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archies-litterbox · 3 years

Text

Home

Summary: Some times when Douxie called the castle his home, and one time Merlin realized his son saw the castle as his home whether he was ready to process that or not (and he wasn’t).

Words: 2000

A/N: I got this done! I actually challenged myself by making sure each little segment of the fic was EXACTLY 500 words, and I had a lot of fun! hope you like it <3

[CW: Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Nightmares (there’s way more softness in this than the CW makes it look I swear-)]

The typical chatter of the marketplace was overshadowed by Hisirdoux’s skipping steps, and those were overshadowed by the moppet humming a little tune to himself that Merlin couldn’t make sense of. It was one of many things about the little apprentice that didn’t exactly make sense, but when Merlin brought the boy along to finish an errand, what he truly dreaded was that the boy would be insufferable and get distracted at every turn. So, really, endearing -

- “Endearing to who?” Merlin asked in response to his own internal monologue, because the humming from the boy, a sure sign that his apprentice was content at the very least, was most certainly not endearing to him -

- So, really, definitely-not-endearing humming of silly, nonsensical tunes was a more-than-adequate alternative to that insufferability and distraction, Merlin was sure.

“Getting that potion ingredient was easier than I thought!” Hisirdoux said happily, the spring in his step ever-present, “The merchant wasn’t even cross with me, like usual - like when I come here by myself.”

“Have you considered,” Merlin started, “That she’d been cross because of your notorious slight-of-hand? And your pickpocketing and street tricks has rendered her wary of your possible antics?”

Hisirdoux shrugged, rubbed the back of his head in obvious sheepishness, and turned his gaze elsewhere, “Mayyyybe-”

His face lit up in excitement, his eyes widening as his mouth formed an “O” shape when he saw something off to the street’s side.

“Ooooh! Look!” He turned a little to the side, bringing his hands up as he started to wander to a stand selling some sweet treats, “They’re selling-”

Merlin put a hand on his shoulder to still the boy, who was already a handful without the added hyperactivity of sugar.

“Nothing of importance, Hisirdoux.”

He turned the boy forward again, put his hand on top of Hisirdoux’s head, and turned it forward again as well.

“Awwwh.” Hisirdoux whined.

“We have what we came down here for, and Wizards are many things, but they are not frivolous.” he said as he kept walking, a slightly-pouting moppet walking alongside him, “We’re heading straight back to the castle. There are better pastry bakers there, anyway.”

Hisirdoux’s disappointed pout left his face.

“Right, right.” he said, as if he were reminded of how happy he was just to be out here, on what he probably thought of as a beautiful day, although Merlin was rather impartial to the sunny weather.

“Let’s go home, Master!”

...Home?

Did he mean the castle?

Though he kept moving physically, putting one armor-plated foot in front of the other, Merlin’s mind froze as he looked down at the joyful, beaming moppet. To hear Hisirdoux refer to the castle as his home…

Well, Merlin knew he should have expected it at this point, considering the boy’s utter lack of a permanent roof over his head before, but he still didn’t know what to make of it, if there was anything to make of it.

So, he sighed.

“The castle isn’t that far away.”

The dark circles under the boy’s eyes looked darker in hue than usual today, but of course, that was only due to the contrast against the unusual paleness of his face. Said eyes looked up at Merlin with a rather lacking amount of cognizance as the Master Wizard stood over the moppet. Stripped of his bulky leather hooded vest in favor of keeping on only his trousers and tunic, so he didn’t overheat, Hisirdoux’s deep breaths through his mouth were only interrupted by a brief, pitiful sniffle of his nose.

“Mathter, ‘th thith… plague?” He was hoarse from coughing and nasally from his awful congestion. To this, Merlin only huffed - of course, leave it to his ever-dramatic apprentice to leap to the most dire conclusion possible, even though he couldn’t even rightly walk down to the throne room in this state.

“Not unless a rather nasty cold has become the new plague of Camelot.” he answered, “you should have come back sooner from your last errand, Hisirdoux, before it started to pour.”

Hisirdoux groaned, either out of his achy, miserable condition, or frustration with hearing the old man lecture him, or both.

“I know, I know-”

A wet cough cut him off, making him curl up before he flopped back down on the bed.

“Ugh, ithn’t there thome…” he swallowed, as if to clear his throat of sickly gunk as best he could without another hacking, “I dunno, “thickness begone-iuth” thpell, or thomething?”

“I won’t use magic to alleviate your sickness, if that’s what you’re implying.” Merlin denied, “Although unpleasant, your condition is far from serious, and your symptoms should alleviate in a few days, at the most. If I use magic on something so mere, your natural immune system will weaken, and a dependence on magic to maintain your health is dangerous, so-”

“But Mathter-”

“Don’t “But Mathter” me.”

Hisirdoux sighed, a shaky, ugly-sounding thing, too exhausted to even spare a laugh at how Merlin imitated him.

“Magic ithn’t a permithible shortcut…” he started, but he trailed off and punctuated the statement with another little sniffle.

It seemed, remarkably, Hisirdoux remembered a few of Merlin’s teachings, despite his low-grade fever.

Which reminded him…

The Master Wizard sighed and conjured a cold, damp rag, enchanted to not dry out or get tepid. Making sure it was properly folded, he laid it right onto Hisirdoux’s forehead.

“Oh, ‘th nithe…” he mumbled, “thank you…”

“Your plans for today are postponed, of course.” Merlin declared, “You’re to stay here and rest.”

“But-” Hisirdoux’s eyebrows furrowed, “I wath thupposed to go out and do that… that thing… and get the thing… from the plathe…”

Of course, it must have been harder for the boy to think sensibly and make sense than usual.

“And that will wait until your condition improves.” Merlin finalized, “Am I clear?”

Hisirdoux, resigned, nodded.

“Yeth, Mathter… thtaying home it ith, then.”

Before Merlin had anywhere near enough time to be surprised at that word, “home”, Hisirdoux fell right to sleep.

Merlin couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt like this before; when he couldn’t tell if he was more terrified or furious.

But he couldn’t be bothered to try to figure that out - not when, after hours of Hisirdoux being late coming back to the castle, a shoddily-written ransom note made its way to the desk of the Master Wizard’s study.

Thankfully, Hisirdoux’s familiar could trace it by it’s unpleasant scent. Merlin followed Archibald as the cat-dragon followed the scent trail to some disgusting hovel in a forest clearing, with some deplorable men hanging around it’s outside.

When Merlin laid eyes on them... he leveled them with any spells he could remember through his rage at them all; at their audacity.

Of course, it had been some incompetent group of bandits, but only a fool equated incompetency with harmlessness; just because these idiots didn’t know what they were doing didn’t mean that Hisirdoux was safe.

So, he shifted his focus on finding his apprentice, even if he had to reduce every board of this blasted cabin to splinters.

But it didn’t come to that; the second Merlin stepped in, he saw him.

Hisirdoux was curled up in a corner, sitting on his heels with his hands bound behind him, his arms bound steadfast to his torso, and a piece of cloth tied between his teeth. He was unharmed, but terrified.

Hisirdoux’s muffled cry that came out when he saw Merlin shattered the old man’s heart.

He never ran faster in his life.

A small, very precise blast from Archie made the bonds around Hisirdoux’s wrists and torso come loose, and when Merlin got to him, he pulled the cloth gag out as fast as he could without hurting him, letting it lay around his neck.

The instant his arms were fully free and Merlin was close enough, Hisirdoux hugged him, clinging to the Wizard for dear life and crying his heart out against his armored shoulder.

“Are you hurt? Did they do anything to you?”

Merlin felt Hisirdoux shake his head. He could tell he was swallowing to try to get some moisture back in his mouth. It had probably been dried out by that blasted gag, and who knew if they’d given him any water?

“No, just-” he gasped, “Scared.”

Those bandits would soon forget the very meaning of mercy.

For now, Merlin focused on rubbing soothing circles against the boy’s back, seeing that his ankles were bound. Merlin didn’t even notice before, and Hisirdoux was so hasty - so desperate for comfort that he didn’t even wait. He didn’t even seem to care.

Archie started cutting them loose.

“I-” Hisirdoux hiccuped, “I wanna go home.”

The shattered remnants of Merlin’s heart melted.

Home.

His son wanted to go home.

He sighed, moving one of his hands to cradle the back of the poor boy’s head, passing his fingers through his un-bunned hair.

“Please,” he whined, “take me home.”

Merlin nodded, the side of his head rubbing Hisirdoux’s.

“Right… right.”

It was long past nightfall, and the castle was quiet, so Merlin tried to tread the corridors lightly so his armored feet wouldn’t clank against the floor and wake anyone; the last thing he wanted was for any particular moppetish apprentices to stir.

That boy… he had already gone through so much he hadn’t deserved, and for what? To what end? Merlin presumed that before he’d found him in that alley, he’d been treated poorly for being not only a street rat, but a magical one at that. And now, even though he was the Wizard’s apprentice, that treatment hadn’t truly gone away; no, it only shifted onto new grounds: the grounds that... he was the Wizard’s apprentice. Now, much of the animosity sent his way was truly meant for Merlin; directing it at Hisirdoux merely amplified it. Strengthened the blow.

And that blow was strengthened today.

Merlin remembered the note’s creases under his fingertips as it trembled in his shaking hand; the door creaking open with a shriek in its hinges and showing Merlin his apprentice, bound and gagged and terrified in the corner of that hovel; Hisirdoux wailing against his shoulder; the trembling of his son in his arms. He remembered it all.

“Hisirdoux…”

He passed the sleeping boy’s door… and sensed magic from behind it. Unusual magic for this hour. In the little gap between the door and the floor, he could see the blue glow of his magic, too. Unmistakeable.

“...Hisirdoux?”’

He stopped at the door and pushed it open, only to be met with a fretful sight before him (not nearly as bad as the last time he’d pushed a door open to find Hisirdoux today, but it was rather close.)

The boy was thrashing in his sleep - tossing and turning in his blankets to the point where they’d started to tangle around him, which only made his obviously-nightmare-induced thrashing worse. Magic thrummed from his hands as he fought back against… something, and even Archibald, who had curled up on his abdomen to soothe him to sleep earlier tonight, couldn’t quell his night terror.

Merlin knelt down at the boy’s bedside and put a hand on his shoulder, shaking him lightly, “Hisirdoux!”

“N-no! Stop!” he pleaded, thrashing harder to get the hand off him, “Get away! Leave me ALONE! Let me GO!”

Merlin shook him harder.

“HISIRDOUX!” he shouted.

Finally, the boy’s eyes snapped open, and he gasped.

For a moment, he just breathed as lucidity seeped back into him. After realizing he was in the realm of the conscious, he put his hands to the sides of his head.

“Master…” he squeaked, “Where-”

“It’s alright, Hisirdoux. You’re safe.” he assured, “You’re home.”

Honestly, the words just slipped out, for Merlin, shocked by himself, doubted that he would have ever said them otherwise.

And with now-even-wider eyes, Hisirdoux looked just as shocked.

… Well, no good rescinding it now. How could he, really?

“You’re home.”

Hisirdoux nodded, a shaky smile on his face.

“...Home.”

#fic: home #my writing #mine #douxie #hisirdoux casperan #merlin #merlin ambrosius #wizard dad #tales of arcadia #toa #wizards #toa wizards #moppet!douxie #hurt/comfort

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onmyyan · 3 years

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Hi its me again. I love your writing and the fact that there isn't as much abuse like there is in others. It reminds me of old yandere stories were it was genuine lovesickness. Anyway, how do you think jjba yanderes would react to a darling that is taller and more muscular than them by quite a bit. You can do whoever you like I don't mind.

A/N: Omg ily🥺 it means a lot you said all that because I really love this genre it’s my comfort trope anyway thank you for the request n I hope ya like it!! Kira should be a trigger warning in an of itself but dw he’s just weird, not mean. Mentions of his past ‘girlfriends’, a curse word or two, lil suggestive in someplace’s Mista murks a few people, tw//gun violence

Characters: Pt2 Joseph, Josuke, Kira, Mista

Joseph was used to looking down on people, standing at a proud 6’5” he was literally and figuratively knocked on his ass when he’d first laid eyes on you, his immediate thought was you were a forgotten pillarman coming from nowhere to get revenge for your masters only to quickly realize you were just a stallion. You were strong enough to put him on his back after one too many cheeky comments. Unafraid to speak your mind and keep him in check, You would stare down at him with that mind melting smirk, all too aware of his frustrations, you assumed he was just being a man, ashamed to be outclassed by someone other than himself, oh honey how wrong you were. You enjoyed teasing the behemoth of a man as no one else really could, at least not as well as you did, throughout your little jabs and snark he always had a retort, a response on the tip of his tongue, eager to do this dance of yours until one of you broke, to you he was a way too cocky dangerously self assured pretty boy who was entertainingly easy to rile up, but to Joseph, you were his everything. Someone he could proudly take home to Granny Erina once he’d finally tamed you. He had a plan, a three step plan to steal your heart just as you’d done his, and this little game of who could annoy the other the most was just step 1. “It’s been fun JoJo but you’re gonna have to find someone else to bother.” You’d jokingly said one day out of the blue, an odd friendship had formed through the month you’d been in town and it felt wrong to leave without notice, an act of kindness you’d learn to regret. “Is this one of your famous jokes (Y/n)? Not so funny to play with a mans heart like that I nearly believed you.” He finished with a scoff, his signature smirk not reaching his eyes. “It’s true Joseph, my flight leaves tomorrow, I didn’t wanna leave without saying goodbye, because as much as we fuck around you’re pretty fun to hang out with.” Your sincerity almost made him feel bad about rushing the next few steps of his plan, he’d have to cram months of planning into a night but he’d accomplished more with less time on his side. He huffed, his grin stretched wide across his handsome features. “Then we outta make tonight count eh?” A thick arm was tossed around your neck, you had to bend awkwardly for this to be possible much to your amusement. “Okay you weirdo, whatever you say.” You let him lead you around town with a grin, unaware you’d be missing that plane, and any other one you tried to take without him.

Josuke watched you eat with the dopiest grin on his face, he’d spent an extra hour in the mirror this morning in preparation for your first official date! Well you didn’t exactly know it it was a date and Okayasu was eating rather messily beside you two but still! You’d actually agreed to come to Toni’s with him! You’d been an enigma since you transferred to the bizarre town, choosing to keep to yourself, and despite the intimidating height and mass you possessed, he saw through your act in seconds. There was a huge softie under all that muscle, he’d watched you enough to know this as a fact, you were a gem and he was intent on showing you his appreciation and adoration for the rest of his days, a vow he’d silently taken the day you’d stolen his heart, the moment was brief in reality but it lasted forever in his mind, you smiled at him in passing, he could feel time slow down, everyone around you faded in the background, a backdrop to the beginning of your story. He could imagine telling your kids how you’d met, something about the way you’d stare down at him, eyes sharp and attentive, like you truly listened when people spoke, your laugh was loud when it was real and every time he heard it he felt 10 years added to his lifespan. At the same time that icky feeling at another person making you laugh was conflicting, he’d never been in love before but he suddenly understood why his mom had never given up on his dad, love was weird but he wouldn’t give it up for anything. You’d accidentally snapped your chopsticks laughing too hard at a joke he’d tossed out, your face scrunched in embarrassment before chuckling at yourself and switching to a fork, his stand came out on its own, pocketing the shards to fix later, a new item for his ever growing collection, what a cute little memento from your first date! His thoughts swirled happily with the stories you’d be telling your kids. Thankfully neither of you noticed his little pickpocket moment, dangerous plans forming as he stared at you with those misleadingly soft puppy dog eyes.

Kira could die in this moment, happily I might add, as your firm but soft hand was wrapped oh so deliciously around his throat threatening to crush it with ease at the slightest movement. He’d been watching you for a while now, the longest he’d ever spent on someone he didn’t plan to kill, it become sort of hobby he’d picked up recently, the morally upsetting activity bringing peace to his day to day, usually he used his stand to carefully observe your routine, eager to learn all he could about his future spouses likes and desires, but he was getting greedy. Of course he could always introduce himself but he resisted, knowing there was a time and place to get exactly what he wanted. He liked to think he knew everything about you by now, your favorite color, how you liked your coffee, your love for cats, but he didn’t anticipate this. You were much more observant than he’d given you credit for, while you couldn’t see his stand you could sense yourself being watched, and seeing the large blonde lurking indiscriminately in the crowds throughout the day was enough to set you off. So you trailed off into the less crowded parts of town quickly entering an alleyway, he followed in pure confusion only to be roughly slammed into the wall, his stand came out on reflex but simply stared at his attacker, it seemed almost confused as what to do. “Why the hell are you following me pretty boy?” His eyes rolled to the back of his head at the feel of your fingers tightening, god he’d never felt this rush of exhilaration, none of his past ‘girlfriends’ could pull such an illicit reaction from him with a simple touch. When he didn’t answer you simply scoffed and tossed him aside like it was nothing. You left with a threat to stay out of your sight, yet all he could do was smile, the faint imprint of your fingers burned in his skin deliciously, how lucky could one man get?

Mista observed you with hungry eyes. His stare was unapologetically locked on your form. He made no intention to hide his attraction for you. The day you’d joined Buccarati’s crew was the day his world flipped. He assumed his new teammate would be no one to fuck with based on what Bruno told him about your stand, but when you walked in? Needing to bend down slightly just to enter the doorway had him sweating in his seat. He didn’t know what to say as he watched you happily interact with his fellow teammates, immediately you blended with the group, but all that was running through his mind were all the fun things you could do with those muscles. He usually stayed silent around you, not out of dislike as one would assume from his piercing gaze, but fear of accidentally voicing one of those nasty thoughts kept him quiet. You didn’t seem to mind though, always including him in the conversation, you even understood his very valid fear of that dreaded number! How could god plop such a perfect person in his lap and expect him to not do anything about it? Alas, Bruno had specifically told them not to make you uncomfortable with any flirting so he bit his tongue. Your aura was calming, a contrast to your powerful stand, speaking of, he couldn’t get his under control. Whenever they could Sex Pistols was out and all over you. They climbed and clamored for your attention, thankfully you didn’t seem to mind, always entertained their antics when you could, even giving each one a small peck when they wouldn’t let you leave for a mission without Mista, to say he was done for was an understatement, it took one mission going foul for his resistance to snap. His stand moved faster than it ever had, piercing the skulls of the idiots who brought you pain. He left the last one slowly bleeding out kneeling down to wipe the matted hair from your forehead, “You okay baby? Don’t worry honey I’ll make the bastard hurt.” He spoke not breaking eye contact, his hand pointed behind him, grip steady as he unloaded in the poor fool who thought it was a good idea to make you bleed, the wound was small, not even deep enough to trouble Giorno but that didn’t matter to Guido, any slight against you was disrespecting the future parent of his children, and what kind of man would he be if he didn’t defend your honor?

#yandere jjba #yandere jojo's bizarre adventure #yandere jojo x reader #yandere Joseph #yandere josuke #yandere Kira yoshikage #kira yoshikage #josuke higashitaka #yandere x y/n #yandere imagine #yandere x reader #yandere mista #guido mista #yandere Joseph Jostar

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wrenhyperfixates · 3 years

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The Raven Haired Rebel

Prologue

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: After invading New York, it was decided that, as a punishment, Loki would work for SHIELD. Yeah, right. After escaping from their custody and stranded on Midgard, the God of Mischief decides to prove he’s the one thing no one ever thought he was: the good guy. Now a vigilante, Loki attempts to make amends for his past wrongdoings while also evading the Avengers, including their newest member. You. Brought in specially for the case, you notice more and more details about the prince’s story don’t add up. When you get the chance to turn him in, will you listen to your employers or your heart that believes Loki’s done nothing wrong? Chapter Summary: In which Loki decides to forge his own path. Chapter Warnings: none :) A/N: Welcome to the start of my new mini series! The idea came from the Send Me a Fic Title ask game. This was a title sent in by @lokistan! Hope you enjoy!

Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90 @myraiswack @mythicalgarlicknot @what-a-flammable-heart @marvelouslovely @laurenandloki @fallinallinmendes @sophlubbwriting @mooncat163

RHR Tag List: @happygalaxymilkshake @electroma89 @stardust-walker @i-would-kneel-for-loki

Masterlist

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

Loki wondered what his cell on Asgard would look like, for surely he’d be transferred there any day now. For three days now, he’d been held in the belly of a SHIELD base in these ridiculous cuffs. Tony had, at least, sent down that drink Loki had asked for. Whether it was a taunt or a small bit of kindness, Loki honestly wasn’t sure. Either way, he’d downed it in one gulp; Midgardian alcohol never having a strong effect on him. Honestly, he probably should have been concerned if it was poisoned or not. Then again, after everything he’d been through, what did he care?

“Brother,” Loki greeted Thor as he walked into view. “How lovely of you to finally grace me with your presence. Though I take it this is not a leisure visit, hm?”

“You know full well it is not,” the God of Thunder replied with a stern tone.

“And here I was so hoping we could catch up.”

“If you want to talk, then talk, Loki. Explain yourself. What has transpired that you have attacked so many innocent people in this way?”

Loki wanted to laugh at that. Innocent? Who was Thor to talk of innocent with all the unrighteous battles he’d fought, all the blood spilled by his hands? The God of Mischief had done what? Attacked a military base? Made a few people kneel? Corralled a few groups into buildings? Which really was for the own safety so they wouldn’t be in the way of the battles on the streets. But no; conquest was apparently only just when Odin decided to do it. When Thor wanted to follow in his footsteps. But for Loki, there was a whole other set of rules. Of course, no one ever bothered to outline them for the trickster, just let him know he failed to obey them.

Besides, he hadn’t been in his right mind. Rather, he’d been under the mind stone’s influence, under Thanos’s control. He worked his jaw as he tried to figure out whether to say that or not. If he had any sense of self preservation, he probably would have. Yet after living his whole life being told he was weak, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Whether Asgardian culture, his family, or he himself were to blame for that, he wasn’t sure. Still, best just to stick with his wit.

“Pardon, brother,” Loki finally replied. “If it bothers you that much, I will stop following your example.”

“You dare insinuate I would do such a thing?” Thor rhetorically asked, appalled and shocked now that his honor was called into question. “Truly, brother, your mind is far more twisted than I had imagined. I see now I should not have advocated for you; you are too far gone. And yet, I already have, so your second chance you shall have.”

“How benevolent,” Loki rolled his eyes.

In reality, Loki was actually kind of touched Thor had spoken on his behalf. It was more than he expected from the blonde. Though, he had a feeling he hadn’t been spoken of in the most flattering light. Regardless, Thor opened his cell and, accompanied by a couple agents, led him to the upper floors of of the base.

The light blinded Loki for a minute as he saw sunlight for the first time since he’d been locked up. The glares passing agents gave him did significantly less to burn him, though. He was used to scorn. Of course, he did feel a wave of regret as he realized he’d probably killed some of their colleagues, their friends. Even if he didn’t have control of himself, he’d still done it. Why did he have to be so weak as to let Thanos gain control of his mind, he wondered? Such horrid deeds had never been in his nature before, though it seemed Thor was ready to believe he’d been evil all along.

The brothers were silent the whole way to Fury’s office, even as they waited for the director to come in. From his seat in front of the desk, Loki surveyed the office. Nice enough, he mused, but could use some more color. Maybe some drapes. Loki wondered if he should laugh that that’s what he was thinking. Though, in all honesty, it might be a chuckle of relief, knowing that his thoughts were finally his own again.

When the director did finally walk in, he and Loki just eyed each other for a moment, sizing the other up. Loki was fairly confident he could get out of this room, out of this base, if he really wanted to. But what was even the point? He wasn’t particularly interested in playing a game of cat and mouse, as SHIELD would try desperately to recover him. No, he’d rather take whatever punishment was about to be doled out. At least for now, anyway.

“Well, thank you for having me,” Loki quipped, being the first to break the silence. “I am afraid I have never been much good at small talk, though. How about that weather?”

“Funny,” Fury deadpanned. “Glad you didn’t lose your sense of humor when you killed my men.”

Loki’s smile faltered ever so slightly. It seemed like people were going to keep bringing that up despite that it had not even been his intention to kill anyone. Injure and temporarily dispose of, sure, but not kill. He supposed that having been on the verge of collapse himself, he wasn’t able to be as precise as he usually was.

“That little stunt you pulled should have you locked up for life,” Fury continued before Loki could respond. “However, we are prepared to offer you a deal. You are going to work for SHIELD to make up for your crimes.”

“Ah. I see. So gracious of you. And my other options are?”

“You come with me back to Asgard,” Thor chimed in, “and father can do whatever he wants with you.”

Well, that created three possible paths, really, Loki figured. Be sent to Asgard and locked up there was option one. Then the second was to be sent back and killed. Was it bad he kind of hoped for the latter? Oh, it definitely was. Yet, that’s how he felt. And then he could stay here, play along until the opportunity came to break free. Live his life as he wanted for once.

“Alright,” Loki agreed with a smile that he was sure would be seen as more untrustworthy than anything else. “When do I begin?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A week of tedious lectures later, Loki was out in the field. He’d listened with rapt attention as he’d undergone his brief training. And somehow they deemed him trustworthy enough to send on a mission already. So, here he was in a Quinjet with his fellow agents. Maybe they didn’t entirely trust him. After all, Clint kept eyeing him with something akin to murder in his gaze.

Still, once they touched down, Loki followed the procedures he’d been taught. Thankfully, they hadn’t trusted him with any of the more important jobs, just securing the perimeter. That, of course, was a mistake on their part. As soon as it was time to break apart from the others, Loki created a double of himself. Meanwhile, he causally strutted over to a nearby motorcycle. Ok, he had to admit he didn’t really know how to ride one, but he’d make do.

Loki’s drive was surprisingly smooth as he escaped his would-be employers. The joke was on them for trying to tie him down, he thought. It was actually rather freeing to be racing along the open road, wind in his raven-black hair. Maybe he could find a nice little secluded home somewhere and live the rest of his days out in peace. And then he saw a burning building. Really, he should just keep going. You Midgardians had forces to deal with this. And yet, something made him pull over and rush inside, saving those he found trapped by the flames.

“I can never thank you enough,” a lady blubbered as she clung to her child, who Loki had just saved. “Please, what’s your name? How can I repay you?”

“You can call me, Loki,” he replied with a charming grin. “And really, no thanks necessary. It is just what I do.”

And as he rode off again, Loki decided he was going to make that last statement true. Look out, Midgard, he thought to himself. Looks like you have got yourself a new superhero.

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songmingisthighs · 3 years

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[15.08] badboy!seonghwa × reader

⇀ had you known that's why he confessed, would you have accepted him ? Or smack his annoyingly perfect face with your laptop ?

⇁ part 1 / 2

⇁ prologue part 1 / 2 / 3

Things had gone great between you and Seonghwa. You and he would often meet at your dorm or at the diner at least three times a week.

You'd ask him why you both never hung at his dorm but his answer was that he doesn't want the boys to disturb your 'quality time'.

Normally you'd question answers like that, but the way he looks at you and holds your hand made you forget why you even wanna ask that in the first place.

But like all things, everything dissipates with time.

Nearing the end of the semester, group projects lessen and solo assignments accumulate which put a strain between your and Seonghwa's hangout time. You've tried convincing him that you both can hang out whilst doing your solo assignments but you remembered how his eyes trailed after a girl as you spoke at one of your last hangouts at the diner.

Seems like he's lost interest in you too.

Which, it sure hurts, but you both were never official and neither had verbally confirmed to the other about their feelings. It sucks.

But you power through.

You pretend that his silence during class's group discussion didn't affect you, you pretend that when he immediately pack up his stuff to leave the class and only throwing you a polite smile didn't make your heart wrench, you pretend that him ghosting you didn't make you feel both embarrassed and angry at the same time.

You're light and breezy.

Heck, you're so light and breezy, you still go to that diner every Friday all alone. And it's not because you had hoped to see one particular man.

Even though you did.

When he was on a date with some girl who's obviously very pretty.

On the booth you both had 'claimed' as 'your booth' without ever verbally saying it.

"Hi, excuse me," a voice broke your train of thoughts.

You look up from your book to see a really handsome man standing in front of you with a smile on his face. He looks very handsome, definitely mixed-race, and he has this chill aura on him that is honestly refreshing to you.

"Sorry to bother you, but can I sit here?" He asked. You look around to see that there are a lot of other places left in the library where he could've sat.

Sensing your apprehension, the man raised both of his hands, "I'm not a creep or a weirdo, I'm just very particular about where I work,"

He's got a point. So you just nodded, "sure, it's not my table or anything anyways, you could've just taken a seat without asking my permission," he shrugged as he put his things across you, "I mean sure, but you seemed like you don't wanna be bothered and this particular spot has the best walking distance to anywhere at all and plus the secret charging port? Genius," he said, grinning proudly.

You raised your eyebrows at him, "you seem to know your way around the table, mister..." you trailed off to which he immediately caught on, "Hansol, Choi Hansol, but my friends calls me Vernon," he held his hand out for you to shake, "(Y/N), (Y/N) (Y/L/N), and why Vernon?" "My english name, I'm half American,"

And with that, you got yourself a new friend.

Vernon is a computer science major, and the other thing major about him is his nerdiness. And his hotness. Which is a ridiculous combination.

Ever since that day in the library, you both somehow find the other popping up everywhere. Just a day after your first meeting in the library, he came into the café you part-timed at. He came in to order 13 drinks and several pastries, shocking you at first but then he told you he lives in a frat house with 12 other guys and that he's not a caffeine addict.

Then you both bonded over the many sessions in the library which eventually venture out to sitting together during lunch, and then suddenly you both started meeting outside campus.

And this did not go unnoticed by Seonghwa.

"Hey, Seonghwa, how well do you know (Y/N)?" Hongjoong asked, breaking Seonghwa's glare on you and Vernon from all the way across the cafeteria.

Seonghwa raised an eyebrow at him, "(Y/N) from my statistics class?" As if he hadn't considered you as something more at some point, "I'd say well enough as a groupmate, why?" He asked back.

Hongjoong nodded towards you and Vernon with his chin, "Vernon there saw you both working together and he wants to make sure he won't be stepping on anyone's toes when he's making a move on her,"

At that moment, Seonghwa almost choked on his fries. Too surprised with the fact that you've possibly moved on from him so quickly.

It's only been a month and a half since you both stopped hanging out outside of obligation.

Hearing that made his blood boil and he's pretty sure it's not jealousy. Most likely territorialism. HE took interest in you first waaaaay before Vernon did.

The smile and laugh you give Vernon was supposed to be for him. He used to make you laugh so hard at any stupid pun he concocted in his head. No matter how stupid it is nor how much it doesn't make any sense.

To be completely honest, he didn't know why he pulled away from you in the first place. He had been so comfortable with you, never once had he ever let his guard down and just be carefree, not even with his closest friends.

He needs to get you back to him.

No matter what.

So he made his move the next time you both had statistics again.

Unlucky for him though, the professor decided to not have any group discussion that day which threw Seonghwa's plan out the window. But thankfully he still remembered your schedule, you don't have any class after statistics which means you'd be grabbing a simple lunch before your part-time job starts until 8 pm.

So he waited patiently for the bell to ring.

Legs bouncing in anticipation as his eyes flit towards the clock every five minutes.

When the professor finally dismissed the class (10 minutes later than he's supposed to, as per usual), he immediately put all his belongings back in his bag and ran after you. Somehow you've mastered the art of cleaning up quickly over the month and a half without him.

"(Y/N)! Wait!" Seonghwa called.

You stopped in your tracks and turn your head to see Seonghwa jogging towards you with that stupid, charming smile on his face.

Damn his good looks.

"Yeah? Is there something wrong?" you asked him when he caught up to you. He raised an eyebrow at you, confused as to why you'd think there'd be anything wrong.

"Ah!" you suddenly exclaimed, "Is this about my part of the presentation? Don't worry, I'm close to finishing it, I should be able to compile it in the PPT tonight by... 9.30-ish? I have to finish my shift at the café," you explained.

He chuckled at you, deep voice that you oh so missed ringing in your ears, "wha- no, (Y/N), I'm not here to talk about our project, I just wanna... talk with you," he said, tilting his head to the side slightly. It somehow made him look both hot and cute at the same time. Which doesn't make sense.

Now it was your turn to raise an eyebrow at him while crossing your arms, "why? No offence, Seonghwa, but you've kinda been blowing me off for the past month and a half now, what makes you think I'd have anything to talk with you about?"

Those words coming out of your mouth shocked him. It's not like he didn't expect some apprehension from you, but hostility? Boy, you must've been really affected by his shitty doings.

"I-I- no, (Y/N), I haven't been blowing you off," bullshit, even he knows that, "I've just been really-" "really... what? Absent? Ghosty? Hot and cold? Whatever it is, Seonghwa, you don't owe me any explanation," you tried your best to not roll your eyes at him because honestly, how dare he blew you off and now acting like he didn't whilst hoping you don't notice what he has been doing.

What did he take you for? One of his brainless bimbos?

Surprised at your words, Seonghwa was left stunned. You waited for a solid 10 seconds for him to say something. Anything.

Literally, how hard is it to say sorry?

Realizing he wouldn't realize what he's supposed to do, you just shook your head at him, "I'll finish inputting and editing my part by tonight, I'll see you in class next week, Seonghwa," you said before walking away.

You would've thought that he'd take the hint and go back to ignoring you.

But now, of course not. He's stubborn and he plays by his own rules. It's an understatement to say that you were shocked when you saw him entering the café nearing the end of your shift.

Despite the shock of seeing him, you pretended like nothing's wrong and do what you're supposed to do to any other customer as per usual.

Heck, you'd give yourself a pat on the back, head, and butt for being so calm whilst handling Seonghwa. You managed to keep that "strictly professional" smile on your face as you take his orders, you didn't fumble when he made small talks as you typed in his orders into the computer (like really, who the heck said "good thing tonight's not cloudly, love the moonlight," ??), and you didn't flinch when your hands accidently touch as you hand him his strawberry frappucino.

Yes, the badboy strictly and secretly drink sweet, fruity drinks.

You'd thought that his presence was merely a coincidence. As he waited in his table, you had assumed that he's waiting for some girl (who isn't you, sadly) so all you wanna do is run out of there as soon as you can.

"Hey, Jaemin," you called your co-worker who's in the middle of sipping his 6 shot americano at 8 pm, "I'm gonna head out, okay? Think you can hold the fort until Yena's here? She said she has to turn in an assignment, that's why she's late,"

Jaemin just rolled his eyes at you, "(Y/N), I'm drinking coffee that's powerful enough to paralyze a horse, I can definitely handle the slow Wednesday night crowd," he said sarcastically to which you laugh.

After getting your things from your locker in the back room, you proceed to go out through the front door.

Unbeknownst to you, Seonghwa had followed behind.

You were only several steps away from the café when suddenly Seonghwa caught up to you and grab your hand.

Knowing that it's quite late and it's dark, Seonghwa should've known better. You honestly only feel slightly bad for punching his chest.

Slightly.

Like 2%.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Seonghwa you scared the devil out of me!" You exclaimed after realizing that it was just him, pulling your hand away from his grip. He coughed, trying to ease oxygen back to his lungs after you had brutally knocked them out.

"Guess I deserved that," he coughed out, but he was smirking as if he's amused by your attack, "sorry, I was just- I need to talk to you," he said, looking at you pleadingly.

"Well, it doesn't seem like that for the past month and a half, Seonghwa, you seemed just about done with me," you said while crossing your arms, your expression showing nothing but disdain at him. He seems to feel remorse after seeing how you looked at him. Never once did you showed any negativity nor hostility to him during the time you both spent together.

Seonghwa didn't really know what made him pull away from you. All he was sure of is that he felt something so strongly about you to the point that it scared him so much. He never felt the need to be with someone as much as when he was with you. He found himself thinking about you when you're both not together, he found himself only focusing on you and nothing else when you both are together, and he found his vulnerabilities open for you to access.

It scared him to hell and back when he realizes that there is a possibility of him wanting something more from you.

With you.

The man before you sighed, "I... Have no excuse for how I acted recently but believe me when I said that I regret pulling myself away from you because I'm scared, you're too good to and for someone like me, you deserve the best and I wanna be the best for you," he stepped closer to take both your hands in his, his eyes were genuine which rendered you incapable of being too mad at him, "I wish I could rewind the time and take back what I did, I never should have pulled away from you, I should have just told you the truth," he said.

For a second, he forgot about his image and he just let whatever he was feeling out, he wanted to make sure that you understand how he truly feels.

Both of you stood in silence, just staring at each other as he rubs his thumb on the back of your hand. With the way you're staring at him now, he was sure that your initial resolve had completely melted.

But suddenly from his peripheral vision, he saw Vernon coming out of a bookstore across the road and was looking around.

Remembering what prompted him to get closer to you again, he pulled you in close into his arms, a hand to your cheek and lips just centimetres away from his.

"So? Would you please give me another chance to show you how much you mean to me? Not as just some guy from your statistics class," his words made you chuckle and roll your eyes, "but as your boyfriend," he said before he could stop himself.

Your eyes widened, "m-me? With y-you? Boyfriend and girlfriend?" you choked out, not believing your ears in the first place. You wanted to make sure that he's not kidding, making a joke or making a fool out of you.

Instead of answering, however, he simply leaned in and places his lips softly on yours. The kiss was sweet, it conveyed how much he wants and misses you. For some reason it made you feel comforted, he feels like home and his arms makes you feel safe.

So then and there, you kiss him back as a form of an answer to him.

When you both finally pull away, you both could see dumb smiles decorating the other's face, proof of happiness over what just happen.

Remembering that you're in the middle of the road and there are people around you, you pulled away from his arms first but reached to tangle your hand in his.

"Come on, I believe I owed my groupmate my part of the presentation," you started as you walk, pulling him with you.

But as you walk, you turn your head at him to throw a flirty smirk, "boyfriend" you said, making him grin so wide, it could rival a Cheshire cat.

Maybe you and he isn't a bad idea at all.

All you can do now is hope that he won't break you.

#ateez #ateez scenario #ateez imagine #timestamp #ateez timestamp #ateez au #kpop boys #kpop scenario #kpop imagine #seonghwa #park seonghwa #smt #smt timestamp #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #kpop au

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fireladybuckley · 3 years

Note

congratulations on your milestone, love! could i request 5 with buddie? :)

Sure thing, love <3 Thank you for all your support and friendship (and betaing!) over the last while, you are simply awesome. :)

#5 - “At least let me clean it.”

“You sure you don’t need help with those?” Eddie asked, watching Buck’s biceps bulge as he lifted a heavy metal crate.

“Nah, I’m fine,” Buck said, grunting as he hefted the crate high into the air and slid it onto its shelf. “It’s a good workout!”

Eddie shook his head as Buck flashed a grin at him, then shrugged and moved on.

“Alright, I’m going to start inventory on the medical supplies then.”

“Sounds good to me,” Buck agreed easily, turning back to the stack of metal crates containing extra equipment and lifting the second one.

Eddie moved over to the area where they kept the medical supplies and began counting, feeling his eyes start to cross within moments. Doing inventory was always one of the most boring jobs, but he and Buck had volunteered to start while the others went on a medical call, figuring the earlier they started, the earlier they could be done.

Eddie was halfway through counting boxes of sterile gauze when he heard Buck let out a wordless yell of alarm, then a deafening crash of metal and a cry of pain. Eddie dropped the boxes of gauze he was holding and bolted over to where he’d left Buck. The first thing he saw was one of the metal crates on its side on the floor, its contents spilled everywhere. Second was Buck, sitting on the floor where he’d clearly fallen over, clutching a hand to the side of his face and looking pained.

“Buck! Are you okay?” Eddie asked in alarm, hurrying over to him and kneeling down at his side.

“Y-yeah, I think,” Buck said, wincing as he held onto his face. Eddie reached up and gently pulled away Buck’s hand, though the other man tried to resist. Eddie wrinkled his nose and inhaled a little sharply, seeing a jagged cut along Buck’s temple and over his cheekbone that began oozing blood down the side of his face the second the pressure from his hand was removed.

“Ouch, that looks like it hurts,” Eddie said, leaning closer and examining the edges of the wounds. “Come on, let’s get you patched up.”

“I’m fine,” Buck groaned, pushing Eddie away with his clean hand and struggling to his feet, gripping the shelving unit to pull himself upright. Eddie followed him, watching as he swayed on the spot, reaching out to steady him.

“Buck, I need to make sure you’re okay,” Eddie said, and there was a command somewhere in his voice that Buck automatically responded to, turning towards him but looking wary. “At least let me clean it.”

“Fine,” Buck muttered, grudgingly allowing Eddie to put a hand on his back and lead him away from the mess he’d made, sitting down on the bench as Eddie brought him into the locker area. As Eddie ran off to get a med kit, Buck touched the side of his face, wincing at the sting of the wound and the feeling of his blood on his fingers. He could feel it slipping down his neck, slowly soaking into the collar of his shirt and he shuddered, hating the sensation.

Buck realized he could feel pain on his arm as well and pulled up the short sleeve of his shirt, noting that the cloth was ripped. Sure enough, there was another cut underneath that had soaked blood into the fabric of the sleeve and now oozed sluggishly down his arm in its absence. Buck swore, running his clean hand through his hair in frustration. Why did he always have to get hurt? Was it really so much to ask to go through a two week period without having to get patched up at least once?

Eddie returned with the med kit just as Buck was twisting his arm around to look at the wound and shook his head.

“Got you twice, huh? What happened, exactly?” Eddie asked, sitting down on the bench next to Buck and digging through the med kit for the supplies he needed.

“I was lifting one of the crates and it tipped over a bit when I tried to get it on the shelf. I guess it wasn’t closed properly because several pieces of equipment fell out onto my face. Lost my balance and dropped the crate,” Buck sighed, thinking of all the stuff he was going to have to clean up afterwards.

“Are you alright? Did the equipment hit you hard, or just cut you?” Eddie asked, trying to ascertain if Buck could be head-injured, looking for the maglite.

“No, it just cut me,” Buck replied. “I fell over because I tried to back up too fast and tripped, not because it hit my head.”

Eddie noticed that Buck sounded a bit embarrassed but shook his head slightly, dismissing it. It could have happened to him just as easily; if he’d had a cascade of heavy metal equipment falling towards his face he’d have backed up in a hurry as well.

“Going to check your pupillary reflex anyway, just in case,” Eddie said and Buck nodded. Buck looked up obediently and held still as Eddie shone the light into each of his eyes, checking his pupils. “Looks good, thankfully.”

“This is probably going to sting,” Eddie said apologetically as he unwrapped an antiseptic wipe next and turned to Buck. Buck sighed and sat still, not really bothered as Eddie cleaned the cut on his arm. It stung a little, but it wasn’t terrible. Buck was far more focused on the feeling of Eddie’s hands on his skin, the warmth of his grip as he steadied Buck’s arm with one hand, cleaning the wound with the other. The feeling of Eddie touching him, even in this more clinical way, had set his heart racing and he bit the inside of his lip, looking away from Eddie, sure his expression would betray him.

He and Eddie were in uncharted territory, as far as he was concerned. Recently, feelings between them had become known, but neither one had moved past those admissions and done something about it. Buck had been dying to ask Eddie on a date, but he was too nervous most of the time to actually do it, despite knowing that Eddie was interested in him.

“Okay, all done. That cut isn’t very deep, but I’ll cover it just so it stays clean for the rest of the shift. You can take the bandage off as soon as you get home and let it breathe.”

“Okay,” Buck agreed, still looking away as Eddie taped some gauze to the wound and pulled his slightly tattered sleeve down over it. Buck watched Eddie out of the corner of his eye as the other man shifted on the bench, straddling it and facing Buck.

“Come closer,” Eddie requested, and Buck couldn’t think of a reason to protest so he shuffled closer, until he was practically sitting between Eddie’s legs. Eddie being so near jacked up his heart rate once more until he was sure Eddie would be able to sense it, which really only made things worse.

Eddie reached up and began to dab at the wound on the side of Buck’s face, and this time, it really did sting. Buck let out a small hiss of pain and turned his head instinctively, trying to move away from the burning sensation. Eddie’s face scrunched up in sympathy, but he reached up with his free hand and cupped Buck’s face, gently but firmly turning his head back and holding it in place.

“Sorry, I know it hurts, but you have to stay still,” Eddie admonished gently, and Buck swallowed hard as Eddie leaned closer, focusing on the wound. It felt strangely intimate to have him so close; Buck could smell his aftershave and see every individual hair in the stubble over his jaw that was starting to push through his skin after nearly 20 hours on shift. The touch of Eddie’s hand along his chin and cheek sent his nerves into a frenzy, and he let out a shaky breath, hoping Eddie would mistake his nerves for pain, rather than suspect just how affected by Eddie he was.

Eddie, too, was affected by his proximity to Buck, but he was doing his best not to show it. Buck’s bright blue eyes were so expressive, Eddie could see the apprehension in them, the unspoken words that he was longing to say shining back at him. Eddie gently cleaned the wound, holding Buck’s head still, desperately resisting the urge to slip the hand holding Buck’s chin up his jaw and into his hair, to pull him close and kiss him the way he’d been dreaming about for weeks.

Eddie finished cleaning the wound and then gently wiped up the blood that had slipped down Buck’s cheek and neck, stroking his skin with the wipe, trying to clean up the drying blood without rubbing too hard. Buck shivered as Eddie’s fingers ghosted over the skin of his neck and Eddie’s eyes flickered to Buck’s, seeing the nervousness there, the embarrassment of the shiver that he hadn’t been able to suppress.

“I’m just going to put a couple of steri strips on this, okay?” Eddie asked after a moment, his voice quieter than before. His affection and desire for Buck was screaming in his chest and he was amazed that Buck couldn’t hear it through his neutral words. Buck nodded in response, and Eddie carefully applied the steri strips, closing the wound and dabbing at the bit of fresh blood that squeezed out.

“All finished,” Eddie said softly, and despite his words, Eddie’s hand lingered on the side of Buck’s face, his fingers still steadying Buck’s jaw. A sudden silence passed between them as Eddie found he couldn’t pull away, and instead he slipped his hand a little higher, cupping Buck’s entire cheek, his thumb gently stroking over Buck’s uninjured cheekbone.

Buck looked over at him, his blue eyes shining; Eddie knew immediately how important this moment was - Buck’s eyes conveyed a vulnerability that Eddie had never seen before. Buck’s expression showed a complete trust in Eddie, but also a shyness that anyone who thought they knew Buck would never have suspected was there. Eddie could see from that single look how much Buck wanted to be with him, but that he was afraid to make the first move, afraid of being rejected again. Eddie also knew he was afraid, like Eddie was, of what might happen if they tried being together but it didn’t work out - what would happen to their friendship? And yet, Eddie couldn’t do this anymore. He knew how Buck felt, and not being with him when they both felt the same way was incompatible with life as he knew it.

So, instead of withdrawing his hand, Eddie took a breath and then did exactly as he had imagined a few minutes prior. He slipped his hand along Buck’s jawline and downwards until his hand rested comfortably on Buck’s neck, his fingers gently teasing the ends of Buck’s hair. Eddie could feel Buck’s pulse pounding against his hand and knew he was as excited and nervous as Eddie was, which somehow helped fill Eddie with the confidence to finish what he’d started.

Closing the distance between them, Eddie pulled Buck’s head a little closer as he leaned forward, and in an instant their lips had met. Eddie felt Buck inhale a little sharply in reaction, but then he was pressing closer, kissing Eddie back. It was like a fire ran through his veins; Eddie felt all of his limbs tingle with electricity as they embraced, his own heart racing as Buck let out a soft whimper and pressed even closer to him. Eddie wrapped his free arm around Buck’s side, his hand resting on and stroking Buck’s back, and it was Eddie’s turn to let out a soft noise as he felt Buck’s hand reach up and hesitantly touch his cheek, settling there after a moment.

Eventually they broke apart, the silence around them broken only by their shaking breaths. They looked into each other’s eyes for a long moment, the brown considering the blue, before they moved back together in unison, joined together in a kiss once more. Buck’s heart was pounding in his chest as he wrapped both of his arms around Eddie’s shoulders, Eddie responding by pulling him in as close as possible, deepening the kiss as they both became breathless, desperate for more.

They only broke apart a moment later as Buck’s radio, which was positioned right below their heads, suddenly blared into life with Bobby’s voice, letting them know that they were headed back to the firehouse. Buck and Eddie both sat there, panting, then burst into laughter, throwing their arms around each other and hugging. The hug ended abruptly as the side of Buck’s face bumped into Eddie’s and he let out an involuntary gasp of pain and flinched away.

“Sorry!” Eddie said apologetically, standing up and leaning over, pressing a kiss into Buck’s hair, beside his wound. Buck smiled at the sweet gesture, looking up at Eddie as the other man gathered the garbage from the supplies he’d used. Eddie grabbed Buck a new shirt and helped him peel off the ripped, blood-stained one he was wearing, and by the time they’d tossed the old shirt and Buck had pulled on the new, they could hear the truck rumbling outside, about to pull into the house.

“So… where does that leave us, then?” Buck asked, turning his back to the parking bay and looking over at Eddie, who had just turned back to join him. Eddie could see the hope in Buck’s eyes, and knew there was nothing else to it.

“Why don’t we get breakfast after our shift and see where that goes?” Eddie asked, trying to sound casual but aware that the eagerness that Buck felt was also clear in his tone.

“Sounds like a date,” Buck replied after a moment, and there was barely suppressed joy in his voice that made Eddie smile. Quickly, just before the truck pulled in, Eddie ducked his head and pressed a kiss to Buck’s lips, leaving the other man feeling dizzy with happiness as the truck appeared in the bay.

Buck watched as Eddie walked away and followed in a daze to greet the others as they returned, suddenly finding himself under a barrage of questions and concerns as Hen, then Bobby and then Chim noticed his facial injury and grilled him about it. As Buck laughed and insisted that he was alright, he caught Eddie’s eye from across the room and bit his lip as Eddie grinned at him. Buck had never wanted to get off of a shift as badly as he did at that moment, and the memory of their kisses sustained him over the next few hours until they could finally be together, exploring what ‘together’ really meant for the first time.

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#911 #Buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #fanfic #evan buckley fanfic #eddie diaz fanfic #buddie fanfic #buck fanfic #9-1-1 fanfic #911 fanfic #Dani's 1700 follower celebration #friend requests #annie #my fic

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crowfootwrites · 3 years

Text

Bruises | Part II [Nestor Oceteva x Fem!Reader]

Part II of the Nestor two-shot. This part is significantly longer than the first part, but we get to see Nestor takin' care of business, so. Also, there's a Marcus cameo.

Warnings: implied violence; gun usage; language | Words: 1,861

Part I of Bruises

Two days later, you’re back at work, opting for a floral catsuit to keep your bruising covered. Your sides, back, and thighs are starting to look pretty gnarly.

Nestor had indeed taken you to the hospital and stayed with you while doctors performed a series of ultrasounds and CT scans to check for any internal hemorrhaging; he was on the phone for a while and you could hear snippets of angry conversation, likely with Miguel or Marcus about finding the guy that did this. When you were given the all-clear, Nestor had taken you home, insisting on you taking it easy. He had made dinner and curled up with you on the couch, trying to avoid jostling you at all costs. When the two of you had finally made your way to bed, his fingers gently caressed you and he pressed soft kisses against the deep violet bruises blooming across your torso. You saw the quick flash of heartbreak in his eyes at seeing you hurt, and you had curled against him, falling asleep safely in his arms.

It’s a Tuesday and it’s early, so the club is still fairly slow. You’re bartending tonight, thankfully, glad to have a large slab of wood between you and everyone else. You’re not sure what progress Nestor has made on finding the guy, but you still have your job, so you count your blessings and don’t ask questions.

Another blessing: the other bartender for the evening arrives, and it’s an intimidating-looking girl you’ve worked with a few times named Morgan. All but the most confident (or the stupidest) patrons find her pin-straight black hair, severe makeup, and perma-frown a little daunting. No one ever fucks with Morgan and you’re glad to have her beside you for the night.

Things start to pick up around 11 and suddenly, it’s busy, even for a Tuesday. Morgan leans over to remind you about the drink special your boss is promoting, and you groan internally, knowing the tips are the only thing making it worth your while. You and Morgan make a good team, supplying drinks at a breakneck pace while club lights flash around you, obscuring most of what’s happening past the first row of patrons at the bar.

You’re throwing together a Jack & Coke when you hear it. The voice sends panic jolting down your spine as it requests a Budweiser. You stare at your trembling hands, a lime wedge clutched between your fingers.

You force your eyes upward and it’s him. The same slicked back brown hair, the same oily smile, even the same leather jacket. Your eyes widen and he looks back at you with a calculating gaze. Your immediate reaction is a desire to run. But as soon as the thought appears you dismiss it. The club is packed, and it would be easy for him to try something in the middle of a throng of people. No, the safest place for you is behind the bar, where other people can keep their eyes on you.

You force a smile that you’re sure comes out as more of a grimace.

“Sure thing,” you tell him, the pitch of your voice just a little too high. You hand the Jack & Coke to its owner, managing to spill a little on your shaking hands, then head over to the cooler for the beer.

You can feel his eyes on you and your stomach turns, bile burning in your throat. In the dark corner of the bar, shielded partially from view by Morgan, you can feel yourself breaking down. Your eyes flash around you in a panic. Everything and everyone feel too far away. You don’t see the bouncer by the door, and there’s no escape route that doesn’t take you past the man staring at you from the end of the bar.

You’re not sure what to do so you call the person you trust the most.

Nestor answers on the first ring. “Amor?” His voice is, understandably, apprehensive.

A whimper steals through your lips before you can get the words out. “He’s here.”

“Are you inside?” Nestor’s tone has lost all sense of worry. His words are clipped, business-like, and you know this isn’t going to end well.

“Yeah, I’m working the bar with Morgan,” you mumble, dropping your head into your hands as Morgan looks over at you with concern.

“Stay behind the bar,” he commands. “If he tries anything, break a bottle, get a paring knife. Whatever you gotta do, mi amor. I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

The line goes dead and you take a couple deep breaths, glad that, despite what’s about to happen, Nestor is coming. You grab the Budweiser out of the cooler, pop the cap and plunk it on the bar top in front of him, not meeting his eyes.

“How’s your night going, babydoll?” The words slither out of his mouth deviously and you swallow around the knot in your throat. Your eyes glance to digital clock beside the register. Thirteen minutes to go.

“Busy,” you grind out through gritted teeth. You move to the middle of the bar to help a waiting customer, and the man’s eyes follow you as you make drinks. He doesn’t leave the bar. He sits and leers and you wonder if he thinks that he’s going to follow you out again at the end of the night. As if you wouldn’t have learned your lesson? Good thing he won’t be here ‘til closing, you think, as your eyes flicker obsessively to the clock, counting down the minutes until Nestor arrives.

Nestor, apparently, makes very good time when he’s angry, because you see him come through the door of the club with two minutes to spare. An audible sigh of relief passes your lips as his eyes find yours over the crowd and he makes his way to the bar. You bite your lip as your gaze lands on Marcus talking to the bouncer who has returned to his post. The bouncer, the same one who was working the night you were attacked, glances at you, then nods to Marcus. Marcus disappears into the crowd behind Nestor. You can’t help the tightening in your chest. This is going to be bad.

You come to stand in front of the man so Nestor knows who to see about their little assault problem. The man, still unaware of Nestor and Marcus’ approach behind him, winks nauseatingly at you and just as he reaches over the bar for your wrist, a firm hand clenches around his forearm and pulls back. The man jerks back on the bar stool and spins to face two vicious looking men in suits.

The man sputters, trying to yank his arm free, but Nestor has no intention of letting him go. “Who the fuck are you?” the man yells. You glance at Nestor’s hold on the man’s arm, his knuckles turning white as his grip intensifies.

Marcus paces around to the other side of the man’s stool, his hands tucked casually in his pockets. “We hear you like to hit women,” he says nonchalantly, bringing his mouth close to the man’s ear. His one free arm flies up, trying to hit Marcus, but Marcus was expecting it. He grabs it and yanks it behind the man’s back. Marcus steps back just slightly, drawing out his gun, keeping it low so as not to alarm the crowd. You see the added length of a silencer on the end of it as Marcus shoves it into the man’s side and you step forward.

“Not in here, please,” you beg, and Marcus smiles at you benevolently.

“Mija, what do you take me for? I would never,” he says, and you cock an eyebrow, knowing full well he would.

Between the two of them, Nestor and Marcus hustle the man outside as he yells frantically over the crowd. He can’t really be heard over the music, and no one appears to notice, likely assuming security was removing him. They take him to the back, towards the back door of the club that leads into the alley where he attacked you. The heavy door slams shut with a note of finality, and you try to put it out of your mind. It’s out of your hands anyway. It was out of your hands the minute you told Nestor about it.

You see Morgan looking over at you as you try to get back to work, willing your hands to be steady. She seems to know better than ask, though, and you’re grateful for that. Thirty minutes later, Nestor comes back in through the front door of the club, nodding at the bouncer as he passes. The crowd has thinned out and the bar is considerably less busy. Nestor makes his way over and you run out from behind it to wrap yourself around him in a hug. The fingers on your right hand find their way to their usual spot around one of Nestor’s braids and you give it an affectionate tug. It’s slight, but you feel him sink into your embrace, seemingly as relieved as you. You pull back and scan him from head to toe, your heart racing. He appears unscathed, but you do notice the tiniest drop of blood on his dress shoe and point it out to him. He frowns and grabs a cocktail napkin off the bar and leans to down to rub it off, as you release a tired chuckle. He crumples the napkin and puts it in his pocket, then caresses your cheek, tucking you against his body.

“He won’t be bothering you anymore,” he murmurs.

You sigh, partly relieved, partly concerned for Nestor. “¿Lo mataste?” you ask hesitantly, not sure if you’re ready for the answer.

Nestor pulls away to look at you dubiously, as though he can read you like a book. “You really want to know?”

“I feel like I need to,” you say with a shrug, but your grip remains tight on Nestor.

A hard look passes briefly over his eyes before he gazes back down at you with a lopsided smile. “We made sure he won’t be touching anything he’s not supposed to anymore.”

Your face contorts as you wonder what they did with the fingers, but you opt not to ask.

“And he’s not gonna come back?” you ask, your voice small. You’re sure Nestor can feel your heartbeat clamoring against his chest.

“Not unless he wants to die,” Nestor whispers soothingly, and you let out a heavy exhale. “And I talked to Jimmy at the door. He gets anywhere near this place, they call me or Marcus.”

Tears sting your eyes, and you sniff as you pull Nestor tighter against you. “Thank you,” you mumble into his lapel. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“So, what now?” you ask, unsure what a person does after they dismember someone in the darkened parking lot of a club.

Nestor pressed a kiss against your forehead, and you could feel his lips curling into smirk against your skin. He pulled away and met your eyes with a shrug. “Now we go home.”

#nestor oceteva #nestor oceteva imagine #nestor oceteva x reader #mayans fx #mayansmc #mayans mc #mayans fanfic

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cas-kingdom · 3 years

Text

Bad Blood

A/N: Set towards the end of season 3.

Title: Bad Blood

Summary: After Peter discovers Neal stole the ship’s treasure, you’re worried he’ll be mad at you for keeping the secret.

Words: 2310

The problem with loving your brother so much you couldn’t possibly do something to put him in jail, despite your personal opinions, is that it puts you in an awkward position.

You had never had that problem. From the age of three, you’d gone everywhere with Neal. You’d grown up among thieves and criminals, and that’d been all you’d known. Until Neal was caught, and you’d lived a more subdued life for four years, learning things and picking up what it meant to have a normal life. You’d grown your own opinions, stemming from the simplest of things, and slowly come to realise that there was a life outside your brother’s antics.

Maybe that was why Neal hadn’t told you about the treasure. Perhaps he’d thought you might tell Peter. He should have known, though, that you’d never do that. So, more plausibly, maybe he’d simply wanted to keep you safe. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to put you in that kind of position – stuck between him and Peter. He’d been doing that a lot in the year and a bit he’d been out of jail; keeping secrets, only letting you in on what he thought you needed to know. It was a swerve in your relationship, and it was constantly hitting obstacles.

Peter had taken you aside a while after the fire and asked you if Neal had stolen the treasure. You could still remember the flurry of emotions that had hit you then.

“I need to know,” Peter said. His voice was gentle. He was leaning on his forearms, staring at you from his place behind his desk. His eyebrows were raised, and you would have squirmed uncomfortably if you knew what he was talking about.

You sputtered for a moment, glancing down at the floor, before shaking your head and looking back up at him. “Neal?” you asked. “You- you think Neal stole the treasure?” Peter lifted his chin and leaned back against his seat. “I thought it was all lost in the fire.”

Peter sighed. “We did, too,” he said. “But… we found something that leads us to think otherwise.”

Your frown deepened. You turned your head, just about seeing Neal immersed in conversation with Jones. He glanced up for a moment, your eyes meeting, and he gave you a questioning look. You bit the inside of your cheek and turned back around to look at Peter, who was watching you intently.

“I don’t know, Peter,” you said honestly.

Peter nodded. “If you did…” He tilted his head a little. “Would you tell me?”

It wasn’t an interrogative look that he was giving you. He loved you. Every moment he was with you was spent treating you as his own. But that love included protecting you, even from your brother, and he wanted – needed – to be sure that you weren’t withholding anything from him that could put you behind bars, because he knew he’d rather be behind them himself than let you go.

You bit your lip, absently fidgeting with your fingers. You glanced up and shrugged.

Peter nodded slowly. “Alright,” he said. He couldn’t say he hadn’t expected that response. He drew in a deep breath and stood up, rounding the desk. He leant down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “As long as you’re safe, kid. That’s all I ask. Don’t get yourself caught in something I can’t get you out of. And… try get that in your brother’s head, too. You know where I am if you need me.”

Really, it should’ve been obvious to you that Neal had stolen it. You hadn’t wanted it to be – it was for that reason you’d never told Neal that Peter had even asked you about it – but you knew the man better than you knew anyone and anything. If the opportunity was presented, he would grab it up.

You’d cried after overhearing Neal and Mozzie discussing the treasure. They’d been quiet, whispering among themselves, and Neal should have known really that you wouldn’t have been asleep. He’d heard you sob, your pillow over your head, and got up from his chair so fast he’d knocked it over. Eyes wide, heart pumping, mind whirring, he’d slid into the bed beside you. You’d pushed him away, but he’d stayed, he always stayed, and he’d slept with you until morning, your back to him, his hand on your shoulder. You hadn’t talked about it the next day, and you’d been blunt with him since. You figured he’d worried you would tell.

“You have the treasure!”

You could hear Peter’s words. You’d been sat at the table when he’d come in, telling them Elizabeth had been taken, and you’d decided then and there that if Neal didn’t tell him, you would. Thankfully, you hadn’t had to, but the look Peter had given you after that had seared into your brain, and you hadn’t been yourself since. So, the moment Neal had been cleared – officially, anyway – you’d ached to speak to the agent.

“Peter, can we talk?”

It was a Sunday, and you, Mozzie and Neal were at Peter and Elizabeth’s for lunch. There was a sense of normality around Sunday lunch at the Burkes’. A familiarity that you had been terrified you’d lost for a moment back then.

Elizabeth and Neal were sitting outside, the both of them laughing about something or other, and Mozzie was sleeping on the deck chair he’d brought from June’s – nobody was sure why and nobody had bothered to ask. He was Mozzie, after all. You had been putting the plates away, Satchmo your shadow, and Peter had followed close behind, that smile on his face which told you he was happy. You didn’t really want that smile to disappear, and you knew he probably didn’t have anything to talk to you about, you were just being paranoid, but it would make you feel better, and you were too selfish to let that pass.

Peter glanced over his shoulder as you leaned against the kitchen counter. He nodded. “Sure,” he said, shutting the dishwasher. He turned around and crossed his arms, a look of slight intrigue crossing his face. “What is it?”

You swallowed, rolling your shoulders a little. You saw Satchmo nudge your hand with his wet nose and felt all the better for it. “I don’t…” you started, before feeling the lump in your throat stop your words. Peter, ever the concerned stand-in parent, moved forward immediately, his eyebrows furrowing together, those frown lines creasing his forehead. He stopped beside you, not wanting to invade your privacy yet needing to be there for you all the same, despite his not knowing what it was you wished to say.

He was a patient man, and so he merely stood beside you for a moment, waiting for you to speak up again. The open door was letting in the fresh breeze, the sound of Elizabeth and Neal’s laughter wafting in through it. It was the perfect day.

“I don’t want there to be any bad blood between us,” you said eventually, in a voice softer than Peter ever believed he’d heard.

He took a little while to mull your words over, staring fixedly at a spot on the floor. He shook his head as though preparing his words. “There isn’t any,” he said after a small moment, tilting his head to look down at you. When you didn’t reply, your hand on top of Satchmo’s head, he darkened his frown. “Hey,” he said, almost as softly as you. He pushed himself from the counter to move partly in front of you, taking your hands into his and waiting for you to meet his gaze. “What makes you think that?”

You swallowed again, foolishly feeling tears in the corner of your eyes. “I knew about the treasure.”

Peter made a face of realisation immediately. He squeezed your hands. “You knew about it after I asked about it,” he reassured you, shaking you a little, “you’re fine. I’m fine. We’re fine.”

“Well, I should’ve told you anyway,” you said, sniffling. “I should’ve told you the moment I found out. That’s withholding evidence… or something.”

Peter huffed a short laugh, releasing your hands only to pull you against his chest in a strong hug. “Your mind’s been working on this one for a while, huh?” he said gently, rubbing his hand up and down your back. You rested against him, eyes staring blankly ahead, lips trembling as you tried to hold the tears back. You felt Peter rest his chin on the top of your head. “I’m telling you, kid,” he said, “there’s nothing bad between us. You didn’t know about the treasure when I asked, and you said you didn’t know whether or not you’d tell me if the odd chance you found out later came up. I accepted that. That’s all that matters.” He turned his head a little, looking into the garden. As he’d expected really, Neal was craning his neck, eyes concerned even from this far away. He rose a dark brow, a silent question passing between them, and Peter nodded his head once, causing the younger man to reluctantly turn back to his conversation with Elizabeth.

Peter imagined it was difficult for both you and Neal to have someone like him in your lives. It’d always been you for a long, long while, and allowing someone in, opening up to that person like you had, was something he felt almost honoured for. Holding you in his arms like this, feeling your hands grip his shirt and your head all but bury in his chest, simply because you were worried he was upset with you, made him feel something indescribable. It was a good feeling, though. The feeling he felt when Neal did as he was told without argument, and called him his friend, and just came into work that morning because he’d decided it wasn’t the day to cut his anklet and run.

Things had changed for the Caffreys. He hadn’t known you at all before a year and a bit ago, but even he could tell that. You were letting people in. Trusting people besides yourselves and each other.

He pat you on the back and pulled away from you a little, gently putting a finger under your chin. “I don’t blame you for wanting to keep Neal safe,” he assured you. “I know it was difficult enough to keep it a secret after you found out.”

You nodded, sniffling a little. Of course it’d been difficult. It’d been the reason you’d cried yourself to sleep that night. You hadn’t wanted the task of having to make a decision, and you were only grateful – and relieved, more than anything – that you hadn’t had to.

“I think...” You glanced down for a second, glassy eyes meeting the soft brown ones of Satchmo. “I think I would’ve told you eventually.”

Peter wasn’t sure if he was surprised at that revelation. He lifted his chin a little, dropping his finger from yours. "Really?"

"Somebody would have found out in the end,” you told him. “Better it be you. You’re the only person who cares about Neal enough to fight for him.”

Peter regarded you carefully, watching as you shuffled your feet and chewed anxiously at the inside of your cheek. He hadn’t really thought about it in that way before, but now you’d mentioned it, he could see it.

It was true, what you’d said. Mozzie and Neal’s treasure-hiding hadn’t been the smartest. There’d been enough leads to have found it eventually, and definitely enough to drive whoever was following those leads to them. Those people would not have been so lenient. They wouldn’t have understood Neal’s (partly) turned over leaf. They wouldn’t have understood his kindness, and his compassion, and his general humanity. And they definitely wouldn’t have understood his need to stay in front of the bars if only to keep Y/N happy.

Peter understood it all and more. If you had told him about the treasure before he – and Keller – had found out about it himself, he doubtlessly, with a small amount of consideration and hesitation, would have decided on some way or another to give Neal the lowest possible amount of punishment he could receive for a crime such as this. He wouldn’t have thrown the guy in jail and left you without your brother for another few years of your life, and New York without Neal.

He loved you both too much to do that to either of you, or to him.

“Yeah,” he said eventually, a little distant in his tone. He looked back out at the garden, Neal’s grin threatening to split his face as he laughed along with Elizabeth. Though Peter could still see his aching need to get up and ask what he and you were talking about. That was Neal Caffrey. The first responder to all his little sister’s life choices. All except some, Peter decided, and he didn’t half mind that.

He turned back to you and gave you a smile, letting it widen as you responded with your own, half genuine one. “You’re a good girl, sweetheart,” he said quietly, “and you help me keep that man within his limitations better than anyone. Make sure you talk to him. I’m getting a little tired seeing those puppy dog eyes every day.” Your chest heaved with a breath of amusement at that, and he counted it as a victory as he pulled you towards him once more. “The only way there could be any bad blood between us is if you killed Satchmo. Or Elizabeth. Or me. Now, go out and ask the beauty, the criminal, and the winter sunbather if they want cheesecake or profiteroles for dessert.”

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funtimebunnyblog · 3 years

Note

Okay so first off, I love bears! 😭 they’re so cute! I would have one as a pet if I could. How do you think the pillarmen would react to their s/o finding a bear and immediately becoming friends with it? Doesn’t matter that it’s literally a wild animal. It saw s/o and was like “this is my friend now” and it follows her everywhere. But the bear is “submissive” to her. It doesn’t attack at all and does that thing where it shows it’s belly to her all the time. The bear likes the pillar men, but not as much as it loves s/o.

Ahhh! My dear Anon, this is is such a sweet idea! 🥰🥰🥰 I have the very same feelings about keeping a Fox as a Pet ❤ I very much would if I could! 😌

This started out as a few simple headcanons buuuuut~... 😅 I got carried away and turned it into a full fic! 😘😇 Please “bear” with me and enjoy! 🐻🐻🐻

The Pillarmen’s s/o brings Home a Bear... (A bit of a long fic; Under the cut for length!)

(I’ll stop making bear puns from this point on, I swear! I just couldn’t pass up the chance to use this picture. in any case... Please do not attempt anything that your read here with a real life Bear or any woodland creature that is dangerous for that matter! If you happen to find a lost little Bear in your travels, do the responsible thing and contact a forestry! ~FunBun)

"What," Your head snapped up as someone spoke from behind; your eyes trailing up a most familiar muscular torso to eventually meet the disapproving gaze of Kars looming over you. The Pillarman's eyes were wide and his face unreadable, "is that?"

There you were, sitting on the front porch which was not an abnormal occurrence as this was your house and you did as you pleased...

Except for, of course, the fact that you were cradling a LIVING BABY BEAR in your lap and hand-feeding it a peanut butter sandwich!

"...A Friend." You said after a long moment, blinking up at the behemoth of a man. The Cub in your arms grasped at your hand with two huge chubby-toed paws as you pushed the last chunky bit of sandwich into its awaiting mouth; happily chewing away as if it didn't have a bother in the world.

Kars let out a long sigh, his barreled chest heaving as he reached up to pinch the space between his painted eyes with a forefinger and thumb.

"Why?" He questioned.

It was really the only thing he could say in that moment as thousands of questions rolled through his head like flotsam and jetsam. The Pillarmen struggled to keep a hold on himself, trying to give you the benefit of the doubt first before giving you the scolding he so wanted to.

He and the others knew very well you loved animals, which pleased the Pillarmen as they were Men who valued nature and precious life; Kars was no exception. They were most especially aware of your specific fixation on Bears but Kars never so much as gave the love for the creature a second thought.

However, right now, while you held a living Bear in your lap he was beginning to wish he had thought to tell you not to do something as foolish as take one in.

"Hey! I didn't do anything!" You defended yourself, allowing the Bear Cub you cradled to lick the remnants of the gooey sandwich from your fingers. You know exactly what he was thinking; he thought you deliberately went out and took the Bear!

Really, you hadn't done anything! Well... not this time anyways.

It all started when you had gone out for your morning walk in the woods, you happened to enjoy the crisp Spring air this time of year and it was a good way to get out of the house for a bit and away from the noise of the Four Pillarmen you adored that were living with you.

It was only when you were halfway down your usual route when you realized there was a little black Bear Cub following right behind you.

At first, you had feared the worst. Normally where there was a baby, there was a Mother not very far behind and despite your love for Bears you REALLY didn't want to have an encounter an angry Mother Bear that was searching for her lost baby and happened to think you were the one that took it. You did your best to avoid the baby Bear, walking fast and pretending not to notice it in hopes that it would simply give up tailing you eventually and go on its own way back to where it came from, despite the tugging of your heartstrings.

After some time of attempted avoid and evade the Cub didn't leave your side, ambling close at your heals and beginning to cry out for your attention. It became obvious to you it was all alone and even more obvious that it was hungry; as soon as it saw you it thought to remedy both those things.

Always having a big heart, you just couldn't bring yourself to leave the poor thing all alone out in the woods; especially not when it was clinging to your leg and looking up at you with those big honeyed eyes pleadingly...

You weren't supposed to get caught. You had planned to keep him a secret for at least a little while.

You had lead the baby back to the house and left it outside to its own devices on the doorstep for just a moment. Meanwhile you slipped into the kitchen to make, not one, but two peanut butter sandwiches to feed it. You really didn't have anything else to give it, you hadn't been expecting to feed a hungry little Bear anytime soon and there was nothing in it that would hurt the Cub anyways as it was mostly protein.

Your early return from your walk had gone unnoticed by the others (at least at first).

Thankfully, Santana hadn't been in the kitchen raiding the fridge like he normally did this time of morning and had been in the Livingroom with Esidisi instead, too invested in the video game they were playing to hear you come in.

Wamuu was out back chopping up more firewood to burn, as the nights were still very cold; the Warrior too far away to hear you and unable to see you with the house in the way.

Kars was supposed to be up in his study, up to his elbows in papers and practically dead to the world but of course (just when you wanted him to be working for once) he wasn't.

Somehow, he just always knew when something was amiss.

"Peanut followed me here," you explained, peering down at the squirming black fuzz ball in your lap that was still happily licking the peanut butter from its chops.

Kars clicked his tongue, "Peanut?"

He seemed even more displeased you had already named it; if you named something, it became hard to lose it. That was a rule many people followed through ancient times.

You let out a shaky laugh, ignoring the chunky paws inarticulately grasping at your clothes as a little pink tongue darted out from a tiny chestnut muzzle, dampening the glistening black button at the very tip.

Peanut was giving you a thorough sniff, making sure that he had consumed all of the delicious food you had brought him and that he hadn't missed a single morsel.

"It fits." You told him, smiling pathetically as you shrugged your shoulders.

Ruby eyes drifted down to the little creature squirming in your lap for more than a beat before he let out another sigh; this time it didn't sound as stern and disapproving as the first but it still sent a shiver down your spine. His lips pulled into a sympathetic frown as he closed the distance between you two, crouching at your side.

"Dear one," he spoke, using the tone he typically reserved for when he was trying to comfort you or give you some advice. "We cannot keep Peanut."

Immediately, you felt your heart quiver at his words; the pulse of the muscle stopped all together as you looked up at him. His eyes, normally the epitome of inhuman and predatory, now softened.

You knew very well he would have this talk with you, albeit much sooner than you anticipated originally, but it didn't change the fact it was making your heart clench painfully in your chest.

"Why?" You questioned. Now it was all you could really say in that moment as everything else that tried to come out got jumbled up in your throat.

You really didn't need to ask such a question however, as you already knew the answer.

"My sunshine, he's a wild Animal; a predator. He may be a small creature now but Cubs like Peanut grow very quickly indeed." He explained gently, wrapping one muscular arm around you. "And as he grows, his appetite will grow; you won't be able to feed him simple sandwiches forever."

Your lips scrunched up as you peered down at the now quiescent black ball of fuzz cradled in your arms. Peanut, his belly now full and all the peanut butter thoroughly cleaned from his paws and face, had closed his eyes and was slowly falling down into a most comfortable mid-morning nap.

He was so cute; so damn cute you wanted to cry. A hand absentmindedly reached up to grasp one of his paws, your thumb tracing over the squishy pads of his feet and feeling the sharp little claws sprouting from the chubby toes like thorns from a rose.

All your life you loved Bears, no matter the kind; Panda Bears, Koala Bears, Grizzly Bears, Sun Bears, Polar Bears, even Black Bears like Peanut... and now here you were, holding one in your very own arms! Hugging it close to your body like one would an everyday Teddy Bear! A real life Bear had just waddled up to you in the forest, clinging to you as if appointing you as its new Mother and caregiver, cuddling in your arms like a loving pet and cooing as you fed it an icky-sticky delight.

It was a dream come true... and now Kars was asking you to wake up and cast it aside.

"But--... But--..." the quivering of your lip made it hard to find a foothold in this dispute.

"And there is also the matter of his behavior." Kars continued softly, one massive palm gently rubbing up and down your back as he spoke. "Bears can grow to be very territorial and temperamental creatures. Their maximum strength can out lift 10 Men and their maximum speed is faster than any vehicle you can drive."

By now your eyes were watering, the fuzzy spot in your arms no longer seemed so very fuzzy as the world around you blurred behind tears.

Kars, of course, was making sense as he always did and you didn't like it one bit.

The living God's frown only deepened as the glistening of the water pooling in your eyes caught his. Truly, he hated to see you cry. Seeing tears in your eyes was something that made him weak in places he never felt such weakness prior to falling in love with you... but your safety was in jeopardy; and that was something he, nor the other Pillarmen who loved you and dotted on you, didn't want to risk over one creature.

"We have to put him back where he belongs." He said; though his words still carried that softness it was undoubtedly an order not to be refused.

"Oh Kars," you sniffed, your nose crinkling as tears began to fall. "I can't do it!"

You turned more fully towards him, presenting the sleepy Cub; practically thrusting him into the Pillarman's arms.

"Just look at him!" You cried. "He's so small and he's all alone! I don't know what happened to his Mother but she's gone and... and..."

One massive hand found your cheek as the tears came harder, a calloused thumb swiping the raging rivers aside.

"Please Kars... I can't give him up... what if he--?...." you wimpered, unable to finish that thought. You were fully aware you had already lost for today as he shook his head sadly.

Your tears did nothing to sway him when he knew what he had to do.

His free hand slipped under the sleeping Cub, Peanut did little more than fill his palm, scooping him up and cradling him close to his chest as he stood.

Your arms had never felt more empty.

"I'm sorry, Beloved. It has to be done." He told you as you stared up at him with a crestfallen and teary gaze. "Chances are, his natural instincts will kick in and he will learn to take care of himself despite the absence of his Mother. Abandoned Cubs are more common than you think. Peanut needs to go back to the woods."

That was all that could be said, the Pillarman disappeared in one blinding flash; taking the Bear Cub with him.

You were left there sitting on the porch, scrubbing at your cheeks with the sleeve of your sweater until the sensitive skin was raw in the cool Spring morning air. You managed to pull yourself together enough to not raise suspicion and headed back inside to make some coffee.

The morning passed quietly, when Kars made his eventual return to the house (sans Bear in hand) you didn't even look him in the eye.

You didn't deny that Kars had done the right thing, Peanut was in fact a wild Animal and belonged to the wilderness, but you still felt strangely bitter over it. So inexplicably angry it almost felt childish as you couldn't stop yourself from glaring at his back as he passed the kitchen table.

More time passed, your only half-drunk mug of coffee had long gone cold and your grief for the little Bear you knew that was left all alone somewhere in the woods had managed to ebb somewhat. You were just about to get up to go get a start on some chores when all of a sudden, Wamuu came through the door.

"Shoo! Shoo!" The massive Pillarman swiped his hand as he backed himself through the door, "Go on! Go back to your Home, small one."

You tilted your head, watching the unusual display. "What's wrong?"

The blonde turned his head to look at you with a frown. "I was trying to finish up my morning task when a Bear came out of the woods." He explained, finally closing the door with a sigh. Your gasp went unnoticed as he peered through the window of the door, his frown only etching deeper. "It's too small to be a juvenile. Just a Cub. I did not want to find out if there was a Mother lingering so I came back to the House. However, it seems to have decided to follow me..."

The Warrior blinked as you were suddenly out of your seat, squeezing past him to squish against the window of the door to see for yourself.

"Peanut!" You cried, your heart fluttering in your chest as you too caught sight of the little round ink blot sitting dejectedly on the porch.

Wamuu barely had a chance to react let alone intervene as you yanked open the door again, the sounds of the crying Bear hitting your ears.

It was Peanut alright, every feature similar right down to the whiskers of his muzzle. The Bear was plopped down on his rear, feet sticking out under him like he were a simple Teddy Bear sitting on the shelf of a toy store, and staring up at the door he knew you were behind. The squeaky wailing of the Cub fell silent as soon as he caught sight of you and realized he was no longer all alone, it seemed that he missed you just as much as you had him.

Wamuu stared in disbelief, watching with wide eyes as the little Bear rolled onto his back to reveal his soft tummy and stubby paws to you.

"Peanut?" The blonde questioned, one thick eyebrow raising as he looked between you both.

This was a wild Animal and yet you greeted it like some sort of pet!

As your leaned down to give a loving rub to the exposed tummy of the Bear, cooing at it as contentment spread across its features. You intended to recount this mornings full story to ease Wamuu's obvious confusion, however, you didn't so much as get the chance to get a word out before Kars was standing in the room.

He had just been about to head upstairs and absorb himself in his work, when he caught a snippet of what was happening in the kitchen. The Pillarman's crimson eyes wide as he approached, needing to see what was happening for himself.

"Look Kars!" You beamed, grinning up at both gawking Pillarmen as the Bear grasped at your petting hand, playfully trying to gum on your fingers with blunt little teeth. "Peanut came back!"

Kars all but shared in your glee, the pinching of his brows and the drooping of his lips gave away his irritation.

He had dropped Peanut off safely somewhere in the woods, not far from your usual walking path. When he had left, the Cub had still been sound asleep, completely none the wiser to being left behind, and the Pillarman had honestly thought that would be that.

It would seem the creature had imprinted on you more than he anticipated and it only added on to his previous fears.

"I'm afraid I'm in need of an explanation, my Lord..." Wamuu spoke up, tearing his gaze away from you and the Bear Cub you were most happily playing with.

Kars swooped in, taking the Cub away from you for the 2nd time that morning, much like an Eagle dropping from the sky to snatch up a mouse. Peanut pawed at his hardened chest, becoming squirmy in the massive mans hold as he let out a couple of little grunts.

It was as if the Bear knew exactly what Kars intended to do.

"I'll explain it to you in full when I return, Wamuu." He sighed as he begun carrying the squirming woodland creature away from the House towards the woods where he deemed it rightfully belonged.

You waved at the baby Bear as it watched you from over one muscled shoulder with those big honeyed eyes, feeling a little disheartened again but the fact that the Cub came looking for you still made a sweet warmth bloom in your chest.

It would be far from the last time any of you saw Peanut.

Late morning turned to afternoon and the day bloomed into something warm and lovely, like a watered down Summer day. Linens and towels came straight from the washing machine and were headed for the clothesline to dry in the sweet air.

There was absolutely nothing better than falling asleep in bedsheets that had spent all day out on a line in the breeze.

Always happy to help you around the household, Esidisi volunteered to put them out for you as you were already busy doing other things around the house.

He had only turned his back for 2 seconds to hang the first sheet, humming softly to himself as he went, before turning to find a baby Bear making himself at Home in the laundry basket he had carried out. Peanut was rubbing his scent all over the damp linens as he rolled in and pawed at the clean sheets; inevitably dirtying them again.

Esidisi found the whole ordeal hilarious, most especially when he was fed the full story of the morning by you who had come out to see what was taking him so long with his chore.

Kars, on the other hand, didn't find it so very funny.

He especially didn't see the humor in it when he found the two of you playing with Peanut in the yard, entertaining yourselves and the Cub by draping a sheet over him and prying it off like a parachute over and over.

Peanut was taken back to the forest a 3rd time; this time much farther into the woods.

Late afternoon rolled around and Santana finally left the house to go outside; having the sole intention of taking a nap in the fresh air via the hammock that had been recently strung up in the backyard.

Unfortunately, the youngest Pillarman got sidetracked when a little Bear came out of the woodwork and crawled into the hammock with him, mewling and demanding his immediate attention as he was hungry once again.

Kars, the one and only, spirited Peanut away before you and Santana had a chance to make more sandwiches to feed it.

This happened over and over and over again.

It seemed like every time the Pillarman dumped Peanut somewhere, no matter how remote or how far from your Home, the little Bear inevitably found its way back sooner or later; ambling up to you or the others with a mighty hunger and a carefree nature unmatched.

Peanut appeared on the doorstep next morning when you were about to head out for a walk.

Peanut was found digging in the trash bin when Kars was taking out the trash.

Peanut clung to Wamuu's leg as he went out to mow the lawn; the Warrior didn't so much as bat an eye, unhindered, as the Cub held onto his ankle while he worked the mower.

Peanut approached Santana when he was eating chips on the porch; the Pillarmen didn't seem to mind the company nor the fact the Bear ended up upside down in the bag.

Peanut followed you around like you were its one true Mother while you tended the yard and carried out chores.

Peanut sat contently at Esidisi's feet as the man was Barbecuing supper in the evening; the Bear watching him and waiting for supper to be served as if he were the guest of Honor.

Each time, without fail, Kars brought him back to the woods and each time, without fail, Peanut came back.

It was only frustrating him further and further.

Eventually, one quiet and rainy morning Kars went out onto the porch to sit and read; he always enjoyed the sound of rainfall and the fresh earthen smell of a Spring downpour. He had barely been there 5 minutes, not even enough time to get truly immersed in his novel, when suddenly a very wet and cold ball of hair climbed up into his lap, actually making the Pillarman yelp at the shock of the sensation of a freezing cold Cub pressing against his bare skin.

Kars was big and dry and comfortable, like a much bigger and hairless Bear, a place Peanut deemed perfect enough to sit out of the Rain and warm up.

The purple-haired man frowned down at the chubby bundle taking up residence in his lap, Peanut grunted contently as he made himself comfortable. His normally downy soft and dandelion puffed fur was now patterned down and awry, radiating with a dank with a heady, musky Bear smell due to being soaking wet.

It was not at all a pleasant smell to anyone's nose, most especially to a Pillarman's as they were creatures with extra sensitive senses.

Kars, now feeling that this was the final straw, was just about to scoop the creature up into his arms and carry out their usual pick up and drop off routine; this time he intended to take Peanut all the way down river to the farthest side of the forest and leave him there.

He stopped on a dime when two big pools of honey locked onto glimmering rubies.

"Don't look at me like that..." the Pillarman warned, feeling his heart quiver strangely in his chest. The command didn't come out nearly as firm as he intended it to be.

Kars treasured creatures big and small and this creature was so adorable, so small it made his arms itch in ways he hadn't felt since the time he had taken care of the two infants that grew to be Wamuu and Santana. Peanut rolled in his lap, squishing his face against the Pillarman's abs and nuzzling softly; his fur stuck to bare skin in an almost icky way and made his loincloth feel very damp and uncomfortable due to the run off of water.

The Pillarman pursed his lips, forcing himself to bring to mind all the logical points on why this Bear (this nuisance, this danger, this predator) had to go.

Peanut opened his mouth and let out a little yawn and a sneeze, probably just as hungry as he was cold and damp.

Kars' huge hands balled into fists at his sides, his jaw setting tighter and tighter as he felt himself and the walls of his determination crumbling, hating every single millisecond of it before eventually, after an internal struggle that lasted seemingly millennium... he sighed.

Peanut was scooped into his arms and, this time, taken into the House.

☆☆☆

"Really?!" You cried in disbelief, hands going to your mouth as it pulled into an impossibly huge grin.

Esidisi, Wamuu and Santana just sat there, expressions ranging from shock to disbelief of their own.

Surely he couldn't be serious... could he?

Kars let out a long breath, "Yes, dearest." He groaned, still cradling the tiny dampened Bear in the crook of his arm as it clung to his bicep. "We can keep Peanut."

Immediately, to everyone’s amusement but Kars', you were in his lap just as quickly as the Cub had climbed into it. You didn't care one bit that he was a little damp and that some of Peanuts musky stink had rubbed off on him, peppering his face with thousands of kisses as you threw your arms around both the Pillarman and the Cub.

"Oh Kars! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" You squealed between your line of kisses.

Nobody had expected Kars to cave in this matter; they honestly expected this to go on and on for some time until Peanut was forced to be the one to give up on finding his way back to the house.

However, despite the fact all of them were pleased and ready to take on this idea of having an actual living Bear around, there came the next matters to attend to.

The ground rules.

"But he cannot stay inside the house." Kars said, that firm nature of his making its return. Peanut had managed to wriggle out of both of your holds and was now ambling around the Livingroom, sniffing everything and everyone in sight. Esidisi was following him around to ensure he wouldn't break anything or get himself into more trouble while Kars was feeling so generous, smiling indulgently as he scooped him up and presented him to the others.

"Ok." You hummed, that part was only to be expected.

But you wouldn't deny that somewhere in the back of your mind you had fantasized about cuddling up to a giant fuzzy Peanut in bed or on the couch.

Kars took in another deep breath and the atmosphere changed, it was as if the temperature dropped in the room. The mans eyes were serious and his features became even more stonelike than the masks he crafted as he pulled you closer to him in his lap.

"I want you to listen to me, dear one." He began, his voice was low and something akin to fridged; it only sent shivers dancing down your spine. "If Peanut grows to be an aggressive creature or too much a hassle to handle, even if he gives any of us the slightest reason to fear he would harm you in any way, shape or form... we'll have to be rid of him. Permanently."

His words hung in the air, making your stomach sink like a rock falling helplessly to the depths of the ocean. A lump was starting to balloon in your throat.

You knew very well what that meant.

The Pillarmen weren't men who took any form of pleasure out of killing Animals; Kars especially... but you knew that he would not hesitate to do so for your sake. His words spoken to you prior on the porch when you first encountered the Cub rang around quite deafeningly in your head.

"Do I make myself clear?" He asked you, his pupils burned absolute holes into your heart as he held your gaze; not unlike a strict parent after giving the scolding of a lifetime.

The best you could do was nod, praying the day you all feared would never come at all or at least not very soon; the latter was perhaps your best hope.

For now, however, you planned on celebrating the day by making a peanut butter sandwich for the newest, and perhaps hungriest, member of your little Family.

☆☆☆

Time passed, as it did for everything, and Peanut grew and grew. He grew from a small and clumsy little Bear Cub into a bigger and gangly Juvenile Bear by mid Summer.

Sometimes the Bear would disappear at night into the woods, just after supper of course, but there were also times he would just sleep close to the house; most specifically by the front porch. Peanut still followed you around outside as you did anything, always greeting you with a grunt as he flopped onto his back to reveal his belly and were always more than happy to rub it when he did.

His appetite did indeed grow and the simple peanut butter namesake was no longer truly fulfilling to him; nothing more than a sweet morsel to lick up as a treat.

Peanut had to be shown how to properly hunt for himself and that was something you and Esidisi decided to tackle together, taking him down to the river on the hottest days to teach him to to fish for himself. Those days were filled with much laughter on your part where you sat on the bank to watch the Pillarmen wading out in the raging waters with the Bear, hunched forward and making a grab for a slippery and wet flying fish with his hands as they jumped from the water to properly demonstrate.

Eventually, after much trial and error (not to mention Esidisi falling right into the river a handful of times) Peanut was able to catch all the fish he wanted to eat.

Wamuu was a big help in burning off the major energy that came with Peanut growing into an adult Bear. The Warrior often spent hours out in the yard playing with him, going so far as to push and wrestle with the creature, playing simple games like throwing a giant ball around or to even take him on a run through the woods to tire him out.

Sometimes you even tailed behind the pair on your 4 wheeler to get in on the fun and play.

Santana found himself spending his days playing with Peanut too, more often content to help you take care of the beast. You and Santana tried to bath Peanut at least once every 2 weeks to fight against his stinky Bear musk, lathering him up nicely where he sat contently in an old kiddie pool in the yard and hosing him off. Santana would spend a lot of time with Peanut as the Bear napped, scratching his back and finger combing the knots out of his fur; even plucking annoying ticks from the Bears body when he found them.

You found it quite disturbing, and more than a little gross, as to how Santana could hold the bloated insects between his fingers and pop them upon finding them. You swore you could hear the red-head chuckle lowly each time you let out a disgusted gag when he done it.

And Kars, he found himself dotting over and spoiling Peanut with affection just as much as you did.

The Pillarman would deny any claims that he snuck the Bear peanut butter sandwiches between meals or even peanut butter straight from the jar but you knew the truth. It was hard to miss as it seemed Peanut would immediately give Kars a good sniffing upon seeing him, obviously checking for any delicious treats he happened to be keeping concealed.

By late Fall, Peanut was a fully grown Adult Bear.

In fact, he had swollen to such an immense size, he was something of a rival to the Pillarmen; by that time it was something of a relief he was a gentle giant. He was still a wild Animal but he was also a loving pet to you and the 4 Pillarmen.

One day, Peanut stumbled out into the woods and didn't return. Snow came not long after and then the brutal and fridged season of Winter truly begun.

Peanut had disappeared but you knew he wasn't far in the woods, hopefully holed up in a cave and hibernating.

Winter passed slowly, more slowly than it ever had before. As December ticked away to January and eventually February, the others didn't miss how much you missed your Peanut; he was all you could talk about somedays! You weren't the only one who missed him however, not missing the wistful looks passing over the faces of the others upon seeing a segment on Black Bears airing on National Geographic or opening the fridge to find the jar of peanut butter sitting there; untouched and almost begging to be eaten.

March went bye, then April and the snow had long melted away due to the heavy rainfall but still, Peanut did not make his return.

You were seriously starting to worry by this time. What if he hadn't been hibernating all along? What if a Hunter had gotten to him? Or what if... he forgot about you?

The Pillarmen could only console you so much, trying their best not to give you false hope by saying things along the lines of "I'm sure he'll be around!" and make things worse as they really did not know of Peanut's fate either...

It was well over a year since you had first taken in the Cub and now there was no sign of him anywhere.

But just when you were starting to give up all hope of seeing your prized Bear and companion again, you opened the door one morning as you prepared to go on your morning walk to be met with shock.

You just about jumped out of your skin as an earth rattling roar hit your eardrums, sending a jolt of fear striking through your body like lightning and screaming in primal terror at the sight before you. A Black Bear that was larger than life stood on its haunches off the porch, its maw open and its breath showing like hot puffs of steam as it growled out into the cold Spring air; asserting its presence for miles.

For one terrible and too long of a moment, you thought you would be slaughtered on your own doorstep by your most favorite Animal on Earth.

Your terror was short-lived however, as the monstrous beast you feared would devour you whole suddenly flopped onto its back and turned its belly to the sky.

"PEANUT!" You cried, spreading your arms wide as you ran to flop on top of the creature; your friend and pet.

It wasn't long after when all 4 Pillarmen were standing out on the porch, your screech having been heard from inside the house.

"Look Kars!" You beamed, rubbing the gargantuan tummy with a wide grin; eliciting a content grunt from the Bear. "Peanut came back!

Kars could only smile this time and shake his head.

Peanut had come back again, without fail; just as he always done and the Pillarmen were quite happy he was here to stay...

#funnybunny #pillarmen #kars #esidisi #wamuu #santana #pillarmen headcanons #kars x reader #esidisi x reader #wamuu x reader #santana x reader #anon ask #my writing

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anomander-dragnipurake · 3 years

Text

Bowuigi Valentines

“Sir, I assure you this is a rather unwise decision,” Kamek said as soon as Bowser finishing telling him where they were headed and why. This was exactly why Bowser hadn’t wanted to bring him in the first place but he’d invited himself aboard and they’d took off before Bowser had realized. But it was too late, they were already on the airship, well on their way to the Mushroom Kingdom. “And I’m not just saying that because I disapprove of you wanting to date him, even though there’s that too. What if Mario’s there or Princess Peach?”

Bowser hadn’t considered that but… “It’s Valentine’s Day, why would they be at Luigi’s place?” Surely, they had to have better things to do be doing in general but especially today.

“They could be. Also, what makes you think asking the brother of your former nemesis out on a date is a good idea? It was bad enough you’re being friendly with each other and letting him babysit your kids. What if he betrays you, huh?”

“First off, Mario is still my nemesis, the fact that I haven’t kidnapped Peach in ages doesn’t change that. Second, Luigi’s not going to betray me.” Bowser was typically pretty skeptical of people too but with Luigi, he just didn’t see it happening. And that was a large part of why Bowser had fallen for him. Of course he could still turn Bowser down which would suck but… it didn’t hurt to try, right?

Kamek adjusted his glasses in that obnoxious way he always did before going off on a rant about why Bowser should or should not do something. Thankfully before he could even get out a single word, the airship bell rang outside, indicating they’d reached their destination and were beginning to descend. Bowser quickly gathered up the heart shaped box of chocolates and bouquet of flowers off the desk and fled the captain’s cabin.

He’d never been to Luigi’s home before but it being a mansion made it a bit hard to miss even before he’d reached the ship’s railing. It was bigger than Luigi’s description had made it seem. And despite having only relatively recently been cleared of ghosts, it didn’t look haunted, just kind of old and a little dilapidated, fancy though. Overall Bowser liked it even if his castle was still better.

As the ship neared the ground, Bowser vaulted over the railing, landing with a thud on the ground below. He didn’t look back at it as he started down the path for the front door. Let Kamek be mad and disapprove, he was old and single so what did even know about romance anyway? Besides Bowser was the Koopa King and thus he did as he pleased.

Despite his resolve, he faltered a little as he reached the front door. He was a big bad fire breathing reptile, a former enemy of the Mushroom Kingdom, what were the chances someone as pure hearted as Luigi could possibly feel even slightly romantically inclined towards him? Not good, right? Even if they were friends now. … He was already here though and going back now would be the same as listening to Kamek so… with a deep breath, he pressed the doorbell, careful not to push it too hard.

He had to ring it twice more a couple minutes later before Luigi answered. That was just like him, he had a whole mansion and a bunch of money but did he hire any kind of house staff? Nope, of course not. Why would he when he could just do it all himself?

“Who…” Luigi cut off, freezing in place as he stared up at Bowser. “Oh uh… hey Bowser. What are you doing here and uh… um… why are you dressed so nicely?” Ah, good he seemed to like the suit. Or maybe not, it was hard to tell but he’d certainly noticed it and felt some way about it.

“I came to ask if you would do me the honor of being my Valentine?” With a flourish, Bowser pulled the box of chocolates and flowers out from behind his back to offer to Luigi.

Once more Luigi froze solid, only his eyes moving as he looked at the gifts then back up at Bowser’s face and then back again. He made a vague gesture towards himself. “M-me? Really?” That wasn’t a ‘no’ so… perhaps Bowser stood a chance after all?

“Yes, you!” It wasn’t often Bowser was unsure or nervous about something but… he really didn’t want to mess this up. “I already have a diner reservation at the fanciest place in my kingdom or yours if you’d like to go with me.”

“I uh… um…” Luigi shifted, looking away. … Oh no, he was going say ‘no’, wasn’t he? That made sense. What was Bowser even thinking, coming out here to ask him this?

“It’s fine if you don’t…”

“Yes!” Luigi interrupted with surprising amount to intensity. “I mean uh… I would love to be your Valentine and uh… go on a date with you.” He accepted the flowers and chocolate with a large smile.

Intense relief washed through Bowser, making him feel almost like he needed to sit down. “Wonderful,” he said because he needed to say something. “Whenever you’re ready go, the airship awaits.” He gestured back towards it. As per his instructions the shy guys had lowered the boarding plank and rolled out a carpet on it. They flanked it, waiting for Bowser and Luigi to board. Kamek was nowhere in sight, he was probably still sulking in the captain’s cabin; whatever, he’d get over it eventually.

“Oh wow uh… I should get ready then, huh? Just… give me a moment. And uh… feel free to come in.” Luigi ducked back inside, leaving the door open for Bowser to follow.

Inside, the foyer was unsurprisingly clean and tidy. The floorboards creaked under Bowser’s weight which was the eternal problem with wooden flooring. Luigi was already off somewhere, presumably to his room to get ready, leaving Bowser to wait here for him. Which was fine, he needed some time to get over his nerves anyway.

He didn’t have to wait long though, not even five minutes later, Luigi reemerged from the upstairs room. Bowser’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of him and what he wore; a lovely flowing green dress. “You don’t mind if I wear this, do you?” he asked as he nervously descended the stairs. “I can change again if you’d prefer.”

“Nah, don’t. It looks good on you.”

Luigi seemed to almost let out a sigh of relief as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “Also uh… before we go, I went back and forth a lot on whether or not I was going to mail this to you and then it eventually became too late so I thought I wouldn’t but then… here you are so… here.” As he reached Bowser, he pulled out a card he’d been holding behind his back and handed it to him.

‘Happy Valentine’s Day’ was written on the front in fancy lettering in the middle of a large red heart. Inside Luigi’s handwriting was neat and tidy. ‘Dear Bowser, you’ve come a long way since I first approached you about no longer going after Peach to fight Mario and we’ve been friends for a while now. Honestly, I’ve grown rather fond of you so I hope it is not too forward of me to ask if you’d perhaps like to try being more than solely friends. Answer next time we chat or just ignore this if you’d rather not, it’s totally fine. Yours truly, Luigi.’

Bowser chuckled as he looked back up at Luigi. He hadn’t been the only one thinking this at all, wonderful. “I’d like that very much.”

Luigi’s mustache partially hid his blush it was still unmistakably there. “I’m glad! Though… this does mean we’re probably going to have to tell Mario, huh? Keeping a friend secret is one thing but keeping a romantic partner a secret is uh… something else.”

True and that was honestly the only real downside to any of this but… “We’ll worry about that later.” Bowser waved that thought away, it didn’t matter right now so why even bother thinking about it? “We have a date to get to if you’re ready.”

“Uh… yeah, we can worry about that later. I’m ready to go.”

#My writing #super mario bros #Bowuigi #Bowser/Luigi #Valentines Day

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alvhiedeir · 3 years

Text

Little Red Elf

Thor X Reader

3174 words

This is longer than intended and quite different than requested and I have no excuse than my lack of discipline but I hope this is good enough

You are seriously thinking about investing on a security camera.

No, it wasn't that you were worried about being robbed. It's was being, 'gifted'.

In an almost daily basis, different items would make it's way to your doorstep. Black roots, hyacinth, hellebores, poppies and other herbs that would usually not grow around the area. It was nice, that was the first thought you had. You were no Circe, the great witch of Aiaia, but such ingredients could and did help greatly with your draughts. So as much as this occurrence should startle you, you brushed it off as the doing of one of your friends working for Lord Osanyin who would usually send you samples of anything new. You figured business was just doing better than usual for her to give you this much.

Two weeks, it continued on. When you rise for the day, there would be a neatly placed bundle of herbs or plant on your front steps. Always perfectly centered. And for two weeks, you accepted each and everything in such giddiness.

That is until you until today.

"I haven't been given you anything, (y/n)," She turned away from the selves she was organizing and continued, "it's been pretty busy lately for the last month with the arrival of new supply from Asia."

Her answer gave you a sudden feeling of uneasiness.

"Then who," your voice trailed, dragging the weariness and alert in the air. Your friend was quick to catch the shift of your mood.

"But think about it," she placed the bottle she was holding and walked towards you, "those herbs are rare and what are the chances of a random miscreant obtaining it?"

It eased your nerves a bit to hear her words.

"Or maybe, you finally have an admirer even if your always holed up in your home!"

She laughed at the jesting glare you sent.

"Like you're any better, cat lady."

"Hey! Having four cats does not count as being a cat lady!"

"Sure, whatever you say."

You shared a laugh, the tension thinning out. After saying a few words, she went back to the counter to pack the herbs that you bought, the reason why you were there in the first place.

"You bought quite a lot. What is it for anyway?"

"Loki wanted some draughts to "bring entertainment around this damn boring halls", his words not mine."

She laughed, commenting how it sounded just like him. She handed you the carefully packed products, with a small purple ribbon tied on the basket as she always did for you.

Just as you're about to leave she called out.

"If you're still disturb about the whole mysterious gifts, why don't you try staying up to see who it is?" You thanked her for her suggestion and concern and with a wave, headed back home.

To say the least, her suggestion was not very successful.

After you went home, you got started on the ordered draughts and by the time the moon greeted the sky, your eyes were already heavy. Being stubborn, you stayed sitting in your kitchen, chair facing the window to see if anyone or anything would past by.

The minutes were slow and before you knew it, the sun has reclaimed its place. And there was yet another gift. A freshly uprooted crab apple tree that barely passes as an adult. How in the world did they get this one?

Another week fast approached and the gifts arrived just as fast. Cornel bark, elecampane, silver fir, the list goes on. Each night, you attempt to desperately stay awake to catch but a glimpse would always end up with you succumbing to sleep. It didn't matter if it was for hours or a mere minute, by the moment your eyelids flutter open, it was already there. Perfectly centered as always, in an almost mocking way.

"You missed us again", you could hear the ridicule from it.

As days flutter, the gifts and your frustrations would only intensify. One time it was antlers from a dear Australia. The other day it was the tusk of a bore. Yesterday it was the blood of steed. The last one made you panic a bit, but thankfully in came only in a small vial. It eased your nerves, albeit slightly that the animal was minimally harmed.

You tried sleeping in the morning so that so that you could roam at night. But when you rise from your chair for a drink or to go the toilet, the sneaky bastard have already placed another gift. You went as far as sitting on your doorstep for the whole night, but even that didn't help. The gift was on your window.

You were at your wits end with this "Persistent Santa" shenanigans (it was your friend who called them that. It was that or creepy-pile-of-dung-that-had-to-much-time). Whoever they were, they are good.

You sighed tiredly again, the dark bags proving Your fruitless efforts.

"Wow, you look miserable!" You silently snapped at the voice, too sleepy to argue but to proud to ignore it. His laugh was laugh, always happy to see others demise.

"Just give me the money, Loki." You impatiently thrust the basket full of draughts to him, eager to leave and maybe sleep for a few days.

"Aren't you greedy." The more he teases you, the more punching him right in the face became an increasingly good option. As if reading your voice, he raised his hands in mock surrender.

" I would pay you, but," he dragged his voice as floated closer to you, "I dont have my money right now. And the old man is calling me so can you wait a few minutes for me?" He smiled, oh-so-mockingly sweet at you.

A tomato would have been jealous of the tint of your check. The itching call for violence is now an unignorable howler. But before you can give in, the god of mischief is already pushing you into one of the rooms, claiming your silence as agreement. In a blink, you were in a well decorated room. The walls were cream in color and golden leaves decorated the corners. Threre were shelves of book against one side of the wall and-

"Wait a minute." Snapping out of your trance, you shouted, voice filled with vile, "Loki!"

But sadly, it came too late and the door have already been shut and only his feint mocking voice telling "enjoy!" Was heard from the other side.

You could sighed, pity for your own predicament. Moving towards one of the shelves with a colorful string of curse words following, you might sa well entertain yourself with something. The books were more old, and probably cost more than your soul. Each one was placed neat and organized, neither a speck or spot of dust could be seen. But one particular book caught your eye.

With a gentle finger, you traced the gold imprints on its spine.

Herbs, Medicine and Witchcraft

Unlike everything else, this one book was placed different. It was pulled slightly forward, as if recently placed back but someone else other than the organizer. When you pull it out, you also noticed the small, almost miniscule dirt on its cover. But other than that, it was nothing special.

"I didn't think they'll have this kind of book."

You sat down and flipped on a random page. It was filled with information about different plants that can be used for both medicine and, surprisingly witchcraft. It included their typical use, characteristics, side effects and their locations. And it was very specific too.

"I wonder if I can borrow this."

Page upon page was flipped, despite the fascination dwelling in you, drowsiness became unbearable. It was just so quiet and peaceful here. Maybe a few minutes won't hurt, right?

"Loki will be there for a while anyway. Might as well." Your reasoning seemed to make sense with your tired eyes and you rest your head. Not even bothered by the fact that you used the book as your pillow.

It'll just be few minutes anyway.

It wasn't a few minutes.

Slowly, your eyelids fluttered as consciousness begin to come back. You sighed contently, that nap certainly helped with your mood. You buried your nose deeper into the soft cloth you leaned on and inhaled. It smelled like fresh lilacs and the sun.

Wait, cloth?

You lifted your head and saw, indeed there was a neatly folded cloth on the place of the book. It was pale apricot, almost faded white and now that you are looking properly, it was a short robe?

"I starting to think you were not going to wake up."

Do you know the sound of a startled walrus with a respiratory disease? Imagine that, but worse. That how you sounded as you whipped your head in surprise to the voice. Right beside you was the god of thunder himself, Thor. The difference in size between him and the chair he was resting on was almost comical. You would have laughed if it wasn't for the fact you want to live a longer.

"He-hello Thor-sama." Damnit, what did you stutter?

He casted his eyes sideways to acknowledge your greeting, glacing right back into reading afterwards.

Looking yourself, it was then you noticed the book he was reading was the one you were previously sleeping on.

"It didn't seem like you were using it," his voice was monotone as for usual, "aside as a pillow, that is."

Ahh, the sheer pleasure of being swallowed by the ground right now would be nice.

"Ah! That- I! Yes..." You simply stared at your lap instead, fist clenched tightly on top. Better to stay quiet that to embarrass yourself further.

Thor was in between being an acquaintance and a work friend. Neither of you talked much, aside from greetings and small talk but was more than used to his presence with the number of times you had to deliver things to Loki, enough so that you don't have to tremble everytime you meet.

But sitting this close, in a close space, alone, this was definitely the first time.

And it'll be the last if you're not careful.

The silence was suffocating, for you at least. You have almost jumped in your sit when he flipped a page in the book.

A minute passed and you are so closed to jumping out of the window. The room was too quiet. Making small talk won't be bad at times like this right?

"It's a nice book."

Wow. If you could, you would have hit yourself in the back of your head. Great thinking, really.

He merely nodded and the silence dragged once again.

"There's a lot of useful information in it."

Stop, just stop. Please stop digging your own grave.

"That's why it's a shame to be drooled on."

"I do not drool!"

In the distant, the sound of funeral bells rang clear in your head. The life you lived was good. Your friend will remember what flower you wanted to be placed on your coffin, and she can have your house, maybe even your-

Before you could complete your will, you heard a smallest of chuckle from the other god.

Huh?

You stared at Thor and sure enough, there's the tiniest arch in his lips. His eyes remains on the pages but - shit - has he always been this pretty?

Between the brief greetings and quick glances, it was hard to appreciate his beauty. Though mostly blank, his face was clear and smooth. Not a single blemish as one might expect from a god who knew battlefield as his home. He was no Aphrodite nor comparable to Paris, but he himself held a beauty of his own. You couldn't quite decide on if it was the light from the window or it was simply him that was glowing?

His neck flexed in the smallest notion as he read. The muscles of his shoulders were relaxed against the table.

Heavens. Those muscles.

You blushed on your thoughts. You tear your eyes away from his physique, the wooden table suddenly very interesting.

"It is rare to see you without Mjolnir, Thor-sama."

"I don't bring him when I read."

"Him?" The question lingered on your head. Was Thor one of 'those' people?

"Do you read often?"

"No."

"Are you interested in herbal medicine?"

"No."

"Is that so?" Your answer was awkward just as the air around you. But to the very least, the tension have eased out knowing that he didn't obliterate you so far.

"Um, Thor-sama?"

Curse you and your need to fill in the silence.

"May I ask why you are reading a book about witchcraft? You do not seem the type to be interested in it." Realizing what you said was potentially insulting, you quickly apologized, eyes wide as you tried to explain. "Not that you don't look like it! What I mean is, um, - that." You stumbled over your own words with nervousness but he simply kept his eyes in the book, barely even glancing at you.

"... give you." His voice made you stop with your gibberish. Catching only the tail-end of his words, you looked at him questioningly. Only then did you realize that it has almost been a minute since he flipped a page, almost as if your question startled him as well.

"Ma-may you repeat that?"

There was a short pause before his answer came.

"So that I know what to give you."

Furrowed brows and confused eyes marked your features.

"So that I know what to give you."

His words repeated in your head, like an stubborn echo inside a cavern.

"I know what to give you."

"Give you."

"Give."

Oh shit.

"You're the Persistent Santa?!" The chair you previously sat on collided with the floor with a loud "thud". Hands planted heavily against the table, you casted accusing eyes to him.

Before any other words were uttered, your senses made its way back to your head like a harsh slap of water. You just yelled at the strongest Norse god. You might as well have dug your own hole and painted your tombstone.

But all fear and confusion left you as you stare at the fore mentioned god. He was not glancing down anymore but instead his eyes found its place opposite of your direction. And if one would look close, really intently stared, the faintest of red could be seen blooming in his cheeks.

"He-he's blushing."

Thor is blushing.

"You shouldn't be shouting here." His voice did not have the same air of threat and authority it usually holds. If your ears were right, it almost sounded like he was embarrassed.

Silently picking up the fallen chair, you sat down with your eyes burning holes the robe infront of you. Which you have almost forgotten was there.

Thinking back to the times you interacted with him, one word would usually come to mind. Quiet. He would acknowledge your presence or sometimes even greet you during the times you bump into one another but has never to made a conversation. Compared to Loki, you have always figured that maybe he was just more refined.

It wasn't until you heard his tale from your friend that you have gathered a sort of fear towards him. You knew how gods are, how vile and wrathful they are. And a god of his caliber could wipe you with a single flicker of his finger.

You would now bow and act more politely to him. Going as far as trying to avoid any contact with him.

But now sitting a mere foot apart, you felt no threat. No danger. And only then did you realize that you have never really felt any danger to begin with. When he speaks, he did not have the murderous aura that they claim to choke anyone. He had never given you any reason to fear him, it was only you who decided to believed other's opinion.

"I'm sorry."

As if a trigger, his head turned to you upon hearing your timid voice but you dare not look at his eyes.

"You don't-"

"Not just for yelling."

Where did you get the courage to cut him off? You do not know. But, still with the false bravery, you continued.

"I mean, I have been very rude to you for a long time,"

"You have never been mean to me and I only returned the gesture by fearing you without any basis of."

With every fiber of yours screaming otherwise, you turned to look at him in the eye.

"I'm really sorry."

The longer you look into those golden eyes the more the heat on your neck spreads to your cheeks.

Guess his hair isn't the only thing red now.

"It's nothing," surprisingly it was Thor who turned away first. This time though, you eyes remained on him with a small smile. Youu have been missing out on so many things. But now, you have the eternity to catch up. And you're sure as hell you will.

"Thor-sama."

"Just Thor."

You laughed a bit, a sound that you did not notice brought a smile on his own lips.

"Why did you give me those gift anyway."

He turned his head to the other direction, but your keen eyes could see his tainted red ears.

"Loki said gifts were a good way to get close to someone." You grinned.

"I should have known better than listen to him."

His words dragged a loud laugh from you. The thought of him asking Loki, of all people for an advice was something you thought you'll never hear. And the small pout in his voice upon the next statement both brought you giddiness and butterflies.

Your hands instinctively covered your mouth, but still the sounds slipped through. And if you would have opened your eyes that moment, you would have seen the adoration in Thor's as he watches you.

Yes, it was embarrassing to ask his cousin for advice and finding those herbs was a hard task. But if seeing you like this, with lips arch into the most beautiful smile he have seen filled with happiness he once thought he couldn't bring you, then he would do it a thousand more.

Bonus:

Outside the closed doors, Loki grinned at himself. Trying to get you two was a pain with how standoffish Thor was by this was the most entertainment he had for a long time.

"What the hell are you doing?" It was one of Odin's crow that screeched from beging, as they watch the god smiling, and by experience it never means well.

"Oh nothing," he sing-songed. He floated pass his uncle but never before saying,

"Hope you're ready for grandkids!"

"Huh?"

But they did not receive an answer, only a chorus of laughter from the god of mischief as he drift away.

If you don't know who's Circe is, she's a witch in the Greek mythology that turned sailors into pigs. Odysseus met her during his travel home from the Trojan war. She turned his men into pig too. And it's a book of Madeline Miller too! You should really read her books.

This was requested by @tenshi-san and I apologize that I might have strayed too far from your prompt. I really hope I did your husbando some justice. He was so hard to write because that only thing I can see him as is bored😂. But I hope you still like it!

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #Thor #Loki #SnV Thor #fanfiction #x reader #snv x reader

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imagining-in-the-margins · 4 years

Text

Here to Misbehave (Pt. 1 | S.R.)

Summary: Spencer meets a girl he can't get enough of at the nightclub, then quickly realizes she is not supposed to be there.

A/N: This work deals with a lot of dark themes. There will be imperfect characters, and they will make mistakes. If you are sensitive, please read each chapter's content warnings carefully and alert me if I am missing any.

This work is undergoing heavy edits. Thank you for your patience!

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: NSFW, 18+ Series Content Warnings: Adults w/ Age Difference (10yr), heavy petting, drinking Word Count: 4.4k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

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There are many reasons to come to a nightclub. For some, it's an excuse to find someone to kill their loneliness. For others, it's a chance to escape themselves. I wasn't sure which I was more of that night. All I knew was that I was ready for something, anything to break the monotony.

The pulsing bass reverberated through the floor, and I let it take me somewhere else for a while. I let myself get lost in the crowd of other regrettable people, and I allowed my body to move on instinct, to move to the music without much thought.

It was my birthday, as evidenced by the giant sash my friends insisted on me wearing. If anyone were to ask, I had just turned 21. But, truthfully, I still had another year to go before then.

The strangest part about it was that I wasn't usually the kind of person to make a habit out of breaking the rules. At least, not anymore. But something about the last year had made me stir crazy in a way I couldn't explain.

I could've thought harder about it; I could've found a reason. But I didn't want to.

So, I said, fuck it! Everything happens for a reason, right?

The thought perfectly coincided with a pair of pensive eyes that caught my attention through the sea of people I was surrounded by. A man somehow unlike the others was leaning against the bar, seemingly alone. I thought that it was strange, considering how out of place he seemed. Surely, I thought, he must have come with someone else.

But the way he was looking at me told me that, in the very least, he probably wasn't there with a woman. At least, I'd hoped not.

I almost went to him, but I was stopped by a familiar tapping on my shoulder. My friend was calling my attention to the suddenly relatively empty stage, and not before long she was begging me to join her on it.

I'd never been the best dancer, but I figured it was as good a way as any other to try to get a cute guy's attention. After all, that's what you do in a club, right? As I climbed up with her, I tried to spot him once more. Unfortunately, by the time I gracelessly clambered onto the stage, he'd already moved from his previous position.

'Oh well,' I thought, 'Maybe he hadn't really been looking at me after all.'

Rather than sulking over the loss, I focused on the music again. I swayed my hips to the beat and closed my eyes. I let my hands run up and down my body the way I wished someone else's would. Not just anyone, though. Someone... different. Someone who might almost make me feel like they'd earned it.

I wondered if that strange man could still see me. I wondered if he was still looking.

I wasn't sure how much time had passed, but when I glanced back to the bar for the fifth time in a relatively short period of time, I finally spotted him again. Once he noticed me noticing him, he quickly turned around, and I knew it was my chance.

I scrambled down off the stage, leaving my friends to enjoy themselves among the writhing bodies and blistering heat. I wanted to enjoy a different primal experience.

Strutting right up to the bar next to him, I leaned over the counter and gave a brief, respectful wave to the bartender. Despite not breaking my gaze, I felt the hairs rose on the back of my neck.

I'd caught someone's attention. I didn't look, though. Not yet.

"Gin and tonic, please," I called when the bartender finally made his way over to me. Once he turned back around to make the drink, I knew it was a good time to look over at the stranger beside me.

Unsurprisingly, he immediately pretended he wasn't looking at me.

"Are you checking me out?" I asked just loudly enough that he would undoubtedly be able to hear me over the music.

His embarrassed reaction answered the question in the affirmative, although he unconvincingly insisted, "U-uh, no. No, I'm not."

"Oh," I responded, moving closer to him to prevent someone from separating us. "That's too bad."

He furrowed his eyebrows, and a small smile broke across his face as he asked, "Is it?"

"Well... Yeah," I laughed.

The way we locked eyes was a challenge, and one he seemed to only half accept. When he looked away from my eyes, it felt less like admitting defeat and more like taking me up on the offer to check me out.

He glanced down at my chest, and I moved from my position leaning against the counter to open my chest up for a better view.

"Can you see it well enough?" I teased with a slow gesture down the sash. I couldn't tell if his face was as red as it looked or if it was just the flashing lights playing tricks on me.

The bartender returned before he answered, and I handed him my change as a tip before holding the drink with my hand over the top. I might have been young, but I wasn't trying to get drugged in a club. I tried not to read into him noticing that habit.

"Happy birthday."

His offering seemed genuine, and this time, it was my face that turned burned. I hoped he didn't notice how flustered such an innocent thing made me, but I had a feeling he did.

"How old are you now?" he followed up, and I realized that I didn't really want him to know. Not the truth, anyway. Still, something about the way his eyes scanned every motion I made just made me feel like he could tell if I was lying.

"A year older than the last."

It wasn't a lie, after all, and he seemed to think it was funny. Behind me, a person was struggling to fit into the crowd at the bar. The somewhat unwelcome result was pushing me closer to the stranger I was quickly becoming acquainted with. But thankfully, when he reached out, he did so respectfully. His grip on my arm was gentle, but enough to stabilize my obviously struggling self.

"Thanks," I said with a bit of a laugh, trying not to seem dramatically inexperienced at this scene. "I'm not used to wearing heels."

He seemed so comfortable despite the chaos. So paradoxically confident yet timid.

"What's your name?" I asked, and he was more than happy to respond.

"Dr. Spencer Reid."

Something was so charming about the way he kept his honorific, which would usually have been irritating. He didn't seem to want to brag about it. He'd just announced it like it was a deeply ingrained aspect of his identity.

"Doctor? You seem pretty young for that," I playfully noted. Not that I was bothered by the prospect of an older man. I sipped on my drink as I waited for a bit of clarification, and his eyes continued to flit back to my lips every couple of syllables.

"Well, if you're talking about a Doctor of Medicine, I'm 30, which is actually the average age a person would be when they complete their residency. But most people with MDs will call themselves doctors after they graduate, so really, I wouldn't be too young at all."

I nodded along as he spoke, wondering if this kind of information dump was common for him. It was... kind of endearing.

Before I could get a word in edgewise, he continued to clarify, "But I'm not that kind of doctor. I have three PhDs; mathematics, chemistry, and engineering. I also have a BA in psychology as well as sociology."

I waited another second to make sure he was finished, and also because I was suddenly feeling quite intimidated. His strange socialization method made sense with his PhD subjects, and the bachelor's explained why he was so observant.

Something told me he didn't need to be told he was impressive.

"What about you? What's your name?" he finally asked, and I realized I never told him my name.

"(Y/n). No honorifics, unfortunately. Not yet."

"(Y/n)," he smiled, repeating it back to me and adding, "It's a nice name."

Uncomfortable talking about myself in light of the foregoing, I opted for a different topic.

"You don't seem like this is your first time in a club."

"Yeah, it's not. I have to go to them occasionally for work. I also grew up in Vegas, so they were kind of... everywhere," he chuckled.

When he raised his glass to his lips, I noticed that the distinct lack of color to his. I didn't mention it. There were so many reasons someone would prefer water, assuming that's what it was, including the basic desire to not be hung over the next day.

"What kind of work regularly takes you to a nightclub?"

I was genuinely curious, but I wouldn't get the answer. At the same time I asked the question, I felt a very strong pressure digging into my arm and yanking me away from the bar.

"Hey there beautiful, why'd you leave the dance floor?"

I didn't even recognize the very drunk man slurring the question to me. He looked like every other generic, idiotic brute that I had encountered through the night.

"Because I don't want to fucking dance with you," I answered as matter-of-factly as I could while seeing nothing but white-hot rage.

I could see Spencer's demeanor change, like he was about to do something. I shot him a warning glance that this was not his fight, and was pleasantly surprised that he'd respected it. I had gotten quite comfortable with this part of being out on the town.

"Come on, don't be like that," the man barked.

I pulled my arm away. Half of my drink sloshed onto the sticky floor below, but I didn't care. I wasn't going to be drinking it now, anyway.

"I said no," I said in a much louder voice, lifting my foot high enough for it to hurt when I drove the pointed heel directly into his foot. "And don't fucking touch me!"

Before I could throw what was left of my drink onto the asshole, I felt Spencer's much gentler touch. His arm wrapped around my waist as he stepped between me and the man and hurriedly guided me away from the guy and to a nearby table. As soon as I could reach it, I climbed onto a chair at the high top, rubbing my arm where it had begun to raise in welts from his nails.

"What a fucking dick!" I yelled, still fuming from the unwelcome contact.

In stark contrast, Spencer's very warm hand cupped my face, tilting it to look up at him.

"Are you alright?"

It felt like time stopped when he looked at me. Like the earth had halted in its tracks. My perception of the otherwise energetic music seemed to slow down, and the sounds of the crowd drowned away. I wasn't able to focus on anything other than the pounding of my heart and that tried to break through bone cages to find him.

'God, I must be drunk.'

"Hey, are you okay?" he repeated, and I finally snapped back to reality.

With a simple nod, I was suddenly no longer angry at the asshole who had caused the moment to happen.

"Yeah," I mumbled, "Thanks."

"Does that happen to you often?" he asked with a strange mixture of concerned and angry that honestly looked pretty damn attractive on him.

"Unfortunately. Most guys don't like being told they aren't your type. Especially if they aren't used to it."

"I wouldn't know," Spencer shrugged with a gentle laugh, "I'm pretty used to it."

A welcome bit of self-deprecating humor. He moved his hand, and I hated to admit that I'd already missed the warmth of it.

"Well, I don't know why you're used to it. I think you're pretty cute."

The statement was fueled by the alcohol, but it was still true. He wasn't joking about being used to a lack of desire. Seconds after I'd complimented him, he shifted uncomfortably. I tried not to read too far into it. I hoped it was how he would've responded to anyone.

"Thanks..." he started, shoving his hands in his pockets as he struggled to find something to do with them now that they weren't touching me. "But I feel like an asshole now."

I raised my eyebrows and chuckled at the strange response to a compliment.

"Why?"

"I uh, I lied to you earlier."

My attention piqued, I turned my body towards him and leaned forward to hear him better.

"Oh? To which question?"

He released a hand from his pocket, running it through his hair as he worked up the courage to look at me while he spoke.

"The... first one you asked."

I couldn't help but laugh. All of the air in my lungs was quickly drained by his absolutely endearing honesty. The way he just had to admit that he had been checking me out, as if I didn't already know.

"You are absolutely adorable, Spencer Reid."

He reacted much better to that compliment, although he seemed confused when I held my hand out for his.

"Come here," I instructed.

When he didn't listen, I reached my fingers out to grab his forearm and proceeded to tug him towards me. He took the few steps forward, and I took a moment to appreciate that his height granted me perfect access to his face from the high top.

I bit down on my lip as I glanced between beautiful eyes and his lips that parted softly. I heard his breath come faster the closer I came.

Without moving away, he asked, "What are you doing?"

While wondering if it was possible for him to do anything without being charming, I tightened my grip on his arm and looked up at him with the most lustful look I could muster.

"Well, I guess I'm going to kiss you. I hope that's alright."

"Why?" he asked.

An equally charming and maddening response, to which I just gave a small shrug. His eyes glanced back and forth, clearing trying to read between the lines of my own gaze. I let him. He didn't seem to have any follow up questions or reservations, so I used my free hand to pull his face to mine.

When our lips met, I was transported back to the dance floor in my mind. I could feel the vibrations shaking every inch of the club, but it was nothing compared to the butterflies erupting in my stomach. His hands returned to my face shortly after, and when his tongue slipped into my mouth it was the only confirmation that I got that he had also been drinking.

The taste of vodka and gin mixed, creating a cocktail of alcohol and hormones between us. A small moan escaped my lips at the thought, and part of me hoped he could feel it distinct from the bass. I wanted him to know the effect he had on me. Because, as it turned out, he wasn't just cute and smart, he was an incredibly talented kisser.

Not wanting to stop yet, I hooked a leg around the back of his knee and increased my hold on him. He lowered a hand to grab onto my thigh, and I gasped at the contact. I wondered if this was his first time making out in a club, because it was certainly mine.

Selfishly, I hoped I could be a first of something for him. Realistically, I knew it was unlikely. He was just too damn good at this.

Spencer began to retreat from the kiss, and before he could leave entirely, I bit down on his lower lip. The last, lingering contact seemed to have its desired effect, as he looked down at me like there was nothing else that he wanted more in this world than to keep kissing me.

"Was that a good enough reason?" I asked.

Instead of using words, he just kissed me again in response, with more pressure and less reserved. It was an answer I was more than happy to accept. His grip on my leg tightened, and it was nothing like the way other men grabbed me. When we broke apart this time, I knew it was time. I had to make my move.

"Come outside with me," I begged.

He seemed not to have expected any invitation, especially such a vague one. Nonetheless, he nodded and stepped back enough to let me hop out of the chair. His hand in mine, I led him through the crowd. He never let go. Not even when we got outside.

The air felt cool and crisp in comparison to the stuffy club. My ears were still ringing, and I wondered if we would sound the same to each other now that we weren't practically screaming. I let out a laugh from pure nerves, excited to be alone with him, but also not really ready to have this conversation.

Of course, he thought I was cute, but I was still a stranger. What if he wasn't actually all that interested and decided to ditch me? That would be embarrassing.

"Heeeeyyy! (Y/n)! How's it going?!" A familiar voice sounded from over by the smokers.

It wasn't one of my friends, per se. More like a friend of a friend. A very drunk and very excited acquaintance. I finally let go of Spencer's hand but glanced back to let him know to follow me over.

I stayed at a modest distance as I called back, "Hey, how's it going, John?"

"Goin' pretty fucking great," he slurred, and I laughed at how hammered he had managed to get in a couple of hours.

"Sounds like it."

"So, how's 20 treating you so far?"

Now, this is the point where I have to admit to myself and everyone else, that I am not the cleverest person. Because the question seemed so normal, and I was expecting it so much, that I seemed to have forgotten that I was not, in fact, old enough to be at this club.

So, without thinking, I responded, "Pretty fucking great."

To Spencer's credit, he didn't say anything, but I could feel his eyes burning into the back of my skull. It took me another second to realize what I had just admitted.

Fuck.

I was too scared to turn around. He seemed to know that I wasn't going to address it, and he wasn't the kind of person to make a scene. So when his hand grabbed mine again, and I felt the insistence in his grasp, I knew that I was utterly and completely fucked.

I grimaced to John, who just burst out laughing before yelling, "Oooh, jailbait got busted!"

My head fell backwards as I groaned, letting Spencer begin to drag me away from the crowd as I shouted back, "I'm not jailbait, you dick!"

Following the boy I actually wanted to be with, I tried not to give up hope yet. In a twisted sort of way, I was actually somehow looking forward to the lecture I was definitely about to receive. Seconds after we'd turned the corner into the small alley, he had me backed against a wall.

"What the fuck was that?!" his voice was hushed, although he was clearly still yelling.

I bit down on my lip to stop myself from laughing at his attempts to be scary when his voice was still cracking. I raised my shoulders to shrug, but he continued his ranting.

"You're only twenty?! You can't be here!"

"Well, actually, we're in an alley, which I'm totally allowed to be in."

He did not appreciate my humor.

"You know exactly what I mean. You're not old enough to be at a club, and especially not drinking! What were you thinking?"

He looked so delectable when he was angry, I wasn't sure how he'd expected me to take him seriously. Resting my head against the brick wall behind me, I looked up at him with a bored expression.

"What are you, a cop?"

I honestly wasn't anticipating a genuine response, so when he responded, "An FBI special agent, actually," all I could think was, "Oh shit, really?"

"Yeah, really, (y/n)!" he yelled back, taking a step back when my arms immediately fell from their defensive position.

"That's so cool!" I answered with equal enthusiasm, which he still, clearly, did not like.

"What are you saying? That is not cool! None of this is cool!"

"I mean, I think it's pretty cool."

"I could have you arrested! I should have you arrested!"

The way I raised my eyebrows and smiled was clearly not the reaction he wanted, but I could tell he was intrigued by it. He paused, and I licked my lips with a wicked grin.

"You gonna cuff me, Special Agent?"

I saw his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed and he continued to distance himself from me. I took a step forward to maintain the gap.

"Wait, is it Special Agent or Doctor? I need to know now."

Before I could get too close to him, he had pressed his hand against my shoulder, pushing me back against the wall.

"Cut it out! Stop trying to distract me," his voice was stern, but his breath was ragged. One of my hands devilishly snuck up, wrapping around his arm that was holding me against the wall. "It's not going to work," he warned.

I didn't believe him. I could also tell that, despite the words, he did not want me to stop.

"How am I distracting you, Special Agent Dr. Reid?"

He could tell what I was doing, but he couldn't stop himself from falling for it.

"Is my proximity distracting you?"

I was pushing his buttons, very purposefully and with a very specific goal. I wanted to see what happened when he broke.

"N-No, that's not—"

I cut him off once more, leaning forward against his hand, dragging my nails against the skin of his arm.

"Do you want to kiss me again?" I asked.

He had to think about the answer, and that angry, tempted face left me burning. I rubbed my legs together in anticipation, and he seemed to notice the subtle movement. With the strength I could muster, I inched his hand against my shoulder lower, letting him feel my heart racing above my breast.

"You do," I responded to my own question, recognizing his silence as assent.

I met his eyes in another challenge, knowing this time would be much easier than the last. He was already hooked.

"Well then, Dr. Reid. You have at least two options. You can either dig out your work issued handcuffs, haul me downtown and explain what exactly happened between you and a drunk twenty year old girl at the club..." the pressure on my chest lessened as he obviously considered what it would require of him. "You can help them with all of the paperwork, prematurely ending the night, leaving me in a jail, and go home alone... "

The compassion in his eyes was clear, and I knew it was a bit unfair of me to go for such low hanging fruit. He was a good man. He was just trying to follow the rules. He didn't want to hurt me. Unless I asked for it, perhaps.

"Or you can get into an Uber with me to go somewhere else, and I'll let you do whatever you want with mine. Or yours. I'm fine with either."

"My pair, or my place?" he asked, much to my surprise and excitement. I could feel the rush of blood in my ears, but I begged it to be quiet. I hadn't closed the deal yet.

"So you're considering it?"

He finally released his hold on me, but he didn't move away. In fact, he moved closer. Close enough to me that I could almost feel the body warmth radiating from him. I couldn't look down yet, but I was pretty sure what I'd find bulging between his legs.

"I-I... I don't know."

An honest answer, albeit disappointing. My puppy eyes demanded a clearer one. He obeyed their call.

"I'm a law enforcement agent that just caught you in a crime, since I'm assuming you got into that club with a relatively convincing fake ID that I'm certain you still have on you."

I nodded, still unsure where he was going with this monologue.

"I should be arresting you, or at least taking you somewhere safe, not... coming back with you for..."

He trailed off, and I smirked a bit at his inability to finish that thought.

"And yeah, I figured you were young but... I'm ten years older than you."

"And?" I finally asked, wanting him to get to the point that I had figured out, just so I could turn it down.

Spencer took a deep breath before admitting, "I don't want to take advantage of you. I get that there is no sudden change in your brain when you turn twenty one, but the younger you are, the less developed your prefrontal cortex is. Your judgment, your impulse control, the ability to truly anticipate the consequences of your actions, that won't be fully developed for at least another five years!"

He would have kept going, but I had already planned for this response. My hand on his arm jerked him forward, pulling his crotch directly into my other waiting hand. Completely on brand for him, a small yelp sounded as I gently palmed his erection.

With an innocent smile, I whispered, "Dr. Reid, I don't think you're the one taking advantage here."

His features were contorted into an infuriated, yet pleased mess. After another very brief moment of contemplation, he gave into the temptation I was dangling in front of him, laying a deep, frustrated kiss on my waiting mouth.

When we separated, he practically panted into my mouth, "Do you have a hotel room?"

Giggling, I nodded.

"I guess I'll call that Uber now."

—————————————————

| Part 2 |

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds imagine #request #smut

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jeonqqin · 4 years

Text

man up. [m] | pt. 5

h. jisung x reader | netflix rom-com au

— ❝Even with classes, annoying brothers, and an unrequited crush, you still figured your first year of college was going pretty well. Until you managed to get your first boyfriend, and suddenly your brother and his stupidly attractive best friend were attached to your hip for the whole damn ride.

or alternatively;

Why did Jisung care about you so much, and had his eyes always been that pretty?❞

WORD COUNT: 4.7k

CONTAINS: brothers best friend au, teen rom-com au, sorta crack fic, love triangle au, college au

WARNING: future smut, language, very brief mention of past child abuse (they were pushed and got hurt), panic attack

a/n: I have no idea how this chapter got this real? THIS IS SUPPOSED TO BE A STUPID SILLY FIC

▸ request

CHAPTERS: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 +

blog masterlist | ⟲ fic song

—UNEDITED

“Just fucking leave me alone Jisung.”

“Hyunae, hold on—”

Jisung sighed, his palm rubbing harshly into his eye to soothe the sting of oncoming tears.

He was both devastated and relieved after his night with Hyunae. Granted, he hadn’t gotten any sleep whatsoever last night, but it was done, he really did it. Minho said he didn’t have the balls, but he fucking did, so fuck Minho.

“No! Just… get out.”

But there was the other side of his mind that was screaming at him for ruining a relationship that he put so much time into. It kept asking him why. Why did he do it? What pushed him to end it?

The true answer stared him in the face, but just as he had done for his whole like, he denied it.

“I knew this was going to happen anyway. I was just waiting for you to open your fucking eyes, Jisung.”

It had nothing to do with you. Why would it?

There was no romantic feeling between you and him, none at all. So there would be no reason for him to break up with his girlfriend on your accord. But he couldn’t ignore the way you ran out of the diner, and how terrified he had been all night with the absence of you. You hadn’t called him or Felix to let them know that you were fine, so of course he was worried, pacing back and forth around his girlfriend’s dorm until she snapped at him. It was possibly the worst timing for them to get into a fight, but it was also an opportunity for Jisung to just say it.

He wanted to break up.

He wouldn’t be quieted or controlled anymore.

He was no longer going to listen to her bicker with his friends over the smallest things.

Jisung had officially grown a backbone.

And that had nothing to do with the comment Hyunae made after you left. A comment that she had no place to make. She was the one in the wrong that night, but he was the one being scolded and cursed at. It was always him that was at fault in the end, no matter what happened or how it happened. It was always stupid Han Jisung.

Stupid stupid Han Jisung.

To say that his dormmate was surprised to see him after months of never sleeping in his assigned bed would’ve been an understatement. But thankfully Haechan didn’t ask any questions about why Jisung’s eyes were puffy or what he was doing showing up so late at night. Jisung respected that about the normally eccentric boy.

That night he hadn’t been plagued with nightmares of his now ex-girlfriend, but a memory of his childhood, leaving his chest feeling heavy the next morning. He remembered how scorching hot the summer sun was on the back of his neck as he sat idle on the steps of his best friend’s house. He could hear the screaming and yelling of Minho’s cracking voice, another—deeper—baritone booming over it. Jisung has always wondered how Minho could be so brazen, staring into the eyes of every new man that walked into his house.

Minho never really talked about it, but Jisung had picked up enough over the years to know that your dad was no longer in the picture, and that caused some conflicts between Minho and the men that he thought was trying to fill that position. Jisung never met your father, as he was barely six years old and hadn’t yet met Minho, but he grew to learn how much Minho idolized the absent man.

Jisung remembered the loud thud before the crash of something breaking. He also remembered the way his neck heated and legs trembled. But he would do as promised and wait for his friend to walk out the door so they could hop on their bikes and just get away. Minho always asked Jisung to wait for him while he planned a confrontation.

It was taking longer than usual.

Jisung met Lee Minho when he was eight years old, during an attempt to catch frogs in a small pond in the neighborhood. His family had just moved into the area and Jisung was too shy to really approach any of the children in the houses around him so he opted to play on his own. His brother was too old to play with him, and he honestly didn’t mind.

He got used to it and learned to entertain himself.

Minho approached all high and mighty, asking why Jisung was trying to catch the frogs in his special frog hunting spot, but was cut short by the smaller boy apologizing profusely and stumbling over his feet to stand. Only to find himself landing on his ass and soaking his green cargo shorts in mud. Minho had barked a laugh, his mouth opening to say something, but slamming closed as a frog jumped up and collided with Jisung’s cheek, nearly scaring the life out of the already petrified boy. Minho had then jumped into the pond with giggles falling out of his lips as Jisung laughed alongside him despite the tears falling down his face.

The night ended with your mother peeling leeches from both of the crying boys, and you making them a poorly executed cup of hot (lukewarm at best) chocolate to get rid of the sting.

Why you thought that was going to help—Jisung didn’t know.

Though, Minho still drank it in one breath and thanked you for making the pain go away with uneven sniffs. That was the first moment Jisung witnessed Minho suppress his feelings on your accord, and it certainly hadn’t been the last. Jisung didn’t blame his new friend at the time though, since he found himself eager to gulp down the drink to witness the same toothy smile you sent to your brother—but only directed at him.

It was worth the small stomach ache.

“Don’t touch him! Don’t you fucking dare touch my son.”

The voice or your mother rang clear as a bell in Jisung’s head, the usual calming tone was missing and urgency was all he could hear at that moment. The air only read “get away” as he continued to listen carefully to what was happening behind the closed door. He had listened to many fights, but even after knowing Minho for three whole years none of them had escalated beyond shouting.

Jisung’s instincts tried to kick him into gear, but he still sat there, his loyalty outweighing his better judgement.

The argument shifted between your mother and the man, Minho’s voice suddenly eerily absent. Jisung felt his heart pulse for his friend, his mind wandering to only the worst scenarios and his eyes welling up with irritating tears. But his gaze stayed unwavering, locked on the swaying tire swing he and Minho had put up themselves earlier that summer.

The door swung open, letting the voices be heard clear from the kitchen. Jisung’s head swung around carefully to watch as Minho rushed outside, his face bright red, almost unnaturally so. He left the door open, not even bothering to close it behind him.

“—he tripped. I didn’t know he was going to fall, honey. I’m sorry—”

“If you ever lay another hand on my child, you will never see the light of day again.” Your mother’s voice threatened, plaguing Jisung’s young mind.

“I would never purposefully hurt Minho—”

Jisung had shut the door, turning on his heel to follow his friend.

Minho had been fuming. His cheeks red—though one more red than the other, but Jisung wouldn’t once ask about it—and drenched with fresh tears, his hand furiously whipping it all away.

Jisung watched as Minho punched and kicked at the trees and flower beds in the backyard, making a mess of the once tidy space. But he just let his friend go, not saying one word to the boy. Jisung knew that he would be acting like a baby in Minho’s situation and was baffled by his friend’s strength. Minho was Jisung’s hero back then, and he sometimes missed that feeling when he took the time to reminisce.

It was only when Minho was somewhat calmed down, that you walked out to check on your brother. Your eyes were rimmed with red and your hands fisted the fabric of your shirt.

Every fight, you were always there to catch it all; a bystander like Jisung.

And despite his state—a steadily swelling cheek and a darkening welt on his forehead—Minho still pulled you into his arms to comfort your hiccuping form. He denied every worry and question that fell from your wobbly lips, and Jisung had a sense of dejavu each time.

It had been a rinse and repeat process for years; Minho would cause trouble and get into fights, and he would console you each and every time you showed any worry.

Neither you or Minho spoke about it, but Jisung knew that it was only Minho’s way of trying to protect you. With your dad gone, Minho moved to fill that gap, just trying too hard without a complete understanding of the line he shouldn’t cross.

Jisung had no idea why he had that dream, but the heavy weight in his chest began to push him in wanting to see Minho.

You couldn’t tell if you were having a good morning or not.

The date with Chan had gone incredibly well, that was for sure. He was sweet, such a gentleman, and the time you spent with him wasn’t at all boring by any means. He was absolutely perfect.

So why were you panicking?

Of course, there was the initial fear when you woke up in the morning to see that your little make out in his car wasn’t so little after all, and that your neck looked as if someone had tried to maul you. And the more makeup you piled over it barely made a difference, so the fact that you told Chan that you would go over to the apartment in the morning so he could show you the track he had put so much effort into, wasn’t exactly as exciting as it had been last night.

At the apartment you could run into Minho—or Jisung.

God, you completely forgot about Jisung.

You hadn’t seen him in a few days for classes, the small break in your school schedule being a true blessing, and you suddenly felt guilt crawl up into your chest. The situation with Hyunae wasn’t necessarily his fault, and you realized that after a few days to yourself. They were dating, of course they were going to act like a couple. You were simply being a big baby about a bit of PDA.

He had a girlfriend.

Right, why were you so worried about a few hickies when he had a girlfriend?

Why were you even bringing up that fact that he had a girlfriend when that didn’t even matter?

Why were you still so terrified that you had visible evidence of Chan’s lips on your neck when Jisung wasn’t in love with you and you weren’t in love with Jisung?

Why did you feel so guilty?

Staring at the purple marks on your neck had your mind flickering back to the moment when you first saw Jisung with the same little round spots on his own collar. Back in your first years of secondary school when Jisung basically lived at your house, him and Minho stopped paying much attention to you. It was a phase in your brother's life where he was getting into too many fights with his peers, and spending less time with you. And when you were that age you were pretty butt-hurt about it.

Jisung and Minho had just returned back from a party, one that you hadn’t received an invitation to—not that Minho would allow you to go anyway—and they trampled up the stairs at two in the morning without a care in the world or a second thought about you nor your mother that were trying to sleep. How your mom managed to stay sleeping that night was beyond you.

And with your brother’s room right next door to yours, it was impossible to get back to sleep, their loud excitement too much for the thin wall between you to block out. So, you peeled your covers off your body and stomped into their room to give them a deadly glare and a good smack to the backs of their heads.

Grumpily, Minho apologized and promised to be quieter, but Jisung simply smirked and tugged you down onto his lap to coo at how cute your puffy and tired face was. It was around the same time of your life when Jisung learned to push back his anxieties and began gaining self confidence, since that was something he desperately lacked when he was younger. But with confidence came the flirting.

He chalked it up to “sibling like teasing” but you couldn’t deny the massive crush you had on the boy back then. So the feeling of his skinny arms wrapping tightly around you and his (then blonde) fringe ticking your cheeks, was almost too much for your poor heart to take.

And then you saw the red spots lining his neck and momentarily froze, confusion haunting your train of thought and throwing you for a loop. You weren’t stupid, you knew exactly what those were, but for some reason, it didn’t occur to you that Jisung would ever get them.

But there they were and it had definitely punched a small hole in your heart that night.

You were all adults now though, surely they knew that you were bound to grow up sooner or later. It would be ridiculous if they decided to throw a fit now, right? You were in college for god sake, you were allowed to have a boyfriend.

Or—a Chan. Whatever you and Chan were, you were allowed to have it dammit.

So why was your hand shaking as it lifted to grab the door knob?

Amongst your inner turmoil you hadn’t heard the heavy step of Jisung walking up the stairs. He was so exhausted that he hadn’t even noticed you until he was scaling the last few steps of the three story apartment complex. He paused for a moment as he watched you hesitate at the door, your eyes glued down on your hand.

A sudden wave of so many emotions rushed through him at the sight of you in a baggy sweater that fell around your thighs, the black spandex of your shorts peeking out from underneath. Even from behind, Jisung could tell that you were tired, your hair all messy and cute. His heart swelled in his chest.

Of course you would be the one to dissolve all of his stress. He should’ve known.

With a deep sigh, Jisung felt himself smile. He ascended the last few steps and sidled up behind you, eyes heavy from lack of sleep. You still had yet to notice his presence, and that had him chuckling under his breath. Your obliviousness was going to get you killed.

Jisung slid his arms around your waist, only feeling you flinch for a second before you were relaxing back into his chest. He didn’t have room for any confusion, as he was too elated to actually hold you again. He couldn’t remember the last time he could just walk up to you and grab you without there being a fuss. Jisung missed you.

Jisung took the opportunity to lean his jaw against your shoulder and tuck his face into the fabric of your sweater, only holding you closer. Your body wash had always been his favorite, not too intense that it had him nauseous, but sweet and soft enough to tempt him into placing a line of gentle pecks along the expanse of your skin—

That settled it, the break up was officially driving him insane.

With a sigh and a curt laugh, you closed your eyes and leaned your head to the other side. Jisung’s eyes widened for those few moments when the invitation was right there in front of him, and some sick part of him wanted to scatter marks over the soft plane of your skin. In his daze, he wondered what kind of noises you would make if he bit down and made a mess of your pretty collar; if you would beg and whine or release little breathless gasps. He was right there—so damn close.

His tongue ran along his bottom lip at the thought.

What was happening to him?

“I’m sorry for just standing out here. I must look crazy.” You breathed, hands wrapping around his forearms.

Jisung huffed a laugh, nudging your shoulder with his chin, just enough to shift your sweater off to the side. “No, you—”

Both of you froze at the same moment—complete different reasons why.

The warm body behind you wasn’t Chan.

Your mind was screaming at you to get away, telling you that you shouldn’t feel so comfortable with Han Jisung pressed intimately against your back. With his hands gripping your waist and chin resting on your shoulder where some other man's lips had kissed you, where Chan had—

Jisung saw the angry purple bruises before he could process the rest of what he wanted to say. They had been hidden behind the strategic collar of your sweater, and he suddenly felt a wave of an emotion that hadn’t risen to the surface for years climb up into his chest.

He quickly unraveled himself from you, face flushing red as he took multiple steps backwards, his back colliding harshly against the door of the apartment across from Minho’s. Jisung couldn’t care less about the sudden pain that rocketed up his spine, his attention locked onto the massacre on your clavicle.

Speechless, Jisung could feel his chest tightening and breathing quicken within his ribcage. Everything was so much worse than it had been before. At least he had a form of relief from breaking things off with Hyunae, now all he could feel was the crippling weight of your eyes on him. He felt completely exposed and dejected.

He couldn’t breathe.

“Ji—” You attempted to lean forward and grab his arm, brows pulled into a worried frown.

He felt stupid.

“I—shit. I’m sorry,” he whispered, shrinking away from your reaching hand and hurrying past you to shove his extra key into the lock, twisting it open faster than he had ever done in his life. It was a miracle that he could even get the key into the hole with how badly his hands were shaking.

Stupid stupid Jisung.

Jisung barely registered the confused concern that flashed across Changbin’s face as he sped past him, his sights set solely on the last room on the left. Slamming the door behind him, Jisung couldn’t help but feel like he was dying, his chest aching and body suddenly warm.

“Sung?” A groggy Minho lifted from under his sheets, his chest bare and bedhead wild. “What the hell?”

“I’m so stupid,” Jisung rasped, tugging at the collar of his shirt and collapsing back against Minho’s desk chair. “What the hell is wrong with me?”

“What happened?”

But Jisung could barely hear anything over the sound of his heart beating, the echoing drum in his skull.

Minho frowned, lifting from his bed and pulling a shirt over his head in order to cross over to his best friend. Jisung looked absolutely exhausted, heavy-lidded eyes staring out at nothing as his hands raked through his gelled hair, ruining the style he had probably spent his whole morning on.

It had been years since Minho had seen Jisung in such a state. There had been brief moments where Jisung got uncomfortable going to crowded parties or big lectures, but there was nothing small about how he was acting now.

A brief memory of a crying boy covered in mud and soaked to the bone flashed through his head.

Minho sighed, rubbing a palm over his face as he took a seat on the floor beside the desk chair that Jisung had claimed. Minho’s hand moved up to pat Jisung’s knee, “Well, Sung… Let’s get over this bitch together, okay?”

You felt your face pale as you took a slow step into the apartment, closing the door behind you. The look of fear that Jisung sent you was heartbreaking, his eyes wide and jaw clenched so hard that you knew for sure that it had to hurt.

“The hell happened out there?” Changbin asked, tone stern but confused.

You cringed, feeling your face heat up.

“He…” You debated telling him—perhaps he already knew? Either way, it wasn’t your place to say anything. The last thing you wanted was to get even further on Jisung’s bad side.

What did you even do to set him off?

“He what, Y/n? What happened?” Changbin placed down the cook utensil that had been gripped tightly in his fist.

It felt weird to see Changbin distressed, as he was usually the calm during the storm, keeping a level head even when things took a turn for the worst. But you figured you’d be the same way if you just saw one of your best friends in such a state and not have any prior knowledge of the situation.

“He started freaking out,” you finally said, voice low. “I’m sure he’ll be okay.”

But you really weren’t sure, and it was easy to tell that Changbin didn’t believe you.

“Are you sure you want to leave it at that, Y/n?”

Your lip wobbled for a quick second as your eyes locked on something off to your right. It was difficult to sit still under the heavy gaze of Changbin, but really, there was nothing else you could say. You wouldn’t tell him anything that could reveal too much, and if that meant you would have to endure his interrogation with sealed lips, then that was what you had to do.

You nodded slowly, “Mhm.”

Changbin’s eyebrows rose in shock, his arms moving to cross over his chest. “Seriously? You’re not going to tell me why Jisung just ran in here breathing like he was in fucking labor?”

You nodded again, more sure than the last time.

“He’s with Minho. He’ll be fine.”

“You’re just going to be super cryptic and annoying then.” Changbin said, frustration clear on his face. “No explanation at all.”

“Sorry.”

He looked at you as if he didn’t believe you, but you honestly were. You knew how shitty it felt to have people you care about hide things from you, since you went through a whole phase of it with Minho—hell, he still hid shit from you half the time. But if anyone was going to tell Changbin what was going on, it was going to be Jisung.

Because there was no way in hell that you were going to break all rules of trust and tell someone that Jisung suffered from panic attacks.

Granted, he used to get them all the time when he was young, therefore they were less of a secret and more of a “who possibly didn’t know?” type of deal. A lot of things set him off, and the fact that his parents completely uprooted their lives every two years didn’t help. Thankfully, they had gotten the hint and decided to hold off on moving until Jisung was out of school and ready to go off on his own.

But it had been a long time since you witnessed one so bad, and you didn’t want to share that secret with anyone. You knew Changbin was one of the most trustworthy people you knew, but it wasn’t your news to spread.

Changbin’s eyes scanned your form for a moment, his gaze only pausing on your neck for a fraction of a second, and if you hadn’t known what he was looking at, you wouldn’t have noticed anything different.

“Fine.” He said, spinning on his heel and returning to the small kitchen. He was frustrated and you felt bad about that, but he would hopefully know soon enough.

And like clockwork, the bathroom door then opened, Chan emerging with damp hair and thankfully fully clothed. It wasn’t the time to get distracted by his incredible body, you’d probably just feel even more guilty if that was even possible.

“Y/n,” Chan chimed, voice full of life and excitement as he all but blinded to your side like an excited puppy. Though, his cheery nature wouldn’t be enough to raise your spirits—if anything he dampened them further, even more guilt gnawing at your chest.

He grabbed your limp arms and rugged you forward, nearly pulling you into his chest. You felt your brows furrow and your head tilt away as he leaned forward to place a kiss on your lips, only to miss and land on the side of your head. Chan immediately pulled away with blinking eyes, his pretty lips open in slight surprise.

You cringed.

The universe was really against you today, huh?

“Is something wrong?” Chan asked, voice full of concern.

What a perfect guy.

You nodded, lips pulling in a tight line. “The morning has just been a little crazy…”

Eyes flickering up they landed on Changbin, who was already glancing your way, his own gaze skipping back and forth between you and Chan. Though, without a word he turned back to whatever breakfast he was cooking.

“Anything I can do to help?”

Leave—

You seriously wanted to punch yourself in the face. It wasn’t Chan’s fault for what happened, and you couldn’t ever think that. He was just caught in the middle of some messed up situation that wouldn’t have even happened if you just kept your stupid heart in line. Maybe if you had never met Jisung, everything would’ve turned out fine.

Because that would’ve solved all of your petty problems.

“No, Channie,” you managed to send a smile to the boy. “But we should probably get out of here before things get worse.”

Chan nodded, carefully lifting his hand to cradle your jaw.

“Okay. No problem.”

You sighed as he gave you the most patient smile you’d ever seen. Your guilt only grew.

Could things get any worse?

As if answering your question, the door to your brother’s room swung open and quietly shut after your grey haired sibling stepped out. His face was set, jaw squared and brows furrowed.

It was the same face that he went into every conflict with. That was the same expression he wore every time he threw a punch or when he used to pick fights with your mother’s old boyfriends. Minho was angry—with who, you weren’t yet sure.

But he didn’t miss a beat as he stepped around Chan and took his place in front of you, his calloused and scarred hand reaching up to the neck of your tousled sweater. You didn’t even bother to pull away or wiggle out of his reach, you just kept your unwavering gaze on Minho’s face as he tugged your collar down to expose the patches upon patches of bruises that spread lower than most would consider to be modest.

Minho kept his gaze down, refusing to look up into the wide eyes of his baby sister. He didn’t believe it when Jisung began babbling about hickies and teeth marks on your skin, his head in his hands as he finally came down from his inner panic. But there it was, clear as fucking day.

Minho wanted to spin around and sock Chan square in the jaw, but there was something deeper seeded in his chest that kept him from doing so. He bit the skin on the inside of his cheek inside, his mouth filling with copper as he dropped his hold on your sweater and spun around. He met eyes with Chan for only a moment, getting a hard look back as he bumped past and back into his room. This time the door had slammed behind him, all caution to the wind.

You expected yelling and screaming, a fight you were willing to endure and take. Minho was your brother—as much as he wanted to fill the hole that your dad left empty—he was just your older brother. He could scream and punch things, but you weren’t a baby anymore. What you hadn’t expected was complete silence from him, it was almost worse than him screaming…

No, your mind flickered back to the way he refused to even look into your eyes, it was much worse.

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cienie-isengardu · 3 years

Note

Erron Black. Arguably a character I don't know much about. Is Erron Black feminist, sexist, or just soft on girls? Now I know MK everyone can fight everyone, but in story mode...

In MK10 Milenna impale his hand with a knife, but he doesn't fight her. I'll except injury for that one.

But then with Cassie Cage later, he fights her, only after she engages him, but once he knocks her down he stops fighting her to fight Kung Jin in the market.

Later on the bridge fight, we do see him fighting Jacqui Briggs, in the background, but she charged him, so she initiated it, and when they focus in he is fighting Kung Jun again.

In MK11, when young Erron Black goes after Jade and Kotal, he let's Jade leave without so much as a glance.

In the Black Dragon fight pit, even though she is right next to him, he ignores Sonya Blade until she actually attacked him. He doesn't even point the other gun at her, he points it up and looks away, until she punches him.

The only time it looks like he initiated a attack on a woman was when Sheeva got shot in her shoulder armor (and shrugged it off), but we immediately see him chasing down Nightwolf, so that looks like a accident. And they only fight after she punches him across the room.

And in the comic's when he kidnapped Cassie and Jacqui he defended them against Kano, telling him not to hurt them, and when he realized they were in serious danger, tried to free them and help escape.

Unless I'm missing something, well he doesn't avoid it, he doesn't fight initiate fights with women.

Before I will talk at length about Erron Black and his attitude toward women I wish only to emphasize this is my subjective opinion and there is no need to agree with me on this. Because no matter how much source material will be brought into discussion, there are many ways to interpret his mindset, especially since A) what Erron says is not always compatible with what he is doing and B) the specific game mechanics that limit and/or adapt his “personality” to the needs of the storyline.

Long text ahead!

Mortal Kombat X’s stated Erron Black was hired by Shang Tsung 150 years ago. So he was born and raised at least the previous century and half, thus his approach to women may be old-fashioned but I wouldn’t say he was somehow deeply concerned per se about gender to begin with. Yes, the mentioned examples suggest otherwise but their context is as important as Erron’s action alone. Because the context of the game will not always work well with in-universe logic. I’m talking here stricte about game mechanics that are built around chapter’s main hero that must win against the opponents and in the mentioned examples Erron was sadly just an obstacle to beat down so it is not like he could headshot Mileena, Sonya or Sheeva or any woman and be done with the problem despite how marksmanship is his forte. Also, the game mechanic in MKX kinda made me joke that Erron shouldn’t be left on his own for too long because his competence in those chapters seemed that bad (from Outworld’s main cast only D’Vorah looked to me as a competent character and she was a traitor, that says a lot about Kotal’s team doesn it?). Anyway, on the basis of the specific nature of the game alone I wouldn’t go so far to judge Erron’s mindset, especially since he was a background/supportive character in MKX and MK11 story modes. So far, Black didn’t have his own chapter - thus the story isn’t told from his POV.

To be honest, games and comics present Erron in different lights, thus his approach to women may vary from one source to another. Because of that let’s firstly look at the sources separately.

In MKX, on Kotal’s voiceless order, Black was going to kill Rain. Mileena attacked Erron by surprise before he could shoot down the rebel but it was Kotal’s chapter so the emperor was the one that dealt with her. Erron was part of the background during chapter 2 without any impact on the story.

Then we have chapter 4 about Kung Jin.

When Cage Team met Erron Black for the first time, the man demanded to know what is Special Forces’ business here including “a reason why we shouldn’t kill you”. Despite the not so friendly welcome, Erron was willing to address Takeda’s remark (“I can read you… You’re not from Outworld.”) and did not resort to violence once Cassie’s explanation did not satisfy him. Looking at the uncertain situation of Outworld, Erron’s lack of trust is understable - Kotal was still at war with Mileena thus in constant danger. Of course, it is up to interpretation, did Erron listen to Jin solely because the prospect of money spoke to him so much or there is some bias (thus the cynical remark about Raiden’s seal and dismissive attitude) against Cassie, the woman in charge. I personally tend to think Erron was simply cautious because the last Earthrealm that got close to Kotal tried to kill the emperor. And yeah, Kano is nothing like Cassie, Jacqui, Takeda or Jin but there was no way for Black to know that for sure, especially since Outworld and Earthrealm weren’t really at the best terms at that time and Raiden’s name did not foreshadow anything good.

The next sequences may be interpreted as Erron being soft on women but I’m gonna present here different possibilities:

Once Jin went ahead to disrupt the execution, Erron’s first reaction was to shoot him yet Black took aim instead of shooting blindly without care for the crowd (or at least the slow down of his action is how it looked to me). Because he was focused on Jin - the main culprit whose action caused unwanted riot, Cassie easily stopped the attack. Should Erron be more focused on the female soldier at his side? Most likely, but all of this happened in mere seconds so I can understand why stopping Jin acting on his own accord was priority to the mercenary since it was related to his job and he was the one that agreed to take Earthrealmians to Kotal. Which may be the reason why Black just knocked down Cassie and immediately ran after Jin. And mind you, Erron knocked down Cassie by hitting her on the head with the butt of the pistol, which is not a gentle way by no means.

The chapter 6 is focused on Takeda and partially on Cage Team’s run from captivity. The Earthrealmians were important hostages, even if falsely accused of working with D’Vorah. So it makes sense that “Outworld Champions” weren’t trying to kill them. Otherwise Kung Jin would be shot down for good yet Erron kept him just at gunpoint. Once again, the game mechanics don’t make much sense considering how Jin stayed behind as air support but somehow ended up on the bridge while Jacqui disappeared somewhere in the background. Also, the same as with Cassie in Chapter 4, Erron did not kill defeated opponents nor tortured / injured for fun (Rain is a different matter because Erron went for killing only after Kotal’s voiceless order to finish the traitor).

In Chapter 11, Erron is even more degraded into a support role and he did not attack nor take part of the skirmish in the forest until Jacqui beat down Kotal. Personally I suspect he could be (in universe) too injured for hand to hand combat but once Team Cage was surrounded and Kotal gave the order for execution, Erron was aiming at Jacqui and if Sub-Zero did not show up, Black most likely would shoot to kill.

(Also, he did not shoot any enemy from a distance, so the women and men were treated the same although if this is a matter of game mechanics or Erron’s own moral code, hard to tell. Black recognized himself more as Outworlder than anything else so he may actually follow the common there idea of one on one fight.)

So, MKX story mode alone does not tell us much about Erron’s mindset about women because he has never been the one starting fights in the first place. This kinda makes sense since he is a mercenary and kills or injures only those who Kotal wishes to see dead or punished. Besides that he didn’t injure / kill Cassie when he had a chance but he didn't do so with Jin either. MKX!Erron gives the impression of a collected, detached type of person who is far from macho stereotypes or psychopath/sociopath like Kano.

Thankfully there is additional information like dialogue intros and Erron’s ending (from what we learned about Erron's approximate age) that aren’t canon per se but at least give some insight into his psyche.

The best counter argument for eventual Black’s habit of going easy on women is his own ending in which he ambushed and killed Cassie, Jacqui, Takeda and Jin (this situation was repeated in Briggs’ ending except this time Cage Team was saved by Jax). This is a rare moment in which Erron was the attacker and on his own initiated the violence toward others. In this case, he attacked women and men alike.

Then we have intro dialogues in which Erron usually deals with people in a professional manner, some even sometimes addressing in a polite way. Like “Mr. Kung” to Lao, “Mr. Hasashi” to Scorpion and “Mr. Takahashi” to Takeda. Surprisingly, he addresses Cassie and Sonya by their military rank (Sergeant Cage and General Blade respectively) which suggests that whatever Erron learned a century or two ago about gender-related social norms most likely evolved accordingly to his own life experiences, especially those gained in Outworld.

At the same time, it seems some of outfashioned - harmful - convictions are still enough deeply rooted in him to say stuff like that:

Kenshi: The friendless wanderer.

Erron Black: Least I don't take orders from a woman.

Kenshi: Which century are you from?

Which is kinda ironic since Kenshi takes orders from Sonya whom Erron addresses by high military rank without any snide comment about a woman in the army. But as far as I managed to check the intros, this is the only(?) one outright sexist thing Erron said to anyone and surprisingly, he didn’t say that to any woman, just to Kenshi. Frankly, if the idea of taking orders from women was so offensive, why would Erron bother to call Mileena the Crownless Queen or Kitana the Fallen Princess, if both titles by itself imply facing women that are used to give commands or even hire people like him? Once again, there is little to no sexist attitude toward women in context of their power over other men. Which suggests that whatever prejudices Black may have, he does not allow them to affect his interaction with other characters. Usually, at least.

Okay, the insult toward Kenshi could be some of Erron’s deep-seated sexist beliefs adding to the reason why he didn’t support Mileena in the fight for the throne. Yet, at the same time, if that was the case, he could outright say he doesn’t agree to be bossed by a woman to her (or he could be accused of that by her or any character really). Of course, it could be something similar to Black’s claim to care only about money with MK11 strongly hints he is saying one thing and doing differently but I will come back to this topic in a moment.

Another argument against this insult: Erron was one of the characters that did not mock Mileena’s look, origin or called her crazy. If he really thought listening to women's orders was so bad, then he didn’t show that when interacting with her or other female characters.

At the same time, like many other male characters, Black is not immune to the beauty of women around him and some of his comments sounds disrespectful and are unwelcome by the ladies:

Sonya: The gunslinger.

Erron Black: I could take you away from all this.

Sonya: I must be a jerk-magnet.

→ Sonya is not amused by Erron’s words at all.

Erron Black: Hello, beautiful.

Jacqui: Messin' with the wrong girl.

Erron Black: But it feels so right.

Jacqui is like the only one woman described by MKX!Erron as the beautiful one, the other he usually referred to along the lines of hot / sexy. Yet once Jacqui outright warned him to not mess with her, Erron deliberately ignored her because it amuse him. Whatever it is a sign of an old-fashioned mindset (a remnant of the times he grew up) or just simply (male’s) egoism on his part, Erron likes to flirt with women but he does not always respect their opinion or wish to be left alone.

At the same time, Erron rarely tried to change women’s minds about him or their eventual relationship. So far, only the intro dialogue with Kitana seems to be the exception:

Kitana: Stop!

Erron Black: We've barely begun, my lovely.

Kitana: It will end quickly.

Black may put his own amusement above other people's personal comfort, yes, but didn’t act creepy like Kano did, especially toward Blade-Briggs-Cage family as a whole.

So we have this

Jacqui: I really don't like you.

Erron Black: I really don't care.

Jacqui: As long as we're straight on that.

in which Erron doesn’t care for Jacqui’s dislike of his person but doesn’t impose himself on her. He does not resort to the common rapist “excuse” that woman says no but her body says otherwise, like Kano did (“Your mouth says Kano, but your eyes say Kan-yes.”) and this contrast puts Black in a more positive light. Similar thing happened in the intro dialogue toward Tanya.

Erron Black: My friend, Tanya.

Tanya: We are not friends, bounty hunter.

Erron Black: Have it your way...

Again, whether trying to be friendly or ironic, once Erron was “turned down”, he simply accepted the situation without any additional crude remarks.

Interestingly, interaction with Sonya showed that Black was capable of rethinking his statement about hot/sexy women:

Erron Black: Girls with guns? Always hot.

Sonya: I'll shove 'em up your ass and fire.

Erron Black: Almost always hot.

Those examples suggest Erron may treat women differently, depending on their “fighting experiences”, age and origin and maybe even how sexually / aesthetically appealing they are to him. For example, veteran Sonya’s threat was taken seriously while (novice / new generation) Jacqui’s warning was ignored. At the same time, the intro dialogues didn’t hint at any romantic or sexual interest in Ferra (a young female symbiote) nor D’Vorah (Kytinn) and relatively good looking Mileena who deserves a separate paragraph.

To be honest, Erron, Johnny and Kano are like the main three men openly showing their (sexual?) interest in women around them. Understable, Black’s flirting / comments rarely were appreciated yet he still was less creepy or aggressive towards others than Kano. Erron didn’t bother to hide his eventual (sexual) interest in beautiful women but it can’t be said A) he had no control over his sexual drive and B) has rapist / sexual predator tendencies.

Another interesting thing: with few exceptions like Kano or Quan Chi, Erron threatened people with violence usually after they offended him and most of the time maintained professional neutrality toward his rivals. In that regard, Erron treated other characters the same regardless of their gender.

This is something worth keeping in mind how Black, as mercenary, in general is not the initiator of violence. Unless someone will pay him. For money, Erron would attack (kill) anyone, including women (to Tanya, “The Kahn wants your head.” + Erron’s Epilogue).

The last detail to talk about: one of the intro dialogue with Cassie suggests Erron thought she was an easy opponent.

Cassie: Is something funny?

Erron Black: I'll win this easy.

Cassie: You're going down hard.

but to be fair, he thought the same about Sub-Zero

Erron Black: You're an easy target.

Sub-Zero: As are you.

Erron Black: Bullets beat snowballs any day.

so I wouldn’t say it was the bias toward Cassie because of her gender and just Erron’s own arrogance (and maybe lack of good judgement on his part).

In summary, MKX!Erron in game alone tends to act in a professional manner. He had an occasion to shoot defeated opponents but did not seize the opportunity against not only Cassie but Jin as well. During the storyline he was rather collected, emotionless. In intro dialogues he openly expresses his interest in tough, relatively attractive women yet the banter is far from the creeping tone of Kano’s interaction with female characters.

Then we have Mortal Kombat 11 in which past and future timelines are messed up. Sadly, Erron’s characterization departs from the neutral-polite one seen in the previous game. Of course, this could be blamed on the younger version of Erron, but frankly, twenty years for someone living at least for a century and half shouldn’t make that big difference in behaviour and well, MK11 outright claims Erron is prone to violence for violence’s sake instead of just money. Which is one of many plot-holes and divergences between both games I guess.

Anyway, Erron, again, was the background character to beat down, so it is worth remembering that he couldn’t permanently hurt or kill anyone from the main cast. In chapter 2 he let Jade get away when he was facing Kotal and frankly, there is little explanation for that in-universe wise. I personally suspect it may be related to Erron’s own sense of honor, as in respecting one on one fight without cheap moves like shooting someone’s beloved person. Not practical in the mercenary job but it is possible for someone born and raised around two centuries ago. Also, Shao Kahn’s anger was focused mainly on killing Kotal for taking the throne. Because of that Erron could be not interested in Jade who simply did not have any significant political matter at that time. Sadly, it is really hard to say for sure what was on his mind.

In chapter 6, past!Erron stormed the Special Forces Base alongside Black Dragon members. There were women in that group but sadly, Black did not interact with anyone beside Johnny Cage. We can at least assume, Black did not mind fighting side by side with women.

Similary, present!Erron in chapter 7 showed up in the background during the alliance attack on Coliseum. The attack was led by Kitana (albeit did Erron join her to save Kotal out of loyalty or for money, it was not explained) and there were female fighters in the group. It seems then Erron does not mind fighting side to side with women.

During the pit fight (chapter 8), past!Erron faced the past!Sonya and the past!Johnny. Frankly, the same as in the previous chapter, game mechanics make little sense because there was no real reason for Erron to open the ring and face the characters when he could simply shoot down both from a safe distance. This really undermines the whole point of Black being a gunslinger, isn’t it?

Anyway, Cage took the forward position (which I think is both because despite his injuries he tried to shield Sonya AND because he actually met Erron during an attack on a Special Forces’ base) and got shot in the arm. After a short skirmish, Erron knocked down Johnny and aimed to kill the injured man.

The most logical thing for Erron in this situation would be to shoot down Sonya first and then finish already beaten down and exhausted Johnny. In defense of the Black though it is worth emphasizing that he didn’t completely ignore Blade nor turned away from her.

Most likely the weird slow-down action of aiming at Johnny was a moment of distraction that Sonya simply used to attack. Similar to MKX, game mechanics do not allow Black to headshot the main heroes, even though, in-universe, he should do just that and be done with the job. There is also a possibility that past and present Kano still wanted to keep Sonya alive for their own amusment (torture and sadly most likely rape) what could explain why Erron didn’t shot her from safe distance. I mean, the game alone did not voice what Kanos really ordered Erron to do.

I know that MK games like to slow down action for dramatic effects, but I strongly believe it was actually a matter of a few seconds of distraction (Erron looking aside to shoot Johnny and aiming) that Sonya took advantage of rather Black ignoring her on purpose. Even more since Black did not hesitate to shoot at her and seemed to enjoy facing “the legendary” Sonya Blade.

The same as MKX, Mortal Kombat 11 does not explain Black’s mindset. He does not shoot Jade or Sonya when he has a chance but he does not make any rude remarks toward women in general. However the intro dialogues shed a light on the complicated relationship that Erron has with women.

From what we learn about Erron, his childhood was far from normal or safe. We don’t know details, but what he shared with Cetrion and Cassie strongly suggest that Erron’s both parents were abusive people:

Cetrion: You shot your own father, Erron Black.

Erron: Sonofabitch had it coming.

Cetrion: Honor thy parents, mortal!

Erron: My Ma would’ve loved you, Cassie Cage.

Cassie: Aw, sounds like you miss her bunches.

Erron: I hated Ma.

Erron: I grew up around tough women.

Cassie: Didn’t they teach you respect?

Erron: They taught me to hit back.

The last statement suggests young Erron was abused by women (most likely including his own mother) to the point he is now willing to hit back anyone regardless of their gender without remorse. Erron himself says “I ain't above shootin' a lady” (intro dialogue vs. Sonya).

Beside that, an abusive mother alone could influence Black’s approach to women - and most likely she did, since he admitted to hate her. Surprisingly, Erron uses the past tense (“I hated Ma”) so there is a chance he gained distance over time in that matter. It also seems like whatever he feels about mother usually doesn't affect his relationship with other female characters. For example, in the mentioned banter he did not insult Cassie for reminding him about the abusive parent. Despite the bad childhood intro dialogues hint Black actually likes dangerous women.

Erron Black: I stepped out with Nitara before you.

Skarlet: You clearly have a type, Erron.

Erron Black: Just like living dangerously.

Like in the previous game, Erron openly shows his (sexual) interest in various women. The interesting change however is how:

His interest extends now to more alien-looking female characters like Nitara or Sheeva. Surprisingly, Mileena’s advances are still rejected. Also, Erron has like zero respect for the goddess Cetrion but to be honest, he does not respect any god.

Erron is more disrespecting by using nicknames like Legs or Baby Doll for Sonya or Sugar for Cassie. Of course, it may be just the “charm” of younger Black - hard to tell in most cases which version is speaking - but it creates an overall feeling of ironic, at times irritating or insulting approach to female fighters. At the same time, there are women that Erron refers to in a rather consistently respectful manner - Jacqui (Miss Briggs, Little Lady), Jade (ma’am, missy), Kitana (Princess, Kahn).

Before I will focus on the complex situation with Mileena, I need to talk about Erron’s important trait: he often says one thing but does the opposite. This is especially noticeable in intro dialogues concerning money and loyalty. Both games agree the main motivation for Black is a good payment, albeit MK11 highline also the thrill of danger. Anyway, Erron admitted he is willing to betray Kotal, a current employer, if someone offered a better deal (“Until a better offer comes along.”, “There's always a better offer, Kotal”). This strengthens the impression Black cares only about himself yet he rejects all propositions coming from Kotal’s enemies such as Shao Kahn, Rain or Mileena, Quan Chi, Shinnok and Kano/Black Dragons. At the same, he is willing to work with/ for Kitana who happens to be the best friend of Jade, Kotal’s beloved. Which makes Erron still operate in a group wishing no harm to the ex-emperor.

I’m bringing this into discussion because there is strong possibility that under the tough guy act, Erron still follows some “old-fashioned” sense of morality and is decent enough to not attack or harm women (and in my opinion, people in general) unless A) it is part of the job or B) is self-defense. Which could explain why he let Jade walk away or why he didn’t shoot Sonya from a safe distance but faced her in hand to hand combat. Depending how long he lived in Outworld, he could simply adapt into local customs - the people of Outworld are a combat-focused society and because of that have a strong sense of honor code. Erron’s eventual softness toward female fighters would get him in serious problems and I doubt he could afford such weakness when serving Shang Tsung or Shao Kahn.

So, why did Erron not want to serve Mileena, the designated successor? As the Empress, she was in position to offer the best (materially wise at least) deal after all.

In MKX!banter Erron claims Kotal paid him better:

Mileena: You aided the usurper.

Erron Black: He offered more coins.

Mileena: ...and no protection.

Meanwhile, MK11!Black outright says it was not a matter of money but of Mileena’s behaviour. Considering how prone to violence she was, it is no wonder why Erron decided to work for someone else.

Erron Black: Now what's got you all rip-snorting mad?

Mileena: When I gained the throne, you abandoned it.

Erron Black: Wasn't no pay worth dealing with your crazy.

This brings me back to the MKX’s banter suggesting Erron may dislike being bossed by women. Considering the implication he is currently negotiating a proper deal with Kitana Kahn (“New Kahn, same deal?”), the problem is more complex than judging someone by gender alone. I mean, Erron worked for Shao Kahn who himself was a cruel tyrant so sadism shouldn't be anything new for Black, right? Except, he was hired by Shang Tsung and because of that I think it is highly possible Erron had just indirect contact with the Emperor. Thus Erron could be not ready for Mileena’s unstable nature(?) and cruelty.

I mean - Erron comes from a pathological family and grew up around tough women. In his opinion Cassie has some traits or behaves in a way for which his mother would’ve liked the girl. So there are certain things that Black connects to hated mother. Now, Cassie is more of an extrovert type of person, showy and with sharp ripostes but she is one of the good guys and cruelty for fun is not her thing. So, if someone like Cassie can somehow make him think of a hated parent (that most likely is dead for decades now), how much Mileena could trigger Erron in the wrong way? To the point he chooses his mental health over money and/or thrill of danger?

If this is true, we may further wonder if bad experiences with tough women in childhood are the reason why despite flirtatious nature, Erron’s interest in female fighters usually is strictly sexual attraction? Because it really looks like he does not try to emotionally connect with women. Even his “thing” with Skarlet seems to be more a matter of thrill than a serious relationship, considering how Erron was okay with her eventual death.

(The possibility of Erron being freaked out by Mileena also rises an interesting question about her mental state between MK9 and MKX)

This is why I think Erron did not have a problem with working for women as long as they did not remind him too much of past abuse. And this is pretty nice implication, considering how tough guy Erron is for most of the time.

Because of that, Kotal questioning if Erron is jealous of Jade could be read in different way too:

Erron Black: So, you and Jade, huh?

Kotal Kahn: Jealous, Erron Black?

Erron Black: She's quite the looker, Kotal.

And yeah, Erron brings this to the matter of appearance alone, but hopeful as I proved earlier, Erron sometimes says one thing but does (thinks) something totally different. Because of that I suspect he may not be really jealous of Kotal for having a sexy lady but actually of the relationship itself. You know, build on respect and love than just build on sexual drive.

Like I said before, the game cutscenes and character banters may be interpreted in many ways but for me MK11!Erron Black - at least the older version - seems to mask his trauma and/or complex nature of his relationship with women under the act of tough guys. At the same time, there is a high possibility he still follows an out-fashioned sense of honor and though he is not above shooting women, he does not attack them unless it is demanded. Though to be fair, in my opinion this is how he approaches everyone. A mercenary’s mindset that distinguishes him from the likes of Kano.

In Mortal Kombat 11: Aftermatch, Erron met Sheeva, when the Shokan Queen in the company of Fujin, Nightwolf and Shang Tsung carried a coffin to the Soul Chamber. Black and Baraka decided to confront the Shokan woman and it quickly turned into a fight (and the typical game mechanics).

There is a question though - did Erron really take Kitana's offer or did he stay with Kotal? Because it’s really suspicious that he happened in the place where defenless, injured Kotal was in the healing process. Anyway, whatever the case, Black directly or indirectly worked for the new Kahn so it is highly possible his actions were dictated by Kitana’s best interest rather than his liking or disliking anyone.

Let’s just look at the situation - Kitana is the empress but she promised to treat her allies as her equals. That means Sheeva, as well respected Shokan Queen, plays an important role in the new regime - killing her or permanently injuring was out question, otherwise Shokan people could rebel against Kitana and in result the freshly established peace would go straight to hell.

In my opinion, this is why Erron asked Sheeva’s group to go with them quietly so the situation could be explained to Kitana without unnecessary violence. Black actually was okay with Sheeva go to Soul Chamber as long as Shang Tsung (Shao Kahn’s sorcerer) and the suspicious coffin was returned to him. Thanks to Shang Tsung, one of Tarkatan warrior died and thus the situation got out of hand. It makes sense Erron was more focused on Shang Tsung (hated by Kitana), Nightwolf (whose current self is revenant) and Fujin than on Sheeva who, potentially, was protected by political immunity.

When the Shokan Queen beat down Baraka, Erron in my opinion did not try to hurt her, only fired a warning shot. Maybe to make sure Sheeva will not kill Baraka (another important leader whose support Kitana needed to uphold the peace in Outworld). The Earthrealmers on other hand were another matter. Maybe Erron was too trusting or too reckless to not pay more attention to Sheeva or simply didn’t really think she was the traitor. It was after learning she is trying to resurrect Kitana’s evil mom - a dangerous, not consulted with Empress decision - Erron faced Sheeva in hand to hand combat.

Not much to analyse here, especially not with limitations of game mechanics yet I strongly believe Erron’s course of action was dictated by political situation and Kitana Kahn’s best interest so killing or seriously injuring Sheeva could be out of question. Also, like I said previously, Black is rarely the aggressor, what I believe is related to his mercenary’s mindset.

The last source, Mortal Kombat X comics series, requires a little clarification: I treat it as a potentially additional insight into Erron’s psyche than any real canonical material. Partially due to many plot-holes but also because of overwhelming violence used for violence’s sake alone. That said, here what happens:

Earthrealm (Special Forces) and Outworld (Kotal Kahn) weren’t on the best terms. To help Kotal, Erron and Black Dragons kidnapped young (under 21 years old) Cassie and Jacqui and took them to Outworld. During the journey through the dangerous jungle, girls tried to run away but got hurt in the process by Kano. Erron openly talked against brutal treatment of prisoners.

Looking at the difficult situation of Kotal, it was in Erron’s best interest to keep Cassie and Jacqui in one piece. Otherwise the whole plan would fail and then Kotal would be forced to deal with really pissed off Sonya Blade. And that would take a bad turn for Black himself. But like I said earlier, the tough guy act could also cover Erron’s more empathic nature that in the mercenary world was seen as a weakness to exploit. I personally think he did not like torturing people if that was unnecessary but also that he would have spoken against it even if Cassie and Jaquie were boys.

Then the Red Dragons attacked to take over hostages.

(Once again, a tough guy act with the “girls are Kotal’s property” as in cover up his worries about the situation or his true mindset, or mix?)

When the fight started, Erron went to tied hostages:

One one hand, Erron needs the girl to stay alive and not be taken by the enemy. On the other hand, he does not promise them safety nor ask them to run away. He is freeing them so the two girl (both under 21 years old) will fight against experienced criminals armed with swords and other dangerous stuff. This is actually an interesting detail, because it suggests Erron thought Cassie and Jacqui had a chance against thugs or that at least that way they wouldn't be a burden to him.

Jacqui punched him and Erron, either was taken by surprise or did not want to hurt her, was “saved” by Kano. And then betrayed by the Black Dragon leader.

Kano’s worlds raise a question, how much Erron is driven by the money and how much he uses the tough guy act to actually hide his unwanted “vulnerability” (as in, having moral sense and not being the heartless psychopath like Kano).

My general conclusion about Erron is that, for a side character he has a really complex relationship with women around him. I strongly believe that Erron sticks to some old fashioned sense of honor that mixes well with a mercenary's mindset. Thus rarely he is the one attacking first. This most likely influences his interaction with female fighters but at the same time, Outworld is not a place where people are judged by gender but for their skills and powers. So, Erron living there for decades for sure got influenced by that mindset to some degree.

I would not call him a feminist - not because he couldn’t be one but for lack of proper material to analyse. Feminism has many shades but in the most general sense is about establishing the political, economic, personal, and social equality of the sexes. Erron does not show much opinion on that matter and does not interact with “common” women; those truly weaker than him, disabled or anything else other than warriors, soldiers or queens. With lack of such interaction there is no chance to come to a proper conclusion.

Does Erron have a soft spot for women? It is possible but that would not stop him from hitting back or killing them if the situation called for such action. I think the safest option is just that Erron is in general a more emphatic and honorable human that he wants to admit, to not look weak or be exploited by others. In contrast to Kano, Black for sure has some moral code he follows no matter what. Even if this get him into trouble more often than not.

Hope it answers your question!

#mortal kombat #erron black #my replies #my analysis #erron is like a turtle hard on outside soft(er) inside i guess #sorry it took me so long to write there was many stuff to talk about #hope it helps!

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bumblebear30 · 3 years

Text

The heights you take me to.

Rita Calhoun x Casey Novak

Established Calvak

Warnings: Discussion of fears around heights, No smut but allusions to. Language. Casey Novak being so fucking adorable she’ll steal your girl and you’d still thank her.

The heights you take me to.

Not that anyone ever did ask, but if anyone had ever been brazen enough to raise the issue, Rita would categorically deny that she was scared of heights.

And she would win that argument. Even a polygraph test on the subject would be passed with flying colours. She was entirely content on those shallow balconies at the opera, mezzanine floors in apartments in Paris posed no hindrance and, thankfully, even the thought of flying in planes didn’t bother her. So truly heights weren’t the issue.

If you were going to get technical about it, maybe, possibly, perhaps, she had a mild concern – an often valid mild-concern – about falling from unstable platforms. Honestly it just seemed common sense to avoid such scenarios. An intrinsic urge of self-protection that had served her well through life so far. So much so, the issue very rarely came up at all.

And yet, somehow Casey, so typically enthusiastic, utterly wonderfully childlike in her glee and adoration of things somehow put Rita in a situation where she had to confront that maybe she should have voiced her concerns much earlier in their relationship.

It had all come about because Casey had won their most recent head-to-head case and they'd long since set up and agreement that after a case where they been up against each other whoever won got to choose whatever date it was that they went on as soon as they could.

Sometimes it was as mundane as choosing which wine and takeaway combo would go with whatever mindless TV or comfort film they'd watch as they settled back into their domestic selves, or something like Casey making Rita join her on a walk around the park when the seasons were changing so she could point out the beauty of the leaves changing colour or the blossom scattering the footpath. She was always such a romantic; as much in love with the natural world around her as with the woman stood next to her holding her hand. Despite her apparent grumbling Rita actually loved those walks, just getting to have a glimpse of how Casey saw things always made her fall for the redhead even more.

Other times, if she'd won, Rita would go all out spoiling Casey with a quick weekend away, or lavish meal out – not to gloat, never to gloat - but to simply spoil her girl as she deserved to be spoilt.

One time Casey had made Rita go camping... Despite the defence attorney trying her best to cope with it all after several tantrums Casey learnt quickly that camp life did not hold the same joyful relaxation for the brunette as she’d hoped, and had hastily found them a glamping resort nearby to save the long weekend.

But, given the nature of some of the cases, and just how passionately Rita would defend her client and Casey would fight for justice for the victim, sometimes there simply had to be a cooling off phase of a couple of days before either one was quite ready to think about indulging the whims of the winning party.

The longest they'd gone through such a détente had been ten days. It had just clocked over to the eleventh when Rita had woken to the sounds of Casey sniffling, trying to muffle her tears on the couch where she'd been sleeping, self-imposed it had to be said. Wordlessly Rita had left the warmth of their bed and padded across the apartment simply to cuddle up with the redhead: wrapping her arms around her and cradling her head into the crook of her neck. The unspoken love and comfort in the gentle touches, the light peppering of kisses against her hair, had initially just made Casey sob even harder. It was exactly what she'd needed ten days ago but her own smarting pride and anger at the world's injustices had meant she denied herself from seeking out from the one person who could truly console her. Rita had continued to just hold her though and rub her back, letting Casey get it all out without judgement.

Exhausted Casey had eventually fallen asleep, utterly spent after finally letting the emotional dam burst. With great care Rita had slowly manoeuvred them (an impressive feat she was quite proud of really) so that she could lie down on the couch properly with Casey draped comatose over her hip, her face pillowed on Rita's chest. She knew she'd inevitably end up with a drool mark on her satin sleep shirt but making sure Casey was comfortable was far more important - and for the first time in weeks, fell asleep holding her love.

Waking up being held so tenderly by Rita, who had spent the night on the couch with her simply because Casey had needed her, almost made Casey cry again. Although this time because her heart was so full. She'd laid there for a little while completely content to just listen to Rita's soft snores (she only ever did when she slept on her back, Casey always thought they were adorable), until she could resist no longer and started to trail her hand across the top of Rita's shoulder and down her arm a little.

So absorbed in the sensation of the satin under her fingertips, and the incomparable softness of Rita's skin where it had slipped more open on her chest, Casey hadn't realised the gentle snores had stopped till she felt an answering hand come up to run across the back of her head gently. Looking up she had been greeted with such a soft sleepy smile from her girlfriend that Casey just wanted to remember it forever.

The woman was just so perfect for her. Rita would of course argue with a smirk across her face that she was perfect, full stop, but Casey always simply pointed out that she loved Rita’s imperfections just as much anyway. It usually earned her a sweet kiss, or three. But that morning it was Casey who poured as much love and gratefulness into the kisses she pressed to Rita’s cheek before offering to cook one of Rita’s beloved egg-white omelettes.

At this precise moment in time though Rita wished with every fibre of her being that she was back in their apartment, safely sat on the couch which was so securely resting on the ground.

Casey had won their most recent professional battle – Rita was secretly relieved, the guy creeped her out too – and the redhead had promptly declared that she wanted to go to Coney Island. Initially Rita thought she was joking, and had laughed in her face. She thought it went without saying that fair ground rides, fried foods and screaming children were not her idea of a fun evening with her girlfriend. But upon seeing the puppy dog worthy pout that was now gracing said girlfriend’s face she had immediately relented, although only once securing a promise that she could wear Casey’s clothes. She’d be damned if her designer wardrobe was going to be sacrificed along with her professional court win-rate. Chanel and cotton candy did not mix.

So, a few days later she’d subsequently found herself dressed in Casey’s jeans and old softball team hoody. When she’d left the bedroom and when Casey had caught sight of how her ass filled out the jeans let alone seeing Rita with ‘NOVAK’ emblazoned across her shoulders? She was reduced to an absolute puddle of adoration and affection.

Rita had recognised the gleam in her redhead’s eyes and it had buoyed her confidence, loving to have the chance to flirt and spoil Casey to her heart’s content. Although really with the small fortune she’d spent on letting Casey try to win at the coconut shy she would’ve expected a higher quality prize than the little plush tiger the redhead eventually chose. But when Casey had then only slightly bashfully presented it to her, saying that it reminded her of her courtroom persona Rita surprised herself with how much she immediately treasured it, able to picture where it would rest 'on-guard' on top of her jewellery box on the dressing table.

She’d tried to counter how the moment got to her by quipping that she’d need to work harder if Casey saw her as soft and cuddly in court, but Casey had simply rolled her eyes and laughed, quickly tugging Rita towards her to press a quick kiss to the side of her head before leading her further down the boardwalk and onto the next distraction.

Rita had been all too happy to follow. With the quite fierce and regal looking little tiger securely tucked under one arm, and her free hand safely and lovingly entangled with Casey’s whenever possible – only releasing her when Casey wanted to play a stall, or to tsk as she had to untangle Casey’s hair as it got caught on whatever food stuff the redhead kept on encouraging her to indulge in, Rita actually found herself not just tolerating the date, but actively enjoying it.

Cotton candy tasted sweeter when stolen off of her girlfriend’s stick of it. The gleam of Casey’s eyes in all the bright lights made the neon flashing bearable. The screams of hyperactive and wayward children were relegated to the background as Casey laughed and joked with her, muttering sweet nothings into her ear as they watched the sunset, and decidedly naughtier comments when they indulged in ice creams and hotdogs. It had all been going just swimmingly. But then Casey had legitimately squealed and bounced like an excitable golden retriever as she bounded towards the one thing Rita had been determinedly ignoring:

That fucking Ferris wheel.

As she covered her unease – all those different treats suddenly bubbling inside her stomach suddenly felt like such a bad idea – with an attempt at an indulgent smile and joined Casey in the queue, Rita couldn’t help but consider how they’d managed to get so far into their relationship without the discussion about Rita’s concerns – definitely not fear, Rita Calhoun was not scared of anything or anyone thank you very much – but unease, about being up on something so rickety and unstable that just went unnecessarily high and when was it last inspected and god did the damn seats have to sway so and oh shit was it just a bar across their laps that was meant to protect them? She was Rita fucking Calhoun, surely there was something more robust and reliable than a single metal 2x4 to stop her from plunging to her imminent dea-

Oh.

Rita glanced down at where Casey had taken her white knuckled grip from the metal safety bar and now held her hand in both of her own in the warmth of her lap,

“Babe, you should’ve just said if you didn’t want to go on the ride.”

Rita was glad that Casey was so close and so beautiful, it meant she could safely focus on her rather than how the ground, nice safe terra firma, was getting smaller and smaller the higher up they went. She made herself focus on the brightness of her eyes – how they seemed to radiate such love and warmth at her, to take in how there were a few more smile lines at the corner of those eyes than there were when she’d first found herself getting lost in them.

She dropped her gaze (oh god, wrong choice of word she chided herself), to the top of Casey’s cupid bow lip, able to instantly conjure the countless memories of how that lip felt pressed against her own, tracing down her throat and across her body drawing out and bringing her such pleasure. Right now though, the corner of those lips were curling up in one of those soft, ever so slightly teasing smiles that still made Rita’s heart beat faster despite how long they’d been together– although she was glad to notice that actually this time it actually slowed her racing pulse, letting her breathe deeply once more,

“I’m not scared,” she finally huffed out, even though she tried to shuffle closer to Casey in the same moment and instantly froze wide-eyed as the seat seemed to swing at her movement. With a roll of her eyes Casey lifted her arm to come round the back of Rita’s shoulders, encouraging the brunette to cuddle into her side,

“Of course not darling. I never said you were.”

Rita’s sigh this time was in apparent exasperation but truly, she felt inexplicably safer with Casey’s arm wrapped comfortingly around her. She finally felt brave enough to look past Casey’s face, being pressed so closely against the crook of her shoulder she could smell the distinctive scent of Casey’s perfume from where she’d applied it to her pulse point. It made her smile. She’d bought the redhead the bespoke scent for their second Christmas together, and it had been her go-to ever since. With the familiar hints of bergamot, blood orange and nutmeg swirling through her senses and Casey’s low voice pointing out the different sights that surrounded them Rita actually felt herself relax and begin to enjoy the experience.

Until the blasted wheel groaned and ground to a stop just as they came round to the top once again,

“Fuck! What’s happening? Is it breaking? Casey!”

With a gentle chuckle Casey ran her thumb over Rita’s knuckles and the back of her hand to calm her,

“Sorry sweetheart, I didn’t know you were going to be not scared so I slipped the operator an extra $10 so we could stop at the top for a bit.”

Rita turned to face her aghast,

“And why would you do such a thing!?!”

“Maybe because I wanted to look at all the different sights with my girlfriend,” she reached out to tuck some of the fly-aways of Rita’s classic half-up do back behind her ear, “Or maybe I wanted to make out with the love of my life on the Ferris wheel like a horny teenager…”

The wickedly teasing smile and gleam to her eyes elicited the exact knowing and playful laugh from Rita that Casey knew it would,

“Well, when you put it like that darling,” Casey loved how Rita’s usual confidence seemed to exude from her once the redhead had focussed her attention, already leaning forward as Rita beckoned her with her fingers curling under her chin, “C’mere you.”

So maybe Ferris wheels weren’t so bad after all.

In fact, sharing such sweet kisses that tasted like candy as the fair lights flashed, oblivious in their own world as children screamed and parents yelled all around them, meant Rita thought she could just about say she was a fan of the mechanical monstrosity.

Just.

#Rita Calhoun #Casey Novak #Rita Calhoun X Casey Novak #Calvak #established calvak #fluff #fairground fun #fear of heights #fanfic #my writing #Excuse any inaccuracies to actual Coney Island #I have never been #and live many thousands of miles away #so my bad

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trashmenofmarvel · 3 years

Text

Branded - Chapter 55

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: The aftereffects of the ritual hit you both harder than expected.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

Chapter Warnings: Explicit sexual content

AO3

You sprang from the bed, slipping on the hardwood floor with only your socks as traction, but you caught your balance as you raced across the room. Barely pausing as you threw open the door, you ran, guided by…

…by a thin golden thread, faint but present if you concentrated and focused on the feeling of an other connection. One that was familiar, yet different. It was strong enough for you to follow, something that had only happened when Bucky had been in supposed danger.

But this time, there was no rage, no blinding anger and hatred. You were anxious, terrified of what you would find at the end of that thread.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to go far. Only to another guest bedroom barely twenty feet away, and you burst through that door with just as much urgency as the last.

Two healers and four guards were stationed around the room. The healers you recognized by their pale blue robes, and they were both standing to one side of a bed, a bed you knew you had to quickly reach.

The sorcerers on guard didn’t stop you. In fact, they gave you something of a berth, stepping out of the way in your haste to get past them. The healers, too, didn’t block your path, and you didn’t question any of it. All you could think about was getting to Bucky.

As soon as you saw him, you knew something was wrong. Bucky looked exactly the same, but he was too still. His breathing too shallow and slow. You placed your hands on his bare chest, his skin too pale and cold.

Closing your eyes, you reached out, feeling for the demon energy within him. You found it after pushing your concentration further, so faint you almost couldn’t sense it. Whatever the ritual had done, it had drained him of too much energy.

Perhaps for the first time, you were truly grateful for your particular brand of magic as you kept your palms pressed to his chest, letting the energy seep from your hands into the core of his own magic. Your hands tingled pleasantly and your eyelids fluttered, but before you could give him any more of the energy he needed, Bucky shuttered beneath your palms and bolted upright.

You took a single look at his face, slightly turned your head, and over your shoulder said:

“Leave.”

The sorcerers didn’t need to be told twice. Pheromones were already cloying in the air, heavy with enticing perfume.

The door barely shut behind the last guard before you were pulled off your feet. Bucky’s face was at your neck, tasting and licking your skin, his claws tightly gripping the thick cloth of your robes.

You didn’t bother speaking; Bucky was too far gone to hold a conversation. He was starving, ravenous, and even if you couldn’t sense it across the bond, you would have known it in the pitch black of his eyes as he’d stared at you like a meal he wanted to devour.

As he pulled you down onto the bed, pressing you into the covers, you welcomed it. You did make a noise of protest when he ripped off the silver robes, his claws making quick work of the soft material.

All thoughts of your ruined outfit fled as Bucky gripped your thighs and spread them, his sharp teeth scraping against your throat, his breath heavy. You weren’t much better, your body thrumming with anticipation as you attempted to touch every inch of him you could. It was the kind of desperate, wild hunger Bucky hadn’t felt in a long time, and getting a taste of it across the bond was going to drive you mad.

Bucky didn’t let it get that far. There was no patience in him, his need was too strong for that, and when he rubbed the head of his cock across your entrance, you nearly saw stars.

Your breathing stuttered and you wrapped your legs around his waist, angling your hips upward until the tip was pressed against your soaking entrance.

Bucky lowered his hands to your hips, gripped tightly, and pushed.

You cried out sharply, in pleasure or pain, it didn’t matter, but you squeezed tightly with your legs, refusing to let him stop or slow down. Bucky, for his part, didn’t do either, and the burning stretch was nearly too much to bear.

But you bore it, and you begged for more in unintelligible words, and Bucky pushed further and further until he was buried up to the hilt and you almost couldn’t breathe. He filled you so completely, in a way that was more satisfying and fulfilling than it had been before. Was this what it was supposed to be like?

“Yes,” you gasped into his ear, twining your fingers in his hair. “Yes, please, Bucky, yes.”

He gave a groan that almost sounded pained, but when he pulled back his hips and thrust, you were the one crying out as if tortured.

But he didn’t stop. Whatever you were feeling across the bond, Bucky could feel it too, and he knew exactly how far he could push you. With each roll of his hips, the pleasure echoed between you, and it wasn’t long before he was fucking you hard into the mattress.

You clung to his back for purchase, mindless from each spark of heat that ignited with each thrust, and your orgasm hit hard and fast without warning. You arched your back and cried out, your muscles seizing up around him, and Bucky shuddered to a stop, his moans buried in your hair.

The energy drain was intense, pulling at you so hard it prolonged your orgasm. Thankfully, you had a lot of energy to give, pulling it from the magic inside you. It was more than Bucky could ever take from one person, and you gave it all, gasping and shuddering until he finally stopped.

Bucky practically collapsed on top of you, careful of his weight but just barely by propping himself on his elbows. Not that you minded. Having two-hundred and forty pounds of demon on top of you would, hopefully, be something frequent in your future.

Without speaking, you rubbed your palms down his back, subtly moving your fingers and casting a minor spell.

Bucky groaned against your neck, slightly shifting his hips, which almost made you drop your concentration.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking to make sure you’re all right.” Your fingers next traced up the back of his wings, since they had come out at some point. You hadn’t even noticed, not with how preoccupied you’d been a moment ago.

Bucky pushed back far enough to meet your eye. His forehead was still beaded with sweat and his hair looked exactly like he’d just had wild sex. You couldn’t help but smirk.

“I’m fine,” he insisted, his voice graveled and scraping up your spine in a pleasant shiver. “Better than fine. Also, that tickles.”

Before you could make good on that delicious tidbit of information, Bucky leaned down and kissed you, so sweetly at first that you couldn’t take a breath. And then he deepened the kiss as he always did, as if he had only meant to have a taste and couldn’t stop himself from taking more.

You parted your lips, opening yourself to him, and his long tongue rolled over yours, grasping it in that indecent way he could do. You wrapped your fingers in his hair and pulled him closer, squeezing him with your thighs, and being rewarded by Bucky’s deep moans.

And then he grabbed you by the hips and rolled you both over, breaking off the kiss and grinning up on you from where you were now straddling him.

“Round two?”

Any thought of telling Bucky what had happened during the ritual, of your impossible meeting with the Ancient One, of doing more extensive tests to make sure he was truly okay, were washed away at his charming grin. Not to mention the more needy part of him throbbing between your legs.

You groaned and bit your lip, more from surprise than trying to be seductive. Bucky still followed the movement with a hungry eye, anyway.

“How can you still be so hungry?” you asked in a whisper. And he was, you could sense it across the bond. It wasn’t nearly as bad as it was before, but Bucky still wasn’t completely full.

“Maybe because you’re just that delicious.”

“Bucky.”

He sighed and had the grace to only mildly roll his eyes.

“I’m fine. Really. Whatever you did to me… yeah it drained the hell out of me, but it worked. I can… I can feel the bond like, like before, but somehow different.”

“Yeah.” Your answer was quiet, the smiles vanished. “What… what do you remember, Bucky? From the ritual?”

He winced only slightly, but it was enough to make you regret asking and making him remember.

“A lot of pain, and blood. And my sigil being opened. You… joined us together at the same time, right? Cut open both our sigils, and hands, and did like a… double-pact kind of thing? Where did you even think of that?”

Your smile was back, this time a tad shaky.

“Uh… not sure. I was just kind of… grasping at straws. Going on instinct and intuition.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes.

You gasped as he sat upright, and it was the last full breath you took, because you were seated firmly in his lap. Meaning his cock was now fully embedded in you again.

Bucky, for his part, didn’t react except for his fully blown pupils and the hint of desire flickering across your bond.

“Are you telling me… you took a dangerous, never-done-before, demonic ritual and… winged it?”

You winced, bracing yourself for the riot act that was surely coming, the one you probably deserved for doing something so dangerous in a snap decision. But it never came.

Bucky gently took your head in his hands and planted a kiss on your forehead.

“That’s my girl.”

You face went so hot you were surprised you didn’t burn him.

“I… well…”

Bucky watched you sputter. His expression was serious enough, but his eyes were sparkling with humor.

“You’re… not mad?”

“No, of course not. Why would I be?” Warmth spread across your bond, mirrored in his eyes. “You accomplished something no one’s done before, despite the obstacles in your way. Strange or Wong or myself be damned, you did this. And I’m proud of you.”

You had no idea what to say, you’d always been bad at accepting compliments, so you leaned forward and kissed him hard.

Bucky made a noise of surprise but returned the kiss without missing a beat. You would have been happy to let it continue and take him up on his offer of a second round, but there was something you had to say first.

Regretfully breaking the kiss, you didn’t go far, meeting his blue eyes and stroking your thumb across his jaw, the always-present stubble brushing against your skin.

“I couldn’t have done any of it without you, so… Thank you for trusting me, Bucky. I can’t imagine what it took for you to do that.”

Now it was Bucky’s turn to flush, the tips of his pointed ears turning pink. Had you ever noticed that before?

“I would trust you with anything, sweetheart.”

He pulled you in for another kiss, this one reflecting the warmth and love flooding across your bond.

Your tail went stiff as goosebumps ran down your arms and legs, and you gave a muffled moan of surprise when Bucky’s tail wrapped around yours. As entwined as you were already, the added sensation on your tail was almost too much, and you buried yourself into the kiss.

“Come here,” he said, smiling against your lips.

This time Bucky pulled you down, and you followed him onto the bed. Touching, reaching, and connecting in ways that you had never thought possible, and in other ways, felt as old as time.

Next Chapter

#branded #demon!bucky x reader #demon!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #my writing #my fanfiction

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