#Bad Samaritan fic

[raz-writes-the-thing]

It's The Dominance Of The Thing (Bad Samaritan One-Shot)

Cale Erendreich x Fem!Reader 18+ ONLY / requests are open

Summary: Cale wants you to ride his boot.

CW: It's Cale- that should be warning enough tbh, boot grinding, blood (super mild), choking, vague CNC, verbal humiliation, name-calling

Bad Samaritan Tag List: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

For such a string bean of a man, Cale was very foreboding. Incredibly foreboding. There was just something in how he carried himself- the way he spoke and in the way his energy rolled off him like even that was trying to get away from him. 

By all accounts, you should not have been attracted to him. The safest thing would have been not to be attracted to him. But you were, and by some (un)lucky twist of fate, he was attracted to you, too. 

Not that he’d ever seriously hurt you or anything. But it was just that he screamed ‘dangerous’ to all of your input receptors and you just ignored them anyway. You’re pretty sure Cale knew this. You’re also pretty sure he got off on knowing that you could be, at times, just a little scared of him. 

Like right now, for instance. 

You’d been sitting on your pillow in the lounge room on the floor when Cale came home. You had been working on an essay and had somehow just wound up on the floor. That happened sometimes. There were flecks of blood across his cheeks like crimson freckles that you’d noticed as he’d closed the door and gotten closer. You knew better than to ask where they’d come from. Cale had sat down on the couch behind you, his booted foot brushing against the outer curve of your ass. 

You leaned into his touch just a fraction, and a noise of satisfaction escaped his throat. 

“Turn around.” A command, not a question. 

You set your laptop down in front of you and turn to face him, essay forgotten. His expression is cool and calculated, and you watch with rapt attention at the way his eyes dilate from the sight of you kneeling before him. 

Cale adjusts his boot so it’s between your knees. You look down at the boot before sliding your gaze up his calf, thigh, tummy and finally back up to his face. His eyes flick downward, telling you without question exactly what he wants from you. 

You bite your lip and angle yourself to lower back down onto the ground. Your cunt rests on his boot and you suck in a breath. You know your cheeks are heating up and flushing the prettiest shade for him right now. It’s not the fact that it’s his foot- it’s the dominance that does it for you. 

Cale grunts in approval, and nods his head. Permission.

 

You experimentally grind yourself against the leather and a little gasp works its way free before you have time to stop it. Cale smirks, not taking his eyes off yours for a second. You flush darker, mouth dropping open just slightly as you roll your hips again. And again. God, this felt good. 

You reach to wrap your arms around his calf, gripping at the back of his knee for balance. Cale laughs now, but mockingly. Your eyes flick to the blood across his cheek, and you’re almost a little concerned at the way your clit pulses at the sight. 

Fuck. Your hips stutter up against his boot, and your eyes begin to droop as you succumb to the pleasure. 

“Fuckin’ look at me, slut,” he says, and you snap back to attention. Fingers flex against his denim-clad skin, and he tuts disapprovingly. “Look at you- humping yourself silly on my fuckin’ boot.” 

You nod, rocking your hips faster. The pleasure is melting into the burn of your muscles but you don’t dare stop. Not with the way Cale is looking at you. 

“Gonna cry? Fuck, you look like you’re gonna cry. Pathetic, darling. Yeah, you like that, I know. You love it when I call you names, don’t you?”

You whimper, struggling to keep your gaze on his when it burns with such intensity. Your insides are aching as you chase your orgasm. It’s getting closer, and you’re panting more now as you exert yourself over him. 

“Answer me,” he says evenly.  

“Y-yes, I love it,” you pant back, resting your forehead on his knee. He chuckles and leans forward in his seat. He’s sitting and yet somehow also leaning over you. His hand is suddenly in your hair, ripping your head back and forcing you to make eye contact. 

“Thought I told you to look at me, slut.” 

Your eyebrows screw up and you cling to him harder. 

“S-sorry sir,” you whimper out. Cale hums in a way that tells you that’s an acceptable apology for now and lets go of your hair. You’re so close to cumming now. It’s all you want- that sweet release. “P-please.” 

Cale arcs a brow, running a finger down your cheek and over your jaw. 

“Please what?” 

“I- I need- I want- please I want to cum,” you pant out desperately. Cale’s eyes lave over your face, drinking down every detail of your desperation. 

“Then cum.” 

That’s all the permission you need. You rock your cunt against his leather boot, not caring what sounds or pants you release in the process. You’re desperate to cum, working yourself harder and harder, feeling that coil tighten bit by bit. 

Cale’s hand shoots out like a snake, fingers wrapping around your throat before you even realise he’s moved. 

Your breath cuts off and a yelp dies on your tongue. Your hips jolt against him and the warning look in his eyes is all it takes before that coil snaps. Your hips jerk over him uncontrollably, muscles spasming over your body as the force of your release slams into you over and over again. 

You haven’t cum this hard in so long, and the way Cale’s mouth drops open just barely, pupils blown wide, makes you think he’s definitely going to have you do this again. Your hand automatically wraps around his wrist, and he clicks his tongue. His own fingers grip just that little bit harder and you feel your tongue swallowing over nothing, trying to clear an immovable blockage.

He holds you like that, desperately grappling with his wrist as you grow more desperate for air. You can’t help the way your cunt pulses with need. Even like this, growing closer and closer to blacking out you want him. Want him to fuck and ruin you. 

The bastard knows it too. 

“Good girl,” Cale praises, letting go and watching as you collapse against his knee, sagging into a heap as you greedily suck air into your deprived lungs. 

You giggle a little wheezily, and that makes Cale smile. 

“Filthy thing.” It’s affectionate, though. Cale loves you. 

You know he does.

#A/N: hes so- oof #A/N: i love him ur honour #cale erendreich x reader #cale erendreich x you #bad samaritan fic #bad samaritan fanfiction #cale erendreich fic #cale erendreich fanfiction #david tennant #cale #cale erendreich fanfic #bad samaritan fanfic #cale erendreich x y/n #cale erendreich smut #bad samaritan smut #x reader

[denaliwrites]

Killing Me Softly

Cale Erendreich x GN!Reader

Summary: You find out that sometimes the most devastating kind of anger isn't the kind that explodes in your face.

Requests: Open!

Warnings: It's Cale Erendreich. Use of Safe Word.

"You won't like me when I'm angry," he'd warned you, in the beginning.

"Okay, Hulk," you'd responded with a laugh, despite his serious expression. Even the flash of something dark and dangerous in his eyes hadn't concerned you.

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

Now, however, you understood.

You could feel rage rolling off of him -- from the moment he walked in, it overwhelmed the room. With nothing left to breathe but his ire, you felt suffocated, eyes bouncing around trying to find any exit, to find air to breathe.

His own eyes found you before you found a way out. Feeling that rage pointed directly at you, you turned to meet his gaze, but the fury there made you drop your gaze quickly. But you knew looking away entirely wasn't an option, so you let your eyes take in the rest of him.

Astonishingly, he seemed... almost normal, as he made his way over to you.

Oh.

You got up from the sofa in a hurry, but he cut you off before you had the chance to get anywhere, and suddenly you were pinned to the wall. His arms surrounded you, his body caged you, and his eyes burned you.

"C-Cale," you gasped, staring up at him with wide eyes.

"Did you know," he said, seemingly ignoring your plea, "that I had eight portfolios due this week?"

His voice was calm -- too calm -- eerily calm. The kind of calm that preceded a deadly storm.

"N-no," you whimpered, pressing a hand lightly to his chest in the hopes that it'd bring him back, recenter him. Do anything.

He looked down at your delicate fingers and as you took in his expression, you got the sickening feeling that he was contemplating all the ways he could dismantle them.

"I had eight portfolios due this week," he repeated, and you swallowed and forced a nod as his eyes trailed back up to meet your own. "And what did Johnson and Berkley fucking do with them?"

It took you a moment to realize that he wanted an answer from you -- well, a guess, at least.

"I-I don't know, Cale," you replied with a choked sob. "Please -- whatever's wrong, you don't have to--"

"They fucking shredded them."

Oh.

Well, you weren't even in the financial sector and you could admit that was bad.

"There's -- there's still time to --"

"And then," he went on, as if you hadn't spoken at all. "And then, those moronic fucks shorted out the entire fucking office. We won't have power for at least a day."

Oh.

"I -- Cale, I'm sorry --"

Suddenly a fist slammed into the wall beside you and you let out a yelp, defensively covering your head with your arms. "Bucephalus!" you cried desperately, tears tracking down your cheeks in a steady stream. "Bucephalus!" You repeated it until it became a mantra, spilling from your lips like a desperate prayer.

At first, Cale did nothing -- at least not anything you could hear or feel. Your eyes were shielded behind your arms, so you couldn't see him, but you thought maybe he'd look exactly the same.

You jolted when his hand -- the same one that had just put a hole in the wall -- came to rest gently on your waist.

"I'm so sorry."

The words were soft and full of anguish, regret, comfort.

You weren't sure how to feel -- if maybe it was a trap, or if he really meant it.

He didn't leave you much of a choice, as his hands wrapped around your arms and gently eased them away from your face. He waited until your eyes fearfully met his to whisper another apology, his lips tenderly brushing away a tear slowly making its way down your cheek.

You hadn't expected the safe word to work -- during sex, sure; you'd used it once or twice before, and he'd been more than respectful of it. But you honestly hadn't expected it to stop his rage in its tracks.

You weren't sure if that made you feel better or worse.

Carefully, he stepped back, pulling you along with him so that you were no longer pressed to the wall. He led you back to the sofa and gently eased you down, joining you a moment later and wrapping you up in a loving embrace. Comforting kisses were peppered over your head, and eventually you found yourself relaxing -- just a little. Just enough.

It was silent for a good long while, as the two of you both worked on coming down. It was about an hour later when --

"I could always kill them," Cale said thoughtfully. You weren't sure if he was joking or not.

"Too suspicious," you responded anyway, a shiver running down your spine at the approving look he gave you.

"You're right." You felt a tear fall as he placed a kiss to your temple. "Always are."

#cale erendreich x reader #cale erendreich x you #bad samaritan fic #bad samaritan fanfiction #cale erendreich fic #cale erendreich fanfiction #david tennant #denali strikes again

[merrilark]

Very Belated Whumptober 2022 Prompt Fill ⛓

Prompt: "This wasn't supposed to happen." Fandom: Bad Samaritan (but can be read fandom blind!) Rating: Teen Word count: 731 TW: Mild violence, restraints, captivity, no shipping but intimate whumper if you squint, hurt no comfort Ao3: Reunion (if you like it, please consider leaving a kudos and/or a comment! they're always appreciated!)

“Oh, look at you… This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

The cool rag against his skin made Sean flinch, dragging him to half-consciousness. His cheek stung and his vision swam. When he swallowed, he swallowed around a throat thick and gummy with blood.

Sean tried to lift his head, tried to remember what had happened prior to waking, but found he didn’t have the strength nor concentration. His eyes rolled uncomfortably. The backs of his lids were gritty as if from eons of sleep. His lashes were crusted shut.

“Where…?”

“Shhh, shhhh… Quiet, now.” The rag brushed under his jaw and up to his battered lips. “You, Sean, have no idea how lucky you are. I wouldn’t have found you at all if it weren’t for the snow. All that blood… It was the only thing that led me to you.”

Snow. Snow, yes, that was right.

It was early January, just after his little brother’s Christmas break from school. He’d gone home over the holidays to see his family and had been on his way back to St. Louis. It had snowed the night before, the roads had been slick, and… Oh, fuck.

A spike of pain lanced through his skull. His lolling head was caught by a warm, gentle palm.

“Easy, easy… I know it hurts.”

Sean groaned. He remembered the bright flash of headlights as he had turned the curve—a car coming in too hard and fast. He couldn’t grip his steering wheel in time. Couldn’t swerve before—

The scream of tires against the asphalt rang in his ears. He thought he could remember his head coming up, smashing against something. The ceiling of his car? The windshield? 

Fuck. Fuck. He couldn’t think straight. Everything was white with hurt.

Careful, his saviour cleaned the blood from his tacky eyelids until finally, blinking against the glare of sudden light, Sean could see.

A wide slash of teeth grinned down at him.

“If only you had been good…” Long, cold fingers gripped into Sean’s jaw and forced his chin higher. Cale tutted. “None of this would have happened.”

“You—!” Sean’s heart lodged itself in his throat. Panic gripped his limbs and he jerked, reeling backward—

But there was nowhere to go. Thick leather straps kept his wrists bound to the chair, and a third strap as broad as his forearm spanned across his chest. Sean thrashed. The metal legs rattled fruitlessly against the floor.

“No,” he gasped. “Nononono…! This isn’t real, you’re not real. I’m–I’m having a n—”

Cale struck him across the face.

Sean’s head whipped back.

“I can assure you, I’m very real, and you are in very big trouble.” Cale jammed his hand through Sean’s curls, knotted his hand into a fist, and held his head firm. “Do you want to know why? Hm? Because you had to play hero. You had to stick your snotty, filthy little nose into my business… You had to disrupt my routine!”

Spittle flew from his mouth. Then, gradually, the fist in Sean’s hair gentled but didn’t leave.

“You don’t deserve it,” he said, “but I’m going to be merciful this time, Sean. This,” a slight tug against dark roots, a whisper of a threat, “is a mercy. You weren’t supposed to get involved, but you did. You weren’t supposed to be an issue, but you were. I would go ahead and kill you now, but I had some time to think while with your Federal buddies, and I realised that instead of being angry with you, I should thank you. You made things interesting. You were a challenge! Not many people are capable of that. You should be proud. I am."

Cale leant in. His breath was hot against Sean's face and over-sweet with the smell of mint gum.

"So, you wanted to play in my sandbox, Sean?" he asked. "Be my guest. But if we’re going to play, you have to play by my rules. Understand?”

Sean gawped stupidly. A runner of spit and blood dribbled down his chin.

“I said,” Cale snarled, “do you UNDERSTAND?”

The next hard yank made Sean yelp.

“Yes!” he cried. “Yes, I…” A hiccup, a shudder. Residual pain clawed up and down his scalp. “Yes, I understand.”

“Good. Good boy.” Cale’s fingers uncurled from Sean’s hair and slid to cup his cheek. “Now. Let’s get you cleaned up. You look like trash.”

This was a prompt fill for Whumptober last year that I never posted. I kept messing with it because I'm a terrible self-critic, but this year I've decided to try to be less picky about my writing and force myself to post more often, even if it's short one shots. After all, it's doing no good sitting around in my drafts! I may as well share it so that other people might read and enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I love writing whump so this mayyyy end up being part of a larger fic. We'll see! I don't post works as often as I write them, but if you would like to be notified via taglist when I post fic on Tumblr, feel free to let me know. Requests are also open! c:

#whump #whumptober 2022 #bad samaritan #cale erendreich #sean falco #merri writes #fanfiction #bad samaritan fic #bad samaritan fanfic #whump fic

[angst-fairygodmother]

Hi! I'm so sorry this is late but if you're still taking requests, please could I request "new years kiss" with Derek and Ryne? I hope you are doing well 💖

A/N: Never too late darling. I take winter prompts as long as there's a chance of snow. 😊 Barely there, but I made it out for New Year’s Eve somewhere! Word Count: 1599 Rating: G - jealousy, references to Bad Samaritan, references to injury

She wasn't his girl. He had to remind himself of that for what felt like the thousandth time tonight, as he felt the heat of jealousy creeping up his neck. Just because they flirted all the time, and they'd gone to the club and been real close didn't mean she couldn't be dancing with someone else now, in her tight little dress that hugged her in all the right places and drove him crazy. 

But he couldn't help it, any more than he could look away. It was like there was no one else at the party but Ryne. Ok, Ryne and the girl she was with, the one that wasn't him making her laugh - even far enough away that he couldn't actually hear it over the crowd he loved that laugh - and sliding an arm oh so casually around her shoulders. He knew that move, he'd used it on plenty of chicks before.

“Dude, quit staring,” Sean hissed in his ear, making him jump. Derek had been so distracted he hadn't even noticed the Irishman arrive. “It's getting weird, and since it's my cousin you're creeping on, I'm gonna have to kick your arse if it goes any longer.”

Derek scoffed. “You could try man.”

Sean rolled his eyes. “Either make a move, or move on.” 

“I…can't man. I want to but it's just not the right time.” Derek shoved his hands in his pockets, shrugging and hoping his best friend wouldn't ask him to explain, because he wasn't sure he could. 

Sean muttered something about him being a coward but let it go, grabbing two more beers from the bucket of ice on the table Derek was hovering by and returning to Riley somewhere in the crowd.

The countdown started. Ten.

Nine. Derek scooped a red solo cup of mystery punch and grimaced at the syrupy sweet smell wafting from it. 

Eight. He spotted Ryne and the other girl in the crowd again, and his stomach roiled with what he wished was just indigestion. 

Seven. For a brief second he thought she caught his eye in the crowd, looking past her dance partner, straight into his soul.

Six. He blinked and took a breath, steeling himself to go over and interrupt. 

Five. The moment passed and her attention turned back away from him.

Four. He sighed, shoulders sagging as he realized it was just an accident, if it had really happened at all.

Three. Ryne leaned in.

Two. Her pretty blonde companion leaned in.

One. Their lips met as people cheered and blew noisemakers or threw confetti. Derek grimaced and downed the punch in one swig, coughing as the alcohol burned.

Sean was right. He was a coward. And the punishment for cowardice was the girl he wished was his making out with someone else, and him ringing in the new year alone.

“What a goddamn idiot,” he muttered, pulling on his coat to go outside for a smoke. “Happy fucking New Year.” 

~

“Hey babe,” Derek grinned at her, patting the arm of the large plush chair he was sitting in, inviting her to come and sit beside him. He had been in the rehab facility long enough that the nurses had long given up on “discouraging” after-hour visits, especially on special occasions and he was glad of it. Now if only he could get Ryne to relax a bit more, it might almost feel like home.

“Big news,” he continued, not waiting for her. “Doc said I should get out of here on good behavior next year.” He chuckled at his own joke.

Ryne felt her heart drop, even as she forced a smile to match his own. Another year was a long time to be in a rehab facility, and even with the financial aid she’d been able to help them get, she didn’t think Derek and Bela could afford it. The donations from their mother’s church had dried up not long after the funerals, and there was no sign yet of when they could hope for a payout from the Valkenburg Trust (if there was even anything left of it after all the money laundering and fraud investigations, plus payouts to the families of the victims not so lucky as Derek or Katie). She had been quietly funneling as much money as she had toward it as well, but she wasn’t exactly making a lot, and soon her own loans and debts would come due. She wasn’t sure what would happen when their luck and money ran out, but there was no way it ended well for him, or his recovery.

“What’s the matter babe?” he asked, eyebrows dipping into a frown. She tried to find the positive in that alone: his facial paralysis was one of the things the doctors had told them at first would be among the hardest parts to recover from. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he had to transfer to an outpatient service (if they could find one for pennies) or work on exercises on his own.

“Nothing,” she lied. 

“Nuh-uh. I know that face, it’s worried face.” 

“It’s just…” she sighed, he was right, and he definitely knew her annoyingly well. “Next year? That’s…that’s a long time.”

Derek laughed, and she was instantly torn between the draw toward that warm, wonderful sound that she so recently worried she’d never hear again and the heat of embarrassment on her cheeks at the idea that he was laughing at her. 

“Did you forget what day today was?”

“I…haven’t really been paying attention.” 

“It’s six days after Christmas.”

“Yeah…and?”

“December 31. Next year is only a few hours away.”

Now she was sure that her cheeks were on fire, and she wasn’t sure whether to laugh or to cry, relief and shame at missing the obvious and frustration all piling up and threatening to escape her. And then Derek's arms were around her waist, and his lips were pressed to her hairline. 

“I’m sorry, Ryne,” he murmured. “I’m such an idiot. I thought you knew, and it was just supposed to be a joke. I didn’t mean to stress you out. I know how hard all this has been…”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Derek,” she mumbled against his shoulder as she hugged him back. “I’m just…god this year has been a fucking disaster.”

Slowly he stepped backwards, half dragging them both and half dancing, never straying far from the furniture in case he needed the extra support but trying for a second to be normal again.

“Yeah, but we made it through.”

Ryne tilted her chin up at that, meeting his earnest gaze and smiling. “Yeah, we did.” She kissed him properly then, and even though it was a little early, it was probably already the new year somewhere, and it felt like just the luck they needed. 

~

“Sorsha’s finally down again,” Ryne sighed, dropping onto the couch beside her husband, “and Alma managed to sleep through the whole thing.”

“She takes after her Mama,” Derek laughed, kissing her temple. “It takes an earthquake to wake you both.”

“Well maybe if her Daddy didn’t snore so badly, I wouldn’t have had to develop a coping mechanism.”

“Bullshit! You slept like the dead–” he sighed and shook his head, “slept that deeply waaay before we got together.”

“And just how do you know what I slept like before?”

“Cus you did the first night I slept over. And I know I rocked your world but even I ain’t that good.” 

She rolled her eyes, and gave him a teasing shove. “Whatever. Did you pick a movie?”

“Star Wars, duh. If we start it in,” he paused to check his phone, “exactly two minutes and forty seven seconds, the Death Star blows up at precisely midnight.”

“God you are such a neeerrrd. I love you.” 

“Well we did Return of the King and threw the ring in the lava last year, and you picked that.”

“And?”

“How is that less nerdy?”

“I didn’t say it was. But I never had a cool guy persona.” 

“But you thought mine was sexy,” he wiggled his eyebrows at her and she laughed.

“No accounting for taste, I guess,” she snuggled against closer. “I just got lucky it was only an act.” 

“Exactly…wait…”

“Don’t think too hard about it darling, you might sprain something. Just put your arm around me and play the movie.”

“As you wish,” he dropped his voice sultrily and whispered the words into her ear, making her shiver. 

Two hours later, the muted space station exploded and he turned to his wife, careful not to disturb the infant on his chest. Both girls had woken up during the movie, and rather than have to pause it and ruin their timing, the parents had decided to turn it into a silent film while they soothed the little ones back to sleep. But they had stirred each time they had tried to return them to their cribs, and eventually the whole family was cuddled on the couch, and all was calm.

So calm, he saw now, that he was the only one awake, even the aging cat dozing on the nearby dining room chair. 

“Ryne, baby? You gonna wake up for the New Year?” he whispered, nudging her gently. She groaned and buried her face into him, looking so adorable and cozy that he thought his heart might explode.

“Guess not,” he chuckled, bending awkwardly to kiss each of his three girls on the head with a “Happy new year” before turning off the TV and settling himself to sleep there too.

#Derek Sandoval x Ryne Cassidy #Bad Samaritan fic #mostly fluff #New Years Eve fic

[bootlegfrank]

Have not been able to stop thinking about this fucker

#im making it yalls problem now too #literally cant think about anything else its so stupid #want to write my fic but nooooo this dude and his horses are just trampling all my thoughts #cale erendreich #david tennant #bad samaritan

[owen-writes]

Learn Some Manners

Cale Erendriech x Gender Neutral Reader

You walk down the crowded street with a constant smile, your hand tightly intertwined with Cale's. The sunlight reflects off your wedding ring, glinting as a symbol of your seemingly perfect life. Cale, your husband, never leaves you alone for long, always by your side like a shadow.

One day, as you stroll along the sidewalk, someone carelessly bumps into you. The serenity of your demeanor shatters, and a sudden rage engulfs you. "Watch where you're going! A simple 'sorry' isn't too much to ask, is it?" you hiss at the unsuspecting pedestrian, your eyes burning with an intensity that hasn't been seen before.

Cale watches with an amused glint in his eyes, intrigued by this unexpected display of emotion. Your outburst continues, a torrent of words unleashed upon the startled stranger. "Manners matter, you know. Learn to say sorry, or the world will eat you alive!" The passersby glance at you, bewildered by the sudden transformation from a smiling companion to a fierce reprimander.

As the tension in the air thickens, Cale, still fascinated, gently places a hand on your shoulder. "That's enough, my love," he calmly suggests. Your eyes flicker towards him, and in an instant, your demeanor shifts. The rage dissipates, replaced by that familiar, cheerful smile.

"I'm sorry, dear," you chirp, as if nothing happened. The stranger, now released from your verbal onslaught, scurries away, casting glances over their shoulder. Cale, ever the composed one, smirks at the scene. "Quite the show you put on there, my darling."

You turn to Cale, the smile still fixed on your face. "Oh, you know how it is, sweetie. People need a little reminder sometimes." Cale chuckles, admiring the dichotomy of your emotions, like a finely tuned instrument playing a discordant melody.

Later that evening, in the privacy of your home, Cale brings up the incident. "Quite a spectacle you made out there, my love. I've never seen you lose your cool like that." He leans against the doorway, a glint of curiosity in his eyes.

You twirl a strand of hair with your fingers, maintaining your innocence. "Well, darling, sometimes people just need to be put in their place. Can't let them think they can walk all over us, can we?" Your eyes gleam with a mischievous glint, and for a moment, Cale wonders if there's more beneath the surface.

As the days go by, the memory of that outburst lingers in Cale's mind. He observes you more closely, wondering if there are cracks in the facade of your perpetual happiness. Yet, you continue to play the role of the doting spouse, never letting on that anything is amiss.

In the quiet moments, when the world is unaware, Cale studies you with an intensity that borders on obsession. He wonders what lies beneath that ever-present smile and whether the storm he glimpsed on the crowded street could resurface. Perhaps, in unraveling your mysteries, he might discover something darker and more intriguing than he ever imagined.

#bad samiratan imagine #bad samiratan fic #bad samaritan #cale erendreich x you #cale erendreich x reader #cale Erendriech #david tennant x male reader #david tennant x you #david tennant x reader #david tennant

[super-predictable98]

Smile, Simone (OC X Canon Kiss Week 2024)

Word count: 3,6k

Warning: manipulation, mention of death, Kilgrave being a creep

A/n: This is a collab with my partner in crime @jozstankovich for @theocxcanonweek day 5: Getting into trouble. The characters from this story are part of our little Timeline Anomaly Verse (more about them in here) and a crossover of Bad Samaritan and Jessica Jones. Hope you all enjoy it <3

[Masterlist]

Simone had a short walk from her university to the flat, only a few minutes, she stopped to buy herself a hot chocolate and a croissant for her father from his favorite bakery.

Little did she realize, across the street a tall, slender man in a chic purple suit watched her with interest, his dark eyes following her movements as a small grin played at his lips. As she stepped out of the bakery he approached. 

“Hello there,” he drawled, tipping his head slightly in greeting. “I couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you are,” he murmured, taking her hand to place a kiss to the back of it.

"Um... thanks," Simone chuckled until she saw him. That face, she knew that face from her nightmares. A man with that face once tormented her father and she knew he died, but in that world full of clones and odd powers, she never knew who was what. "I- bye."

“Wait—“ the man exclaimed, a frown creasing the spot between his brows. “Don’t go,” he demanded, assured that she would obey.

She couldn't move, she tried to keep walking, but her feet wouldn't obey. "Let me go, please, I have a boyfriend."

The man chuckled. “Not anymore, you don’t,” he drawled, holding out his arm for her to take. “Let me take you out—?” he asked, waiting for her to supply her name.

"Simone, Simone Falco," she said before she could stop herself. His allure did something to her brain and suddenly she took his arm, certain that her boyfriend Dylan, wasn't in her life anymore.

“Mmm Simone,” he repeated, savouring the taste of her name on his tongue. “Your name is just as beautiful as you,” he purred, brushing his lips against her temple, inhaling her scent. 

“You can call me Kilgrave,” he said, slipping an arm around the small of her back as he began to lead her away from her intended destination. “I think we need to get you some new clothes and then some lunch. I know a wonderful place. You’ll love it,” he said with certainty.

"Y-yeah, I just... need to let my father know I won't come home now, he's expecting me. Can I call him?" She asked quietly, following him to God knows where to do something she didn't even wanna think about.

Kilgrave frowned as he deliberated. “I suppose that’s alright, darling,” he finally answered, pulling her phone out of her pocket. “But you’ll only say what I tell you to say,” he instructed. 

"Yes," she dialed, trusting that her dad would know something was wrong and check her location, which was always on. "What should I say?"

“Tell him, you’re staying with a friend for a few days, that you’ll be at a mind/body retreat and you won’t have access to your phone,” Kilgrave said, walking at a leisurely pace, leading her to his waiting town car.

Simone nodded and dialed her dad's number, but the person who picked up was her mother.  

"Hey, Moony. Daddy's in the shower, do you need anything?" Blossom asked.  

"Yes, can I talk to him please?" She kept her voice calm, or tried.  

"Okay... Sean! Simone is on the phone, she sounds dead weird!"

Sean frowned, quickly twisting the water off and grabbing his towel, wrapping it around his waist and taking the phone, bringing it to his ear. “Moony, it’s me. You okay, darlin’?” He asked, his hair dripping down his shoulders.

"Yeah, Daddy, I'm okay. I just called to let you know I won't be home in time," she put on a smile, trying very hard not to cry. "I'll be with a friend in a spiritual retreat and I won't be able to use my phone there for a few days. Just didn't want you to worry."

“What d’yeh mean? What friend?” Sean demanded, his unease growing. “Why don’t you come home and we can talk about this, you can give us more details,” he pleaded, not liking the way her voice trembled. “Where are you?” He asked, his chest growing tight.

"My friend... Ellery," Simone said the name of her cousin, this way he could easily call her and disprove this story. "Sorry, Daddy, I'm late, I really have to get going. I'm on my way there."

"Wait--! Simone!" Sean cried, but she'd already hung up. "Blossom! Something's wrong!" he called, trying to call Ellery, though his hands were shaking too much for him to dial the number. 

"Oh my God... what number are you trying to call? Ellery?" Blossom took the phone to dial for him. "What happened to Simone?"

"Yeah," Sean said, handing her the phone, running his hand through his wet curls. "You were right, she didn't sound right," he said. "She said she was going on a spiritual retreat with Ellery and wouldn't be able to answer her phone. She sounded scared. I think she was taken," he said, his voice shaking as much as his hands. 

"This is bollocks, she can't spend a day without her phone," Blossom called her niece. "Ellery! Ellery, are you with Simone right now?"  

"No," the girl answered, giving her twin brother a confused look. "Charlie and I are buying Valentine's presents." 

"Did she ever mention a spiritual retreat to you? Somewhere she couldn't take her phone to?"  

"No... is everything alright? Just stay there, we're on our way."  

*****

"Good girl," Kilgrave said, stroking Simone's hair before taking her phone from her hand and dropping it to the ground in the middle of the street before pulling her into the car with him and shutting the door, telling the driver where to take them.

"I- That's my phone!" She cried, she hated to be that helpless and now nobody would be able to track her. "All my father's voice-mails are there, I need them!"

"You don't need them," Kilgrave said offhandedly, annoyed at her outburst. "I'll make sure you have everything you need, love," he assured her, pulling her to his side, his hand running up and down her arm.

"What are you gonna do to me? You say buying clothes and having lunch. What are you really planning?" Simone asked, surprised that the driver seemed hypnotized as well.

"Darling, you're with me now," he said, chuckling lightly. "I just want to lavish you, make you mine," he explained, taking her chin in his hand to turn her face toward his to kiss her.

Simone tried to pull away, but she didn't know where to run, she was stuck in the car. "Have you ever considered... I don't know, asking someone out without forcing them? You're not bad looking, I'm sure many women would be happy to go out with you."

Kilgrave clicked his tongue with a shake of his head, as if the girl had just said something foolish. “But I don’t want just any woman. I want you. Are you saying that you would’ve said yes, if I’d have simply asked you?” He asked.

"Maybe... well not really. I had a boyfriend, and you look like the man who tried to kill my dad. But I'm sure a much more beautiful girl would've said yes," she mumbled.

“What do you mean, a more beautiful girl?” He drawled, frowning at her comment. “You are beautiful, Simone. More gorgeous than you realize. I want you to tell me that you’re beautiful,” he purred.

"I am beautiful," she repeated, unable to resist his order. It wasn't hard to understand he had the power of persuasion. 

"Good girl," Kilgrave murmured, stroking her cheek. "Ah, we're here," he said, as the car pulled up to the curb in front of Bloomingdale's.

*****

Sean hastily dried off, pulling his clothes on distractedly. "Should we call the police?" he asked, hating how helpless he felt. 

"We need to know where she is first and sending cops might spook whoever has her and they might hurt her," Blossom started dialing to call her sister-in-law, Alisha. "We're a superpowered family, we've all killed to protect each other."  

He nodded, feeling numb. He was the only one without a power, there wasn’t anything he could do at the moment except trust his wife. — 

"Alisha, we need a little help, can you find Simone for us?" Blossom asked while she opened the door for her niece and nephew.  

"I... she's in a car, there's a man with her. Purple suit, looks posh," Alisha said, using her clairvoyance to see through her niece's eyes. "I don't know exactly where they are though."  

“Okay, keep checking in and let us know if you recognize anything,” Sean said, leaning in over his wife’s shoulder.

"Okay, I'll call you if I see anything," Alisha confirmed.  

"We have all possible powers to save her," Ellery pulled her brother inside. "Where are we going?"  

"We don't know where she is yet," Sean answered, fighting the urge to pace. "Alisha said she's in a car right now." 

"In a car with a man she doesn't know," Blossom started crying just as her husband's phone started ringing. Sean pulled her into his arms, his jaw flexing as he fought not to break down as well, knowing he needed to be strong for her. "Does she know where Simone is?" he asked, his voice tense. 

"Hi, Aunt Lisha, any news?" Ellery quickly grabbed her uncle's phone.

"They just stopped at Bloomingdale's, I don't know which one exactly, but it looks like 5th Avenue, it's right in front of the Bank of America."  

"Bloomingdale's 5th Avenue, c'mon, let's go!" Charlie exclaimed, already heading for the door.

"We need a cab," Ellery stepped outside and rushed down the stairs. The rest of them followed and they all ran to the intersection with the 8th Avenue to hail a cab. The drive would be ten minutes if they were lucky to avoid traffic, which in New York was basically impossible.

“Hopefully they’ll still be there,” Charlie murmured, his leg bouncing anxiously.

*****

"Why do I need new clothes?" Simone asked calmly, almost in a docile way. "These are pretty expensive..."

"Why not?" Kilgrave said, waiting for the driver to open his door. "Come," he instructed, holding out his hand for her as he waited on the curb. 

"Do I need an excuse to spoil my girl?" he chuckled. "You deserve only the best," he explained.

"T-thank you," Simone took his hand and locked arms with him as they entered the store. She wasn't dressed exactly nicely and felt really out of place. She wore leggings and one of her dad's shirts since, at uni, they were doing nature shots.

“Ah, what about this? This colour would look beautiful on you,” Kilgrave said, picking out a sleek purple dress. “Go on, try it on, and I’ll pick out some shoes for you,” he said, stroking her cheek fondly.

"Okay," she took it and went into one of the dressing rooms. She wanted to cry, but feared that it would upset her new captor and he might do something worse. She put on the dress and opened the door to show him how it looked.

"Ohh, don't you look like a vision!" Kilgrave exclaimed, moving closer to get a better look. "Here, try these on, you'll look perfect," he said, handing her some strappy heels.

Simone nodded and quickly put the shoes on, which made her stand as tall as him. "I don't usually wear heels," she admitted.

"You should, they make your legs look so graceful," he said, picking out a luxurious long fur coat and draping it over her shoulders. "There, all set," he decided, taking her hand and leading her back out of the store. 

"Hey! You can't leave without paying for those!" One of the shopkeepers exclaimed, hurrying after them. 

"You're going to give them to us, free of charge," Kilgrave snapped, waving the woman away, leaving her bewildered. "Are you hungry?" he asked Simone, turning his attention back to her as they stepped back out onto the crowded sidewalk, his car waiting for them.

I'm wearing the skin of a dead animal on my back and I technically just stole all of this... Simone thought, panicked.  

"Yeah, I haven't eaten today," she said, despite how nauseous she was from the whole semi-kidnapping experience. She anxiously looked around to see if she could find any familiar faces, but the entire world felt like a strange place at that moment.

"There she is!" Sean cried, spotting his daughter's face amidst the sea of people. Jumping out of the cab before it came to a complete stop, he ran toward her, trying to push his way through the crowd. "Simone!" he exclaimed, trying to get her attention.

"Daddy?" She cried, the knot in her chest tightening when she saw how worried he seemed. She wanted to run into his arms and never let go.  

"Simone! Come here! What are you wearing?" Blossom followed her husband out. "You! Let go of my daughter right now! Get away from her!"

“Ah, looks like that’s our cue to leave,” Kilgrave muttered, turning Simone’s face away from her parents and stealing a sloppy kiss before sweeping her back into the back of his sleek black car. “Driver, take us to Neary’s,” he instructed, slamming the door shut and wiggling his fingers in a little wave just as Sean and Blossom reached the car.

Simone fought the urge to cry again, her head hanging low. She was so close to being able to run away... she knew she wasn't the first girl to fall into Kilgrave's trap, she wondered where the others were. Were they stuck in a harem or even worse?

"Did you see him? Cale Erendreich doppelganger... he kissed her! She didn't pull away, she didn't fight it," Blossom panted, she was not as fast as she used to be when she was younger. 

“There has to be an explanation,” Sean exclaimed, his chest hurting. He’d seen the fear on his daughter’s face as the car pulled away. 

“Uncle Sean! We know where he’s going!” Charlie exclaimed, running to catch up. “Aunt Lisha called. She knows where he’s taking her!”

"They're going to Neary's, five minutes away," Ellery hailed another cab for them. If it was just her and her brother they could run, but their uncle was pushing 60.  

"Let's go, let's go!" Blossom rushed into the car.

*****

“What’s the matter, dearest?” Kilgrave asked, tilting his head to peer at Simone’s face. “Don’t tell me you’re upset?”

"I just... got startled," she said shaking her head, she looked up at him and tried to smile.

He smiled back, giving her hand a squeeze before pressing a kiss to the back of it. The drive to the restaurant wasn't long and once they parked, Kilgrave helped Simone out, leading her into the building. 

"Do you have a reservation?" The hostess asked, looking between the two of them. 

"Yes, we're renting out the whole place. Tell everyone else to leave," Kilgrave commanded and the hostess nodded. 

"You can all leave!" He exclaimed, raising his voice to infect the other diners and they all got up, leaving their food half touched as they left. "There, shall we?" he asked, leading Simone over to his usual corner booth.

She sat down and glanced at the menu, the food smelled and sounded delicious, but how could she eat in that situation? She could always... accept it, she'd live her life like this and maybe it wouldn't be so bad? It wasn't what she wanted, but if he treated her the way she had been so far... maybe he wouldn't kill her. Maybe she could visit her family and smile while saying everything was fine.  

"Can I order what I want or will you order for me?" She asked, genuinely curious. "Cause if I can choose I'd like the broiled chicken with potatoes."

"Of course, you can have whatever you like," Kilgrave exclaimed, leaning back in the booth, his arm resting behind Simone's shoulders. 

By the time Sean, Blossom, Ellery, and Charlie arrived at the restaurant, the other diners were all filing out. 

"That's strange, where are they all going?" Charlie wondered.

"Doesn't seem like anything is wrong in there," Ellery looked inside and found her cousin sitting in a corner.  

"Simone!" Blossom called. "Simone, please! If you actually want to be here, tell us!"  

"I want to be here," she said after Kilgrave whispered the command in her ear.

“If you try to escape, you’ll jump off the Queensboro Bridge,” Kilgrave hissed in Simone’s ear, taking a bite of his steak, seemingly unbothered. 

“Look, he just said something to her before she spoke,” Charlie whispered, noticing the way the man leaned in. “If he has the power of persuasion, then maybe I can use it against him,” he suggested.

"Good one, Charlie," Ellery nudged her brother's arm.

"Let my daughter go, right now! I'm not above killing you, you bastard!" Blossom charged into the restaurant. "She's old enough to be your daughter!"  

Kilgrave spread his hands innocently. "I'm afraid you're mistaken, she told you already, she wants to be here." 

"Then why does she look so terrified?" Sean exclaimed, hating the way his hands shook as he looked at the man who looked so much like the ghost from his past. 

"I can't leave, Mum," Simone cried. "I just can't."  

"You can do anything, you have a superpower. You're really gonna let some middle-aged man tell you what you can or can't do?" Ellery whispered to her. "No matter what happens, you're safe." 

"Come on, let's call Dylan," Blossom took her daughter's hand, but once she got up, the girl ran away towards the bridge to fulfill Kilgrave's request.

“Simone?!” Sean exclaimed, his eyes widening in fear as she raced past him out the restaurant door. “SIMONE!” he called, taking off after her without another thought. 

While his uncle ran after Simone, Charlie rounded on Kilgrave. “What did you make her do?” He demanded. 

Kilgrave shrugged. “She was the one who chose to run. If she’d rather jump off the bridge than stay with me, that’s her prerogative, I suppose.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his aquiline nose. “And here I thought we could be happy together.”

"You're sick!" Ellery screamed while Blossom ran out to follow her daughter as well. "Man, you're not ugly enough to be that desperate, find someone who can love you for real."  

“Is that an offer?” Kilgrave asked, flashing Ellery a grin. "Seems beauty runs in the family..."

Before the man could control his twin, Charlie frowned, drawing on his own power. He could feel the vibration of Kilgrave’s power pulling at him and he reached out with his mind, borrowing his ability. 

“Hey,” he said, drawing the man’s attention. “Forget all about us. Forget about your power. Don’t use it for bad,” he commanded.

"Let's get out of here," Ellery took her brother's arm. "Hope he learns his lesson. He definitely knows how to treat a lady, he just needs to find one that wants to be with him."

Charlie nodded, letting his sister pull him out of the restaurant and they ran to join their uncle and aunt.

*****

"Simone!" Blossom ran, catching up to them just as she climbed to jump. She looked back at her mum and dad and smiled, her cousin's words made her very confident. 

“Moony, what’re you doing? Please come down!” Sean cried, his heart twisting in his chest as he held onto his wife. “We can fix this! Please don’t jump!”  

"Sean... it's alright," Blossom understood her plan, she had done it before with the power she passed down to her daughter. 

"See you in a second, don't worry about me," Simone waved and let go, falling as if she were diving into a pool. 

To stop herself from hitting the water, she covered her own body in a force field and emerged back to the bridge covered in a thin blue-ish bubble.  

As soon as Simone emerged, protected in her bubble, Sean let out a relieved gasp, his arms tightening around his wife. “Oh thank God she’s okay,” he cried, his eyes burning with unshed tears. 

Simone ran into her parents' arms and sighed. She didn't even realize she was still wearing the outfit that was picked out for her.  

"We should probably return these stuff to Bloomingdale's, right?" She asked. 

"But the dress is cute..." Ellery joked. "He won't be bothering you again."

"Yeah, I made sure of that," Charlie assured her, joining the others in embracing her. 

"Thank you, Cha-Charlie," Sean murmured, ruffling his nephew's curls. "I'm so fuckin' glad you all have those damn powers," he sighed, kissing the top of Simone's head.

"Thank you for coming for me," she looked lovingly at her cousins and her mother, then turned and placed a kiss on her father's cheek. "You're a hero too, Daddy."

Sean shook his head. "I was so helpless," he murmured, squeezing her tighter.

"Not all heroes have powers, some just are really amazing dads," she held his hand as they walked back to the store. "You weren't hopeless, you didn't give up. I called you because I knew you'd know something was wrong and come help, and you did."

"Of course, I'd never give up on you, darlin'," Sean breathed.

#kilgrave #kilgrave x canon #sean falco #jessica jones #bad samaritan #oc: Simone Falco #oc: Blossom Falco #oc: Charlie Young #oc: Ellery Young #fanfic #jessica jones fanfic #david tennant fanfic #oc x canon week #ocxcanonweek #fic collab #timeline anomaly verse

[seanfalco]

Might I request a soft, domestic Sean and breakfast? + reader, OC, whatever strikes your fancy!

Peaceful Morning

Sean Falco x Reader

Word Count: 716 Tags/Warnings: none Prompt: I decided to participate in @/yearoftheotpevent‘s Year of the OTP (except using reader inserts).  For April’s prompt I chose ‘Peace’. a/n: I'm sorry this has sat in my inbox for so long, Merri! I hope you enjoy it <3

Hazy midmorning light filtered through the gauzy threadbare curtains covering the window above Sean’s bed, filling the tiny attic apartment with warmth, and you groaned softly as you drifted into consciousness.  Hoping to hold onto sleep just a bit longer, you rolled toward Sean, pressing your face to his chest, and he instinctively lifted his arm to let you snuggle closer, draping it over your waist as he stirred.  

“Mornin’,” he breathed, his voice still weighed down with the heaviness of sleep.

“Morning,” you replied, tilting your chin up to find him watching you, his gaze soft as it moved over the plants of your face.  As the sunlight overhead strengthened, shining down to the bed in a long swath, it caught in Sean’s long lashes, illuminating his forest green eyes, so like the lush Oregon wilderness you loved so much.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered without thinking and Sean’s lips twitched into a sleepy grin.

“Not as beautiful as you, darlin’,” he murmured, pressing a kiss between your eyes.

“Charmer,” you huffed fondly before letting out a soft whine of defiance when he pulled back the covers.

“C’mon, up and at ‘em,” Sean laughed, pinching your side as he extricated himself from your clutches and rolled out of bed.  “Can’t laze about all day.”

“Why not?” you countered with a whine, pulling the blankets back over your exposed legs and curling up tighter.  “It’s comfortable!”

“Guess y’don’t want breakfast then,” he taunted, grabbing his shirt from the floor where he’d tossed it the night before and pulled it over his head before reaching for his patterned pajama pants.

As much as you wanted to tell him you didn’t need breakfast, your stomach reminded you that actually you did, in fact.

“Ugh, alright,” you groaned, pushing yourself up and stealing one of Sean’s oversized jumpers on the way to the bathroom.

When you returned to the main room, Sean was already heating up the griddle, his head inside the fridge.

“Get lost in there?” you joked, joining him at the criminally tiny kitchenette.

Startled by your voice, Sean jumped, nearly smacking the back of his head on the freezer door as he hastily straightened.

“Jay-sus!  Don’t sneak up on me like that!” he exclaimed with a laugh, though his lilting voice held the trace of a nervous edge to it and you instantly felt guilt seep into your stomach.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you!” you exclaimed, feeling like an idiot, but Sean merely shook his head, an apologetic smile on his face, as if he could tell exactly what you were thinking.

“It’s fine, really,” he insisted, pressing a warm kiss to your forehead to drive the point home.  “Would y’like t’help?” he asked instead, gesturing to the griddle, not wanting to see the pity in your eyes.

The awkward reminder of darker times was swiftly forgotten as you mixed the pancake batter, adding a handful of ripe blueberries Sean has splurged on.

“Shit,” you swore under your breath as you tried to slip the worn edge of the spatula under the misshapen circle of half cooked batter, only for it to get stuck and wrinkle together when you attempted to flip it, the bottom side swiftly darkening with each second you continued to struggle.

Sean chuckled softly and you felt his chest press against your back as his hand slipped over yours on the spatula’s handle.  With one fluid motion and a flick of his wrist, he flipped the pancake, the uncooked batter sizzling on the hot griddle.

“I didn’t know you were so talented in the kitchen,” you teased, looking back over your shoulder at him, your head resting against his chest.

“Only when it comes t’pancakes,” he laughed, his gaze soft as it lingered on your smile.  “But I’m glad you’re impressed.” “I’m very impressed,” you murmured, catching his eye in return, til he remembered to scoop up the pancakes before they could burn.

When you sat across from him at the tiny plastic table tucked against the wall, cutting into your pile of fluffy golden flapjacks, dotted with blueberries and coated with syrup and melted butter, though it wasn’t anything fancy, it was one of the best breakfasts you’d had in a long while.  Mostly because of the company.

@super-unpredictable98 @salvador-daley @elliethesuperfruitlover @firstpersonnarrator

#sean falco #sean falco x reader #bad samaritan #robert sheehan character fic #joz.fic

[sheehalloween]

Sheehalloween approaches!

The festivities begin THIS SUNDAY so be sure to get your posting fingers ready for nine days of spooky sheenanigans! Muahahahahaa! 👻👻

Go here for more information

#robert sheehan #sheehalloween 2022 #robert sheehan character fic #robert sheehan fanart #robert sheehan fanfic #rob sheehan #klaus hargreeves #the umbrella academy #tua #sean falco #bad samaritan #mortal engines #the mortal instruments #the song of sway lake #me and mrs jones #the messenger

[xinxiaogato]

— snip! snip! snip...!

summary. the hairstyle of the guy with indigo eyes was very specific: a short jellyfish cut that ended at the base of his neck with wispy, sparse bangs lined up in the front. however, what would happen if your boyfriend gave someone free rein to a pair of scissors near his head?

love interests. gn!reader x kabukimono, scaramouche, and wanderer. (separately)

warnings. cursing, jealousy, unedited, and a lil spicy during wanderer’s part.

word count. 3,506.

note. let’s pretend both niwa and the nameless child (named “isamu” here) are alive at the same time for this fic… you are referred to as “reader” by the way!

꒰ 傾奇者 ꒱ — kabukimono

your cutie patootie of a boyfriend always burst through the door after working at the forge and embraced you as if centuries had passed since the last time you saw each other.

but today, for some odd reason, when you heard the familiar squeak of the front door, that squeak wasn’t followed by the usual croon of your name and a rush of footsteps toward you. instead, you listened to kabukimono wordlessly pad into the bathroom…

and he didn’t come out.

concerned for his well-being, you quickly made your way outside the room he barricaded himself in and knocked on the door twice. “kabukimono?” you called for him. “are you all right?”

silence.

and then you heard him sniffle.

“y-yeah, i’m okay,” his voice returned meekly. “please don’t worry about me…”

your heart squeezed tightly in your chest. “wait, are you crying?"

"..."

"kabukimono, please let me know what’s going on. we can work it out together. you know that.”

you prepared to give him space if there was no reply, but the door creaked open shortly after. you took that as an invitation to walk in but was abruptly glomped by him, his face buried into your chest.

“kabukimono!” startled, you tried to gently push your boyfriend off, but it was like the two of you got stuck together by adhesive glue.

“what happened?” you asked with what breath he hadn’t squeezed out of your lungs.

kabukimono was so, so embarrassed. half of the reason he refused to budge was the shame for not greeting you properly…

…but the other half was the atrocity that had become of his front bangs!

previously, niwa had noticed them getting a tad too long to the point they were poking into kabukimono’s eyes, so like a good samaritan, niwa suggested to give them a little trim. 

kabukimono should’ve protested a little harder when he saw niwa take out scissors the size of gardening shears.

“n-niwa…!” quivered kabukimono as he gawked at himself through a shard of glass.

“i’m so sorry, friend; this is all my fault! but it doesn’t look too bad?”

“…niwa, reader is going to break up with me.”

niwa offered up his bandana for kabukimono to wear home, but kabukimono knew he’ll have to face this dilemma head-on sooner or later.

however, the closer he got to his and your house of wooden veneer… the more he dreaded your reaction.

“kabukimono…” you said softly, which turned his stomach. “…may i see your face?”

“…”

against his better judgment, the wandering samurai peeled his face off of your clothes and angled it so that you could glimpse his bangs, which were much shorter than you were accustomed to. your lips parted in mild surprise as you took another second to process this.

“…i look terrible,” kabukimono murmured in the silence, tears pricking his bluish-purple eyes. he knew he was seconds away from bidding his quaint life with you goodbye. “p-please don’t leave me…” he added underneath his breath, his fingers gripping onto you tighter like you were about to disappear.

…so this is what he was trying to hide all along.

you let out a little “pfft” that captured his attention and then smoothed back his short bangs to plant a kiss as sweet as summer fruit on his forehead.

“kabukimono, you look perfect,” whispered you with only love in your eyes.

for the first time that night, kabukimono looked up and donned a gaze of profound intensity that felt like it was sucking you in. he really loved it when you said his name with your voice; it made him melt into a puddle. 

“i’m not gonna leave you over something this silly,” you continued, making him scrunch his face when you booped his nose. “besides, it’ll grow out.”

“really?” he croaked.

“really. now how about you wake up isamu while i get dinner ready?”

kabukimono blinked away tears that had threatened to spill down his cheeks earlier. you always dispelled his worries in a flash no matter how trivial they were. why did he ever have doubts in the first place? you were his sanctuary—the end-all to his anxiety of being abandoned. “okay!”

꒰ 国崩 ꒱ — scaramouche

slam!

that sound of the door to his bedroom was nothing to sneeze at, but the fact that the fatui harbinger didn’t greet you with a kiss on the lips as per usual was. hell, you didn’t even get the chance to see his face when he came home. that either meant he was really angry or really tired, and whether he joined you for dinner was up to you to test the waters.

tonight, you were feeling brave. how could he turn down your infamous chicken katsu?

“scara!” you exclaimed, wiping your hands on a towel before approaching the lion’s den. “i made dinner! or would you prefer a shower? or perhaps… moi?”

“…”

“i know you’re in there. at least give me a sign that you’re alive.”

“...”

“scaramouche! scaramouche! will you do the fandango?”

“...”

“sc-scara, there’s a fire in the kitchen!”

“…”

“seriously?”

well, you supposed you should’ve saved that one for later. you used that excuse last week to lure him out.

heaving a sigh, you turned on your heel to accept eating alone for the night when scaramouche suddenly whipped the door open and encircled his arms around you from behind, pulling a shocked you to his chest and locking you in place.

“if you turn around, we’re breaking up,” he grumbled into your ear.

“huh!?” you thrashed around in scaramouche’s grip to no avail. “that’s not something you can just decide on your own!”

“don’t care. if you saw me—!”

if you saw him, you would most definitely laugh, and the last thing scaramouche wanted to be was a laughing stock to his lover. of course he would cast aside his ego when it came to your reputation, but archons forbid you seeing him as something pitiable. not if he could help it.

“don’t you realize i’ll be more upset if i didn’t get to see your handsome face, darling?” you whined with futile tugs and twists at his wrists. “as to whatever happened, it can’t be that bad!”

oh, it was bad. really bad.

“the most important thing is eye contact!” declared his colleague with the irritatingly bright locks of orange hair. “after all, there’s a saying that eyes are the windows of the soul. how else are you supposed to communicate your feelings to them?”

“...dude, you don’t even have light in your eyes,” scaramouche responded. “why should i take advice from you?”

“what does that have to do with anything?”

sandrone’s massive puppet smacked tartaglia upside the head as she scowled. “stop making a ruckus, and just cut the balladeer’s bowlcut already. he looks homeless.”

“yes, i don’t think we can handle the sixth harbinger’s lamentation about his relationship much longer,” arlecchino grumbled, her eyes turning so far upward that they almost rolled right out of the room.

“none of you guys were even supposed to know about it!” scaramouche roared with fury practically emanating off of him.

this outburst had all the other partygoers of the tsarita’s banquet turning their heads. they couldn’t believe their eyes, but it was true. all ten executive heads of the fatui were gathered together in one place (fly high, signora). even the harbingers themselves never thought something like this would happen if it weren’t for you, who scaramouche had introduced and (to his dismay) had made them all smitten toward you. even the tsaritsa thought you were pleasant.

the fatui harbingers could not refuse your suggestion to have “team bonding events”—this gala being one of them—and the animosity between these lieutenants have actually lessened over time (by a hair’s breadth).

“i can use my water blades,” tartaglia offered, who thrusted his hands forward to summon them.

scaramouche’s hands balled into fists, ready to clock the eleventh harbinger before he even had the chance. “no. a thousand times no! don’t even get those things close to me if you want to live, you asshat.”

“what… transpired this?” whispered pulcinella, unable to keep up with the youngsters’ energy.

pantalone took it upon himself to explain the situation. “word is that our dear reader complimented the hairstyle of a subordinate working underneath the balladeer,” the regrator informed as he pushed his neck-strap spectacles higher up the bridge of his nose. “since then, he has failed to complete a single assignment.”

revealing his sharp canines, dottore snickered. “in spite of that, it truly is miraculous that the kid found someone who could get past his ironclad exterior.”

columbina hummed in agreement. “it is miraculous that anyone even likes him~!”

they eventually resorted to a pair of scissors that dottore had in his coat pocket (dottore was almost disappointed when il capitano reminded everyone that he carried one), and after some convincing and straight up fist fighting, it was decidedly pulcinella who got on a stool to give scaramouche a snip.

and pulcinella… doesn’t have the best eyes.

“if it’s about your dark circles, it’s okay,” you reassured scaramouche back in the present. “i’ll always accept you the way you are.”

“i don’t have dark circles!” in a fit of rage, scaramouche spun around to glare at you while blinking several times in quick succession and—lo and behold—gave you front-row seats to pulcinella’s botched job at cutting his bangs, which now ended halfway down his forehead. scaramouche felt his heart drop into his stomach at the sight of your widened eyes before he shoved his hat into your face and stormed off.

“w-wait, scara!” you chased after him to the living room, and he still refused to face you. “that was what you were worried about me seeing?”

following that was a silence that thickened the air. you walked up to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. “hey… i like guys with short hair, you know?”

…

…

…

“...but that damn skirmisher had long hair,” your boyfriend grumbled.

ah. this confirmed your suspicion that he overheard you speaking to his underling. little did scaramouche know that you had just been asking about your boyfriend’s whereabouts that day (but of course the balladeer anxiously spying on you the whole time made it impossible for you to locate him).

“i also like guys with blue hair and blue eyes.” you went to stand in front of scaramouche and placed his kasa hat back onto his head before squishing his face with your hands. he furrowed his eyebrows and tried to pull away, but the almighty harbinger became weak before you very easily. “i like guys with red eyeliner. a big hat. a haughty attitude. i like you, darling. and nothing is going to change that.”

scaramouche clenched his jaw and looked down at the floor dejectedly. “...how can you stand it though? you just said my attitude is haughty. is that… fine?”

“i’m still here, aren’t i?” you smiled. “and i’m not going anywhere. even if you went bald.”

“...do not allow that image to form in your brain, reader.”

“it’s too late.”

“reader!”

but despite the irritation laced in his voice, his lips were curled into a smile reserved only for his lover’s eyes. he liked you, too, and nothing was going to change that.

꒰ 放浪者 ꒱ — wanderer

“lesser lord kusanali.”

the dendro archon whirled around and almost let out a breath of relief at the sight of you entering the sanctuary of surasthana, your fingers intertwined behind your back. “grand sage, it is good to see you,” nahida greeted earnestly. “i’m sorry for contacting you on such short notice, but you were the only one i could think of reaching out to.”

“really?” you cocked an eyebrow as you descended down the white stone walkway. not at all did you mind chatting with nahida when you had the chance, but if you were the only person capable of solving her problem, it must be serious. “what could be the matter?”

“well… it’s rather a long story.” scratching her cheek, the dendro archon recounted what took place that morning.

“what are you thinking about?” the little archon questioned as she and wanderer strolled along the outskirts of the city.

wanderer kicked a rock that had the misfortune of being in his path. “you and i both know the answer to that,” he stoically replied.

“has it been that long since you and reader have seen each other?”

those words made something in wanderer’s chest feel a foreign pang, one that only occurred when he envisioned your face.

“i know that they’re busy with official affairs,” he scoffed, coming to a full stop. nahida followed suit, looking back at him with a hand to her heart. “it just can’t be safe for humans to stay cooped up inside of their offices all day long.”

nahida knew the nonchalance in wanderer’s tone was just a cover-up for how much he missed you, and the archon was all too familiar with that feeling. “wanderer—”

“i’m gonna make them regret prioritizing their work over me.”

with a tip of his hat, wanderer started trudging back the way they came.

“hey, wait!” she rushed after him and clung onto one of the blue fabrics dangling from the back of his head covering, which yanked him back toward her.

“what?” he deadpanned.

“how are you planning to make reader regret it?” she asked her disciple, anxious about letting him out of her sight.

“...”

wanderer recalled overhearing a conversation in the grand bazaar. a woman was fawning over her husband’s new appearance, who shaved off his beard earlier that day because he wanted to surprise her, and it was like she fell in love with him for the first time all over again.

wanderer wanted you to fall in love with him all over again.

“haircut,” he grunted.

“haircut?” nahida echoed.

“i want a haircut.” wanderer blatantly pointed at his head.

nahida took a moment to process his request before breaking out into a smile antagonistic to his scowl. “leave it to me!”

“and that was my first time cutting someone’s hair…” concluded nahida quite dejectedly. “...so you can imagine his fury when he got his hands on a mirror…”

“oh, archons,” you muttered right in front of her, slapping a hand to your face. “where is he now?”

“i’m not sure… i think he grumbled something about curling up in a corner and never seeing a single person again before he flew away.”

the only place you could imagine he escaped to was your shared home together in sumeru city, which was the biggest decision you two had carried out together in your relationship so far. however, you had no idea that the house became such a lonely place for wanderer. anguish squeezed your heart as you pictured him eating dinner alone, pretending the food was satiating like you had suggested in the past because he had wanted to be more human. “like you,” he had said.

“please let the other sages know i am taking an early leave,” i said, pivoting on my heel. “lunch is on me tomorrow!”

“good luck!” nahida called out to you, and as you pushed through the doors of the sanctuary, you felt like you grew wings right there and then.

when was the last time you inhaled a breath of fresh air…?

you dashed home as fast as your little legs (that had been stationary for what? six days?) could carry you home. along the way, nilou stopped you to discuss performing for the people in aaru village, cyno wished to speak about dispatching additional soldiers to monitor trade in the caravan ribat, and al haitham wanted a vacation(?)

however, you had to direct each one of them to your p.o. box because there was one request that waited to be fulfilled for a long, long time.

“babe!” you exclaimed, stumbling a bit as you peeled off your shoes at the doorway. “babe, are you home?”

silence. every step you took further down the hallway entrance felt like stepping onto an eggshell, and your mind started to wonder. was he not actually here? where could he have gone then?

“babe—”

in a flash, you were tightly enveloped by a pair of arms that knocked the wind out of your lungs. you almost lost your footing if it weren’t for the wall right behind you while, in front of you, your lover’s shaking eyes were trying to immortalize every detail of your face onto the canvas of his mind.

“reader…” wanderer mumbled, his cold hands cupping your cheeks like they were made of glass. “you’re here.”

a complicated feeling began to creep up inside of your chest. you didn’t even have the heart to “pfft” at his bangs that looked like a kindergartener had cut it (which wasn’t far from the truth). the crooked ups and downs of his bangs were the least of your concerns.

“i’m so sorry, wanderer,” you whispered as you reached up and gently held his wrists. “i’ve been so busy with attending meetings and approving requests that—”

“shut it.”

wanderer leaned in and hungrily captured your lips with his, and it didn’t take long before they began to trail butterfly kisses down your jaw and to your neck. his grazing teeth coaxed small noises from your mouth as they made light work of your sensitive skin.

“wanderer, wait…”

he pulled back momentarily to look you dead in the eye. “i have waited far too long,” wanderer snarled. “just let me have you, reader…”

you could not risk losing the ability to walk like last time. an idea came over you in that moment to break the spell clouding wanderer’s eyes with lust and desire.

“i’M gONna mAke tHem rEGret pRioriTiziNg thEir worK oVEr Me!” you cried out dramatically as if you had been fatally wounded.

your allusion was so out of character that it completely caught him off guard. as wanderer pressed his lips into a thin line, he created some room for jesus between his body and yours and asked in a contemptuous voice, “did lesser lord kusanali make you come here?”

“of course not. i’m here because of you, babe.” you chuckled. “did you think i wouldn’t notice all the subliminal messages you planted in your works?”

wanderer’s eyes widened in light of that. “you read the scholars’ papers?”

“not typically, but i asked the sage of the vahumana darshan to provide me with yours,” you clarified.

you adored the way your partner wrote—even if he always acted like crafting those essays together was a chore. reading his dissertation on societal issues in inazuma was actually how you two crossed paths, as you voraciously sought the author behind it. who would have predicted that the aloof, cold stranger nahida introduced to you as “hat guy” became your clingy mess of a boyfriend years later?

“whatever, don’t pull that disappearing act on me again,” he snapped, flicking your forehead in an odd display of affection. you held back a few colorful words from the sheer strength he put into that finger.

“it’s not like i was trying to avoid you,” you stated. “plus, i would argue that you disappeared, too, babe. even our archon couldn’t surmise where you ran off to.”

“well, you knew where to find me.” and that’s all that matters, he chose not to add.

a soft laugh bubbled from your throat as you directed your attention back to what made him disappear in the beginning. “hey… there’s no need to doll yourself up to get my attention.” you gently swept his silky bangs to the side. “you are always on my mind and even more so when we’re apart.”

a hush descended over the world around you two as wanderer squinted his troubled eyes and averted them to the floor in deep thought.

he could not kid himself any longer. you, a measly and pathetic mortal, had successfully slipped past the outer shell he built to fool irminsul into believing that he was not an individual worthy of loving, existing, redeeming.

“...”

“wanderer?”

"...rea..."

reader, each day felt longer than the last without you by my side.

i never thought i would have a person in this world who wanted me as much as you do.

 if i had to thank beelzebub for one thing, it would be creating me so that i could meet you.

you are the center of my universe.

“teyvat to wanderer…?”

but wanderer would rather die than say allat. hmm, maybe he’ll put those heartfelt words on paper so that you can read them in your office, giggling and kicking your feet.

in the meantime, he settled on dragging you to the bedroom. “you’re getting punished anyway.”

“wha…!? wait, wanderer!”

but on the inside, you were so happy that it didn’t matter if your boyfriend had to fly you to the akademiya every morning for the next several days. you wished for nothing to take away the beautiful smile you could see creeping onto his face.

© xinxiaogato. please do not translate my work without permission or attempt to plagiarize it.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin impact x y/n #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #kabukimono x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #fluff #crack #comfort #angst #stella writes — ! #snip! snip! snip...!

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Focus Please (Bad Samaritan Drabble)

Cale Erendreich x GN!Reader / requests are open

Summary: Cale takes care of you when you get a nosebleed.

Fic type: dubious comfort

Bad Samaritan: @stevekempscocktails @go-bonkers-go-foolish @peytonpenguin37 @madspads @merrilark @jaziona92 (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Hold there. Yes, like that.” 

You did as you were told, though, to be fair- you always did what you were told when Cale was the one giving you instructions. It would be unwise to disobey him unless you were feeling particularly bratty. 

But being bratty was the last thing on your mind right now with the blood gushing out of your nose like a faucet tap on full blast. If you were a tap, you’d be splashing against the sink and spraying Cale in the face with the jet of water coming out. 

That was a weird analogy, but it was the most accurate thing you could think of. Cale didn’t look particularly impressed by the fact that your brand new pretty outfit he’d bought you for your date tonight was now covered in blood, but it wasn’t your fault either, so he wasn’t properly mad or anything. And besides, it wasn’t like he couldn’t afford to get you a new one anyway. 

“Ngghh,” you grumbled nasally, pressing the cold compress to your nose, one hand over his. Cale let out a whisper of a sigh at your theatrics. 

“Stop your whining,” he said, though his eyes flashed with the barest hint of amusement. “Hold this.” 

You took the compress from him, and Cale removed his hand to grab a wet wipe so he could start wiping the mess from your skin. 

The wipe was cold against your chin and neck, trailing down to your collarbones. You didn’t even need to look at him to know the sight of the blood was having an impact on him. The slight shift in his seat was evidence to that effect, too. The soft caress of the wipe instead of an effective brushing motion let you know he was far more concerned with his fantasies than actually cleaning you up.

“Cale, focus please,” you grumbled. Cale’s eyes flicked to yours dangerously, and you shrank under the glare. 

“You know I’ve killed people,” he said matter-of-factly. You nodded. “I’ve never seen this much blood come from a person like this.” 

Your brow twitched, though you were unsure if it was due to nerves or interest. Probably both, if you were completely honest with yourself. 

“Just lucky I guess,” you tried to laugh, but it must have irritated the blood vessels and another little gush of blood spread out along the face washer on the compress. At least it was slowing now. 

Cale just rolled his eyes and continued on with cleaning you up. 

“You’re a menace, you are,” he grumbled. 

“And don’t I know it.” 

#cale erendreich x reader #cale erendreich x you #bad samaritan fic #bad samaritan fanfiction #cale erendreich fic #cale erendreich fanfiction #david tennant #cale #cale erendreich fanfic #bad samaritan fanfic #cale erendreich x y/n

[denaliwrites]

Something Good to Celebrate

Cale Erendreich x GN!Reader

Summary: It's your birthday.

Soundtrack: Birthday by Katy Perry

Requests: Open!

Warnings: It's Cale Erendreich. Y'all know the score by now.

You were pretty sure Cale had forgotten your birthday.

Not that you did all that much to celebrate it, anyway. But you at least expected him to say just the two words, "happy birthday." It was literally the bare minimum. Yet he said nothing as he passed you your morning coffee with a peck to your lips -- your daily routine now that you lived with him.

He continued to say nothing, also your routine, as the two of you got ready for your respective day at work, and even as the two of you parted ways, entering your respective cars and driving off in opposite directions.

Your coworkers remembered.

They awkwardly sang the song, you awkwardly blew out the candles on the cheap and no doubt dry-as-bone storebought cake, and you all awkwardly milled about the meeting room making small talk until your boss declared the party over.

You returned to your desk, and the rest of your day went as it always did. Uneventful. Boring. A little lonely, despite being surrounded by people.

Despite the "party" at your office, the fact it was your birthday meant very little to your boss, who ended up keeping you late -- much later than you'd anticipated.

It was dark when you finally entered your home, something that was unusually reflected in the interior. You wondered if maybe Cale was late too, but that thought quickly died as you realized that there was light -- dim as it was -- coming from the dining room.

You kicked your shoes off and padded into the room, finding the table set for a romantic candlelit dinner. In the center of the table was a vase full of your favorite flowers, surrounded by lit candles. On the end of the table you were nearest to, two place settings for dinner, and on the other a veritable collection of gifts.

Cale was nowhere to be seen, though noises you were sure were him emanated from the kitchen.

And, sure enough, he stepped into view holding two plates, which he set down before greeting you.

You weren't sure what you expected, but him pulling you into a luxurious kiss wasn't it. You were left breathless as he pulled away with a smirk.

"Happy birthday, babe," he all but purred as one of his arms circled your waist and he led you to the nearest chair. You dazedly took your seat, staring at the meal before you.

It was your favorite. You hadn't even known Cale was aware of your favorite meal.

"C-Cale," you whimpered, taking it all in, "this is... it's so much. It's..."

"Ssshh, babe," he told you quietly, taking the seat next to yours, where the other plate sat. It wasn't packed nearly as full as yours, and you couldn't decide if it was due to Cale's usual eating habits, or if it was so there'd be more for you.

"I... thanks," you finally managed, fighting tears. "It's perfect."

"I know," he admitted with a loving sigh. "This isn't even half of it. Wait until you open your gifts."

You couldn't even think about that right now -- you were still reeling from how thoughtful your meal was. If you thought about what waited for you in the mass of boxes and bags and wrapping paper, you'd probably actually cry.

"Thank you, Cale," you said quietly, looking at him meaningfully. "Really. This is... probably the nicest birthday I've ever had."

"I know," he said again, more somberly. "I wanted to give you something worth celebrating this year."

#cale erendreich x reader #cale erendreich x you #bad samaritan fic #bad samaritan fanfiction #cale erendreich fic #cale erendreich fanfiction #david tennant #denali strikes again

[merrilark]

I'm sure it's likely that he had to temporarily give his phone to the FBI, but how long do you think it took Sean to eventually go through his camera roll after Cale was presumably incarcerated? How long before he had the courage to open it so he could delete Cale and Katie's photos? And how long do you think he spent looking at his old photos of Derek, wishing he'd taken more—

#bad samaritan #...might write a small fic for it #i dont need more wips but. #sean falco #owns my heart

[angst-fairygodmother]

Derek, if Cale had killed Ryne instead, or she'd been more seriously hurt by the car?

I hope you're having a good night!

--🦚xx

A/N: Daaamn, Hera! I said Tragedy and you came for the throat. I'm going to do this one as headcanons, because there's no way I could write it in 200, or even 500 words. Or make it through without actually crying.

I’m having a lovely night actually, and I hope you are too my dear. (Also, I love that you still sign your asks, it's so lovely to see that familiar little symbol.)

If Ryne had been more seriously injured:

Derek would not have relented to not going to the hospital, or even asked

He would have carried her there physically and held her down in a chair until a doctor could see her if he had to

He would be freaking out the entire time, but doing his best to pretend he was calm

He definitely would have called Sean immediately, and then his Ma, and insisted they both come to the hospital, because Sean is your family and his Ma is so much better at taking care of people than he is (which is not giving himself enough credit)

Which...I guess would mean that there wouldn’t be anyone home when Cale showed up at the Sandoval residence, and that would have been a lot better for everyone?

While she recovered, he would be the most hover-y, anxious, overprotective Labrador. 

He would do everything he could, and then some, to take care of her. Carry her up and down the stairs. Cook and clean for her. Drive her to class and carry her books in. Probably even try to sit in on said classes to take notes for her/in case she needed anything. Regardless of whether or not any of that was actually necessary or helpful. 

But on the plus side, it would also mean extra cuddles and kisses and verbal reminders of how much he loves her. 

If Cale had killed Ryne:

Derek would follow swiftly after.

Not because Cale would go after him and succeed, as he did in the movie. He wouldn’t get that chance

Derek would go after Cale at his house on his own, or go with Sean to hunt him down

And unlike Sean, whose priority was saving the girl, Derek’s would be revenge

Which would make him dangerous, but also reckless and stupid

And Cale still views him as trash to be taken out, so it’s not like there would be a prolonged confrontation, or any beating with a shovel and zip-tying to make him watch anything

Even if Cale wanted to toy with Derek, he’s already done the worst thing that boy can even imagine. So there’s nothing left to do it with (there’s Sean, but I don’t think Cale would realize that, or Derek would be in a place to admit it)

On the other hand, he and Sean are a good team, and he’s been in fights before. So maybe they’d succeed faster/with less injury to Sean or Katie. Especially since Derek would, again, be suicidally reckless.

If he woke up in a hospital after the fact, either because of the movie events/my fic variant of them and only learned of it then, or if he survived being part of the final act, it would be less forceful. It would be more like giving up, not trying to get better, because he has nothing and no one left to get better for.

#ouch #this hurt me to write out #suicide tw #death tw #Tragedy Thursday #Derek Sandoval x Ryne Cassidy #headcanons #alternate universes #Bad Samaritan fic #thank you for the ask dear Hera

[bootlegfrank]

cale/frank for the ship thing <3 @get4pen2

I already did them but I love any and all opportunity to talk about my fucked up little men so I'm gonna use this! I just love how bad they are for each other, especially Cale towards Frankie. I love thinking about Cale being this older man who is traumatised and just,,, pushes it down. He gets flashbacks and has nightmares and he decides to resolve all that with murder. And Frankie is very much like him in that respect, traumatised and solving it with murder. Frankie is a disorganised justice killer and Cale is one who forever tries to replicate his first murder as a means to gain control over his life, and together they make an awful awful combo. In the fic I'm writing right now they're both branching out from their usual m.o.'s, and they're doing it together, and they're becoming much much more dangerous that way. Cale is exactly the type of person Frankie usually goes after, and Frankie is the type of person Cale hates, but they're both getting something they haven't been able to get in their lives from the other. Also Cale is basically grooming Frankie and you already know I like to fuck that fictional kid up ;)

#the new fic is already 10k and im so so so excited to finish and post it #frank iero #cale erendreich #bad samaritan #.violence #dddne #asks #cale/frankie

[owen-writes]

Just Some Blood

Cale Erendreich x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: some detailed description of blood/cuts and Cale Erendreich is a warning in himself.

You wince as the sting of the cut on your hand registers. Blood beads up, a crimson reminder of your clumsy attempt at making a sandwich. Glancing around the kitchen, you realize the first aid kit is out of reach. Reluctantly, you call out to Cale, your husband.

"Cale, I need your help with something."

He appears almost instantly, his piercing blue eyes scrutinizing you. "What happened?" His tone is calm, but there's a tension in the air that you've learned to recognize.

"I cut myself," you admit, holding up your injured hand. The blood is welling up, a small but insistent flow that you're finding hard to ignore.

Cale's gaze locks onto your hand, and for a moment, something flickers in his eyes. You can't quite place it, but it sends a shiver down your spine. "Let me see," he says, reaching for your hand.

As he takes your hand in his, you notice a subtle restraint in his touch. It's as if he's holding back, fighting an internal struggle. "It's not too deep," he murmurs, reaching for the first aid kit. His movements are controlled, deliberate, yet there's an undercurrent of something more.

As he tends to your wound, you can't shake the feeling that there's a secret lurking beneath the surface. Cale's usually composed demeanor falters for a moment when he catches sight of your blood. You chalk it up to squeamishness, but deep down, you sense there's more to it.

"Thanks," you say, trying to shake off the unease that's settled in your stomach. Cale nods, his expression unreadable. He doesn't say anything, and the silence between you feels heavy.

Days pass, and the incident in the kitchen fades from your mind. Cale, as always, hovers nearby. His constant presence is both comforting and suffocating. You've grown accustomed to his watchful gaze, convincing yourself it's a manifestation of his love.

#cale erendreich x reader #cale erendreich x you #cale Erendreich #bad samaritan #david tennant x reader #david tennant #david tennant x you #bad samiratan fic #bad samiratan imagine