her face momentarily before facing forward again. 
“I know.” His house came into view, and he fought the urge to invite her in. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.” She didn’t respond, only kept her eyes forward. “What time do you leave in the morning?”
“What?” She frowned.
“What time do you usually leave? I’m not sure what time the Apothecary opens–”
“It opens at eight, but I like to get there early. Why?” 
“May I accompany you? I would like to walk with you if I could.” He knew she wouldn’t forgive him so quickly. Her fiery temper was one of the things he’d always loved about her. 
“You want to walk me? I am fully capable-”
“I never said you weren’t. I would still like to walk with you. I’ve missed talking to you, it would be a nice way to…reconnect.” He chanced a smile, hoping it would still have the effect it used to. 
She raised an eyebrow but didn’t smile in return. Her house was closer now, his time with her coming to an end for the day. 
“I suppose I cannot stop you.” It wasn’t a yes, but it definitely wasn’t a no.
“See you tomorrow then, goodnight Bluebell.” He stopped a few yards from her door, waiting until she was safely tucked inside before turning and going home.
-
The moon was high when you finally dug out the letters you’d hidden away deep in the chest at the end of your bed. The paper had yellowed, and you didn’t even bother getting up off the floor. With shaky hands, you untied the little bundle and spread them out in front of you, trying your hardest not to tear up at the little hearts and flowers he’d drawn in the curled-up corners. 
My Dearest Bluebell, 
I cannot even begin to tell you how much I miss you. Things here move so quickly, but I’m doing so much, making more money than I’ve ever seen! More than enough for us to start our lives together–
You pushed the letter away, finally letting go of the sob that had been squatting in your throat since seeing him earlier that morning. The love he’d had was so evident in his scratchy script, and the pain of his apparent silence reared its head in your soul to see it again after all of the years you’d survived without him. The last letter he’d sent held no clue as to why he’d ever stop writing, and now a nagging suspicion filled the corners of your mind. 
Your mother had made it more than clear that Francisco wasn’t her first choice for you. She’d treated him less than kindly whenever he came calling, would turn up her nose at him whenever she’d seen the two of you together, and had smiled a big, cruel smile at the news that he’d be leaving. Would she have gone so far as to hide letters from him? Something in your heart said yes. 
Suddenly, it was too much to see his words surrounding you, and you gathered them up hastily, tossing them back into the chest before surrendering to the exhaustion in your heart and in your bones and getting into bed. You tried to think about something else as you lay there, anything else–but he kept popping up, making you wonder–against your will–whether or not he’d actually be there in the morning.
-
He didn’t let you wonder.
His heavy knock made you practically jump out of your skin as you did your best to tie the laces of your corset. You chewed on your bottom lip, annoyed with how you rushed to throw on your dressing robe, sighing at the speed with which you made it to the door. 
He smiled as you opened the door, testing every measure of self-control you’d built up in his absence with a single dimple. 
“You’re here.” 
“Yes, just like I said–I figured it would be best to be early.” His gaze raked over you in your half-dressed state, “You look lovely.” 
“Sure I do.” You scoffed, “I need more time. I usually leave a little later.” He scratched at the back of his neck, unsure what to say, and you had to work extra hard to keep from laughing at him. “Come in then. You can wait in the kitchen while I finish getting dressed.” You turned and left then, leaving him to close the door. 
“Yes, ma’am.” 
You kept the door slightly ajar in your bedroom, your heart racing to know that after all this time–he was in the same house as you. You shook your head, shooing away the novelty of his presence to call up the anger and the fury that had kept you from falling apart in his absence. 
“The house looks great!” He called from the kitchen, “You shoulda seen the state of mine when I got here.”
You bit your lip, relishing the deep tones of his voice as they filled the house. 
“Still haven’t been able to fix the windows–had half a desert's worth of sand in the house. Took me forever to clean it.” He continued speaking as you finished dressing, completely unaware of the way you contemplated whether or not to use some of your very pricey, very precious perfume. You ignored the disappointed little voice in your head as you dabbed a few drops behind your ears and on the inside of your wrists. 
“-hopefully, they'll come in by the end of the week-” He was still speaking when you made your way back into the kitchen where he sat at your little table, the long lines of him entirely too big and too wonderful for the tiny space. 
“Have you eaten?” You cut off his speech, pulling down the cast iron pan from the rack above the woodfire stove.
“I, uh, I had some coffee.” 
“So, no?” You shoved some kindling into the open door of the oven, striking a match to light it. 
“Well, no–”
“Okay then.” There was enough time, and you got to work. 
“Can I help?”
“No–actually, yes. You can go fetch some water from the well out back.” You shoved the big kettle into his hands and sent him on his way, where he went without comment. 
Soon enough, you had biscuits baking and coffee brewing, and the house smelled better than any perfume you could buy. You once again ignored the little voice, the one that curiously sounded like your mother when you put out both the butter and the jam. 
When they were out of the oven and steaming, you couldn’t help but smile at how well they'd turned out. 
“It smells like heaven in here.” You could practically hear him drooling, and it was with a great sense of both satisfaction and pride that you watched him throw caution to the wind and eat one without waiting for it to cool down. He moaned at the first bite, making your heart soar and silencing the mean little voice. 
“You like them?” You had to hear it, had to hear the words in his voice.
“Like them? Honey, I’d kill for them.” You narrowed your eyes at him but let the endearment go without comment. Already, you were softening up for him. “I could eat this whole goddamn plate.” He pulled another one open, no doubt burning the tips of his fingers but continuing on just the same, slathering it with both butter and jam before taking a huge, steam-filled bite. 
You ate yours slower, unsure what you liked best, the biscuit or watching him eat. 
He poured you a cup of coffee before pouring one for himself, and for a moment, your heart shattered at how right it felt to have him here. For the first time since he’d left, you let yourself feel just how lonely you’d been without him. 
“I know you’re angry with me.” He put the remnants of his biscuit down, “I know you think I abandoned you, picked up and found a new life outside of this place, but you have to know–” He reached over, taking your hand in his, “I never stopped thinking about you.” The tears flowed without your permission, what felt like years worth of them dripping steadily onto the bodice of your dress. “I have loved you since I was a boy, and I should have come back the second I thought something was wrong. I’ll never forgive myself for letting you worry or letting you imagine for a single moment that you weren’t everything to me. I know it’ll take time for you to trust me again, but I’ll work as hard as I can.”
You wanted to rip your hand away, to scream in his face and tell him to give you peace, but you couldn’t. Instead, you let the tears fall, let him stand and tentatively pull you towards him, let him crush you in the first hug you’ve had in years. For a moment, it’s as though you cannot get close enough, your hands like claws digging into the fabric of his overcoat, knuckles cramping from the force of your grip, and he sighs into your hair. The relief of the painfully familiar smell of him is so great that it almost knocks you off your feet. 
When you finally push him away, you know your eyes are puffy. 
“I believe you–” He smiles through his own tears, “-but I am still angry. I cannot just let go of my hurt. Not so quickly.” It takes everything in you, but you untangle yourself from him softly. “I have been living in this for so long, I don’t even know how to stop feeling this way.” The handkerchief that usually lived in your pocket made itself useful now. “I don’t even know where to begin. I loved you so much–” His face contorted in pain, the use of the word in the past tense like a stab to his heart. “-I don’t think I ever stopped. It’s the reason it hurts so much.” He let out a shaky breath, smiling a watery smile. 
“I know, I’ll work for it, I promise.” 
“I know.” 
He felt like he was flying. His steps were so light, surely he’d grown wings. He knew it was going to be a long road for them, but for the first time in years, he had hope. 
He couldn’t keep the smile off his face throughout the day, the feel of her in his arms, the smell of her in his nose, all of it made him feel like any errant puff of wind would blow him away. He had a skip in his step as he made his way over to the Sheriff's office, uncaring whether the man wanted him there or not. He had to keep his time away from her occupied with something, and learning what it took to do his job effectively was the next best thing. 
“I haven’t seen that look on your face in years, it meant trouble back then, and I doubt it’s changed.” Sheriff Carson frowned at him, “Your house all fixed up then?” He didn’t stop what he was doing, instead continuing as he spoke. 
“As fixed as it can be, sir, until the replacement window panes come in.” He sat in the chair in front of Carson without invitation. The man only grunted in response. 
“I want to start early, get a feel for what you do so I can do it properly.” At this, the older man looked up. 
“I know I wasn’t the easiest kid–” The older man scoffed at that but let him continue. “-Yes, yes, I know. I was a helion. I’m a man now, and I’ve grown up. I just want to keep this town safe, want to do my job.” The older man's eyes narrowed, and Francisco frowned. “Why did you say yes when I applied?”
“Part curiosity, part hope, I guess.” He set the pen down, leaning back in his chair, his arms coming to rest crossed on his belly. “You’ve always been a smart kid, Frank, and if you really are as grown up as I think you are, I think you got the makings to be a great sheriff. Especially if you’re anything like your daddy.” It was probably the nicest thing Carson had ever said to him. He didn’t know how to respond. 
“I just don’t want you to hurt that girl–” He raised his hands to forestall any response, “I know what you felt for her was real, but she was a shell when you left, and I don’t want to see her like that again. We clear?”
“Yes, sir. I’m here. I’m home for good.”
“Good, now let's get to work.”
-
Francisco was no stranger to hard work, but Carson seemed determined to make him jump through every single hoop in order to prove he could do this job. It didn’t deter him in the slightest, not with the promise of the life he’d always wanted so close on the horizon. Instead, he took notes, followed Carson, did everything he asked, and paid as much attention as he could, but secretly counted the hours until he would see her again. 
He heard the gunshots as he organized the disaster that was Carson’s filing system. 
“Suppose you oughta come with.” Carson slipped his holster on, handing a gun to him before leading the way toward the sound. 
A half-naked man was rolling around on the ground just outside the brothel, clutching at a blood-soaked arm. His eyes were wild with pain and anger, and he only seemed to get more frantic at the sight of the two of them approaching. 
“Sheriff! Arrest that woman!” He pointed with his good hand at the young woman on the porch. “Crazy bitch shot my damn arm-” 
“You put your hands on me, and you lose your hand! Them’s my rules!” She was screaming mad, a painful-looking shiner blooming on her pale face. 
“Enough!” Carson’s voice rang out loud enough to silence everyone within earshot, “Now–Who’s gonna tell me what happened? I can listen, or I can arrest the lot of you and be done with it.” He rested his weight on one leg, hand resting on the gun at his hip. 
The madame stepped out from behind the younger woman, her face austere. 
“I think it’s pretty obvious; he took a liberty, smacked my girl around, and he got bit.” She put her arm around the younger woman's shoulder. “Ethel is one of my best. Now she’s got this to deal with. He’s lucky she didn’t shoot his pecker off.” The man scoffed, pulling his shirt on as best he could before moving towards the women. 
“I don’t think so, pal,” Francisco spoke directly to him, pulling his own gun and holding it at his side in warning.
“I got witnesses, Carson. Lock this fucker up, and let us get back to work.”
“I’ll need to come in and get some statements, Mabel. You know that as well as I do. Frank, take this moron over to get patched up.” 
“So I’m just gonna lose my fuckin’ hand!?” He was incensed. 
“Lucky you didn’t lose your life. Now get out of my sight. I’m gonna give you until sundown to be out of here; if not, you can spend an undetermined amount of time in my jailhouse.” Carson’s voice held no room for anything but complete obedience, and after a tense moment, all of the air went out of him, and he let Francisco lead him toward the town physician. 
-
You tried not to be upset when he wasn’t waiting for you outside the apothecary at the end of the day; after all, he hadn’t said he would be. Instead, you locked up as usual and set about making your way home.
“Bluebell!” His voice rang out from behind you, making your head whip around. Your frown turned from annoyance to worry at the sight of dried blood on the white of his shirt. Your hands clutched at the collar of his shirt before you had a chance to catch yourself. 
“What happened?” Any and all propriety went right out the window with how frantically you pulled at his layers to see where the blood had come from. “Did you get hurt?”
“No, no, I’m fine–it’s not mine.” there was something in his voice that brought you back to your senses, a tenderness that pierced the very heart of you. His hands held onto yours for a moment before you pulled them away slowly. 
“Oh. I’m glad.”
“There was some trouble at the brothel. One of the girls shot some idiot who got handsy. I had to bring him to the physician.” The thought of him anywhere near the brothel made your hackles rise. You stamped the feeling away and continued your walk back home. He fell into step beside you. “What was that?” His smile was big now.
“What was what?”
“That look you just gave me.” He bumped his shoulder into yours, and you frowned. 
“What are you talking about? I didn't give you any look.” 
“You gave me a look, Blue, when I said the word brothel, a jealous look.” His smile was so wide you wanted to smack him. 
“I did not. You are free to do as you please. We aren’t married.” You kept your eyes on the horizon and did your best to ignore the bark of laughter he let out beside you. 
“Fine, I’ll drop it. I got no business in a brothel anyway. Even if I’m not married, yet.” 
You sighed, ignoring just how right he was. 
There was a man with a wagon waiting just outside his house as you passed it. 
“Can I help you?” He called out to the man outside his house. You can’t help but notice how he put himself between you and the stranger. 
“I have some window panes to deliver.” He walked around to the back of the wagon, uncovering it to show the cargo 
“Oh! Yes, I’ll take those.” He jogged over to the man, helping to bring the glass inside. You followed him despite yourself, unable to keep the frown off your face at the state of his home. You were still looking around when everything had been brought inside, and the man had been sent away. “It still needs work, but at least the windows will be intact.” You could see how he surveyed his home, his eye just as critical if not more than yours.
You set down your things. 
“Need to boil some water.” You hauled out the biggest pot you could find. 
“What?” He came over and took the pot from you, putting it onto the stove for you. 
“We need to boil water to clean these floors, and we should wash these windows too.” 
“Yes, but I can do it–” 
“Francisco. Go get water so we can boil it and get this place in order.” You raised your eyebrows at him and relished the way he watched you. He’d always liked it when you were assertive. 
“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled before heading out to his own well. 
Once the water was boiled, you got to work with a stiff brush while he set about replacing the broken windows. It wasn’t easy work, getting down on your knees to scrub the years worth of dirt and dust out of every nook and cranny embedded in the floorboards. It was worth it, though, to look up every so often and see the hard lines of him working, both his jacket and waistcoat shed and thrown onto a chair; his shirtsleeves rolled up. 
He’d always been beautiful to you, with his big brown eyes and his golden skin, the maddening dimple, even the curve in his nose. He was even more gorgeous now, with age and experience etched on his face, even hardened, he could still make you swoon. 
You gasped at the sting, snatching your hand back cat-quick. Blood beaded on your finger and dripped down onto the freshly washed floor, an errant piece of broken glass sitting on the floor. It was a few seconds before he was gathering you up from off the floor and guiding you to one of the chairs. 
“I’m okay, just a little cut.” He moved away for a moment, moving towards the back of the house. “Really, Frankie, I’m fine.” He came back with a few pieces of clean linen and a little jar of something clear; you can only imagine what it is.
“I know. I still want to clean and wrap it, though.” He set his things down, moving to the remaining boiled water on the stove to dampen one of the pieces of cloth, using it to clean the wound before opening the little jar. His eyes found yours then– ”You gonna be brave for me?” He held it over the cut, waiting for you to answer. “It’s going to hurt, but I know you’re gonna be good for me.” He winked and then splashed a little bit of the moonshine onto it. He may as well have stuck a hot poker into your hand. “There there, Blue, almost done.” 
By the time the stinging abates, your finger is wrapped up, and any evidence of injury is gone. 
“Thank you.” You held your hand close to your chest, ignoring the way it shook a bit. 
“Of course, I think we’re done for today. I don’t want you to hurt yourself. I would like for you to eat something.” He pulled out what looked like some crusty bread and some dry meat. “It’s not much, but it’s what I have for right now.” He set it down in front of you, giving you everything he had to offer, and for the first time in years, you smiled at him. 
“Are you done with the windows?” 
“Yes, I just need to get rid of these broken pieces.”  He gestured to the pile on the counter. 
“Okay, let's go back to my place. I can make us dinner.” You stood to move, and he followed you, protesting for a moment. 
“But your hand–”
“My hand is fine. Let’s go.” You moved to pick up your things, but he stopped you, gently knocking your hand aside to carry them for you.
-
The stew came together as quickly as it could with the way your hand throbbed. The bread, too, and soon enough, you were both sitting at the table eating the steaming food quietly. He ate with gusto, and you wondered briefly if he’d been eating well in his time away. He looked strong, but then again, he’d always been broad. 
He pushed his bowl away with a dreamy smile, his hands coming to rest on his belly. 
“That was the best thing I’ve eaten since I left. Aside from the biscuits this morning, I mean.”
“I’m glad.” You finished eating as he sat there, enjoying his company far more than you’d ever admit. Once you were done, he grabbed your bowl and put it into the sink, pouring some of the leftover well water to begin cleaning up. “You don’t have to do that–”
“I know. You don’t have to feed me either. I’ll just clean these and then get out of your hair.” You sighed, knowing you wouldn’t convince him otherwise. 
“Thank you.”
“No, thank you, you’ve fed me better today than in the whole time I was gone.” You smiled to yourself, half exhilarated, half annoyed at just how much your anger at him had crumbled. “Okay-” He set the last plate on the drying rack before drying his hands, “-I desperately need a bath. I’ll get out of your way. See you tomorrow morning?” 
“If you want.” You followed behind him, trying your hardest to keep the hope out of your voice. 
“Of course, I want to see you tomorrow.” He moved in quickly, pressing a kiss to your forehead before you had time to protest. “Goodnight Blue.” With a smile and a wink, he’s gone. 
-
Weeks passed, and it could not be said that Francisco Morales wasn’t a persistent man. No matter how hard you tried to hang onto that anger, he excelled in chipping away at it. He was true to his word about working on building back the trust that had been lost, spending any time away from his work with Carson split between you, and working on his house. 
He’d become quite the handyman in his time away, and he showcased that in the work he did in both his house and yours. He’d noticed your laundry line had broken and fixed it aggravatingly quickly. He spotted a few leaky spots in your roof and had them fixed at no cost to you, making you wonder just how much money he’d made while away. Aside from the windows and the cleaning you’d both done at his place, he’d replaced the more rundown furniture, and while it was missing some of the personal touches of his mother–it was definitely comfortable and livable once again. 
The intense loneliness and craving for intimacy had also hit you full force with his return. You found yourself thinking back to how things had been when you’d been young and wildly in love with each other. How his mouth had always found yours, how he seemed to need to be close to you, his arm often around your shoulder, his hand always finding a way to clasp yours. 
It was worse at night when other memories floated out of the isthmus of your mind, filling it with the visions of him above you, his tongue in your mouth, and his cock deep inside. You’d been young but eager to explore one another, and he had been nothing if not resourceful in finding any and all opportunities to get you out of your clothing. Now, the days were filled with new tortures, and you found yourself feeling jealous of the beads of sweat that rolled down his back, envious of the way his shirts seemed to hold him so tightly. 
The way his eyes tracked you didn’t help the situation; they were just as wild, just as beautiful, and just as open and honest as they’d always been. His desire for you shining out at you through their honeyed gaze. 
He’d been busy that morning, well and truly the sheriff now, and with that came more time away, giving you, in turn, more time alone. Or so you’d thought. The knock was loud, solid, and instantly, you knew it was him. You groaned, staring at the perfectly steaming water of the tub surrounding you. 
“Not now, Frankie!” You called out to him from the back of the house–hoping for a moment he’d let you enjoy the sweet steam surrounding you. His knock came again, and you huffed, stepping out of the oasis and wrapping yourself up in your dressing gown. “Frankie, I’m kind of in the middle of something–” You opened the door to him, and instantly, his gaze raked over you, no doubt seeing the way the damp fabric clung to your body, leaving nothing to the imagination. The dumbstruck look on his face filled you with such satisfaction that you let him look his fill before moving your eyes to bring his attention back up. “Can I help you with something?” 
“Uh–” He stumbled for a moment, his eyes moving back down to where the gown split, to where your leg and most of your thigh peeked through. “Um–I uh…”
“...You…?”
“Um…Sorry. I brought you a gift.” He shook his head for a minute before decidedly looking you in the eye. “I remember I took your copy; brought you a new one.” He held the book out to you, and for a moment, you forgot to be alluring. 
“Jane Eyre?” You grabbed the book, opening it up quickly. 
“I remember you reading it to me; thought maybe I could read it to you sometime.” His dimple shined, and you couldn’t help but leap into his arms. 
“Oh, Frankie, I love it! I have been looking for a copy forever!” You pressed your face into his neck and relished how tightly he held onto you in return, relished the feeling of his nose buried in the crook of your neck.
“God, Blue, you smell good enough to eat.” His words, his voice, they ran down your spine like a drop of ice on a hot day, hardening your nipples and making you ache for him. You pulled away, biting your lip as you stared at his mouth.
“You could come in… and read to me?” He smiled and closed the door. “I was just in the bath. I could get in and cover myself with a cloth. You could read to me while I bathe.” He nodded slowly, gulping before following you, making sure to grab a chair on his way. 
“Give me one minute to get in.” You closed the door, heart thumping at how the colour had gone out of his eyes, leaving them blown black. Within a few tense moments, you were back in the tub with the hangover of the lining cloth covering you under the milky, soapy water. “Okay–come in.” 
He looked almost pained as he pulled up the chair beside you, his eyes once again greedy in their quest to map whatever part of you he could see, which admittedly is more than you planned to show him with how transparent the lining is. 
“Shall I start at the beginning?” He flipped open the book, but his eyes were still locked on you. 
“Yes, please.”
“Very well.” He took a deep breath, and began, his deep, soothing voice the perfect accompaniment to the steaming water.
“Folds of scarlet drapery shut in my view to the right hand; to the left were the clear panes of glass, protecting, but not separating me from the drear November day–Oh, sorry, I already read that.” You smiled to yourself, enjoying the way he couldn’t seem to focus, the way he kept losing his place, and admittedly, it took everything in you not to pull him into the tub with you. 
“That’s okay. Can you help me with this?” You offered him the soapy washcloth, “My back? It’s so hard to get it on my own.” You batted your eyes at him, smiling the smile he’d never been able to resist, hoping it still worked its magic on him. 
“Let me rinse my hands first. I don’t want to muddy up this paradise.” He knocked the chair over in his haste to reach the washbasin you had on the counter. By the time he was finished and righting his seat, he had shed his topmost layers and rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his biceps. 
You leaned forward, giving him access to the skin of your back and sighing at the closeness of him when he pressed the soapy cloth to it. 
“God, I missed you, Blue.” He rubbed at your shoulders slowly, his other hand slipping around to hold the top of your chest, just beneath the dip at the bottom of your throat. “Missed touching you, feeling you, kissing you.”
Your eyes closed, and you thought surely he must feel the way your heart raced just under your skin when his fingers curled softly around your neck. 
“Been dying to kiss you for years.” You felt then how the cloth had been discarded, and his bare hand spanned the smooth skin of your back, massaging at your shoulders and the top of your spine. “You ever miss me like that?” His voice was a soft rasp now, lulling you up and back into his hand, letting the linen go and looking up into his eyes. 
“Yes–I do, Frankie–all the time.” You bit your lip, staring at his mouth as he spoke. 
“Can I kiss you?” He moved forward an inch, leaning in as his hands worked their spell against your skin. 
“Yes-” You barely whispered the word before he pressed his mouth to yours softly. It was tender and oh so familiar, the way his lips moved against yours, his tongue seeking entrance and gaining it just like he’d done so many times before. Your kiss was a dance, the steps of which neither of you had ever forgotten. It ached, the way his mouth claimed yours, and you couldn’t help but lean into him, to reach up and hold onto him as he groaned into the kiss. 
“I have been dreaming about this since I left–” He spoke between kisses, pressing them to your face, before licking into your mouth once more, “Can I touch you?”
You nodded, chasing his mouth again. His hand slipped down, slick with soap, and then he held onto your breast, kneading one and then the other, his thumb strumming against the sensitive buds while your cunt leaked for him. His eyes moved, watching himself touch you, his lip caught between his teeth,and all of a sudden, it was too much, and you move, pulling away and standing, naked as the day you were born. 
“Take me to bed, Frankie.” He stared up at you from his place on the chair, and from the look on his face, you’d think he was looking at an angel. It didn’t last, though; within seconds, he was up and pulling you out of the tub, practically dragging you towards your bedroom. 
Your breath came out in a huff when you landed on your back, smiling breathlessly at the look of pure hunger on his face. He chewed his lip as he pulled off his layers, going through them quick enough that you genuinely worried he’d rip them. The water that had clung to your skin from the bath, now seeped into the sheets underneath you as you watched him undress. 
“I’m so fucking hard for you, Blue.” He kicked his denim off, tossing everything every which way, “So hard it hurts.” His cock bobbed as he finally crawled his way over to you, and it was then that you saw it, a significant scar on his side, like a starburst. Your hand reached out, and you pressed your fingers to it, looking into his eyes for an explanation. 
He pulled your hand up and kissed the tips of your fingers, “It’s nothing. I’m fine.” He continued his pilgrimage across your body, stopping only to kiss your sternum, your hip, and the soft skin of your belly. “I missed seeing you like this so much-“ he opened your legs, groaning at the way your cunt glistened for him. “-I missed how fucking wet you get, how good you taste-“ he barely finished speaking before he dove in, his tongue parting you further, gliding over your clit with desperation. 
“I missed you-oh-“ his hands clutched at your thighs, pulling you closer to his mouth, pulling the strings of your arousal to pool for his tongue. “That feels so fucking good, Frankie—“ Your hands found the short crop of his hair, unsure of whether you wanted to pull him up or grind against him. He huffed a cocky laugh into your skin, doubling his efforts and tightening his grip on your thighs, his fingers indented into the skin. The steady glide of his tongue against your clit, up and down, up and down, has you falling over the edge of the cliff and your thighs clamping around his head.
It didn't stop him; his tongue kept moving, slower as you rode out your high. He bit at the plump of your inner thigh as you relaxed, smiling and shiny with your arousal.
“I missed that too.” He moved, pressing his lips to your belly again, moving up and licking a hot stripe between your breasts before slotting his hips between your legs. His skin was so warm, so welcome, that you couldn’t help but sigh and pull him close, your fingers curling into his hair. 
“I wanted you to come back so badly-“ You covered every inch of his face in kisses, “Wanted you to stay with me, love me like this.” You licked into his mouth, tasting yourself in the kiss.
“I’m here, Honey, I’ll never leave you again-“ You can feel just how hard his cock is as it pressed into your belly, the two of you clinging to one another in the dying light of the day. 
“Promise me, promise me you won’t leave me.” You reached down and wrapped your hand around the sizable heft of him, stroking slowly while positioning him at your entrance.
“Fuck-I promise baby, I promise you-“ His sentence ended in a filthy moan as you pulled him in with your heels, pressing into the meat of his ass, finally having him inside you again after everything. 
You moaned at the way he filled you.
The last fifteen years melted away, the long stretch of loneliness feeling more and more like a dream with every deep stroke of his cock. 
There were no more words, only whimpers from you and deep groans from him. There was the rhythmic rocking of your bed and the slick sounds of him moving between your legs. His hips snapped faster and faster as he chased his release, burying his face into the crook of your neck to feed all the delicious sounds he made directly into your ear.
“I’m so close, touch yourself—“ his voice sounded wrecked, moving his hips like a piston, his cock kissing that one spot only he ever found. You obey and reach down to swirl your fingers around your clit, rocketing yourself closer to another, more intense orgasm. 
He moved his face down, holding onto your breast to suck on your nipple, and then the dam broke, and you clenched around him, moaning his name as you reached your peak. 
“Fuck, that’s it, that’s so good, oh god—I’m gonna come-“ his hips sped up, the wet sounds of his thrusts louder after your second climax. You opened your legs wide, giving him space to move, but he stayed put.
“Frankie-“ You started to speak, trying to guide him to spill on your belly; still, he didn’t move. Instead, he pushed in deep, groaning loudly, and it was with a sinking feeling in your stomach that you felt him twitch inside. 
You were frozen in place, momentarily shocked into silence.
“God—I’ve been dreaming of that for years.” He sounded drunk, pulling out of you with a hiss to take a good look at his handiwork. 
“Francisco, did you just do what I think you did?” Your tone was devoid of any sweetness. “Did you just spill inside me?” 
“Yes—“ he frowned, confusion colouring his face along with the flush of his exertion, “—I thought you’d forgiven me? We’re together again-“
“And me forgiving you means risking a baby?” You pulled away, wiggling out from under him to grab a linen shift from your drawer. 
“Wait, Blue, come back.” He moved to sit at the edge of the bed, “I’m sorry I didn’t think. It just felt right.” 
“Of course it felt right to you. You have no regard for how I might feel.” Your anger burned through you, where once there had been passion, it was now replaced with fear. A deep fear that the next time he decided to up and leave, it might not just be you waiting for him. 
“Don’t be like that, sweetheart, that’s not true-“
“I’d like you to leave.” Hot tears flowed down your face at the thought of being pregnant with his child, and alone, waiting to see how long it took him to return the second time.
“Baby, please—don’t make me leave, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that—“
“Leave! I want to be alone. Please just–just go home.” You wiped at your eyes before crossing your arms, doing your absolute best to avoid his gaze. He sighed loudly, moving slowly to gather his things, stopping only to put on his pants and his shirt before tucking tail and heading home.
-
He’d fucking blown it. 
By some miracle, he’d managed to get into her good books, his persistence and determination to show her just how madly in love with her he was–how in love with her he’d always been–weeks worth of it, and he’d messed up in a few minutes. A few glorious, amazing minutes. 
He couldn’t help but groan in annoyance with himself every time he remembered it, the euphoria of being with her again, being inside her, of having her wet and needy and so eager for him only to get lost in it and risk a baby they hadn’t yet discussed. Hadn’t even really discussed getting married, not since he’d come back. 
He didn’t even know why he’d thought it’d be okay. It had been purely instinctual but also irresponsible and disrespectful. It shamed him that he couldn’t stop thinking about it, couldn’t stop craving it. He ignored it, though, continued on with showing her his reliability and hoped she understood that she was all he wanted. 
-
Sleep eluded you for days, refusing to find you until the blood came. It wasn’t much better when it finally did, though. There was the initial relief, of course, there would be no child born out of wedlock, and you would not be treated like a pariah, but where did that leave you? He apologized for it, constantly. He groveled, he begged for your time and for your love and forgiveness, and it was his. It was there–ready for him, but the fear hid it away. 
No matter how consistent he’d been in his time back, no matter how much he’d assured and explained that he wasn’t going to leave, it still felt like there was a clock ticking somewhere you couldn’t see, counting down the seconds until you’d be alone again. 
You tried to focus on other things, filling your days with organizing your home, with clearing out things that no longer served you, things that you had brought over from when your mother died and had actively ignored or hidden away until genuinely forgotten. There were old, moth-eaten rags that had once been her clothes, a few books, and an old hairbrush. Amongst her things, though, was a bundle of paper, a fat wad of it. 
Confused, you pulled it apart and very quickly realized that they were letters and they were addressed to you. It was jarring to see your name in Frankie’s script and harrowing to realize that you’d had them the whole time without knowing. 
With shaking hands, you opened them one by one, and by the third, the tears obscured your vision. 
My Dearest Bluebell, 
I know you must be angry with me, things aren’t moving as quickly as they should, but this changes nothing–I’m still coming home to you–
He talked about his time in the war, about how differently they did things where he was, and about how much money he was saving, but between all that was the same promise of return. It was everywhere, that���and his pleas for a response from you. 
Please sweetheart, I need to hear from you, please let me know you’re okay, and that you don’t hate me–
You sobbed into them. The words were like wounds, the pain of being alone for so long is even sharper now than it had been before. He had been true to his word, writing letter after letter without a single word from you, and despite the pain of knowing that fact, you read every single one. The dates were consistent, every week, almost like clockwork, except for once–when there were a few months between two letters. 
Bluebell, my love, 
I am okay–but I was hurt. I barely remember what happened, but one minute I’m in the middle of it, fighting, and the next minute I was screaming and then blackness, until I woke up in a hospital. Nurse says I’m lucky to be alive and that I’m going to be okay–
It was too much, all of it, and despite the fact that it was late and he was most certainly asleep, you had to see him. 
The moon followed you on your walk towards his house, lighting the path and keeping you company. There was a soft glow shining out from one of his windows, and it inspired hope, making it easier to knock on the door despite the hour. 
There was movement on the other side of the door, his heavy footsteps padding across the old floorboards.
“Who’s there?” Suspicion threaded thickly through his words, and you couldn’t blame him; this was no hour for anyone to come calling.
“I need to talk to you. Can I come in?” Your voice was shaky, the tears had abated while you made your way over, but the worried look on his face when he opened the door threatened to let them flow once more.
“What’s the matter? What happened?” He was shirtless, holding his pistol at his side while he looked beyond you to inspect the horizon. “Come in, come in—“ He closed the door behind you, setting the pistol down with a frown. “What’s the matter, Blue? Why are you out at this hour?” 
“I—“ you choked on the word, clutching at his letters, “Frankie, I found them, my mother—“ you sobbed out words, choking on them before he sighed. 
“Oh Honey, please don’t cry.” He gathered you up, pulling you into the strong cage of his arms, and it was like the floodgates cracked open wide. One palm held the back of your head, and the other was wrapped around your waist. “You didn’t know, it’s okay.”
“I, I don’t even know what to say. I’m sorry,” your voice cracked with the agony of all of the lost years, “you wrote so many letters, and I never answered any of them, and you got hurt—oh god, you could have died!” It was hard to tell if you were screaming or sobbing anymore.
“Hey! Hey! Shhh, it’s okay, baby,” he rubbed your back, a soothing gesture, “Hey, stop, stop, take a deep breath, I’m fine. I survived. There was nothing you could have done. I know you would have written to me if you’d gotten my letters, if you knew.” He pressed his lips to your temple. “I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner. I shouldn’t have left without you.” 
“I should have known she’d do something like this. I–” You pulled away to look up into his eyes, “I am so angry at her. She let you carry on, just hid them without a care–even though she knew I was heartbroken.” You brushed his hair back before hugging him again. 
“She never did like me. It was pretty cruel of her to do that to both of us.” He was being much more gracious about it than he should have, a testament to his love for you that he didn’t want to bash your mother despite the damage she’d done. 
“Miserable old bitch.” You had no qualms about calling her what she was. 
“Forget about her. It’s okay now. Thankfully, we’re together again.” He grabbed his pistol and led you further into the house. 
-
Your fingers drew the shapeless pattern onto the warm skin of his chest for what must have been the hundredth time since the both of you tumbled into his bed an hour ago. It was still pitch black outside, the only light being a candle on his bedside. The sun would creep in soon enough, though, and when it did, it would find the two of you clinging to one another. 
“I hate that you went through this alone.” Your fingers migrated down to the starburst on the side of his lower stomach, tracing the edges of it softly. 
“I’m lucky, I made a full recovery.” His voice was soft, “I saw others get much worse.”
“That doesn’t minimize this, Francisco, you could have died out there, and I never would have known.” You squeezed your eyes together for a moment, ignoring the implications, “Can you ever forgive me? For not writing?” 
“Only if you can find it in you to forgive me for being away so long and for what happened.” He pulled your hand up, pressing your knuckles to his lips.
“You’re forgiven for everything.” You frowned, “We hadn’t discussed our future, everything was still so up in the air, and I was terrified to get pregnant. Not because I don’t want to have your children, I was just terrified you'd leave me again and then I'd be here, alone and with a baby.” His face fell, guilt swirling around his features. “That was before. I believe you when you say you won’t and that you’re here for good.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, then to his lips.
“I understand why that would have scared you. I shouldn’t have done it without permission, though. It was careless of me.” He pulled you closer, relishing in the contact just like he had in the early days. There was a beat, a comfortable silence, and it stretched on for a while, the two of you content to lay there until the stiffness of your dress pulled you away. He helped you take it off until you were in your simple shift, and then you took your place beside him once more.
“Francisco?” You murmured, wondering if he’d fallen asleep.
“Yes?”
“I never said, but I’m sorry about your parents.” He’d been gone for years when they passed. 
“Me too.” He didn’t say more, and you didn’t press. “You should get some rest. Will you stay with me?”
“Yes, I don’t want to go.” He got up for a moment, pulling the rest of his layers off before blowing out the candle.
“Good, I didn’t want you to leave.” He slipped into the bed, pulling his sheet over the both of you before pulling you in close. “Goodnight, Honey.”
“Goodnight, Frankie.” 
-
The sun shone bright enough to shoo the last vestiges of sleep away. It found you warm and comfortable under the comforting weight of his arm over your belly and his leg tangled with yours. He looked younger, asleep and you could almost see him just as he was when he’d left, fresh-faced and eager to see and do as much as he could. That fire for life and all it entailed, burning brightly in every expression. 
Your thumb traced the line of his jaw first, sweeping up his chin to glide across his pursed lower lip. He twitched but didn’t wake, only tightened his grip on you. Your thumb slid up, following the curve of his nose, up to smooth across his brow. 
He stirred again, humming softly before pressing closer still, burying his face into the crook of your neck and tickling you with his moustache. 
“Is it morning already?” His voice was sleepy but laced with pure joy. 
“Yes, it is. How did you sleep?” Your tone matched his, his joy was contagious, hope and happiness swirling in the air much like the dustmotes that danced in each shaft of light. Your hands had migrated down, fingers flitting across his broad back, relishing every inch, every errant freckle. 
“Better than I have in years. How about you?” His lips made their own pilgrimage, from just below your ear, down the column of your neck, and down to your shoulder; each press of his lips widening the smile on yours. 
“I slept really well. I forgot how warm you get when you sleep.” He laughed at this, good-hearted. 
“Good, means you don’t need to wear this–” His hands slid under your shift, grabbing greedily at your thighs, then your backside. 
“Very clever. Don’t you need to get up and go to work, Sheriff? Or am I under arrest?” There was no real bite behind your words. 
“Hmm, I don’t know, are you? Are you here to confess to a crime? Aside from stealing my heart, that is.” You let out a bark of laughter, rising slightly to let him take the shift off of you despite the game. 
“Is that what I’ve done? Stolen your heart?”
“Oh yes, years ago. First day you smiled at me, come to think of it.” He nodded sagely for a moment before pressing his lips to yours softly, making you both melt and drip for him. 
“Well then, I guess I deserve my punishment.” You reached down, shimmying out of your underthings to bare yourself to him. He bit his lip before dipping low to lick at the stiff peak of your breast, soft as his kiss, before taking your nipple into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks. You moaned, watching him enraptured. 
“I’ll be just and fair.” He smiled, after letting go with a pop, moving to the next one to give it the same treatment. Your fingers curled into his short crop while your thighs pressed together to alleviate the aching at your core. He sucked harder, frantically, and then there was the edge of pain when he bit softly, making you gasp for a second before he once again soothed with his tongue. 
“God, woman, you make me crazy.” His eyes were wild for a moment before he claimed your mouth again, his tongue plundering without mercy. 
“I want you, Frankie–give it to me.” You reached down to grasp him in hand, but he moved away, denying you. 
“I want to make you feel good. Let me taste you again.” He moved down, his lips mapping a course down to where you wanted him most. 
“I want you, though, Frankie, want you to make me sore. You can use your mouth later.” You held your arms out to him, and although he stared at your mound with hunger, he obeyed. 
You spread your legs for him, and he slots his hips, pulling your legs high onto his thighs for a moment before sheathing himself in you with one brutal, delicious stroke. 
“God, Frankie, you’re splitting me open.” You moaned the words into his ear, and his head dropped into your neck, groaning at your words. 
You reach down to hold onto his ass, grabbing onto it as he thrusts. 
“You want me like this? Or you want me on my knees like you used to like?” You whispered, and he moaned, his hips stuttering for a moment before pulling out. It was the only answer you needed before you moved to get into position, presenting yourself to him. 
His thighs pressed against the backs of yours, his hand landing heavy on one ass cheek before he entered you from behind. He felt deeper this way, hitting something otherworldly with each press. 
“That’s my girl, you gonna take my big dick Honey?” You moaned into your forearm, arousal burning bright as a coal in the pit of your belly from his words, from the slick sounds of your joining, from the way your nipples grazed against his bedding. 
He bent forward, pulling at your arms to hold them behind your back, and once he did, his efforts doubled. He was a piston, ramming into you hard enough to make your breasts bounce, hard enough to make you scream for him. 
He moved you again, pulling you up to meet the solid wall of his chest, his chin hooking over your shoulder, one hand holding onto your breast, the other sliding down to swirl around your clit, shoving you headlong into a blinding climax. 
“That’s it, baby, God, I can feel you squeezing my cock. Where do you want me to come? Can I come on your ass?” His words sounded frantic, and you nodded, barely whispering the words. 
“Yes, Frankie–” He let you go, and you pressed your face into the mattress once more, spreading your legs a little wider before you felt him pull out, feeling the way his hand grabbed and spread you open while the other one pumped between your legs. You felt the hot spurt of him on the cheeks of your ass and the small of your back just as you heard the filthy groan he let out. 
You both caught your breath for a moment, riding the wave of release before he moved and within a few minutes, he passed a cool, wet cloth across your skin, cleaning his mess off before discarding it and falling into bed beside you. 
There was sweat on his brow, there was sweat on yours, too, but it didn’t matter, the euphoria was rich and sweet as fresh cider. 
“I missed you so much, Frankie.” You turned to face him fully, the two of you naked and comfortable. 
“I missed you too, Honey.” He pulled you close, wrapping you up in his arms, where you belonged. 
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beeeeandpuppycat · 27 days
Text
MATING
Readers in heat! And of course. the one person poor ol' them couldn't trust wants to help♡
Paring Valentino X bunny reader in heat
Warnings :
Valentino being the 2 sided bitch he is(of course)
Reader being lied to (cause she's favoured. Lucky you!)
Heavy smut cause its Valentino ?/ kinky type shit
Valentino (he's his own warning fr)
Not edited! Minors are responsible for what they choose to read.
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You were always quite the naive thing weren't you? Trusting a stranger with a gun cause it was the only choice you had left to get off the streets. And somehow. That struck the tinest dagger in vals heart. And he didn't want to scare you. You always trusted him when whenever some flirted with you. they would magically go missing. (Just a lil but possessive of his favourite bunny slut) how everyone else that worked for him always had bruises that he always said was from accidents. And yet you were treated like a delicate feather.
Being embarrassed for this situation. Of when your hair wasnup- your tits hard . And unbelievable need in your abdomen. Your small cotton tail twitching at any movement and tho you had big ol' Valentino to come help . Poor tears formed at your eyes as you were locked in your room. Your poor hips desperately rutting into the soft silk pillow you owned . Your bunny ears bouncing at each thrust of you trying to get even a hint of pleasure. D:
Soon Valentino was walking around trying to find his lovely bun bun 《3 only to be met with the familiar sound of his lil bunnies squeaking
Eyes widened at the fact your door was locked for the first time. Soon enough quickly opened with a little help of vox. A grin widening at the sad sight of you . While you looked up . Your lil bunny nose sniffling with your doe eyes tearing up with fat tears
"Oh dear.. my poor pathetic princess.. didn't think to tell daddy ,hm?"
Small whimpers escaped your lips at his sharp nails digging into your chin rather harshly . Your plush lips forced open when he slammed his own into yours. A hiss escaping his lips at your saliva being almost disgustingly sweet for hell . Seating you up on his lap as sharp nails ran through your fluffy hair. Landing individual kisses on your lips as a digit entered your slick folds. Honey covering his finger as you immediately starting to rut into it. Thrusting as quickly as your small body could manage. A tut coming out of vals lips watching his favourite cutie become a slut for his fingers . Your thighs trembling with the near sight of your orgasmn, only for his fingers to slyly move out leaving you feeling empty and cold :(
A small chuckle coming out of Valentino to see tears forming at your already wet face. Your fluffy ol' paws desperately trying to grasp on to him- sharp small nails came out as you tightly grasp on him tugging him forward as his swollen mushroom tip was quick to thrust into your abused cunt D: small whimpers and squeaks escaping swollen lips . Drooling at the feeling of your hips banging into his every second. Breast bouncing up and down at his sharp nails grasping and squeezing on them. Getting dazed at the pleasure . While he blowed out pink smoke from a cig. The pink fog coming out . Lazingly wrapping round your throat to tug you forward. Making no yelp of pain due to bring too dazed to even realise, being fucked dumb as his hips smashed up against your cunt. The bed bouncing so hard you swear to god it was gonna smash through the floor. The pink smoke barely opening your mouth for him to spit into . Which you happily swallowed. Your thighs starting to tremble at the endearing sight of meets end approaching. Eyes rolling back to your skull. Blurping out nothing but "DADDY" over and over again as your orgasmn crashed through, sticky honey covering vals cock as he loaded his cum into your womb crying out at the warm liquid making you feel so full and loved, immediately as he pulled out you fell back- valentink quickly catching you , pushing your head lovingly against his chest as he landed a small, kiss on your head, it's fine, he just got some dumb whores to come clean you up before placed back down on his grasp. You weren't gonna be alone for this..
Grrr, Should I write about alastor being in heat?
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twola · 7 months
Note
I’m a slut for semi-public sex and I know you’ve written multiple fics for this but what if Arthur X reader actually get caught instead of almost 👀
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Caught
Arthur Morgan x F!Reader Smut (18+), MDNI
"Far enough" from camp is not far enough.
➵ Fic Masterlist ➵ AO3 Link
Your giggles are drowned out by the kisses that Arthur showers upon your lips as the two of you stumble further into the wooded area outside the camp, along the shores of Flat Iron Lake.
“Think this-,” You pant, “Is far enough?”
Arthur presses his lips to your jaw, “Depends how loud you’re gonna be.” He drawls playfully as he starts to pull up your skirts. 
His groan, however, is what you shush when he moves one hand between your legs.
“No drawers? You naughty little thing you.” He hoarsely grits out as he cups your whole cunt in his palm, warm to the touch and making you gasp.
All you can do is smile coquettishly as you step back from him and lay yourself down in the grass, pulling your skirts up past your hips and swinging your legs open, “C’mere, cowboy.”
Arthur is down on his knees in an instant, undoing his pants and drawing out his already hard length. At least he had the wherewithal before to strip himself of his gunbelt in his tent before finding you and dragging you into the woods as nighttime fell across the camp.
In a tangle of limbs and clothing, you moan as he sinks his cock into your heat, with the practiced familiarity of a lover, one so knowledgeable about your body that he know’s he’s wound you up enough for him.
Arthur balances on his forearms above you as he starts to roll his hips, and you throw your arms around his shoulders as you whine with each cant into your body, completely losing yourselves in each other’s passion.
Until you are interrupted, that is.
A gun clicks in between your gasping breaths. Arthur stops mid-thrust and you both slowly turn your head in the direction of the sound.
A revolver is pointed at Arthur’s frame, its barrel shaking in the moonlight. Now that you look at it, the whole gun is shaking. Actually, the person holding the gun is shaking.
You scream for a moment before Arthur places his hand over your mouth and snarls at the intruder.
“You’ve got three seconds to put that gun down and get the hell out of here, boy.”
Poor Kieran Duffy immediately points the gun at the ground and steps backward, his skin pale and his figure trembling even more than usual.
“One,” Arthur growls, pushing up on his arm to loom over you. He releases his hand from your mouth and you look fearfully at Kieran with wide, frightful eyes.  Arthur places his hands on either side of your neck in the grass. His cock twitches slightly, still halfway buried in your cunt.
“Two.”
As he grits out the word, his hips press forward, and your head turns up to face him, incredulous at his audacity, but you cannot stop the moan from escaping your throat as his cock carves deep inside you, your hips being pushed forward by his own. He no longer glares at the intruder, staring down at you with a feral, dark hunger set into his features.
He takes a breath, looking back up at Kieran, who has finally found his feet and starts backpedaling. Without looking away, he draws his hips back and forcefully, quickly thrusts down into you, making your neck arch as you throw back your head and scream.
Kieran stumbles back through the bushes and is finally out of sight.
Arthur snarls again, his fingers digging into the grass by your head.
“ ‘M gonna,” he thrusts hard into you again, making you cry out, “kill that damn-” thrust, “O’Driscoll-”
Each and every roll of his hips slams you into the ground, and you shamelessly cry out each time the tip of his cock hits that spot within you, so deep you could swear you could feel him in your guts.
“Arthur-!”
He groans aloud as he grinds his hips into yours as you clutch around him, keening his name as you come. Arthur follows you over the edge, releasing deep in your cunt.
As you regain your senses, you clutch at him, rubbing reassuringly at his forearms as he pants atop you. The deep set lines of aggravation along his forehead haven’t dissipated. 
“Arthur-…” you whisper softly, gently, trying to calm him down. You know that look in his eye, the look he gets when he has a job, when the ruthless outlaw surfaces.
He extricates himself from your hips and leans back on his knees, tucking himself away as he rebuttons his pants.
Arthur does not look at you as you press yourself up to sit, your free hand pulling your skirts down to your knees, at the very least.
“Arthur.” A little more force behind your voice this time.
His gaze meets yours, and you can see his jaw working as he mumbles, “Mhm.”
“Don’t do anythin’ to him.”
Arthur grunts noncommittally in response.
“Arthur.” You reach forward and place your hand on his chest, “I’m serious.”
Pushing himself up from his knees, he brushes the grass off his pants before holding his hand out to pull you up.
“Fine.” 
He pulls you up and you immediately wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face into his chest in some kind of hope to break the aggravation he’s fallen into. You tip your head back and lay your chin on his sternum, trying to appear cute as you blink up at him.
He leans down and places his lips on yours as he wraps his arms around you in a conciliatory manner. You smile into the kiss.
You pull back a step and wring your hands slightly, “Promise you won’t do anythin’ to him?”
He grabs your hand and places his lips against the back of it, “Promise.”
You smile again at him, and as he lets go of your hand, you lean up and kiss him on the cheek, your lips scratched gently by his short beard.
“I’m gonna head to sleep then, g’d night, Arthur.” You say with a yawn, stepping backward away from him.
“G’d night, Darlin’.”
Arthur watches you walk back to the camp, and immediately the scowl returns to his face. He leans over to pick up his hat from the ground, places it on his head, and stalks in the other direction.
-
Kieran Duffy knows he’s in for it. He knows he’s on thin ice with Arthur, even if he had saved his hide at Six Points. Of all people to stumble upon… why did it have to be the damn enforcer of the gang?
He makes himself scarce around the camp that night, staying even closer to the horses’ hitching posts than he usually does, dragging his bedroll to the other side of where the horses are circled up from the camp.
Maybe Arthur wouldn’t find him if he stayed real quiet in the night.
“O’Driscoll!” 
Maybe he was the unluckiest goddamn fool in the world.
The aforementioned enforcer of the Van der Linde gang stalks toward him, anger radiating off of his frame. Kieran is able to make it all of two steps backward before the wind gets knocked out of him. Arthur slams Kieran back into the tree behind him, his hands clamped on Kieran’s shoulders, easily holding the smaller man inches above the ground.
“If I even see you lookin’ in her direction, O’Driscoll - you’re gonna wish I let Bill geld you.” Arthur snarls at Kieran, who nods, terrified, his hat falling to the ground and rolling several feet away on its rim.
“Got it?” Arthur pushes Kieran’s shoulders back into the tree again, unimpressed by his lack of answer.
“G-got it, M-mister Morgan.” Kieran stutters, and crumbles to the ground as Arthur lets go of his shoulders.
“You should be thankful I promised her I wouldn’t hurt you, O’Driscoll. She’s a far better person than I am.” Arthur turns dismissively back to camp, leaving Kieran a stuttering heap of unlucky limbs against the trunk of the tree.
Kieran lets out a long breath, watching Arthur return toward the lantern lights of the camp.
Unlucky fool indeed.
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callsign-mayhem · 10 months
Text
to the moon and back
Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Mitchell!Reader Word Count: 5.2k
You are the daughter of Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell and the lifelong best friend of Bradley Bradshaw. Nothing has ever been able to get in between the two of you, not even the feelings you’ve been harbouring for him for as long as you can remember. But when you both get called to Top Gun for what seems to be a suicide mission, you realise that life is too short to keep your love for him a secret.
Y/CS - your call sign
Use of Y/N but no description of reader
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You couldn’t remember the last time you laid eyes on Bradley Bradshaw, and if you’d known you would be this affected by the mere sight of him then you would have better prepared yourself. He was in his rightful place behind the piano at The Hard Deck, performing ‘Great Balls of Fire’ with all his usual enthusiasm, and then some. His infectious personality had every person in the bar gravitating towards him, belting out the lyrics along with him as though their lives depended on it. You had to draw from every reserve of strength you had so as not to march right up to him and kiss him senseless. You’d missed him so much.
Being deployed had been difficult for you and had felt like exactly the wrong thing at the time, but eventually you realised that it was what you needed. If you’d stayed, it would have only been a matter of time until you spilt your guts to Bradley about the feelings you’d been harbouring for him since you were teenagers.
The song was almost over and so was your time for composing yourself. It was ridiculously warm in the packed bar, so taking a deep breath was no good. You resigned yourself to a few shots of something strong - liquid courage if you will - and headed to the bar to speak to Penny.
‘Y/N!’ she exclaimed, ‘what are you doing here?’ ‘I have no idea,’ you told her, ‘an assignment of some sort. I find out more tomorrow,’ you gestured to Bradley and a few of your other friends from the academy, ‘and apparently I’m not the only one they called. I don’t know whether I should be worried or relieved.’ ‘Your dad was just in here. He know you’re back?’ ‘Yeah, I haven’t seen him yet though,’ you gestured to the bottle of Jack behind her, ‘can I get one of those, please? Or three?’ Penny reached for the bottle and a shot glass. ‘Not wasting any time, huh?’ You glanced behind you to where Phoenix was patting Bradley on the back and getting everyone to cheer for him, ‘It’s been a while since I’ve seen these guys.’ ‘You mean it’s been a while since you saw Rooster,’ she smiled knowingly. You downed your shot and slammed the tiny glass back down. Penny refilled it immediately, ‘That too,’ you admitted with a wince. ‘You already know what I’m going to say.’ ‘Yes, and you already know why I can’t tell him.’
You downed your second shot and just as you were about to do your third, someone covered your eyes with their hand. You knew who it was without having to hear him speak or look at his face because you’d know him deaf and blind. Hell, you’d know him in death.
The familiar rumble of his voice in your ear set your entire nervous system alight: ‘Guess who.’ ‘Hmm,’ you pretended to think, ‘I don’t know. Hangman?’ Rooster scoffed, ‘I haven’t seen you in two years and the first thing you do is insult me? Glad to know some things never change, Y/CS.’
You spun around and looped your arms around his neck, pressing your face into the side of his. He lifted you off the floor and spun you around with all the grace of a bull in a china shop, laughing like a little kid. It felt like no time at all had passed.
‘And you’re still shooting whiskey like it’s water,’ he noted, setting you down gently, ‘so you definitely haven’t changed.’
You drank him in hungrily, trying to act like you weren’t totally out of control on the inside. In one of his dad’s old Hawaiian shirts with his aviators perched on the tip of his nose, he wasn’t exactly a brand new man. Something about him was different, though, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Even as the two of you had gotten older, you’d always seen him as the goofy kid in the cowboy hat that could make you laugh on the darkest days. Throughout high school and your time at the academy, he’d been the person you confided in about everything, and the only secret you’d ever kept from him was your ever-growing feelings for him. But now, after just over two years apart, he felt more like a stranger than ever before. Nothing had changed, but everything had changed, and you were struggling to figure out how that could be.
‘You want a beer?’ you asked. ‘Sure, but no more shots for you. We gotta be up early and I know if you carry on drinking like that you won’t get out of bed.’ ‘When you’re right, you’re right.’
You got Rooster a beer and a JD and coke for yourself before heading over to the rest of the group. There were a few people whose reputations preceded them but you’d never met in real life, and then there was Phoenix, one of your closest friends from the academy. When she saw you she practically jumped on you and Rooster had to take your drink from your hand so it didn’t spill everywhere.
‘Y/CS!’ ‘Hey,’ you giggled, ‘Phoenix, it’s great to see you too but I can’t breathe.’ ‘Sorry, sorry,’ she relented, ‘how’ve you been? I haven’t seen you since your deployment. When did you get back?’ ‘Couple of months ago,’ you told her, ‘I’ve been in South Carolina.’ ‘You’ve been back months?’ Rooster cut in, ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ ‘You know how it is, Roo,’ you said, ‘you get deployed, come home and your whole life is upside down for a while. By the time you’ve settled back in, weeks have gone by and you still haven’t had a chance to see anyone.’
He nodded, but his hurt was apparent. Hangman sidled up next to you and you’d never been more relieved by his incredibly annoying presence. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder, hugging you tight. He was a massive ass, but you’d somehow ended up friends while being stationed together a few years ago. A lot of his bravado was an act, and when he let his guard down he was actually a great person to talk to.
‘Y/N Mitchell,’ he said, ‘Long time no see.’ ‘Can’t say I’m mad about that.’ His usual shit-eating grin was plastered across his face, ‘You and I both know that’s a lie.’ ‘Whatever helps you sleep at night, Seresin.’
Everyone makes small talk for a while and those who have never met before are introduced. You pull a barstool over and sit next to Bob, Phoenix’s new back-seater. She’s the first one to point out the elephant in the room.
‘So anybody know what this ‘special detachment’s’ all about?’ ‘A mission’s a mission,’ Hangman replies, ‘They don’t confront me. What I wanna know is who’s team leader. And which’a ya’ll have what it takes to follow me?’ Hangman winks at Rooster, needling him, ‘Hangman, the only place you’ll ever lead anyone is an early grave.’ Hangman looks up from his next shot and walks over to Rooster until they’re standing face to face. ‘Anyone follows you is just gonna… run outta fuel. But then that’s you all over, ain’t it, Rooster? Snug on your perch, waitin’ for juuuuust the right moment. That never comes.’ Rooster tenses visibly and you grab his arm, ‘Hey, you wanna get another drink? Feel like we’ve got some catching up to do.’
You leave the rest of the group to their game and grab a couple more drinks before heading outside. The Bronco is parked out front looking prettier than ever, paintwork glinting in the late-evening sunlight. If you had a dollar for the amount of late-night drives you and Bradley had taken in that thing, you’d be a billionaire.
You intended to sit at one of the tables outside The Hard Deck, but Rooster had other ideas. You ignored the swarm of butterflies in your stomach when he took your hand and led you down towards the beach and reminded yourself that you had no reason to be nervous; he was your best friend, he didn’t know about your feelings and nothing had changed.
‘I still can’t believe you’ve been back months and you didn’t tell me.’ You cringed, ‘I’m sorry, Bradley. I should’ve called, I know.’ ‘Mav know you’re back?’ Yeah, he’s here too.’
Your father was a touchy conversation subject and you tried to avoid talking about him as much as possible. Once you’d eventually realised that there was no way of convincing Rooster that everything he’d done had come from a place of love and concern, you’d given up trying to keep the peace. It was difficult, letting him fester in his own anger, but it wasn’t your fight. However, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t still holding out hope that things would go back to the way they used to be someday.
‘How’ve you been, anyway?’ you asked, swiftly changing the subject, ‘What’s new in your life?’ ‘The usual. Getting called down here is the most exciting thing that’s happened to me in months.’ You laughed, ‘That can’t be true. What happened to the girl you were dating?’ ‘Molly? Jesus Christ, that was over as quickly as it started. I stopped seeing her not long after you left,’ he sipped his beer, ‘what about you? Meet your future husband while you were away?’ ‘Nope,’ you sighed, ‘starting to think I’m destined to be alone forever.’ ‘What about Hangman?’ Rooster asked, Jake’s callsign sounding like ashes in his mouth.
To call your brief fling with Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin a mistake would have been putting it lightly. You’d been stationed together in Alabama for a little while and he was the only familiar person there so, naturally, you’d gravitated towards him and him to you. After getting to know each other better, one thing had led to another and you’d ended up sleeping together after one too many JD and cokes. That one night had led to another and another until you were pretty much dating, although neither of you had ever mentioned putting any kind of label on whatever it was the two of you had going on. Rooster had been up in arms when he found out, yelling at you down the phone that Jake was a complete and total asshole and that you deserved so much better, leading to the worst - and only - fight you’d ever had.
While getting involved with Jake was definitely a mistake and you didn’t plan on walking down that particular path ever again, you still stood by what you said in his defence: you have to get to know him in order to understand him.
‘You already know that’s over.’
Rooster looked at you and you had to remind yourself to breathe. You’d never wanted to kiss him more in your entire life.
‘I’ve got no idea why we’re here,’ he said, ‘but I’m glad you’re with me, Y/N.’ ‘Me too, Bradley. Me too.’
-
The special detachment, as it turned out, was a suicide mission. There was no other way of putting it. Your dad was immensely proud of you and your accomplishments and had never once doubted your abilities as a pilot, but he wasn’t happy that you were on this particular mission. He wasn’t happy that Rooster was on it either. After your first day of training, you went to dinner with your old man so you could catch up and talk about what you’d be in for over the course of the next couple of weeks. You hadn’t realised just how much you’d missed him until you were sitting in front of him, but part of you wished it was under different circumstances.
‘Surely me being part of the team you’re training goes against some kind of rule,’ you said around a mouthful of steak. ‘The stakes are so high, I think mostly every rule has already gone out the window.’ ‘I haven’t been this scared since I climbed in a cockpit for the first time,’ you admitted, ‘but I’ve also never wanted to be on a mission more.’ Your dad smiled, but there was fear in his eyes, ‘I don’t like that look, Y/N.’ ‘It’s the only one I got, Dad, and I got it from you.’ ‘Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about.’
-
White hot rage blinded you like a fire poker between your eyes. The minute Rooster walked through the doors you were racing up to him. Jake had to grab both of your arms and pull you off him to prevent you from swinging at him.
‘What the fuck was that Bradshaw?!’ you roared, ‘You got a fucking death wish?!’
He ran a hand through his hair, face flushed from the heat and the adrenaline coursing through his veins. You weren’t just angry at him for endangering his life, or your dad’s, for that matter, you were angry because you understood why he’d done it. And you knew that if you were in his shoes and you were up there with something to prove, you’d have done the exact same thing.
‘Can we not do this here?’
You shrugged Jake off and straightened out your flight suit, leading Bradley out of the room. He followed you outside into the blazing heat of the San Diego sun where you preceded to turn around and punch him so hard in the shoulder that he took a step back.
‘Jesus, Y/N,’ he huffed, ‘was that really necessary?’ ‘I don’t know, was nearly killing yourself and my dad really necessary?’ ‘I had it under control!’ You laughed humourlessly,  ‘Yeah, it looked like it.’ ‘I’m not gonna have this fight with you,’ he said matter-of-factly, ‘I’m sorry for scaring you, but you have to understand-’ ‘I do understand!’ you screamed, ‘But just because I understand, doesn’t mean I can’t be pissed as hell!’
He pulled you flush against his chest and you softened immediately, unable to resist the comfort and security that came with one of Bradley’s bear hugs. If you had it your way, you’d stay in his arms like this for the rest of time.
‘You really need to have it out with Mav,’ you mumbled into his flight suit, ‘this is getting beyond ridiculous - it’s dangerous.’ He kissed the top of your head, ‘I know.’
-
You had to admit, dog fight football was a stroke of genius on your dad’s part. It was the perfect way to relieve any tensions between the team and also take everyone’s minds off the upcoming mission. Jake and Bradley - the two team captains - tossed a coin to decide who would pick first, and Jake ended up picking you. You suspected he did it just to get underneath Bradley’s skin, and judging by the set of his jaw as you marched over to Jake, his plan worked.
You also had Payback on your team, and between the two of you, you were carrying the whole game. You didn’t like to toot your own horn but… toot toot.
‘Come on Bradshaw!’ you yelled, smirking devilishly, ‘You really gonna let me kick your ass so spectacularly in front of everyone?!’ ‘You’ve got Payback! It ain’t fair!’ ‘Oh, so you don’t think we could win without him?!’
He was holding one of the balls and was preoccupied with insulting you, so when you ran at him at full force and snatched it right out of his hands, he was too stunned to try and stop you. Hangman and Payback both cheered, but as soon as Bradley refocused he was on your heels, and he had the advantage of extremely long legs.
Just before you could score, he came up behind you and wrapped both of his arms around your middle, lifting you off the ground and throwing you over his shoulder. You were so startled you dropped the ball and unluckily for you, Coyote was right there to pick it up and score another point for their team.
‘Put me down you cheat!’
Rooster was laughing so hard you could feel him shaking with it as he ran. He didn’t stop running until he reached the water and it was up to his waist, and then he dropped you in. It was freezing but actually quite a relief after running around in the sun all afternoon. You came up for air coughing and sputtering to find him doubled over with laughter, and you took the opportunity to drag him back down with you, pushing his head down further under the water. You knew you wouldn’t be able to overpower him long and before you could even comprehend what was happening he had a tight grip on both of your thighs, yanking you back under.
If not for the fact that it all happened so quickly, you would have spent more time revelling in the feeling of his big hands wrapped around the tops of your thighs. Your whole body broke out in goosebumps, and you knew it wasn’t from the chill of the water. When you both resurfaced you were smiling like fools and laughing like two lovesick teenagers, and you never wanted the moment to end.
‘Hey!’ Hangman called out, ‘Are you two still playing or what? I’ve got a game to win!’ With an eye roll, you yelled back: ‘Yeah we’re still playing, you couldn’t win without me anyway!’
Somehow, Rooster’s sunglasses had remained on his face throughout the entire fiasco, and you reached out and gently slid them off. He blinked against the sunlight and watched in awe as you put them on.
‘Did I say you could wear those?’ he asked. ‘Did I ask your permission?’
The two of you made your way back towards the rest of the squad, and it looked like your team was back in the lead. A sly remark about Rooster’s sabotage failing was on the tip of your tongue, but then he put his hand on your waist and pulled you into his side, ruffling the top of your head affectionately. The skin-on-skin contact was enough to drive you insane, and your words died on your lips.
‘Keep them,’ he murmured, ‘they look better on you anyway.’
-
When the mission got moved up, any calmness you felt dissipated like water on the hot asphalt of a runway. Your dad was now team leader and you had mixed feelings about it. You’d spent your whole life fearing for him, but knowing he was going on this mission really took the cake. And then there was the small issue of you being his kid, which would undoubtedly cloud his judgement when it came to selecting the rest of his team. For one, the chances of him even wanting you on the mission were slim to none, but then there was the worry that if he chose you, it would be seen as favouritism.
The final day of training was over and you’d been told to go and get some rest before tomorrow, and despite your exhaustion, you knew that if you were to lay down in your bunk now sleep wouldn’t come. It was one of those rare moments where the sky over Fightertown was empty and as a result, an eerie quiet had settled over the base. You were still in full flight gear - minus your helmet - sitting on the ground in the shade provided by the wing of your F/A-18. Before settling in for the night you still had to find time to shower, get something to eat and see your dad, but you were paralysed.
You dreaded to think how long you would’ve sat there if Rooster hadn’t suddenly materialised. He sat down opposite, stretching his long legs out so they were on either side of you.
‘What are you still doing out here?’ he asked gently, ‘You feeling okay?’
You were fiddling with your dog tags, a nervous tic you’d picked up in the academy, and Rooster never failed to notice. Looking into your eyes earnestly, he took both of your hands in his.
‘Talk to me, Y/CS.’ You sighed deeply, ‘I’ve never been this nervous about a mission before. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’ ‘This is the highest-stakes mission either of us has ever gone on in our careers. I would be worrying if you weren’t nervous.’ ‘Yeah, but you know me, Roo. I don’t do nerves.’ ‘You think I’m not shitting my pants at the thought of having to fly tomorrow?’ You laughed despite the lump in the base of your throat, ‘You hide it better than me, then.’ ‘You can’t keep anything off your face, Y/N. I always know what you’re feeling.’ ‘You do?’
Your heart dropped at the thought of him being able to read you so well, but in hindsight, you should have known. You’d literally been destined to be best friends since before you were born, since your dads stayed up late one night talking about their futures, wondering if they’d have kids and how well they’d get along. As far as you knew, he’d never kept anything from you, and you’d only ever kept one thing from him. You lived your life at the same pace, shared the same moral compass and wanted all the same things. You finished each other’s sentences and could have secret conversations through facial expressions, without even having to speak. If he called, you answered. If he needed you, you ran to him, and vice versa.
You didn’t need him to confirm your worst fear: he knew you were in love with him. There was no doubt in your mind and you were a fool not to have seen it sooner.
As though he’d read your mind and sensed the worsening of your anxiety, he changed the subject.
‘What do you say we go and grab a bite to eat?’ ‘Like a last supper?’ Bradley laughed, ‘You can be really morbid sometimes, you know that?’
-
‘It’s been an honour flying with you,’ your dad said, ‘each one of you represents the best of the best. This is a very specific mission. My choice is a reflection of that, and nothing more.’ ‘Choose your two Foxtrot teams.’ Cyclone told him.
You fought the urge to vomit down your flight suit.
‘Phoenix and Bob. Y/CS and Payback.’
You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
‘And your wingman.’
The tension in the air was palpable. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of your neck.
‘Rooster.’
You could feel Bradley’s eyes on you, but judging by the unpleasant feeling that had overcome you, turning around to face him wouldn’t be a smart idea. For one, he more than likely looked just as nauseous as you and seeing him like that would only cause your anxiety to skyrocket. Secondly, he was the one person you could be completely vulnerable in front of and since it was already taking every ounce of your strength not to cry, it was probably best not to engage.
For the next hour, the seconds passed you by like cars on a highway. You listened to Warlock explain the mission for the final time, but his words went in one ear and came out the other. You stayed at Payback’s side up until it was time to go, but just as you were heading out to the flight deck, your dad pulled you aside for the conversation you’d been anticipating since he said your name.
His expression was, as ever, unreadable and you decided that it was probably a good thing that you didn’t know exactly what he was feeling in that moment. If Maverick was nervous, then you really had something to worry about.
He pulled you close and squeezed you tight, and you let out a single, strangled sob.
‘I know you can do this.’ ‘Me too,’ you were clinging onto him for dear life, ‘but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t terrified.’ ‘If I didn’t believe in you completely, I wouldn’t have chosen you.’ ‘I know, Dad.’ ‘I love you, Y/N.’ ‘I love you too. I’ll see you when we get back.’
He kissed the top of your head before letting you go and you headed out to the flight deck together. Payback was already waiting for you, but it seemed as though there was one more conversation to be had. Maverick patted Rooster on the back as he passed, throwing one final glance back at the two of you. All you could do was remind yourself over and over again that you’d be seeing him later and that you’d be going for steaks at your favourite diner back in San Diego before you knew it.
You could tell Rooster didn’t know what to say but it didn’t matter. You already knew, because you were thinking all the same things.
‘When we get home, I have some things I wanna talk to you about.’
He reached out to touch your cheek and you leaned into his hand, almost nuzzling his palm with the side of your face. Hugging him, you decided, would be too final. It would feel like a goodbye, and this wasn’t a goodbye, it was simply ‘see you later.’
‘There are some things I want to talk to you about as well,’ you smiled sheepishly, ‘but if you can read me as well as you say, you already know that.’ ‘Yeah, I know.’ ‘Fly safe, Roo.’ ‘Give ‘em hell, Y/CS.’
-
It wasn’t humanely possible to count how many times you’d flown. It was as natural as breathing oxygen, almost a second thought at this point. Getting into the cockpit of a fighter plane felt more like coming home than walking through the front door of the house you grew up in with your dad.
But nothing could have prepared you for that mission.
And nothing could have prepared you for the immense feeling of sheer panic and terror when your dad was hit. It was as though the bottom of your plane had dropped out and you were in freefall. If that wasn’t horrific enough, Rooster had gone after him. This paired with the chaos of the dogfight was traumatising enough that you’d forgotten how to breathe and what you were supposed to be doing. You had absolutely no idea how Payback managed to talk you down from going after both of them, but he did, as well as calming you down enough so you could fly back to the aircraft carrier.
You weren’t in the habit of being overly emotional in front of anyone who wasn’t Bradley or your father, but when you climbed out of the cockpit and Phoenix was already waiting for you, arms open, you collapsed onto her and broke down. You’d been completely inconsolable up until you got word of Rooster’s signal in an unidentified F-14.
Surprisingly, the relief came after cursing yourself for ever believing that your father could be bested by anyone. At this point, you were almost entirely sure that he was immortal. And as for Bradley, he was much stronger than everyone else realised. He gave Maverick a run for his money, and that was saying something. Phoenix was the only reason you hadn’t collapsed onto the ground when you realised they were okay and coming home, with the help of Hangman, of course. In the back of your mind, you were wondering how long it was going to take to hear the end of it from Jake.
And there you were on the flight deck with Phoenix’s arm around your shoulder and Payback’s around your waist, watching your dad and your best friend make the rockiest landing you’d ever seen. It felt as though all your internal organs were in your throat as you watched the net get thrown out, ready to catch the incoming aircraft and stop it from going overboard. The sound was near-deafening but you hardly noticed with the rushing blood in your ears. As soon as that plane stopped moving, you tore away from Phoenix and Payback and made a beeline towards the F-14, safety concerns be damned.
Your dad climbed out first, somehow steady on his feet despite what he’d just been through. But that was Mav all over, wasn’t it? He didn’t so much as wobble until you threw yourself at him.
‘Dad!’ you shrieked, ‘Are you okay? Are you hurt?’
He held you with the strength of someone who had a newfound value for their own life. He cradled the back of your head with one hand and stroked your hair like he used to when you were small.
‘I’m okay, are you okay?’ ‘You’re seriously asking me that?’ He laughed breathlessly, ‘I’m okay now.’ You squeezed him tighter than ever before, ‘I love you, Dad. I love you so much.’ ‘I love you too,’ he replied, releasing you reluctantly, ‘and I want you to know how proud I am of you for pulling that off.’ ‘It’s in my blood.’ He put his hands on either side of your face and leaned in to kiss your forehead, ‘I think you should go and speak to Rooster,’ he whispered, ‘we’ll talk more afterwards, okay?’
At the mention of Rooster, all the wind was knocked out of you. All you could do was nod at your father before he headed over to the rest of the squad, leaving you alone in front of the battered F-14. Rooster had jumped out right after your dad, but he’d given the two of you some space. You locked eyes like they do in the movies, but this wasn’t a movie. The world didn’t tilt on its axis or stop turning altogether; it was more like the two of you were the only ones in it that actually mattered. Everyone around you might as well have been frozen in time.
He was taking long strides towards you, but he couldn’t get to you quick enough so you ran to meet him halfway, not stopping until your face was mere millimetres away from his. He was filthy, covered in blood, and sweat and God only knew what else, but you were blinded by the light behind his eyes. You’d always been totally mesmerised by him, but this was something else entirely. It was suddenly very apparent to you that you would do anything this man asked of you, follow him down to the eye of any storm, love him until you took your final breath.
‘Y/N-’ ‘Don’t say anything,’ you interjected, ‘I already know what you’re gonna say, and I don’t wanna waste any more time.’
And before he could utter another word, you pressed your lips to his. The kiss started out soft but then he ran his fingers through your hair and somehow managed to pull your face even closer, deepening the kiss. He ran his tongue along your lips and you parted them for him, finally tasting him the way you’d wanted to for as long as you could remember. Your veins were thrumming with so much electricity you thought your head might explode. When you eventually parted, the space between you was too much for you to bear (you never wanted there to be any space between you and Bradley ever again) so you looped your arms around his neck just like you always did when you hugged him. His face was full of so much adoration, anyone would think you’d hung the bloody moon in the sky.
‘Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?’ he asked. ‘If it’s anywhere near as long as me, we’re going to be kicking ourselves.’ He kissed the tip of your nose and you damn-near melted, ‘I don’t want to go another day without kissing you like that.’ ‘Neither do I.’
You’d forgotten that the rest of your squad was standing a few feet away, waiting to celebrate with you. When you turned around, they were all cheering for you and Rooster and you could just about make out Phoenix’s ‘finally’ over the sound of Payback’s hoots. You knew you had to go over there and that there would be plenty of time to be alone when you got back to San Diego, but you couldn’t wait until then to tell Bradley how you felt about him. If he hadn’t already guessed.
You had to stand on tip toes to reach his ear, where you whispered: ‘I love you, Bradley Bradshaw. To the moon and back again.’ You felt him shiver beneath your touch. ‘I love you too, Y/N.’
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All I Wanted - Part 3
summary: when you are kidnapped discovered by TF141 they can't help but fall in love.
pairing: 141 x fem!teen!reader (platonic)
warnings: mentions of child abuse, drugs, canon typical violence, kidnapping
Part 1 Part 2
A/N: so uh.. not dead.. I kinda forgot about thos between school and life so apologies for not posting.. for two months.. anyways, enjoy the chapter <3
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You POV
Soap continued to ramble on about this and that, with Gaz occasionally butting in when necessary, as the pair showcased the base to you and how they weren't staying much longer. Something about how they had better chances finding this Nombre person in Mexico, where they were originally.
Gaz brought up the other members when they entered the shooting range, just past the training room. Apparently the barracks were deeper into the facility, (how much you believe that you aren't entirely sure). He pointed to two figures standing next to eachother, conversing with adoration in their eyes, "That's Alejandro-" you followed his finger to the taller of the two, "-And that's Rudy, they're a package deal if you get what I mean," To ensure his comment came across perfectly, Gaz shot you a wink.
With a clap on the back, Soap pushed you towards the two lovebirds. It was Alejandro who noticed you first, "Ah, here she is! Hola, niña, estas muy pequeño!" Rudy looked at the man fiercely before elbowing him in the ribs, "Qué? I was just pointing out the obvious mi vida!" A long sigh left Rudy at Alejandro's incompetence.
"So sorry about him, Ale can be, stupid occasionally," Rudy's smile was warm and inviting. Alejandro scowled at Rudy before giving a sympathetic grin towards you, a nod of the head as an apology.
"Do you want to show us how well you can shoot?" Soap gestured to the gun poking out of the duffle bag, a cheeky look in his eyes.
You moved too quickly for them to register, the eye piercing pink with hello kitty, kirby and cat stickers moulded into the metal of the rifle. A sparkly purple keychain dangling from it, blue stars twinkling alongside. The hold was confident, strong and firm, an aim to please familiar to the hardened soldiers.
Gaz gave a soft chuckle at the obvious excitement, pointing in the direction of the shooting range. Lines of plywood separating lanes with hip level metallic benches. Long pathways with human shaped targets, most paper but a few were made of a harder substance such as cardboard. Some of these were hidden behind more bits of scrap wood.
Practically skipping over and setting up the perfect first shot. And that's what it was; well maybe to some it could have been better but instantly the gun continued to fire again at a different target, and then another and another. Bullet casings falling past your face at each reload.
To be honest, you could have gone the whole day, it was when a hand on your shoulder pulled you away from the rhythmic sound of metal hitting the cold concrete. The action made you jerk, a startled yelp following as you whipped your head to the side, staring up at Skully. A very audible gulp was heard throughout the now silent room.
For a while nothing happened. A staring contest happening between the two of you before he spoke up, "..Sorry.." his voice was rough and deep, the words so softly spoken you were sure you misheard the behemoth of a man. "Good shot kiddo, but think about breathing. You're gonna make yourself pass out if you hold ya' breath for that long, hmm?" His eyes were an endless void of darkness, the coffee and gold colours swirling into a beautiful helix of patterns. The words soaked into your brain as you came to the conclusion.
"Yes Sir!" The smile plastered on your face was one of pure adoration, the twinkle in your eyes matching that on the glitter sparkling on the rifle, still clasped in your almost too small hands.
-
The shooting lasted a while. Each man giving tips and tricks to you, letting you improve on your gunmanship. Eventually, the sun slowly lowered in the sky, and the canteen opened for dinner. A selection of grimy looking slop, greens, beans and a lukewarm soup.
They gave recommendations of what to have and what to avoid (mostly the slop). The soup was better than you thought. Leek and potato. Though, there weren't any potatoes in it, just soft clumps of leek with other veggies thrown in to pad it out.
Tables weren't assigned in the mess hall, but it seemed each group had claimed a table. You bit your lip, standing in the middle, tray in hand. A whistle caught your attention, Gaz calling you over to their table.
You set the tray down next to Ghost before Price walked in, marching over to table 141. He gave you a warm smile as he saw you eating. "Glad to see ya eating, dolly," in return, you gleamed up at him, a spoonful of soup making its way down your throat.
At least half an hour passed, the group chattering and giggling at the stories and jokes that were passed around, before a yawn interrupted the fun. It was Soap who noticed - "Aye lass, ya tir'd?" a meek nod a was All it took before he started to rise, being stopped by the Captain.
"I've got her Johnny. Cmon dolly, I'll show ya you're room," A hum was all that followed.
The walk was comfortable, going back through the winding halls and plain walls. Price stopped abruptly at one of the doors, Knockin on the solid wood. "Here ya are. I put ya next to me, hope you don't mind, you get a bigger room- and~" He drew out the ending as he opened the door, "-an ensuite bathroom!"
You giggled at the man, going in and exploring the room a bit. "Does that mean I have to listen to your snoring, sir?" It was said cheekily, the smirk evident on your face and the chuckle on his lips.
"Aye, so better invest in some ear plugs!"
Giggles erupted from you, turning to face him. Braces were on show with how wide your grin was. "Thank you.." was all that was said. And a nod was all that was needed, Price turned leaving the room with a click of the door.
You faceplanted onto the bed, soft duvet covers wrapping around you like a burrito as sleep quickly overcame you. Soft snores left you as the moon rises high into the sky.
-
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arlana-likes-to-write · 3 months
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Christmas Everyday
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Summary: Yelena hates the cold, nothing good has happened to her when the temperatures dropped. When an assignment takes her to Boston, MA, and she stumbles into a cafe to escape the bitter weather, maybe the cold isn't as bad as she thought.
Warning: gun shot, gun shot injury, mention of HYDRA, Red Room and killing, blood, original character death, fluff and angst, cannon type violence, gay panic (lol)
Word count: 4.1k
Yelena hated the cold. It reminded her of Russian winters, fake Christmas’ in Ohio, and her time in New York when she was hired to kill Clint Barton. She wished she was someplace warmer, but work brought her to Boston. It was snowing lighting. Yelena walked down the busy sidewalk and maneuvered through the crowd. She had some time before her stakeout and wanted something warm to drink. Picking a random cafe, she opened the door and was surrounded by warmth. She almost moaned at the break from the cold.
The cafe wasn’t busy. A few tables were occupied by patrons working on their laptops or holding a book. She noticed there was a small library in the corner, but what made Yelena cringe was the Christmas decorations all over the place. There were decorations for the holidays that took place in December: Hanukkah, Kwanzaa. It was like something out of a Hallmark movie.
Sighing, she stepped up to the corner. “I’ll be right with you.” A voice called from the back. That was fine. She needed time to think and figure out what she wanted. “Hot chocolate and a banana muffin for Lindsay,” you put the two items down and wished the girl that came to collect them a ‘Happy Holiday.’ “Hi, sorry for the wait. Are you ready to order, or do you need a few more minutes?” Yelena couldn’t help but stare at you, a red beanie on your head and dressed in black jeans and a flannel. It was 9 am, and the amount of energy you had was intimidating.
“Black coffee and a chocolate croissant,” she ordered. You didn’t bat an eye at her accent.
“A name for the order.”
“Kate,” the blonde answered without hesitation. Giving her real name with her target being so close would be stupid.
“Alright, Kate,” you smiled. “That will be $7.25,” Yelena handed you the exact change and slipped a few extra bills into the tip jar. “Your order will be right up.” You removed the croissant from the display case and put it in the oven. Next, you poured her coffee.
“Are you the only employee?” Yelena found herself asking. There was no line, so she figured it was okay to make light conversation. You shook your head.
“I usually work the most, but there are two others, but everyone called in sick,” you laughed. “So you are stuck with little old me,” you bagged the croissant and placed the two items. “One black coffee and chocolate croissant for Kate,” the blonde took her order. “Happy Holidays.”
“Same to you,” Yelena turned to leave the little shop, and when she opened the pastry bag, she saw the croissant she ordered and a small blueberry muffin. Yelena was amazed you put it in there without her noticing. Smiling, she took a bit and continued on her way.
*
She had no intention of returning to the cafe, but she did. Every day before she started her assignment, she would enter and be greeted with soft Christmas music and your warm smile. It was the same order: black coffee and a chocolate croissant. Every time you put something extra in the bag. Yelena never mentioned it, and neither did you. Where there wasn’t a line of customers, Yelena asked you questions about your life in the city, and in return, you asked your fair share. She told you she was in the town for business, which you joked and said sounded ‘sketchy.’
Yelena should have put an end to it. It was dangerous and stupid, but there was something about you and the small cafe that kept her wanting more.
*
The familiar smell soothed the ache in Yelena’s body as she opened the door to the cafe. It was quiet; only one other person was there, and he was reading a newspaper in the corner. You looked up from whipping the counter. “Missed you yesterday. I was worried my favorite customer skipped town and didn’t bother saying goodbye.” Yelena chuckled.
“I slept in,” she said, approaching the counter. What she did was drink too much to dig out the bullet out of her stomach and pass out. She slept into one. Your eyes flickered across her body and landed on her face.
“Are you okay?” You asked. Yelena nodded.
“I just feel like I got hit by a bus,” you chuckled and glanced at your coworker. Her name was Jennifer. On busier days, she cooked while you handed the counter.
“Jen, can you watch the counter for a second?” She agreed. Yelena watched you curiously as you rounded the corner and grabbed her hand.
“What-?” Yelena let herself be dragged to the back of the kitchen and into a cleaning closet. “What the fuck?” She asked as you pushed her down into a chair.
“Just shut up and listen,” you grabbed a first aid kit and knelt in front of her. Your warm hands pushed up her shirt. The stitches she did ripped. How the hell did she not notice? “That guy in the corner when you walked in,” you opened an alcohol pad and cleaned up around the wound. “He’s been here the past few days asking about you.” Fuck. She was being so stupid. A low hiss escaped her mouth when you pressed an alcohol pad. “Sorry,” you mumbled. “I haven’t told him much, but he’s been,” you paused. “Aggressive.” Yelena’s eyes narrowed.
“Has he hurt you?” You shook your head.
“No, but you need to leave. There is a back door,” a gunshot filled the quiet cafe, and you both stood up quickly. Yelena almost hit her head against yours. “You need to go now.”
“Come with me. It’s not safe,” she saw the hesitation pass through your eyes.
“I can’t,” you whispered. “I’ll stall him and see if they are okay up front.” Another gunshot. You opened the door to the closet. “Just go,” Yelena wanted to go in and take the man down, but with her condition, she would lose.
“Don’t die on me,” you chuckled. “I’ll come back,” Yelena promised. Promises were dangerous in her line of work. They were uncertain and unpredictable, and if broken, they left both parties in pain. You nodded, offering her a kind smile. It was almost like you didn’t believe her. Another shot rang out, causing Yelena to look away from you and run to the door. It led to a back alley, and the cold air caused goosebumps to form on her skin.
It was unlike her to run away from a fight. She was trained to face it head-on but ran from this one. When she was a reasonable distance away, she pulled out her phone and dialed 911. “911, what’s your emergency?”
“I like to report a robbery in progress.”
*
You steadied your heart rate and walked back to the front of the store with your hands raised. The man was standing in the middle of the room, the gun pointed at you when you appeared. “Well, look who finally joined the party.” His voice was laced with a Russian accent. Unlike the blonde you knew, it did not provide warmth, but a chill went down your spine. “Where is the blonde bitch?” You saw Jennifer standing in the corner, unharmed but terrified. A few more customers must have entered when you were helping the blonde; two of them were on the ground, not moving, with a pool of blood forming around them. “Answer me!”
“Gone,” you replied. “She went out the back.” He laughed, shaking his head. His laughter brought you back to a dark part of your past, and you focused on staying in the present.
“Why are you constantly getting in my way?”
“Why are you after her?” You questioned.
“Your girlfriend killed my boss,” he answered. That was not surprising. Wait, did he call her my girlfriend, you thought?
“She’s not-” you stopped yourself. “Look, I called the cops. They’ll be here any second. You have enough time to leave before they show up.” He laughed again and began to pace, side to side. You saw a knife on the counter, and while the man was muttering to himself, you grabbed it and placed it in your pant pocket.
“Do you know who I work for?” You had no clue and honestly couldn’t care less. Since you were a kid, you learned that someone or a group had to be in power, and if the top dog was displaced, someone was ready to take over. It was exhausting, and you found it useless to evolve yourself in the ‘political’ undertakings of the city you now called home. Your silence annoyed him. “I’m going to kill you, then I’ll find that Black Widow and slice her open.” You chuckled. “What’s so funny?”
“I have a feeling she won’t be that easy to kill,” you answered, especially if she was a Black Widow. “And fun fact: I won’t be that easy either.”
You jumped over the counter, which separated you and him. He missed his first shot and landed the second in your stomach. The pain was nothing to you since you’d been shot before, and you wondered if this would be your last. You pulled the knife out of your pocket, used his hesitation to reload, and kicked the pistol out of his hand. Whoever this man worked for, you figured he was on the lower end of the organization because his hand-to-hand combat was shit. He was using this opportunity to prove himself.
It was easy to close the distance on him and stab the knife in his stomach. You pressed forward until his back was against the bookshelf, and blood began to pool in his mouth. Once he stopped struggling, you let his body fall to the ground. Besides your breathing and the distant sound of sirens, the cafe was silent. You stumbled backward; a pained groan left your lips as you put pressure on the gunshot wound. “Oh my god! Oh my god!” Jennifer said. Her footsteps rounded the corner, and she had a white towel in her hand. “That was insane!” She pressed the towel to your stomach. “Are you okay? God, of course you aren’t.” You chuckled.
“I’m okay,” you said. Jennifer rolled her eyes.
“You’re a badass,” she said. “I kind of figured that about you.” You leaned your head back on the wall. You killed someone. It was in self-defense, but you ended a life. You wanted out of this life, and of course, a blonde Black Widow would pull you back into it.
*
A knock on your apartment door caused you to look up from the boiling pot. Since you were shot five days ago, you were still heavily restricted on movement. Hell, the cafe owners refused to let you go back to work until a doctor cleared you, which was for another two weeks. So you’ve kept to yourself in your apartment, surviving on grocery store delivery services and movies on TV. Another knock caused you to sigh and walk over to it, not bothering to put on a shirt. You’ve only worn loose tank tops and sweatpants. It was easy, simple, and required little movement. You glanced at the peephole and quickly opened the door when you saw the blonde. “Hi,” she smiled. You pulled her into your apartment and closed the door. “Well, buy me dinner before you drag me around like that,” she teased.
“I can’t believe you are still here,” you said. “Is it safe?” She sighed, took off her winter jacket, and hung it up on the hook. Instead of answering, she walked into your kitchen.
“What were you cooking?” She asked.
“Pasta, but it can wait,” the blonde gave you a pointed look.
“Sit,” she put her bag on the counter and washed her hands. “You got shot for me. The less I can do is cook dinner.” You had no energy to argue, so you grabbed your water bottle and the bottle of ibuprofen. The hospital prescribed you more potent pain medication, but those scared you. “To answer your question, yes, it is safe. The group that man was a part of won’t bother you or the cafe again.”
“Did you kill them?” You asked. The water began to boil, and she put the pasta in. “I don’t mind,” you said. It would be hypercritically if you did. “Just curious.” She turned to face you, leaning against the counter. Her green eyes scanned over you.
“You handled the situation at the cafe well,” you chuckled, scratching the bag off your head.
“Not well enough. I did get shot.” She smirked.
“Who are you?” She asked. Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline.
“I feel like I should be asking you that very same question,” she chuckled, turned to grab her bag, and pulled out a file. The blonde threw it in front of you. With shaky hands, you opened it. It was everything HYDRA did to you and everything they forced you to do. You so desperately wanted to forget that part of your life, so when you escaped, you got a new identity and a mundane job as a barista. “You’re a Black Widow, right?” You wanted to confirm what that man told you. She nodded her head. “They would always tell us about you and compare your conditions to ours. They kept saying it could be worse.”
“I bet both were horrible,” she mumbled. You nodded. “I heard about you. HYDRA’s Shadows. They said you died.”
“It’s because I did,” she drained the pasta and placed it back in the pot with the sauce. “The Shadow died, and she was reborn as a cafe barista.” She put a bowl in front of you with a fork. “What’s your real name? Because I know it’s not Kate.”
“Yelena,” she answered. Honestly, you were surprised she gave it to you. “I’m sorry for involving you and your coworker. I should have realized they were following me.” You shrugged. It was unfortunate that two of your regulars were killed, but you knew the situation could have been worse. “You got out of this life,” she said. “I shouldn’t have dragged you back into it.”
“Why are you still in it?” Yelena looked around your apartment instead of answering.
“It looks like Christmas threw up in here,” she said. “I’m guessing you decorated the cafe.” You spun in the chair to look at your decorations.
“I love Christmas,” you told her, glancing over your shoulder. “I wish it could be Christmas every day.” She scuffed, and you turned back around. Yelena was stirring the pasta in the bowl. “How long are you going to stay?” She sighed, moving her shoulders up and down.
“Not sure.”
“Stay with me then,” her head snapped to look at you. “Look, you clearly don’t have any other pressing plans, and I did get shot for you; you kind of owe me.” She remained silent, but a smile crept to her lips. Celebrate the holidays with me.” The blonde huffed.
“I’d have to go get my dog.”
“I love dogs,” and you did. “We can go ice skating and watch Christmas movies.” You could convince her to walk away from the life she was living. Even when she smiled, she seemed sad.
“I like hot chocolate,” Yelena said. “We better drink it every night if I agree to this.” With a roll of your eyes, you held out your hand.
“You got yourself a deal, Yelena,” she smirked and took your hand. You were surprised at how soft her hand was against yours. Her skin was cold, and you enjoyed how her hand felt in yours.
*
Christmas Eve
“Are we wearing these?” Yelena asked, emerging from your bathroom in the plaid PJs you got for her, you, and Fanny. The American Akita ran over to her owner. “Awe, you look so cute,” the blonde cooed over her dog. It’s been over a week since Yelena came into your life, and you filled it with everything Christmas and holiday-themed. It didn’t take a genius to notice Yelena’s aversion to the Holiday, but you wanted to give her a Christmas she would remember. So you went ice skating, drank your weight in hot chocolate, baked cookies, and watched the cheesy Christmas movies. It was amazing. You forgot how enjoyable life could be when you had someone else to enjoy it.
“Hey, what about me? I’m the reason she looks cute,” the blonde straightened up to look at you.
“You get no compliments since you are why I’m in this,” you rolled your eyes.
“Just get your ass over here. Your hot chocolate is getting cold.” You heard her run over to sit down next to you. Fanny made her way to the dog bed you got for her. Yelena began to load up her hot chocolate with toppings- she had such a sweet tooth. It was disgusting sometimes. “For the record,” you said. “I think you look cute.” The blush that covered her cheeks was your favorite color on her. As Christmas approached, you weren’t hiding how you felt about the blonde. You openly flirted with her, doing anything to see her blush. Sometimes, she would give it back, come up with her flirty comment, and take you by surprise. Then you thought your friendship with her would take the next step, but she was the one to pull away. It was easy to fall for Yelena. She was witty, beautiful, and understood the horrors of your past. She looked at the world with such childlike wonder and curiosity that you couldn’t help but fall in love with her. You knew you had to be patient, but you feared that she would pack up and leave as soon as the holiday was over.
“What movie are we watching?” She asked, sipping on her hot drink.
“Home Alone,” you answered. It was your favorite movie, so you waited for Christmas Eve to show them to her. You turned the volume up and pressed play.
It wasn’t long into the movie when you noticed something was off with Yelena. Usually, she would be making comments about the plot or the characters. It made you laugh and added to the movies you already loved. Quiet Yelena was never good. She was so lost in her head. You paused the movie. She wasn’t fazed that it stopped. “Hey,” the sound of your voice snapped her out of it. “Where did you go just now?” She sighed and grabbed your hand. You learned early on that Yelena needed physical touch to be grounded. You woke her up from a nightmare, and you were startled when she grabbed onto you. She played with the bracelet on your wrist.
“You asked me a question that I didn’t answer. Do you remember what you asked me?” You had no idea. You asked the blonde many questions about her parents, Natasha, and her life. Some she answered while the others were answered with only silence. She smiled softly. “It was the night I came over and made pasta.” It clicked. She knew you remembered by the way your hand tensed up. “Ask me again.”
“Why are you still in it?” A life that was covered in red. Red was blood, violence, and anger. For the longest time, red was a color you avoided. The simplest of things would trigger a spiral for you. Instead of staring at a ketch bottle, it was a pool of blood from a bottle you used to smash against a man’s head. A no-name man you killed because he was in your way. But he had a name, a family that had to mourn and bury his body.
“Because I have no one to pull me out of it,” she turned to look at you. Her green eyes were glossy with tears. “This life is all I have, so what do I do if I leave?” You used your free hand to wipe a tear down her cheek.
“Let me pull you out of it,” you whispered and moved to sit before her. Her legs were crossed, and you undid them so they rested on either side of you. “And you live.” You answered. “You find out who you are without their claws in you. It takes time, and it’s messy, but I will help you. If you let me,” you raised the hand that she held onto and kissed her palm. There was a slight hitch in her throat. You placed her hand on her cheek, and a shiver went down your spine as her fingers drew shapes on your skin.
“I’ve dreamed of opening a dog rescue,” she said. “I like dogs.” You laughed. Your neighbor had a corgi puppy, no more than a year old. You offered to take the pup on walks now and again, and the blonde was in love with it.
“Oh, I know, sweetheart,” again, the blush covered her cheeks as she guided your face closer to hers. “You’ll have to leave Valentina,” you said against her lips.
“Will you help?”
“Always,” you said and connected your lips with hers. The kiss was slow. She tasted sweet from the hot chocolate decorated with whipped cream, chocolate sauce, and sprinkles. The taste was so Yelena it made you sigh into the kiss and wrap your hand into her blonde hair. She pulled away first; your chest was heaving at the relation. You kissed her. You finally knew what it felt like to have your lips on hers.
“Shit,” she whispered. You laughed, head falling on her shoulder. You kissed the skin you could reach and felt her shiver against her. “Come on, we have a movie to watch.” There were other things you wanted to do besides watching a movie you’ve seen a thousand times, but you pulled away from her and sat back down. Surprisingly, she took the remote and cuddled up against you. You put your arm around her, pulled the blanket over the both of you and stole a kiss as the movie began to play. It was hard to pay attention when Yelena was so close to you. “Will you help me get away from her?” She softly asked. You hummed, moving your fingers through her blonde hair.
“Yeah, I will,” you said. “Don’t think about it right now,” you saw the stress in her body and rubbed her temples. “No stress on Christmas. It’s against the rules.” She chuckled, grabbing your hand and interlocking her fingers with yours.
“Merry Christmas, detka,”
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” You knew very little about Valentina Allegra de Fontaine besides that she was the Director of the CIA with hundreds of contacts. It would be hard, borderline impossible, but you realized who would do anything for the Black Widow in your arms. Yelena turned to look up at you; you were already looking down at her.
“You are thinking hard, dorogoy; I can see the smoke coming out of your ears,” you chuckled and tickled her sides. She laughed, and the sound was music to your ears. She sat up, swung her leg over you, and sat on your lap. Your eyes widened at the sudden action as your hands went to her hips. “Is this okay?” You nodded, unable to find your voice. The movie turned to white noise. “Tell me what’s wrong. I thought you said no stress on Christmas.” You smiled, and she ran her fingertips over the lines on your forehead. You sat up more, wrapped your arm around her waist, and rested your head on her shoulder.
“I’d do anything for you, Yelena Belova,” you whispered, kissing her cheek. “Anything to see you happy.” You felt her hands on your head, forcing you to look at her.
“Don’t lose yourself for me.”
“I already got shot for you; what’s another one?” You teased, but the blonde frowned. “I won’t,” you promised instead. She placed her hand over your heart.
“Tell me,” she said, looking at where her hand rested on your chest. “How did you keep your heart.” You hummed, not fully understanding her question. “You kept your heart good after everything they put you through. How?” You sighed and placed your hand on top of hers.
“I had to keep it good so I could give it to someone,” her mouth hung open.
“I’ll keep it safe for you.” She said, kissing your cheek and then your lips.
“And I’ll keep yours.”
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armoralor · 3 months
Text
[TW: homophobia, threats of physical violence, SA, gun violence]
IMPORTANT: do not interact with the person mentioned below. please do not send hate or harass ANY of the accounts mentioned. the point of this post is to warn the community of a serious threat, not to dog pile or stir a hate mob. his accounts have been reported and local authorities have been made aware of his potential for harm. Last updated: 01/30/2024. New information begins close to the bottom, starting at the red text.
Some of you may already be familiar with the homophobic incel that was previously filling the Ahsoka & Sabine Wren tags with vile misogyny. He's gone by many names due to banning and deactivations: @sabezrastan01, @longlivetheemporer, @imperialloyalist01, @standorando, and @imperialsycophant. Here's the guy that gave us this classic:
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Now, as meme worthy as that post was- it's unfortunately just the tip of the iceberg. Despite his exile from this social media site, he continues to be active on Instagram and TikTok. He also continues to get support from some of the same folks that have been painting sapphics and wolfwren shippers out as vicious bullies.
I didn't intend to find everything I did, but this man constantly comments under official Star Wars media posts calling queer women "degenerates" and "beasts," so it's been hard to miss. It honestly hurts to reread this shit again, but I want to warn anyone who 1) may interact with him without realizing he's a incel neo nazi 2) may be harmed by his continued harassment.
First thing to remember about him- he doesn't just complain about shipping, he has wished death and harm upon multiple people. On top of the two screenshots below, he also discussed wanting to put a bullet in Dave Filoni's head (the alt account was taken down before I thought to screenshot):
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He wrote "these people need to be beaten" on a dozen anti-wolfwren posts before his most recent account was taken down. He has embraced the common anti-LGBTQIA+ rhetoric of queer people being pedophiles and rapists:
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He repeatedly brings rape up unprompted, especially when talking to nonbinary folks and women:
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Plus buys into the "woke agenda" causing queer relationships to happen in media:
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You'll notice the irony of him "worrying" wolfwren shippers are going to threaten the actors, despite him previously threatening to kill Dave Filoni and beat wolfwren shippers. He seems to be projecting a lot of his own desires and wishes onto other people, which will become even more obvious further down this post.
Now, thankfully his last tumblr account was taken down for inciting violence, but as i mentioned before, it's hard to miss him on other platforms:
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Out of morbid curiosity I clicked on his account, and it's unfortunately what you would expect for from an incel. His follower and following list is littered with white nationalists, militia groups, tactical gear stores, weapon vendors, alt-right religious orgs, and 4chan neo nazis.
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Instagram Followers:
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Instagram Following:
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It's clean he's unhinged and a danger to those who don't share similar interests. He seems to make allowances for anyone who ships sabezra, but otherwise is a diehard supporter of alt-right Christian nationalist beliefs.
One of his previous account names on Instagram was @cajunminuteman, with a confederate flag as his pfp. In current alt right groups, a minuteman is a person who is ready to pick up a gun and fight on a minutes' notice, typically in a militia against the government. His previous account also followed a number of Christian Southern Nationalist accounts:
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There are a number of shippers that continue to interact with this man. Most sabezra shippers I've chatted with are very sweet, some of you even share discord servers with me and have so much love for this fandom. I'm only asking those of you who choose to ignore this man's threats of violence to revaluate how far you are willing to go to support a fictional ship.
Wolfwren shippers have bore the brunt of fandom hate and harassment since Ahsoka started airing. We continue to get called degenerates, rapists, pedophiles, and threatened with physical violence. This is not the same, or in any way equivalent, to silly jokes made about fictional ships being made canon. It's exhausting to get constant harassment in real life AND online.
Are there mean wolfwren shippers? Absolutely. I'm sorry queer people sometimes cheer on cishet ships not becoming canon, I know it sucks when it's over something you like. No, enjoying cishet ships doesn't make you any less queer, and I'm sorry there was an asshole out there that said that shit. But can we PLEASE stop acting like sapphics and wolfwren enjoyers are ALWAYS bullies? That we're somehow always the ones threatening people? It plays into the alt-right rhetoric of the LGBTQIA+ community being predators and I'm so sick of it, especially when there is so much outright vile hate for queers.
If there are any wolfwrens sending hate and/or threats, I am begging for an example or name so they can be reported properly. None of us condone any of the nasty shit that's been sent, we deal with enough hate irl. This man's closest friends aren't much better, joking about wanting to hurt wolfwren shippers and how the LGBTQIA+ community is a bad thing:
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The most recent return to tumblr was under account @imperialsycophant where he tried to pretend he wasn't the same incel loser:
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He eventually went mask off, realizing that most people weren't foolded:
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On January 24 2024, his most recent Instagram account (@imperialloyalist01) was taken down. Less than 24 hours later, a sabezra shipper DM'd me asking me to delete this post. I explained to the shipper that the point of this post was to warn the fandom as a whole of this guy's behaviour, and at multiple points I make it clear everyone should stay away + not engage any of the accounts involved.
Everything included in this thread is public information taken from public posts or public accounts. The shipper who DM'd me still demanded I remove this post, as it could "hurt their friends."
The context of who the incel associates himself with is helpful when conveying the severity & underlying motives of his actions. There are approximately two non alt-right/neo-nazi accounts in the following/follower lists I shared. Those who were following @imperialloyalist01 up until January 24th were both privately and publicly made aware they were following a person threatening harm against others, but they continued to like, comment, and follow the account. This does not mean any of them should be harassed or bothered. It simply provides additional context to the situation and will hopefully aid others in forming their own opinions on who they wish to befriend.
When I reminded the shipper who DM'd me that their friends were continuing to make jokes about hitting/hurting wolfwren shippers, AND tagging wolfwren in those edits, I did not get a response. However, what I did get was mass spam reported.
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Shortly after I sent the above message and the sabezra shipper realized I would not be taking this post down, my account was hate reported and temporarily terminated. Tumblr has an automated feature that bans accounts immediately (out of safety) if they are reported by a large group of people at the same time (which is fair, say someone posts torture or something terrible). Thankfully, after I emailed the abuse support team and explained the situation, they reinstated my account:
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I will not be sharing the name of the sabezra shippers who tried to take down my account. I already get harassed enough, and I don't want anyone to go through the same shit. Please remember that a small group of bad people do NOT represent an entire community. There are plenty of sweet sabezra shippers that do not support this kind of disgusting and hateful behaviour.
Key takeaways: don't send hate or threats. Let people have their fun online while they attempt to avoid the Horrors of real life. Please don't support people spewing vile hate JUST because they like the same fictional ships as you.
Other posts related to him: (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x)
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angel-of-the-moons · 6 months
Text
Nectar
Jake Lockley x Fem!Reader!
TW/CW: NSFW, Fingering, Voyeurism (sorta), exhibitionism, dirty talk, grinding, biting, smut, Jake is a cheeky little slut we all know this
MINORS DNI: I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME
A/N: This is self-indulgent as fuck, to help get me out of the funk I've been in. This is also because I actually grow these flowers and some interesting things happen when you milk them. That and I love to tell people I milk flowers for shampoo, the confusion is great.
(Any Spanish in this fic is written in italics and largely translated by Google, since I still know only a tiny bit and don't know any Spanish speakers personally)
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🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒
Jake dropped his duffel bag next to the front door, sighing as he tugged off his jacket.
It was a quiet day, thankfully, because Steven and Marc left him to control the body today, to allow him to front by himself without their "chattering" in his ear...
"Muñeca?" He called out.
When there was no answer, he tried for you again.
"Alguien en casa?"
His brow furrowed when he was met with silence. You were home, he was sure of it. Your car was out front, the front door was unlocked...
That's when he noticed it, the sliding glass doors were open.
Hairs rose on the back of his neck and he automatically suspected the worst. He pulled his gun out of his chest harness, turning the safety off and he slowly crept to the open doors, finger off the trigger.
Just in case.
He inched his head out just enough so he could sweep the corners of the back yard, surrounded with thick shrubbery and trees, and flowers of various sorts.
Until finally, he looked at the farthest and most shaded part of the yard.
There, hunched over, you were. Your hair damp and hanging in clumped strands around your face, what appeared to be sweat soaking your face, dripping down your neck, and into the valley between your breasts.
Your whole look was alluring, really. You were wearing your biker shorts, your boots loosely tied, your tank top rolled up to reveal just enough of the tantalizing skin he adored to touch so much.
Jake tilted his head, running his tongue along his teeth as he leered at you a moment longer, a familiar hot feeling settling in the pool of his belly.
Well, it had been a few days... too long for his tastes.
He then noticed something odd, next to you was a small pail, the kind you'd see a child using at the beach. The particular patch of flowers were probably the ugliest ones in his opinion. He made sure you knew it, too. They looked like pinecones without the prickly bits, conical in shape (obviously) with small blossoms poking out here and there as green faded into a bright red-pink.
When he asked you why the fuck you wanted those ugly ass things, you giggled and said "You'll see".
Jake grunted and put the safety on his gun off, holstering it and hanging it on the coat rack by the door.
He put his gloved hands in his pockets and walked into the patio, and over to you.
"I was wondering where you were." Jake hummed when he was close enough, tilting his head.
You looked up at him, and instantly you knew.
"Jake!" You said, breaking out in a grin as you stood, knees dirty. You slipped your arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek; but of course, Jake being Jake, he turned his head and caught your mouth, shoving his tongue between your teeth to slide against yours with a soft groan; one of his hands cupping the back of your neck and the other going to grip at your waist, slipping beneath your tank top, the soft worn leather sliding up your back.
The smell coming from you was almost heavenly. Sweet, a little earthy, but almost like a cologne he wore, ages ago. It was a good smell for you.
"Jake." You breathed, separating from him, pouting up at him. "Can't wait, can you?"
"Mmm." Was all he said, his hand at the back of your neck moving to tip your chin upwards, his thumb brushing your bottom lip.
"Well too bad, you horndog." You giggle, pulling away from him, to kneel back in the grass.
"What are you doing?" He sighed, pouting like a child as he crossed his arms.
"Milking the flowers, duh." You grin up at him.
"Qué? How the... how the fuck do you milk a flower?" Jake asked, his brow furrowing as he kneels next to you.
"Here, watch." You grab a hold of one of the heavy flower heads, gesturing for him to lean in as you put your tiny pail beneath the flower.
When Jake leaned in, you gave a sudden squeeze to the flower, and some kind of clear gunk shot out and splattered on Jake's face, right above his eye and dripping down his cheek.
You broke out in a fit of giggles when he fell back on his ass, furiously wiping at his face and spewing curses.
"You're jerking off flowers!" He hissed at you.
You cackle some more and gently squeeze the flower, ignoring his comment.
Jake hesitantly sniffed his hand and realized...
"Did you put this in your hair?"
"Mhmm." You hummed. "It's a natural shampoo and conditioner. It keeps your hair shiny and fluffy... helps with bug bites and it can apparently be used as a massage lotion."
"....Where the hell did you learn that?" He squinted.
"YouTube. I got bored one day. It smells good, though, doesn't it?" You smirk at him as he rights his position now, making direct eye contact as you ever so slowly work your hand up the flower, the clear nectar dripping down the soft skin of your hands, into the waiting pail below.
He felt his cock stir in his pants as you turned from him and moved back down the flower, and back up again, squeezing out every drop you could.
You grab the handle of the pail and lift it, revealing it had been tucked inside of another bucket the whole time.
"It does smell... okay." Jake conceded.
"Just okay? Jerk." You snort, as you reach for another flower to start draining it into the pail.
"Mmmmh." Jake hummed, watching your slick fingers grip the flower head.
"You can go inside, y'know?" You sigh as his fingers reach out and grip your damp hair softly, the nectar from the flowers soaking your hair, the shiny fluid clinging to his glove.
"Don't want to." He murmurs, standing on his feet, looking down at you.
You don't have to look at him to know that he's smirking.
"Seeing as how you won't go inside and leave me alone, here." You hand him the pail full of the clear liquid.
"Set this on the counter in the kitchen for me?" You bat your eyelashes for extra effect.
Jake rolls his eyes, still smiling and does as you ask.
As he set the pail down, he leaned his hip on the counter.
He had a rather painful hard-on now. Watching your dainty fingers work at the flowers, all he could see was your hands wrapped firmly around his cock slowly stroking up, your fingers playing expertly over the tip, just the way he liked it...
Jake sighed and walked back out, and seeing you bent over as you milked more flowers sent a thought through his mind.
🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒
When you stood up, you were suddenly grabbed from behind, strong arms wrapped around your waist as lips sought the pulse in your neck.
"Jake." You sighed, your hand going up to gently grip his dark curls.
"Hmm?" He hummed.
It would have been innocent, a little cuddle and love nip.
If he wasn't grinding his hard cock into the curve of your ass.
"Jake!" You gasped when you felt one of his hands slide down the front of your shorts.
"No panties? Naughty girl." He grinned as he bit down at the soft spot in your neck, earning a moan that you had to swallow back down before it got too loud.
"Fff..." You hiss, looking around frantically as his fingers swipe over your clit, toying with the wetness in your folds.
"So wet for me. You're having more fun than you're admitting to me, muñeca." Jake growled, biting harder on your skin as he curls a finger into your waiting cunt.
"Jake! S-someone might see us!"
"Let em see."
Jake chuckled cruelly, shoving you forward into the large oak tree your flowers were planted around.
He turned your body until you were facing him, and he claimed your mouth, biting you lips and shoving his tongue into your mouth before you can protest, he pulls his mouth away from you, tugging the glove off his hand with his teeth, and shoved his hand down your shorts again and quickly pushed his fingers back inside of you.
He pressed the heel of his hand into your swollen clit and ground on it as he thrust and curled his fingers, making sure you writhed and squirmed; relishing in each contraction of your muscles as you gripped at the meat of his arm with your hands, biting your lip hard to stifle the moans.
You tried to focus on something, anything that wasn't your boyfriend's hand buried knuckle deep in your cunt.
You squeezed your eyes shut and leaned your head back, choking back your whimper.
You tried to focus on the bark of the tree digging into your skin, the pebble in your boot you kept forgetting to take out.
But all thoughts were brushed aside as you felt your orgasm being pushed, and pushed hard.
Jake was never the kind of man to half-ass anything. Especially when it came to fucking you. Normally he liked to work you up slowly, teasing you and eating you out until your legs turned to jelly, before fucking you on the nearest available surface.
Right now he was needy, desperate. You weren't sure what got him so worked up.
You gasped, and when you opened your mouth, Jake shoved his tongue back inside it, swallowing your voice in a hungry kiss as your muscles clamped down, spasming around his fingers as he thrust them in and out, fresh slick gushing around his digits as he fucked you through your orgasm, leaving you breathless and jelly-legged.
Jake pulled away from you, grinning like a shark.
You panted heavily. "You... you fucking shit--"
Your voice went dead when you heard your neighbor call out your name.
You yank Jake's hand out of your shorts and shove him away from you, fixing yourself as best you could when she walked through the gates connecting your yards.
"Oh! Hey, Joyce!" You say awkwardly.
"I was wondering if you finished getting that nectar?" The older woman asked sweetly, completely oblivious to what she just walked into.
"I... ah. Yeah. I kind of knocked over the second batch but I have some inside I can filter for you?" You cough awkwardly.
"Oh! That would be so nice thank you, sweetheart." She tilted her head, looking at Jake. "Oh! I take it your boyfriend has been helping?"
Your eyes widened in mortification, and you looked at Jake's hand, shiny and still wet.
The bastard didn't even try to wipe it off!
Jake gave you an impish grin and looked at his hand, playing with the lingering stickiness as he looked at Joyce.
"Sí, ma'am. But I was being a little careless and cost her the second batch." He replied politely.
"Oh, well, I'll be waiting! Take your time, sweetheart, no rush!" She hummed, turning to walk back into her own yard.
Jake waved the hand that still had your fresh slick clinging to it.
You grab his hand and yank it down, hissing.
"We're going inside. Now."
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thesistersarcheron · 9 months
Text
Plagiarism in the ACOTAR Fandom
If you write Nessian, Nezriel, or Cazriel and ACOSF fics, take note.
On Thursday, June 29, I learned that my fic, viciousness & intelligence, was plagiarized by A03 user amaliea25 in her story titled Fall from Grace. Since alerting her that I was aware of her plagiarism, she edited the scenes she stole from my fic, but she has not removed them entirely from her story.
This plagiarism came to my attention when amaliea25 commented on my short V&I outtake, promises & punishments. This was the first time she contacted me on AO3, and I was curious about what drew someone to such a minor fic. I clicked onto her page and found that she was also a Nesta/Azriel/Cassian writer. Previously, I ignored Fall from Grace because, as a canon-divergent ACOSF story in which Nesta has an unexpected dual mating bond with Cassian and Azriel, the premise was similar enough to V&I that I did not want to step on her toes by accident.
However, I shouldn't have worried about that. Because when I decided to check out a random page in her fic anyway to decide whether or not I should bookmark it to read after I finish V&I, I discovered she was already plagiarizing my work.
Screenshots below the cut.
The Plagiarized Content
To my knowledge, three scenes from V&I were stolen from Chapters 2, 3, and 6. However, amaliea25 is in the habit of paraphrasing the scenes she steals, and I haven't read V&I in over 6 months, so I have suspicions about at least half a dozen more passages and plot points. I will highlight the two most obvious offenses here.
These screenshots were taken on June 29th.
viciousness & intelligence Chapters 2 and 6 (published 5/10/22 and 6/21/22) vs. Fall from Grace Chapter 22 (published 5/31/23)
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viciousness & intelligence Chapter 3 (published 5/19/22) vs. Fall from Grace Chapter 23 (published 6/2/23)
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The Reddit Tip-off
I have since read the entirety of Fall from Grace to check for more plagiarism, and while doing so I realized that the title of Fall from Grace and the sentiment in the comment on promises & punishments sounded familiar to me. I used to advertise my fics on r/ACOTAR, and in May I received email notifications about several comments on my old post about V&I... the most recent of which advertised another Nessriel story entirely.
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I was appalled that someone promoted another fic on my post, but ignored it at the time and muted the user - I thought it was just a fan of the Nesta/Cassian/Azriel ship being unknowingly rude.
But when I went back and confirmed that the story in this comment was the one that plagiarized my fic, I did get a little heated and jump the gun. I replied, "Considering that fic has plagiarized mine, do not do that." The next morning, the comment advertising Fall from Grace on my post was gone.
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But even though that one instance of this user promoting Fall from Grace was deleted, it is strange that it is the only fic u/Embarrassed_Room1347 promotes, isn’t it?
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So I suspect that u/Embarrassed_Room1347 and AO3 user amaliea25 are the same person, and that my comment about plagiarism on June 29th tipped her off that I was aware and that she needed to cover up her tracks...
The Alteration
...which she tried to do. Poorly. Here is a screenshot of the same portion of Chapter 22 of Fall from Grace taken today, July 1st, proving that amaliea25 is aware that she committed plagiarism, that it is not okay, and that I am unhappy that she did. This is the only edit she has made to my knowledge, since as of this post, Chapter 23 remains untouched.
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Despite amaliea25's attempts to edit away her plagiarism, I also downloaded a copy of Fall from Grace as an EPUB from AO3 on June 29th before she had the chance. This fic was first published on May 8, 2023, and the extreme length and patchwork quality of the writing and plot indicates to me that much of it was taken from outside sources.
If you are a fellow ACOTAR author and you are concerned amaliea25 may have plagiarized your work and is now attempting to cover it up, please DM me. I'll send you the file so you can check for yourself.
She may have altered what she stole from your work even further since June 29th, but it is likely still in her fic.
I only check AO3 for fics. If you are aware of Fall from Grace on any other platforms, I would appreciate it if you told me so I can report it.
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cinewhore · 8 months
Text
The Duchess of London
Pairing: Thomas “Tommy” Shelby x fem!reader
Word Count: 3.8k
Warnings: angst, mentions of drinking, drugs, blood, gore, sexual assault (not detailed), fighting, guns, smut (penetration, creampie, wrap it up lads!), fluff. 
A/N: The PB bug bit me and it bit me hard! Had to get this out. Takes place in season 2. Reminder that this is a bit dark given the contents of the show so if something rubs you the wrong way, don’t read it! You also don’t need to provide an explanation as to why you won’t read it, just keep scrolling. No beta cause I said so. Enjoy! Credits to the gif artist. 
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Birmingham smelled like shit.
London smelled worse.
You thank your bodyguard as he helps you out of the car, careful not to drag your dress along the mud, it was brand new and you didn’t have the best relationship with the new seamstress that replaced your old one.
It was a strange thing, being back home. Your old stomping grounds. You remember the days fondly, racing up and down the roads, dashing through the traffic of folks who populated the area. You always found yourself somewhere you shouldn’t be, getting scolded by your aunt when you arrived home well past dark. There’s a slight twinge in your chest as you reminisce, desperately wishing you could go back.
Luckily, your old house wasn’t far from your lodgings, Rich spooked by the rumors of how lawless this part of town was. You couldn’t blame him, Birmingham had long been abandoned by any sense of law and order. The police only came when it benefited them, so the local organized crime had taken over.
“Rich, I’ll only be a few minutes. Keep the car running.” you instruct. The burly man nods in respect.
“Yes ma’am.” He tips his hat at you, heading back to the car.
It was a choice, coming back here. There were nothing but terrible memories you worked too hard to forget but you felt like you owed it to yourself and your aunt to come back. The house was exactly how you remembered it, sparse furnishings but warm with spirit.
Now it was half empty and lonely.
You were fast in your approach to gather anything you deemed important, the house was likely going to be cleaned and left up for rent. Photographs, scraps of clothing, broken china were all stuffed into a bag you brought with you. These were the broken fragments of your old life you weren’t ready to part ways with just yet.
After muttering a quick prayer for your aunt and hoping that the devil caught your uncle, you say goodbye to the Brimingham girl you used to be.
You needed a fucking drink.
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You swagger into the Garrison, amused at the drunken men shouting across each other. You’re well aware of the stares you were receiving, knowing that a woman of your stature and style could only mean two things: you were a well off prostitute or the lavish wife of a man no one wanted to fuck with.
You took pride in being neither.
A man with a kind face smiles at you from behind the bar, throwing a white towel across his shoulder.
“What can I get you, love?”
“Whiskey. Neat.”
“What kind?”
You pretend to think about it. “Surprise me.”
The kind man chuckles to himself before hustling to get your drink. You dig around in your purse, pulling out a few bills that were much more than your drink likely cost. A hand covers your own as you slide the bills across the bar and you gaze up into a familiar face.
“I heard whispers about a very rich looking person coming into town, you wouldn’t have happened to see anything, have you?”
You couldn’t forget those piercing blue eyes even if you tried.
Suppressing a smile, you take the glass set in front of you and drain it quickly before gesturing for a refill. Tommy waves his hand at the barkeep.
“Get a bottle and bring it in the room.” he instructs, ushering you into the private area where he conducts business.
You follow behind him, silently thanking him as he pulls out a seat for you.
The two of you don’t say a word as he pours you another drink, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.
“Thomas fucking Shelby.” you finally murmur, overcome with nostalgia. “How long has it been?”
Tommy gives a half shrug. “More than ten years, I’d say.”
“This yours?” you finally take a second to gaze about, impressed with the architecture. It felt like too beautiful of a place to be in Birmingham.
“More or less. It was a gift to Arthur.”
You grin. “A gift you didn’t buy.”
“A gift, nonetheless.” he takes a long drag of the cigarette, cautious as he blows the smoke out of his nose and in a direction that wasn’t facing you. “Heard about your uncle.”
You nod, posture stiffening. “May his soul rot.”
Tommy raises his eyebrows and his glass, downing his drink. “Cheers.”
“So,” you lean back in your seat. “What has Thomas Shelby been up to all these years?”
Tommy mimics your actions, scratching at his face. “Making business happen. Staying out of trouble.”
“You’re trying to be legal?” your curiosity piqued.
“Something like that.” He holds his arms out wide. “We’re expanding.”
“Into London. Fucking with the status quo there, I heard.”
Something in Tommy’s face hardens and he regards you with contempt. “Is that so?”
“It’s kind of my business to know. You are stepping into my turf. I don’t give a shit either way, this feud you have with the Italians is kind of good for business.”
“How?”
You take out a cigarette of your own, a long black cigarette holder accompanying it. Thomas doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he strikes a match, watching your mouth closely as you take a few drags. “People are far too concerned if there’s war coming to worry about women and their petty activities. Makes it easier to get into their pockets.”
“Did someone send you here?” He asks slowly, a tiny gun appearing on the table.
You chuckle, shaking your head. “No. As I have mentioned, I’m not interested in whatever dick measuring contest you have going on with Sabini. I’m just a girl who came to dance on her dead uncle’s grave.”
Tommy can tell that you’re being honest. It was refreshing but strange, he wasn’t one to openly trust people. You were the one person who didn’t care about what he was doing in a sea of people who questioned his every move.
“Dick measuring contest, eh?”
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You had been fucked well before, sometimes from other women but nothing compared to how well Thomas Shelby was fucking you now.
His home was modest, clean cut and devoid of character. You were currently bent over on his bed being hastily taken from behind. It was as if he had just returned home from the war, eager and hungry for a woman’s touch. He couldn’t get enough.
Tommy staggers backwards, tapping your ass to get your attention.
“Fucking come here.” he rasps out and you giggle as he moves papers off a desk in the corner, hauling you on top of it. You spread your legs so he could slot himself in between them, entering you again with no hesitation.
“Don’t step on my dress.” you moan out, crossing your legs along his back.
“That, shit, all you care about now?” Tommy hisses, placing a hand on your hip to keep you still.
You nod furiously, leaning your head back against the wall and closing your eyes. You had already come undone twice and felt the third emerging soon.
“Fuck,” Tommy pants, taking his other hand and wrapping it around your throat. You loved the feeling of being choked and worked hard to memorize the touch of his fingers squeezing your skin. “I’ll buy you another dress. I’ll buy the fucking dress factory. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, fuck yes, Tommy.” You tighten around his cock as you come again, causing him to groan and weaken his stamina. “I want you to give me everything I ask for.”
“What do you want, hm?” He questions, making sure to maintain eye contact with you. It was difficult to keep your eyes open but you’d be damned if you didn’t try.
“I want your cum, all of it. I want you to empty your balls,” you reach a hand down for added effect. “Into my cunt.”
And just like that, Tommy thrusts into you forcefully twice more before coming to completion. You both groan at the sensation, the trickling of his seed oozing out of you and down your thigh. He rests his head against your shoulder, breathing heavily. You allow your legs to go slack, wincing at how stiff they had gotten.
After a moment of rest, Tommy helps you into bed where the two of you take the time to decompress.
“You’re marked.” Thomas comments, trailing a finger down the scar on the back of your left shoulder. It was in the shape of the number four, a reminder of what - who - you belonged to.
Joining the Forty Elephants was an honest mistake. When you arrived and couldn’t secure a place on your own, you resorted to petty theft just like any other low class person in your position. It had been the wrong place at the wrong time. You slipped inside of a clothing store, hoping to pick up a few nice shirts so you could find a steady job that wasn’t walking the streets at night. Turns out the Forty Elephants were at the height of a heist and you barged right into the middle of it.
You were caught and arrested with three other women. You begged and pleaded with the police, urging them to believe you when you said you were acting out on your own. You were all jailed together and you spent the night getting the living daylights kicked out of you. The next morning, the four of you were released and you were handed off to the leader of the up and coming gang.
“Some fucking runt you are.” She spat, sizing you up. You were interrogated relentlessly, the boss lady, Mary, assuming you were sent in by a rival gang to screw them up on purpose. When you justified your case, she nodded. You were brought in, taken care of and most importantly, you were protected.
You made nice with the other girls and became a skilled pickpocket, lock picker and seductress. The nickname “duchess” came after you managed to lift a hefty sum, including a car, from a duke. It was then you elevated your style and sense of purpose. You began to educate yourself, investing in legal companies and stockpiling your wealth for a rainy day.
You knew that life with the Elephants wouldn’t last forever and you needed a way out when the time came.
“It was my initiation.” You tell Tommy, breath catching slightly as his touch made you shiver.
He hums, pressing a small kiss to it. “I saw you that night.”
You frown, flipping over on your side to face him. He invites you to lay closer and you gingerly accept his invitation, perching yourself on his chest. “What do you mean?”
Tommy takes another puff from his cigarette before answering. “When you left Birmingham. It was at night. I was taking a walk with my brothers, and saw you scrambling to get out of the house. You ran like a bat out of hell. Never looked back once.”
“Oh.” You look down at your fingers, absentmindedly stroking the tattoo on his chest. You take a second to formulate a response, unsure of how to answer after years of not speaking about it. Tommy doesn’t push, waiting patiently for an answer that may never come.
After a moment of silence, you give him one. “He said I reminded him of her. Before she died, he was cold and distant. Afterwards, it was as if I had taken her place. It wasn’t the first time it happened. I remember crying a lot after. But that night, for whatever reason, I was determined to make it the last.”
You swallow thickly, brows furrowed as you replay the scene in your head. “I waited on him. Nearly fell asleep but like clockwork, he came creeping in the wee hours of the morning. I managed to stab him five times before I got away.”
Maneuvering yourself out of Tommy’s arms, you straddle him instead, pinpointing all the places you cut your uncle.
“Twice here.” You tap at his right peck with your finger. “Once in the stomach, once in the arm and once on his shoulder. He was a big guy and it was as if it didn’t faze him. Killing him didn’t matter at that point, I just wanted to be gone. So, I ran. Everyday for years, I kept looking over my shoulder, sure that he was going to show up and try to take me home. I hated myself. He got to live out his life and I suffered because of him.”
The tears surprised you as they dripped down your cheeks, hot and constant. Tommy is bemused as he wipes them away, his face never changing. You always pondered on who Tommy really was and what went on underneath the mask he was wearing. Then again, perhaps there was no mask to begin with.
“It’s stupid, I know.” you continue, hurriedly swiping at your eyes.
“It’s not. You did what you needed to do, what you thought was right. No one can ever blame you for that.”
“Funny, coming from a Peaky Blinder.” you chide with a small grin.
“Even funnier, coming from an Elephant.” he retorts without wasting a breath.
You sigh, placing your hands against his broad chest. “Cut from the same cloth, are we?”
Tommy nods, setting the now stub of a cigarette out in the ashtray placed on the nightstand. He turns his attention back to you, mind racing as he studies your features. How he let you slip away, how he went years without seeking you out plagued him from time to time. You were elusive, a mirage of a seemingly perfect woman he shouldn't taint with his touch. You’ve grown into your features, personality blossoming. You weren’t subservient like many of the other women he had encountered, all who would bat their eyelashes at him in hopes that they would get picked to be with a real gangster.
“Stay. I have an opening in my office, we could use the help. You’d straighten out Arthur, no doubt.”
You scoff, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want to be a guard dog or a bloody receptionist, Tommy. Besides, I’m expected back in London tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Family business.”
Tommy lights another cigarette at that.
“You could come with me. I wouldn’t force you to stay but maybe just to take your mind off of things?”
“Can’t. Family business.”
You laugh quietly, shrugging your shoulders. “What we wouldn’t do for those we love.”
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The walk home from Tommy’s is uneventful, both basking in each other’s silence. It was comfortable and intimate, the only thing interrupting it was the sound of children out playing far too late and drunken men hurling commentary out at anyone that walked by them.
The folks of Brimingham were familiar with the Shelby’s but they aren't familiar with you which is how you became a prime target for unwanted advances. The man had to have been well beyond plastered, for any woman seen with Tommy was assumed to be his.
You couldn’t even understand half of what the agitated bloke was saying, just that he was making weird gestures with hands, pretending to jerk himself off. Others had attempted to warn him and even Tommy moved in for the kill but you stopped him.
“No, no. I want to hear what this lad has to say. What’s this then? You wanna have a go with me? Is this how you approach all the women you like?”
You feign boredom, sticking both hands in the pockets of your coat. You rummage around in your right pocket, discreetly slipping your fingers into the holes of a brass knuckle.
“Yeah, it is. Now, when you’re done with this half starved looking bastard, how about you come home with a real man who can fuck you until-”
Your movements were swift and graceful, as if you had done this a hundred times before. The knuckles smash into the poor man’s face, instantly cracking and breaking his nose. Tumbling onto the ground, you crouch over the drunkard and wail on him until splatters of blood dot your face like a painting.
Tommy watches as you all but kill this man with your bare hands and does absolutely nothing. His overwhelming glare warned the others to back off while you continued, the bystanders knowing what their fate could look like should they interfere.
Panting, you back off the guy, using your free hand to wipe at your face. You spit, step across the moaning body and proceed towards your lodgings as if nothing occurred. Tommy falls in step with you, offering a handkerchief which you accept. While the Forty Elephants appeared to be harmless with crimes of shoplifting and bribery, you had a more rampageous approach to it all. The streets of London had toughened you, like it or not.
At the end of the day, you needed to make sure that you could take care of yourself and if it meant taking another person’s life, so be it.
Tommy had never wanted you more. But nothing good could come out of the two of you being together, you both knew that. It would be similar to chaining two wild dogs together and expecting them not to bite each other's necks off when there’s only enough food for one.
You had the Elephants and London. He had Brimingham and the Blinders. Somewhere, you would meet in the middle but there wasn’t room for overlap. Tommy was sure that being wed to an Elephant meant more turf and control but he wouldn’t dare do that to you. He couldn’t do it to himself. He would come to you whenever he wanted and you’d do the same to him.
Rich straightens up upon seeing your silhouette, clasping his hands together in front of him obediently. He takes one look at your face and reaches inside his coat to grab his gun when you raise a hand out.
“S’alright. Just had a little accident. You know Tommy.”
Rich gives Tommy a once over before relaxing.
“Shall I see you inside, then?”
You gesture at Rich to go on ahead of you, planting yourself firmly in front of Thomas. “No, I think it’s better if we say our goodbyes out here.”
Tommy smiles briefly, lighting yet another cigarette. “You don’t trust me?”
“I don’t trust that I’ll make it back to London tomorrow if you do come up.”
He takes a small step towards you, jawline rigid as he exhales through his nose. “I could leave early, before you wake up.”
“I wouldn’t allow you to.” Plucking the flaming stick out his mouth, you press a wistful kiss to his lips, melting into his embrace as he deepens it.
Hesitant to pull away, you ease back reluctantly. Your hands smooth his across his coat, reaching upwards to tug at his beloved hat.
“When you’re in London, I expect a call.”
Thomas rests his forehead against yours, licking at his dried lips. “I’ll always make sure to pay the Duchess a visit.”
You peck his lips one last time before returning the cigarette. Tommy watches as you disappear inside the hotel, satisfied knowing that you were safe and back in your room. Doubling back to the Garrison, now in full swing for the night, he gets welcomed with a drink from John and a pat on the back from Arthur.
“Tell me brother, what’s it like to be with royalty, eh? Is her pussy made out of gold?” Arthur cracks himself up, thoroughly entertained by his own quip.
“Fuck off, Arthur.” Tommy says dryly, taking a swig of whiskey.
“Did you tell her?”
Tommy raises an eyebrow at John. “Tell her what?”
“About her fuckin’ uncle?”
Tommy doesn’t answer and the two brothers give each other a glance.
“Bloody hell, Tommy-” Arthur starts. Tommy raises a hand and waves him off.
“Of course I didn’t fucking tell her. All that matters is that he’s in the ground, eh? Now get me another bottle and stop whining in my fucking ear.”
Arthur is slow as he departs from his sibling, a lopsided smirk plaguing his face.
Tommy thinks to himself that maybe he should’ve mentioned how your uncle actually died. You were told that he had a nasty fall after a night out of heavy drinking. In reality, it was the Peaky Blinders doing. Not only was your uncle a piece of shit, he also had a gambling problem. He got mixed in with the wrong folks and unknowingly stole money from the Blinders to help pay off a gambling debt. He was sloppy in execution which caught the attention of Tommy.
Upon finding out who actually took his money, Tommy made it a personal mission to seek him out. The man, Ronald, folded like a chair when Tommy and the boys appeared on his doorstep. He cried and begged for mercy, which they showed him none. Especially not after he confessed what he had done to you.
Ronald knew you made it to London and had fallen into some money, so whenever he got into debt he just told people that you were wealthy and would deliver money for his payments. Even after you cut ties with him and tried to kill him, he proceeded to use you.
Tommy wouldn’t have it.
“Oi! Tommy!” Arthur returns with the bottle in hand. “You got any spare cash on ya? I wanna set up a quick date with Beatrice.”
Tommy looks at his brother with slight disdain and rolls his eyes. “I’m not your accountant.”
“Yeah, yeah. I left my wad back at the office. Just cough it up, would ya?”
“If it means I won’t have to look at your face anymore, fine.”
Tommy reaches inside his pants pocket where he normally keeps an emergency stack and finds it empty. Scowling, Tommy pats himself down extensively before the light bulb goes off.
He laughs.
Not a cheeky snicker or a lame jest. Thomas Shelby actually laughs.
Confused but willing to follow his brother anywhere, Arthur begins to laugh as well until they’re both hanging onto each other, gasping for air.
At the hotel, you answer the door to your room, thanking the bellboy for bringing up your dinner. Tucking a hand in your bra, a wad of cash spills out. You grab a handful of it and place it into the hand of the blushing young man. He stammers out a thank you, hightailing it back to the lobby.
You get comfortable in bed, eager to dive into the captivating spread laid out in front of you. Closing your eyes, you fold your hands in front of you in mock prayer.
“Thank you dear lord for this appetizing food and for the Peaky fucking Blinders. Amen.”
248 notes · View notes
buckyalpine · 2 years
Text
Capture my Heart 1
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18+ Minors dni
Lumberjack Bucky (and Alpine) x f reader 
Loved this so much @slutforsexyseabass​ As usual. I went over board. So I am going to write a lovely smutty part 2 for this. 
Warnings: FLUFF (Lumberjack Bucky is a beefy sweetheart) and angst (abusive ex, swearing) Smut in the next chapter, is coming, I promise. PROMISEEE  Word count: 4.7k Sorry. i am so sorry. 
Smutty part 2
-
Bucky sat up from his spot in front of the fire place, hearing the sounds of branches and twigs snapping outside. It wasn’t unusual to hear the faint rustling of bushes in the middle of the night; he was used to it by now, living in the woods in his cozy cabin. But he was also more than familiar with all the sounds he’d normally hear and this was different. These were footsteps, not a deer or a bunny rustling in the bushes. He looked out the window but saw nothing though the sounds didn’t stop.
Alpine ears perked as the sounds neared, hopping into Bucky’s lap because those noises were definitely unfamiliar and they were getting closer. There weren’t people near Bucky’s cabin, and no one walked through the woods at this hour. He placed Alpine back on the couch, grabbing his gun from the kitchen drawer, locking and loading it before moving towards the door.
*****
You could feel your heart beating out of your chest, your breath coming out in rasps as you ran blindly through the forest. It was too dark to see where you were going but at this point it didn’t matter. You were ready to die at the hands of nature over the hands of your abusive and possessive ex. You’d tried to end things amicably and at first he seemed to take it well.
Until he started showing up at your work place and apartment, trying to get you back. When his attempts failed, he became worse, aggressively stalking you, leaving gifts and letters at your doorstep. The final straw was when you tried to tell him gently it just wouldn’t work out. You didn’t want to aggravate him more by going to the police; realistically they would’ve sent him off with a warning and nothing more. He didn’t take it well. All you felt was the sudden pinch of a needle to your neck and next thing you knew, you were gagged in the back of his pickup truck, your hands and legs bound together as he drove you to his cabin in the woods.
You had to ensure days of his rambling and out bursts, insisting this was for the best solution for both of you. Your body was littered with bruises and scars from where he grabbed and shoved you, accusing you of being selfish for leaving him. He never let you out of his sight and you were too deep into the forest for anyone to hear you scream.
You’d somehow managed to convince him to get some wood for a storm that was approaching, carefully arming yourself with a wrought iron rod from the fireplace, waiting for him to come back. You swallowed thickly, waiting for his back to turn to you before hitting him on the head, letting him fall to the floor unconscious.
You only had a short time to run before he woke up, sprinting out the door in nothing but an oversized t-shirt and sneakers, having no time to grab anything but your phone. The air was cold; you no longer see anything in the pitch darkness,  having no idea which direction you were even going in.
You saw a faint light through a thicket of trees, deciding to run towards it but based on your luck, the person living there could be a serial killer. Or another abusive disgruntled abuser. You truly had nothing else to lose. You slowed as you approached the cabin, suddenly feeling unsure about if they’d even open the door for you. You could see the soft warm light peak through the curtains as you tip toed around the trees, hiding in fear behind a large one. You didn’t think this through. What if they held you hostage? What if they knew your ex. You choked out a sob, slapping your hand over your mouth, holding on to a tree branch, trying to collect yourself.
*****
Bucky silently moved towards the door, switching the porch lights on before stepping out into the cold midnight air. He squinted at the rustling he could hear from behind a large tree nearby, freezing on the spot when he heard a soft whimper. He held onto his gun, moving towards the sound, gasping when he saw you tucked against the tree, trembling, looking at him wide eyed in fear. You looked scared, shaking like a baby bunny, he wanted to scoop you into his arms and comfort you from your distress.
“P-Please don’t hurt me” You whispered, tears staining your cheeks as you sniffled, trying to wipe your face only to have fresh tears take their place. Bucky quickly tucked his gun away, taking in your dishevelled appearance. Small twigs were caught in your hair, your t-shirt torn, clutching onto a phone for dear life. His heart broke, watching you wrap your arms around yourself, he could see the torment in your eyes about trusting him or not. He took a step back to give you some space while you continued to cling to the trunk, shivering.
“Is someone trying to hurt you?” He spoke as softly as he could, staying in the spot where the porch light would allow you to see him better. You kept your head down, giving him a tiny nod, staying rooted to the spot. You started to feel tiny a drizzle, the telltale signs of a severe storm approaching, the tumbling of thunder rolling in the distance.
“It’ll rain soon doll, why don’t you come inside, I promise, I won’t hurt you sweetheart”
Bucky knew you had no reason to believe him but he couldn’t just leave you outside. You bit your lip nervously, itching to trust him but you couldn’t be sure. He could sense your hesitation, giving you a soft smile when you took a step forward. You cried out when you felt a sharp pain shoot through your ankle; the adrenaline had worn off and you could feel the pain from when you rolled your ankle during your escape. You whimpered in pain, as he quickly moved to your side, wrapping a thick arm around you waist, so he could support your body.
“Hey, here its okay. Lean against me, I got you”
You let him walk you to his cabin, some of your nerves easing in his hold. The firm strong grip of his arm made you feel safe and the soft scent of his cologne was comforting, like warm pine woods. He set you down on the large plush couch in front of the fire place, the warmth immediately soothing your cold clammy skin.  
“I’m going to get a first aid kit okay?” He walked down the hall, petting a fluffy white cat sitting in the corner curiously eyeing you, before turning to the bathroom. “Be nice Alpine, she’s a guest”
She sauntered over to you, sniffing you curiously, hopping onto the sofa and purring in your lap, her little kitty senses telling her you were in need of some love and affection (maybe a new mommy for her daddy?). You petted her soft silky fur, looking up when you heard Bucky return. You gasped when you saw him, having not paid attention to how he looked when you were outside but now. Fuck.
He was handsome. He stood tall in front of you, his dark chest nut hair pulled into a low bun that rested at the nape of his neck.  You didn’t realize it then, but he was huge. His Henley was stretched tightly across his chest, the material nearly bursting around his arms. His jeans hugged his muscular thighs and you could feel your face heat up when your eyes met with his soft blue ones.
He kneeled in front of you, removing the leaves and twigs that clung to your hair. He grabbed a few wipes to clean your scrapes, lightly blowing on your skin when you hissed at the sting.
“Sorry doll almost done and then I’ll wrap your ankle, okay?” You nodded, watching him carefully place a few band aids and gently wrap a bandage around your foot.
“My names James, you can call me Bucky though” He smiled up at you and you noticed his dark thick lashes, the light scruff that dusted his cheeks, the most perfect nose, and his lips. They were pink, soft, kissable- stop it, you don’t even know him.
“I’m y/n” Your voice came out a raspy whisper, tired and thirsty. “Thank you for letting me stay, I didn’t mean to come onto your property-
“You don’t have to thank me doll, you’re safe here” He shook his head, his hand gently stroking your knee, he couldn’t let you see the absolute rage that was coursing through his veins knowing someone had put you through this. The rumble of your stomach momentarily interrupted his train of thought, focusing back to you.
“I’ll get you something to eat. The bathrooms just down the hall to the left, I kept a towel and some clothes you can change into”
You were about to protest, but he gave you a pointed look, smiling when you giggled, making your way to the bathroom. As soon as you disappeared down the hall his jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists. He didn’t say anything but he saw the dark bruises and scrapes that littered your skin. Your wrists and ankles still had indents from where you had been tied up with rope. He squeezed his eyes shut, he had to focus on you and giving you what you needed first. He walked over to the kitchen, setting a kettle on and grabbing food for you to eat.
*****
You let the hot water wash away all the dirt and grime that clung onto your skin, wishing you could wash away the bruises that still lingered on your body. Your mind wandered to Bucky; everything about him was comforting. The way he touched you so gently, his soft smile, those blue eyes. You grabbed the fluffy towel he left you, wrapping yourself with it to dry off. You smiled at the large soft flannel shirt he left for you along with a large pair of sweat pants. The comfy material hung loosely on your smaller frame but you didn’t mind, you were more than happy to just be dry, warm and safe.
When you came back, there was a mug of steaming hot chocolate on the wooden coffee table, along with a tray piled high with different pastries. Bucky came back with a small dish of cat treats for Alpine, setting them on the floor near the couch before sitting beside you, keeping some space in between you both.
“I hope you like hot chocolate, I can make you tea if you like that better doll, I have lots-
“It’s delicious, thank you Bucky” You hummed at the creamy rich hot chocolate, holding the large mug close to you, letting it warm you up though the heat in your cheeks were because of his adorable smile. “I think I could live off of this alone”
“I’m happy you like it, took me years to get it just like my ma’s” Bucky grinned, grabbing the tray of pastries and placing it in the space between you. “Eat as much as you like doll, I made them all myself”
You giggled, looking at the comically large pile of treats; mini apple pies, strawberry Danishes, lemon tarts, butter tarts, chocolate chip cookies, coffee cake, scones.  
“You made all this?” You picked up one of the butter tarts, taking a small bite but the second it hit your tongue, you scarfed the whole thing down, immediately going for another pastry. The man had God like baking skills, you’d never tasted anything so delicious, you thought you were going to cry. “They’re so good- I-I’ve never had anything like these, they’re amazing”
“I usually bake for myself and pack some for a little old couple that owns the hardware store in town where I get my tools. Known them for years”
Alpine watched Bucky carefully, seeing him blush as you two spoke, his voice soft. She hopped up on Bucky’s lap, carefully tip toeing over the tray so she could plop in your lap again, purring when you scratched the back of her ears. Bucky cocked his head, raising an eye brow at his peculiar cat, surprised to see her acting so friendly. You giggled when she bumped her head onto your chin, nuzzling against you.  
“She doesn’t usually like people” Bucky snorted, shaking his head when Alpine narrowed her eyes at him.
“She’s very sweet” You grinned, rubbing her belly, cooing at the sweet fur baby as she tried to capture your hand in her paws.
“She likes you” He chuckled at the way Alpine snuggled further into your lap, purring like a motorboat. Bucky felt his heart skip a beat the second Alpine jumped into your lap, she always hissed at unfamiliar people. She wasn’t hardly a fan of regular people (only recently decided she’d tolerate Steve and Sam).
Between the warmth of the fire and the awful day you had, exhaustion began to take over. Your head nodded off as you tried to stay awake, your eyes struggling to stay open.
“Why don’t you get some rest y/n, just give me a second to get the room ready”  
“No! Bucky no, you’ve already done more than enough for me, I can just sleep on the couch, I couldn’t ask you to-
“You don’t have to tell me anything” Bucky nodded to some of the bruises that peaked under the sleeved you had rolled up. “But there’s no way I’m letting you sleep on the couch. You need rest and a proper bed; I’ll be back in a minute doll”
Bucky grabbed a few fuzzy blankets from the cupboard of the guest room, laying them out for you. He grabbed a water bottle for the bedside table, checking the windows were locked properly before coming to get you, smiling when he found you fast asleep, curled up in a ball with Alpine tucked into your side.
“Y/n?” He whispered, chuckling when you mumbled something in your sleep, tucking yourself further in the couch. “Sweet heart, the beds ready” Your eyes cracked open, having no energy to get out of the couch to walk over. You let out a tiny yawn, immediately going back to sleep. He tucked a hair behind your ear, carefully moving you into his arms.  
“M’gonna carry you okay?” You nodded slightly, snuggling in the warmth of his body as he carried you to the room. He set you down, tucking you in, doing a quick check of the room once more before leaving.
“Good night doll”
*****
The crack of thunder jolted you awake, your first thought was that your ex had found you, smashing the windows. You sat up, shivering when flashes of lightening poured through the curtains, heavy rain pelting against the windows. You couldn’t shake of the shock, your heart racing, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. You weren’t typically scared of storms but you were feeling over stimulated and had no way to ground yourself.
Bucky stirred at the sound of the raging storm, sitting up when he heard your distressed cries in the room across from his. He immediately made his way over, his heart breaking seeing you curled in a ball, trembling each time there was a clap of lighting to thunder.
“Y/n? Doll, are you okay?” Bucky switched the lamp on, hanging up an extra sheet over the curtains so you wouldn’t have to see the flashes of lightening. He sat down beside you, unsure if you’d be okay with him touching you, gently stroking your back.
“C-can you h-hold me? P-Please?” You whispered between sobs, your body trembling as you wrapped your arms around your knees tighter, trying to stop yourself from shaking.
“Come here darling” He pulled you into his lap with ease, tucking your head under his chin, his arms wrapping your entire body, holding you against him. You squeezed your eyes shit, your face in his chest, hands clutching onto his shirt as he rocked you, your body finally beginning to relax. Your sobs had reduced to sniffles while he played with your hair, gently grazing your scalp as your eyes started to grow heavy again, falling asleep and softly snoring his arms. Bucky tucked you back in, making sure you were asleep before getting up to leave. He blinked when he felt gentle tug to his wrist, your glassy eyes looking up at him.
“Stay? Please?”
He smiled, nodding and laying down beside you, keeping his hand in yours, squeezing it while you shuffled over to be closer to him.
“I’m right here okay? No one can hurt you y/n, I’m here, go to sleep doll”
*****
You woke up the next morning to a steaming cup of tea on the side table along with a note next to it
In the kitchen, breakfast is ready, come when you’re ready sugar
-       ��  JBB & Alp
You tried to ignore the way your heart fluttered, finishing your tea before going to the bathroom. He’d left you another set of clothes to change into as well as a fluffy towel and new tooth brush. You made your way to the kitchen, the smell of fresh pancakes floating down the hall. He had a bright smile on his face, mentally putting himself on a leash when he saw you in his clothes.
“Good morning sugar, you hungry?” Bucky’s smile faded slightly seeing the bruises on your skin darker than the day before. “Let me get you some ice for that”
You sat at the stool, loading your plate; Bucky had cooked for an army. Unsurprisingly, he made the softest, fluffiest pancakes and you were struggling not to moan at the table. He held the ice to the darkest bruise on your arm, swallowing thickly when you hissed in pain.
“The person who hurt me,” You let out a shuddered breath while Bucky continued to tend to your bruises. “Was my ex”
Your eyes nervously flicked around the room, tugging at a lose string at the hem of your shirt. You knew Bucky didn’t expect you to explain your situation but you felt comfortable around him, plus you didn’t want to put him in danger because of your baggage.
“We broke up months ago because he was so controlling. Uh, he didn’t take the break up very well” You let out a shaky laugh, trying to make light of the situation, noting the way Bucky’s nostrils flared, his jaw clenched. “He drugged me and kept me up in his cabin. I have no idea for how long. The storm saved me in a way; I’d managed to send him away for some wood. Hit him and ran, he’s probably out looking for me now” Your voice had been reduced to a whisper, trembling again.
“You don’t have to worry about him, I’ll keep you safe y/n” Bucky pulled your into his arms, his lips lightly brushing your forehead. Bucky could feel his little fur baby wedge herself between his legs to get to you. You felt a little ball of fur near you feet, looking down to see Alpine rubbing herself on your leg. “Hm, sorry yes, almost forgot about you my fluffy marshmallow. We will keep you safe”
*****
Over the week, Bucky never left your side. As much as he wanted to hunt the asshole that did this to you, he knew you were in no state to be left alone. It didn’t help that the storm had knocked over a number of trees, meaning he couldn’t just drive you back to the city.
Truthfully you didn’t mind; you couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt so safe and happy. Bucky had been an absolute sweetheart, never letting you lift a finger, doting on you every minute of the day even when you insisted not to. He did all the cooking, reluctantly letting you do the dishes because you insisted. The only problem you had was struggling not to fall for him. He had no idea what his lingering hugs, sweet words and gentle kisses did to you;  you had to mentally scold yourself to calm down at least 8 times a day (you had no idea Bucky was struggling just as much, he’d had many conversations with Alpine about it).
You’d managed to control yourself until he went outside to chop wood. Initially you’d been reluctant to go outside but Bucky insisted a bit of fresh air would be good for you. You ventured onto the porch with a blanket wrapped around you (comfy in his Henley and a pair of boxers), Alpine tucked under you arm. You nearly whimpered watching a very shirtless Bucky grunt as he brought the axe down, easily splitting a thick log into half, sweat dripping down his very toned body, biceps bulging each time he swung. His hair was tied up into a half bun, jeans resting low on his hips, giving you the perfect view of his happy trail; the man was sex on legs. He looked up, happy to see you outside, giving you a bashful smile before continuing to work, hoping the blush dusting his cheeks wasn’t too obvious. He couldn’t help the little jump his heart did every time you smiled or touched him.
You heard the rumble of a car in the distance, your eyes widening in fear as you ran into the house, with Bucky quickly following behind. You stood frozen in the middle of the living room, panic making it difficult to think straight. Your breaths came out in rasps, fresh tears spilling down your cheeks.
“Hey, hey, look at me, its okay. No one is going to hurt you doll, promise, I got you” Bucky rushed over to you, wiping your tears before sweeping you in his arms and taking you to his room. You clutched around him, refusing to let him go when he set you down on his bed. A knock at the door made your heart race.
“I’ll go see who it is, you stay here with Alp, okay? Come here and lie down darling, I’ll be back before you know it” Bucky gave you a warm smile as he tucked you and Alpine under the sheets but it only upset you more. He was a sweet heart and he didn’t ask to be dragged into this mess.
“What if something happens to you?” You looked at him with glassy eyes, your bottom lip trembling.
“Nothing will happen to me baby, its gonna be okay” He kissed your forehead, pulling an extra blanket over you before getting up and locking the door. He frowned as he made his way to the door, tucking his gun in the waistband of his jeans before throwing on a shirt and opening the door.
“Mr. Barnes”
Two police officers stood on his porch along with another shifty looking man who had a dark bruise on his head. Bucky shut the door behind him, nodding for them to talk on the drive way, further away from the cabin.
“There a problem?”
“We were wondering if you saw this young woman around the area, she went missing a few days ago” Thor pulled out a picture of you, handing it over to Bucky before continuing. “This is her boyfriend, she was staying with him in one of the northern cabins and may have gotten lost” He pointed to the man who shuffled on his feet, trying to look through the windows from where he was standing while talking to the other office. Bucky closed his eyes, taking a breath trying to calm himself. The fucker was right there and he couldn’t do anything. Yet.
“A word officer” Bucky murmured, walking off to the side of the cabin. Thor nodded to Loki, signalling him to keep the conversation going as he stepped off, following Bucky to a more secluded area.
“He’s an abuser” Bucky spoke lowly, “He drugged and kidnapped her and held her in his cabin. She managed to escape but had a feeling he’d come looking for her”
“I knew it” Thor scoffed, shaking his head. “The bastards got a bruise right across his forehead, can’t imagine he got it from hiking in the woods like he claimed”
“Can I ask a favour? Off the record?” Thor nodded, cocking eyebrow as Bucky’s fists twitched, eyes raging. “Don’t lock him up tonight. Do it tomorrow morning”
“Consider it done James” Thor snorted; he already knew what his friend was going to do. “She’s safe with you?” Thor whispered, breathing a sigh of relief when Bucky nodded. “She’s not here!” Thor stated as he walked around, back to the police cruiser. “Let’s go”
Loki smirked, figuring Thor must have learned something based on his smug facial expression and sudden cool demeanour. As soon as the men drove off, Bucky was running back to the house straight to you. He wrapped you in his arms, cuddling you close to him.
“Was it him?” He silently nodded, holding you tighter, softly kissing your head. You nuzzled into him more, clinging onto him. “Can we cuddle?” You whispered, peeking at him through your lashes, you just didn’t want to let him go.
“Of course my doll” Bucky tucked himself under the sheets, bringing you to lay on his chest. He stroked your hair, as you closed your eyes, letting his heart beat sooth you.
“Thank you for protecting me”
“Always, babydoll”
*****
Bucky gently shook you awake, chuckling at the way you’d fallen asleep in his arms, clinging onto him like a little koala bear.
“I have to do something quickly, but you won’t be alone baby, my friends are right outside okay?”
“Where do you have to go?” You pouted as he smiled, carrying you to the living room, setting you in front of the fire while he went to go put on his boots before pecking a quick kiss to your head.
“I’ll be back soon, promise y/n”
You followed Bucky to the door where you saw two men in a dark truck, one with straight raven hair, the other with long wavy blonde hair. They gave you a warm smile, waving over to you before nodding at Bucky as he climbed into his truck, pulling away and driving down the road.
Thor made the journey a little easier, having slipped Bucky the address to the cabin earlier. Bucky took large strides to the door, banging on it waiting for your shitty little ex to open the door.
“Who are y-
He didn’t even finish his sentence, immediately feeling a throbbing pain shooting through his head from where Bucky punched him.
“What the fu-
“Stay away from her” Bucky was seething, towering over your ex as he cowered on the floor, grasping his head in pain. “You stay the fuck away from her” Bucky grabbed him off the floor, pressing him against the wall.
“You bruised her here” Bucky snapped his arm easily, scoffing when he cried in pain. “And here” He kneed him in the stomach, watching your ex double over, sobbing on the floor. “And so many other fucking places, was it not enough?! Why the fuck did you come looking for her?!” Bucky dragged him over to a chair, swiftly tying him up, so he wouldn’t escape.
“She’s a little who-
“Don’t” Your ex flinched when Bucky took a step towards him, trembling in fear. “Just so you know, the police had footage of her running. From the other cabins. Footage of you dragging her here. I’m only leaving you alive because the police found you first”
Bucky made a quick phone call to his two friends, who pulled away to arrest your ex as soon as Bucky arrived back home.
“You’re safe now babydoll-
You immediately ran into his arms, just happy to know he was back. You kissed his bruised knuckles, before showering his face in kisses, you didn’t ask questions but you knew. You were safe. He made sure of it.
*****
Neither of you brought up the topic of going back home; Bucky didn’t want you to leave nor did you want to go home. You loved it here. It gnawed at the back of your head as you stayed another two weeks, cuddled up with Bucky on the couch eating pastries he made, something you did each night since the first night you stayed over. Bucky could tell something was off as you shifted slightly, your eyes a little lost.
“You okay baby?”
“I-I’m sorry, I’ve just been staying here, I should be going home, I’m sorry-
“You’re welcome to stay for as long as you like sweetheart, I…I like you a lot-
You didn’t let him finish, grabbing his face, pulling him in for a deep kiss. You hard tried to avoid it, you really did but it was too much. He had captured your heart. In the small time you were with him, he had it all and you couldn’t let him go.
Smutty part 2
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justabigassnerd · 1 year
Text
Hangman Junior
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Pairing - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x daughter!reader
Word count - 2,212
Warnings - swearing, angst (it's me, what do you expect?), mentions of death, alcohol, mentions of Hangman having shitty parents
Summary - Before training begins for the uranium mission, Dagger Squad meets Hangman's teenage daughter. And she's a carbon copy of her father
A/N - another request lads! This was a fun one to explore and write! We all know I'm a sucker for Hangman so anything I get to write for him is fun! I'll stop rambling now but as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!!!
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When those called back to Top Gun walked through the doors of the Hard Deck and saw Hangman leant against the pool table, chatting with Coyote their hearts sank slightly. Those who trained with Hangman knew how he flew and how he’d leave his wingmen behind in a heartbeat. Those who hadn’t just knew of his reputation to leave people behind but also that he’s one of the only naval aviators on active duty with a confirmed air-to-air kill which earned him a slither of their respect.
What all those naval aviators didn’t know, except for Coyote, was that Jake Seresin had a teenage daughter who was relying on him to come home every time he went away. He knew it was selfish of him, to leave others behind knowing they had loved ones too, but he needed to make it back to you every time because you had no other family.
He had always had a rocky relationship with his parents growing up, feeling pressured to be the ‘perfect’ son who would take over the family ranch when the Navy had always been his dream. He ended up getting a high school girlfriend pregnant halfway through their senior year which really tipped his parents over the edge. He was forced to move out and found a cheap apartment he could rent with his girlfriend so they could live somewhat comfortably until the baby was born. The day his daughter was born was the best day of his life, miles high above days like graduating from the academy or coming first in his class at Top Gun. However, one day, not long before Jake was due to head out to the naval academy for his basic training. He woke up to find his girlfriend gone, leaving behind nothing more than a note stating that she was sorry, that she didn’t want that kind of life and had left you in his care ever since.
“How’s the kid, Hangman?” Coyote asked as the two played pool and Hangman’s eyes flicked up to where the rest of the team were conversing amongst themselves, not listening to what Coyote said.
“She’s doing good. You can come over tomorrow if you want. I’m sure she’d be thrilled to see her favourite uncle is also in town.” Hangman says with a smirk as Coyote rolls his eyes jokingly. Since Hangman and Coyote had become friends when you were little, you had taken to calling Coyote your ‘Uncle Javy’ and it simply never dropped as you grew into your teens.
“I’m her only uncle she better be happy to see me.” Coyote responds, his tone teasing as he takes his next shot at the pool table. Coyote would never admit it to anyone, but he secretly loved that you considered him an uncle. It meant he was a trusted person in both your and Hangman’s lives. It also somewhat reassured Jake that there would be someone to look out for you if something were to happen to him. Just as Hangman went to reply to his friend, he caught a glimpse of a familiar Hawaiian shirt which brought a grin to his face.
“Bradshaw. As I live and breathe.” He calls out to the taller pilot, straightening up from where he’d been lining up his next shot.
“Hangman. You look… good.” Rooster replies, barely glancing Hangman’s way as he speaks. The two had a rivalry when they went through Top Gun together. Both were competitors for the top spot but had vastly different flying styles. Rooster was careful, he stuck to the book and would overthink what he was doing. Hangman was fast and would always strike first and ask questions later.
“I am good, Rooster. I am very good. In fact, I am too good to be true.” Hangman gloats as he approaches his rival. The two bicker back and forth before Jake decides to get himself another beer from the bar. He returns to the group of aviators and goes back to talking with Coyote. Eventually, the scattered groups all come together to ask if anyone knows who’s going to be training them for the missions considering every pilot who has been called back is the best of the best. They debated for a while before Coyote leaned close to Hangman’s ear.
“What’s y/n doing here?” He asks, making Hangman immediately scan the bar before he saw you approaching with a cheeky smile on your face. Hangman clenched his jaw slightly and moved to meet you in the middle.
“y/n, what are you doing here?” Hangman asked the second he reached you, trying not to let his annoyance show.
“Hello to you too, dad.” You say, rolling your eyes. Behind the two of you, the naval aviators heard you and started whispering amongst themselves, confused as to what the hell was going on.
“You can’t be in a bar. You’re too young.” Hangman scolds, staring down at you with a raised eyebrow.
“I can be in this bar. Penny said so.” You retort, folding your arms across your chest as you remember the day Penny first found out that Jake was a single father and said you were welcome to come in the bar as long as you stuck with your dad and didn’t cause trouble.
“You’re a pain in my ass. You know that, right?” Hangman laughs as he shakes his head.
“Yet you still love me.” You grin, moving to walk past your dad when you notice Coyote.
“That I do.” He mutters to himself when you reach Coyote, allowing him to pull you into a hug as your dad watches on with a soft smile before moving to join the two of you.
“Hey y/n/n.” Coyote greets you happily as he releases you from the hug.
“Hi, Uncle Javy.” You reply with a smile as you step back.
“Dad? Uncle Javy? Is anyone going to explain this to us?” You turn around to see a man with a moustache in a Hawaiian shirt glancing between the three of you with a confused expression.
“Was the fact I’m calling him dad not obvious enough for you, Rooster?” You retort, watching Rooster’s face shift to a face of shock while your dad bites back a laugh beside you.
“How did you-”
“Dad could never stop talking about you when the two of you were in Top Gun. He was even talking about the chances of seeing you before he left the house earlier. It’s also easy to put a face to the name when dad’s mentioned things like you always wearing Hawaiian shirts.” You shrug after finishing your explanation. You hear Coyote snigger beside you which makes you smile.
“Oh, she’s definitely Hangman’s kid.” You look over at the brown-haired woman who said that, and you nod proudly.
“That I am.” You say as your dad wraps an arm around your shoulders and tugs you into his side.
“And with that, let’s stop bothering my kid.” Hangman says, a glimmer of protectiveness rising within him. He glances between his new teammates and sees that they’re itching to ask questions.
“y/n, why don’t you head on home?” He asks you, looking down at you.
“No. I’m happy to hang out here. It’s kind of depressing sitting alone in an empty house.” You say, making Hangman’s face soften. The team watched curiously, having never seen any softness come from this man before. They could only assume this was Jake Seresin and not Hangman. He was your dad before he was Hangman so his priorities would always be you.
“Okay fine. But you’re to always stay in mine or Javy’s line of sight. Got it?” He says, a slight sternness sneaking into his tone.
“You got it, dad.” You reply, earning a nod from your dad as he returns to his pool game while you find somewhere nearby to sit. You were quickly approached by some of your dads’ new teammates, all gagging to know more about you and your dad. You listened to all their questions and gave them answers. You had to admit that these new teammates were nice, and they seemed like people you could trust to make sure your dad came home during this secret mission. Even Rooster seemed like a nice enough guy despite your dad doing nothing but bitch about him when they went through Top Gun. You enjoyed getting to know his teammates, and they could keep up with your sass quite easily, with Phoenix saying you were a nicer version of Hangman.
“I’m calling it now. y/n is now a part of our team from here on out.” Fanboy says, slinging an arm around your shoulder and jostling you as you laugh.
“Guys, can you promise me something?” You say once the laughter dies down. The mood suddenly becoming serious at your words.
“What is it?” Bob asks, placing his cup down on the table as all eyes are on you. You glance over at where your dad and Javy are still playing pool, chatting to each other happily.
“Promise me that you’ll make sure my dad comes home. Uncle Javy too. They’re the only family I have, and I can’t lose them.” You admit, eyes lowering to stare at the floor of the Hard Deck. The naval aviators exchange looks with each other. They had all only known Hangman, the cocky naval aviator who would ditch his wingmen in a heartbeat and they weren’t keen on that. But now they had met you and discovered a new side of him that they had never seen before, and they were all willing to make this work with him for your sake. But they also knew they couldn’t make a promise like that. With a mission so secret that they hadn’t even been given the brief for yet was only flashing warning signs to them about how dangerous this mission could be.
“We promise we’ll do our best to bring them home to you.” Rooster was the first to speak up. He knew the pain of losing a parent and he’d be damned if he let you go through the same thing. He was more than willing to put his rivalry with Hangman to the side for you. He could only hope that Hangman would extend the same courtesy to him. You shifted your gaze to Rooster as he spoke, a small appreciative smile on your face at his words. You knew it was a big ask but you decided it was worth the risk.
“Thank you, Rooster. You know, you’re not as bad as dad made you out to be.” You say, your smile growing when Rooster rolls his eyes at your words.
“And you’re not as bad as I thought you’d be Hangman junior.” He replies, making you scoff jokingly, easing the tension that had just been created. You continue to chat with the team, laughing as your dad, Javy and Payback chucked some random guy out of the bar when the bell rang, even joining in when Rooster began to play ‘Great Balls of Fire’. As it began to get later, your dad approached where you were sitting and rested a hand on your shoulder.
“Come on y/n/n. We should think about heading home. You’ve got school and I’ve got an early start tomorrow.” Your dad says, making you groan but still get to your feet, bidding everyone goodbye before following your dad out to his truck.
“I like your team. They seem nice.” You say with a smile as you get settled in your seat, plugging in your seatbelt.
“Even Bradshaw?” Jake replies with a raised eyebrow as he starts the engine.
“Yes, even Rooster. They’re much nicer than your last team. Those guys were dickheads.”
“Hey, what have I been saying about language?” You roll your eyes at the light scolding, uttering a quiet and insincere apology as you settle back in your seat as you begin the journey back to your house.
Back in the Hard Deck, the team had watched both you and Hangman leave the bar and the second they saw the two of you leave their line of sight they fell into discussions once more about how they couldn’t believe Hangman had a daughter, except Coyote who just watched and laughed.
“Guess we’re all watching out for Hangman on this mission then, huh?” Payback says, leaning back in his chair as he sips from his beer bottle.
“For the kid's sake.” Rooster swoops in quickly, drawing the line about why they were doing this in the first place.
“Oh, sure Rooster. I bet this has nothing to do with the obvious crush you have on Hangman.” Coyote teases, making Rooster’s face flush deep red as he scrambles to deny the blatantly obvious fact that was just stated as everyone laughs.
None of the team could have anticipated that they were going to end today knowing that Hangman is a father and that the whole team would now go to the ends of the earth to protect his daughter despite her being a carbon copy of her dad. All they could do now was accept the fact and do what they could to watch out for the Seresin father and daughter duo.
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