G r a v e d i g g e r

[ofgravediggcrs-blog]

@tylerward-asset

It was still on his mind.. the events of a couple of nights ago. In fact.. Tyler's breakdown had more premise in Jeremiah's thoughts than the recent things that had gone on in the tower. Jeremiah knew little about what was happening outside of his suite. He knew all of his jobs were put on hold unless they posed an immediate threat to the reputation and legal freedom of his superiors. But his mind wasn't on that. He had no doubt that his employer had a plan for what was going on. Bellamy Macnamara was a smart man, and wasn't one to be taken by surprise.

What Jeremiah's mind was on, however, was Tyler. He'd sent for the asset only moments ago, knowing damn well that while the asset's had an illusion of freedom for the time being, Tyler was impetuous. Troubled at times and would likely make problems for himself if provoked. He couldn't get the way the asset had bucked and writhed in his arms out of his mind, and had no intention of letting Tyler get himself in more trouble. Or really letting him out of his sight until he figured out what he was going to do about this.

His head turned at the sound of the door opening. "Ward." He barked out, moving from the kitchen. "Come here."

[ofgravediggcrs-blog]

tylerward-asset:

“Die.” Tyler murmured indistinctly, his voice so soft that the harsh word sounded almost like a gentle sigh. “Just die.” His fingers dug painfully deep into the soft flesh of Jeremiah’s throat, spurred on by his unconscious demand, and the palms of his hands pressed downwards with the cruel intent to crush the man’s larynx. The Asset leaned forward to bear down his weight through his hands and drew their faces close enough to reveal that his blue eyes held no recognition of the Associate underneath him before he shook him violently. “Just fucking die!” Tyler shouted with unrestrained hate and rage as he slammed Jeremiah down as hard as he could against the mattress.

For several long seconds, Tyler’s iron grip on the Associate’s neck seemed unbreakable. Withstanding all of Jeremiah’s lashing and flailing hands as if it didn’t deter him in the slightest, it took an accidental thumb jab in the eye for the blond to finally ease back on his assault. He jerked his head away, his grip loosening, and when he looked back down at the man trapped between his legs, there was a flash of recognition as his breath hitched in a mixture of surprise and shock. However, the return of his consciousness was fleeting when a strong buck of Jeremiah’s hips had him tumbling off and back onto the bed.

Momentarily stunned, Tyler had very little time to recover and to try to push himself back up when he found himself being pressed back down onto the mattress. A weight settled upon him, one that he no longer found as comforting, and when he looked up, his expression was one of pure and unbridled terror. He didn’t recognize the man on top of him as Jeremiah - he saw him simply as someone who was going to hurt him and possibly kill him and he lashed out violently. Throwing his fists and bucking his hips, Tyler snarled and growled like a wild animal when his wrists were seized. “No!” He shouted, trying to pull free. “No! No! No!” His voice grew louder with each repetition, more panicked and more desperate until he threw his head back and screamed, “GIDEON!”

Tyler didn’t cry out for his brother - he screamed for him with every fiber of his being and it was such a heartbreaking sound. It was a scream for help, but there was no hope in it and it sounded more resigned to the fact that his brother was never coming to save him.

Jeremiah wasn't really thinking, not at first. Every movement he made wasn't a reaction of hostility, or fear or even punishment as much as it was a brutal survival instinct. Barely seeing past the blurred haze of being strangled nearly to death, his blue eyes narrowed on the movement of Tyler, and he bucked again, harder. Using all of his force in an attempt to buck the other off of him as his hand struck and pushed hard against Tyler's face and his other gripped the blond's wrist like a vice. Still struggling to catch any semblance of a breath. When Tyler recoiled from the accidental strike, Jeremiah gave a savage, sharp gasp of air. His lungs burning and face and neck an ugly, ruddy red as he shifted forward. Still confused, and using the momentum and any semblance of an advantage he could get against the man on top of him. Jeremiah knew, if nothing else, Tyler's prowess, and strength, and he still hadn't put together exactly what was going on. But he knew damned well that he needed to move fast if the asset had actually made the decision to try to kill him.

He felt the mattress heave beneath them as Tyler's back slammed into it. Barely registered the panicked, aggressive barking and howling as Boomer slammed his big body against the closed door, scratching and snarling to get in to protect his master, and as he moved instantly to subdue Tyler, his lips pulled back from his teeth in a snarl and his knees pinning the boy to the bed, one hand gripped Tyler's wrists in an unforgiving hold as the other pushed hard on his chest. "The fuck you tryn'a d-"

Jeremiah's question was cut off, and his expression shifted from slowly forming rage to abject confusion as he stared down through tangles of dove-grey hair at the way Tyler seemed to lose his fucking mind. Taking Jeremiah aback and bucking, fighting and panicking and screaming. Howling desperately for Gideon. It seemed to slowly dawn on the Executioner that this wasn't anything the boy was doing willingly, that Tyler wasn't even in his right fucking mind. That the asset was fucking terrified.

Jeremiah didn't know what to do, or really how to react. Instead, shifting forward hard. "Whoa! Whoa whoa!" He bellowed, the shout turning into a gravelly grunt as he moved quickly, the bed creaking from the pressure of the two large bodies bucking. Jeremiah shifted until he was behind Tyler, but still holding him down so the asset couldn't do much damage. The weight and heat of his chest pressing to Tyler's back solidly as his arms bound almost restrictingly around Tyler's upper arms and chest, still holding his wrists against his own chest, Jeremiah's form pinned Tyler to the bed and himself. One bare naked leg subduing both of Tyler's own as he grunted again, his breath a stole of whiskey against the scruff of the other's blond hair as he continued that one word through gritted teeth in an attempt to subdue the other without fucking hurting him.

[ofgravediggcrs-blog]

tylerward-asset:

@ofgravediggcrs

There was something off about Tyler and whatever it was, it was so subtle and disconcerting that everyone around him seemed to notice but him. For the most part, the former Ranger seemed to act like his normal self but, again, there was something off about his demeanor that made him seem a little different than usual self. He seemed to be lagging just a second behind his normal tempo but the short delay spoke volumes about how there was something definitely wrong with Tyler Ward. As the day dragged on, his fierce and volatile temper didn’t flare as quickly or as brightly as it usually did and by the time he finally reported to Jeremiah’s suite at the end of the day, it was almost as if he had withdrawn completely into himself. Unusually compliant and obedient for the Executioner, Tyler seemed to become increasingly distracted and unfocused despite his one reassurance to the older man that he was fine. But Tyler wasn’t fine and it became very clear that he wasn’t after they had fallen asleep together.

It had taken a lot of time for Tyler to become comfortable around Jeremiah and even longer for him to even consider that a tiny part of him wanted the southern man. During his waking hours and out of stubbornness, the Asset refused to acknowledge the bond he had inadvertently created with the other man but when he was asleep, his unconsciousness had him shifting closer to Jeremiah to press an arm or a leg against him. However, tonight was different. Instead of moving closer to the older man as he always did when he was fast asleep, Tyler had stayed precariously close to the edge where he pressed his arms tightly against old war wounds.

Tyler woke up shortly after midnight and it was as if he hadn’t been asleep at all. He seemed more awake and focused than he had been all day but there was an eerie emptiness in his eyes as he stared at the ceiling of Jeremiah’s bedroom. For several minutes, the Asset just laid there before he slowly pushed himself up and crawled closer to the sleeping man beside him where he lingered by his side before carefully straddling the man’s lower chest. Trapping Jeremiah’s arms between his muscular thighs, Tyler paused for a moment to stare blankly at the other, no sign of consciousness in his eyes, before slowly reaching his hands out to touch the stubble growing on Jeremiah’s neck. Watching and feeling the way it seemed to rise and fall with every breath, he waited for the Associate to be at the peak of an exhale before he suddenly tightened his fingers around his neck and bearing full his weight down on his throat.

Jeremiah had noticed something was off with the blond from the moment the other had entered his suite. There was something off, that seemed to be just radiating from Tyler in wave after wave of shifting discomfort. Something that put Jeremiah himself on edge. He wasn't the type, however, to force whatever it was out of the younger man. To talk about it, or fix it. The way Jeremiah was raised, the way he was wired.. he wasn't the type to talk something out. Being open, or even helpful. It wasn't in his nature. So he ignored it, for the most part. Figuring that if the asset wanted to discuss it, he'd come to Jeremiah.

They were both already on thin ice as it was. Neither were really willing to express any real interest in the other for fear it would be misconstrued as weakness. Both brutal, both stubborn, Jeremiah himself still nearly goddamned incapable of socializing. But they'd fallen into something.. comfortable. The asset knew his suite, well, considering how many times he'd been here. Boomer even seemed to enjoy the blond's company, and on every other rare occasion, the two tended to share a bed. Oh, they still fought, both walking away with bruises and bloodied lips more often than not, but there was this attraction Jeremiah couldn't seem to fight when it came to Tyler. Whether it was his biting temper or those blue eyes, it wasn't something Jeremiah wanted to look into. It wasn't really something he wanted to understand. They both simply seemed to allow it.

Though Tyler's silence had left Jeremiah on edge, he'd still fed him. They'd still done what they'd fallen into an almost habit of doing.. though there was strangely.. no bickering tonight. Tyler had given no biting remarks, hadn't shoved or struck out at Jeremiah.. and when he finally consented to sleep, he'd curled up as far away as possible. Something Tyler wasn't going to complain about.. or even address. Not yet. Though if it continued, the redneck thought to himself as he dozed off, he'd have to handle it one way or another. It was something he didn't fucking like.

It was the last thought Jeremiah was aware of, before darkness swallowed him.

Before he was suddenly wrenched awake with the burning of his lungs, the way his body had already begun to subconsciously fight. To struggle beneath Tyler. His eyes flew open, already deprived of air from the blond's hands around his throat. His vision blurred, blackening around the edges as he lashed out, hard. One hand gripping Tyler's wrist as the other grabbed the side of the blond's face and hs struggled and bucked hard in an attempt to get Tyler beneath him, to get the upper hand. Currently, only focused on survival.

[ofgravediggcrs-blog]

tylerward-asset:

It was taking much longer than Tyler expected for him to locate his shirt in the darkness of the storage closet and he was beginning to regret his decision of not asking the other Asset to borrow his lighter before he left - not that the boy would have, spoiled little shit. For several long minutes, the blond bumped into pretty much everything in the tiny room before he finally picked out the cotton material of his undershirt from a pile of terrycloth rags and quickly stumbled his way out of the confined space. He threw the door of the storage closet open a little more roughly than he intended and stood just outside of it naked from the waist up. Still flushed and flustered from his rather spritely romp with Ashcroft and frustrating search, Tyler took a moment to enjoy the relatively cooler air on his heated skin before he kicked the door behind him close and began hurrying towards the elevator. He had been away from the Commons too long without an escort and the Asset was hoping to sneak back in without notice until a familiar voice called out to him. 

 So much for not getting caught. 

Tyler scrunched his face in annoyance and muttered a quiet curse as he pulled his shirt completely down and smoothed out the wrinkles. “Rudd.” He bit out in greeting as he turned around to face the other man and hoped that the hall was dark enough to hide how his cheeks were still flushed from his very recent orgasm. “Isn’t it obvious?” The Asset asked cheekily as his hands tugged up the lower half of his work coveralls to keep them from slipping down his hips. Deciding that it would be better to just wear them correctly, Tyler began pulling his arms through the sleeves. “I was cleaning this floor and now I’m heading back to the Commons.”

There was something different about the asset, about his demeanor, Jeremiah could tell that much even here in the darkness as his eyes narrowed on the other through the slant of his own dove-grey hair. The man seemed.. satisfied, relaxed. Not in the same way he'd been the first night Jeremiah had left him, when he'd yanked his clothes on and stormed ouf of Jeremiah's apartment drenched.

The blond's annoyed expression, the low curse, it wasn't lost on Jeremiah, but neither were as infuriating as that arrogant little smirk as the blond tugged on his shirt. There was something different, and when Jeremiah stepped closer, he caught it. The scent of some fancy cologne, something that he'd never wear, something the asset now fucking reeked of. A scent that wasn't his. Instantly, a wave of something he wasn't entirely certain he could identify overwhelmed him as his lips pulled back to bare his teeth in a snarl. Something strangely akin to possessiveness as he closed the distance between them in several long steps. "Think y'lyin' t'me, boy." He growled, the skeptical annoyance in his tone instantly overwhelmed by aggression, anger as he leaned forward, gaze sharp, fingers fisting in the blond's half-on shirt. "Don't see y'guard. I just see you. Somewhere you ain't supposed to be, half fuckin' naked." He couldn't explain, or understand the anger he felt as he gave Tyler a short shove. "You think gettin' fucked means you can talk to me like that?" He asked, voice low and gravelly, stepping forward with the intent to back the defiant blond into the wall behind him.

[ofgravediggcrs-blog]

@tylerward-asset

Darkness. Darkness didn't bother Jeremiah. The cold did, to a point, but he'd been through worse. He'd woken up with a start the minute the lights had flickered off, in response to Boomer's low alert whine. Looking out the window and seeing what looked like the storm of the fuckin' century, he guessed that was the reason for the electricity outage and decided to get dressed and see if the brothers needed anythin' from him. Usually they sent a message, or a messenger, but his phone had zero service and he guessed any messenger might take their goddamned time to get here. After having shrugged on one of the older, tattered gingham shirts he had crumpled up on the floor and throwing Boomer the marinated steak he'd had in his fridge, he grabbed his hunting knife and hooked the sheath of it on his belt before heading out.

Jeremiah hadn't gotten more than a couple of floors out, when he caught the familiar sight of a tall blond in the darkness walking hastily in the other direction and pulling his shirt on. Jere's eyes narrowed slightly, no guard.. what the fuck was he doing out alone? And half goddamned naked. "Ward." He bit out, turning and moving toward the asset. ''Fuck you doin' on this floor?"

[ofgravediggcrs-blog]

tylerward-asset:

A low groan of approval rumbled deep within the Asset’schest when Jeremiah parted his lips for him and granted Tyler permission todeepen their slow and relaxed kiss. He delved his tongue a little deeper,savoring the faint taste of nicotine and whiskey that he was beginning toassociate uniquely as the Executioner’s, and pressed his body closer againstthe other man’s until there was no space left between them. There was a slightburn to Jeremiah’s kiss as the remnants of whiskey rolled off of his tongue andonto Tyler’s with every push and the blond was slowly finding that he liked itbecause it made the other man unique… almost special to him. It was almost asif the world had faded away into darkness and the only thing that hisinebriated mind could focus on besides the faint burn was the feel ofJeremiah’s beating heart against his lower chest. The pounding was strong andsteady and the way it echoed into his body was like a soothing lullaby. So slowand soft, the Associate’s heartbeat was comforting to the usually unruly Assetin ways that words would never be.

“Ah…” The sound that escaped Tyler’s lips was barely abovea whisper but how it sounded so content was deafening. There wasn’t a singledrop of fight or hostility in the Asset as he lazily rolled his hips againstthe other man’s and took pleasure in the growing friction between them. Itwouldn’t have mattered if Jeremiah stopped grinding his hips against himbecause the Asset, now drunk with the potent combination of liquor andpleasure, continued to slowly and rather lewdly rock himself against theAssociate. Practically riding the Executioner fully clothed, he groaned whenhis head was jerked back and felt a hot mouth against his neck. “Jere…” Tyleralmost gasped out the Associate’s name but stopped himself from uttering itcompletely as his eyes slowly drooped close. 

He didn’t know what had changed between them in the span of minutes but whatever had changed felt intense. It felt like every nerve on his body was coming to life under Jeremiah’s attention and in a way, he felt like he was drowning. With the Associate so close to him, touching and kissing him so, all he could think, hear, and feel was him. It was intoixcating - Jeremiah was intoxcating and it wasn’t because of the whiskey on his tongue. Tyler pulled down his shirt slightly, trying to give the Associate access to more bare skin, while his other hand reached for the hand on his hip. Grabbing it, he repositioned it between his legs and against his erection still nestled away in Jeremiah’s clothes and silently asked for more. 

This, this wasn't like Jeremiah Rudd at all. Even intoxicated, the redneck Executioner had more of a habit of becoming more hostile.. more brusque the more drinks he got in him. It was how he was raised. Born and bred for isolation and survival. But here he fuckin' was, all over an asset he seemed to barely know. An asset that, for all intents and purposes, fuckin' hated him. Wanted to beat the shit out of him, especially after the beating Jeremiah had given him. This, though, Jeremiah gave a low groan as the blond deepened the kiss between them, at the raw, sweet bite of the whiskey and the taste of Tyler alone. This didn't feel like the asset hated him, and Jeremiah was too drunk on whiskey and the blond to try to figure out what it felt like. What it was.

"Fuck.." Jeremiah bit out, a guttural, hungry sound at the soft sound that had ripped from Tyler's lips. The more of the boy's clavicle he bared to him by pulling that shirt down, the more Jeremiah's mouth dragged, bit and licked at the flesh there. Not satisfied until he left mottled bruises everywhere he went. At that slow, sensual roll of the blond's hips against Jeremiah's own, only serving to intensify the friction, the slow building hunger that was beginning to burn in the pit of Jeremiah's stomach. But it wasn't until the blond hissed out his name.. even in that broken little monosyllabic hiss, that Jeremiah's self-control.. or what little there was left of it, dissipated. Burned away like a goddamned flashfire.

The moment Tyler re-positioned himself, shifted Jeremiah's hand against his erection, the man snarled and the tether on his control snapped completely. The free hand in Tyler's hair was the only thing that kept him stable as Jeremiah moved. Quickly, and suddenly, spinning them until Tyler's back landed hard onto the large, comfortable couch beneath him and Jeremiah was on top of him, against him. Forcing Tyler's thighs to part even more as Jeremiah's hand cupped Tyler's cock through his jeans with a low growl and a bite that nearly drew blood, the palm of his hand dragging up and down the asset's cock, drinking in the size, how fucking hard he'd made the blond with his mouth alone. "Off." He demanded roughly, leaning back just enough so that Tyler could take his shirt off, wanting to see more.

[ofgravediggcrs-blog]

@aidenxclarke

He'd gotten Aiden's texts, that much was for fuckin' sure. Considering his phone had buzzed in the middle of a fucking hunt, alerting the unwitting associate to his presence and making his kill that much more difficult. Oh, he managed it, breaking the traitorous associate's neck only seconds after the man had tried to run. But even after he checked his phone and read the texted apology, Jeremiah hadn't responded. He wasn't the type, and he rarely if ever texted. Shit, he rarely talked at all, wasn't gonna put the effort into texting anyway.

He hadn't spoken to Aiden, not since the boy had blown up at him in and outside of the bar, and not even since the text he'd gotten the night before. It wasn't that he hadn't been affected by the boy's temper and anger, he just wasn't going to express it. And he goddamned sure wasn't going to seek Aiden out after his attempt at making peace backfired. That was why he was sitting in the same bar alone, drinking silently to himself and mulling over everything that had gone on the last week.

Until he looked up and caught sight of Aiden coming his way. Only, unlike the last time when he'd even stuck around and bought Aiden a drink, Jeremiah immediately pushed to stand. Looking to avoid the same fight he'd had with the boy last time, he threw some money at the bar, trying to make himself scarce before Aiden could get to him.

[ofgravediggcrs-blog]

mechanicmccrae:

Two nights without sleep, too scared to sleep, too anxious. Never in his life had Axel had sleepless nights that weren’t because he was doing something enjoyable. The tossing and turning probably drove his roommates insane, and he had to find a solution. Today, his favourite thing was going to be his shower, somewhere he could be alone, wash off the nightly anxiety, (and sweat), before building it all up again. This was the first shower he’d had since being there, having been a bit nervous about the group idea, but finally giving in. Once he relaxed, he started to hum Ramble On softly, once against feeling like a shower might be his safe space.

Jeremiah wasn't the type to seek out assets, at least not in the sense most associates did, and he wasn't the type to go into this part of the towel. Usually. Today, however, was a different matter. Today he was hunting. Hunting for an asset that the Macnamara's decided was more trouble than he was worth, hunting for his next job.

Slipping silently into the tiled room, his blade tucked into his waistband, just within his reach but still hidden so as to keep the other assets pacified, only this time it seemed that the showerroom was barren. Well, mostly.

The familiar tune being hummed was what caught his attention first as his gaze slanted over to the young man, though the asset's form and striking jawline seemed to catch Jeremiah's gaze a little longer. The splash of water occasionally spraying toward him, dampening sandy brown hair, though he ignored it. Standing there and watching the asset for just a moment too long through narrowed eyes.

[ofgravediggcrs-blog]

italianinferno:

“Oh really? And what’d they send me to you for?” Dante asked, raising an eyebrow. “What’s your name or can I call you tall, dark, and greasy?”

His mouth twisted, shifting into a slow, cruel grimace as his attention turned entirely from his drink. Shifting in his stool to face the mouthy little shit. “You can just call me Th’Executioner, kid. Because I’m what happens when pissants like you get too big for their britches.”

[ofgravediggcrs-blog]

i-am-not-salinger:

Marlowe’s eyes narrowed as soon as Jeremiah’s hand reached out to grab his face. He didn’t want to be touched, especially after the week he’d been through with Bellamy, but he wasn’t about to tell the man off.

The situation had gone from bad to worse in a couple of minutes and it made Marlowe’s stomach twist with anxiety. He could control it though, at least he thought so, so he took a deep breath and met the man’s intense gaze with one of his own. Was he acting dumb? He was keeping his distance, he wasn’t giving too much attitude and he sure as shit wasn’t about to try and start anything. 

Maybe it was his presence. He tended to exude a sort of confidence that seemed to translate into snark, but he didn’t feel that at the moment. He didn’t feel at all like his usual self so when he opened his mouth to speak, Marlowe decided not to say anything. 

It lasted all of a couple of seconds before he was sucking in a deep breath and sighing, “Maybe I’m not acting, mm?” 

Jeremiah lifted his hand, scratching through his hair and grunting slightly as he watched the boy's eyes narrow on his own. Such a defiant little shit-stirrer, Jeremiah thought to himself as he watched the way his words seemed to affect the young man. The way Marlowe seemed to look almost queasy when Jeremiah spoke. Jeremiah didn't usually have an issue with confidence, shit, he rarely even went out of his way to 'put an asset in their place' unlike a handful of other associates. But when that arrogance was directed to him, when it became a challenge to his own strength, or authority, that was when it piqued his interest. And his wrath.

The boy was silent for several moments, and when he opened his mouth to speak, that silence resumed.. until what the boy said next seemed almost like word-vomit. What he said had Jeremiah's eyes narrowing, and his gaze flickering over Marlowe, before he took a slow breath. "..You claimed, boy?"

[ezracastillo]

cleanup

[ofgravediggcrs-blog]

ezracarsonx:

It was like trying to corral and convince a wild animal into a transport.  The job was done, and Ezra wanted to be out of here as quickly as possible now.  He hated lingering around the bodies of slaughtered people, because lingering led to thinking about darker, unhappier things.  And thinking about those things led Ezra down paths he really did not want to go down.  Duty, duty duty - that was all Ezra adhered to; and the aftermath and grief and trauma had no place in his sort of duty to the MacNamara brothers.

So when Jeremiah slowly started to make his way to the kitchen and towards the sink,  Ezra breathed in relief.  He didn’t want to go back to the Tower, drink alone, maybe find a boy to fuck until one or both of them passed out.  Ezra needed to wind down a little first - didn’t Jeremiah?  It seemed to Ezra that Jeremiah could just switch on and off.  On - he killed.  Off - he…hid back inside whatever dark burrow he crawled out of and didn’t emerge until the next assignment.  Maybe that was how he coped, then.  Kill and complete isolation until the next kill.  Ezra wanted to find out,  peer to peer and man to man.  

And that was best done outside of the Tower, somewhere they didn’t feel the watchful eyes and ears of the MacNamaras.  Ezra was loyal but he wasn’t stupid.  He knew the Tower - even just entering it - could change a person.  

“Somewhere low key, I promise you.  Somewhere you can get a nice stiff drink, hm?  And smoke indoors, which is a plus for me.  I just don’t want to go back yet, Rudd, and I’d rather some company.  I chose you,”  he said with a slight smile, then turned and headed upstairs.  Eventually,  Ezra returned with a plain white ribbed tanktop, and then a plain black short sleeved shirt to go over it.  “There, that should fit you,  I found it in one of the men’s duffels, hm?  Go on, there’s nothing wrong with a bit of scavenging when it calls for it.”  Ezra held it up to Jeremiah with a slight smirk.  “I even took the time to find your fashion sense, I think.  It was either this, or the shirt with a giant howling wolf print on the front.”

Jeremiah just wasn't the type to get all buddy buddy with people. Never really had been, not even when he was a kid. That shit hadn't exactly changed over the years, and least of all when it came to living in a tower where it was survival of the fittest. Where anyone he even decided to get friendly with might end up being one of his next victims. And he goddamned knew this man, Ezra, must have the threat of that as well. That alone left him watching Ezra cautiously as he made his way over to the sink, as if trying to figure out an animal he'd never quite seen before, as if trying to make sense of a puzzle he couldn't really figure out.

Jeremiah pulled out the bloodied, serrated hunting knife, washing it off first, before letting it clank to the metal bottom of the sink and leaning forward. Steam rose in the air from the hot water and the scent of dish-soap began to permeate the room through the metallic scent of blood as he started to lather up his hands and arms, rinsing each of them off in the same way he did after he skinned his dinner.

At some point, Ezra had gone out of his sight, and when the man returned, Jeremiah was standing upright again and watching him, using a dish towel to pat his arms dry. "Where'd y'g-" His question was cut off as he glanced down at the shirts the man handed out. Raising his brows at Ezra, he grunted a sound that could be considered a thank you as he reached behind himself, grabbing his shirt's neck and lifting it up over his head. The stain had seeped through, marring his stomach with bits of red, but those weren't the most prominent marks. Instead, there were several ugly scars that littered his body. Tousles with hunting, jobs that had gone wrong, even an ugly, curved scar cutting along his chest over an old, faded tattoo. "Should work, alright." He stated, though there was clear appraisal in his gaze as he dropped the bloodied shirt on the ground and stepped closer to Ezra. His gaze lifted to the other man's own in the close proximity, narrowed blue eyes regarding him for a moment, before he gave a slight nod and tugged the tanktop from him, pulling it over his head. Jeremiah wasn't a verbal man, or a friendly man, but there was a wealth of respect in the slight nod he gave the other man.

"Can't imagine anything 'round here is low key." He grumbled, pulling the shirt up and over his shoulders, smoothing it down. "Y'a smoker?"

[ofgravediggcrs-blog]

tylerward-asset:

Tyler knew rejection when he saw it and in this case, he felt it as well. He saw it in the way Jeremiah had narrowed his eyes with cautious distrust and felt it in the way his lips were unresponsive to his gentle and then harder probing and for a brief moment, the blond Asset saw the Associate as rejection incarnate. The lack of a response from the other man had been a jarring and sobering experience for Tyler and he found himself keeping his eyes downcast and hooded as he started to lean back and move to sit on his side of the couch. Even he had to admit that his drunken behavior had been overly forward and familiar and he silently scolded his intoxicated mind for thinking that kissing the other man was okay. After all, they were strangers and what had happened just the other night was, in essence, a one-night stand and one-night stands didn’t kiss outside the deed… until they did. 

His spirit was titter tottering on the edge of dejection when the hand on the back of his neck roughly steered him away. Pulling him close and hard against unyielding muscle similar to his own, Tyler had half of the mind to pull away but the moment he tasted the whiskey on Jeremiah’s tongue, he was reminded of just how drunk he currently was and succumbed again. His hands immediately moved up to cup both sides of the Executioner’s face as he drew himself closer. Pressing his body against the other’s side, it didn’t take long for Tyler to discover that he didn’t quite like their current position and opted for forcing himself onto the Associate’s lap. Draping a leg over and straddling his thighs, the blond surprisingly didn’t break their intimate contact as he pressed his tongue against the seam of Jeremiah’s mouth asking for entrance.

It had taken Jeremiah only seconds to realize what was happening as Tyler's lips had pressed against his own that first time. Only seconds to react and respond, but those mere seconds felt like fucking minutes as the distance between their lips seemed to grow for several seconds as Jeremiah paused. Teetering on inebriated, teetering on hesitation and the still glowing rage in the pit of his stomach from seeing the picture of the boy he'd kept hidden away. But for some reason, instead of that rage building and forcing him to push the blond away, he found his hand curling around the back of Tyler's neck. Fingers curling into the blond hair there and gripping, and pulling him closer in a rough yank as he snarled low against Tyler's lips. The sound growling and muffled, his chin tipped up and his tongue swiped along, catching the taste of whiskey on Tyler's lower lip, a taste that only made the Executioner hungry for more.

Everything else was registered in fuzzy increments, with how goddamned drunk he was.. and the only thing that had any clarity was the asset pressed flush against him. And his scent of copper and salt and whiskey and that fucking taste of Tyler alone. And immediately, it seemed that touch, that kiss was all Tyler needed. Suddenly, he felt the blonde cupping along his face, pressing into the bristle of his 5'oclock shadow, and he grumbled in approval at the sensation. Before he could realize what was happening, though, he was being pushed back into the couch as the asset shifted to straddle him. The weight of the blond over his thighs has his own hips rolling up against Tyler's own as, when the blond dragged his tongue along the seam of Jeremiah's lips, they parted in approval. Only for the Executioner to curl his tongue along Tyler's own. Gripping the back of his head harder and kissing him hungrily, deep, his free hand lifting to grip Tyler's hip and pulling him closer as Jeremiah gave a rough thrust, forcing the other's hips to roll against his own, picking up a slow, almost languid rhythm.

After several long moments of that deep, hungry kiss, the hand in Tyler's hair yanked him back suddenly. Pulling his chin up and breaking the kiss, only for Jeremiah's open mouth to drag slowly and hungrily over the hollow of Tyler's throat, the urgency of the last time was gone and in it's place a slow, building burn.

[ezracastillo]

cleanup

[ofgravediggcrs-blog]

ezracarsonx:

“Sweet jesus…”  Ezra muttered under his breath, cigarette dangling from his mouth as he watched Jeremiah kill the last man.  But not just kill…completely obliterate him.  It was brutal and uncommon and vicious - but yes, that definitely sent a message.  One where the most cowardly and gentle souls got the worst punishment.

In this world of syndicated crime, that was law.  One Jeremiah Rudd clearly reminded everyone.

‘Weed out the weak’,  Bellamy told the Associates at the supposed ‘feast’ a few weeks ago.  Well, Jeremiah Rudd was nothing close to ‘weak’ this was certain. The man proved his point not just to the warring faction who’ll discover their executed men, but Jeremiah proved his point to Ezra as well.  He was a strange hermit fellow and maybe that was for good reason.  To be alone meant he had no one else to be accountable but himself.  Therefore he could do the job, do it well, remain completely loyal to the bosses.

Ezra had to respect that sort of delineation.  Jeremiah made it look so simple so neat.  Every man is an island, and so forth.

Except…looking at Jeremiah now, the heavy breath from the exertion required to plunge a knight through solid bone, the way Jeremiah waited to hear Ezra’s response, the sheer stoic but bestial look of the executioner covered in blood and suddenly…

…. Ezra wanted to build a bridge.

And so Ezra smiled suddenly, assuming a vague, chill sort of charm.  

“You should wash up, amigo.  Use the kitchen sink, hm?  It’s one of those huge bucket style ones, good for scrubbing,”  Ezra said, stubbing his cigarette out on the expensive table, but he pocketed the cigarette butt.  He pointed at Jeremiah.  “Because I’m taking you out for a drink.”

The low expletive of the other had Jeremiah's expression screwing up as he tried to figure out if that meant the man was angry at his choice or impressed. Lifting his free hand, his less bloody one, he scratched again at the back of his head. The thought of compliment, or praise from this man made Jeremiah uncomfortable for some reason, and he lifted his shoulders in a shrug, looking down at the prone corpse on the floor, the blade still sticking out of it's skull. After appraising the corpse for a moment, he then walked quietly to the other two he'd killed, just giving each of them a couple of kicks until they were facing the ceiling, their slit and shredded throats bare and still gurgling with the blood.

What he knew about Ezra, he knew the man had his own brand of talent. He'd heard the man had style. HJeremiah.. he didn't figure what he did was style, it was just his job. The kind of style, hell the kind of charm this man exuded just standing there, it almost put Jeremiah on edge. This man seemed to be the antithesis of what Jeremiah was. Charming and extroverted and confident. Oh Jeremiah was confident, in what he knew. Knew he could beat people to a pulp, knew he could fight and kill, knew he could hunt, shit he knew he could even woodwork, but this man gave off the kind of air like he was good at everything he tried. Probably was.

When the man's demeanor shifted, Jeremiah paused, his expression turning almos quizzical as he squinted toward the other. Eyes narrowing nearly suspiciously at the charming smile suddenly directed his way. The other's words however seemed to genuinely take him aback. Telling him to wash up. What th'fuck for? Going home? He could just throw his clothes in a pile and head to bed. When the other stated that he was taking him out, Jeremiah once more glanced suspiciously at him. "...Where to?" He asked, not saying no, but still hesitant as he took a step toward the sink. "M'clothes are all bloody too."

[ofgravediggcrs-blog]

aidenxclarke:

When Jeremiah was nice enough to take his hand off, even though it felt like he was twisting it out of Aiden’s grip, Aiden thought that was that. That now this conversation was over and they’d part ways. But Jeremiah wasn’t done.

Aiden was still sulking, even if now all of a sudden Jeremiah was saying things he hadn’t before - nicer things, but with a gruff and grumbling voice. Aiden watched him as he spoke and threw money on the counter, jerky movements like he was angry at them both for fucking up this conversation together.

When the other was leaving, he wanted to shout after him, ‘I don’t drink!’ but bit his lip because he didn’t want to make things worse. A patron a few barstools down looked at him and shook his head, like he was asking Aiden what he’d done to upset the gravedigger. Aiden just shot back a 'mind your own business’ look and waited for the bartender to come over.

Together they checked if Jeremiah had paid enough plus a generous tip and then Aiden slid off the stool and walked out of the bar to go upstairs to his apartment. He shuffled along to the elevators, bunny slippers rubbing against the carpet, and pressed the button.

He hung his head because he didn’t want to encourage anyone to talk to him. He’d already screwed up one talk, he was not in the mood for another - like a kid, not willing to risk another conversation, another lecture, another misunderstanding, another talk that made him feel like an idiot. Like one of Pavlov’s dogs, he perked up at the smell of cigarette smoke because it smelled a little bit like Ezra, but when he looked up he saw that it was Jeremiah.

“Not a very nice welcome back,” he said then when the elevator pinged, announcing that it had arrived. Because he hadn’t meant to make Jeremiah feel worse, of all things. “I’m sorry for what I said.” He didn’t know what exactly he had to be sorry for, so this was more a lackluster blanket apology for whatever had gone wrong. He just wanted to go home and not leave this hanging over their heads for next time.

Jeremiah stood outside the bar for several long minutes trying to calm himself down. Going through one, then two cigarettes in fervent, annoyed huffs of smoke. He wasn't really the type to get so easily agitated. At leas not with people he didn't know, but he knew Aiden. Well, he knew him some. Knew him better'n most. He thought maybe the kid knew him better than most too.. but the spat they'd just had. It didn't seem like it, the way the boy assumed the worst of everything Jeremiah was saying. The way he'd pulled away from his grip.

It had left Jeremiah feeling moody, hostile and fucking embarassed. It had taken him aback and left him something like vulnerable and he didn't goddamned like it. And he resented Aiden for putting him in the position. There was no denying that Jeremiah was a gruff man, and at times a goddamned hostile man, but whatever offense he'd given Aiden, he hadn't actually meant it. Granted he wasn't gonna fuckin' apologize. Wasn't in his nature, but he'd tried to make it better. Only thing was, that had made it worse.

Jeremiah suddenly tensed at the approach of someone, someone familiar, and he glanced up through the haze of the smoke filled hallway, bristling in an attempt to guard for whatever bicker was about to come next. Only it didn't, Aiden had apologized. Jeremiah's eyes narrowed at the brunette, before after a moment, he grunted and reluctantly shrugged. "Guess I wasn't makin' myself clear." He grumbled, pushing his lighter in his pocke and inhaling. "Maybe y'should kill or fuck or somethin'. Seem on edge, kid."

[ofgravediggcrs-blog]

tylerward-asset:

Tyler swirled the remaining whiskey in the bottle and quietly watched the amber liquid as it climbed the glass walls from the centrifugal force before he lifted it up again towards his lips. Taking a moment to breathe in the woody fragrance that only years in an oak barrel could achieve, he felt his lips twitch upwards into a faint smile when the smell, oddly enough, reminded him of the man sitting next to him. The Asset’s face furrowed almost instantaneously in a mixture of surprise and disapproval for making such an unintentional connection and quickly took a large gulp of whiskey in hopes that the burn would distract him. With every gulp and sip, Tyler could feel all of the worries from his day (and life) fade away until he was consumed by nothing but a pleasant buzz that had him sinking further into the couch.

Lulled into a drunken state of relaxation, it was almost sad and pathetic how quickly the alcohol had saturated his ‘weakened’ system but at the same time, it was a rather endearing sight. The Asset was all but slumped against the couch’s cushions with his upper body leaning rather heavily to one side as he seemed to struggle with keeping his bleary blue eyes open and focused on the television screen. His fingers absently trailed up and down the near-empty bottle of whiskey, no longer taking any more drinks after impressively making it four or five finger widths in, before his hand fell limply onto his lap when his consciousness suddenly slipped away into darkness. 

For just a few minutes, sleep had laid claimed over the blond Asset and without his drunk consciousness to keep him somewhat upright, he finally tipped over and into Jeremiah’s side. The short drop and sudden stop against the other man caused Tyler to jerk awake and lift his head off of the Associate’s shoulder with a confused expression on his drunken face before he looked around quietly for an explanation of what had happened. Slowly, the blond tilted his head back to regard Jeremiah questioningly but his mind was slow and distracted by the smell of wood. Was that the whiskey he was still smelling? …Or was it Jeremiah? 

Suddenly, Tyler was overcome by a strange and unusual desire: he wanted to be surrounded by that smell and somewhere nearby was a source. His nostrils flared slightly as he sniffed the air between them and unconsciously leaned closer to Jeremiah, bringing their faces close together. Clear blue eyes met stormy blue ones and for a moment, Tyler’s gaze seemed completely focused and uninhibited until they glanced down curiously at the Associate’s mouth. Slowly, almost shyly, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Jeremiah’s. It was an innocent brush of lips, at first, but when Tyler tasted the woody flavor of whiskey on the other’s lips and smelled the forest on him, he realized that he had sound the source of the smell he wanted to be surrounded in and immediately deepened the kiss.

This was nothing like the last time Jeremiah and Tyler had been in this apartment. Before, the very air around them had been charged with hostility and violent sexual attraction. Before, Jeremiah's knuckles had been bruised and bloody from how often they'd struck each other before they even came into the suite. Before, every goddamned thing the blond did pissed him off, riled him up, made him want to either pin the asset to the wall or break his fucking jaw. This time, however, this was something different. Despite the flare of temper of emotion that he'd had when confronted with the picture, there was now a somber sort of calm to Jeremiah. A melancholia that seemed to overwhelm the entire rom as he sat back in silence against the cushions of the couch, narrowed eyes looking forward. Settling on the television in an unfocused fashion until the blond had decided to take the rest of the whiskey bottle from him.

He leaned back, expression half bitter, half doleful as he watched the other nurse the whiskey until he could see the flush beginning to rise to the blond's cheeks. That.. was interesting, the man thought drunkenly to himself as he watched the asset. The way that Tyler spoke, acted, he imagined the man to have a higher tolerance than that. His blurred gaze following Tyler's fingers as they trailed along the whiskey bottle, he gave a low grunt. However when he caught th way the blond's head and hand drooped, Jeremiah reached out almost clumsily to catch at the bottle, fingers wrapping around the neck and tugging it up to his mouth to finish the bottle off.

Jeremiah tensed as he felt the way the man dropped against him, the tousled blond hair resting on his shoulder, but he didn't push him off, instead, lifting his hand to put the volume up on the television just enough to hear it. It was some sort of kickboxing match, the impact of each hit that was landed barely audible from across the room. When the boy lifted his head, seeming disoriented, Jeremiah gave another huff, feigning annoyance as he shifted back in his seat and cast the blond a slight glare. One that abated as he caught the strange look overcoming Tyler's expression. Caught the way Tyler's gaze met his own.

The asset was drunk, probably more drunk than Jeremiah.. and when the other inhaled his scent sharply, Jeremiah's fingers gripped the bottle of whiskey even tighter. Only moments later, however, the bottle dropped with a clunk to the floor as the man's gaze lowered to his mouth, and the asset leaned in. The kiss was soft, and took Jeremiah by surprise, and at first when Tyler deepened it, Jeremiah pulled back with a sharp intake of air, eyes narrowed up at the other. Only, his self control and surprise lasted for all of two seconds before the alcohol and the heady scent of the other took over and Jeremiah reached up. His hand gripped the back of Tyler's neck and with a rough, brusque tug, he pulled Tyler against him, hard. Their lips closing over one another's in a deep, almost languid kiss as his growl echoed, muffled, against the blond's lips.

[ofgravediggcrs-blog]

italianinferno:

“Yep, we became an us when I sat down. We might even become friends if I stay a while.” He replied with a smirk before grinning at the other. “Because. My story involves a boy kidnapping Daithi MacNamara and that same boy later getting taken here. I don’t think most assets can say they planned and succeeded in kidnapping one of the boss mans.”

The man snorted slightly, pushing a hand through dark hair as he cast the younger man beside him an uncomfortable glance. The other was very forward, very arrogant. To be admitting to what he’d done.. Jeremiah paused for a minute before taking a drink. “..Surprised they didn’t send me to see you.”

[ofgravediggcrs-blog]

tylerward-asset:

“Jeremiah,” Tyler repeated the name quietly to himself, testing how it felt on his tongue and how it left his mouth. It was definitely an improvement from the plethora of profane names he had for the other man in his private thoughts and he silently mouthed it one more time before nodding his head in apparent approval. Allowing the silence to settle back between them, Tyler busied himself by cutting up what was left of his steak and without permission, laid his plate on the floor next to Boomer as a sign of goodwill towards the animal. Grinning as he watched the dog look at the offering before looking up at his master for permission, the blond murmured a quiet compliment to the both of them before propping his legs up on the coffee table and making himself comfortable for a night of television, “Smart dog.”

For several minutes, Tyler paid no mind to the man next to him and kept his gaze focused on the television even as the channel changed. It was the sound of liquid sloshing over the low volume that eventually drew his attention away and the blond finally glanced over at the Associate. Catching his slightly glazed and out-of-focused eyes, he frowned with a mixture of surprise and disapproval when he realized that the bottle of whiskey was less than half full. A part of him wanted to comment on Jeremiah’s quick consumption but rather than getting into another argument, he simply reached over and took the bottle away when Jeremiah seemed too distracted to fight him for it. Examining the remaining whiskey, Tyler suddenly pressed his lips to the rim and took a large gulp of the amber liquid. Coughing as it burned its way down his throat and lit a warm fire in the pit of his stomach, the Asset scrunched his face at his first taste of alcohol in months and resorted to much smaller sips as he reintroduced it into his system and discovered his new level of alcohol tolerance.

The Executioner heard his name grumbled out from the blond's mouth and his head canted slightly toward the young man. Now, Jeremiah had a hell of a tolerance, especially when it came to whiskey, but tonight he'd already gotten a jump start, and the melancholic tone in the room seemed to only be adding to his attempt to at least get drunk enough for the sting of what happened earlier to abate. Jeremiah fuckin' knew better, especially better than to let anyone, let alone an asset, see anything other than the cold front he put up. It was goddamned humiliating. At least that's what Jeremiah told himself he was so fucking furious about.

When the blond sat the food down on the floor and Boomer gave a low whine toward Jeremiah, the man grunted and leaned forward, grabbing his untouched steak and throwing it atop the plate as well. "Eat." He muttered, leaning back as the dog happily went to town once it got Jeremiah's permission.

Lifting the bottle once more to his lips, he managed to get one drink of it before grunting harshly as it was pulled from his grasp. Blinking slightly, Jeremiah turned with a bemused, lazy expression as he watched the asset take a large drink of the strong whiskey, giving a low grunt of what could be interpreted as amusement as the man coughed and choked on the first drink. He'd been about to take it back, but instead, leaned back. Blue eyes watching in drunk interest as the man seemed determined to get as drunk as he was.