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mercillery · 1 month ago

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YANDERE SHANKS AND MARINE READER

WARNINGS: GENDER NOT SPECIFIED + YANDERE THEMES + NOT PROOFREAD

NOTES: I was bored and came up with this monstrosity. I don’t even like Shanks.

At first, Shanks' obsession with you doesn’t hit like a cannonball to the chest. Nope, it's more like a quiet wave that barely brushes your ankles—annoying but harmless, right? Wrong. Soon enough, that wave becomes a full-blown tide, and before you know it, you're swept away. It all starts with his simple admiration. You’re not like the other Marines he’s encountered. You’ve got this unshakable sense of duty, a moral compass that actually points in the right direction unlike most in the Navy, and a discipline that, frankly, makes you a bit of an anomaly. Shanks finds it...fascinating. And it’s not like he immediately jumps into full-blown, yandere territory. No, no. This man’s descent into obsession is slow, methodical. You wouldn’t even notice it until you're waist-deep in his fixation, and by then? Well, good luck swimming out.

It starts small. Maybe it’s while he’s kicking back, drink in hand, surrounded by the raucous laughter of his crew. But instead of fully enjoying the moment, his mind drifts—to you. You, in that crisp Marine uniform, carrying out your duties like it’s second nature. He finds himself smiling at the thought, then catching himself like, “Wait, what?” It happens again at the tavern—he’s deep in conversation with Benn, but his thoughts are far from the present. Instead, he’s wondering where you are, what you’re doing, if you ever think about him too.

And it’s in these quiet moments that the discomfort starts to grow. You’re a Marine. He’s a pirate. There's a pretty solid line drawn between you two, and it's not one he can just ignore. But the idea that you might never see him as anything more than a "wanted man" eats at him. It starts as a nagging thought, just a small itch at the back of his mind. Then, suddenly, it’s a full-on irritation that won’t go away. But here’s the thing about Shanks—he’s got the patience of a saint. You won’t catch him spiraling out or throwing tantrums. Nah, he’s not that guy. If anything, he plays the long game—the long game. We're talking years, decades, lifetimes if need be. He’s not about to rush in, guns blazing. He’ll wait, chip away at your defenses bit by bit, while always keeping that charming grin plastered on his face like nothing’s wrong.

And don’t think for a second that his easy-going, laid-back nature means he’s going to let this slide. Oh no. He might not lose his temper, but that doesn’t mean he’s not making plans—subtle ones, of course. He's just waiting for the right moment to make you realize that he’s the only option. You might think you have freedom, but it’s all an illusion.

Shanks is a master of hiding those darker intentions behind that trademark grin of his. You know the one—the carefree, charismatic smile that makes it impossible to distrust him. It’s his greatest weapon, honestly. You’d never guess that behind all the jokes, the playful attitude, and the hearty laugh, there’s something a little more… possessiveness lurking. He’s a charmer, no doubt. And charm? Well, that’s just the perfect way to keep anyone, especially you, from suspecting a thing. During your encounters, he’ll engage in that easy, casual banter, as if you’re just two people having a friendly chat on opposite sides of the law. If you ever did get the faintest inkling that something was off, he’d wave it away with a quick joke or a playful comment, and bam—you’re laughing before you even realize it. Suspicion? What suspicion?

Oh, but don’t be fooled. Shanks knows exactly what he’s doing. Manipulation? Oh, he’s practically a connoisseur of it. But he’s subtle about it—really subtle. He doesn’t need to go full villain monologue on you. No, he’s got finesse. Conversations with him are like verbal chess matches where you think you’re just having a nice chat, but really, he’s been 10 steps ahead since you said “hello.” He’ll start small, dropping hints, little questions that make you think twice about your Marine superiors. “Are you sure the Navy’s got your best interests at heart?” he’ll ask, with that easygoing tone that makes it seem like he’s just curious. But each comment is deliberate, each seed of doubt planted with care. The worst part? You don’t even notice you’re being manipulated. That’s his talent—he makes it all seem so natural.

Shanks has a way of making the pirate life sound pretty good too. Freedom on the open seas, no rules, no rigid Marine codes to follow—just you, him, and the wind in your hair. He’s not about to shove you off the Marine ship with a cutlass in hand or anything. No, he’s got more class than that. It’s all in the subtlety—he wants to make you want the life he’s offering, to make you think it’s your idea. That’s the horror beauty of his approach. And he doesn’t need to rush things either. In fact, he enjoys watching it all unfold, like a game he knows he’s already winning, even if it’s just a little at a time.

And no, he’s not sadistic or cruel about it—he’s just got that patient confidence. Every time he sees you waver, every time you start questioning just a little bit more, he gets this quiet satisfaction. It’s like watching his plan come together, piece by piece, with that percentage of “winning you over” ticking up in his mind. He’s not in a hurry. He’s got all the time in the world, and he knows that eventually, you’ll come around. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon enough, you’ll find yourself standing on the deck of his ship, wondering how you ever thought the Marine life was the right choice.

And no, Shanks isn’t the type to toss you into a burlap sack and lock you in a room somewhere—he's way more refined than that. Kidnapping? Please. That’s amateur hour. No, Shanks is the kind of guy who enjoys the chase. He plays the long game like a master strategist. Instead of brute force, he uses patience, charm, and a little bit of cunning to get what he wants. The first step? He studies you, not in a creepy binoculars-from-a-bush way okay, maybe slightly, but in that clever, calculated fashion that only Shanks can pull off.

He learns everything about you—your routines, your patrol routes, where you dock your ship, and even the little things, like your favorite taverns and preferred training spots. He takes mental notes with the kind of attention to detail you wouldn’t expect from a man who spends half his time drinking and laughing his head off. The scary part? He does all this while maintaining that relaxed and carefree demeanor, so you never suspect a thing.

Despite being a busy Yonko with his hands full you know, ruling the seas and all that, Shanks makes time for you in his own… special way. You’ll start noticing him “coincidentally” showing up wherever you are. After a skirmish with some rowdy pirates? Boom, Shanks just so happens to be there, giving you a smile like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Run into him while you’re off-duty on some random island? Oh, what a surprise! What’s even funnier is that it seems like he’s always in the same bar as you—whether you’re grabbing a quick drink after a long day or taking a breather. Of course, none of this is by chance. Shanks isn’t just lucky. He knows exactly where you’ll be. Every time you think it’s fate? Nope, it's just Shanks doing what he does best—playing the long game like a pro.

And it’s not just him, either. The rest of his crew? Yeah, they’re probably unknowingly complicit in all this. To them, it’s just another day, chilling, maybe gathering intel on Navy movements. Little do they know, they’re actually helping Shanks with his personal side project: you. He’s got them keeping tabs on where you’re stationed, which islands you’re patrolling, and when you’re vulnerable. They think they’re just doing their regular stuff, keeping the boss informed about any activity, but really, Shanks is sitting back, piecing together your every move. The only person who’s likely able to tell that something is up is Benn.

It’s almost comical how well it works. One of his crew might casually report, “Oh, yeah, we saw them dock at Loguetown.” And Shanks, acting all cool, will just nod and say something like, “Ah, interesting.” But inside? He’s already planning his next “accidental” encounter. He’s got it all under control, and by the time you figure out that these run-ins are a little too coincidental, you’re already in too deep.

Remember when I said Shanks is a connoisseur of manipulation? Yeah, he’s not just playing mind games in casual conversation. Shanks doesn’t just want to win you over in a chat or two—he’s looking at the long-term investment. One of his favorite tactics? Slowly, subtly isolating you from the people around you. It’s not like he’s going to come right out and tell you to ditch your Marine buddies—that’d be way too obvious, and Shanks is way too smooth for that.

Instead, he drops little hints here and there. He’s clever about it, too—he doesn’t bad-mouth the Marines outright. He’s more subtle. He’ll say things like, “Do you ever feel like the Navy’s ideals aren’t totally in line with your own? You seem like someone who’s got their own sense of justice.” He’s not being confrontational; he’s just gently guiding you to start questioning things…

And before you know it, you’re thinking, “Wow, he’s very perceptive—very understanding too.” It’s genius because it makes you feel like these thoughts are your own, when really, they’ve been carefully planted by a Yonko who’s playing chess while everyone else is playing checkers.

But of course, Shanks’ goal isn’t just to make you feel understood. His goal is to make you feel disconnected from the very people who are in the way of his love for you—your fellow Marines. Slowly, you start seeing them differently. They don’t really understand you, do they? They don’t get your struggles, your doubts. Not like Shanks does, anyway. And without you even realizing it, you start to distance yourself from them, emotionally if not physically. He’s effectively creating a gap between you and the Marines—his subtle way of prying you away from the Navy and toward his world.

You literally have no idea it’s happening. Shanks is so good at this that you think these doubts are just part of your own natural reflection. He knows that as long as you’re loyal to the Navy, there’ll always be other Marine’s standing between him and the life he wants with you. He’s playing the long game, making sure that when the time comes, your loyalty to the Marines will be shaky at best. And once that loyalty starts to crack, well... that’s when Shanks moves in for the win, ready to pull you into his loving arms before you can even realize what’s happening.

Shanks, being the smooth operator that he is, absolutely loves testing your boundaries. His touches always seem harmless—at least at first. It starts simple, maybe a friendly pat on the shoulder after a sparring match or his hand lightly resting on your lower back as he guides you through a busy crowd. Completely innocent, right? Nothing to see here. But then, over time, you start to notice that his touch lingers just a little too long. That pat on the shoulder feels more like a subtle claim. The hand on your lower back? Yeah, it’s gentle, but there’s a certain possessiveness to it, almost like he's marking his territory in the most casual way possible.

At first, you brush it off. I mean, it’s Shanks—he’s naturally touchy, right? But then it happens again. And again. And again. And again. And again…

Suddenly, you’re wondering, “Wait... is he flirting with me? Or is this just friendly?” It’s maddening, because Shanks is so good at playing it cool that you can’t quite put your finger on what’s going on. Every time you start thinking, "Okay, maybe this is more than just friendly banter," he’ll flash that big grin of his or crack a joke, and you’re back to square one. Is this guy flirting, or is he just being Shanks?

The thing is, whether you realize it or not, he’s playing a much bigger game. Shanks is slowly but surely pulling you away from your rigid Marine life, introducing you to the idea of being closer to him—literally and figuratively. Each casual touch, each playful smile, is like a breadcrumb leading you further into his world, where the rules are looser, and the lines between friend and something more get blurrier by the day.

But the kicker? You don’t know where it’s all leading. Is he just messing with you? Testing how far he can go before you push back? Or is there a master plan here, where in the end, he’s not just pulling you out of Marine life but pulling you into his life? One where you belong to him completely? Guess we’ll never know! Until it’s too late, of course…

Despite his usual laid-back, “I’ve-got-all-the-time-in-the-world” vibe, Shanks has a violent side, and it’s a side that only shows when something he cares about—like you—is in real danger. Sure, he’s all about fun, drinks, and the occasional brawl, but when it comes to protecting what he cares for? That’s when the switch flips. If Shanks ever felt that you were truly threatened, or if someone dared to make a move on you, all that carefree energy goes right out the window. Shanks would become a force of nature, and suddenly, there’s no smile, no jokes—just swift, brutal efficiency.

But here’s the thing—he’s not the type to fly into a blind rage. His yandere tendencies are more... surgical? Let’s say some pirate gets too bold and threatens you, or maybe there’s another Marine who’s getting a little too close for his liking. Shanks wouldn’t hesitate for a second. He’d handle the situation so quickly and so cleanly that by the time you realized something was wrong, the problem would already be, well, gone. Vanished. Poof. As if they never existed.

His crew wouldn’t suspect a thing. They’d think their captain was just being his usual self, stepping in to defend someone he cares about. They’d chalk it up to Shanks doing what Shanks does—protecting his own. But little do they know, it’s not just some offhand act of loyalty. No, Shanks has been calculating this for a while. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and he’s making sure that no one, and I mean no one, comes between you and him.

Now, unless you’re incredibly sharp—or just really, really perceptive—you might not even notice. After all, Shanks is nothing if not smooth. But if you start putting two and two together, you might realize that these sudden "disappearances" around you aren’t just bad luck or coincidence. Maybe you’d start to notice that the people who pose a threat to you or more specifically, Shanks' claim on you always seem to vanish without a trace. And, well, if you’re smart enough to figure it out, let’s just hope you don’t mind, because by then... you’re already in pretty deep with him.

If Shanks ever got the feeling that you were slipping away—maybe you start pulling back, doubling down on your Marine loyalty, or just seem less receptive to his charm—well, that's when things would quickly start to get concerning and worrying. Shanks is usually the master of patience, but if he felt like he was losing control over you, he’d start to escalate, just a bit. Now, don’t worry, he’d never hurt you directly. That’s not his style. But his tactics? Oh, they’d start to get a lot more aggressive.

First, he’d start by nudging things in his favor, slowly sabotaging your career in the Navy without you even realizing it. Maybe you’re framed for some minor misconduct—nothing too wild, just enough to put you under scrutiny. Or maybe he’ll manipulate a few situations to make it look like you’re getting just a little too cozy with pirates. Who knows, you might "accidentally" end up in the same place as him more often than the Navy would like. And let's be real, that doesn’t exactly look great on a Marine’s record, does it?

Shanks, being the clever man he is, wouldn’t let you see the full extent of his obsession unless it was absolutely necessary. To you, it might just feel like bad luck or a series of unfortunate events. After all, why would the Navy be questioning your loyalty? Why would your superiors start doubting your dedication? You’re one of the good ones, right? But behind the scenes, Shanks is pulling strings, slowly guiding things to make it harder for you to stay in the Marines. The plan is simple: if the Navy pushes you away, you’ll have no choice but to gravitate towards him. And who wouldn’t want to be a part of his carefree pirate life after all the stress the Marines put you through?

Now, if you’re smart enough—or just plain stubborn enough—to figure out what’s going on, that’s when Shanks might have to resort to Plan B. He doesn’t like the idea of cruelty, and he’d rather not sabotage your career directly. But if it’s the only option left to keep you by his side? He won’t hesitate to strike.

At the end of the day, Shanks doesn’t want to play dirty, but for you? Oh he’ll make an exception. After all, if the Navy is standing between him and the life he wants with you, then they’re just another obstacle to remove. And trust, if Shanks has his mind set on something, nothing—and no one—can stop him. Not even the Marines.

Ultimately, Shanks envisions a future where you’re free from the Navy, sailing the seas with him at your side—not as just another crew member, but as his equal. Or, more accurately, as his. In Shanks’ mind, this isn’t about controlling you overtly. He doesn’t want you to feel like a prisoner in his grasp; no, he wants you to believe that you’re choosing him because of his charm, his charisma, and everything that makes him, well, Shanks. You won’t even realize that, slowly but surely, you’re already tangled in his web.

His obsession isn’t suffocating—not outwardly, anyway. It’s the kind of love that lets you feel the breeze of freedom while subtly guiding your steps until all roads lead back to him. He’s sure that in time, you’ll see things his way. You’ll come to understand that his love is real, genuine, and that no one else could care for you the way he does. And when that day comes, you’ll finally reciprocate. You’ll see that this was all meant to be.

But if not? If you don’t come around on your own? Well, Shanks has all the time in the world. He’s patient. He knows how to wait, how to play the long game. He can be gentle. He can be kind. He can let the world unfold at its own pace. But remember, even the most patient man has his limits.

And when those limits are reached… well, you might not like what’s waiting for you at the end of that road.

#shanks x reader #shanks x you #shanks x y/n #one piece shanks #shanks #akagami no shanks #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #yandere one piece #yandere shanks #Yandere shanks x reader

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hazelfoureyes · 1 month ago

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A Doe in Fall (Part 12)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things Part 10 - Good Deeds Part 11 - Caught Part 12 - Eddie📍

Part 12 Eddie

Brady tried to cut some corners to bring you and Alastor down but ends up just hurting himself.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem!Reader, still not smut cuz we’re waiting for the special moment, po-po, 5-0, down at the gun club, not an accurate portrayal of 1930s New Orleans Leadership, mystery kisses, brief thoughts of violence, illiteracy, @minkdelovely」

MDNI 👮 🚓

Edward Freeman met Kenneth Brady when the younger man was partnered with him. He was bright eyed, and had a sense of justice Freeman appreciated. He was already tired of the rigamarole of police work, so the fresh energy reinvigorated his early days and long nights. It was rather pointless though, police work, given the people in charge weren’t fans of cracking down on the illegal booze business. It was making too much money under the tables and in handshakes.

The nation was still reeling from the crash of the market nearly two years prior. Any way to get ahead, to stay with your chin above the rising waters, well… what harm is there really in feeding your family? The end justifies the means, right? And Brady didn’t seem to disagree too much with that sentiment.

So when the typically stringent, but otherwise soft spoken and relaxed, Brady began to…devolve into someone a little too myopic, Freeman wasn’t quite sure how to handle him. They’d been rather laissez-faire about the morality of things for so long. They tried to keep violence at a minimum so their fellow citizens could enjoy their city. That was the extent of it. But, Brady was becoming obsessed.

It started normally enough. Brady bringing up a missing husband. Later on, a missing bartender. Soon he was snooping on to other’s cases, convinced something was connecting them.

But, given the times and the character of such people, well, Freeman couldn’t quite understand Brady’s fervor. Sure. Some of them probably ended up under backyards and in the water. Hell, quite a few of them he’d have helped do away once he got the real dirt on them. A conspiracy? Or a mass killer? That seemed implausible at best. There was simply no indication of a grande scheme.

Brady kept pushing. Walking the streets at night with ears open and eyes peeled, for any inkling of what was going on.

He just couldn’t accept that sometimes people leave town or jobs. Very few of them were actually reported by loved ones, even the ones that had them.

Then came along the widow Dupre, watery eyed and shaking about her missing adult son. Who, from what they’d uncovered, was a real piece of work.

Freeman let Brady start his investigation, but as it became clear he was adding it to his pile of random disappearances, Freeman had to step away. He could see the obsession ruining his friend.

At a rare dinner with the families, the stress on Brady’s wife’s face was visible for all to see. She cornered Freeman in the kitchen when he went for more coffee, asking if Brady was stepping out on her or if he truly had been working so hard on something big.

He hardly knew what to say. Neither were true. He’d been working late, but on a wild goose chase.

When he dragged a clean cut and confused woman into the station, Freeman knew he’d really lost the fucking plot.

“She’s his accomplice. I know it. Her fella is the man. I’ve got him fingered.” Brady pointed at you through the closed door. You weren’t listening to their voices in the hall, the name still ringing in your head. The name you'd both sacrificed to keep secret.

Alastor.

Freeman hissed, “You can’t arrest people for knowing a guy! A boogie man at that, Kenny. Come on.”

“I have her confession for prostitution. It’s all clean and by the book. And, I have a witness.” Brady tapped Freeman’s arm with the back of his hand and led him down the hall to another room, “He saw her and her guy throw a body in the river.”

Well, shit.

“You found a body? The Dupre son?” Freeman considered what he’d said. The river? Why the river? Bodies didn’t always make it to the sea. It’d be a sloppy misstep for this supposed murderous mastermind.

Brady sighed, his parade a little rained on. “...No, but I have a witness right there. And, I got the name of her fella. I just need to find which station he’s at and I��m off to the races. I bet you my house this guy’s good for it.”

Ah, so. He had next to nothing. Freeman just nodded and took a calming breath. “Alright, are we starting with the woman or this guy?”

“Oh, for sure her.” Bready turned to open the door, but Freeman shot his hand out to stop him.

“And this is the one who gave you the runaround?” Freeman had heard so much about you already, he wanted to prepare himself for whatever tricky shrew was waiting for him. He followed his partner through the door and took you in fully. Your stare was distant and glassy. You’d been crying and you seemed to be shaking slightly from the cold of the room as fall’s night air slipped in through the window.

You could, reasonably, be his daughter. A similar age for sure, similar build, same hair color. Same penchant for the wrong kinda guy, apparently.

He recalled all of the ways Brady had spoken about you. The image in his head was a bird faced woman with sharp eagle eyes and tight lips. Someone decidedly ugly with a permanent scowl and mischief behind quick glances.

And here was a woman, vulnerable and quite nice to look at it. Hair obviously groomed well when not manhandled by cops, and a rather handsome dress which indicated a good personality by the current standards. The shoulders had flat bows that let their ribbons fall onto your bare shoulders. Feminine. Suitable. Not much skin showing. otherwise. A burlesquer seemed to the kind who didn’t wear clothes often, but he supposed everyone has a work uniform after all. Even the nude dancers. Who was he to judge you for your professional clothing requirements? You were here and modest and that’s what mattered.

He took a seat, sliding the folder Brady had set down into the space in front of him. “I hear you’re not too fond of disclosing your personal information.”

It had been several hours since you’d arrived, and now they chose to grace you with their presence? You’d been tossed into a room and left alone for so long, it seemed more like punishment than bureaucracy.

Brady’s bright blue eyes only get clearer and darker with every ounce of anger you inspired in him. An angry sea churning up violently behind his mean mug. He was practically sneering at you.

“Can you blame me? The men in this city are certifiable. Case in point, this hound you call a cop.” You had the forethought to keep your shoulders pulled inward, gesturing with your chin.

“Detective.” Brady corrected.

“Same thing, jackass.” Eyes rolling, you pushed back against the chair causing the front legs to lift for a second. Returning your glare to him, you honed in on the messy details. You remembered his hair well from that first meeting in front of the cafe. It clearly had become oily and weighed down from less frequent washing. The skin under his eyes was looking dark and thin. “You look like shit, by the way. Should sleep instead of bothering honest performers.”

“Ha, there you are. True colors shining through finally.”

“How was my mom? Not much of a talker.”

“Fu-,” Brady flinched forward, chair squeaking against the linoleum floor. It took a tensing of your arms to keep from openly reacting.

“Ya’ll, enough. Now, don’t be too sour with us. We’re just working off your own words,” Freeman opened the folder to find your confession. It had been typed nice and neat and labeled DOE, JANE. He turned it to you briefly, eyebrows hitching as if to ask if you remembered it. You glanced at it long enough to see the conversation and names and nodded. Yes, you’d had that conversation. Brady must have typed it mostly from memory, you thought, or he had some quick shorthand. He brought it back to face him and as his eyes roamed the sheet, his shoulders stiffened. He wasn’t seeing what he was expecting. “Could you-?,” he motioned for Brady to point out the part of your last conversation that constituted a confession. Brady tapped a line of text.

BRADY - Tell me about the dates Tommy arranged. DOE, JANE - Apparently many of the dancers agreed, got a cut. I had no idea about it until he introduced me to a man who was very forward. I insulted him and ran off. Lost Tommy good money, apparently. BRADY - And who was that? DOE, JANE - S something. Mister Stein? I honestly wasn’t listening much after I realized what was happening. BRADY - And then he knocked you around? DOE, JANE - Yeah. Got me good. BRADY - And… the next date. Last time anyone saw Tommy. Tell me about that. DOE, JANE - Tommy said he’d kill me if I didn’t go. So I did. Promised me he’d stay with me for protection. But as soon as he got his money he left.

Freeman’s head lifted slowly from the paper to look at you over the folder, across the table. Your arms were crossed, makeup smeared and running with long dried tears. Your hair mussed. His head turned with a crawl, weighted down with a steel ball of apprehensive horror, to look at Brady. He was leaning on the table with both elbows, staring at you like you’d busted out his car window and shot his dog.

“Can I speak to you for a moment?” He pushed back, resting his hand on Brady’s shoulder and walking out. In the small room that looked into the interrogation room where the male witness fidgeted, he set the folder and your words down.

He motioned for Brady to close the door behind him. As soon as the latch clicked into place, he smacked the table.

“That isn’t a confession! It’s a fucking victim statement, Kenny.” He looked through the one way glass at the man seated, “And he wrote a witness report?” He gestured with his head, the man Brady called Joseph sat quietly waiting for their return. His clothes were pulling at the seams, his fingernails crusted with dirt.

Brady nodded, “Yeah. He came in yesterday and after he told me what he saw he wrote it down there and signed.” He was pointing to a piece of paper he’d left on the same table Kenny was now trying to use for stability. Trying was the keyword. His disbelief was dizzying.

A small laugh, petulant and bordering annoyed, left his lips. He grabbed a pen, wrote something down, and brushed past him. Freeman marched into the witness room, Brady closely following behind.

“Sir, do me a favor and check I’ve spelt your name properly on this paperwork please.” He held it up. The man looked, found where Freeman's finger was pointing, and nodded.

Freeman looked at Brady with dead eyes, the shutdown of his feelings was an automatic attempt by his body to try and keep from grabbing Brady by the shirt in a fit rage, and turned the paper to reveal the name written to Brady.

Josanna. Written neatly in block letters.

Without breaking eye contact with Brady, “And just refresh my memory, sir, what was your statement in regards to again?”

Joseph cleared his throat, “I saw it happen. Down by the river.”

“Saw what happen?”

“The crime.”

“What crime?”

“The one with the guy and the girl. It’s all in there.”

Freeman shoved the written statement into Brady’s chest, “You have half a second to get to the captain’s office before I do.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“That man can’t even read his own name let alone write. From what I can tell he’s a random homeless you plied with confiscated booze. What is going on with you?” The gray haired man bellowed from his chair, hands resting on a large pot belly.

“What does that matter! It’s an illegal hooch den! Naked dancers! Race mixing! She admitted she-,” Brady was pacing a small three foot by three foot square in front of the desk. Freeman had his arms crossed while seated.

“A victim told you she was assaulted. And I-,” the captain leaned back in his chair, “You know exactly how we feel about the wet spots in this city. The, uh, race thing is another issue but— Kenny, you’re one more rogue act from losing your beat. Do you not get that?”

“Rogue? I’m doing legitimate police work. I’m investigating crime! What the fuck is happening here?!” He stopped pacing long enough wave an apology to his boss for the language.

Freeman sighed, long and heavy. A huff of breath that somehow conveyed his disappointment better than words.

“I decide what constitutes police work and this is not that.” His boss shook his chair side to side, thinking about how to get Brady in line. “It comes straight from the commissioner and the mayor above him. We aren’t to hound the bars under our purview.”

‘I’m not!” He started up pacing again, hands up and open in genuine confused frustration.

“You’re harassing their dancers! Stalking around their establishments at night freaking people out!” He laughed in disbelief, “Her manager is outside now. Had to shut down for the night because of your little show.”

Brady put his hands on his hips and faced away from the captain. His face enough alone to have him dismissed.

“I know she’s involved. I know her guy did it. And I know someone’s killing people. Lots of people.” He said it confidently into the corner of the office.

“Kenny. Enough.” Freeman shook his head and stood to leave.

“One complaint about you and you’re being chained to a desk. Cut her loose, apologize, and go home. I don’t wanna see you anymore tonight. Your freaky little eyes are getting under my skin.” His captain removed his small rounded glasses and rubbed his hands down his face, exasperated his life had come to telling men to stop doing their jobs.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

While you were here anyway, and Brady shooed off Joseph, Freeman decided to speak with you again. He offered you a nod and took Brady’s seat.

It was hard to be friendly, you found. Every minute or so you had to sniffle, nose running long after the tears dried up. Your eyelashes stuck together when you blinked.

“I’m afraid I didn’t get your name, sir.” You sniffled again, hands warming your arms.

Freeman leaned over and offered you his hand, “Detective Eddie Freeman.” You shook it, keeping your hand rather limp to give the appearance of weakness.

“I just-,” he laughed as he set his hand on the table, clicking his ring twice out of habit, “I gotta ask. Did your fella kill Tommy? Are you in some kinda trouble?”

With a scoff and a shake of your head, you found yourself, “No, but I wish he had. What’s the point of being good if people assume the worst of you anyway?” Reaching out for his hand again, you held his large one in both of your smaller ones, “At least if he’d killed him I’d be sure Tommy’s never coming back to keep his promise.”

Your mother always taught you to make yourself small. Remind the people you needed to believe you that you were not a threat. Play the part they always pigeon holed you into. It was easier than fighting the assumptions. There was power in deception.

“Your pal is really ruining my life. Even more than Tommy.” You squeezed, 30% strength.

When you looked up at him, he could only find you to be the image of pitiful girl, “Let me check some things and I’ll have Kenny sending you on your way, miss-?”

“Doe.”

“Right.” His ring rapped against the bright wooden door frame, two times, and your brief time knowing Freeman ended.

The paralysis set in as soon as the door was shut. You could hear Alastor’s name echoing around in your head, the sound so sharp it made fresh tears well. Brady had heard it, of course. It was for nothing. You worked so hard, kept his name off of your tongue despite the way it always felt so good there.

Conjured images of Alastor barging into the police station haunted you. What would he say in anger? Brady wasn’t crazy, he was smart and lucky. Nothing could be worse. Alastor could say anything while mad, and Brady could make conclusions he had no business jumping to.

And then he was there in the room with you, and you had to return to the moment and try to calibrate yourself. Who were you now? He already knew you weren’t the damsel in distress, he knew you weren’t weak and frail. Right?

Maybe you’d just be yourself, like you’d let slipped earlier. Your mouth opened and his hand flew up, “Don’t. Shut it.”

“Excu-”

“I’ve been told to apologize and send you home.”

“Oh? And are you?”

Brady smiled, and for a moment you forgot how scary that should be. “No. You’re a liar and you’re aiding a criminal. But you work in a place I’m not supposed to bother. Luckily for me, Alastor’s work surely isn’t one.” Your eyes rolled. Hearing him say the name was like hearing a dog sing opera. Unsettling and unnatural. Perhaps a little impressive from a distance. Unfortunately you were front row and center.

Time with you felt so rare, he wanted to keep you a little longer but couldn’t think of what to say or do. Briefly he entertained grabbing you and violently shaking you until you confessed. He managed to find the strength to bury that down, mouth opening instead in preparation for words he didn’t have yet.

“Can I go home now?” Rubbing your arms to make it clear how uncomfortable you were, you cut him off like he had you. Not that he had anything to say.

Brady motioned with his thumb down the hall and said, “Your guy isn’t here to pick you up. Funny name by the way. I got a complaint for an Alastor last week. Socked some man for no good reason. Sounds like a violent fella, kinda guy with a temper when someone speaks I’ll of his lady, or fiancée, I’m told…Anyway, dropped the case since the guy wouldn’t give any more information but maybe I should follow up.”

“Are you so sure I have one, a guy that is?” You simply couldn’t admit Alastor was yours. Never. Not for Brady. “No one’s coming for me. No one’s punched anyone for me either. Though, I’m flattered you think I’m worth the charge. Am I free to leave?” The little tug of your lips into a halfhearted grin warmed you. It was thrilling, lying to his face when you both knew the truth.

He didn’t move. He couldn’t let you take this moment from him. He’d made a massive victory in this personal war and your nonchalant attitude was making something in the back of his skull itch. Somewhere beneath his bone. A new sensation.

A brief and violent flash of knocking the smirk off your tear stained face startled him. You noticed him swallow hard, expression shifting from amused to bewildered. From the outside, all you could read was a frightened widening of his eyes.

“Brady…? If you’re waiting for some man to collect me, I’ll be here all night.” Your voice was softer now, while you couldn’t uncover what was happening in his head, you could tell he was in some kind of turmoil.

A man unable to control his face was often a man unable to control his hands.

His legs lifted his body up and dragged him over to the door. He opened it, slowly, before leaning against the wall beside it to ensure you passed him in close quarters. He knew he couldn’t keep you there forever.

Maybe this Alastor was a real rough fellow. So cruel he wouldn’t even care if his dame was in a bind. The kind of man to abandon his closest allies when cornered. Maybe he really wasn’t coming for you. Which was fine, he told himself. He’d be seeing him soon.

Following you out, he took the walk as an opportunity to warn you again.

“This won’t end like you think it will.” He said it too loudly for how close he was to you, “It never does for the women.” He stopped at the station’s front desk and leaned into the glossy wooden counter, “Oh! I almost forgot! Congrats on the engagement.”

Turning to say a harsh good night, you caught yourself and turned back, exiting through the station doors without another word to him. No need for polite pleasantries anymore. The game was well and truly over for you.

“Oh thank god,” Johnny was sitting on the steps of the station and jumped to his feet when you came out, a sight you weren’t expecting. You stopped, confused. He smiled seeing your brows knit and eyes wander past him in search of someone else, “I was going to bail you out but they said there wasn’t any need. Alastor is waiting for you.”

Like a leak in the hull of your iron-sided ship, it seemed the second Ruth so sweetly dripped that name into Brady’s waiting maw the ocean was spilling in. Every time you heard it fall from another person’s mouth the breach in your metal barriers tore wider. If the Titanic could sink in calm weather what luck did Alastor and you have in the tempest of Brady’s fervor?

“Oh…,” you tried to hide the dejection. He sent Johnny? That was smart, but, why did it sting?

Perhaps it was his six sisters, or maybe he was genuinely a good man, but Johnny’s heart ached at the pitiful tone. He leapt up two steps, “He wanted to come! But I told him it was a bad idea. Tempers and all that. Don’t need any more issues for you tonight. Though admittedly he didn’t seem mad, necessarily.”

A slow nod. Johnny told Alastor what to do? Your eyes looked to the left, that was an odd mental image.

“Thanks, Johnny. I need to return to the theater first.” Your hand reached out for his arm and gave it a squeeze, “I appreciate you.”

“Dont mention it. And your bag is with Alastor.” He let his hand come to yours, “He’s kind of a mess, that one.”

You tensed, accidentally pinching his arm in a flit of panic before drawing it back, “Did he drive home like that?”

He shook his head and handed you the card, “He said,” a pause as his eyes rolled up to search for the exact words, “to tell the host you’re there for him. Called it the Golden Dish, but the card doesn’t mention anything like that…. Sorry, I didn’t think to ask more questions. Like I said, he seemed out of sorts.”

You looked down to inspect it, nervous at the sudden introduction of a paper trail. Nodding, you finally took it with both hands. The face was rather plain: an address in the corner with just the number and street, and an interlocked G and D in the center. Turning it over, you found a pink lipstick kiss stained haphazardly across the back and a small squiggle. Your thumb ran over the clipped right bottom corner.

What was the Golden Dish? And who was kissing Alastor’s business cards?

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

@eris-norwega @reath-solia @catticora , @angelicribbons , @xalygatorx

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @moonmark98

, @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog ,

@thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies

@howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @fizzled-phoenix , @star-kujo-platinum

, @a-case-of-attachment, @multifandomfanatic02 @watereddownmilk , @bontensbabygirl @smoky000

@hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain

@harley2223-blog , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby

@dontfuckbutimfab @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #Alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #human alastor x reader

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it-was-summer · 3 months ago

Text

Video Killed the Radio Star - Tape #4 (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: Y'all this chapter took so long to write. This is NOT proofread once again me and Grammarly were beefing because she doesn't understand fanfiction. Nonetheless, it is 12 am MST and here it is. Now for an overall warning, this chapter talks about so much that I was to let everyone know that I meant for this to be a dark series. That was my goal. I'm so sorry if some of these topics seem like they're too heavy for you. If you feel overwhelmed, disgusted, or just find it hard to read please remember that it is okay and you are loved. This chapter mentions miscarriages, eating disorders, gunshot wounds, suicide, etc. I love you all and stay healthy. I will try to post my 500 followers post soon! Not proofread because eepy. YOU'LL read my chapter unedited and you'll like it! (hopefully). Thanks for reading. -Love you all, Em.

Video Killed the Radio Star Remake Masterlist

Link to the Ao3: Video Killed the Radio Star

Previous Chapter: Tape #3 > Next Chapter: Coming Soon...

WARNING: miscarriage, eating disorder, catholic guilt, bisexuality mention??, period underwear, stalking, marital problem, divorce, sexual harassment, guns, knives, gunshot wound, This bitch shoots someone, suicide, mention of a skull, blood so much blood.

Tape Contents: We briefly dive into Heather's past. Adeline makes a call that gives the team a reason to visit the suburbs. Heather makes a decision. You see something other than pink for the first time in four days.

Word Count: 6,296

Seven to Four Years Prior- January 10, 20XX

Heather had to get out of Norfolk. She felt suffocated under her father’s watchful gaze and helicopter ways. He was a hard man to love and hard to be around in general. When he drank, she used to pray that he would forget about her, so she became quiet. She didn’t have many friends here anyway, so she took you out of the equation and knew no one else would know her name.

So, with a heavy heart, she moved her life away to Richmond. She changed her major to nursing and killed that quiet girl from Norfolk. She fabricated real lies that sometimes she couldn’t separate from reality. She stared at girls silently with longing and played it off as admiration if she was ever caught. Catholic guilt stopped it from growing into anything else.

She was slow to open up about her feelings and showed people an extroverted sorority girl nursing graduate who liked to go to bars on the weekend and let men’s hands pull at her hips desperately in dark corners.

Now, at twenty-four, she only thought about one thing: how good her stomach looked in this dress. She had thinned out tremendously since the move. At first, it started due to not having enough money to eat anywhere except the shitty university cafeteria. Then, it warped into something else. During its worst moments, she would log her calories or purge food moments after eating it. She could look into mirrors afterward and feel she was achieving something remarkable. Then, sometimes, she would also look at her face and think, ‘Is that what I look like’?

But tonight, she wanted to do something different, something fun. Having told her sorority sisters this, they all jumped on board quickly, agreeing to meet at the bar around 10 p.m. that Saturday. They were thirty minutes late.

Heather was gently fiddling with the hem of her short black dress, her eyes flickering towards the entrance every so often as she waited for them to walk in. This year, she wanted to be happier, less suffering in silence, and a little more smiley. So yes, she wanted to have fun with people she called friends. Despite all her efforts, she was sure they could see right through her sometimes. She swallowed nervously as she nursed a margarita.

The next time she looked at her phone, she saw texts from her former sisters saying that work had been hectic and that they needed to reschedule for another time. So now, Heather Alexander was right back at square one: alone. She glanced down at her dress and frowned slightly at its tight material. It was the kind of dress that made her uncomfortable but made men comfortable. Something always felt wrong with that. Heather always secretly knew that she felt an attraction to women and men, but she always felt guilty at the thought.

She sighed as she debated her next move when she saw him. He was the prettiest man she had ever seen. He had soft masculine features that almost looked slightly feminine, a uniform clad against his chest, and a charming boyish smile as their eyes met. Heather whispered a silent prayer that he would like her as he approached her and introduced himself as David Hernandez. How could she not fall for him instantly? Deep brown eyes, pink lips, dark skin, and a low rumble in his voice made her feel like giggling.

It wasn’t long before the two of them were getting married. They spent a few months together in domestic bliss. He got some time off from work, and she kept her last name, and they were… happy.

At least they were happy for six months, and then her world shattered around her as David was deployed to England. She cried herself to sleep the night she heard, and David stroked her back softly to calm her. Heather didn’t want him to leave her and see someone better overseas. She was sure that women would throw themselves at David’s feet, begging him to kiss them, touch them, fuck them, like whores in the street of Babylon. She couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else touching him, looking at him the way she looked at him, talking to him the way she did in his ear late at night. She begged him to try and find some way out of it, scared to lose what was rightfully hers, but he couldn’t. He left that week.

At first, it was just six months, but then it stretched out into a year of deployment—a year spent being faithful to a man across the Atlantic. She called him when she had time, wrote letters to him, sent him emails, and constantly contacted him in any way she could.

When he got home, it was clear that all her efforts had gone to waste. David was distant. He would sulk in corners of their home on his phone. He would lament on and on about how England felt like his home and how he missed it. She couldn’t stand it. This house they bought together was his home, and it always had been. Why was he struggling to see that?

The more he talked of his deployment, the more Heather became frustrated with him. Then he started to go out more. At first, it was just to speak with some Army friends on base a few spread-out weekends in the month. Then it was every weekend.

Heather found that the only thing that could keep him home was sex. So they had sex constantly, like animals in heat. Disgusting and rutting against each other any moment they could. However, the second that it was over, he would withdraw again. He would get dressed and say he had to get to the base.

Then he was coming late, drunk and slurring, as he pulled her to the edge of the bed and woke her up with sensual touches and dirty talk. She took this as a good sign he was coming home to his wife. He was fucking her and no one else. But slowly, he stopped coming home. He would call her late at night to tell her he would stay with a friend for the night. The following day, he would come home smelling sweet.

Heather felt lost, searching desperately for something to save her marriage. She was devoting all of her love to a man who no longer wanted it, and she could feel him falling out of love with her.

Her saving grace was the morning that she found out she was pregnant. She called David with tears in her eyes and told him softly over the phone, and she heard him laugh for the first time in months. And just like that, he was back.

His soft touches, kisses in the grocery store, and dancing with her in the living room were all back. Her devoted and dotting husband had returned home to her. She could feel the dark cloud of the past couple of months dissipate and the sun shining on her.

That light lasted a good three months. Heather sat up straight as pain coursed through her body, thundering in her abdomen as she shook David awake with tears streaming down her face. Something was wrong with the baby; she knew it. He drove her to the hospital as fast as he could, but it was too late. She had already miscarried.

Heather took a small sabbatical from work and took time to think about her life. She would stare out of their living room window blankly for hours. David was attentive at first, coming home after work and tending to Heather’s broken spirit. But he soon became bored of that routine.

When Heather returned to the pediatric oncology unit, David was notified that he was being deployed again to Okinawa, Japan. He was packed and ready by the end of that month. She didn’t see him off at the airport, picking up an extra shift at the hospital to distract her from the fact that he was leaving her again.

David called her two months into his leave to tell her he wasn’t happy. He wanted a divorce. Then he hung up before she could get a word in. That’s when it all started. Her obsession with consuming anything romantic was almost debilitating. She would visit bookstores and attend readings at the public library, sometimes calling off from work to sit at home with her romances. That’s when she saw you again. She thought that you would have stayed in Norfolk. You had once told her that you loved the water. You liked how it could look gloomy and promising on different days, with mist rolling off the surface.

She tried not to talk to you. She did. She didn’t want to scare you away like she scared David away. No, no, no, she was sure it would all work out this time. So she loved you from a comfortable distance, watching you from her car on the weekends at night, leaving you her gifts on your windshield—a silent courting.

She couldn’t help herself on Valentine’s Day. She had slipped into Nicole Smith’s room without Adeline recognizing her, and she gave the table with Adeline’s purse on it a gentle knock with her hip. Heather apologized quickly, telling her not to worry. She promptly dropped to the floor to gather the spilled contents from Adeline’s bag, and she slipped a labeled key connected to a keychain that read ‘or die’ into her pocket. Once she had copied the key, she quickly returned the original to its owner.

She felt electric when she entered your apartment on Valentine's Day in a dark outfit, a hood covering her face, and four dozen rose petals in a container. She breathed in your perfume as she perused through your bathroom. She traced the spine of every book she could touch on your shelves. She gently dove into your dirty hamper and quickly pulled out a pair of dirty underwear, blood on the inside of them as she shamelessly slipped them into her pocket. Then she got to work spreading the petals throughout your apartment. By the end, she stared at her work, panting lightly as she lay across on your rose-covered bed.

She had to have you.

Present Day- March 5, 20XX

Derek and Spencer managed to get to the public library an hour before closing. They pulled your coworker, Valerie, aside. She was a pretty brunette, glasses resting on her face delicately as she stared at the two men with a soft look of disappointment. She knew that if they were here, they had yet to find you, and the thought made her feel like breaking down in a fit of tears. She fought the urge to cry as Derek asked her a question, sliding a copy of the Polaroid you had received on your windshield. “Do you happen to remember anyone coming in with a Polaroid camera?”

Valerie stared at the Polaroid with a soft frown, trying to remember something helpful. Spencer spoke quickly, “Sometime around January fourteenth, maybe?”

Valerie chewed on her bottom lip before the memory washed over her, “Yes! Yes, oh gosh, she was blonde, I think. I remember telling her we didn’t like flash photography in the library. I only saw the back of her head, but I remember the back of her head and the flash of a camera.”

Spencer tilted his head slightly and nodded at Valerie’s words, processing the information silently.“Are you sure it was a woman?” Spencer asked softly before Valarie enthusiastically nodded.

“Yes, it was definitely a woman who took the picture.” She confirmed in a soft voice before she looked down at the Polaroid with a gentle tenderness in her eyes. “She baked me cookies last week, you know?” She looked up at the two men with a sad smile and tears in her eyes. “My cat is sick, and she made me cookies to make me feel better.” She laughed sadly as the tears started to fall.

Derek placed a soft hand over Valerie’s and gave her a tender look, “We’re looking for her,” The words caused a shaky sigh to escape Valarie’s lips as she pulled her hand away quickly and stood up.

Her cheeks were red as she cried out a soft “Excuse me.” before she turned on her heel and hurriedly left the room.

Spencer picked up the picture and stared at you in the photo. The way your hair shined in the fluorescent light, your eyes and smile trained directly on the person you were talking to. You were personable, and the thought made his stomach turn. He looked over at Derek as Spencer handed the photo back to him.

The two men walked out of the library silently, and Derek let out a soft sigh as he watched the sun starting to settle against the horizon. Spencer walked beside him with his hand stuffed in his pockets, and his head hung a little low in thought.

Derek broke the silence first, “We should get back to the station to see if JJ and Rossi have anything,”

And then they rode back in contemplative silence after that.

March 6, 20XX

You weren’t sure if it was day or night anymore. All you knew was that you were starting to feel uneven. Every creak of wood, settling of pipes, and rumble of the house had your back straightening against the bed. You were sure that Heather would fly in at any moment and touch you.

A million options weighed heavy in your mind at the scenario; you could fight back again, but that would get you sliced again or worse. You could go with it, zone out as much as possible, let her have her way with you. That option made your head spin with nausea. You had to find a way to get out.

You licked at the gash on your lip, gently exploring the cut with your tongue until you could feel the warmth of blood again. You pushed your tongue back into your mouth and looked over at your day-old apple on the nightstand, half-eaten and brown. You tenderly took a small bite that wouldn’t require you to move your lips too much.

You didn’t have much of the day-old meal left; a half-full water and this apple was all you had. You chewed softly, fighting off the nausea that threatened to creep in due to the morphine.

You tried to remember anything that could be helpful to you. It was hard to think of high doses of morphine. You had played with the knob often; when you were ready to sleep, it would go up, and when you were up, it would turn down. But lately, you just wanted it to be turned up.

You tried to think of when Heather came into the pink room. She always stuffed her keys into her pockets. A plan was in the making: Get her out of her clothes, and you could get the keys.

You nodded a little despite your discomfort with the idea of her touching you again. You just had to seduce her a little, which should be easy considering that she was ‘in love’ with you. The only problem with that plan was that you had a mangled ankle and a body running on morphine; she didn’t. Heather’s temper was quick when you talked back, and rage followed if you did something against her liking.

Maybe begging would work. No, you tried that already. Why would begging work? Perhaps you could hurt yourself just enough to force her to take you to the hospital. But that didn’t work either; she was a nurse. She wouldn’t incriminate herself like that, would she? Maybe total submission would be the key.

Convince her that you love her back and somehow ask to be let out with her supervision, but that could take forever.

You started to cry softly as you set down the core of the apple and laid down, wishing to pull your legs to your chest, but the pain of one ankle and the chain around the other made that physically impossible.

You cried until you felt your eyelids become heavy, tears still slipping out of your eyes as you fell into a morphine-induced sleep.

March 6, 20XX

JJ paced back and forth in front of the bulletin board, occasionally flicking her eyes over to the photos pinned to it as she tried to chase what was likely to be a loose end. The number that had called yours and left a message full of sobs had been a burner.

Spencer had tried to tell her to eat something this morning, but as the clock’s hands crept towards nine a.m., she still didn’t feel hungry enough to try. She sighed out another frustrated huff as Emily appeared in front of her. “If you sigh like that one more time, I think I might have to force a croissant down your throat.”

JJ gave her another dramatic sigh before she put her hands on her hips: “I’m sorry, I just feel like we have no leads. We know it's a woman, but Adeline isn’t likely to be the unsub, and all her coworkers have alibis. It just feels like we are running around with our heads cut off.”

Emily smiled and gave her a gentle nod of understanding, “I get it, but you pacing around like this isn’t helping anyone. Let’s get you a drink, coffee, or maybe something to eat.”

“People who eat breakfast consistently are twenty-five percent likely to be more productive at work,” Spencer spoke up from a desk not too far from the two women.

Emily pointed over at Spencer, “See? You’re making Spencer freak out.”

“I’m not freaked out,” Spencer frowned at the comment before looking back at a file on the desk.

JJ’s smile was slow as she let her hands fall to her side and let out a soft, “Fine.” She agreed as Emily walked over to the precinct's breakroom, JJ following her.

Derek was clicking a pen obnoxiously in an off-beat rhythm. He was about to say something when his phone started to ring on his desk. He didn’t recognize the number, but he answered it anyway. “Hello?”

“Hi, uhm, is this Special Agent Morgan?” Adeline’s voice was shaky through the phone.

Derek relaxed slightly as he set down his pen. “Yeah, Adeline. Did something happen?” He couldn’t think of another reason as to why she would call the number he had left with her if nothing happened. He was too focused on the case to think of any other reason anyway.

“Yeah, maybe? I was talking to one of the nurses about something today, and I recognized one of them. I don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner, but it was an old friend from college. She was more Y/N’s friend than mine, but I talked to her a little.” Adeline’s voice dropped to a whisper as she continued, “I mentioned that she was missing, and Heather had a weird reaction. She smiled for a second. I swear, she said she was sad to hear that, but she looked… well, for a second, it just seemed like maybe she was happy.”

Derek picked the pen back up again, ready to write down a name. It wasn’t much, but they could visit her. “What was her name again?”

“Gosh, it was Heather something… Heather, Heather, Heather,” She bit her lip as she tried to think back. “Alexander! Heather Alexander.”

Derek wrote it down and muttered quickly, “We'll look into it, thanks.” As a goodbye, he let Adeline quickly thank him over the phone before he hung up and called Penelope.

Penelope, quick as always, picked up on the first ring. “Center of divine intellect,” was her greeting.

“Good morning to you, too, baby girl. Listen, could you get Heather Alexander's address? Adeline Smith called saying that she had a strange reaction to hearing about our girl going missing.”

“Easy,” was her answer before Derek could hear the sounds of keys being tapped against and a soft humming sound emitting from Penelope’s lips as she pulled up the address: “4432 Lake Margaret Pl., Chesterfield, Virginia.”

“You are an angel, Garcia.”

“I always aim to please,”

“And you never fail, baby girl.”

JJ had begged Derek with her eyes to let her go with Spencer. It was just an interview, not even an interrogation, just to see if the connection between you and Heather went deeper than old college friends. So why shouldn’t she go?

Derek wasn’t one to put up a big fight, so he let her with Spencer. It was only thirty minutes away anyway, so if they needed the team it wouldn’t take too long for them to show up, right? He stayed behind on the phone with Garcia, who was doing her best to see if Heather had any criminal history on her record.

As the car rolled around the cul de sac, Spencer’s eyes struggled to look away from the plethora of plants in the fenced-in front yard. Pink anemones were scattered amongst daffodils, and what looked like daisies were blooming side by side. JJ rolled the car to a stop, parking it against the curb.

“Pretty yard,” She muttered as she took the keys out of the ignition. Spencer nodded a little; he had to admit that Spring came in a close second to Fall as the superior season in his mind. The flowers growing after frozen earth had kept them dormant, the welcomed feeling of the sun getting slightly warmer. It was still somewhat chilly at ten in the morning as he stepped out of the car with JJ, but he had to admit, it was shaping up to be a beautiful day weather-wise.

His head tilted back a little as he stole a glance at the blue sky above them and smiled before stuffing his hands into his pockets and tilting his head toward the house. JJ smiled and walked beside him, happy to be out of the precinct and in the early morning air.

Heather was washing the paring knife she had used on you in her kitchen sink, facing a large bay window in her living room. She swiped at the hardened blood and frowned a little at the memory. Why was she so upset with you? She could hardly remember herself when she got angry like that.

It was almost fitting, her flying off the handle over something so simple as you not being ready for her love. Was she no better than a man? Had she gotten so accustomed to men's vile and sharp ways that she had somehow forgotten how to be gentle?

She felt her hands shake as a voice came into her head, whispering her worst fear: She was worse than her father.

She let tears blur her vision at the thought as she rubbed the knife harder with a sponge, shaking her head quickly. No, no, no, no. She was not like that man. She was not cold like that man. She was lovable. She felt love. She felt overwhelming love for you. She had felt overwhelming love for David.

Her downward spiral was cut short as she lifted her weeping head and saw a black SUV parked in front of her yard. She quickly wiped away a stray tear with the back of her hand and sniffled lightly as she gently slid the knife into the dishwasher, watching two people get out of the van.

Heather’s eyes were glued to the blonde at first, pretty and fair in the morning sun before her eyes flickered to the man beside her. She recognized him immediately. She was sure it was the same man she almost ran into at the hospital yesterday.

She dried her hands as she walked around the kitchen island. As they got closer, her head arched to see how close they were. Panic was running through her veins. Her gun was in her room upstairs, loaded. She just had to get upstairs; her feet were quick to try and run upstairs and stash it somewhere close before they could ring the doorbell. Just as the idea seemed plausible enough, the bell rang through the house.

Heather let out a silent scream of panic as she smoothed out her shirt, fixed her hair, and caught a quick glance of her pretty face in the mirror near the front door before she swung it open with a pleasantly fake smile on her face. Her eyes quickly scanned both of their faces as she smiled. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, hi. My name is Jennifer Jareau. This is Spencer Reid. We’re with the FBI, and we were just wondering if we could ask you some questions.” JJ spoke clearly as she flashed her badge at Heather, a slight smile on her lips as she looked into Heather’s eyes. Spencer recognized her, finding it strange that he had almost run directly into the beautiful woman at the hospital just the day before.

Heather laughed softly and nodded as she stepped aside, opening the door wider to let the two agents inside. “Of course,” Her hands were shaking, but she gripped the edge of the door tightly, half tempted to slam it directly in their faces and go upstairs to shoot Catherine and herself to freedom.

They weren’t on to her yet; she was sure of that– especially given their lack of people– just two against one. She was quick to shut the door behind them before leading the two of them into her living room. “Can I get you two any water? I have some juice.”

The two agents shook their heads in a polite ‘no, thank you’ way as they sat on the sofa across from Heather. Heather sat on a chair with a soft “Okay” as she eyed them carefully. “Am I in some kind of trouble here?”

“No, We just wanted to ask you a few questions regarding an old college friend of yours, Y/N L/N.”

“Well,” She smoothed out her long skirt slowly, remembering to breathe normally, “What about her?”

“Had you been in contact with her at all? Did she mention anything about someone following her?”

Heather let out a gentle laugh as she shook her head, “I haven’t really had the time to reach out to old friends lately,”

Spencer’s interest peaked as he joined the conversation, “How come?”

Heather’s gaze became a little pointed at the question. Of course, the man has to ask her, “I lost a baby recently, and my husband was deployed soon after, so forgive me for not becoming pen pals with someone I knew at eighteen.” The words were direct and vicious, but she couldn’t help herself. She blew out a soft sigh before she let out a gentle and timid, “I’m sorry,”

Spencer licked his lips nervously as he leaned back against the sofa slightly, trying to resist the urge to disappear into it. Self-isolation wasn’t uncommon for women who had recently suffered from a miscarriage. That feeling more than likely increased as her support system was ripped away from her.

JJ gently touched Spencer’s knee before she cut the tension. “I’m sorry to hear that, Mrs. Alexander. We’re just trying to piece some information together.”

Heather ran a hand through her hair before she gave JJ a tight-lipped smile. “I understand that; I’m sorry. Would it be alright if I ran upstairs for some medicine? I feel a headache coming on.” She spoke fast with a tense voice, trying her hardest to pass it off as pain with a rub of her temple. When JJ nodded, she stood up and headed upstairs as calmly as she could manage.

JJ looked over at Spencer, watching Heather walk away carefully. “She seems angrier with men than anything.” Her voice was slightly amused before Spencer frowned.

“Doesn’t mean she’s in the clear; stalking is often a form of intense infatuation, but it's also used as a way to control something. She’s struggling with two things that could be our stressors: she’s craving control or dependency. She-” The soft ringing of his phone cut off his whispered rant. He answered it, happy that at least it was just Garcia calling, hoping for a better lead than his ongoing hunch.

He stood and looked at JJ, who was mouthing for him to go outside, “Hey,” He answered as he slipped out of the front door.

“Hey, nothing is coming up anywhere on Heather’s record for criminal activity—sorority sister, wife, nurse, clean as a whistle. However, considering we don’t have much right now, I decided to see if she had any warnings at work.”

“Right,” Spencer looked over his shoulder at the front door as he walked away to stand in front of the garage.

“Well, last month, she got a write-up for stealing some morphine; her supervisor forced her to go see a therapist after Heather said that she was using it for some leftover pain she was experiencing after her miscarriage. But Heather never showed,”

Spencer was walking a little further down the driveway as he listened to Garcia talk on the phone, counting the number of windows in the house. His eyes narrowed slightly to try and block out the sun before he looked away. He licked his bottom lip gently before acting on his little hunch, “Could you check her credit report? See if there are any purchases that you can find that seem odd around March third?”

“Could I check her credit report,” Garcia repeated with a laugh, “Hold on, boy genius.”

Spencer could see the top of JJ’s head from the bay window, and he turned away slightly, finding ease in the fact that she was still there. Something felt off, and he couldn’t put his finger on it. “She went to the store, but nothing crazy. Bought,” He could hear typing, “Bleach and rubbing alcohol.”

Spencer chewed on the inside of his cheek as he asked, “When was her husband deployed again? Did she buy anything from a florist around Valentine’s Day?”

“Husband was deployed December first and,” she hummed gently before she sighed, “Bought some flowers on Valentine’s day, rose petals.”

Spencer felt that feeling when something connected in his brain, a rush of adrenaline as he felt his hunch slowly turn into a plausible accusation. The roses were just that, roses. But the bleach and rubbing alcohol? That’s a recipe for chloroform right there. And finally, Heather’s husband was deployed at the beginning of December, stressor number two. It made him feel slightly hopeful about walking back into the house. “Thanks, Garcia.” He said as his feet reached the end of the driveway. He hung up the phone, walking back towards the house at a fast pace when the familiar and startling 'crack' of a gun reached his ears.

His hands drew his gun out of the holster, running back towards the house. He pushed the front door open with his foot as he heard the thumping of footsteps running on the stairs. He rounded the corner to the living room before lowering his gun as he saw JJ bleeding from a bullet wound in her thigh.

“JJ!” His voice panicked as he reached her groaning side, kneeling low to the ground next to her. “What happened?”

JJ shook her head quickly, “I’m calling for backup. She ran upstairs. She didn’t even try to,” her eyes squeezed shut tightly as a sharp pain rattled through her inner thigh, “Just go!” She urged him as she reached down for the phone in her back pocket, her free hand pressing on her gushing wound to try and slow the bleeding.

Spencer’s eyes were filled with uncertainty as he let out a soft, “No, I’ll stay here until everyone gets-”

“Spencer, go!”

Spencer felt his spine straighten at the second command. He gave her a grim nod as he stood up, readied his gun, and started for the stairs. His footsteps were soft and calculated as he ascended, pink light flooding the floor as he approached the top of the stairs. He could hear gentle begging in a voice too soft and thick to be Heather’s.

“Please, Heather, please, my love. Don’t, please don’t.” Repetitive cries for mercy made his legs move faster until he approached an opened door. The regular-looking bedroom door gave way to a steel one just behind it before revealing the scene of what looked like a demented love nest.

Spencer swallowed a lump in his throat as he took in the scene. Gun pointed carefully at Heather as he spoke, “Heather, put down the gun. You love her. You don’t want to hurt her. You know that.”

Heather jumped a little at the sound, her pistol clicking softly as her sweaty palms tightened their grip. She was quick to turn her body around to face him with the gun aimed directly at him as she spoke. “Don’t pretend like you know me or her. You don’t know our relationship. She wants this just as much as I do.”

“You know she doesn’t look at her. Look at what you’re doing to her.”

Heather’s eyes drifted to you, chained to the bed, watching as you hyperventilate softly. Heather felt her bottom lip quiver before she looked back at Spencer. “She’s just scared. You’re making me do this. She knows you’re making me do this.”

Spencer’s eyes drifted to your crying form on the bed, trying to keep your sobs quiet as you stared at him with wild eyes. He glanced over at the morphine drip next to your bed before his eyes settled back on Heather. His lips parted to say something more, but she cut him off quickly, “Put your gun down, and I won’t do it.”

Heather’s body language gives her away as she motions for him to put his gun down, her eyes crazed and large, her hands shaking and rigid against her pistol. “I’m not going to-”

“Put your fucking, gun down, or she dies,” Heather yells so loud that it elicits a soft sob from your lips, your arms coming up to protect your head, ready for the shot to be administered and for your brains to be blown out in front of Spencer in that very moment.

Spencer holds up both of his hands at that; he swears he can hear the soft sounds of sirens in the distance as he lowers his gun to the floor slowly, his foot gently kicking the gun away with a soft ‘clack.’

“Now you,” his calm voice says as he raises his hands, inching closer. Tears stream down Heather’s face now as she shakes her head gently.

“I have to,” Is her tear-soaked reply as she keeps the barrel pointed at Spencer’s head, her fingers twitching lightly as they move for the trigger. Your shaking voice cuts through the scene, and Spencer is pretty sure it’s the only thing that is stopping him from diving for his gun a few feet from him.

“Heather, baby,” Your voice betrays you as you speak the pet name, coming off a little too forced, but you continue anyway. “He can help. You don’t have to hurt anyone else. We can be happy, and we can get away. He can help, right?” Your arms relax around your head slowly as you look over at Spencer, who nods silently.

“I can, but you have got to put your gun down.”

Heather chokes out a strangled sob as she looks over at you, watching as you smile at her. You know it’s forced, but Heather can only view it as the prettiest thing she’s ever seen—a great parting gift.

She feels spit thick on her tongue as she evaluates her options: kill Spencer and go to jail. Kill you, and she might not have enough time to kill herself. Killing herself seems like the best plan out of the three, so she holds her gun steady at Spencer as she looks at your now bleeding smile.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” Her voice is soft, almost so human that you feel your heart clench in pity before that clenching feeling turns into pure anxiety as you see the movement of her arm. Spencer’s feet aren't quick enough for him to tackle her to the ground as Heather raises the gun to her temple and pulls the trigger.

Her body drops to the edge of the bed, sliding down it as you feel blood coat your legs. Your ears are ringing, and your mouth is wide open as you scream. At least you think you’re screaming. You can’t hear much but a pathetic muffle of the sound as the ringing in your ears increases.

Your hands are quick to try and wipe off chunks of what looks to be part of a skull off of your exposed stomach, and you can’t seem to stop staring at Heather’s limp body at the edge of the bed. The image of her mangled head oozing blood has you gagging softly, feeling yourself getting ready to be sick before you feel two hands cup your face.

You’re screaming or sobbing; you can’t tell anymore as Spencer Reid’s face blocks the view. He keeps your face steady in his hands as you try to read his lips, your breathing heavy as he strokes your hair gently. His voice creeps in through the ringing until you eventually hear the soft repetition of, “I got you, look at me. Just keep looking at me; you’re safe.”

You feel your breathing slow, your arms reaching up to grab him before your eyes roll back as your body slumps against Spencer’s, and everything is engulfed in black.

Tag List: @dollykisses4reid @babyspiderling @cocobean16 @kodzukenie333 @mmmunson

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mulders-too-large-shirt · 3 months ago

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my favorite scully and mulder moments from s3

mulder bursting into his apartment in episode 2 after actually returning from the dead, only to find scully and skinner holding each other at gunpoint. he immediately asks if she is okay and pulls HIS gun on skinner, too (yes, he WILL threaten to kill their boss for her, thank you very much)

(and then they have this moment where they reunite for real and she smiles at him- i thought they were going to kiss but they didn’t, but either way it was so precious and genuine it made me lose my mind)

this exchange in the disease center archives: “lots of files” “lots and lots of files” yeah <3

after they flee through the back exit of the archives escaping what seemed like the entire US military, they meet skinner at a little diner in maryland, with all things seemingly forgiven between them

how he holds her after she learns melissa passed away, and how they both agree that they need to get back to work in order to keep them from going mad with grief (they were both in mourning at the same time- his dad's death was still very recent- and it is so touching to me how they were there for each other at every step)

they way they glance at each other while the “psychic” stupendous yappi is making incredibly vague claims about the killer at the crime scene in episode 4 (omg... does anyone have this gif?)

(and when the psychic claims that mulder has “negative energy” and needs to leave the room, she leans in and says “i can’t take you anywhere)

later in the episode, he comes in with the news that the item at the crime scene was made of chantilly lace, and he says “you know how i like it” in reference to the song by the big bopper. she makes the FUNNIEST face!!! it's a momentary mixture of horror and disgust before she composes herself. it is hilarious, i’ll see if i can find it. then she slaps a file on his chest and wishes him good luck in observing bruckman.

also, he is nearly killed in that episode, and scully shoots his would-be murderer- then they have one of those “comforting each other on the floor after nearly dying moments” that are like catnip to me

“imagine if it were true, scully. imagine if you could come back and take out five people who had caused you to suffer. who would they be?” “i only get five?” “i remembered your birthday this year, didn’t i?” <3 (from episode 5)

in episode 7, scully noticed that mulder had been carrying dental x-ray plates throughout their whole investigation, but never bothered to ask why because they were at the point in their relationship where such things do not need to be discussed

scully learning in episode 9 that she is slowly dying from the tests they performed on her while she was taken, and breaking the news to mulder- how he softly says “but you’re fine, aren’t you scully?” because he cannot bear to lose her (AUGHHHHHHHH) (and she confesses that she doesn’t know if she really IS okay… why do they place so much sorrow on her shoulders?)

mulder trapped on a ticking time bomb of a train in episode 10, calling her to say “scully, let me tell you, you haven’t seen america til you’ve seen it from a train” “DAMN IT MULDER, WHAT HAPPENED?!” <- lmaooo he has this constant Need to diffuse tension with a quip

scully is going through A Lot of Emotions in episode 11, and when it is time for them to go, mulder holds out her jacket for her to put on <3 and then goes and does the statement by himself as per her request so she can go “run an errand” (confession for the first time in 6 years), which he obliges without question

so much of the episode 12 dialogue: “mulder, you’re not thinking about trespassing onto government property again, are you?” “it’s too late, i’m already inside” (incredibly deep scully sigh) “well, what’s going on? what do you see?” <- yeah that’s them. if you’re gonna break federal law, at least tell her about it in depth.

scully sleeping with her phone on her pillow, waiting for another of mulder’s calls. when it finally comes, he’s going on and on about bambi and she is clearly displeased. finally, he asks “scully, can i confess something to you?” and she VISIBLY winces, with pain in her voice, but pushes through and says “yeah sure, okay” (this one KILLED me because she did NOT want to hear about his love life but she wanted to be a good friend... scully is so kind)

(and all he had to say was that he hates insects lmao)

((and how the episode starts with the two of them making a planet of the apes reference, then ends with bambi and dr. ivanov flirting by making a different planet of the apes reference))

mulder is losing his damn mind in episode 14, hadn’t slept for days, and was sneaking out to a crime scene. scully is so worried she tells him to stay exactly where he is and that she will be there soon so they can “work this thing out together, okay?” trying to talk him back into being himself, making sure he is safe... that's partnership <3

in episode 16, mulder gets in a car crash, but wakes up to find scully next to him in the hospital. he has a bandage on his head looking all pathetic, and she greets him with a smile. i wanted to bottle this moment and drink it like fine champagne.

their drive to north dakota after scully confronted the man who shot skinner and her sister- how tense that ride had to have been. what did they say? anything at all? i need to know, i need 10 fics NOW

and their conversation at melissa’s grave- how they both bring flowers, how he touches her shoulder, the way she shares her father’s friend’s theory that the dead speak to you from beyond the grave, which is a conscious. and how he, the man who is always pondering the meanings of life and death and what comes between, says honestly “that’s interesting. i’ve never thought of it that way”

her falling asleep on his shoulder during the stakeout in episode 17; how he lightly taps her face to wake her up and says “i think you drooled on me”, which prompts a very fast and very embarrassed apology (!!!!!!!!!)

(also, pusher kept calling mulder "g-man" over the phone, so when they hang up he turns to her and calls her "g-woman" <3)

their very excellent coordination between scully grabbing the fire extinguisher and mulder using his jacket to douse the flames that episode

(and all the times in pusher they lean their heads together to share a phone <3)

when mulder has to go into the hospital to catch the pusher, he leaves his gun behind so he won’t hurt anybody- and he’s terrified and so is scully, so they look into each other’s eyes while holding hands before he departs

how she runs into action when he is in danger in the hospital; how she interrupts his game of russian roulette with pusher, and how she SCREAMS when he puts the gun to his head and pulls the trigger; that visceral "damn it, mulder!" filled with so much emotion in just a few words

how he fights the pusher’s mind control to prevent shooting her harder than he fought the mind control that made him fire at himself (!!!)

and after mulder escaped, having fired every round into pusher so he knew he wouldn’t hurt anyone else ever again, he watches as he is on life support. scully grabs his hand, having seen how terrified he had become, and tells him not to let this man take up any more of his time.

in episode 20, they receive roky’s fantastical report on his men in black encounter, which mulder reads aloud while scully lies on the bed of their hotel room, looking baffled (it is so CUTE!!!)

waking up to mulder in her room soon after that, having been under some mind control influence the night before, wondering why he was in there, and mulder trying to explain no, she actually invited him in!!

walking into the bait shop together in episode 22, sharing an umbrella while she holds the dog's leash <3

mulder offering to join her walking her dog, but she smiles and lifts up her jacket to show her gun and says she’ll be fine

the whole conversation on the rock, but some highlights include “hey scully, do you think you could ever cannibalize someone?” and how she compares him to ahab (they’re both “so consumed by your personal vengeance against life, whether it be its inherent cruelties or its mysteries, that everything takes on a warped significance to fit your megalomaniacal cosmology”, which he responds to with “scully, are you coming onto me?”)

but then he gets very serious, talking about how he wishes it were enough to just Persist Despite It All and be free of expectations, how he loathes that “you’re actually expected to make something of your life- achieve something, earn a raise, wear a necktie”, and he is the antithesis of ahab because he might be happier with a pegleg. and god, that one makes me emotional.

(and then they both quote a line from the book <3)

oh, and i could not finish this list without this banger from episode 23: “he’s lied to me from the beginning. he’s never trusted me” “scully, you are the ONLY one i trust”

(cue tears as scully collapses into her mother's arms) (cue tears at mulder's dogged persistence he could bring her back, but it took a mother's love instead) (and cue tears that such love had been extended to him by mrs. scully, so much so that she knew he would never, ever threaten her baby)

#screams for a very long time #so much of this is from pusher but it really was a god tier ep so i can't complain #okay this wraps up my s3 stuff!#still mentally recovering from “but you're fine aren't you scully?”#gonna go CRY i love them so much #the x files #txf #msr

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notiddygothgf · 2 months ago

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10. Early Breakfast

★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader

★ ❝ I didn't know Hayakawa Captain had a girlfriend. ❞

★ c.w.: smut. more (poorly timed) confessions. denji is his own warning. (more content warnings and tags)

★ a/n: Hi again pookie dooks ;)). Okay so. I have been waiting SO LONG to post this chapter. We're nearing the end of the ones I had pre-written, and as a result updates may come a little slower, but I'll try to keep up! (Just be patient w me, ur girl is #struggling rn w uni). You're gonna love this chapter (until you dont). not saying nothing though. ENJOY LOVELIES! muah! please leave many many comments (spam me idgaf) i need smth to look forward to reading and i ALWAYS go thru yall's comments w the dorkiest smile. ily. (no beta, we die like... yeah.)

★ w.c: .7.5k

shameless ; chapter index

AKI'S BED WAS WARM. Warm enough that you seemed to be able to forget where you were — or, rather, where you should have been. You had entire hotel suite waiting for you, yet it seemed as if you had wasted the first five days of your stay in Tokyo entangled with him. Two days had passed between your bathroom debacle and now, and you were back again right where it all had started.

You weren't entirely sure you minded it.

Aki wrapped his long, calloused fingers around your wrist, holding your bloody finger away from his face. You had cut your thumb open on the page of a magazine while the two of you were relaxing on his mattress — distantly, a song from a band you didn't know played on his CD player (The tonedeafs, or something like that).

"I want you to," You laughed, reaching your hand towards his face again. "I dared you to. I'm not a germaphobe, I don't care."

Aki furrowed his brows, holding your wrist away from his face once more, "You should care. It could get infected, or worse."

Always so serious.

You pouted, "Says who?"

"Me, everyone," Aki trailed off — playfully, of course, like he was lost in thought, "Any medical professional."

You laughed, flopping back onto the bed where you had been moments earlier before this had started, laying perpendicular to him with your back strewn over his stomach. Makima had given him the day off and you, not knowing what else could have been a better way to help him learn how to relax a little, decided to call out of work as well.

"Pussy," You teased him, "What kind of Devil Hunter gets squeamish around blood?"

"I'm not squeamish, I'm just taking your health into consideration," He remarked (again, with a playful lilt to his words, despite his serious tone). "And, besides — what if someone overheard this? You calling your superior a pussy, hm? Then what?"

You replied with a witty retort of your own, "And what if they knew their Captain was fucking his subordinates?"

"I think I could get away with one," He teased back. "Not subordinates, plural. Just a subordinate. A married one, at that."

"So there are other subordinates?" You asked him — it was meant to be teasing, but you would be lying if a depraved part of you didn't wonder if you were the only one he was seeing. You wouldn't have a right to be upset if you weren't, granted that you were still very much married to another man.

"No. But that doesn't make you any less of a cougar," He hummed. "Devil Hunters do worse shit than sleeping with their coworkers, I hate to tell you."

"I'm only five years older than you," You huffed. Rolling over to look at him, you added, "We're damned anyway, then. That's what you're saying?"

"Not damned," He replied. Finally setting the book he'd been reading down on the bed beside him, he said, "Blessed. At least, I am."

"You're blessed?" You asked. "I'm a trainwreck, Aki."

"You're my trainwreck, though, aren't you?" He reached down, ruffling your hair with his hand. "I'm blessed because you're the first person to come into my life and give me a reason to keep myself alive."

"I thought you said you wanted to kill the Gun Devil?" You teased.

"I do," He said. "I didn't care if I lived or died before. Now that I have you waiting around for me to come back, I wanna keep coming home."

The slightest frown tugged at the corners of your lips, "That's so sad. You don't have any family?"

"No," He caressed your cheek with the back of his thumb, "The Gun Devil killed them. That's why I said I didn't care if I lived or died. As long as I did it for them, I thought I'd be able to die happy."

"You still feel that way?" You asked.

"Not really. I think I'm starting to have a change of heart," He sighed — chest rising and falling as he did so, "I'm growing fond of my roommates. Between those two shitheads and you, I dunno," A pause, and then he continued, "I'm not so sure I'd be able to die happy knowing I left all of that behind."

It was a touching sentiment. You probably should have left it at that, but a part of you couldn't help but dwell on it. You were — at least a part of — his reason to live. You were what kept him alive, what kept him motivated.

That didn't sound like he "might have feelings" for you.

It sounded like he loved you.

And, to make matters worse, you were beginning to realize that you returned his affections. The craving him, the missing him — the worrying about his wellbeing, the need to constantly be around him... All signs pointed towards one direction:

You loved him, too.

And, before you could stop yourself, before you could tell yourself it was too soon, you found yourself uttering the phrase, "Do you love me, Aki?"

He paused. A moment passed, and he took a deep breath. Then, he peered down at you, "Yeah. I do. I think I'm starting to love those two Devils, too — or at least care for them, but..." He licked his lips. "Not in the way that I love you."

Your heart nearly stopped beating entirely — skipping a beat, and then another while a horde of angry butterflies filled your chest.

Not in the way that I love you.

The way that I love you.

I love you.

He loves me. You couldn't remember the last time you heard those words.

You hadn't taken notice of the silence — or how long it was, for that matter — until Aki spoke again, the depth of his voice vibrating beneath your body, setting your nerves alight.

"You don't... have to say it back," He added, a little more sheepishly. He was so patient with you, so forgiving — it was all so much more than you deserved. "But, yeah, I love you."

You finally spoke up — voice a little weaker than you had intended it to sound. "I.. love you, too. I know I do."

It felt right to confess. You couldn't keep lying to him — to him or yourself.

"Do you want to stop seeing me?" He asked. He sounded like he did not want you to say yes (or maybe you were projecting). "I know it's too soon. I don't want to ruin your life."

You scoffed, "Ruin my life? I'm like a starving beggar who's been given food. You're the best thing that's happened to my life in god-knows-how-long."

He blinked at you. "I don't..."

"It makes no difference," You added on, "I love you and you love me. So, what? Are we supposed to break each other's hearts? Over a man I haven't loved in years? A man with whom I've only stayed for the sake of convenience?"

Aki sighed quietly, calling your name, but you didn't listen.

"I'm tired of running away from the truth, Aki. You were the one who showed me that," You continued. "I love you, and I think I'd be completely miserable if I lived without you."

"But you'd be at peace. You'd have a house and a life in Kyoto, still," He remarked.

"You've consumed every inch of my peace. How can I give you your peace?" You quoted him. "Is that not what you told me? You don't want to stop seeing me, do you?"

"No, I don't," He said. "I'd be depressed beyond reprieve, but I'd do it if it meant you could be happy."

Finally, you rolled over, folding your arms over his chest, laying your head down over his heart — peering up at him through a fond gaze, "I'm happy with you, Aki. I don't want anything else."

There was an issue — of course. The issue being the dissolution of your marriage with your husband. But, still, the two of you danced around the truth.

"You shouldn't say things like that to me," He added quietly, "I'll hide you away in here forever."

You laughed softly, quietly, like you couldn't help but yearn for exactly that. "And, what? I should leave everything behind to stay here with you?"

To your surprise, however, he did not seem to be joking – not in the least. "Yeah," He deadpanned, "Would that be so bad?"

You sighed deeply, your fingers absently toying with the soft, rumpled covers of Aki's bed. The room had been bathed in a warm, golden light from the bedside lamp. The weight of contemplating a divorce hung heavily on you—images of an uncertain future and financial instability looming large in your mind.

"I'd have nothing if we divorced. I think that's the main reason I haven't done it by now. We never signed a prenup, so..." Your voice trailed off, the enormity of it all pressing down on you. "I'd be in shambles."

Aki shifted next to you, his gaze softening as he absorbed your words. He reached out, his fingers lightly brushing against your arm in a gesture meant to soothe. "But you could start over. We could start over. You're miserable with him. You know that, right?"

"You're too young to understand," You sighed.

"All that for a five year age gap is kind of crazy," He retorted. "Help me understand, then – why won't you put yourself first, for once?"

You looked away, your eyes reflecting the anxiety you felt. "I would lose the house, Aki... and everything I've worked for... it's not just about me."

"The apartment down the hall is up for lease, I've heard. It's not exactly the same as your house, but it could be a start," Aki tilted his head slightly, trying to offer a comforting smile. "We could make it work."

You considered his words – the idea of a new beginning didn't sound all too bad. Slowly, a tentative smile started to spread across your face. You met Aki's gaze, and he returned your smile with one that was gentle and understanding – like he always was.

Finally, you shifted your position, rolling over to straddle Aki's waist, sitting in his lap. You reached down, gently plucking the magazine from his hands, and intertwined your fingers with his.

"You love me," You said giddily, grinning ear to ear like a lovestruck fool.

God, now that you heard him say it, you wanted to hear it again.

Just to make sure that it was real.

And he looked up at you through tired, pretty blue eyes, like you had hung the stars in the sky yourself. Like you were everything to him. "Yes."

"Only me," You continued.

To which he answered breathlessly, "Yes."

"And you're happy with me?" You went on, "You're not just saying that to get my hopes up?"

"Yes," He answered. "Happier than I've ever been."

You knew it was dangerous to indulge yourself so shamelessly in his affections. He loved you and you loved him – there was only one thing holding you back from being his and his entirely...Your marriage of convenience.

"And you," He asked. "Do you love me? Only me?"

"Of course," You answered. It should have been more difficult of an admission than it was. In reality, you hadn't loved anyone in years. "I haven't been able to fuck anyone else since you came around. That's how much I love you."

"You're not special," He tutted. "I can't even get off unless I'm thinking about you and that pretty face of yours. You know that?"

"I get that. I know you love me," You smiled. "But how much?"

Aki's hands slid up your legs, gripping your thighs. Slowly, he aided you in rocking back, then forth – until you took notice of the sudden hardness pressing into your core from below. He quirked a brow, "This much."

You widened your eyes, dragging your tongue over the front of your teeth. If that's the case, then that's a lot. You played into it, of course. You pulled the hem of his oversized sweater up and over your hips so that you could rut against him. The lace of your panties created a friction so delicious that your next words came out as a shudder, "This much?"

His lashes fluttered, pretty eyes threatening to shut – but he kept them open, like he wanted to commit every second of this moment to memory. "Yes."

You rubbed yourself along the length of the bulge in his sweatpants slowly, tantalizingly – "This much?"

He released the prettiest little trembling sigh, "Yes..."

"This much?" You leaned down a little further. Your hands braced themselves on his chest, sliding down to his abs, then back up again – all while you lowered yourself a little closer to his face, rutted against him a little harder, just the way he liked it.

"Yes," He whimpered faintly, weakly. When you brought your face a little lower, a little closer to his, you could see the faint hue of pink that painted his cheeks.

Unable to wait a moment longer, you touched your noses together, lips only inches apart.

"This much?" You breathed. Going a little faster now – all but riding the tent in his sweats – you felt your legs begin to tremble. "And this much? And this much?"

"Ah..." He panted, "Yes, yes, yes."

His eyes struggled to meet yours – you liked the sense of control it gave you. It made your mind run wild with desire, knowing he trusted you enough to let you have him like this. To let you take the reins. Just before your lips touched, you brought your bloody thumb up to his mouth.

Then, carefully, you painted the faintest trace of red on his lower lip. He froze – holding his breath, anticipating your next move.

You traced your tongue carefully over his lower lip, kissing his lips clean – licking up what was left. It was depraved and dirty and downright distasteful... but, fuck...

It was so hot.

Clearly, Aki shared your sentiment, because before you could pull away he was gripping the back of your neck and bringing you closer to him, slipping his tongue into your mouth while it was still open – stealing a dirty kiss from you. His lips were insistent against yours, desperate, even – tasting like mint with the faintest hint of blood.

With a blissful groan, he departed from your lips, kissing his way down your neck while he rocked your hips back and forth. The friction was just enough to have you moaning in tandem, falling into him.

His tongue was hot against your skin, pulling it into his mouth to suck gently on it – gentle enough that he wouldn't leave marks, hard enough that you were gripping his biceps for support.

You craned your head up toward the ceiling to give him more room to continue his onslaught down the valley of your neck, down your clavicle.

You brought your hands down to the waistband of Aki's sweatpants, where he was practically straining against the fabric. "Need you, Aki, please."

He let you wrangle his pants down just far enough to free him (no, he hadn't bothered to put on a pair of boxers after his shower) – just far enough to let his aching erection spring out. His fingers looped beneath the fabric of your panties with practiced ease, and he pushed them to the side.

"Right now?" He asked. "Like this?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck. Need you, too, baby."

You wasted absolutely no time in lining his tip up with your entrance and sinking down on him. With little to no prep involved prior, it was a bit of a stretch – you could feel his length splitting you open, but, shit...

It felt so fucking good to have him inside of you. You fell forward onto him, letting him set the pace.

He let out the sexiest little gasp, squeezing his eyes shut.

"You won't get tired of me?" You asked, rising up and then sinking back down after a moment of adjustment. Up once more, then down once more, and you could feel the pain subsiding. "Of... of this?"

"Never," He gritted out, gripping your hips a little harder. He bounced you up and down a little faster, a little harder – and that little change in speed was all it took to have the both of you gasping. He moaned, "So perfect. Fuckin' love it."

You giggled, "So this is love?"

Trailing off, you gasped, a smile forming on your tender lips. It wasn't the years you had spent with your husband, arguing over money and food and everything else. It wasn't distasteful comments about your body, or a harsh sting on your cheek followed by a half-assed apology. It wasn't a broken promise of "I do," or a life in Kyoto. It was this.

Aki's response came in the form of a muffled whine of, "Yes," against your sensitive neck.

"This..." You grinned.

This was love.

You could get used to it.

You rustled from your sleep late in the evening. Nose twitching, you nuzzled your face into the warm surface your head was laid upon – warm, bare skin beneath you. Aki's chest was a milky white valley – between the pectorals of which you pressed a lazy kiss. He stirred, only slightly, and didn't wake.

A grumble of your stomach prompted you to sigh before slipping out of his grasp, out of the fortress his strong arms made around your head. His biceps were so plump that you almost wished you could sink your teeth into them, mark him as yours.

But, alas, duty calls.

You slid out of the bed slowly, being careful not to wake your lover in the process. His sweater slipped down your waist, pooled around your thighs, and your bare feet touched the floor of his bedroom as you padded towards the door.

You cast one last glance to the bed before you left. Aki was sound asleep, face turned to the side, inky black hair tousled and spread over the pillow. His pink lips were open just enough for quiet snores to escape. As if he sensed your absence, he grumbled something incoherent in his sleep, and rolled over onto his side. He wrapped an arm around the pillow – where you had been lying only a moment earlier – and snuggled into it.

God, he was so fucking cute – he was going to be the death of you.

A smile teased the corners of your lips. With no great deal of satisfaction, you cracked the door open – checking your surroundings before slipping into the living room. You tip-toed over the wooden floorboards (as if that would make a difference) and into the kitchen, pawing at the fridge until it opened.

You squinted into the refrigerator light, trying to scan its contents for a good snack. Let's see... Lettuce, Leftovers, Vegetables...

Berries! You grinned, reaching for the little package of strawberries. It looked like it was pretty new – surely he wouldn't notice a few missing... right?

If he did, he certainly didn't seem like he would care.

So you shut the fridge just as quietly as you had opened it. You nearly lept right out of your skin when you noticed something standing behind the door – someone.

It was the ginger boy from the party – Denji – and he was looking at you like he was just as confused as you were, standing only a little taller than you in Cookie Monster pajama pants and an old-looking undershirt.

What time is it? His roommates were supposed to be at training today!

He raked his eyes over your appearance, following the path of your bare legs up to your sweater, then up to your face again. Finally, he commented, "I didn't know Hayakawa Captain had a girlfriend."

You were fucking mortified. So much for being on the down low, right?

Swallowing, you replied, "I'm not–"

"Wait a sec, aren't you that girl from the party?" He squinted at you.

Shit. Shit. Double Shit.

"Uh..." You laughed awkwardly, toying with the hem of Aki's sweater. You knew you probably made for a remarkable sight – messy hair, bare feet, wearing nothing but his Captain (and roommate's) sweater. "What party?"

Public Safety loved to party. He wouldn't remember you from one night alone, would he?

"The one where Himeno got shitfaced? Wait, I don't think that narrows it down by much..." He pursed his lips, tapping his chin in thought while he scrutinized you, "It had to have been, like, a month ago, now. She started crying and then she got real wasted and puked on my shoes... She said she was real pissed at Hayakawa and his little girlfriend. That's you, right?"

Fuck me gently with a chainsaw. You didn't know what was more mortifying – the idea that he knew you were sleeping with his captain, or the idea that Himeno was telling him about you.

If your flustered appearance didn't give it away (or the way you froze like a deer in headlights when he said that), your words definitely did. "I have no clue what you're talking about."

That sounds like something someone would say if they most definitely did know what someone was talking about, you thought.

What the hell was he doing out here this late, anyway? It wasn't fair.

"Youuu... sure...?" He asked, squinting at you a little harder. You were one question away from breaking a sweat, "'Cause he's been acting real fishy lately, and I heard noises coming from his room when I came back a few hours ago."

You were going to murder him and yourself a moment later. He said they wouldn't come home.

"I thought you were supposed to be at training?" You whisper-shouted back at him. "What noises could you possibly have heard?"

"We wrapped up early," He remarked, like that should have been obvious. "And, I dunno, but it sounded like someone was being murdered in there. Himeno said he had a "little girlfriend", and I don't see him around many women, so..." Snapping his fingers, he pointed them at you, "You're her. You're his secret girlfriend, right? I've been working on my detective skills, you know. I can tell these things about people."

You could do nothing but gape at him, utterly gobsmacked at two different things – Firstly, that this interaction was even happening, and, secondly, that he had managed to sniff you out so easily.

"Unless you're not," He trailed off – seemingly lost in thought, again, as he gazed up at the ceiling, scratching his chin, "You know, I heard him in the bathroom with someone the other day. Is that something you're aware of? I don't want to assume, but I figured you should know. He could be cheating on you."

Again, you couldn't form a suitable answer, mouth open. Still – because you were hungry – you plucked a strawberry from the container, inching your hand slowly towards your mouth.

"What are you doing?" A voice cut into the tense silence between you and the orange-haired boy – who, from your understanding, was no older than 16. The two of you jumped apart.

Aki stood in the hallway, eyeing you and Denji up wearily. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed – literally – with his hair still a little disheveled over his neck and in his face, donning nothing but a pair of sweatpants to match the shirt you were wearing.

We're cooked, you thought.

Then, immediately letting your gaze wander over his chiseled physique, you thought, He looks so fucking good without a shirt on.

The sound of his voice shook you from your horny reverie. He had called your name, or something like that, considering that he was looking right at you.

You tilted your head, popping the strawberry into your mouth, "Hmm?"

Aki's lips were pressed into that serious pout he always seemed to wear around his coworkers – something so different from how he normally was around you, something that you had to get used to, "I asked if he was bothering you."

"Oh." You swallowed the mouthful of strawberry you were chewing. Glancing between him and his ginger detective roommate, you muttered, "No.. No, he's just– He was just getting a snack."

His expression softened immediately. Still, he leaned against the kitchen counter, saying, "Come back to bed."

Well, shit, there goes my alibi, You gnawed on the inside of your cheek. He made it sound so tempting.

So, opening the refrigerator door and tucking the container of strawberries away on the shelf, you squeezed past Denji, murmuring a quick, "Good night."

Then you followed Aki back to his room, leaving the poor boy speechless in the kitchen.

The next morning, Aki was already up when you stirred, the soft sound of bowls clinking and the rhythmic whisking of something filling the quiet morning ambience. The smell of something sweet drifte d in from the kitchen, pulling you out of bed.

Snagging your purse off of the floor, you slipped into the bathroom, your feet padding softly against the cold floor. Without thinking, you reached for Aki's blue toothbrush again—the one you'd claimed yesterday, and the time before that. There was something oddly comforting about using his things.

There was also something sort of ironic about the way you hesitated before using it — like you hadn't swallowed a load of his kids before, like this was overstepping.

As you brushed your teeth, your thoughts floated back to last night—the weight of his arms around you, the way his hands had roamed your body like they belonged there. Your confession had been a surprise. His confession had been hushed whispers of, "I love you. So perfect. All for me," against your skin, a sinful croon of your name while he fell apart beneath your touch.

You winced slightly at the ache in your lower back, a reminder of how tangled the two of you had been in the sheets. That ache was a small price to pay.

Spitting into the sink, you wiped your face and took a handful of water into your mouth. Then, reaching into your purse, you produced your little Birth Control tin, popping one of the tiny white pills into your mouth.

You wandered back out into the living room a minute or two later, drawn by the smell of what you assumed was breakfast. Aki was standing at the kitchen counter, his back to you, shoulders relaxed beneath one of his signature sweaters— one that, despite how soft and oversized it looked, did nothing to hide his lean form, the muscled slopes of his shoulders. You watched him for a moment, admiring the way he moved so easily in his space, the domesticity of it all.

You walked up behind him without a word, slipping your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against the hard plane of his back. Your hands trailed lazily over his abdomen, feeling the firm lines of his muscles through the fabric of his sweater. You couldn't help but smile to yourself; he was so deceptively toned beneath all those layers, the kind of strength that made you second-guess not divorcing your husband sooner.

"Hey, troublemaker," he said softly, his voice warm and teasing, like he knew you were up to something just by the way you touched him. He didn't even flinch at your sudden embrace, just leaned into you as if he had been expecting you.

You buried your nose between his shoulder blades, breathing him in. That familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the smell of pancake batter—it was such a simple combination, but it made your heart ache in the best way. His hair was tied up in that silly little topknot again, and on anyone else it would have looked completely ridiculous. He smelled like everything good and familiar, like something you didn't even realize you needed.

He set the bowl of pancake batter down and turned slightly, his hand finding your chin, gently tilting your face up to meet his. His lips captured yours in a kiss that was slow, deliberate, like he had all the time in the world to show you exactly how much he wanted you. The kiss was languid, sensual, made your knees a little weak and left you dizzy in the best way. You could taste the sweetness of his affection, the way he held you like you were something precious.

In that moment, it hit you—you really were in love.

You didn't need to second-guess it. This wasn't like anything you had before. The ease, the quiet bliss of being here with him, in this little bubble you'd both created—it was something you had never known with your husband.

That marriage had been full of noise and expectations, but this... this was peace.

This was love.

And standing there, with Aki's arms around you and the smell of pancakes in the air, you knew you didn't want to let this feeling go.

"Hi. You sleep okay?" you asked, slipping your hands under the hem of his sweater, your fingers pressing against the warmth of his muscular back. You felt the subtle shift of his body under your touch, the way his breath caught for just a second.

"Better than okay," he replied, his voice still rough from sleep. "I don't even remember dreaming."

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, "Aww... did I put you to sleep?" The words came out soft, playful, with a teasing edge that hung in the air.

He chuckled, a deep, velvety sound that sent a ripple through your body. "That's rich coming from the one who came so hard she passed out last night."

Your cheeks flushed instantly, the memory making heat rise in your face as you buried it against his chest, the familiar scent of him filling your senses. His sweater smelled like him—warm, clean, and just a little bit of that cologne you couldn't get enough of.

After a moment, you tilted your head, peeking up at him through your lashes. Your hands moved beneath his sweater again, this time slowly exploring the firm ridges of his abs. He was a Greek god, he really was.

You could feel him tense, the muscles under your touch shifting with every slight movement of your fingers as they trailed down his abdomen, brushing lightly with your knuckles. You hummed, the sound vibrating softly in your throat. "Hmm... should I make it up to you?"

Aki's eyes dropped to yours, and you saw the change immediately—his face grew warm, the faintest hint of pink rising on his cheeks as his pupils widened. "Make what up to me?" he asked, his voice lower now, like he wasn't sure if he wanted the answer or if he was bracing for it.

Your fingers dipped beneath the waistband of his boxers, the fabric snapping back against his skin with a soft, sharp sound. He let out a quiet grunt in response, and the sound sent a surge of satisfaction through you.

"You're a little minx today, aren't you?" he teased, though his voice was laced with something deeper, his smirk betraying just how affected he was.

You just smiled up at him, your fingers lingering at the waistband, daring him to see where the moment would take you next.

"What can I say? I'm an early riser," you teased, your finger trailing downward over his sweatpants, over the tent that was beginning to form where your fingers ghosted over them. The way his breath hitched, followed by a flustered laugh, made you grin.

You tugged at the strings of his sweatpants, mischief dancing in your eyes. "And I think someone else is too."

Aki's gaze darted between the stove, where the pancakes were almost ready to be poured, and the closed bedroom doors, behind which his roommates were still fast asleep. His brow furrowed as if he were contemplating something serious, but the playful glint in his eyes hadn't left.

"You're insatiable," he said, though his voice held just the faintest tremor of doubt. "Not like this. Not in the kitchen."

"You're thinking about it?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. "Why? Craving something sweet?"

"Always, pretty girl," he murmured, his tone soft but filled with heat. "But don't tempt me."

"Why not?" you challenged, leaning in just a little closer. "Who was it that said to give in to temptation and not run from the truth? Why stop now?"

Aki's smirk deepened as he slid one hand around your waist, his fingers grazing the small of your back. "Because my temptations involve me hiking that little sweater up and fucking you right there on the table until the neighbors call the cops," he whispered, his lips barely brushing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Behave."

Yes, sir.

Just before you could retort, you heard the soft creak of a door opening. In an instant, both of you pulled away from each other, the space between you filled with unspoken tension. Eventually, a familiar head of ginger hair popped into the kitchen, tired eyes barely open, pants hanging low on his hips.

"Morning," Denji yawned.

Aki's words left you breathless, still. You cast him an uncertain glance. He smirked – barely there, of course, but just enough to tell you that your conversation wasn't over. Then, he turned back to the stove.

Denji reached for the fridge, grabbing a bottle of Orange Juice.

"You making pancakes over there?" The younger of the two boys asked, pulling a seat out from beneath the kitchen table and plopping down – clearly unwilling to bring up the whole issue of whatever the fuck happened last night.

This entire situation is unreal.

"Yeah," Aki answered. Clearly, he didn't want to talk about it either. Instead, he poured some batter onto the pan.

Awkwardly, you inched towards the seat at the table across from him. You sat down and folded your hands on the table. He eyed you up curiously, like wasn't sure if last night had been a dream. You avoided his gaze, looking down at your lap.

Suddenly, you felt conscious of your appearance — was your hair disheveled? Had he left marks on your neck? Did Denji have some sort of superpower that allowed him to see through your sweater and see the bruises Aki's strong hands had left on your hips the night before?

A few silent minutes passed, during which neither of you three brought up the elephant in the room. A moment longer, and you were joined by Aki's other nightmare roommate — a short girl with pink hair, sharp teeth, and red little horns protruding from the top of her head.

She entered the kitchen with a proud shriek of, "Well risings, mortals! I smell sustenance."

When she noticed you, a look of confusion replaced her grin. She sat down at the table next to Denji and asked him, "Who is this human?"

And, just like that, the line is crossed.

Denji shrugged as Aki set a plate of pancakes down in front of him. He quirked a snarky little brow, glaring up at him, "Dunnno. Why don't you ask him?"

Power's lips were pressed into a confused little pout. She looked up at Aki as he walked behind her, but the moment she saw he was coming towards her with a plate, she kept her mouth shut. Four pancakes were heaped onto each of their dishes. The moment it hit the table, she reached for the fork and the knife and dug in.

Finally, Aki came around the table, offering you a plate of pancakes and an apologetic expression before taking a seat next to you. There were two pancakes on his plate, garnished with butter and honey.

You looked at him with wide eyes that flicked between him and his roommate, blinking extra hard, as if to say, Help me.

He sighed your name in response, "Meet Denji and Power, the two shitheads I live with."

Great. That wasn't helpful at all.

"Why are you not bowing?" The Power girl slammed her fist down against the table. "You are in the presence of greatness."

Denji didn't seem to care much to acknowledge her, ripping a piece off of his pancake and stuffing it into his mouth before saying, "You're bangin' the captain, right?"

Your mouth hung open. Aki tensed, furrowing his brows angrily, "Denji."

"What? You told me you weren't seeing anyone when I asked you, but I saw her come out of your room," Denji snapped back. He ripped another chunk out of his pancake, and stuffed his mouth again.

"We were having a... sleepover...?" You answered hesitantly, trying to make the situation better (and making it worse).

Denji pointed an accusatory finger at you, "Girls and boys don't have sleepovers."

Power shoved his arm, "Nonsense. Plenty of people do it."

Denji's head snapped towards her. He barked, "Yeah, plenty of people who are banging each other!"

You dropped your head into your hands, groaning into the table.

Aki handled the situation calmly, as he normally did, "She's my girlfriend."

And, just like that, your head was popping back up. Your wide eyes were on him immediately, heart pounding against your ribs like it was about to break loose. Girlfriend?

Then, a warmth spread over the back of your neck and your face, and you realized you weren't entirely opposed to being his girlfriend. Unless he was just putting up an act. In which case, you definitely weren't getting your hopes up — on paper, you were still married, anyway, right?

Right?

Denji and Power looked just as shocked as you did.

"You lying piece of shit!" Denji hissed. He turned to Power and added, "See? I told you! I knew it! He's been too lenient lately. Pay up."

Power crossed her arms. Mouth still full, she replied, "I refuse."

Denji leapt up from his seat, pointing at her now, "No way. You owe me a feel!"

Oh my god.

"There's a new pack of gum in the car," Aki sighed — visibly distressed by his roommates' behavior but noticeably unsurprised. Clearly this was no infrequent occurrence in his household.

The two of them perked up at that.

Aki continued, voice stern and notably father-like, "I'll give the both of you two pieces each if you keep your mouths shut."

Slowly, Denji lowered himself back into his seat. Power's angry face dropped, replaced by a wide-eyed frown, like that of a begging dog.

"Yes, sir," Denji answered obediently.

Power added, "At your service, My Liege."

"This doesn't leave the table. Got it?" Aki told the two of them. Carefully, he cut his pancakes into nine squares. He popped one onto a fork.

The two roommates nodded quickly.

Aki sighed, "Good. If you have any questions to ask her, do it politely."

Power was the first to ask, "Do you work with him?"

Finally having a chance to speak, you smiled softly, sheepishly, "Yeah. I'm new to Tokyo, though."

"Great. There will be plenty of time, then," She grinned, "I wish the two of you nothing but success in your mission to procreate!"

You choked on the mouthful of pancakes you were trying to swallow down. Before you could even comment on that wildly invasive statement, Denji answered with a question of his own.

"He said be respectful, dumbass," He tutted. He polished off the rest of his pancakes in (seemingly) a few ridiculously huge bites before he asked. "Is it true that women's boobs are measured with letter-sizes?" A pause, then he added, "How big are yours?"

"You little brat," Aki grumbled as he slammed his fork down on the table, "I'm gonna kick your ass."

An hour after breakfast had wrapped up, and Aki had left you to do the dishes, you left for the balcony — but not before reaching into the pocket of the suit jacket he had left neatly folded on the couch and stealing one of his beloved cigarettes and his lucky lighter.

You didn't know what had gotten into you lately. Yet, as you stepped outside and closed the sliding door behind you, you couldn't help the relieved sigh that left your lips the moment the cig was lit and in your mouth.

The cherry crackled as you pulled a long, drawn out hit from it — thinking briefly back to a point in time some six or seven years ago when you were still a young Public Safety officer with a cigarette dangling from her lips, and then to the night before, when Aki had blown the smoke into your mouth. You sighed, releasing the smoke with the slightest cough.

Of course, the peaceful moment was shattered the moment you felt your phone buzzing in the pocket of the basketball shorts Aki had lent you earlier, saying something about how Denji was "Shamelessly ogling your legs". They were long enough to touch the back of your calves. Of course, you imagined they fit him differently.

You plucked the little device out, flipping it open. The screen was illuminated by a call — with two concerns being raised. Firstly, your phone was only on 12%. Secondly, the person calling you was your husband.

Your heart dropped. In a moment, it was as if the tranquil morning had been shattered, leaving you with that feeling of dread you knew all too well. You hadn't spoken to him since the night before you had left for Tokyo.

You flipped the phone open, accepting the call. "Hey."

"Hey. How have you been?"

Fine, before he called. You didn't say that, though, instead pulling another puff of your cigarette. "I've been good."

There was a rather lengthy pause, after which your husband cleared his throat, "Look. I wanted to call you because I felt real bad about what happened before you left."

You couldn't possibly doubt him more. Still, you had spent the entirety of last night getting your guts rearranged by his superior. You figured you had outdone him. "Yeah? It's alright."

"No, it's not," He answered, much to your surprise, "I had no right to hit you. That was super out of line. I'm just... I've been stressed out with work and you being gone, and... I dunno, I..."

The line paused again. You took another hit.

"I can't shake this feeling about you in Tokyo. I feel like something's wrong," He finished.

Your stomach churned with unease. He was right, of course, but you couldn't let onto that – if it had taken him that long to notice, he couldn't really care. Hell, he hadn't called you since you left.

"Like what?" You replied with a noncommittal hum. You couldn't give less of a shit what he was feeling, to be completely fair and honest. He never cared what you were thinking?

"I don't know what. I know I said some rude things, but... I don't think that's an excuse for you to be ignoring me like this. I've been waiting for your call," He sighed. "Are you okay? Are we okay?"

You nearly burst out laughing at the sheer irony of it all. So now he cares?

He's far too late.

As if on cue, the sliding door opened. Faintly, you could hear Denji and Power shouting at each other in the background, followed by a set of quiet footsteps right behind you. The door shut. You didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

Aki came up on you from behind, wrapping his strong arms around your waist, nestling his face into the crook of your neck. He smelled of pancakes and laundry soap and cologne, a scent so divine that it had you relaxing into his touch instantly.

On the phone, your husband drew on, "Hello? You still there?"

You felt a warm kiss at the back of your neck, followed by another that landed a little higher, and then a little higher. Then he peppered a series of butterfly kisses to the sensitive skin there. You grinned, leaning into his touch while swatting him away all the same.

"Yeah," You answered, voice teetering on a giggle. Aki pulled you flush against his chest, arms squeezing you tight while he teased you with more butterfly kisses. "Sorry, I'm multitasking."

Aki's hands gripped your hips, pulling them back so that your ass was pressed right up against him. Then, he leaned down, nibbling softly at the skin near the corner of your jaw – then soothed over it with a lick of his warm, flattened tongue.

You bit back a laugh, pushing him away. Finally, he seceded, leaving you alone so that he could sit down on the chair on the balcony and watch you.

Your husband spoke up. You had almost forgotten he was there. In a few short words, he shattered your entire world;

"I'm being stationed in Tokyo."

a/n: ermmmmmmm... heyyyyy... how yall doin.... ok now look. don't hate me. you know after all that sugar i gave yall i had to throw in a curveball, cmon. (this is a notiddygothgf fanfic after all). dont be too mad, i'll be back shortly!!! the plot thickens from here. I wonder what will happen?? (jk i already know but id love to hear what YALL think will happen). (you know mama always makes it up to you bbs). THANK YOU FOR ALL OF YOUR UNWAVERING SUPPORT! You guys and ur comments literally keep me going. Part of me never wants this story to end (which is crazy bc it was originally a one shot lmfao.). anyway not too much more, love yall!! ciao pookies! x

credits: UNKOWN ATM. I found the cover pic on pinterest unfortch. If you know the artist, please let me know, so I can credit them properly for their work!!! This is NOT MY BEAUTIFUL DRAWINGGG. I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @acethebrave , @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505

wanna join the taglist? | shameless ; chapter index

#notiddygxthgf ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚#shameless!#aki hayakawa #aki x reader #aki hayakawa x reader #hayakawa aki x reader #csm x reader #chainsaw man x reader

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thiswaytwoinfinity · 2 months ago

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Emma's Epic Multi-Fandom Rec List: 'Top Gun: Bob' Edition

This is technically like, part 3.1 since I've been working on pulling a giant 'Top Gun: Maverick' rec list together, with all the daggers. I wanted to have this done a little while ago (because August was when I joined the TGM fandom, etc.) but frankly everything has been nuts and so I just figured it was better to share what I had ready rather than wait for the whole thing.

Please cut me some slack, my puppy just got spayed and she insists I hold her bone for her while she chews so I have like one free hand and two brain cells at the moment

I do my best to reblog as much as possible but sometimes I miss it so this is my attempt to make up for that and give all of the amazing creators on here the credit they deserve. Thank you all so much for sharing all of your work with us. This past year has been a long and difficult one for me, especially mental health wise, and being able to escape into these stories has been so valuable and important to me.

If you read anything on here that you like, please reblog and/or comment on these pics to show the creators some love!

AN IMPORTANT NOTE: While not everything listed here will include smut, many of these authors have 18+ blogs. Please, please, please respect their boundaries and DO NOT INTERACT WITH THEM/THEIR CONTENT IF YOU ARE A MINOR.

Stories marked with ❤️‍🔥 contain NSFW content

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd

Full of Surprises ❤️‍🔥 by @withahappyrefrain — You have to admire a fandom that takes one look at the bespectacled, quiet-seeming character and goes “This guy fucks.” I also had that exact thought when I first saw Bob Floyd (along with several other, increasingly filthy thoughts), so when I read this story for the first time I went “oh, yeah, definitely. This guy fucks and this is how he fucks.” Just like our beloved WSO, it starts out so charming and sweet and then gets so incredibly steamy and sexy. 10/10. And when you’re done, there’s an equally hot Part 2.

Behave ❤️‍🔥 by @withahappyrefrain — Bob Floyd bicep choking. Let me repeat that, a little louder: BOB! FLOYD! BICEP! CHOKING! It’s even hotter than you think it is.

Whodunit? by @attapullman — Fun fact: my absolute favorite genre of fiction (books, movies, games, you name it) is a whodunit mystery. So, naturally, I have been obsessed with this series ever since Mo started teasing it way back when, and I love everything about it. Bob and Fanboy are the perfect goofy amateur sleuths, the teasing hints of cameos from all of the other Daggers keeps you on your toes and there’s a dose and campy ‘80s nostalgia running through the whole thing that I adore. It’s just pure, giddy fun.

The Neighbor!Bob Universe ❤️‍🔥 by @attapullman — I am on record as adoring every single version of Bob that Mo cooks up, but neighbor!Bob holds a special place in my heart. He’s so handy and confident and sexy and he needs help dodging the firtations of all of the older women in the neighborhood who are equally obsessed with him! My bff and I once joked that the perfect man could build you a table and then do both you and your taxes on it, and well, that’s neighbor!Bob to a tee.

do you wanna make somethin' of it ❤️‍🔥by @theharddeck — Hi, hello, are you looking for a Bob fic so hot it will MELT YOUR ENTIRE BRAIN? This is that fic. Bob has a secret side hustle as your favorite audio erotica performer (username: BullRiderRhett) and he is just as brain-scramblingly hot in person as he is in your headphones. I finished this fic and said out loud, to nobody, “omg I need him.” And because the universe is kind, there is an equally scorching sequel.

you don’t have to be a star by @sunlightmurdock — Sweet, perfect Bob deserves a sweet, perfect fic where he gets to hear all about how lovely and wonderful he is, just the way he is. Fluffy and warm and the kind of story that gives you the urge to kiss him all over his perfect little face.

Something in the Orange ❤️‍🔥by @sorchathered — I’m a sucker for a “right person, wrong time” situation and this one is a gut-punch of angst followed by a swoon-worthy reconciliation. I imagine it would be impossible to ever truly move on from Robert Floyd.

Delicate ❤️‍🔥 and I Want Your Midnights by @laracrofted — *Tyler Owens voice* Are y’all ready to pine? Bob Floyd is an absolute dream boy and he’s at his most hesitant and lovestruck in these two gorgeous stories. These give me the same like, sinking stomach-feeling I get when I stare at pictures of Lewis for too long — like just the tiniest bit of melancholy that makes the whole experience sweeter and more emotional. Does that make sense? It’s one of the highest compliments I can give.

Covering the Classics ❤️‍🔥by @roosterforme — BOB AND ANNA! ANNA AND BOB! I COULD SCREAM ABOUT THESE TWO FOR HOURS! I love them, this is such a beautiful, heart wrenching, emotional roller coaster of a story about learning how to find yourself and your people after heartbreak and trauma. Anna is such an interesting, complicated character and Bob meets her at every turn with love and tenderness and the biggest open heart in the world. (And also the steamy scenes are BEYOND, like, damn, Bob, neither Anna nor I was ever gonna be able to resist you.)

I Heard Screaming ❤️‍🔥by @oncassette — Yes, it’s a classic fanfic trope — I heard noises and walked in on you enjoying some *private time* while thinking about me — but it’s a classic for a reason. I love it and I reread it all the time.

Four Eyes ❤️‍🔥by @promisingyounglady — I’m going to quote what I wrote the first time I reblogged this wildly, delightfully, insanely filthy fic: “I need to sit in a dark corner and replay this fic in my brain like a movie now.” It’s that good

Misc. Lewis Pullman Characters:

Dancing Beneath the Moon ❤️‍🔥by @delopsia (Rhett Abbott) — Del is *the* Rhett Abbott fic writer, in my opinion, and choosing just one of their fics was so much harder than I thought. But ultimately, I’m still so spellbound by this one, where Rhett is a ghost haunting the former Abbott ranch. It’s atmospheric and moody and gorgeous and the pining is top notch — as is the image of Rhett being a grumpy, mischievous house ghost. Also please check out their Floytt universe which I also adore.

Coyote ❤️‍🔥by @delopsia (Miles Miller) — An omegaverse with a twist! The reader is a wolf being married off to broker peace with another prominent wold family … only to run away with the sweet, gentle coyote who works at the desk of the El Royale. Dip You in Honey So I Could Be Stickin to You ❤️‍🔥by @laracrofted (Harrison Knott) — Harrison Knott, the man that you are. And the man that you are in this fic, specifically. I need him desperately. Carnally. In a way that is concerning to feminism.

#fic recs #favorites #emma's epic rec lists #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fandom #tgm fic #tgm fanfiction #robert bob floyd #my beautiful husband bob floyd #harrison knott #miles miller #rhett abbott #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott x reader #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fanfiction #bob fucks #outer range fic

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ravenyenn19 · 1 year ago

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Six of Crows future head cannon:

Alby Rollins joins the Dregs.

Picture it: 1920’s-esque Ketterdam, 10 years post Sweet Reef/ Ice Court. Slick Rolls Royce cars line the cobbled streets, a city spiraling toward a new age. Rain drenches the obscure signs & hidden arrows pointing to the Speak-Easy halls. In a time of prohibition… down, down, down must one go in the Barrel to find the most notorious of them all. A slice of sin, six feet under. A crowd drunk off vice served in black tea cups.

The young man walks into Kaz Brekker’s office (after fighting his way there), sits himself in a chair opposite a great obsidian desk. Winded & lip still bleeding from his tousle with the men at the doors, Alby wheezes: “Teach me.”

In turn, A near 30 year old Kaz smirks. “I thought lions preferred their pride.”

Alby, barely pushing 17, gives a smile of a golden boy, nervous but strong enough to hold the gaze of a devil. (He’s practiced.) “I thought Crows scavengers. Here I am, a shine for the taking.”

“Still have that crow, little lion?” A feminine shadow whispers from the corner. Unnoticed by the young man previously, he clicks his teeth but still refuses to show fear. A serpent-like bead of sweat slides down his spine, a shiver chasing after. He holds firm, biting his cheek to hide the startle.

He knows this shadow, this phantom. She haunted him, once.

“I buried it with my father,” the Kaelish prince whispers, “or rather, in place of him. Never did find a body. Pity.” He shrugs.

Kaz’s eyes glint like a cat’s, his smile a loaded gun. A gloved hand stretches halfway across the table in offering. “All right, cub. What do you want?”

Alby reaches forward, feeling the cold black leather of Dirtyhands’ grip between his fingers. The moment is a stormy crossroads, a whip between his shoulders reminiscent of his father’s favorite belt. He smiles, for this is a pain Alby has been walking toward since the day he woke up clutching stuffed black feathers.

(His blood never did bleed emerald.)

More than one answer to Kaz’s stinging question come to mind, nettles along the path of his thoughts. Yet, only one pricks Alby into speaking, the rage in his voice real rather than bravado. “Revenge.”

The Wraith giggles roughly, slipping herself to the arm of Kaz’s chair on silent feet. Alby swallows.

“On me?” The leader of the Dregs rasps, a brow peaked with amusement. His wife smiles with closed lips, knives glinting along her body like hungry specters. For here, her teeth are shown. Alby knows she Captain’s a fleet of the deadliest ships in the True Sea. He drags his gaze from her quickly.

“No.” Alby stutters, but he does not lie. Kaz Brekker bested his abusive father, and he does not care about Pekka’s death. In fact, sitting with the suspected murderers, Alby finds he rather prefers their company.

Kaz reclines in his chair, a hand lazily splayed on Captain Ghafa’s knee. He regards Alby with black eyes, a sharpness that pierces through his strength but doesn’t shatter it. A blade meant to probe. A test of mettle. Alby has waited too long for this audience, he cannot lose it. A moment passes.

Dirtyhands looks to his wife, his Wraith. She quirks her head in the silent exchange. Six heart beats have passed, and Alby Rollins is certain he won’t leave this room. He waits for the snap of a cane to bank his vision, a warm blanket of red to cover him from the jugular down.

He waits for death, but does not invite it. It does not come.

Instead, a voice like choking smoke, “Then let us begin.”

Alby Rollins releases a breath. His knuckles loosen in parts. A tattooist is called in.

The Crow & Cup bleeds as it settles, accepting the fresh skin as it’s master’s tithe.

Alby sits taller, a prince of a different kind, a darker throne.

I don’t make the rules but this is now my personal agenda & important that u agree

Crap now I have to put it in a fic

Should I do it?

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cyberneticfallout · 7 months ago

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Chapter Two: The Wastes

Ch 1 - Ch 2 - Ch 3 - Ch 4 - Ch 5 - Ch 6 - Ch 7 - Ch 8 - Ch 9 - Ch 10 - More Coming Soon

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader Summary: As you trudge through the wastes looking for the doctor, you and the ghoul decide to set up camp. Tags: Slow burn (and I mean SLOWWW), angst, eventual smut, language, canon-typical violence, more tags will be added Posted on AO3: Smoothie and The Ghoul Word Count: 1.2k

Navigating the barren wastes was never a task for the faint-hearted. The scorching sun beat down relentlessly, the dry air sucked the moisture from your pores, and the ever-present radiation kept you on edge. Easy work for that damn ghoul, you thought. A sense of unease always lingered in these parts despite all the years you’ve done this.

The ghoul maintained a steady pace ahead of you, with the dog forging an even greater distance in front as she diligently followed the trail of her missing owner. Doctors have always been a sought-after commodity, but the substantial reward offered for this one hinted at something deeper. So far you’ve seen a ghoul, a knight of the Brotherhood of Steel, and a vault dweller mixed up in all of this. Who else is after this man?

The mangled remains of an old Soviet satellite loomed into sight as the dog bounded towards it, barking excitedly. Upon reaching the ruins, you spotted a pair of legs emerging from the debris, followed by a torso. But to your surprise, that was all that seemed to be present seeing as the head seemed to be sawed off.

"Oh, shit," you whispered as the ghoul knelt down to examine the body. The dog sniffed around, whining softly before resting her head on the lap of the headless corpse. It appeared that the doctor hadn't gotten far, evident from the unsettling sight of a bloody metal foot attached to one of his legs.

The ghoul starts to cough and wheeze violently, a sight that has become all too familiar to you from past experiences. Without hesitation, he retrieves a vial from his satchel resembling the one you had previously shown him and inserts it into an inhaler. Inhaling deeply, he lets out a long sigh of relief.

"How many of those you got left?" You quip.

"I keep forgettin you’re here, you’re so damn quiet," the ghoul complains, slightly annoyed by your presence.

You raise an eyebrow, undeterred by his irritation. "Answer the question."

Grimacing, he carefully places the inhaler back inside his satchel. "Enough to get me through. Besides, you bribed me with a vial, so I’m assumin’ you got more. Don’t know why I ain’t just shoot you now and take it," he mutters, frustration evident in his voice.

"I'd make sure to break the shit before you even draw your gun." With a smug smile you take a seat next to the doctor’s corpse. “We’ve been walking for almost a full day now. Wanna rest?”

The ghoul looks at you wearily, his eyes scanning the desolate surroundings. "That vault dweller won't make it too far, so I suppose we can hunker down here for the night."

As the sun begins its descent, casting a warm glow across the desolate landscape, the small fire you managed create dances aflame, providing a small comfort in the darkness. Sticks of iguana meat, graciously hunted down by the dog, roast over the flames.

The ghoul lies flat on his back, his body weary from the day's journey, patiently waiting for the food to be ready. In this moment of stillness, you take the opportunity to observe him more closely. Despite the absence of a nose and the scars that mar his skin, you realize that, all things considered, he doesn't look too bad for a ghoul. There's a certain resilience in his eyes and a hint of humanity that shines through the decay.

"What're you staring at, smoothie?" His gruff voice cuts through the silence, abruptly pulling you out of your thoughts.

Startled, you quickly avert your gaze, hoping he doesn't notice the slight blush that creeps onto your face. "Nothing!" you hastily reply, trying to regain your composure. "So, uh, what's your name?"

"No," he curtly responds, his expression guarded.

"Okay..." you exhale, not wanting to push him any further. Sensing a need to shift the focus away from his guarded demeanor, you dig through your pack and retrieve a pipboy. With a few flicks and taps, you check on your radiation levels, noting that they are not alarmingly high but still present.

As you glance up from the pipboy, you notice the ghoul looking at you curiously. His gaze lingers on the device, and you can tell there is a spark of interest in his eyes.

"Scavenged a vault a long time ago," you casually remark, hoping to initiate a conversation. The ghoul nods, his gaze returning to the night sky above. Not a big talker, you think to yourself as you grab the cooked sticks of meat from the fire and toss one towards him.

He catches the meat with a swift motion, his eyes momentarily softening with gratitude before he takes a bite. The flavors of the wasteland dance on your tongues as you both savor the nourishment.

As the night sky envelops you in its dark embrace, you settle into a companionable silence once more. The crackling of the fire and the occasional sound of chewing provide a comforting soundtrack to your temporary respite. The dog rests her head on your lap as you eat the rest of the meal, saving a bite for her even though you watched her eat an entire radroach earlier.

As you offer her the morsel, a glint of appreciation shines in her eyes. She gently takes it from your hand, savoring the treat as she curls up beside you. You take a moment to observe her, the flickering firelight casts a warm glow on her fur, accentuating the gentle rise and fall of her breathing.

You reach out to stroke her fur, offering a comforting touch. The dog looks up at you with eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and longing. It's as if she understands the weight of her loss, yet finds solace in the companionship she has found with you.

Unbeknownst to you, the ghoul has been silently observing your interaction with the dog. A flicker of emotion passes across his face, a brief but genuine smile that hints at a hidden softness beneath his hardened exterior. He turns on his side, settling in for the night, and offers a simple instruction.

"Make sure to put out the fire, smoothie," he says gruffly.

Looking up at his back turned to you, a small smile creeps onto your face. You rise from your spot and take a moment to extinguish the crackling fire, ensuring that all remnants of its warmth and light are gone.

Returning to your makeshift bedroll, you lay down next to the dog, who has already settled in for the night. The quietness of the surroundings wraps around you like a peaceful embrace. Gazing up at the stars, their brilliance shining through the vast expanse of the night sky.

As you lay there, the tranquility of the night begins to lull you into a peaceful state, coaxing your eyelids to grow heavy. The wastelands may be ravaged and unforgiving, but for now… there is a quiet peace shared among you, a ghoul, a dog, and a headless corpse.

Tag List: @fallout-girl219 @ellabellabunny123

#here is chapter twooo #I'll upload chapter 3 in a couple days :) it's also muuuch longer #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x reader #fallout #Smoothie and The Ghoul #the ghoul #cooper howard

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xjaylyn · 4 months ago

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PART 4 - Bad Boys: Second Chances

Pairing: Armando x Black! OC (Rya)

Warnings: blood, graphic, guns, death, mature, language (use of the n word), and some other stuff I probably forgot about sorry

Summary: Its been two years since Captain Conrad was framed. Another mission brings the team back together and new relationships are formed. It's said everyone deserves second chances and room to grow. So maybe this is that second chance

a/n: lmao y'all I just be lying this part is not short.💀 Also some changes have been made to the BB timeline just for one little scenario.

…UNKNOWN LOCATION...

The sound of heels can be heard coming down the hallway, paced with urgency. Opening the doors into the luxury office, the middle-aged woman steps in front of the desk, the office chair facing the city view. Clearing her throat, the woman speaks out.

"Sir, I have news of—"

Turning to face the voice, the long-haired man interrupts the woman. "Good news, I hope," he says, stroking his beard.

"N-no, sir, unfortunately, it's not that good," she says with a sheepish smile.

Taking a deep breath, the man closes his eyes and leans his head back, clenching his fist. Opening his eyes, he stares at the woman, his eyes showing a glint of irritation signaling he may snap depending on the weight of the news.

"She made it."

--------------------------------------------------------

'Well, shit.'

Staring back at the group looking at her with a mixture of confusion and wariness, Rya leans back in her seat.

"You got some explaining to do," Mike says, crossing his arms.

Rya takes notice of their body language: defensive and ready. Rita's hand near her gun, Marcus with his hands on his side ready if need be, Kelly and Dorn standing defensively. Armando leaned forward in his seat.

She can tell they are wary of her and her next move. 'Can't blame them.' Glancing at the monitors for a second, she puts her cuffed hands up visible so they can see them. "Everything you need to know is here," she says, nodding her head towards the monitors.

Rita steps forward, aiming her gun at Rya. "That's not important. What were you sent for? Who do you work for?"

"I sent myself. I don't work for anybody…not anymore."

Mike steps forward, dropping his hands. "Alright, let's calm down for a moment. Rita, drop the gun. And Rya, if that's your real name, you need to get to explaining some shit, and truthfully," he says, getting between Rita and Rya.

Noticing her hesitate to drop her gun, unsure if it would be safe to, Mike walks over to Rita's side. "She's all we got. Give her a chance to speak, and if not, then we handle it. But…let's not lose our only connection," he whispers in her ear. Looking up at him, Rita slowly drops her arms. "If she's playing us, you better have a way to fix it," she says, keeping her gun by her side.

"I wasn't lying to you all. I just didn't tell the whole story. I had to make sure I could trust you all," she starts, keeping her hands up.

"So what's the whole story?" Marcus asks, raising his brow.

Pursing her lips, she never told her whole story out loud before. She has always held in everything she has ever gone through, but this was her only chance, so she explained everything.

"Me and my sister are prisoners to Sergio…and have been since I was 10 and her 6. He killed my parents because my father didn't finish his job and instead ran off with my mother to start a family. He waited until my father was comfortable and thought he was safe, to come and take everything from him. My mother didn't know the type of man my father was and neither did we…until it all happened."

Pausing for a second, she continues, "He made sure my father watched my mother die and me and my sister get taken. He made me and my sister watch him beg for mercy before killing him." They watched as she explained everything with no emotion on her face, almost like she has explained this story a million times and was numb to the trauma.

"He took us to this 'camp,' I guess you can call it. There he locked my sister away and told me that if I was to listen and do everything he says I would be able to free my sister. So…I did. I was put in training every day along with others. We were taught skills in numerous forms of combat, espionage, and weaponry. I was taught to conceal my emotions and endure various forms of torture. I was trained to be able to endure and adapt to any environment I was in, which I perfected sooner rather than later. I was the youngest one to show promise of loyalty and became Sergio's lead agent. Since the age of 13, I have done a lot of things I regret and hurt a lot of people." Pausing for a second, she shakes her head. "…The things I had to do are unforgivable, but I pushed through…for my sister."

"So you're a spy? For what?" Rita asks.

"His secret collective. The camp I told you about is where he 'creates' his agents. We are assigned to kill any powerful being that threatens his family's legacy and power. We're also tasked with jobs to bring in all his supply…that can be drugs, possible business partners,…people to join in the camp…anything he needs to keep his operation going."

"So he's power hungry?" Mike asks.

"Extremely so…we are just like any other animal…we have a primal instinct we can't control whenever we get power and control over someone. That feeling of power…it becomes addicting, and his family has held their reign for decades. The only problem with Sergio is that his father doubted he would be able to keep their legacy, said he would be the downfall of their wealth," she says, looking at everyone.

Watching as Armando leans back to pull out the tube of liquid out of his pocket and inspect it. "Sergio didn't take lightly to that and took extreme measures to make sure he wasn't what his father said he was…I've seen and experienced how he gets his power…he needs to be stopped, and it's not just whoever is involved that gets affected. He plans to release this drug everywhere so he can take over other countries," she continues.

"How does he get his control?" Marcus asks.

"Those drops are how he controls people," Rya says, pointing her hands towards the tube in Armando's hands. "He hires and brings in a bunch of biomedical scientists to create a drug that grants him the ability to control people and their minds. He has doctors to inject those in training to be able to manipulate them to pledge their loyalty. He can also control what they remember and know. Their memories are what he wants them to be, and he takes away the memories of the life before him, so all they know is his operation."

Armando gets up and steps forward, looking down at Rya. "So what brings you here? If you were his lead agent, wouldn't you have been affected by the drops…the most loyal one?" he questions, placing the tube on the desk next to her.

Looking at him, staring into his eyes, "It was 13 years ago I was getting assigned another task when Sergio got news that a big drop had gotten busted by the feds in Miami."

"When that drop got messed up, Sergio's operation got pushed back three years because that was the biggest supply he was getting in. I remember him going off and mentioning how it was the third drop that got taken down because of these two Miami detectives: Mike Lowery and Marcus Burnett." Breaking eye contact, she looks at Mike and Marcus, causing them to look at each other.

"13 years ago…what drop was that?" Marcus asks, looking up at Mike.

Thinking for a second, they look at each other before nodding. "Johnny Tapia—the Cuban."

"Although I was under the influence of the drug, it had one flaw…it couldn't last a long time, so there's a period where you're back to yourself and reality. But before you can completely remember, he sits you back in the chair for injections. I had a habit of writing down any bit of information I could remember, so when my memory is wiped, I can go back to it. Once I heard about you two, I made a plan by getting as close to Sergio so he can trust me and grant me more access to everything to eventually meet you two and work to bring him down. Before I was sent on my mission by Sergio, I sent every document to that drop location to download so you have evidence of everything."

Taking a moment to look at everyone process the information. Rita nods her head and puts her gun back where it was and walks over to the monitors to look at all the tabs covering the screens.

"This is everything?" she says, pointing at the screens.

Nodding her head, Rya drops her hands on her lap. "Everything. Beginning to end. I have been collecting all the information for this very moment."

Sighing, Mike shakes his head and sits down on the bench.

"This is the most information we have gotten out of a 60-year investigation. How do we know so little?"

"Because you have rats in your system," she shrugs simply. "Like I said, Sergio has connections everywhere. Trust the ones in this room only…like the mission two years ago."

"This is some crazy shit," Marcus says, shaking his head.

"How do you expect us to help?" Kelly asks, crossing her arms.

"I have a plan. Seeing that we were attacked here at this location, Sergio knows I'm here working with you all. Knowing who I am, he's going to send his best and try every way to stop us. Luckily for us, I have trained his best and know his ways, so it won't be as effective. Our worst enemy is time and resources since he's connected to all of them."

"What's the plan?" Mike asks.

"First, we need to get access to Sergio's inventory. All of his physical supplies are kept away in inventories in different parts of the world. You can use it as proof of his operation. Sergio was smart and kept that information between him and certain business partners who needed access to them. Then we need the location to the 'camp.' A map of that is locked in his inventory too. That's where he keeps all of his prisoners or 'trainees'…my sister is there too. After that, it's all fair game to whatever happens to Sergio and his operation. But if we can free those people and rack up enough evidence on him, we can surely take him down."

"How do we find his inventory if you don't know where it is?" Armando asks, tilting his head a little.

"Tomorrow night, there's a meeting happening with two of Sergio's best suppliers at a nice restaurant. They know and trust me…I doubt they know I went rogue yet. If we can get at least one of them, they can tell us where Sergio's inventory is."

A beat of silence passes by the group, contemplating everything that was told to them. It's no guarantee if they will succeed given their circumstances, but they can't back out. They have to at least try to take down an operation that has been years in the making, kept hidden from the world and its laws. No one to trust except for those in this very van. Everyone glances at each other before taking a breath.

"Okay, let's do it."

a/n: Whew y'all, there ya have it, an update.🙂‍↕️✋🏽 If you haven't caught on, Rya's character is a little inspired by Marvel's Black Widow-just the whole idea of training to be an assassin since a little girl and being tough, not really knowing how to express herself and letting herself feel certain emotions. She's a little hard-headed, but that's okay. It's going to get more interesting, and our two faves will be interacting more in the next part🙂‍↔️which I'm writing now. Let me know what y'all think! Thanks for reading, loves🫶🏼

Tag list: (lmk if you want to be added)

@blackgirlmagicforever @believeinthefireflies95 @wizewhispers @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @sarcasticbitchsblog @maybepersuasivetom @d4rno

#armando aretas #armando imagine #armando x reader #bad boys #armando aretas x black reader #armando aretas x reader #bad boys second chances #jacob scipio #bad boys for life #bad boys ride or die #will smith #martin lawrence #armando aretas x black!oc #marcus burnett #mike lowrey

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 8 months ago

Text

The Life I Didn't Know

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia, f!reader Summary: Mickey Garcia thought returning to Top Gun was the most life-changing thing to ever happen to him. And that was before a ghost from his past confronted him on the tarmac. What you tell him next will change both how he views his past and his vision for his future. Word Count: 4591 TW: Lies, Secret Reveals, Hidden Child, Ghosting, Confessions; Unplanned Pregnancy; Reader is a Mom Note: Written for day 12 of @whumpthemusical's event for "Unplanned Pregnancy" from Waitress. Thank you to @musings-of-a-rose for your ask that inspired this fic 🥰 I'm just sorry it's taken almost 10 months to finish (but I guess it fits thematically 😂). And thank you to @topguncortez and @lorecraft for beta reading for me! 💕

Mickey Garcia always expected the greatest honor of his career would be when he was accepted into Top Gun. However, he never imagined he would be chosen to return as one of the best of the best a few years later. Yet he had done it! Selected along with his pilot and close friend, Payback, as one of the few to train for a top-secret mission. It was a dream come true.

He met most of the other aviators the night before at the Hard Deck, and with one possible exception, everyone seemed very nice and supportive. Then, after the debriefing this morning, he was excited—if a little nervous—about the next few weeks of training. He still can’t believe he was selected as a potential member of the mission. He doesn’t have high expectations for being chosen, but he is still going to try his very best.

After running back out to his car to grab some paperwork, he’s heading for the row of hangars so he can meet Payback to prep their plane for their first practice, a wide grin spread across his face. The fact he is about to fly in a training dogfight with Maverick—the Maverick—still feels like a dream to him. It feels like he’s being trained by Han Solo or Captain Kirk! He is a legend that other legends look up to and Mickey had never imagined he would get an opportunity like this. Could this day get any better?

Mickey should have known better than to send something like that into the universe.

As he reaches the tarmac, Mickey suddenly stumbles to a stop and his face drops as he catches sight of the ghost from his past standing in the way, almost as if waiting for him. But it’s impossible. He double-checked the roster ten times just to make sure there was no chance you were going to be here.

And yet here you are. Five—almost six—years older but still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

“Falcon…”

You worry your lip between your teeth just like you used to when you got nervous or were deep in thought, but your eyes shine brightly when your callsign slipped from his lips. “Hey there, Fanboy.”

Oh, God… that voice. Instantly, a thousand memories flash through Mickey’s mind: the first time he laid eyes on you at boot camp with your brilliant smile and Death Star tattoo; flying with you as his pilot, and how he instantly knew he never wanted to fly with anyone else; you dubbing him Fanboy after seeing him nearly burst into tears after running into William Shatner in a coffee shop and him naming you Falcon after the iconic Star Wars ship; all the stolen, secret moments and rendezvous as your friendship blossomed into something deeper despite the risk of Command finding out; the morning he found your letter left on his bunk saying you had transferred and had already left without a warning or a goodbye.

With a Herculean effort, Mickey pulls himself together enough to ask, “Wha…. What are you doing here?”

“I work here. I’ve been an instructor at Top Gun for the past two years.” Your leg is bouncing slightly and you keep clenching and unclenching your hands. “I guess you were in the class the year before I started, but I was so proud when I heard you made it. Of course, I always knew you could.”

Instructors. Mickey groans softly to himself. He had been so focused on what other aviators had been recruited for the mission it never crossed his mind to check who the instructors would be. But it’s too late to do anything about it now.

“So, does that mean you’ll be teaching me?” It’s hard enough seeing you standing before him. But if he has to see you on a daily basis, listen to your lessons, follow your orders…there is no way he’ll make it the next three weeks.

Luckily, you shake your head. “No, it’s all top secret and I don’t have the clearance. I’m not even sure what your mission is. All they’ve told us is that they need the best of the best in the hopes of completing it, so I wasn’t surprised to see your name on the list. I never flew better than with you in my backseat.”

Mickey silently sighs in relief before he jams his hands in his pockets and coldly asks, “If you don’t have anything to do with my mission, what do you want, Falcon? After you disappeared for almost six years, I don’t really have anything I want to say to you. I think it’s better if we keep things the way you wanted it and just pretend the other doesn’t exist.”

He starts to walk around you, but you step in front of him, holding up your hand to block his retreat. “Is that really what you think I did? Left and never gave you another thought? Because you’re wrong. I think about you every single day, Mickey. And I haven’t been able to get into a plane without you in my head. No matter who I’m flying with, your voice is in my headset giving me directions, or doing systems checks, or failing to stump me with random trivia about another movie or tv show just like it used to be.” You take a deep breath as you let your hand drop to your side. “But maybe if I didn’t care, it would make all of this easier. I–”

You are close to tears as your voice trembles with every word, but Mickey is having none of it. “No! Uh uh. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to act like you’re the one who was hurt here,” he says, jamming his finger accusingly at you. “You’re the one who put in for a transfer without even talking to me about it first, so don’t act like you’re the victim. One day, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, flying with the woman I love at the stick, and the next, I wake up to a note telling me you’d left to fly with another unit. No explanation. No nothing. I never even got to say goodbye! You just disappeared from my life and you took my heart with you. But you never gave a shit.”

“Yes, I did! I swear!” Tears now begin to flow freely down your cheeks. You try to close the distance between you, but when Mickey steps back, you stop. Clutching your arms across your chest, you beg, “Mickey, I loved you. If there had been another way, I would have moved Heaven and Earth to stay with you but I didn’t have a choice.”

“Really?” Mickey scoffs. “Why not?”

“Because they found out about us.”

Needing no further context to understand what you are referring to, a cold dread washes over him. “W-who did?”

“Command. They heard from a few different people that we were ‘fraternizing’ outside of our duties. That we had started sleeping together a few months earlier and that it had evolved into an actual relationship.”

Mickey shakes his head as, in a softer tone, he says, “I never told anyone. I swear.”

Smiling warmly at him, you say, “I never doubted that. And just so you know, I didn’t either. But someone must have found some sort of evidence and turned us in. I tried to find out who, but I never had any luck. All I know is I got called into the discipline office and they said they were starting an investigation into our alleged relationship and if it were true…”

You take a deep breath as your arms tighten around your chest. “I knew if they went looking, they’d find out about us so I did the only thing I could think of to save our careers. I told them it wasn’t true but if they were still concerned, I would voluntarily opt for a different WSO or even transfer to another unit if that would clear things up. And they took me up on my offer.”

Missing pieces of Mickey’s past suddenly start to click into place. While it was against regulation for pilots and their backseaters to “fraternize” with any kind of romantic or sexual relationship, the rule was hardly ever enforced. However, around the time you disappeared, a pilot in another unit almost botched a mission saving his injured WSO instead of carrying out his assignment. When it was discovered they were in a romantic relationship at the time, Command began taking the regulation very seriously. Mickey recalls the two of you even had a nervous conversation about it at one point but just agreed to be more discreet while on base.

However, it still left some gaping holes in your excuse.

“But why did you do it? Some anonymous jerk claims we were dating and that’s it? We could have fought it. If you had told me what was going on, we could have both denied everything and there was no way they could prove it.”

“Yes, they could.” Your voice quivers slightly even as you scoff humorlessly. “There was one piece of undeniable proof that would have had us both discharged if they had discovered it.”

“What?”

Tears slip from your eyes as you whisper, “I was pregnant.”

All the air is sucked from Mickey’s lungs. He feels like he’s doing barrel rolls in his jet as the world spins around him and an immense pressure weighs on his chest. “You… you were… what?”

You nod gently. “I had only found out a few days before and I was trying to figure out how to tell you. But then the investigation was brought up and it changed everything. All they had was the word of someone else we were dating, but if they knew I was pregnant with your baby, well, that’s pretty solid evidence. I didn’t know if you wanted kids. Hell, I didn’t even know if I wanted kids. So, I didn’t say anything and they transferred me two days later.”

“How could you not tell me?” Mickey whispers, trying to wrap his head around this life-changing revelation. “I would have been by your side for every minute. We could have figured it out together, we could have found a way to make it work. But even if we couldn’t, I loved you. I wanted to spend my life with you. And if that meant giving up everything else, I would have done it.”

“I know you would have. And that’s why I couldn’t say anything.” You take a few steps towards him. This time, Mickey doesn’t move back, but you still keep a little space between you so you don’t overwhelm him. “I knew if I told you, you wouldn’t let me leave and it would be the end of both our careers. We’d both worked so hard to get where we were, I couldn’t let you throw everything away for a kid I still didn’t know if I even wanted. And by the time I had decided, it was too late to change what I’d done. So, when I reported to Command I was pregnant a few months later, I said it was from a nameless one-night stand I met at a bar right after I transferred.”

Mickey’s head is still reeling from everything you have told him, yet he catches one important detail in what you just said. “Wait. You reported it. Does that mean…did you…do we…?”

“Yeah, Mickey,” you half sob as more tears flow steadily down your face. “We have a son.”

“A son…”

It is the final straw. Stumbling over to the nearby wall, Mickey slides down it until he is sitting on the ground and rests his head on his knees. He has a son. A four- or five-year-old son that he never knew about. Someone who was already walking, and talking, and going to school. Who was his own person with his own personality and likes and dislikes. Who Mickey knows absolutely nothing about.

The two of you had never talked about whether you wanted kids or a family. Until the moment you disappeared, Mickey had never doubted you both loved each other deeply but your relationship had been too complicated by rules and regulations to face what might happen in the future. So, the two of you had lived in the moment and tried to enjoy what time you had together instead of talking about the future. But that didn’t mean Mickey hadn’t thought about it. He had known from a young age he wanted to be a father. He helped take care of his younger siblings growing up and he couldn’t wait to have a family of his own.

So to find out now that he has a child is simultaneously exhilarating and devastating. He could have had everything he had always dreamed of, but you had taken all those early milestones, all those precious irreplaceable moments with his son, and Mickey doesn’t know how to accept that. What if his son never forgives him for not being there? Mickey might not have known he even existed until a few moments ago, but that doesn’t change the fact his son has had to grow up not knowing what it was like to have a father. To have a void in his life where others around him had a loving, supportive presence. Will his son even want him in his life at this point?

He hears you walking over to him and can see your feet stop a few inches from him out of the corner of his eye.

In a voice thick with tears, you whisper, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so incredibly sorry. I just…I didn’t…I didn’t know…” You can’t find the words to finish that sentence.

“Why are you telling me this now?” Mickey raises his head to glare up at you, all of his swirling emotions finding a much-needed target to explode at. “Even if I accept why you let them transfer you or that you didn’t tell me right then, why didn’t you tell me at any point during the last five years! Is it just because I’m here? If I hadn’t come back to Top Gun, would you ever have told me?”

You open your mouth to respond but then close it again as you try to find the best way to answer. “Those are all fair questions. I figured if I told you while I was still pregnant or right after I gave birth, we would still get in trouble. My superiors weren’t happy that I had just transferred to fly with one of their WSOs and this happened but they had to accept it. I flew for another month or two but then I was placed on desk duty until I got this job at Top Gun. I hated being grounded but at least I was someplace consistent where I could go home to my family every night.”

“‘Your family’? Do you mean you…?” Maybe his son has had a father-figure in his life after all.

You seem confused for a moment but as soon as you realize what he is asking, you quickly clarify, “Oh, no, no, no! Nothing like that. My mom moved in a month before I gave birth and stayed so she could watch the kiddo while I was at work.” You duck your head to stare at the ground as you mutter, “But no, there, uh, there hasn’t been anyone like that since you. I’ve got one little man who has my whole heart, and between him and work, I don’t have the time or the energy to spend on anyone else.”

Mickey hates the way his heart warmed slightly at that. He should hate you right now, not be happy that you aren’t with someone. Quickly changing the topic before he lets himself dwell on that for too long, he says, “You still haven’t answered my question. Why now? Why are you telling me about him now?”

“He asked about you.”

“What?”

“Well, not you specifically but he started asking about his dad. He doesn’t understand….” Your voice breaks as your lip begins to quiver. Mickey’s resolve wavers and he starts to reach for your hand but then he remembers the reason you are upset in the first place and lets his hand fall. Taking a deep breath, you continue, “He’s too young to understand and I’m too selfish to admit it’s my fault you’re not there, so I just told him his dad was a Naval aviator like me and he’s off protecting everyone from danger. I was hoping…I don’t know what I was hoping, but it didn’t satisfy him like I thought it would. Two weeks ago, he told me all he wants for his birthday next month is to meet his dad.”

“He…he wants to meet me?” Mickey asks.

You nod. “And I didn’t know what to do. I had no idea where in the world you were, if you had your own family by now, or if you would even want to meet him once you knew. But then a few days ago I saw you were coming here and…it seemed like fate. I knew telling you would be one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but I couldn’t go home and look into our son’s eyes if I didn’t at least try. That’s why I’m telling you now.”

“So this is just a way for you to clear your conscience?” Mickey asks. “You finally tell me I have a son, and that’s supposed to absolve you of everything? You took nearly five years I could have had with him away from me! I missed out on so many firsts!” Mickey suddenly freezes, all the anger evaporating in an instant as a sober realization sets in. “I still don’t even know his name….”

“Miguel. His name’s Miguel.”

Tears spring to Mickey’s eyes as he whispers, “Miguel?”

You smile at the reverence on Mickey’s face. “It was the only name I ever considered.” Pulling out your phone and tapping the screen a few times, you offer it to him. “It turns out it was perfect. He’s the spitting image of his namesake.”

With shaking hands, Mickey takes the phone from you. Looking down, he sees a little boy staring back at him with a wide grin that’s too big for his face, a mess of dark curly hair, and rich brown eyes that make Mickey feel like he is looking into a mirror. You weren’t far off. Miguel looks almost exactly like the baby photos Mickey had seen of himself at that age. However, he can also see traces of you in the toddler’s face; in the shape of his lips and the cut of his jaw. There’s no way to deny it any longer. This was his kid. Yours and his together.

Watching the waves of emotions washing across his face, you murmur, “I swear, I never wanted to hurt you…either of you. I just didn’t know what to do and then, once I made a decision, I didn’t know how to tell you the truth. The longer I put it off, the more impossible it got to tell you. But you did nothing wrong and I just thought he should have another piece of you to carry with him, even if he doesn’t understand it yet.”

Mickey swipes his finger across the phone and the photo changes to one of you balancing Miguel on your hip as you point towards the camera. He looks younger here but the same joy is evident on his face as he clings to you with one arm and to a ratty-looking Spider-Man plush in the other. Another swipe shows Miguel blowing out a candle on a birthday cake shaped like a Stegosaurus. There is a big “4” balloon floating in the background next to a woman Mickey recognizes as your mother. He swipes again to see a picture of you fast asleep in a rocking chair with an infant Migual curled on your chest. He is so tiny that he could only have been a month or two old. You look disheveled and exhausted even in sleep, yet Mickey doesn’t think he can remember a time you were more breathtaking.

He is about to swipe again when something at the top of the picture stops him. Zooming in closer, he inhales sharply.

There is a small framed drawing hanging on the wall just above Miguel’s crib. It’s of two stick people looking at each other with little hearts above their heads. He doubts a single other person would have ever noticed it, but he would recognize it anywhere. He had doodled it on a note he slipped you right after his friendship with you had developed into a romance. And you had kept it all of these years then hung it so it would watch over your son.

Tears that have been threatening to fall finally crest over his eyes as Mickey chokes out, “Can I meet him?”

“You really want to?”

He nods before tearing his eyes from the phone to look up at you. “Yeah. More than anything.”

“Okay, then yeah, of course you can,” you say eagerly as your face lights up. But then it dims slightly as you add, “But, um, I think it’s better if we wait just a few days.” Mickey starts to protest but you hold up your hand. “I know I’ve already made you wait far too long for this, but we need to figure out some things first and I’m sure once you’ve had time to process everything, you’ll have a million questions. I just want you to be as prepared for this as possible so you both feel comfortable. It’s a big deal and Miguel is the sweetest kid you’ll ever meet, but he is pretty shy around new people and I don’t want to just spring this on him without talking to him first.”

Mickey can’t help smiling to himself. He was the exact same way when he was little. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I already have a thousand questions and I’m sure by tomorrow, I’ll have a thousand more. How ‘bout we say Friday after training? I could come over or meet you guys somewhere or whatever you think is best.”

You hesitate for a minute. “I have an appointment Friday afternoon and I’m not sure how long it’ll last. Why don’t we do Saturday morning? We could meet for pancakes. That’ll definitely get you on Miguel’s good side.”

“Pancakes it is.” Mickey climbs to his feet and holds out your phone to you. But just as you are about to take it, he pulls it back slightly. “Um…do you think…could you send me some photos of Miguel?”

Smiling softly, you say, “Of course, Mickey. As many as you want. And I have some videos too. Do you still have the same number?”

“You still have it saved?” Mickey asks in surprise.

You duck your head. “I couldn’t delete it. I stared at it countless nights with my finger hovering over the call button, but I always chickened out. However, I knew one day I’d find the strength to tell you everything, and when that happened, I’d need a way to contact you so I kept it. I’m still just so sorry it took me this long.”

Mickey sighs as he stares off across the open tarmac. “Part of me gets it, you know? It was a no-win situation given the circumstances.”

“Yeah…” you mutter, wrapping your arms around yourself once again. “I felt like I was in my own personal Kobayashi Maru except no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t figure out how to cheat the system.”

Oh God. The ease at which that perfect Star Trek metaphor slips from your lips once again has Mickey flashing back to all the little reasons he fell in love with you in the first place. However, after the secrets you revealed today, he can’t let himself fall back into what was.

“That might be true, but another part of me doesn’t know if I can ever forgive you for stealing these last five years I could have had with my son.” He scrubs his hand over his closely buzzed hair. “Right now, I just don’t know how to feel about you or what you did. However, I do know that I can be pleasant and get along when we’re around Miguel, though I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to get back to a point where we’re friends again.”

You bob your head, tears dampening your eyes even as a small smile spreads across your face. “That’s fair. That’s more than fair. Honestly, I half expected you never to want to see me again after I told you, so I’ll take pleasant. Thank you, Mickey.”

He nods and holds out your phone. As you take it, your fingers brush against his and Mickey feels a jolt run up his arm as he touches you for the first time in almost six years. And based on the way your eyes widened, you felt it too. The two of you gaze at each other, your hands still both holding the phone between you. Mickey feels his heart start to race slightly in his chest, and he wonders if maybe he’s wrong and forgiving you won’t be as difficult as he thinks it is.

But then you pull the phone from his hand and slip it into your pocket. Taking a few steps back, you mutter, “I’ll send you those pictures. And please do text me any questions you have this week. Otherwise, I’ll call you Friday to figure out the details for breakfast Saturday.”

And with that, you pivot and hurry across the tarmac before disappearing into one of the hangars.

For several minutes, Mickey continues to stare at where you had been standing, still half wondering if anything that just happened was real or not. He always knew returning to Top Gun would be life-changing, but he had never expected this in a million years.

Still in a daze, he stumbles off towards the hangar where his plane is housed. As he approaches, he sees Payback already dressed in his flight suit and busy checking out the plane. He looks up when he hears Mickey approaching.

“Hey, there you are. I thought you were just gonna be a minute.” As he gets closer, Payback does a double-take when he notices Mickey’s face. “Oh, man, are you okay?”

Mickey is still wondering that himself, but he says, “Yeah… yeah, I’m good.”

As Mickey walks past him to put his stuff in his locker and pull out his flight suit, Payback follows him, concern etched across his face. “Dude, you’re a mess.”

“I’m not a mess.”

“Yeah, you are. You look like you’re about to pass out and I can tell you’ve been crying.”

“Yeah, guess I have.” Just then, Mickey’s phone vibrates and he pulls it out to see you have sent him a link to a folder filled with hundreds of pictures and videos of Miguel. Just a brief scan of them makes tears begin to well up in his eyes once more. But when he looks back up at Payback, the smile on his face is so wide it hurts. “But it’s all good. In fact… It’s never been better.”

I have a few ideas for other parts if anyone is interested (but no promises at this point)

Taglist: @green-socks, @lorecraft, @heart-0n-fire, @mayhem24-7forever, @the-untamed-soul, @inglourious-imagines, @airhogger, @piscesvancouverite, @straightforwardly, @bonnieelizabethparker, @srry-itshockeyszn, @flyinlove, @fandomhopped, @sweetheartlizzie07, @yjwnoot, @wanderdreamer, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @callsign-phoenix, @shanimallina87, @forever-sleepy-sloth, @blue-aconite, @notroosterbradshaw, @dezthegeek, @blessupblessup, @cherrycola27, @phoenix1389, @nicangelinee, @smells-like-perfect-senses, @boringusername3, @petlaufeyson, @cycbaby, @topguncortez, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @writercole, @onebigfangirlworld, @wkndwlff, @ravenmoore14, @roosterforme, @clancycucumber230, @mamachasesmayhem, @slightly-psycho-multifan, @kmc1989, @ohtobeleah, @deppresseddyslexic, @horneybeach1, @mandylove1000, @aczhang777

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immajustvibehere · 1 year ago

Text

Are You Afraid of Ghosts, Arthur?

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x gn!Reader

summary: You get lost in the forest and Arthur walks you back to camp as you discuss each other's fears.

warning: fluff, slight angst (because fears, you know), fear & comfort

>>> Happy Halloween, basically =D

Masterlist

1700 words, 10 minutes reading time

"Who's there?", Arthur's voice echoed through the dense forest. He raised his lantern so the cone of light would reach the trees that grew next to the little path that travellers and wild animals had created over the course of years. The feeble light struggled to penetrate the thick veil of darkness and for a few moments, there was nothing to be heard besides the rustling of leaves nearby.

"A-Arthur?", your voice was shaky and merely a whimper, but Arthur immediately recognized it to be yours and called out your name. Slowly, a figure emerged from the darkness. Arthur had to dismount his horse and walk towards you, before the light of his lantern was enough to make out your features.

The tear-streaks on your face immediately worried him. You were pale and skittish. Arthur's initial thoughts were that you might be heard or escaped from some Murfrees.

"I thought...I thought I was done for", you whispered, another tear ran freely down your cheek.

"Yer safe. I got ya...", Arthur said and gently put his arm around you and led you to his horse. He fastened the lantern on his saddle before having a proper look at you. "Are you hurt?", he asked with gentle and caring voice.

You shook your head.

"Why are you out here?", Arthur required while getting out of his jacket, which he then caringly put around your shoulders. As he brushed your hands in the process, he found them eerily cold for such a warm night.

"I wanted to-", a sob interrupted you, "wanted to look for some herbs by the river. But I got lost...and then it got dark and-" You swallowed heavily.

"It's okay. We are not far from camp", Arthur explained, looking at you sympathetically. But you didn't answer. Instead, you looked down to your boots for a moment and remained silent, as if you were waiting for something to happen.

Then, all of a sudden, you said something which Arthur hadn't expected: "The trees are talking."

Arthur wasn't someone to be easily frightened, though the way you delivered the words had a slight shiver run down his spine.

"What?", he asked, just to make sure he understood correctly. All the while, he took the reins of his horse and started to lead it forward. It trotted slowly alongside you two.

"I heard the trees whisper earlier...", you said. You knew what you'd heard, and you were convinced of it. There was nobody around, only the forest, and it had surely whispered. The act alone of recalling the memory made you feel sick. But you weren't alone in the dark anymore, Arthur was right beside you.

"Probably just yer imagination. Also lot of wild animals around here...", Arthur commented in an attempt to calm you, again putting his hand on your back. But something didn't sit right with him either, because just a few nights ago, he could have sworn he had heard whispers in the forest. And he had been convinced he was hearing things because it was late and he was tired, in fact, he had forgotten all about it, but now that you've brought it up again...

"It sounded human", you persisted.

"Well", Arthur put his hand on his gun, "Last time I checked, humans aren't immune to bullets so if anything is out there scaring you, I'll shoot it."

"You can't shoot ghosts, Arthur", you said.

"They wouldn't do much harm anyways", he joked, assuming that you had also made a joke. But your face remained strangely stoic.

"Do you believe in ghosts?", you then proceeded to ask.

Ghosts? Arthur wasn't entirely sure, but that's not the answer you needed right now. So he sighed and said:

"No. Believe me, I have killed so many people that if ghosts existed, they'd have hunted me to hell already."

You looked at Arthur, at his sunken-in cheeks, his red eyes. You knew he was sick, even though he hadn't told you about it. In a way, he looked like a ghost. But he surely didn't feel like one, because the hand returned to your shoulder, and it was warm. And his smile was genuine and comforting, though the chill hadn't left your bones yet.

"It's the living ya should be scared of. It's they who hunt you down and seek revenge. Not a bunch of ghosts", Arthur elaborated.

"So is there nothing you're afraid of?"

Arthur thought for a while, before he answered in a monotonous voice.

"Dying…"

"You serious?", you asked incredulous. Arthur looked at you confusedly.

"My teeth are clattering because I got lost in the forest half a mile from camp and I'm moaning about ghosts. Sometimes I screech when a bug launches at me out of nowhere. A damn nightmare had me at the edge of my bed and you tell me you're afraid of dying? Couldn't you have said something like heights or, I don't know, bugs? Just to cheer me up?", you quipped, nervously giggling in hope Arthur wouldn't take offence.

"I-I guess...", Arthur stammered, "Back when we were in Rhodes there were some women marching for their right to vote or something... I thought they'd tear me apart if I said something wrong, that gave me a good fright."

He finally saw a slight smile on your face.

"Or when Miss Grimshaw asks me to do something but I forget…Bless her, but ever since she was young she'd start looking like a monster when she's angry."

You smiled up to him, "Thanks Arthur."

You continued to walk in silence. Every second that passed without conversation, the tension seemed to thicken. There was a pervasive sense of dread that hung in the air that made it impossible to ignore the unsettling feeling that creeped up in you. You both felt it, though neither of you wanted to address it.

The shadows seemed to grow longer and more menacing. Every rustling of leaves had you twitch and even Arthur tensed up when there was a sound that wasn't strictly what one should hear in a forest at night. You felt his fingers slightly dig into your shoulder when there was something awfully similar to a scream, far far in the distance.

Arthur was sort of glad when you broke the silence with a moan and declared: "I won't be able to sleep tonight, that's for sure."

"Then don't. Can offer ya some rounds of cards", Arthur suggested.

"You sure? You just returned from a day's long journey, wouldn't you need some rest?"

"I'm fine, ain't that tired yet anyways", which was a lie, but he figured he'd manage an hour or two of playing cards. Especially if it meant you'd feel better and calm down.

Back in camp, Arthur met you in his tent. He closed the flaps, something which he seldomly did, but he realized how skittish you were around the gaze of Micah's companions, and he understood. Arthur sat on his bed and you took a seat on a chair. Then you started to play.

He noticed that with time, you took longer to play your move, and after your third yawn, you realized that it wasn't polite to impose on him any longer.

"I'm sorry...maybe I should head to my...", you sighed. The thought of going to sleep, of lying alone with no protection from the forest, the whispers, the eyes of Micah's rats, it frightened you. You were afraid of the nightmares you'd surely get.

"Ya can sleep here, if ya want", Arthur offered. He stood up and got a spare bedroll.

"Really?", you asked in disbelief

"Sure. Can't promise the nightmares'll stay outside, but if it helps", Arthur shrugged.

"I-I mean...are you sure?", and when Arthur nodded, you said with a smile, "Thank you Arthur." You hugged him gently, which he reciprocated hesitantly. Quickly, you arranged a spot next to Arthur's cot, bedroll and blanket readily laid out. The fear of nightmares was quickly replaced by warm feeling of excitement. The fact that Arthur had sacrificed an hour of sleep to play cards with you had already sent some butterflies to your stomach, but that he allowed you to sleep in his tent...

It's safe to say that Arthur noticed the big grin on your face when you got under your blanket. He was half-recumbent on his bedroll, looking down at you with furrowed eyebrows.

"You won't scream all night when a ghost appears in yer dreams, will ya?", he asked sceptically.

"Depends", you grinned, "Would you let me sleep on your cot with you if I did?"

Arthur blinked in utter shock and surprise. How you could go from scared shitless and falling asleep to cheekily flirting was beyond him. But he realized quickly that he had lost advantage in the conversation when your question had him speechless for a few moments.

"I'm just kidding", you smiled gently, steering back in case this was an inappropriate time.

"If it shuts ya up, I probably would", Arthur finally answered. The corners of his lips tugged into a cheeky smile.

It was agreed that the lantern would stay on, though its light was dim, it calmed both of you that you were able to make out the shadows of the objects in the tent. If it hadn't been for the two lines of flirting you had just exchanged, which you were busy turning over in your head, you would have been asleep already.

"Thank you for today", you whispered, unsure if Arthur was asleep yet.

"'course. Nothing to thank me for", Arthur replied quietly.

"I'm sorry I can't do anything about your fear...", you said sombrely.

Arthur cleared his throat. He didn't know what to say to that. He hadn't expected you'd worry about it.

"Can I haunt ya?", Arthur asked, "When I'm a ghost, I mean..."

You chuckled: "Oh please. I insist."

"Now I'm kinda lookin' forward to it", Arthur answered and you heard how his lips curled into a smile. For a moment, he lifted his upper body, looking down at you. Then he let one of his hands dangle down, brushing your hand seemingly accidentally. You got the hint and took his hand, holding it gently until one of you was the first to fall asleep.

#arthur morgan x reader #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption community #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfiction #rdr #rdr fanfiction #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x gn!reader

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soupthatistohot · 4 months ago

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BSD: An Absurdist Analysis - Chapter 10

Friends and Foes

[Masterpost]

The chapter opens with the agency getting news of Atsushi’s capture after last chapter’s events. At first Ranpo and Kunikida respectively argue that the ADA isn’t responsible for saving Atsushi and that they have too much other work to worry about on account of a job involving the ministry.

But then Fukuzawa appears, demanding everyone to suspend their work to track down Atsushi. Ranpo tries to argue with "logic," but Fukuzawa completely bulldozes him, asserting that Atsushi is their comrade and that he must therefore be their top priority.

Fukuzawa stands out as the absurdist here to me, forgoing all typical professional protocol simply because one of his employees is in potential danger. Bureaucracy would want the agency to continue work as usual, favoring completing the assignments given to them over Atsushi’s safety, but Fukuzawa is not one to bow down to greater powers (at least, in this instance).

Fukuzawa’s argument is one of humanity. Empathy. Care. For him, all these values trump Ranpo’s cold logic as he prioritizes the life of his employee over a government assignment. It's quite absurdist of him.

And finally… the moment we all have been waiting for… the infamous soukoku dungeon scene with the one and only babygirl himself, Chuuya Nakahara. What a lovely view indeed.

But in all seriousness, there’s something inherently absurd about the whole situation. Dazai has allowed himself to be captured by not only an enemy organization, but one he is a traitor of— all in the hopes of gaining information. Let it also be noted that Dazai’s coworkers have no idea of his plan at the current moment, he’s gone completely AWOL. And on top of that, he has willingly put himself in the position to converse with his former partner who undoubtedly resents him not only for his betrayal, but also for merely existing.

And it works.

His plan works! Despite not having seen or interacted with Chuuya for four years, he is able to flawlessly manipulate him into revealing the information he came for and gets off primarily unharmed (except for the bruises I’m sure will form from Akutagawa and Chuuya’s hits). Yes, Chuuya calls him out on his bluff (he knows he got captured on purpose), but Dazai is still able to convince Chuuya not to kill him.

This is an example of a protagonist embracing the absurd and it working in their favor. Dazai could have tried a more conventional way of obtaining his intel, but he opted for this seemingly insane method instead. Very often, the absurdist protagonist has to take a wild chance on something despite the possible pitfalls. Put simply: you’ll never know if you don’t try.

Not only is the situation inherently absurd, but so too is their interaction. They bicker. They tease. Dazai makes Chuuya do an impression of a rich girl. It’s fucking ridiculous and it’s also all par for the course for their relationship.

I would like to quickly note here that in these analyses I will not be making a case for any ship, and that includes soukoku. It is no secret that I very much ship these idiots, but I can also acknowledge that Asagiri did not write these characters with the intention of building a romantic relationship and reading it as such is simply my interpretation. However, this does not mean that soukoku don’t have a very complicated, close, soulmate-esque bond. Platonic interpretations can still involve these traits.

Admittedly, I am jumping the gun a bit here, as this interaction doesn’t resolve until the next chapter, but I’ve read this scene so many times that I know what I want to say about it, so there it is!

As always, I’m always open to chat about my analyses! I love hearing feedback and additional thoughts, so feel free to reblog or drop questions in my ask box :)

[Previous]

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd manga #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #fukuzawa yukichi #atsushi nakajima #bsd chapter 10 #bsd 10 #bsd absurdism analysis #soup rants

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lemonnsss · 27 days ago

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Moral of the Story: Chapter 10

Credit: @comixology

A/N: I'm hoping to have the Battle of NY( or at least the first half of it) in Chapter 11, thank y'all for sticking around!

MotS Masterlist

Taglist: @vicmc624 , @mostlymarvelgirl,@yvonneeeee, @beetlejuicesupremacy , @moonlightreader649 , @whattheduckisupkyle , @chrisevans-realwife , @nekoannie-chan , @mrsbarnes32557038 , @imyourbratzdoll , @weallhaveadestiny , @oldsoulmagic

Word Count: 1.7k

"What are you doing, Mr. Stark?" Fury came in yelling.

"Uh...kind of been wondering the same thing about you." Tony replied.

"You're supposed to be locating the Tesseract."

"We are. The model's locked and we're sweeping for the signature now. When we get a hit, we'll have the location within half a mile." Bruce said, barely batting an eye.

"And you'll get your cube back, no muss, no fuss. What is PHASE 2?" Tony prodded.

Steve dropped an old-looking assault rifle, "PHASE 2 is SHIELD uses the cube to make weapons.

Sorry, the computer was moving a little slow."

Am I mistaken or is the Nick Fury backed into a corner, "Rogers, we gathered everything related to the Tesseract. This does not mean that we're..."

The blue crystal looked too familiar. I got up and pulled it out of the gun.

"I'm sorry, Nick." I looked up to see Tony turning his monitor, filled with weapons of all kinds.

"Why were you lying?"

"I was wrong, director. The world hasn't changed a bit." Steve and Bruce looked pissed, while Tony seemed to be as calm as one can be. Fair enough, he's always held the cards.

Natasha and Thor entered the lab. Poor timing, really. Bruce looked at Natasha before asking, "Did you know about this?"

I phased out Bruce and Natasha's conversation to look at the Director. "The same thing you used to rain hellfire on us." I held up the crystal, "Blue fire and brimstone."

The director shifted his focus from me, "Because of him."

"Me?" Thor was stunned.

"Last year earth had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge match that leveled a small town. We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, hilariously, outgunned." Fury defended.

"My people want nothing but peace with your planet." Thor appeared, understandably, offended.

"But you're not the only people out there, are you? And, you're not the only threat. The world's filling up with people who can't be matched, they can't be controlled.

" Like mutants, Fury?”

"Like you controlled the cube?" Steve contested.

"Your work with the Tesseract is what drew Loki to it, and his allies. It is the signal to all the realms that the Earth is ready for a higher form of war." Thor explained.

"A higher form?" Steve asked.

"You forced our hand. We had to come up with something." The director still played diplomat, always coming up with excuses.

"Nuclear deterrent. 'Cause that always calms everything right down." Tony laughed.

"Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark?" Fury pushed.

"I'm sure if he still made weapons, Stark would be neck deep..." Steve criticized.

"Wait! Wait! Hold on! How is this now about me?" Tony asked.

"I'm sorry, isn't everything?" Steve said sneeringly.

"I thought humans were more evolved than this."

"Excuse me, did we come to your planet and blow stuff up?" Nick asked the god.

"Did you always give your champions such mistrust?" The god responds.

The room was in utter chaos, yelling surrounding me.

"Are you all really that naïve? Captain America is on S.H.I.E.L.D monitors potential threats." Natasha states bluntly.

"Potential threats? Watch list?" Steve asks, obliviously.

"You're on that list?"

"I swear to God, Stark"

More and more of these people's conversations blur together until I can't distinguish what's being said.

"Where? You rented my room." Bruce raised his voice, pulling me out of whatever trance I was in.

"The cell was just in case..."

"In case you needed to kill me, but you can't! I know! I tried!" A moment of collective silence passed, "I got low. I didn't see an end, so I put a bullet in my mouth and the other guy spit it out! So I moved on. I focused on helping other people. I was good, until you dragged me back into this freak show and put everyone here at risk!"

Bruce grabbed the scepter, "You wanna know my secret, Agent Romanoff? You wanna know how I stay calm?" Fury and Natasha grabbed their guns.

"Doctor Banner... put down the scepter." Steve said softly.

"Got it," Tony assured.

Banner put the scepter down and walked over to the computer, "Sorry, kids. You don't get to see my little party trick after all." Holy shit, Doc.

"Located the Tesseract?" Thor asked.

"I can get there faster."

"Look, all of us..."

"The Tesseract belongs on Asgard, no human is a match for it," Thor argued.

Tony starts walking out, "You're not going alone!" Steve grabbed him.

"You gonna stop me?" Tony slapped him away.

"Put on the suit, let's find out."Steve said.

"I'm not afraid to hit an old man." Tony said coolly.

"Put on the suit." Steve affirmed.

Bruce leaned closer to the monitor, "Oh, my God..."

An explosion sparked through the air vents, shoving everything, and everyone, into the walls. The sound of glass shattering took a backseat to a structural beam, throwing me into the wall.

I could hear my head ringing. My vision felt blurry as the world spun around me.

"Put on the suit!" The Captain gasped.

"Yep!" Stark groaned.

The two men got up and ran out of the room.

I tried to stand up, my vision going black for a moment before I fell back down. I heard

Fury yelling, a few words remaining intelligible, "Coulson... detention section... armory..." Before he too left the room.

I looked through the room before shoving the beam off of my abdomen. The dull, yet sharp pain towards the base of my ribcage was already subsiding. I stood up, my vision going dark around the edges. After a moment of leaning on the walls, I moved to the behind workbench.

Everything on the table was broken in one way or another. I saw the scepter lying on the ground by my feet. I leaned through the window frame, careful not to cut myself on the pieces of glass still in the frame. I looked down to see Natasha lodged under some debris, streaks of green flowed around Bruce’s neck and arms.

“We’re okay, right?” Natasha asked him softly.

I ran out of the Lab, across the hall- the flood of agents swarming the halls, shoving me around and stopping me in my tracks-, and down the stairs before being stopped in my tracks by what I can only assume is the “Hulk” running through the wall to my left.

After a moment I turned around and went back up the stairs, pulling some agent aside to ask for directions to the detention sector, thanking them, and running over there.

Of course the detention center was in the opposite direction of foot traffic.

I shoved my way through the flood of agents until I found the stairwell the agent mentioned, luckily for me, empty. I ran down the stairs, occasionally tripping over my feet. When the stairs ended I cautiously peered around the corner, eager to avoid being run over by the Hulk. Finding that the lower levels were empty, I ran through the hallways- occasionally hitting my feet against the bottom of the bulkheads.

Then I heard it. The sound of the cage’s mechanisms dropping, though stalled for a moment, released. I knew I couldn’t have been far from the detention center.

I found my way to the second to last bulkhead when I heard the screeching of tearing metal.

I did my best to find where the sound of the blast came from and head there. I knew I’d found it when looking through the first open door; I saw the side of the room with a gaping hole in the far wall.

I ran into the room, barely given a moment to glance around before hearing Coulson’s weak voice calling out to me. I turned around to see him leaning up against the wall across from the gouged wall with a weapon that seemed vaguely familiar and a gaping hole in his chest.

“PHIL!?” I darted over to his weak form, kneeling by his side as I examined the perforation in his thoracic cavity.

“Hey, kid.” Phil rasped out with his regular soft, kind voice.

“It’ll be okay, I can fix this… I think?”

I saw the cavity filling with blood. Whatever had stabbed Coulson had pierced his chest and cut straight through, severing the left pulmonary artery.

He pulled my hand off of his chest, “Don’t. It’s okay.”

“What do you mean? Of course it’s not! I can help you.” I grabbed his hand, pleading with him.

I felt my tears pricking my eyes. I looked down, closing my eyes. I felt a hand tilt my face up. I opened my eyes, knowing it’d would be the last time I’d see Coulson’s kind, soulful eyes.

I heard the sound of footsteps, and while Coulson turned to see who it was, I couldn’t tear my eyes off of him.

I hadn’t known him for a year, and yet, he had become such an important figure in my life. I wanted to remember the details, how he’d gone out of his way to make me feel comfortable when healing Capsicle. How he’d covered for me when I’d accidentally spilled about Xaviers and my time there. How he’d comforted me when he learned about Logan. The way his eyes creased when he smiled. How every time I was uncomfortable in a conversation, he’d give me an entry point in his. How he’d made me feel safe in this otherwise terrifying situation.

How do you encapsulate what someone means to you? The depth at which they have changed your life, and the lasting impact they will never get to see? When the time comes, and you lose the words to tell them how much you care? The realization that they will never know how you treasured them.

“I’m sorry, Boss. They got rabbited.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Fury kneel on the other side of Coulson.

Taking Coulson’s hand in his own, he said, “Just stay awake. Eyes on me.” It was the first time I’d seen the director genuinely desperate.

“No. I’m clocked out here.”

“Not an option.” Fury fired back.

“It’s okay, Boss. This was never going to work… if they didn’t have something… to…” Coulson struggled with the last words, turning to me, he smiled and wheezed out his last breath.

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 8 months ago

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The Life I Didn't Know

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia, f!reader Summary: Mickey Garcia thought returning to Top Gun was the most life-changing thing to ever happen to him. And that was before a ghost from his past confronted him on the tarmac. What you tell him next will change both how he views his past and his vision for his future. Word Count: 4591 TW: Lies, Secret Reveals, Hidden Child, Ghosting, Confessions Note: Thank you to @musings-of-a-rose for your ask that inspired this fic 🥰 I'm just sorry it's taken almost 10 months to finish (but I guess it fits thematically 😂). And thank you to @topguncortez and @lorecraft for beta reading for me! 💕

Mickey should have known better than to send something like that into the universe.

And yet here you are. Five—almost six—years older but still the most beautiful woman he has ever seen.

“Falcon…”

With a Herculean effort, Mickey pulls himself together enough to ask, “Wha…. What are you doing here?”

“Really?” Mickey scoffs. “Why not?”

“Because they found out about us.”

Needing no further context to understand what you are referring to, a cold dread washes over him. “W-who did?”

Mickey shakes his head as, in a softer tone, he says, “I never told anyone. I swear.”

However, it still left some gaping holes in your excuse.

“Yes, they could.” Your voice quivers slightly even as you scoff humorlessly. “There was one piece of undeniable proof that would have had us both discharged if they had discovered it.”

“What?”

Tears slip from your eyes as you whisper, “I was pregnant.”

Mickey’s head is still reeling from everything you have told him, yet he catches one important detail in what you just said. “Wait. You reported it. Does that mean…did you…do we…?”

“Yeah, Mickey,” you half sob as more tears flow steadily down your face. “We have a son.”

“A son…”

He hears you walking over to him and can see your feet stop a few inches from him out of the corner of his eye.

In a voice thick with tears, you whisper, “I’m sorry. I’m so, so incredibly sorry. I just…I didn’t…I didn’t know…” You can’t find the words to finish that sentence.

“‘Your family’? Do you mean you…?” Maybe his son has had a father-figure in his life after all.

“He asked about you.”

“What?”

“He…he wants to meet me?” Mickey asks.

“Miguel. His name’s Miguel.”

Tears spring to Mickey’s eyes as he whispers, “Miguel?”

He is about to swipe again when something at the top of the picture stops him. Zooming in closer, he inhales sharply.

Tears that have been threatening to fall finally crest over his eyes as Mickey chokes out, “Can I meet him?”

“You really want to?”

He nods before tearing his eyes from the phone to look up at you. “Yeah. More than anything.”

Smiling softly, you say, “Of course, Mickey. As many as you want. And I have some videos too. Do you still have the same number?”

“You still have it saved?” Mickey asks in surprise.

Mickey sighs as he stares off across the open tarmac. “Part of me gets it, you know? It was a no-win situation given the circumstances.”

And with that, you pivot and hurry across the tarmac before disappearing into one of the hangars.

“Hey, there you are. I thought you were just gonna be a minute.” As he gets closer, Payback does a double-take when he notices Mickey’s face. “Oh, man, are you okay?”

Mickey is still wondering that himself, but he says, “Yeah… yeah, I’m good.”

As Mickey walks past him to put his stuff in his locker and pull out his flight suit, Payback follows him, concern etched across his face. “Dude, you’re a mess.”

“I’m not a mess.”

“Yeah, you are. You look like you’re about to pass out and I can tell you’ve been crying.”

I have a few ideas for other parts if anyone is interested (but no promises at this point)

Taglist: @valoraxxx-blog, @m3laniehearts, @autumnleaves1991-blog, @rule107, @vintageleather, @impossiblebagelcowboyfreak, @slutforadambanks, @americaarse, @reneki, @ynbutbetter, @sugarcoated-lame, @imagineadream, @sadpetalsstuff, @salty-thembo, @rachelizabethgraham, @duckandrobin, @queenbbarnes, @grincheveryday, @uselesslyromantic, @choochoo284, @littlebadariell, @thescarletknight2014, @dempy, @nik2blog, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @shirley2996, @kkrenae, @zebralover, @startrekfangirl2233, @memeorydotcom

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its-the-pilot · 11 months ago

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Waves | 9 | Rooster x Reader

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | Waves Masterlist | Masterlist |

Sorry this took so long, first time writing smut in over 10 years! Please forgive ❤ and enjoy!

Summary: You get some unexpected news and share an unexpected night with Bradley. (Mav's niece!reader)

Warnings: smut! 18+ only minors DNI (oral (f receiving), unprotected sex) swearing, adult banter

Length: 3.8k words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Message or comment to join the taglist!

youtube

Chapter Nine

“Get your boots off my desk, Seresin,” you said, walking into your office with your nose buried in a file.

Jake was wearing his flight suit, his steel-toed boots propped up on the wooden surface, balancing the chair he was sitting in on its back legs. He leaned his head back to track you as you rounded the desk to sit in your chair, a smirk on his lips. “There you are, Doc. Been waiting for you for a bit.”

You put the file down and cocked an eyebrow at him. “The locked door should have made it clear that I wasn’t here.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t feel like waiting out in the hall, so I picked it,” he countered, his fingers laced together behind his head, his feet still on your desk. “Were you and Bradshaw gettin’ busy?”

“You have issues,” you replied, leaning forward to push his boots to the floor.

He chuckled, the heavy boots making a loud thump. “Have you been talking to my therapist?”

You couldn’t help but smile, even as you rolled your eyes. “Don’t you have to be in the air today?”

“In a while,” Jake answered, shrugging his shoulders. “Had some time to kill, so I thought I’d come chat with you.”

In the few weeks since the current TOP GUN class started, the initial annoyance you had upon meeting Jake had blossomed into a strong friendship. Most days, when you both had time, he found himself in your office, hanging out and chatting. Technically, you were his therapist, but even outside of your weekly sessions, you found yourself sharing things with each other that you hadn’t shared with anyone else.

He had told you about his family, the reasons he wanted to leave his small town in Texas to join the Navy, and why he felt like he wasn’t worthy of a committed relationship. In turn, you had told him about your boyfriend from college who used you for the trust your parents had set up, only to leave you for someone else when the money ran out, something you weren’t even ready to tell Bradley yet.

You were in the middle of a conversation about plans for the upcoming weekend when a sharp knock came on the doorframe, your door left open from when you had entered earlier. Looking over his shoulder, Jake scrambled to his feet when he saw Admiral Beau “Cyclone” Simpson, saluting him.

“Good morning, Admiral,” you greeted, standing from your chair behind your desk and working to suppress the smile that threatened to cross your lips at Jake’s reaction.

“At ease, Lieutenant,” Cyclone grunted, turning his attention to you when Jake did as he was told. “I need to speak with you, Doctor Mitchell. Will 11:30 work for you?”

You took a quick peek at your schedule on your computer and nodded. “It will, Admiral. Your office?”

He gave a simple nod and turned on his heel before walking out of your office, leaving you and Jake alone again.

“Wonder what that’s all about?” he asked, turning back to face you.

“No idea,” you said quietly, sitting back down at your desk, racking your brain for reasons why the Vice Admiral would want to see you. Finally, after a moment of quiet, you shook your head, offering Jake a smile. “I have an appointment in a few minutes. Fly safe, okay?”

Hangman nodded, giving you a wink as he headed for the door. “Will do, Doc. Talk to you later.

-------------------------

You weren’t sure what Admiral Simpson wanted to talk to you about, and as you waited outside his office for him, you found yourself getting more anxious about it. Had he found out about your relationship with Bradley? Was he going to kick him out of TOP GUN or fire you?

“Doctor Mitchell?” The voice of the Admiral’s secretary pulled you from your thoughts and you turned to look at her. “He’s ready for you.”

“Thanks,” you smiled, standing to enter the office. Once inside, you stepped toward the large desk and nodded in greeting, clasping your hands in front of you. “Good morning again, Admiral.”

He looked up from his desk and nodded, motioning to the chair beside you. “Good morning. Please, sit.”

You did as you were told, sitting in the chair across from him with your hands in your lap, trying to hide your anxiety. “Sir, if this is about Lieutenant Bradshaw and I…”

Simpson cocked an eyebrow, shaking his head. “What you do in your free time is your business, Doctor. I have no interest in your private life so long as it doesn’t interfere with the Navy,” he reassured you. “So, no, this is about something else.”

He slid a file across his desk toward you, nodding for you to pick it up. “I have TDY orders for you. They need someone at Oceana for a week or so. There was a crash, and two aviators died.”

Picking up the file, you flipped through it as you listened to him explain how during a demonstration two of the jets crashed, immediately killing both pilots. The base had two psychologists of their own, but all of the squadrons had been watching and every member needed an evaluation before returning to duty. There were simply too many to get done in a timely manner.

“Sounds like an awful accident,” you frowned, closing the file and setting it on your lap. “Of course, I’m happy to help if they need me.”

“Excellent,” he replied, pushing another folder across his desk to you. “Here is your flight and accommodation information. I’ve taken the liberty of having your appointments rescheduled for the first week of September, you should be back by then.”

You looked over the information you were given, noting that your flight was early the next morning. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Take the rest of the afternoon,” he suggested. “Your flight is early, if I recall.”

“It is. I will see you next week, Admiral,” you said with a nod, standing to exit his office with the files he gave you.

Once you were in the hallway outside of his office, you leaned against the wall and sighed. You and Bradley were just starting to get comfortable, falling into a routine and forming a strong relationship that you hoped would be able to withstand being on opposite coasts for a while. Now you were being forced to test it out.

Pulling out your phone, you sent a quick text to Bradley, letting him know that you were going home and that you would see him later, before heading to the locker room to change into your workout clothes and going home to pack.

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Bradley had gotten used to seeing you all the time, effectively moving out of the Navy Lodge where the TOP GUN recruits had been staying and into your bungalow. You had been focused on spending as much time together as possible, knowing that in two months you would have a whole country separating you.

That’s why he was surprised when you didn’t meet him for lunch in the mess like you normally did. Instead, much to his chagrin, Hangman sat down across from him, a smirk on his lips.

“No Doctor Sexy today?” He asked, taking a bite of his turkey sandwich.

Bradley rolled his eyes and pointed his fork at Jake. “I swear to God, if she hears you call her that I will kill you,” he promised, stabbing at the salad on his plate before taking a bite. “But no, I don’t know where she is. I haven’t seen her.” In fact, he hadn’t heard from you at all since he drove you both to the base that morning.

Jake nodded, continuing to eat his lunch. “Cyclone stopped in and asked her for a meeting earlier, maybe it ran over?”

“Yeah, it could have,” he mused, curious what you were meeting about. The thought was fleeting though, quickly replaced with a slight irritation at Hangman and his unexpected friendship with you. “Wait. You talked with her today?”

“Almost every day,” he replied, shrugging casually. “I swing by her office sometimes between flights to chat.” Jake paused, his smirk spreading across his lips again as realization dawned. “You’re still jealous? Damn, Rooster, she thinks you’re over it.”

Bradley turned his attention back to his lunch, ignoring the redness he felt rising up his neck in hopes that Jake would do the same. “I’m not jealous. She wants to be friends with you, that’s her business.”

“She’s gonna be pissed if she finds out,” he laughed, unable to stop himself despite the scowl on the brunette’s face. Jake sobered after a moment, leaning forward a bit as he lowered his voice. “I know what you think about me, Bradshaw. But I’m not out to steal your girl, I don’t do that shit. She’s yours, that was clear from the first night at the Hard Deck.”

His words took a minute to sink in before Bradley nodded. “Sorry,” he apologized, hoping his sincerity showed through as he looked the blonde in the eye.

Jake shrugged it off. “She’s a good woman, you’re lucky. Don’t fuck it up,” he warned with a slight grin playing on his lips.

“I don’t intend to,” Bradley countered, finishing his salad and piling his trash on the tray, preparing to leave.

“People usually don’t intend to hurt others, Rooster. It just happens.” Hangman watched as the other man stood, taking his tray with him. “Just take care of her like she deserves.”

Bradley nodded with a grunt of affirmation. “See you around, Hangman,” he replied, dropping his tray off on his way out the door of the mess. Checking his phone, he read the text message from you, confused as to why you were going home in the middle of the day, but not wanting to press you. He sent back a quick ‘OK’ with a heart emoji and sighed, heading to the ready room to get ready for his next flight.

-------------------------

After taking a long run to clear your head, you went home and showered, dressing in a pair of shorts and one of Bradley’s Navy t-shirts before you set to packing for your trip. Once your bag was packed and placed near the front door, you settled on the couch with a blanket and decided to take a nap while you waited for Bradley to come home.

The sound of the Bronco pulling into your driveway woke you a few hours later, and you managed to sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes just as he walked inside dressed in his khaki uniform, smiling when he saw you on the couch. “Hey, baby,” he greeted, kicking off his boots near the door. He was about to drop his duffle in the same spot he normally did when he noticed your suitcase was there instead. His brow furrowed in confusion as he looked over at you. “Everything okay?”

You nodded, patting the spot next to you, an invitation for him to come sit. “I have to leave tomorrow morning,” you explained, offering him the file once he joined you. “There was a crash at Oceana, and they need another psychologist to help with the debriefs.”

Bradley read over the file you handed him, shaking his head. The men who died weren’t from his squadron, but he had seen them around base and knew they were well liked. He didn’t know what to say, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he set the file on the coffee table.

Shifting closer to him, you ran a hand over his back, leaning in to kiss his shoulder. “I should only be gone for a week. You can stay here, if you want.”

He turned his head to look at you over his shoulder. “Are you sure?” he asked, smiling when you nodded in affirmation. “This will be good practice for when I go back to Virginia.”

“I was thinking the same thing, even though I don’t want to be apart,” you frowned, letting him pull you against his side when he sat back against the couch cushions.

“We still have tonight,” he assured you, smoothing his hand over your back. “And like you said, you’ll only be gone a week.”

You leaned up to kiss him, your fingers gripping the collar of his khaki shirt as you spoke against his lips. “Good, because I want to make tonight memorable.”

He released a quiet groan as his fingers gripped your waist, pulling you gently onto his lap. Your hands fell onto his chest, feeling his toned muscles under your palms as his large hand wrapped around your neck, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss. You reached up to gently stroke his jaw as his hands slid down to find your thighs, thumbs circling the soft skin that was pressing against his hips. He was only willing to go at your pace, which you appreciated.

Biting your lip, you looked down between your bodies and rocked your hips against his length, earning a grunt from him. His calloused fingers pressed into your thighs, threatening to leave bruises. “Careful,” he warned, his voice low.

A devilish smirk pulled at your lips as you repeated the movement, knowing it was a bluff. He made no move to stop you from grinding against him, and so you continued, enjoying the way he kept showing you how good it made him feel. The thin fabric of your shorts did little to create a barrier between his erection and the growing wetness between your thighs, forming a wet spot on the front of his uniform pants.

“I want you, B,” you whispered, unbuttoning his khaki shirt slowly, pushing it off of his shoulders and moving to rid him of his undershirt. He allowed you to undress him without a word, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, feeling your nails scratch their way down his chest gently, settling on his belt buckle.

You nodded, noting a subtle shift in his breathing when you leaned back to take off his Navy shirt, leaving you topless. “Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve never been more sure about something.”

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, running his hands up your sides, exploring your freshly bared skin.

You felt the heat rising in your cheeks, and before you could reply, Bradley was rolling you over, your head falling back onto the couch cushion as he hovered above you. He resumed kissing you, alternating between deep, tongue-filled kisses and soft pecks, your hands roaming each other’s bodies the whole time.

After some time, your lips were swollen and you were flushed, your hair a tangled mess covering the couch beneath you. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care, your hands grasping at his dog tags as they hung between you, silently pleading for him to come closer.

One of Bradley’s hands began to wander lower, his fingers grazing the skin just above your shorts, causing your body to rise, chasing his touch.

He smirked at that -- the smug asshole.

His lips returned to yours before moving down to your neck and sucking softly, leaving red marks on your tender skin. He finally pulled back after a few moments, smiling down at the blissed out look on your face. Without warning, he pushed himself off the couch and lifted you into his arms, carrying you into your bedroom where he dropped you on the bed unceremoniously, his hands moving to unbuckle his belt and shed his khakis, leaving him in his black boxer briefs.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, licking your lips at the sight of him standing at the end of your bed. He moved forward slowly, his hands sliding up your thighs until he reached the waistband of your shorts, tucking his thumbs into them. He slowly dropped to his knees as he slipped your shorts and the accompanying panties down your legs, tossing them aimlessly behind him as he focused on his prize, spreading your thighs gently.

“Is this okay?” Bradley asked, meeting your eyes. You were sure that he knew the answer, but he wanted to hear your consent. “C’mon, baby, you can say it.”

His voice had deepened further, a seductive purr that sent a wave of pleasure straight to your core. “Please, B,” you managed, a whimper escaping the back of your throat.

You gasped as he leaned in and licked a stripe up your folds, the sudden stimulation making your body shudder a bit. His tongue gently traced circles onto your clit, and you tugged on his hair, drawing a moan from him as he repeated the movement, craving more of you and your reaction.

He buried his face between your legs, the freshly groomed hair on his upper lip tickling your sensitive clit. “Oh, wow.”

His lips twitched, and the way his smirk felt against your throbbing clit was something that you wouldn't soon forget. He moaned happily against your sensitive flesh as you ground yourself onto his mouth, his heavy hands holding your hips.

It didn’t take long, only minutes of his deep sounds, his big hands and his talented tongue. “I’m gonna come, B,” you whined, pulling on his hair as your whole body tensed. It was easily the most intense orgasm you had ever experienced, leaving you panting when you finally relaxed, releasing his hair as he kissed his way back up your body.

His chin and mustache were wet with your juices as he smiled down at you before leaning in for a kiss, letting you taste yourself. “That was so fucking hot, Dimples,” he said breathlessly, his hard length pressing against your thigh as he hovered over you. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” You let your fingers drag through the sparse dark hair on his chest as you moved lower, teasing at the waistband of his boxer briefs. Meeting his eyes, you slid your hand even lower to palm at his bulge, a quiet moan escaping your lips.

Bradley’s head dropped to your shoulder with a matching moan as your hand rubbed against him. “Jesus, baby… do you have condoms?”

You shook your head, squeezing his length gently through the fabric. “I’m clean, and I’m on the pill,” you whispered in his ear. “Please, Bradley… remind me what else I’ve been missing.”

With a growl he leaned up and pushed his shorts down, kicking them off the bed before settling between your spread thighs once again. He could feel the heat radiating from your core and he grabbed his cock in his hand, guiding it to your entrance to tease your clit with the head.

“Ready, baby?” he asked. When you moaned, begging him to continue, he pressed into you slowly, inch by inch until his hips were flush to yours, making you both moan at the feeling of finally being reunited in that way.

Your walls felt tight against him and he didn’t move right away, giving you time to adjust. When you finally bucked your hips to meet him, he pulled almost all the way out before thrusting back in, causing your head to fall back with a whimper and your hands to grab his muscled arms for support.

The grip of his own hands tightened on your hips as he started thrusting into you at a slow but steady pace, letting you feel every inch of him while he enjoyed every inch of you. Under him, you were a squirming mess of moans and whimpers, your hands roaming all over his back, nails digging into his skin as the pleasure was too much and not enough simultaneously.

Your eyes were closed and your neck on full display as you begged for him between moans. “Bradley… so big… please, faster…”

Bradley didn’t hesitate to oblige, increasing his pace as your back arched against him. He kissed down your neck to your breasts, teasing your nipple gently with his tongue before taking the stiff peak into his mouth and sucking on it, giving a sharp thrust at the sound you made.

“You like that, Dimples?” he panted, repeating the motion on your other breast and groaning as you clenched tightly around him. “You feel so good, baby, so wet for me.”

You couldn’t respond, too lost in the pleasure he was providing you. It was all you could do to moan his name and respond to his thrusts by digging your heels into his ass, pulling him deeper inside you. For the second time that night, you felt yourself getting close to the edge, and you knew Bradley could feel it too as he sped up, hitting your sweet spot with every thrust.

“Bradley!”

He growled against your throat, feeling his balls tighten at how hot you sounded crying out his name, at the way you were clenching around him with your tight, wet heat. “What is it, baby? Tell me what you need.” His voice was deep and hoarse, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he struggled to hold out, wanting you to come first.

“I… please, B… I need to come. Please!” you whined, feeling yourself rushing toward your climax.

A few more thrusts and your thighs were shaking against his hips, which continued to move back and forth tortuously. Bradley brought a hand to where you were joined and pressed his thumb to your swollen clit, circling it. Before you knew it, you were coming, screaming his name and your walls squeezing him so tight he couldn’t hold back any longer, spilling himself inside you.

With a hoarse moan of your name, he emptied himself and let his body fall over your trembling one.

You were still coming down from your high when he pulled out gently and laid beside you, gently pushing your hair away from your forehead before kissing you. “Let me clean you up,” he whispered, moving from the bed to the bathroom and returning a moment later with a warm washcloth.

He gently ran the cloth between your legs, kissing your hip when you hissed at the contact against your sensitive folds. When he was done he tossed it away and pulled you into his arms, your head resting on his chest. “That was…” you sighed contentedly, tracing the defined lines of his abdomen. “Did you…?”

Bradley chuckled, tipping your chin up to kiss you. “I did. You are amazing.” He rubbed his hand over your back as you both relaxed, then glanced at the clock before speaking. “Have you eaten since breakfast?”

You shook your head, only just realizing that you hadn’t. With the way your day had gone, there just hadn’t been time. “We can get some takeout?”

“Sounds great,” he grinned. “And we still have the rest of the night together.”

Chapter Ten

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