#single mom reader

[yandereforme]

Yan Batfam x Singer! Single mom! Martha lookalike! Reader

( I know it’s a lot but they are all important to the plot)

Part 1:Beginnings and first encounters

You are Bruce’s bio daughter. Your mom, who didn’t know who the father of her kid was, gave you up to your aunt to be raised by them, but you didn’t know until your adoptive parent’s funeral that you weren’t their biological daughter. You had twins recently with a shitty ex of yours who you broke up with not long before the funeral after he tried to hurt your daughter for crying.

After the funeral, where you learn that your bio mom wasn’t sure who your bio dad was, but that she knew he lived in Gotham, you decide to move to Gotham. In part due to your biological father, in part due to avoiding your ex(who had refused to be listed on the birth certificate since you gave birth during a break in your relationship), and in part due to the basically free house your bio mom had owned in Gotham. So, you moved with the twins to an abandoned, slightly dilapidated house just outside of Crime Alley, and got yourself to work.

You got a job at the Ice berg Lounge, in part due to there being an opening, and in part due to you helping two women who worked there who apparently worked right under Mr. Cobblepot?

You quickly got a reputation as a singer with a knack for knowing just what song fit a customer. It was a bit of a game between you and the other workers, where they would point out a person and you would sing a song based on their vibes. You always managed your hit home with your songs, leading to you becoming one of the most popular performers at the Iceberg Lounge.

That’s what leads to Red Hood coming in one night. He had heard about you from a few of his men, and wanted to know what all the hype was about.(This take place after the Red Hood arc, where he has already been established as a crime boss and the Batfamily know his identity, but he hasn’t made up with any of them)

Cobblepot asked you to sing a song for Red, and pointed him out to you. You knew who he was, you were just outside his area, and honestly you kind of liked what he was doing for the community, so you were willing to preform, even offering to sing two songs about him(something you had only done a few times with regulars who you really liked.

Jason accepted. You started off with You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid by The Offspring. You didn’t usually do a lot of rock songs, but that song resonated with you when you looked at him.(Jason loved the song. It was angry but fighting music, and your voice was really good. He understood why so many of his men praised your music(he just couldn’t understand why you looked so familiar))

The next song was different. You didn’t usually sing two songs, and the few times you did, people tended to vary reactions, from shock to anger to accidentally setting off a break down. But you had promised. You just hoped Red Hood wouldn’t hate you for the next song(you didn’t understand why it felt so right to sing the next song, when it didn’t seem like a Red Hood song, but you didn’t want to question it now.)

Then, you sang Good for you by Olivia Rodrigo, and everyone froze. (Jason didn’t know how you knew this anger of his. How did you know how he felt about Bruce replacing him? How did you know?) No one understood the song, especially when the recipient was a murderous crime boss, but they didn’t interrupt.

After you finished the song, you looked at Red Hood. He was sitting ramrod straight. You couldn’t see his face, but his posture was very tense. Slowly, he stood up, and walked to the stage. You didn’t know what you expected, but it wasn’t for him to drop $200 in your tip jar, and leave without a word.(Jason’s head was spinning. The green wasn’t invading, but it surrounded the edges of his vision. He needed to leave. He had to come back again, probably as a civilian, but for now, he needed to leave.)

After that, you got even more visitors, and a raise in your salary. You even made a new friend, Jason, and you were even starting to consider sending your kids to daycare instead of a baby sitter(you wouldn’t do that. You liked your arrangement with the street kids, where you would pay them in food and cash to watch your kids during the day. You liked taking care of them, but they needed to feel like they were doing stuff for you, so you didn’t make a fuss.)

Then, the Joker got out of Arkham.

Edit: I hope you guys enjoy this. This will probably be a series. I’ve had this idea for ages but never got around to it before now. This isn’t related to my Bruce or Jason series, which I will do, but I just wanted to finally put the on here. Please comment any suggestions for the kids names, or what you want to see next!

[lunamoonbby]

I want to read a ghost x single mom! Baker! reader where single mom has 2 kids, a baby and a 3 year old. the bakery is really big and one day simon comes in and he sees a little mini play bakery in the corner and a 3 year old girl comes in and is like "how I help you" and he asks for a black coffee and a croissant and he gets a tea cup filled with water and a toy croissant🥺 and reader comes in with a baby on her hip wondering why a customer is in the bakery when they're closed but she sees the sign still says open, and she hears Simon telling her daughter that the coffee and croissant is the best he ever has and gives the 3 year old $100 and Simon sees the reader and his heart just stops and reader is like I'm sorry you can have your money back and he's like no keep it start her college fund or something reader is like ok well how about you come in tomorrow and get a real black coffee and croissant and he's like but your closes tomorrow and reader is like nonsense I'll open shop just for you I have to do inventory anyways so come in I'll make you a fresh croissant and a black coffee on the house. So Simon comes in the next day and he sees the 3 year again and she gives him the water and toy croissant and single mom comes in and is like here is your real croissant and black coffee and when he takes a bite and a sip he's internally like I'm gonna make her my wife and her kids are my kids and he comes in everyday when the shop is open and the team notice his behavior and one day they follow ghost to the bakery and they see him holding a 4 month old baby and a 3 year old climbing him like a jungle gym and soap is like he has a secret family and he barges is the shop and is like LT! I DIDNT KNOW YOU HAVE A WIFE AND 2 CHILDREN and the 3 year old not knowing any better is like DADDY😄 and the baby's second word is dada😊 and reader is embarrassed and ghost is like yes I do and reader just dies from embarrassment cause like why would you say that and he just hands the baby back to reader and he kisses the reader and he says I'll be home for dinner (at this point he knows where reader lives) I gotta go back to work and reader is confused as all hell and baby is just babbling Dadadadada 😋.

Sorry for this word vomit

I just want someone to make this a series

[alwaysshallow]

single mom x price; PART 2

AO3 VERSION

part one || part three || part four

“Please. Be good, alright?”

You look down at your son. He holds his bear close to his chest; defensive, as you sense—you almost sigh at this view. He’s in a bad moment. The moment where he needs no one, but his mom and the cuddles that you normally would give him, if the nanny wouldn’t be on her way.

And it’s his favorite nanny.

You’re reluctant to let him stay in the house, considering not only his humor, but the earlier tantrum that he gave you. Something between “you’re the worst mother ever”—which only gives you an eye roll, but it’s a potential theme for a cry session later on—and “i don’t want anyone else but you”.

Normally, you’d call your mother that loves him to the core, but given that she’s in Hawaii, not really reachable for you and possibly not in the mood to listen to your problems. She only wants to do it when she’s bored, and if she can give you her “golden advice” without a chance of being cut off by you putting a phone away because she crossed a line.

Which happened too many times in the past, since she just absolutely adored engaging in your life. Reminding you every time that you are responsible for the position you found yourself in and the only thing that could possibly save you is listening to her. Marrying the man that she gets to pick.

Because the mother knows best, as she always says.

The irony of beefing with your son is irritating for you too; especially that you need a nanny for an hour, maybe a little more because you need to go to the town meeting. You could skip it, sure, but it’s like skipping an opportunity; and who knows what will happen. Maybe you’ll get around doing something that will bring money, if they will talk about the spring festival.

Last year you got yourself quite a deal, so the thought is exciting enough for you.

The possibility of meeting John is thrilling, too, even if you don’t want to admit it directly. Everything about this man is electric, enticing enough for you to barely be able to think around him. Something is tingling in your chest, when you think about it. He’s acclimatizing well enough in town too, as you learned—and the town meeting is a good chance to see with whom he’s close.

Animal in a zoo, it would be a good comparison, even if it seems cruel for some reason because John is anything but it.

You get to leave the house after five minutes of talking with your nanny. She’s like an angel, considering that she convinced you to leave, telling you that she’s gonna do alright with your son and his tantrums aren’t really the worst thing that happened in her career.

Which, oddly enough, you believe, without even knowing the details.

You sit in the second row at the meeting. Arms crossed, maybe a little defensive, but you’re not opposed to talking with people that sit near you. They show you photos, talk about their family, ask kindly about yours, until someone mentions a husband when you tell them about a situation from days ago.

Normally, you’d probably make a snarky remark about their comment, saying something how rude it is to point to someone that they need a man, when your point isn’t missing someone to help you around.

That’s normally, if your ears wouldn’t catch that voice. The voice that’s hard to forget even if you’d desperately try to do it. Deep, drawing attention to the owner immediately, like a moth to a flame because the desire to look is impossible to resist. Everyone knows that the appearance does the magic, but if the voice is attractive, most likely is the one who has it.

And that’s exactly John Price.

You observe him only with a corner of your eye, assured that if you’re gonna glance at him once then he’s gonna know where you are. It’s like the seventh sense of his, probably acquired after his job, at least you think that’s the case.

You don’t need that. What you actually want, need, is a small dose of mystery that you currently have without him knowing you’re here.

Maybe that’s not fair, but you don’t care.

He talks mostly with guys from the local workshop; they vigorously explain something to him and he nods. Listens, then responds in such a different mannerism that they represent. Calmer, more stoic, yet it can’t be mistaken with indifference. He’s just… thinking type, you assume. The one who calculates before taking any action.

Wise man, so to speak.

Besides the boring stuff at the community meeting, there’s just one thing that could potentially interest you in—competition for the best garden in town. It has everyone gossiping there and there in a deep hope, or strategies what to do to earn a win; mostly those successful, straight out of family movie moms, ideal moms who are doing everything for their families. Chit-chatter about flowers, techniques and stuff disrupts everything enough to make a meeting come to an end. There’s no point in continuing, when no one listens.

You aren’t even considering the competition, but it gets you enough to think of renovating your garden. Forgotten long ago, as it needed too much work when you had a small kid; right now, when your son is six, there’s way more opportunities for you to actually try to tend it. Who knows, maybe spring is the best time for that.

“So. Gonna snatch that first place reward?” You almost jump, when you feel a hand on your hip. Light touch, but waking you up from your thoughts enough to acknowledge how tender it is. Allowing you to back off easily, if you’d feel like it’s too much.

But you know who this is. And you somehow know that it’s not too much.

“I wish,” you laugh dryly, looking finally at John. He arches an eyebrow, then proceeds to walk back to back with you, no hesitation in his moves whatsoever. “Not really a gardener. Besides, knowing how my garden looks right now… Not really a chance, no.”

There’s a second of silence. “Could help you with that,” he says, fixing his shirt; you give him a quick glance. His outfit isn't really different from the other times. Simple flannel, worn out jeans, combat boots and this well-known, plastered smile into his lips. Charming and dangerous, you think. “I have time, if you really want it.”

You clear your throat, conflicted. Do you really care that much about possibly winning a contest? Maybe John’s help would really do wonders, considering that he already helped a lot of people in the neighborhood; with success that didn’t take much time, as you know.

Kind, nice, doesn’t want anything else in return; could work for you for free. You’re 99% sure that you would bake him a pie or something anyway, but the thought you wouldn’t have trouble with payment is nice enough.

“Maybe. I need to think about it.” He raises his eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just nods his head in an understanding manner.

“We’ll exchange numbers, then. It’ll be easier,” John announces, giving you his phone. You look at him, dumbstruck—it wasn’t exactly your plan to do this.

“I don’t— Well, I don’t think it’s necessary—”

He barks a laugh, shaking his head. “Nonsense. Come on.” Price smiles; like an angel, truly. Angel in a disguise of a tempting devil because you enter your number into his contacts, even if you wanted to keep it as a secret a little bit more. “Wasn’t so hard, was it? Didn’t think I’m some kind of a creep, did you?”

Your face flushes with pure red, when he implies that. “No! No. I’m just… I don’t use a phone often,” you croak. White lie that don't really need much explanation from you.

“That right,” he muses, possibly amused with your hurried talk. “I’ll call you in a few, then.”

He sticks to his promise, as you learn over the next few days.

The thing is: you don’t pick up.

It’s not like you do it on purpose. At least, that’s what you tell yourself when you see a few missed calls on the phone, the moment you come back from the grocery store. Or, when you’re out in the garden with your kid, planning how it’s gonna change in the future because you’re just taken-aback by how bad it looks. Like it’s not your garden.

Maybe the problem is your lack of courage to call him, too. It would take one click and you’d be done with the task, but somehow, you can’t bring yourself to it. Mixed feelings and the “I can take care of anything” mindset doesn’t help you much.

It feels like a reminder to call back, when you see John outside. He’s in the middle of a discussion with some teenagers that were screaming earlier, disrupting the precious night silence. You thank him in mind that you don’t have to do it—as you got up from bed only for this—you just observe everything behind your window, wrapped in a fluffy robe. You can’t miss the drama, even if it means that you’ll lose a few minutes of your sleep.

Your humor gets better automatically, as you even laugh at how disappointed they seem, going straight up to their homes.

And then, you cross gazes with him.

There’s a faint smile from John. He raises his hand, greeting you, so you do the same. However, the difference in moves is clear. John does it slowly, you almost rush to do it and disappear into your bedroom, so he won’t get an idea that you’re up for a talk.

Because you’re not. You’re too tired to do that, to talk with a man that makes a pretty mess in your head every time you’re around him. And, you’re way too ashamed to do that when he called you multiple times and you haven’t answered even a single one of it.

Some part of you wants to give in and text him right after you see him, but you let this idea flow by. You’re gonna text him at the right moment, you think. The middle of the day, or when you’re gonna see that he works over something, so he won’t be able to read it right away.

You forget about your declaration soon enough. Way too caught up with balancing between home, work and school, you don’t quite realize that the longer you’ll extend the whole thing, the longer it will be over your head.

On Monday, you’re reminded. At first, you don’t really acknowledge it, too irritated that you can’t move your car because someone decided to park behind you, blocking your way. The only thing that keeps you from screaming is your son that does not really care what’s going on. He just sits in the back, playing with his toys, unbothered.

The realization of whose car it is, overwhelms you completely in one moment. You know whose car it is. It’s hard not to, really, when you think about it: there’s only one pick up truck around. The neighborhood is full with families that prefer—most definitely—a car more efficient, a car that has more seats because that’s the only way everyone will fit and ride for football games and all that shit.

The thought you have to ask him out of all people, gives you a migraine.

It’s an awkward thought; the way you have to say something. You haven’t returned any of his calls, treating him like some one night stand (even if it wasn’t the case because you never slept together), and now you want him to move his car. Theoretically speaking, he should do it without even thinking twice.

You can’t help but wonder though, if he’s even gonna acknowledge your plea, given you ignored the shit out of him.

Rude, you think. You’re rude and you did nothing about the calls. About the proposition. You totally ignored John Price, and now you’re embarrassed because you have to ask him something. Maybe if you’d think of calling him back, you wouldn’t even be stressed about this situation. Quick text to him, and there he is, moving his car.

In another lifetime, though. In this, you have to do something else.

After you tell your kid you’re gonna be back in a second, you decide to test your luck and jog into his house, just a few meters away, knocking with a whole monologue in your head. How you need him to move your car because your kid needs to go to school. How you need it to go to the grocery store, you even think of giving him an excuse that you need to go to your mom, even if it’s a straight up lie.

You don’t have to wait long. Door swings open a few seconds later and you can see John, a little bit sleepy and confused—possibly because no one normally wants to see someone at seven in the morning.

He speaks before you have a chance to do it. “So eager to apologize, eh?”

It takes you a few seconds before you stare into his eyes, instead of his chest. “Excuse me?” You blink several times. It’s not like you didn’t understand what he said, it’s just his body that you pay too much attention to. He has no shirt on himself, his sweats low on his hips. Tempting.

You do not look lower than that, for the sake of your sanity. No time for fantasies—and it seems like he knows what you’re thinking, as he smirks with that annoying smugness that he has.

“You haven’t returned my calls,” he says, voice low. Might be the consequence of just waking up, but you think of it as seductive. You’re not gonna rub it into his face though, when he literally has the upper hand in this situation. Wouldn’t be smart. “Thought you’re here ‘cause of it.”

You clear your throat. He’s not wrong, but he’s not right either. “Yeah. We’ll talk about this later, but could you—”

“Why?” John tilts his head. It doesn’t help your case in any way. “We have time, you came here early. Might as well—”

“There’s… a lot going on,” you blurt out, interrupting. You don’t really know if he believes you or not, but he certainly is interested in why. So, before he has the chance to say that, you speak up again, "And you have to move your car first.”

“A lot? You know that I offered to help if something’s too much, right?”

You forget how to breathe for a minute. His tone is hard, a sheer contrast to playful John that was here just a minute ago. Not quite scary, since it doesn’t even sound like a threat, but it is a reminder. Urgent one. “I know, but—"

“None of that. If you need something, you call me.”

“Right now, I need you to fix your car.” Comes out a little bit aggressive. It has Price raising an eyebrow.

“My car seems perfectly good, why would I do that?" John leans against the door frame, looking down at you. You're pretty sure you've never felt smaller than you do now.

Using his advantage to intimidate you is smart. Something that he’s gonna do, if you’re gonna show him that you’re weak for it.

You cough. Trying to be civil here is a necessity, you think. Especially if you actively ignored him before. "Thing is, you blocked my car," you try to explain—calmly, before you run away from him; you even point at your red Mazda, a late birthday gift from your grandfather. "I have to… drive my son to his school."

"I did?" he raises his eyebrow. For a minute, his eyes are off you, attention on the parking lot, trying to search for the problem. Then, he looks at you again. "Mm. Seems perfectly fine to me, love.”

Love. He does it to annoy you, that’s the only reason why he’s so unfazed. Or, he’s trying to achieve something different, but for now, you can’t think straight when this man—half naked man, to be exact—blocks your car’s way, looking good.

Too good.

“I can’t move in any way. You’re… too close.”

“Too close? Could say this sooner—”

“—too close with your car, I mean,” you add, weakly. Price has you stepping on your tiptoes, so careful with picking your words. Precise what you mean because if you’re not gonna do it, he could take advantage and change the meaning.

He chuckles, his smile widening. If he’d be anyone else, you’d think that is a predator move. “Makin’ you all nervous and stressed. Why? Am I this scary, love?”

Again. Again this pet name.

“Just— Can you, please, move your car?” you ask, massaging your temples. He makes you weak in the knees and irritated at the same time; you don’t even acknowledge the steps forward that he makes.

He gets your attention the moment he tips your chin up. This feeling itself is making your stomach jump; skin sizzles with that specific need, deep in your heart that you rather not admit, but it is there. It is there, and John makes it difficult not to melt into a puddle in his hands. Ridiculously warm hands on your skin, to add.

The comfort he brings wraps around you tight like a blanket in particularly cold mornings. Important, needed even, especially in fragile moments. You almost forgot how it feels.

“What car is it? Red mazda?” He breaks eye contact with you for a second to glance once again at the parking lot.

“Yeah.”

He locks his eyes with you again. “Oh, honey. Should say that sooner”

There’s a storm happening inside your head; a strange type of deja vu falls on you like a tsunami wave; unexpected and cruel in some way. Did you not tell him what car is it? That's why he acted funny, so cocky, not taking you seriously? You’re sure you pointed in the right direction, even if you didn’t tell him what car it was. He looked here.

Or maybe he didn't? Why would he lie, though? You might as well be tired, you think. It’s not easy to be a single mom, to balance everything out.

Right?

Storm inside your head makes you ignore the warm feeling in your stomach, when John guides you to the parking lot with his big hand on the small of your back.

“I'm sorry.”

"It's okay. Nothing, really," you gulp. "You're new here, so you might not know my car."

Even if you’re sure you pointed him the direction of it.

“Could know better,” he hums, caressing your clothed skin. Tenderly, afraid to break you in any means. “So, so sorry. Really. And look, now because of me you have to put up with being late. Came home later than usual… If I saw all of that, I’d find a different spot.”

You smile a little, pleased with his explanation. There’s nothing wrong in your mind about this situation, nothing that could indicate that he’s lying. Even if he’s a little too close for comfort, you think it’s because that’s who he is.

He moves his car quickly, while you talk to your kid; he almost didn’t notice your disappearance, too interested in his toys. Even if you want desperately to listen, your brain is too occupied with the previous situation, with Price looking so good without a shirt.

Your son tells you about the “drama” between the elephant and monkey when John comes back into the picture, right before you are about to reverse.

“Everythin’ good now? Nothing else to take care of?”

“Everything’s alright.” You give him another smile. “Thank you, John.”

“No problem.” He glances at your kid, then, back at you. “We’ll have to talk later. About the garden.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we’ll have to.”

[vodika-vibes]

I'm Here Now

Summary: Your relationship with Rex was never supposed to be real. It was always meant to be just fun, a way for him, and you, to blow off some steam. And then he gets deployed and you miss your period, and life changes for you forever.

Pairing: Captain Rex x F!Reader

Word Count: 1358

Prompt: "You should have told me. We could have done this together."

Warnings: None

A/N: So, I tried typing this on my brand new tablet and I'm still working out the kinks, so if you see any typos, it's because of that.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist.

“Mama!” You smile at the little blonde boy standing at your feet, and then scoop him into your arms and pepper light kisses all across his face as he dissolves into delighted giggles.

You have been a single mother for three years, or close enough to three years that the actual timing doesn't really matter. Your son is handsome, healthy, and strong. 

He looks like his father, which is both a good thing since Rex is a very handsome man, and a bad thing, since Clones aren't allowed to have families. Your son's existence was enough to see Rex decommissioned, and you could never allow that to happen.

Which is why you finally accepted the transfer from Coruscant to Corellia. You gave up everything, and everyone, you've ever known simply to protect Rex, and your son.

You do feel bad about it. You didn't even get to tell Rex about Rin before you were on a ship heading to Corellia. Though, you did send him a message before you left Coruscant, apologizing for not telling him about your move in person. 

He must have been furious. He never contacted you again after you sent the message, after all.

“Are you ready to head home, little man?” You ask as you settle his weight on your hip.

“Wanna play more!” Rin announces as he grabs a handful of your shirt.

“More?” You ask, your voice light, “But if we go home, we can have cookies.”

Rin's brow furrows, and then he grins, “Cookies!”

You grin right back at him and turn to leave the park, happily listening to his story about something that happened at daycare earlier that day.

And, several hours later, after Rin is bathed and has had his bedtime story read to him, and is safely tucked into his bed, you allow yourself to fall onto the couch, exhausted. 

Being a single mom is hard.

Not having any support is hard.

But you wouldn't give up Rin for love or money.

You do wish that things could be a little different, Rin deserves to have a dad, but this is how the cookie crumbled and you have to make due with what you have.

You pull your hair out of the messy tail you've taken to wearing (you're so far removed from the party girl you used to be it isn't even funny), and sit up on the couch to pull your work laptop towards you.

You have some work you need to finish before you can wind down for the night. 

And then your doorbell rings. 

You release a heavy sigh, push your laptop to the side, and then head to the front door. 

Corellia is pretty safe, all things considered. Safe enough that you don't bother to check the door camera before you open the door.

The last person you expect to come face to face with is the man on the other side of the door.

Sure, you told Rex that you were moving to Corellia. And you even sent him your address, but in almost three years he never even reached out to you. So seeing him, of all people, standing in front of your door is a genuine shock.

“...Rex?”

The severe expression on his face melts into something soft and fond, a look that he only ever directed towards you, so far as you're aware, and it's like no time has passed at all.

“Hey, cyare. Can I come in?”

“Of course,” You move to the side, “Sorry. It's been a long day. And…I didn't think I'd ever see you again.” You admit while shrugging a single shoulder.

Rex steps into your home, and you see his gaze flicker to the children's shoes sitting, almost neatly, on the shoe rack. To the little boy's backpack sitting on the bench by the front door, and then settling on the child sized jackets hanging on a hook that sits at the perfect height for a child.

He doesn't say anything though. You watch as he removes his armor, sitting the different pieces on the floor, and then enters deeper into your home.

Rex pauses when he comes to a wall of pictures, pictures of you and Rin, mostly, though there are a few of Rin and some friends from daycare, and you watch as he lifts a recent picture of the pair of you off the wall.

And then a heavy sigh falls from Rex. “He's mine?”

You could lie. You could tell him that Rin belongs to someone else, anyone else. It would be the smart thing to do, the safe thing. 

But this is Rex.

“Yes.” You've never been able to lie to Rex, “His name is Rin. He loves dinosaurs and tookas and racecars.”

Rex hangs the picture back on the wall, and then turns to look at you, “Why didn't you tell me?”

“Clones aren't allowed to have families,” You say quietly, “If anyone found out about Rin, they would have killed you and taken him from me. I refused to let that happen.”

Rex looks pained for a moment, “You should have told me. We could have done this together.”

“I was going to. After he was born, after we were safe. But the more time I went without seeing you, the more risky it seemed.” You pause, “I'm sorry.”

“I understand why you did it.” Rex admits, “I'm not even mad about it. Disappointed, maybe. A little hurt, yeah. But I can't be mad about it. Not when you did all of this for our son.”

“I am sorry,” You repeat, “It was never my intention to cause you pain.”

Rex shakes his head, “How was the pregnancy? And the birth?”

You shrug, “Hard. Everything’s been really, really hard. Luckily, I got a raise when I transferred here, and it helped. He’s been in daycare since he was 6 months old.”

Rex turns to you and settles his hands on your shoulders, “But you’re healthy?”

“I am now, yeah. I was in the hospital for a bit after he was born, but time heals most wounds.” You flash a wry smile, “It’s not something I’ve been in a hurry to try again, though.”

His hands move from your shoulders to cup your face, and the softest sigh falls from you as you lean into his touch and your eyes flutter shut. How long has it been since someone touched you who wasn’t your own son? Years?

“You’ve had such a hard time, haven’t you?”

You open your eyes to meet his gaze. He looks so worried about you, you have to swallow the tears that threaten to choke you. “It was my choice.”

“That doesn’t mean it wasn’t hard.” Rex points out as he brushes the back of his fingers against your cheek. “You must be so tired.”

Slowly, you lean in and bump your forehead against his shoulder, “I’m so kriffing tired. All of the time.”

“Would you like some help?”

You pull back and stare at him, “I can’t ask you to stay.”

He smiles at you, soft and gentle, “I’m offering to stay. I want to get to know our son.”

“But—”

“You have to know that I was heartbroken when you left.” Rex interrupts, “This, us,” He moves his hands so that they’re resting at the base of your neck, “It was never just stress relief for me, and I know it’s the same for you.”

You feel your face heat, “How’d you know?”

He laughs and leans in to press his forehead against yours, “Do you think you can hide anything from me, cyare? You’re a terrible liar.” Slowly, as if giving you time to stop him, he leans in and brushes his lips against yours, “Can I stay?”

And, well, you’ve never been able to say no to him. “Of course.” You whisper, “For as long as you like.”

“Forever.” Rex murmurs, “I’m here now, and we can, finally, be a family. You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

For the first time in years, you think everything is going to be alright. You just hope that Rin likes Rex.

@imabeautifulbutterfly

@n0vqni

@bad4amficideas

@justiceandwar98

@mira-loves-star-wars

@tiredbi-peach

@dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023

@kimiheartblade

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@etod

@bb8-99

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@continous-mistakes

@yoitsjay

@liz-stat

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@silly-starfish

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@rebell-ious

[buckyalpine]

Catch Me If You Can 1/3

Mob!Bucky x Single mom police officer Reader 

This is a crack fic, ridiculousness, cuteness, angstttt. 

Warnings: Kidnapping, fluffffff, single mom reader, crappy ex, Mob Bucky is a whole ass warning 

LMK how you feel about these 2 

Part 2

Part 3

-

The plan was simple. Not the most ideal, not the first thing the mob boss would have planned to but desperate times called for desperate measures. He needed this shipment to go through and he was done being patient. 

“We gotta move quick” Bucky murmured, driving slowly behind the target, the dark windows of the SUV making it impossible to see who was inside. As soon as the traffic light turned red, they stopped the truck, swinging the doors open and stepping in front of their mark. 

“Hey! What are you-” 

“Shh, just get in the car” Bucky towered over him, his face stern, cocking an eyebrow at the big eyes that stared up at him. Sam and Steve were by his side with equally stoic expressions, nodding to the open door, their hostage reluctantly getting into the backseat with an annoyed huff. They drove to Bucky’s club, target in tow as they made their way to the office, strange looks exchanged by patrons, looking at Bucky’s latest captive. 

Steve shut the door while Bucky strode across the room to answer a call, breathing a sigh of relief hearing the deal had gone off without a hitch. Nothing had been seized and the deal was set, thanks to his last minute decision. He reached for a crystal decanter, pouring a glass of whiskey for himself when a voice caught his attention. 

“Why am I here” Bucky turned around to face all 4 feet, 2 inches of his hostage, little furrowed brows knitted in the middle, arms crossed with his chest puffed out, a heavy bookbag making his solid stance a little wobbly. “Is this because my mommy wants to put you in jail?” Bucky nearly choked on his whisky while Steve snorted, doing a poor job to mask his laugh. “I can see why. Kidnapping is against the law” 

By this point, both Sam and Steve were nearly on the floor, attempting to keep their stoic expressions on by covering their mouths, covering their laugh with a cough. Bucky raised a brow, not sure if he was insulted or impressed at the sass and lack of fear the 8 year old had. None of them were exactly fans of anything that involved children. It was an unspoken rule; children were always left untouched. He had to break that rule this time though, knowing if things had gone south, it would have led to a gang war which would have been far worse than the stunt he just pulled kidnapping a police offers son. 

Police officer. 

Bucky had most of the justice system and law enforcement at his fingertips, all happily bowing to his bidding, letting his deals and illegal activities slip under the radar. Most were more than happy to comply with what he asked. Most were happy to turn a blind eye. 

Except the departments newest officer. 

The absolute bane of his very existence.

The only person who had actually ever managed to get him arrested though he was quickly released; no one else wanting to get on his bad side by actually pressing charges. 

But you refused to back down.

At first Bucky brushed it off, figuring you’d get with the program and eventually quieten down but no. You were constantly there, making his job more difficult than it had to be, your irritatingly righteous need to keep the city free of gang activity driving him up the wall. 

The last straw was a few weeks ago when he had set up an arms deal with the East side of the city, an exchange of weapons, but more importantly, a possible alliance between groups. Things going successfully would mean more protection for both the North and East and stronger joint front. You had managed to track communication between the groups, readying a team to shut down the exchange, ignoring the warnings you got from the mob boss. 

Bucky was done playing nice. 

It was more than the police just showing up. His power meant everyone listened to him. No one, not even the law disobeyed or strayed from his word. A single officer looking to take him down would have shown weakness; that he didn’t have all the control he should have. Weak links were unacceptable.

Which lead to his plan.

To hold onto your son for awhile so you’d abandon the plan you’d put together, none of your colleagues willing to stop anything on their own, everyone retreating far away from the deal while it took place. 

And it worked. 

He had managed to take your son while he was on his way home from school and you had been informed of his location. Everything else went smoothly; problem solved. Still, nothing prepared him for how unbothered and how at ease his little captive would be. 

“I’m guessing you’re the man mommy calls -” Your son blinked at Bucky, chewing his lips, thinking for a moment before continuing. “She says I can’t use those words. I’m gonna call you Uncle Bucky” He shrugged, plopping onto the chair, grabbing one of Bucky’s fountain pens, proceeding to doodle on a notepad on the desk. 

“You-you can’t-” For the first time in his life Bucky found himself speechless, looking incredulously at the little boy proceed to draw, the mop of dark brown hair on his head, covering his eyes slightly. 

“It’s Mr. Barnes” He muttered, while your son tossed his book bag off to grab a comic book that was inside, drawing a character that was on the cover. 

“It’s Jordan” your son replied, now fully focused on his Batman cartoon. 

“I like this kid” Steve half wheezed while Bucky stared at the little thing in front of him, his lips struggling to stay in a firm line, the corners itching to tug up into a smile. 

“Mommy said you’re a bad man” He piqued, looking at the mob boss from the corner of his eye, “I can’t say you did yourself any favors today Mr. Uncle Bucky” 

Before Steve and Sam could full on belly laugh, your panicked voice carried through the bar, nearing the office. 

“Jordan? Jordan!”  The office doors slammed open to your frantic face, running over to your little one as soon as your eyes landed on him, scooping him in your arms, “Baby, are you okay?”

Bucky felt his heart soften for a moment, watching your heart break and mend itself all at once as soon as you had your son wrapped in your arms again. He shook his head, reminding himself of why he took your son in the first place, ignoring the warmth that was trying to melt his soul. 

“You fu-” You bit your tongue, taking deep breath, keeping in mind there were little ears listening. “How could you?!”

“Had to get a message across doll, you don’t seem to listen” Bucky shrugged while you let out a law growl, hauling your son up and grabbing his school bag, wanting to get him out of there and back home more than anything else. 

“This isn’t over” You shot over your shoulder before leaving the office and exiting the bar. Bucky couldn’t help but smirk slightly, he didn’t like you but he couldn’t help but admire the fiery fearless side of you that never backed down, not even to him. 

“M’sure it isn’t, mama bear” Bucky murmured to himself, inspecting the little doodle your son left behind; an image of Batman and a small Robin. 

Of course you were not able to do anything about the kidnapping; none of the higher ups were willing to put their neck on the line to arrest Bucky and your boss shrugged, giving you a very pointed I told you so look. 

Jordan also seemed unaffected with the whole ordeal, often asking you what Uncle Bucky was up to these days as if he were a colleague from work. Truthfully, you were not even 100% what Bucky had been up to. Things had been suspiciously calm ever since the incident happened and while you were thankful for some peace and quiet, you wondered if he was up to something. 

Nothing was ever quiet with that man. 

Meanwhile you also had other problems to deal with. While work calmed down, your stress was higher than ever looking at the number of missed calls on you phone from Jordan’s father. The very man who decided he wanted nothing to do with either of you the day you found out you were pregnant. The man who promptly kicked you out of the house to fend for yourself. The man who had now decided would be a great time to reenter your sons life and be a stand up father. 

And maybe get some spousal benefits from your job. 

You could never catch a break. 

A few weeks later - Bucky’s office

“You kept this, huh?” Steve picked up the doodle on Bucky’s desk, smiling at the way Bucky’s eyes grew wide before trying to back to his signature frown.  

“Didn’t notice” Bucky lied, though his best friend could see right through him, knowing Bucky didn’t keep just anything on his table, every single item on the desk having a purpose. 

“He kinda reminds me of you” Steve pointed out, thinking back to all the times little Bucky had stood up for him when they were kids, putting on a brave face in front of the meanest. “Kinda looks like you too” 

“Hm” Bucky grunted, wondering himself why he still had the picture. He made a conscious decision not to throw it out; each time he had to write something down, he’d grab a paper below it and carefully put the drawing back on top. Steve was right; Jordan did look like him when he was little and had the same feisty, sassy personality as he did though he was sure the bravery your son had was from you. 

You.

In a strange way, Bucky missed having to deal with your nagging and threats to take him down; business had been quiet so there wasn’t a reason for you to chase after him. You made things interesting; it’s not that he wanted anyone to make his job harder than it had to be but sometimes the challenge was nice. Plus it didn’t hurt that you absolutely gor-

For fucks sake. 

“I need a drink” Bucky shook his head, flicking away the odd feeling he started to feel in his tummy, deciding he needed something stiff over whatever he had stashed in his office. Steve snorted, easily reading his friends thoughts while they made their way to a locked cabinet below the bar counter, fishing for something that would silence unnecessary thoughts. He grabbed a glass, dropping in two ice cubes and filling the glass, taking a long draw of the dark liquid before his attention was pulled elsewhere. 

Bucky’s eyes grew wide seeing the mop of dark hair and big eyes make its way through the crowded bar, customers giving each other strange glances at the little boy with a school bag who had no business being in a gang leaders club.   

“Kid, what are you-

“Mommy’s hurt” Jordan looked up at Bucky with teary eyes, swallowing away the lump that formed in his throat, putting his best brave face on instead, now wasn’t the time to cry. 

“What?”

“She - someone hurt her” 

The thought of someone hurting you sent a surge of anger through Bucky, his jaw clenching as he slammed his glass down. It was ironic, considering the number of times he had wished you would disappear but not like this. Not once had he ever thought of hurting you; at the end of the day, you had always stood for what was right. 

“Where is she” Bucky took Jordan’s hand in his, holding it firmly to ground him while making his way outside and towards the SUV. He didn’t have to even look at Steve to know he was already by his side and sliding into the drivers seat. 

“Home, we live on-”

“I know where you live kid” Bucky chuckled slightly while Steve was already weaving through traffic and pulling up to your street, screeching to a halt in front of your house. 

Bucky helped Jordan hop out of the SUV and lead him to you, the front door left while open with the handle broken off. There were clear signs of a struggle, seeing broken pictures on the floor and a few dents in the walls, the mess continuing all the way up the stairs to your bedroom. Bucky instructed Jordan to wait downstairs with Steve, worried about what condition he was going to find you in. 

You were holding yourself up against the wall, your arm clutching your bloodied side, putting pressure on the gash that sliced you. Your head still throbbing from where you had been hit. You could barely register what was happening, gasping at the sound of Bucky’s voice suddenly in your room. 

“C’mon, doll” His arm snaked around you, pulling you to his, holding up some of your weight. 

“Where are we going” You wanted to fight back but the pain was making you dizzy and spots were starting to cloud your vision. 

“We’re -woah-” Bucky caught you before you slipped, scooping you in his arms, bridal style “We’re going to get you fixed up” He spoke softly, carrying you out of your room and carefully down the stairs towards the SUV. You were in too much pain to protest, slipping in and out of consciousness during the drive over. 

Steve had already slipped Jordan into the front seat, the both of them chatting over who would win in a hotdog eating competition; Superman, Batman or the Joker. He could see Jordan sneak worried glances behind him to look over at you, fidgeting with the straps of his backpack. 

“She’ll be okay” Steve whispered to him, giving him a reassuring smile as he pulled up to the mansion. “Your mama’s strong, y’know she’s the only one Uncle Bucky is scared of” He gave your son a wink before helping him out of the car and opening the door so Bucky could carry you to his room. He carefully set you down on his bed, wasting no time grabbing a first aid kit he kept tucked under the bed for emergencies while you groaned, trying to sit up. 

“Barnes, what are you-”

“Just lie down doll, let me clean this up first” He carefully lifted your blouse to assess how bad the injury was, soaking a cotton ball in some disinfectant.

“Ah!-” You winced, hissing out in pain at the saturated cotton ball Bucky pressed onto your skin, cleaning the area as gently as he could, his focus shifting between getting you better and wondering who did this to you. He’d have to worry about that later. 

“Sorry, sorry” Bucky murmured, gently blowing onto the cleaned area, cooling your skin before grabbing a needle and threat, starting on some sutures to close the gash. “I’ll be quick, just bear with me” You gritted your teeth feeling the needle poke you.

“How-how do you know how to do this” Your voice was strained, struggling to keep it steady while Bucky threaded the needle as gently and quickly as possible, neatly closing off the gash. 

“Gotta know this in my line of work, sugar” He smirked giving you a lopsided grin when you rolled your eyes, squeaking when he gently pushed you back down when you tried to get up. “Rest for a bit” 

You reluctantly laid against the plush mattress looking up at the baby blue eyes softly peering down at you, the same blue eyes your normally wanted to poke out of frustration. 

“I’ll be fine, we can go ho-” You were going to say you could go home but it was clear home wasn’t the safest option, not after what had just happened. 

“C’mon, stay here for the night” He wasn’t exactly going to leave you room to do anything else, there was no way he was going to let you go home after what he had just seen. He was more than happy to sleep in a tent outside of his own home if it meant you’d just stay somewhere safe. “At least for today” 

“I-we can’t-Jordan-” 

“-WOULD LOVE TO STAY HERE” 

Bucky let out a genuine laugh hearing your sons voice carried through the doorway where he was clearly eavesdropping. You snorted, shaking your head and closing your eyes at your sons antics, exhaustion making it hard for you to move anyway. 

“We shouldn’t be here” You whispered, feeling your conscious battle within yourself. You were supposed to be fighting for the right side of the law. Bucky was the opposite of that. Then why didn’t this feel wrong? You’d spent countless hours trying to put him away. So why did you feel so safe? 

“I don’t-

“Just for tonight” Bucky stated softly but firmly, leaving you little room to argue. He grabbed you a tshirt and some joggers of his, letting you clean off and chance while he slipped out of the room. He was met with curious eyes peering up at him, your son patiently waiting to know if you were okay. 

“She’s okay, just getting cleaned up. Let your mama rest” Bucky whispered, leading Jordan to the TV room where Peter was busying himself with video games. “Hey Parker, brought you a worthy opponent” Peter grinned, handing Jordan a controller and shifting over so he could plop down beside him. 

“She’s gonna be okay?” Jordan whispered up at Bucky, feeling a sense of calm around the man his mom usually used no-no words to describe. Surely he couldn’t be that bad? 

“No one’s stronger than your mama” Bucky smiled, ruffling his hair before coming back to check on you. You had slipped back into bed, ignoring the way Bucky’s clothes were soft and comfy to wear, his scent making your insides flutter unnecessarily. 

“Don’t you look cozy, officer” Bucky smirked, sauntering over with a glass of water and pain killers, leaving them on the bedside table for you. You rolled your eyes though gratefully taking 2 tablets for your aching head. 

“Where’s Jordan?” 

“Currently beating everyone’s ass in Mario Kart” 

“This doesn’t mean you’re off the hook Barnes” You tried to keep your voice firm but the playful smirk he was giving you was infectious. You bit your lip to keep your lips from tugging up, choosing to frown more instead but that only seemed to egg him on more. 

“Course, darlin’“ He drawled out, giving you a wink before bidding you good night, “Wouldn’t have it any other way” He turned the light off and gently shut the door, making his way back down to make sure Jordan had something for dinner. 

You pulled the covers up, sighing into the soft plush pillows and sheets, letting sleep take over, ignoring the way your inner conscious continued to debate itself. He didn’t have to help you. Didn’t have to keep you safe. Didn’t have to do any of this and yet here you were. You and your son. Both safe. Because of him. 

Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all...

Tags: @glxwingrxse @hungryyeyess @sebsgirl71479 @beabutterfly987 @teambarnes72 @witchywhore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan @buggy14 @whimsyplaty92 @sergntbarnes @inkedaztec @pono-pura-vida @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z @elle14-blog1 @justsebstan @littlelightnings @psychomanniac-blog @happyt0exist @emmabarnes @bethyruth @matchat3a @cjand10 @getwellsoontana @cherryschaos @lokisasgardianvampirequeen @ashenc-blog @buckybarnessimpp @potatothots @goldylions @high-functioning-lokipath @morganemorganite-blog @kingfleury @peaches1958 @spiderman-stilinski @peaceinourtime82 @gublur @wintersmelodie @geeky-politics-46 @lolawassad @almosttoopizza @a-poor-gryffindork @alternativeprincess @buckycallsmeaslut @kamaria-sweet-writes @charmedbysarge @xnorthstar3x @kryoee7 @alina02 @gh0stgurl @polishprincess999 @jessybarnes @alltheficsiwant @chemtrails-club @eralen @perdidosbucky-yyo @clqrosmgc  @buckybarnessweetheart  @pandaxnienke  @manyfandomsfanvergent 

[nayafanfic]

Can you do rotb Optimus (Or whatever bot you feel like) x platonic human single mom reader? Reader moves to the countryside and tries to start a farm to feed herself and her five-year-old kid. She notices strange happenings around the woods, like large footsteps, and strange vehicles driving on the roads, and has a feeling there's something in the woods (maybe just the bots trying to hide from humans). One day, reader looks away just for a second and her kid wanders off, getting lost in the woods. Reader looks for her kid desperately and her kid wanders too close to a cliff, ending up falling, but Optimus saves the kid just in time. He then carefully returns the kid and reader is confused when her kid constantly talks about 'Mr. Truck', making a drawing of this giant red-blue robot. However, reader then starts to believe in the possibility of Mr. Truck being real and one day finding Optimus with one of his injured Autobots. Reader is not scared and helps fix his friend, even offering them to stay in her barn. Then maybe that's just the start of a beautiful friendship?

(Sorry, if this is a bit long. You are free to ignore it.)

(platonic) Optimus prime x single mom reader

You lived alone, even though a few years ago it seemed impossible. Completely hypnotized by love, you hadn't seen the red flags. Always on the couch, yelling at you for any little mistake or letting you do all the chores.

The final straw was the slap on your face during one of many arguments, that night you left with a bag on your back.

Now 5 years later, you live in a small house with your adorable son and your 2 dogs. The little house is in the middle of 2 field of various vegetables (Tomato, cucumber, carrot, lettuce, wheat and recently, spinach). At the back of the house, is the mini farm with some animals.

But, even though you were fulfilled and exhausted from your new life, you noticed a strange event.

1- There are very few cars that pass in front of your house, but when there are, they are always the same ones. A large red and blue truck, another yellow, a pink motorcycle and another blue and white that drives like crazy (he already ate a stick, because he was driving fast and almost hit one of the chickens).

2- You noticed Mr. Truck's huge footprints? Finally, that what your baby boy has been saying since he got lost in the forest.

This day you will remember for the rest of your life. Everything was going so well, he was playing outside while you were fixing your old truck and in a second he was gone.

You spent the day looking for him, shouting his name and even sending your dogs at him. Until night fell and he reappeared out of nowhere. Never before you had cried, been relieved and angry at the same time other than at that moment. When you started to go home, he started talking about his experience with a big smile.

-Mom, when I fell in a water, a BIG robot picke me up!

-When did you fall? Where did you fall darling? And a big robot, that must have been so impressive! As a mother, you played into his game (thinking he was just talking nonsense).

After that day, he didn't stop talking about him, drawing pictures and dreams of the big Mr. Truck.

At first you thought it was just his imagination, young people have an extremely overactive imagination. But, It became so intense that you started to believe it.

So for good measure you installed fences all over your home (as if it would protect you, but also to prevent your son from returning there after his 5th attempt to run away).

But now you know it is real, because what is in front of you is the same thing in his drawings.

You had heard loud noises in the forest, so you went there and thought that one of the cows had run away again. Your son had already been sleeping for a good hour so there was no chance of him waking up, you took the shotgun, put on your boots and go outside.

Optimus didn't mind seeing you, he had been watching you since he meeting your little sparkle, but only to protect you of course. And usually at this time there is no more light in your home otherwise he would never have come near your home.

But now with a wounded Bumblebee, and no other protection he wasn't sure if you were a bad person or not, you were armed after all.

He didn't know how to act, should he talk to you or say nothing? The only thing he was sure of was that not a single bolt in his body moving. And you, damn it, you didn’t move more than an inch either.

the gun is held tightly in your hands trembling from the cold and the fear.

Your eyes were fixed on his glowing blue orbs until movement behind him caught your attention. The yellow bot was starting to lose consciousness due to his loss of blood. The larger robot turned towards him and tried as hard as he could to stop the bleeding while keeping his eyes on you.

Seeing what is happening in front of you, you remembered what he had done for your son, so taking a deep breath you gently placed the gun on the ground and began to walk towards it.

-My son, talk my about this day. In fact he doesn't stop talking about this day. Your laugh caught the attention of Bumblebee who hadn't even noticed you were walking towards him.

-He told me that you saved him from a fall, no? The cliff north of my house, the one overlooking the lake?

Now with the two of them looking at you closely and this close to the yellow robot you can see his wound, a hole on his cables. It looks quite serious, as a strange substance is coming out of the place in big quantities.

The big blue had all his attention on you again. -Yes, it was me. His serious and deep tone made all your body vibrate with fear? no, with surprise? You don't even know how you feel about yourself at the moment.

So, as a normal and intelligent person, your first action was to take off your shirt and place it as delicately as you can at the level of the hole and putting pressure on it. Then in a sure and calm voice you reassured them.

-So it's my turn to help your family now, Mr. Truck, everything will be fine.

[rene-spade]

ok y’all SEE MY VISION

obsessive carlos x crash out single mom who used to steal cars for a living (she WILL be from atlanta ga just like most crash outs)

she’s trying to steal his car and he catches her and HES the one apologizing 😭

carlos: oh gosh sorry ma’am please you can have it 😳😮‍💨 I’ll buy you three more also if you just give me a CHANCE 🙏😫

[ivymarquis]

WIP Wednesday

I fucked off for a good while so I know @direwombat and @g0dspeeed tagged me and I thank them for including me in the fun even if Im a month late to the party 🫡 This is a massive jump in the single mom/blind date verse but the idea reminded me of a story I was told and I couldn’t help but laugh and incorporate it into the overall story. Remember to go to your follow up appointment after a vasectomy, kids

Tagging; @socially-awkward-skeleton @391780 @kneelingshadowsalome @ceilidho @glossysoap @divine--serenity @thanksbutno98 @luminousbeings-crudematter @deadbranch and any moots that I missed ;.;

Kate sits with her coffee in hand, watching as Love settles into the chair across from her, visibly pleased with the prospect of her own coffee.

They’re usually fond of companionable silence, a murmured morning in the greeting (Not good morning, as Love is never a willing morning person), before sticking their noses in their respective tablets and fiddling with emails and tasks despite this supposed to be a time for break.

Kate is neck deep wheeling and dealing as usual when she hears displeased muttering across the table. Glancing up, Love has her coffee in hand and a sour look on her face. “Everything alright?” She asks as the muttering continues.

“I’m going to kill him.”

Kate is not following. “You’re going to what?”

Love has a face as serious as a heart attack, eyes narrowing at Kate across the way. “I’m going to succeed where terrorist cells across the world have failed, and I am going to kill John Price.”

Given Love’s pleasant mood not two minutes ago, Kate can’t help but wonder what the hell happened in such a short time span that John’s landed himself in hot water.

“What’d he do?” Ever nosy, Kate’s penchant for learning everything has served her well at her job.

“I’m fucking pregnant. Again,” she elaborates while gesturing at the coffee with her free hand.

“Ignoring the fact that you announcing you’re going to kill him makes it premeditated- before you go to prison for the murder of a S.A.S. Captain, do you want to,” Kate pauses as she pretends to think, “I dunno, maybe pee on a stick?”

“This,” another gesture to the coffee, “is better than a blood test. The only stick I need is the one I’m going to shove up his ass.”

[sentientcave]

Mace of Bakes

Read on AO3

Contains: Non-canon character death (cancer mention), Reminiscing about the army and merc work, Mace deciding on a new path for himself, Community building through food, Self-discovery time for Mace. x Single mom reader (eventually, she's not really in this part) Basically fluff with some sad stuff at the start.

~3.6k - SFW

"Are you happy, Mason?"

His mama looked all wrong, laying in a hospital bed. Mace had never known her to get sick. He'd never thought that she'd get old. In his mind, she was still young the same age as when he left home. It startled him to realize that he was the same age she'd been when he left home. Thirty-eight.

She wasn't even sixty now. Too young to be laying there, all the warmth drained out of her skin, too young for her tightly coiled hair to be grey, too young to be dying.

He itched to get up and do something. Anything. But he'd already done everything he could think of. He'd brought her sunflowers, chocolate from that fancy little place down the block from the house he'd bought her the moment he'd been able to, brought her pretty stationary and a pen so she could write letters to her friends in shaky but still clear script. He'd even prayed. Gone to church and sat down in a pew and bargained with god. The world would be better with her in it, and him gone. If there was one thing he'd learned from his years as a soldier, it was that violence only begat more violence. Put down one enemy, and another popped up in his place. But people like his mother made things better.

She was no saint, of course— Hard to be, in her position, raising a headstrong boy furious about losing his father in some far off conflict he couldn't understand— but she was good. Patient. Dedicated her time to helping her community. Helped kids like him make better decisions than he had. She always picked up the phone when he called, no matter what time of day it was for her. Better that she live, and he die.

But god made no bargains with sinners, it seemed.

"Mason," she repeated, reaching for his hand. Her grip was weak. "Are you happy? Are you living the life you want?"

Was he? Did he even remember what it was to be happy?

The trouble with wearing a mask is that you become more of an idea than a person.

It had been years since Mace really thought about himself. He'd just been a kid, angry and afraid, desperate to get out of his home, out of his city. He was smart, but his grades weren't good enough to get any kind of scholarship. He was athletic, but he wasn't much of a team player, so there was no college team that wanted him either, no matter how big and strong he was already at eighteen. The army was just about the only thing he could use to drag himself up, so he gripped that uniform and held on tight, until his knuckles creaked with the effort. He should have known better, after what happened to his father, but maybe he just wanted to see something of his dad when he looked in the mirror.

(One of his drill sergeants had called him a fighting dog. Mace had grit his teeth and taken it, because as much as he wanted to bite back, it would just be proving the man right. And Mace would take a lot worse than that if it meant showing the whole damn world how wrong they were to dismiss him outright, to decide his fate before he'd taken his first step. But that was the way things were. The way they still are.)

But the thing about the army is that people notice when you're good at what you do. He'd moved from regular army to the rangers by the recommendation of that same sergeant. He earned respect. He'd joined an international task force and met someone who reminded him far too much of himself. Funny how someone from thousands of miles away could look him in the eye and see the things he thought he'd buried. Simon Riley, Ghost, more an idea than a person. And Mace put on that mask, same as Riley's, and they were like brothers.

Until they weren't.

Mace kept the mask though. And the lesson.

He left the army. Joined the Shadows. Joined the Jackals. Worked his ass off anywhere he went. He was efficient, brutal when he needed to be, bold and creative, one of the best.

And now…

Graves had offered him a spot with the Shadows again. But in truth, the soldier's life was wearing on him. He'd bled for his country, bled for money, bled for his homeland.

None of it had made him happy.

The words caught in his throat. "No. But I'll try to be."

"That's all I ever wanted for you."

Things got worse, and she didn’t get better, but he held her hand while she slipped away. Held it together to plan a funeral, shaking hands with everyone who came to pay their respects. It twisted something inside him painfully. All these people that knew his mother better than he did. That loved her, laughed with her.

Who would come to his funeral, if he died right there? A few old war dogs, if word got to them in time. He had few friends. No one would care about his passing the way they did his mother’s.

He stood in the graveyard for a long while after they buried her, staring at the gravestone. Kendra Ward, 1966-2024. She was the best of us.

It wasn’t enough. But what could be?

Her estate was easily settled. Mace still owned the house, on paper, and she didn't have that much else. No matter how much money he sent her, she didn’t like to spend more money than she needed to. He gave the house to his cousin Jessie, since she had four kids and a too-small apartment, gave the car to his aunt, let them split what little jewelry she had between them. He kept her wedding rings, and his father's, since she'd told him that she wanted him to have them, and he took some of the photo albums. He couldn't bear to look at them now, but maybe someday he'd want to.

He thought about staying. It was nice, for a few weeks, to spend time with Jessie's kids, get to know his family again. He'd thought it would be hard to talk to children, but it really wasn't, in the end. It was easy, because all he really had to do was listen, and let them win any games they played.

Still, there was another brother out there he needed to make peace with. One that wouldn't so readily accept that he had changed.

So he went to England.

He didn't expect to see Riley for a long while. He wasn't sure that the man lived in Manchester, if he ever even left base anymore. They'd both become the mask over the years. It wasn't easy to start being a whole person again.

He tried a few jobs on, but they fit like an off the rack suit. He couldn't stand the noise of most trades, didn't have any patience for customers or desk work. Maybe he could move out to the country and be a farmer. The thought appealed to him somewhat, although he knew deep down it was just the fantasy of the life that he wanted. He didn't particularly care for getting muddy, and he didn't know the first thing about animals.

He was walking home when he noticed the Help Wanted sign in the window of the bakery near his apartment (flat, as the locals called it). He liked the place, in part because Sharon, the older woman with graying curls that worked the counter reminded him a bit of his mother, and partially because the smell of bread baking wafted in through his window early mornings, and it was hard to resist the siren’s call.

The little bell above the door jingled pleasantly as he walked in, head nearly brushing the damn thing.

"Hi, honey," Sharon said with a smile, popping her head out of the kitchen. "We don't usually see you so late."

"I saw the sign in the window, ma'am. Thought I might as well ask you about it."

“Our baker quit in the middle of his shift. I’ve been running back and forth all day.” She pursed her lips, taking in the broad and tall expanse of him. “You’re interested?”

“Yes ma’am. Was a soldier for a long time, and I’ve been having trouble finding civilian work that suits. At the very least, I know I’d respect my boss.” He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a bit sheepish. It wasn’t as if she had time to train a raw rookie, but… “Don’t know dick all about baking, but I’m good at following orders.”

Sharon thought about it for a moment. “Can you promise not to quit in the middle of a shift?”

“Figure nothing you throw my way could be worse than desert warfare.”

Sharon grinned. “No, we only do dessert warfare here.”

Mace barked out a laugh despite himself. He’d always loved a bad joke. “Got a bakery rival?”

“Of course. Where d’you think my baker went off to?” She shook her fist at the far wall, laughing. “You’re hired. Can you start now? If I’ve got to mop the floors after the day I’ve had… Well, I don’t want to. Better the young do the heavy lifting, yeah?”

“Can do, ma’am. Just show me to the mop closet.”

He wiped down the little cafe tables and stacked up the chairs so he could sweep, mopped the cafe floor, emptied the display case and bought the wire trays to the kitchen to run through the dishwasher. Sharon was portioning out dough and quickly shaping it and putting it into baskets. He watched for a moment, and then went back out to finish cleaning up the front of house.

When he returned again, Sharon beckoned him over. “Wash your hands well,” she ordered. “I’ll show you how to shape these loaves. This dough’s a little sticky, so you’ve got to be decisive.”

He did his best to mirror her movements. The dough was really sticky, but there was a slight resistance to it, and once he got the hang of the consistency, he was able to produce a ball that Sharon didn’t have to reshape a little before it was tucked into it’s little basket to rise overnight. Each one was better than the last.

It felt nice to use his hands for something productive. This wasn’t much like anything he’d done as a soldier, and it was a relief that he was still able to learn new tricks. That he wasn’t so busted up by everything he’d been through to do something good.

Each basket went on a tray with three others, and then onto a wheeled rack, and soon they’d filled two. Sharon covered them with a plastic sheet (to keep humidity in) and they slid them into the big walk in fridge.

There were a few more things to do, cleaning up the kitchen, but soon enough Mace was hauling the trash into the dumpster behind the bakery while Sharon locked up. She handed him a box of leftovers from the display case, which he accepted gladly.

He ate a chocolate chip cookie on his way back to his apartment, humming. That felt like the right kind of work. Busy enough, quiet enough, and he wouldn’t have to be the one dealing with customers. It was going to be a hell of a learning curve, but he liked the idea of being a baker. The sort of career that his mama would be proud to see him in

He ate a cold sandwich and several more pastries for dinner, then showered and went to bed early, setting his alarm for four am. He stared at the ceiling for a little while, arms tucked behind his head.

Yeah. This would suit him just fine.

The next morning had Mace out in the pre-dawn chill, waiting beside the bakery. He'd ended up watching a few videos on bread shaping while he ate breakfast, feeling a strange apprehension, like a student desperate to cram as much information as possible into his head before a big exam. He really wasn't qualified. He didn't know shit about cooking or baking-- He'd eaten mess hall meals and MRE's for the majority of his adult life. He knew what good food tasted like, but making it was a whole other beast.

He was pretty sure he'd gone into war zones less nervous than this.

Sharon waved at him when she turned the corner a little ways up the street. "Showed up after all, did you? The early mornin' didn't scare you off?"

"No ma'am. Said I'd be here." He followed her down the alley, hands in his pockets.

"An honest American," she said, faking a look of shock as she unlocked the door. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"You just dealing with tourists? Or do you have a vendetta I should know about?"

Sharon laughed. "Vendetta. An American woman stole my son away to Florida. I hardly see him now."

"I've got friends down that way. You say the word and I'll have them ship him back to you."

"Tell them to bring my grandkids too!"

Mace soon found out that Sharon was a great teacher. Funny, when she wasn't bone tired after a long day, and especially now that he wasn't a customer anymore. That polite customer service smile that he had gotten used to was replaced by a wicked grin, and she swore a blue-streak as she gave him instructions and gossiped. He learned more about his neighbourhood in a few hours than he'd found out in his months of living there.

Sharon's husband, Veer came in to open the storefront so Sharon could stay in the kitchen to train Mace.

"Had to take a week of vacation," he said when he brought two mugs of coffee back for them. "So you'd better be worth it! She makes me wear a beard net when I work the front counter." He winked at Sharon.

Sharon just rolled her eyes, her own hair totally secured by a bonnet. "You never wear the beard net, you just wear a mask."

"Perhaps. 30 minutes till open, anyway."

Mason started loading loaves of bread into the baskets that sat on the shelves behind the counter, and Sharon got started on assembling pastries. By the time he was putting out the last basket, the first customers were entering the store.

The display case filled, and then the sourdough for the next day mixed (Sharon said she'd portion and shape it closer to close), and the day was over before Mace knew it. He wasn't certain he knew what to do with himself for the rest of the afternoon (it seemed very strange to get off work by 1pm), but it seemed that he could stand to work on his baking skills at home too.

He went to the shops to buy everything he could think of to stock his cupboards, since they were rather bare, and made cupcakes when he got home, lamenting his lack of a piping bag when it came time to frosting them. They didn't look quite as impressive as he'd hoped they would, but they tasted pretty good-- One of the tips in the recipe's comments recommending "blooming" the cocoa powder with a bit of hot water seemed to be a neat trick. He wanted to try combining it with another tip about coffee bringing out the flavour of chocolate too.

Next time.

He cleaned up and made dinner, and offered cupcakes to his neighbours, feeling strangely shy. He was a grown man, he'd been shot more than once, but somehow knocking on the door of the college girls next door and the old man across the hall and the young mother by the stairs made him break out in a cold sweat, stumbling over his explanation. Why was it so much easier to kill people than offer kindness? There had to be something pathologically wrong with him.

(The part of him that knew he had to be kinder to himself too whispered a reminder that it was just unfamiliar ground. Hadn't his hands shaken the first time he held a rifle too? Hadn't he slunk off to puke his guts up and cry after the first time he'd killed another person? It was just so long ago that he'd forgotten.)

He outran the nerves that evening, as the sky turned dark, and put himself to bed early, ready to do it all again the next day.

The routine was good for him. Weeks passed, and he settled into an easy rhythm, waking early for work, joking with Sharon while he worked, setting himself up with a new project every other day.

(He would have made it every day, but while he was growing very fond of cooking and baking, he didn’t love doing the dishes.)

It gave him time to start going to the gym again, at least. He’d started putting on a little weight around the middle, which he didn’t hate. He kind of liked it, especially when he heard the college girls giggling and whispering about his dad bod. Still, he didn’t want to have to buy new clothes, and he wanted to stay in good shape, and he found he still really liked lifting weights, especially now that he did it for fun and not out of necessity. Even better, lifting weights meant that he got to eat more. So it worked out nicely.

His neighbours started talking to him more, everyone more than a little interested in getting on the list for receiving little treats. Everyone had sort of avoided him on principle before, unsure about the giant American loner that settled into their building, but now everyone knew him by name. They asked him for help when they needed heavy things moved. The girls down the hall asked him to make them a birthday cake (Which he was more than happy to do. He was getting better at decorating all the time).

The old fellow across the hall, Percy, turned out to be a veteran too, and he invited Mace out to drinks a few times with some of his old air force buddies, and he got to listen to the old men swap stories and complain about young people these days and the price of groceries (and drinking with old men was ideal, since he could still be in bed early enough to get plenty of sleep before work). The college girls were Morg and Corrie, and often Kailee, who didn’t actually live in the building but was there so often that she practically did. They were possibly the silliest girls he’d ever met, but he at least partially had to attribute that to the fact that he understood only about fifty percent of what they were saying at any time, between the giggling and the slang he didn’t understand.

They tried to thank him for the baked goods by inviting him over for dinner once. A valiant, but ultimately bland effort. He’d eaten worse, but not in a long while, and they spent half the meal flirting shamelessly. He made a promise to himself in that moment that he would never date a woman under thirty.

The single mother, Tammy, was a lot more sensible, but not as single as he’d assumed. Her friend that came over often turned out to be her girlfriend. The kids were funny, especially the younger two, who took every opportunity to talk his ear off about school and dinosaurs and some youtube video game streamer with a silly name. The oldest kid was in that awkward teenage phase of thinking his own interests were cringe and looking for a new identity that was cool. He seemed baffled by Mace, like he couldn’t quite connect the dots on why someone who looked and sounded like a soldier would be spending his free time doing favours for others and baking.

Mace wasn’t sure if it were his place to say anything, but he hoped the kid would come to understand that what Mace was doing now was a hundred times better than being a soldier. A thousand times more meaningful.

He felt like a new person. Born again, like the last twenty years could be chalked up to a bad dream.

(It wasn’t as if he were ashamed of it. Maybe he should have been. But he’d always been principled about his work. Not everyone agreed with his actions, he’d found himself down-barrel of a once friendly gun more than a few times. But that didn’t mean he would stop doing what he thought was the right thing.)

He was sure that this contentedness was what his mother had wanted for him. He wished he’d listened to her a long time ago.

Of course, as it so often happens, pleasant routines get shaken up. For Mace, it was on an otherwise ordinary day in late November, when Sharon was buzzing excitedly about her daughter moving home.

(Divorced, and with a three year old she would have to take care of all by herself. She’d probably come work the front counter, so Sharon could be in the kitchen more for the busiest season. Didn’t it work out so nicely?)

And the timing did seem good. Mason was glad for anything that would give Sharon more time off. He worried about her overworking herself, and she always complained about not seeing any of her grandchildren enough.

Still, he found himself stopping short, nearly dropping the tray of cookies he’d been carrying when he came out of the kitchen.

“Oh, wonderful,” Sharon said, grinning. “Mason, come meet my daughter!”

And you smiled at him, sticking your hand out. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Nice didn’t even begin to cover it.

Title Card made in Canva ~ Image Credits: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 ~ Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[minnophee-writes]

Safe and Sound - Part 1

Fandom: The Purge: Anarchy

Pairing: Leo Barnes x Fem! Reader

Series Warnings: Violence, gun violence, assault, non-consensual touching, death, character death, murder, breaking and entering, knives, blood, mentions of abuse, mentions of past abusive relationship, single mother trope, slight smut, dry humping / grinding, strangers to lovers, attempted kidnapping, smut, oral sex, p in v, size difference, taller man / smaller woman, attempted sexual assault, attempted assault, attempted murder, sharing a bed trope, strangers to lovers, kissing, Leo being a good father figure, Leo is sexually pent up, rough kissing & gentle kissing

Chapter Warnings: Violence, gun violence, assault, non-consensual touching, death, character death, murder, breaking and entering, knives, blood, mentions of abuse, mentions of past abusive relationship, single mother trope, slight smut, dry humping / grinding, attempted sexual assault, attempted assault, attempted murder, sharing a bed trope, Leo is sexually pent up

Summary: When you're trying to bunker down in your poorly barricaded house with your young 8-year-old son it doesn't go to plan. A gang of unruly criminals come breaking into your home and you're forced to take your son and flee down the street toward your brother's apartment. On your journey there you're corralled into an alleyway, certain of death, but then a lone saviour comes to your aid.

Word Count: 4,413 words (damn, one hell of a part 1 o-o)

A/N: I love the purge series so much and when I first saw Leo Barnes I knew my horny ass was doomed. I haven't seen many new fics of this man and I'd like to fix that. Street names and apartment / house addresses mentioned in this story are made up and fictional but I did mention 2 well known places in America due to where the Purge: Anarchy takes place in (roughly).

You huddled with your young son Justin in your bedroom when the siren blared on the TV and speakers outside. The annual Purge had begun and you were terrified. You had been struggling to juggle being a newly single mother and working 2 jobs to provide for your child. Your salary at both jobs weren't the best and so with the money you did save up you could only afford a cheap, scrap metal barricade security system for your house. You highly doubted it'll completely keep out the looters that come out during the purge but you hoped you'll be able to keep Justin safe.

With Justin cuddled into your left side, on the right side laid a large axe, a hand gun, and a hunting knife. You wanted to be prepared in protecting your son so you weren't going to shy away from using force if necessary. The Purge was a brutal bloodbath, every year seemed to get worse and worse with disgruntled employees seeking revenge on their employers, old exes murdering in a sick act of "love", and twisted people who just like to watch others suffer for entertainment. It scares you, scares Justin, and this year would be his 8th year experiencing the Purge.

Distant gun shots were fired and you felt Justin flinch, his head burrowing into your chest for comfort as your body tensed around him. You wished he never had to experience this. If you had stayed with your ex you would be protected, fortified by the highest security technology only the rich could buy - the only downside is that you'd be going back to the abuse. The name calling, the subtle insults, quick taps to the face that escalate to forceful slaps, and hiding bruises that would slowly litter your body.

You left when you finally had enough. The last straw for you was when Kyle dared to stump out a cigarette on Justin's arm when he was only 2 years old. That night you waited until Kyle fell into a drunken slumber before you packed your bags, strapped Justin to your chest, and snuck out the laundry door then out the side gate. You fled down the road to the gas station where a nice elderly couple gave you a ride from Beverly Hills to down town Los Angeles. You had secretly been stashing some of your ex's cash so that you could afford a roof over your head but you knew that the money wouldn't last long which is why you work 2 jobs just to have enough for rent, food and any other basic needs. It didn't help that you lived in down town L.A but your brother lived in the area and you wanted to be close to family since Kyle made sure that you had cut ties with your family before moving to Beverly Hills.

Your brother Daniel was the only one who knew what Kyle had done and did everything he could to help you get on your feet. Daniel helped you raise and look after Justin, babysitting when you had a late shift at the diner, and sparing money for you when you needed it. He lived about a block from you, giving you the invitation to crash at his place whenever you and Justin wanted. Daniel opened the offer earlier that day, before the Purge commenced, but you declined. You lied about having a good quality security system but you didn't want to worry him, you knew you could get through this and protect Justin but as the night dragged on you started to doubt yourself.

"Mommy, I'm scared." Justin murmured as he clung to your shirt.

"Shh - its okay, sweetie. Mama's here."

You stroked his hair to calm him a bit, humming the tune of 'Bleed to Love Her' by Fleetwood Mac to coax your son to sleep. You hoped most of the night might be slightly peaceful so Justin could rest, you were tired yourself but made the effort to stay awake and alert for anything.

As Justin slept beside you your eyelids grew heavy after hours of nothing. The occasional gun shots and screaming could be heard from afar but nothing to be worried about. With nothing to stimulate your brain it was hard to stay awake and the echoing lullaby of slumber was calling to you. Your head dipped forward only to jerk up again as you fought it but soon your mind finally succumbed to sleep.

~~~☆~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~☆~~~

A sudden crash woke you, you were a bit hazy from sleep but you were brought into the presence by the sound of glass crunching from within the house. Your pulse was racing as was your mind over what to do. You heard Justin's breath hitch and so you huddled him into your walk-in wardrobe before grasping your collection of weapons and hiding in the wardrobe. You hoped that it would possibly be one person deciding to rob your home, only one person to worry about - you could handle that.

A male voice rang out down the hallway and a second male voice responding, color drained from your face at the realization that there was more than one person - probably many more as more glass being smashed could be heard in the guest bathroom down the hall. Your mind raced with conjuring up a plan of escape, if you were lucky you could get Justin to crawl under your bed before quietly vaulting out the window into the front side garden while you kept watch.

"Okay sweetie, we're going to play a little game called 'Statues'." you grasped Justin's shoulders gently to grab his attention as you explained the plan. "We're gonna crawl to my bed and hide under it, once we get there we freeze like statues. When I say so we'll crawl toward the window and Mama will help you get out into the side yard, okay?"

"Yes, mommy." Justin nodded cautiously before laying on his belly.

At your signal you both inched to the bed while you glanced out your bedroom doorway to make sure none of the men had seen you or Justin. When you were under the safety of your bed you surveyed the hallway again, freezing and listening for movement from within the house. Rattling noises came from in the guest bedroom, porcelain shattering and rustling of cabinet drawers being opened aggressively. You nodded to Justin again to move toward the window while you trailed behind him with your stare aimed at the doorway.

Justin reached the windowsill and slowly tried to pry open the window. You assisted him once you crawled up behind him and prayed that it wouldn't creak as it widened but it seemed that whatever God was above wanted to spite you. The wooden frame stuttered loudly in the room, echoing down the hallway and all movement down there stopped abruptly. Your breath picked up as you shoved the window open and lifted Justin out and into the side garden in a panic, footsteps were approaching fast and so you tossed yourself out the window next to your son.

"We need to go - now!"

You grasped Justin's hand as you ran for the gate to get out to the road, the voices from in your home shouting at each other while a few stray bullets whizzed passed you. You picked up Justin and held him in your arms for protection, your legs carrying you as fast as possible - heading in the direction of your brother's apartment. Justin started hyperventilating in your ear from the shock of the sudden violence and narrow escape, his little mind racing to understand what was happening and where they were heading while your brain was rattling with the different thoughts of the fastest and safest way to reach Daniel's place.

You had passed a few other houses on the block when a loud explosion erupted from a couple of parked cars that sat down another street across the road, an armoured vehicle charged toward the T intersection before breaking hard in the middle of the road. You ran behind a tree on the block as a group of people hopped out of the small truck, large assault rifles at the ready and masks covered their faces. Some were cheering while others searched the area, you guessed for prey, to feed their sick idea of entertainment. You weren't sure if they'd kill on sight or capture you both to be tortured for pleasure and you didn't want to stick around to find out, you just wanted to take Justin to Daniel's and know he'll be safe when the sun rises in the morning.

Your body shook slightly from fear of being caught, you couldn't risk Justin being hurt - he was your little bundle of joy, your baby boy, and you weren't going to let anyone take him away from you.

Justin's sniffling and whines were getting loud and you tried to shush him, some of the masked men turned in your direction and alerted the others.

"Shh, baby, shh... we need to be quiet..." you whispered in desperation but a harsh yank of your hair shot to your scalp.

Rough hands grabbed you while ripping your son from your arms causing you to scream in distress. You thrashed in the men's arms to get closer to Justin when a blow to the left side of your face disorientated you enough for them to drag you to the middle of the street, more masked men surrounding you as another man held Justin in a tight grip. The stranger aimed a knife next to Justin's neck and your heart rate spiked in fear.

"No, please!" You begged, "I-I'll doing anything, please - just don't hurt my son!"

A man walked toward you and chuckled at you, finding your pleading to be amusing. He got down on one knee and leaned over you in a menacing manner which made you slightly shrink into yourself.

"'Anything', you say? Well I can think of a few things you could do to save your son." The man then suggestively groped his own crotch to imply his meaning.

A shiver shook through your body at the thought of doing anything sexual for these men and hoped you could convince them otherwise.

"My boss is the owner of the Drunken Duck bar, he has a safe in his office-"

"I don't care about his shit. I've got plans for you."

You were then shoved onto the asphalt, your back and side of your face pressed to the ground as you struggled to get the man off of you. Justin cried at the scene and your heart clenched at the thought of him witnessing something so horrific so you put more effort into fighting your attacker. The man had managed to jerk your pants and unzip his but you twisted your legs so that he couldn't remove your underwear which frustrated the masked man. He began to squeeze your legs to get you to release your hold but you screamed in defiance, swinging your small fists toward his face with all your might.

"Get off of me!"

"Shut up, slut."

The man gripped your throat harshly, choking you and making you lose focus. Your body flailed as you fought to get more air into your lungs, your legs kicking to get leverage, and your arms clung to his in an attempt to remove his hand from around your neck. Your vision was starting to fade but a distant roar of a car engine ricocheted through the streets, the man above you pausing his actions while his head swivelled to the right.

A black, armoured car darted from around the corner and swerved toward the group of men.

"Shit - open fire!" He boomed as the car rammed into a few of his men and into their own vehicles.

It was all a blur for you as oxygen entered your body, you rolled onto your stomach and surveyed where Justin was. He was laying on the ground a distance away from you and crying out for you.

"Justin! Mommy's coming, baby." You shouted.

You made your way over to him as bullets flew in all directions, your swollen eye made it hard to navigate but you pushed on as you got closer and closer to Justin. You got within a few inches from him when a swift kick to your stomach winded you and you were then shoved to the side, a heavy weight laid on top of you in the process.

"Mommy!"

The terror in your son's voice had your mind in a frenzy, you fought back against whoever was above you but you couldn't fight back against his hard-hitting blows to your face. Your consciousness was fading in and out, the bad seeming to spread across your body, and your strength dwindled with each punch. When the surrounding light growing faint the sudden pressure on top of you vanished - you could breath but you just laid there unable to move from exhaustion. Small arms wrapped around you and cold, wet droplets began to fall onto your exposed skin as Justin attempted to cuddle you but the shock coursing through his body was making it hard.

You cracked open your left eye, barely in better shape than your right, and gazed up at Justin, wheezes rattled your throat while you made an effort to move your arms to reassure your 8-year-old. You struggled to lift your upper body to sit up and fell back, Justin sobbing then exerted himself to lift you with his tiny strength.

"Hey, hey - stay awake, little momma." A calm male voice instructed, "I'm going to get you and your son out of here but I need you to trust me..."

Larger hands then touched your arms, your eyes shooting toward the culprit and seeing a slightly older man with messy dark hair, a sharp jawline covered in rough facial hair, as well as piercing brown eyes. Your mind went blank and you were suddenly aware of your dry mouth when no answer came out so you resorted to nodding your head cautiously. If you wanted your son to be safe and protected then you'll have to give some trust to this new stranger who seemed to have saved you from death.

"Good." he nodded then offered his hand." Leo Barnes at your service."

"Y-Y/N..." your voice croaked out painfully.

"Alright, Y/N just stay calm. I'm going to pick you up and carry you to my car - okay?"

You nodded again to save your voice and felt your body heating up at the strong, muscular arms that wrapped around you and lifted you with one arm tucked under your legs and the other supporting your back. You leaned your head against his upper chest hearing his heartbeat which started to lull you to sleep. Leo shook you slightly to keep you awake in case you have a concussion, Justin trailing behind the both of you to the car. Leo gently set you down on the passenger seat before helping Justin into the back seat and buckling you both in. The seatbelt pressed against a wound that you hadn't noticed before - guessing you must have been grazed by a bullet during the shoot-out, you fidgeted from the small, stinging pain as Leo got into the driver's seat and starting up the vehicle.

"M-my brother... lives on the corner... of Mcroyle street..."

"Just down here, yeah?" Leo pointed further down the street where a large apartment complex stood and you nodded.

Leo drove the few feet to your brother's place and helped you and Justin up the stairs to Daniel's apartment. As the three of you reached Daniel's floor Leo noticed that your brother's door was slightly ajar and he knew something was up.

"Wait..."

"What? Daniel's apartment is right there-"

"The lock is broken and the door is open." Leo stared at you for a moment before continuing, "Stay out here - I'll check it out and make sure it's clear."

You agreed and watched Leo creep into Daniel's apartment, the eerie silence made you anxious as no voices could be heard - not even from the other apartments which put you on edge further. Oncoming footsteps caught your attention and you saw Leo emerge from the apartment with a sorrowful expression. His face told you what you needed to know and the tears blurred your vision while they streamed heavily down your face, your hands covering your mouth to muffle the pitiful sobs from echoing the hallway you stood in. Justin watched on in confusion and distress - he was smart enough to understand something was wrong because of your visual state but wasn't aware of 'what'.

You hugged Justin for comfort as Leo strutted toward you both, giving you a few seconds to grieve before gently placing a hand on your shoulder. You looked up into his dark eyes with your teary ones.

"C'mon, it's not safe here. I have a secure place that you two can hide in until it's over." Offered Leo.

You swallowed while debating the option in your head but you knew it was your only option for Justin's sake.

"Okay..."

~~~☆~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~☆~~~~~~~☆~~~

The car ride to Leo's secure hideout was quiet. Justin fell asleep in the backseat a few minutes ago, you were leaning against the passenger door looking at the passing scenery as Leo focused on the road. The humming from the car engine was the only sound even if it was muffled, the air around you and Leo was gloomy from the previous events.

Before leaving Daniel's apartment Leo had searched for some pants for you since your encounter with the masked man had ruined them, your jeans had been ripped and torn in many places so Leo had found you a pair of your brother's gym shorts. The car's air-conditioning was starting to freeze your exposed skin on your legs and arms, the cool air causing you to feel the slight throbbing pain of your many bruises and wounds but you tried to focus on anything else but the discomfort. Without warning a warm, large hand rested on your bare thigh which caused you to jump in your seat - Leo apologized swiftly removing his hand trying to explain himself.

"Sorry, you looked cold so I wanted to offer some heat..." Leo's voice trailed off, probably thinking about how idiotic his reasoning sounded but you just shook your head with a small smile.

"Thank you." you caressed the spot where his hand once was, "I'm a bit cold, now that you mention it."

He gradually placed his hand back on your thigh and rubbed it to warm it up occasionally switching legs after a few minutes one each one. His body heat helped a lot with keeping your legs warm, the touching and caressing was shooting to your crotch making it pulse with want. Your face slowly started to blush at the thought of a rough looking man like Leo would be petting you and making you feel certain emotions that you haven't in quite some time.

Your logical brain was turning into mush has your horny thoughts flashed through your mind with multiple different scenarios which had your pussy throbbing and dribbling in your underwear - a little thought mortified if Leo were to feel the wet spot if he moved his hand more to the inside of your thigh but that didn't stop your body from relaxing and slightly adjust your legs to spread a little wider. An unexpected squeeze to your thigh jerked you back to rational thinking and you clenched your things abruptly.

"Woah, didn't mean to startle you." Leo glanced over at you with slight concern.

"I-I'm okay... Just a little jumpy I guess."

Leo quickly glanced down for a brief moment before staring back at the road ahead of him, you looked down to see his hand trapped between your thighs near your drooling pussy which made your eyes widen in embarrassment. You were too scared to move your legs because your anxiety would then reason that it would bring attention to the touch and you'd lose the warm press of his hand close to where you needed it.

Before you could continue your internal struggle the car slowed to a stop outside of what looked like an abandoned house in an old part of the city where not many people lived and the house was concealed by foliage and a long gravel driveway. Leo got out of the car to then unbuckle Justin from his seat and carried him inside while you gradually made your way inside after them. You saw that Justin was sleeping in the only bedroom you could see - that Leo had placed him in, while you crept over to the old, beat-up couch to sit on, finally giving your sore body a rest. Leo sat beside you with a relieved expression as he groaned, his legs spread wide and slightly nudged into yours causing your heart to shutter and your body to heat up again.

"Sorry if the place is a bit small. The house only has one bedroom but you and...?" Leo trailed off in an implied question.

"Justin."

"You and Justin can share that room - I can take the couch."

"Oh no, no, no! You've saved my son and I, and brought us to a safe place. You deserve the bed after all you've done for us." You pleaded, feeling guilty.

Leo shook his head with a chuckle, he admired your caring nature but could visually see that you needed the rest. Dark, heavy bruising littered your face and exposed skin, blood dried on your skin and a few cuts looked irritated from being dirty so his first priority was to clean you up and care for your injuries.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

During the whole process you couldn't keep your thoughts innocent when it came to Leo. From his rippling muscles, his messy hair, the way he would touch you, praise you when you winced at the sting of the disinfectant; and even the way he would stand close so you could smell his scent of gun smoke, leather and an earthy, cedar aroma. It made you light-headed, you subconsciously leaned into Leo's touches and embrace - every so often you would drift off to sleep in his arms only to wake up when Leo would wipe an antibacterial wipe on one of your wounds.

You were so drained that you barely had any energy to exert to move out of the small bathroom which lead Leo to picking you up again and carrying you to the bedroom Justin was resting in. When Leo settled you on the bed he went to move out of the room when you tiredly grasped his wrist and wined.

"Please don't go, you're warm..." You slurred, your tired state making you a little delirious.

Leo glanced at the bed, sizing it up and mentally calculating if there'll be enough room for all three of them. He looked down at your hazy eyes, you looked adorable when you begged and he just couldn't resist disappointing you. He moved toward the bed so you shuffled over to the middle of the bed as Leo climbed in, his body heat already warming you up better than the blanket that you were tucked under. When you both settled again you were facing each other, your breaths fanning over your faces, and your eyes were locked in an intense stare.

"Comfortable?" Leo asked.

"Yes, just a bit chilly but better than before..."

"Okay, good."

Your body gave a short shiver from the cold air that caressed your shoulder that wasn't under the blanket, you moved to remedy the issue when a heavy object wrapped around your waist before you were tugged into a toasty body. You hummed in approval, snuggling into the warm surface when a chuckle vibrated through your body causing your eyes to shoot open and look up at Leo, his eyes were closed as if to mimic sleeping but his deep laughter told you he was still awake.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

"Goodnight, Leo..." You mumbled until sleep finally sunk it's claws in, dragging you into its embrace.

Leo could hear faint snores coming from you as he made sure to keep you warm and to make sure you and your son were protected. Your soft skin and smooth legs pressed into him causing him to exhale in distress when he could feel a certain body part getting a little too excited about the physical contact. Leo's arms strained from pulling you closer into him but his cock began to throb in need in his pants. He tried to resist but you fidgeted in your sleep, rubbing your lower stomach and crotch against him and his body would respond the same - his hips would angle forward to press against you while you slept.

You gasped in your sleep except you didn't wake up, your breathing began to be somewhat laboured and your hips thrusted toward Leo's to chase the subconscious sensation of his rough jeans against your stimulated clit that was puffy and sensitive. Both hips worked in tandem with each other, your breathing getting louder and Leo's body tensing from the rising orgasm but suddenly his rational mind screamed at him.

'What are you doing, you bloody idiot!?' After what she's just been through and you do that? He stopped immediately but the sound of your unconscious whine at the loss of stimulation had Leo shushing you and cuddling you further to make up for teasing you. Movement behind you also reminded him of your son sleeping at the other side of the bed, a fair distance from you both but guilt and irritation wracked his mind at his thoughtless decision yet he just couldn't let you go.

His eyelids finally grew heavy, a yawn made its way out of his mouth before he rested his head on top of your head, his face burrowed into your hair because the flowery scent of your hair products lulled him into sleep. The three of you sharing a bed, Leo's shotgun propped against his side of the bed next to his pillow, and you and Leo wrapped into each other's arms.

Unbeknown to you or Leo, your three man group would be rudely awoken by a malice gang looking to cause more chaos before the night is over...

[kit-williams]

Heartless Madness

The title is based off of a really cool powermetal song. I'm probably going to try and name most if not all after a powermetal song tbh.

tw: Yandere? (Might need a follow up fic), aftermath of rape, aftermath of torture, the Drukhari are here so yeah

This was a hard darling to come up with... as while I love Iron Warriors she had to be the right balance of interesting enough and made of tough stuff and also to be easily mailable/moldable. I might eventually do a "least yandere" poll and see who wins and either reworks that boy or just gives them a chapter serf darling. I'm doing civilian darlings because 1) More fun 2) more terrifying

Harram the Wallbreaker let his heavy lumbering steps kick up the dust on the cracked and torn pavement. They had replied to a distressed signal from this agriworld and the warband needed another world like this to keep the war machine going. In the midst of a Drukhari attack. The night was cold and quiet... till he watched a number of humans turn their heads to the East. "What is it." His voice rumbles out of his terminator armor.

"This is the second night we've heard a baby cry. We think it might be a Drukhari trap as all that has been observed over there were unfortunate victims dying." A man said.

Harram huffed out causing a billow of steam to leave at the same time of his huff making his armor look far more alive then it was. "Has anyone checked?"

"No my lord."

He turned to the East and began the slow march. If there was an ambush waiting to happen Harram was certain he could handle it and if there was a baby there still alive then perhaps they were made of sterner stuff... like iron.

He walked past naked bodies chained to the ground in various states of decomposition. All of them chained to the ground with some xenos looking bear trap like contraption. He turned the sensitivity of the audials up and he could hear the faint crying. How it would pause then start up again.

He stopped in the mist as the crying soon turned to laughter and he pushed his armor's capabilities to the limit. "Shh Ferum... no more tears... I know you're hungry... mommy has nothing left to give." He could hear her weak hums as he slowly walked closer.

He sees her on the thermals first and scrolls through all of the different settings to get the full picture as he walks closer. He can see maggots in the lashes across her back, one leg encased fully in the xenos torture device, blood and a high degree likelihood of xenos sperm paints her inner thighs, he can tell starvation and dehydration are setting in for her, and he can tell her hair was recently cut in such a jagged motion. Harram suspects for a trophy or for other things worse should she have been found... entertaining enough for the xenos.

"Has the Emperor answered my prayers?" She speaks so softly as he watches her weakly turn her head. She ends up just rolling over, her watches her eyes close in pain as large grey eyes look at him with a tiny fist jammed into a small mouth. Ugly brusing paints her face, bite marks littering her breasts, less cuts on the front just far more bruising.

"No. He did not send me." Harram replies walking closer.

"You are one of his angels." She sighs in relief.

"I am not. I am something far worse." He tilts his head slightly thinking, "I am a devil... a fallen angel." He chuckles more to himself at his poetic nature.

"Still an angel." He sees her bloody smile. But he can see a look in her eyes ones of grim acceptance, "Have you come to save me? Or just take my baby?"

"Originally just for the baby." He notes the sad smile on her face as her eyes water and she just nods slowly petting his head. "But... I can take you too. What you will return to is not going to be the same."

"I've been changed by this... as long as whatever I return to is better than being raped by xenos I'll say that's an improvement." She bitterly laughs letting her tears fall. He watches the infant try to breastfeed once more. The exhaustion as Harram realizes the baby looks fed and hardly any exposure.

"I am going to contact my brothers to see how to remove this without removing your leg." He says watching her nod.

"Thank you dearest angel..."

Harram just sighed and talked with his brothers as he started to pull the pins in their specific order. He ignored the younger warrior's persistant asking of why he was even doing this. The child was more than healthy enough, simply take them and put the mother out of her misery... even if you ignored that they brought up the points of she would be in recovery for so long. Perhaps that was why Harram followed Endion he was considered sentimental amongst the Iron Warriors and left to start his own warband.

They all did not fit their genesires ideal vision of iron... but they were still of iron! He pulled a pin out to quickly earning a whimper from her throat as tears flowed from her eyes. "Please... I do not wish to be trouble."

"Do not speak mortal. I could have killed you if I did not wish to deal with this burden."

Esteemed terminator Harram. We have movement a few clicks north of you. It's the xenos!

Harram lifted his head as he heard her whimpers as she could hear the near silent thrum of their crafts. He pulled a decorative pelt from his shoulder off and covered her up with it. "Stay there. Do not move at all lest I crush you." He watched her pull her son to her chest and do her best to keep the infant safe with only her body to protect them. The pelt was to simply keep her out of the view of the xenos. "You will probably lose HEARING." He roared the only warning before the twinlinked bolter started throwing the explosive rounds down wind.

His leg joints locked in place, so he would be less likely to crush her and the babe. "Brother's I have started to engage."

"Are you being soft again, Harram?" He could hear Endion's warm voice suddenly connect to the vox channel.

He watched rounds connect with one of the small crafts as it was just a handful of the quick xenos. "No brother I am being like Iron!"

"What have you found then?"

"IRON!" The large chain sword slams down being lucky enough to catch one of them trying to run past and slice at his joints. He couldn't hear the infant screaming over the scream of the chains. He couldn't hear her broken sobs of begging to be killed then be hurt by them again. Harram was focused on the combat. "I have found Iron! I refuse to let them RUST!"

Harram has to unlock his legs to turn around and charge the cocky xeno. But his swings were too slow as the xeno was slowly peeling away sheets of ceramite. Not once during this exchange he thought that this was a tactical error... other brothers would see this as an error but then again they would also be as stubborn as he would be to claim the iron.

It screeched as he saw his Orichalcum, he questions not when he saw her as his, sitting up having thrown one of the knife like pins into it. The tired weak smile on her face is replaced by terror as she rolls to shield her child as it charges but that was enough time for him to slam into the xeno and start crushing it.

When he was done he turned to her watching her writhe on the ground as blood oozed out as in it's dying moment it must have activated the contraption. She looks up at him in pure pain as he pulls out his knife and watches it heat up. "Pray that you are made of Iron."

She bitterly barks, "I was an Iron worker!" She half screams, "I'm half metal shavings at this point!" She shrieks as he doesn't give her much time to think as he just removes the whole leg.

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

Iron was apart of her. His Orichalcum. And her son Ferum. He learned quite a bit about her during her recovery. She was an Ironworker and so was her dead husband. She had lost him before Ferum was born... meaning that Harram could focus his attentions upon her without any meddlers.

Endion had teased him about his fondness... but it had been so long since he found anyone he could call iron. Though Endion was hardly one to complain as Harram would find him stealing Ferum away and of course teased the warlord of entering his "nesting" phase again. To which he threatened to take his Orichalcum away... and Harram could only silently stew as he would not risk losing her to a far more... charming one of his bretherin.

"Oh hello Harri-ham." She said in a cutesy voice as she was busy feeding Ferum some baby food. "Sorry I was talking with him." She just say softly. Harram just huffed softly. "Hey Harram... I want to deeply thank you for saving my life and that of Ferum. I don't know how to repay you."

"You have no need to repay me."

"Well I was thinking that I should be good to go back home soon." She hardly noticed Harram stop in his actions of getting his own food before he turned around with a bowl in hand just shoveling some food into his mouth. "I don't want to be a burden on you any more than I already have."

"What of your nightmares?"

"I'm a big girl Harram I'll have to sleep alone eventually." She chuckles as whenever he has been in the room at night she ends up usually in his bed or asleep on the plush chair in his work room just afraid to be alone... or when the night terrors come back how he grounds her. And perhaps he had grown content with the small warmth in his bed... he had never understood while Endion would bring mortals to his bed.

Not till he had her under him begging for him to fuck the xenos touch away... to replace the repulsive feelings... to help her feel clean again. "What if I don't want you to go." Harram said a little darkly just watching her blink and look at him owlishly.

"I... I..."

"Just stay for a little while longer... I can help you get things ready for you to return to, yes?"

"Oh... alright." She says softly smiling at him not realizing that the simple goalpost of 'being ready enough to leave' would keep moving further and further... and he doubts she will complain... too much.

[yandereforme]

Sorry for the long break, a lot of stuff been going down and my life is really hectic lately. I should be able to post again soon, for now I’m going to give you a vote on something that I wrote for the single mother singer verse.

[sensei-venus]

@gemini-sensei I love the idea of Demetri with Single Mom!Reader where they have a night in together.

Demetri basically tells everyone to leave him alone because he’s going on a date with Reader. He doesn’t want anyone texting him or interrupting their date.

Their date night is just him coming over and watching movies with Reader and her baby. He doesn’t want to put her though a ringer trying to find a sitter. So he just tells her to relax and let him handle pulling all the strings for their date. It’s dark out when he shows up at her place with a whole bunch of movies in hand. She’s all smiles when he shows up, baby in her arms when she opens the door.

They settle in for the night, making a huge pillow nest on the floor of the living room. Demetri helps by wheeling out the baby’s on the go bassinet to the living room for later. He doesn’t want to make her get up when the little one falls asleep.

Once they are ready he orders take out and while they wait Demetri sets up a movie. When the food comes they sit on the floor eating while the baby has tummy time next to them. They softly talk while eating, talking about school and the dojo. Demetri rants about how tedious training is at the dojo while Reader vents about schoolwork and her baby. By the end of it their both full and ready to watch a long movie.

Demetri ends up laying down with Reader, she lays on his chest. Her back against his front while he holds her. They both cuddle for a while before the baby gets whiny. The little one gets hungry so Reader just lifts her shirt up and fishes her tit out. She holds the baby upright and lets them feed. Reader and Demetri just keep watching the movie.

It’s just a sweet night for all three of them to be together.

[alwaysshallow]

single mom x price; PART 5

everyone knows it's you and him. even your mom.

AO3 VERSION

part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || part 4

Day starts with a fight and morning sex—and it’s only John’s fault.

Both things, of course. 

He wanted to stay the night. That was—still is—your problem, knowing how your mother is. Intrusive, without the basic sense of privacy (because why do you have to keep things away from your mom?), and the chances of her cornering John and asking about the most absurd things seemed inevitable. If you’d know him better, maybe staying with you would be actually an option. 

But.

It shouldn’t be a surprise for him that you wanted him out, that you threw your robe in hurry and grabbed him by his arm. Might be considered rude, but you needed some time for yourself only, and on top of that, you wanted to get yourself together before your son and mother will arrive. Normal.

Except, when John resists, reassuring you that he’s not gonna get in your way and stuff, it’s easier to burst at him with negative emotions than actually get yourself to work. You expect him to snap back at you, thinking that would be something you could use to kick him out (yelling at you in your own house; and after, you could apologize because with your behavior, you’d yell at yourself too), but he’s not doing any of that.

He takes your hands in his (annoyingly warm, compared to yours) and with a smile on his lips, he says something about handling things together and that you two have time. You’d love to argue with his logic, but when his eyes crinkle in the corners with such kindness, you can’t physically say anything negative.

You try, though. 

“She’ll be insufferable. You’re not going to hear the end of it, I just bet she’ll ask neighbors about you, and that’s not even the half of the things—”

“—I have nothin’ to hide,” he says, giving you a little kiss. Actually, he gives you one every single time you think of something that could possibly kick him out. He’s like a pest that knows how to hide before the trouble comes. Knows exactly how to take care of himself, so he’ll be in the winning position. How to pacify you. “Besides, it’s not like you have something to hide either, hm?”

Good question. Do you have something to hide?

As you think of it, you do have something.

A lot, actually.

For example, you do hide how much of an impact John has on you. How you don’t want him to let go of your fingers, when he intertwines them with you, no matter if it’s when you’re amongst other people, or in the moment like this one, when he sinks his cock into you, whispering sweet nothings right into your ear, grunting how good you are to him. It’s your moans that betray you, a cocky smile on his lips every time he hears them. Like he knows you’re trying to hide everything under the blanket of casual sex.

You hide how you like his roughness in bed, how he almost doesn’t listen to you, when he’s in his element. He makes you feel good; but his hands are on your throat the second you try to take the initiative. Circling a bit, making you remember where exactly your place is, so you won’t think of doing shit like this again.

It’s almost ironic how you like it and the most delicate behavior when you’re not having sex. When it’s time to “take care” of you, of the house, of everything because he feels your home is his, and his home is yours. How he feels responsible for you and for everything around you, and you didn’t even tell him once that you need him to do all of these things. It’s just him and his free will that tells him to do what he does.

You have to remind yourself that you aren’t anything with him, but when he behaves like that, when he says something about giving you another baby, you think you’ll die.

When he’s out of the bed, you pull the covers around yourself a little. A desperate try to have something to cover yourself because nowadays, it seems like he knows you inside out. “It’s casual. Between us,” you croak. There’s not much time before your mother will arrive with her grandson, but you have to state this, get it straight—your first time with John could be considered as an accident. Second? You knew what you were doing. 

“Mm.” It’s all he says. Or, mumbles, and you sigh.

“I’m serious. It’s casual, right?” You put the emphasis on the last word; you want to know if he gets the message you’re trying to send him. 

“Yeah. It’s casual,” he kisses the top of your head. “No promises and all.”

You have no doubt that he’s lying. The reluctant tone of his voice, eyes sparkling despite what you’ve just said, his whole personality is still warm. No sign of disappointment at your words whatsoever, just pure joy. Something other than you expected, to be completely honest.

You don’t have time to take care of this, even if it’s a possible problem, so you just sweep it under the rug. You’ll deal with it later.

(Probably never—or when there’s too much under the rug, and everything will be more stressful than it already is. Again, you don’t learn from your mistakes. But John’s here, so why would you even care?)

First, you deal with your mom and your son coming back. It’s the nice part of the visit, your kid practically falling right into your arms, laughing and telling you all the things that he did at his grandma’s. Even if he tells something that you know, there’s no point in telling him, not when he’s so excited.

You expect at some point that your mom will drive to her place, but when she turns off the car and you can hear the door closing, you wish you’d clean your house more.

She told you multiple times that she despises your house. Too small and too messy, she used to say when you invited her multiple times after she spent time with her grandson. So, naturally, invitations stopped, as well as her getting out of the car. A couple of times you had a coffee with her on your front porch, but that was all. 

Right now, she’s right in front of you, raising her eyebrow. Expecting.

“Well?” She looks at you. “Are you going to make your mother a tea?”

As much as you want to throw her out, you can’t—probably only because John is here, and you want to present yourself your absolute best to him—so with a sigh, you welcome her in. It’s already a win that she doesn’t comment on the state of your corridor or your kitchen, when you present her the tea options you have. You don’t miss how she uses disinfectant spray at the mug you give her.

What is weird, she’s at her best behavior. No rude comments, nothing that would represent her “old” self. She talks about your son, how well behaved he was (you give him a bowl of ice for that), about her retirement, and then she asks if there are interesting things happening in your life. “If there’s something to share”, and you almost roll your eyes at that small jab.

It’s not a surprise that she doesn’t listen to you as much, when you start talking about yourself. You see how her eyes are constantly looking for something. Or, someone, in that matter. You know she wants to see no one else but John, you know also that she came to your house only because of him. If it was a completely normal day, without the special someone answering your phone, you doubt she’d even stay on your property for more than five minutes.

You sigh, massaging your temples. It’s getting almost ridiculous, how she doesn’t speak about what she wants, but you can see the hints. Very obvious ones. “He’s outside, mom. Do you want to meet my neighbor?”

She acts like she’s the owner of the house, when she gets the lemonade for him because he works hard in your backyard. Tells him to call her “Susan”, not “Mrs”, as it makes her feel old, and for certain she is not old. She just had you young.

(And it’s not a lie—but it’s comical, how she acts.)

If you didn’t know her like you do, you’d probably assume she’s the best woman on the entire Earth. In the whole galaxy, maybe—she talks about how hard it was to raise you and your brother, how devastated she was when he moved to Italy and she hasn't heard from him to this day. 

She, of course, doesn’t mention how she constantly judged him, so he cut her off. To you, he’s the best brother ever that sends you cards from time to time.

It’s laughable how quick he earns her sympathy. Not only does she talk about herself, but wants to learn more about him, as she asks about everything she can think of. If the neighbors are nice, if you have been nice, if he needs anything. And that includes food, “because she knows how to make a wonderful pie” and it wouldn’t be a problem for her to make one in your kitchen. Those comments hit twice as it normally would, considering that she’s behaving like this towards complete stranger. You can’t recall when she was nice to someone that she didn’t know.

Not only that, she wasn’t even once like this to a man in your life. Constantly fed up with your choices, sometimes rightfully so, full of venom, she didn’t even think before she offended someone and kicked them out, one way or another.

Now? 

Now, she acts like he’s your husband, for God’s sake. Neglected one, to be precise.

John isn’t even your boyfriend. 

He isn’t anything that she could consider perpetual in your life, but you don’t need to tell her that. At least, not when she made a first proper conversation with you in the span of months.

But, he’s wonderful. Carefully listens to her, nods, when he acknowledges something, asks if she needs a second opinion when she complains about a hole in the wall that is bothering her. And, a final nail to the coffin, he has a monologue about finding a soulmate in the corrupted world. Your mother looks at him the whole time, and John looks at you; a small twinkle in his beautiful eyes, when you notice that.

You’re doomed.

"He's a good man," your mother tells you, when John and your son are outside, building a little playground near your garden.

It’s a nice view—to see how your neighbor explains something to your son, just for him to do it the right way. Maybe even the perfect view; straight out from the movies, where the son and his father have the best contact ever. Where the lady of the house prepares a meal for her two boys, smiling under the nose, just like you are right now.

John is the perfect picture man, but you’re not his wife, and your son isn’t his.

"Kid needs someone like that.” Your mother continues, giving you the look—look you know very well from your teenage years. Look that was coated with wisdom and experience, look that you despised because she always tried to win something with it. 

She tries to win something here too, as she coaxes you into the thought that normally you wouldn’t even speak out loud about, too embarrassed to say you actually were thinking of it. Of white picket fence, church on Sundays and building a playground for your boy after, while you’d complain about something so mundane, that Price would only laugh. 

It’s a vision you don’t want to speak about. Something that you dig deep down, so it won’t be the first thing on your mind when you wake up. Maybe it’s the consequence of you not having a man for so long, or his character, yet you can’t help but think.

You think your mother would put you and John under the altar within the five minutes, if she could do it. Knowing her and her friendships, she probably has some priest in her contacts. She almost did it with the previous guy you dated.

The only difference? Right now, maybe you’d say the famous “I do” right away.

“And, he's handsome too,” she murmurs, a bit of hope in her eyes. It makes you look at your neighbor again, head tilted to the side. For the first time in years, you feel eager to talk with your mother about something other than your son. Something that makes your fingers curl with excitement, not only about things that trouble you.

He is handsome, it’s something that you can’t disagree on. Extremely handsome. Everything you look at, you like—his chest, big arms, hands, thighs, his ass that you observe with caution when he picks up something. He’s perfect everywhere, and it’s almost unfair.

You hum, deep in thought. “So, you want him as your fifth husband, then?” you quip. She’s quick to smack your arm in an amused manner.

“I already have someone else. But, I could use a son in law from time to time. Maybe at least he is going to remember to visit his mother.”

Your eyes are still glued to your son and John, when you roll them at your mother’s comment. It’s not like she invited you ever, but she sure as hell likes to make a big fuss about you neglecting her. “When he’s gonna meet the annoying you, I’m sure that he’ll see my vision, mom.”

“Whatever you say, I’m still going to be at your wedding, my dear.” She points at you. It’s a promise and a threat in one, knowing how authoritative she is, but even with the thought of her ordering around, you can’t help but smile for a second. It’s a nice thought; to have John so close to you that you could actually marry this man. He was nothing but a stranger a while ago.

The rest of the visit goes smoothly. It’s lemonade, the store bought cookies and a lot of water from a water gun that Price bought for your son, but no one seems to mind it; and it’s perfect, enjoying the moment like this. Calm. And surprisingly, without any spite between your mother. 

When she is gone, it’s just you and John washing the dishes, gossiping about the visit—or it’s you telling him how amusing it was observing your mother as a completely different human being. He doesn’t want to believe you at first, but when you maniacally laugh and he receives a playful bump to his shoulder, he joins you in talking about her. 

“I just seem to be good with mothers,” he concludes, smiling from ear to ear. He moves a little bit closer, leaning into your personal space. Arm to arm. “Am I right?”

The intimate tone and close proximity makes you realize that the mother comment wasn’t entirely innocent. It brings a warm feeling into your cheeks, and like a robot, you start washing again, trying to occupy your mind with something other than the hotness of his body. So close to yours, almost like it was in the morning.

“You do have a talent,” you just murmur, more to yourself than to him. Thankfully, he lets that one slide.

He doesn’t stay long after this. “Work is calling,” he says, and then with a quick peck to your cheek, he’s gone, leaving you with your thoughts. 

And it’s better, considering you can quickly call your brother and tell him everything that happened today. Your mother’s behavior to John, how she acted towards you, what exactly she has said. Oliver interrupts your monologue a thousand times, saying something like “you’re lying,” or more sophisticated, “you’re shitting me,” while you laugh and add other things that have him shocked.

To be honest, you never would’ve guessed that your next conversation is going to include your mother so much and it wouldn’t be as hateful as normally.

“The next time you see him, you gotta show him to me.” Your brother points at you, sipping a glass of wine he poured himself a while ago. “He has to be charming as fuck to smitten our mother.”

“Next time I’ll see him. Mhm.” You nod. “We’ll see how it goes.”

It doesn’t. 

Well, in fact, you meet him multiple times; but no time is right to tell him “Hey, my brother would love to see you!” because he’ll think that you’re insane. You also don’t have a great angle to take a sneaky photo, and since you don’t want to be a creep, you have to wait.

Waiting doesn’t come easy, when you have him in mind probably 24/7—you try not to, really, but it’s complicated when you see him everywhere. In your town, when you’re out with your friends in another city. He’s also one of the important topics whenever you talk with your neighbors.

So it’s only fair that you look for him in the crowd, chatting in the meanwhile with your friend. He should have been here a long time ago, you know how he just loves talking with others, but for some reason, you don’t see him.

“He’s gonna come here, y’know.” Liam says, laughing a little at your surprised face. “What? It’s so obvious right now.”

“What is?”

“That you want him bad, right now. Not a good company, am I?” He raises his eyebrow, amused. “It’s not like I don’t get it. If I were you—”

“—I believe you took my place.” You hear.

And there he is, the main subject of the recent conversations with everyone. His flannel is impeccable, jeans with a few stains there and there, rightfully worn-out from all the years he has them. Small smile on his face, like he just didn’t growl in the young man’s face that he took his place. 

If it would’ve been anyone else, you’d straight up laugh in his face and tell the man to go somewhere that he’s wanted. 

But it’s John. A little bit pissed at Liam, but he’s gonna live through it; especially that the man stands up and apologizes, more amused than he’s supposed to be right now.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He looks at you, like you’re talking in a completely different language than him. He gets even more comfortable in his seat. “Liam is my friend.” 

“‘m not doin’ anything. He has another spot, closer to his brother.” He shrugs—and that’s not entirely false, considering that Liam takes the spot next to his brother. And his brother is visibly upset, as you can see. “He needs to know his place, so I’m just helping. ‘s all.”

Helping.

You don’t have time to laugh at that, as Janice starts the community meeting. There’s just a displeased look you can send into his direction, a look he decides to ignore or he takes it as something else, as his hand is on your knee soon enough. 

It’s hard to say if you’re overreacting or you’re right, but you feel like at least a couple of people are burning a hole into you and John. Curious what is exactly happening between you and the new neighbor—even if he’s not exactly new-new—because the two of you, fortunately or not, aren’t very social people. Gossiping? Maybe, but not about yourself. You’re more of an observer type, always being around the drama, not in the middle of it.

And you know there’s a lot of nosy people that would kill for at least a scrap of information. It’s not surprising that people talk. 

Even the blind would see what is happening between you and John, how possessive he got, compared to before. How he always curls an arm around you these days, thinking it would help to set the boundary between you and the others. It’s nothing scandalous, nothing that you should be ashamed of, but something guiding your relationship on the specific tracks.

You see it even after the meeting, when you talk with your neighbor about organizing your kid’s birthday. She’s an excellent planner, and you want your son’s birthday to be special—especially that he had a specific request this year, and you don’t want to fail him. 

“We can meet at dinner to talk about this,” she says, a kind smile on her face. “You know. To have the details, I’ll have my laptop ready too.”

You return the smile, as you get ready to leave. “Right.”

“You can bring John too. Sure as hell he’s gonna get along with my husband, so we’ll have a calm evening without them.” She laughs, and you suddenly stop in your tracks.

“John?”

“Yeah. You two grew closer, ain’t you?” She nudges you. “Can’t blame you. He’s a dream to catch, honestly.”

He is a dream to catch. 

And it slowly, but surely, creeps down at you how everyone sees John’s marks on you. It feels like he signed you, and everyone sees it over your head like a damn sign that is hard to miss.

[noisydelusionlove]

Also I need self indulgent fics and drabbles. So let me see single mom fics please OR previously abused fics and the guys find out.

I need jujutsu kaisen, call of duty, avengers, and criminal minds

[annaberunoyume]

Rf! Wally is in Reader's quarters to sip tea (search me why) and suddenly, 18-months-old Reader's daughter enters the room, babbling. Reader's granny says that the child wanted to see Mommy too badly. Blushing a little, Reader says: " Mr. Darling Sir, please allow me to introduce (Daughter's Name)." The daughter, inexplicably makes a bee line for Wally. Clearly interested with a warm smile. Wally sighs and sits her on his lap, looking away grumpily. The daughter coos and play with his ponytail. "Stop that.", he mutters. The daughter of course does not stop. He looks at her with an annoyed "Hmm?". The daughter recoils a little, looking down at her fists, then offers a smile for a peace offering. Wally does an expression looking like half-unsure, half-grumpy, half- almost smiling. And reader holds these words back: "She likes you."