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waughymommy · 2 months

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My first 'mature' ABDL story. It's about a husband and a wife who have a problem. I hope to write a lot more after this, so I hope you like it!

Finding Mommy

'This isn't working.'

The statement didn't come as a shock to Andrew. He knew it wasn't working. But he didn't want to look like he didn't care, so he persued it, already feeling resigned and bitter about the discussion's inevitable conclusion.

'What isn't?' he asked, softly.

'This. This whole...baby thing. I can't do it,' his wife, Tammy, waved her hand in his direction. He winced, glancing down at his apparel. A slightly soggy diaper, and a t-shirt. He'd been wearing the same thing to bed every so often for a couple months now. His wife had initially chuckled and teased him playfully, but lately...lately the playful teasing had stopped. She wouldn't remark on his padded state, except if the diaper got too close to her. 'The tapes scratch my skin,' she'd explain, but Andrew suspected it was something else.

She went on.

'I'm sorry. I thought I could. I know you really want this. But I can't do it. I can't...pretend you're a baby. The diapers were one thing...but...I can't do that,' she looked away, as if preparing herself to say something upsetting. 'You know...when you first told me...you made it sound...sound like a sex thing...I don't mind that. I don't even mind...using them, sometimes...like...like before...you know?'

She trailed off, looking at Andrew, a pained expression on her face. Andrew's mind flashed back to when he'd first told her, almost a year and a half ago. How she'd been so...accepting.

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

'Are these ones good?' Tammy asked, as she patted the package. 'I wanted to make sure I got good ones...I ordered these a few weeks after you told me...they just arrived on Monday.'

Andrew glanced at the large box of diapers, feeling a stirring of excitement at the fact that she'd bought so many...a whole case, in fact. God, what was she planning? Was this going to become a regular occurence? Was she going to keep him in diapers, for the whole day? Or wear herself? His head swam at the possibilities.

'I...uh...what are they?' he asked, licking his lips, nervously.

'Abena?' Tammy replied, scrunching up her face, trying to recall something. 'I...Abena X-plus? They had so many different names, but I think these are the good ones. Abri-form L4...The large ones...I wasn't sure what size we'd need...Oh.'

She suddenly stopped, pausing, as if worried about what she was going to say next. She reached into her (rather mysterious, to Andrew, at least) handbag, rummaging around. Andrew waited patiently for her to speak, his eyes darting back and forth between her and the large box on the bed. Abena X-plus was sure to be a world away from what he'd tried so far. He knew these were premium diapers. He felt himself jolt back to reality as Tammy started talking again.

'I bought...these...as well...'

Another package slid onto the bed, only this time it wasn't boxed or freshly delivered. It was clearly a packet of diapers. A packet of OPEN diapers.

'On the site I got the...uh...Abenas from, they were selling purple ones, too,' she said, nervously. 'So...I got some of those, in a smaller size...'

Andrew's mind could have exploded at that moment. Tammy stood up from the bed, an audible crinkling coming from her pyjama bottoms. Andrew couldn't believe he hadn't noticed the bulge of her diaper before, but he certainly noticed now. He stared at her rump almost hungrily as she turned sideways, looking coyly at him, grabbing the edge of her pyjama top and starting to lift it, revealing the purple waistband of the diaper.

Andrew stepped forwards, reaching out. His hand ran over her bottom, slipping off her trousers, until she was standing in just a diaper and a shirt. He patted the material of padding, pulling her close to him, hand trailing around and around the crinkly undergarment, feeling it, feeling /her/ through it.

'I...I guess you like it?' Tammy asked, feeling a little awkward. Andrew made a noise halfway between a sigh and a groan.

'Yes,' he replied, simply.

'Would you like to wear one, too?' she asked, wriggling her bottom against his crotch, making him tense a little.

'Y...yes...' he gasped, hardly believing what was happening...

'Then lay down on the bed for me...'

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

That night had been amazing. Andrew couldn't believe his luck. They'd spent the whole evening in diapers, exploring and experimenting. It felt like his wildest fantasies had come true. This beautiful woman, his future wife (he'd chosen to tell her a little while after they got engaged), was willing to wear and use diapers for him. He couldn't believe it.

She seemed almost as eager as him, that evening. She did everything he'd ever fantasized about, sexually. She wet. She asked for a change. She changed him...they even had...well. Andrew wasn't sure what to call it. Lots of rubbing. Wet, squishy diapers pressing together, then pulled aside for the 'main event'. Was that diaper sex? He supposed so. It was wonderful, whatever it was.

He wondered if what happened next had been a turning point. At the end of the evening, when they were snuggled in bed, she'd sighed contentedly and lazily rolled out of bed.

'Be right back, hun,' she told him huskily, slipping out of the room in an instant.

She'd returned, after a couple minutes, undiapered, her bottoms now back on. She'd smiled and gotten back into bed with him.

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

'Why did you take it off?' Andrew asked, a little confused. 'Didn't you like it?'

Tammy dodged the question, but sounded just as confused as Andrew. 'Well...we're done now, aren't we? I'm really tired...I don't think you're up to going again, even I wasn't...'

She paused, sidling up to him in the bed, absent-mindedly flattening the covers over her. 'Why haven't you taken yours off?' she asked, finally.

'I...Well. I just...thought I'd like to keep it on. That's...okay, right?'

A few moments ago, he'd been certain it would be. It seemed silly even to ask. But now he wasn't so sure.

'Oh. Um. Sure,' Tammy replied, smiling again. 'I love you.'

She kissed him, turning away, and Andrew slipped his arms around her from behind, murmuring 'I love you, too' into her neck.

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

'That was okay. It made me feel...sexy. I loved that I could have that effect on you. It made me feel good, too,' she thought for a moment. 'I felt like your partner, then. I felt like I was desirable, sexually, like...like this was a special secret, between us. Something for the bedroom, something kinky and fun. I didn't care that it was nappies, I knew people had fetishes...but this isn't just a fetish, is it?'

Andrew swallowed as she fixed him with a steely gaze.

'Is it, Andrew?'

He shook his head 'no'. It was more than that. He wished he'd explained before. He thought she'd understood.

'You...want to be a baby, don't you?'

Andrew's mouth opened in protest.

'No! I mean...not all the ti-'

Tammy raised a hand, cutting him off.

'I know. Not all the time. Not most of the time. Not forever. Just occasionally, right? Like when I tried before...but for real?'

Andrew swallowed and nodded again. He remembered the brief times she'd tried to play 'Mommy'.

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'Uh...crawl to me...come here, you naughty little baby...'

Tammy's voice was strained, as she patted the top of her legs, calling Andrew over.

Meanwhile, Andrew himself was feeling...well. He wasn't sure exactly.

There was something a little exciting about the humiliation his wife was bringing to this role. He found something arousing about how she threatened to spank him, how she called him names and teased him. It felt, well, /naughty/, and he decided he sort of liked that. It was very erotic.

But...he wasn't looking for this to be erotic. Something was wrong. He didn't feel like a baby; he felt like a naughty boy being punished. He didn't feel safe and looked after. He felt chastised and a little ashamed. He felt unspeakably adult, despite the baby bonnet and mittens he was wearing. Instead of an innocent little baby, he was some weird guy, crawling around, pretending to be an infant, calling his wife 'Mommy'.

'Crawl to me!' Tammy repeated.

Andrew sighed, starting to move.

'Yes, Mommy...'

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

'I thought that was really weird, but you know...' Tammy shrugged. 'I tried. For you. I thought you wanted that. I thought it was a sex thing still.'

Andrew shuffled in the bed, feeling uncomfortable. He wished he hadn't worn to bed, now. He'd felt a pang when he'd gone to pad up; his case of abenas was nearly empty; her package of molicares was two thirds full. He hadn't expected her to use them of her own volition, but it was a reminder of just how infrequently she'd worn, for him or otherwise.

'Then,' Tammy continued. 'Then you told me that wasn't what you wanted, either. You wanted it to be more...innocent...more 'snuggly'.' That last word was almost a snarl, and Andrew felt himself flinch.

'So I tried that, too. But I couldn't do it...I mean...' she sighed, pushing the hair back out of her eyes, sighing in frustration. 'Remember what I told you when you told me this stuff?'

Andrew nodded.

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

'Aren't I...doing enough?' Tammy asked, a look of confusion on her face.

'No! No, it's not that...it's more that you're doing it the wrong way...' Andrew immediately regretted his words, seeing his wife's expression turn sour.

'No! I mean...I...I think maybe I didn't really explain what I want, not properly. It's not just the baby stuff, dressing up and that...I want...' he swallowed, hesitant.

'Well...I want it to be more...um...innocent? Like...like...I was a rea...' he stopped himself. 'Like, more snuggly? You know? Maybe some...cuddles...at bedt- at night time...I'd like to be, um...held...sometimes...'

Tammy stared at him as if he had just sprouted a third head.

'So...you want me to be like your real mother?'

'No!'

'As if you were a real baby, right?'

'I...No...I mean...it's not like you're my real mother...I...I just want you to...'

'To what? Look after you? Like an infant?' Tammy demanded, her voice even.

'I...I...in a way...yes...I just don't want it to always be so...sexual...'

Tammy sighed. There was a silence before she finally spoke.

'Okay. Look. This is pretty weird to me. I'm not comfortable with it. But I love you, Andrew. I always will,' she looked up as she spoke, taking Andrew's hand in her own. 'But I don't know how to deal with this. I don't think I can...do that. I'm sorry.'

'Oh.' replied Andrew, simply. He hated himself at that moment. If he'd been honest from the beginning, maybe none of this would have happened.

'But,' Tammy started, nibbling her lip. 'BUT. I'd like to be okay with it. So...You can do something...something small...I don't know, you could wear a nappy to bed. And I'll try to get more comfy with the idea.'

Andrew's heart leapt. Everything was going to be okay.

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

Andrew's heart sank. Everything was going wrong.

But Tammy wasn't done yet...

'I tried so hard to...to accept this. I started off like...like it was no big deal, remember? I used to tease you and you'd smile and for a bit, I thought maybe I could be okay with it. But then, then you started to...I don't know. Resent me? You pulled away. It wasn't enough for you. And maybe I pulled away, too. It hurt to see you wanting me to give you something I wouldn't, couldn't give you. It hurt to see you shut me out because I couldn't understand. So...now we're here...'

'Where is here?' Andrew said, asking, for the second time that night, a question which he really didn't feel he needed to ask, but if he didn't ask it, he knew it would appear he didn't care.

'Here? Here is...my husband wants to be treated like a baby...NON sexually...and I can't cope with it,’ she paused, seemingly thinking hard about something. Her mouth opened again, this time drawing out the sound of one little word, waiting for a statement to follow it.

‘So….’

Andrew swallowed. He waited for the crushing blow. He didn’t know what she would say, but he could guess.

‘So you can’t wear diapers anymore around me…’

‘So I don’t want diapers in the house anymore…’

‘So I don’t love him anymore….’

‘So I /can’t/ love him anymore, and I think we need to get a divorce…’

He knew whatever was said next would change their relationship forever. He was about to lose something, he didn’t know what exactly, but he also knew life would be a lot harder without him. He looked up at her with grim determination, resigned to whatever awful things came out of her mouth next.

‘So…’ she began again, and Andrew felt himself stiffen, worry making his heart pound.

‘So I think we need to find him…find you…someone who can.’

Andrew gawped at her. That wasn’t what he’d been expecting at all. What was she saying? Was she leaving him? She must be… she was just being the wonderful woman she always had been, willing to help him find a more ‘appropriate’ mate, someone who’d be happy to indulge him. He felt his eyes sting a little as tears formed, before, in the silence, another possibility occurred to him.

She’d been watching him closely, and seemed to notice as a flash of something, hope, realization maybe, passed across his face. He addressed her again, voice shaky.

‘Do you mea-‘ he was cut off abruptly.

‘I mean, just someone to do that for you, you know?’ Tammy explained, her voice emphasizing the word ‘that’ in a way that made it clear she found ‘that’ distasteful. ‘I…no sex. I’m not leaving you. I love you, I always will, I think. I hope. I just…I don’t know what to do. I’m scared, Andrew. And…I know this is so, so important to you. I see it, Andy, I see how much you want it…’

It’s her turn to look scared now, her eyes filled with tears, rolling freely down her cheeks. She’s shivering, but it’s not cold. Wordlessly, Andrew embraced her, his own manly sob joining her small, squeaking ones, her voice cracking as she tried to go on.

‘I…I don’t want to lose you…I’m…I wanted so badly to m…make you happy, but I CAN’T. I’m a horrible, awful wife. I’m a fuck-up. I…I don’t know why you married me!’ she howls, throwing herself into Andrew’s chest, his arms soothing her, rubbing her back, shh-ing her like you would a crying child. A tiny smile formed on his lips for a moment, as he considered the role reversal.

But it was soon replaced by another kind of smile, the kind that happens when you realize maybe you’re not alone, that your partner is just as afraid of what’s happening as you. That he or she is afraid of the exact same things. It was a tearful, almost regret-filled smile.

‘If only we’d talked about this sooner…’

He shook his head, clearing his mind. Right now, he had to help Tammy feel better.

‘Ohh…oh hun…’ he said, his own voice wavering, fighting back another hard sob. ‘Shhh… you know, I’ve been worried about the same thing. I thought I was an awful husband. I wondered why you wanted to be with me. I didn’t understand. I thought…just now, you were going to leave me…’

Tammy jerked back, head snapping upwards to look at him, a look of something…hurt, Andrew decides. Hurt he’d think she would do that. Her face pink and flushed, her cheeks damp with too many tears.

‘Never,’ She retorted, instantly, and then she was back in his arms, crying anew. ‘Never…I…I NEVER want to lose you…’

Andrew smiled again, sighing, a little in relief. Of course, given her earlier outburst, he already knew that…but it was lovely to have confirmation.

‘I know Tam, I really do. Now, at least. But I want to let you know, I love you too. I don’t think you’re an awful wife…you’ve been so understanding. Please, don’t think I don’t love you, don’t think I resent you, or hate you or think ANYTHING bad about you, after you’ve tried so hard to fulfill me and my selfish, perverted desires.’

He felt her shaking her head, disagreeing, with the part about her trying so hard, or the part about his desires being perverted, or both, or something else…he wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter at that moment.

‘So I’m just telling you, no matter what, I’ll love you. I’d have loved you even if you said I could never wear another diaper. I’d have loved you even if you told me you’d stopped loving me. I don’t think I’d be able to stop myself…’

Tammy’s cheeks turned a little pinker, her sobs dying down.

‘Are you sure?’ she asks, not moving to look at him.

‘Positive,’ he says, more confident now. ‘Do you feel better now?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you ready to talk about…it?’

‘…Yes.’

There was a pause as Tammy pulled away, slowly, reluctantly, so she could look at him. She smiled, her eyes wandering over him, as if appreciating him newly. When she reached the diaper her expression clouded, eyes flitting back up to his, as if just remembering they had something else to discuss now.

‘So…do you mean it?’ Andrew asked, anxiously.

‘Yes.’

He looked unconvinced, so Tammy continued.

‘I don’t have a problem with it. I really don’t. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, an-‘

‘Why didn’t you ask me before?’

‘Wh-what?’

‘Why didn’t you ask me before?’ Andrew repeated, his tone not demanding or forceful, but genuinely curious.

‘I…well…’ Tammy looked away, embarrassed. ‘I was scared…’

‘Why?’

‘Well…first I was worried you’d say no, because she wouldn’t be me, and you wouldn’t be able to feel anything with her. And if you said no, I’d be out of options. I don’t know what would h-happen if…’ her voice broke again, eyes swimming with tears. Andrew frowned slightly.

‘What else?’

‘I was afraid if you said yes, you would love her...too much. You’d leave me. Because you don’t love me at all, not anymore…how could you? I mean-‘

Andrew squeezed her hand suddenly, shaking his head, stopping her from working herself up again.

‘Not true, love. I want you. I love you. I’m not going to replace you. Even if I agree to this, I promise,nobody’ll never replace you…are you sure you’re okay with this?’

Tammy nodded.

‘Yes.’

‘What…sort of things would she, uh, do?’

‘I don’t know,’ Tammy admitted, seeming to shrink back a little. ‘I mean…change you? Give you bottles…pacifiers…play with you like a real baby.’

Andrew felt his heart flutter twice; once at the prospect of a genuine Mommy in his life, after so long… and once at the sudden feeling of utter love for Tammy that swept over him. ‘The ideal woman…’ he thought, snorting somewhere inside his head at how corny that was.

‘Would I be allowed to call her Mo…’ Andrew blushed, dropping his voice to a whisper.

‘Mommy?’ he finished, waiting.

‘Yes. Of course. I mean, that’s what you want, right? A Mommy? For the…the baby inside you? Just no sexual stuff. Please. I need that from you.’

Andrew nodded unhesitatingly. The thought of having sex with another woman (beyond occasional fantasies) had never even crossed his mind. He was missing an emotional, platonic, maternal bond, not a passionate sexual one.

They both smiled a moment, almost in triumph. They were still together. This might just work out.

‘So…’ Tammy started, grinning now.

‘So…’ Repeated Andrew, a playful smirk joining hers. ‘What do we do now?’

‘Now? Now we sleep. I’m so tired. I just want to be held. I’m so…worn out…’ she leant forwards again, nuzzling his chest, smiling softly. She sighed, a long, happy sigh, as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

‘Okay…do…you want me to go change before we-‘

‘No. I don’t want you to leave.’

Her tone was demanding that time, and Andrew chuckled. She wriggled, pulling the covers out from under them both, as they each shuffled and worked to lie down, his arms still wrapped around her. Their heads reaching the pillows, Tammy smiled wearily, shifting away a little, finding her husband’s body too warm for comfort. He leaned forwards and kissed her on the forehead.

‘Goodnight Tammy…’

‘Goodnight…’ she hesitated, wondering if she was really going to say this, worrying he’d take it the wrong way. She stopped hesitating.

‘Baby,’ she added, one hand slipping down and squeezing the soggy bulge of his diaper. She watched his face for a reaction.

Andrew blushed a little as she withdrew her hand.

It was a simple, loving gesture. A show of acceptance.

It hadn’t meant anything else. She wasn’t going to baby him. She didn’t see him that way. She didn’t want to be ‘Mommy’. She was his wife, and she was just showing how much she cared, how safe he was with her, how much she truly wanted him to be happy, even in this.

At that moment, that was all that Andrew needed.

He lifted his hand to squeeze her retreating one, smiling.

‘Thanks,’ he said, earnestly.

With that, she sighed slightly and turned around, snuggling into him backwards. Tomorrow, she thought, was sure to be a very interesting day.

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luffyvace · 2 months

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Saiki k x Reader headcanons

This is on my anime’s I write for list and I haven’t written for it yet so I wanted to show what I can do! 😉

Enjoy!! I Love Saiki, Aren and Aiura 💗💜💛

Okay let’s face it

your regular.

average.

literally. (probably) like you are irl

doesn’t it feel good to have reader be accurate to how you are for once?

and that your fav would genuinely be into that and you know it?!

like you don’t have to pretend or imagine to be this cool, physically strong person your not for once?? Just me?

idk but it sure is refreshing

especially since it’s canon with saiki after he practically stalked that one dude

anyway onto the headcanons

I wanna start off by saying Saiki’s love languages are gift giving and quality time

the best part about gift giving is he could just leave it on your desk or night stand and watch your reaction from afar

they’re always very thoughtful since he can read your mind :) which is a plus!

and as for quality time he finds it quite peaceful to be around someone who’s not such a weirdo for once

and even if you are one, for some reason he can tolerate your strange behavior way better than he can your friends 😂

it’s always fun to play that one video game he has together

and it’s practically a requirement that every saiki k hcs have—you two will eat coffee jelly together

he would at least want you to try it and if you don’t like it’s that’s fine more for him

He’ll just get you whatever sweet, savory or spicy food you like so you can both enjoy something (and someone 💋) you love together!~

his mother absolutely adores you and is always pestering Saiki about when you’ll be back again

his dad thinks your a “good kid” (🗿) (like every dad says 😭)

Saiki loves to go on walks together

What he doesn’t like is when something chaotic happens to ruin it

but that’s besides the point—he loves to walk to school together!

nothing like getting up every day and seeing your lover. Going on a romantic walk too?*chefs kiss* 💋👩‍🍳

will try to indulge in your interests and hobbies to keep you happy

you may or may not be a introvert like him

if you aren’t he’ll go out and hang out with friends even if that’s outside of his comfort zone for you

but do remember to cut him some slack if he doesn’t want to or wants to go home early <3

and if your an introvert? Wonderful!

99.99% of dates are spent at either of your rooms (not just houses cuz parents are annoying)

or at that one shop that sells the coffee jelly he likes

only if you agree of course

if you prefer something even more private that’s just fine with him!

he only ever wants some peace anyway

and you simply never disturb that, to which he very much appreciates

if your a touchy-feely typa peep, please keep it to a minimum? Especially in public??

he’s already not really a physical touch person the way a perceive it

not that he hates it or anything

he just is more comfy without it when unnecessary

at least in public

he already will probably want to keep your relationship a secret/private for as long as possible

(he knows it’ll get out eventually by some misfortune event 🤦‍♀️)

but since they find out anyway here’s they’re reactions!

Honestly Nendo probably won’t realize your dating until you explicitly say so

either that or he’ll be the first one to know and just be like ‘oh, i thought everyone knew that’

Aren really doesn’t mind and thinks your relationship is sweet

Hairo supports wholeheartedly- maybe a little too much 😅💗

Chiyo is lowkey jealous you both got into a relationship before her but she’s happy

Torisuka is MAD jealous of Saiki but deep inside he’s still happy for you two

Kaido is also a tad jealous because he knows he would practically never find a girl his mom would accept but otherwise he pretty much supports 😭💕

Mera just uses your dates to get some free food (JOKING) she thinks you guys are cute

Saiko (Teruhashi’s brother) would be happy Saiki finally stopped desperately chasing his sister and learned his place (it’s the other way around bro 😑)

Uryoku (the magician dude) would be like ‘oh you dating someone master? Great! Now I need help for my upcoming show-“

Aiura immediately tests to see if you two are compatible and how long you’ll be together

turns out you are!! And you two stay together ♡

she thinks that’s adorable and will do anything for your relationship

will tear anyone who tries to split you apart a new one (they were just trying to say hi)

Aiura is the most supportive of your relationship

btw here we’re going with Saiki is her platonic soulmate instead (she prob already is)

Kusuke (Saiki’s brother) is very much so interested in the person his brother has fallen in love with

he will observe you and ask you lots of questions once he meets you

which I’m telling you Saiki tried so hard to make sure you never would.

what happened?

his mom happened.

”Kusuo! He’s your brother! He should get to meet your partner!”

now Teruhashi I had to save for last..

her reaction depends

if she still loves Saiki she tries to befriend you while turning on the charm with Saiki

her plan is to befriend you and basically make you go ‘oh! You like Saiki? Well I guess I’ll back off then since were friends”

and finally have Saiki go ‘oh wow’ and fall in love with her

otherwise if she doesn’t love him, moves on or whatever the case may be..

she probably doesn’t care much for your relationship unless your friends

i mean she’s kinda like that to anyone she isn’t friends with right?

In other news

Your friends def mess up your dates unintentionally

poor Saiki- since he’s usually the one to plan them

nothing too extravagant- usually just out for food..BUT STILL!

They always tag along and become 3rd, 4th and sometimes 5th wheels or more! 😀

on the bright side-

at some point in the relationship you get to call him Kusuo and it’s a big step for you two! 💖

”well, I guess we’ve been dating long enough right? You can just call me Kusuo..”

I wanna write for the disastrous life of Saiki k (mob psycho 100 and black butler as well) more in the future! So send in requests!

Truly hope you enjoyed loves~

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henrioo · 11 months

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✦ ── SOMEONE WHO WANTS YOU: WHITEBEARD CREW

Relationships: Platonic! WhiteBeard Crew x Child! Reader, Platonic! Edward Newgate x Child! Reader, Platonic! Marco x Child! Reader, Platonic! Thatch x Gn! Reader, Platonic! Ace x Gn! Reader, Platonic! Izo x Child! Reader

Warnings: Mention of child abuse

Synopsis: What to do when no one in this world wants you? And what to do when for the first time you find someone who wants you?

Word count: 1,9k

Notes: This is my first imagine after a while without writing so I might be a bit rusty, I apologize for the translation English is not my main language. I'm going to apologize for the pronouns, the idea is to write with a neutral reader but how I translate the fics is difficult, since the neutral in Portuguese and English are different. I ask that you forgive me and read Imagining the pronouns that feel most comfortable

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ• ────── ✦ ────── •

His life was difficult from the beginning, his mother was the lover of a married boy from the small island where he lived, so when he found out that he had impregnated his mistress, he didn't like to become aggressive and abandon her. Your mom could have handled that awful situation in any number of ways, but she decided that blaming you for screwing up her life was the best way to go, so when you were born expecting to be welcomed with open arms and comfort, you were met with stares. disgust and disgust.

Of course, you weren't at fault, you were just a child like any other, pure and sinless. At first your mother wasn't really bad, as long as you didn't cry and cuddle her things would be fine. But as you grew up and became more like your biological father, something inside her awakened. A terrible fury awoke. It was then that the abuses prompted.

You weren't exactly rich, but soon she started to lose control and spend all her money on gambling, she started stealing both meals and even selling her clothes or toys to get more money. When you reached the age of twelve, it was clear from your appearance the suffering life you had had, your old and dirty clothes, your hair and skin not cared for, your eyes without hope and life. You're living in a world that made it clear it didn't want you, so life seemed meaningless.

So you ran away. Of course, your "mother" didn't mind going after you, maybe for her it was even better that the focus of all her anger finally disappeared. You ran as far as your legs could take you, farther than the small town they lived in. It was clear that you couldn't leave the island being so young and alone, so all you could do was run to a neighboring town that was further away from where you were born. At least there you could guarantee that you would be safe and far enough away from your former guardian.

It wasn't easy, you were small and fragile, you had to live off the pity of others and steal food in most cases. The adults were cruel and some even attacked you when they saw you stealing, throwing stones or leftover rotten food. Don't you think the people who want to help you all had their own problems, who would want a stupid kid to support? You knew that nobody wanted you, not your mother, not your father, not even those adults in the new city. You were just a burden. That's what you believed.

Then one day you saw the market getting more crowded, lots of unknown people were walking around and the traders looked both happy and worried at the same time, you weren't curious why. Getting ready for another day you bumped into a young man, the trick was simple: pretend to have accidentally bumped into someone and steal their wallet quickly. You were already getting better as the months went by, but just as you turned to run towards the alleys, a hand firmly gripped your wrist and you were forced to stay put.

"Easy there little one, you have faster em-yoi" The yellow haired guy said laughing, how did he realize that you stole his wallet? Desperation began to course through his veins and his stomach twisted at the thought of the motivation he could receive.

"What do you have there, Marco?" Another man approached, he had a long chestnut color and was carrying several bags. Next to him was another younger boy, shirtless and with black hair.

"What is it, a child?" The black haired one asked looking at you, he looked curious and confused.

"A petty thief, I guess" Marco, you seemed to understand, said and then took back the small bag of coins from your hand. You instinctively started pulling your arm hard as the tears started to flow, you didn't want to stand there and find out what your motivation for stealing was.

"What?! I can't believe you were stolen by a child!" The black-haired one spoke laughing, for him everything seemed like a big joke.

"I didn't get robbed, Ace-yoi" Marco corrected "I caught him before they could get away" He then turned to you, his eyes were serious though not causing the anger and disgust you were used to seeing. "Aren't you going to explain yourself? Small-yoi" He chuckled.

"Poor thing, he must be scared with that scowl on his face... Don't talk to him, talk to me, yes?" The man with the topknot placed the bags on the floor as he knelt down to be at your height, he reached out with his arm as if he was going to catch you. Scared, you simply screamed while using your legs that were loose to defend yourself, the problem was that you hit the guy square in the face.

"Thatch!" Marco and Ace screamed together and quickly his arm was released as both men turned to help their friend who was on his ass on the ground and holding his nose that was now bleeding.

You didn't wait another second before running through the crowd at te market. You heard voices shouting behind you but didn't turn around to find out if they were following you. When you were far from the city, deep in the woods, and your feet were already hurting, you knew you had run enough. You threw yourself against a tree while catching your breath, you had run too far and you hadn't even been able to eat, so now you were tired and hungry.

Not having the courage to go back to the market and have the chance to meet the same men and receive even worse punishment, you decided to curl up in the grass and get some sleep. Maybe at night you could go back and try to eat leftovers from the restaurants, it wasn't worth the risk of getting hurt if you went back too soon. So closing your eyes you let the light breeze and ambient heat settle you as they carried you off to dreamland.

Something was wrong. You were sure of that when you woke up with a jump, you frantically looked around, there didn't seem to be anything wrong, but your whole body said otherwise. You got up and started running while looking back trying to figure out if you were being followed. You could hear the sea and must have been starting to get closer to shore when you hit something firm and landed on your butt.

You screamed in pain and looked up in confusion, that's when you saw… A giant! You had never seen someone so big and immediately your eyes widened in shock as you thought how it was possible for someone to be so big. He had his hair tied back in a headband and wore a nice outfit but he was definitely not an ordinary person, in the background you could see a huge ship and several people walking with boxes and bags, both inside and outside.

"Then that's it?" He spoke, not to you, but to some men beside you.

"Look, we were going to look for you and you came running towards us!" Ace you recognized said excitedly "You gotta show me that kick again shorty, Thatch is still pissed off that you broke his nose!" Then he burst out laughing.

"Don't laugh about it" A man with long hair and strange traditional clothing spoke with some disappointment. He wore makeup and was extremely handsome. "Isn't this child too small?" He said looking at you.

"I told you he was tiny" Marco shrugged "But he had more quick ones to rob me in the market today, I thought it would get your attention, oyaji-yoi" He said looking at the huge man.

"Hm… let's see" the man raised his hand towards you and you immediately tried to run, but he was faster by grabbing your shirt from behind and pulling you off the ground. You fit in the palm of the man's hand and now too far off the ground you couldn't run away. "So, brat, what's your name?"

You looked around desperately, who were these people and why were they so interested in you? You initially thought they just wanted to punish you for stealing one of the members, but now your head was spinning and you thought you could be sold into slavery. You didn't want that! Then your body reacted and you bit down with all your strength on the man's palm, of course that didn't seem to have any effect, the only thing that changed was the man's face, which formed an irritated frown.

Tears were already starting to flow and you curled into a ball while thinking what they would do to you... That's when everyone started laughing, your face burned in embarrassment as you looked at everyone without understanding anything.

"They has grit, I like that!" The man holding you would laugh like he heard the best joke in the world.

"I told you" Marco laughed "When he realizes he's in an ugly situation he reacts, smart brat…"

The tall man placed you on the ground and knelt down to appear less threatening, the others beside him were smiling as if everything was going extremely well. You didn't understand exactly what was going on, but you were too scared to run away, so you just stood there waiting for someone to explain the situation.

"Let's try again, what's your name brat?" He said and now he looked a little less intimidating, although his face was still serious.

"(Y/n)" you said in a low voice, afraid to answer, you didn't know what they wanted with you.

"Hm… A good name for a little fighter… Tell me, are you alone?" You shyly nod your head "Don't you have a family?" Again you wave with a certain fear, then the man opens a gentle smile while moving his hand to lightly caress your hair "So come be my son, become part of my family, brat! You have fighter blood and don't give up easily , I like that" He chuckled again.

Did you look at him confused, son? What was this man saying? "You… You're not going to sell me into slavery?" You asked shyly, the men around made a little shocked face and looked really offended by your question.

"Slave? We are pirates but we still have morals!" The long haired man spoke.

"Yes, you don'twhat do you need to worry about, no one here is going to sell you or hurt you-yoi" Marco smiled patting him on the head "We just want you to be part of the family."

"Do you want?" His eyes glistened with newfound hope, were you really listening to that? Did anyone want you? "Do you want me? Really?"

The men seemed to understand their predicament, their gazes becoming softer and their smiles gentler.

"Yes, I want you as my son" The huge man said "My name is Edward Newgate and from today you are part of our family, brat, so don't worry about anything anymore, understood?"

You nodded as you felt tears welling up, for the first time being from joy. You were now wanted, you were now part of a family, with a father, brothers and you would have people wanting and loving you. You finally understood what this love you saw on the streets was and you were happy.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ• ────── ✦ ────── •

Notes: I hope you enjoyed it, if you can tell me what you think I'll really appreciate it, it's my first story after a lockdown so I'm a little unsure, you can ask for a story too!

#one piece x reader #imagines #writing #one piece x you #one piece #onepiece #whitebeard crew #whitebeard pirates #whitebeard x reader #whitebeard one piece #marco the phoenix #marco the pineapple #portgas ace x you #portgas d ace #portgas ace x reader #anime imagines

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summerlycoris · 5 months

Text

Puhpandas had a great idea recently (glitchtrapped Tony.) And I wanted to take a stab at the concept.

More specifically at the "What happens after." bit. Hint- Tony gets lost and ends up back near his old house.

Under a readmore because it could be triggering if you've been physically assaulted before. There's feelings in this that could touch on nerves.

********

He'd traced his steps, along a familiar road. Now he stood on the street, facing his old house. He felt all dazed, and confused.

Why?

Everything hurt- his back, his stomach, his neck, his arms. And something bad had happened to him. His head ached, but not nearly as much as his heart ached.

'... Because it's not my home, it's their home, and I'm wanted no more…'

He couldn't go home. Because it wasn't his home anymore. It was someone else's now. He couldn't remember how to get to his Grandma's from here. He couldn't remember a lot of things.

(He didn't want to remember.)

What had happened? He'd gone to the pizzaplex? Gregory had been there?

Did someone jump me on the way home?

He knew what really happened. But he couldn't believe it- didn't believe it- it hurt too much- He could feel something poking around inside his mind. Something he'd been trying to ignore.

He didn't cry. Or sob. He just hurt.

Get out of my head get out of my head get out of my head-

He was on the swings suddenly, in the park that sat down between their street, and the next street over. He hummed a song absent-mindedly. One of those old songs that Grandma would play on her old record player. A song that his Mom sometimes sang along to.

I'm missing time? Did I got abducted by aliens?

Ellis would laugh with him about it next week, when they'd meet up at school again.

They used to play here a lot, when they were in elementary school together. Pretending the playground was a pirate ship. That the floor was a crocodile infested river- so you'd have to jump from circle to circle, never landing on the soft blue floor. Making the merry-go-round spin so fast, that they both would get thrown off it after a dizzy spell, and collapse to the ground laughing and carrying on-

It just made his heart ache more. His brain pounding against his skull.

He kicked his legs uselessly. He wasn't swinging. Not really. Just sitting. Just trying not to be still. He wasn't going anywhere.

The playground didn't have any lights that stayed on at night. It wasn't that kind of playground, where you'd need to worry about teens going there and doing bad things in the dark. This was a good part of town. Nothing bad could happen here.

The only lights were distant street lamps, and the starlight filtering down.

What time is it?

Tony had a watch. Had a watch- it was missing now. So was his entry pass to the pizzaplex.

Did someone mug me?

He also had a different shirt than he'd worn to school- a Bonnie longsleeve? Hadn't they stopped selling these? Where did he get it?

Did someone… reverse mug me??

The sun was starting to rise in the distance. He could understand why they'd given him a new shirt- his old one. That had... gotten stained, hadn't it?

How long have I been here?

His arms and belly felt weird. He lifted his shirt and sleeves to look at them. Well... He wasn't gonna stain his new shirt, at least. He stopped looking- it just made him feel queasy.

Lights were coming on in the houses, one by one. He could see a light on over at Ellis's house, through the back yard.

He could go there. And they could have breakfast together. They could pretend they'd had a sleepover together, like old times. Ellis could loan him a sleeping bag. A watch. A new head. And nothing bad would have happened to him and there would be nothing weird poking around in his head and his heart would stop aching and-

And Ellis's Mom was there. Standing in front of him.

How long has she been there?

He started a little, nearly falling backwards before clutching the chains tighter.

"Tony- It's okay. It's Olivia, do you remember me?" She had her hands in front of her, in a way that should probably have been calming.

He caught his breath, and felt panic start to ease out of him. He nodded. And she seemed to relax a little, too.

"Oh, good. Sweetie- listen. I've rang your Mom. She's on her way now. And so are the police. Okay?" She looked at him intently, and kneeled down in front of him. While he kicked his legs and stared off into the distant sky. The stars were going out.

"Tony? Did you hear me?"

"Um. Yes. Sorry Mrs Martinez."

He couldn't look at her. This is so embarrassing. Having to be picked up by his Mom like this. Had he and Ellis broken another vase trying to play skip rope indoors? That was a silly thing to do, Tony. You know better-

He could feel her eyes looking through him.

"Do you… want to talk about it, sweetie?"

He shook his head frantically, and choked out "No- no- no-"

"Hey, sweetie. It's okay. You're okay now. Everyone was so worried about you…"

Why?

She looked at him so pitifully. Had he said that out loud?

A car pulled up, on his old street. A familiar car. Mom's car.

And she was there. So quick, he'd barely seen her race up to him. He thought she'd grab him, and swing him around in a spinney-hug. She used to do that, when he was little.

Instead she stopped next to Mrs Martinez. It looked like she'd been crying earlier. She was still crying.

His head kept hurting. Pounding in a rhythm now. He couldn't take it much longer-

She couldn't get any words out. Mouth gaping open like a fish's would. But he could get the message- What happened to you?

He went to answer, but felt… sleepy. Really sleepy. He was gonna fall off this swing any second-

But he didn't fall. Instead he heard his voice talking to his Mom. It sounded strange to him. Like he was listening underwater…

"Mom, I… I lost track of time at the pizzaplex. It got dark, and someone h-hurt me when I was walking home… please don't be mad…"

He went to sleep as Mom pulled his imposter into a hug.

#five nights at freddys #fnaf #tony becker #this was originally part of a bigger project which is why it might seem disjointed #but it didnt fit. but i still liked this work? so it seemed a shame to delete it fully yeah #also- if this infringes on the au idea too much (im not sure how this stuff works?) let me know and ill delete it okay #on one hand- tonys alive? on the other hand- tonys miserable #ill write happy tony eventually maybe idk #summerly writes

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raz-writes-the-thing · 6 months

Text

Birth One, Get One Free (Good Omens)

Aziraphale x Crowley x Fem!Reader / requests are open and encouraged

Summary: You're the birth mother of The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of this World and Lord of Darkness and you find you need Crowley's help with making sure you get to keep your little Antichrist.

CW: giving birth, soul-selling, blood, uh- k-kidnapping? sort of? canon typical kidnapping/kidswapping (can't believe I just typed that)

Good Omens Tag List: @coffee-and-red-lipstick @quickslvxrr @clarina04 @motionlessindoubt (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

You hadn’t even fucked the Devil. You had just… sold your soul a few years back. You’d thought it odd when the Demon who’d struck the deal with you had not actually asked you to sign your soul away. They’d licked their lips with their snake-like split tongue and said that at some point, they’d come to you for a favour you weren’t able to deny.

Of course, you’d already agreed to this before they’d outlined that particular detail to you. And thus, you started to always read every line of text in a contract before signing. No way were you going to make that stupid decision again. At least you still had your soul, you supposed.

It was a year or two after that when you’d met Crowley and Aziraphale. An Angel and Demon who weren’t terribly akin to their own kind, and preferred the company of each other to anyone else. This was fine by you, and you’d only been able to tell they weren’t human because of their auras. You were descended from a line of particularly powerful witches who could just… sense things. Very convenient. Particularly for things like this.

Once Crowley had figured out who you were, he warmed to you. Whether that was out of pity because he knew exactly what your deal had been for, or just because he liked you was still up for debate. It didn’t matter though, you were glad to have friends who could sympathise with your plight. Not to mention understand it.

You’d had several nice years to yourself enjoying the benefits of your deal when the proverbial snake finally came around to bite you on your proverbial ass. That Demon whom you had struck your deal with popped out at you one night after a very raucous evening at the theatre.

“Your time has come,” they had hissed rather like a snake. “To make good upon your deal.”

“Right,” you’d replied, sobering instantly. The day you’d been dreading for years was finally here. “What do I need to do?”

The Demon had smiled, their teeth glinting rotten in the moonlight, their eyes dark and murderous.

“Nine moons you must swell, so our Master can bear witness to their offspring, The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of this World and Lord of Darkness. Nine moons and He shall be borne into this miserable plane of existence.”

Right. No small ask then.

“Uh, well, I can’t really say no, can I?”

The Demon laughed, and you backed away slightly to get away from the rancid mouldy earth smell coming from their breath.

“No, not really,” they’d cackled.

And so there you were, pregnant with The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of this World and Lord of Darkness. For nine gruelling months with that baby inside you, growing away like no one’s business. Except it wasn’t no one's business, was it? No, it was everyone’s business. Or it was going to be, at some stage. Fuck.

At first, you’d been able to pretend that this was not your life and that you were just happily going about your own business. Of course, the first time Aziraphale and Crowley saw you after meeting your Demon bestie, they could smell the infant growing inside you.

It was a little disturbing actually. Knowing they could smell the peanut-sized thing growing in your belly. What else could they smell at any given time? That was probably not something you needed to dwell on too much.

And so you grew, and grew, and you had to face the fact that you were in fact, carrying The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of this World and Lord of Darkness in your belly and there was no way out of it. Your Angel and Demon were at least kind enough to help you through the process and Aziraphale delighted in the appointments and yoga and everything else.

Crowley came to things too but was considerably less enthusiastic.

It was around month seven that the three of you started brainstorming ways to stop Armageddon in its chubby little baby tracks. You weren’t sure, but you were growing suspicious that the Demons (not Crowley- the ones who actually served Satan) were going to take the baby away from you when it was born. And that just… well it wasn’t on, to say the least.

You went into labour early, water breaking where it was supposed to and you were rushed to the little nunnery just like you were supposed to. You’d attempted to get yourself somewhere else, but fate and- God, you supposed, had other plans. It was the Chattering Order of St Beryl or nothing at all.

The labour was easy, thank, well, someone. Not easy in so far as to say without any incident whatsoever, but easy in the sense that birthing The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of this World and Lord of Darkness could have gone a lot worse. It had still taken quite some number of hours, and the pain was excruciating, but by the end of the night, you were blessed with a baby boy whom you’d named Adam in the hopes that he might take after his namesake and not follow the word of God outright, but maybe take a detour here and there.

You were right, of course. While you were resting, bloodied sweaty and ripped open, the nuns had taken your Adam and given him to some American family who were also politicians. You hated politicians. And while, no, technically Adam was not your biological baby, you wanted him. You wanted to keep him. He was yours, and you would fucking raze cities to the ground to get him back.

So, you did what anyone in your position would do, and called Crowley.

“I know you’re already on your way,” you said into the receiver, voice low so as not to alert the nuns. “But I need you to put your foot down. They’ve, uh, taken him. I need him back.”

Crowley had heard barely past the word ‘but’ before he was slamming on the accelerator and getting to you as fast as possible. Aziraphale was also on his way, but he was perhaps not the one you needed for this particular little job.

You were, understandably and unfortunately, too weak to do much other than bleed into your post-birth pads and eat jelly, and you were so hyped up on adrenaline, panic and hormones to do anything but burst into tears as soon as Crowley crashed his way (still somehow suavely) into the room.

“Oh, love,” Crowley said softly, plonking his sunglasses onto your side table and coming to lay on the bed beside you. He wrapped you into his lithe arms and you bawled harder than you ever had in your life. Crowley made comforting noises, patted your head and made a lot of shushing noises.

You let yourself be devastated and exhausted for a moment- a mother. You let yourself be a mother for a moment before you gave yourself an internal kick in the teeth. You could cry and bleed out from your abused vagina later. Right now your Adam was somewhere in this chattering order and you needed him back.

“They- they have him,” you hiccuped, throat dry from the wailing. “They took him, Crowley- I- I know I said we needed to stop him- to stop Armageddon-” you grip the neck of his shirt desperately. “I need him. That’s my fucking baby, Crowley. I don’t give a fucking shit if Satan himself thinks he has some claim over him, but that is my baby.”

Crowley’s brows draw down for barely a single second before he nods in agreement. You’d carried the (literally) damned thing. Of course, he was yours.

“Right- yep, okay,” he says, putting words to his thoughts as he starts working on a plan to get your baby back. “Okay, don’t worry- I’ve got a plan.” The charming smirk on his face did not necessarily fill you with a lot of confidence.

The nuns had swapped out your baby for another baby who you later found out was the American couple’s newborn. When the nuns had returned from weighing Adam, you knew he was not your Adam because a, the swaddle was the wrong colour from the one you wrapped around Adam earlier, and b, this baby had differently coloured eyes.

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Crowley said, standing by the cart and looking down at Not-Adam. “I take this little rascal here, and swap the wrapping thing with the one on Adam and give you back your little tyke, eh?”

You look down at Not-Adam.

“What’s going to happen to Not-Adam?”

Crowley looks down at the baby, brushing a forefinger over his cheek. He chews on his lip.

“Go back with the politicians, I expect,” Crowley says, lips curling in a soft smile as the newborn pushes his cheek against his finger. You continue to look at Not-Adam. If only there was a third baby, then you could keep them both.

“Wait- erm, Crowley,” you say guiltily. “Isn’t there an orphanage nearby?”

Crowley is a smart being, so you know it’s genuine when he looks at you with such confusion that you’re worried his perfect skin might break.

“No, look- I- I was meant to have this baby, right? That’s why they swapped my Adam out. Can I- would it be wrong… to want both?”

Crowley appeared thoughtful, gears turning in that six-thousand-year-old head. As far as you both knew, the politicians had known they were going to be swapping out their biological child for the Antichrist. They were happy enough to pass out their child for another. What would it matter if they received a totally different child that wasn’t their own or the Antichrist?

And if the baby was coming from no one and going into a (hopefully) loving home, then, who really lost there? You explained all this to Crowley, who had appeared unsure at first but by the end was coming around to it. You hoped, anyway.

“Yeah, I don’t know. How would you feel if you found out someone swapped your baby out in the dead of night?”

You gave Crowley a very pointed look.

“Right. Point taken. Look, what I’m saying is-” he looks down at the little one in the cot. “This one should go back out there and you can have Adam. Everyone goes home with their own children- yes?”

You weren’t big on it. You’d already grown attached to the little one squirming in his little swaddle. You didn’t want to give him up, but on the other hand, he probably should be with his own parents. With a dejected sigh, you agreed.

You’d tried to insist on coming along to help, but you were understandably very knackered. Crowley had put you back to bed, warned you not to do anything rash, and disappeared with the little tucker. You’d had to bury the pang of sadness that washed over you as your door closed and you were left baby-less in the room.

If you had been holding one of the little tuckers, you’re sure you would have not gone absolutely insane waiting for Crowley to return. You also had no idea how long he’d be and how long it would take him to pull off the plan and return Adam to you, and being alone in the room was not helping you with the matter.

The nuns had checked on you a couple of times, making sure you were alright and to see if you needed anything. You’d taken them up on a cup of tea but even with the warm mug, you were finding yourself slowly drifting off. Your head kept lolling forward, and you’d awake with a startle, blinking harshly and scolding yourself for falling asleep at a time like this.

You’d worried a little at first that maybe Adam was in danger, but then you’d remembered that the whole point of this Chattering Order was to keep The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Prince of this World and Lord of Darkness safe and sound- and given the wife of the politician had given birth the same day, well, it was very unlikely that she’d be taking off tonight either. There was time. You just had to be patient.

It was about an hour before Crowley returned, looking absolutely shell-shocked. The look on his face had almost meant you missed the fact that there were two squirming bundles in the cot he wheeled into the room.

Wait- two?

“Wh-” You didn’t even get the whole word out before Crowley was shaking his head, mouth opening and closing a little like a fish.

“You’re not gonna believe this, pet,” he said, wheeling the cot by your side so you could see them lying there before going back to the door to check for nuns. Seeing none, he locked the door and sat down on the edge of your bed.

By this point you were cooing over them, admiring them sleeping. They were so peaceful. It was hard to believe that you had birthed the Antichrist. How could something so cute be evil? You weren’t convinced.

“Went over to the happy couples room,” Crowley said absently, causing you to tear your attention away from the babies and look at him. “And- there were two in there. She didn’t have twins, mind-” Crowley blinked, and focussed his gaze on yours. “They were fussing over him, cooing and cuddling like all you humans do.”

Crowley blinked once more, looking down at the two babies in front of you.

“Asked me to take Adam away. One of the nuns had forgotten to take the other one. Didn’t even give this one a lookover. I tried to explain- briefly, but they didn’t want a word of it.”

You ran a finger over Not-Adam’s swaddle, smiling as he wriggled.

“Where did the other baby come from?” You asked the question dawning on you. “There weren’t any other couples here, were there?”

“Nope,” Crowley sighed, popping the ‘p.’ “No idea. Big old mystery. Just another in a long line of cock ups, I expect.”

You hummed in agreement. In all honesty, you didn’t care how it happened. You were just glad it did- and glad the politicians didn’t want their kid back. Crowley had given them a chance, and they’d not listened. What else was there to do?

“Thank you,” you say, moving your hand from the cot to place on top of Crowley’s. “Thank you. You- you got my little one back. My babies. I’m grateful for that.”

Crowley cleared his throat, a little uncomfortable with the sincerity in your eyes. He’d done a good thing, and yet also a bad thing. Maybe Downstairs wouldn’t take notice. You hoped not, for his sake.

Your eyelids were starting to droop again now, and Crowley helped you settle back down. He assured you that if any nuns came looking, he’d keep your additional little one out of sight.

Just as you were passing out, you heard a shocked Aziraphale say none too quietly-

“Twins?! No one said anything about twins- and I should know. I went to all the appointments.”

A mortified Crowley shushed him, and within moments, your eyes were closed the whole way.

You slept soundly, knowing your Angel and Demon would keep you and your babies safe.

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oliversrarebooks · 5 months

Text

The Rare Bookseller Part 31: Fitz's Showtime

Masterlist

June 1905

TW: mind control, captivity, hypnotic induction

Fitz wasn't one for making plans, normally trusting in his ability to wing his way through any situation life threw at him. That approach had worked well enough until it had ended up with him imprisoned in a vampires' auction house.

Over the past few days, he'd already suffered what was practically a fate worse than death: being left with nothing to do but stew in his own mind. His treacherous brain had helpfully supplied an exhaustive list of every mistake he'd made along the way to end up here, and all of the ways he could have avoided this fate now that it was too late.

But with his cell neighbors unresponsive -- and he didn't want to think too hard about how that might have come about -- there wasn't anything at all to occupy him apart from meals and sleep. The meals were surprisingly generous and varied, and Fitz supposed that if they really were vampires, they must be fattening him up the way you would a prized pig. Sleep was less generous, as the pitch blackness, complete silence, stiff cot, and vampire guards all conspired to make him uneasy.

So he had plenty of time to think of how he would approach it when Lily came for his mind. Now, he'd ended up in a plush, too-comfortable chair, facing down the vampire who'd captured him.

He wasn't even tied down. He'd been nothing but ingratiating towards the vampires the whole time he'd been here. Lily had made it beyond obvious that he wasn't going to escape through strength or speed, and on his first night, he personally witnessed an angry, cursing, struggling man being dragged away and coming back a hollow shell.

No, that sort of struggle was pointless. He could instead bide his time. Be friendly and charming. Hope that someone would let their guard down or give him a special privilege. He'd have an easier time of it and more opportunities to free himself. At least, that was the theory.

Of course, all of that was for naught if he were actually put deep under whatever mesmeric spell they were using to keep the other captives still and silent.

He knew very well now that Lily was capable of it. He also knew that simply resisting would not do -- little chance they would give up and let him go instead of trying over and over again until he was broken. No, the only thing to do would be to play along, pretend to be under her spell, and hope he could keep the spell from touching him in truth. The longest of long shots, but he didn't have a better idea.

"So I hear you've been on your best behavior," said Lily with a smug smile. "Joking around with the blood grader and everything."

Fitz lounged in the chair as though his existence weren't on the line. "I wouldn't dream of being rude to a man who calls my blood special grade A fancy."

"And here I worried you might be trouble. But it seems you do know your place, better than you think," said Lily. "That's why I have a proposition for you."

"If it's another five dollar bet, I'm going to have to respectfully pass on that."

"Oh, no, nothing like that," she said, amused. "As I told you before, I'd like to sell you to a friend with deep pockets and a soft heart. I think he will appreciate you. The less you resist the conditioning, the more I can allow you to keep that wit of yours. That works out for both of us, doesn't it?"

"Oh, yes, just peachy," he said. She couldn't possibly think he was daft enough to trust her a second time, not when she held all the cards.

"I know you don't believe me, but it's actually a great deal for you. You'd live in a mansion and have an easy life, all in exchange for just a bit of blood." Her words were honeyed, and Fitz could practically feel them worming their way into his mind. "You won't have to be Fitzwilliam de Hastings, disgraceful and useless third son of the de Hastings shipping conglomerate. You won't have to be Phantom Fitz, scraping and clawing for fame with your little magic tricks. You can just be Fitz. Loved. Wanted. Cherished."

If only any of that were true. If only it weren't just a trick to soften his mind and get him to accept a vampiric master, one who would "love" and "cherish" him the same way he might "cherish" a fine bottle of wine.

"As intriguing as all of that is, and as flattered as I am by those lovely descriptions of me, I'm going to have to decline your offer," he said with a tight smile.

Her own smile turned predatory. "You haven't really given me a chance to persuade you."

"I think I've heard --"

"Have you, though? Or have you been half paying attention while focused all on yourself?" she said, leaning in closer. "Here I am, my entire focus centered on you, and you aren't repaying the favor. Why don't you focus, Fitz? Why don't you relax?"

There was no doubt she was exerting her power this time. Fitz could feel the magnetic pull of it. This was it, this was showtime -- the moment he had to somehow convince her that he was being enthralled, without actually falling. He couldn't make it seem too sudden or she wouldn't buy it. What should he do? Should he be visibly affected by what she just did? But he'd hesitated and --

"You think too much," she said. "I'm going to need to stop that first. Slow and soothe your mind, make it so hard to think that you just give in and listen. Look where all your thinking and scheming has gotten you. Won't it feel so much nicer not to do that?"

He nodded, with a bit of hesitation, widening his eyes, playacting that her mesmerism was taking him down once more. Lily was good at luring a mark, but so was he.

"Yes, isn't that easy?" she said, amused. "Just let my words soothe you so you can listen. It'll feel so good when those racing thoughts slow down. We both know it's inevitable, so why keep searching for an escape that won't come? Why not take the easy and pleasant path?"

"Because, as I told you before, I don't care to be a vampire's convenient lunch box," he said, making sure to slow his voice and lace it with doubt. The more she thought he was falling, the more careless she would be.

"It's so cute to watch your thoughts turn in your head. I can practically see them, dear. I can see that machinery working those threads of thought, weaving them together into plans and fears and witty little comments. I can see all the weaknesses in those gears, all the places where they can easily be slowed. Can you see it?"

"Hm?" he said, caught off guard, not sure how he should respond to that one. Did she suspect what he was up to? Of course she might, she might've mesmerized hundreds of people for all he knew, and he surely wasn't the first to think of pretending.

But that didn't mean she was always successful. Of course she claimed that she was. That was an important part of the confidence game; he would've done the same in her shoes. But for all he knew, her actual success rate was poor. Surely he wouldn't be the first to fool her. After all...

After all, he was...

Fitz blinked, trying to remember the end to that thought.

"...you don't even need to listen as your mind slowly drains of its cares and worries... so relaxed... so comfortable..."

He shook himself in mild alarm. She'd been talking this whole time and he'd zoned out thinking and hadn't kept up his act. He arranged his face into what he hoped was a convincingly dazed expression.

"How are you feeling, Fitz?" she asked.

"...Good," he said, an answer that seemed safe, as he wasn't quite sure how she expected him to feel.

"Good," she repeated. "Isn't this nice? Having someone's full attention on you without having to fight to earn it? Isn't it nice to be so wanted?"

His brow furrowed. "Well..."

"That's how it's going to be from now on. No more fight for attention, no more fight for approval, no more fight for survival. You'll have your needs taken care of and overflowing praise to boot. Just like you crave, deep down."

Oh, she was good. Good enough to make his chest ache with the thought of what she was offering. If only...

"You're going to be the best thrall, Fitz. I've never seen anyone as delectable, handsome, and charming, with such an intoxicating scent. You'll have your vampire eating out of the palm of your hand -- literally, perhaps."

Fitz blinked slowly, wondering how he should react to keep up the game, trying to ignore the warm sensations he got from the praise, no matter how manipulative and insincere "Do you think that cheap flattery will work on --"

"Look at me," she said, hooking a finger under his chin and gazing straight into his eyes. "You can see it, can't you? A future of being cherished and loved?"

"I --"

"Imagine a vampire who wants you, one who wants so badly to drink deep of your blood that he practically worships the ground you walk on. He'll want you always by his side, his beloved prize, protected and treasured."

It wasn't hard to imagine. It wasn't as if he hadn't thought about things like this on lonely, difficult nights. Something beyond sex and courtship. Intimacy. Comfort.

The kind of things that he hardly dared to think about for long, lest he feel their absence too keenly. The kind of things that were meant for those who had grown up wanted, who knew how to trust and let themselves fall in love. These delights weren't meant for the kind of person who wore a mask wherever he went and conned everyone he met.

"Just relax." She ran her fingers through his hair. "No more pain, no more struggle. No more struggle, now. No more struggle."

If any of this were true, it really wouldn't be so bad.

"No more struggle, no more fighting, no more resisting."

"I'm..." he mumbled. "I'm not..." He had to pretend that he was falling. He let his eyes blink so slowly.

"Oh, my dear, my Fitz, I know you aren't. You're doing such a good job right now."

His eyelids fluttered. "I am?"

"Yes, yes you are. You're doing such a good job. I told you, you're a natural. You're perfect."

He couldn't help but smile. That was good. She believed it was working.

"That's a good boy now. All you really want is approval, isn't it? For someone to see you and decide they're exactly what they need."

"Yeah..."

"You're going to have that, and all the praise and approval you could ever want," she said. "I promise."

He couldn't trust her, he remembered. This was all fake, just like every other time he'd been promised something. But he had to pretend that he believed. He was good at pretending.

"That's right, you're good at pretending. You're doing such a good job pretending to go under for me, Fitz."

Fitz felt the relief wash over him. Thank goodness for that. He'd been so nervous about this the past few nights, trying to convince himself that he'd be just fine outsmarting a vampire and saving himself.

Wait --

"It's okay!" Lily laughed. "It's okay, really. I know what you're up to. I expected that from you, of course. And I know what you fear. You fear being made mindless and docile like most of your cell-mates."

Fitz crushed down his panic. His plan wasn't working, his mind already felt hazy and sluggish from Lily's mesmerism, and now his worst nightmare might be about to come true. He'd spent so long escaping from a family where every little word and move was regimented, scrutinized, criticized, judged and punished. At least in those days he could escape into his head. Now, he'd be brought back to that place, with no recourse.

"...Yes, obviously, I fear that," he said, hating how vulnerable he sounded but not knowing what else to say. "Who wouldn't?"

"Who wouldn't?" she echoed. "But it doesn't matter, ultimately, because I've already given you a powerful hypnotic trigger the first time I had you in my thrall, and told you to forget it."

Adrenaline surged through him. "No, there's no way you --"

"Showtime, Fitz."

He only had one more brief moment to panic before his mind shut down entirely.

---

"...two, one, and wake. Come back to the land of the living now, Fitz."

He opened his eyes, feeling like he'd just awoken from a really refreshing nap. It took him a second to realize where he was and what had just happened to him, and all relaxation was immediately wiped out by his fear. Miss Lily had given him a hypnotic trigger, she must have erased his mind, he'd be nothing more than --

Except... he clearly wasn't.

"Confused?"

"You..." He wasn't really sure how to approach this. "You didn't wipe my mind, sir."

"Did you want me to?" she asked with a grin.

"No! Absolutely not, sir," he said. "But you had me -- you knocked me out --" He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to make sense the overwhelming swirl of thoughts in his mind. Grateful that he still had an overwhelming swirl of thoughts in his mind. "What did you do, sir?"

"I made you obedient to vampires. I removed your ability to escape. And I made you crave our feedings. Nothing more, nothing less."

Fitz stared. It couldn't be that simple. Not that he was thrilled about the changes, but he had expected much more and much worse.

But he didn't feel different. He was still capable of thought. He was still nervous. He could still remember who he was.

"If that's all you were going to do, sir... why did you bother with all of your setup? Why not just mesmerize me the moment I walked in?"

"Because mesmerism is a performance, dear Fitz. I thought that you of all humans would understand that," she said.

Fitz could feel his eyebrow twitch.

"There's magic involved, of course, or it wouldn't take so strongly, but magic alone doesn't make me so effective at molding perfect thralls. Cold reading, misdirection, distraction -- all of these are critical to what I do. I needed your original plan to fail before I truly conditioned you, and I needed to plant the seeds that a vampire might cherish and accept you. The results speak for themselves, don't you think?"

"I'm not even sure I can tell what the results are, sir."

"Precisely."

Fitz scowled. Was he really that obedient now? Did she actually make him "crave their feedings"? So he would just accept some bloodsucker gently tilting his head to expose his vulnerable neck... a wicked grin as sharp fangs grew closer... his mind growing hazy with pleasure...

"Oh, goddamn it, sir."

Miss Lily laughed. "Now do you see?"

It was a relief, in a way, that he could feel the results of the thrall now. That meant he could get a bead on what she'd done to him. "Yes, I'm afraid I do, sir -- hold on, you also made me call you 'sir', didn't you?"

"Any vampire. Yes. But you're allowed to say it as sarcastically as you want."

"Thank you for that most gracious allowance, sir."

"Oh, you're very welcome."

Part 30.5 >> Masterlist >> Part 32

Extras: Emily's Crayons Fitz in the Snow

Fitz's Volunteer Part One

Thank you for reading about Fitz.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @whumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining-blog @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity

#whump #whump writing #vampire #mind control #hypnosis #captivity #rare bookseller #fitz #lily

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silentcryracha · 9 months

Note

I'd like to request a horny filthy absolutely deranged drabble about this Hyune look because I still haven't managed to get up from the floor iykwim

https://twitter.com/hyunesz/status/1684902894401921024?s=20

link - OH hun if only you knew how many asks I got about this specific look LMAO, glad we're all on the same horny boat 🤝

warnings: non idol au, strangers to lovers, drugs are mentioned but not used, smut 18+ ONLY, unprotected sex (don't), fingerings, oral (m receiving), kind of public sex?, afab reader, kinda dom Hyunjin

word count: 3.1k

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The ambient felt hot and a little overwhelming. Just enough for __ to feel annoyed, but not suffocate her. The fact that it was completely dark except for the blue and purple lights that illuminated the dance floor enhanced this feeling.

She took another sip of her drink, keeping a small piece of ice in her mouth to refresh herself. She was bored, no question about it. Her colleagues dragged her to this expensive club after a cocktail event, as if the alcohol wasn't flowing enough as it was.

She truly couldn't give a fuck about a party organized by the man, who was essentially overworking his employees, that desperately needed to rub in everyone's faces the fact that he got promoted. Hence more money and power for someone who didn't deserve it. But hey, at least he was offering.

That club was not a normal, cheap club though, It was one of those hyper private and expensive places which only a specific range of people could access. Which is the main reason that convinced her to check it out, curiosity. But it was nothing different from a normal club aside from the crazy drink prices, the people were elegant and the drugs were not directly shoved in your face. It was also a lot cleaner, which was the best aspect.

At some point she heard a light shove, which made her turn her head to the side. A man dressed in an elegant suit, with light brown hair and glasses, also looked down at the woman sitting at the bar with an apologetic look. Even though __ could tell that he wasn't sober.

"Apologies" he slurred, shamelessly checking her out quickly before being pulled to the side slightly by another man. He was also dressed elegantly, with a black shirt that had the first couple of buttons undone, showing just enough of his collarbones.

She coulnd't help but stare for a couple of seconds at how beautiful that man was. Was he even real?

"Stop embarrassing yourself, Jisung" he said, glaring at him. __ was too starstruck to realize that she was still staring, but as soon as the black haired man locked eyes with her, she immediately woke from her daze and looked away. Yeah, stop embarrassing yourself too, __, she scolded herself mentally.

"C'mon man, don't you want to have some fun? A guy is selling some pretty dope stuff, if you know what I mean" the brown haired man nonchalantly hinted at sniffing his finger, and laughed when the black haired one rolled his eyes at him.

"I don't need cocaine to have fun. You do you though. But don't come fucking crying at my door when Chris fires you again." he warned him, taking a sip of his own drink before dismissing his friend. She didn't mean to be nosy, really. But they were just a little too close to her hearing area, so oops?

She still wasn't looking in their direction, pretending to be interested in stirring the small straw in her half finished drink. It was basically half ice and half fruit so she wasn't feeling the dizziness at all. Besides, she had decided to actually eat at the cocktail party, mainly out of boredom and to avoid making conversation.

"Ah, shut the fuck up, Hyun" Jisung scoffed, leaving his friend's side before disappearing into the dancing crowd. __ sneakily glanced at the man sat not too far from her. But with her surprise, he was already looking back at her. So, this time, instead of being a coward, she played it off with the hint of a smile.

The man tilted his head to the side slightly, the shadow of a smirk on his face, so confident and calm in his demeanor. It was almost intimidating, and she felt herself blush, a string of shivers running up her exposed spine.

She did feel quite overdressed, even for such a place. She was wearing an elegant black, silky, cowl back slip dress, that had a split on the right side. Her hair were tied up, so all her back almost down to her butt was exposed, as well as her neck, collarbones and some cleavage. Was it a little too much for a cocktail party? Actually not, but it was quite sexy and she knew it.

"I apologize for my colleague's rude ways." her head snapped towards him as she realized that he was speaking to her. His voice was hard to decipher, a mix of teasing, apologetic and polite. As she looked at him she saw his dark, piercing eyes staring at her, waiting for a reaction.

"Oh" she said, waving a hand dismissively, "It was nothing. I hope he gets home safe." she added, absolutely not knowing what else to say. And she was convinced that the conversation would've ended there, but the man didn't let it.

"He'll be fine. He's a lucky man." he replies, finishing his drink in one shot. "What about you?"

"What about me?" she retorted the question, carefully thinking how much she could trust that man.

"I'd ask if you're here alone, but it just seems to me like you were dragged here by someone else. Or else you would be enjoying yourself." she smirked, mimicking his head tilt.

"Do I look like I'm not enjoying myself?" her voice was between irony and curiosity, but truly she was just amused. The man put down one foot and lightly dragged his own stool a little closer, so that now less than thirty centimeters were separating them. If she had turned to face him, their legs would've touched.

"Not really. Unless your kind of fun is brooding at a bar alone while everyone else is grinding, dancing and, well, probably snorting coke on a few surfaces." he nudged his head to where the dance floor and some couches were.

"Not everyone, though." the woman replied, also finishing her fruity drink before continuing, "You're also sat here, at a bar, alone. So, are you also a type who doesn't want to have fun? Like your friend said?"

The black haired man raised an eyebrow, amused with how well you were keeping up with him.

"That's also true. So what, then? Are we really two people who can't have fun? Or maybe this isn't the place for us." this time it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. Was he hinting at what she was thinking he was...?

"Do you have any suggestions, mr...?" she already knew that they were gonna end up fucking, so might as well gather some important info before any shit goes down.

"Hwang. Hyunjin Hwang." he answered without hesitation, still maintaining his cool aura. "And, about the place. It depends on which kind of fun you like." she didn't miss the way that his eyes checked out her whole figure, with a particular attention to her exposed back and valley between her breasts.

So she decided to play his game, and to send him a message loud and clear she elegantly turned her body towards him, crossing her legs. Effectively making her exposed calf brush against his clothed one. Hyunjin looked up at her with sharp eyes and a newly fueled hunger.

"I don't have preferences. Why don't you take me somewhere?" she asked seductively, leaning down to speak just enough to give him a new angle to her cleavage. He inhaled a sharp breath when her leg brushed against his again, so after that he decided that he had enough.

Hyunjin stood up, offering his hand to her, which she took. After that he led her through the mass of dancing and sweaty bodies in the dark, until they reached a small corridor. She thought that he was going to lead her into the bathroom, cliché but it will do for a quickie.

But suddenly he got in front of her, effectively caging her with his arms against the wall, to which her back was now pressed. She got tense for a second, until he detached one of his hands from the wall, bringing it up to caress her cheek.

"What's your name?" he asked, casually, as his hand kept on going down, from her cheek, to her neck, collarbones, his pointer finger lightly tracing the shape of her breasts that could be seen from the neckline. Her breath hitched at his every move, so featherlight, yet capable to make her shiver.

"__" she answered, breathy. Hyunjin hummed as his face got closer to her neck, leaving a small kiss on it, making her lightly gasp.

"Do you want to do this, __?" he murmured, against her skin. The loud music was now muffled to their ears, which allowed some sort of silence.

"Yes, I do" she breathed out, starting to touch his chest with her hands, until they slid around his neck to pull him closer. "Do you, Hyunjin?"

He didn't even answer and instead moved his head up to crash his plush lips to hers, the kiss immediately turning passionate and leaving both of them breathless. __ felt two hands on her ass, but before she could realize what was happening, Hyunjin had picked her up, making her legs wrap around him automatically.

He led them to the bathroom, and picked the men's one. Just because they would've just gave up by finding a locked bathroom, he was sure. Nothing would've ruined that moment.

He kept kissing her as she sat her on the expensive marble in between the sinks, then walked away to lock the door behind them. The bathroom was of course huge, clean, with dim lights and a wall long mirror behind the sinks.

She was still panting, both from the kiss and the adrenaline of the moment. Hyunjin swiftly unbuttoned the center jacket button and let it slip off his shoulders, placing it nearby. Then he unbuttoned and dragged up to his elbows his dark shirt. Actions that were so simple, but done by such a handsome and sexy man, were driving her crazy.

As he walked closer to her, his eyes were not leaving her at all. She instinctively spread her legs enough to accommodate him, which made him darkly chuckle. One hand went to her waist while the other to the side of her neck, his thumb tracing her chin.

"Don't let me wait" she said with a husky voice, teasing the small v of his open shirt with her pointer finger. He laughed lightly, starting to kiss her neck and jaw, while his fingers started to trail up from her nude calf, to her knee, to her thighs, and bringing her slip up dress up to her sides as he did so.

"I'd love to play with you longer, but unfortunately you're right, we can't take too long" he said in between kisses, to which he had started to add some licks. She moaned, grabbing the side of his beautiful face and pressing it to her own, kissing him openly and sloppily.

She gasped into his mouth as Hyunjin's fingers were now gently rubbing her clit over her silk panties. She was losing her mind, and needed more, and she needed it now.

"Please Hyunjin..." she whimpered, her fingers clutching the fabric of the shirt on his shoulder. He hummed in her mouth, leaving it to speak "Tell me what you need, gorgeous"

"I-I need you to touch me. Touch my pussy, feel how wet it is for you" she grazed his ear while grinding on his hand. He used both hands to remove your panties, throwing them to the side somewhere near his jacket on the sink.

Then with his pointer and middle finger pressed together he started to rub up and down around your vulva, making you whine when he teased your hole and your clit respectively. A low, mocking chuckle escaped his full, pink, lips.

"You are drenched already. All this for me, you say?" he teased, with his two fingers now circling her little hole. She nodded eagerly, her lips continuously kissing, grazing, and licking at his skin, she felt drunk on him.

"Yes, just for you. Please, sir-" she didn't realized what had slipped her mouth until after she said it. Her eyes widened from the embarrassment, but Hyunjin on the other hand just chuckled, kissing her.

"Such a good girl, I've barely touched her and she's already so wet." he praised, "Let's see if she's also ready to take my fingers" he murmured to her ear, before slipping two fingers into her. The sudden action and the feeling of fullness made her gasp and moan at the same time.

Hyunjin started quite slowly with his in and out movements but as his fingers got wetter and wetter, her walls also relaxed a bit. Not too long after he started to finger her faster, more roughly, hitting exactly her spot.

Her fingers grasped both of his shoulders as moans and whines were leaving her mouth, mixed with his name, like a prayer.

"Are you gonna be a good girl for me and cum, mh? Make me feel you drench my fingers, c'mon, good baby." Hyunjin kept on praising her as he maintained his relentless pace.

"Oh- oh fuck, yes sir I'm gonna cum, please" she pleaded, closing her legs around his back, while he spit on his other hand and started rubbing her clit fast. That was it for __, as he gushed around Hyunjin's fingers.

She released a long sigh, in between whines because of how overly sensitive she was. "Shh, you did so well, good girl. Look how you drenched my fingers, baby" Hyunjin reclaimed her attention, and with dazed eyes she looked at him putting those same two fingers in his mouth, and suck.

Her mouth was agape, cheeks red, forehead sweaty and a beautiful fucked out expression. Hyunjin was already more than hard in his pants, but seeing her like that, so sexy and beautiful, made something snap in him.

"I want to fuck you so bad" he breathes out, unbuckling his pants, "Will you let me, mh? Do you want me to fuck your pretty little pussy?" he nuzzled her nose with his, desire dripping from his words.

"Yes! Fuck please, Hyunjin, sir" she was still so fucked out from her previous orgasm, but as desperate for another that she was stumbling on her words.

"Shh, baby. I'll give it to you. I'll give it to you so so good, okay pretty girl?" he cooed, while simultaneously wetting the tip of his dick with her juices, to then thrust in all in one go. She squealed by the surprise and tightened the grip on his butt with her legs, effectively pushing him even deeper. This time it was Hyunjin's turn to groan.

"So fucking tight- " he said through gritted teeth, clearly trying to hold himself back a bit. But her clenching and unclenching were not helping him, so in the end he decided to just go all in, and started to fuck her strong and fast.

"Ah, yes! Fuck yes, Hyunjin you're doing so well, please don't stop!" she exclaims in between moans. But he had other plans, because he swiftly pulled out, then dragged back to the edge of the sing __ , making her come down on wobbly legs, just to bend her over it.

They could see their reflections on the mirror now, which gave everything an even more erotic vibe. They both moaned loudly when Hyunjin penetrated her again, from behind. He picked up his fast pace pretty quickly, which made it feel like there hasn't even been a change in positions.

"You feel- so so fucking good, I'm cumming!" she exclaimed, gripping the edge of the marble sing with all her might. Hyunjin also knew that he was close to releasing, but he needed her to come first so he could've pulled out. So he licked two fingers and reached between her legs to rub her clit.

"Does that feel good? uh? Does my cock make you feel that good?" he grunted, keeping his fast pace, She just hummed in approval as she was too fucked out to talk. But Hyunjin wasn't having it, so he slapped her ass once, making her gasp and respond quickly.

"Sorry, sir. Yes it feel so so good" she cried, "I love your big cock making me feel so full. Are you close, Hyunjin?" she panted, as her breasts were dangling out of her dress by now. Braless, Hyunjin noted.

He groaned in response, speeding his ministrations on her clit. which made her orgasm explode immediately, He let her ride out her high,and then slowly pulled put.

"I want you in my mouth" Hyunjin turned around to see you jumping down the marble and getting on your knees. He pumped himself a few times before he let her take charge. Both of her hands pumped him at the same time, as she sucked and licked the red head.

"Mmh- __ I'm about to come" he warned, and then stilled as he emptied himself on your tongue. A few drops escaped the corners of her lips but she promptly caught them with her fingers, cleaning them too. Hyunjin moaned and sighed, having to lean back on the wall to support himself.

Before any of them could say anything, they heard a loud knock on the door. They both stood straight up, and got dressed and presentable as best they could.

Hyunjin hurried her to hide in one of the stalls, but without even hearing her out he forced her and said to "trust him". So she picked one and closed the door behind herself, listening.

She heard footsteps and then the door unlock, and then some voices.

"Sorry man, I think I might've closed it by accident." Hyunjin spoke, with his usual cool demeanor. She didn't hear him anymore so she assumed that he was gone. But she saw some elegant shoes going for a bathroom stall next to yours, so you waited until the man was in and then escaped from the men's bathroom.

She were about to search up the phone to call an Uber, since that was gonna definitely be the end of the night, but a am leaning against the corridor wall made her stop.

"I thought you'd left me there" her words were supposed to be a joke, but came out more embarrassing than anything. He leaned back from the wall and started to walk towards you.

"I would never." he answers, seriously "Would you like me to call you and Uber? I don't have my own car tonight so I can't take you home."

She smiled shyly. "We can share on if you'd like." she offered. He smiled at her and nodded, wrapping one arm around her shoulders.

"Then, if it's okay with you, I'd like to ask for your number." he said. She nodded, with a big smile of her own.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

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anothertimdrakestan · 2 years

Text

Just One Night - Damian Wayne x Reader

request: Can you please do a fic with the tropes of fake dating and idiots in love with Damian and f!Reader please?? 2k words & and a very bold Damian Wayne. Hope you enjoy <3

"When pigs fly." you laughed.

"You know I could make that happen." Damian said with a yawn. He had asked you to accompany him through a day of press. He was under paparazzi fire for allegedly being seen with the domino mask a familiar hero was known to sport, he still claims he would never make such a mistake, the press however, says otherwise.

So in a horribly drafted redirection of attention, you got to be an arm piece to the Prince of Gotham for the day. It made sense, you two were openly close friends being the children of hugely famous Gothamites, and no stranger to the public eye, but this was a stretch.

You whined, "why are you not more upset by this? You hate these events more than I do, let alone with the added drama of a date." you watched him shift uncomfortably before replying, "father made it clear that until my name is separated from Robin, Drake is tasked with the title, and I'm benched. You know I hate to say it, but please y/n, it's just one night" and suddenly his desperate agenda became clear.

"Alright, but I come at a price," you smirked as his eyes met yours, "If we are really going to sell this, you have to be nice to me, a gentleman even, and I want McDonalds afterward, no complaints," you crossed your arms over your chest as Damian rolled his eyes at the preposition.

"Do you really think so lowly of me, my love?" he tacked on the cheesy pet name with a grimace. "Oh I certainly do," you replied with a cackle.

Damian's PR team had set the agenda, dinner in the public eye then off to a short appearance on a talk show announcing the non-profit both of your families were funding, and finally a short appearance at an after party for a gala, which meant a paparazzi stretch. Overall, nothing either of you haven't done, but so much more stressful with a "partner".

And just like that, you were whisked into a sleek black car, dressed in a dangerously sultry dress, set to arrive at a restaurant Damian would already have a table at, meaning the paparazzi were already en route.

As soon as the car door was opened for you, the flashes began. Pushing forward, eyes trained downward, the shouting began: "Y/n who are you wearing tonight?" "Does this count as a date?" "Damian has an empty seat, is that where you're headed?" "Any comments on your late night appearance tonight?" you managed to glance up and smile before slipping into the restaurant, quickly making your way upstairs to the balcony table where Damian sat, fiddling with silverware like a literal child.

As his eyes met yours they swept your body swiftly, something more than boredom flashing behind his eyes. Quickly he stood up, sauntering to your side he pulled your chair out for you, but not letting you sit down before pecking your cheek, his lips cold to your touch.

"At least they cannot hear what we say," he grumbled as you both sat down.

"Is it that miserable to pretend you like me?" you teased back, glancing down at the fans below.

"No, no it's not," he near whispered, his hand came to rest on yours, a gesture you felt no one could see. Your eyes met his and held his stare for a few seconds too long.

He broke eye contact by glancing at the flashing cameras below. "Are you ready for tonight?" he asked softly, letting you key into just how nervous he actually was.

"There's no one else I would do this for," you breathlessly replied, but his gaze never met yours, stuck on the hoard below.

The rest of dinner was regular, Damian already knew your order so the food came quickly, and the two of you fell into the comfortable friendship you'd always had.

"10 minutes to go time" your assistant called into your room as you glanced at yourself one more time in the mirror. You hated talk shows: uncomfortable clothes, questions, and all in the public eye.

Damian's voice was muffled from outside your door a minute later, "can I come in?" was all you heard, pushing the door open slightly so he could enter.

"Please don't comment about the dress, this whole thing was last minute and I did my own makeup because I absolutely hated the artist here, and-" you rambled, staring at yourself in the mirror with exhaustion.

"Y/n, you look exquisite." Damian appeared behind you, he was tall enough that his shoulders were at your head, you looked up and met his eyes, noticing his hair neatly slicked back. He looked older, handsome even. Leaning back into his chest you tilted your head back, prompting him to look down at you through thick lashes, your eyes meeting without the mirror.

"Just one night," you whispered up to him with a smile.

His hand found it's way to your hip, steadying you against him, "one night," he hummed in agreement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Damian Wayne and Y/N L/N!" applause echoed in the studio as you both walked on stage. Almost instinctually Damian stopped in front of you, his hand catching your hip, guiding you in front of him, into the chair to his left. You glanced up at him with a smile before sitting down, letting you attention fall to the host.

"What an honor to have the two of you here together! Y/n we are so excited you brought your date tonight," the host slid in the remark hoping to catch any type of reaction, but you just smiled before answering "it is so exciting to bring my partner to announce our family's non profit! This effort is such a huge step towards a brighter future for Gotham, we are so, so excited," you grinned, turning to face Damian who's eyes were trained on you.

"I noticed she said partner, how does that feel Mr. Wayne?" the host waggled his eyebrows at Damian who finally met his eyes. "It feels incredible to call our families partners, I know I speak for the Wayne family when I express how honored we are to join this program as benefactors." you bit your cheeks to withhold a smile at his question dodge.

"So you don't mind me asking if there's really nothing between the two of you?" the host leaned in, knowing eyes meeting yours. Feeling your cheeks heat up you whipped your head to Damian, eyes telling him to speak.

He simply smirked, lightly pushing a piece of fallen hair behind your ear while saying "nothing," his eyes only looking into yours. The silence had you in a chokehold, unable to look anywhere but Damian.

You knew the host was saying something cheeky in response, but you couldn't pull your eyes from Damians until he broke the electric feeling. With a cool smile he responded to the host, leaning back to place his arm on the back of your chair. His wingspan large enough that your head rested against his forearm.

The rest of the interview was a blur, you mindlessly answered questions until your 30 minute segment was up. Finally the host stood up, ready to set you free. As applause filled the room you shook the hosts hand, pausing to wait for Damian who did the same before following you out of the studio and into another black car.

"That went perfectly," Damian hummed while you looked out the darkened window to the city. The ride was short but you couldn't help but ask, "how is this, all the pretending and flirting so easy for you?" your voice cracked, raw emotion pushing through as you turned to face him.

He went quiet, strictly staring ahead as the car pulled up outside the paparazzi stretch into the after party you two had to attended. As the driver stopped the car and stepped out to get your door Damian turned to face you, his voice low and raspy like he'd been sitting on the words the entire drive there.

"You think this is just all fake? Darling, I'm not pretending."

Before you could catch your breath he stepped out of the car, flashing cameras and yelling started almost on queue. Your door opened, with Damian standing stoically outside, waiting for you. Legs damn near shaking you got out of the car, immediately clinging to his side as he led you down the carpet.

When the screeching and pleading to stop for photos got too intense Damian paused, stepping in front of the cameras to let you adjust your straps and hair, this put his face inches from yours, but this time his eyes failed to meet yours, trained only on your lips. When he fell back into place besides you his hand found its place on your hip once again, this time his thumb rubbed circles around your waist through the whole photo-op.

Once inside the cold air met your blushing cheeks, knocking a breath of fresh air into your lungs, enough to give you the confidence to drag Damian into a corner of the room.

"You think you're funny Wayne? Flirting with me all day then saying it was real? Toying with me like that? Absolutely not." you were talking animatedly with your hands while he just towered above you with a smirk.

"And what if I meant it?" Damian cocked his head to the side, smirk still plastered on his face. "Then you would've done something! Anything! You just get the chance to be with me today so take it!" you exclaimed, waving your hands in front of you.

"Ok," was all Damian said before his hands grasped either side of your face, leaning down to your height and crashing your lips to his. You threw your hands up in confusion, eyes opened wide, but his were closed, squeezed shut as if he couldn't think of anything else to do but kiss you.

And suddenly you melted, deepening the kiss as your eyes fluttered closed, hands pulling desperately on either side of his tuxedo.

Lightheaded from the aggression behind the kiss you pulled away, your chest rising and falling in unison with his. "That was something," you whispered.

"Had to take the chance," he whispered in response. Suddenly he was on the move, grabbing your hand and pulling you through the entire ballroom, out the back door, and into another car.

As he slid into the drivers seat he mumbled "I believe there was one more requirement for the night." You couldn't find the words to respond, your fingertips dancing on your lips, feeling how puffy they were from the kiss, the only reminder that it really happened.

After a short interaction with the McDonalds employee who happened to recognize both you, you were parked in an empty lot, silence grasping the car.

"Not how I thought today would go," you whispered. Damian glanced at you, eyes searching yours, "better or worse than expected?" you appreciated how blunt he was.

"I- honestly, better. Way better." you sighed, smiling to yourself while looking back on the nights events.

"As promised, it was just one night. You can hold me to that promise." Damian looked earnest, like he was saying it as much to you as himself.

You paused, deciding to test the waters. "And what if it wasn't just one night? Brunch tomorrow maybe? Movies at yours after? Maybe one week only, or a month?" you glanced in his direction, unable to contain a smile as his eyes lit up.

"Could I interest you in a lifetime?" he raised his eyebrows, frozen in waiting for your response.

"Only for a lifetime D? I'm in."

"Only for a lifetime beloved," he whispered, leaning in to seal the promise with a kiss.

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shwoo · 4 months

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Okay here's my headcanons of which Bugsnax characters actually know the Journalist's name. I'm also headcanoning that Lizbert mentioned their name when she told the others she wanted to invite them, and that they tend not to give their name unless prompted. They're a journalist, is that not enough?! (They may also have some personal identity issues)

REMEMBERED THEIR NAME

Lizbert: Knows their name and maybe also their address.

Beffica: Knew their name because she's read all their articles. Pretended not to know at first as part of her facade of detachment, which is why she said "You're that journalist!" when first meeting them.

Clumby: Presumably knows them as something more specific than "obsessed monster hunter who made me have to work late."

Chandlo: Remembered because he is definitely the kind of friendly and outgoing person who can remember anyone's name after hearing it once.

Wiggle: Makes a point of remembering journalist's names. Tends to unconsciously assume that any media person is there mostly for her, so she wants to make a good impression.

Snorpy: Remembered in order to look into them and figure out if they were the heroic truth-seeker kind of journalist or the villainous sensationalist kind. Liked what he found, but still suspected they were a Grumpinati impersonator when first meeting them.

Floofty: Remembers their name, but refuses to use it out of spite.

DID NOT REMEMBER THEIR NAME

Gramble: Forgot their name, and either asked them when they met, or asked Wiggle.

Triffany: Terrible with names, apologised and asked them for it when they met.

Cromdo: Told himself he'd remember their name in case they did show up and he had the chance to sell them something, then totally forgot. Asked them what it was when they met, and immediately did the "[diminutive], can I call you [diminutive]?" thing. The Journalist said "Sure," because they didn't really care.

Eggabell: Didn't pay much attention to what Lizbert said about them, since she didn't think they'd take the invitation. Despite having quite a bit of interaction with them and worrying about their health, didn't realise she didn't know what to call them until halfway through her "I just need Filbo and... Filbo's... buddy." line.

Shelda: Tried to remember their name so she could address them by it before they introduced themself, and impress them with her mystical knowledge, but got distracted by everything else that was happening and forgot. Got away with it for a while because of her tendency to refer to people with descriptions when overacting, but exposed herself when she said "Floofty, did you ask the journalist to throw acid at you?" The Journalist made fun of her for keeping up the charade for so long, so she reminded them that Floofty had asked them to throw acid at them, and they'd done it.

Wambus: Took a little while to realise that he couldn't get away with just calling them Stranger forever, and then was too stubborn to admit defeat and ask. The Journalist specifically suggested he use their name after his "I been calling you stranger, but you been around a while" chat, but he still refused to ask what it was, or admit that he didn't already know. Eventually heard Triffany refer to them by name, but she had to do it a few times before he decided that he knew it now.

Filbo: Forget immediately after being told, and also forgot to ask when they met. Didn't realise they probably had a name until after they'd interviewed him, and didn't want to ask out of awkwardness. Hoped they or one of the others would mention it, but coincidentally, nobody ever did, at least in an unambiguous way. Eventually asked them while they were heading back to the mainland, but continues to call them Buddy anyway.

Jamfoot: Clumby told him their name when she let him know that they were also going to Snaktooth Island, and he forgot their entire existence immediately. Was confused when Clumby mentioned them by name after they returned alive, even after she clarified that they were her ex-employee who went to Snaktooth Island.

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ruhorih4ra · 7 months

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Holi! 🌞 I'm sorry, I'm losing motivation (the hiperfixation is leaving my body [I'm lying, that shit is already gone <fuck>]). 😔

Part 10!

Get out of my way 🌈

Lilith seemed unfazed by your surprised face. “Don't look at me like that, everybody has little outbursts from time to time,” you argued. “You made my brother cry like a baby!”

“Firstly, Mammon cries like a baby all the time. Secondly, he made me cry first!” You tried to escape Lilith’s reprimand but the Little D.’s were too engrossed in the sales of the Little D. of Greed to help you out.

“My brother was willing to sell his car for you!” “Pffft oh what a big sacrifice! You know what? I was willing to give my life for him.” With that, both you and Lilith decided to finish the argument. Neither of you felt even an ounce of satisfaction.

“I still think that’s not enough for that little bastard to show.” You signaled the Little D. of Greed with a brief movement of your chin. The long haired woman sighed while raising two fingers. “Two.”

Tuesday.

For better or worse, you shared a fair amount of courses with Satan. Every time you felt his eyes on you, you'd turn to face him only to watch him quickly look away. That repeated until the last class was over and you could head to the library. “Mc, wait!” you were quick to dismiss him. “Whatever you have to say can wait.”

Unfortunately the blonde demon was more stubborn than you thought, discreetly following you without arguing further. “Stop. What are you doing?” Satan's face was emotionless. “Are you talking to me? I'm going to the library.” He replied. “So that's how it's gonna be.”

You turned around, changing your plans. Immediately, the sound of other shoes heading in the same direction as you made you stop. Without turning around, you peeked out of the corner of your eye. “I thought you were going to the library.” “Not anymore.” Satan said.

“I can always just teleport somewhere you can't follow.” he didn't seem too preoccupied by your statement and his next words showed you why. “I can always follow the trace of your magic too.” a scowl appeared on your face, it gradually deepened as you felt irritation arise. “No, no you can't.” He seemed to be fighting with himself before accepting defeat.

“There is something you should know.” suddenly, a dense black mist spread across the hallway and from that mist the black shape of Satan appeared. “If I say I'm sorry enough times, would you forgive me, kitten?”

“No way! Just leave me alone, you little jerk!” You said. “How did you-What?” You understood that Satan had mistakenly received the insult but you didn’t bother to correct him. Being forced to live around seven selfish demons and their little dumb imitators was exhausting, you didn’t care about pretending anymore.

“Mc! Please! What do we need to do?!” you’ve never seen him like this, so desperate and helpless. “What do you want me to do!?” you looked around, wondering why Lilith wasn't bugging you to forgive her brothers. “What are you looking for?” Satan asked you, nothing ever escapes him.

“You're very perceptive, aren't you? How come that you never noticed how bad I felt?” He opened his mouth and closed it almost immediately, he did the same at least three more times. Eventually, he closed his eyes and began speaking at a very slow pace. “Listen to me, Mc. I don't care about Lucifer.” you frowned, looking at him in confusion. “And?” “I don't care what Lord Diavolo wants either.” He didn't stop looking at your eyes as he spoke, but his words made no sense to you.

“And you’re telling me this because?” your irritation was escalating. He seemed troubled and you knew he was fighting with himself, whether he cares for Lucifer's opinion or not, it looked like this particular time he was on his side. “Because I care for you! And right now it doesn't seem right to tell you this but you have to trust me!” He took each of your arms with his hands, waiting for a response.

“I don't have to trust you, and honestly I don't get why I should.” You shook off his grip. “Why don't you go to Sc, I'm sure she must be waiting for you.” Satan's mask was slowly cracking but you didn't notice.

“Mc, please. Please let me explain it better.” Satan tried really hard to keep his composure, but the way you brushed him off hurt. He scratched his hair, pacing back and forth, breathing and counting to ten. “I think I'll pass, I have things to do.” “No, no, please listen.”

“See you, Satan.”

“NO! LISTEN TO ME!” The floor crushed when he walked towards you, he had changed into his demon form. You backed away from him, surprised and frightened by the sudden outburst of anger. You hadn't been the source of it in so long.

He was at your side in seconds, grabbing your arm with one hand while roughly grabbing your chin with the other. “WE ARE TRYING TO PROTECT YOU!!”

Your whole body was shaking, your eyes had closed on instinct. You could feel Satan's messy breath on your face. The more time you refused to talk, the tighter his grip became.

You filled your lungs with air before facing him. “Protect me from whom? Protect me from...you?” his face lost all its anger and he walked away from you in two strides.

“No! I was trying to…” He looked at your arm and then his hands, he was distraught. He couldn’t believe how little it took him to reach a breaking point, how little he could take before hurting you, even if it wasn’t his intention. You’re better off without him and the mark on your arm was proof of that. “I should have known better since the very first time you threatened me.” You said, your voice was low but steady.

A quick glance at you shattered Satan’s resolve, he wanted to protect you, but what greater danger is out there, if not him? “You’re right. I’m sorry, I won’t bother you anymore.” He murmured, but he didn’t make the effort to leave, just stayed there trying to force his legs to obey him. “Would you let me take care of that?” He said, incapable of simply walk away.

“No.” You said sharply. You healed your arm easily, no more than a touch and the bruise was gone. Satan’s amazement was visible, his eyes were full of admiration and respect. He knew about the raw magic inside you, but to see the progress you made in such a short time helped him understand what he feared most. “I guess you don’t really need us anymore.”

You averted his eyes and sighed, if he could know how miserable you feel without them. “I suppose not.” After a while you turned around and left him there, and if he let a couple of tears fall, at least there were no witnesses.

“What?! How do you know that!? You weren’t even there!” You said and Lilith shrugged. “That’s not the point.” Your ancestor looked at the distance, her gaze lost in the darkness of the Devildom’s sky.

“Why didn’t you try to stop me as you usually do?” She seemed tired. “I wasn’t there!” You still had doubts about how exactly she had found about the incident with Satan, but you decided to change the subject.

“Where were you?” She cleared her throat nervously. “I was busy with your little demons, they’re getting stronger.” You shook your head and rolled your eyes. “Mammon and Satan had it coming, so…” “Tsk tsk tsk, Mc.” Your jaw dropped. Did Lilith just Tsk me? Lilith wagged her finger disapprovingly. “There is more” She raised three fingers.

“Three.”

Wednesday

“For the last time, Asmodeus, I don’t want you to paint my fucking nails!” You removed your hand from his once again, after multiple attempts from Asmo. “But Mc! I chose this color specifically for you!” He whined and protested. “Leave my room, now!”

The corner of his eyes filled with unshed tears. “Mc, please don’t be mad with me anymore!” You got up from bed and opened the door. “Out. Now.” He didn’t move, instead he hugged himself and bit his lips. “I just… you know what it means to me.”

You did remember what it means, Asmo told you painting the nails of his brothers gave him comfort, it also showed that they were a family. He told you doing the same for you was a way of showing that you were part of the family too.

It was comforting, but you were too blinded with disappointment to properly care. “Tell me why.” You murmured, already savoring your next words. Asmodeus frowned. “What?” He asked, confused.

“Don’t.” Lilith appeared behind Asmodeus. “Please, don’t.” You sighed and rolled your eyes, but indulged. “Forget it, Asmodeus. Just leave.” The demon shook his head and changed his pose. “Don’t call me by my full name!” He whined. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, Mc!”

You spit a short laugh before getting close to him, something that caught him off guard but he didn’t complain. “Why would I ever want to be seen as part of your family?” He backed off, hurt evident on his face. “You’re not Mc.” He said shakily.

He looked at you again and was horrified. “Mc we need to do something. What happened to you, hon!? Oh don’t worry, everything’s going to be alright, dear.”

You were more confused with each passing moment, looking at him in awe. “Excuse me, what?” He hugged you but it didn’t last, you broke the hug as fast as possible. “It was you, you happened.” You snatched the things he’d brought and promptly threw them out of your room. “I don’t want to see your face again, it disgusts me. Understood?” You said before closing the door in his face.

“He cried a lot that night.” Lilith’s face of anguish was hard to ignore. “You’re pitying them too much, Lilith.” She shook her head, moving her hands with exasperation, signaling to nowhere. “He covered all of the mirrors in his room!” Lilith shouted, and you felt guilty, you hadn’t given that much thought to your actions and it seemed that your brain was trying to ignore the damage that your words had caused. “I guess I did overdo it a bit”

“A bit?”

“Aren’t you hungry?”

“No.”

“There is more?”

“There is more.”

“Fuck.”

Part 12 ಠ⁠‿⁠ಠ

Taglist: @yuumaofc @kodasstar @asmolover1234 @gallantys @prefesro @urminebutidontwantyou @fiveofspades @owl778 @unknownbish101 @sadlily1 @pinkvelvetcake1 @bontensbabygirl

#obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me mc #obey me fandom #obey me gn!reader #obey me angst #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me lilith

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mistymisfit · 2 months

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So long, Marianne I

Summary: Reader is a spy working undercover in Gotham when she meets Jason Todd, who despite her better judgement she forms a very close friendship with. This story follows their escape from Arkham asylum, their fall out and the times they run into each other as they get older.

Relationship: AK!Jason x Meta!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence (I'm serious, tho- in canon it's also pretty violent), angst, hurt/no comfort (for now), this series is just my excuse to write angst lol.

A/N: *CIPA means Congenital insensitivity to pain and anhydrosis aka people who are unable to feel pain. see the end for more notes :)

Word Count: 4,2K

Read on AO3

Part 2- Masterlist

He repeats his question one more time before kicking your stomach again, "Who are you?". He's been asking the same thing for the past... month? Time gets blurry when you're kidnapped. Fuck, undercover work sucked no matter who you did it for. Whether it was your actual boss or the big bad bat himself, they should all make it up for making you endure this--make it up by dying, you thought. God, whose stupid idea was it again? Letting yourself be kidnapped by the Joker so they could track his lair and see if he had any connections to your current case, ah yes... your boss. Not even Batman would ask you to do that, at least the man had some moral code he hung onto, maybe a little too tight. You've earned an early retirement after this assignment, almost two years living in Gotham, out of everywhere. But what neither you or your boss expected was that he'd know your "secret identity" was fake, that he would torture and kill the agents who worked with you and pretended to be your family--or that they'd sell you out. You whisper, they were not even words just an unintelligible sound. He lowers down, putting his ear close to your mouth to be able to listen better and asks you to repeat yourself. You bite him, as hard as you can and draw blood, lots of it which you spit out with a smirk.

"Fuck you" You taunt and he just laughs, holding his wounded ear. The laughing is excessive, it reverberates around the entire room and you brace for the next impact. But it never comes.

"I think it's time you met a friend we have in common" His smile makes dread set in on you, who? By his standards it could be anyone, from someone you actually knew to someone you've never met but was there to pick up on his dirty work as he went to do other things. He pushes you with his feet until you lay on your stomach and begins to cover your hands, you count the layers. First some kind of cloth, then plastic wrap, then aluminum foil, then a bag to hold it all together. Right, you let everyone believe your healing abilities could only work with your hands.

He drags you up, grabbing one of your arms as he walked you to a different room. The side of his head still bled, and you watched the blood fall down and how it got no reaction from him. He must be used to pain or there must be something wrong with his pain nerves. Maybe not enough to be CIPA* because you have seen him wince and experience pain before. Your feet fail you, you can barely take steps due to how weak you are. Every bite of food you've been forced to take ended up being spat or thrown up moments later. You can feel how chapped your lips are, how tangled your hair is, how deep the bags under your eyes must be, the way your arms hurt from being tied behind your back for too long, how much you must look like shit. He opens a door to a mostly dark room, you can only make out a figure sitting on a chair under the singular light in the entire room. He--yeah, it's a guy definitely, you think--he's got his head low, his posture isn't close to being okay and upon further inspection you realize he's tied to the chair. He's pushing to walk in his direction, and you recognize that hair, even though less dirty, and that side profile way less hurt. You knew that person, you knew him maybe a little too much for your mission.

Jason Todd was once your friend, possibly the only friend your age you've ever had. You met him when he was Robin, being instructed that working with Batman may end up being beneficial at the end of the line you were told not to antagonize him. Even helped him every once in a while to get at least his respect. The first time you ever talked to Jason-- or rather Robin at the time, was when he sprained an ankle one night. You were there, trying to gain info on an illegal arms shipment that was arriving that night "We just have to know who bought it" they told you. You weren't there to stop them, you barely were allowed to actually stop bad things from happening and sometimes you envied that in them. They were their own person, they could have lives, make their own decisions, have agency of their own. Instead you, poor you, you had nothing but your work, no family you knew of, no goals of your own, nowhere to go if you wanted to quit. You healed him, at least that you could do. Maybe word would get out of a new vigilante with "unspecified healing abilities", they didn't have to know you actually manipulated time and just turned time back to a moment they weren't hurt. And from that moment on, unknown to you, he had a crush on you.

He started following you around. It's not stalking he'd justify it, he was just investigating. Making sure whose side you were on because after all you were on the harbor the day he stopped some local gangs from getting their hands on bigger guns. But he found no more than your cover story, neither he or Batman could leave a secret identity be secret. He believed your cover story, no one had any reason to question it. You were just Marianne, a simple girl. A simple girl with superpowers who healed his ankle. Later, when you became closer, sitting next to each other on the rooftop of a building looking down on the city lights, and the traffic that still moved late at night, you explained to him that your powers came from a freak accident in a lab when you were a kid. That much was true, most of the things you told him were true. At the time you felt he was someone who understood you, and he felt the same. And that's how the both of you started developing feelings for each other. It was more than just a crush and the need to have the other closer kept getting stronger. You kept reminding yourself that you couldn't, that you were being so unfair to him, keeping him in the dark about who you really were, if he knew the truth he would never have trusted you. So when you were told he died, how Batman was so sure of it, you regretted everything. You were so decided on telling him the night he disappeared, why didn't you do it before? You've been living with that ever since, the regret, the guilt. And it only got worse when you found out he was dead, knowing he died not knowing your real name, he died believing your lies.

"No," you try to stop, not to get closer to his corpse. "what kind of trick is this?"

"Ah, come on- he's still your friend, isn't he?" You struggle, not letting him move you and putting your entire body weight into it, every strain of energy you had in trying to stop it. How sick is he? He kept his body all this time. Tears fell on your face just thinking about it. How much he suffered, how violent his last moments were, how he didn't get justice or a proper burial.

"You can't even respect the dead," You cry "I'm gonna rip your heart out of your chest with my bare hands, do you hear me? I'll make your death so violent even Batman will feel sick"

Your threats started falling out of your mouth faster than the logic in your brain could work, you shouldn't be saying those things. You couldn't be making empty promises like that, you knew you couldn't kill him. You would never be allowed to do it. He laughed, and laughed and pushed you to fall on your back right at the feet of your dead friend. You looked up, just a peak to see his face one last time but he didn't look decomposed, in fact he even had fresh blood on his face. You also saw his chest moving up and down very slowly, was he sleeping?

"Ah, how sweet of you" The man awes, pretending to be flustered by her death threats "but I didn't kill him"

He steps closer and slaps Jason's face, yelling "Wakey, wakey! You have a visit!"

You watch in shock at how he his eyes open so fast, how his head shoot up and the fear in his expression starts to settle in. He wore an orange jumpsuit, as if he was just an inmate more, his cheeks were stained with tears, there was dry blood on one of his nostrils and his lower lip had a cut. Not to mention the "J" scar on his face too.

"What did you do to him?" You ask, sitting up from where you were.

"We were just having fun together, right Jason?" He grabs his head from behind him to make him shake it, saying yes. "and you and I can have just as much fun, soon as you start telling the truth"

"Ma-Marianne?" His voice is rough and low, it was the first time you heard him scared.

"Yes," You crawl closer to him, and look up at him before resting your forehead in one of his legs to hide your face as you started to weep inconsolably "I'm so sorry, they said you were dead, that-"

There is a deadly silence filling the room , where you can only hear your ugly sobs. Jason doesn't respond and you didn't expect him to, but at least they let you cry in peace. Taking in the fact that he'd been alive all this time, thinking about what he's been put through as you mourned like an idiot when you should've kept looking for him. How you abandoned him, how everyone abandoned him. And that made you feel even worse than your initial thought of Joker not letting him rest after he died, because in that case there was nothing you could've done but now... You felt his leg move lightly and you looked up, maybe you were making him uncomfortable and this was his way of saying it. He mouthed a little "I love you" when he knew your captor wouldn't see it. Just then as you gave him a small nod and mouthed "I love you too" you saw he was crying too. Soon his tears fell on you, and he moved his shoulder and turned his head to wipe them off as he sniffed.

"Aww, isn't it romantic, Mr J?" Harley's voice sounds from behind you but you couldn't bring yourself to look away from him. You were getting out there tonight, fuck your cover, fuck your job, he was the only thing that mattered right now.

"Young love," He sighs, dreamy, as if he knew what he was talking about. Like he knew what love felt like at all in any way, shape or form. "We'll have a little menage a trois, It'll be fun dont cha' think?"

And soon enough you felt Harley's arms holding you down as he put a rag over your face and proceeded to throw water. Jason screamed, asking them to stop, that you had nothing to do with them. You coughed when they stopped, at least maybe your face was clean and free of the blood you bit from him earlier. You could handle getting waterboarded, you've been trained to endure all sorts of torture methods. What you couldn't handle was hearing and seeing him like that.

"Now, your little girlfriend hasn't been entirely honest with you"

"I don't know what you're talking about, I've already told you who I am" You insist, this time actually desperate.

"Ah- and who are these two then? Liars?" He shows him, not you, a picture of your fake parents dead. Then he shows it to you, of course Jason thought they were your parents, you gave him no reason to believe otherwise. "Cause you see, I thought you were just another annoying kid, getting in the way of my game with the bat- but you're much more than, you're too good"

Silence, you were trained better than this. They put the cloth on your face again, trying once more to get the truth out of you.

"Hey, maybe he knows" He switches up quickly, and takes a piece of broken wood to hold it over Jason "Come on tell me, who's her? And why is your old man protecting her?"

"Her name's Marianne, and he's protecting her because she's my friend"

"Ah-" He imitates a buzzer noise, like he was in some game show "Wrong answer" He hit him.

"Stop it!" You yell, as he repeatedly hit him. You struggle trying to break free from the woman holding you. Until you managed to hit her with my head somehow. You feel the pain in your scalp from her teeth hitting you too.

"This is useless mista' J," Harley spoke, doubt filled her voice. Maybe you were telling the truth, maybe you were just who you said you were and he was too lost to see it. "the girl's been saying the same for months, and her parents weren't even that convincing when they said they weren't her folks"

You watch them leave, him being visibly angry at her for questioning him. Only for him to come back moments later, almost bolting to Jason saying "I have a show to run outside, could you two behave and wait for me here?" Like you had much of a choice, then he said "And hold this for me, boy" before stabbing him. Of course he couldn't stop by without leaving him with an open wound of any sort. You rushed to him before the door was even closed, you removed the knife from the wound with your mouth, your hands still tied behind your back and wrapped up in multiple different layers in a failed attempt to stop you from using your power. Your eyes lit up as you healed him, his pained grunts eventually coming to a stop.

"I bet I look like shit right now" You joke, resting your cheek on his thigh once more. T rying to hide the fact that, despite the situation you were in, you were still a bit embarrassed that he saw you like that.

"You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen in my life" He confesses, not a single strain of joke or sarcasm in his statement and it makes you blush before you move to the back of his chair to untie him.

"You only say that because you want me to free you" You say before grabbing the rope with your teeth, taking longer to undo the knots than it would with your hands on your back and not being able to see what you were doing. If only they didn't think your powers worked from your hands.

"His ear, you did it?" He asked, getting a muffled sound of confirmation from you. "That's my girl"

The scoff in which he said it made you blush again, your cheeks were heating up tonight. He knew if anyone was ever getting him out it would be you, not Batman. His mentor probably started to look for a replacement as soon as he went off the grid. He knew you would never betray him, that's the only thing the Joker couldn't torture or manipulate out of him, the one thing he could hold on to. His kidnapper was wrong, he was never Batman's or his. He's always been yours, probably since you healed his ankle. The ropes around his arms loosen until he's free again, his muscles were sore but soon the adrenaline would kick in and rid him from all pain. He frees his legs in a hurry as you stand up in front of him, he stands up too again. The stretch felt good, moving on his own felt good, and seeing you again felt even better. You turned around, it was his turn to get rid of the ropes now. He grabbed the knife that you couldn't use and cut through your bindings. Still he couldn't help but think about the worried look on your face, what are you thinking about? How to get out? Him? Whatever it was, he took a moment and the second you turned to face him again he wrapped you in a hug. Feeling your warm body against him for the time in so long, you return the affection hugging him just as tightly. He feels relieved, finally a gentle hand lays on him, a hand that he knew could never hurt him.

"Jay, I-" You hesitate, hiding your face in his chest while trying to hide and get the courage to tell him at the same time "I have to tell you something"

"Can it wait until we get out?" You shake your head no, he had to know so you could break out from there. I mean, it was kinda hard to break out of Arkham without help.

"No, uhm, we need to call for help" You start "There's a chip on me, I need you to cut me and take it out"

"What? Help from who?"

"My agency" You admit in a whisper, and just as fast as you got him back you feel how you're loosing him a second time. He lets go of you, and you can feel the distance he's putting between you two more than any torture Joker put you through.

"Where is it?" He asks, his tone cold and detached. You try to hide how hurt you were, you should've expected it he had every reason to be mad.

"Here" You lift your shirt up and point to the place where the tracker was, on your lower stomach right above your hips, on your left side.

He nods, and you lay down on the floor so he can get to work. He touches you, only to get a feel of where it was and you try not to think that this will probably be the last time you feel him so close as you put your arm over your mouth to stop any noise that may come out of you. He cuts your skin, and you bite your arm and hope it's quick. With the end of the knife he swiftly pulls it out in between all the blood coming out of you. You tell him to step on it so it gets destroyed and sends the message, as you heal yourself. He wasn't even watching you, his eyes were fixed on the door processing yet another betrayal.

"Jay, I wanted to tell you-" You try to explain but he cut you off shooting a serious glare at you.

"I don't care," He was cold, his voice severe and it even scared you "get me the fuck out of here and we'll talk"

You nodded on the verge of tears, then deciding that holding on to the hope than when you two were somewhere safer he'd be open to have a conversation was your safer bet to maintain some sanity. Maybe then he'd listen to your apologies. At this point you weren't hoping for absolution but a truce would suffice. Why did you have to go and fuck it up? Why did you have to go and fall for him? You knew who you were, a spy trained for most of the life you remembered who worked undercover in Gotham, you knew you were not supposed to have any ties or emotional connections. You cursed at whoever gave you feelings and made you human, instead of whoever turned you into a machine.

"We should get moving, get to the extraction point"

He just nodded, it was short and formal, so unlike what you were used from him. He followed behind you as you carefully opened the door. There were no guards outside, so you moved. Soon an alarm started to blare through the rotten and worn down asylum wing, that's why the hallway was so empty. Two inmates run past both of you, pushing you to a wall in the process. You reach to grab Jason's wrist to make sure he's behind you but stop halfway through. Probably being touched by you was the last thing he wanted. So you just walk, decidedly pushing through this situation you were in. Armed with nothing but your fists you take out a man twice your size, you easily dodge his punches and swiftly move around him to hit him in key points that he leaves open. Jason watches, and realizes as you jump to the man's shoulders and snap his neck that you had been holding back all this time. He understands you have been capable of using lethal force but chose not to, though he doesn't know the reason for that. Was it because of Batman? Was it because you were ordered not to? He pushes down the thought, as he should be more focused on the guy he was fighting instead of you. You keep moving, going up to were a helicopter would be waiting for you. What you didn't expect was the Joker's backup plan, Death-stroke, pointing a gun right at your head. Shit, you didn't even tell him about your powers yet, he was going to be even more pissed if you didn't find another way out of this soon.

"Out of my way kid" He tells you "I'm only getting paid for not letting him leave alive, but I don't mind wasting a bullet"

"Oh, fuck off" you sigh tired, you just wanted to get out of there. You were exhausted, you wanted a shower and to sleep on a real bed and if it wasn't too much to ask maybe see the light of the sun. So you froze him, time stopped for the man in front of you. "move, it won't last long"

Jason wants to ask, he's itching to know. How did you do it? How did healing people translate into what you just did? He had so many questions for you, about you. Every time a new question came into his head he felt even more offended, he thought he knew you so well and turns out you'd made him out to be an idiot. He feels like an idiot and for that he's even angrier at you for lying, for keeping things from him when he had been so vulnerable to you. That you knew everything about him yet he knew barely anything about you and even what he knew he doubted it was even real at all. But out sheer stubbornness he wasn't going to ask, he'd rather take the curiosity to his grave.

The loud noise of a helicopter becomes more clear as you head up, and then you recognize the all black uniform and standard weapon of your agency. Confusion painted your face, why would they send backup instead of it just being an extraction team. Usually they didn't have a care in the word if you got out in time or not, even going as far as leaving you behind once. They weren't usually this helpful, or willing to use resources on a simple rescue mission. The help didn't last long since you heard the gun shot coming from where you came from. Shit, it wore off you better leave quickly. You tell him to run, to keep up the pace and he does, promising himself this was the last time he would trust you. It was all fine and well, you could see the escape route clearly you almost made it when you heard it. Jason held the bleeding wound from the bullet, stumbling until you helped him. You stole a gun from a passing agent, they wouldn't notice since it was just their back-up, and shot at the mercenary. Your aim was just a little off, since you were also holding a person with your other arm but you managed to hit his arm. The bullet just grazed him, your friend didn't have the same luck. You shot again, just to create some cover so you could move. It worked, you made it to the helicopter before he passed out from the blood loss. Sadly you couldn't heal him since the bullet was still there, so in tears as you took off you managed to stop his bleeding until you got help.

Of course your supervisor wasn't happy about you escaping earlier than expected or that you bought him along. But after some promises and insisting, they agreed not to let him die and took him to the closest headquarters. You knew the conditions they put on you were harsh but you thought nothing was worth more than his life, so you agreed. Even if it mean never seeing him again, why did it matter anyways? It's not like he wanted much to do with you after today.

A/N: Like I said on the notes on ao3, I'm sensitive and this is my first time posting what I write in a LONG time so have patience with me lol.

#bro I need to work on a better summary #w: jason #Ak!jason todd x reader #Jason todd x reader #reader insert #Ak!Jason todd x reader angst #jason todd angst #I'll add more tags later

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fluentmoviequoter · 5 months

Text

The Price of Christmas Connections

Day 8 of 12 Days of Ficmas

Pairing: Dalton Lambert x reader

Summary: You knock on Dalton's door and offer him some Christmas cookies, and when he offers to pay, you gladly accept.

Warnings: so much fluff; I think I forgot how to write for Dalton.

Word Count: 0.9k+ words (sorry it's short, I liked the idea but couldn't figure out how to make it longer then got too busy to try)

A/N: Like I said in the warnings, I need to watch The Red Door again bc I feel like I'm not writing Dalton as well as I used to, but I have finals this week so this is the best I can do for now. I may revisit this next week and rewrite it if anyone is interested, but for now enjoy some fluff (which Dalton very much deserves after the semester he's had)!

The best part of JPU, in your opinion, is that your last class of the week is across from the art building. Better, is that you get to see the guy you wish you knew. You know his name because his friend yells it whenever she is around. But that is all you know about Dalton. Though you want to know more.

Dalton watches for you when he leaves Professor Armagan’s class, wondering what it would be like if he dared to introduce himself. You’ve waved at Dalton a few times, and he’s awkwardly returned it or pretended not to see you. Every time Dalton walks back to his dorm, feeling disappointed, ashamed, and prepared to get yelled at by Chris.

When December begins, you can’t help but imagine how different the holiday season would be if you could talk to Dalton, get to know him… fall in love with him. The last idea hits you out of nowhere, but you mean it. The rest of the students at JPU seem disinterested in the time of year, with no sign of the Christmas spirit anywhere to be seen. Deciding that something needs to be done, you pull on an invisible Santa hat and set out to bring the spirit of Christmas to JPU until everyone goes home for Christmas.

You pile all of the homemade decorated cookies (and some undecorated, in case someone doesn’t like icing) onto a Christmas platter you picked up from the nearby grocery store. After dressing up with a Mrs. Claus dress pulled over your warmest leggings and a long-sleeve thermal shirt, you leave your apartment and walk to the nearest dorm building. Nearly everyone on the first floor accepts at least one cookie. By the time you reach the third floor, you’re preparing to return to your apartment to refill the platter. As you knock on a door, you count the cookies and decide to offer the last three to whoever is in the dorm. The door opens, and you smile, hoping to spread a little light. You see Dalton on the other side of the door, and your smile grows.

“Hi,” you greet. “I’m handing out Christmas cookies, could I interest you in one? Or three?”

Dalton’s jaw drops nearly imperceptibly as he looks between you and the platter.

“I’ve been watching you, I wanted to meet,” he blurts out. His eyes widen as he rushes to correct, “I mean- not like stalker-watching you, I just know when you have class and I wait until I see you when you leave. No, that’s not better, um-”

You laugh, shifting the platter so you can lay a hand on his arm. “It’s okay. I’ve been wanting to meet you too,” you admit.

Dalton nods, unmoving because you’re at his dorm and touching him. His mind races, forming plenty of things to say, but nothing comes out.

“So, do you want a cookie?” you repeat.

“Oh, yes, please. You- you can come in, if you want, since you said you wanted to meet me.” Dalton cringes as he finishes, whispering an apology.

“Sure,” you agree, entering his dorm.

You set the cookies on a clear corner of his desk, walking to the edge of his bed to inspect the art on his wall. Each piece tells a different story and you feel like you know Dalton more after each picture.

“Are you selling the cookies, or? I mean, I’ll pay for them if you are,” Dalton says, watching you look at his pictures.

He notices your eyes light up as you turn to him and say, “No, I’m not selling them, just handing them out. I’ll accept payment anyway, though.”

Dalton’s brows furrow as his arms drop. You realize you confused him with the conflicting information, so you decide to show him instead. Grabbing his sweatshirt, you pull him to you, kissing him as payment for the cookies, for allowing you to come in and get to know each other, and most importantly, and the opportunity to fall in love with him.

When you pull away from him, breaking the kiss, his eyes remain closed as he mumbles, “That works.”

“I’m glad we finally met,” you tell him.

“Me too.”

“There’s still cookies over there.”

Dalton rolls his eyes and smiles before leaning in to kiss you again.

✯✯✯✯✯

After turning in your last test, marking the official beginning of Christmas break, you run to the art building and wait for Dalton to finish his final presentation for Professor Armagan’s class. When the door opens, you perk up, standing on your toes to watch for Dalton.

“Dalton!” you yell, waving at him when he appears.

He smiles, rushing down the stairs and pulling you into his arms as he asks how your final went.

“Cookie girl!” several people yell, hooting and pointing at you. “Be my Mrs. Claus!” one of them requests.

“My cookie girl,” Dalton says shyly, looking into your eyes as his arms tighten around you.

“Your cookie girl,” you agree, boldly kissing him in front of all the students.

The previously interested guys boo playfully as they continue walking, and you hear Dalton’s friend yell his name in surprise. You pull back, turning into Dalton’s shoulder before facing her.

“This is Chris,” Dalton introduces you. “Chris, this is my cookie girl.”

You roll your eyes at Dalton as you shake Chris’s hand.

“Oh my gosh, my roommate saved me one of your cookies; they were so good!” she gushes.

“Best priced cookies I’ve ever gotten,” Dalton says as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you against him.

Because of a few cookies, you went from staring longingly across campus to see each other to running into his arms. They’re the best-priced cookies you’ve ever had, too.

#fluentmoviequoter12daysoffics #dalton lambert #dalton lambert x reader #dalton lambert fluff #dalton lambert fic #dalton lambert imagine #insidious #insidious the red door #fem!reader

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ussgallifrey · 1 year

Text

Home for the Holidays | Part 1

✦ Summary: Never let it be said that you weren’t willing to do just about anything for your squadron. As you find yourself roped into an elaborate ruse to help fool Hangman’s mother for Christmas all seems to be going according to plan. But when that plan spirals out of control, the line between real and pretend begins to blur.

✦ Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Anxiety, fake dating, hurt/comfort, light mentions of divorce, minor angst.

✦ Word Count: 7.5k

✦ Author's Note: Who are we blaming for this mess? Say it with me: @top-hhun ! The true enabler of all things Jake Seresin. I owe it all to you, love <3

[Master List]

The gym was nearly deserted this time of day. The USS Abraham Lincoln was a mere 48 hours away from port and the crew was anxiously anticipating their first bit of proper leave in over nine months. Your air carrier wing, however, was due to leave in the morning.

You should be packing your things and cleaning up the mess in your locker. But you felt the need to blow off some steam first. And somehow, he always knew when and where to find you.

Even with your earbuds in, you can sense his presence just before he makes himself fully known to you - hovering back by the treadmills. You let him sweat it out, finishing the final few steps of your post-workout cool down on the floor mat, your gym playlist coming to a perfect conclusion.

If he was going to seek you out during your off time, then he would have to wait.

Wiping the sweat from your brow as you stand back up, muscles aching with a pleasant burn, you pull your earbuds out one at a time before turning to face your companion. Hangman is leaning casually against the side of the squat rack now, watching you with that ever-present smirk on his face.

“So,” he drawls in that familiar accent of his, “We doing this?”

You let your eyes trail over his features for a moment, chest still heaving from the afterburn of your workout. How dare he look so put together in his flight suit while in the presence of your sweat-soaked gym clothes.

“What? Just drop trow and do it on the floor?”

You make a grab for your water bottle, taking a refreshingly cool swig before wiping your mouth dry. He doesn’t even have the decency to look fazed by the question.

“At least let me lay down a towel first since I’m not being afforded the luxury of getting dragged back to your berth like one of your other lady friends.”

His eyes narrow and his smirk grows.

Some people had ship wives when they were deployed. Jake Seresin had you.

That wonderfully strange mix of teasing flirtation and sworn rivalry that you somehow balanced between the two of you.

“Don’t tempt a man,” he grins wolfishly, uncrossing his arms and taking a step forward to meet you halfway. “Just say the word, Pita. And your dreams could just become reality.”

You scoff, sidestepping him, “What, the less-than-stellar sex or this convoluted plan you came up with?”

“We - ” he quickly reiterates, waving an accusing finger between you both, “The convoluted plan that we mutually came up with, thank you. Gotta share the credit.”

There was this thing the two of you started doing, way back in the day. The savior swoop, you think he coined it.

The whole thing started with a lovely hole-in-the-wall bar in Sydney during a week-long leave. You had been happily content minding your own business with the three other women from your squadron - Rocky, Juggs, and Barb- when in came an overly smiley Hangman, who had quickly wrapped an arm around your waist and muttered, behind clenched teeth.

“You’re my girlfriend. You’re my girlfriend and I will give you all the money out of my wallet if you sell this for me.”

You had stared at him for a long moment, followed by an affronted, “Yes, hello, Pita. Nice to see you too - ”

That was when he roughly pinched your side. A young woman appeared just a moment later with a lipstick-coated smile that seemed to fall the moment she spotted you. Realization dawned and you pulled the best obnoxious girlfriend ruse you could with six shots of vodka in your system.

At the time, it had never really crossed your mind as to why he approached you out of everyone else. Eventually, you just wrote it off as the fact that you were far more familiar with the man since you had been flying together the longest. That and you knew for a fact that any one of them would have left Hangman out to dry.

It was a thing then. A very non-recurring, once-in-a-blue-moon sort of thing.

Hangman became your cover boyfriend when a pushy marine wouldn’t seem to take a hint. You filled in when two civilians, eager to hook up with a uniformed airhead, kept him from his pool game. It was just a mutually beneficial back-and-forth for the two of you.

No feelings required. Just the occasional dropping of a honey or babe when it was necessary to sell the point, much to the amusement of your fellow aviators who loved to egg it on even more.

This little plan, however, was taking the fucking cake.

You can’t even remember who got started talking about the upcoming homecoming and eventual leave.

The Vigilantes must have pleased the big names over in the admiralty because your air carrier wing had secured ten days of leave right over the Christmas holiday. It was virtually unheard of. But your squadron had just returned from a lengthy tour and you knew at least one or two new chest candies would be heading your way soon.

But there you were with Hangman, shooting the shit in the officer’s rec room with a few other guys from the squad. Freeze was going to propose to his girl finally, Sparky had his whole family coming up from Arizona, and Cosmo was planning some big soul-searching trip to Mount Rainier.

Maybe someone had asked if Seresin was taking his girlfriend back home to visit his family - followed by several good-natured laughs. Maybe it was the obnoxious aviator himself who suggested it with a flash of clear amusement in his eyes.

Either way, here the two of you were, a day shy of flying back to Lemoore, with this massively stupid plan waiting in the wings.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. It’s our stupid plan. An unnecessary plan, I may add. You could just tell your family that you’re not - ”

“Too late now. I told my mom you were coming - you know, when we agreed to it a week ago,” he mimics your annoyance with a great big grin.

You stare down the corridor, wondering if you could just make a run for it and avoid the conversation - and the plan - entirely.

There was a fundamental difference between doing the act to throw off an inebriated barfly and another thing entirely to fly across the country to play house for one of your families for the day.

Hangman crowds your space, staring you down with a knowing look in his bright sage green eyes. Fixing your own stare in return, you stand your ground - lips tight and eyes narrowed.

“You could literally just tell her we’re friends. Only friends.”

He laughs, outright laughs in your face then.

“And miss out on the fun? Where’s your sense of adventure, honey?” he smiles for a moment before finally relenting.

His features soften, taking a quick cursory glance around to seemingly insure your current privacy from the rest of the crew.

“Look, you’d be doing me an honest-to-God favor if you came along.”

You knew that. Hell, you had a whole conversation about it six nights ago actually. You knew Hangman’s family was a mess from the day you and him had crossed paths on the flight deck for the first time. It was just written into his very being.

“Yeah, yeah. Classic savior swoop. Pull at my heartstrings some more while you’re at it, Seresin.”

His features light up as he places a stick of gum between his lips, giving a signature smirk, “You’re gonna make a hell of an impression, Pita. I’ll give you that.”

You pat his shoulder playfully, “Thank me after I get your mother permanently off your back.”

“Will do,” he says with a sort of yes ma’am tone as he watches you walk back to officer’s country before your next debrief.

The journey back to Lemoore had been blessedly smooth flying. The raucous crowd spilled past the barrier the minute the first aviator stepped down onto the tarmac. Families and loved ones flung themselves onto their long-lost loves. Wives and girlfriends with single-stem roses, newborn babies, and weepy toddlers holding signs and tiny flags. It was a familiar, happy sight.

You watch from afar, zipping your helmet back into its carrier, and shouldering your duffle bag.

There was no point in having your family fly out just to meet you here. They were going to see you in three days anyway. Might as well save everyone on the crazy airfare for a change.

A sudden scream pulls your attention to the aviator on bended-knee, with a sobbing brunette now throwing herself into his arms.

“He almost lost the ring before we left.”

You eye Hangman as he sidles in next to you, running a hand through his helmet hair. He’s got a fond smile on his face as he watches the newly engaged couple - Freeze is walking his girl back to the hangar and she’s wrapped herself around his waist like a sloth.

“Seriously? Should start calling him Frodo,” you muse, hefting your bag higher on your shoulder.

“Think Smeagol would be more appropriate.”

You know that he can see you openly mouthing the word Nerd with an air of fake judgment. He just gives a silent head shake of a laugh and double-checks the zipper on his own helmet bag.

The two of you watch as the immediate rush of people seems to ease back, clearing the tarmac.

“So…” he grins, “We still doing this?”

Turning to get a good look at him, you take in the very teasing expression on his face. Though his eyes are too squinted from the overhead sun to get a real good take on his exact inner workings.

“Well, as fun as it would be to leave you hanging for a change - ”

He chuckles, taking a step back to grab his own duffle bag from the ground, “Admit it, Pita. You’d start to feel bad for me. With that aching heart of yours and all.”

“Hah!” you tilt your head back with a bark of laughter, “Oh, Hangman. You have no idea just how steel-coated this heart is. I would delight in seeing you hung out to dry. However, I make it a habit to hold true to my promises.”

“Good,” he nods with a surprising sureness. Plucking his signature box of toothpicks out of his pocket, twiddling with a single pick for a moment, he adds, “Because I would have hated having to chase you down and drag you back to Texas on my own.”

“Mmm, in your alpha male dreams, Hangman.”

You part ways in the parking lot with plans to catch up in three hours. It would, theoretically, be enough time to unpack the essentials, clean yourselves up, and pack a carry-on for the flight.

The on-base house has remained the same as when you left it six months prior, albeit a thin layer of dust covers parts of the room that you swear you’ll get around to cleaning before you fly back out. After your gloriously long, hot, uninterrupted shower, you manage to throw together a reasonable bag in no time flat. Rolling shirts and pants up with expert ease.

And then there’s a knock on your door, one minute before your set meet time. It makes you wonder how long Hangman was waiting around, trying to time it just right, before he came up onto the front porch.

You unceremoniously toss your bag into his arms as a way of greeting, locking the door behind you as he laughs.

“Hello to you too, darlin’.”

“Coffee,” you say by way of explanation, pushing by him. “I need coffee and food if you want to keep me from ripping your head off before we board.”

He gives a sharp nod, following after you to the waiting Chevy pickup in your driveway, “Can do. Gotta keep my girl happy.”

“Oh god,” you groan, turning to look back at him as you pull open the passenger’s door, one foot on the running board. “Are we starting that now?”

His eyes flicker with amusement as he carefully shoves your bag in behind your seat, holding the side handle as he peers up at you.

“Well, you know what they say - ” he flips the toothpick in his mouth around with the roll of his tongue, lips tugged into a smug grin around it, “Practice makes perfect.”

You blank, staring down into the all-too-confident eyes of your wingman.

“And I can still catch another flight,“ you retort with an equally Cheshire-like grin.

His smile falls in an instant, “Right, coffee for the missus.”

The howl of laughter you give is worth it as he seemingly scrambles to shut your door for you, jogging around the front of the truck, before hopping into the driver’s seat.

“I’m not a cheap date either, Seresin,” you warn, clicking your seatbelt into place. “None of that gas station stuff. I just spent months with mediocre instant brews and I deserve something to keep me awake and smiling for this little ruse.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles good-naturedly as he places his hand on the back of your seat, peering over his shoulder as he backs the truck out of the driveway.

The awkwardness hits the minute he pulls out onto the main road, just past the east entrance gate. As though the barbed-wire fence offered a semblance of safety when you were still behind the traffic barrier. But now the cloak was pulled free and you were both fully aware of the situation you were in.

You had spent the better part of a year and a half with this man, both on and off a carrier. You knew his breakfast preferences and his anal retentiveness when it came to the upkeep of both his flight gear and his hair. His argument-worthy movie choices and his pre-flight rituals. It was just a normal part of co-existing on a carrier in the middle of the ocean, you suppose.

And yet, here you were - for seemingly the first time ever - with just him in an enclosed proxy. There was no Freeze or Sparky there to break the tension with an off-the-cuff joke. No Freud to poke fun at the tension itself - should we give you two lovebirds space or do we get a free show?

No, it was just you and Hangman, in his truck, with the genuine realization that you were actually doing this hovering in your quickly sobering thoughts.

Maybe ideas had after doing a twelve-hour, start-to-finish, mission weren’t actually the best things to be acted upon.

There’s the soft hum of a splotchy country radio station that keeps coming in and out of range to fill that voided space between you. A twangy Christmas cover croons over the speakers as you stare out at the open desert landscape that surrounds the empty stretch of road.

You want to say something, anything really to break that strange note of silence.

But for once in your long career of being a give ‘em as good as they get kind of officer, you find the words surprisingly dried up on your tongue. And that doesn’t particularly bode well for the two of you if you have to spend the next forty-two hours together.

Hangman, for all intents and purposes, appears entirely unfazed by the arrangement. As he reclines back in his seat with one hand on the wheel and the other draped against the closed window, catching a bit of direct sunlight.

The only true difference, besides the civvies, is the tightened line of his lips. And his usually slicked-back helmet hair is surprisingly… fluffy, for lack of a better descriptor. You wonder if, like yourself, he only used product when it came to being in uniform or if he just didn’t have the time for it in the mad rush to get to the airport at a reasonable time.

“See somethin’ you like?”

The quip is a loud, sudden intrusion into your silent introspective. He glances over at you with a teasing smirk already in place.

You huff in abhorrence, eyes flicking back to the road in front of you - refusing to fall into an obvious trap like that.

“Remind me why I agreed to this again?” you ask instead.

He switches hands, gripping the steering wheel with his left as his right comes to rest on his inner thigh. He rubs at the denim for a moment as he seems to contemplate his answer.

“I think it might have something to do with my next month’s worth of bonuses being up for grabs.”

The smile on your face dims for a second.

You weren’t particularly interested in prying Hangman’s money from him. If it had been anyone else in the squadron, you would have found yourself in a similar situation - you were sure of it. It’s just the fact that the two of you had the practice in hand for this one strange stunt.

But you would have done the same for Sparky, Cosmo, or Freud in an instant. It wasn’t about the money, it wasn’t that kind of favor. He knew that, right?

Turning it around, you kiddingly press on, “And the free flight, free meal, and free accommodations, right?”

He cracks another look at you as you come to the first stop sign in over six miles, “You really aren’t shaping up to be a cheap date, are ya, Pita?”

“Hey,” you hold your hands up in a way that seems to say you brought this upon yourself. “You asked me, Hangman.”

He scoffs, “Yeah, ‘cause my options were real ripe for the pickin’.”

The truck glides through the four-way; no other vehicle in sight.

“Well,” you lean back into the side of your seat, pushed against the window so you can really get a good look at him. “Did you even bother asking anyone else?”

You can see the thick crease of his brow as he bites down on the toothpick, eyes squinting slightly against the afternoon sun.

“Did you even think to ask Captain Manning to go in on this with you? I bet if anyone could get your mom off your back, it’d be him.”

That at least makes Hangman grin, all bright and genuine as he reaches for a pair of sunglasses attached to his visor. He fiddles them on, one-handed, before peering over at you once again.

“Oh, I have no doubt good ole Zilla would win over my momma’s heart. But the man can’t lie to save his teeth. So, excuse me for bypassing him.”

“Such little fate,” you mock.

“Nah,” he taps the steering wheel with an idle finger, “We’re here now, ’s all that matters.”

You were sure it had nothing to do with the fact that out of your squadron of thirty-eight, you were only one of four female aviators currently flying with the Vigilantes. And certainly, the only one even remotely considered to be close to Seresin.

Of course, the alternative would have been trying to convince some random girl to come along with him for the holiday. And while you didn’t doubt Hangman’s ability to pull, it was a bit of a hard sell given the time of year - even for the likes of him and his classic Ken-doll appearance. And chicks loved the Ken-doll appearance.

No, the truly worst alternative would have been making him face the company of his own family alone. The horror.

Letting the now less-than-awkward silence filter back into the cab, you settle in for the rest of the short ride into the nearest city.

The actual town of Lemoore is far more lively and bustling than the base stationed just thirteen miles west of it. Hangman easily follows your directions to a coffee shop off the main drag - immediately glancing down at his watch, as if trying to mentally calculate the maximum amount of time you could deviate from his schedule.

After parking out front, he holds the door open for you and another couple as the rich aroma of fresh brew and baked goods hits your senses. Was there ever a sweeter smell? After months at sea, with only the array of mixes in the officers’ mess to keep you going, this was like walking into paradise.

Hangman scooches in next to you in line. His sunglasses are at least clipped to the front of his t-shirt’s collar now as he peruses the colorful red and green menu with an appraising kind of look - flipping that damn toothpick of his around in his mouth as he weighs his options.

It’s still decidedly strange to be doing this with him.

While you frequently found yourself in the company of your squadron, both on and off duty, this was notably uncharted territory.

There’s a slightly stoic demeanor that Seresin has when out in public, but the minute you’re called up to the register, he’s got the biggest grin on and good old boy charm ready to go. While he ends up ordering a breakfast sandwich and a surprisingly high-sugar content pumpkin spice frappe, you go for the turkey melt and an iced coffee. He pays for it all - out of some sense of duty to the mission, you suppose - and stuffs a twenty dollar bill in the tip jar for good measure too.

The two of you hover at the end of the counter, next to the hanging snowflake decorations, while you wait for your order to finish up. He’s got his arms crossed and a downturned look on his face as he stares at the coffee shop’s patrons - couples spread out amongst the two-seater tables. A modest indie version of “Santa Baby” and the quiet hum of chatter keep either one of you from speaking until his name is called by the barista.

But as you head back outside, he stops you at the hood of the truck - his brow pinched.

“I’m not gonna be insulted if you back out, you know.”

Scrunching your lip, you say, “Good to know - ” while making a move for the passenger door, clutching your drink and carry-out bag in one hand.

“I mean it,” his voice raises slightly as he rounds his side of the vehicle, continuing the conversation from across the open doorway as you hop in. “We get to Fresno and you take a flight back home and we’ll act like this whole plan never existed.”

You wonder, briefly, where this change of heart is coming from. But you give a little nod, slotting your condensation-heavy coffee into the cup holder - it might be December but it certainly didn’t feel like it out here.

“I mean if you’re looking to get rid of me so easily…”

“That’s not - ”

Hangman groans, slamming his door closed with more force than probably necessary as he scrubs a hand down his face. He stares ahead for a moment before finally saying, in a much more even tone:

“It’s a lot to ask of someone. And I’ve been sitting here for the past twenty minutes wondering what the hell I was thinkin’ asking you to do this in the first place.”

You have the good grace to leave your sandwich wrapped up and on your lap as you turn to give your companion your full attention.

You’re reminded of the conversation the two of you had nearly a week ago.

He was just about staring daggers into his meal when you found him in the Wardroom, well past the dinner rush. There was a pen settled between his fingers like a damn cigarette that he kept twirling around as his gaze drifted past the food in front of him.

And you - like any good person would - asked him what the hell the plate ever did to him.

As you joined him at the empty table, he admitted that he had just gotten the third email that week from his mom going on and on about his future and how he’s getting older, and that the eligible dating pool is vanishing before his very eyes.

“What, is she dead set on having grandkids before she kicks it or something?” you had asked with a pitched tone.

He had just shaken his head, ruffling a hand through his hair - food long forgotten in front of him, “Nah, she’s got nine already. She just gets into a mood around the holidays. But it’s been getting on more and more like this lately.”

“Guess you got no choice but to get hitched the minute you get your boots dry.”

At least that had managed to pull a laugh out of him, even if it seemed hollow and lackluster compared to his usual booming tone.

“Nah, I’m being serious here, Hangman. Have a 72-hour marriage for show, break it off before we head back out. Just give her something for the holiday so she’ll get off your damn back for a while.”

And though it took a moment, his face had lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree. As though he had made the ultimate connection in his brain and had come up with the idea all on his own. As though you hadn’t been joking in the slightest.

“Someone who could pull it off. Someone who has real-time experience with yours truly, right?”

You’re not sure how, in only a matter of an hour, Hangman had convinced you to go along with it. To play the role of doting and loving girlfriend for a one-night-only performance for his mother, of all people. But, at that exact moment, it had seemed like the greatest idea known to man. Hangman, specifically.

But here you were, only hours from hopping on a commercial flight together to put on a show for the big leagues. Was it any wonder either one of you was getting cold feet?

“Seresin.”

His eyes finally drift over to yours. His face is just about as stoic as he can make it be outside of an inspection line. But his eyes, that’s where the real trouble lies.

“I’m already here. I don’t back out of promises - even the most ridiculous kind. So, get the damn ignition started, and let’s go before we get stuck in security for the next two hours.”

He takes you in for a long contemplating kind of moment as you try to be reassuring with only your earnest expression alone. Whatever he finds there, he must deem it good enough for him and his sensibilities because not a second later the truck engine purrs back to life and he’s pulling out onto the street.

He has the good sense not to bring it up for the rest of the drive. When you pull into the airport’s parking lot, he makes a vague last-chance kind of gesture, but you just yank your bag out of the backseat and head towards the terminal entrance. He rushes to grab his own gear to catch up to you.

You discover how much of an antsy flier Hangman is when it comes to flights he’s not personally manning. Constantly checking the time, mumbling about the slow-moving lines - which you remind him is attributed to the fact that you were in an international airport, traveling five days before Christmas.

He had you rushing to get to your gate a good hour before you were even required to be there. And by that point, he was on the edge of his seat, wringing his hands, just waiting for the second your boarding party was called.

His mom snagged the two of you business-class seats for the trip the minute she heard her son would be bringing home a girl this year. You want to feel guilty about it, but you’re actually grateful for the upgrade as you stretch out into the padded seat next to him. The last thing you wanted was to be packed in with the other sardines in Economy.

The flight to Dallas is about as interesting as a FOD walk. With Hangman pulling out a tablet once you’re at cruising altitude, while you pop in your earbuds and almost immediately pass out for two hours straight.

It’s his amused green eyes that you awaken to.

The rough press of his hand against your shoulder and your last name being repeated with louder and more serious persistence. You feel a bit like a zombie as you shuffle alongside him to your next gate after disembarking. That spontaneous nap had been a bit too deep and dreamless for that short of a period, as you woke up feeling more tired than when you initially fell asleep.

There’s a nearly two-hour layover there in Dallas. But you just inch forward through the crowds until your boarding group is called and you’re back onto another plane. The skies outside the window have faded to a vibrant amethyst color, splattered with rays of gold and amber as the bright lights of the city disappear into the distance.

This flight is short in comparison, which you’re thankful for as the grime of travel seems to hang off you now. Roughly an hour out and you would finally be able to debark and collapse face-first into a hotel room.

Hangman has his tablet out again, though he seems far less interested in picking up where he left off on his E-book now. He’s got his right leg crossed over his left at the knee, anxiously tapping his foot and therefore jostling his tablet as he peers at the headrest in front of him.

He had traded for the aisle seat this time, so it takes you a moment to pull your attention away from the changing scenery of the landscape outside your window to properly notice his change in demeanor.

“Hmm?” you hum in question.

He shoots a glance at you - something coming to terms on his face - before he ultimately shoves his tablet against his side and turns as much as he can in the confines of the seat to face you properly.

“My favorite color is blue; dark blue, not sky blue. I hated all of my English classes in school. I track the Longhorns’ scores religiously when we’re out. I despise almonds in their entirety. Non-dairy substitutes are an absolute no-go.”

You stare at him for a long moment before saying, “Okay…?”

With a roll of his eyes, “We’ve been dating for however long. These are things you’d know about me at this point, right?”

“Ahhh, gotcha,” you settle against the armrest in between you both to really look into his eyes. “See, I didn’t realize that to enter your mom’s house I would have to pass the Seresin partner pop quiz first.”

“Oh, fuck off,” he pulls away, running his hand through his unkempt hair.

You kick your foot at his shin, just a playful tap really, to get his attention.

“You prefer sausage links over patties. You won’t shut the fuck up about Hudson Card and his current stats - which are shit, by the way. You suck at poker and any other card game we’ve ever played. You have a lucky pair of briefs that you wear every time we - ”

“Okay,” he quickly interrupts, holding up his hand to cut you off.

“Come on,” you grin. “We’re in too tight of a circle to not know the damn basics about each other at this point. How about, instead of playing twenty questions until we land, you tell me about the off-limits stuff.”

At the questioning raise of his brows, you elaborate.

“Any triggers words? Like, I have an uncle Edward who, if you mention iPhones, will go on an unhinged rant about 5G towers and radiation until he runs out of breath. Anything like that I should be made aware of?”

His features seem to relax at last as he rubs his hand along his jawline for a moment, “Best not mention my Dad at all. Avoid the name Gwen, if you can.”

“Stepmom?”

He nods, blowing out a long breath, “Stepmom.”

“Think I can manage that. Anything else?”

For the rest of the flight, you cover the basics of the trip. His mom, Patricia - but call her Patty - is a bit of a germaphobe.

She has two guest rooms and will gladly offer to accommodate you both for the night, but she’d actually hate it if you took her up on the offer. She’s a traditionalist when it comes to Christmas dinner; none of that fusion food at her table. She’ll sneak off to the kitchen for a not-so-sneaky drink if the conversation takes a turn at all.

But most importantly, she definitely does not want to hear about any missions he has been on, though she’s very proud of his current career.

“And where are we on the PDA scale?” you ask as Hangman grabs your bag from the trunk of the rental car.

You had been stuck at the baggage carousel for forty-five minutes, the car rental counter for another twenty, and then the drive from the southern part of Austin up to the northern part had taken over half an hour. At this point, you were done.

But, for once, you had to admit that the company wasn’t the worst to be had.

“Ehh, probably on the low side? Enough to pass as a couple but not enough to make her grab hold of the metaphorical pearls.”

You hum in understanding, noticing that he’s still got his fingers looped through the strap of your bag along with his own as you head for the side entrance of the hotel, up to your room on the third floor.

After nabbing the key card from him, you unlock the door and immediately flick on the lights - making a straight line to the double bed by the window and unceremoniously flopping down on it, face first. Your bag is dropped next to your leg, making the bed jostle slightly, but you merely grunt in acknowledgment.

You can hear his tired chuckle somewhere above you, followed by the sound of his boots being kicked off.

“Before you disappear on me again, Pita. Be a dear and take a look at that informational on the table and find us some damn food.”

Giving a lazy thumbs up in his general direction, Hangman gives a departing laugh before he heads into the bathroom - but only after securing the deadbolt on the main door first.

It takes a moment, but you finally summon the energy to pull yourself up onto your elbows. Snatching the paper brochure from the bedside table with a listing of the local attractions and restaurants. You skim the names until you find a pizza place that’s supposedly open til midnight. It was only - you glance at the radio clock - 10:46 pm, so you should be good to send in a delivery order.

“Pizza?” you call out.

You can make out the muffled what he yells back in return.

“Do you want pizza?”

Your louder query is immediately responded to with a rough I can’t fuckin’ hear you in here.

Flipping onto your side, you wait for him to emerge from the bathroom to bother communicating with him again. Pulling out your phone, you search for the restaurant and casually scroll through their menu until you hear the click of the door.

Hangman shuffles out, grabbing his abandoned hoodie from the bed and methodically folding it up, “What were you hollering about?”

“Pizza sound good?”

He grunts, nabbing his boots and moving them into a more reasonable location in front of the open closet by the door.

“Depends on the place.”

You look at the name on the webpage, “Market Street Pizzeria?”

With a nod, he pads across the room and plops down heavily on the bed opposite yours, running both hands through his hair as he seems to stifle a yawn before it can escape.

“They’re good,” lifting his hips up from the bed, he grabs his wallet out of his back pocket, rummaging for a moment before he tosses a card at your face. “Here, get whatever. I’ll just pick off anything too offensive.”

You glance down at the card before immediately slamming it down on the nightstand, “Yeah, I’ll get this one. And I hope you don’t find pepperoni and cheese too obscene for your standards.”

He stares at you for a long moment before relenting and swiping up his debit card. You eye him as he tosses his wallet down at the foot of his bed before he props the pillows up and rests back against them - grabbing hold of the TV remote.

“Should be twenty minutes,” you announce, dropping your phone down on the bed as you push yourself up into a sitting position.

He hums in acknowledgment as you unzip your bag and fish out a pair of pajama pants that you had packed near the top of your items. You disappear into the bathroom to do your business and change - staring at yourself in the mirror for a long moment. Two flights and an impromptu nap had not done you any favors and that was a fact. After splashing some water on your face, you join Hangman back in the room.

He’s got just about everything settled already. A phone charger’s meticulously looped and plugged into the bedside outlet, a toiletry bag on the left-hand side of the dresser, and his own travel bag secured away in the closet next to his boots. The efficient bastard.

When you get the notification that your delivery has arrived, he heads down to collect your food and tip the driver. He ends up sitting at the desk to eat while you sit cross-legged on the end of your bed. The news is playing on mute in the background with the closed captions turned on.

“So,” you say after taking another bite, “What’s our story, in case she asks?”

He wipes his fingers off on one of the napkins before crumbling it up into a ball and taking aim at the trash can - it lands, of course.

But then he seems to remember that you asked a question as he turns in the rolling chair, legs spread wide as he gently sways side-to-side, “Like how we met?”

You roll your eyes, licking your fingertips clean of pizza grease, “I think it’s pretty apparent how we met, Seresin. What I meant was, how long has this - ” you gesture a hand between the two of you - “been going on. I mean, you’re taking me back home for the holidays, so it’s probably pretty serious at this point.”

He gives a chuckle, tapping his fingers on his knees, “How long a period of time is considered appropriate to bring a partner home?”

“Hell if I know,” you chortle, kicking your legs down over the side of the bed as you lean back on your hands.

His brow hitches up, “What, never taken someone home before?”

You don’t like the pointedness of the question as you squint back at him, “Been a bit busy, Bagman. What about you? What’s your excuse?”

“Had a high school girlfriend, dated for three years. Had her over for Christmas our senior year.”

“No one since though?” you ask.

“Like you said,” he leans back in the desk chair, folding his hands together over his stomach, “We’ve been busy.”

You nod, letting the topic settle in front of you both.

It wasn’t unheard of for people to get together on deployment, even less so on the carrier when you were forced into a confined space with the same individuals for months at a time. Shore leave was good for an easy hook-up or two, but real relationships? Those usually only happened prior to getting your orders for the most part.

The majority of the guys you knew had gotten together with their significant others around their time at the Academy, if not even sooner. Half of them got hitched right after graduation so their girl could get a place on base before they shipped out or went to flight school. But after that? Well, there wasn’t a hell of a lot of time for regular dating.

And it wasn’t that big of a deal when your focus was on your career. People like you and Hangman were all about that life. You didn’t go through the rigors of TOPGUN just to ask to be relocated to a desk job in Pensacola so you could settle down with a nice man and have a few all-American kiddos of your own this early on in your career.

Half your squadron had someone waiting for them back home. It was just a handful of you now that were still noticeably single - happily single, you should add.

“Five months,” you finally announce.

When you’re met with a curious pair of olive green eyes, you reiterate.

“We tell her we’ve been together for five months. Long enough to be serious, but short-term enough to make it seem like we were just being cautious about announcing anything too soon to our families.”

Hangman chews on his lip, mulling over your idea before he leans forward and extends his hand for you to shake, “Sounds like a plan, sweetheart.”

You just shake your head as you grip his hand tightly, “Guess I need to get used to those cutesy little pet names, huh?”

He laughs, pulling back to scratch at his chin, “Mmm, need to start with calling me by my real name for a start.”

“What, no Jakey or Jakers?”

His eyes light up in the soft glow of the hotel room’s incandescents as he dips his head back to laugh, “I swear to god, it’ll be a miracle if we pull this off.”

“Have a little faith in my acting abilities, baby,” you bat your lashes heavily, your voice turning soft and overly sweet. It probably didn’t help that you were functioning on almost nothing but coffee and pizza at this point.

He immediately pushes up from the chair, “I’m heading to bed before you make me hurl my food into the damn sink.”

“Don’t say that, sweetie-kins!” you coo, flopping over on the bed as you watch him collect the pizza box and methodically crush it in half to fit into the small black garbage can.

“Maybe I’ll call Guy up and see if he’s still available,” he muses with an irritated tone of voice, just to spur you on further as he nabs his toiletry bag and heads into the bathroom - leaving the door ajar.

“Now that is a show I would pay money to see,” you finally relent the act, pushing back the white comforter on your bed.

It only takes him a few minutes before he emerges. Jake smirks as he makes his way back to the bed, wearing nothing but his white t-shirt and briefs.

It must speak something to his level of exhaustion that he doesn’t even bother to make a you like what you see sort of comment. Not that you’d never seen him, or any other member of your squadron for that matter, in that level of undress before during pre-flight suit-up. But being at near eye-level in a hotel room was definitely a change in pace, though you also choose not to comment on it.

He merely rolls his comforter all the way to the end of the bed before he gets under the sheets, “You’re not an obnoxious snorer, are you, honey?”

You heft yourself up and cross the room in search of your own toiletry bag, “Guess you’ll just have to find out for yourself.”

His tone is edged with a false sense of frustration as he grunts a low, drawn-out, “Lucky me.”

When you return to the room, the TV is off and he’s lying flat on his back.

The luminous blue light of his phone casts his face in sharp brightness as he quietly scrolls through something. You let him have his silence as you deposit your shower bag on your side of the dresser and carefully place your folded bra back into your backpack.

Only once you’re under the covers of your bed, with just the single bedside light on, does Jake relinquish his phone - placing it on the charger. He meets your gaze from across the way and, for a moment, it seems like there’s something he wants to say as he worries at his bottom lip.

But he ultimately just gives you a gruff: Night, Pita. Immediately followed by a curt nod before he turns off his light and rolls over to face toward the door.

With a shake of your head, and an accompanying: Goodnight, Hangman, you roll towards the window and try to settle in to sleep.

The sound of rustling sheets and agitated breaths fills the room for some time before the whirl of air conditioning kicks on. And then it’s only a matter of time before the darkness and the white noise soothes you into the lull of proper sleep.

Story Masterlist || Next Chapter

#jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #top gun fan fic #series: home for the holidays #my fic

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