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bachibabe · 6 months

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— 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨 𝐍𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐫 ♡

synopsis: oh no! what is a cursed spirit supposed to do when he gains interest in a mortal girl? probably not make sex dolls of her, kidnap her, then fuck her until she breaks. but no one told him that!

𖦹₊┆ mahito x fem! reader

𖦹₊┆ wc: 4.5k

𖦹₊┆ warnings: noncon, dubcon, kidnapping, sex doll, cruel and unusual punishment, mindbreak, fear play, blood, biting, marking, minimal prep, cervix bruising, dehumanization (?), creampie, mahito is gross, referring to the sex doll as if it was a real person

𖦹₊┆ notes: the fic ive been writing on and off for a month… she is my baby… i have birthed her. please please please read the warnings and enjoy <33 kms if this doesn’t show up in tags

18+ → minors / blank blogs dni

Creak.

Footsteps. Footsteps right in front of you. Right in front of your safe haven.

Please don’t stop. Please don’t stop. Please keep walking. Please. If there’s any god out there please make him keep walking.

Bang.

His fist hits the desk right above your head. Fuck. Fuck. Shit. Why the fuck did you even hide? It was dumb. So dumb. You can’t get away. Maybe if you ran, kept running forever you could get away. But you can't. Not anymore. It’s too late for any of that.

“There you are, pretty doll.” His sick smile is all you see as he leans down, coming into view. He’s crazy. He’s fucking crazy. You know that. You do.

You knew from the moment he knocked on your door in the middle of the night. Practically buzzing as he rocked on his heels. His speech was slurred, manic. He’s never spoken like that before. So. . . so crazy.

You tried to be polite, you really did. You tried to make small talk, to politely excuse yourself even though your hands were shaking.

You tried to close the door on him but it just wouldn’t shut as he kept rambling. His foot shoved in the way, preventing your escape. His dirty fucking sneakers– god even now you remember them so clearly. You remember so many things you wish you didn’t.

How he fucking smiled when you looked back up at him.

It makes your stomach churn to think about it now.

You remember clearly how he grabbed you. He forced his way inside, slowly backing you against the wall. You remember how he grabbed your wrists, talked about how tiny they were in his hands. Showed you only a moment of warmth before harshly biting into the skin, red rising to the surface, coating his tongue. A sound of pain was retched from your throat, trying to pull away while his grip only got tighter. His hips forced you into the wall, trapping you. Keeping you as prey.

He said you taste delicious.

It fucking echos in your head. Makes you go insane with how it repeats over and over again. Exactly how he said the words. The lilt in his tone, the smile that made him look like he just saw the face of god. How excited he sounded at the first taste of blood.

The way you could tell that he craved more.

Craved everything you had to give.

You didn’t think demons were real before that night. Ghosts, angels– anything that goes bump in the night was just a figment of one's imagination. Maybe hallucinations. But this, this was real. How you wish this was all just some stupid hallucination.

Nothing is paranormal before you face the devil himself.

Nothing is more terrifying than when the devil wants you.

You learned that that night.

He dragged you next door, throwing you to the ground. He looked like a shadow, only a silhouette as he stood in the doorway. The moon casting a glow from behind him. You couldn't see his face, none of it was legible as you scrambled backwards. Trying, trying so desperately to put some space between yourself and the beast.

His shoulders heaved as he panted. Like a fucking monser that just got his kill.

He had.

He closed the doors. Locked them with what felt like a million keys. He started fucking giggling. Giggling like a goddamn lunatic as his demeanor changed completely. He was smiling like an innocent little kid. He was happy. The happiest you had ever seen a person before.

“Ahhh~” He sighed, glee laced in his all too cheery tone. It was like nails on a chalkboard. Speaking, churning in your ears so it's all you can hear. It mocks you. Mocks your very being. Mocks you for trying to live a normal life away from him.

You remember how he clung to you that night as you sobbed. Whining about how you shouldnt be sad, that you were home now. He’d coo, playing with your hair as he tried to ‘soothe’ your trembling body. His arms wrapped around you in a vice. It felt like he was choking the air out of your lungs.

Maybe he was trying, maybe he wanted you dead. You really had no clue. You just wanted to get away– be as far away from him as you could. You’d do anything, you told him as much. Change your name, leave the country. You promised you wouldn’t tell anybody! You would tell him anything if it meant you could leave.

But he kept you in place. Tucked in his arms. His entire body wrapped around yours, keeping you close. Keeping his face nuzzled into your neck. Smelling you. Smelling your fear.

He loves that smell.

If you let him he would breathe it in all the time, treating it as the very thing that keeps him alive. Well, until you die anyway. But he knows that won't be anytime soon! You’re strong. You're tenacious. He knows you are. You’ve dealt with so much in your life, you can deal with him too. He just knows it.

He wonders what all of your other emotions smell like.

Hmm.. What about love? That would be an interesting smell. Maybe it would be sweet like honey? Maybe bitter like chocolate… Humans are so interesting. They're so fun.

You are especially. And he knows you’ll like him too. He’s sure of it as you finally tire yourself out, falling asleep on his beat up mattress. Mmhmm crying for hours must really hurt your soul. Poor thing. He would fix it. Fix you up all nice and pretty. Yeah, he knows just how to. His pretty experiment.

Well, he thinks that’s all you are. A nice human experiment for him to play with. To learn everything about. Learn what makes them tick, what makes them laugh, what makes them cry. Kenjaku told him as much. He could keep a little human as a pet, dispose of them when necessary. But… he doesn’t want to let you go! Just the thought makes him want to cry!

You are already better than he ever imagined!

Bang.

The chair blocking your body is thrown back, assaulting the wall with a deafening crash. Your hands come up, covering your ears. Shit Shit Shit! Fuck, what are you going to do, what are you going to do?! Your body forces itself as far as it can into the corner of the desk. All you can hear, all you can think about is the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

Why are you so dumb?! You knew you couldn’t win! You never win any of his games!

He squats in front of you, blocking your only means of escape. You hear him, watch him inhale deep before letting out a sick laugh. One that makes you want to cry. One that makes you feel like trying to run– trying to hide is useless. Maybe it is. You don’t see how you could possibly get away.

The pictures covering his walls tell you everything you need to know.

“Found you.” He smiles, crawling towards your body, crawling towards your last bit of safety. He looks like a monster– he is a monster. He can’t be human. He can’t. You refuse to believe it. Your legs kick, they try to get away. They try to be your last line of defense but his face only shows that of an owner looking at a puppy having a fit. He looks so fond of you.

You want to scream.

He grabs your ankle. It hurts. Everything hurts. You should’ve become numb at this point, you wish you had. You feel your body slip out from under the desk, dragged against the hard floor. Pick you up with ease, lay you down in his bed. His gross disgusting bed.

He pouts. He fucking pouts at you. Sits in front of you.

“Don't tell me you’re jealous.” His frowns, tilting his head at you. “I didn't mean to make you! I swear! I just wanted to show you. How much I love you…how good I could make my pretty doll feel.” You could never be jealous. Not of anything involving him.

Especially not involving the putrid fucking sex doll that lays next to you in bed.

How he fucked it last night, making you watch. Made you hold his hand while he thrust into the thing. Made you cup his face as he came inside.

“How I’ve been practicing just for you.” He coos, a smile gracing his lips as he moves to his knees, crawling towards you in the bed. “Humans are hard to understand…And I really just can’t wait for you any longer.”

You don’t hear his words. Your eyes fixated on the doll that looks just like you. Every freckle the same, every mole. Every fucking tiny detail mirrored yours in a lifeless, hollow core made of silicon. Filled up with his cum. You don’t want to think about how many times he’s fucked it. How many times he’s pretended having sex with you while holding it close. How much he had to have spent to get such a thing.

How deep whatever he feels for you runs.

You swear it probably coats his veins. Running under every inch of this skin. Giving it color. Giving it life. It's all you’re able to think about when he leaves you alone in the apartments. It’s hard for you to swallow. To believe for yourself. You wish it is a lie.

You let him get close. You let him into your bubble for only a second. You allow his face into your neck. Biting your skin, drawing blood once again. He loves the taste. You think he's probably obsessed with it. You wanted to recoil away, disgusted with how he hums, lapping at the skin. But you don’t. You need to let him have this. Even if it's just for a second.

You close your eyes tight. You feel him relax. He thinks you’re giving in. You know he does. You can do this. You can do this. You may have only made this decision a moment ago as you stared at the doll, but you had to do this. You had to do it for yourself. It may be the last chance you get. You can’t stop fighting.

You can do this. You can do this.

The mantra chants over and over again in your head like a prayer. You feel his hand reach up, covering your clothed breast with his palm. Massaging it carelessly, without any thought or respect for you. In his head you’re probably the same as that fucking sex doll.

Your knee shoots up. Right into his crotch. Right where it hurts the most. Your hands shove him with all the strength in your body, getting him off of you. Getting him away for only a moment while he recovers. Maybe. Maybe you can make it out of the door. Or maybe you can make it to the bathroom and lock yourself inside. Maybe you have a chance. Just maybe.

Your body scrambles off of the bed, moving faster than you ever thought was possible. You race towards the door, arm reaching out for the handle. You’re so close. You’re almost there. You’re almost able to get away.

Freedom is within your grasp, it's so close you can taste it. He forgot to lock the door, you know he did. You didn't hear any of them click back in place when he came inside. He was too caught up in the moment with trying to find you. If you make it there then maybe, just maybe you can get outside. Run as fast and as far away as you can. Call the police and escape from him. Spread the wings he’s tried to clip.

You land flat on your face.

Not even your arms are able to cushion your fall.

A stitched hand wraps around your ankle, pulling you, dragging you again. Backwards. Back into the cage. Back to him. His chest heaves. His shoulders hunch. He looks disheveled. Crazed.

He has that fucking smile plastered on his face.

“I love it when you run. It's so pretty.” He giggles, “You know me so well.”

You kick at him, thrash your body as he pulls you closer and closer. “Get the fuck away from me!” You yell, though it falls on deaf ears. All the strength in your body is being used to get away. To try and escape from him. He can’t be human. He’s too strong. Even with your struggle he still lifts you easily, like you’re just some fucking little kid having a temper tantrem.

“I’ve been so patient…” He sighs, placing– rather, forcing you onto the edge of the bed. Your knees on the floor as your torso is pressed against the mattress. Your arms pinned behind your back with one of his hands. Your hips pinned in place with his own. You can feel his cock against you. He’s hard. “I really am patient, you know?”

He hums, gently rocking his hips against you. His entire length pressed against your cunt. Taunting you. Words are not needed for you to know what’s to come. “It’s really too bad you know? I’ve run out.”

The simple statement makes your blood run cold.

“I’ve been so gentle…so caring…” He purrs, forcing his sweatpants down his legs. Just enough for his cock to spring free. Just enough for him to be able to stroke himself. For him to press the fat head where he wants– no, no. Needs to be. “I’ve really been trying my best to be good for you.”

You wish you could see. You wish you could see everything– exactly what he is doing. What he is planning to do to your wrecked frame. If, if everything wasn’t such a surprise then maybe… maybe you could make it a little better. But like this… you’re helpless. You’re trapped. You hate it. You can’t stand it. You wish you still had more tears left to cry. But you know it’s over. You can’t do anything now.

Exactly how he wants it– wants you.

You feel him stop moving, an excited gasp resonating from his throat. His entire presence changes in a flash, giddiness taking him over as the cogs in his brain turn. Making his own story, his own reality changing all over again. “Unless, you don't want me to be good for you? You want me to take what I want? That’s why you’ve been trying to run and hide?”

His frame towers over yours, his full weight pressing against your back forcing you deeper into the bed as he mumbles into your ear. “All you had to do was say so~ ♡”

All you can do is whimper in response. Whimper like a wounded animal that's been forced to accept their fate. Your head is blank, devoid of all thoughts and feelings. There is nothing. Nothing you can do.

Maybe he’s right.

Maybe a small part of you does like it. Who knows. You certainly don’t.

He blows gently on your ear, teasing you before he leans back. Your bottoms are forced down, exposing your cunt to the entire room. You can feel him practically buzzing with excitement. With some sick pleasure found deep within his gut.

“So pretty!” He whines, spreading your cheeks to get a full view of your pretty little cunt. You hate that you’re already wet. You hate that the feeling of his cock did it to you just moments before. You hate that he can see it. You hate the way pride bubbles up in his gut. The way you can hear him lick his lips like a starved man.

Hate what the other little voice is saying inside of your head. Hate that even maybe a little bit of your soul wants to feel him. The quiet fucked up voice that you always try to scilence.

“Mm… I wanna taste you so bad but… I really can’t wait anymore… what am I supposed to do!!” You can practically hear the pout plastered on his lips. “Ah~”

The fat head of his cock finds its way back to your cunt, dragging itself up and down your lips. Milking every last bit of wetness out of your hole. Your nails dig into your own hands— maybe his. It’s hard to tell where you stop and he begins. When he’s this close it’s hard to tell much of anything.

“We have forever together don’t we?” He chuckles, his head stopping at your unprepped little hole. Attempting to push into it with just enough pressure to have you squirm. Have you bite down on the sheet to silence any sounds that might try to come through. “We can try out all sorts of fun things together~”

His thumb aids as he tries to push the head of his cock inside. Prodding, trying to force his way inside without a care in the world for how it might hurt. How it might feel for you. He’s too big— you’re, you’re too tight. You can’t take it! It won’t fit you just, just!

“Mmmm!!” A muffled cry breaks free from your throat as the head of his cock buries itself in your cunt. Your ears ring, pain taking over your senses as he lets out a mouth watering, near pornographic moan from above you.

His grip on your wrists tighten, eyes staring at where he’s fucked himself into you. Wow~ it’s so pretty. He never expected a human to feel this good! It’s incredible! Magnificent! And this is just the first inch of him? Oh my… he can only imagine what bottoming out with feel like— how it will feel when his cock is pressed against your cervi—

Wait wait!! He’s getting ahead of himself again. A gasp leaves his throat as he pulls out, a muffled whine leaving your own. Your hole clenches around nothing. What a cute little thing! It’s calling him back in!! He knew you wanted this, he knows all about you huh?

He drags his cock back and forth through your lips again, red mixing in with the pretty white. He dips his cock head over and over again into your entrance, thrusting himself deeper and deeper every time. Stretching you just perfectly around his length.

Hmm, humans like prep right? He figures that this is close enough. His doll doesn’t need it. She just takes him right away— someday you’ll be the same! He just needs to break you in! But until then, he needs to savor this… who knows when you might come around again?

Mmm… you’re too mean to him. Yeah, that’s all it is.

Ah, it’s too bad he’s too lost to notice you’re already falling apart. Your back is arching on its own. Working without permission to give him a better angle. Your hips bucking, leaning back ever so slightly as he presses into your cunt. Urging him just a little deeper. Your pussy is too wet to think about anything, your head in a daze as he teases you, taunts you relentlessly.

You don’t want this— at least you think you don’t. But, it’s so hard to know what you really want when you’re head gets like this. When it’s actually feeling good. When the pleasure mixes with pain to concoct something dangerous. Something that makes you unsure of anything really. Maybe you’re dumb, maybe you’re stupid. Yeah. You probably are. But that’s okay. He likes that.

He likes you.

He slides his cock inside of your hole, his hand moving to your ass as thrusts his hips. Forcing his cock deeper and deeper with each stroke. Your walls clenching around every inch that pushes its way inside. God, you’ve never felt so full. You’ve never felt anything like this. Anything like his cock, anything like him.

Whimpers, whines, all sorts of sounds escape your throat as you let him do what he pleases. Give into whatever twisted pleasure is being given to you. It’s hard to stop them when he’s even louder— panting like a fucking dog as he feels you. Feels every inch of you. Makes you two become one.

He fucks into you so hard it hurts. So hard that your entire body is being pushed into the bed, spine curving up to meet him with every demonic thrust of his hips. Every time the skin of his thighs meets your ass, every time the head of his cock meets with your cervix, pain racks through your body. You can’t take it. You feel like you’re going crazy. You feel like you’re the insane one.

The sound of skin against skin penetrating the sound of your ears like some sort of sick, twisted song. A song he plays so well. One you don’t want him to stop. No matter how much it hurts, how it stings you, you just can’t find it in yourself to push him away. His moans feel like a siren’s voice, luring you closer and closer, pushing you so close to the edge.

“Why’s she so mean!” He whines, his thrusts frantic and hurried. Only caring for his own pleasure, only caring about him. “Won’t let me in any deeper doll! Can you believe that?” He groans, pressing his cock so hard against your cervix you nearly scream in pain. Your body thrashes, trying to get away from the sensation.

He shushes you quietly, leaning his torso against your back as he coos. “Shh… shh… it’s okay… we won’t try that today okay? Must be too much for you… poor thing.” His hips relent, slowly rocking into your battered cunt to give you a little bit of a break. To rest before the main event.

You want to cringe at how wet you sound, how messy you’ve become due to his cock and his cock alone. How greedily your pussy takes him, urging him back with every thrust. Wanting it. Wanting him.

You see his arm reach past your head, grabbing onto your mimics hair. Pulling the doll closer. Holding its head so it’s staring right into your eyes. It’s so lifeless. So hollow.

“It’s okay.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Someday you’ll take me just like she can, yeah? You’ll be sooo~ good for me.” His hips start to pick up their pace again, thighs slapping against your ass so hard you might see stars. So hard you actually want to listen to him.

“I had to break her in too, real good.” He pants out, loosing himself in the feeling of your tight, warm walls.

You flinch away. You can’t look at it anymore. Can’t look at a face that is exactly your own yet so cold and distant. So lost. Used for months on end. Maybe a little sense comes back to you, a small part of reality seeping back into your skull.

He tsks. Fucking tsks and shakes his head in disappointment. “That won’t do… I need my girls to like each other…” He grabs your jaw, forcing you to look up at the thing. The creature with your hair and eyes.

“Kiss it.” His voice changes in a second, morphing into something commanding. Something scary. Fuck reality. Living in whatever dream you’ve created for yourself is better. Better than facing this. You don’t want to disobey. You want to listen, want him to let you cum. Maybe want his praise, even if it’s just a little.

Your lips meet with the cold, lifeless silicon. Tasting whatever disgusting leftover cum can be found on its lips. He pushes the head against your lips, forcing you to lick your tongue inside. “Adorable!!”

He likes it. He likes it too much. You can tell.

Tell by the way his hips pick up speed, forcing your used hole to take him over and over again. Forcing you to accept him into your body. Forcing you to fall for his cock. Make sure no one else will ever be able to use it. Use you like the way he wants to.

Can tell by the way his cock twitches, his thrusts becoming sloppy. His pace completely out the window as he searches for nothing but his own release.

Maybe you like it too. Like the way his cum tastes. Like the way he took this, took all of you for himself. All of you flesh as his. The coil tightens in your stomach, white specks start to form behind your eyelids. You’re close, too fucking close you just can’t take it anymore.

A loud moan leaves your lips, muffled by the silicon held against your mouth. Waves of pleasure crashing through your frame like a tidal wave of ecstasy as white paints the inside of your walls. Ears ringing, vision gone white as endorphins fill your brain making you forget— forget everything about this moment. How fucked up it is. How you want more.

Your walls clamp around his cock as it jerks in your cunt, milking every last drop of cum from him. Filling you up until you’re full. Until you can’t think anymore. Until you’re so tired you just want to collapse.

He drops the doll letting you pull your head back to finally be able to breathe again fully. Your frame slumps against the bed. Tired. Drained of everything it has to give.

He slowly pulls out of your abused little hole, watching the way it flutters around nothing. Watching the white mixed with red slowly drip out of it onto the rug. “Humans are such incredible little things…”

He smiles, shallowly dipping a finger inside your hole before popping it in his mouth. Just a little taste. “You did so good doll…” He pets your hair, gives you some sort of comfort after everything he’s done. It’s the least you deserve.

He moves your body into the bed with ease, pulling a blanket over your shaking form. A nap would be good right now. It’s always good to give humans at least one nap a day! Mhmm… and you seem like you could use one.

He moves behind you, wrapping an arm around your body from behind. Pulling you close to his chest. Making no mind to fix your clothes. This is good. This is right. It’s how it’s always supposed to have been!! Ah, and now he has all the time to make you understand that too. He’s so lucky. So lucky to have found such a good human.

“Night night dolly…” He whispers in your ear, brushing your hair gently. Coaxing you to sleep. “Let’s have a great day tomorrow too, yeah?”

Right. Cause this is forever. ♡

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steviesbicrisis · 8 months

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Steve’s best relationship wasn’t even a relationship. He could barely call it a fling, a flirt. They never even went on a date. They never kissed.

Steve still thinks of it as the best whatever-it-is he has ever had with someone.

At the beginning it was mostly infuriating, how quickly Eddie managed to win the kids over, compared to Steve’s months of work as babysitter/nailbat swinger/monster fighter. Steve had to literally bleed multiple times to get an ounce of respect, Eddie only had to run a nerdy club about fictional bleeding and monster-fighting.

Then somehow, and Steve still has trouble pinpointing when and how it happened, everything changed.

Taking the kids back home from hellfire became something he impatiently waited for.

He and Eddie would barely talk for a few minutes and he would find himself replaying the conversation in his head for days. Anything he could say to get a reaction out of Eddie became fundamental, and if he started by picking subjects to piss him off, he ended learning about Eddie’s favorites, because few minutes after hellfire were never enough and Steve needed Eddie to talk as much as possible, until the kids were begging to drop it and go home.

Steve never questioned the change, most likely out of fear. He doesn’t think he ever was clueless, just really scared about what would potentially mean to be staring at another dude’s eyelashes as he goes on a rant about why Ozzy Osbourne is the best artist of his generation. Or blush whenever said dude would call him “baby”, or “sweetheart”.

Steve convinced himself that the thing he and Eddie were having was as good as it was going to get, nothing more.

Then Chrissy Cunningham died, Eddie ran, and Steve realized that the thing will never be enough for him.

He couldn’t not have Eddie. Not watch him as he entertains a bunch of freshmen, as he stomps with his worn out sneakers on top of forniture, as he puts his terrible music on to push away anyone who doesn’t care enough about him to stay.

Steve needed to see Eddie being alive, doing what his heart desires, and he needed to be next to him when he does.

Obviously, this realization came at the worst possible time.

Steve tried to tell him so many times: when they found him at the boathouse, when he was hiding at refer Rick’s house, when they were taking a stroll in the upside down, and even when they were driving a stolen trailer to a gunshop.

But, it seemed, Eddie had come to a realization just as important and he tried his best to avoid Steve at every given chance.

Steve tried to initiate the conversation as Eddie did his best to run away from it. And he ran until Steve had no chances left to tell him how he actually felt.

———

Steve doesn’t know if he’s allowed to say he lost something he never had. To mourn a relationship he never began. A partner that, technically, never became a partner.

After Eddie dies, Steve has no one to be next to but he can’t say he ever did.

Steve just exists waiting. He can’t tell if he’s waiting for the pain to go away or for Eddie to jump out of a bush and yell “ah! I got you sucker!! By the way, I’m in love with you too.”

For obvious reasons, that never happens.

What does happen, is a call.

It’s a normal Tuesday, as normal as you could define it after Hawkins almost collapsed into the upside down. Steve got into a routine, between checking on the ones at the hospital, helping out at the shelter, allowing Robin to check on him to see if he’s still alive.

The call happens while Robin is doing her kitchen check up - aka making sure he has food and that he’s eating it-, so she picks the phone like she did a million times before.

“Harrington residence, this is Robin” she says, cheerfully.

Steve doesn’t pay much attention to it as he’s folding his dad’s old clothes that intends to donate to the shelter, until he hears Robin’s loud gasp.

“What is it? Is it the hospital? Is it Max?” He rushes to the other room where Robin is.

She doesn’t answer but she gives him a look as she passes him the receiver.

Steve goes quiet, a million thoughts going through his head as he takes the phone from Robin.

He’s still unprepared when he hears that unmistakable voice “Baby”.

Steve gasps for breath “Eddie?”

Is that really you? What happened? Are you hurt? Isn’t this impossible? Is what goes on in Steve’s head, but he ends up just asking “are you okay?”

He can hear a chuckle, Eddie’s wicked chuckle, a further confirmation that it is him, “I’m- hanging in there… are you okay?”

Steve finds the question absurd. He isn’t the one who got left in the upside down, the one that got eaten by demonic bats, the one who died before Steve had the chance to tell him how he felt.

He answers truthfully nonetheless, “I’m… I’m not okay.”

“I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

“Please Eddie, come quick.”

“I’ll break the sound barrier for you.”

#if you can’t tell #im in my RWRB era #if you watched the movie then you might like this?#just felt inspired honestly #that ‘baby’ lives inside my head rent free #also Kas Eddie we always love to see him #basically Eddie and Steve got close during the school year but Steve realized his feelings only during the events of season 4 #Eddie dies but comes back #because this is the only way I can cope with it #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve and eddie #stranger things #steve x eddie #platonic stobin #robin buckley

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jpitha · 6 months

Text

They’ll eat what?

A Telmurian is walking around the promenade on the station, talking to their family on their pad.

What was that? Your signal is pretty weak. Oh! Yes, they have humans here.

I know. Their planet has a really big moon, they won’t stop telling everyone they meet. Yes, they told me about it at least three times. I saw the photos, it’s pretty big I guess.

Yes, they’re strong. I remember the time that human from the helm picked up two Sefigans and carried them around on his arms. I didn’t tell her, but I was impressed. Why didn’t I tell her? I don’t know.

They also have odd thought processes. Remember that story about the one that learned that the water filters were the same as the outer compensator on the FlashWarp drive? They still teach us to check other parts for commonalities like that. The Sefigans are building a whole reference of parts that can be exchanged for other parts.

They walk around, oblivious to everyone else on the promenade. A Gren glares at them, and clacks their mouthparts irritatedly. They are speaking loudly. They walk on, oblivious to the disruption they are causing.

I didn’t call you to talk about any of that stuff.

I just learned about their ‘food.’

Did you know they don’t have a specific food? They don’t have one or two or even three items that they consider food, they have hundreds.

Maybe even thousands.

They stop and stare out a window and are silent for a few moments.

Not only that, but they combine them in so many different ways. Even wilder, they have modifiers to their food. Can you believe it? They have things that aren’t technically food that they add to food to make it ‘taste’ different. They’re called spices or seasonings.

I know! Have you ever heard of such a thing?

They have this thing called ‘taste.’ It’s a whole sense for them! It’s what enables them to try and test foods and discover ones they like and reject ones they don’t like.

I have a hard time with it, to be honest. Imagine, food you don’t like. It’s food right? By its very definition it’s something you consume to survive.

They clack their wing covers together, like a sigh. A Sefigan sitting at a cafe near them makes a gesture, like they’re trying to shoo them away.

Not for the humans I guess. They have whole careers, whole philosophies, maybe even whole religions about food and its preperation.

I read about the first time some humans came onboard a Coalition ship. They asked where the kitchen was and when we said “the what” it was like you unplugged them. They just stood there with their mouths full of their scary sharp teeth open in surprise.

I imagine we had a similar face the first time they showed us a kitchen. Imagine, a whole room, a whole part of the ship that was turned over to their pursuit of food.

That’s another thing! They can get bored of food. Whoever heard of such a thing. It’s food! You eat it, you feel full, you continue with your day. That’s like… like being bored of breathing.

Have I tried any of it? I mean, so much of it is straight up poisonous to us. No, you’re right, some of it isn’t.

All right fine. Yes. I tried one. There was this one, it was something they called a cookie. It was made of something like ten ingredients all in very precise measurements, then mixed together and shaped into balls and cooked at a high temperature. How did they ever come up with that?

The cookie? I don’t know, it was fine I guess. I didn’t get sick. I guess I can’t taste like they can it wasn’t much of anything, just food. I didn’t want to hurt their feelings so I said I liked it. They gave me four more! I didn’t know what to do with them. They’re still in my room.

Okay, yes, I love you too. Tell the rest of the crèche I said good evening.

They disconnect the call and look up. There’s a group of humans sitting down at a human style cafe eating. One of them looks up at them. Their large wet eyes seem impossibly deep. In the corner of them, wetness wells.

“You didn’t like the cookies?”

#writing #humans are space orcs #sci fi writing #humans are deathworlders #humans and aliens #jpitha #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are space capybaras

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unoislazy · 5 months

Text

I lied to all of you, Hiccup later, Mizu now!

Spar With Me

Mizu x Reader

Disclaimer; Possible spoilers.

Mizu will be referred to as “he/him” since the reader won’t know her secret at this point in time.

I can’t guarantee this will be completely in character, I’m still learning more about the characters so bear with me.

Part Two

Part Three

————————————————————

You had been traveling alongside Mizu and Ringo for a fair amount of time. You had been haphazardly picked up along the way, very much to Mizu’s dismay. The only reason you were allowed to tag along was your fighting skills. Your skills were no wear near Mizu’s level, not many people would be, but you were able to do enough that if the need arose, you’d be able to form some sort of protection for yourself and possibly Ringo.

But you wanted to learn more.

You didn’t want to do like Ringo and become a Samurai, it should be clear to anyone that Mizu was not a samurai, you wanted to learn how to fight. Throughout your travels with the two you watched how the man practically danced with a sword, the elegance as he leapt through the air and sliced up men with ease. The sword seems to be a sort of extension of him, of his arm, or his heart. When he wielded the sword it was like they were connected more than just physically.

You didn’t understand it well but you wanted to learn.

You had your reasons for wanting to fight. You didn’t want to learn in the name of tyranny or even greed, you wanted to learn to prevent a situation from happening ever again.

When you were younger, you certainly weren’t the most popular kid in your village. You never truly did much to attract attention so people often never really batted an eye to your presence. However, that meant no one truly noticed when you would walk around with several visible injuries some days after being picked on by some of the other village kids.

They didn’t pick on you for any other reason than they were bored and they knew they wouldn’t face any consequences if they went after you.

And they were right.

You tried your hardest to fight back but they were always a step ahead of you. So from then on you knew you wanted to learn how to fight, if not to protect yourself then maybe to have the hopes of one day protecting someone else.

You all continued to travel in complete silence, the snow lightly crunching beneath yours and Mizu’s feet. The only thing giving away Ringo's position was the bell that was wrapped around his foot. You looked down at his bell and smiled, it was almost like putting a collar on a pet, it was kind of funny to you. Ringo turned to you, noticing you looking at the bell and he excitedly smiled.

“Do you like it? Master gave it to me, he says I’m too sneaky so now he knows where I am at all times!” He loudly exclaimed, you think he was trying to whisper but he was obviously doing horribly at it. Mizu, who was walking a few steps ahead of you two, gave you a slight glance over the shoulder. You didn’t really notice as you were still smiling at Ringo, you enjoyed his ever optimistic demeanor on everything, it was so different from everyone else’s dreary lives and it gave you a reason to smile.

Ringo leaned over to you, trying his best to lower his voice but he still said everything quite loud.

“Maybe master will give you one too! That way we can both be sneaky apprentices.” He whispered, causing you to burst out laughing.

“Me? Get a bell?” You laughed before continuing, “I’m not going to call the man my master, I have no reason to.” You stated pretty plainly, which obviously confused Ringo.

“You want to learn how to fight, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“And you want to learn from Mizu, right?”

You nodded your head agreeing with him before realizing what he was getting at.

“So then Mizu is your master!”

“Woah, no way.” You argued, now crossing your arms with your head raised high.

You had your issues with calling some man your master. Especially one that barely gave you the time of day. Plus, if it wasn’t for your persistence and Ringo's persuasion, he would’ve left you on that street corner where he found you.

But he didn’t.

He instead let you travel along like a stray dog, following him around on his dark mission that you felt no need to ask about. You had talked to him maybe a handful of times before but he clearly didn’t want to give you the idea that he wanted you around. You were welcomed here, but with very cold and rigid arms instead of nice warm ones.

You might’ve been following him like a stray dog but you’re no pet.

And so you refuse to get that stupid bell.

“Why don’t you want to be Masters apprentice? I’d say it’s very fun, I get to do stuff for him all the time!” Ringo said, it was obvious he was trying to persuade you in some way.

“Well my friend, I think that position is occupied, number one. And number two, I want to learn how to fight, that’s it. I don’t want to learn the ins and outs of being a samurai. I’m simply hoping Mizu will teach me, as a friend.” You explained, it seemed this finally clicked with Ringo, but then you watched as his face contorted into more confusion by your answer.

Before he could ask, Mizu abruptly turned to the both of you and simply stated,

“It’s getting late, we should rest here.”

You both nodded as Mizu walked off in some random direction with Ringo following him. You however, took a moment to just stare at the already dark night sky. You hadn’t realized just how long you had been traveling, and you were a bit peeved that you had missed seeing the sunset. Although it’s not like you would’ve really been able to see it anyways, you were currently deep into a forest, surrounded by hundreds of trees with no clear direction in any which way.

Speaking of not knowing your direction, you quickly looked back down and spotted Ringo, quickly following after him as to not get left behind. If they had left you you would’ve been screwed, you have no idea where you are, or how to get out of the forest, not to mention there’s usually many dangers in the woods that you’re not yet prepared to deal with.

It didn’t take long for a fire to get set up and for Ringo to start cooking. He might not have made the world's best soba, but you’d argue it was pretty high up there. You and Mizu sat quietly by the fire, not really saying a word to each other as you stared at the scorching flames before you.

You wanted to ask if you could try training, while you’re both not doing anything, you wanted to try.

But you were almost afraid of Mizu. His stoic demeanor often sent shivers down your spine especially when he had such a stern tone of voice.

Well it’s now or never.

“Hey Mizu?” You began. You could see him just barely out of your peripheral vision. He turned his head ever so slightly to look at you, but you didn’t want to look back as you continued,

“Before Ringo finishes the food, would you mind sparring with me?” You asked. Mizu stared at you for a moment before looking back to the tree he had been looking at before. Maybe he was thinking about his answer?

Your eyes slowly crept over to look at him from the side. He didn’t really make a move to give you an answer, he simply sat there, thinking.

“It can double as extra training for you. Obviously not to your level, but you can use me as a warm up.” You persisted, now fully looking at him. You stared at him for a moment, he was probably in the most relaxed position you ever have, or ever would see him in. He rested one of his arms on his knee with his back against the tree trunk that lay behind himself. His dark hair was in its usual top knot and his glasses remained on and pushed up.

You didn’t know why he wore those glasses, you had never seen him take them off, and you had never seen behind them. Maybe he just really enjoyed wearing them, maybe a family heirloom?

Well, from what you knew about the man, his family definitely wasn’t something he’d want to honor with an heirloom. Plus, they seemed more of a newer style of glasses so there goes that idea.

After staring for what was in reality, maybe ten seconds, you looked away. If he wasn’t going to train you then who was, why were you even here if he wasn’t going to give you a chance. Were you seriously just along to be Ringo's makeshift bodyguard? Seriou-

“Fine, get up.”

You looked confused, being snapped out of your thoughts so abruptly had you thinking you completely made up what you thought you just heard.

“Do you want to learn or not?” Mizu asked, now standing before you, looking down at you as he waited for your answer. You nodded eagerly, quickly standing up and following Mizu just a little ways away from the fire.

It wasn’t like the forest was pitch black, you could still see thanks to the bright moonlight, it was just a little bit harder.

Mizu stopped in a little open area, just enough room for a fight to take place. You looked back, seeing that the fire wasn’t too far but It was enough that you couldn’t exactly see what Ringo was doing because of the trees that blocked your vision.

You stood a little ways away from Mizu, getting into a fighting stance, unarmed. You knew how to use a katana and naginata very loosely, but you wanted to just start with hand to hand. You knew Mizu could easily kill you if he wanted to regardless of what the fighting style was, but you trusted him even the slightest bit to not commit to ending your life.

Now you both stood quietly before each other. Both in fighting positions as you waited for the other one to move. If you were to attack first you were far enough away to give Mizu time to counter you. If Mizu attacked first, you might have time to counter or dodge but you weren’t going to get very far.

So, without another thought, you charged at Mizu. He waited for a moment before doing the same, and just as you were about to swing, he threw snow right in your face.

“Hey!” You shouted, wiping the snow out of your eyes before looking up and seeing Mizu sending a punch right for your face. You successfully dodged underneath and swung your leg to send Mizu off balance.

“You must be ready to use all the elements to your advantage.” He instructed, easily jumping out of the way of your kick and backing away. You quickly got up, dodging another one of his kicks before going in for a punch. You sent too much momentum into it which left you way too open and vulnerable leading Mizu to easily knock you off balance.

It was clear he wasn’t going to hurt you, just humiliate you for your lack of understanding of how to fight.

You fell to the ground, looking up at Mizu who was just staring at you, waiting for you to make your next move.

You two continued to fight for some time and you honestly could have sworn that you saw him smile a few times. Sure it might’ve been at your expense but you still felt proud enough to achieve such a feat.

You were slowly but surely getting the hang of it as you went.

Or so you thought.

You had gotten yourself into a position where you had a full plan of attack, but it seemed like Mizu was already eight steps ahead of you because with one simple move, he had knocked you down, now pinning you to the cold and snowy ground.

You struggled beneath his grip, trying to find a way out to attack but it was no use. He was indeed a lot stronger than you.

“Stop fussing, you lost.” He stated with what you could have sworn was a teasing smile. Fighting really brought out a different person in Mizu and honestly you didn’t mind it. It felt as if you two had finally started to get to know each other, even if it was just through a series of dodges and snarky remarks. It took you a few moments to realize he was actually straddling you, very tightly one might add. His hands were firmly holding down your hands and it was clear he was not going to budge.

You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed by the current situation you were in. It was nothing short of humiliating to practically beg to fight someone only to wind up underneath them, but you also couldn’t help but admit you also felt embarrassed for other reasons.

You looked up at him, and it was just then you noticed that his glasses had fallen off. You didn’t know when, you didn’t know where, all you knew was now you were staring at a pair of bright blue eyes that seemed to be watching you in amusement.

He watched as your face changed from a sour expression to one of confusion,

“What’s wrong, can’t handle losing?” He teased, nearing you ever so slightly.

That was until you muttered,

“Your… eyes.”

With those two words, Mizu’s amused expression dropped suddenly and he jumped off of you and faced away in a matter of seconds. He quickly grabbed his glasses that had gotten thrown off during one of his many expert maneuvers.

You sat up, now staring at the back of the makeshift samurai who didn’t utter another word.

You had heard stories of ‘the demon eyes’ when you were a kid, everyone did. You might’ve believed those stories when you were younger but here stands someone with those ‘demon eyes’ and you saw nothing more than just a very scarred individual. Sure, Mizu was scary good at wielding weapons, but that wasn’t some demonic power, that was pure skill, and you admired him for it endlessly despite never wanting to admit that outloud.

You both sat in silence, you leaning on your hands and Mizu, sitting with his legs crossed and his back towards you. After a moment of just sitting you took a breath in, as you did so you noticed Mizu’s head lower ever so slightly as if he was preparing to hear or feel something he had heard before.

Your eyes softened as you stated,

“Your eyes… they’re very pretty.” You complimented. You could see Mizu freeze for a moment as you stood up, walking just up behind him.

You couldn’t imagine the amount of stuff he had gone through throughout his life, having to deal with people treating him differently for something he couldn’t control. You didn’t need his whole life story to know it was probably rough. It didn’t take a genius to know that considering where you are, sitting in the middle of the woods as the man before you continued to try to track down certain people for a reason unbeknownst to you.

Mizu continued to sit in silence as you kneeled down just behind him, you reached out your arm to touch his shoulder but you hesitated for a moment. Maybe you shouldn’t, maybe you should just leave him alone, it’s clear he is not comfortable.

You just wanted to show him some kind of comfort, even if it was just in the sense of one little shoulder touch, so that’s what you did. Your hand ever so gently rested on his shoulder before you quietly muttered,

“I mean it.”

Mizu’s head ever so slightly turned towards your direction, but before he could say or do anything you took your hand off of him and quickly stood up, quietly rushing back to Ringo who was still carefully preparing your food.

It was only a few more minutes before Mizu followed behind you, making his way towards the fire. Neither of you mentioned what had just happened and you continued to sit in silence just as you had done before. It was as if all the progress you had made to getting to know him while fighting, had gone down the drain.

Until you heard him quietly mutter,

“Thank you.”

#mizu x reader #mizu blue eye samurai #blue eye samurai #blue #blue eyes #x reader #x gn reader #netflix #idk how to tag this #i love her #my wife #fanfic #fanfics #fanfiction #blue eye samurai fanfic #blue eye samurai x reader #ringo blue eye samurai #sparring #unoislazy

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darlingshane · 6 months

Text

Todo Tuyo (All Yours)

Pairing: Criminal!Shane Walsh x Spanish!Pregnant!Reader

Summary: Some bonds are unable to explain, and yours with Shane has always been a mystery. No matter how many times he's hurt you, you always ended up taking back his sorry ass. This time, after three years gone, when he comes back, you're married and pregnant. And not even that can challenge that bond.

Content/Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Heavy Angst, Smut, Pregnancy Kink, Breeding Kink, Oral Sex (f. receiving), Vaginal Sex, Complicated Relationships, DV, Abuse, Mention of drugs and violence, bittersweet ending.

Word Count: 10.9k

— Read below or at AO3.

A/N: A few important things you should know before reading since I couldn't sum it all up:

— The DV and Abuse warnings don't apply to Shane. — Reader's husband is the abuser. — This is kind of a Dark!Shane version, but he's soft for reader, I promise! — I wrote this as a Spanish!Speaking Reader. — Shane is fluent in Spanish. He learned for her. — I tried to keep Spanish down to a few sentences only, but I translated them all in (bold, italic parenthesis like this). — I won't be translating however all the pet names, just when I need to. But for reference – Shane calls reader 'Corazón' (it means heart, it's the equivalent of Sweetheart) and Reader calls Shane 'Cielo' (it means sky, and it's just like Sweetheart or Honey.)

“What the hell are you doing here?”

You only cracked the door as far as the chain on the lock let you. Through it, you could only see half of your ex-boyfriend's face shadowed under a worn-out baseball cap from Jim’s Body Shop. A handful of curls stuck out on the sides. His chin had a nice shadow from a three-day stubble, and the bags below his eyes gave away that he had been up for longer than he should have. He was still the hottest motherfucker you’ve ever laid your eyes on. No matter how much time had passed since the last time you saw him, Shane Walsh aged just like wine and all you wanted to do is pour yourself a cup of that.

That’s how strong was his hold on you.

You didn't have to be a genius to see that he wanted something from you. That was his MO, he only showed up when he was in trouble and had no one to turn to but poor old sucker you, who never had the guts to kick him to the curb.

“I need a place to stay for a couple of nights,” he said under a breath.

“Things have changed. You can’t stay here this time.”

“Look, I know it's been a while but–”

“A while?” you scoffed. “It's been three years, Shane.”

“I know that. But I don't really have anywhere else to go right now. I drove all the way from Wyoming just to see you. One night. That’s all I'm asking, Corazón. I won't get in your hair. I promise.��

You hated saying no to him, even after all this time. Even after all the times he's let you down, you couldn’t stand seeing him hurt with nowhere to go, but this time there was nothing you could do to help him. Except…

“I could get you a room at The Sennott for half off. If you need money…”

“No, keep your money. I'll work something out. Could I…”

“What?”

“Before I go, you think I could have a cup of coffee with you?”

You shook your head as his face leaned closer to the door frame.

“C'mon, baby, just one for old times,” his plush lips barely mumbled.

You caught a glimpse of those big, sad puppy eyes of his he pulled off so well. Whether it was genuine, it didn’t matter. The fact is that it worked like a charm and against your better judgment, you sighted, unlatched the chain and welcomed him into your home.

After all that time gone, you still had a soft stop from him, and you doubt that’ll ever change. Alas, he’d always be the man you’ve loved the most. That sucks for you and for him. Cause he has a tendency to disappear on you when you most need him, and after the last time, you decided that you wouldn't be waiting for him anymore.

“Wow, you’re pregnant,” taking off his cap, his eyes grew wide when he stepped inside the house.

“No me digas.” (You don’t say.)

It was hard to miss. You were seven months along already and couldn’t even believe it happened so fast.

Your palm drew the curve of your rounded belly over the t-shirt you were wearing. The hem barely touched the top of your thighs, and that’s where he looked next.

“You always had beautiful legs, Corazón,” he smirked, placing the backpack he was carrying on a chair.

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” you turned around and thought about all those times your thighs were wrapped around his head while he ate your pussy.

“It never did,” Shane scoffed, fixing his messed up curls.

You picked up the carafe from the machine, filled a mug with coffee without even bothering with heating it up.

“Five minutes. He’ll be here soon,” you said firmly, handing over the mug.

“I’ve always liked it cold anyway,” he lifted the cup up to his lips as you leaned on the counter. “You’re not having any?”

“It’s not good for the baby.”

“Oh, right.”

“What have you been up to, anyway?”

“Do you really wanna know?”

“Not really,” you crossed your arms and paused. “I guess I thought I deserved to know why you didn’t come back when you said you would. I saw Rick a few months ago and said he hadn’t heard of you in a while… led me to believe you were dead.”

“Shit happens.”

“Shit happens? Me lo merezco por preguntar,” you couldn’t hide the frustration in your tone. (I deserve that for asking.)

“I thought you’d be over me.”

“I am.”

“Ain't seem like it.”

“Mira, cabrón,” you showed him the ring around your finger, and pointed once more at your pregnant stomach. “I’m completely over you.” (Look, bastard.)

“That doesn’t prove shit. Looks like you wanted to one-up me, and move on as fast as possible so next time I’d show up, you’d have an excuse to throw me away.”

“Yeah, maybe. Doesn’t mean that I’m not over you.”

“You were always a terrible liar, you know that? Do you even love the poor sucker?”

“Why do you care?”

“Cause we both know, that no matter how much you hate me, you’d never love anyone as you love me.”

“That’s bullshit, Shane.”

“Sabes que es verdad, Corazón. You also know that no man would ever care for you like I do.” (You know that’s true, sweetheart.)

“If that were true, you wouldn’t be leaving every five minutes. You think you can just come here like nothing happened?”

“It's worked before.”

“It’s too late now.”

“Is it?”

He took one more sip from his coffee before placing the mug on the breakfast bar and going around it to have you closer.

As your stare fell to the floor, he noticed the bruise on your temple.

“Hey, what happened here?” he lifted his hand to your face and gently touched it.

“Nothing,” you swatted his hand away, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I hit my head with the cabinet last night.”

“Did he hit you?” His brow knitted.

“I told you. It was the cabinet.”

“Hey, mírame,” he placed a finger under your chin, and tilted up to capture your watery eyes. “Dime la verdad. ¿Te ha puesto la mano encima?” (Hey, Look at me. // Tell me the truth. Did he lay his hand on you?)

“Tienes que irte.” (You gotta go.)

“¿De qué tienes miedo, Corazón?” (What are you afraid of, Sweetheart?)

“No tengo miedo de nada… You just can’t be here when he comes back.” (I’m not afraid of anything…)

“Alright, I’ll go if that’s what you want, but I need to do something first,” he lifted his hand up to your face and framed your chin.

“Shane… don’t…”

“Sh, sh, it’s okay,” he said under a breath, placing his thumb gently on your lips.

“Please,” You weakly pleaded, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to stop what was about to happen.

His tongue swiped across his lips, and the next second they were gently pressed against yours.

Your eyes welled up and quickly shed a few tears upon that first initial contact. It didn’t take much to get you under his spell once more, for the umpteenth time. No matter how many times you’ve tried to convince yourself how fucking toxic he is, you fell for it every damn time like an idiot. It didn’t matter that you were married either, as bad as it sounds, what you and Shane had was something that couldn’t be stopped by any means. Only death could put an end to it. It didn’t help either that you weren’t on the best of terms with your husband either, so guilt went out the door the moment you let Shane in.

Unable to pull away, you let him deepen the kiss and invade your mouth with his tongue. He went slow and tender. That’s how it always started, he’d play on your good side, and once your defenses were down he’d go in full swing. He’d breathe in your air, soak in the taste of your mouth, take all the space until you were left breathless.

You linked your arms around his neck, and kissed him back, following the sweet undoing of his familiar lips as they fused tightly with yours.

When he tried to press himself closer to your body, your pregnant belly got on the way.

One of his palms tenderly landed on top of your stomach and drew the big curve that was keeping him away from you. Your heart fluttered as the small gesture.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are like this?” he broke the kiss, and looked down at his hand, while your head responded with a faint shake. “Eres preciosa, mi vida. I’d’ve put a baby in you before if that’s what you wanted.” (You’re gorgeous, my life.)

“I know, that’s why I never asked,” you placed your palm on top of his roughed-up knuckles. “Have you beaten up someone?”

“Something like that.”

“You’ll never change. Will you?”

“I could if you ask me.”

“You are who you are, Cielo. I can’t ask you that, and you can’t change for me.”

“Cielo. I missed that,” his face beamed, framing your tummy with both hands and dipped to kiss your forehead.

“One more for the road?” You held his face, and it was you this time the one capturing his mouth.

You kissed him as if this was the last time you’d ever see him. You needed something to hold onto. It was so fucking naive of you that he’d ever change or settle. He had another mistress, one that had no lips or body or soul that led him to the darkest of paths far away from yours. It was impossible to compete with that. Until he was ready to let that life go, there’ll be no future between the two of you.

Maybe one day, you kept hoping as you basked in the swirl of his tongue. He was so fucking needy and hungry for you, it became desperate. He panted in your mouth, had trouble catching his breath cause all he wanted to do is swallow you all.

His hands moved to your ass, gripped hard at your flesh. You wish you had the power to stop all that at once. You could, but you wanted him just as much. Your hormones were not helping either. They only fueled the flame that was still clearly alive between you.

You moaned in his mouth, as the sloppy doing of his tongue drove you out of your mind. One of his hands reached further down your bottom, slipping between your thighs to feel the dampness pooling on your underwear. He always knew how to get you wet with just a kiss, but this was something else entirely. You were sopping wet. He could feel your juices seeping through the fabric.

“Say that you don’t want me again, I dare you,” he drawled with a shit-eating grin.

“Shut up. I need you to fuck me,” you sucked in his lower lip hard between your teeth, tugged it, and let it go when it was bright pink.

He scoffed at your request, not of mockery but pride of being still able to incite you like that.

“We don’t have much time. You have to do it fast,” you warned and turned around, pushing your panties down to your ankles as he undid his belt and fly.

“Your wish is my command, Corazón.”

Shane quickly pulled out his cock. It was half hard.

Biting on your lip, you glanced over your shoulder to see him jerking himself off up to a firmer completion.

You stuck your butt out and propped your forearms on the hard surface of the counter, as Shane guided his cock oh so carefully between your tender lips.

“I’ve never fucked a pregnant woman before. I don't wanna hurt you,” he confessed in your ear as his hardness stroked just a little further into your walls.

“Don’t overthink it. Baby’s safe. Just fuck me like always.”

“Hmm,” he followed your order and after a couple of experimental thrusts, the pace of his hips skyrocketed to a punishing level that felt like heaven and hell rising at the same time between your legs. He kept your hips locked in his hands, fingers digging in your flesh as you tucked one of your hands between your legs to feel your juices leaking all over your legs and floor. It was like nothing else you’ve ever felt. Most of it was partially hormonal, the other part was a mix of being touch-starved from your husband, and missing Shane, and his cock like crazy.

You rubbed your clit and all of a sudden one of his hands slipped under the hem of your shirt at the front to feel your breasts.

“Fuck, you’re so big and juicy, mi vida,” he grunted, squeezing your overly-sensitive, pebbled nipple that felt like a rock between his fingers. His face leaned closer to whisper in your ear. “I’d put another baby in there if I could. You’d like that?”

“God, I would love that,” you moaned, throwing your head back against his shoulder. “Come inside me, mi amor.”

“Yeah? Tell me you love me, and I’ll give you anything you want.”

“I love you, Cielo,” you gasped as he removed your hand from your pussy to replace it with his own. “I fucking love you and your big cock. Please. Hmm, fuck… fuck, fu…”

“There, mi vida.”

You felt your soul being pulled out of your body when the winning push forced a torrent of pleasure that traveled over your body as your opening contracted around his dick. You went up so high, so fast, you almost didn’t feel when he shot his load.

When he slipped out of you, you quickly went down to pull on your panties back in place. You almost felt embarrassed at the mess that you made on the floor and all over the cabinets below the counter if it didn’t feel that good.

“You really have to go now,” placing a palm on his chest, you glanced out the window, knowing that your husband wouldn’t take much longer now.

“I wanna see you again.”

Your eyes welled up. “We can’t do this again, Shane. If he finds out…”

“Please,” he pleaded over and over in between a trail of desperation and kisses peppered all over your face and neck. “I can’t live without you, mi amor, mi cielo, mi corazón. Te necesito.” (My love, my sky, my heart. I need you.)

“Shit. Alright,” you paused to collect your thoughts. “Come tonight. After ten. He’ll be gone the whole weekend. If there’s a truck on the driveway you turn away.”

“Got it.”

“Leave your car at the end of the street, you walk all the way here, and come at the back. ¿Entendido?” you pointed at the back door in your kitchen. (Got it?)

“Alto y claro.” (Loud and clear.)

“C’mere, Cielo,” you wrapped your arms tightly around him, and inhaled the smell of his neck for a long moment before sending him in his way.

You went into the bathroom to clean yourself up and saw his seed had dripped from your pussy to your panties. It was still warm and wet. You dabbed your fingers on it and shamelessly brought it to your lips to remember how his cum tasted. Then you pushed those same fingers into your opening to pick up the remains of you and him and licked every bit of it off your digits.

You hated that he had turned you into this mess of a woman that couldn’t ever resist him. Some bonds are unable to explain, and as much as you hated him, you loved him even more than you thought.

As you wiped your legs and changed your underwear, you felt the roaring of your husband’s truck pulling up the driveway before stomping into the house. You hurried to clean up the mess in the kitchen. You could tell it smelled like sex, but Clayton had been drinking as usual, and his senses were shot by the stench of alcohol.

You really knew how to pick them. First Shane, then Clayton. To be fair, Clay was a completely different person when you met him. It wasn’t until a few months ago that he lost his job, and you got pregnant that he started showing his true colors. While Shane, you always knew what you were in for cause he was always the same person from beginning to end, he never hid what he was.

Every other weekend Clay went to a cabin up in the mountains with a group of friends to hunt and whatever the hell they did cause hardly you ever saw anything brought back from those alleged hunting trips. He just brought more dirty clothes soaked in booze and muddied boots. Lately, you didn't even care. You actually preferred when he was gone cause it got him out of the house and those weekends away were the only times you could breathe.

For all that he had put you through, you didn’t feel guilty in the slightest from doing what you did with Shane. God knows Clay would probably be fucking around. You were sure of it cause one, he hand’t touch you since you told him you were pregnant; and two you weren't blind or deaf either, and had caught him talking overly friendly, like he used to talk to you at the beginning, over the phone a couple of times when he thought you were asleep.

“Did you have coffee?” Clay picked up the mug with coffee grounds that Shane left on the counter. “You shouldn’t drink it.”

“I didn’t have any. I had a friend over earlier and I forgot to clean it up.”

“You know how I feel about having people in my house when I’m not here.”

“It’s my house actually,” you pointed out. “What? Are you gonna forbid me from having friends over now?”

You knew you shouldn't poke the bear when it was drunk, but sometimes your mouth ran faster than your brain.

“We're married, remember? What's yours is mine and all that shit. Don't forget that, bitch.”

God, you had to refrain so hard from punching his face.

As you headed out of the kitchen to avoid getting yourself further into trouble, he grabbed your arm, stopping you from leaving.

“I am your husband. And this is my house. You'd be nothing without me. Show some respect.”

“Men who hurt their wives, their pregnant wives, don't deserve any respect,” you snarled. “Now let me go before you do something you might regret later.”

He looked at you with sharp steel eyes, clutching your arm so hard it felt like he might snap it in half. He wanted to hit you so badly, you could tell, like the night before when he swung the remote across your face when you accidentally knocked over his beer.

You held his stare just as defiantly, and pulled your arm free from his grasp. It left a mark that turned into a bruise quickly after.

Staying out of his way, you went into the nursery and sat down with a book on the armchair to read while he gathered his hunting supplies. You heard him heating up some leftovers and showering before leaving.

All you could think when you listened to his truck drive off was seeing Shane again. You had a couple of hours left to get ready. It was a safe window for you to know that your husband was up in the mountains and wouldn't be coming back till Sunday. You followed his friend's updates on Instagram to keep track of him. Trent was an avid poster, and it was the perfect way to keep tabs on him to avoid the imminent disaster of him finding you with your ex.

You took a shower and changed the sheets of your bed, so they wouldn't smell like Clayton. You were dead set on banging Shane in your bed. Technically, he had fucked you many times before, pretty much in every room of this house but never in your new marital bed. It really excited you thinking about it. You wished you had more time to go to the mall to purchase some sexy lingerie that fitted your pregnant body.

God, Shane really knew how to turn you into an idiot.

In the end, it didn't matter what you wore cause it wouldn't stay on for long. You opted for wearing a pair of lacy panties that you could still fit, but the matching bra didn't stand a chance against your new boobs. You put on a flannel shirt instead, and buttoned a couple of buttons that allowed for your generous cleavage to be the center of attention.

You took off your ring as well and hid it in one of the drawers of your nightstand.

When you finished fixing your hair you went around the house and drew all the curtains for privacy. Then you finally got to relax for a while. You checked Trent's Instagram to make sure they had arrived at the cabin. Exactly like you predicted, he documented the whole thing.

Waiting for Shane, you watched TV and ate some food. When you looked at the clock it was twenty minutes past ten. He couldn't be far, right? You built yourself up to the idea of meeting him again, that’d be disappointing if he didn’t come.

For ten more minutes, you started to believe you shouldn’t have put that much effort until you heard a soft knocking on the back door.

“Empezaba a creer que habías cambiado de idea,” you said, letting him in, and securing the lock on the door. (I was starting to think you changed your mind.)

“When have I ever disappointed you, mi vida?” As you took his hand, you gave him a look, and he scoffed, “don’t answer that.”

“I’m just glad you came back.”

“Fuck! Look at you, Corazón,” his eyes traveled down your body when you turned to him. “You wanna give me a heart attack?”

Taking that as a win, you grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulled firmly towards you to have his lips crash against yours. Then you took him to the bedroom and as you were about to capture his mouth again, Shane stopped you.

“Hold on,” he put some distance between the two of you. “I need to get a good look at you.”

He took off his shirt and tossed aside, as he circled around your body, committing to memory the new curves of your body. When he stood in front of you, you took a closer look at his exposed chest and gulped at the sight of your name tattooed in delicate lettering over his left pec.

“You got that for me?” you traced it with a finger.

“Si, Corazón.”

Your stomach fluttered as his fingers undid the two buttons of your shirt and pushed it off your shoulders to uncover your breasts and baby bump.

“You’re gorgeous like this, mi vida,” the flannel shirt fell to the floor as the back of his knuckles brushed the side of your heavy breast before holding one of them in his hand. It was way larger than his palm he realized, he used to be able to hold it all, now your flesh puffed up between his fingers when he squeezed. “You’re so sensitive.” He noticed your nipples getting hard with just a light touch.

“You can’t even imagine,” you laughed.

“How about here?” Shane guided his other hand between your legs to feel that you were already wet.

You hummed at the soft strokes of his fingers as they slid under the elastic to caress your tender skin. His lips parted at the corner of your mouth as he gathered the arousal from your folds. Your lips down there were puffed too from all the blood gathering all at your core.

“Lay down, I wanna eat you up, Darlin’.”

He bit his bottom lip and watched you following his order. You slipped your panties off under the dark stare of his beautiful eyes that had turned from sweet to a dangerous edge that could set anyone on fire.

You tucked a few pillows beneath your back to keep the weight of your belly off your spine, and reclined as comfortably as you could, spreading your legs wide for him like an offering.

With a grin, he propped a knee on the bed and looked at your cunt as if it was the most precious thing he’s ever seen. He settled between your legs, curled his arms around your thighs and dived right in. With the tip of his nimble tongue, he slowly drew the shape of your lips before circling around your clit. Unlike your husband, Shane was a master of giving head, and was well versed on your pussy. Even after all this time, he still remembered what made you tick.

A shiver ran down your spine as the plane of his tongue licked long strokes from your entrance to your swollen bud.

You threw your head back when his lips wrapped around it. The vicious pressure of his lips around that bundle of nerves felt out of this world.

“God, I’ve missed you, Cielo,” you moaned, threading your fingers in his hair.

“You taste so fucking good,” he grunted ferociously against your folds as a response and all of a sudden he began to suck on you like a starving beast.

Your juices, just as before, leaked all over. It was ridiculous how much you could produce in such a short time. You could feel the fabric below your ass absorbing them.

All your bearings were quickly lost as he took you closer to the edge. All you could do is cry out in pleasure, and squirm as his grip tightened around you to keep your hips in place. You tugged hard on his hair to anchor yourself but all that did is prompting him to go even harder.

“Close… I'm so… fuck, Shane, please… please,” you couldn't stop begging with shallow breaths. Your core was on fire, and you desperately needed to come. “Yes, like that… Ahhh.”

Your legs suddenly clenched around his head a wave of wild bliss coursed through your body, from your center out in different directions. Your toes curled, your muscles shivered, your breathing faltered as your mind was temporarily blown into pure joy. You closed your eyes and let that all take you over your body for a few seconds.

Slowly coming back to your senses, your pussy tingled for a little longer than usual.

Shane was on his knees between your legs, massive erection in his hand when you opened your eyes to find him staring directly at you.

“Goddamn, Corazón. I wish I could take a picture of you like that. I've never seen you come like that for me,” he groaned, pumping his length. “Look how fat you made me.”

Softly laughing, you managed to lift your hand to help him. You replaced his fist with yours and felt the jerking of his firm dick in your palm. His girth was so wide, your thumb couldn't touch any of your other fingers in a curl.

You wondered how many pussies his cock fucked during the past few years. And without thinking or stopping your hand, you asked…

“Di, ¿cuántas zorras te has tirado con mi polla?” (Say, how many bitches have you fucked with my cock?)

“¿Tu polla?” he snorted. (Your cock?)

“Yes, just mine,” you winked as you kept your hand moving. “Dime la verdad o paro.” (Tell me the truth, or I’ll stop.)

“Hmm, no me tortures así, Corazón.” (Hmm, don’t torture me like that, Sweetheart.)

“Come on. Tell me,” you requested again.

“None,” he panted, unable to keep up with the rhythm of your hand. He had to brace a palm on the mattress to keep himself from falling. “You said it. Soy todo tuyo, mi vida. Te lo prometo.” (I’m all yours, my life. I promise.)

You smiled widely, pressing your teeth on your lower lip, as you enthusiastically got him to ejaculate all over your swollen belly. It was warm and sticky, and you couldn't help but spread it like butter all over your tight skin, and bring some of it again to your mouth as Shane’s body melted next to yours.

You turned to the side, pushing the pillows under your back aside, keeping one for your head.

Your fingers found his stubbled jaw as you tilted his face in your direction.

“You really haven't been with anyone since the last time I saw you?”

“No. Not like this, Darlin’. Don’t get me wrong, I fooled around with a couple of girls but nothing else. You know me better than that.”

“I'm not sure if that's still true.”

“Do you wanna know where I've been the last two years?”

You were afraid to find out, but your head nodded anyway.

“Prison,” he said without breaking eye contact.

“What for?”

“Possession. Bet you thought it was about time they caught up with me, huh?”

“No, I’ve never thought that, Shane. As much as I wanted to punish you sometimes, I never wished for that to happen. When did you get out?”

“Yesterday morning,” he smiled softly. “All I could think was you, so I got in the car and I drove all the way here without stopping.”

“You could've called me.”

“I couldn't.”

“Why not?”

“Cause you would've dropped everything to help me, and I couldn't put that on you.”

“I wish you had. I would've done anything…”

“I know.”

“I'd have waited for you.”

“I know that too, Corazón. Don't beat yourself up for it.”

Your phone dinged, and you blindly extended your hand to pick up from your nightstand. It was another update from Trent. They were playing beer pong like fucking frat guys, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“What’s that?” Shane asked.

“Oh, nothing, just checking on him. I’m keeping tabs on his friend’s Instagram to see that he’s still at the cabin.”

“No, not that. This,” Shane lifted your wrist as the soft light from the night lamp highlighted the mark on your forearm. “You didn't have this earlier. I told you my truth. Would you tell me yours?”

Placing your phone down, you pursed your lips, pondering why you’re still protecting that asshole.

“I… you were right earlier. I don’t really love him anymore. I don’t think I ever did. I just needed some stability and I thought he was it. This happened after you left. And this,” then you pointed to your temple, “he smacked me with the remote last night.”

“Why are you with someone like that? I thought–”

“You thought, what, that I had some self-respect? I used to. I think I did. It’s more complicated than you think. He wasn’t like that when I met him.”

“They hardly ever are.”

“He lost his job a few months ago and started drinking, it wasn’t until recently that he-”

“Stop. Don’t make excuses for him. Losing a job doesn’t give you the right to be an asshole and hit your wife or any woman at all. And drinking… I know a thing or two about getting wasted, and I never put my hand on you no matter how drunk I was.”

“You're right… I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Then, kick him out. Call the police. Get a restraining order. This is still your house, right?”

“Yeah, it is. But like I said – it’s more complicated than that. He has two cop friends. Best friends. They protect each other like fucking wolves. Last year, one of them killed a girl in a DUI, and he got nothing but a slap on the wrist. If I were to show up to ask for a restraining order, who do you think they’ll protect?”

“That’s fucking crazy. You can't live like that, baby.”

You sighted, combing the curls behind his ear. “Sometimes, when he goes away like this I think – this time he’d be too drunk to drive, and he’d end up going over a cliff, die upon impact and would never set foot in this house again. I keep closing my eyes at night and dreaming about it.”

Shane softly patted your hair back, and snuggled closer to you, wrapping you in his arms.

“I’m not gonna let him hurt you again. I promise, Corazón.”

“You don’t have to save me.”

“Lo sé, mi vida.”

Smiling against his chest, basking in the familiar scent of Shane, and feeling the big flutter of a kicking storm in your stomach. You held his hand and placed it on the side of your belly.

“She’s kicking. Can you feel that?”

“Yeah, I feel it. She? It’s a girl?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s strong. Does she have a name?”

“She does,” you placed your mouth over his ear, and whispered the name of your baby girl.

“That’s a beautiful name. She’s gonna kick ass, just like her mama.”

“I hope so,” your lips quirked up as you placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth and confessed. “I wish she was yours.”

“I wish she was mine too.”

Your lips locked together once more as you rid yourself of all bad thoughts clouding your head. You only ever wanted Shane. It’s easier to forget how much you love him when he’s not around, and just as easier to remember that you’d die for him if you had to. As the intensity of the kiss rose, you shifted and straddled his waist. He watched you become a goddess as you rubbed yourself over his dick, getting it to fully harden.

“Are you in heat or something?” he laughed, holding your hips.

“It’s the hormones. What? Aren’t you up for the challenge, big guy?”

“Oh, I’m up, alright.”

You lifted your ass, held his cock and carefully sank onto it.

Rocking back and forth you propped your hands on his broad chest, so you could boost yourself up to bounce all over his massive erection. His hands held your ass to help you go faster.

When you caught him eyeing your big breast you bent over, holding one in your hand and put it over his mouth, so he can suck on it. His lips wrapped tight around your sensitive nipple and latched on it. You were growling at the wonderful sensation paired with his throbbing cock inside you.

“God, Corazón, you’re amazing, you feel so… “ He moaned as he switched to the other nipple.

This time his teeth scraped the surface, and you almost came at the surprise. You were so close you couldn’t help but bounce a little faster. You had to brace both hands again to keep up with the rhythm. The weight of your belly started to hinder your pace the closer you got to the edge.

“Help me,” you grabbed Shane's hand and put it on your clit, pleading with a cry, “I need it. Please.”

“I got you, baby. I got you.”

He rubbed viciously on your clit until you came with such force all your juices squirted all over him. Then the pleasure of your orgasm forced his own. His cocked jerked, and suddenly you were filled again with his delicious seed.

You didn’t hear Shane leaving after you fell asleep in his arms.

When you woke up to pee a couple of hours later, the clock marked 4AM, and he wasn't in your bed anymore. He had left the house altogether. You didn't have plans for the next day, but you weren't expecting him to leave that early in the morning either without saying goodbye.

There was a pang of disappointment in your chest as you went back to bed, but you closed your eyes, naively hoping he'd come back later.

It was your lucky day cause when you opened your eyes again, he was back and had brought breakfast with him. All our favorite plates were laid on the breakfast bar as he made a fresh batch of coffee.

“Where did you go, Cielo?” you asked in between bites.

“Went out for breakfast.”

“I can see that. I mean earlier. Woke up at 4 and you were gone.”

He took a long sip of his cup before responding, “I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a drive to clear my head.”

“It must be strange sleeping in a new bed.”

“Yeah, a little.”

“I have to work later. I can call in sick if you want–” you offered.

“No, baby, do what you gotta do. No te preocupes por mí.” (Don’t worry about me.)

“You can’t stay here, but I could still get you a room at the hotel if you’re tired.”

“Nah, do your thing, I’ll figure it out.”

“Would you… come later?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’ll be here, Corazón,” he kissed your hair and picked up your phone from the counter, “unlock it. I’ll put in my new number, and you call me when you’re off. Yeah?”

“Prométeme que volverás,” you said before handing back the phone. (Promise that you’ll come back.)

“Lo prometo.” (I promise.)

After cleaning your plate you relaxed in bed for a little while, trying to get him to catch up with his sleep. There was no luck in that department cause he couldn't keep his eyes and hands off you. So once again, you found yourself in a trance of hormone-induced lust, and had Shane thrusting into you at full force from behind. Your ass was in the air, held in his broad palms, while you sobbed and moaned in pleasure against the pillow beneath your head. You desperately pushed back with your hips, taking him all in. Feeling every stroke, every inch and throb until your legs were left trembling and the fire in your core had spread through your whole body.

When you went off to work in the afternoon, it all seemed to become a hazy dream. It was all so intense that part of you thought it couldn't be real. But that was most of your relationship with Shane. Sometimes you couldn't help but feel you weren't enough for him. Him constantly leaving and breaking his promises was proof that you shouldn’t trust everything he says, but this time felt different. Maybe it was cause he was fresh out of prison, but you could tell that perhaps he was ready to stay out of trouble.

The first half of your shift went by quickly. You kept checking your phone like a maniac to make sure your husband stayed where he was supposed to, and luckily he did. If he wasn’t afraid of hurting you, you weren’t afraid of hurting him back, but you were indeed scared of him finding out about you and your old flame regardless.

You were at the front desk when Shane came in an hour before your shift ended to ask for a room. He needed a place to stay after all, and as the manager you managed pretty well to comp him a room for a couple of days. He carried his scarce luggage that consisted of just a duffle bag to his room, took a shower and waited for your shift to end.

Shane was half asleep when you finished work and knocked on his door. It was easy to see that he was utterly spent, so you didn’t make him drive back to the house. Instead, you stayed with him for the night. You trimmed his curls and shaved his face. Then, you took a long bath together like old times.

“Are you going to stay this time?” you asked once you got into bed.

You faced the other under covers and didn't talk louder than a whisper.

“I don't have anywhere else to go, baby.”

“Does that mean that you're done hustling?”

“I gotta. I don't have any other choice than to be done. Next time it could be 20 or 30 or life. I think I've tempted fate way too many times and got away with more than I should've. I had a lot of time to think and realized none of it mattered. Didn't care about the money. It was just… I don’t know, the power I guess. And I missed on a lot of time with you, and now I have nothing to show for. I don't really know what I'm gonna do, but I'm done with all that. All I know is that I just wanna be with you.”

“I…” your words caught up in your throat, as you tried to convey and process what he said at the same time. “I wanna believe that's true, but you've said you were done before and always felt right back into it.”

“This time is different. I can promise you that I'm not going anywhere this time. Cross my heart.”

Your lips softly pulled up at the corners as you placed your hand over your name's tattoo on his chest.

Regardless of his promise, you’d always have some reservations when it comes to him. Until he really proves it, there’s nothing stripping all those doubts he’s ingrained in you over the years.

When you woke up in the middle of the night he was gone like the night before. This time there was a note saying that he had gone out for a drive and signed it with – I love you, Corazón.

By the time you got up this time he hadn't come back. It didn't worry you though. You just went on with your day, drove back home to take a shower and run some errands before your next shift.

You weren't exactly sure what was going to happen next. You couldn't just jump into Shane's arms after all this time and pretend nothing ever happened. If this was really happening you had to make sure that was true to his word and figure out how he’d fit into your life when you were about to have a baby.

But most importantly, there was something you had to do first. Something that you should’ve done a long time ago and that was leaving your husband. You had been subjected to verbal and mental abuse for months that gradually turned into physical abuse. No matter how much it scared you, it was time to put your foot down and protect not only yourself but your daughter. She couldn’t be raised around him. And Shane or no Shane, it was something you couldn’t keep brushing aside hoping it’ll get better. It was easier to think about it than to actually do it. You weren’t sure how to start. Like you told Shane, going to Lafayette’s Police Department wasn’t an option. But maybe giving Rick a call and asking him for some guidance could be the first step of many.

You pinned that thought for the next day and went back to work a little earlier than usual. It was Sunday afternoon, and you dreaded that Clayton would be coming back later. So you decided to pay Shane a visit before work.

“You know, being here with you this weekend… it’s been the best thing that’s ever happened in a long time, Sweetheart.”

“Well, anything can beat spending two years in prison.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, mi vida. I mean it. I just hope you can forgive me someday for everything I’ve done. There’s a lot of shit you don’t know about that I wanna tell you but…”

He lowered his stare.

“Shane… I… If what you say it’s true, if you prove that I can count on you and that you’re not going back to all that, I’d never hold anything against you. That’s my promise. Whatever you did, you’ve done your time, right?”

“Right,” he picked up your hand and kissed your knuckles before smoothing his palm on your baby bump.

“I can come back later, just for a little while before going home.”

“If you feel like it, I’ll be here, Corazón. Always. No matter what happens.”

He said kind of ominously before you left the room. His tone was certainly different from the night before, he could barely look you in the eye as you said goodbye.

It really puzzled you as you went back to your desk. Maybe he was just tired or perhaps, he was actually feeling the weight of all his actions at once and was actually remorseful. You definitely hadn’t seen that look in his face before that afternoon.

On a quiet evening, when you thought this weekend couldn’t bring more surprises, there was something else that turned your world upside down when two of Clayton’s friends showed up at the front desk. It was the two cops, Simon and Paulie, or Prick One and Prick Two as you called them, asking you for a private place to talk.

You took them into the office where they asked you to sit down, so they could break the news of your husband’s death. It was hard to hear, no matter how many times you’ve fantasized about it, it seemed impossible and your first reaction when they told you he drove over a cliff was to burst into laughter.

“You guys are joshing, right?” you scoffed, and their faces remained unchanged, dead serious. “That can’t be right. He was with you the whole time. I saw it in Trent’s fucking pictures.”

“I’m really sorry, sweetheart. It’s true. We ran out of ice, and he said he was going to the gas station for more and never returned last night. We didn’t find him until this morning… we weren’t sure it was him until they got down to get him. That’s why we waited to tell you.”

“Ice? He went out for ice?” You gritted in disbelief.

“He was pretty wasted. We all were, but you know how he was, once he got something in his head…”

“That’s the last thing he said before leaving.”

“But we believe there was something else that I rather you hear from us than on the news. They found a bag with amphetamines and cocaine in his truck.”

“After he lost his job he was desperate and, we kinda knew that he was selling to-”

They kept spitting out information that didn’t seem feasible to you until you snapped.

“Stop, stop, stop,” you said stiffly, holding your palms up for a moment before getting up from your chair. “Everything you’re saying doesn’t make any sense. He’s many things, but he’s not a fucking drug dealer.”

Though it’d explain some things, you couldn’t believe Clayton had turned into that.

“You kinda knew? That’s bullshit. You either were fully aware of what he was up to or you two are the dumbest cops I’ve ever met. You just don’t – kinda knew –” you threw big air quotes at their own words.

“Hey!” Simon raised his voice for just a second before his partner motioned at him to have some tact.

“We know you’re hurting, sweetheart. It’s a lot to process, but we’re here for whatever you need. Clay would’ve wanted us to help you.”

A lot to process was an understatement.

You looked out the window and saw Shane’s jeep parked in the lot, and it dawned on you. It wasn’t an accident or a coincidence… It was Shane. He killed him. It was as clear as day. You told him about your fantasy of Clayton falling from a cliff the other night, and he made that happen. He murdered him in your name and these two clowns were obviously too stupid to figure that out.

It made you sick to your stomach to think about it and you had to fight not to throw up right on the spot.

“Do I need to identify the body? Is he…?” you couldn’t even imagine what he would look like. All you could think about is the last time you saw him when he grabbed your arm, that same arm you unconsciously were gripping to as hard as he did.

“We can take care of that. You don’t have to see him like that.”

You simply nodded as vile rose to your throat, “there’s a lot… If you could… I need to be alone for a minute.”

“We understand. Call us if you need anything.”

They left the office and the first thing you did when the door was closed was hurl everything you had eaten earlier in the wastebasket.

Beads of sweat covered your forehead and chest when you came out of the office. Your boss dismissed you from work and instead of going home, you went straight to Shane’s room for answers. What he said earlier about forgiveness of all the things he’s done suddenly made a lot of sense. He wasn’t talking about three years ago, he was talking about what he had done last night.

When he opened the door, your cheeks were already covered in tears, as rage just fired through your body. You couldn’t voice anything other than a “how could you….” as you shoved him back several times with all the strength you could muster until his back was pressed against the wall.

You didn’t have to say much cause he was aware that you knew that he indeed had killed Clayton. He fucking knew that sooner or later you were going to find out.

“Lo siento, mi vida. De verdad que lo siento…” (I’m sorry, my life. I truly am sorry…)

He wasn’t in fact sorry at all, he was sorry that he hurt you, but he wasn’t carrying an ounce of guilt from killing your husband in cold blood.

“He had to go. I’m sorry. I couldn’t just let him hurt you again, you gotta know that.”

“No. You’re not putting this on me. You did that cause you’re a selfish piece of shit. I shouldn’t’ve…”

“C’mon, you practically begged me the other day. Why would you tell me that you kept dreaming of him dying if you didn’t want me to do something about it?”

“It’s called being vulnerable. You caught me at a bad time and took advantage of it. I’m sick of men like you and him making the rules as they go.”

“I didn’t make any rules. I did what I had to cause you didn’t have the guts to kick him out of your life.”

“I had a plan… I was going to… and you…” you kept losing the ability to put your thoughts together.

“Babe, I don’t care if you hate me for as long as I live but, I’m gonna sleep tonight like a baby knowing that that asshole won’t ever touch you again.”

“Is that easy for you, huh?”

“Don’t tell me you don’t feel just one bit relieved that you won’t have to see him ever again. Di la verdad.” (Tell the truth.)

You shook your head, and swallowed the hard pill of his words. He was partly right. As shocking as it was, you knew that after all this, you’d be glad he was gone.

“It doesn’t matter, Shane. What you did was evil.”

“I did it cause I love you.”

“No, you did it cause you wanted to.”

“I didn’t wanna, I swear. For the first time… I didn’t wanna do something like this, trust me.”

“Trust you? I don’t think you deserve that.”

“You should go home and rest…. Once this is over you’ll see more clearly that this had to happen.”

“See more clearly? You’re the one with tunnel vision, Shane. If you can admit that what you did was fucking wrong, then there’s nothing else to say here. We’re done.”

“I’m not saying it wasn’t wrong. I know it was. But the only thing that matters to me is that you and your baby are safe. And if they lock me up for it, so be it. I don't fucking care. I wasn't gonna sit down and watch him hurt you again.”

“I… I really don't know what you expect me to do with all this. You killed, not just someone… you killed my husband. How can you sit down and pretend that everything will be fine? How are you gonna live with that?”

“Wasn't really the first time. I told you there was a lot you didn't know about.”

“That doesn't make me feel any better. I said I wouldn't hold anything against you, but this is too much, Shane.”

“I know.”

“No matter what he did, he didn't deserve…” you started but immediately realized you didn't even believe your own thoughts. He did deserve to die. Just not like this, perhaps. “Is there any way this could be traced to you, to us?”

“No, I covered all my tracks.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do you want me to give you the rundown?”

“If someone finds out…”

“Nobody's gonna find out. I promise.”

“Tú y tus malditas promesas. Sigues siendo el mismo cabrón.” (You and your damn promises. You’re still the same bastard.)

“Hey, mírame y dime, en tu corazón de corazones ¿De veras crees eso?” (Look at me and tell me, in your heart of hearts, do you really believe that?)

You glanced at him, but you couldn't focus enough to tell or understand what you believed anymore. Your head sunk into your shoulders in defeat before taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

“Was he really selling drugs or did you plant them?”

“I didn't plant anything. I have no idea what he was up to. I just followed him with my car and made sure he went…”

“How did you know where he was?”

“You showed me where they were in that photo the other night. Their dumbasses even tagged the location.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“So you want the rundown after all.”

“Just wanna make sure… I don’t know anymore… I don’t know why I care at all,” you tiredly held your forehead on your palms.

“Look, the less you know the better. They won’t come after you. I’ll make sure of that… but to answer your question, no, nobody saw me. I used a different car, I scooped up the place the night before and just waited… I thought I’d have to do it when they were all asleep but, when he got into his truck I saw my chance.”

“Ya es suficiente.” (That’s enough.)

You promptly stood up as you were torn in different directions inside. Turning your back on him, your hand reached for the door handle. “You should leave town while you can. I won’t tell anyone… but I can’t see you anymore.”

“So this is it? This is how it ends?”

“I don’t know… I just can’t really look at you right now. You put my life upside down in two days, Shane.”

“I’m so sorry for that. I really am. But I hope one day you have it in your heart to forgive me… I… I won’t be going anywhere. If you need me, I’m just one call away, Corazón.”

You didn’t look back, didn’t even glance over your shoulder one last time to see him as you stepped out of the room.

Emotionally and physically exhausted you drove home as your brain switched on autopilot. The next few days were hazy and draining. As soon as the body was released for burial you got the funeral out of the way quickly. It didn't surprise you that it was ruled as an accident, with the levels of alcohol in his blood and the drugs in the truck didn’t leave room for questioning foul play. And the worst part of it all, and that Shane was right, you didn’t feel bad at all for his death.

Though Shane left the hotel you worked at, he stayed in town. You saw his car parked by the diner the day you returned to work.

He stayed away. More than once you thought he’d come up out of the blue and show up on your porch, and you’d be too weak to deal with him again. But He didn’t even dare to call or text again after that day.

It wasn’t until three or so weeks later, when you started feeling more like your old self, you began going through Clayton’s stuff. There wasn’t really anything you wanted to keep, so you threw most of it in the donation pile and called it a day. There was one thing though, that you couldn’t sort, and it was the storage cabinet he had padlocked in the garage. You went through every drawer and pocket to find a key to it, but there was no luck. Maybe it was lost in the mountains with him, you thought. Then, as much as you wanted to avoid that, you had no choice but to search the bag you were given with the personal belongings he had during the ‘accident’. There you found the key attached to his keychain.

At that point, nothing surprised you anymore when you opened the cabinet to find a backpack filled with prescription pills and other drugs you didn’t recognize. Along with it there was also some cash, a gun with a box of ammo, his work tools, a pair of utility boots, and a few magazines.

Perhaps that’s the excuse you needed to see Shane again, who fucking knows, but for whatever reason you picked up the phone and called him. Without going into detail about your findings, you asked him to come over to look at your car instead and he did. A couple of hours later, as the sun went down, he knocked on your door.

“I’m glad you called,” he said.

“Follow me,” you requested dryly, as you guided him into the garage. With the door shut down to the driveway, you opened the cabinet and showed him. “Can you get rid of this?”

“Is this yours?” He scanned the bag of stash. “Have you been hiding a side hustle?”

“No, asshole. It was his. I’ve just found it and I don’t know what to do with it. Do I call the police?”

“Don’t. Please don’t do that,” he pleaded. “I’ve been watching those two, you know his friends, and they were in it too.”

“How do you know?”

“Cause I know. Why do you think they were so quick to rule it as an accident? They turned him into his errand boy. He didn't just go out for ice, he was making a drop that night. Those fucking pictures they kept posting? Those are their alibis.”

Short of breath, you took a step back and leaned against the hood of your car. “I don’t wanna know any of it. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I’m tired of all this, Shane… I want it to be over.”

“Sorry… I… yeah, I’ll get rid of it.”

“What about the gun?”

He picked it up and made a thorough inspection making sure that it wasn’t loaded.

“I’ll take care of it too.”

“Wait, if it’s registered, shouldn’t I just turn it over or something?”

“Ghost gun. Has no serial number, see?” He turned it around and pointed at the side to show there was indeed no number where it was supposed to. “In normal circumstances, you could say you just found it, but in this case… I wouldn’t do it.”

“Got it. Just do what you have to do. Get rid of the cash too, I need all of it gone.”

“Now, hold on, there's like 8 G's here. You should keep that.”

“It's drug money, I don't want it.”

“Yeah, but you could use it for something good. Buy something for you or the baby.”

“I don't need it, I was doing pretty good without his money. I won't be able to use it without thinking about where it came from. I never took yours, I'm not gonna take his now.”

“Think it's for a good cause. Like it or not, he was her father, you could open a savings account for her. Don't let it go to waste, sweetheart. You might need it someday.”

“I… Sure. I guess you're right.”

“I could get you a good price on that bag too. I'm thinking about 5-”

“No, I don't want you to risk it. Just get rid of it. Burn it, bury it, toss it somewhere far away from here.”

“Are you sure? The Dixons owe me one, I could get them to–”

“I'm not gonna bend on this one Shane. I mean it. Stay away from the Dixons. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Alright, I’ll just get rid of it. But y’know I’m taking a huge risk getting this off your hands.”

“Oh.”

“So, are you sure you want me to? If they find me with this, I could get locked up again.”

“Ya empezamos… ¿Quieres algo a cambio?” You huffed, crossing your arms firmly over your belly. (Here we go… You want something in return?)

“No, I mean… I just wanna see you for a coffee sometime.”

“Told you, I don’t drink coffee.”

“It doesn't have to be coffee.”

“I’m too tired to do this again Shane. Do it or don’t. I don’t care. After you’ve put me through… no tienes derecho a pedir nada.” (You have no right to ask for anything.)

“Lo siento. Tenía que intentarlo. Can you blame me?” (I’m sorry. Had to try.)

“Yes, I can.”

“Okay, I set myself up for that one,” he huffed, and looked at the bag in his hand, and reiterated. “I’ll take care of this, don’t worry about it. No strings attached.”

“Thank you.” It took you a moment to say it, but you did. “So, you’re not leaving town. You’re not scared of being found out?”

“No, I’m not scared of being found out.”

“And what’s your plan now?”

“I meant what I saw the other day. I'm staying. I got a job at Jim’s. He’s letting me use the trailer behind the shop to save some money. And that’s my plan for now. Why? Thought you didn’t care.”

“I don’t give a fuck.”

“No? It seems like you awfully care a lot about what happens to me for someone who says doesn’t give a fuck.”

“I was just curious, Shane. You can just go, we don’t have to keep talking.”

“But I like talking to you.”

“I know you do. That’s the only thing you have over me. Every time you open your mouth… you’re just one step closer to…”

“What? Changing your mind?”

“It’s not a good thing.”

“As I see it, it’s the best thing.”

“Of course you do.”

“Okay, let me ask you just one more thing, and then I’ll go.”

“Okay, one.”

“If someone you loved was treated like you were–”

“Shane… don’t.”

“Lemme finish, please. If someone you loved was treated like you were, wouldn’t you do something about it? What if it was one of your friends? What if it was me… or what if an asshole in 20 years treated your daughter like that? Would you just stand by and do nothing?”

“That’s not a fair question. You’re playing on my emotions right now. Of course, I’d do something about it.“

“Then, why is it different? Would you kill for me if I was in danger?”

“That’s more than one question.”

“Would you?”

“I don’t know. I guess it depends on the situation. Once upon a time, if you had asked me that, I’d say yes, I’d have killed anyone for you.”

“¿Y ahora?” (And now?)

“No lo sé… I have something more pressing on my hands right now. I’m not alone anymore,” you glanced at your baby bump. “The difference between you and me is that I have to consider that what I do affects her.”

“Guess I should’ve thought that.”

“You should’ve.”

“We could still make it work. Maybe not now. But maybe someday when you can look at me again without seeing what I did. What do you think?”

“I think you’ve gone over the limit of questions you said you were going to ask, and my head is starting to hurt. But you know that I’ll never rule anything out between you and me. We’re both a lost cause. And if you really stay out of trouble and keep your word, who knows? Maybe one day I’ll change my mind.”

“That’s all I needed to hear, Corazón.”

Shane closed the backpack and slung it on his shoulder.

“Be careful with that.”

“Don't worry about me.”

His hand carefully slid on the side of your neck as Shane pressed his lips to your forehead. It lingered, once again making you feel as weak as the day you met him. It made you question whether to push him away or just give in to old habits. You've accepted that no matter what he did, you'd never be able to get rid of him.

You tentatively held his jaw between your palms, and stared at his lips for a beat before returning the kiss. It was soft and quick cause you didn't want to delve too fast and make it feel like a reward.

“I'll see you around,” you offered. That's the best you could do for now.

#shane walsh #shane walsh x reader #jon bernthal #jon bernthal smut #jon bernthal fanfiction #twd fanfiction #twd #the walking dead #fanfiction #smut #angst #pregnant reader #spanish reader #darlingwrites

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phantom-0-writer · 7 months

Text

scene 03: get in loser, we’re going shopping

original prompt: gotham academy's mentorship program

more at: table of contents

timeline: much later after scene 1 & 2

Danny and Damian sat at one of the corner tables in the library. Danny had finals coming up, and was busy reviewing the term’s worth of topics from all his classes. Damian, who had insisted on joining him, sat bored. having nothing left to study.

Danny looked at the younger boy when he sighed for the 3rd time in the past five minutes. Deciding that maybe he should take a break and indulge Damian, Danny finished the last problem, and let his book shut with a loud finality.

Damian looked up at him hopefully, “Are you done, now?” He asked. Danny could tell he was trying his best to not seem too eager, but Danny couldn’t help but laugh at his antics.

“Yup,” packing his things away first, he waited for Damian, when he noticed what the boy had taken up in his boredom. “Woah, Damian.” He whispered in awe, picking up the paper closest to him. “You did this?”

Damian seemed to need a moment to understand what Danny was referring to before becoming flustered and embarrassed, a soft pink spreading on his ears, “It was simply mindless work.” He sounded defensive, like someone had berated him for his artist interests before. Danny tried not to react to that, knowing Damian would probably find it insulting.

The sketch was on the back of a math worksheet Damian had long since completed, it was of a fighter who seemed to be using his sword to attack a nondiscript opponent. Danny knew from his many intensive training sessions with Pandora that the figure's form was slipping into leaving them open for an easy frontal attack from their opponent, while simultaneously leaving the fighter to not have the range of motion they might need to defend themselves. Most of the lines of the drawing were scratchy and short but overly repeated giving the fighter the illusion of fast movement, directly in contrast the hard outline of the fighter’s form made it seem like the fighter was stuck in their position.

Liminals and liminal-agencent people by definition did not have a strong awareness to manipulate ectoplasm consciously like other more ghostly beings could. Coincidentally, liminals tended to leak their own internally produced and stored ectoplasm when they acted on their deep emotions. Scientifically this usually showed itself as a person ‘harnessing their full potential’ in moments of crisis or in some more extreme and rarer cases accessing their metagene (meta’s were not to be confused with liminals or ghostly beings they hold few to no similarities outside of coincidence). Danny had known from the beginning that Damian was a liminal, likely from prolonged exposure to ectoplasm, and paradoxically had a difficult time understanding and accessing his own emotions. Emotional negligence was never healthy for an ectoplasmic being, and Danny knew it would be a long process for Damian to learn how to properly deal with his layered and complex emotions.

That being said, there was a steady level of ectoplasm spread over the paper, something that did not match what Danny would have expected from Damian’s current state with his emotional and subsequently his ectoplasmic abilities. The fighter was clearly a character Damian had either consciously or subconsciously created to represent himself.

Danny could work with this.

During the long moment of silence Damian seemed to have grown more and more anxious for Danny’s reaction. Danny let his emotions display easily on his face, wide eyed, “This is so good, Damian. I didn’t know you drew. Do you like art?”

“I do not draw. Art is a meaningless waste of time and only those without higher goals would indulge in such an activity.” Damian sounded conflicted, and the words he was saying were pretty obviously echoed from what someone else had said to him.

“That’s ridiculous,” Danny scoffed, “Art is a very important basis for almost everything. I mean it would feel pretty stale to live in a world where there was no uniqueness anywhere. Drawing, painting, writing, acting, sculpting, singing, or whatever else, are all unique forms of making something that no one else could truly ever recreate exactly. Even if it’s minute, there are always differences in the way that one person would commit to something than another person. It’s the basis of humanity and in the core of the human mind. If you try to block it so harshly from yourself, you’ll end up locking up an integral part of yourself that sets you apart from the other 7 million people on this planet.”

Damain stood there, considering what Danny said.

Not waiting another moment, Danny grabbed Damian’s bag heading out of the library. “What are you doing?” Damian asked suspiciously, quickly falling in step with Danny, grabbing his bag back.

Danny smirked at him, “We’re going shopping, Loser.”

Damian looked scandalied at the nickname, not understanding the reference. “I am not a loser.” he huffed.

Danny just laughed as they waited for the next bus. Once they got to their stop and entered the store, Danny beelined for where he knew the art supplies to be. Damian followed behind him, unfamiliar with the store.

Sure, if Damian wanted, he could easily buy the more top of the line supplies, after all he was a Wayne. But Danny was pointedly a broke scholarship kid right now, and it didn’t sit right to let Damian pay for things he was buying, no matter how much of a trust fund kid he may be. Not that Danny was exactly broke, but he imagined the cashiers at their local supermarket wouldn’t appreciate him trying to pay for a sketchbook, a couple sketch pens and pencils, and a 25 pack of Crayola markers with solid gold coins.

It was around 4:30 when they left the store with their stuff, Damian eyeing the bag curiously the whole time. They walked the rest of the way to a local cafe, and Danny sat Damian down.

“Okay, we’ll be here for the next hour,” He pulled out his own sketchpad, the concepts filling the pages were more accurately blueprints more than drawings, “Draw whatever you want.”

“I don’t know what to draw.” Damian huffed, awkwardly taking the supplies from Danny, and examining his surroundings carefully. Damian sat in the corner for a while, blending into the surroundings as he watched how the world spun around him. Danny was half-way through reviewing one of his older designs when Damian finally decided to open the pack of pencils and the first strike on the paper was made. They stayed there for long over the allotted hour, both sucked into their own projects.

“I finished.” Damian breathed in satisfaction, stretching his hand and back in his chair at the admission.

Danny eyed him with curiosity. “Can I see?” He asked. Danny wasn’t sure how right he had been about Damian using drawing to help regulate his ectoplasm and emotions, and he wanted to check how consistent it would be. Also he was really curious to see what he had drawn.

Damian looked a little bashful at his request, but he nodded, handing the sketch book over to Danny. Danny could easily feel the ectoplasmic energy scattered across the page, it wasn’t as constant as the first drawing had been, but it was still there. So he was right.

The drawing this time was of what had likely originally meant to be the barista, based on the outlines of the industrial coffee machine and register that had started out but been forgotten later for the center of the piece. The man was wearing an apron similarly like the one the barista had been wearing and a similar uniform, but that was the only similarities that Danny could draw from his surroundings in the drawing. The man, unlike their teenaged barista, was quite aged, with thin but well groomed hair, and a mustache. He had a longer face scattered with wrinkles of old age. The old man was looking down, presumably working on something, and seemingly happy with whatever it was. The ecto-signature was more concentrated around the old man, leading Danny to believe it was someone Damian likely loved and admired.

“You’re so good at this.” Danny complemented, honestly. “Did you have fun?” He asked, it was starting to get dark and they had stayed at the cafe longer than Danny had asked him to without complaint.

“Yeah, I did.” He answered after a moment. Danny ruffled his hair affectionately, “Hey, you’re gonna mess it up.” He complained, making no effort to remove himself.

“C’mon, let’s get you home. I have to go to work soon.” Danny led them out of the store, just in time for an expensive looking black car to pull around the bend and expertly stop in front of him.

“Young Master Damian, I’ve come to pick you up.” An old British gentleman spoke from the driver seat, it was the man from the drawing.

“Understood, Alfred.” Damian turned to hand the art supplies back to Danny.

“They’re yours.” Danny refused.

“I’ll take care of them.” Damian promised, placeing the supplies carefully inside his book bag.

“I’m sure you will.” Danny nodded, stepping back so the car could drive away.

“Mister Daniel, I would have no problem taking you home as well. It is quite late now.” The driver spoke kindly. It surprised Danny how accurate Damian had drawn that picture without so much as a reference.

“No it’s alright.” Danny waved away the idea, “I have to go to work now, and it’d be too out of the way for you.” He explained.

The driver didn’t press, but Danny noticed how his eye caught on something in the distance before he bid his farewells and left.

Danny made his way to the bus stop, and waited, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. Moments later another older teen approached the bus stop as well, waiting idly for the transport to arrive. He had black hair with a white tuft in the front, a sign of prolonged ectoplasmic exposure Danny knew all too well, roughly 6’ and some inches, and wore a hood of his red jacket over half his head.

Danny supposed it was fitting for someone who called himself the Red Hood.

The bus arrived, and both Danny and his co-passenger got at the stop before Arkham Asylum. Park Row AKA Crime Alley. By the time Danny clocked in and changed into his uniform for his shift it was already dark outside.

“Welcome to BatBurger.” He said in chorus with the rest of the workers at the bell chime of the door opening. The man walked to the counter silently, his white tuft of hair skillfully swept under a baseball cap he hadn’t had before. When he approached Danny’s station, Danny took his order, and right before completing the transaction, as per procedure, “Can I get a name for your order?” He asked.

“Jason Todd.”

#the effects of talia's parenting is showing and danny is a little concerned #damian learning to channel is inner artist #love to see it #also i really wanted to explore liminalness and ectoplasm here so theres that #idk if its kinda random lol #jason trained by the bats and the LoA mob boss extraordinaire and holder of bat paranoia: gives his full legal name #danny: 0_o #jason is literally so dumb smh #danny and damian bonding #damian inherited his dad's emotional competence #luckily danny's here to save the day

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according2thelore · 9 months

Text

You are married to Sam Winchester. You don’t have a name.

You met him in a bar. Or a park. Or a diner where you worked. Or a library you were studying in. Or on the bus route back to your apartment. Or in the frozen aisle of a grocery store. The location doesn’t matter, but you know that you know him. That’s all you need to know. He smiles at you, and you smile back. He’s nice to look at, in the way that shards of stained glass are nice to look at. In the way that car crashes are captivating, in the way that a tree can be both dead and alive at once, in the way that homes disappear one room at a time. It doesn’t matter. You open your mouth to introduce yourself but the waitress-librarian-cop-bus driver-clerk talks over you. He never asks again. I’m Sam, he says. It’s a nice name. He’s got a nice face.

Dating him is easy. He never asks any questions about you. You ask questions about him, but he doesn’t like it, so you learn to stop. I had a brother, he offers once, in the way that someone says, I tried to kill myself. You nod. His name is Dean. It’s odd, maybe, that he refers to Dean in both past and the present tense. He doesn’t like it when you question things like that, though, so you keep quiet. Sam says strange things sometimes, when you’re sitting entwined on your couch watching reality TV. I killed monsters. They killed me, sometimes, too. He says. Your eyes go wide. He reassures you, It doesn’t matter. You melt back against him.

Oh, okay. As long as it doesn’t matter, that’s alright with you.

You get married. You get married in a courthouse, because Sam doesn’t like churches. I’ve made too many promises in churches, he said. I can’t break any more.

Okay, you say. You never liked churches much anyway. Or maybe you do. Maybe you believe in God. Sam doesn’t. He says he killed God. You believe him, because he’s got a knife carved from bone hidden under your boxspring. He keeps herbs and finger bones in jars and a golden bowl in your china cabinet, and won’t let you touch them. When the clerk hands you your wedding certificate, you smile as Sam kisses you. You’re excited when you take the paper from him, hoping to see your name. But in the space where it’s supposed to be is blank. Sam rubs a finger over Marriage Certificate, then over his name scribbled in pen. It’s perfect, he says, looking up at you with distant stars in his eyes. Oh. Okay, it’s perfect. That’s good.

He cries out for Dean in his sleep. Night terrors so severe that they upend you from his bed shake him awake once a week. He screams in a language you’ve never heard before. After those nights, Sam doesn’t look you in the eye. He doesn’t talk after nightmares, and you don’t know how to shake him back to consciousness.

You catch him in the reflex of doing things. Odd things set him off. A rerun of that medical drama you binged in undergrad shuts Sam down, and he doesn’t come home until after dinner. An Asia song plays in a grocery store and Sam drops the milk in the middle of the aisle. You find him having a panic attack behind your car in the parking lot.

He has an old car in the apartment’s parking garage that you’re not allowed to touch. It’s vintage—a beautiful thing, because you know a lot about cars or maybe you don’t—and it’s got an arsenal in the trunk. He buries salt lines in your yard. If you sneak up behind him, he’s got a knife to your throat before you can explain yourself.

Sam laughs at something on his phone, and goes to show someone, but it’s always only you there. It seems to disappoint him. When he’s upset, he gets more upset when you say the wrong things. It’s a dance that you don’t know the steps to, and Sam’s too tired to teach you.

It’s okay, you’ll learn yourself. You buy him almonds at the grocery store. You always keep the thermostat above seventy two degrees Fahrenheit. You always grab him a second of whatever you get: a beer, a sandwich, a blanket. You sleep on the side of the bed closest to the door. It’s not perfect. When you do the laundry, he gets frustrated with you because you fold things “too big.” He always orders two sides of fries. He buys ground beef that he doesn’t eat.

He has a dog. The dog doesn’t like you, but it doesn’t not like you either. Sam hates you for it. Dean loves this dog. He loves Dean, too. Sam told you. You wilt. Another test failed. Dean’s really good at this game, but you’re not. Dean’s good at most games, at least the games that Sam likes to play. You try to love the dog more after that, giving him treats and actually cooking the ground beef Sam throws away every week to feed him. When Sam sprints into the kitchen as the smell wafts through the house, he collapses when he sees it’s just you. He doesn’t talk the rest of the weekend.

Sam gets a job at the factory. Or the construction site. Or the law firm. Or the local community college. You work as a nurse. Or a doctor. Or a cop. Or a secretary. Or a chef. It doesn’t matter. The details are blurry. Sam invites you to a Christmas party with his coworkers. This is my wife, Sam says, proud. His coworkers smile, but they never ask your name. You don’t have one. That’s alright with you, as long as it’s alright with Sam. You’d hate to embarrass him at a work party.

You have sex. You get pregnant. You have a kid. Those things happen in some kind of order, but it gets mixed up sometimes.

You’ve always wanted a girl probably, but when you look into the face of your son, you realize that you’ve never wanted anything as much as you want this child. Or maybe you never wanted kids. But you have one now, and he’s your priority. You’re a good mom.

Sam didn’t have a good mom, didn’t have a mom until he was in his thirties, but she didn’t last long. So it’s important to him that you’re a good mom for his son. You’re going to take the job seriously.

We should name him Dean, you suggest, and Sam sobs into your hair. Your chest warms pleasantly. You like it when Sam holds you like this. When Sam shows you the birth certificate, your eyes catch on the name. Dean Winchester Junior? You ask. That’s for naming a child after a parent. Sam looks at the baby in your arms—wait, now it’s in his arms—and says, Dean is as much of a part of this as either of us.

The space for Mother of Child is blank. You’ve never seen a picture of Dean Winchester. Or Dean Winchester, Sr. now.

You fall asleep in an apartment and wake up in a house with a porch and a white-picket fence. That’s nice. It’ll give the dog space to run around. In your child’s sixth month alive, Sam sleeps in the child’s crib with a knife. Just to make sure, he says. Nothing’s going to happen to Dean. It takes him a long time to say the name without flinching when he’s talking about his son. When your son turns a year old, you finally remember to ask what Sam’s tattoo means. He looks surprised that you’ve mentioned it. It’s a tattoo that I got with Dean. He says. Of course it is. You’re angry, but it’s gone again, because these are things you’re supposed to accept about Sam. It keeps demons from possessing me. Demons? You ask, startled. Sam’s mouth thins into a line. Yes. You need to get one, he says. And the second that Dean turns sixteen, I’m signing that form and we’re taking him in to get one, too. You’re alarmed, until Sam tells you that it’s okay. That’s a relief. You get the tattoo, right over your left breast, and Sam fucks you so hard that you can’t walk the next day. You introduce your family to your boss one day, This is Sam and Dean!, and Sam shoves the baby into your arms and has to leave the room. We’re calling him Dean Junior from now on, Sam says later, after the hunted look in his eyes melts into exhaustion. Alright.

You clean the house. You wear sundresses. You like your job, but not enough to let it get in the way of being a mother. Sam teaches Dean Junior how to throw a ball. He helps him with math homework. You make meatloaf and take Dean Junior to soccer games.

You realize late—too late, maybe—that all the pictures of you on the mantle are a little blurry. You can’t remember the last time you saw your own reflection. You pull out your driver’s license. It’s blank, just your address. No picture of you. Your hair colour is just “dark.” No height. “Thin” is your weight. You speed on the way home from work so you can get pulled over. You hand over your empty license and your blank registration, and the cop barely gives either a glance. You’re free to go. He says. Everything’s in order.

You walk in the front door, and Sam kisses you on the cheek. He’s had to get glasses recently, and they make his face look even more handsome. Welcome home, honey, he says, smiling. Do you remember when you told me you killed God? You ask, because that sounds vaguely familiar. Sam blinks at you in confusion for a couple of seconds. The house shudders around you for a second.

Yes, Sam says, voice distant. Yes, I think I did. There’s a new God now though. I helped raise him. He’s a good kid. The house stills. There is no room for nasty things here. Only good. You nod, relieved. I’m glad he’s a nice boy, you say, picking up your son. If anyone could raise God, you could.

Sam looks haunted by this. He retreats.

Sam doesn’t tell you everything. Sam won’t ever tell you everything.

You look into the face of your son as he swings his legs lightly against your hip. He’s got green eyes, and he’s sucking on his thumb, a nasty habit you’ve tried to break. Sam shows Dean Junior pictures of his brother. He tells him stories, when Dean Junior’s asleep, about the open road, about cicadas and fireworks and greasy diner food and sunscreen and used textbooks and ash.

You sit on the opposite side of the door and cry because this man is a catastrophe and he hunted monsters and he loves everything more than you thought anyone could love anything. He’s half a soul, crammed into one body, edges ragged. He’s over two hundred years old. And he likes cherry slushies and he’s killed angels and he dreams of his brothers hands and he’s seen the face of God.

I love your uncle, you had heard his voice, a low murmur in Junior’s nursery one night. Sometimes I don’t know how to exist and be so unknown. Even when we didn’t speak, he knew me. No one has known me in years. I don’t think anyone will ever know me again.

You kiss him and try to make it like his brother would do it. He’s grateful. Sam’s grateful for a lot of things. He calls your lives together an “apple pie life.” But you don’t like apple pie. Or maybe you do. It doesn’t matter.

It’s okay. You’re just Sam Winchester’s wife. You’ve got a son named Dean.

You’ve spent your whole life sharing them both with a dead man.

crossposted on ao3 here

#supernatural #sam winchester #sam and dean #spn #ao3 #sam winchester's blurry faceless nameless thin wife #an icon truly #she's for the people #gencest #weirdcest #implied sam/dean #samdean #wincest #charlotte will be drawing this!!!! because she's the best!!!! and talented!!! mwah mwah mwah!!!#and i'm not just saying that bc she's reading this over my shoulder #lizzy writes

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bradshawsbaby · 10 months

Text

Homecomings and Heart-to-Hearts

Pairing: Rooster x Wife!Reader

Summary: Bradley returns home from a mission carrying the weight of a burden he doesn’t know how to set down.

Word Count: 6.4k

Author’s Note: I was inspired to write this story after watching Miles’ performance in Thank You for Your Service. The idea came to me right as I was going to sleep, and I couldn’t get it out of head.

Warnings: Angst, deployment, references to injuries sustained during a mission, near-death experience, implied sex, allusions to breastfeeding, insecurities, hurt/comfort, family fluff.

Every deployment and mission was different. And that meant that every homecoming was different, too.

You and Bradley had both learned to expect the unexpected when it came to orders from the Navy. Despite the fact that your husband was permanently stationed on North Island, it was always possible that he was going to receive instructions for a special mission or deployment at any given time. That’s what happened when you were one of the Navy’s top fighter pilots. No matter how many times you tried to remind yourself that that’s just how it was, however, it never got any easier.

Six weeks ago, the orders had come in for a classified mission that required the skills and experience of the best of the best. You had been able to tell the news as soon as Bradley walked through your apartment door, before he had even been able to open his mouth or put down his things. It was written all over his face.

“They’re sending you away?” you asked softly, trying to keep your voice from shaking as you rocked your four-month-old son in your arms. It was always painful when Bradley left, but this would be his first deployment since Nicholas had been born and you didn’t know what you were going to do without him. The thought alone had your heart racing and tears filling your eyes.

“Only for six weeks,” Bradley rushed to reassure you, dropping his bag to the floor and immediately wrapping an arm around your shoulders, his other hand coming up to support the back of Nick’s head as he dropped a kiss onto your son’s forehead. “I’ll be back before you even know I’m gone,” he tried to smile, running his fingers through your hair as he leaned in to give you a kiss as well.

You knew he was just saying that to comfort you, but you almost wanted to laugh at how ridiculous the notion was. As if you wouldn’t feel his absence every second he was gone. You would be counting down the minutes until his return from the moment you saw him off, and the apartment would feel empty and cold until he was back to hold you and Nick in his arms once more.

“I’m coming home to you, honey, I promise,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple as he lifted Nick out of your arms and cradled him close to his chest. “Don’t let him get too big while I’m gone,” he added, trying to swallow back his own emotion as your son wrapped his hands around one of his fingers and babbled up at him, a little bit of drool dribbling down his chin.

This would be Bradley’s first time having to say goodbye to both you and your baby boy, and you knew the thought of it killed him. Behind his golden brown eyes, you could see the ghosts of his past haunting him, and you knew he was thinking of all the times his dad had had to say goodbye. Right up until that final time.

“I’m going to take pictures every day,” you whispered, resting your head against his shoulder as the two of you gazed down at your perfect little miracle, who was now chewing on Bradley’s finger while staring up at you with eyes that were identical to his father’s. “Videos, too. You’re not going to miss a single thing.”

Bradley turned to look at you, and in his eyes you could see the same skepticism you had felt when he told you you wouldn’t even know he was gone. And yet, he nodded and smiled slowly, kissing you again. “I’m going to miss the two of you so much,” he murmured softly, sighing as he rested his forehead against yours.

“We’re going to miss you, too,” you told him, your eyes welling up once more. “But like you said, it’s only six weeks, right? The time will fly by,” you lied, trying to be strong. You knew he needed you to be strong.

“Yeah,” Bradley nodded, rocking Nicholas back and forth as your son’s eyes started to flutter closed. “It’s gonna fly by real quick.”

Time hadn’t flown by. In fact, it had felt like the longest six weeks of your life. Every time you started to set the table for two, or woke up in the middle of the night to feed Nick and saw the empty space beside you in your bed, your heart broke all over again and you couldn’t help the tears that escaped and coursed their way down your cheeks. Communication with Bradley was almost nonexistent, and the truth was that you didn’t even know where in the world your husband was. The mission was classified for a reason, which meant that even you weren’t privy to all that it entailed.

Every time your phone rang, the hairs on the back of your neck rose and you could feel your stomach drop out from under you. You were terrified it was going to be Vice Admiral Simpson, informing you that something had happened to Bradley during the mission. One night, you felt so anxious that you actually turned your cell phone off and slept in the nursery with Nick, trying to push away all the intrusive thoughts of what could be happening to your husband and all the ways the mission could go wrong.

But all of that worry and anxiety was over now because Bradley was coming home today.

You had been up all night last night, preparing all his favorite foods and desserts to celebrate his homecoming. And this morning, you’d been up before the sun, too excited to get much sleep.

“Daddy’s coming today, Nick!” you’d cooed happily as you lifted your son out of the crib and got him ready for the day. It was his very first homecoming experience, and you wanted it to be a special one.

Decked out in his “Daddy’s Wingman” onesie and shorts, and a pair of baby aviators you had found online a few weeks ago, Nicholas looked just as handsome as his father as he rested on your hip at the hangar, where you were waiting with all the other Navy families anticipating their loved ones’ return.

“Daddy’s going to be here so soon,” you told your son, bouncing him gently with one arm as you held the Welcome Home, Daddy! sign you’d finished the other night with your free hand.

Nicholas giggled softly and wiggled in your hold, but you barely felt his movements over the erratic beating of your own heart. No matter how many homecomings you had attended over the years, it was always like this. Every time you stood there to welcome Bradley home, it felt like the first time. You just couldn’t wait to hug him and kiss him and hold him in your arms again.

“They’re coming! They’re coming!” a little boy exclaimed excitedly, bouncing up and down as he pointed in the distance and then looked back at his mother.

An excited buzz filled the air as the news filtered across the hangar, everyone standing on their tiptoes and shielding their eyes to try to get a glimpse of their husband, wife, father, mother, brother, or sister. Even after all this time, it sometimes still baffled you just how many people it took to man an aircraft carrier.

It took a few moments, but amidst all the happy reunions happening around you, you finally caught sight of Bradley and the other Daggers making their way through the crowd.

“Nick, look!” you exclaimed happily, pointing in the direction of your husband as your son slowly followed your gaze. “It’s Daddy!”

As Bradley and the others came closer, however, you noticed that while they were smiling, they all had strained looks on their faces, exhausted lines around their eyes and mouths. They were happy to be home, but something had happened. That much was clear.

Your stomach did an uncomfortable flip when you looked from face to face and realized instantly that one was missing.

Where was Coyote?

Bradley didn’t stop or slow down as he approached you and Nick, just immediately barreled into you and wrapped you both tightly in his arms. You could feel the tension still radiating through him as he buried his face in your neck, inhaling the scent of your skin and the perfume he loved so much on you.

“God, I missed you so much,” he mumbled, his mustache tickling your skin as he pressed his lips to the side of your neck.

“We missed you, too,” you whispered back, squeezing your eyes shut and clinging to him with your free arm.

The two of you stood there like that for what felt like ages, just holding one another, until Nick finally began squirming and fussing against your side.

Pulling back, Bradley smiled and took Nick into his arms, peppering his face with kisses. “Hey, buddy,” he greeted him, chuckling as he noted the baby aviators that were now sitting askew on your son’s face. “Cool outfit,” he told him, running his hand over his belly. “Look how big you got. I told Mommy not to let you get so big,” he teased, glancing over at you and smiling.

It was a tired smile.

“You must be so exhausted. We should get you home,” you said gently, resting a hand on his back. You still had an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach that you couldn’t quite shake. You glanced over at where the rest of the Dagger Squad was loosely scattered, and noticed that Coyote still hadn’t joined them. Was he still on the carrier? “Is everybody doing okay?” you asked quietly.

Bradley looked down at you and could see instantly where your attention was focused. “Coyote’s being taken to the infirmary,” he replied, his voice low. There was a heaviness in his tone that had you whipping your head back in his direction right away.

“Is everything alright?” you questioned, growing worried. You thought of Coyote’s happy-go-lucky smile and infectious laughter and immediately wanted to cry at the thought of anything happening to him.

Your husband was quiet for a moment, shifting your son in his arms and looking over at the other Daggers before directing his focus back to you. “He got struck by enemy fire while we were over there. It didn’t take long for search and rescue to find him, and he’s going to be okay, but they want to monitor him on base for a couple days.”

You didn’t know how to feel about that news. On the one hand, you were of course thrilled to hear that Coyote was safe and was going to be okay. But on the other hand, it was horrifying to be so bluntly reminded of the risks and dangers that your husband and friends faced every time they were deployed for a mission.

Wordlessly, you wrapped your arms around Bradley’s waist and buried your face in his chest, inhaling the scent of jet fuel and aftershave. You were comforted by the feel of his strong arms wrapping around you, and of your son’s chubby fingers tangling in your hair.

“C’mon, let’s go home,” Bradley murmured against the top of your head, slipping his hand into yours as he allowed you to lead him to where you and Nick had parked the car.

It was a quieter homecoming than many of the ones you had experienced in the past, the stark reality of Coyote’s injury still hanging over Bradley like a shroud. He was almost completely silent during the drive home, and only managed to get down a few bites of the lunch you’d prepared before he was slipping into the shower and crawling into bed.

“I’m sorry, baby, it tastes amazing, but I’m just so exhausted,” he murmured, squeezing your hip and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“It’s okay, I understand. Get some rest,” you told him, watching him out of the corner of your eye as you began clearing the table.

He ended up sleeping for the whole rest of the day, and all the way through the night. Sometimes you forgot how much these missions took out of him, both physically and emotionally.

The next morning, Bradley was up before you were, making a couple cups of coffee and heating up the breakfast you’d made the other day.

“Mmm, morning,” you mumbled sleepily, your eyes still half-closed as you stumbled into the kitchen, wearing a pair of sweatshorts and one of Bradley’s UVA Alumni T-shirts.

“Morning, honey,” Bradley greeted you, planting a kiss on your lips before taking a sip of his coffee and reaching for the toast that had just popped. “Here you go,” he added, sliding a mug of freshly brewed coffee towards you, prepared just the way you liked it.

“This is a nice way to wake up,” you grinned, lifting the mug—Bradley had chosen your personal favorite—and blowing gently before taking a tentative sip. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a rock,” Bradley chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m sorry I slept all night, baby. I know you had dinner ready, and I really wanted to spend time with you and Nick,” he apologized.

“It’s okay,” you insisted, shaking your head. “We’re still here, and we’re not going anywhere, so don’t worry. I’m just glad you were able to get some rest.” You paused for a moment, setting down your coffee mug, before asking, “Any updates on Coyote?”

Bradley sighed softly, running his fingers through his hair so that his dark locks stood up at a funny angle. “Yeah, he actually texted all of us this morning. He’s doing a lot better, and feeling good, so they’re probably going to release him soon.”

You let out a relieved breath. “Well that’s good,” you said, stepping closer to your husband. Glancing up, you noticed that there was still a troubled expression on his face. “Bradley, are you okay?”

“Hm?” he asked distractedly, his eyes clearing as he looked at you. “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, probably still just a little out of it after the trip home.”

Biting your lower lip, you watched as he turned and began buttering his toast. “Okay. But you’d tell me if something was bothering you, right?” You could only imagine the toll it had taken on him, witnessing one of his closest friends being shot down by enemy missiles.

“Of course,” Bradley nodded, kissing your cheek before carrying his food and his coffee to the table and taking a seat.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was still something he wasn’t saying, but you decided to let the matter rest for the time being, sitting down opposite your husband and enjoying a little bit of uninterrupted time before Nicholas woke up.

The rest of the day was peaceful and uneventful. Bradley had a couple weeks of leave now that he had returned from the mission, which meant that he got to spend all day with you and Nick. You couldn’t even put into words how much it warmed your heart to watch Bradley as he lay on the floor to play and do tummy time with Nick.

“I seriously can’t get over how big he’s gotten,” Bradley marveled, his eyes widening as your son rolled from his back to his stomach with ease, and then pushed up from his tummy onto his elbows. “Look at that, honey! He wasn’t doing that when I left!”

Smiling, you nodded as you sat down beside them on the living room floor. “I took him to the pediatrician just last week, and he gained another pound and a half since his last check-up. Dr. McCarthy says he’s hitting all his milestones. He just started rolling over like that a couple weeks ago.”

A trace of sadness passed over Bradley’s face as he gazed down at your baby boy. “I’m sorry that I missed it,” he murmured, reaching out to stroke Nick’s downy head. His hair was starting to come in thick and dark, just like his daddy’s.

“I took lots of videos,” you promised, reaching out to lightly squeeze your husband’s shoulder. “I don’t want you to ever feel like you’ve missed out on anything.”

Bradley took your hand in his and pressed a kiss to the back of it, smiling up at you. “Thank you, baby.”

The remainder of the afternoon flew by quickly, and after putting Nicholas down for the night, you and Bradley spent the rest of the evening making up for lost time and showing one another just how much you’d missed the other.

“I love you so much,” you whispered against his bare shoulder, pressing kisses to the scar that lacerated his skin.

“I love you, too, honey,” Bradley whispered in return, squeezing you tightly as he drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, when you awoke, Bradley was still fast asleep beside you. He didn’t even stir as you climbed out of bed to go check on Nick in the nursery. As you were sitting in the rocking chair, nursing your son, your phone began buzzing with text messages from Penny. A couple deliveries for The Hard Deck had gotten delayed, and she was wondering if you were free to run some errands with her that afternoon. You assured her that you would check with Bradley and get back to her as soon as possible.

Just as you rose to find a change of clothes for the baby, Bradley stepped into the nursery, a sleepy smile on his face. “Morning, my loves,” he murmured, kissing you and then pressing a kiss to the top of Nick’s head.

“Nicholas, can you say, ‘Good morning, Daddy?’” you teased, bouncing your son on your hip as you took one of his hands and waved it in Bradley’s direction.

Nick gurgled happily in response, and both you and Bradley laughed.

“Any big plans for the day?” Bradley asked, lifting the baby into his arms so that you could go through the dresser drawers and pick out an outfit for him to wear.

“Actually Penny was just texting me. She wanted to know if I was free to help her run a few errands this afternoon. Would that be okay?” you asked, laying out a simple blue and white striped onesie for Nick.

Turning, you glanced up at Bradley. He seemed to be doing better since he’d first arrived home. He wasn’t as tense or preoccupied, and his mood had improved considerably when he learned that Coyote had been officially discharged from the infirmary. But still, you knew how much of a handful the baby could be when you had to take care of him all on your own, and you didn’t want to spring that on your husband when he was still getting acclimated to being back at home.

“Of course,” Bradley nodded, rocking your son back and forth in his arms. “You hear that, Nick? We’re gonna have some father-son bonding time while Mommy goes out to help Aunt Penny. Does that sound good to you?”

In response, Nick spit up all over Bradley’s shoulder.

“I’m going to choose to take that as a yes,” Bradley winced, grinning at you when he noticed that you were trying to hide your laughter behind your hand.

“It’s definitely a sign of his love and affection for you,” you giggled, taking the baby out of your husband’s arms so that you could clean him up and get him changed. “I think a little father-son bonding time sounds perfect. And I’ll only be gone for a few hours. I’ll text Penny to let her know that I can meet her in a little bit.”

“Sounds good,” Bradley nodded. “In the meantime, I think I’ll go take a quick shower,” he chuckled, pointing at the drool still coating his shoulder.

A few hours later, you were showered and dressed and ready to go meet Penny.

“Okay, so I fed Nick not that long ago, but if he gets hungry while I’m out, there are bottles in the fridge that you can warm up. And his diapers have been giving him a little bit of a rash lately, so I’ve been using this cream that Dr. McCarthy gave me whenever he needs to be changed. Oh, and—”

“Honey, relax,” Bradley laughed, resting his hands on your shoulders. “You’re going to be gone for a few hours, not a week. I can handle this.”

You bit down on your lower lip sheepishly, looking over at where Nick was currently relaxing peacefully in his sway swing. “I know,” you nodded, smiling as you leaned forward to press a kiss to the corner of Bradley’s mouth. “You know me, I always just get crazy whenever I have to leave him.”

“We’ll be fine. You go have some girl time with Penny, and we’ll have some man time here,” he grinned, kissing you gently.

“Okay,” you smiled. Turning towards Nick, you beamed as you knelt beside him to smother him in kisses. “Enjoy your man time with Daddy, my love. I’ll be home in a little while,” you told him, giving him one more kiss before rising back to your feet.

“I’ll see you in a little bit. Call me if you need anything,” you said, giving Bradley another kiss before grabbing your keys and your purse and heading out the door.

“We’ll see you soon! Tell Penny we said hi!” Bradley called out as he closed the door behind you.

As much as you hated being away from your two favorite guys, you had to admit that it was nice getting a few hours “off” to spend time with a dear friend, even if you were driving all over San Diego to run errands for the bar. You kept checking your phone every ten minutes or so, but there were no texts or calls from Bradley, so you figured everything must have been going fine at home.

Hope you and Nick are enjoying your man time! Don’t miss me too much! 😉

It was just a silly, teasing text, but when you received no reaction or reply, you started to grow a little antsy. Was everything fine at home? You had only been out for a few hours, but you also knew that Bradley had been under a great deal of pressure and strain these past several weeks. An uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of your stomach, and when Penny offered to pay for lunch as a thank you for helping her out, you told her that you’d have to take a rain check.

“We’ll talk soon!” you promised her, giving her a quick hug before jumping into your car and driving just slightly above the speed limit to get home as quickly as possible.

As you were hurrying into your apartment building, you checked your phone one last time and saw that you still had no messages or calls from Bradley. Fumbling around in your purse for your keys, you skipped the elevator and took the stairs two at a time until you reached your floor.

You hoped that you were wrong, but you just couldn’t shake the feeling that something had happened. Call it women’s intuition, but you knew something was off. Heart pounding, you approached your apartment door and that’s when you could hear the wails coming from inside. You recognized that cry instantly. Nicholas didn’t cry like that often, that throaty, inconsolable wail, but when he did, it could be extremely challenging to figure out exactly what it was that was causing him to be so upset.

“Oh, God,” you mumbled, trying to shove your key into the door, but in your hurry, you kept choosing the wrong one.

“There you are,” came the rude voice of Mr. Lanfranchi, one of your neighbors a couple doors down. From the moment you and Bradley had moved in, he’d seemed determined to have a problem with you. When you turned, you saw that he was standing in his open doorway, arms crossed, scowling at you. “That kid of yours has been screaming for over an hour. About time you showed up.”

Although you would have loved nothing more than to tell Mr. Lanfranchi where he could shove it, you decided killing him with silence was a better solution as you turned your back on him and finally managed to get the right key in the lock. Slamming the door behind you, you dropped your purse and practically ran in the direction of your son’s cries.

“Bradley?” you called out, a hint of panic in your voice. “Baby?”

Pushing open the door to the nursery, your heart plummeted at the sight before you. Nicholas was lying in his crib, kicking his legs and loudly sobbing, while Bradley was sitting on the rug, head in his hands as he stared down at the floor. For a moment, you just stared at the two of them, not sure who needed you more. But then your feet carried you to the crib and you were lifting Nick into your arms, trying to rock him back and forth gently, even as he continued to wail in your ear.

“Oh, no, it’s okay, my love,” you cooed soothingly, rubbing his back as you tried to calm him down. “Sh, sh, sh. Mommy’s home. Mommy’s here. It’s okay.”

Looking over at Bradley, you saw that he had lifted his head and was peering at you through bleary eyes. He looked exhausted, but also deeply troubled. The tension you had seen in his shoulders when you’d picked him up on base had returned, and he had a defeated look about him that broke your heart.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he was mumbling, burying his face in his hands and then raking his fingers through his hair wildly. “He—he hasn’t stopped crying. I haven’t been able to get him to stop crying,” he told you, sounding almost numb.

You remembered the first time Nicholas had gone into one of his crying fits like this while you were home alone with him. It had been incredibly draining and emotionally taxing. You had felt like crying yourself. You could only imagine how Bradley was feeling right now.

“It’s okay, baby,” you said, trying to reassure both your husband and your son at the same time. When you felt Nick’s diaper was dry, you tried to figure out what else could be the cause of his upset.

“Bradley,” you said gently, carefully kneeling down on the floor near his feet, Nick still cradled in your arms. “Honey, look at me. Is he hungry? Did he eat?”

Bradley pointed across the nursery, where an empty bottle was sitting on the table near the rocking chair. “He seemed hungry earlier, so I fed him a bottle. He was doing okay, and then he just started crying and he hasn’t stopped. I—I don’t know what’s wrong,” he admitted, and you realized that that admission terrified him. He looked desolate as he gazed down at the baby. “I don’t know how to help him.”

“It’s okay,” you told him, reaching out with one hand and gently squeezing your husband’s. “It’s okay, Bradley.” You thought you had an idea what the trouble might be now.

Rising up, you laid Nick down on the changing table and began to gently massage his belly in a clockwise motion, singing a calming song to him in a soft voice. It was a song you often sang to help him go to sleep at night. As you continued to rub his tummy, he slowly started to quiet down, his desperate wails turning to softer cries. Lifting his feet in both hands, you began to bicycle his legs slowly, kissing the soles of his tiny feet as you did so. Slowly but surely, his cries soon turned to whimpers, then to little hiccups, until finally he stopped crying altogether and simply blinked up at you with tired eyes, all tuckered out.

Bradley stood up slowly, staring down at Nick and then gazing up at you in awe. “How did you do that? What was wrong?” he asked, still looking a bit shell-shocked.

“He had a gas bubble,” you explained, carefully lifting the baby into your arms and cradling the back of his head. “It happened once before when I gave him the bottle. He’s okay now, baby, I promise,” you assured him, noting the worried expression that was still on your husband’s face. “I know it can be overwhelming when he cries like that. I had no idea what to do the first time he did it when I was alone with him. But it’s all okay now. See?”

He just continued to stand there, staring intently at Nick with a sad look in his eyes. “I couldn’t even help my own son,” he murmured, reaching out to lightly touch the baby’s back before dropping his hand again.

“Bradley, no, you—”

Before you could even get a full sentence out, Bradley was turning and walking out of the nursery, his head clutched in his hands. Your heart broke when you saw the defeated slump to his shoulders, and the heaviness he seemed to be bearing.

Not wanting to alarm Nick, who seemed to be on the verge of passing out from exhaustion, you continued to whisper soothingly to him, rubbing his back and rocking him in your arms until his eyes closed and his breathing evened out. Cradling his head carefully, you lowered him into the crib and watched him for a few minutes to make sure he really was sound asleep, then stepped out of the nursery on quiet feet and closed the door halfway behind you.

Concerned about Bradley, you immediately went in search of him. You checked the bedroom first, but when you didn’t find him there, you moved to the living room, where you discovered him sitting silently at the end of the couch.

“Honey,” you said softly, kicking your shoes off and curling up beside him on the couch. “Talk to me. What’s the matter?” You knew it had to go deeper than just Nick’s crying. Something had been off ever since Bradley returned from the mission.

“I’m a terrible father,” Bradley said quietly, tears stinging his whiskey-colored eyes as he turned his face away from you, seemingly too ashamed to even look you in the eye. “Nick was in pain, and he needed me, and I didn’t know what to do. I just froze. I didn’t even call you or anything. What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing!” you exclaimed, reaching out to cup Bradley’s face in your hands so that you could turn his eyes back to yours. “Nothing is wrong with you. Do you hear me? Babies cry. A lot. And sometimes it’s hard to know why. That does not make you a terrible father,” you insisted, looking directly into his eyes. “Do you hear me?”

“I didn’t know what to do,” he said again, shaking his head slowly. “I keep messing up.”

“Bradley, baby, you haven’t messed up anything,” you told him, running your fingers through his hair. He seemed so shaken up by this, and you were trying to understand why.

“It’s my fault that Coyote got hit,” he said quietly, lowering his gaze and staring down at his lap.

“What?” you asked, startled. Resting your hand over his, you leaned in closer and rested your head on his shoulder. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“It is,” Bradley told you insistently, his whole body tensing up beside you. “I was mission leader. I was the one making the calls, and I made a bad one. I thought we were clear. Bob and Fanboy weren’t picking anything up on radar. But that SAM just came out of nowhere,” he murmured, almost more to himself than to you. “I didn’t see it coming.”

“Oh, baby,” you said softly, cradling his cheek in your hand. “You can’t take all that responsibility and put it on your shoulders. You did the best you could. You said it yourself, even Bob and Fanboy didn’t pick anything up. You couldn’t have seen it coming.”

“But I should have!” Bradley’s voice was firm as he gazed at you, an agonized look in his expression. “I should have! Coyote could have been killed, and it would have been my fault. I feel like I just keep letting everyone down. And then today, I couldn’t even take care of my own son!”

You took a moment to process your husband’s words, to process the pain and the feeling behind them. It would be easy for you to sit here and tell him that it wasn’t true, that he shouldn’t feel that way, but who were you to tell him how he should feel? If that was how he felt at that moment, then he deserved to be heard.

“Baby, I can’t pretend to know exactly what you’re going through right now,” you began slowly, trying to collect your thoughts. “I’ll never be able to fully understand what it is you go through every time you go up in one of those jets, every time you fly some classified mission that I’m sure I don’t even want to know the details of. And I’m not going to sit here and tell you not to feel the way you feel, because you’re allowed to feel whatever you need to. But I do want to tell you that I think you’re an amazing man. An amazing husband, an amazing father, an amazing friend, and an amazing fighter pilot. You deserved to be mission leader because no one cares about that squad more than you do. You would put your own life on the line for any of them, and that is what makes you a good leader. Coyote knows that. And I know that he would never blame you for what happened. You didn’t let him down, baby. You didn’t let anybody down. You all came home, and that’s what matters most.”

Bradley swallowed, rubbing his hands up and down his thighs as he silently drank in your words, tears that refused to fall coating his dark lashes.

“You didn’t let Nick down either, honey. It’s hard, taking care of a baby. Trust me, I know,” you said, trying to laugh softly to lighten the mood. “Do you think I have all the answers? Believe me, I don’t. I only figured out what to do today because the last time it happened, I called Penny sobbing and begging for her to help me. I felt like the world’s worst mother that day.”

“You’re an amazing mother,” Bradley insisted suddenly, lifting his head and taking one of your hands between both of his own.

“And you’re an amazing father,” you replied evenly, arching a pointed brow as you looked at him. “One tough day doesn’t change that. Our son is so lucky to have you,” you whispered, caressing his cheek lightly as you leaned in closer.

Bradley took a deep breath, turning his head slightly to press a kiss to the palm of the hand that was resting against his cheek. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you what was bothering me when you asked. I just—I felt ashamed of what had happened. And—” He paused, struggling to get the rest of his words out. “And I didn’t want you to stop thinking of me as a hero,” he confessed.

“That would never happen,” you assured him, crawling into his lap and holding his face in your hands. “You’ll always be my hero.”

“And you’ll always be mine,” Bradley murmured softly, wrapping his arms around you tightly and pulling you in for a kiss.

Kissing him deeply, you rested your hand on the nape of his neck and ran your fingers through his hair, feeling his body slowly relax as the tension and anxiety oozed out of him. When you finally pulled back for air, you rested your head in the crook of his shoulder and whispered, “I love you so much, Lieutenant Bradshaw.”

You could feel his chest rumbling as he chuckled in response. “I love you more, Mrs. Bradshaw.”

“Not possible,” you teased, tilting your head back and grinning up at him.

Just then, the sound of the baby monitor that you kept in the living room came crackling to life as Nick awoke from his little hysteria-induced nap. You could hear him babbling and whimpering slightly, clearly in need of being held.

As you shifted to move off Bradley’s lap and go to your son, however, your husband stilled you with his hand. “I’ve got him,” he told you, sliding you easily off his lap and rising himself.

“Okay,” you smiled, nodding up at him. You knew this was something he needed to do after all that had gone on that afternoon.

Bradley smiled at you in return before walking out of the living room and down the short hallway to the nursery.

Within a few moments, you heard the sound of your son’s soft cries cease completely, which made you smile happily. You waited another couple minutes until you couldn’t take it anymore, and then you tiptoed quietly down the hallway and poked your head into the nursery.

Your husband was standing next to the crib, rocking a happily gurgling Nicholas in his arms as your son grasped onto one of his father’s large fingers.

“Daddy’s here, Nick. Daddy’s right here,” Bradley was whispering softly, gazing down at your son with a look of unadulterated adoration, a look that absolutely melted your heart. “I’m home now, and I’m not going to leave you or Mommy again for a very, very long time. I promise I’m going to be right here for you always.”

With tears in your eyes, you stepped into the nursery and wrapped your arms around both your boys, your heart full to bursting with how much you loved the two of them. It was more than words could describe.

“Thank you, honey,” Bradley murmured softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he wrapped one arm around you.

“For what?” you asked in surprise as you lifted your head to gaze up at him.

Bradley smiled, lightly brushing his fingertips across your cheek. “For always being my safe place to land every time I make it back home.”

#bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #x reader #x female reader #rooster x wife!reader #mr. & mrs. bradshaw #top gun #top gun: maverick #miles teller

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cozage · 8 months

Note

Hi cozage,

Congrats for 2k!!!🤧💖

SO, I was thinking about how Sabo would confess his feelings for his beloved one, or like, SHE would confess first? Being so oblivious and occupied with work like he is, maybe isn't crazy imagine that happening 👀✨

I loved the silent treatment one with him lol, I don't see a lot of imagines with him, I miss it rsrsrs

Thanks for lighting up my day with your stories 💖

Thank you! Writing Sabo is always fun, I enjoyed this one a lot :)

Characters: gn reader x Sabo Total word count: 1k

Subtle Realization

You knew you liked Sabo. You found him attractive from the moment you met him. But the second in command of the revolutionary army wasn’t as obvious with his feelings towards you.

You worked closely with him for weeks, a constant battle between hot and cold emotions from him. Sometimes, he asked about your day, your likes and dislikes, and many other things. Other days, he only barked out orders. It was confusing, to say the least. But there were a few moments that made you realize he was actually paying attention.

One morning, you were running late to a meeting, and you fully expected everyone to be pissed at you. You didn’t even have time to stop at your favorite bagel shop and grab breakfast.

But when you slipped into the meeting beside Sabo, he handed you a bagel with cream cheese and your favorite tea.

“How’d you know?” you whispered.

“I always see you there.” He shrugged. “Figured I’d just get your order for you since you weren't there this morning. That’s what friends do.”

Friends. That pesky word that he loved so much. He may have done one of the kindest things he had ever done for you- for anyone- but you were still just friends.

It was only a few days later when he asked you to dinner.

“We’re both working late, and you’ve been working so hard, I just thought it would be nice to go somewhere and talk away from work.”

“Sure.” Your voice was monotone, but your heartbeat quickened at the thought of the two of you at dinner. Alone.

It was a nice restaurant, far fancier than what you had dressed for, but Sabo complimented how lovely you looked, and the two of you had a fabulous time.

He learned about your past, and you learned about his-what he could remember of it, at least. He paid for dinner and even walked you back to your little cramped living space, like a true gentleman.

“Thank you for the meal,” you said. “Would you like to come in for a bit? It’s not much, but-”

“Oh no,” Sabo said quickly. “Dinner was lovely. We should do it again sometime.”

Were you reading too much into his words? Or was he trying to insinuate that he was feeling something more?

You smiled, trying not to let too much excitement show. “I’d like that quite a lot.”

“As would I.” He tipped his hat to you. “Since we’re coworkers, I think it’s important we get to know each other as much as possible.”

Coworkers. Somehow, it was worse than friends. You tried not to let your disappointment show, but once you slipped into your room, you couldn’t help but burst into tears.

A few weeks later, you were grumbling about your roommate. The set up was atrocious, and while you weren’t much of a complainer, your roommate and living space were both worthy of complaining about.

“Why don’t you just move in with me?” Sabo asked, not even bothering to look up from his writing.

You stared at him for a few moments. Surely you had heard him wrong. “What?”

“Move in with me,” he said again. “You already stay here well past midnight. Sometimes you even crash on the couch. I have a spare room. You should move in.”

You scoffed. “I can’t just move in, Sabo. Its-”

“Why not?” he asked, finally looking up at you. “It wouldn’t be much different than now. Nothing would change except where you call home.”

Home. With Sabo. Surely you were setting yourself up for heartbreak here. But you agreed.

Three days later, you moved in with him. And while you still referred to each other as coworkers or friends, you also went home together. You cooked dinner together. You shared a bathroom, and worked in the study together.

You never had a break from him, but you didn’t mind. In fact, on your off days, the two of you often went and did something together. You read books together and talked about them over dinner. You went on walks, and trained, and only when you said goodnight did the two of you go your separate ways. Sabo to the room on the left, and you to the room on the right.

It was awkward at first, but you quickly found a way to cohabitate. Cooking and cleaning was infinitely more fun with Sabo by your side, and he laughed a lot more in your presence.

Ten months after you first met him, he finally came to the realization.

You were sitting at dinner, just the two of you. You had made pasta, and you had managed to get some sauce on your face while the two of you were eating.

Without thinking, Sabo leaned over and gently wiped it from your chin, and suddenly the entire world simultaneously flipped on its head and made so much sense.

“Oh,” Sabo whispered, still staring at the place where the sauce had been. “I think I could do this forever with you.”

Your heart was beating so loud in your chest, you were certain he could hear it.

“What do you mean?” you whispered, scared to be hopeful.

His eyes darted up to yours. “I think I love you. And I don’t ever want to lose you.”

“Sabo-” you breathed out, but he lunged across the table, connecting his lips with yours.

He pulled away far too soon, afraid he had ruined one of the only friendships he actually cared about.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I know you might not feel the same way. I just realized and had to tell you.”

Part of you was certain this was a dream. But if it was, you never wanted to wake up.

“I feel the same,” you assured him. “I just wasn’t sure if you would ever…” You trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence.

He gave you a slightly devious smile, leaning back across the table to give you another kiss. “Well I do. And we have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

For the first time since you moved in, the two of you didn’t go separate ways for bed.

#one piece #one piece imagine #one piece scenario #one piece x reader #one piece x you #op sabo #revolutionary sabo #one piece sabo #sabo x reader #sabo x you #sabo x y/n #cozage #✧˚sabo✧˚

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heartfullofleeches · 8 months

Text

Kreme Filled

Yan Candy Person + G.N Candy Witch Reader

Summary: Blurb in which Witch Reader teaches a friend a bit about their anatomy and said friend teaches them about theirs. Said friend almost happens to be made of fried douth

(Tags: Light/Candy body horror, slightly suggestive, fingering but not in the way that you think, no use of y/n - reader is referred to as Sweets)

"Whoa!- I didn't know you had a hole here too. I learn something new about you everyday, Sweets!-"

Living with folks made out of pastries and sweets for so long, it's surprising how easy it was to forget their various attributes and lack there of every now and then. Showered by so much love and acceptance in the community, it almost came as a shock the first few time to remember those caring hearts were made of sugar and syrup instead of the same blood and tissue as your own. Often times you recalled only these features by the spillage of their syrupy fluids, but frequent instances across that further separated your human skin from their sweet, doughy flesh.

Kreme was one of the sweetest souls you've met by far both in personality and taste. A local pastry with a hair that reminded you of freshly made donuts and coincidentally made of the same dough. Piped with passion for design and clinging to your side, Kreme visited your bakery daily for different pigments of frosting to decorate their clothing and self with whenever creativity struck which was hourly for them. On the plus side you had a few bracelets and rings too delicate for you to wear, but made them happy when displayed around your kitchen and home.

While piping the frosting need for a new batch of sprinkles on a tray, Kreme had grown bored by lax amount of attention on them and so they decided to pull a little prank to lighten the mood. They slathered their hands in powered sugar, snuck up behind you as concentration lowered your guard, raised your shirt under the guise of a friendly hug, and brought their powder covered hand down on your sides. Rubbing the powder into your skin, Kreme noticed something as their palms ran over your stomach. A hole almost like the one in their torso only much smaller and refused to open no matter how their fingers pried. They tried again, but stopped upon hearing you cry out in discomfort.

"Ow! Kreme, that hurts - cut it out."

Kreme immediately drops their hands, staring at you like a deer in headlights as you face them. "Oh! I'm really sorry, Sweets - it's just that your hole is so tiny I was trying to make it bigger for you." The fiend slaps their hands over their mouth. "I'm sorry - are they supposed to be that small for your kind? Please don't tell me I seriously hurt you."

You gently pull their hands from their face, wiping yours of its confusion in attempts to soothe their rising fears. "I'm okay, Kreme, really. But, what do you mean by... hole?"

Kreme lifts your shirt and points at your stomach. "This one! Never seen anything like it before."

You follow their finger, gears clicking as you look just above your waist. "Oh.... ohhhh that hole. Well, when people like me are... created, we're attached by a cord to our makes that gives us nutrients till we come out and that "hole" is where we were attached at."

Kreme touches your skin, eyes growing wider with every word. "That's so cool! I love learning more about you, Sweets. Human stuff was so boring when the others told me about them, but when it's about you I wanna listen all day... Wanna see mine?"

"Your what?"

Kreme laughs. "My hole, silly. It goes all the way through and I can put so many things in it. Frosting, jam, sprinkles. I love sprinkles - especially the ones you make me. Anyway, wanna see it?"

"Um...."

Not waiting for a reply, Kreme rolls up their tee and proudly presents the centimeters wide hole in the center of their chest. Crouching on your knees, you could see straight through it, and in at the softer wall of dough that made up their inners. By guessing, you estimated you could fit around three fingers in the hole with no problem. You try to shake the thought, but it keeps crawling back to mind.

"It really is a hole..." You reach out to examine the crater - having enough restrain to before your hand meets their skin.

"Yea!.. Stick your fingers in it."

You stumble on your feet and words - caught off guard by their sudden shift in tone. "What?"

Kreme smiles, directing one of your hands towards the entrace of their hole. "I want you - to put your fingers inside me. I can tell that you're thinking about it~"

Urged by their guiding hand and pleading eyes, you extend your index finger and slowly begin to insert it into their hole. The texture is akin to mashed cake as you imagined, but it's slightly more moist than pictured. Tearing an earlier theory you add another finger and push them both deeper, the walls of pastry around them contracting as Kreme whimpers - squirming, and even whining out as you pull back.

"Am I hurting you?"

Kreme shakes their head, grip alarming firm for someone of their kind. "No... no, no - it's just that whenever anyone else tries to touch my hole it's always a bit uncomfortable, but if it's Sweets.... If it's you, I'm okay with anything. Please keep going."

You didn't want to hurt them, but your curiosity had been peaked.

"Lemme know if any part of this bothers you and we'll stop, okay?"

Kreme nods as if they understand, but is too transfixed on your fingers as you add yet another and shove them all inside of them to utter more than desperate cries. Cold air kisses your fingertips as they fall out the back entry of their hole before being sucked back in. There's a little wiggling room, but not enough where you can't attempt to put in another digit. Kreme, noting your hesitant and dying to feel more of you looking around.

"Oh, oh - check out this fun trick I can do." Reaching over to the table, Kreme nabs the - tilting their head back as they swallow the frosting. Your fingers rooted in the tightness of their midsection run slick with cream as it slides down their throat, pouring out over your hand and onto the floor - spilling onto your apron and legs. Working as a lubricant, you successfully fit all fingers of your dominant hand in side of the pastry and out through the other side as their legs buckle, nearly giving out as they hover over you. You stand to help them upright and due to the building ache in your legs from your position. Kreme throws their arms over your shoulder, pushing with every pull and shaking as your hand stretches their hole wider. It'd close back to normal later on, but for now they revelled at the thought of having a permanent marker of your affliction on them. Tearing them up from the inside and leaving them starving for your attention whenever you close your doors for the evening. It too much. If only they could have one thing to be left with until the next day. One little thing to keep them going until the sun rose tomorrow.

"Sweets... Ah... deeper... I wanna feel you... always..."

As with all good things, their pleasure comes to an end to soon. You slide your hand out of their torso, allowing them to fall slack in your arms as they collect themselves. You subconsciously lick at the frosting coating your hand still in autopilot from closing shifts at your bakery, which in turn adds to their lightheadedness. You play coy to the kiss they sneak to your cheek as they stand on their own, gazing bashfully at the floor.

"Sweets?...."

"Yeah?.."

"I sorta lied when I said I never paid attention to things about humans... I know about various parts of their bodies and some of the urges... your kind gets... We really aren't so different if we really think about it."

You pause mid wipping your hands on your apron. "What are you getting at?"

"I'm saying the next time we do this I want your cream inside me instead. I don't want anything else than to feel you inside me - forever. It's the only thing that can make me truly happy. I never want to leave you so please don't leave me.

Kreme kisses your cheek again as they grab at the strings of your apron. "Just give it some thought. For now, I'll be taking this since I got it all dirty. Love you bunches, Sweets - bye!"

Loosening the tight knot, Kreme tears off your apron and waves it as their flag of triumph as they flee out the back door of the kitchen - leaving you alone to clean everything up.

#yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere blurb #yandere insert #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #yandere candy #witch reader #Sweets witch

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stuccobaby · 10 months

Note

kahlopatra headcanons? 🙏

bestieeee

these are gonna be random a f

(college au/i aged em up)

Cleopatra runs cold, Frida runs hot. It's perfect.

yes, they both have their tickets for the Barbie movie. Cleopatra has her outfit planned out (pink pink pink everything) and Frida is very excited to be Cleo's Ken.

Frida thought she had a high tolerance for spicy food but Cleopatra is in a different league. Like she could go on Hot Ones and not even flinch.

but Cleo haaaates Tajin. Frida loves it. She puts it on fruit and Cleo couldn't believe her eyes.

Cleopatra has a cat! (i was picturing a siamese) Frida is lowkey allergic, but she can handle it. But if you thought Cleo was snooty...wait till you meet this cat.

Cleopatra snores. Frida thought it would be cute and quiet but it's actually kinda loud. Frida is contemplating ways to bring this up and survive to see another day.

Frida is an Aquarius! Cleopatra is a Scorpio (not to get in my astrology bag but I think she's a scorpio sun, leo rising and gemini moon. venus in leo or taurus. what do yall think about it.)

I wrote a lot hehe woops.

(TW: weed) Cleopatra is like a 'smoke at parties' kinda girl, whereas Frida smokes often for funsies and as a creativity boost.

(TW: weed) They tried to do a 'take an edible and go to an aquarium' date but Cleopatra got too high and freaked out in the shark tunnel. They'll try again but with an arboretum next time.

Frida can play the guitar. Cleopatra goaded her into playing for her once and folded immediately when she started singing. (at one point, Frida looked up and Cleo was taking off her clothes)

Speaking of, Cleopatra told Frida she signed up to be a model for her art class. Frida did not know she was a nude model. Frida should have guessed. damn it was hard to focus on painting that day

Cleopatra is now Frida's personal fashion consultant. She's a (cheerleader, homecoming queen) part-time model, she has a very keen eye for fashion obvi

When it's cold, Frida wears socks to bed and they argue about it all the time. They also argue about what side of the bed to sleep on (they both want the right side smh).

Frida loves going along with Cleo on her many beauty shop appointments (nails, hair, spa, etc) but won't go into any waxing/threading shop because the technicians start getting twitchy just looking at her. She feels like if she fell asleep, she'd wake up tied to the chair with two eyebrows.

They watch a lot of movies. Cleopatra laments how expensive TVs used to be but loves that they're cheap now because a big screen TV still makes her feel rich and luxurious.

Frida will be the first one to say I love you and it will mess Cleo up a little bit. don't worry tho, they'll talk about it! she's just not used to being loved (saad)

Frida is teaching Cleo Spanish, but all she wants to learn is swear words and dirty talk. it's gonna take a while

Cleopatra is a bug killer, Frida tries to trap and release.

Harriet (Frida's roomie in this AU) was extremely suspicious of Cleo at first ("wasn't she like your nemesis?") but she came around eventually ("enemies to lovers is kinda sexy...")

Frida is currently showing Cleo so many Spongebob episodes, she was sick of her constant references going to waste.

yes, they listen to a LOT of new music together. Frida tries to go in chronological order (2004 music, 2005 music etc), so that Cleo could hear the progression of music sound. (i could go on and on about music but these r getting long already)

Cleopatra is a passenger princess, but mostly because everybody is too scared to get in a car with her at the wheel; she drives like she's playing fucking GTA. (Frida thought people were kidding, but after they went soaring over a downhill speed bump one time, Frida politely took the keys forever).

speaking of GTA, that's Cleo's favorite video game. she enjoys mowing people down, blowing things up, and getting cute new outfits. Frida thinks its a good way for her to indulge her sadistic streak.

Mario Kartin': Frida mains an Orange Yoshi, Cleo goes between Peach and Rosalina (she refuses to make a Mii she thinks they're too ugly to represent her).

They become a different couple when they play mario kart. Frida is really fucking good and Cleopatra can't stand that shit eating grin every time she wins. (cleo would be like that tik tok sound: right hand on the bible, god can strike me down if im lying, that motherfucker's cheating!)

-----

I could write more but i wrote way too much already. y'all would have to ask for part 2. Also... may have snuck my next fic in here teehee.

if anybody wants to use these for art or what have you, go for it (but it better be gooood 😜)

tag and credit me tho so i can see it and be overjoyed

THANKS FOR ASKIN BESTIE!

#kahlopatra #clone high frida #clone high cleopatra #thank you for this question bestie hehe #anybody watch mpgis?

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lvrslvt3 · 10 months

Text

ROMANCE BOOKS | s. reid

main masterlist | spencer masterlist

pairings : reader x spencer reid

summary : established relationship, reader begins to feel inferior for her boyfriend spencer reid.

warnings : reader feeling insecure

notes :

ofcourse i knew that spencer reid was a genius — it was one of the first things that anybody noticed about the agent except from his beautiful face — but even after dating him for almost two months i was still in shock everyday of his brain.

he never put me down, or purposely made me feel little, but i had been recently finding ways to do so myself. it started when he would ramble on and i couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. when he would have to repeat things multiple times until i understood.

somehow i had managed to hide the nagging emotion despite him being a behavioural analyst until finally it all boiled over the first time he visited my house.

“i’ve never been in here before.” the curly headed man seemed nervous to be in my bedroom but i sent him a comforting smile in hopes of calming him. “well, make yourself at home.” i placed myself down on my bed, “you can look around if you like.”

“are you sure?” spencer seemed hesitant. he stood by my doorway as if he had never seen a bedroom before mine but i assumed it was because he hadn’t been in many girls rooms — a fact i didn’t believe until he promised me it was true.

“ofcourse, go ahead, i’ll go and change.” i climbed off of my bed and walked over to him, “if you’re uncomfortable, you can leave, okay? i promise i won’t hold it against you.” i placed a chaste kiss on his cheek before grabbing clothes and leaving.

it only took me ten minutes until i was ready for bed. i wore sweatpants and a simple tank top, then braided my hair so it would stay out of my face while i slept. i made sure to take my time before finally re entering.

luckily, he was still in my room. he was by my bookshelf, studying each of my books and making me rethink every book i had ever bought. when he turned to me, he smiled but didn’t move from his spot.

“i brought your favourite sweatshirt.” he referred to the folded item of fluffy clothing on my bed. spencer took awhile before he was able to share his clothes but after he started letting me it was hard to stop.

“i knew i invited you for a reason.” i giggled to let him know i was joking while i slipped the fluffy material over my head. when i was done he had turned back to my bookshelf, picking up another book.

“what’s this one about?” he flipped over the cover so i could see, but i knew that he already knew after he read the blurb on the back. i shrugged, “nothing, it’s just a silly romance book.” i brushed it off.

he furrowed his brows, “do you like romance?” he questioned although i already knew that he was aware of the answer since most my bookshelf was romance, mixed with a couple dramas and thrillers.

i didn’t answer audibly — simply shrugged but he continued to stare at me, he knew something else was up. “you don’t have to pretend to like my books, spence, i know they don’t interest you.”

he placed the book back in where he found it. “why would you say that?” he sat beside me on the edge of my bed, “i may not read romances but i understand it’s appeal. just because i wouldn’t read it doesn’t mean it’s a bad book.”

i shook my head, “compared to yours, they’re silly.” i muttered, leaning my head against his chest and hoping that he would just let this conversation die without any confrontation.

“people read for lots of different reasons, y/n.” he held me closer and brushed his fingers through my hair, “i do it for facts, to learn. but you do it for entertainment, and that’s okay. both are okay.” he tried to comfort me.

“i’m sorry, spence, it’s just sometimes i feel…” i wasn’t sure how to place my words in a non offensive way, “stupid compared to you, but that’s not your fault. i just get in my own head.”

“you’re way smarter than i could ever be.” he retorted quickly, “you always know what to say to people, how to comfort people. you always make me feel safe and welcomed no matter how hard i close myself off.”

“sometimes i struggle when i see you approach things so easily. like when we had to babysit henry and you knew how to react to his every single move and i couldn’t even talk to my own godson.”

i shook my head, “henry loved you, spence.” i remind him, but he continued. “you already let me know that and left no space for me to doubt myself. now it’s my turn.” he laid a kiss on top of my head afterwards.

“did you realise that romance helps grow our understanding of other people. it encourages empathy.” he stated while i hummed along, a soft smile on my face at his sweet words.

“trust me, i won’t.” i smiled while leaning further into him. “did you know, romance books can help you identify what turns you on or what gives you pleasure because sometimes you just don't know until you read about it?”

i chuckled — caught of guard by his question — but answered as if it was a normal thing to ask. “nope.” i chirped back. “well i guess you didn’t know that doing a buddy read with a partner may also spice up your relationship as well.”

i giggled slightly at my boyfriend, causing him to chuckle. “well i have the perfect book for us.” i grinned at him before hopping off of my bed and trying to find what i was referring to.

#spencer reid #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminalminds imagine

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st-danger · 8 months

Note

Given certain.......developments........I feel like we need feminized Aeon.

Maybe in a sheer teddy?

With stockings?

I just have a feeling that Swiss and Dew in particular would be interested in this scenario.

Come quick, the text had said. Swiss had, of course. Aeon doesn't text. He doesn't like phones, he doesn't really care to learn, and has dropped and shattered the screen of no less than three phones since his summoning, and Imperator has made it very clear that three times is thrice too many. So he leaves it lying around constantly, never making an effort to keep it on his person.

Come quick, he'd said, and Swiss had raced to his room. If only he'd known come quick wasn't only going to refer to the speed with which his legs would carry him across the abbey.

"Heard from a little birdy this was your thing."

The teddy is more lace than anything else. 70-30 split, Swiss would guesstimate. White, tight, and a plunging mesh panel that would show off cleavage if he had any. He's just as flat as Dewdrop, but utterly willing to grope his own chest and pinch his little nipples until they poke against the fabric. He sits, perched upon his bed, long legs crossed and adorned with matching white thigh highs that accentuate his calves. Worst of all, the red lipstick. Swiss's stomach drops out and he stands in the doorway, a truly profane wave of arousal washing over him with brutal intensity. Aeon smiles, heinously pleased. Shows a hint of crooked teeth, hair falling into his face. Absurdly his gives Swiss a little finger wave.

"Feel like closing that door?" Swiss tries to keep his knees from buckling as he steps inside and throws it shut, harder than he needs to by miles. "Lock it, too," Aeon adds, and Swiss reaches back for the doorknob and turns the lock without looking.

Swiss figures there's no real reason to wait, and is across the room and kneeling before him in an instant. The grin hasn't left Aeon's face. He slides his hands over Aeon's legs, caressing.

"Gotta tell you now," Aeon drawls, "if you're looking for shame, that's Dew's territory. I know how good I look."

"Bet you do," Swiss murmurs, stroking down to his ankles to brush his thumbs tenderly against the bone, and then to play with the straps of the heels. "Bet you wanna be treated all pretty too, huh?"

"You offering?"

Swiss huffs out a laugh.

"Think I'm gonna leave now?"

"Sure hope not." Aeon rubs at his chest and acts like he's squeezing his pecs.

"What exactly," Swiss says, hitching a hand under the leg so daintily crossed overtop the other, "are you looking for?" Swiss, game for whatever, always. But Aeon is too new for him to comfortably make an assumption on what the menu is. Can't be too boring, since. Well. All of this.

He pries Aeon's legs apart and groans at the way the lace stretches tight over his chubby.

"Little of this, little of that," Aeon says.

"Give me more than that," Swiss says, ducking his head and placing sucking kisses over the thigh highs, up and up until he gets to creamy soft thighs. "You'll get whatever you ask for."

"You could fuck my tits," he offers, sounding so absurdly casual, so ludicrously at ease with it all. The contrast between the way he and Dew handle things is inversely proportional. "Heard you like body shots."

"That birdy of yours sure knows how to run their mouth," he says, and then, because it's right there and nobody could hold the eagerness against him, presses his full lips against Aeon's cock. It immediately twitches and Swiss is more and more certain that the spark of fire that runs through him will reduce him to worthless ash by the end of the evening.

Aeon worries his lower lip between his teeth, a coy gesture, and Swiss is reaching for his chest with open palms, shooing Aeon's hands aside. His expression goes pinched at the feeling of hard nipples against them.

"Wanna suck my clit?" Aeon asks, and laughs, bright and clear and utterly delighted at the moan it wrenches from him. "Oh, you're easy, aren't you."

"Birdy tell you that, too?"

"Birdy told me a lot of things. Said you like lipstick all over your dick."

"How about a little tit for tat?" Swiss punctuates the double entendre with a light pluck of his nipples.

"Gotta warm me up a little first," Aeon says, and Swiss- well, he's cradling Aeon's face and pulling it towards him as he surges up.

Aeon uses tongue immediately. Not hard, not shoving it roughly into his mouth though Swiss hopes that's on the way. The waxy flavour of the makeup bothers him none, and they kiss thorough and deep until Aeon grabs his hair and tugs his head back, looking dazed.

"Holy shit."

"Uh huh," Swiss agrees. "Wanna see what else I can do with that tongue? Want me to treat you like the good little girl you are?" This hits Aeon obviously, losing his smile and looking like his world has gone ever so slightly sideways.

"Lick me out," he nods, and the gratification that Swiss feels as he's confronted by the breathy tone zings directly to his cock, pressing more and more insistently against his pants.

Swiss drops his head and nuzzles Aeon's cock, forcing a sharp inhale from him.

"Tell me what you are, sweetheart, and I promise I make your legs shake."

"Your good girl," Aeon moans.

Swiss is inclined to agree, and good behaviour deserves good rewards.

"Time to get it out," Swiss growls, suddenly utterly devoid of patience. "Let's take care of that clit."

#st-speaks #ghost #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost fanfiction #ghost headcanons #swiss ghoul #aeon ghoul #phantom ghoul #swiss/aeon #swiss/phantom #swiss x aeon #swiss x phantom

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writeforfandoms · 5 months

Text

Waking Lions 20

Find the series masterlist

We're changing things up a little this chapter! I felt you guys needed a POV switch to really get a better picture of what's going on.

So, let's check in with Price and see how he's handling this, shall we?

Warnings: swearing, yelling, game typical violence, war crimes probably, Price needs his own warning, canon typical violence against nameless goons.

Word count: 2.3k

In his defense, Price had a lot on his mind.

But no. That was no kind of defense.

Especially not when it came to you.

He'd sent you away because he had to, because otherwise you'd be too distracting. He had to focus on the task at hand.

Not on thinking about everything he'd just learned about you. Everything you'd let slip in your fluster.

He knew you well enough to know that you'd be mortified, later. You kept so many things to yourself that knowing an entire room full of people had heard that would probably send you into hiding.

From the way Laswell glanced at the door after you left, Price knew that she was thinking the same thing.

But there would be time later to console you, to apologize for being an ass, to make sure you were alright.

For now, he had work to do.

Now that there were three groups involved, it was easier to split up the targets. Easier to send Soap with Alejandro and Rodolfo, to keep Ghost with him and Gaz, to let KorTac keep to themselves. This wasn't the kind of mission he wanted to test by putting together potentially explosive personalities.

(Price could admit, if only to himself, that he didn't trust himself to work with those three. Not right now, not with the new intel still so close to the surface, not with his own curiosity burning a hole in his stomach.)

The three targets were, of course, not near each other.

“I can arrange transport,” Laswell said. It was not an offer for the 141 or the Vaqueros, but it was an offer for KorTac.

“We've got our own,” Declan said, a relatively gentle refusal. “Timing will be tight.”

“Just have to coordinate,” Alejandro said, unbothered. “We won't give them a chance to warn each other.”

“Give me a little time to coordinate the flights,” Laswell said, stepping closer to Declan. It was as close to a dismissal as the rest of them would get. She didn't need them hanging over her shoulder while she worked her magic.

So Price stepped out of the room, his boys behind him.

“Think Ace is alright?” Gaz asked softly. He was a smart, perceptive lad. Cared so much still. Probably too much, sometimes.

“I'll check in on her,” Price murmured. He still had one phone number that worked for you, fortunately.

It rang through to voice mail.

Okay. Not to panic. Didn't mean anything.

Soap and Ghost ran off to get lunch for everyone, since planning was best done on a full stomach.

Price tried calling again. No answer again.

It could be a thousand things. You could have your phone on silent. You could be mad at him and ignoring his calls. You could be busy with something else.

But his paranoia was rearing its head, undeniable and ugly.

You were right in the middle of all this, of course he was going to be concerned about you.

So he went on a little walk. To help clear his head.

He didn't see any sign of you. Every bit of his hard-won paranoia was screaming that something was wrong. That this wasn't like you.

One more phone call. One more.

Then he'd move on to more drastic measures.

The third call also went to voice mail. You weren't picking up. One he could excuse, two was iffy. But three calls?

Something was wrong.

“Gaz,” he called as he strode back into the building. “Need the laptop.”

Gaz was quick to produce it, giving Price a curious look. “Need any help, sir?”

“Maybe.” Price pulled up one of the programs Laswell had given him. Normally this kind of work was more up her alley - CIA shit, as Simon more or less affectionately referred to it. But Price wasn't clueless, or useless.

Gaz behind him, watching over his shoulder. Price didn't discourage him, focused on putting in your number and letting the program do its job.

Let this be nothing. Let him be paranoid. He could handle your temper, your hiding, your embarrassment.

So long as you were safe.

The tracker put your phone in a mostly residential area, well out of the way. Not near the hotel, not near anything the two of you had talked about.

Something was wrong.

It didn’t take him long to pull up CCTV in the area, flipping through them. There wasn’t a lot, and his jaw tightened in frustration.

“Wait,” Gaz said over his shoulder. “Go back one.”

Price obliged, going back to the previous angle.

“There, in the grass on the far side of the street.” Gaz pointed, shifting closer.

Price’s heart sank right down to his boots. A cell phone lay in the grass, abandoned. He knew you well enough to know that you wouldn’t just leave your cell phone. Not without reason.

Wordlessly, he backed up the footage until he found you. He paused for a moment, taking in the scene. The car. You, standing back just a little. The man clearly encouraging you in.

He backed up until you came into frame.

But you weren’t alone.

“Laswell!”

The door slammed open and Laswell was at his elbow moments later, leaning over his open shoulder. “Fuck,” she hissed, which was all the confirmation Price needed.

The man with you was Gray.

“How did he get her into the car?” Gaz, quiet and reasonable.

“Threats,” Price grunted.

“Me,” Laswell added, lips tight, fury in the crease of her brow. “He’s using me against her.”

Price scowled. Gray needed to be taken out. Immediately. But they couldn’t give up the mission, either.

“Track the car,” he told Gaz, pushing the laptop to his sergeant instead. “I need to know where they’re going.”

“Sir?” Gaz blinked at him, even as he pulled up the program.

“I need some supplies.” He looked to Laswell next.

“I’ll have them for you.” Laswell glanced back at Gaz, putting things together a little faster. “The op?”

“Needs to move forward.” Price shook his head. “I’ll be back in time, or I won’t. Gaz, you and Ghost are still on.”

Gaz frowned but didn’t object. Good lad. “Car’s left the suburbs,” he reported, a map pulled up on his phone. “Heading south.”

“We’ll find it again,” Laswell said, nodding to Price. “Here. Go here, take whatever you need.” She handed him an address scribbled on a piece of paper. “I’ll update you when we find the car.”

Price took the note with a nod and strode away. He didn’t wait for the elevator, hitting the door to the stairs hard enough it bounced off the wall of the stairwell. He didn’t slow, even as he hit the front door and just sidestepped running into Soap.

“Captain?” Soap called.

“Ask Laswell!” Price called over his shoulder, car keys in hand. He didn’t have time to stop and explain.

It took very little time to get to Laswell’s supply stash, and he took what he needed. Fortunately, she was well supplied, and he made a mental note to thank her for it.

But for now, the only thing on his mind was you.

You’d been gone for hours by now, and from the time stamp on the CCTV, you’d been in the car with Gray at least an hour.

He stopped at the curb next to where Gaz had spotted your phone, getting out. And there it was, still sitting in the grass.

Still open to show a new recording.

Price listened the whole recording, jaw clenched tight, fingers gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white.

Gray knew more than he should. He had sources, clearly.

But Price couldn’t bring himself to care much about that. No.

He cared about the little waver in your voice, the way he could hear you putting up a brave front.

You were terrified. And he wanted to rip Gray limb from limb for making you so scared.

Gaz called. Price barely glanced at the phone before he connected the call.

“We’ve got a location,” Gaz reported, voice even. Almost too even. Price could hear the stress he was hiding.

“Tell me.” Price didn’t even pause as he memorized the address, just in case. “Picked up Ace’s phone.”

“Anything?” Gaz tried not to sound hopeful.

“Ace got a recording before she got in the car.” Price had to pause for a moment, clenching his jaw. “He knows too much. Knew about us, said he’s got something planned for Laswell, too.”

“Fucking hell.” Gaz drew in a deep breath. “Sure you don’t need backup, sir?”

“I’ll keep you updated.” Price barreled through a yellow light, ignoring everything not an active danger to him. “How are your preparations going?”

“Laswell’s got the flights arranged,” Gaz said, a little reluctantly. “Timing is coordinated. We’ll be leaving in a few hours.”

“Rog.” Price doubted he’d make it back in time. And if, by some miracle, he did, he didn’t know if he’d be in the correct frame of mind to be on mission.

“Take the next left.”

Price obeyed without question, only breaking one or two traffic laws. (It was fine, Laswell would clear it up later.) “The others?”

“Up to date,” Gaz reported. “Had to talk Soap out of going after you.”

Price snorted. Surprising - he hadn’t known that sergeant had much fondness for you. Then again, Soap could just be reacting because Price was fond of you. Sometimes that was enough. “I trust Ghost is behaving.”

Gaz huffed. “Define behaving,” he grumbled, overly dramatic. Breaking the tension a bit.

“He hasn’t killed anyone yet or there’d be a lot more yelling.” Price scowled at the driver ahead of him, who was going exactly the speed limit.

“Laswell’s on top of everything,” Gaz assured him. “Go right, cut up two streets, and then left.”

Price grunted as he followed Gaz’s directions, pushing his foot down as soon as he was out from behind the slow driver. “How far?”

“Rate you’re going? Fifteen minutes.”

Price breathed slowly. You’d have been alone with Gray for near two hours by that point. He had no idea what condition he’d find you in. If you’d even be alive. The thought sent pain through his chest, clenching and sharp, but he forced himself not to shy away from it.

It was a possibility, even if it was one he did not want to face.

If it was true… if you were already gone…

He’d burn Gray alive.

Price switched from the call to a comm unit he tucked in his ear before he headed out of the car. He’d parked a little ways away, just in case. The abandoned hotel was in clear sight, fortunately no taller than the surrounding buildings. Still too many hiding places, sniper spots.

That was fine. Price would just clear the entire fucking building room by room until he had you back.

“Careful, sir. I count six outside.”

“Together?” Price crept forward, using a parked van as a hiding spot.

“Spread out. Three teams of two.”

Price’s lips thinned. Time to thin out the herd, then.

The first two fell so quickly they were almost simultaneous. Price moved around the van, keeping low and creeping towards the next pair, the silenced pistol firm in his grip. This was normal, easier. It was easy to view these people as the enemy, easy to clear them out systematically, coolly, silently. And they were the enemy - they were working for Gray, who had clearly allied himself on the ultranationalists and terrorists.

Which all meant that Price felt no guilt, no remorse, not even a flicker of hesitation in taking down every single man between him and you.

“I have no cameras inside,” Gaz told him as Price finally approached the door.

“Copy,” Price grunted. “Going dark.” He breached the door as quietly as he could, looking around.

So far, so good.

The ground level of this building was an absolute wreck of furniture, graffiti, and rubble. Dust, dirt, and debris covered most of the floor. The main area was a mess of footprints and an open crate of supplies.

No good hints as to where Gray had taken you.

Price cleared the ground floor methodically, cold rage spurring him on. He didn’t spare any of the bodies that hit the ground a second look.

They were nothing more than obstacles.

The last door was more than just a room, though. There was a half-open door, with a staircase going down. Maintenance, at a guess.

And soft voices from down there.

Too far away to tell if you were down there. But if Price had to bet, he’d guess that you were. Gray would keep you contained and out of danger, at least until he got what he wanted from you.

“John,” Laswell said over the comm.

Price paused, pulling back from the open doorway, pitching his voice low so it wouldn’t carry. “Laswell.”

“I found some backup for you. You’ll recognize him.”

Price blinked but didn’t allow himself any other sign of surprise. “Copy that. I’m headed downstairs - room near the back of the building has stair access.”

“I’ll pass that along.” Laswell drew in a breath, and Price waited. “If you can, bring Gray back alive.”

His lips pulled back from his teeth. “No promises.”

“Good hunting, John.” Laswell clicked off the comm.

Price breathed in deep. Someone would be coming behind him, backup. He just needed to not shoot his backup. And possibly not shoot Gray.

That would depend entirely on how you were when he found you.

Price nudged the door open enough to slip through, descending silently.

The first guard went down silently, and Price dragged the body out of the hallway and into a closet. That would buy him a little time if any other guards came through.

A double tap through the com got his attention, and Price half-turned to find a familiar face walking down the corridor towards him.

Price grinned, probably showing a few too many teeth. “Good to see you again,” he murmured. “Let’s get on it, sergeant.”

#waking lions #john price x reader #john price x you #f!reader

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