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marleyybluu · 7 months

Text

Differences

husband!Rio x f!black!OC ( Toni - no relation to Miss Braxton.)

Word count: 3.2k

Content warning: 18+, smut out the ass, riding, fingering, p in v, creampie, use of the word cock sorry oops, baby-making boogie, doubts about marriage, doubts about kids, fluff, Rio being in love, lot of switching between his names, allusion to food play if you squint hard enough (?). lmk if I missed any.

A/N: this was orginally for... someone else iykyk mind your business, but I switched last minute. Also I gave Rio a middle name lol

(Not my gif, found off Pinterest. but FUCK ME he looks good)

They'd been married for four years. They enjoyed their marital life, going on various trips, spending their money all willy-nilly since it was just the two of them, having parties at their house every holiday but something was missing. At least for Toni. She always wanted to be a mother, children invaded her heart and soul her whole life. Her sisters had children that she loved to babysit, she was even in the delivery room a few times. She'd become a teacher for the sole purpose of spending her days with young ones, making a difference in their lives and loving them wholeheartedly as much as she could.

But it seemed like Rio wasn't in the same boat. Which was stupid because they made sure to have this discussion before they got married and he was on board one hundred percent, Toni wanted to make her husband a father, she wanted to see him cradle a little blanket in his arms, she wanted to see him snuggling next to the chubbiest cheeks and she wanted to see his face light up at their first word but, again, he seemed to not want it for himself.

It was frustrating.

She'd let the four years pass, it was a good time window, they had time to get their lives together and buy a house, fully furnish it, settle into a decent neighbourhood and buy an SUV to fit the little family they dreamed of.

Toni even made sure to let him know when she was ovulating, the perfect opportunity to try and make a child, but he'd shrivel up and disappear when she brought it up. Then she'd spend her nights quietly doubting his interest in kids, his interest in her.

They hadn't spoken in four days, the aftermath of their first real argument, the vibes in the house were heavy and sometimes a bit awkward. She even started staying late at work to avoid him even longer.

They weren't all that selfish, they still said good morning and good night but that was about it. Little to her knowledge it was killing Rio. He hated the silent treatment from her, she was his girl they talked all the time, this had been the best relationship he'd ever been in, he didn't want to fuck it up but it felt like he already did.

He tried sneaking his way back into her heart by leaving little love notes, cooking her favourite meals and turning on her favourite shows in hopes she'd join him on the couch but all he got was the cold shoulder and he understood. He fucked up big time.

"I'm ovulating." She stated plainly. Rio just blinked and shrugged. She groaned. "Christopher, I can't do this anymore, I'm dropping hints that I want to start trying and you... you ignore me."

"I'm not ready."

"When will you be? Because I am."

He chuckled nervously. "Come on, Toni, we cannot be parents. We'll fuck it up."

The look on her face sent his heart into the pit of his stomach, her eyes glossy with tears coming in, and a harsh; "Fuck you, Christopher!" To follow suit. It stung hearing those words, if she ever said them it was more so in a playful manner but this time she had rage, anger behind her words and rightfully so. But tonight he was determined to make amends, he could not keep living like this.

It was Friday, and Toni decided she'd come home a little earlier. Rio sat up quickly at the sound of her car door slamming and the keys on her keychain jingling as she sifted for the house key. The door opened and he tried his best to keep his cool. "Hi, darlin." He greeted.

"Hey." She said in the most monotone voice he'd ever heard. "Hungry?" He asked. "Nah, I'm cool."

Toni slipped off her shoes and crept up the stairs to their room, she placed her purse on a chair nearby and sighed, just ready to shower and lay down for the rest of the weekend. She walked past their bathroom intending to head to her Vanity but a red spot on the floor caught her eye, and then another... and another. But they weren't spots, they were rose petals, a trail of them leading up to the tub that was already filled with water, the smell of her lavender bath bomb invading her senses. On the counter were a few lit candles and her little speaker so she could play music.

She swallowed her smile and headed back to the room to collect her clothes for the night. Meanwhile, Rio was finishing the final touches on his persuasive dinner downstairs. He made Macaroni just the way she taught him, some rice and chicken, even topped it off with a red velvet cake... okay so he bought the cake but it was the thought that counted right?

He set up the table for both of them to eat together, he set up the forks and knives on the table with a small vase of her favourite flower, pink Dahlia's. His palms were suddenly sweaty, tonight was make or break. If he didn't fix things tonight he had no idea where they would stand after.

Almost an hour later, Toni decided she'd close the distance between them only because she was hungry. Her feet pressed against the carpeted stairs as she descended onto the main floor, the living room was empty, Rio left whatever he was watching on pause. Her head whipped over to the kitchen smelling a lovely fragrance, she followed the trail and stopped in her tracks at the opening to the kitchen. She watched as Rio scrambled to plate their food, she tilted her head and smiled lightly, her eyes slowly forming into hearts. Oh, how she loved him.

"Do you want help?" She asked making her presence known, Rio shook his head. "Just sit and be pretty." She giggled. "I have no problem doing that."

She sat around the table, her eyes landing on the Dahlia's, her smile widened. "You got these for me?"

"Of course," He replied walking with two plates in his hand like a waiter, he put hers down first and then his. "Any drink requests?" He asked. She motioned her finger in a 'come here' motion, his eyebrows knitting with confusion but following her non-verbal instruction, she cupped his face pulling him even closer until their lips, moulding into one. She'd been wanting to kiss him for days, she didn't know if she could ever hold a grudge this long again.

The kiss was quick, just a little show of appreciation. She could see a light shade of pink take over his cheekbones. "Do we have any wine?"

"Went and got two new bottles." He says matter of factly. Toni pecked his lips again before sending him off for her drink. He grabbed two wine glasses and the bottle. "You're going to drink wine?" She asked in utter confusion. He couldn't stand wine, his famous line was 'I don't know how you drink this shit.'

He shrugged sitting down. "I can drink wine."

"Christopher... baby you hate wine."

"I can learn to like it."

She knew he was doing everything to soften her up, but the look on his face when he took a first sip was priceless. "Go and get a beer, leave me and my wine alone." He chuckled and quickly grabbed a bottle from the fridge.

The two sat and actually conversed for the first time in four days. It was nice. They talked without missing a beat, he was making her smile and laugh, she told him about the kids at work and the twinkle in her eye at the smallest mention of them was beautiful. She truly loved her students, they made her day every day with the silly stuff they'd say to her. He was in love with how motherly she could be toward everyone, how forgiving she was of anyone and especially of him. He didn't deserve her and he'd made it known numerous times and in the same amount she'd reassured him that he was just for her.

In the middle of her ramble, she noticed the way he was staring at her and suddenly she became shy. "What?" She asked. "I love you, mama."

"I love you too, Christopher."

He shook his head vigorously. "No, I love you more than you could ever imagine, Toni. And I am so so sorry for what I said."

She sighed. "It's okay."

"No, it's not okay. You will be an amazing mom to our kids and I couldn't picture anyone else having them, shit I couldn't even picture having a family until you came, it wasn't in the cards for me." He confessed. "My whole life has changed and I'm forever grateful for it. I want it to keep changing."

She tugged on her bottom lip, trying her best to swallow her tears. "When I saw how my words affected you, baby, my heart broke. I never want to be the reason you're sad. Never. I've missed you these few days. I need you back. I'm sorry."

Toni was speechless, her lips parted to say something but how do you respond to the sweetest apology ever?

Her eyes darted between his pretty brown ones, she stood up and walked over to him, swinging her leg over his she planted herself comfortably on his lap. His hands instantly rested on her hips. She didn't say anything, just leaned down and kissed him and he could swear that on her lips he could taste his past, his present and his future and she was there for every step, for every second. He wouldn't dare say such foolishness to her again.

Toni could feel a little poke through his sweats, she quietly moaned into his mouth, his hands exploring her warm chestnut skin under her shirt, his fingers trickling down her back. His lips moved to her chin and down to her neck to the spot he knew oh so well, his facial hair tickling her skin only adding to the sensation and a ray of goosebumps formed on her skin. "Christopher...mmm." Was all she could mutter, her hips involuntarily moving back and forth desperately searching for friction to soothe the aching of her clit. He got the message though, firmly splaying his hands under her ample ass, he stood up and she wrapped her legs around him.

He was halfway out of the kitchen when he realized; "Wait, I got you a red velvet cake."

Toni laughed, and she kissed his forehead, god he was so cute. "Boy, forget the cake. Take me upstairs and you can eat a different cake."

Rio raised his eyebrows, didn't have to tell him twice. "That's why I married yo ass girl."

She gladly hung off of him while he carried her up the stairs and once they made it to the room he dropped her on the bed, her sweet laughter filled the room. He settled between her legs, peppering her with kisses and affection. "I can't wait to see you, walking around here with a little belly, carrying around our love." He twitched at the thought and she noticed. A small surprised look on her face. "Is the thought of me pregnant... turning you on?"

"No." He quickly denied it. "Christopher Javier Martínez, yes it does." She teased reaching in between them to cup his hardening erection. "Mm, so you want to fill me up? Hm?" Her voice was so smooth and silky yet seductive, her lips pressing against his only for a moment. "You want to see me carrying your baby around? How swollen and plump my breasts are gonna get? Practically spilling over my tops."

"Toni." He groaned. She giggled but her taunting was cut short when he reached into her (well, his) boxers, his fingers teasing her slit, her wetness coating him. Her back arched as he quickly dipped his fingers inside her heat and back out. "Stop playin' with me." She moaned. "Why?"

Her shirt slid up her torso and past her breasts exposing her erect nipples, his mouth quickly latching onto one, his tongue swirling around her pretty brown areolas, so delicious. His free hand massaged her other one, his thumb and index fingers playing with her nipple. Her back arched and her legs squirm under him.

"Christopher, baby, please." She whined. He chuckled and something about was kind of sinister like his intent was to tease her all night until she begged for what she wanted. He popped her nipple out of his mouth, planting a kiss on it before moving on to the next, his hips grinding into hers pressing his clothed cock on her needy clit. "Yes... oh, I need more, please." She gasped.

He kissed between the valley of her breasts, down her torso and finally reaching his destination above the band of her underwear, he tugs them off in almost a hungry manner, his mouth attaching to her pussy like a magnet. His tongue going to work on her clit, his thumb caressing the rest of her slit. Toni's entire body shivered, her legs slowly closing around his head, he used his free hand to smack her inner thigh, she squealed and spread them out, holding the under of her thighs for support.

Her eyes glided to the back of her head, she squirmed, her back arching just a little bit. "Oh... y-yeah." Her toes cracked while pleasure coursed through her veins. Rio hummed against her sensitive nub, his own hips losing themselves as he hunched against the mattress with neediness. Her thighs trembled as they partially rested on his shoulders. She moaned and whined, whimpered and croaked as he devoured her existence.

"fuck, baby, I'm so close." She warned with her jaw slacked as the hairs on her arm stood, her body stiffened, her nails scratched at his scalp with appreciation and love as he carried her through the tantalizing loops of her orgasm.

She was dripping down his beard and he smiled against her thigh, his teeth gently biting on the flesh. "Oh!... Mr. Martinez." She giggled. He kissed his way back up her body, his lips landing on her chin. "I'm so glad I married you." She hummed running her nails over his skin. "Hm, I love you, ma." He cooed pressing a kiss to her nose. Rio slid off his sweats and boxers, dick sliding between her soaking folds. Her hand reached between them wrapping her fingers around his well-sized shaft.

Their lips connect as she guides him inside her soft walls. She gasped and softly moaned as he eased his way in until she was stuffed. Toni wrapped her legs around his waist. "You good?" Just checking. She nodded, too full to speak. His lips occupied her neck, her mind in the clouds as he fucked her stupid. Mutters and mumbles of "fuck me! Yes!" Or "right there!" As he skillfully worked his hips. He held her close, his face buried in the curve of her neck. His thrusts were hard and slow, he was making her feel every inch, every bit of stretch he provided.

Her high creeping its way into her bones, her moans became louder as he consistently tapped against her g-spot. There was no way he was about to make her nut again in such a short amount of time. He could feel her juicy walls contracting around him, hugging him so tight. "You're so wet for me, huh, my pretty baby?"

Toni's jaw slacked while he talked to her, nibbling on her ear. "So fucking wet, can feel it dripping down my balls, fuck."

She whined. "I can't- shit! shit! ooooh!"

He chuckles as he pulls out, regrettably at that. Toni cried out, her climax so close yet so far. Rio fell onto the bed, slapping her thigh he said, "Get on top."

She sucked her teeth, in no mood to be on top, still irritated from being denied her needs. Rio pinched her and she yelped. "Ow! You dick!" She laughed slapping his arm. "Hurry up and get on this dick." He urged pulling her arm to help her over. She swung her leg across his body, perching herself on his lap like earlier. His dick resting perfectly against one of her cheeks. She looked down at him and he was so fucking pretty. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, her eyes landing on that notorious Eagle tattoo on his throat then down over the rest that he had scattered on his body, she moaned at that alone.

She leaned forward, raising her hips and skillfully lining him up with her entrance, no hands needed. She watched as his rosy lips parted slightly and a small crease in between his eyebrows formed when they came together. "Fuuuuck." He dragged out feeling his dick be re-enveloped in her velvety walls. Toni moved her hips back and forth with one goal in mind, to get herself off. She used her knees as leverage to lift her hips up and back down, her ass jiggling when colliding with his thighs. With her lip between her teeth, her head tossed back she got to work on him.

Rio's hands gladly squeezed at her sides, her moans filling the room once again. "You're so fucking pretty on top of me, mama." He encouraged, but he truly meant it, she looked like a fucking angel. "Oh god, oh god... fuck yes, Rio!" He felt himself twitch, his wife rarely called him by his street name, she only did it when she wanted to tease him, loved to do it when they were around others.

He groaned spanking her. She smiled, a hazy look in her eyes. "What's my name, mama?"

Toni cried out, her head falling forward as she bounced out her orgasm. "Fu-fuuuck, Rio!"

"Squeezing this dick so fuckin' tight, come on..." He sat up hooking his arm around her waist, his tongue darting out to the underside of her breast, tasting the saltiness of her sweat. Toni sang out his name, her back arched and her eyes rolled. He grabbed her hips and guided her up and down, her body going limp. "Shit! Oh... Toni, I'm comin' baby." He growled through gritted teeth, he pressed his forehead against her sternum and she softly smiled feeling his warm seed spread inside her. "Fuck... that feels so good." She giggled, she was cock drunk. He kissed her glistening skin.

They stayed like that for a moment, she kissed the top of his head, her hands on his shoulders as she slowly pushed him onto his back again, she climbed off of him and sighed in satisfaction. "You want something to drink?" He asked, she shook her head. "Nah, you gotta hydrate ma. I'm making sure I put a baby in you tonight." He laughed lightly smacking her thigh. Her cheeks warmed as a smile fell onto her face.

She watched as Rio, naked and all, left the room to go downstairs. "Bring the cake too!"Toni shouted, he could just hear the smirk in her voice.

"You are so nasty!" He yelled back.

"You love it though!"

If you liked this fic free to like this fic, likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated. peace and love, see you in the next one 🤙🏾 If you're interested in reading other fics based on songs just like this one you can find them here in 'The Mixtapes.' playlist.

tags: @darqchilddaydreamz @rio-reid-whoreee @skyesthebomb tags that might be interested: @bigenergy777 @realhotgurlshit @lovedlover

#good girls rio #rio good girls #smut #husband!rio #black!xOC #reader discretion advised #Rio fanfic #Rio smut #Spotify

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salicepalico · 1 year

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Who Would (human)Salice's first time be with in the AC universe??

I took in many points. Having only studied the Ezio Trilogy, reading AC3 and 4, and a shit ton of smutty fanfics, here are my points:

Ezio- No, she wouldn't fuck Ezio. She sees him more as a brother, even a father figure (even though they're the same age). She has respect for him. They practically grew up together and trained together. They're true family. She even took his last name.

Connor- The two would get along, they'd be interested in each other, but at this point in time, they are both inexperienced in the bedroom. They'd both be clueless and Achilles would be losing his fucking mind watching them ATTEMPT to flirt with each other. Salice would be slightly better at it due to her connection with courtesans, but... she'd still be confused.

Edward- I feel like, since he's not a real assassin (didn't grow up with the same morals) Salice would find it hard to find a connection, and even trust him enough to bed him. I mean, in the end he does become an Assassin, and maybe THEN she would, but by that time he'd have a wife and child (who becomes a Templar). As much as I think I'd be cool, no... Salice would probably not.

Shay- No... Salice would understand why he left. After all, even she would have doubts about the Brotherhood's morals. She would be confused at what the Brotherhood had become after 1524. She grew up learning that taking innocent lives is a big no-no. And that the safety of the people should always be first. That is not what this Brotherhood was doing. But defecting to the Templars?! No. That also goes against the creed she grew up with.

Jacob- Salice would admire his work. She'd love seeing all he has done and would be excited to see what he will do in the future. However, she'd know of his wife and child and wouldn't step in between that relationship. She'd think he's cute, though!

Arno- She wouldn't trust his connection with the Templars. She'd be wary. She'd understand in the end that that alliance was a good thing and see that not ALL Templars are bad. However, she'd be afraid that she'd be taken advantage of by the Templars and try not to get too close to Arno in case that could happen. She'd trust him, but not enough to love him.

CONCLUSION: Connor would be the best candidate for Salice's first time. They're both unexperienced and Salice will be able to get to know him as he grows into an Assassin. She'd kinda take him under her wing and teach him what she and Ezio learned together. It would be a budding relationship.

NOTE: In real life, if it were me, I'd fuck all of them because I'm a fucking whore when it comes to fictional men... Jear Desus...

#assassins creed 2 #Assassins creed 3 #assassins creed black flag #assassins creed unity #assassins creed rogue #ezio auditore x reader #edward kenway x reader #connor kenway x reader #arno dorian x reader #jacob frye x reader #shay patrick cormac x reader #oc #xoc #palico #crossover fanfiction #deep analysis

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carbombrenee · 1 year

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greasing up the illustrated leg

#photo365 #tattoo #lady xoc #black and white tattoo #yaxchilan #lintel 26 #archaeology #iconography #ancient maya

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jo-harrington · 9 months

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As Above, So Below - Chapter 1: Illumination

Previous Chapter: Prologue - Annunciation

Summary: You embark on a long journey and you face the ghosts of your past.

Word Count: 10k

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Fem!Original Character (Written in 2nd Person POV - You/Your - No Use of Names of Physical Descriptors)

Warnings/Themes: Religious Themes, Criticism of Religion/Catholicism, Fate vs. Free Will, Mentions of Death and Injury, Mention of Suicide, Established Relationship, Romance, Supernatural Encounters, Angst, Difficult Family Relationships, Biblical and Other Literary/Media References

Note: As we start getting into the meat of the story, I would like to remind everyone to read the Prequels. Especially Purgatory as we will be stepping in right where Purgatory left off.

The categorization for this story is also no longer xReader, but xOC; however, I will still be writing from the same POV and I will still be vague about our Knight's physical characteristics and name. Please see either the Prologue for the note about her background to set the expectation for yourself before you begin to read the this chapter as we will be getting further details of her origins.

This series will not be for the faint of heart, nor is it something that was written with a general audience in mind. Please check the above warnings and ask yourself if you are in the correct headspace to proceed. I am happy to answer any questions via PM or Ask.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

“A hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles.” — Christopher Reeve

October 5th, 1987

Don't be afraid.

You waited restlessly in what could only be described as a receiving line as a black car pulled up and a figure in red emerged from the back.

Don't back down.

With every step he took, another person shook his hand, bowed to kiss his signet ring in respect, and you could feel your resolve begin to crumble.

Don't show weakness.

Finally, he made it to you.

There was no real greeting, no pleasantries. He could put on a show, but it wasn't hard to detect everything rotten beneath the surface.

The newly-appointed Cardinal Jinette had no fondness for you.

"It's good to see you being useful in a time of need," he greeted backhandedly.

Nor did you have any for him.

"I'm only meant to do as I'm told, isn't that right?" you countered trying to hold back the venom in your voice.

He held his hand out and you shook it, but avoided the show of respect. You didn't even look at his ring. He wasn't entitled to it. You gripped his hand tighter as he tried to move on from you.

"We need to talk."

The serene expression that he had schooled himself to give turned hard and impatient, and he reluctantly motioned for you to follow him as he continued down the line.

As he led a prayer for the congregants, you reflected and prepared yourself for the battle ahead.

It had been a few days since the earthquake rocked Los Angeles; countless buildings were damaged and destroyed. The death toll was low, but the number of people injured and missing got higher by the day. The church, of course, became a beacon of hope and refuge as it usually did. People flocked, people prayed and lit candles, they begged God for mercy.

So one would think that you, acting on behalf of the church—on behalf of God—would be put to use in the best of ways. To heal, and fix, for once, instead of strike and destroy.

You had been eager for it, craved it.

But for someone like you there was a line that couldn't be crossed. Rules that couldn't be broken. And when you had shown up at the cathedral amidst chaos after returning to the city from your hike, you had been told to stay out of the way. To let the people who could help in a meaningful way do so.

There would be no healing, no peace, no comfort for those afflicted by tragedy.

"An act of God," Jinette began, because there could be no other explanation. "An act of God requires no miracles; there is nothing to fix."

Miracles?

Was that what he thought they were?

Your nonna always told you that you were destined for miracles. It was in your blood. You'd follow in your father's footsteps and your grandfathers. Save the world from darkness through miracles.

Your father would laugh, though, as he packed his bag to leave on yet another mission for a God that damned him. You'd sit, too young to truly understand her hopeful devotion and his cynicism, and ask what Nonna meant. What miracles he was going to perform.

"Miracles are for Saints. Not for us."

You could have put up a fight. You should have. You should have pushed to make a difference and end someone's suffering but Jinette knew what buttons to press to get you to back down.

Especially since you carried the guilt that the earthquake was your fault in the first place.

Jinette sent you away to a place where he didn't need to look at you, where you could make the least amount of noise.

If only he knew the irony in his choice: the Misión San Gabriel Arcángel.

You swore you heard Gabriel's stiff, judgmental hum as you stepped through the gates. A warning that he could watch you here...watch you anywhere. A reminder that the clock was ticking and fate was waiting.

You helped with disaster relief efforts for days. Walked through the neighborhood passing out food and water, helped set up shelter in the rectory building, and prepared care packages.

Some of the historic buildings on the property had sustained damage in the quake; plaster gave way to show concerning cracks in the adobe below. So you volunteered to go into the chapel to survey the integrity of the building and see if it could be used to safely shelter people who had been displaced from their homes. If an aftershock occurred and the building collapsed, you could get yourself out when others could not.

You had done it before, after all.

However, the most important task you undertook was answering the rectory phone, and it was the reason your eyes burned a hole through the back of Jinette's skull.

He said his final amen, offered some additional handshakes, and then turned on his heel and started towards the cemetery on the grounds. You were quick to follow.

There was an uneasiness that filled you as you stepped past the cemetery gates and onto the grass, an unsettling energy. Not aimed towards you...but at Jinette...

You had always been receptive to the dead, but it had never manifested like this before.

It was a Mission, after all. What else did you expect?

"So," Jinette began and sat on one of the small stone benches. "What have you done now?"

"W-what have I done?" you choked on your words. You shouldn't have been surprised by his dismissal of you. "Why would you assume it's something I've done?"

"Because it's the truth of your soul, child. You sin again and again, you ask for penance, you're sent on another task to find it."

How dare he speak of penance. How dare he set foot on their graves. How dare he disturb their rest. How dare he talk about miracles and healing and peace and sin and forgiveness.

Thoughts bubbled up inside of you like heartburn and fed on your internalized wrath. Thoughts that were not your own.

You pushed them back and tried to focus on the task at hand. You wouldn't get anywhere if you weren't careful.

"I haven't done anything..." you explained. "Yet."

"Ah, you see?" He smirked and clapped his hands, triumphant that his assumption was correct.

"I need to go."

"Go? Go where?"

"Father Arnold had me on the phones yesterday," you began your explanation. "People calling for supplies, to help arrange funerals...standard calls you might expect in this circumstance. But there was one call that...was interesting...concerning.

"Someone from the Geological Survey. Calling to let us know that someone would be out, to the mission specifically...to survey some kind of fault line that might have contributed to the damage. I'm not entirely sure; my father made sure I knew scriptures not science. What was interesting, though, was that he said this earthquake wasn't the only one that happened on Thursday.

"There was another one. Several, in fact, In Indiana. Hawkins. And that—”

Jinette's laughter cut you off and your stomach turned. You could hear the hissing at the back of your mind as the spirits grew restless once again.

"That's what this is about?" he asked incredulously. "Your...silly fascination with Hawkins?"

"It's not a fascination."

"Obsession. With that boy."

"It isn't about Eddie," you scoffed. "Hawkins was already the sight of an atrocity. The...the monsters...the portal...I told you all about it. What if this is related?"

"You didn't seem to think the last earthquake was an atrocity."

No, you hadn't thought so.

There hadn't been a reason for you to think otherwise.

Your thoughts were only on Eddie, not Hawkins. Who cared about the town when he was gone? When he waited for you? Your focus and determination was to undo the curse so you could be with him. More determined than your predecessors ever had been, surely, to reach the ultimate prize.

Love. Forgiveness. Salvation. Rest.

You toed the line between life and death countless times over the past 18 months, you never declined a mission. You became the mindless sword you were destined to be...and it still wasn't enough.

The weariness you had felt before Eddie's death had only increased tenfold. There seemed to be no end in sight.

Then the Earth below Hawkins shook and cracked and split open once again. For 7 days it had been rumbling with some frequency, unexplained.

But there were no such things as coincidences. For Gabriel to show his face here, after something happened in Hawkins again...

"I've changed my mind," you finally answered. "It must have been related. Something infernal. I have a gut feeling, I have to follow it."

"There's a proclivity to temptation in your blood. You know this."

How dare he speak of temptation. Ask about his temptation. Ask him what he did to earn the scarlet robe. He's hungry for power. Power over you.

"It isn't temptation," you argued. "It's a genuine concern. We should at least investigate."

"Have you tried calling? Any of your friends in Hawkins? Called anybody?"

"I have. The phone lines are down. Everywhere. Even the Pizza Parlor. Hawkins went dark...over a week ago it seems."

"Because of the earthquake. There is nothing nefarious there."

"But what if it is? If you're not going to let me go, ask someone else," you begged. "We can contact the Order. It wouldn't hurt to ask."

The two of you talked over one another to convince each other to see reason. You knew you needed to go, and Jinette was desperate for you to stay.

"You have no connection to Hawkins anymore," Jinette raised his voice and stomped his foot down in finality as he rose from the bench.

The anger bubbled up inside you once again and your throat tightened, the hissing of the spirits just as loud in your ear as Jinette’s.

Tell him. Tell him that a power greater than him demands your presence.

"Your little...boyfriend is dead. You have work to do elsewhere. You're better off doing work here, helping people here."

Tell him his rotten little existence is eclipsed by the majesty that awaits you.

“Instead of playing into your little fantasy where you can make up for being unable to save him.”

Tell him to go to Hell and then let us drag him there.

You let out a screech for them to shut up, all of them. Your voice echoed through the cemetery, bounced off headstones and monuments and columbariums.

Then the ground began to violently shake.

You began to shake.

You trembled with fury at a frequency that easily penetrated the earth and rippled out from you.

Jinette lost his balance and fell back on the bench as he stared at you in shock. Frantic shouts could be heard from beyond the walls that enclosed the graveyard. Cars beeped and crashed on the road as drivers lost control.

Across from the mission was the Civic Theater; it was another historic monument in devotion to your Guardian, with three bell towers situated proudly atop it. As the tremors increased, the bells started to sway. The distressed ringing emulated screams and cries for help as the adobe began to crack and give way around them.

“Please,” they seemed to beg in harmony. “We are innocent.”

But their cries fell on unsympathetic ears, and you watched with a dark, sick glee as one of the bell towers broke and crashed through the roof into the auditorium below.

You knew no one was hurt. You could feel it.

But Jinette did not.

"Stop this, stop! Enough" He shouted, pleaded. You recentered yourself and the tremors stopped.

“What have you done?” He asked in disgust. “What have you done?! You’re meant to save the innocent, protect them. You’re a monster!”

You quickly closed the distance between you and he flinched.

“If I’m a monster, it is because you made me one Father,” you hissed at him.

“Then may God find the mercy to save you,” he whispered.

"God isn’t going to save me. I’m going to save myself.”

October 7th, 1987

It was unfair to say that you didn't have any supporters within the church; there were a few people who could even be considered as having a fondness for you. A handful of nuns, the old priest at the parish back home, maybe maybe the Pope if you were really pushing it; he remembered your name once.

The other members of the Holy Order itself...well that was complicated.

However, as soon as you effectively burned bridges with Jinette, the number dwindled even further. And it was evident as you set foot on the grounds of the cathedral to collect your things.

You had only grabbed the bare minimum to go to the Mission on Jinette's orders and the rest had been stored away in some spare room in the rectory. But no matter who you asked, you never got a straight answer.

"The Cardinal had us put your things in storage."

"Your bags? We were told they were to be donated."

"Are you sure you didn't bring them along with you? Maybe a prayer to St. Anthony if you've misplaced them."

One of the nuns who usually had a sweet smile and prayer for you even made the sign of the cross as you went to ask for her help.

You stared at her in shock as she scurried away from you as quickly as she could. You covered your face and groaned.

You shouldn't have done what you did, you knew it...it was just...enough was enough. And you couldn't undo it now. You just...you knew you needed to get to Hawkins, desperately, and if Jinette wasn't going to loosen your leash enough to let you go, after you destroyed yourself for the church—for him—you knew you needed to break free.

But you also needed more than a dirty change of clothes and the handful of bills you had tucked into the glovebox of your car.

"UGH! For fuck's sak--"

"Sorry, did you need help?" a soft voice interrupted you, and as you peeled your hands away to see who the newcomer was, you found yourself vaguely remembering the woman. "Oh, it's you."

She looked different from the last time—the only time—you saw her. She had a coif and veil covering her hair now, and a maroon apron over her blouse and skirt. Not a nun yet, still a novice.

"Mary...Victoria, right?" you recalled. She smiled and nodded, then glanced to the sides.

"I, uh, don't think you're really welcome here anymore," she whispered conspiratorially. "The Cardinal is...really mad; he might have...banned you from the Cathedral."

"Tell me something I don't know." You rolled your eyes. "I just need to get my stuff. I'm making a run for it."

"Oh?" Her eyes brightened. "Where are you going? Official Knight's Business?"

"Less official and more..." You took a breath and tried to find the right words.

She had already been kinder to you than anyone else you'd come across, and could potentially get herself into trouble just for talking to you. It was strange, though, how clearly you remembered the mischief in her when you met.

"...more the exact reason I'm banned from the cathedral in the first place."

Mary Victoria laughed wickedly and nodded.

"Quick getaway, got it. I've been kinda looking for one of those myself."

She was?

She motioned for you to follow her and she led you through the maze of hallways in the rectory to a room that only a select few would see: the sacristy.

It was the room where the priests would prepare for mass, and especially now that Jinette was a Cardinal, it held a larger array of vestments and vessels. Atop a cabinet in the middle of the room was a white cassock and stole...and your duffel bag, the contents of which had been spread out along the cabinet, obviously rifled through.

Mary Victoria quickly tried to make some sort of excuse, that the Cardinal was just taking a tally of your things, maybe to return everything to you...but you both knew she was just doing it to spare your feelings.

Jinette was never intending to return your things.

You wondered, as you scoffed and shoved your clothes and books back into the bag, how many times this had been done before. By how many "well-meaning" priests and bishops and cardinals. They never took anything—they might have been assholes but they never broke a commandment...besides you would have noticed—but it still made you feel...less than.

Could you be surprised though? Over the years it had been made obvious to you that you weren't...a real person in the church's eyes. Especially to those like Jinette. Thus, the things that belonged to you...weren't really yours either. You were not allowed nice things, not allowed a life.

You hoisted your bag over your shoulder and the two of you made a quick getaway out of the rectory.

Mary Victoria hesitantly asked questions as you walked to fill the silence—where you were going, what you were planning to do when you got there—and you wanted to answer her as truthfully as possible, but you didn't really know what would be waiting for you in Hawkins.

"I'm sorry." She sighed and shook her head when you took a little longer to answer. "I know you can't say much."

"No it's not that," you tried to explain, but she continued.

"The first time I heard about the Order, I just thought it sounded so interesting. Fighting against evil, like something in a movie. But then we weren't allowed to ask any questions. We were told to avoid you unless you needed assistance. That's it. Not who you were or what you did or how to become one."

That was another surprise.

"You want to...be a Knight of the Holy Order?"

"I mean I gue—"

"Sister!" a stern voice echoed from behind you and the two of you stopped in your tracks. Mary Victoria suddenly looked like a deer in the headlights. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Mother Superior!" Mary Victoria greeted the older woman in shock. "I was just showing my friend here the way to the exit."

You recognized her. For most of your acquaintance, she had been Sister Kathleen; she was a severe woman and incredibly devout. She'd come to Los Angeles from Chicago, which is where you met her, once upon a time. She had known you for longer than she would probably ever admit, and disliked you for just as long.

She had been your kindergarten teacher.

What had taken her from teaching children to running an abbey...well that was between Kathleen and God, but somewhere deep down, you liked to think it was because of you. She was not the kindest woman, and you weren't like all of the other children under her care.

You were young and not in control of your abilities yet, but you suppose that was just your Mother's excuse for the number of fires that had been started...one for each of the lies that Kathleen had told.

Because of this Kathleen, much like Jinette, had never been your biggest fan, and it was made obvious as she pushed between you and Mary Victoria, as if to form a barrier. She narrowed her eyes at you in distrust, but you just smiled innocently.

You were leaving; what more could she want?

"I think she can find her own way out," Kathleen concluded sharply. "Mass is starting shortly; we shouldn't be late."

"Oh but, we were discussing the Holy Order," Mary Victoria explained. "About her next mission."

"How many times have you been told to leave the Knights alone, Sister," Kathleen hissed at her, then her eyes slid to you. "Especially this one. Now, we must go."

Mary Victoria nodded solemnly, and followed after Kathleen without another word.

It didn't take much effort for you to reach out and feel the despair within her. You didn't know much about Mary Victoria—you didn't know anything—but it felt as though she was a candle that was slowly being snuffed out. Fighting, desperate for life, for light...unable to do anything but suffocate.

How many times had you felt that way over the years?

You made your way out of the cathedral, threw your things in the backseat, and got situated, ready to begin your journey. But the entire time, as you started your car and you dug through your glovebox to find a tape, your thoughts were occupied by Mary Victoria.

She wasn't a friend, she was a stranger. Someone who you met twice, briefly, in this long, unending nightmare that was your life.

She was also someone who helped you, twice, even if she didn't have to.

But that was a part of her vow, part of her becoming a nun...wasn't it? Helping people in need. She chose to be in this situation, chose to do good.

By that same logic, wasn't that part of your deal as well? Part of your vow, part of your curse?

You could have chosen to live the life you wanted. To indulge in freedom and happiness like every other person on the planet and to choose free will. Plenty of your predecessors had done it. But you chose to keep playing this game. Chose to keep fighting evil and helping people, even if the way you helped them...really only did more harm than good sometimes.

You didn't owe her anything.

But what did people owe one another, other than kindness and consideration and respect.

She was being snuffed out, and if you didn't help her...who else would?

"Fuck it!" You yanked your key out of the ignition, jumped out of the car, and then ran back into the cathedral.

You dipped your hand into the holy water and did a vague sign of the cross as you walked into the chapel and beelined straight for the group of nuns at the front. Mary Victoria was sitting beside Mother Kathleen in the middle of the group. You knelt at the end of their pew and whispered to her.

"Psst, Mare? Hey Mare!" She went wide-eyed at the sight of you; all of the nuns did, actually, and Mother Kathleen's face puffed with anger.

"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded but you ignored her. You were on a mission.

A side quest, Eddie would have called it. Save a damsel in distress before going on your mission. Like Taran saved Eilonwy on his quest to find Hen Wen.

"Do you wanna be a Knight?" You kept your focus on Mary Victoria.

"This is blasphemous!"

"What are you doing?" Mary Victoria hissed fearfully in question. The other nuns and novitiates also cowered at the anger of their leader.

"You said it yourself, everyone's supposed to steer clear of the Knights unless they need help," you explained. "So I'm here asking for help. I think you might be the best fit. You already saved my ass twice."

"Foul language in the church—"

"Seriously?"

"—banned from this cathedral already—"

"I think we need to hit the road before the opening hymn starts, so if you could make a decision quickly so I'm not actually crucified, that would be great?" You held your hands together in a plea and Mary Victoria sighed.

It was the longest two seconds of your life as she got to her feet and pulled the veil off her head. She shoved it in Mother Kathleen's hand then pressed a kiss to her cheek with a quick "forgive me" and then shimmied her way past the other nuns to get to you.

"You're really twisting my arm here.” She rolled her eyes sarcastically and then motioned for you to go.

The two of you made it out of the doors of the Cathedral just as the bell tower began to ring at the top of the hour and the organist hit the first chord for the entrance procession.

When you had first moved into your little apartment in Hawkins, oh so long ago it seemed, a conflict rose inside of you.

It had been empty; barebones made of walls and cabinets and avocado-colored appliances...but not much else. You were expected to fill the barren space and turn it into a home. It was such a daunting task; so much of who you were had been left behind. How could you create comfort when you had nothing to work with? Nothing to go off of?

But you had been on the road for so long, free to do whatever and go wherever you please, that it quickly became a cage. The simple act of defining who you were was something you actively fought. You hid every part of you away from everyone, because surely if no one knew who you were...you didn't need to know either.

Eddie had ultimately been the person who helped you find yourself. He saw the part of you that even you struggled to see. He helped you find comfort in a cage because it was the blank slate you were looking for. You just didn't realize it yet.

Now here you were, back in a cage that was both vast and barren, yet never big enough to provide the freedom it belied.

But it wasn't a cage for you; it was for Eddie.

A cage that he created for himself, whether he realized it or not.

One with bars that he, at first, threw himself against and rattled restlessly as he called for a warden that would never come. As he begged for the parts of himself that he left behind, that he willingly gave away. He could get them back, all he needed was a way out.

You would reach through the bars and whisper sweet words of comfort, promising that you would find the key. You gave him all that you could of himself, reminded him of what it was he left. It was everything you could spare but it wasn't enough to sate him.

Little by little hands began to pull him back, pull him away.

Claw him away.

"Please don't go," you begged. "I'll help you, just stay."

"I'm hungry," he moaned. "So hungry."

More hands flocked to him, ready to provide the sustenance that you barely could. They filtered it back into him, to repay the debt they owed. Because this was not a cage to them, this was their playground.

If you couldn't help make it a home for him, they surely would.

You tried to pry them away but they laughed at you, mocked you; they were stronger than you were, their will to keep him for themselves stronger than yours to save him.

Because as Eddie got weaker, so did you.

To provide for him, you starved yourself.

And one day, it would kill you.

Your world tilted and you woke up as a horn blared in your ears and the car swerved on the highway.

"Fuck you, fucking asshole!" Mary Victoria shouted. "Learn how to drive."

One thing you quickly learned about Mary Victoria was that she was a terrible driver.

The car swerved again and you grabbed the dashboard before you were flung out through the windshield.

Well, maybe not terrible, just...a little reckless.

"Mare? What's going on?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up." She gripped the steering wheel tighter and bared her teeth. "It really wasn't my fault; this guy decided to merge last second without putting his signal on. Almost took us out. Fucker."

She also swore like a sailor.

Which was not...mutually exclusive with becoming a nun...but as soon as the two of you warmed up to each other, you learned that the careful and meek personality that she schooled herself into when in a house of God was not the real Mary Victoria underneath.

It honestly sparked your curiosity.

She had, quite literally, nothing but the clothes on her back when she jumped into your car and you left Los Angeles 18 hours ago. You had offered to stop at the abbey to pick up any of her things, and she hesitated.

"I mean...I don't have anything...worth stopping for," she explained vaguely. "Maybe underwear...uh...some extra habits. I didn't have a whole lot when I joined the Sisters, so I don't have a whole lot now."

So you stopped at the first Kmart you passed to pick up some supplies for her.

"It's on me," you insisted when she tried to explain she didn't have cash either. "Since you helped me get my stuff back and you’re potentially going headfirst into danger with me."

She talked a mile a minute as she scanned through the racks of clothes.

Would she need warm weather? Cold weather? These boots looked like they might be good for running in; would you be doing any running?

"Just dress comfortably," you explained, motioning down to your own clothes. A black t-shirt, ripped jeans that had seen better days, scuffed boots, and a canvas jacket that actually belonged to Mickey Caldwell once upon a time. He left it at Eddie's trailer when he went off to college so Eddie insisted it was fair game.

He had ripped off the patches that featured some of Mickey's favorite questionable bands and had found a few that suited your tastes more. You spent an afternoon helping him with his English homework as he stitched them on for you.

"We could be helping with disaster relief, or we could be...jumping out of the way of a creature that's trying to rip our throats out. It's a tossup."

Her eyes got wide but she understood. Her selection was pretty plain, consisting of the essentials. The most exciting article of clothing she insisted on, though, was a brown, imitation suede jacket that hung on her more like a cloak.

"It looks like one I used to have, if that's ok?" she twirled back and forth a bit.

You wouldn’t have said no even if she didn’t explain; her smile was infectious.

Then, at your first stop for gas, she insisted on taking shifts driving so you wouldn’t have to stop for the night...as long as you could grab her a pack of cigarettes.

"Or two, actually. They made me quit cold turkey, and it was brutal," she explained. "But I haven't driven in...a good few years so that would really help me survive this trip."

You got her three packs of Virginia Slims, one of which she chainsmoked during her first 8-hour shift, cigarette perpetually hanging from her lips as she cruised and swerved along I-15.

There was a lot of honking and a lot of singing along with the radio—she even made a joke about stopping in Vegas—but eventually it started getting dark and you both needed to rest.

You insisted that she take the first rest, mostly so you could have some time to think.

"As long as you're fine driving at night," she asked while she got settled.

Of course, you were. You'd spent plenty of nights wandering abandoned roads and ignoring the things that lurked outside of the vehicle, right at the corners of your vision.

You woke her up at an oasis at the crack of dawn to gently wake her up and grab breakfast, before you took your own rest that came to an abrupt stop by—

"GET OVER. STOP STRADDLING THE LANE PAL!"

Mary Victoria laid her hand on the horn again until the box truck in front of you picked a lane. Her hand shot in front of your face to flip the bird at the driver as she accelerated past him.

—By that.

"Good morning to me," you muttered.

"Sorry," she repeated sheepishly.

"Where are we?"

"Somewhere in Iowa." She pointed to the road map that was draped on the dashboard and tapped at a certain mile marker. "We just passed this rest stop...looks like there might be a truck stop coming up...or I can try to turn around if you really need to pee."

What you really needed was to be in the driver's seat.

"I don't mind waiting," you insisted and shifted in the seat now that you weren't in danger from being thrown from the car. "Some nice driving you're doing Mare."

"Listen," she said with a warning tone. "I said I was sorry."

"No, it's funny. The swearing, the honking, the smoking. Not entirely convinced you weren't joking about Vegas either."

"I'll have you know that Sister Prudence talks about the river boat casino that was a half hour from her last convent like it's Disneyland. Nuns just wanna have fun too."

"You're devoted to piety, to God."

"Ah, ah, ah," she tutted and shook a finger at you. "Not devoted to God yet."

"See? There's some hesitation in there," you pointed right back at her. She slapped your hand away. "You're looking for a loophole. How did you decide you wanted to be a nun anyway?”

Her smile was a strange one, nostalgic almost...or as though there was an inside joke between her and...God...the Devil...you would never know.

"That's a long story," she insisted.

"We have nothing but time," you countered.

She leaned back and threw an arm over the back of the bench seat to grab the bag full of treat wrappers and supplies for her cigarettes. She lit one up and then started her tale.

“Yeah it’s…I mean." She immediately paused. "Ok so...yeah I guess I can admit I'm kind of on the fence about it. But can you blame me? It's a huge commitment, and I've already been doing it for years. But every step I get closer to the finish line...I dunno...something just doesn't seem right.

"I've done a lot of healing though, they've helped me out so much. So how can I change my mind now? I used to be...such a miserable person. You know when you just...get into trouble—well I guess you wouldn't know...which hey that how did you become a Knight anyway? Remind me to ask you that again later—but you get into enough trouble and people tell you that the only thing left to do is pray? Well I did.

"Los Angeles...Hollywood...I was gonna be a star, and I ran away from home and my mother told me...well she told me that I was..."

Mary Victoria clamped her mouth shut for a second. A split second. But you saw her lip quiver. She immediately sucked on the cigarette, a deep and hungry inhale, like she needed the hot tobacco to burn through the painful thoughts.

"Well anyway...it's actually not easy to become a star, especially when you come from nothing and you end up...racking up a lot of debt. And then I had this awful boyfriend who got me into more debt and he wasn't even that good in bed but he said he had connections, you know? He did have connections. Said he was gonna help me and I believed him.

"The next thing I know, I'm single, I've been evicted, I have nothing but the clothes on my back and maybe $20 in my pocket. I'm sobbing...like mascara running down the face sobbing. Walking down Hollywood Boulevard and it's literally about to rain. So I pray."

She rolled her window down and flicked the butt out. She then put her hands together in prayer.

"Please God, I just need a sign, I need a chance so I don't just step into traffic right now. I made a mistake, please can you help me. AND BOOM!" She clapped her hands together. "There's this light. I open my eyes and the El Capitan Marquee is right in front of me and wouldn't you know, standing in line are this group of nuns getting tickets to Splash. Fucking. Splash."

It could have been the ridiculous situation the two of you had found yourselves in or a general lack of sleep or just the bond that two people made while driving in a car together, but you both broke out in hysterical laughter. Because the image was just too much to really wrap your mind around.

By the time you overcame the levity, you were approaching the truck stop, and as you perused new snacks, used the restrooms, and filled your tank, she finished the rest of her story.

Sister Bernadette got her a ticket for the movie and dinner that night, offered her a place to stay, and then by morning was asking if she ever considered devoting herself to God.

"And the rest was history," she explained. "Listen, I couldn't have said no. I asked God for help and He gave it to me."

"Did He?" you asked.

"Didn't He?" she parroted.

"You literally jumped when I offered for you to come with me." You shrugged. "I don't think that's...I don't know, devotion."

"What are you devoted to then?" she questioned and something shifted inside you at her words.

You stopped in your tracks as you walked back to your car from inside the convenience store, but Mary Victoria kept talking, hands waving to emphasize your point as you stewed in your own self doubt.

"Why are you in the Holy Order if not to serve God? If not to devote yourself to a righteous cause and to stand for the good of the world against the approaching darkness?"

A thousand thoughts raced through your mind, recollection of a thousand terrible things that you had done in the name of Goodness. And yes some of them were for the greater good, but...the rest?

What had it all been for?

She suddenly realized you weren't beside her and she turned back to you and balked when she saw what must have been a miserable expression.

"Is that what they say about the Holy Order?" you asked tensely.

"Uh..." She swallowed. "I mean...yeah. They don't say a lot. But...I mean...you're heroes."

You quickly approached her and grabbed the keys from her hand so you could drive.

"No," you said darkly. "We're not."

October 9th, 1987

The last leg of your trip started off tense. You barely said a word. Mary Victoria tried to make a joke now and again but it didn't get much of a reaction from you.

Soon you approached Chicago and the radio stations became familiar, sounds and shock jocks that you'd heard for most of your life. You didn't even second guess yourself before you rocketed your car off the highway and through familiar streets.

Mary Victoria had never been to Chicago before, so before you made your final pitstop, you took her to Gene and Judes. Maybe a chance to have a last little something nice before you potentially walked into the jaws of Hell itself.

"So...no Ketchup?" she cracked as she peeled the paper away from her hot dog. "And why is the relish...like...that color?"

"You're kidding right?" you asked with your own mouth full.

"Yes I'm kidding," she rolled her eyes. "Listen...I didn't...I didn't get to say thank you. I know...I-I gave you some shit...and I've been apologizing pretty much since we left LA, but I never said thank you. For helping me out."

"You've helped me out. You're still helping me out," you reminded her.

"Still, please...let me...." she fumbled with her words, but you stopped her.

"You can thank me if I get you back to LA alive," you insisted.

The two of you finished your dinner and then you headed for your home base. A tiny bungalow house with a half-dead lawn and a line of religious statues in the window of the front room—Saint Anthony, Saint Michael, Saint Gabriel, Our Lady of Mount Carmel—to let any curious passersby know that the house was blessed and protected.

You pulled up to an open spot at the curb and told Mary Victoria to wait in the car, you wouldn't be very long.

And you weren't.

The house was still half in disarray from when you moved in after your Nonna passed last Fall. Your mother insisted on selling the old house, but gave you a share of the money and left you with boxes filled with secrets and walls that contained ghosts while she went to enjoy what was left of her own life.

"25 years since I met your father," she said as you begged her not to go. "I just can't do this anymore."

You didn't need much. Everything you were looking for was in your bedroom and the kitchen. You hesitated as you were about to leave and grabbed a small amulet that was hanging by the door: a red horn capped with a golden crown.

You could use all the luck you could get.

And that luck immediately evaded you because when you got back outside, Mary Victoria was at the back of your car with the trunk popped open, and she stared at the contents in confusion.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" You asked as you jogged down your porch steps to get to her.

You tried to push the trunk closed but she held both hands against it and begged.

"What the fuck is all of this?"

You glanced into the trunk and assessed your possessions. Things you tried to ignore most of the time, but had come to help you out in a pinch.

Jars and boxes and books. A larger tome that was a family bible-turned-diary that belonged to a great-great-grandfather. You vaguely remembered your own grandfather reading to you from it as a young child, but you had read it yourself countless times in the past year.

Two large iron crucifixes, all engraved with hyacinths, were tucked in a bag at the back. A set of knives that matched. A revolver with silver bullets that you honestly debated throwing into a river when you opened the trunk for the first time after you had run away from home. Your destiny followed you whether you liked it or not.

It was your grandfather's car, and all of his tools of the trade. And while you didn't have much memory of him, the contents spoke volumes about who he had been and why he met his demise.

"Supplies," you explained.

"I thought you were running in for supplies."

"Different supplies."

"I don't think jars of peppers are supplies," she countered. She reached into the trunk and opened the drawstring of a burlap sack. "I don't think a bag of bones is a supply."

"Keep your voice down," you hissed and forced her hands away and shoved the trunk closed. "The neighbors are nosy. Why are you snooping anyway?"

You got into the driver's seat and immediately hung the amulet around your rearview mirror alongside the existing black cord and tassel and a guitar pick on a ball chain that already hung there. Mary Victoria was quick to slide into the passenger's side and pin you with an inquisitive stare.

"Another pepper? Is that the supply you went in to get?" she asked.

"No but it doesn't hurt to have," you replied.

"It's a pepper," she deadpanned.

"It's a cornicello, it's for luck," you explained and started the car. "It's...an Italian superstition thing."

"You're supposed to be a Holy Knight, not...superstitious. What's this then?" she flicked at the cord that now tangled with the amulet. "Is it a...uh...ARGH! See I can't even think of one because it's not the same."

"They're one in the same," you insisted. "Ok, rule number one about being a Knight of the Holy Order? It's true. It's all true. Everything you know. Everything you don't. Things you couldn't even fathom? They're true."

"So God is real."

"Sure."

"What does that mean?"

"What is God?" you countered. "There could be one, there could be many. There is a Heaven and a Hell. Or you might find Nirvana. Or you could be sent to Jahannam. Or you're reincarnated. Magic and superstition and miracles and damnation. All of it exists. Or nothing does and we exist in chaos and that is explanation enough for all of the shit we see.

"That's the truth you have to face when you become a Knight, and it sucks."

"I..." She sunk into her seat, slightly shocked. Dejected? You couldn't tell. "Ok."

You had a good hour of silence as you got on the Tri-State and crossed into Indiana. But you couldn't even enjoy it because guilt roiled inside of you.

Shit.

Because she was a nun and she was devoted, even if the devotion was on shaky ground, and it was a hard pill to swallow. It had been a hard pill for you to swallow—well, your whole life was the biggest horse pill that had ever been manufactured—when your father had told you at 9 years old that everything you had been told was a lie and that you wouldn't have a First Communion with the other kids because...

You needed something to fill the silence.

You reached across the car to open the glovebox and you pulled a cassette out. An old mixtape with a label that had faded over time; it was skipping in some places but still brought you some comfort.

You shoved it into the cassette player and Ozzy's echoing voice softly filled the car as Bark at the Moon started.

"You don't have a Black Sabbath patch on your jacket," Mary Victoria said softly after a few beats.

"You like metal?" You looked over with a quirked brow.

"Eh that deadbeat ex boyfriend was all about it," she shrugged. "Had wannabe rock stars in and out of our apartment all the time. What about you?"

"I like it but my boyfriend was probably more like the wannabe rock stars than your boyfriend," you explained fondly, thinking of his stupid grin the first time he successfully swung his guitar over his shoulder at the end of a gig at the Hideout.

"You have a boyfriend?" Mary Victoria scoffed.

"Is that so hard to believe?"

"No I just...I don't know. I guess I have questions."

"Ok."

"What, like you're gonna tell me everything?"

"Sure," you agreed. She had told you about her life...you probably owed her some answers. You owed yourself some too, if you were honest. "Ask away."

"Is he a Knight too?" she immediately jumped at the opening. "Your boyfriend?"

"No, he's..." You bit your lip for a second. "No he didn't know I was involved with any of this. And...now he's dead so...guess it's too late."

"Oh Christ," she gasped. "I'm...I'm so sorry I didn't mean to—"

"No it's ok. I'm...it's ok." You waved her on to the next question.

"How did you become a Knight then?"

"I was born into it."

"What do you mean?"

"My father was one, and his father, and his father."

"But it's..." she hesitated. "You guys have like...you're anointed aren't you? Did they...baptize you with holy oil or—"

"My specific case is...unique, I guess you could say," you began and braced yourself to open this can of worms.

"The other knights...yes...they are anointed. They've done good deeds, so they're offered the chance to do more; God chose them to purge the darkness from the Earth. There's no rhyme or reason; you're chosen and you must go. It's almost impossible to say no. They never do. Knights are the best of the best, the purest of soul. It's fate.

"But...then there's me. There's my family. Who, if you ask anyone who is aware of the curse—"

"Curse?!" Mary Victoria exclaimed. "Ok that's not what I expected."

"Curses are real." You shrug. "Unfortunately. And they're often associated with evil right? An evil witch curses a young princess and all of that. But this...this is different. We are the evil. And the good put a curse on us. To punish us."

"And I was not expecting that either." She whistled low. "How are you evil?"

"Can I finish one thought before we move onto the next one Mare, jeez!"

"Sorry."

"Alright," you took a deep breath. "Let's rewind back to the Crusades."

"The Crusades?!"

"Mary Victoria!" You shouted and she shrank back in her seat.

"Sorry," she repeated. "I'll shut up now. But I reserve the right for follow up questions after the fact."

"Fine. So the Crusades. The quest to conquer the Holy Land, the quest for the Holy Grail, all of that. Well, it all stems back to someone wanting power over someone else. That's what happens, that's what always happens. At that time, there were no Knights of the Holy Order, there were very few who understood the way things worked; one belief rivaled another and it was man versus man instead of good versus evil. For a hundred years...more, even. Blah blah.

"And then along comes...something...a gift. Bestowed upon a select few. The power of Heaven itself. Think of...ok this is much later but think of Joan of Arc. She performed miracles, she healed people, she...she saw visions of angels and fought in battles to protect her people. Well...that...so my great, great, whatever...grandfather...was born with a power beyond understanding.

"He was called to fight in a Crusade...his power was too good of a weapon not to use. And he wasn't the only one, there were people like this on all sides...but he was the only one who refused to go. Thou shalt not kill, it is a law of God Himself. But who speaks for God? The King. The Pope. He was just one man...but he stood for what was good and they damned him.

"His blood would have to pay. Every death that he could have prevented now rested upon his shoulders, and the shoulders of his son, and his son, and none shall ever enter heaven until the debt was paid."

"Fuck," Mary Victoria coughed.

"Yeah," you laughed. "Fuck indeed. I think there's an old ass scroll in the trunk that says all of that in Latin if you want proof."

"I'm good."

"So for years, it becomes...I don't know...this legacy. Every father has a son, and they're mercenaries for whatever man is in Power, essentially. In France, in England, in Italy...and then you have, actually, Vlad the Impaler who makes a deal with the Devil to op—"

"NO! Shut up...Vlad...like Dracula?!" Mary Victoria grabbed your arm. "Don't tell me Dracula's real. That vampires are real."

"Vampires are real...Dracula is not," you explained with a laugh. "Whatever, ok Vlad the Impaler makes a deal with the Devil, or so it would seem, to open up a doorway into hell and release darkness. Well it’s all myth...the door was already open. It always has been. He just took advantage of it."

"Sure." Mary Victoria held her hands out in disbelief. "That's the most...normal thing. How does that lead to you?"

"Leads to the Knights," you corrected her. "Because Europe—I mean...the world, really—is now extra overrun with monsters and infernal creatures and bad things. And the Pope sends his chosen few, these people with the power of Heaven, to stop them.

"Now, we don't actually hate this pope," you explain. "He's...he did a good thing. He created the Holy Order. He gave these people with gifts a purpose, to do good. He called my ancestor to Rome, told him to bring his whole family—his wife and son—gave him a home and helped them set up roots. Then he says that this is the chance for penance. No more mercenary work; think bigger. Fight the darkness. Take the oath. Gratia. Charitas. Solamen. Grace, Charity, Peace.

"And what does my ancestor do? He let the wrath take over," you struck your hands against the steering wheel to emphasize your words. "And he killed the pope. Fucking asshole."

"Are you kidding me?" Mary Victoria screeched. "HE...WHAT?!"

"But his son, ok?" You held your hands up to her. "Stepped up to the plate. Killed his own father, of course, and volunteered the family to the Order. He made a vow, which...we know magic and whatever is real...that every member of the bloodline will devote their lives to the Order, shall fight every bit of evil they come across, until the penance is paid.

"And that...is the key here," you concluded. "There's no escaping it. He said the right words in the right order and somewhere in the Celestial Scheme of things, it means that darkness will follow wherever we go, so we can defeat it, and little by little we pay the penance so one day...we can all go to Heaven.

“There’s no escaping it. Even if you wanted a peaceful life, there’s nowhere to run where that vow and the curse won’t follow. Where fate won’t find you.

“And it killed my grandfather. And it killed my father. And one day...either I get to go to Heaven, or it will kill me too and this will all be over."

Mary Victoria scrunched her face.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "It'll be over."

"Well it's gonna end with me," you explained. "I'm...I'm not having kids. I don't know how no one realized it before. Every man and his need to have a son and fucked a thousand years of our bloodline right in the ass."

"But why not just...kill yourself and let it be over now?" she speculated. "If you don't mind going to Hell? The other Knights will carry on the oath. Why prolong the inevitable?"

You felt yourself choke up.

"Th-thanks Mare," you laughed to try to avoid the pain. "Glad to know you're trying to get rid of me."

You saw a sign for a familiar exit up ahead and sighed.

"Well...I would happily just end it...you know? I would...I would spare myself of this mindless activity every day, I would finally get myself out from under the thumb of every priest and bishop and king who think they can manipulate me and use my power for their benefit, if it wasn't for Eddie, my boyfriend."

"Oh shit..."

"Yeah...you know...when he died I begged...I begged everyone, anyone, to undo this curse. Man did it, man could undo it. And when no one would…I asked for them to give me just one clue that Eddie was in Heaven. Everyone told me that if he was a good person, he would be waiting but I needed some kind of sign. He wasn't...he was good but was he Heaven good?

"I even wrote the Pope a letter begging for Beatification—I know, that’s a big stretch—and of course he never saw it. Some secretary sent me a Postcard back," you scoffed. "But I can't...think of him in Hell, I can't imagine him suffering a fate worse than Death because...because I love him. Because Eddie's love was the purest love I have ever known in my life. Because when I close my eyes or I fall asleep I still feel him and I will do anything, I would push myself as far as I can until my body breaks and my soul splits in two just for the chance to get back to him.

"I didn't even think that way when my own Father died. When the Vatican sent me his things, back from some mission that killed him. I was shocked; I could imagine him in Hell...in Purgatory...in some void...but I couldn't mourn, Mare. I didn't feel it, because...because that man wasn't my father...that man was the one who turned me into a weapon who had a fighting chance at something better.

"But he didn't love me. He wouldn't do this to me if he loved me." You gripped the steering wheel with a grip made of steel. It was a wonder that it didn't bend under your touch as the wrath started to fill you. "Maybe when I was born? Maybe...but how irresponsible is that? Knowing you're cursed to eternal damnation and letting your father try to fix it for you and bringing a child into the world just to let it suffer too."

"Now hey that's not fair," Mary Victoria interjected. "Hey now, hey...listen even when my mother and I were on the outs I never thought that she--"

You started talking over her.

"That's why it ends with me. It's not fate. No where was it ever written that there had to be a child to carry it on. They all had an out, they were selfish. There's even...there's even a journal of my great grandfather on the boat from Italy to America...surrounded by a thousand other people looking for a better future and a chance at some kind of prosperity. Sacrificing everything they know for absolute uncertainty. A dream that was a lie. But he talked about watching his small son play with another child. And he wondered if this new life would offer them salvation, if the curse would be left behind, so his son could be happy and free. News-fucking-flash Nonetto, if you didn't have a son, you wouldn't have needed to worry."

The road started to get precarious with potholes and fissures but you navigated them expertly. A weird fog had also started to roll in, and you simply turned your headlights off.

As if this trip wasn't already off to a smooth start. You needed to calm down before you drove into a ditch or hit something.

"Listen," you sighed and looked at Mary Victoria with openness and honesty. "Actually...don't listen to me. Of all the Knights you got saddled with you really got the fucked up one. If this is what you really want, I can help you. We can work together and...and maybe little by little I can break this curse and we can work on your abilities."

"But you just said the abilities are something you're born with," she reminded you.

"Eh...everyone has a little bit of it inside of them." You gestured vaguely out of the car. "There are plenty of people who can...read thoughts or commune with the dead or move things with their minds who haven't...fully unlocked their potential. Being a knight only involves goodness...heroic deeds...and in turn that just opens the door to these abilities a little further. I don't know what it is we might find in Hawkins, but...I don't know, maybe if we actually are able to do some good, we'll be able to see if those abilities can manifest in you."

Mary Victoria smiled wickedly.

"Ok...you know what would be cool," she prefaced. "If...if you could make explosions happen...or...or...conjure the power of the sun."

"Yeah I've seen that last one happen before," you agreed. "It's like...pretty useful against vampires actually."

"Seriously?" her jaw dropped. "Have you seriously seen vampires before?"

"I told you they were real!"

"I didn't think you were the one who faced them!" She turned in her seat and squared her shoulder. "Ok so now I'm really hoping that we face something crazy. Maybe it'll be vampires."

"Maybe."

"Or like...a werewolf...or...ok is Frankenstein's monster a thing because I think that—”

All of a sudden a shadowy figure crossed the road into the street and the two of you screamed as you hit it head on. It rolled over your windshield—cracking the glass—and off your car.

You hit the brakes hard and your car skidded to a stop. The two of you caught your breaths.

"What the fuck was that?" Mary Victoria asked weakly.

"I don't know maybe...maybe a fox or a deer," you rationalized and turned to look out the rear windshield, but all you could see was fog, somehow even denser behind you than it was up ahead.

"A fox?!" she shrieked. "That wasn't a fox!"

"A wolf then," you offered instead and turned back around in your seat. Just up ahead was a decaying green sign that said "Welcome to Hawkins" with the words HELL spray painted over the town name in red.

You felt panic start to grip you and you glanced back out the rear window once more.

You knew, more than anyone, the kind of creatures that haunted Hawkins.

Mary Victoria reached for the door handle and you grabbed her. "What the hell are you doing?!"

"I'm gonna see if it's ok!"

"It's...listen if it's a wild animal, we can just get into town and ask if someone can come look with us." You motioned to the sign. "We're almost to town. It'll be ok."

"Hell," she scoffed. "Sure. Fine. Let's go."

Hell.

You repeated in your head.

More like home.

“Bravest hearts[s] will carry on when sleep is death, and hope is gone.” -- Emily Rodda, Rowan of Rin

Next Chapter: Descendió a los Infiernos

#aasb #as above so below #Eddie munson x oc #Eddie munson fic #stranger things fic #vampire Eddie munson #tw: religious themes #tw: death #tw: family problems #tw: suicide

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gritsandbrits · 4 months

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Now my OTHER wild kratts villain Wheezy Trapeasy. Ringmaster of the XOC, short for The Exotic and Outstanding Circus. Wheezy markets her circus on social media, and with how well trained and groomed the animals are you'd believe she is taking care of them well. However she has an active presence on the black market, buying and smuggling animals for herself and potential clients. She fights using a parasol, it can fire things like knockout gas and ropes. She is also a skilled gymnast.

Bright warm colors feature prominently in her outfits for her bubbly personality. But it also symbolizes danger. Underneath that condescending cheerfulness lies a greedy and selfish woman only about making a profit.

Wheezy's real name is Wilhelmina Trapeasy. Her surname is a play on trapeze and she traps animals (and unlucky customers). Her character is a critique on how the entertainment industry and social media stars exploit animals - and humans too - for profit, especially when done underneath a guise of positivity.

Also her rival is Gaston Gourmand. She collects animals not eat them.

Link:

#wild kratts oc #wild kratts #oc villain #fan character #oc #clown

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nanaosaki3940 · 9 months

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Then Kill Me... [Tokyo Revengers]

(Almost follows the canon storyline of TR & is up-to-date with the manga.)

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Slight smut.

Pairings: Keisuke Baji X OC.

Status: Completed.

Note: A small snippet from my original Tokyo Revengers fanfic "A Condition Called Love". I know this is an xOC fic but you can read it as self-insert if you want.

TR masterlist

Intimate moments with Keisuke were always very passionate, romantic, wild, and fun; exactly just like how he was as a romantic partner. Moments with him were intense and vibrant, they were fiery hot. Keisuke always gave the best passionate kisses ever, with a lot of biting and grabbing. I remember during our first time together, he tried to be subtle and even delicate, but his aggressive nature eventually came out when he was desperate to consume the act. He wasn’t violent, nor a savage, but he would act mildly desperate and needy. I sometimes felt his eagerness but he always respected my limitations.

On the winter of my 17th birthday, when I slept with Keisuke for the first time and we lost our virginity to each other, I was so happy that I thought I was in a dream. It didn't seem real at all. The person I loved also loved me back with the same amount of intensity and passion. This was a miracle to me. It was destiny that brought us together.

While in the relationship, our love for each other was like a strawberry fruit – it was pure, innocent, and sweet; the one that anyone would kill to experience in their lives, the perfect blend, always had me craving for more. It was a flavor that danced on my heart like sunlight and left me intoxicated with its simplicity. Each glance, each touch, a ripened offering that whispered promises of forever. A taste that left me feeling alive and invited. A flavor that was as enchanting as a field of blossoms. An exquisite blend of passion and tenderness.

But at the same time, our love also tasted like the enigmatic allure of the Black Stone cherry-flavored cigarettes – it was dark, addictive, bitter but also sweet at the same time; the one that was insatiable and just couldn't shake away the craving, the toxic mix that could asphyxiate the life out of me. It was a sensation that I knew was both my escape and my downfall, a whirlwind of emotions that consumed me entirely. A paradox of pleasure and pain. A tantalizing mixture of craving and caution, of fire and fragility. A complexity that drew us deeper into the abyss. A taste that left scars as much as it left memories. An intertwining of hearts that defied understanding. A sultry dance with danger, where each inhale was a forbidden indulgence, and every exhale released a cloud of complex emotions that hung heavy in the air.

Like the fruit, our love was ripe with dreams and innocence, a delicate sweetness that wrapped around us like a warm embrace. And like the cigarettes, our love carried both darkness and light, a blend of cravings and regrets that defined our journey. In the tapestry of our time together, our love's essence was a strawberry's purity and a cherry's complexity. Each taste held a story, a chapter of us, written in the language of flavors. We were the architects of our own flavors, crafting a story that alternated between the tender embrace of sweetness and the intense collision of contrasting tastes. The contrast of these sensations painted the portrait of our connection – a masterpiece of contradictions, just as love itself often is and our souls became the canvas. In those moments of tenderness, we felt the innocence of a first taste, while in the depth of our passions, the darkness of the cherry flavor lingered, a reminder that love's journey wasn't always linear. And just as life's tastes are multifaceted, so too was our love – a composition of moments that evoked passion, nostalgia, and a hint of bittersweet yearning.

It was no secret to mankind how excessive saccharine and obsessive addiction were both hazardous to one's health. But we were addicted. We were in love. That’s how I described our connection to one another.

It was late at night when we finally reached our home after coming back from a dinner we were having with Chifuyu and Kazutora that evening. With the door closed behind us, everything fell apart as soon as Keisuke pinned me to the walls and slammed his lips on mine. Every kiss had a raw intensity - breathing fast, heart rated faster. Then before I knew how it happened we were completely naked and our skin was moving softly together, like the finest of silk.

His fingers danced all over my bare body while he continued kissing me from my inner thighs upward, slowly, his hands on my hips, always just a little higher than the kisses. My back arched in anticipation, knowing where his fingers would soon reach. My head rocked back against the pillow as he did, the first moan escaping my lips.

“Mine...” Keisuke growled out in a possessive tone, rough and sweet, placing kisses on my neck before traveling up my jaw and then kissing the edge of my lips.

The air around us was tantalizingly warm. It caused my head to spin and my body to grow limp but yet it felt good in its own way.

In that split second before his touch, every nerve in my body and brain was electrified. It was the anticipation of being together in a way that was more than words, in a way that was so completely tangible.

One touch from Keisuke was all over for me; it had always been that way with me. I felt electricity in my skin, hormones shutting down my higher brain, and the rise of my animal self. From there on in it was all passion, intense, intoxicating. It was my release, my escape, my drug. Not that I was easy. I knew well enough to avoid letting a man lay his hands on me. But Keisuke wasn’t just any other man; he was Keisuke Baji, my lover, my soulmate. With chemistry and real love, too many of my switches were flicked for a reverse gear to be possible. If I was smitten, then all I could do was go along for the ride and pray my instincts were right.

I had always been a one-man woman, always united in soul and body and so for me, sex was an expression of love, of the bond, an intimacy that stretched gracefully into the thoughts, dreams, and wishes. Once we were in love, everything we wanted to do is fun, it was the right kind of play and my imagination was wild.

Keisuke was my personal drug, my own brand of heroin. One touch and the intoxication were instant. Whatever he wanted to do was what we would do and there wasn't a thing I could do to stop him; not that I wanted him to. Just his scent was enough to send me into a heady trance, one that didn't end until our bodies were still once more, just warm and snuggled in as close as two souls could be.

In the quiet embrace of a moonlit chamber, our souls danced to a rhythm only we could hear. Our fingers brushed like whispered secrets, tracing constellations of longing across each other's skin. In his eyes, I was the embodiment of grace, my eyes a universe of unspoken desires, while to me, he stood as a pillar of strength, his touch a symphony of tenderness.

The room was adorned with the fragrance of vanilla and roses, an aromatic tapestry that mingled with our breaths as we drew even closer than before. The flickering candlelight cast a warm, golden glow, playing with shadows that painted our silhouettes on the walls. The air was charged with anticipation, an unspoken promise of vulnerability and shared passion.

Once again our lips met in a slow, tantalizing dance, a delicate exploration of the depths of affection we held for one another. Every kiss was a chapter in a story written by our hearts, a journey that unveiled our souls layer by layer. We undressed our souls, baring our vulnerabilities as we shed layers of doubt and inhibition. Our bodies moved with an intuitive rhythm, a dance of intimacy guided by the symphony of our heartbeats.

He traced the contours of my collarbone with feather-light touches, igniting a cascade of sensations that traveled through my body like a gentle tide. I responded with a subtle arch of my back, inviting him to explore the landscape of my skin, a canvas that held the traces of our shared history. His hands wandered, gentle yet confident, as if they were composing an ode to the beauty that lay before him.

As I felt his hands parting my legs for him to enter, our tongues entwined in a kiss, and then he was inside, changing my breathing with every movement, hearing my moans timed to his body. Then all at once he stopped moving and began to kiss from my lips to my stomach, his hands light like a feather; then he was licking and using his fingers all at once, watching my reaction, feeling how my legs moved, watching my body writhe away. He told me he was going to make me beg for it and I just let out a moan, unable to articulate a response. I couldn't move even if I tried like his fingers had short-circuited my mind in the best possible way. In seconds he was on me again, moving harder inward, just long enough to intoxicate my mind once again.

Our skin was amber in the streetlight. The orange glow flooded through the unguarded window, yet without a light on in here, we were quite safe from prying eyes. Keisuke always made our sex so much deeper and sensual like how his hands gently alighted on my face, moving down past my collarbones and my brain was already on fire; he was my devil with fingertips of hell flame.

In these moments, Keisuke loved me with his eyes as much as he did with his body, our souls mingling in the quiet moments between action and stillness. The cool room already felt warm. It was hard to hold back, to make the moment last. Wasn't it always the way, so caught between the intoxication of the climax and extending a moment we never want to end?

As our bodies intertwined, a symphony of sighs and whispers filled the air, harmonizing with the melody of our love. Time seemed to stand still, the world outside fading into insignificance as our souls merged in a delicate ballet of affection. Each caress was a sonnet, every touch a verse, and our union an exquisite masterpiece of connection.

Keisuke’s fingertips were electric, they must be, for wherever they touched my skin tingled in a frenzy of static. As his hands moved over my skin, my body had a transitory paralysis, my mind unable to process the pleasure so fast. His head moved around to my left ear and he whispered what was coming next. Suddenly my body was off pause mode and I pulled back for a kiss that was both soft and hard. Hungry and passionate; his tongue pushed into my mouth as he kissed me back, desperate and needy. Both of us were moving in an intoxicated dance of limbs, never making the exact same moves twice. He was my cat nip while I was his whiskey on ice.

Our fingers caressed each other's skin as if afraid a heavier touch would break the heady magic. We became one, one mind with one goal and purpose, each utterly drunk with love for the other. There was something about him that lit me up from the inside. There was something about me that melted his confidence to nothing at all. Touching him was like being handed the holy grail like my heart was mended even though I never knew it was broken.

Keisuke Baji was the only man on earth for me, the only one who could breathe fire into me even when I was cold.

As the night deepened, our bodies found solace in each other's embrace, a symphony of sighs and gasps resonating in the hushed darkness. Our movements were now unhurried in comparison to before, a seamless ebb and flow of energy that built and receded like the gentle waves of an ocean. In this intimate choreography, time became an abstract concept, no longer tethered to the ticking of a clock. We were lost in a world of sensation, of heightened awareness, where every touch ignited a fire that blazed and flickered, casting shadows that danced upon the walls, a celestial ballet of hearts and souls, culminating in a crescendo of emotion that left us breathless and complete.

In the aftermath, as we lay tangled in each other's arms, the world outside seemed distant and insignificant. Our gaze held a depth of understanding that surpassed any words that could be spoken. And in that quiet moment, we knew that they had experienced a love that transcended the physical once again, a love that had painted our souls with the colors of eternity.

Our souls intertwined, they surrendered to the tender passion that enveloped us, a fusion of hearts and bodies that transcended mere physicality. It was a symphony of love written in the language of touch, a harmonious blend of yearning and fulfillment that left us breathless, sated, and forever bound by an unspoken bond that would forever grace the corridors of our souls.

In the room that was twilight and shadow, Keisuke’s bare body hovering over my own one was close enough for me to breathe in his scent and sweat. His arms were wrapped around me and in one gentle pull, our skin touched. I felt his hand in my hair, how he loved the softness, before pulling me into another searing kiss. Then his hand gently moved down my cheekbones to my jaw and that was when the kissing started to get even more intense. Our movements were like the partners in a dance that was written in our DNA. Our bodies fit together as if we were made just for this, to fall into one another, to feel this natural rhythm. With a small chuckle, he pulled away from the kiss and we locked eyes for just a moment, just enough for us to feel safe with one another.

“What do you say, Nana? Wanna do it?” Keisuke asked, kissing down my neck, biting softly in between the pecks.

Pulling away, his bronze-colored eyes stared down at me with love and lust while his long, wavy raven locks dangled on my face, tickling my skin. At that moment, Keisuke smelled like sandalwood, sweat, and sex and yet managed to look like a Greek God. I reached out and pushed away his hair from his face, giving him an amused look.

“Again? Are you some kind of pervert? This is problematic.” I replied with a small sigh.

“I am not talking about that.” He snapped with a small frown. “I'm talking about us getting married.”

Hearing that my eyes widened in surprise. For some reason, Keisuke had been asking me to marry him soon after we graduated from high school but I brushed it away to the side, not giving too much of an intention. Keisuke had always been an impulsive and reckless man and this whole marriage idea of his was just proof of that.

“Impossible.” I scoffed, looking away with sass and he scoffed back at me before softly grabbing my face with his right hand, giving my cheeks a light squeeze.

“If you don't marry me, I'm gonna die!” he fired out.

“If you wanna die, then die and go to hell!” I shot back.

In response, he moved his right hand from my face and wrapped it around my throat. Leaning down to my face, his lips hovered over mine, barely touching as his eyes sharpened at my sight.

“If I die, then I'll bring you along with me to hell.” He growled out, feeling his male part pressed against my sore lady part.

He moved his left hand and intertwined it with my right one, his love-lust-blown pupils gazing down into my own ones, challenging me, teasing me, testing me. At that moment, my heart stopped and my mind went blank. Keisuke always had this effect on me and I hated him for that. I was so in love with him that I didn’t know how to say no to him, ever.

“Then kill me...” I whispered back into his lips.

Keisuke Baji was the only one who knew how to take my breath away. And he always took it away roughly yet lovingly. I hated him for that but I couldn’t stop myself from falling for him even more than before.

Pleased with my response, Keisuke wasted no time and shoved himself inside me once again, moving hard and swallowing my whimpers and whines of pleasure with his kisses, his plush lips sucking and licking my own ones. Our body chemistry was off the charts and somehow we had both lit TNT and a fine bottle of wine to savor.

Both of us were almost about to die from suffocation and about to reach heaven together. Maybe I was also a pervert myself after all.

Read the entire fanfic on Quotev and Wattpad -

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slipkknuttt · 7 months

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Howdy!

I'm MJ/Spidey, I use she/her pronouns, and I am 22 years old. I like to write xreaders and xoc fanfics from multiple fandoms. For example; Slashers, Marvel, Harry Potter, etc.

I take requests for characters, but I have a right to decline to some request if they make me uncomfortable.

MINORS DNI!

This is a 18+ blog, I will post future smut and other content that may be disturbing and/or not appropriate for younger audiences.

Fandoms I write for!

Slashers

Micheal Myers(1978 and RZ)

Jason Vorhees(Friday the 13th)

Danny Johnson(Dbd!Ghostface)

Stu Macher(Scream)

Billy Loomis(Scream)

Brahms Heelshire(The Boy)

Billy Lenz(Black Christmas 1972)

Amanda Young(Saw and Dbd)

Charles Lee Ray(Childs Play)

Tiffany Valentine(Bride of Chucky)

Carrie White(Carrie)

Marvel

Peter Parker(Andrew Garfield)

Marc Spector(Moon Knight)

Steven Grant(Moon Knight)

Jake Lockley(Moon Knight)

Wade Wilson(Dead Pool)

Peter Quill(Guardians of the Galaxy)

Matt Murdoc(Dare Devil)

Wanda Maximoff(Wandavision)

Pietro Maximoff (Wandavision)

Across the Spider Verse

Miguel O'Hara

Peter B Parker

Jessica Drew

Miles Morales

Gwen Stacy

Hobie Brown

Spider Noir(Peter Parker)

Bruce Wayne

Dick Grayson

Jason Todd(Any Vers.)

Tim Drake

Barry Allen

Clark Kent

Konner Kent

Koriand'r

Rachel Roth

Selina Kyle

Pamela Isely

Harley Quinn

Marauders

James Potter

Sirius Black

Remus Lupin

Lily Evans

Marlene McKinnon

Dorcas Meadows

Regulus Black

Serverus Snape

COD

Captain Price

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

John 'Soap' MacTavish

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

König

Mortal Kombat

Lui Kang

Kung Lao

Raiden

Kenshi Takahashi

Johnny Cage

Kuai Liang

Tomas Vrbada

Bi-Han

Mileena

Kitana

Sonya Blade

I might not post often, but I'll try to get a few stories in. I have work and other matters I need to attend to, so please be patient. I might want to note that most on my stories will be oc inserts, I only have like 1 or 2 ocs, so I might make more depending the fic I write.

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dadumtss · 1 year

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Masterlist

Hello and welcome! I’m Ciniis / Isipin / DaDum. I’m an adult who uses any/all pronouns and I’m writing Slenderman AU headcanons in the hopes of eventually writing a fic.

Below is a masterlist of my posts sorted by topic to help make things easier for new followers.

Slenderbeing Anatomy, Abilities & Culture

Slenderbeing Height and Body Types

Clothes

Weaknesses

Weaknesses and Culture

Weaknesses and Culture II

Facial Covering

Mouths

Kissing

Eyes

Female and Male Slenderbeings

Slenderbeing Diets

Lovemaking

Slenderbeing Sexual Organs

Healing

Slenderbeing Blood & Saliva

Hybrid Cryptid Species

Slenderbeing Voices

Alcohol

Cryptid Society

The Revolution

Cryptids

Human Creepypastas

Slender Brothers’ Jobs

Human Equality in Cryptid Society

Cryptids With Human Origins

Nature After the Revolution

Would the Slenders Date Someone Who Was Once Human?

Human Farms

Cryptids Outside Society

Wild Humans

Human Pets

Revolution Dates

Councils, Murder & Taboos in Cryptid Society

The Anomaly: Part 1: Integrating New Cryptids into Society

Hybrid Cryptid Species

Slender Brothers Reactions: Angelic OC Creating Hybrid Cryptids

Cryptid Species & Cryptid Settlements

The Anomaly: Part 3 & 4: Eating Feral Cryptids & Supplying Humans

The Revolution

Zalgo and The Revolution

Zalgo’s Death

Revolution Dates

The City

The City Headcanons

Lairs

The City’s Location

Cryptid Species & Cryptid Settlements

Cabadath & The City

Drabbles

Yawning

More Facts on Willow

Splendor’s Diet

Slenderman’s Peppy Secretary

Requests

xReader

Cheating on the Slender Brothers

Slender Brothers x Doll-Like Reader

Slender Brothers x Cursed Reader

xOC

Slender Brothers x Doll-Like Reader

Slender Brothers x Super Powerful Shapeshifter

(Platonic) Willow, Junior & Super Powerful Shapeshifter

The Anomaly Saga

The Anomaly: Part 1: Integrating New Cryptids into Society

The Anomaly: Part 2: The Black Market

The Anomaly: Part 3 & 4: Eating Feral Cryptids & Supplying Humans

Compatability Headcanons

Ideal romantic partners for the Slenders

Bayonetta x Slender Brothers

Umbra Witch OC x Slender Brothers

What ifs

Cheating on the Slender Brothers

Slender Brothers Reactions: Angelic OC Creating Hybrid Cryptids

Other

Tomie-Like Cryptid Headcanons

Slender Family Game Time

Songs I Associate with The Slenders

Characters

Posts Mentioning;

Angelica

More Facts on Willow

(Platonic) Willow, Junior & Super Powerful Shapeshifter

The Slenders With a Siren S/O

Cabadath

Slenderbeing Height and Body Types

Clothes

Lairs

Physical Traits the Slenders Like in a Partner

Magic Skills

Combat Skills

Splendor’s Diet

Zalgo’s Death

Cryptids Outside Society

Songs I Associate with The Slenders

What’s Cabadath Up to These Days?

Cabadath & The Revolution

Cabadath & The City

Is Cabadath a Proud Dad?

Junior

Clothes

Weaknesses and Culture

Magic Skills

Slenderbeing Diets

Would the Slenders Consider Dating a Human?

Would the Slenders Date Someone Who Was Once Human?

The Slenders With a Siren S/O

Songs I Associate with The Slenders

(Platonic) Willow, Junior & Super Powerful Shapeshifter

Mother

Lairs

Physical Traits the Slenders Like in a Partner

Magic Skills

Splendor’s Diet

Zalgo’s Death

What’s Cabadath Up to These Days?

Offenderman

Slenderbeing Height and Body Types

Clothes

Facial Covering

Ideal romantic partners for the Slenders

Lairs

Physical Traits the Slenders Like in a Partner

Magic Skills

Combat Skills

Splendor’s Diet

Cheating on the Slender Brothers

Slenderbeing Diets

Would the Slenders Consider Dating a Human?

Lovemaking

Turnoffs

Slender Brothers’ Jobs

Would the Slenders Date Someone Who Was Once Human?

An Addendum: Would the Slenders Date Someone Who Was Once Human?

Bayonetta x Slender Brothers

The Anomaly: Part 1: Integrating New Cryptids into Society

The Slenders With a Siren S/O

Working for the Slender Brothers

Umbra Witch OC x Slender Brothers

Slender Brothers x Doll-Like Reader

Slenderbeing Blood & Saliva

Slender Brothers x Super Powerful Shapeshifter

Tomie-Like Cryptid Headcanons

Slender Brothers Reactions: Angelic OC Creating Hybrid Cryptids

Slender Family Game Time

Songs I Associate with The Slenders

The Anomaly: Part 2: The Black Market

The Anomaly: Part 3 & 4: Eating Feral Cryptids & Supplying Humans

Alcohol

Slender Brothers x Cursed Reader

Slenderman

Slenderbeing Height and Body Types

Clothes

Facial Covering

Ideal romantic partners for the Slenders

Lairs

Physical Traits the Slenders Like in a Partner

Magic Skills

Combat Skills

More Facts on Willow

Splendor’s Diet

Cheating on the Slender Brothers

The Revolution

Slenderbeing Diets

Would the Slenders Consider Dating a Human?

Lovemaking

Turnoffs

Slender Brothers’ Jobs

Zalgo and The Revolution

Zalgo’s Death

Would the Slenders Date Someone Who Was Once Human?

An Addendum: Would the Slenders Date Someone Who Was Once Human?

Bayonetta x Slender Brothers

The Anomaly: Part 1: Integrating New Cryptids into Society

The Slenders With a Siren S/O

Working for the Slender Brothers

Umbra Witch OC x Slender Brothers

Slender Brothers x Doll-Like Reader

Slender Brothers x Super Powerful Shapeshifter

Slender Brothers Reactions: Angelic OC Creating Hybrid Cryptids

Slender Family Game Time

Songs I Associate with The Slenders

The Anomaly: Part 2: The Black Market

The Anomaly: Part 3 & 4: Eating Feral Cryptids & Supplying Humans

Alcohol

Slender Brothers x Cursed Reader

Cabadath & The Revolution

Splendorman

Slenderbeing Height and Body Types

Clothes

Facial Covering

Ideal romantic partners for the Slenders

Lairs

Physical Traits the Slenders Like in a Partner

Magic Skills

Combat Skills

Splendor’s Diet

Cheating on the Slender Brothers

Slenderbeing Diets

Would the Slenders Consider Dating a Human?

Splendor’s Kink

Lovemaking

Turnoffs

Slender Brothers’ Jobs

Human Equality in Cryptid Society

Would the Slenders Date Someone Who Was Once Human?

An Addendum: Would the Slenders Date Someone Who Was Once Human?

Bayonetta x Slender Brothers

The Anomaly: Part 1: Integrating New Cryptids into Society

The Slenders With a Siren S/O

Working for the Slender Brothers

Umbra Witch OC x Slender Brothers

Slender Brothers x Doll-Like Reader

Slender Brothers x Super Powerful Shapeshifter

Slender Brothers Reactions: Angelic OC Creating Hybrid Cryptids

Slender Family Game Time

Songs I Associate with The Slenders

The Anomaly: Part 2: The Black Market

The Anomaly: Part 3 & 4: Eating Feral Cryptids & Supplying Humans

Alcohol

Slender Brothers x Cursed Reader

Trenderman

Slenderbeing Height and Body Types

Clothes

Facial Covering

Ideal romantic partners for the Slenders

Female and Male Slenderbeings

Lairs

Physical Traits the Slenders Like in a Partner

Magic Skills

Combat Skills

Splendor’s Diet

Cheating on the Slender Brothers

Slenderbeing Diets

Would the Slenders Consider Dating a Human?

Lovemaking

Turnoffs

Slender Brothers’ Jobs

Would the Slenders Date Someone Who Was Once Human?

An Addendum: Would the Slenders Date Someone Who Was Once Human?

Bayonetta x Slender Brothers

The Anomaly: Part 1: Integrating New Cryptids into Society

The Slenders With a Siren S/O

Working for the Slender Brothers

Umbra Witch OC x Slender Brothers

Slender Brothers x Doll-Like Reader

Slender Brothers x Super Powerful Shapeshifter

Slender Brothers Reactions: Angelic OC Creating Hybrid Cryptids

Slender Family Game Time

Songs I Associate with The Slenders

The Anomaly: Part 2: The Black Market

The Anomaly: Part 3 & 4: Eating Feral Cryptids & Supplying Humans

Alcohol

Slender Brothers x Cursed Reader

Willow

Slenderbeing Height and Body Types

Clothes

Weaknesses and Culture

Ideal romantic partners for the Slenders

Lairs

Magic Skills

More Facts on Willow

Slenderbeing Diets

Would the Slenders Consider Dating a Human?

Lovemaking

Would the Slenders Date Someone Who Was Once Human?

An Addendum: Would the Slenders Date Someone Who Was Once Human?

Bayonetta x Slender Brothers

The Slenders With a Siren S/O

Umbra Witch OC x Slender Brothers

Songs I Associate with The Slenders

(Platonic) Willow, Junior & Super Powerful Shapeshifter

Cabadath & The City

Zalgo

Zalgo and The Revolution

Zalgo’s Death

Rules

“Spicy’ writings

Using the AU

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totalleelee · 8 months

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The inward PAIN I feel reading a POC/black reader fic and it's just stereotypes. Like within the first few lines.

I go from being assumed to be tiny and pale to 'loud' and 'demanding' with a side of weirdly placed AAVE. LIKE IT'S OKAY I READ THE TAGS I GET IT. Is this a hot take? I'm afro-Latina, more on the afro side, so I think I have the right to an opinion here. Like I can't be the only one-

The point of writing POC readers is so we can all see ours in stories but I feel so pushed out when I try to get into it- like we just closed the box even further and are leaving out even more within our group by assuming 'we're all like this'. Gets to a point where it feels more like an xOC than an xReader

#poc reader #black fanfiction #black writers #Totallee Honest

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obsessedasusual · 2 years

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Lonely No More - Six

Bishop Losa xOC Series

Series Summary: There was never a dull moment, being the only Reyes sister. But between overbearing brothers, being the family peacekeeper, and countless disaster dates, Amalia finds herself wishing she had someone to unwind with after a hectic day. Funnily enough, Bishop Losa wishes for the same thing.

Series Warnings: Swearing, mentions/allusions to sex, alcohol

Note: 2.7k - This makes up for the last upload I promise! I LOVED writing this chapter, THINGS ARE EVOLVING PEOPLE!! Oh Also!!! We get another season!! How good!? PPS - I couldn’t tag anyone in this for whatever reason so sorry if you’d asked!😩

It was late by the time Bishop found himself pulling into his driveway.

‘Apparently not late enough for the Reyes sister to be asleep,’ he thought to himself, recalling a minute earlier when he’d rolled past her house on his routine check in and saw her through the window thanks to the inside lights illuminating the room for all to see, glass of wine in hand, content look on her face.

He was in a bad mood, his body ached and he could feel a headache coming on. After a day, even a week, of everything going wrong from the yard to the club, Bishop just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for the next two days.

Why did people not listen to him?

He was the fucking President for Christ’s sake.

With a heavy sigh he climbed off his bike, tugged off his helmet and made his way to his front door, stopping abruptly when he saw the gift bag filled with tissue paper waiting for him on his doormat.

He stared at it with furrowed eyebrows. His hesitancy wasn’t exactly misplaced. It wouldn’t be a huge stretch for him to find that the bag contained a severed finger.

Catching sight of a card poking out of the bag he made a slow move to retrieve it.

For your (appallingly) nicknackless home. Consider this your housewarming gift - years in the making!

~ Amalia x

Bishop couldn’t help the small, toothless smile that found its way to his lips while reading the note. He also couldn’t help the way he brushed his thumb over the surprisingly messy handwriting, paying special attention to the little ‘x’ right at the end.

With his curiosity beating out his prior desire to get inside, he knelt down and ruffled through the tissue paper until his hand came into contact with a cold metal.

Careful while pulling it free he let out a breathy chuckle when he saw what it was; a model Harley Davidson, matte black with handle bars that moved and tyres that spun. Complete with a working kickstand to support its weight.

Bishop couldn’t remember the last time he’d received a gift. Actually, that’s not completely true. He’d received a few at his wedding to Antonia, but that hardly counted.

After spending a moment in admiration he stood and placed the model back into the bag, stopping short when he heard the metal knocking against something else. Reaching his hand back into the bag he retrieved a bottle. A bottle of red wine, he realised upon further inspection. A yellow sticky note was stuck to the label.

You seem like a red wine kinda guy.

He wasn’t. Not really. He could enjoy a glass or two sure, but he was a beer guy. He’d never tell her that though.

Bishop stared at the bottle in his hands, then turned to look down the street. Back to the bottle, back to the street.

He shouldn’t.

Back to the bottle.

He should go inside and to bed.

Back to the street.

But she was awake. At least, she was when he’d rode past.

Back to the bottle.

Would it be weird? Probably.

He looked at his watch… 11:15ish.

Maybe he could just walk over, and if her lights were switched off he could just walk back.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he quickly unlocked his front door to place the bag holding his gift inside away from sticky fingers and then made his way off his porch and into the street, bottle of red in hand.

His boots felt decidedly heavier with every step he took. Why was he nervous? He was simply going around to his friend’s place for a drink and a chat.

Were they friends? They’d spent a number of hours in each other’s presence of late, they’d even shared a meal. Surely they were friends. At least.

At least?

Bishop could make an educated guess as to why he was a little nervous. Amalia had been occupying his thoughts for a little while now. He found himself looking for her ponytail at every club party. He gravitated towards her whenever she was around. He revelled in the slightest of touches.

Jesus Christ he was too old for this. What is this, high school?

In a lot less time than he’d hoped, Bishop found himself walking along the fence outside her property. The lights were still on.

As he drew closer he could make out her figure in the living room through the lacey day curtains, definitely still awake.

He could turn back now. Go home, shower, maybe have a drink by himself. She’d be none the wiser.

Staring at the door in front of him he weighed up his options.

Fuck it.

He knocked and waited.

Inside, Amalia startled at the knock.

Who the hell was knocking on doors at this time of night? She stilled for a moment to see if she could hear anything further.

When she was met with silence she slowly rose from the couch to creep to the curtain and peer outside, as discreetly as possible incase… incase of burglars? Burglars wouldn’t knock, right?

She was half expecting one of her brothers, drunk off their ass and needing a place to crash. So she was incredibly surprised to see a lone President on her doorstep. The smile that appeared on her face couldn’t be halted as she moved from the living room to the front door, swinging it open with too much enthusiasm for this time of night.

“Bish!” she beamed. The man in question was admittedly a little taken aback by her happy tone but grinned at her nonetheless, holding up the bottle in his hands as an offering.

“Fancy a glass of red?” he tried. He basked in the way she smiled at him and the bottle in recognition.

“You got my gift! Come in!” She had already had a glass or two herself so was perhaps more ecstatic than usual at her visitor.

Stepping aside to open the door wider, she watched as Bishop followed her in, toeing his boots off clumsily before shrugging his kutte off.

“I saw you were up when I went past earlier, hope I’m not keeping you, sweetheart.” he was completely ready to be told to come back another day, at a more appropriate time, when he felt a gentle smack to the shoulder as Amalia scowled.

“I’m alone on a Wednesday with no work tomorrow,” she began as she walked toward the kitchen, Bishop following close behind, “you are most welcome to join me.”

Grabbing a wine glass from a high cupboard she poured him a generous helping, “You know, I wasn’t hinting at being the one to drink this when I left it on your doorstep.”

He smirked at her bubbliness, “No one else I’d rather share it with, querida.”

She turned her head quickly, but not quick enough for Bishop to miss the shy smile that adorned her face.

Handing her visitor the glass she tried her best to fight the heat that threatened her cheeks when their fingers touched, distracting herself by filling her own and turned to cheers him, “To wine!”

“To wine.” He repeated, clinking her glass and taking a long sip. Amalia nodded toward the living room.

“Come on, I’m watching Dirty Dancing.”

An impromptu movie night was not what Bishop had expected when he’d knocked on his infatuation’s door, but he was by no means complaining.

“Patrick Swayze a dream of yours?” He teased as he sat near her on the couch, a bowl of popcorn between them.

Her head snapped towards him in excitement, “You know Dirty Dancing?”

Bishop gave her a dumb look, “Sweetheart, do you realise how old this movie is?”

Her eyes squinted in contemplation before she pouted and nodded in understanding, “Suppose you have a point.”

With the film playing in the background Amalia studied Bishop’s side profile, watching the movie, sipping red wine and nibbling on popcorn every now and then.

As if feeling her gaze on him he turned to meet her eyes, smiling that smile he couldn’t help when he was around her, “What?”

Amalia pursed her lips when she realised she’d been caught and shook her head quickly, “Nothing! It’s just… I never imagined you being someone who could spend the evening doing something so… domesticated.”

His eyebrows raised at her admission and she quickly found herself backtracking, “Not that, you can’t! You’re not like an undomesticated person or anything. It’s just, you know. You’re this badass biker and you’re here. With me,” she paused to take a sip of wine, “it’s nice.”

It was Bishop’s turn to hide his shy smile. It was nice.

“I can be nice.”

She nodded at him, fondly, “I’ve noticed.”

They turned back to the movie for a moment before she decided to continue the conversation, “So… did you find anything else on your doorstep this evening?”

“A card with very messy handwriting.” He deadpanned.

Amalia threw her head back in laughter, “It’s not that bad!”

Bishop chuckled with her, “It’s not great, sweetheart.” He held up his hand as she went to defend herself between laughs, “But I do love my new nicknack. Very fitting. Thank you. You really didn’t have to.” He was as genuine as he had ever been and Amalia was thrilled.

“I know but I wanted to.” She shrugged, smiling at him still.

After a prolonged, comfortable moment passed between them Amalia spoke up again, “So! How’s club life treating you this week, Mr President.”

He thought about his answer for a moment. It truly had been a week from hell, and it was only half over.

A load of “goods” had been caught at the border due to a bad decision on the club’s part - a bad decision on Angel’s part if he had to get into specifics, but as the leader, Bishop wore it. The cartel wasn’t happy. In fact, the cartel was pissed.

He didn’t want to offload on her though and tell her that he was beyond stressed so he settled with, “It’s been a long week.” and a gentle smile.

Amalia frowned at his answer. She knew she wasn’t privy to all the goings on of the cub, and quite frankly she’d very much like it to stay that way, but she wanted to be a listening ear for Bishop who was obviously going through it.

“You wanna talk about it?” she offered with kind eyes, discarding the now empty bowl of popcorn to the carpet and pulling her legs up on the sofa, hugging them to her chest.

The small, barely there smile he shot her way had her stomach rolling, “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I’m a big boy.”

Yes, you are.

The laugh that Bishop barked out had Amalia’s eyes widen like saucers as she realised she’d spoken out loud. Very out loud. Cheeks burning in embarrassment she closed her eyes to regain her composure.

“Glad you think so, sweetheart.” he teased as he reached out to pat her shin lightly, the touch sending more butterflies to her stomach.

Deciding to play off her slip of words she cleared her throat, “But you’re okay though? I know it can’t be easy. Being in charge and all. You’re sleeping and eating well?” She couldn’t help her caretaker nature.

After her mom passed Amalia was the only one capable of ensuring the wellbeing of her family. It was ridiculous, and a little sexist if she thought too hard about it, but it came naturally to her.

Bishop admired her for a beat. Always so willing to jump in and help wherever she could. Making sure everyone around her was taken care of and comfortable. He hoped she was doing the same for herself.

“I promise I’m okay, querida.” he said with a nod, lying through his teeth. Any sleep he got was minimal and not enough to recharge. As for eating, well… he ate. Probably nothing of decent substance or nutrition but food was food.

She didn’t seem entirely convinced but didn’t want to push the older man so instead she nodded, “Okay. But just so we’re clear you’re welcome here anytime. I’ve always got leftovers. And plenty of food. And I’m a good listener if you ever want to just talk. It helps sometimes.”

God did he want to talk to her. Everyday if he could. The more time he spent around her the more he wondered how he’d made it this far with such little to do with her.

“Thank you, querida,” he nodded, “and I mean that.”

She simply gave him a friendly smile and turned back to the movie, giggling lightly at Baby dancing on the bridge.

The movie passed with little bits of commentary from the pair over another glass of red. Bishop relaxed more into the sofa, insanely comfortable with the warmth of Amalia’s shoulder pressed against his.

When the credits finally rolled on the screen Bishop turned his head to see the Reyes sister yawning into her palm.

“You need to go to bed, sweetheart. You’ll hurt your neck if you fall asleep here.” The concern in his voice had her smiling tiredly in defeat.

“Do you wanna stay here? I have a spare bed.” she offered, almost sad for their time to come to an end. While he considered it, and desperately wanted to say yes, he knew there was no logical reason to do so when he lived two minutes down the road.

Shaking his head he replied, “Thanks sweetheart, but I’ve got an early morning, can’t be waking you up at that hour.”

“I don’t mind.” she rubbed at her tired eyes and Bishop found himself stuck for words, did she want him to stay the night? No. She was just being her usual polite self.

He stood slowly and took her arm to pull her up gently as well, “Not tonight, but thank you.” he repeated.

The multiple glasses of wine plus her tiredness aided her as she went willingly as he tugged her gently out of the living room, flicking the lights off as he went.

“You capable of putting yourself to bed or do I have to tuck you in?” he said good-humouredly.

Amalia’s cheeks burned at the question, “I’m good. Maybe next time.”

Next time.

Bishop stopped at the front door, picking up his previously discarded kutte and turned to face his host, “Go to bed. And thank you for tonight, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.”

Bishop’s resolve almost completely went out the window when he saw the way she was peering up at him through her eyelashes, “Promise?”

Finding himself lost for words for a second time that evening Bishop simply nodded.

Amalia grinned. And then stepped forward to wrap her arms around Bishop’s middle.

Frozen in his spot, he felt her sigh against his chest before he slowly wrapped his arms around her smaller frame, holding her to him tightly.

“Goodnight, Bishop.” she mumbled into his shirt.

Tilting his head to press a kiss to her head he replied, “Goodnight, Amalia.”

The use of her real name felt almost foreign in his mouth, but not unwelcome.

She pulled out of his hold slowly, as if she wasn’t ready to give up his warmth and smiled lazily up at him, eyes flicking over his facial features - stopping briefly on his lips - before meeting his eyes again, “Goodnight.”

If he didn’t leave soon he would definitely end up staying, pushing gently at her shoulders to give him space he ran a hand down her arm to grasp her own hand, giving it a warm squeeze in parting, “Night.” he all but whispered.

And then he used all his willpower to actually turn and leave the house, looking back over his shoulder as he went down the path. He grinned when he caught her gaze following his movements and shot her a wink before completely turning to face the street.

Bishop wasn’t in a bad mood anymore.

And maybe he wasn't alone in his infatuation.

#bishop losa #bring back bishop #bishop losa imagine #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa fic #mayans mc #bishop losa x oc #mayans mc imagine #obispo losa

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