My favorite thing about getting into the Gravity Falls fandom is simply Not Understanding why folks had such great hate for Mabel and Ford.
Mabel didn’t start the wierdpocalypse. She’s an easily manipulated child and is fucking 12. She’s self centered but what kid isn’t?
Ford had a reason to be mad and not thank Stan in the heat of the moment when the portal opened. His brother could have easily accidentally let Bill through with his recklessness to bring his twin back. Also bitch that isn’t your house anymore. You lived in it for 6 years and your twin lived in it for 30. He paid a majority of your mortgage. It’s his now.
Summary: You and Gale spend a lust filled evening together. One of the many shortly after returning to Waterdeep and getting married.
Word Count: 1.9K
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"The moon is a beautiful sight tonight, isn't it."
You jump as the husky voice appears to suddenly, but you turn around knowing that it's your husband. Gale leans in the doorway of the balcony as you stand at the rail looking up at the stars. You smile as you watch him walk to you, placing a kiss at the temple of your head.
As the cool breeze ruffled your hair, you closed your eyes and leaned into Gale's touch. His presence was a comforting anchor amidst the vastness of the night sky. Together, you both gazed at the luminous moon, its ethereal glow casting a soft radiance over the world below.
It seemed as if time stood still in that moment. The worries and troubles that had plagued you throughout the day melted away. You often sought solace in the late hours of the night, finding solace in the gentle dance between darkness and light.
Lost in your own thoughts, you whispered, "Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to touch the moon."
Gale chuckled softly, his warm breath tickling your ear. "Oh darling, if only we could reach out and grasp it. But sometimes, it's the beauty of things just beyond our reach that enthralls us the most."
You turned to look at Gale, his eyes shimmering with a mixture of longing and wonder. There was a distant look in his gaze, as if he were envisioning making it a reality. It was one of the many reasons you fell in love with him - his ability to see the extraordinary in the ordinary.
Lost in the allure of the night, you both continued to stand there. One of his hands holding your waist, as the other grips the rail. The world around you fell away as you found yourselves drifting into a shared reverie.
Suddenly a shooting star streaked across the sky, drawing a gasp of wonder from you. It was as if the universe was responding to your unspoken desires, affirming that there was indeed still magic left in this world.
"You've bewitched me, truly, you are even more stunning than the moon." Gale whispered, his voice barely audible over the gentle rustling of the wind. "I would give anything to make your dreams come true."
You turned to face him, your heart swelling with love for this man who cherished every ounce of your being. "And I, you," you replied, a tender smile gracing your lips.
He leans in and nuzzles your jawline with his nose. Peppering your skin with light kisses. As Goosebumps prickle your skin, you feel an electric current surge through your veins.
In that moment, you both knew that the moon was not the only thing that held irresistible allure in the night sky. The depth of your love for each other seemed to transcend the earthly realm, reaching heights that only the stars could fathom.
Gale's lips find yours, and the world around you dissolves into a sea of passion and desire. In each kiss, there is an unspoken promise of forever, a pledge to explore the wonders of life together.
"Do you ever regret what we have done?" You ask, the question comes suddenly and without warning. This causes him to stop his shower of his kisses.
Gale pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt or hesitation. His hand gently brushes against your cheek as he speaks, his voice filled with sincerity.
"Regret? Never," he murmurs, his gaze unwavering. "Every step we've taken, every choice we've made, has led us to this moment. And in this moment, I am the happiest man alive."
"I don't regret it either," you reply softly, your fingers intertwining with Gale's. "All those risks we took, all those obstacles we overcame, they were worth it to be here—to be with you."
His face softens, his eyes reflecting a profound sense of gratitude. "To be with you," he echoes, his voice filled with an overwhelming tenderness. "There is nothing in this world I would trade for the love we share."
You're quick to turn and jump in his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist as he holds you against the railing. Kissing him with full passion, you let your love and desire consume you both.
"You really are going to be the death of me, aren't you?"
"I might be but I think you've got me in a bind here, Mr. Dekarios."
"How so?"
Biting at his lower lip, and pulling ever so lightly. You hear him groan at the sensation. "Because my body, and soul are forever yours."
Gale's eyes darken with desire as he holds you tighter, his hands roaming over your body. "And mine, my love, belongs to you," he whispers huskily, his voice filled with an intoxicating mix of passion and adoration.
Without breaking eye contact, Gale carries you across the threshold into the bedroom. You had forgotten just how strong your husband was. When he approached the bed, he laid you down gently before climbing above you.
His eyes burn with a hunger that matches your own, igniting a fire within your veins. As he hovers above you, you feel the weight of his desire pressing against your body, a tantalizing promise of the passion to come.
With a feather-light touch, his fingertips trace the contours of your face, leaving a trail of fiery sensations in their wake. His lips meet yours in a searing kiss, an explosion of longing and need.
Clothing becomes an unnecessary barrier as he undresses you with gentle urgency. After freeing your breasts from the night shirt you were wearing, he gently kisses around your nipple before taking it into his mouth.
You arch your back, your chest rising and falling with each labored breath. The sensation is exquisite. Gale's hands continue to explore every inch of your body, leaving you panting with need.
"I need you," you whisper, your voice barely above a whisper.
Gale's eyes lock onto yours, the desire within them burning hotter than any flame. He leans down, his lips finding yours once more. This kiss is more intense, more desperate than any you've shared before.
His hands continue to roam over your body, his fingers tracing the curves of your hips, the dip of your waist. You feel yourself melting into him, your body responding to his touch with a yearning that threatens to consume you both.
As he presses you into the mattress, he lowers his head, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck. You can't help but moan, your body trembling with pleasure.
His fingers trail along your inner thigh, the anticipation building with every stroke. You let out a soft whimper, your body begging for more.
Finally, he reaches the apex of your desire, his fingers lightly caressing your most sensitive spot. You cry out, your hips bucking against his hand in a desperate attempt to find release.
Gale smiles, his eyes filled with lust. "You're mine, always." he growls, his voice low.
And with that promise, he slides two fingers inside you. You gasp as your body adjusts to the overwhelming invasion. Your hand grips his forearm, nails digging into his flash as he begins to pump his digits into you.
Your body trembles, and your mind is hazy with desire. You can feel him watching you, his gaze makes your heart race even faster.
His fingers continue pushing deeper, stretching you wide as he adds a third.
"Please," you whimper. "Please, I need more."
Gale responds by replacing his fingers with his mouth, his tongue lapping at the delicate folds of your core. The need for release consumes you completely. He knows just what to do, just how to make you come undone.
His tongue keeps searching, delving deeper, threatening to pull you into the abyss of ecstasy. Your body is aflame, your heart pounding against your ribs.
"Gale, I swear to you, if you do not take me right this instant, you will become a widower." You pant through your moans.
At the sound of your plea, Gale removes his mouth from your core and positions himself between your legs. "Come now, we can't have that now can we?"
You feel the swollen head of his erection brush against your entrance. As he pushes in, you gasp, your body stretching to accommodate him. You feel his warmth enveloping you, and you can't help but whimper at the sensation.
He begins to move, his hips swaying in a rhythm that matches the pounding of your heart. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, and your nails digging into his back.
He pulls almost all the way out, leaving only the head of his erection inside you, and then thrusts in deep once more. Your eyes meet, and he leans down, his lips brushing against yours as he continues to move inside you.
You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer and the sensation becomes exhilarating. You feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, the pleasure building with every thrust.
"I need you to tell me where to come." He says, his voice hoarse with desire.
Moaning loudly, you respond "Please, Inside me. Come inside me."
"You want me to fill you?" He grunts, as he thrusts in you. "Want to feel my seed spill inside of you."
"Yes! Gale, fuck yes!" You scream.
His eyes glint with hunger, and he obliges, increasing the pace and depth of his thrusts. You gasp, your head thrown back in pleasure as he continues to fuck you relentlessly.
"So fucking tight," he growls in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "You're going to make me come"
You reach up, your nails raking across his back, and grimace as you feel his hand cup one of your breasts. His fingers toy with your sensitive nipple, his thumb brushing against it in circles that send shivers down your spine.
Body screaming for release, you know it's close. You arch your back and beg him to keep going. With each thrust you feel his hips hitting against your clit. Your walls begin to clench around him, and you feel yourself tightening, ready to release.
Just when you think you can't take any more, Gale groans and thrusts deeper, harder, driving you over the edge. With a loud cry, you explode around him. Body shaking with pleasure.
His own seed begins to spill into you, filling you completely. As you continue to pant, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm, Gale's thrusts slow and then stop.
He collapses onto you, his weight heavy but comforting, as his heart beats wildly against your chest in sync with yours.
You both lie there, spent and breathless, your bodies melded together as one. The sweat from the exertion mingles with the remnants of your passion, leaving your skin glistening in the dim light of the room.
Gently, Gale lifts himself off you, his gaze never leaving yours. He kisses you tenderly, his lips soft and warm against yours, and you can taste the remnants of your lovemaking on his tongue.
As he pulls away, he looks down at your now-swollen lips, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. "That was incredible," he whispers, "You are incredible."
"As are you." You say, gently caressing his face.
Gale pulls up the covers and wraps you in his arms, his body still warm from the passion that just ensued. As he holds you close, your bodies still panting heavily from the exertion, you can help but marvel at the connection you share.
You close your eyes, feeling Gale's heartbeat against your cheek. "I love you more than anything,"
Gale responds with a sigh, "And I, you."
The words linger in the air as you both drift off, your bodies still entwined, and the promise of more passion to come.
Outlast Trials | Fanfiction | Mostly SFW + Depictions of gore / little bit of suggestive groping.
The Fox and the Hare | Franco Barbi x (Reagent OC) Sister Elizabeta
This picture is now the cover for this one shot I wrote about Eli and Franco! This is the story about the first time Eli reveals to Franco that she wants to cannibalize his heart. I've never really written a fic before so I gave it a try. (Please go easy on me. Writing is not my first skill.)
(Outlast Trials story, you have been warned.) Writing under the cut!
"5 AM in the Goddamn morning."
Franco's voice rumbled from his bed at the less than pleasurable sound of the morning intercom. The crackling static of the Murkoff speaker as it popped on to inform him that he has 15 minutes to prepare before his first appearance of the day.
His blanket would shuffle as he struggled to slump himself forward, clearing the morning gunk from his throat and rubbing the dust from his eyes. Lifting his ring finger to his face, he delicately massaged the thin layer of his eyelid. In this gesture he would push away the pesky tears that pooled along his waterline.
"Marone." He would roll off his tongue in agitation. There are few individuals that opt to run his stage so early before sunrise.
This was, even for him, too goddamn early. However, it was all a part of the contract. On call at whatever moment of the day Murkoff desired. In exchange, Franco is given his milk and honey. The heroin operations intact, his clientele happy and paying, and his protection guaranteed from whomever senior Salvatore may still be trying to throw his way to disturb his little slice of heaven.
Though, one did think about the audacity it took for him to be so inconvenienced by waking up early for work. He was, after all, complaining from his large and private bedroom that was custom fitted with all of his nice things. From his silky bed sheets to his hardwood armoire that held his finely tailored wardrobe. The things he can't help but want because of his upbringing in a luxury lifestyle.
Back then, young Barbi could have whatever he wanted so long as it didn't require Daddy's love and affection.
"Who the fuck wants to be in there at ass crack'a dawn."
Franco would take a deep breath, the air hissing through him as he swung his legs over the side of his bed. The already irritated Barbi had no intentions of getting dressed this first time around as he searched his bed for his evening robe.
As he sat on the edge of his sheets, he would run his fingers over the side of his head to feel how his wound was fairing. It was a regular issue that he has long since discarded serious care for. The chemicals Murkoff pumped into him at regular check ups somehow managed to keep the infection in line just enough every time. But, it was still a chronic pain.
And of course, the dressings he had gone to sleep with were off once again. He could never manage to get them to stick as he would toss and turn throughout his appointed resting periods. At his bedside of course, sat his precious Lupara. He'd grab the gun with a haste most only saw in soldiers hurried to war.
"I'll be fucked if some spunky little cunt is really lookin for a fight this early in the mornin." He spat with a jagged scowl.
If it truly was some reagent with the balls to be so punctual, he wasn't going to give them the pleasure of seeing him in his proper work attire. Hell, the only thing he truly bothered with were his socks and shoes. The small man had every intention of looking ridiculous for the poor sucker he was hoping to find.
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"Good morning Mr. Barbi."
Said the man behind the glass. Waiting for Franco at this gated entrance as always.
"Up yours, scum pig." Franco would snarl, with no hesitation and no eye contact to spare. Never had he cared for the authority around him that Murkoff provided. This may be their set up, but this was his turf, as far as he was concerned.
Once he was past the gate and through the doorway, he would be in the facility. With Lupara over his shoulder, he would stop to stare out into the distance of the Docks. Searching for anything out of the ordinary.
The morning silence was deafening.
“So fuckin early even the rats ain’awake yet.”
Franco stated as he stepped along metal staircases and wooden hallways. The disgusting smell of sulfur, like that of rotting eggs. The fake simulated cries of seagulls and the moist sloshing of water and carnage against the cargo ship. He would make his way to the rising platform that laid beneath the hatch, expecting to find someone perhaps within the bridge.
As his footsteps trebled against the metal panels of the floor, his predatory intuition made clear that his prey was not too far off. Something in the air changed, a presence, a frequency. A silent alarm, if any. And it made his trigger finger itch.
But his gut warned him to hold steady. And gently, Franco pushed open a door to the bridge control room. The red lighting in the room would make it rather easy for someone to sit still and eventually slide by quietly. Like a conniving little rat. But this wasn't the case, as the intruder made no real efforts to conceal themselves.
A figure hunched over a box of junk and trinkets. The sound of objects being picked up, inspected perhaps, and dropped back in. Though there was something odd about the way that they did, as there didn't appear to be much urgency in their gestures. At least not the kind that you would expect from most reagents.
"Who the fuck is that!?" Franco asserted. Aiming his Lupara with a ferocity that came quicker than the pull of the trigger.
It wasn't more than a second before the hunched figure rose to their full height, head turning slightly to capture a side eye view of Franco's threat posture. Their gaze presented with a very silent and eerie calmness despite the gun pointed to them.
"Thats an awful rude way to greet 'a girl so early in the morning, Mista' Bambino."
A voice with a short fuse for patience spoke out to him. You could hear the small gasp that wormed it's way out of the mobster's lungs after being addressed. Franco would drop his hostile pose with Lupara still in his hand. Motioning his arms forward, he gestured the way one would when asking for a hug.
"Lizzy!" Shouted the Barbi.
The giantess gave Franco the quick up and down. Her eyes hung in a way that made them look so soft, but sad. The same way a Forget-Me-Not makes you feel by it's name.
"Doooon't you Lizzy me buster! Yous was just aimin'that goddamn Lupara at the backa' my head!" Her shoulders would jerk around, a small medicine bottle in one hand while the other put up a scolding finger.
Franco would note that she didn't look like her typical self. While she dawned her ever holy reagent bindings and gear, something was unkempt about her.
Her hair was frizzy and bedridden, her make up was fading and tacky along the features and creases of her face. Loosely fitted from her body was a hand made evening jumper. The material looked surprisingly close to the silk of his sheets back in his bedroom. Lastly her stockings were put on in a hurry. They were already full of tears and holes as they pulled against the shape of her legs. For her that had been good enough, and she had walked into the trial shuttle without any shoes.
The two would walk forward from their respective spots in the room, meeting each other half way.
"No, no, Lizzy! You know I'd never take a shot at ya! I-I ain't seen ya in a week I wasn't thinkin it was you!"
Franco's demeanor would shift ever so quickly to that of a begging pup as he put his hands together. Pleading with Lizzy that he was not out of line. That he did good hesitating before letting his trigger finger do the talking for him.
"S-Sugar." He would stutter, his expression failing to show any real confidence in his display.
Lizzy would roll her eyes and shake her head. The finger that did the scolding now gently brushing through the front patch of Franco's hair.
"Yeah well, I didn't have much of a choice Barbi doll." She said.
Her nails gently pushed the strands of greasy hair into their signature swirl on his forehead. The gentleness of her motion reflected in the way it felt. A slight tickle on top of the skin, oh, it was something so minor that could make a man like Franco purr.
She could melt him like butter. His knees could turn to jelly on the spot as she stroked his hair. Like being praised for good behavior while he batted his eyelashes at her. Despite how disheveled she would consider herself in the moment, she was his Madonna. An icon he'd get on his knees to worship while he pleaded for her forgiveness and her blessings.
"One of tha'rookies in my cell block is havin a tough time with a nasty stab wound. I said I'd go get them somethin first thing in the mornin." She explained. The tone of her voice suggesting that she was, in fact, the one looking for forgiveness.
"I didn't mean to wake ya up Frankie- Honest. But yous was the first in rotation today." Lizzy tried to assure him, her fingers clenching lightly to his chin. Making him look into her eyes while she tried to reason her actions to him.
Her hands were so soft, except for her pointer finger. He could feel the callused tip of it, making it stand out against the rest. The spot where she pricked too much from sewing without a thimble or machine guard, surely.
Smitten, his mouth would curl into a dotting smile. How he wished she would give him more than just this simple restraint. Though, the thought would quickly pass as his expression changed. Resembling that of a mean and feral tom cat. Scrunched together, like there was a bad taste past his tongue and teeth.
"Wait wait. You got up at this time for some....random newbie! Lizzy. C'mon what'dya get outta helpin these people!" Franco would argue. He was more upset on her behalf than she was.
In fact, she didn't seem to protest the task at all.
"These people ain't got nothin for you. You fuckin know that. Whats'tha sense in goin through.......through this kind of bullshit! Eh?"
The little man would kick his leg limply as he let his fuse run without much thought to his outburst. Lizzy offered no real response other than a puff of air. Her red painted nail would lightly poke Bambino on his nose while she uttered something.
"Look Frankie. You might get a nice cozy spot all to ya'self but I share a parlor'wit a buncha other people. Some'a them need someone to look out for them alright?" The woman didn't say much else other than to point out that it was a simple act of kindness for a wounded stranger.
"They're just taking advantage of'ya Liz." He grumbled and grabbed her free hand by the wrist. Holstering Lupara for the moment, a thing he rarely did when he was out and about.
"They ain't workin hard like you do, baby. They're just lookin to get what they can outta ya, and then suck you for every last drop you got." Franco's tone would once again reach a level of irritation. He hissed in a low volume and moved to hold her hand in his palms.
"You can't just go willy fuckin nilly doin shit for these people. They're gonna stab you in the back the second they get the goddamn chance."
The way Franco said it truly reflected how often he looked over his shoulder. One could imagine that he never meant a hand shake a day in his life, or that his fingers surely ached from how often they were crossed behind his back. It takes a rat to know a rat, and he has been both rodent and thief in his day.
"Frankie, you're ova'reactin. It's just a little medicine, sourpuss." Lizzy would puff her cheeks out, unbothered by the assumptions Franco was making. She calmly slid her hand away from his grasp to gesture as she spoke.
"Besides....Gave me a reason to come see ya'didn't it?" She giggled at the statement, her fingers running down the open lining of his evening robe. Adjusting the fabric slightly, Lizzy would cup the side of Franco's face. Feeling the heat from his cheeks that she couldn't see on him now.
Franco just stared at her. His thick eyelashes flickering as he blinked in confusion and bashfulness. He didn't want to admit he had gotten a little overworked about the situation, but he had to muster up an excuse of some sort, right?
"Y-yeah. So what if it did? I ain't gonna thank'em! And now I'm all fuckin worked up and out here in my fuckin pajamas!" The man whined. A wincing pitch to his voice that made one feel like they were fighting with a child.
"Fuckin...mothafucka.." Bambino growled to himself. Massaging his eyelids softly once again to push the waterworks away.
"Aw, my poor Bambino. Always cryin, never'sad." Lizzy would bend down to kiss his temple. A faint smear of red tint from her lipstick that she'd had on since the day before. It's darkness was only visible if you really looked for it under the red light of the bridge. Franco's sad moans would cease after this short reward, but only briefly.
For Franco, especially at this time, it still wasn't enough.
"Mother...May I?" He winced and groaned. The sound he made was pathetic to say the least. Like a pained beast, begging to be put out of it's misery. He ran his hands up the woman's sides, gripping them securely much like the way he would grip his precious Lupara.
Lizzy's eyebrows would raise in surprise by his assertiveness in this moment. She scoffed and shook her head. "You'know I ain't got time't fool around wit' you Frankie." She protested. Looking into those sad puppy dog eyes of his. Lizzy had a strong will, but sometimes the break line was thin.
She sighed. "C'mere Barbi Doll. Give mama some sugar." She beckoned him with her finger.
"Marone...." The mobster buried his face into her belly without a moment's notice. Whispering sweet nothings into the pit of her stomach. His sweating skin sticking to the cool silk that hung loose from her figure. Nosing at it like a desperate animal in heat. Breathing in her scent like it was the last thing he’d do.
"Look at what ya'do t'me..." The words crawled out of his mouth like a bum from the gutter. Desperate and yearning.He could never have what he wanted most from her. No matter how many times she appeared on his stage. A dream that was far off, but he had played in his head one hundred times over.
The idea of getting warm and close to Lizzy in such a manner made his heart skip and his head spin. He couldn't even catch his breath to properly word the excitement it brought him. So instead, he tried to show it through physical affections as he tugged Lizzy closer to himself. His hands cusped just under her wide and soft curvature.
Lizzy's expression would go from soft to perky and surprised at the sudden affections. “What do I do to you, Barbi Doll?” She whispered the question into the air as the tension built itself up. The musk was thick from the stage’s fake salt and morning fog that poured from machines in the walls.
"You make baby crazy, Liz…” He groveled as his legs failed to hold him up any longer. Holding on to her ankles for dear life as he looked up at her face. His palms rubbing past the holes in her stockings, occasionally slipping a finger under the fabric to circle her skin tenderly. He would heave slightly as he leaned forward to kiss at the shimmering fabric.
The woman stared intently at his display of affection. At the vulnerable state he was willing to subject himself to so he could hear her affirmations. And all she could do was watch him as he kissed at her feet. His lips were dry and sticky as he peppered trails up each leg. One at a time.
An alarm was going off somewhere inside her head. The way Franco appeared at the floor before her made her skin hot and her stomach warm. A smirk would creep at the corners of her face, only emphasized by the red lipstick colors that stained her mouth.
“Bambino…” Lizzy said. Franco’s short breaths paused as he made eye contact with her upon his title being named. “You know what you make me want to do?” She questioned.
Franco's eyes would light up at the opportunity to ask her. What did he make her want to do. How did she feel? "Mother...Please...." His voice was eager and hurried, like it was being squeezed from him.
"W-what do I make you wanna do, Mother... Tell me. Please." Franco's head was almost on the ground as he bowed it to the question.
"Mother please." The man child begged.
"Heh.." The tall woman snickered and cleared her throat. The air hissing as it sucked in past her teeth that she bared. And if it hadn't been for the lighting one could swear that she had the grin of a predator. Sharp and wanting. Drooling. Itching to snap down on bone and flesh.
Franco's eyes darted back up as he stared from below. The silence getting heavier and heavier with every second that passed. Waiting for her answer.
Before he could gather the air to speak and cut through the quiet, he was hoisted into the air. Lizzy having put down the medicine bottle to give herself more control and range to handle Barbi.
"My Little Baby Barbi Doll." She sang. She pulled his small body close to her so they were nose to nose. Holding him as if he weighed nothing more than a toy to her. Her facial features formed what could only be described as an intoxicated expression.
"If I had it my way..." She giggle-whispered. Her high pitched tone jittering as though something was very funny to her.
"If I had it my way, Barbi Doll. I'd reach my hand right through that little barrel chest'a yours." Lizzy circled her finger nail lightly over the skin above Franco's heart.
"I'd push past your ribs...until I could feel'ya heart between my fingers. And yank it right outta ya. Tubes and all." As Lizzy detailed the viscera of the scene in her head, you could hear the peak of the pleasure she took in describing it. In some twisted way, it made her heart flutter and gave her butterflies in her gut.
Franco's jaw was nearly on the floor as she hushed her desires right into his ears. They locked eyes, and as his mouth was agape, Lizzy's grin was that of a hungry....wolf. No.
He was the wolf here. Lupara, echoed in Franco's head. He still had Lupara, but he dare not grab for it. He knows how much Lizzy hated when he handled the gun around her.
No not a wolf. A vixen. And right now, Franco was the hare. The foolish hare that laid it's head in the maw of the fox. At any moment she could snap her jaws right on his little neck and do him in.
"I would take a bite outta your heart like a fuckin fruit. Frankie." The woman's lips twitched into a sadistic and hungry little grin and she leaned in close to whisper into Franco's ear. "And I bet you taste sweet. Sugar-sweet. Like milk, and honey."
The sentiment was enough to make Franco's mind go over the edge between fear and arousal. He was speechless, short circuited. Not a clue this side of hell what to say to her.
She sighed a longing sigh, as if she had just been minorly inconvenienced. "A girl can dream..." Lizzy would cut off her thoughts quite abruptly.
Putting Bambino back on the ground, his eyes widened with fear and uncertainty. Was she serious? Franco didn't actually know the answer, but his face was hot and flushed so much so that the sweat dripped from his skin. He took a deep breath and asked.
"Y-you wanna eat me?" He said with little behind the question. His teeth clenched from the anxiety. His mouth hollowed with confusion to Lizzy's true motives.
Their gazes would meet and there was a short pause. Lizzy wiped the corner of her mouth with the tip of her thumb and snickered softly.
"You heard me, Barbi Doll. I just wanna. Eat. You. Up."
She hunched over a bit, lowering herself to his level to place a deepened kiss on his lips. It caused Franco to moan lightly with relief as her touch was a comfort he had been missing for days. His temper was short because he felt ignored. Neglected even. But this was just the pick me up he needed, despite how he came about it.
But, the answer was still unclear. Although it wasn't something Franco saw any worth in dwelling over. Not after the heart skipping moment he just felt with Lizzy. Not right now.
A sickening bond that was ever growing between the two of them.
"One'a these days, Dollie. But not today,alright?" She grabbed his chin again and jerked his face lightly and playfully. His eyelashes fluttered at the motion.
"You gonna walk a little lady to the exit shuttle then?" Lizzy requested.
Franco whom already felt a lingering intimidation radiating from Ms.Lizzy, would hold no argument as he hooked his arm around her waist. He had no qualms with escorting her along with the medicine bottle she acquired.
After all he just wanted to get back to bed. He had thoughts to think over, and desires to dream of before the real trials of the day began.
Hi bee, do you have any tips for writing romance without making it cringy? Don’t get me wrong, I get that obviously you won’t wanna write the “she stared into Jake’s blue orbs with green speckles” shit, but it’s also just kind of a tricky thing to portray?
LMAO dont worry I totally get it, it’s tough to shake worries that you’re being too cheesy while writing romance. For me the way I try to combat that is mainly by trying to be as true to the characters as possible (to an extent, depending on the situation/story beats I will stretch characterization here and there). If you don’t think it’d be in character for a character to stare longingly at their beloved writing sweet poetry in their head, then don’t write them doing that. If your character is more emotionally closed off and struggles to voice their feelings, play with that dynamic. Try to show affection and feelings without putting it into typical ‘romantic’ terms. Write about the warmth someone feels when their romantic interest walks into a room and how they shove it down because they totally don’t know how to deal with it. If two characters have a more banter-esque dynamic, don’t make them lose that if they fall in love, let keep them bantering.
Really what I’m trying to get at is to just keep the core of the characters as they are. You don’t change your entire personality when you fall in love. You just have found your new favorite person you want to be around for the foreseeable future.
(Also if you’re trying to think of how one character in love with another would describe them, if you want to keep it less cheesy don’t describe them as poetically beautiful. You can say a lot by just having a character blush and avert their eyes when their beloved looks really good, or something like that)
Creature Commando show crew: Hey lets make the nerd-turned-super villain a really smooth dancer because it would be funny and off the wall
Me, carefully integrating this seemingly random skill into said character's backstory in my fanfic in a way that makes sense and also makes me cry: Hold my drink
snippets of act I of kicking up dust is making me ill mentally i fear
luke Skywalker I love you and I am sorry for all ill inevitably put you through in this fic, but also do not be fooled the fic is actually so mostly lighthearted it just starts so SAD
foolish left you in the ruins of your home years ago. you've forgotten about it up until now, finally face to face with him.
&. c!foolish x gn!reader
word count: 4.1k words
warnings: swearing & arson
bones' note: wrote this in three hours, thought you guys might enjoy :) also my first time writng a full length fic for foolish! i hope i got the characterization right haha
Being in love is dangerous.
You’ve known this since you were a kid. Ever since your first crush, your first love, and your first heartbreak— You knew falling in love meant being forced to deal with the repercussions if something were to go wrong. Therefore, it was easier to guard your heart. You wouldn’t need to worry about the consequences of love if you never found it. You were content with it; not having someone there made your independence grow.
But your loneliness was suffocating.
You tried to convince yourself it wasn’t bothering you. You were fine being alone— You’ve come this far without anyone. Why would you need someone— but you also missed having company. With every day passing day, you felt more and more alone, until you couldn’t convince yourself you were fine being alone.
You wanted someone there. You wanted that feeling of freedom that comes with love. But you were afraid of the negatives. You were too scared to seek anyone out, too afraid of falling in love and it ending in tragedy (everything ends in tragedy, is what you tell yourself). Yet, you long for it. You dream for it. But you’ll never seek it out because of your fear.
So, you continued living your quaint life. You hunted; you fished; you gathered various berries and plants; you hoped for someone to love you; you cooked and cleaned and reorganized your house. It was a fairly small house, one of the smaller houses in your village, so you could redecorate it without moving too many items around. It was small, quaint, and you liked it that way. You were never one for the grand things anyways.
Your schedule was the same every day, one you rinsed and repeated as soon as the sun rose and as soon as it set. Then, a stranger came by your house.
He looked different than everyone in the village. He had to be a newcomer. He had golden skin that might as well have been made out of gold with the way it shined in the sun; emerald green eyes that lit up brilliantly; a robe he wore that fit him well, but also showed off the muscle underneath. You opened the door to his bright grin, arching an eyebrow.
“Hello?”
“Hello!” He responded cheerfully. “I’m new here and, well, you looked pretty welcoming! Was wondering if you could give me the grand ol’ tour of the place?” You had no idea how he could act so cheerful so early, but it made you smile slightly. As for showing him around— you had nothing better to do, so why not?
“Sure. What’s your name?” You asked, watching him beam at the confirmation.
“Foolish! And what may your name be?” Oddly, the name suited him.
“[Name]. It’s very nice to meet you, Foolish.”
“You too! Now, how ‘bout we get to that tour, hm?” He grinned.
You giggled, stepping outside and shutting your door. “Alright. Let’s go, Foolish.”
With that, you gave Foolish a tour of your village. There wasn’t much to show, considering how small the village was and how little people occupied it. There were really only the major buildings you had to show off: The Clinic, Town Hall, and the Blacksmith. Town Hall was where everyone gathered if need be. Although, it hasn’t been used in ages. It was collecting dust more than serving as a meeting place. The Blacksmith was where all the weapons were forged handcrafted by the only man you’ve ever seen handle weapons in the town. You found it weird how he was interested in the Blacksmith of all places but didn’t think too much of it.
However, Foolish’s bright energy made up for the lack of places to show him. He was still curious with everything you showed him, with a smile that hadn’t dimmed the entire time. You don’t think you’ve ever met a happier man in your life. Even you hadn’t smiled the entire time. His happiness was infectious though, occasionally making you grin every time you even looked at him. Maybe he was a wizard.
“And that.” You clapped your hands, turning to Foolish. “Concludes the tour! Hope you enjoyed everything and have a good time living here.” Foolish only seemed to brighten more, thanking you for the tour and going off somewhere. Maybe to build a house or renovate one of the abandoned ones.
A month after Foolish moved in, you had only gotten to know the man more. His cheerfulness wasn’t a onetime thing, instead he was simply happy all the time. You couldn’t wrap your head around how or why, but it was beginning to rub off on you. You’ve laughed harder in a few days with Foolish than you have in the recent months. His bright, happy attitude simply was infectious.
And maybe he was too.
You found yourself wanting to see him every day. He was in your head form the moment you woke up to the second you fell asleep. It was strange to think that, just after a few months of Foolish being here, you were already hopelessly in love with him. But you didn’t want to be. Love meant getting hurt. You didn’t want to be put through that.
But it was Foolish. Foolish who had a smile that could cheer anyone up; Foolish who had a squeaky laugh that was funnier than any joke he told; Foolish who’s shark tail would swing side-to-side every time he was excited; Foolish he couldn’t contain his happiness; Foolish who made you feel more special than anyone else ever has; Foolish who you’re in love with.
And, as you lay there in your bed that night, you come to think that maybe love couldn’t be so bad if it was with Foolish.
So, you set out for him in the morning, hoping to tell him about your feelings. You waited at the spot that you two always sat it: A tree to the east of the village. It was nice and peaceful, and you were happy you began coming there with Foolish. Time passed, and he wasn’t there. Usually, he was there before you, always up bright and early. You never knew why though.
It only took twenty minutes until you realized he wasn’t coming. Had you done something? Maybe you upset him in some way? You tried to rack your brain for anything that you could’ve done, only to come up empty handed. You didn’t remember doing anything wrong anyways. Still, you had to go and see what it was.
Your legs carried you to Foolish’s door as if it was something you had done a thousand times before. And it certainly was.
You knocked at the man’s door, waiting for a response. You didn’t get one. Odd.
“Foolish? Hey, it’s me, [Name]. Are you in there? I was waiting for you at our spot, but you didn’t show, so I got worried. Did I do something? I don’t remember hurting you, but if I did, I’m sorry. Will you please come out?”
No response. You huffed, eyebrows furrowing. You decided to take a peek in the window, standing as high as you could, but you could only see a little bit inside. His bed was made, like it always was, but Foolish was nowhere to be seen. You were worried now. What if something happened to him? What if he was kidnapped? What if—
You slapped yourself in the face. You had to be calm. Foolish was probably out doing something and would be back later today, just as he always was. He’d be back (thought it felt more like a reassurance now).
Hours passed. No signs of Foolish being back. You were growing restless, pacing in your living room, chewing on your hands. You couldn’t stop worrying about him. It was dumb, you know, but you couldn’t stop. You wanted nothing more than his safety.
Your worrying for Foolish was cut short when a scream rang out in the village. You almost thought you didn’t hear it at first, but as soon as you processed what it was, you ran outside. People were running towards you, screaming and panicking, and as you looked past them, you could see why:
Fire. Fire was spreading throughout the village, starting at one of the houses, and continuing to each and every building. You could feel the heat. Frantically, you looked around as to what could’ve caused the fire, while also trying not to get trampled in the onslaught of people. Even if there weren’t many, they were all running out the same way.
Before you could move a muscle, you spotted a figure atop a horse, holding a torch.
Foolish.
He was there. Right in front of you. You were almost happy to see him before the torch in his hand registered in your mind. You almost didn’t want to believe it. How could Foolish— The guy who you gave a tour of the village to, who’s lived here for months— even think about burning the village down? What had happened to him?”
You yelled his name. He was quick to turn around, with one hand holding the horses’ reigns and the other wrapped around the torch. Several emotions flashed across his face, before confusion and anger were set in stone. “What are you still doing here!? Go, run!” He urged you, motioning towards where everyone else was running. You stayed in place.
“Did you burn the village down!?” You yelled instead, watching the surprise flash across his face. Before, again, anger was set in stone. His eyebrows furrowed, and his grip tightened on the torch.
“I did what I had to do, [Name]. Now, go. Before you get hurt.”
With a harsh tug of the reigns, Foolish’s horse was speeding past you, the flame of the torch attaching to whatever it could. You could only watch in confusion and hurt and anger. How dare he burn the village like that? How dare he make you fall in love with him?
A tear fell down your cheek. You sniffed and wiped at it, before running as fast as you could away from your now ruined home. Your home, your love, and your town all gone within a span of minutes. You could almost laugh at it.
You were right. Everything ends in tragedy.
You ran until your legs couldn’t carry you for hours upon hours. Adrenaline still rushed through your system; the only reason you were even standing up right now, honestly. Still, it couldn’t hold you over forever. As it began wearing down, you could feel the ache in your joints, soon wincing with every move. It hurt. And it was all his fault.
With anger seeping into your heart, you passed out in the grass.
When you came to, you were met with a wooden ceiling and a severe wave of pain. You hissed, blinking wearily as to not have your eyes fill with tears. The amount of pain was something you’ve never faced before. You must’ve run longer than you thought you did.
You sat up, groaning. You raised a hand to your head, feeling it throb. You winced, looking around to see where you were; just as you thought, you had no clue. Great.
Squeaking made you sneap your head to the entrance, seeing a boy walk in with a wet towel. He looked surprised that you were awake, before cracking open the door and sticking his head out. "Tommy, they’re awake!” He shouted. While you could hear what you assumed to be Tommy running to the door, you instead focused on the boy in the doorway.
He looked young, probably around eleven or twelve. Red horns poked out from behind his hair, and you could see a horned tail swaying as well. He moved aside for another boy to come in: Tommy. He looked around the same age, with blond hair and bright blue eyes. He turned towards you. “Finally awake, eh?” He asked. You nodded.
The pair walked towards you, the shorter of the two handing you the wet rag. You sighed as you placed it on your forehead, immediate relief flooding through your system. “We found you passed out in the field,” The boy with demon horns explained. “So, we brought you here. Oh! I’m Eryn, and this is¾”
“Tommy! The one and only! All the girls love me, you know?” He cut the other off.
You snickered at him, a fond smile on your face. You’ve always liked kids. Tommy seemed to take mock offense to that, eyebrows furrowing comically and a huff coming from him. “We should’ve left you in the field,” He grumbled. Eryn elbowed him in the side.
“Tommy!”
“What!? We should’ve!”
Eryn gave a final glare, before turning towards you. “What were you doin’ out in the field anyways? Did something happen?” You tried to talk but was only able to cough. Some of the smoke must have gotten in your lungs. You groaned internally. “Oh! Right, here’s some water.” Eryn carefully handed you the water, the two boys watching you gulp it down.
Eryn took the empty cup, handing it to Tommy to refill it. He whined at him having to be the one to do it but walked off anyways. “My…” You trailed off, clearing your throat. “My village was burnt down. Not far from here, I think.” Eryn frowned.
“My village was burnt down recently too. Weird, innit?” You nodded.
“Well, this is Tommy’s village. The people here are nice. You can stay here as long as you’d like if you want. I’ve been staying here too.” He explained, a kind smile on his face. He couldn’t be any older than a preteen, and yet he had apparently had his home burnt down. How was he acting so strong about it? You didn’t have the gall to ask, so you instead opted to answer his question.
“I probably will… if that’s okay, of course.”
He smiled. “Of course. I’ll check with the guy who runs the place, but it should be fine either way.”
Tommy came barging in a second later. “I’ve got your water!”
As time passed, you were able to finally leave your bed. You were accepted as the new member of the small town, and even became more acquainted with Tommy and Eryn. You found out both of them were twelve, but Tommy was older by a few months. He, of course, held this over Eryn any time he could.
You were fond of them. They were like little brothers to you.
Years passed since you first came into the village. Tommy and Eryn were both now fifteen, and you couldn’t be prouder of them for everything they’ve done. They were bright kids who you’d now grown attached to. However, it was when they were fifteen that Tommy would have to decide between a server and his home.
The invite to the server, Dream SMP, was hand delivered by Dream. He had found out where the boy’s village was— How? You had no clue,— and was willing to invite him and one other person. Immediately, he turned to Eryn, hope shining in his bright blue eyes. “This could be a new start for us, man! Think about it! And it’s to the Dream SMP! How fucking sick is that!?”
The Dream SMP was a small server, consisting of a few people, but the people in it were popular as well. George NotFound, Sapnap Halo, and Dream WasTaken were all highly regarded people. They made the server famous by simply being it. Everyone wanted in it, so once you get an invite, you don’t turn it down.
Eryn thought differently though.
He frowned, looking around at the village. “I don’t know. I like it here, Toms. I’ve grown close with them. They’re like family to me now.” He answered, making Tommy gawk at him. “But it’s to the Dream SMP, Eryn! This village will be fine without us. Just please say you’ll go, Eryn?” Tommy tried to do puppy eyes. Eryn simply smiled at him.
“Maybe if I get an invite later on, okay? But, right now, I’m content here.” Eryn looked over at you, then back at Tommy. “But maybe [Name] would like to go.”
Tommy looked over at you. You smiled back at him. “I’m good. I’ll stay here and keep Eryn company.” You could see the relief flash in Eryn’s eyes, despite how he was willing to let you go if you wanted to. Tommy huffed but didn’t press It any further. He didn’t seem mad, just slightly upset. Which was expected.
“Wait!” He suddenly snapped, turning to Dream. “if Eryn ever gets invited to the SMP— Which I’m sure he will after you realize how amazing and awesome he is— then can he use my extra invite?”
Dream seemed to hum in thought. “Sure, kid.”
“I’m not a fuckin’ kid, prick!”
Tommy was set off with his stuff the next morning, bright and early. You and Eryn say goodbye, watching Dream open up a portal for him and Tommy to walk through. The boy gave you and Eryn one last wave, and you could’ve sworn he was tearing up. He would’ve snapped at you if you said anything though, so you merely waved. You could hear Eryn sniffling though. And maybe you were too. Just a little bit.
More than a year had gone by when someone from the Dream SMP came by again.
Neither you nor Eryn were expecting to open the door to see Sapnap. He looked intimidating, with large horns that stuck out from his head and a bright gaze that resembled a flame. He smiled at you two though, holding two slips of paper in his hands.
“Two tickets to the Dream SMP. Just for you guys, per Tommy’s request.”
You and Eryn lit up at the mention of Tommy, hurriedly packing your bags. You were happy to see him again, and you could tell Eryn was too. He missed his best friend, and you missed your pseudo little brother. As Sapnap made the portal, Eryn couldn’t stop bouncing on his heels. “How is he? Toms, I mean.” He asked.
Something came over Sapnap’s face. Sadness, guilt, and sympathy. “He’s… doing okay, I think. He’s been through a lot, but I know he’ll be happy to see you guys.” Worry started churning in your gut. What could he have been through? Hopefully only normal teenager stuff. But you were glad he’d be happy to see you and Eryn.
The Dream SMP was… chaotic, to say the least. Just the look from the spawn made you think about what could’ve happened here. Sapnap gave you guys a short tour, until you guys came up to Tommy’s house. Which was a dirt shack? You and Eryn glanced at each other but made no comment about it. Sapnap knocked on the wooden door.
“Tommy? You in there? I brought some visitors.”
There was shuffling from inside, before a voice that unmistakably belonged to Tommy began shouting. “If you don’t have any of my wives with you, then go away!” Eryn snickered at that, and Sapnap rolled his eyes.
“They’re better than any of your wives, Tommy. Just come on out.”
There was grumbling and more shuffling, before the door swing open to reveal… Tommy?
He looked different. Much different. Not only was he taller than before, his blond hair had grown out, and now had a white streak in it. His once bright eyes looked dull. Scars littered his face, and a blue cardigan covered him up. He looked sickly pale too. You couldn’t dwell on that thought, even if you were sure Eryn was doing the same thing.
“ERYN! [NAME]!” Tommy shouted.
He tackled you and Eryn, unable to contain his excitement. Just like when he was smaller. You and Eryn both laughed, quickly returning the hug. Tommy leaned back, glancing between you and his former best friend, before laughing. “You’re here! Both of you! You guys actually came! Oh, my Prime, it’s been so long!”
“Too long, man!” Eryn laughed.
They were happy. Your pseudo little brothers had reunited, and they were happy.
After the reunion, Tommy began taking you on a tour. “A better tour than a wrong’un like Sapnap could give you,” He had said. The tour was fun, and you were happy to see them so happy, until Tommy suddenly stopped.
“I know who’s builds you guys will enjoy! Let me show you to the best goddamn builder you’ve ever fuckin’ seen.”
Although you and Eryn asked who it was, Tommy said that he’d save who it was for a surprise. He was most likely to be at his house anyways. So, you and Eryn followed Tommy through the Nether, to a different portal. That portal lead you all to a dessert which, as Tommy had said, was packed with wonderous buildings. You and Eryn awed at it, taking a look around for yourselves.
Tommy and Eryn had run off to look at the pyramid, but you stayed behind, looking at the large buildings. Whoever built all of it had amazing skill and too much time on their hands.
After more looking around, you heard footsteps from behind you. Tommy or Eryn, you thought. “This place is great, guys, really—” You turned around.
There, in front of you, was Foolish. Foolish from years ago. You gaped at him, and he gaped at you. “[Name]…?” He let out, taking a step towards you. That same anger from years ago that you had long forgotten came back. And it was boiling.
“Don’t say my name,” You hissed, watching him take a step back. “Don’t even speak to me. Not after what you did to my home. How fucking dare you, Foolish!?” You were yelling now, but you could care less. Years of anger that had settled at the pit of your stomach was rising to the surface now, and you were determined to let Foolish feel your wrath.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry!?” You laughed. “You should’ve been sorry years ago.”
“I was sorry years ago!” Foolish snapped, his fists clenching. He let out a sigh. “I was sorry. I am sorry. It was supposed to be a heist. And then I got attached to you and it all went wrong. I wasn’t supposed to stay there for that long, or fall in love with you, but I did!”
You stayed silent. Only some words registered for you.
“You fell in love with me?” You murmured.
His eyes softened. “Yes. I’m still in love with you. I’ve thought about you every day.” Carefully, he brings a hand to yours, engulfing it in his warmth like he had years ago. Your hand shook in his grasp, and he placed a kiss to the top of it. Somehow that only made it worse.
Your lip trembled. “How do I know you won’t hurt me again?”
“Because I’ve changed. I promise I have. Let me prove it to you. Please.”
You’re conflicted. You want to forgive him, but you don’t. It’s been years, and holding onto anger isn’t good, you know that, but you can’t help it. Not when you can still hear their screams echo in your ears. Not when you can still feel the smoke in your lungs. Yet, somehow, some part of you wants to forgive him. Why?
Because it’s him. It’s Foolish who used to make you feel like you were on cloud nine; it’s Foolish who made you feel like you put the stars in the sky; it’s Foolish who made you feel special when no one else could; it’s Foolish who made you believe in love; it’s Foolish who you’re still in love with.
And maybe that’s not so bad, as long as it’s with him.
Tentatively, you bit your bottom lip, refusing to meet his gaze. “I don’t…” You hesitate, trailing off, but one look into Foolish’s green eyes and suddenly you feel like you can take on the world (for him). “I think I can forgive you with time. But not now.”
A grin broke across his face. He shouted in glee, abandoning your hand to pick you up instead, spinning you around happily. You squealed and laughed as he did too, his infectious laugher only make you laugh more. He held you close to him, and you can see the old Foolish in him. The one that made you smile until your face hurt and laugh until your stomach hurt. Maybe you could forgive him.
“I’ll prove to you that I’ve changed,” Foolish whispers, still smiling.
Strade had been called many names before. In fact it wasn't even his first time being called Satan or Lucifer or the Devil. But this was different. This whimpering dog, chained in his basement for nearly 4 days now, he said it like a confession.
The boy cried and turned his head away, shrinking back into himself and away from Strade. Frustrated with is incompliance, Strade reached out a firm hand, grabbing Bailey's chin and sharply turning his head back to face him.
"Confess to me. What did you do to be sent to the devil?"
"I-" Bailey's shaking voice stumbled from his chapped lips, "I didn't mean to." His ears pinned back, blending into the tangled, knotted mess of hair on his head.
"Didn't mean to do what?" Strade implored, a growing sense of intrigue and excitement laced in his sweet, sing-song voice.
"I just wanted her to get away from me, I swear!" Large tears rolled down Bailey's cheeks as he choked on sobs that rocked his chest. "She was yelling at me and I just- I just meant to push her! I didn't mean to! I swear I didn't mean to hurt her like that!" Bailey stumbled over his words as he confessed his darkest sin to the devil holding his face.
"Oooh," the demon crooned, "but it still happened! Even if you didn't mean to." His tone held a sickening sweetness, his grip still firm as his hand was wet by tears. "Now say it out loud to me. Say exactly what you did to her."
Bailey whimpered louder than ever, a true canine whimper that touched back to the bestial part of himself. "I-" his voice wavered, unsteady and unsure of itself. "I-" he tried again, and failed to speak those rotten words.
"Be a good boy for me, Bailey." Strade's hands no longer held a harsh grip, but instead a soothing touch on the cheek, gently raising Bailey's face. "I, what? Say it. Confess to me, and you will be absolved."
Strade's fierce orange eyes bore deeply into Bailey's soul, and the boy had to close his eyes to distance himself from their intimidating gaze. Strade's hands, though rough and worked, now gave a gentle touch, softly and sweetly coaxing the confession from him.
"I-" Bailey began again, his hazey mind feeling all too entranced by the combination of fear and pain from his many days chained up. "I killed her." His voice was a whisper, as if saying the words were killing his mother a second time. They burned his tongue, and made him taste bile in the back of his throat. "I killed my mother!" Bailey yipped, his composure shattering as he thrashed and kicked his way out of Strade's grasp.
Strade backed up, leaning on the counter behind him as he watched all of Bailey unfold before him.
Years worth of suppression all spilled over all at once. He keened and cried and even howled at certain points, barking and coughing as he writhed on the ground. He was mourning the death of his mother, and the death of his own self as he cried and screamed into the ground.
Strade watched in astonishment. He almost couldnt believe someone as soft and weak as Bailey was, or perhaps made himself out to be, could kill anyone, even when pushed to the brink. But no person, no matter how good an actor they may be, could replicate the true soul baring intensity of the scene which played out at his feet. The poor thing, he needed guidance. He needed to be un-trained from his domestication, and taught how to be a good little hound dog. Strade let the display continue until Bailey was nothing more than a shivering, whimpering mess, broken from his bindings and curled in a ball on the concrete floor.
"There, there." Strade cooed softly as he got back down on his knees and pulled the boy up to a sittibg position. "You'll feel better now that you've confessed. As I promised, you are absolved." Strade gently pushed Bailey's dirty bangs away from his face. "The devil punishes sinners, Bailey. You're not a sinner anymore."
The words were more comforting than Strade knew, and Bailey fell into his chest, rubbing his wet face into Strade's forest green shirt.
"You'll be good for me from now on, won't you?" Strade asked calmly, gently, feeling the tickle of Bailey's ears against his cheek.
"Yes." Bailey responded in a broken voice. "I promise."
