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buckyarchives · 1 year

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Graceland Too. | Ellie Williams

Pairing: Ellie Williams x fem! Reader.

Summary: Ellie didn’t care much for trusting new people, she needed to keep the ones she had. Until you came around.

Request by anon

W.c: 3.5k

warning; stab wound/ depiction of blood

Author note: hi! I’ve never written for Ellie before nor have I played the video game so spare me if it’s ooc 😅 but the fic is inspired by Graceland too by phoebe Bridgers, especially since it was playing on repeat in the background while I wrote this. Enjoy reading!

Master list | read on AO3

Ellie noticed you quickly. You walked with heavy weights on your shoulder, dragging you down and slowing your steps. With fear-filled irises and dark circles, you jumped at every sharp movement and your appearance was not often. Keeping your head down, picking at your cuticles until the blood trickles to your fingertips. Ellie watched you with curious eyes, noticing every detail she could grasp onto.

She’d never been too interested in people beyond a surface level, too hard to trust, too easy to leave her. She decided it wasn’t worth it. Joel was left and even then, it was hard knowing if he’d end up leaving someday. She needed to grasp onto that and hold it close to her chest and pray he never leaves.

But there was something about your dark eyes and dragged feet that kept reeling Ellie in. Curiosity had always gotten the best of her in the past, no matter how much she said she’d learn from her mistakes.

“Who’s the girl?” Ellie mentions at the table, eyebrows raised in curiosity towards Tommy Joel was too busy shoveling food in his mouth, manners be damned. Tommy gave a hesitant, almost pitied look towards Maria.

The three looked over at you, as you picked at a plate of food. Probably the only time you’d leave your room, it might be a few days before Ellie could catch a glimpse of you again.

Tommy gulped, a nervous look in his eyes. Man, did Ellie make him that nervous or was there something else there?“ She came shortly before you guys, with no family or crew. Just showed up, bare-boned and one foot in the grave. Bout around your age.”

Ellie sometimes wonders how his Texan accent has survived all these years in the apocalypse, the thought about it made her giggle. Ellie turned to look at you again, you were leaving. She watched you until you were out of sight, feeling a surge in her to follow.

It terrified her.

“Thought you didn’t let people in often?” Ellie poked.

Maria sighed, “she was just a kid, looked scared shitless with nothing on her. Barely talks to anyone and stays in her room.”

Ellie thought about that conversation a lot. She always searched the crowds for you, maybe Joel was catching on. He’d nudge her shoulder when he found you first, turning his head in your direction. You read books sometimes when the weather was nice but not nice enough that large crowds would be out. Over the weeks your cheeks got fuller and your eyes a little lighter, which made Ellie swell with warmth.

Curiosity kills the cat, right? Ellie had watched you enough to know where you resided, only a little concerned that you hadn’t caught onto her borderline stalking yet. Or you did, just did a real good job at covering it up. Ellie might be a stupid fool for sneaking off one day, finding the door that led to you and taking the leap and twisting your door open. No plan, no real intentions.

She just wanted to see you, feel the weird pang in her stomach when she caught sight of your soft-looking jaw, and your long eyelashes that always stayed low to the ground. She wondered what you smelled like, probably nice, unlike Joel who smelled like gunpowder and spite. Or Tommy who smelled of whisky and pig shit, god he’s so happy about his hogs.

The room looked empty at first, and for someone who spent most of their time in here - it was bare bones. Like how Maria described you when you first showed up to Jackson But it was warm, a stack of books on the side table, way more than Ellie would choose. A large blue knitted blanket and two large duffel bags. Stuffed to the brim with your things like you were ready to leave any moment, always ready.

Then, there you were. Having come from the bathroom, wide eyes like you were a deer in Ellie’s headlights. You gasped when you noticed her presence, stunning pink lips parted slightly. Ellie caught herself staring at them for a couple seconds too long. She wasn’t sure what to do now, not having thought this far. But then the vibrant red liquid streaming down your arm caught her eye, the way it bled from the poorly placed bandage on your shoulder.

“Holy shit! Dude, are you okay?” She shot up, the words leaving her mouth faster than her brain. Ellie’s feet instinctively came closer to you, grasping at your arm. You tried to flinch away but Ellie reached out to you, you tensed at her touch - despite how gentle and innocent it was. Eyes not leaving her face as she scammed the open wound.

“Who are you?” You studded out finally, paying no mind to the sting in your shoulder as you reopened your stitch for the third time now.

“Doesn’t matter, you're bleeding!” Ellie said, so concerned. Her time inched towards the open wound, wincing as the blood gushed out like it was her own wound. “I don’t know who stitched this, but it’s really bad.”

“I did.” You muttered under your breath, slightly embarrassed by her mocking tone and closeness. Too close, but she didn’t look like moving anytime soon.

“Well, whoever taught you is a grade-A idiot.” Ellie commented, eyes searching the area until she found the open first aid kit on your toilet. Dragging you along with her into the small, cramped space. It took no time for Ellie to begin patching your wound, no other comments or introductions. For all you knew, this random girl with surprisingly warm and gentle hands just showed up to save you from an infected gash. Ellie knew nothing of you outside the small talk with Tommy and her own observations, seeing you up close was new and exciting. It made Ellie's blood pump faster and her brain short-circuit. The weird feeling in her stomach grew as she noticed the smaller details.

A few moles and freckles littered on your skin, the wispy parts of your hair that escaped the way you styled it, the cracked lips, the small scar on your eyebrow. You were so imperfectly perfect, like looking at a beloved painting just to see the cracks and brush strokes.

“How'd you get this anyways?” Ellie asked, you still seemed tense and off guard. But safety over comfort and the wound was still vibrant red before Ellie could get along to stitching it. You just watched Ellie with wild eyes, examining her – but Ellie didn’t fall insecure of your intense gaze. Ellie could be patient, she had Joel for a partner so patience had to be second nature. Your lips parted slightly to speak, and only a stutter came out before you took a breath. As if it pained you to speak.

“Uh, it's an old wound. From before,” you cough, watching Ellie as she dabbed the alcohol to clean it. You didn't wince or flinch as she had expected, you were tougher than she had expected. “But I keep ripping the stitches, I'm not very good at it.”

Ellie hummed, “I'll get you patched up.” she didn't question why you hadn't told anyone, it actually didn't surprise her much. Just glad you let her fix it, looks like you need teaching too.

That was how it started, the conversations between you two were small, quiet, and quick. Shortly after Ellie stitched you, you thanked her and smiled. Ellie almost fainted, her heart surged out of her chest and that unfamiliar feeling grew and grew until it began to eat her alive. But you weren't ready for that, she could tell, and Ellie was tired of losing people (even if she technically hadn’t had you yet, she hoped too one day) so she took it slow. So not to scare off the skittish, pretty girl with bad stitching abilities.

So Ellie left, trusting that she'd see you again and be able to touch you softly. You started to search for her gaze in the cafeteria too, Ellie would send a shy three-fingered wave and you'd quirk your lip up slightly. Not enough to call a smile, but she was getting there. Ellie hoped you wanted to see her as much as she longed to see you, even for a second. She hoped That's the reason you came more was because of her. Maybe it was stuid to thinkt hat, though.

So much so, she racked her memory for a whole day to remember the books on your side table. She only had a quick look but she remembers the work of Frankenstein and Interview With A Vampire. Joel almost choked to death on his soup when Ellie brought the subject up, told her they were old books, gothic literature. Ellie swerved the questions with ease on why she was asking about gothic literature, considering her favorite reads started and ended with knock-knock jokes and puns.

The next day, Ellie stole great expectations from the library and practically skipped to your place. No other plan besides to see you again and offer the book.

And by god, it worked better than expected. You practically lit up at the sight, Ellie didn't understand it until you started gushing about wanting said book, running your hands across the pages like they were a treasure. Ellie started to understand then, as you rambled on and her smile perked up after realizing this is the most you've spoken to her, ever. It was heaven.

It was an olive branch of sorts, Ellie didn't like reading but she realized she'd listen to whatever you said. And she did, as you sat next to each other, nudged between the floor and bed. Opposite from each other and shoes touching, oh how Ellie wanted to reach out and sit closer, line your thighs, and just feel you. It consumed her, but she just sat content with a smile as you read to her. Ellie started to make stupid comments, earning a smile from you that reached your eyes and breathy laughs. She would turn into a full-time fucking comedian if she could continue to pull those out of you.

Her visit started off small, maybe once a week, if you'd let her. You were still guarded but Ellie noticed your trust grow, so she shows up twice a week. Steal another book from the library and offer it to you, learning that she might as well put her heart in it too. It was so scary, being so ready to offer that to someone, but nothing in her being could ever stop the surge when she saw you. Every day Ellie would find you scooting closer, last Sunday you sat curled by the window with your shoulder touching. Ellie almost had a heartache when your finger grazed her thigh.

Joel noticed, equally scared and proud of Ellie for letting herself care and enjoy someone like that. He didn't get upset when he eventually noticed Ellie had missed curfew and came sneaking back past midnight.

That's when it started to change, Ellie had heard you yawn for the fourth time in the past twenty minutes. She knows you would refuse to let go of the book and tear your gaze from the pages, so she took initiative and tore the book from your soft grasp.

“Hey! Merricat was in the middle of fleeing from the bullies, I wanted to see what happened.” you whined, referring to we have always lived in this castle. You really went through books fast. Ellie smiled at your enthusiasm, but hid the book behind her back and raised her chin high, teasing, and shook her head.

“It's dark and you're tired. You should sleep.” Ellie said, eyes glancing at your bed. Your face softened, like being cared for felt wrong. Ellie was determined to make it feel like second nature for you, only if you'd let her.

“I don't want you to leave.” you breathed out like it wouldn’t fully cause Ellie to be short of breath.

Ellie just smiled, rising to her feet and offering a hand to you, you took it. Your touch burned in hers, she wanted more. “We can get breakfast in the morning and finish the story tomorrow, promise.”

You looked disappointed, and hesitant as your face dropped and your gaze fell to the floor. The sudden change scared Ellie, had she messed it up? But you took one step further, closer to Ellie's space, you looked at her. She felt a pressure on her chest, that weird feeling was back. You tugged at your bottom lip nervously, one finger searching for her hand. Ellie took it and the feeling enveloped her, brushing her thumb over your index and middle.

“Stay?” you asked, breathless. “Just for a little, stay with me?”

Ellie gulped, yet with no hesitation. She nodded, “okay. I’ll stay.”

“Till I fall asleep?” you pushed and Ellie almost started jumping up and down from excitement.

Ellie kicked off her shoes and jacket, and you follow shortly. Ellie went to turn in your direction, a gasp almost left her lips after she saw you faced in the other direction and pulled your shirt off. She knew she should turn, be polite and let you change into the oversized white shirt in privacy, but pulling her eyes off of you felt criminal. your back muscles flexed and contoured as you threw the fabric over yourself, getting a glimpse of a long scar on your left shoulder. Whatever or wherever it came from, it looks like it hurts. It hurt Ellie thinking about that.

Which still continued to terrify her.

You took her hand in yours and pulled the covers up, bodies close against each other as you squeezed onto the twin-sized bed. Ellie hoped you didn't notice the pink tint on her nose before you turned off the warm lamp.

It's then with heavy breaths and shaky words, with your head close to Ellie's chest, legs, and arms threatening to tangle themselves. Soft glances and fingers grazed across the safer parts of each other's bodies. It's then when Ellie told you about her bite, the immunity as you traced your finger over it. So gently and soft, you didn't flinch back or hesitate with your touch when she told you. You trusted her, oh my god, you trust Ellie. You trusted Ellie enough to explain your life before, through broken rambles as you struggled to find your thoughts.

“You shouldn’t like me, Ellie.” you whispered, the statement brought panic and despair to her forefront. Furrowed eyebrows as she asked what you meant. So eager. “I did stuff with the people I was with before, bad stuff – things I'm not proud of.”

“I don't care.” Ellie said honestly. “We all did shit, but that's not you.”

“I don't know…” you spoke, unsure of your own humanity and morality. But Ellie had never been so blindly sure of something ever. She huffed and turned to face you, a hitch in your breath as you lay only a few inches away from each other. Noses almost touching, Ellie could feel your breath on her.

“You're just a kid.'' Ellie breathed, the sorrow and weight that filled your eyes were too much for you to carry, Ellie wanted more than anything to just relieve some of it. “Whatever you did, wasn't your fault. I know that.”

“Ellie…”

“This is a fucked up world, okay?” she stated, you nodded in agreement. “And if you want to talk about it… I'm here.”

Caring. Fuck, it was so foreign to Ellie. But for you it felt so right, everything about you filled the gaps in her chest. She just wanted to take all the pain inside of you and –

“My parents.” you breathed out a shaky breath, avoiding eye contact as you began to pick at your cuticle again. Ellie quickly grabbed your hand in hers, warm, and smooth the skin gently. You shivered under her touch. “They stole from the wrong group trying to survive, they caught them and kept them around for… services. Said it was a way to repay their debt, but then they didn’t come back to camp one time and their debt was put on me…”

“But you- you’re so young.” Ellie's eyebrows furrowed, she knew people were fucked up. Before and after, but this? Disbelief and worry laced her words. Almost a sense of protectiveness swelled in her chest that would make her hands shake if she thought about it too long.

“They didn't care, I was the new errand girl.” you choked, Ellie looked to see tears threatening to fall. “They made me do horrible shit, every time I close my eyes I just–”

You choked on your words as the tears started to fall, Ellie surged to close to distance. Putting a hand on your head and pulling you close to her chest, the other squeezed your hand. To tell you you were safe, here in her arms, as she now decided she’d let nothing happen to you. No supremacist asshole that took advantage of the vulnerable, especially kids. Young and pretty girls with kindness in their eyes, just waiting to squash it. That was all over for you if Ellie could help it.

Shaking in Ellie's arms, you grasped her and stained her shirt in tears. A muffled and choked stutter came from you, “I'm sorry, el.”

“Hey,” Ellie whispered, bringing your face to her and wiping the tears away with the pad of her thumb. “You have nothing to be sorry for. Nothing.”

You looked her dead in the eye, so much fear in your eyes. But Ellie swears, once your gaze focused, you softened and almost melted into her hands. Her thumb still caressed your cheek still, it warmed you in a way you've been missing for years. For a moment, Ellie let her eyes flicker down to your lips, she could have guessed they were soft – they looked inviting enough. But she knew better than to take a leap like that when you’re hurting, just come from choked tears and –

“Can I kiss you.”

“Yes.” it left her mouth before Ellie could think, like the response was on instinct. Well, it had been on the forefront of her mind for at least a few weeks now.

Your eyes darted toward her lips for a moment, before leaning closer and finally closing the gap. Lips slanting on lips, it was better than Ellie could have ever imagined in life. You were so soft and gentle against her, like puzzle pieces coming together. Your hand fell to her waist, hesitant, like you were waiting for her to push away. She didn't, she couldn't. Another hand resting on Ellie's jaw, your hands were careful and warm. That weird feeling in Ellie's stomach that lingered when around you suddenly surged and took over the entirety of her body.

It didn't take long at all for Ellie to tug you closer, you got the signal. Not daring to leave your lips, only letting the motion grow sweeter and more passionate. Ellie rolled onto her back, pushing yourself on top of her. Each knee caging her in below you, she took the position with pride as her hands fell from your face down to your waist and back.

When you finally let go to take a breath, you pressed your forehead to her and Ellie swears she almost passed out right there. You laughed, it sounded so sweet. Like nothing matters in the world besides you and her, right now.

Ellie suddenly understood that note from Bill, you were worth saving and no motherfucker would get in the way of that. Like a train-sized epiphany hitting her in the face.

Things only began to grow at a comfortable and slow pace from them, more and more nights sneaking off to you and eventually you sneaking to Ellie's. You met Joel, got along well and that was the most important. You ate with her in the mornings and watched movies holding hands, Joel would smile proudly seeing Ellie lighten up whenever she noticed you in a room. Life came back to your face and you didn't walk with heavy shoulders anymore.

Your relationship became wordless and tentative, filled with sneaky pecks to the cheek, reading before bed, and laughing over eggs or making fun of Joel together. (“oh god, there's two of them now.” Joel groaned when he caught you two snickering with pointed fingers in his direction after he almost tripped over his own feet.) of late nights and talks of the past, Ellie gave herself over to you, one of the scariest things ever and you only held her close with gentle touches. There were moments like these, you had snuck off to hers and brought snacks, books, and your open heart and attention. Sitting opposite of Ellie, Ellie would nudge your foot – with only a glance as to say “come here.” and you did, resting your head on her shoulder as you finished a sleeve of saltine crackers, handing a few more to Ellie. Letting herself relish in the utter peace you brought her, the moon shined bright onto Jackson and lit your face – man, you were so beautiful in this fucked up world, Ellie would do absolutely anything for you to keep it like this. Anything for you.

feedback and notes are highly appreciated!

tag list: @hallows3ve @sophialuvsellie

#ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #belle ramsey #tlou show #tlou series #tlou #the last of us #the last of us x reader #tlou hbo

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buckyshusband0 · 2 years

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ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜꜱ ᴅᴇꜱɪʀᴇꜱ

Requested: Yes or No | Original Request

Summary: Ari Levinson, the land's most feared biker, has fallen in love. He was smitten by you. The biker has a bad boy image to keep, but what happens when Ari can no longer control his dangerous desires for you? At a bar, the lead singer.

Pairing: Biker!Ari Levinson x Singer!Male Reader (Biker AU)

Word count: 4.2k // all mistakes I own

Warnings: +18, Smut, Fluff, Slight Angst, mentions of abuse, unprotected sex, Ari being a big softie around reader, possessive Ari, passionate/rough smut, abusive father, body worshiping (both receiving), biting, daddy kink, praising, size kink, pet names (sweetheart & pretty baby), attempted SA, dirty talking, mature themes.

A/N: First Ari fic. Honestly love the Biker AU so I might have to do it again some other time. Also, I reached 800 followers so I would like to thank you all for the support and love!! Enjoy my loves! Reblogs and comments are appreciated💙!!

₊˚ˑ༄�� MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

YOUR hands grasped the microphone stand as you swallowed the — now growing — lump in your throat. You were currently practicing for a new song you had written. Hoping for a miracle to be played.

Making music has always been one of your talents. Your mother was the one who first brought you music's wonderful gift. She had always been there to support you when you reached your goals. When a terrible—awful accident—occurred, everything changed.

Your light had dimmed into darkness.

You had brought her a beautiful black silk dress that she wore the night of the accident. Her friends had gotten drunk—except for her—and one of them crashed into someone else’s car. Very tragic.

Your damaged mind is still haunted by the events of that dreadful night. Waiting for her to return, as you had expected. To greet her and offer her the warmest hug you've ever experienced. However, you can no longer do so. Because she's gone and will never return.

Your (e/c) eyes welled up with tears as the thought of her not being here to assure you that everything would be fine entered your brain. 'Stop it (y/n). She wouldn't want you to cry for her.' As your eyes closed, your lips pressed into a thin line — Thinking the pain away.

The terrible — maybe even corrupted — thoughts scattered away like mice running from their predator as your phone started to ring. Your brows furrowed as the unknown caller brightened your screen.

Without another thought, you answered the call and brought it to your ear. “Hello?” The sound of light music could be heard from the other side of the call. “Hi, is this (y/n) (y/l/n)?” The deep voice spoke up. Confused as ever, you answered. “Yes, this is he.”

“Well, I actually wanted to know if you would sing at my bar ‘Neon Lounge?’ I’ve heard your voice online, and I would love for you to sing here tonight.” You had a surge of excitement coursing through your veins. The idea of others seeing your talent made your lips part.

Neon Lounge was one of the most well-known bars in town, even if you were relatively new to the ― reclusive — town. It was a privilege to be able to perform in a bar in the heart of downtown. Your lips parted in a delighted sigh at the thought of singing your song there.

Mom would be so proud.

As you thought about her, the silence in the small room deepened. Your dreadful thoughts had been pulled back to reality by the deep voice. “Yes! I'll do it. See you at 9:30?" You questioned your new boss for the day — or so you had thought. You threw your phone into the silky gray sheets of your bed as soon as he agreed. There’s that hope.

You darted around your room as you got dressed. The outfit pleasing you. You left the room and ran downstairs — the unpleasant scent of alcohol alluring the air. You froze in your tracks when you heard your horrible drunk abusive father yell out to you. Fucking hell.

Your father had gotten incredibly drunk after hearing the news of your mother—his wife—passing away. He really loved her, which is the sad part. The punches, the hard grounding kicks, you had taken it all. “Stop crying like a fucking pussy, my son, men don’t cry.” Those words traumatized you and rung into your delicate mind ever since.

You always hid in your darkroom. Too afraid to face the man who was so-called claimed as your “father.” You let out a nervous sigh as you turned to the not-so sober man sitting down on the chair.

“I’m going out to get food, dad.” Dad. Could you even call the man who held sinful thoughts that name? Dads are supposed to protect and care, not abuse and starve their children to death. He glared his brown eyes at you before opening his mouth to speak.

“Don’t be late, or I’ll kill your ass. Understand son?” He grumbled under his breath — still loud enough for you to hear. “Yes, father.” You grasped the golden knob in your shaky palm as your feet begin to walk on the rough concrete ground. ‘Don’t cry (y/n). Men don’t cry.’

Tears threaten to leave your (e/c) eyes. You attempted to see the bright side. You'll finally be living the life you've always wanted. If your mother had been here, she would have encouraged you. Rooting for you. 'I'm doing this for both you and me, mom' Your smile grew.

✰ -- --- --- -- ✰

The roaring sound of bikes filled the air.

The motorized bikes' engines blasted smoke out of them. The bright headlights from the jet-black motorcycles that carried the motorcyclists lightened the dark—somewhat lit—wet, mucky road.

Ari Levinson, the town's most well-known biker, parked his motorcycle outside of the brightly lit bar. Because of his broad, towering stance, he was constantly dreaded by the townspeople. His menacing stare would make a child cry as if he had stolen his lollipop.

Ari's biker gang, whose broad bodies were clothed in black leather jackets with a symbol on them — signifying how serious the gang was — followed suit as his feet made contact with the wet surface. The manly aroma Ari drew from his body had made the bar quieter.

The — almost silent — wood plank floor creaked under his heavy feet. He gave a sharp nod to the bartender whose forehead was gleaming with nothing but sweat. He’d hurried to get a beer for Ari.

Ari and his biker gang — especially the gang — were completely wasted after a few drinks. As jokes were thrown around and more beers were handed out, the bar erupted in manly laughter. Everyone's attention was drawn to a deep voice that rang through their ears.

Everyone's eyes narrowed when they saw Vincent, the bar's all-knowing manager. He cleared his throat before speaking to the focused crowd. “Good evening, everyone. Tonight, we have a special guest singing for us. Please welcome, (y/n) (y/l/n)!”

The sound of hands clapping together as you came out onto the stage made a big smile appear on your face. A man with dark blue eyes and brown long hair felt butterflies reach inside his gut without your notice. Ari Levinson, the bad boy, had gotten butterflies.

He had never gotten butterflies...

You were the most beautiful boy he had ever seen in his whole life. He wanted — scratch that — Needed to have you as his. The way your lips parted as you began to sing those beautiful lyrics.

Ari had felt not only butterflies, but his cock had hardened as your whole presence went from the nervous shy boy to this confident and flirty man who wasn’t afraid of anyone’s opinions. His lips were slightly parted from seeing you sway your hips to the song.

Your eyes opened as you scanned the whole bar’s audience. As the flirty lyrics escaped from your wet lips, your (e/c) eyes made contact with the stormy blue eyes that held something questionable — Something dangerous. Although every man was basically gawking at you, the man who screamed danger had gotten your attention.

He was so in love.

You gave a shy smile to the crowd whose cheers were louder than your average soccer mom cheering for her children as soon as the last line left your lips. "Thank you, everyone!" You walked off the stage and straight to Ari's demise — he couldn't find you.

As he searched the entire bar for you, a sense of despair ran through his frigid veins. He was desperate to speak with the boy who could have been his entire future. That is until his sight was drawn to Vincent, who was currently flirting with a blushing woman.

Vincent then soon felt a hard tap on his broad shoulder. As he was about to curse whoever dared to touch him — his whole body shuddered, and his eyes screamed fear. Fear from Ari Levinson.

“Is he coming back?” Was all Ari had to say for Vincent to know who was speaking about. He wanted to refuse, but who could find the courage to refuse such a dangerous man who was feared by all? Vincent nodded quickly, attempting to escape his grasp.

Ari had the same butterflies he had when he first saw your frame go onto the stage. As he considered meeting you, a smile spread across his flawlessly chiseled face. He was certain of one thing, and one thing only — He was going to make you his and only his.

✰ -- --- --- -- ✰

Darkness took over the clear night sky.

Your arms hugged your body from the shivering weather tonight. Your black guitar case was also held close to your body as you walked against the hard concrete. You had just sung a song.

Somehow, Mr. Vincent let you sing again at his well-known bar which had taken you by surprise. You would be forever grateful for him giving you another chance to sing another song. You were startled by the sound of muttering coming from the alleyway's corner.

The sight of six towering, black figures emerging from the corner made you furrow your brows. As you watched them creep closer to you, you swallowed a lump that had formed in your throat. “Hi, there baby~,” One of the creepy guys dressed in all black said to you.

Fuck... ‘Someone save me.’

Your back had hit the hard, rough brick wall that was covered in graffiti as the gang of men approached you. "Please, don't touch me!" As one of the men gripped your arm forcefully, you yelled out. The agony caused a little yelp to escape from your dry parted lips.

Tears stained your cheeks as the men held you against the wall and began to pull your pants down. You hoped — Just really hoped — that someone would save your poor helpless soul from the danger.

You heard a voice, but it wasn't just any voice; it was a manly, raspy, deep voice that came from behind the men. When one of the men who was holding you looked back, you could see a glimmer of panic — fear even — in their eyes. "Mr. Levinson... We were just-" The god-like figure, who stood taller than them all, cut the stuttering man off.

“I don’t care what the fuck you were doing. All I know is you all better back the fuck away from him before I get violent.” The man you knew as Mr. Levinson seethed through his teeth. You gulped from nervousness as the man whose eyes were a dangerous blue stalked closer to you and the men. To your surprise, they all backed away.

The men who were about to do horrible — traumatizing actions ran away like pussies when Ari stared deep into their souls. You wiped the tears that escaped your eyes as Ari makes his way over to you.

“Hey, you okay?” Ari asked with a hint of worry in his tone. Even though the man had saved you — you weren’t sure if you could trust him. Ari could see what you were basically thinking and needed to confront your thoughts. “I won’t hurt you, I promise. The name’s Ari.”

As he saw you relax into his strong arms, he offered you a big, happy smile. "(y/n) is my name." He already knew that — let's just say Ari was conducting some research on you. He needed to know what you liked and disliked before he could introduce himself.

He loves you that much.

Ari wanted to protect you from all dangers, just like he had done moments before, and keep you for himself. When you stepped back from his embrace, his body felt cold—the warm feeling gone. He already missed you. When he came up with an idea, his mind lit up.

“Sweetheart, it’s pretty late at night. How’re you getting home?” Goosebumps raised onto your (s/c) skin from the pet name. Fuck he was so sweet. “I was going to walk-” Ari cut you off.

“I’ll take you home. I’ll drive my motorcycle.” Before you could protest, the man had put his veiny strong hand on your lower back as he guided you to his jet-black motorcycle. Your arms wrapped around Ari’s waist and that fuzzy, chilling, warm feeling had come back.

You gently climbed off the bike as soon as you arrived outside your house. You flashed Ari a small shy smile as you considered what to say to him. "Thank you for the ride, Ari." You heard the deep manly voice calling out for you as you approached the front door.

“Can I maybe get your number?” Ari asked, his voice strained. You didn't think twice about grasping his phone and putting your number. "Bye, Ari." Ari grinned and gazed at you with admiration. "Goodnight, sweetheart." Sweetheart. You reached the wooden front door after hearing his motorcycle engine roar as you walked into your home.

✰ -- --- --- -- ✰

One week has gone by.

One long week since Ari Levinson saved you and one long week since you gave the man your number. Every night after your long shift, Ari would always be waiting for you outside the night.

Every time he would pick you up, you would feel the same butterflies that roamed around your stomach when just seeing him in your sight. You had always told him about your day, and he would always listen — That’s what you loved about the tall, strong man.

He listens.

This returns you to the present moment. Ari stood outside the bar waiting for you. He was finally going to ask the big — well not that big — question. Your guitar hugged close to your body as you see the man who would corrupt your — not so innocent — thoughts.

“Hi, sweetheart.” Ari hovered over your smaller frame and gently stroked his fingertip against your cheek. The warm gesture caused your face to warm with heat. "Hi, Ari. " You questioned the man, who had a gleam in his eyes that you couldn't quite place.

Ari swallowed the thick lump growing in his throat thinking about the question. Ari Levinson was nervous? That’s a first. “I actually wanted to ask you a question,” You raised your eyebrow at him — signaling him to continue. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

As that question escaped from your lips, you couldn’t be even happier that the man who has been on your mind 24/7 asked you out. Although Ari has had a bad reputation for being the bad boy of the town, you had noticed the man was nothing, but kind to you. Who wouldn’t accept his gesture? “I would love to, Ari.” You smiled at him.

Ari felt his dark heart spring out of his chest, only to be consumed by light — that light being you. The words you spoke allowed him to experience an emotion he had never experienced before. Love. Ari Levinson had had an overwhelming feeling of love consume him.

✦ 1 hour time skip ✦

As you returned from your date with Ari, you stepped out of the — cozy and small — diner. He stayed by your side as you both walked back to his motorcycle, which you had taken a liking to. You felt Ari's firm hands hold your hips as he assisted you aboard the bike.

When Ari drove off onto the — rough, patchy, and concrete — road, you begin to wonder where the man was taking you. It was sure not home because it wasn’t the normal route you would usually go on. “Where are we going, Ari?” You puzzled the man in front of you.

“You’ll see sweetheart.”

Your (e/c) eyes soon met the amazing view of a red blanket laid down on the prickly green grass. There was a fine bottle of wine with two glasses and a small red velvet cake. You looked back to Ari — who was already looking at you with full compassion.

“Ari... this is amazing!” You jumped upon Ari and around his waist with your legs. His eyes were wide with surprise, but he quickly covered it up with a smile. You both lay down on the blanket after jumping off the man, calmly admiring the gleaming stars above you.

The view was breathtaking, but it was Ari who stole the show in your eyes. The way he had treated you with kindness — even love — made you feel wanted. The sight of Ari placing his palm on top of yours made your stomach flutter with unwanted butterflies.

As you looked away, Ari smirked at the idea that had made its way to his mind. “Why don’t we leave and go to my house?” Your head snapped towards Ari and a frown grew onto your face.

Ari was terrified, hoping he hadn't said anything wrong to you. Ari had no desire to harm a helpless little angel like you. “I-I can’t.” You responded to the man. You quickly added to what you said before he could question, which you knew by the look of confusion on his face. "My father." Your eyes prickled with tears as your body grew hot.

Just the thought of him made you cry.

“What about your father, may I ask?” Ari questioned you calmy — not wanting to make it look like he was forcing you to answer him. You sniffled before answering. “He’s abusive. If I don’t go home, he’ll hurt me, or worse.” Your bottom lip trembled from the wicked thought.

Ari felt anger grow through his — now steaming hot — veins as he heard those words slip from your lips. The thought of someone hurting his angel made him feel an emotion he had never once felt with someone else. But Ari remembered he needed to stay calm.

He brought your head into his firm chest as you cried into it. He whispered nothing but soothing things trying to calm you down. “I’ll take care of him, sweetheart. Okay? You can stay at my house for as long as you need.” Ari laid a gentle kiss on top of your head.

You'd learned to trust the man who was now calming you, to the point where you'd trusted him with your life. That says a lot. Ari didn't hesitate to pick you up bridal style and bring you back to his bike when you nodded. You drove off the terrain, eager to get to his house.

✰ -- --- --- -- ✰

Ari unlocked his wooden front door.

You were greeted by the — rather amazingly — smell of Ari’s scent when you entered his apartment. His apartment was decorated with a light grey wallpaper with some paintings planted on them.

Turning around, you faced Ari who was looking down at you with a dangerous gaze — a lustful gaze. “Ari? Are you-” You were cut off when you felt a pair of pink plump lips connect with yours. Your eyes widened, but you soon returned the kiss that was filled with lust.

Ari’s strong arms had wrapped themselves around your hips and picked you up — making your legs wrap around his waist. The feeling of butterflies roamed around both of your stomachs from the delicate touch that was caused by the man who was carrying you.

As they entwined together in motion, your tongues practically danced. Ari carefully placed you on the bed and slowly removed your shirt and pants. His lustful blue eyes inspected every single mark and scar on your body as if he had just discovered a hidden treasure. "So beautiful..." You sensed the same butterflies reappear again.

Oh, my fucking God...

He used his palm to grasp your knee and picked it up slowly. Eye contact never breaking — you could feel his tight bulge hit your plump ass as he moved around. You let out a soft moan, which made the dangerous man who was eye-fucking you let out a deep grunt.

“Can you feel what you’re doing to me, pretty baby?” You nodded slowly at the man’s words, but then felt another poke. “I need you to use your words, (y/n)~” You took your bottom lip between your teeth — most likely drawing blood from said action. “Yes, Ari...”

The things this man was doing to you on the inside were so indescribable. The way Ari’s soft fingertips moved around your whole body made you feel warm inside. Not only did you feel these dangerous feelings, but Ari also felt them. The sound of your moans...

Like angels were singing a beautiful song.

He twisted you around, so your ass was facing him without warning, and your body shivered beneath Ari's touch as he rubbed his gentle fingertips against your hole. "Open your legs for me, pretty baby." You did as he said, your eyes widen when you feel his tongue enter you.

“Fuck, daddy~” Ari’s deep grunt made vibrations enter your body as he heard the name, which he never thought you would say — and he fucking loved it. His tongue attacked your wet walls and your toes curled from the euphoric feeling he had been causing.

“Please don’t stop...” You pleaded to Ari who was giving you the best feeling you hadn’t felt in months — years maybe. But to your despise, he parted his tongue from your soaked hole which made a soft whine escape your lips. You didn’t know what his game was

— But it was working.

“Be patient, pretty baby... Daddy’s going to take care of you, okay?” You nodded but remembered he didn’t like your silence. “Yes, daddy.” Ari licked his plump bottom lip as he took his throbbing cock from his tight pants and gave it a few teasing strokes. He was so big.

“Ari, I don’t think it’ll fit.” Your voice held fear from the thought of dying from the dangerous man’s cock. A chuckle escaped his lips from your trembling words. “I’ll make it fit~” Ari slowly entered himself into you. A loud moan escaped your lips from the feeling.

Your back arched as Ari’s nails dug deep into your hips as he thrusts from a slow to fast pace. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head from the tender actions. Your knees trembled as you felt a rough smack on your left side ass cheek — which Ari had caused.

Ari held your body in his broad arms as bent over more. He took your right ear in between his lips, and he gently nibbled on it. The room was filled with the sounds of skin smacking against skin, as Ari slammed more and more into your body. You felt the rush of your desired orgasm coming in as the blue-eyed man hit your prostate.

“You’re mine, pretty baby... All mines~” You held your moan back from the possessiveness that filled Ari’s tone when he had said what he said. “Ari... I want to cum!” Your whine made Ari’s desires come true. “You’re going to cum with me, okay pretty baby?” You nodded.

You could feel the man’s cock twitch in your hole as his chest heaved up and down from the feeling of his orgasm reaching a finish. His hands grasped your hair tightly to add more friction as he finally felt himself about to explode deep inside of your trembling form.

“Cum, pretty baby. Cum with daddy~”

Without waiting for another second, you felt your cock leak cum — which made a loud moan escape your lips. Ari’s deep moans filled your ears as the marks he left on your ass turned him on even more. He finally let his cock explode deep into your prostate.

Heavy breaths could be heard from the both of you as he gently and slowly took himself out of you. Sweat covered both of your bodies as you laid down on his soft bed that had a black blanket.

“Thank you, Ari. For everything I mean.” You said as you laid your head on the man’s hairy soft chest. He gave you a small smile and gave you a small kiss on the top of your head. “You’re welcome, (y/n). I’m always here for you, okay?” You smiled gently and nodded at Ari.

‘I love him so much...”

Your thoughts were cut off by a deep chuckle that came from the man you were laying on. “Did I hear that correctly, sweetheart?” Your eyebrows furrowed from his words, but then you realized. “What are you— Shit. Did I say that out loud?” Your face heated from embarrassment, but the words that you heard next left you in shock.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Until the day that I die, I won’t leave your side.” The softness from Ari’s voice made the same butterflies come back to your stomach. Who would have known you would fall in love with the man who was feared by all, the knowing biker, Ari Levinson.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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#ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x male reader #chris evans x male reader #chris evans x reader #biker!chris evans #biker!ari levinson #biker au #ari levinson one shot #ari levinson imagine #chris evans smut #ari levinson smut #x male reader #male!reader #malexmale #buckyshusband0fics

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forzalando · 3 years

Text

Flustered | Fred Weasley

Pairing: Fred Weasley x F!Reader Word Count: 2.5k Warnings: mentions of underage drinking and alcohol, tickling, making out Summary: Your flirty friendship with Fred Weasley comes to a resolution after an argument surrounding the Yule Ball that took place all those years ago.

A/N: hi friends! this is a Fred Weasley fic based on a tik tok i saw last night (all credit for the bolded line goes to the creator of the tik tok). also thank you to @gcdric for discussing this with me very late last night, i hope it turned out well omg i’m NERVOUS. anyway! off we go. please let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist! i’m updating it since i was on hiatus for awhile! love you guys!

As you sat on the couch of the Burrow, your eyes fixated on the many pictures in the Weasley’s living room, your mind began to drift off with thoughts of the freckled, red-headed boy sat in front of you giggling with his siblings.

There was something extraordinarily special about your friendship with Fred Weasley. After ten plus years of him being the most important person in your life, ever since your first day at Hogwarts when he tripped over your robes as you and your fellow first years hurried into the Sorting Ceremony, you couldn’t imagine life without him.

You had been through so much together; every Hogwarts experience there was to be had, first kisses, first heartbreaks, the Second Great Wizarding War, he was by your side through everything.

“What’s on your mind, Y/N? You look to be thinking entirely too hard for my liking,” Fred sassed, breaking you out of your trance.

“Too hard for your liking?” you retaliated. “What do you care what I’m thinking about?”

“It’s supposed to be a relaxing weekend! You’re much too deep in thought to be relaxing, so of course I care.”

“Well, if you must know, I was thinking about you, Freddie.”

“Carry on then, love. I’ve always wished for your thoughts to be consumed by me.”

With a cheeky wink, Fred went back to a game of exploding snap and you didn’t need to watch to know that Ginny was absolutely kicking his arse. However, you didn’t miss the sly smile that George gave you when Fred’s attention was diverted from you.

It wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to flirt with one another. In fact, you would dare to say it was the most predominant form of communication between the two of you. There was the occasional time or two where you thought that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same, but he’d always look away quickly or press a kiss to your cheeks instead of your lips, laughing it off as the two of you caught up in a moment that would cross a line that could never be crossed, though you so desperately wanted to.

After another round of exploding snap, Ginny said her goodbyes and apparated back to her flat, but not before promising that she wouldn’t miss anymore family dinners for quidditch practice, which you knew would happen inevitably but smiled nonetheless at her enthusiasm. You’d been a regular appearance at the weekly get-together for as long as you could remember, you were practically part of the family so you could say with appropriate accuracy that Ginny definitely missed dinner more than all of her siblings combined due to her busy schedule.

“Well, I suppose it’s time for us to head back as well,” George mused, eyeing the leftover pies in the kitchen. “Are you staying at ours tonight, Y/N?”

“I’d love nothing more. Besides, I didn’t get to play Fred in exploding snap and I want to knock his ego down just a little bit more.”

George linked arms with you and Fred, laughing about his brother’s awful skills as you apparated to their flat above the shop.

You’d spent many a nights at the twins’ flat over the past couple of years. After the war, you had moved in for a while until you found a job and managed to rent your own place. But, they never got rid of your bed that took up a large corner of their living room, which came in handy after weekly Weasley dinners when you just wanted to spend a bit more time with your favorite boys.

“I’m absolutely knackered,” George said once the three of you had settled on the couch. “I think I might go to bed now, if I’m honest. Besides, I want to be up early to work on those new design sketches for the storefront.”

“George Weasley, you have never gotten up before 10 o’clock on a Sunday in your entire life,” you scoffed.

“There’s a first for everything, Y/N. Goodnight to you and Freddie!”

As George turned away from you both, he faked a yawn and when he was sure Fred wasn’t looking, winked back at you to further confirm your suspicion that he wanted you to be alone with Fred.

He had just about had enough of the tension between you both and took every chance he got to get the two of you alone, by any means necessary.

When you heard George’s bedroom door close, you noticed Fred scoot closer to you on the couch until your legs were touching. He slung his arm over your shoulders and you swung your legs up to lay across his lap.

“What were you thinking about earlier? While Gin and I were playing by the fireplace?” Fred wondered aloud.

“Oh, I was looking at all the pictures on the walls at your Mum and Dad’s. I saw one from you and George’s first day at Hogwarts and I was thinking about how we first met.”

“Hmm, so you were thinking about one of the most embarrassing moments in my life?”

“Please, you’ve done much, much worse. Remember that time in our sixth year when you tried to outdrink George after we won the Slytherin match and you – ”

“Ah, ah, ah, I thought we agreed to never speak of that incident again,” Fred said as he visibly shuddered.

“I was just pointing out that I can think of quite a few moments that were far more embarrassing than tripping on my robes.”

“You’re one to talk! Don’t you remember our fifth year when you and George were running from Filch and you knocked Wood to the ground? Bloody broke his arm, you were so lucky Madame Pomfrey had him fixed up before our next match or he would’ve had a heart attack.”

A loud laugh escaped your lips as you covered your face in embarrassment; that was the year you had followed Oliver around like a lost puppy, although your schoolgirl crush paled in comparison to how you’d felt for Fred back then and now as well but neither twin would ever let you live it down.

“Do you remember the Yule Ball? When Flitwick caught you trying to spike the punch and you slipped and fell in the middle of the dance floor?” You chuckled at the memory, even if the Yule Ball was an event you had tried to forget.

“You were so mad at me that night and the whole week before, I was terribly distracted. If we had been on good terms I would’ve gotten away with it and the slipping never would have happened.”

“Well, it’s your own fault we were fighting! I still can’t believe you didn’t ask me to go with you.”

“Oi, it’s not my fault when you never said you wanted me to ask you.”

“I thought I had made it painfully obvious when I asked you every morning at breakfast if you’d found a date yet and told you that I didn’t have one either.”

Fred threw his head back and laughed, the thought of your shocked face when he had asked Angelina was too priceless a memory to ever forget.

“You were so jealous,” Fred mumbled.

“Jealous?!” you screeched. “I wasn’t jealous, I was annoyed that I had to spend all night with some Durmstrang tosser stepping on my toes. We’ve had this argument literally a million times.”

“No, you were definitely jealous. You shot poor Angie daggers the whole night and she’s such a lovely girl.”

“I shot her daggers because she hogged you and I didn’t get to dance with my best friend a single time at the only Ball we ever had at school.”

“I would’ve asked you to dance if you weren’t mad at me, and you know she was only dancing with me to make George jealous, even if he was oblivious.”

You smiled at that; you knew Angelina only had eyes for George and that going with Fred was some elaborate ruse. Shockingly, it ended up working, and he and Angelina have been together ever since.

“Still think you were jealous,” Fred challenged, poking you in the exact spot on your abdomen that he knew you were ticklish.

“Fred Weasley, for the last time, I was not jealous,” you emphasized as you poked him back.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, love,” he said lowly, a daring glint in his eye.

Never one to heed warnings or follow directions, you poked him again and within seconds he had you pinned underneath him on the couch, his fingers trailing up and down your sides as you couldn’t help but laugh boisterously beneath him.

“Fred – ” you gasped. “Freddie, please, I actually think I might pee on your couch.”

“Not until you admit you were jealous that I asked Angelina!”

You shook your head, the combination of laughter and trying to catch your breath kept you from firing back a witty remark.

After a few moments, you simply couldn’t take anymore and shouted out, “FINE. Fine, you win.”

“What was that, lovey? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

“I said, fine, I admit it. I was jealous that you asked Angelina when I wanted you to ask me,” you grumbled, struggling to catch your breath in between words.

“See, now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You glared up at him and moved to push him off of you when you realized just how close his face was to yours. If you concentrated hard enough, you could count each individual freckle splattered across his nose and cheeks. Almost instinctually, your eyes flickered down to his lips, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of staring, so you quickly looked away.

Fred noticed that you couldn’t take your eyes off of him and, in true Fred Weasley fashion, couldn��t resist a flirty joke.

“You really want to kiss me right now, don’t you?” Fred chuckled.

“Yeah,” you sighed, “yeah, I do.”

Surging forward, you pressed your lips to his and immediately wove your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. You were so tired; tired of the constant flirting and feeling as if you would forever have to love him from afar while he lived his life blissfully unaware of how much it hurt you to hide how you felt.

His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to him; the raw emotion in the way he desperately kissed you left little doubt in your mind that he had wanted this for as long as you had. His hands slipped under your shirt and his fingers blazed a trail of fire up your spine; a breathy moan escaped your lips but Fred swallowed the sound with his mouth, deepening the kiss and pulling you even closer.

A scream from behind the couch caused you to jump apart, chests heaving and hair sticking up every possible way. You sat up to look over the back of the couch to see George Weasley, looking visibly shaken and guilty, with his hands covering his eyes.

“Oh my god, I leave you alone for thirty minutes and you’re about to shag on my bloody couch. Jesus, ok, let me just, uh, well, I’ve probably ruined the mood, haven’t I?”

“George,” you hissed. “What are you doing sneaking around, I thought you were going to bed?!”

“Yeah, I said I was,” he said sheepishly as he uncovered his eyes, “but I might have been eavesdropping on your conversation. When I heard it go all quiet, I thought I’d come out and see if you two fools had fallen asleep, but clearly, that was not the case.”

“Eavesdropping? I swear to Merlin, George, you’re a ten year old boy. I can’t believe you! Of all the immature and invasive things to do, my God.”

“Well, pardon me, I just wanted to see if my idiot brother would finally grow some balls and tell you he’s in love with you!”

“I’m not sure what you’re on about but that doesn’t mean you can just sneak up on people,” you chided. “Fred, would you please back me up here, what is wrong with you – ”

You turned around to pull Fred into the argument only to find him sitting on top of the coffee table with a dazed look in his eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Fred, are you alright?” you asked worriedly.

He slowly lifted his head and looked into your eyes; you could see just how flushed his face was now that he wasn’t staring at the floor and good Godric, he was as red as the hair on his head.

“I…I…You,” he stammered. “You kissed me?”

“Yes, I suppose that is what happened,” you muttered sheepishly.

“Y/N Y/L/N…you…you kissed me?”

“Freddie, what the hell is the matter with you?”

George burst into laughter and you whirled back around to glare at him, however, this time, he didn’t hush up like he usually did.

“Like I said before, he’s in love with you, and now he can’t even form a coherent sentence because you kissed him, this is golden. Ol’ cock sure Freddie, a pile of mush because of a little makeout sesh, I’ve got to send an owl to Lee…” George trailed off as he turned and rushed back towards his bedroom.

You took another look at Freddie and smiled at the lovestruck look on his face. He was shaking his head in his hands and you saw the redness on his neck as well, which only happened when he was well and truly flustered.

“This is so humiliating,” he groaned as you sat down next to him.

“I think it’s rather cute, if that makes you feel any better,” you said as you chuckled and placed a hand on his thigh.

He removed his head from his hands and looked at you adoringly, the giddy smile on his face ignited butterflies in your stomach and your heart beat wildly in your chest.

“All the times I imagined how this would pan out…it definitely wasn’t supposed to happen this way. I mean, not that I’m mad about it, it was incredibly sexy how you just grabbed me and kissed me, but I wasn’t supposed to be a bumbling fool afterwards.”

A moment of silence washed over the both of you as Fred intertwined your hands and steadily held your gaze.

“George was right, you know. I am in love with you. Have been for quite a long time, if I’m being honest.”

“Well, in the spirit of honesty, I guess I should say that I’m in love with you too.”

“Bloody brilliant,” he sighed as he leaned in to kiss you again, but you stopped him just before your lips touched.

“You’re not going to pass out or anything if we kiss again, are you?”

“No promises, love, but I’ll try my best.”

taglist: @theweasleysredhair @hufflepuffbaby9 @theboywhocriedlupin @swellwriting @fortisfiliae @thoseofgreatambition @wildfire-whizbangs @woakiees

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley fic #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley oneshot #lumosbarnes #tw: alcohol

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peachy-panic · 3 years

Text

“Look at me.”

Hi there. I’m new here, but also very much not, which is to say you’ve probably seen me pop up a few dozen (hundred) times in your notifications with likes and comments and the occasional ask when I’m feeling brave, sliding under the radar from the safety of my obscure fandom-turned-main account.

POINT IS, I’m no stranger to the wonderful works of this community, and CERTAINLY no stranger to whump appreciation, even if I haven’t always had a word for it. And because I’ve been so inspired by all the talented writers here, I’ve decided to finally cut loose and throw my own work into the ring, and the whole @whumpmasinjuly thing seemed like an opportune time to pop up.

I’ve aggressively lurked on so many of your pages in the last year so I’m sure I’m leaving someone out, but I did want to tag a few of the writers who have really motivated me to start this page just by reading their writing:

@ashintheairlikesnow @orchidscript @deluxewhump @whump-tr0pes @evermetnotforgotten @card-games-and-pain

And if you’ve made it this far into the post, we’ve arrived at the actual content. This snippet is from a project I started writing before I knew about the existence of the BBU, but I’ve slowly started molding it into something that fits more-or-less within the bounds of that collective universe. Some things may take slightly different turns to the rules established there, but it’s the same general concept.

Without further ado.

PROMPT: “Look at me.”

WARNINGS: General BBU-esque warnings, human trafficking, slavery, non-con (fade-to-black ish but the lead up is… Not Great). Let me know if I missed anything!

He knows something is off right away when Mr. Torley calls to him from the end of the long hallway on the other side of the house.

When the children are home, Jaime is confined to the main common areas: the living room that spills into the large open-concept kitchen, the guest bathroom, the laundry room (where he has already spent most of his time working), the boys’ toy room (where he has only gone to clean up after them), and of course, the small room he has been given to sleep in, which he is sure once served as some sort of storage area.

At the mouth of the living room is a corridor that leads to Mr. Torley’s study, and across from that, his bedroom. So he is told. Jaime was given instructions never to go into that wing of the house unless explicitly invited. He has been in his new home assignment for three days now and has never once been asked to cross those bounds.

Until now.

Carefully, Jaime places the mug he had been diligently scrubbing in the basin of the sink and shuts off the tap. He looks around for the hand towel and, remembering he had thrown it in with the last load of laundry, dries his hands on his t-shirt instead.

There’s a shift in the air, something thick and weighty and terrible as he steps into the opening of the hallway, but he doesn’t allow himself a moment to hesitate. He pads near-silently forward, toward the only open door, all the way at the end.

In the threshold between the hall and the master bedroom, Jaime’s toes brush against where pristine hardwood meets soft carpet. It feels good against his bare feet after days of standing on an unforgiving surface without the allowance of shoes or socks, but not nearly good enough to settle the uneasiness building in the pit of his stomach. Mr. Torley sits on the edge of the bed, a long, deep-colored robe covering most of his body, save for the deep strip of exposed skin down his chest where a few patches of thick, dark hair peek through. Jaime forces his eyes up to his.

“You called for me, Sir?” His voice low and steady, even as his eyes draw unwittingly to the lamp on the bedside table, which has been dimmed to an orange glow that makes the room feel small and suffocatingly warm.

“Come here,” his Keeper beckons, and Jaime’s muscles operate by the hand of some unseen force, pushing him forward. He only makes it half a step in before Mr. Torley raises a hand, gesturing to where the light of the hallway spills in around his silhouette. “Close the door behind you.”

Jaime’s limbs feel very heavy all of a sudden, but he moves anyway, a phantom sting buzzing beneath his skin at even the briefest thought of hesitation. Never make your Keeper wait. Never let your Keeper ask twice.

The hallway is plain and sterile, much like the rest of the Torley house, but Jaime stares longingly out at it as he pulls the door shut, wishing he were out there instead.

When the door clicks shut, he can feel a pair of eyes rake down his back like cold fingertips. It raises the hair on the back of his neck, his skin breaking out in an unpleasant chill, but he forces perfect neutrality into his expression before he turns around. He zeroes in on the sensation of soft carpet under his soles instead of the prickling dread under his skin as he makes his way toward the bed, coming to a stop a couple feet away.

Mr. Torley chuckles under his breath, a low, amused sound that Jaime is already getting used to hearing. He seems to reserve it for Jaime alone and it always serves to make him feel like there is some sort of private joke he’s not been let in on. Or, more accurately, that he is the joke, and he can’t quite stifle the lingering sense of shame that comes with that.

“I said, come here.” It’s a direct order, but paired with a hint of amusement and something darker swimming behind his eyes. He rubs a hand invitingly, pointedly, over the comforter next to him and Jaime swallows back a lump in his throat that feels a lot like bile.

He isn’t stupid. Despite everything that’s been told to him, he’s not. But in that moment he wishes maybe he was, and then ignorance could be bliss for just a few more seconds. He knows where this is headed, and he knows that it’s wrong. It is against the policies, against the rules, he knows it is, but he isn’t surprised, either. It hadn’t taken long at the training facility to discover that the system on paper looks a whole lot different than the system in practice.

“‘We uphold a zero-tolerance policy for the sexual exploitation and abuse of Domestic workers,’” a cruel, mocking voice recites in his head, alongside the memory of a leather-gloved thumb sliding between his lips, his wide, tearful eyes glued to the tiny, black remote in his handler’s fist.

The skin beneath his collar burns at the memory, and he raises his fingers absently to touch there, half expecting to feel the heavy weight of the electric clip attached. He doesn’t, of course, and the only electricity he feels now is of a different nature, coming off his Keeper in waves as he waits, a bit more impatiently with every second, for Jaime to sit.

So he does.

Mr. Torley crowds his space immediately, and his instinctive response to pull away is smothered by a heavy arm draping over his shoulders and a droning voice inside his head. You must make yourself available at all times. You may not refuse any order or request that does not directly interfere with the wellbeing of another person. Jaime allows himself to wonder, for the briefest moment, if his wellbeing counts for anything. He knows it doesn’t. They had just spent the past three months teaching him, in every way imaginable, that he was not, in fact, a person at all.

All the offhand remarks from the trainers, the lewd sneers, the heavy-lidded glances and roaming hands… they had all painted him a picture of what to expect. He had just tricked himself into thinking that maybe, hopefully, if there ever really was a god in this universe that loved him like he was sure he once believed, that he was wrong. In the three days since he had stepped foot into his newest post, Jaime had managed to convince himself that maybe, possibly, he had gotten one of the good ones.

Mr. Torley is all too happy to shatter the illusion as his finger and thumb find Jaime’s earlobe, rubbing it between them and then ghosting down the side of his neck.

“Take off your shirt,” he whispers.

Jaime’s blood runs cold.

You may not refuse any order or request. He can’t conceal the trembling in his fingers as they curl around the hem of his standard-issue grey t-shirt. You may not refuse any order or request. The warm ambience of the room feels startlingly cold against his naked torso as he pulls the fabric over his head, letting it fall in a soft whisper onto the carpet. You may not refuse any order or request. His arm is back around his shoulders instantly, hot and cold assaulting his skin all at once and he feels so exposed and he doesn’t want to be here he doesn’t want to do this.

Mr. Torley places a heavy palm against his chest, running it slowly downward, and Jaime can picture what it looks like without even looking; calloused pads scraping over soft skin, all thick fingers and subtly unkempt nails, the beginnings of age spots and wrinkles and small dustings of black hair across the knuckles. He thinks his keeper must be able to feel the way his heart is pounding through his ribs, and he feels a surge of embarrassment that he was sure the training should have beaten out of him.

It’s because you weren’t trained for this, the panicked voice in the back of his head screams as the hand trails lower, grazing the thin patch of hair below his navel. This isn’t supposed to happen. This is against policy. You weren’t made for this. His skin feels static in every place Mr. Torley’s fingers brush, and he wishes he could dissolve under them.

“You’re shaking, baby.” Jaime winces at the unexpected term of endearment. So far, it has only been boy, curt and abrasive when thrown in his direction, usually followed by a direct order. “Have you never had a man touch you like this?”

His mind supplies a horror show of memories, flashes of images behind closed eyelids - leather-gloved hands and concrete rooms of the training facility - and he realizes he doesn’t know how to answer that. He wants to cry. Can’t cry. Isn’t allowed to cry. Then there are fingers on his chin, on his jaw, softer than any of his touches have ever been; soft like the word baby on his lips, soft like the half-lidded eyes that he is forced to meet.

“I asked you a question.”

“I haven’t. Sir.” His voice shakes, barely a whisper.

It is mostly true, probably in the way Mr. Torley really meant it, and unfortunately seems to be exactly the answer he was looking for. Dread splits Jaime in two. One part, the part of him that’s hazy and pliant and good tells him he has done a good job, that he has pleased his Keeper, he has said the right thing. His keeper’s needs are his needs, if his Keeper is happy, he is happy.

The other part just keeps screaming. And screaming. And screaming.

He doesn’t want this.

It doesn’t matter what he wants, he’s not supposed to have wants.

But this isn’t allowed.

His Keeper is happy.

Please, please stop touching me.

He can’t say no, no is forbidden to him.

Please don’t make me do this.

His keeper is smiling.

“You’re very lucky,” Mr. Torley says, dragging the thumb that was holding his jaw over he’s lower lip. “They could have given you to any one of your bidders, and trust me… there are some messed up people out there who invest in the services of Domestic Companions. But I can be good to you.”

Somehow, he doesn’t feel very lucky at all.

“Yes, sir,” he says, a bit breathless as fingers trace up and down his spine. His own fingers curl into the bedsheets on the opposite side of his thigh where Mr. Torley can’t see the outward signals of his distress, though from the naked delight in his eyes as he watches him, he doesn’t think he minds.

There are lips on his before he can even process what is happening, and he feels his whole body go rigid in his Keeper’s hold. He’s never been kissed before and the cold wetness against his mouth is nothing like the movies make it out to be. It’s hard to wrap his head around the overwhelming sensation, but the one thing he knows for sure, immediately, is that he hates it.

He hates his first kiss unlike anything he’s hated before. Terror and humiliation seize him in equal stride as he realizes he doesn’t really know what to do. He is frozen, for a moment, his own pulse beating wildly in his ears as slimy lips move against his own. When Mr. Torley cups a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer to lean into the kiss, his mouth opens instinctively, submitting to the insistence of the movement, and this seems to be exactly what he was looking for. A low, throaty hum vibrates against his mouth and Jaime clamps his eyes shut tight. He feels like he might die. For a moment, he kind of wishes he would.

He doesn’t register the pressure of the hand against his chest until his back is already pressed into the duvet. Mr. Torley sits up then, breaking the kiss, then stands. Jaime doesn’t look at him - he can’t bring himself to - but he can feel his eyes on him anyway. Thick fingers hook into the elastic of the thin, gray pants he had been given three days prior, and his breathing goes flat. Please don’t please don’t please don’t, his brain lights up with panic, every nerve ending in his body on high alert. But he doesn’t move, other than to close his trembling fingers around the material on either side of him, curling the soft fibers of the duvet into his fists. He wants to close his eyes, but he can feel them burning, then swimming with moisture, and he knows if he clamps his eyelids shut, the tears will spill over and he doesn’t want to cry in front of Mr. Torley.

Instead, he stares up at the ceiling fan, focusing on the long, thin blades of wood instead of the feeling of cool air against his lower half as the material is pulled away from him. He hears the rustle of cloth as his pants join the discarded shirt on the carpet at his feet, and then another sound of the same, this time heavier, but he doesn’t dare look away from the grey clump of dust dangling from one of the fan blades above him.

Worse than the chill of the exposure is the heat that follows in the form of skin on skin, an immovable weight settling over his body. His throat jerks in another attempt at a sob, a plea that can’t let free. He swallows it down and tells himself that if he just keeps staring at that one spot of dust, he isn’t really here, that his keeper is not on top of him, that this isn’t about to happen to him.

But he is. It is. There’s no stopping it now. There never was.

“Look at me.”

For the first time, he allows his eyes to slip shut in a quiet moment of defeat - just a singular moment of hesitation before he follows the command. He feels the moisture slipping out at the corners but he can’t do anything to stop them even if his hands weren’t being slowly pressed above his head and into the mattress. When he opens his eyes, he looks up into the cold expression hovering over him, fully eclipsing the spot of his previous focus. It’s just him now. It’s all him, every one of his senses besieged by the one person whose life he is supposed to center himself around now. In that context, perhaps this should feel exactly right.

Somehow, it doesn’t. Not at all.

#whumpmasinjuly #whump #tw: noncon #bbu #kind of #like bbu adjacent?#further exploration to come if i can manage to keep posting #Do No Harm: Jaime & Sebastian #Jaime #Mr. Torley

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buckys-black-dress · 3 years

Text

✄ chapter two: keep it cool like iced tea

a/n: here's chapter two! obvi this is just building the plot and storyline, but we're seeing the beginnings of the magic! anyways, let me shut up so u can read. ok bye!

wc: 2k

[fratboy!bucky barnes x fem!reader]

series masterlist

To say you sucked at pong was a vast understatement.

And although you really didn't want to make a fool of yourself in front of this very nice, very tall, very attractive guy, you can't help but feel like an idiot when you sink your first shot into a cup halfway through the game.

You're definitely on your way drunk with the amount of shots Natasha and Sam have scored on you, plus all the ones you've missed.

When Natasha told you to let loose tonight, you're not so sure this is what she meant, though. You see her laughing and giving you eyes from across the table, while your face is bright red. You brush off her looks with a roll of your eyes, darting them back to Bucky.

Bucky.

Bucky with the incredibly nice hands and arms, who seems to be making the shots for the both of you. Bucky who's been occasionally slinging an arm over your shoulders, paying close attention to you. Bucky who's been asking you questions about yourself, that you've returned back, and received witty responses to.

"So, where 're ya from, Y/N?" He asks in a slurred voice, but you can tell he's not exactly drunk yet.

"I'm from New York. You?" You ask, throwing back another drink from a shot that Nat made into your cup.

"No shit! I'm from Brooklyn!" He smiles, a big, bright smile that tugs at your heartstrings for some reason.

"I'm Manhattan born and raised, mister." You return his blinding smile.

"Small world, huh?" He laughs, once again wrapping his arm around you. "Can't believe we've never ran into each other before."

"Well, New York City's quite large, Bucky." You giggle, and he laughs back. As you feel your face warm up, he looks down at you with something akin to adoration in his eyes. Bucky towers over you, deciding that the pong game was over between the four of you.

He walks back to the kitchen, assuming that you'd follow him.

But he turns around to ask you in you'd like something to drink, and you're not there.

You're still chatting with Natasha and Sam, and it takes him a second to realized you wouldn't just follow after him. You didn't really give him the impression of being that type of girl.

Which is what intrigued him more about you. You weren't worshipping the ground he walked on, you didn't initiate conversation too much, and you didn't drool over him like every other girl he's met.

He suddenly feels a surge of awkwardness. He sees you talking animatedly with Sam and Natasha, and now Steve has joined in the conversation. You were talking completely comfortably with them, much more comfortably than you were with him.

It makes him wonder what he'll have to do to get you to get like that with him.

What he'll have to do to make you trust him.

"Hey, Y/N, I was gonna head to the kitchen and grab a drink. Wanna join?" He questions, seeing his friends giving him cocked eyebrows in confusion.

Bucky could usually get any girl he wanted. Especially at a party like this one. Why was he so hell-bent on spending time with you?

"O-Oh! Sure, I'll join you." You excuse yourself from the group, and Bucky slings his arm through your waist to guide you through the crowd. You feel you stomach flip in a way you've never felt before, and feel your cheeks redden.

"So, what can I get you?" Bucky practically yells over the music, trying to meet your eyes. You avert them quickly, and simply tell him a vodka lemonade.

He hands it to you with a strange look in his eyes, and you give him a kind smile while taking your first sip.

"God, you trying to get me wasted here?" You gag with a laugh, looking into your cup and back to Bucky.

"Sorry, doll, might'a gone a bit heavy on the vodka. You still good to drink it?" He queries with genuine concern in his eyes.

And although you already well on your way to drunk, past tipsy, you give fervent nod, and give it another sip.

It was good.

As the night had progressed further, you had two more of Bucky's vodka lemonades.

And now, you were drunk.

You also didn't know where Natasha was, but she was probably off somewhere with Sam, so you weren't worried for her safety.

Bucky was still by your side throughout the whole night, offering to dance, and even just sit and talk.

Which is what you were doing right now. In the middle of the crowd, you were practically on top of Bucky while you two talked about anything from academics to your daily lives.

"So, in your major, what would you say was the dumbest thing someone's asked?" He laughs, and he's clearly also past the line of tipsy and has fallen into drunk, right with you.

"Uhhh... oh! One time, this guy-"

"Doll, I can't really hear ya." Bucky laughs

"Oh, sorry," You blush, trying to speak louder, but it still wasn't working.

"Do you- would you be okay with just goin' up to my room? Don't think we'll get much of anythin' done down here." He gives you a look that says 'I'm not gonna hurt you, unless you want me to.'

It sends a shiver down your spine, and you stand up, waiting for him to guide you up the stairs.

You knew you weren't going to have sex with him. You had only met him four hours ago, and no matter how many girls he could pull in that time, you were not interested in being one of them.

"Just so you know now, I'm not planning on sleeping with you." You burst out while you're halfway up the stairs, your eyes going wide at your own words.

"Huh," Bucky chuckles, "I know I have a reputation that precedes me, but I didn't think this is where that was going. Just wanted to continue to conversation." He smiles down at you, finally opening his door.

Of course, Bucky was lying right through his teeth. Of course he wanted to sleep with you. You were nice, smart, had a hell of a body, and had kept his attention the longest out of any girl he's ever met. But when it comes down to it, he was a boy.

And boys usually only thought with one organ; their dicks.

As the lamp flicks on, a small glow filters over the room, giving it a cozy feel. You, on the other hand, felt nothing but cozy.

"You can sit anywhere. Wanna watch somethin'?" He asks, tossing you the remote while you stood, frozen at the doorway.

"I- uh, sure?" You ask, more than you tell him, but sit down on his bed. You were careful to not flash him while you adjusted yourself, not sure of what to do.

The last thing you needed tonight was the most notorious playboy on campus seeing your black lace thong right now.

"Do you wanna change into somethin' more comfortable, angel?" Again, your stomach has butterflies trying to escape at his sweet words. But you knew better than to think too much into it. he probably said these names to every girl who's come into this very bed.

Ew, you think to yourself, this bed must have STDs sewn in the sheets by now.

"I- sure? If you have anything that fits, I guess." You grumble.

"Sure, I've got a t-shirt and boxers, if you want? Don't have much else, honestly." He laughs lightly, handing you the items and points to the bathroom in the corner of his room.

As you're standing in the middle of Bucky Barnes' jack and jill bathroom, you take a moment and think to yourself.

How did I get here?

Will he ask me to sleep here?

Does he still expect anything from me?

I hope not.

I'm really tired.

Ugh. Whatever. I'm too tired to think this much right now.

You pull of your dress that you couldn't stand to be in anymore, and put on the clothes Bucky had provided you with.

They were quite large on you, considering the guy was about the size of bigfoot. But you couldn't find it in yourself to complain about it right now.

You exit the bathroom, setting the dress down on the floor where you had kicked off your heels, and sit back down next to Bucky on his bed.

You feel your skin slide under the blanket that was thrown over him, and focus on the TV screen.

"So, what're we watching?" You query, trying to figure out what was playing.

Little did you know, Bucky was still thinking about the way you had looked when you walked out of the bathroom. It did something to him, seeing you in his clothes like that, for some reason.

The way you were practically swimming in them, and the way you knuckled at your eyes tiredly that made him want to hold you to his chest while you both fell asleep.

He was trying to shake the thoughts from his head, wondering what the hell had gotten into him with these thoughts.

Since when did he, Bucky Barnes, think about a girl like this? It was usually much dirtier and nastier in his head, but you were doing something to him.

"Bucky? Everything alright up there?" You giggle, knocking on his skull lightly.

"I- yeah, all good, doll." He shakes his thoughts away, focusing back on you. "I put on whatever was playing, didn't switch it because I didn't know what you liked." Bucky explains.

"Hm, well this seems good. We can just keep this on?" You suggest, realizing that Home Alone 2 was playing on his TV. "I love this movie. This kid's got some real class." You chuckle, now fully watching the movie.

"He's a genius, I'll give 'im that much." Bucky laughs, also fixing his gaze on the movie.

In the hour that passed, you two have made small talk about the movie here and there, and every time, Bucky's gaze became transfixed on you. With the glow of the TV illuminating your face, with the way you smiled and threw your head back when you laughed, he couldn't help it.

Finally, the movie had come to a close, and Bucky could tell you were fighting sleep. You were practically asleep sitting up against his headboard.

"You wanna spend the night here, doll?" He wonders out loud, looking over to you.

You shoot him a look, a playful glare with a hint of a smile.

"I mean, it's a bit late for me to head back to my dorm. But no funny business, mister." You point a finger at him, and Bucky holds his hands up in the air.

"No funny business, I promise." He holds out his pinky to you, to which you curl yours around, and latch on.

Once the lamp next to his side of the bed is turned off, you slide further down in his bed, trying to find a comfortable position. After a few minutes of adjusting, you snuggle your head into the pillows that smell like laundry detergent and his cologne.

"Goodnight, Bucky," you say out loud into the darkness while you both face each other.

"G'night doll. See ya in the morning." Bucky's voice is a low baritone, clearly about to succumb to the sleep he was fighting.

"See ya in the morning." You reply, finally letting your eyes fall shut.

That night, you dream of Bucky Barnes and his cologne.

And across from you, Bucky Barnes dreams of a world where this is normal. A world where you sleep next to him every night, and you wake him up every morning with a kiss.

Man, I'm totally fucked, is the last thought he has before falling into a sleep surrounded by you.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes au #fratboy!bucky #frat!bucky x reader #frat!bucky #frat!au #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky imagine

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ordinaryschmuck · 3 years

Note

Drabble request: Amity and Luz's first kiss?

(Probably the Sixth or Seventh Time I've Done This, But Oh Well.)

A Normal Request

Luz looked onward to the reading circle in the library. She watched, enthralled by her girlfriend reading so animatedly to a group of kids. Each little youngster hung onto every word. But Luz? She was more focused on their narrator's pretty face.

Amity always looked her most beautiful when reading to kids. Her eyes were lit up with amazement, her reactions were lively for the character she was voicing, and her lips always had a hint of a smile no matter what expression she was pulling. It was that same smile that Luz often found herself staring at the most, lately. A smile that looked sweet, soft...alluring...kissable--

'No, bad Luz!' her inner voice screamed, 'You shouldn't think like that.'

But Luz blinked as a new thought came to her.

'Why not? She is your girlfriend, after all. It's totally normal for you to want to kiss her.'

'Wait a minute,' another inner voice interjected, 'If she's our girlfriend, then why haven't we kissed yet?'

"Hey, Luz."

Luz jumped out of her thoughts with a squeak, finally noticing Amity standing in front of her.

"Oh, hi! Sorry. Got lost in my own thoughts there."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Amity joked, "What were you thinking about?"

Luz felt heat rise in her cheeks at the question, briefly glancing at Amity's lips for a second.

"Uh, nothing! Nothing at all."

And the human would have stuck with her blatant lie if not for the flat look Amity was giving her.

"Luz," she said, "What did we promise after we started dating."

"Be straightforward with each other?"

"..."

"...Right," Luz rubbed the back of her neck as her blush gotten worse, "I was just thinking that...Well, we've been dating for a while, right?"

Amity's beautiful smile returned at the question. Although this one was a lot more dreamlike than the smile before.

"Yeah, we have."

"And we're girlfriends now, right?"

"Mm-hm."

"So, I was, um, I was wondering if...if it's ok to...kiss you."

Amity's dreamlike gaze turned shocked and befuddled in an instant as her eyes became impossibly wide to Luz's request.

"You...you want to kiss me?" the witch squeaked out her question, her own face turning red. Luz, on her part, gave a slow and shy nod in response.

"Do you?"

"YES!"

The surrounding shushes that followed only made both girls turn even ready.

"Sorry," Amity whispered back to the other patrons before giving her full attention back to her girlfriend. "But, uh, yeah. Kissing you. That, um...that's great. Really great. Unless saying that sounded creepy, in which case, it's just...regular great. I guess."

"Oh. Cool," Luz shuffled her feet, "Now, just so we're clear, I can kiss you?"

"Yup."

"And, hypothetically speaking, if I asked, would you let me kiss you...right now?"

"Of course! But not here!" Amity looked around at their surroundings, taking full notice that many eyes were glancing at the couple. "Follow me."

Grabbing Luz by the hand, Amity pulled the human away from the children's area. After a bit of walking, they made it to a familiar part of the romance section.

"Is this--" but before Luz could ask, Amity pulled a book out, revealing her secret hideaway. She then led Luz in and closed the entrance soon after.

"So," Amity made eye contact with her girlfriend, "Do you really want to kiss me?"

"...Yes," Luz nodded.

"And you really want to do it right now?"

"Mm-hm...Can I?"

"Yup! Uh-huh," Amity nodded vigorously, "You can, uh, go right ahead!"

"Oh...cool," Luz stepped closer, "I'll, uh, do just that."

And Luz continued to step closer and closer to the witchling, stopping only until their faces were an inch apart. It was at that moment that both of them froze.

"By the way," Luz said, "I may or may not have zero ideas of what I'm supposed to do."

"Same here," Amity chuckled nervously, "I haven't technically kissed anybody before."

"Technically?"

"Well, I mean, Willow and I sort of kissed once? But it was when we were really young and curious about what kissing felt like. Other than that, yeah, zero real experience here."

"Oh. Ok then. Um, I guess I'll, uh..." Very slowly, Luz raised her hand toward Amity's face, paused, and then quickly rubbed her palm on her shirt. "Sorry. It's probably really sweaty."

Amity chuckled in response, waiting patiently as Luz's hand cupped the witch's cheek, sending a surge of nervous energy through both of them due to the touch. Gulping down a thick lump in her throat, Luz then leaned closer. And closer. And then, the next thing she knew, all thought left her head entirely.

The kiss wasn't perfect. It was awkward, inexperienced, and was more accurately described as the two girls mushing their lips together than a romantic kiss.

But it still felt amazing to the young couple.

When they pulled away, they simply stared at each other, eyes absolutely gleaming.

"...Can we...do that again?" was the first question that came to Luz's mind.

And was answered by Amity pulling her into another kiss.

And another.

And another. Each kiss after that felt better than the last, with both girls slowly getting a better understanding of what they were doing.

They would have kept at it. That is, until Amity's scroll buzzed, making her pull away to check it. Albeit, reluctantly.

"Um...ok, so...Malphas is wondering...where I am," she said between deep breaths, "I guess...I got so distracted that...I forgot I'm still...on the clock.

"Uh, yeah...I guess," Luz agreed, "But...it was a good distraction...right?"

Amity smiled, going in for another peck on the lips.

"Very good. I'll see you later?"

"If there will be more of that? Definitely."

#the owl house #luz noceda #amity blight #lumity #lumity is canon #lumity first kiss #the hiatus of drabbles

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etherrealoblivion · 4 years

Text

We Both Know

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer Reid is a virgin. Which he is totally fine with! The problem? He still hasn't told his girlfriend, Y/N, for fear of being teased. When he tells her, her reaction is ... surprising, to say the least.

A/N: Season two Spencer. Season two team. Prepare your self for all-knowing Gideon. Fulfilling this request. for @gublergirls. “~” indicates a POV shift.

tags: Dom/sub, unprotected sex, choking, first time, Virgin!Spencer

RATING: EXPLICIT

Words: 7,014

MASTERLIST

Spencer Reid had never done anything remotely sexual before.

Okay, he’d kissed before. Once. In Highschool. On a dare. For half a second.

Okay … so he was pretty inexperienced. Which he didn’t mind at all! The one downside was he was now going steady with a wonderful, amazing girl who he was definitely falling head over heels for, and he had no idea how to tell her.

Luckily, they’d already been working together for about a year before they started dating, which made the shift to a relationship much easier. And them being together didn’t affect their job performance at all. For the most part…. So all Spencer had to do was avoid bringing up his … lack of experience, around her. Things were pretty good.

But things, in Spencer’s experience, had a way of turning sour.

“Hey, Spencer!” she found him standing outside of the elevator after work one Friday, standing up on her tiptoes and planting a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Y/N! We’re at work!” he muttered, glancing around as a light blush formed on his cheeks.

“Nobody’s here! It’s fineeee,” she whined, pulling off his glasses and bringing him down into a real kiss.

Woah. She’d never kissed him like this before. They’d only been dating for a couple of weeks now - though their relationship felt much older— and she’d pretty much only given him chaste kisses with very little tongue.

Not because she didn’t want to! In fact, she had said multiple times that she did, but Reid wanted to take things slow and he’d expressed this to her once they’d started dating. She had told him she respected his boundaries no matter what and she was ready to wait for as long as he needed.

Clearly, though, she was starting to get a little impatient.

“Let’s go home,” she said quietly, pulling him into the elevator, Spencer staying silent the whole way back to her apartment.

He was trying to think of another excuse that was reasonable. She had told him over and over again that they could take things as slowly as he needed. But still, there were scary thoughts lurking deep in his mind that kept telling him to hold back, to keep distance between them.

If he told her he was a … if he told her he’d never had sex before, surely she’d make fun of him. That’s what everyone always did. Would she be any different?

“Spencer?” she took his hand as they entered, very carefully leading him back to her bedroom.

“I, um … I have to finish some paperwork for-”

“Spencer,” she sat on the bed, slowly removing her blouse, revealing a dark red brassiere with a beautiful lace pattern. He unconsciously licked his lips. “I know you wanted to take things slowly, but … maybe we can try something … new tonight? If you want?”

She reached to the front of her bra where the clasp was, snapping it open and letting it fall down her shoulders, Spencer’s eyes feasting on her full breasts.

His shock must have been very apparent on his face because she stood, slowly pulling down her work pants and moving to stand right in front of Spencer, her hands dancing down his chest, slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

“Is this okay?” she asked, watching him carefully.

His eyes were blown wide and his mouth slightly open. The words froze in his throat, terrified to say anything.

But he hadn’t said yes, so she stopped, waiting for him to answer.

“Spencer?”

“I … I can’t, Y/N.”

“Okay. Can I ask why? You don’t have to answer.”

He backed away, feeling idiotic and ashamed. She’d never want to be with him once she knew….

“I’m…. I’ve never….”

A look of realization glanced over her face, sending a spark of sadness through Spencer’s heart.

“I should go. I’ll see you at work.”

“What?!”

She had reached out, grabbing his arm and holding him back. Spencer sighed.

“You want to end things between us, I understand.”

Surprisingly, she chuckled very softly, pulling him down to sit with her on the bed, sliding her blouse back on.

“Spencer, why would you think I … Do you really think I’d want to end things just because of that?”

“Well… yeah,” he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You deserve someone who knows what they’re doing. You deserve someone who can actually make you feel good. I’ve never…. I can’t-I can’t do that.”

“Oh, honey,” she tilted his face up to hers, smiled warmly, and planted a tender kiss right on his lips.

What was she doing? Why wasn’t she laughing and kicking him out?

“Spencer, I don’t care that you’ve never had sex before. I mean, I kind of thought maybe, anyway. You can tell me this kind of stuff, I’m not going to judge you. But, I understand if you aren’t ready. Spencer, I’d wait years for you. And don’t you dare think for a second that you don’t make me feel good!”

The neurons in his brain were firing at a million miles a minute. She really didn’t care? She still wanted to be with him?

“Really?”

“Yeah!” her smile could power every lamp in Washington D.C. “Plus, it’s not like there’s either having sex or not having sex. There’s a lot of in-betweens I’d be happy to work with, if you wanted to, of course.”

“What-um-what do you mean ‘in-betweens’?”

“Well, um … there’s-there’s oral-” Spencer jumped slightly at the word, bouncing the bed, “Or we can just touch each other? There’s so much between kissing and actual penetrative sex. Maybe, tonight, we can just kiss for a while, and if you wanna take things further, let me know, okay?”

Spencer nodded, following her as she pulled him further up the bed so they were lying side by side.

“Can I kiss you?”

He nodded his head and the moment he did, she surged forward, their lips meeting yet again.

God, she tasted so good. Spencer could do this for hours and hours and not go any further. She was intoxicating and he was addicted.

However, his hands moved under her blouse of their own accord, gently sliding up her stomach and hovering over her breast.

“Can I. . . ?”

“Yes,” she whispered in his ear, the sound sending a shock down his body to his groin and he moved his hand to cup her, moaning into her mouth at the feeling.

Unconsciously, his hips jolted forward, making contact with the top of her thigh. A low grunt left his mouth between them and he thrust again, gently grinding against her.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes, baby,” she whispered, “Actually, just put … there,” she sighed as she adjusted so that his leg was between hers, now grinding up against her thin panties.

To Spencer’s surprise, and delight, she began moaning and writhing, pushing herself closer to him, throwing a leg around his hips and yanking him against her so their clothed crotches finally met. Simultaneously, they gasped, forming a steady pace of gently grinding against each other.

Emboldened by her sounds, Spencer dipped his head down to the crook of her neck and lightly kissed. At her insistence, he deepened the kisses, starting to suck on the skin, leaving little red patches behind as he went lower.

When he reached right where her stomach stopped, he looked up, asking for permission to continue. She simply nodded, lacing her fingers through his hair and pushing him lower. A plethora of curses and moans left her as he gently licked a stripe up over her panties, thighs tightening around his head.

“Fuck, Spencer,” she groaned, trying to pull him closer and closer with each swipe of his tongue. “Wait, you’ve gotta stop!”

He snapped away, terrified he’d done something wrong but was quickly met with her tongue meandering around his mouth, coaxing moans and gasps from him.

He gently pulled back and moved to the side of her.

“Did I hurt you?”

She laughed, not meanly, not teasingly, but warmly, like he’d said something endearing.

“No, baby. Actually, you made me feel really good. I, um, If you’d have kept going I’m not sure I would have been able to stop.”

“Oh… Well, um, we can-”

“Spencer,” she spoke sternly but with a wide smile on her face. “As much as I’d love to do some horrible, amazing things to you, I don’t think it’d be a good idea to do that tonight, okay?”

Clearly that was the right call, judging by the wave of relief that washed over him when she said it.

“Okay,” and they cuddled up to go to sleep, peacefully slipping into dreams of future possibilities.

Sure, you were surprised when he’d told you, but it wasn’t like you hadn’t seen it coming. Countless times on cases, he’d freeze up at the word sex, or opt for a more clinical descriptor such as coitus or intercourse. At first, you assumed it was just to do with his innocent nature. It made sense; he wasn’t the type to go bragging about various conquests after a late night.

But, surely, he must’ve done something before.

I mean, he was twenty-four. The statistics spoke for themselves; for god’s sake, Spencer probably had them memorized.

And even stranger, the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. He’d been twelve when he’d graduated high-school. Went to college at fourteen. Probably never really had the opportunity to … befriend … people his own age.

Of course, he didn’t need to worry at all. You weren’t going to judge him one bit. In fact, you were ashamed to admit the prospect might have gotten you the tiniest bit excited.

All the men you’d been with had done it before with countless women, including your very first time. The only serious boyfriend you’d had was the one you hadn’t gotten the chance to sleep with yet. Spencer.

The thing was, if he hadn’t told you, you probably wouldn’t have known. There wouldn’t be any reason to believe the way he’d touched you last weekend wasn’t the millionth time he’d done it. He had moved with such tenacity, such nimbleness. Though there was a sureness, a confidence that was missing from his movements. He wasn’t lying. He’d never had sex.

Actually, that wasn’t what he’d said. He said: I’ve never… and then trailed off.

At work on Monday, as the elevator doors opened, you found yourself wondering to what extent that ‘never’ went.

“Hey, Y/L/N,” Morgan called from the bullpen, holding up a coffee and nodding his head. “It’s got your name on it.”

Thankful for the caffeine, you took the cup and gulped down as much as you could stand. The hot liquid went down your throat smoothly and produced a wonderful placebo effect of instant energy.

“Thanks, I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

Morgan slapped you on the back and said, “My woman! Who’s the lucky guy?”

Right. Neither you nor Spencer had told the team about the two of you yet. Hotch, of course, was aware, making sure you signed the necessary papers and had you assure him it wouldn’t affect your job performance were things to go south.

But the rest of the team was blissfully ignorant as to the true nature of your close relationship with the good doctor.

“It’s not like that, Morgan. A damn car alarm was going off until two a.m.”

At that moment, Reid walked in gulping down his own beverage, an extra one in his hand, dark circles under his own eyes which remained partially closed as he sat and yawned.

“Woah, looks like Pretty Boy, here, also had something keeping him up all night, though I’m hoping he got a little more action than a car alarm.”

Spencer and you exchanged a worried look. Because, in fact, he had also been kept up by a car alarm, the very same one you had. So he needed to think of another excuse before it became apparent that the two of you had very similar reasons for insomnia.

“No, sadly. Just a bit late because the bus was slow and the fatigue is due to noisy neighbors who were probably getting considerably more quote-unquote action than I. Prentiss,” he handed her the extra coffee cup which she took gratefully. “Got you a latte.”

Suddenly, you felt someone’s eye boring into you. Looking to your left, you saw Gideon looking at you strangely.

Shit. Reid didn’t take the bus anymore, a fact he’d let slip a couple of days ago, prompting lots of questions from Morgan. Surely the Gideon wouldn’t miss a detail like that, being the seasoned profile he was.

Luckily, J.J. was there to save the day.

“We’ve got a case.”

And you were off before Morgan could question why you were able to hear a car alarm from your seventh-floor apartment uptown.

Once in a while, the team got a pretty open and shut case. A rare unsub would come along who was sloppy and left enough clues to have you home within a couple of days.

This wasn’t one of those times.

Spencer, as always, was working hard on the geological profile, mapping out the areas where the unsub had been killing. Normally, the work would have come easy to him; he could work the case like he always did, narrowing it down to a science, a pattern, a formula.

Which would have been easy if not for the fact that his secret girlfriend and partner was wearing the lowest cut tanktop on the planet.

“Hey, can you hand me a pen?”

And as she spoke, he made the mistake of taking his eyes off the map, coming face to face with Y/N, her chest far too on display.

“Huh? Oh! Yeah,” he muttered, handing her the closest pen and gluing his eyes back down to the chart under the guise of inspecting the distance between crime scenes.

“Spence, are you seeing this?”

He looked up again reluctantly, trying to prepare himself for the sight of her.

“Look at the victim’s shoes,” she pointed to the drawing board where the mangled corpses of the first four women.

“Red Adidas, converse all-stars, yellow sandals, and pink Gucci pumps. I don’t understand, those are all very different shoes.”

He turned to her and was surprised to find a shocked smile on her face.

“What?”

Smirking, she said, “Okay, you are explaining why you know so much about women’s shoes later but now,” she yanked the pictures of the shoes off of the board, placing them on the map and leaning over it, her cleavage so exposed Spencer could have looked straight down her top … if he was a creep, which he wasn’t. He wasn’t. He wasn’t!

“Spence! Look at this. Each of the shoes matches the crime scenes, right?”

“Sure, pumps outside a nightclub, Adidas on a hiking trail—”

“Right! But the thing is, they don’t match! The woman found outside the club was wearing sandals. The woman found on the hiking trail had on, guess what—”

“—pumps.”

“He’s switching their shoes!”

He smiled brightly at her, happy they’d finally got a new lead. Sadly, the tight red tank top drew his eyes towards the curve of her breast far too enticingly. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering what she’d look like splayed out underneath him, writhing like she had last weekend, begging him to fuck her. He wondered why that thought was so enticing.

Oh god, she was looking at him.

“Nice solve, Doctor.”

He glanced away, warmth flooding his cheeks and busying himself with dialing Garcia’s number, quickly spouting off what they’d found and asking her to relay it to the team. When he turned back, Y/N was smirking at his, arms crossed, pressing her breasts together every so subtly.

“Hey, Spence?”

He gulped, struggling to maintain eye contact.

“Yeah?”

She stepped so closely to him, their lips almost touching and Spencer silently thanked the local cops for the private room. When she spoke, her breath ghosted over his neck and her whispers in his ear were enough to cause an uncomfortable growth in his trousers.

“Hand me a pen?”

Motherfucker.

You weren’t an idiot, you knew the effect the tight red top would have on Spencer. What you hadn’t expected, though, was how much he’d let it show.

Every now and then, you’d wear a slightly more … form-fitting … outfit for the sole purpose of messing with him. He’d never really shown much indication that he noticed before…. Until now.

He had ogled you like a teenage boy seeing cleavage for the first time. You swore he licked his lips twice the usual amount.

Had something changed? Was your top too low cut? Oh god, had you gone too far? But he didn’t seem to mind the teasing before. Something had changed.

Oh.

Oh!

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, Gideon shooting you a look from where he sat across from you. The plane was dead silent but for the soft whirring of the engine. Most of the team was asleep, Spencer included. You and Gideon were the only ones still awake.

“Sorry,” you muttered, attempting to hide your face in the book you’d been pretending to read.

Gideon didn’t respond but you could feel the intensity of his gaze from behind the hardcover.

Setting your book down, you shot him a very accusing look, shrugging your shoulders.

“What?”

It was the most incriminating word you’d spoken to him in the past ten minutes. You could tell just from the way his eyes narrowed that he was putting two and two together, although you didn’t know what the twos were.

When he finally spoke, it was to say something you’d seen coming from a mile away, though that didn’t make it any less surprising.

“Reid doesn’t take the bus anymore.”

You glanced away, damning yourself even further.

“Oh, yeah, he mentioned that a few days ago. Why?”

For an FBI profiler, you were a shit liar. You knew it and Gideon knew you knew.

There was a very long silence where he simply analyzed you, not in an intrusive way, but as though he was a faraway observer who could read your smallest movements like they were words on a page. His whole birdwatching thing made so much more sense now that you were the one under his gaze.

Gideon was a man of little words, making the ones he chose to speak all the more impactful.

“He’s a gentle soul. Be careful.”

After a moment of floundering, the reality hit you that this wasn’t a man worth trying to fool. Gideon knew. And when Gideon knew, there was no trying to convince him otherwise.

The case had ended amicably, the unsub captured after the fifth casualty but before he could kill the sixth. There was a strange sense of relief, pride, and guilt coursing through Spencer on the way back home.

Falling asleep on the jet helped, but only temporarily. The moment he got home, he jumped in the shower, hoping to wash away any memory of the horrible murders he saw on a daily basis.

The water pressure at Y/N’s place was heavenly. He hoped she didn’t think he just stayed the night so often because of that. Although, her apartment was much nicer than his. She was so nice to let him crash whenever he wanted, and he was always happy to return the favor.

He wondered what other favors she’d return. About this same time last week, he had his head buried between her thighs, licking up her—

Fuck. Now he was hard and he couldn’t bring himself to masturbate in her shower. The irony was too much, even for him. So, like a very sexually repressed gentleman, he turned off the shower and dried himself off, wrapping the towel around his waist and stepping out into her bedroom.

He really should have jerked off.

Because Y/N was sitting on the far side of the bed, letting her hair fall loose from the bun it had been in for the past few days, kicking off her shoes, and slowly pulling the tight red tank top up and off of her torso, revealing an equally red lace bralette.

He really should have jerked off.

She turned toward him, a smile lighting up her face at his appearance.

“Hey, Spencer. You okay? You look a little … red.” She narrowed her eyes and the word and puffed out her chest ever so slightly. A less experienced profiler may have missed it.

Finally realizing he hadn’t answered her, he grunted, “Yep. I’m okey-dokey. A hundred percent. I’m great!”

He cringed, knowing she’d pick up on the overcompensation.

She, being the awesome profiler and friend she was, did.

“C’mere,” she pat the space on the bed next to her, and Spencer was drawn to it like a magnet. He was a bit worried about the lack of clothes shared between them and the fact that he was sporting a rather persistent half-chub, well hidden under the fluffy white towel. Y/N had the best towels.

“What’s up, Spence?”

She was so perfect. Not perfect as in like, no flaws. But perfect as in, if her flaws could be personified, Spencer would hug and caress each and every one of them. To him, she was a treasure. She was perfectly imperfect.

“I’m okay, really, just … got a lot on my mind.”

She broke eye-contact at that, making Spencer start to think that she understood how he was feeling a lot better than he’d assumed.

“What about you? Are you … okay?”

“Yes. Yeah, I am. Just thinking about something Gideon … well, it wasn’t quite said, you know?”

Spencer chuckled. He knew all too well how a simple look from their mentor could speak volumes.

“Yeah, I know, but … it seems like there’s something more to it?”

She sighed, laying back and resting against the overstuffed pillows, staring up at the popcorn ceiling. Uh oh. Usually, she only did that when she was really troubled.

“Spencer, I need to tell you something. I feel awful because I’m not sure if you’re ready to hear it and I don’t even know if it’s ready to be said. God knows how the hell I’ve waited this long. I’m sorry if this is too much but …”

He froze, heartbeat quickening, and preparing himself for the inevitable bad news-slash-heartbreak. Y/N sat up and stared at him intensely, sending a jolt through him.

“... I love you, Spencer.”

You weren’t sure exactly how he’d take it, but this is pretty much what you’d imagined.

“W-what?”

“Spencer….” you took his hand, lightly stroking the back of it and trying not to pull away at his tension. “I love you.”

Before you could go into a long rant about your feelings, his lips were on yours, followed soon by his body, pinning you down and kissing you with a passion you’d never felt from him before.

But he was off of you just as quick as he’d come, a terrified expression on his face.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

You pulled him back towards you to shut him up, shoving your tongue in his mouth, impatiently deepening the kiss. This time, he didn’t hesitate to let his hands roam your body, lightly trailing up your sides causing you to gasp breathily.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No,” you chuckled softly, “although,” you gently moved his hands down his bare torso, resting on the top of the towel, “you can if you want to.”

His eyes widened and you reached around your back to unclasp your bra, tossing it to the abyss next to the bed.

“W-what?”

“I saw the way you looked at me this week.”

Spencer twitched, breaking eye contact but staying close, unsure of what to say.

“How-how was I looking at you?”

His eyes were glazed over and you could feel his hardness against your thigh, pressing against you with only the towel between you.

“Like you wanted me,” you whispered into his ear, moving a hand under the towel and snaking around his length, slowly moving it back and forth. It was the first time you’d touched him there. At the movement, he dropped his head into the crook of your shoulder, cursing lightly.

You wanted to keep going so badly. You wanted to yank the towel off, flip him over and show him how you could make him feel. But you didn’t want to put any pressure whatsoever onto him.

“Listen, Spencer, I meant what I said, okay? We never have to do anything you aren’t a hundred percent sure that you wanna do. We can stop right here if you want. But….” You gently shifted underneath him, slowly sliding your panties down your legs, moving Spencer’s hand to rest right above your entrance. There was a sharp intake of breath above you and you looked up to see his eyes the size of the moon.

“If you want to do this,” you leaned in, gently nibbling his earlobe and whispering as quietly as you could, “I need you to fuck me right now.”

All resolve left in Spencer left him the moment the words escaped her perfectly full lips. His hands flew to hers, lifting them up above her head and pinning them there, delighting in the grunt that left her as their mouths collided yet again. This time, however, Spencer did not pull back.

“Fuck, Spencer!” she yelped, hands running through his hair, pulling him tight against her.

When he finally ran out of breath, he pulled back, leaving just enough space between them to say, “I want to. I’m-I’m ready.”

Her eyes shone with the love she’d declared moment earlier and Spencer’s heart swelled.

“Are you sure?”

Of course she wanted to make sure. She was only the best girlfriend ever. And that’s why Spencer knew he wanted to share himself with her. Spencer wanted her to know how special she was to him. He wanted to feel how special he was to her.

“I’m sure.” Then, not sure what had come over him, he leaned into her ear, voice dropping an octave, and muttered, “I’m ready to fuck you.”

He could have sworn he heard her growl under her breath as she shot right back, “Do it then. Doctor.”

God, something about that title got to him like nothing else. The implied authority that came with it was just too delicious when it rolled off her tongue.

Emboldened by the honorary, he quickly kissed a trail down her chest to her stomach, lightly stroking his tongue everywhere but where she wanted it.

“Mmf—Spencer…. Pleeease!”

His hand snapped over her mouth and she gasped at the sudden silence.

Okay, trust in the fact that Spencer had nooooo idea where what he said next came from.

“You want me to fuck you so bad? Huh? You think begging for it like a cheap fucking whore will make me wanna fuck you? You only get fucked when I say so. Understand me?”

Whatever she said was muffled under his hand which he kindly removed.

“What was that?”

“Yes,” she breathed, hands still where they had been pinned down, staying there only of her own accord. Beautiful.

Reaching one hand up to her breast to lightly play with her nipple, the other went low, gently circling the area around her clit.

“Yes, what?” he said with the most authority in his tone that he could muster.

For a moment it seemed she wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but when it hit her, Spencer swore he saw her … you know … twitch.

“Yes, Sir,” she said with a filthy moan, finally moving her hands into his hair, pulling toward her center, begging him to do something— anything.

And, oh, boy did he oblige.

Now, Spencer had never really been anywhere near a woman’s … parts … before. But! He’d read up on this subject plenty in the recent weeks in preparation. In theory, he knew just what to do. In practice ….

“FUCK! Yes, Oh my goooddddd, Spencerrrrr!”

Well, he must’ve been doing something right.

Holy motherfucking jesus fucking fucking christ!

How the fuck was he doing this?

Jolts of pleasure burst through your body with each stroke of his tongue against your clit. Before you could enjoy the small circles he was rubbing there for too long, he slipped a finger inside of you, lightly curling it upward and thrusting in and out, searching for the spot to drive you wild.

Again, how the fuck was he doing this?

The only possible explanation was that he’s secretly had sex a million and ten times, becoming so aware of what exactly drove a woman crazy that he knew exactly how to move between your legs.

But this was Spencer. He didn’t lie to you. So all of … this … was coming naturally to him.

And soon, you’d be too.

“Ah! Spencer, w-where is this c-coming from?”

His lips left you, pulling back just enough to give you a dazzling smile, his chin glistening gloriously.

“I’ve read over ten thousand pages of articles on pleasing a woman in the past week. Studies show that small circular motions of the tongue on the clitoris combined with one or two—”

“Spencer,” you panted, tightly grasping the wrist that was inches from your core, “I love you so much but if you don’t shut up right now—”

“—Hey, you asked.”

And he dove back down, continuing his ministrations, bringing you closer and closer to the brink of pure ecstasy. His tongue was flicking so quickly that you swore you saw stars. Every three or so seconds, a low moan left your throat, along with several curses and deep breaths.

The tension in your stomach was tightening, signifying the oncoming orgasm that was soon to come.

But all too quickly, and all too suddenly, Spencer withdrew, bringing his head back up to kiss you deeply, running his tongue along your lips and moaning onto your mouth as he continued to pump his fingers into you.

“You like this? You like feeling my fingers filling you up?”

“Yes,” you squeaked out, nails dragging down his back as you hoped and prayed he’d give you more. “Yes, please, Spencer….”

A sharp yank of your hair made your head fall back against the pillow, Spencer forcing you to meet his eyes. They were so dark. There was such desire behind them like you’d never seen from him before.

“Yes, what? Huh? Say it.”

You didn’t even need to think about what you were saying; the words sprang from your mouth with no effort at all, attempting any buzzwords that would set him off.

“I want you to fuck me, Spencer. I want to feel you fill me up and fuck me like I’m your little whore. I want you to hold me down while you do it, make me yours. I wanna be yours.”

He grunted, absentmindedly thrusting against your thigh as he listened to your words. When he spoke, you expected him to speak with the same commanding tone he’d been using, but were surprised to hear the familiar soft voice of your boyfriend.

“Hey,” he met your eyes, slightly frowning, “Is this okay? I mean … do you really want that?”

You didn’t even need to attempt to give him a reassuring smile; one came naturally.

“Of course, Spence. I want you. I’ll always want you.” Then, at his hesitation: “Do you want to take things slower? We can take a step back, just say the word.”

You placed your hand on his cheek, softly bringing his mind back to the present moment from where it had no doubt been drifting in waves of worry.

“I’m ready. I am ready. I want you,” he said, so gently, so sweetly that you knew with all of your being that he meant it.

More importantly, you know what else he meant. He wasn’t ready to say it yet, and you were fine with that. Besides, he probably knew that you knew. And if you both knew, why would he need to say it?

“Okay. Let’s go slow, okay?”

He nodded, eyes widening to the size of dinner plates. It must’ve finally dawned on him that this was really happening.

“Now, I got tested a few weeks ago and everything came back negative. I’m on hormonal birth control and have been for a while now. There are condoms in the drawer there, but it’s totally up to you. I’m comfortable with whatever you are.”

You could see the gears in his mind turning. In true Spencer Reid fashion, he was weighing the risks and rewards. You expected him to want to use a condom, which was totally fine and made sense with how responsible he was. But you selfishly wanted to know what he felt like skin to skin inside of you.

Which is why it was such a surprise when he said—

“Let’s do it without.”

“Wait, really?”

He nodded, drawing small patterns on your stomach absentmindedly with one hand, the other stroking your hair.

“We’re both clean, little to no pregnancy risk. Plus I … I’d like to know how … um.”

“How it feels?” you offered.

He sighed, relieved to not have to say it.

“Yeah. Is that okay?”

“Yes! Yes, Spencer. That’s kind of what I was hoping you’d say.”

“Really?”

You nodded this time, bringing him in for a soft kiss, keeping it rather chaste as you slowly slipped a hand down, guiding his member to your entrance, delighting in the gasp he let slip as you positioned him.

Slowly, keeping your mouth against his, you used his cock to gently spread you open, pressing the head just against your core. Above you, he was practically vibrating with the effort of holding back.

“Ready?”

“Ready,” he whispered through gritted teeth.

Hooking your legs around his back, you withdrew your hand and clenched your legs, slowly pulling him into you.

Both of you moaned simultaneously at the feeling, Spencer’s face falling into an open expression of pure ecstasy.

“Oh my god,” he groaned once he was completely sheathed within you. The feeling of him, bare, inside of you was so much to comprehend. You could tell he was probably thinking the same thing. Actually, it looked like all his effort was going into staying still, waiting for you to get accustomed to his size.

You’d told him that you’d never been with someone who was nearly as … well-endowed as he. He must have really taken those words to heart.

“Can I-can I move now?” he muttered, clearly straining to stay still.

“Yes.”

The moment you said it, he pulled back, grunting in your ear at the feeling and slowly slid back in, gasping when he bottomed out.

“Oh god, Y/N….”

“Please, Spencer.” You yanked him back by the hair so he could see your eyes, see how seriously you meant what you were about to say. “Fuck me.”

One of the many things you loved about Spencer: he always listened to you. Sometimes, to a fault.

Because the instant you asked, he delivered, pounding into you so hard that stars exploded in your eyes with each thrust. His hands dug so hard into your legs you were sure they’d leave bruises. With each thrust, his hipbones made sharp contact with your inner thighs and you grunted at the pain.

He started to hesitate, clearly clocking the pained expression on your face.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No! Please— oh god— don’t fucking stop, Spencer.”

His hands were everywhere all at once, pulling your hair, grasping your neck, your chest, your legs. Every time he pulled out of you, he would hesitate for a half-second, just enough to make you think he was done, then he’d fuck back into you, driving you further up the bed with each thrust.

You would have been moaning louder if you weren’t so scared of missing a single word he was saying.

“Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good. It’s really-it’s really tight.”

Laughing breathily in his ear, you said, “Yeah, well. That happens when it’s been a while.” Small moans broke through as he increased pace, hands slipping around your waist, pulling you down roughly onto him with each thrust. Your hips bumped together roughly every time, connecting painfully, wonderfully.

“Oh yeah?” Spencer lifted one of your legs up over his shoulder, driving much deeper now. “Maybe your tight little cunt just isn’t used to getting fucked properly. Tell me, did the guys you were with before fuck you like this?”

Not able to bring yourself to speak, he pulled out completely and placed a solid hand around your throat, barely cutting off the circulation.

“Answer me, now!”

“No! Uhn— Spencer…. No, I’ve never been fucked like this. You’re so … mmm…. so big!”

He reentered you sharply at the last word, continuing the hard pounding only this time, moving a hand to roughly circle your clit unrelentingly.

“Fuck!”

His other hand was digging into your ass and his thrusts were starting to falter.

“Y/N … I’m not sure how much … how much longer I can …”

So lost in the pure bliss he was giving you, you barely were able to process what he’d said. When you did, you made sure to reassure him.

“Do it, come with me.”

“Fuck, Y/N. I-I lo—”

You placed a finger on his mouth, such a gentle gesture compared to the way he was pounding into you below that his eyes snapped open, locking with yours.

All you did was smile at him, an expression filled with as much energy as you could spare right now. A slight nod told him all he needed to know and he let out a sigh of relief. He didn’t need to say it right now. You knew and he knew, anyway.

He stroked you twice more before you burst, suddenly so overwhelmed by the feeling of him inside you as your insides clenched around him. He felt so much bigger as you came and after a few more thrusts, you felt a warm sensation fill you up as he yelped softly above you.

You both came down from the high so slowly, eyes locked and breathing heavily.

Surprisingly, he didn’t collapse onto you as had happened with so many other men. He was using all his remaining strength to stay perfectly still above you, staring into your eyes with a shocked expression on his face.

Finally, he shook out of it, pupils contracting and gently pulling out, both of you groaning at the feeling.

Laying down next to you, it was a full minute before either of you spoke.

“Wow.”

“Hah. Yeah.”

You turned to him and he did the same, an adorable smile gracing his face.

“So? How was it? Everything you expected?”

He sighed heavily, closing his eyes momentarily before answering.

“Words aren’t usually lost on me. I always seem to know what to say even in the most ineffable of times. That…. That was indescribable.”

You weren’t sure how much more praise you could take; your heart was already so full and the more he filled it, the more you felt like you were about to burst.

“You can say that again. I must say I’m rather ... surprised. No offense! I promise! But, well, for a virgin you sure as hell don’t fuck like one.”

He smiled doofily, placing a hand on your cheek and stroking the skin under your eye, his expression shifting to one of worry.

“You’re crying….”

You pulled away, quickly wiping your eyes.

“Sorry…. That… that happens sometimes.”

“Hey,” he pulled you back to him, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Don’t ever apologize. It actually means that there are very strong feelings between us. In fact, it’s referred to as postcoital dysphoria and is normally caused by a particularly powerful orgasm. It’s a way of your body releasing the pent up feelings.”

Spencer Reid somehow found a way to be adorable while talking scientifically about orgasms and crying. What the hell did you do to deserve this man? You loved him so much and you’d spend the rest of your life proving it to him without hesitation. He didn’t even need to say it back.

But, as always, Spencer couldn’t seem to stop surprising you.

“Y/N … I love you.”

The tears came quicker now and soft sobs left your chest. He pulled you against him, you tucking your head under his chin and smiling at the speed his arms found their way around you.

“I know,” you muttered into his chest, feeling him smile above you.

“We just had sex, I told you I loved you, and you’re quoting Star Wars?”

You pulled back to beam up at him.

“Is that not the reason you love me?”

He smiled down at you, his nose scrunching up ever so slightly as it always did when he was happy.

“One of the many. Another very new one being added to the memory banks after tonight,” he grinned, tapping the side of his head.

“Oh yeah? You love me ‘cause of the way I let you fuck me like a little whore?” you muttered in a low voice, wiggling your eyebrows as his face fell.

“Y-yeah….” he was breathless again, watching you intently.

Leaning in to whisper in his ear, you said the very thing you knew that he knew he wanted you to.

“Wanna do it again?”

“Oh fuck yes.”

And he climbed back on top of you, attaching his lips to yours and kissing you with a whole new passion.

Because he loved you and you loved him. And you both knew it. And that made it all worth it.

TAGLIST

@whollytaciturn @101donuts @thegingerfairchild @safertokiss @happyiidiot @cielo1984 @thupidalethea @darkacademiacherry @matthewreid @aloha-ashley-taylor @justchiara-02 @spnobsessedmemes @sweet-darlin @matthewreid @brokenanxiety @thatsonezesty13 @psychedellic-phase @beautifulalmondstudentduck @awhollandx @baddreamsandbrokenhearts @simp-for-mgg @swagdaddycam @gejatume @url-under-construction @radkryptonitepeanut @idontneedalltheseemotions @krymson182

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid gifs #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #matthew gray gubler

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mustyrosewater · 3 years

Text

te amo.

javier peña x reader

request by @hxdxs : hello! i was wondering if you could write smth where javier peña has a nightmare after him and the reader have a fight which results to them sleeping in separate rooms, she wakes up and comforts him no pressure (:

warnings : fighting, mentions of violence, possibly unhealthy relationship

word count : 3k+

you knew what you were walking into when you finally decided to commit to a relationship with javier peña, you knew to expect the disappearing for days at a time without being able to contact with him because he was undercover, you knew that he was walking into a brand new dangerous situation every single day.

but it didn't hurt any fucking less each time. at first, you'd tried to tell yourself that you shouldn't be upset, once again telling yourself that it was you who chose this life, getting angry and possibly overreacting would just be hypocritical of you, it would have made you weak. but as it began to happen again, and again the last straw had been him coming home at three in the morning, after having been away for a week longer than he'd told you the undercover operation was going to last for. you'd spent hours in your shared apartment, anxiously waiting for a the phone call from the dea or an agent knocking on your door only to tell you that he'd been killed. you'd spent the night sitting on the couch, clutching his shirt tightly just to smell whatever remnants of his cheap cologne that you hated with a passion was left over on them, suddenly missing it now more than ever. when he'd finally come back, you'd fallen asleep on the couch, still holding the shirt tight to your chest with dried tears still lingering on your cheeks. to say the least, waking up at three in the morning to the sound of somebody rustling around in the bathroom was enough to prompt you to slowly grab a knife from the kitchen drawer and slowly make your way to the bathroom. as if being on a streak of being an emotional wreck after what you believed to be the death of your boyfriend, now the universe was truly testing you by having somebody decide to rob you. seeing the streak of white light poking through the crack in the bathroom door, you approached slowly, feeling your heart beating so loudly that it was thundering in your own ears. finally swinging the door open, it hit the opposite wall with a harsh crash, only to be followed by you bursting in, knife in hand, cursing angrily in spanish. only to be greeted by a wide eyed javi looking at you as if you'd gone crazy. as your heart dropped and your eyes widened, you couldn't help letting out a cry of shock as you dropped the knife onto the tile floor with a sharp clang, unable to process the blade narrowly missing your foot. reaching to grip onto the door frame in order to balance yourself as you felt your legs begin to go numb, javi sprung forward, reaching out and placing his hands under your shoulders for support. as you finally got a closer look at him, you could see that his hair was messy as all hell, he definitely hadn't shaved for the past day or two and he absolutely stunk, and you once again found yourself wishing he'd actually been using that horrid cologne. in that moment however, as grateful as you were that he was alive and wasn't in fact lying dead in a ditch in escobars backyard, the relief had faded away as quickly as it had flooded in, only to no sooner be replaced with a fiery surge of anger. with no hesitation, you shoved him away from you, now able to stand up straight once more; looking up just in time to see his questioning look he posed your way. "what the fuck javi!" you hadn't meant for your voice to come out so hoarse, but the hours you'd spent audibly crying into his shirt had done a number on your throat, as well as the fact that you'd only woken up minutes ago. he opened his mouth to speak, but you only answered by holding up your finger and continuing to speak. "a week. i don't hear from you for a week! i manage to convince myself you've been shot, and then you just waltz in at three am in the fucking morning and make me think you're a robber!" you can't help but laugh in between sentences, but the laugh is still traced with venom, all too reflective of the angry streak of words flooding out of your mouth. "i mean- what if i'd stabbed you?!" you spoke, gesturing to the knife now by your feet. you didn't even want to picture yourself stabbing javi, especially not after he nearly gave you a stroke due to finding out that he was still very much alive. as you went to continue, it was now javi's turn to interrupt you, shaking his head as he placed his hands on his hips and stared back at you. you hadn't even stopped to think about how much of a crazy person you must have looked like in that moment, face puffy and red from crying, messy hair and pajama pants you'd been wearing for two days straight, all nicely topped off with a singlet shirt and robe he'd gotten you a few months back for your birthday. "what the fuck was i supposed to do? i told you i was undercover!" his voice sounded so tired, it was painfully obvious to you how drained he was; but in that moment, the high emotional intensity was blurring all reason within you. as you listened to him yell, you felt the lump in your throat forming; crossing your arms, you tried to keep yourself together. "you could have sent me some kind of message, somebody to tell me you'd be gone for another week!" the two of you were no longer yelling at one another, this was screaming at one another. in a brief passing moment you thought about what the neighbours must have thought of you two, but you also just couldn't find yourself to care. "you know i couldn't do that! i've told you several fucking times why i can't do that!" he turned away from you, taking a step back towards the basin. you could see his shoulders rising and falling with his deep breaths, watching as he reached up to run a hand through his messy hair. "fuck!" you jumped as the tense silence between you two was broken by javi cursing loudly and kicking the small plastic garbage can beside the basin, sending it crashing against the wall loudly. that was when your bottom lip began to wobble and your vision became foggy. you could only reach up a shaky hand to cover your mouth as javi panted, hunched over the basin he was now resting his hands on. "i thought you were dead javi.." in your effort to conceal that you were beginning to cry, you'd kept your voice quiet, yet i hadn't helped in the slightest; the wobble in your tone was too noticeable for anybody to be able to ignore, especially not javi; who turned to look at you, a few expression laced with regret having taken over his face. you didn't want to look at him for a moment longer, you couldn't even if you did. so you turned around and walked out from the doorway of the bathroom, only now beginning to audibly weep into your hand. you could head javi walking after you, only prompting you to walk to the spare room quicker. you just needed to be away from javi for awhile, even if you'd spent the past four weeks desperately wishing he was back. "wait, just please hang on a minu-" you can't hear the rest of javi's words before you've slammed the door in his face, turning the small lock over as quickly as your shaky hands allow you to. you turn around and put your back to the door, trying to ignore the fact that you can feel javi standing outside the door, you can hear his faint heavy breaths and the way he's softly cursing in spanish under his breath. its a few more moment before you can hear his footsteps slowly getting softer and you know he's walked in your bedroom when you can hear the door slam shut, making you jump softly again. thats the moment that you let yourself break down. your face scrunches up as you slide down the door until your sitting on the ground of the spare room, your knees up to your chest as you rest your palms on your forehead, trying your hardest not to make too much sound as you cry, feeling your shoulders shake as you do. memories of all the friends who'd advised you not to commit to a relationship with javi over wine came flooding in, remembering the uneasy looks on all their faces the first time you'd shown up to a friends wedding together. the times you'd stayed at their houses because you just couldn't handle the way he acted when a case had set him off; the amount of times you'd told them that you stayed because he needed you as much as you needed him; ignoring the way they shook their heads. it hurts so much when things get like this between you two, you don't often find yourself fighting, but this had so far been the worst of all; never had the two of you screamed at each other so loudly before. it takes about thirty minutes of you sitting on the ground to realize that you should probably move to the small single bed in the corner of the room. you had moved the small bed into what was essentially javi's office about a year ago, mainly done for the purpose of giving steve a place to sleep when him and javi were working non stop, it was your idea, knowing that it would probably be easier seeing as him and steve always had to start so early. remembering when they moved the bed in, you'd brought the two of them beers as they spent hours upon hours trying to put the stupid thing together. a memory that used to make you laugh, only serving to making you cry harder as you sat down on the bed. you could hear javi angrily pacing in the next room over, as well as the occasional bang of what you could assume was him knocking something over or throwing something. as you laid down on the bed, you shut your eyes slowly, trying to pretend you couldn't hear him even if there was nothing but a paper thin wall separating the two rooms. -- you couldn't tell what time it was when you finally woke up. you couldn't even remember when you'd fallen asleep. you looked towards the window to see a dim blue light poking out of the curtains, signalling to you that it must have been early in the morning, meaning you couldn't have been asleep for more than four hours. at first, you reached out for javi, only for the events that occurred only a few hours ago to come flooding back in. the fighting, the screaming. it only replaced the lump in your throat as you sat up and rubbed your eyes. as you began to wake up more, you wondered what had prompted you to wake up at such a random hour, especially when you'd been so worn out and tired when you actually went to sleep in the first place. you were about to ponder the question for awhile longer, until you heart the soft grunts coming from you and javi's room. though muffled, you could clearly hear javi in quiet distress. its a sound that you wish wasn't as familiar to you as it was; the amount of times you'd been woken up by javi making those sounds fresh in your head, just as fresh as needing to calm him down from them. he was clearly having a nightmare. and suddenly, it was as if all of those arguements, all of those snarky comments from your girlfriends and all the time you'd spent crying over javi had been flung out of the window and banished to the back of your mind; only leaving room for a sudden concern for javi. with no hesitation to be observed, you walked to the door and unlocked it, heading to the bedroom as the sounds of javi in sleepy distress became louder and louder. carefully placing your hand flat on the wooden door, you hesitated, briefly taking a moment to prepare for javi still being upset, knowing that it could still very much be the case. pushing said concerns to the back of your mind once more, you push the door open slowly, still aware of the way in which its hinges tend to creak purely due to age and the fact that it was admittedly purely made; remembering the amount of times javi mentioned he was going to fix it himself but still never getting around to it. you spot his sleeping figure on the bed, though sleeping would certainly be a loose term for it. he's shaking and twitching every few moments, his eyes shut tightly. you aren't sure what it is he's dreaming about, much less if you even want to know; it was likely it wasn't something you'd be able to handle. you'd never asked for any details past what he told you about his job; occasionally he would mention things once or twice in passing, and you were simply content to leave it at that. the things that you'd seen on the television were enough to scare you into not asking for anything else past the information he was willing to give. yet in the same breath, the fact that only seeing things on tv was enough to make your skin crawl, you couldn't imagine what it must have been like for him to see it all up and close and personal, much less risk his life every day just by walking into the embassy. you knew what to expect when you committed to this relationship, yet you had found it so hard to think about what he was going through. after what felt like ten minutes of staring at the poor man, you walked forward and kneeled beside the bed, not wanting to put weight on the mattress so as to frighten him out of his sleep rather than calmly wake him. reaching up, you placed a hand on his cheek, ignoring the prickly feeling of his stubble due to having not shaved for nearly a week and ran your thumb back and fourth across his prickly skin. "javi... javi, baby.." as you try to speak softly to snap him out of it, it seems to only make it worse as he jumps away from your touch; only resulting in a slight cringe forming on your face. the idea that you're only making it worse for him feels horrible, not even wanting to think about what he must be experiencing in whatever dream it is he's having. "please baby, wake up, its just a dream... i'm here." continuing to stroke his cheek, you watch as he lets out a loud gasp and his eyes go flying open and he sits up, looking around frantically as if he was trying to find out where he was. this is only one of many times you've had to do this, needing to wake him up softly and remind him that he was safe with you. it pained you to see him so shaken by a dream. you had to wonder how much more of this line of work he was going to be able to take. the more time you spent watching columbia slowly chip away at the man you loved, you tried to pretend that every time you watched him walk out of the door for work that you weren't worried it may have been his last. you tried to pretend that you weren't always noticing his dark circles and the way he'd grunt out in pain from the smallest movements. being in the dea was slowly killing him and neither of you even wanted to admit it. you know better than to ever try and convince him to quit, you've known him long enough to know how stubborn of a man he is; and that if you tried to tell him about the danger and how worried you were, it was only going to push him away in the end. the times you'd had to help him into bed when he came home drunk, the times you'd needed to help him dress his stitches or watch him take of his shirt only to be met with a bullet scratch on his shoulder. while being in the dea was slowly killing javi, watching it happen was just as slowly killing you. reaching forward, you cup his cheeks and force him to look you in the eyes; ignoring the way that his hands grip tightly onto your wrists. you've learnt to ignore things like this, it hurts when he grips your wrists so tightly, but you continue to tell yourself that he doesn't mean it; you know he doesn't mean it. you chose to love a broken man, and with all broken things, you needed to be prepared for occasionally gaining a few cracks yourself. the fear in his eyes is crystal clear, the way he looks at you as if he doesn't recognize you; its painful, but as his face shifts to one of a subtle recognition, you watch as he slowly sinks down from his fear and feel his grip on your wrists begin to relax bit by bit. stroking his cheeks, you smile softly and sit across from him on the bed, feeling his pulse thundering rapidly. "i'm right here javi, it's ok, your ok." your whispers finally seem to be working as he shuts his eyes, making an obvious attempt to slow down his breathing. he leans forward, resting his forehead on your collar as you stroke his back slowly, letting him try to calm down from whatever violent nightmare he was being forced to endure. you can feel his arms wrap around you as he pulls you closer, practically leaning against you as he breathes in your scent, just another way of being able to ground himself back into reality. in that one moment, every fight the two of you had ever had, the amount of time you'd spent crying over your worries, everything you've had to endure becomes worth it as you sit there in each others arms. he finally leans back to look at you, letting one of his hands rest on the back of your head as he brings you in to lay a kiss on your forehead, shutting his eyes and taking another deep breath. without saying anything, he leans back down to lay on the bed, pulling you with him so that you were laying your head on his chest; his arms remaining tightly wound around you with little to no intention of letting you go. just as you had no intention of leaving. "im sorry.." you whispered out softly, beginning to draw invisible patterns on his bare chest with your finger tips. "i was just so fucking scared that i lost you.." you confessed, letting you voice crack as your vision became foggy. he didn't reply at first, but you felt his breathing tense. you didn't want to ask what it was that he was dreaming about, but based upon his reaction, you wondered whether or not that was the subject matter of his dream, losing you or losing himself. when he finally spoke, it was deep and croaky, just as his voice always was after it had been sleeping; a voice you'd heard whispering sweet nothings and pillow talk in the mornings; the voice that would softly tell you goodbye followed by a kiss on your forehead whenever javi would leave early in the mornings and you'd stay in bed. "please don't cry, hermosa. please don't be sorry." by the sound of his voice you could tell that he felt bad, it wasn't hard to tell that the both of you were hurt over the argument; your high emotional intensity mixed with javi being worn out was a deadly mix that was bound to end badly. turning to look up at him, you rested your chin on his chest and sighed. javi stared back at you, reaching up to fix the hair that had fallen in front of your face; allowing his hand to linger purely so he could cup your cheek. shutting your eyes, you leaned into his touch; now unable to stop a few tears from escaping and rolling down your cheeks only to be quickly wiped up by javi's thumb as if he couldn't bear to watch them fall. "te amo." he whispered, reaching for your hand and bringing the back of it to his lips, laying a soft kiss on the skin. laying your head back down on his chest and shutting your eyes, you allowed yourself to begin drifting back to sleep, now finding such a task monumentally easier now that you were back in javi's arms. "i love you too."

#javier pena #javier pena x reader #javier pena hc #javier pena fic #javier pena fluff #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal narcos #narcos #pedro pascal fic #angst

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starshine583 · 3 years

Text

New Girl on the Block (11)

(aaaaaah thank you guys so much for all of the replies in the last one! I get so giddy reading them! Anyway, here’s chapter 11 of New Girl on the Block. I hope you all enjoy and please feel free to check out the mini series connected to this called Journal Entries!)

Ch.1 / Ch.10 / Ch.12 (Ao3)

Chapter 11: Aw~ You Really Do Care

Gentle breezes that swayed this way and that were always known for creating calming atmospheres. They blew through the wisps of your hair like a sweet kiss from nature and quietly stole your troubles from the deep sigh that you’d let out from finally getting fresh air. They weren’t supposed to harshly wrap around your limbs and torso, condemning you to a make-shift cage that was built to keep you paralyzed as you were carried through the air by a magical, maniacal, part-time villain. And this, Marinette decided, was going to be reason number forty-seven for why she hated Hawkmoth. He ruined the little things. Not only was she going to scowl at every autumn breeze from this moment on due to bitter memories, she was also reminded that she can’t even have a small lunch with friends between classes without getting blasted across the street. With all of the akumas centering around Dupont, she had hoped that her chances of getting ambushed would decrease, but that was apparently too much to ask for.

She’ll give Hawkmoth credit on one account, though: this was the first time she’d gotten caught up in an akuma while in civilian form since she transferred schools. Nevertheless, one time is still one too many, especially when this was bound to happen again sooner or later.

Marinette thrashed against Whirlwind’s hold, and although she didn’t put too much effort into it for the sake of subtlety, she could tell they weren’t going to budge. She needed to find another way to get down that wouldn’t alarm or anger the akuma. Maybe she could convince Whirlwind to get on the ground somehow.. But she already seemed on edge. What if she got aggressive? These akumas were never reasonable, and Marinette couldn’t turn her head to see if Felix and the others were out of range yet.

Marinette held back a groan. Why did there have to be so many obstacles!

“I’m not seeing any ‘company buildings’.” Whirlwind remarked, frowning as she scanned over the city rooftops. “Where did you say they were again?”

“It’s- uhm -” Marinette faltered. She hadn’t expected to be addressed once they started moving. “It’s on the other side of town. If I remember correctly. You should be able to find one if you fly Northeast from here.”

Whirlwind perked up. “Oh, good! I must say, I’m quite impressed with your navigation skills. I barely know what ‘Northeast’ is, myself.”

Marinette forced a smile in response. The akuma wouldn’t think so highly of her if they knew that she was only pointing them in the opposite direction of the café.

They started moving again, the fresh surge of wind almost making it difficult to breathe as they rushed over the rooftops. It reminded Marinette of the time she had to fight Santa Clause while standing on top of his weird, gizmo sleigh, except this time she didn’t have Tikki’s magic to protect her.

Her eyes flicked to the streets below, a part of her wondering what would happen if she fell, another part of her wondering if that’s what she’d have to resort to to get out of this mess.

Come on, Marinette, think! She told herself. Come up with an excuse! Something to get you on the ground. The company is.. Unground? You need to.. Go to the bathroom? Get your phone? You’re-

“Airsick!” She gasped. “I’m getting airsick!”

In hindsight, she probably should have thought the excuse through before blurting out her imaginary nausea- how would she escape once Whirlwind brought her to ground? Would she make another excuse to go inside? How would Marinette be able to slip away to go transform if she made it that far? -but it had a decent effect. Whirlwind immediately stopped, causing the winds behind them to burst forward. Marinette briefly wondered how fast they’d been going to create such a force when coming to an abrupt halt.

“What was that?” Whirlwind asked. “I couldn’t hear you over my winds.”

Marinette hesitated. This was her chance to change the excuse if she wanted to. Should she stick with her airsick story or change it? What would she change it to? Should she just wait for another opportunity to arise? But what if this was her only chance to escape?

“I-”

Before she could utter a word about landing, a silver staff flew past her, smacking Whirlwind right in the stomach. The akuma let out a yelp of surprise and pain as she was launched backwards, and the winds curling around Marinette’s arms and legs lost their holds. That might have been ideal.. had she not been dangling over five stories high in the air.

A scream ripped itself from Marinette’s lungs as she plummeted towards the ground, her arms flailing for support that simply wasn’t there. All coherent thoughts spiraled out of control as the deafening winds rushed around her. This wasn’t part of the plan. She needed to stop falling- she needed to grab something. Were there people in the street? Were there cars below her? What was she going to land on? How close was the ground? Was she going to survive the hit? What was going to happen if she couldn’t help fight the akuma?

Ice cold terror gripped her pounding heart, and she shimmied in the air to look for witnesses should she transform. What other choice did she have? She couldn’t allow herself to die. The Ladybug miraculous was too important.

Adrenaline coursed through her veins, helping her panic with more “what if”s but giving her no solutions. What if someone saw her? What if Whirlwind saw her, giving Hawkmoth her identity? What if she hit the ground before she fully had time to transform? Everything was happening so slowly yet so fast all at once. Time was crawling as her mind raced, but in the blink of an eye, the grey strip that was the road grew five times as wide as it was before in her teary, blurred vision, and Marinette knew her time was running out. She needed to do something, and she needed to do it now.

“Tikki, spots-”

A grunt cut her off as she landed in a pair of leather-clad arms. They pulled her closer to the chest of her savior, who flashed her an all too familiar smirk.

“Don’t worry, Miss.” Chat Noir said, hopping across a few cars while he carried her to safety. “I’ve got y- wait.”

His pace slowed, though not by much considering the circumstances, and he stared down at her with wide eyes. “Marinette?”

Although her mind was reeling from almost- you know -falling to her death, she wrapped her arms around his neck, a relieved smile spreading onto her lips. “Chat Noir. Right on time, as always.”

“I- What are you doing here? And why is your face all red?” He asked, bewildered. She didn’t blame him. It’d been a while since they saw each other on the battlefield, let alone in a place so far from her house or school with her face the color of a cherry tomato.

“I was having lunch with my friends, and there was a small accident in Chemistry class earlier.” She explained, glancing over Chat’s shoulder to make sure the akuma wasn’t following them. Aside from a few car alarms and faint police sirens, it was quiet. Whirlwind must have a slow recovery time. That was going to come in handy later.

Chat Noir stopped in a random alleyway and carefully set her back down on her own two feet. “You mean the friends from your new school?”

Marinette wobbled a bit and placed a firm hand on his shoulder to regain balance. Now that she wasn’t in imminent danger, the shock and adrenaline in her body seemed to be wearing off. It left her heart racing and her body shaking, but she’d fallen enough times to know that it would pass in a few minutes as well. (And wasn’t it sad that she could say that?)

“Those would be the ones.” She replied after a few deep breaths. “We got attacked as we were leaving, and I went to lure Whirlwind away from everyone. I didn’t count on her picking me up to leave.”

Chat Noir frowned, offering a soft rub on the back to help her relax. “I appreciate your tenacity, Princess, but you could’ve gotten seriously hurt! You need to leave the rescuing to us heroes.”

Marinette resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Felix had said the same thing back at the café, neither of them realizing the horrible irony that she was one of the heroes. Sometimes she just wanted to expose her identity to Paris simply so she could do her job as Ladybug in peace without any resistance.

“Anyway, I actually wanted to ask you about your new school.” Chat Noir remarked, bringing her from her mullings.

Marinette gave him a questioning look. Wasn’t he supposed to be fighting the akuma right now? Whirlwind wasn’t going to stay down forever. He needed to stay focused on the task at hand, dang it! Or at least leave her alone so she could transform and tell him to focus as Ladybug!

“Where did you go, you mangy cat!” The akuma roared in the distance. “Come out and face me like a proper hero!”

Aaaand she’s up now. Marinette mentally sighed. It was going to be hard knocking her down again. With her winds protecting her, an ambush will be the only way to get close, and she’ll be expecting that now. Maybe she can find another way to get the folder-fan thing. (That’s what she assumed to be the akumatized object, anyway.)

“Woops,” Chat Noir muttered, his gaze flicking towards the sky. Woops would be right.

“That’s my queue to go.” He said, offering her another quick smile before taking out his staff. “Stay safe, Princess!”

His staff extended, which vaulted him into the air, and he disappeared onto the rooftops above, out of sight.

Finally, Marinette thought. She was starting to wonder if he’d ever leave.

“Marinette!” As soon as the coast was clear, Tikki zipped out of her purse, flying around her holder with a worried look. “Are you alright? You didn’t get hurt, did you? That was too close!”

“I’m fine, Tikki.” Marinette assured with a soft smile. “See? I’m not even shaking anymore. I just hope we can defeat this akuma before next class period. You know how much Felix hates being late.”

Tikki giggled. “I think he’ll understand being a little late today.”

Marinette chuckled. “Tikki, spots on!”

Magic wrapped around her skin in a flash of bright light, creating her signature red and black-spotted costume. A smile graced her lips at the surge of power that washed over her body, and she threw her yo-yo towards the top of the rooftop. Now she was ready to face Whirlwind.

Her yo-yo pulled her onto the rooftop that Chat Noir stepped onto moments prior, but by the time she got up there, he was already blocks away and fighting against Whirlwind as best he could on his own. It.. wasn’t going well, but that served him right for wasting time while the akuma was vulnerable.

Nevertheless, Ladybug threw out her yo-yo again to swing in their direction. She still had to protect Paris, after all, and if she waited any longer, she might be fighting Whirlwind alone while trying not to look Chat Noir’s civilian self in the eyes.

Hopefully she was underestimating him, because it only took half a swing for something else to stop her in her tracks.

It was a cry. But not just any cry. Someone was calling out her name.

Her civilian name.

Ladybug’s arms flailed around as she stumbled onto another rooftop, and she looked to the streets below for the source. There should only be about four other people- aside from Chat -who knew her civilian self was in that area, and that fact had her begging that she’d heard something wrong.

She should have known that she’d never be that lucky, though, despite her powers literally being based around life and luck. It took less than a second for her to spot a blonde boy in dark clothing running through the streets where she’d initially fallen as Marinette, and in all honesty.. she was stunned to see him. Not because she truly thought that the universe would be convenient for once, but because.. it was Felix. Not Claude or Allegra or Allan, who she’d certainly expected to be crazy enough to follow after her, but Felix.

Felix who makes a point of avoiding people as much as possible because he supposedly hates them.

Felix who would usually rather stay home than go anywhere with the group at any time because he claims they are torture to be around.

Felix who had looked too terrified to even move right before she lured the akuma away from the café.

He was there, and he was searching for her. Not only that, he was desperately searching for her. Moving the debris that he could, looking through car windows, calling out her name multiple times- he was doing everything in his power to find her. And she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t extremely touched by the sight. Felix has helped her so much over the past month, but she’d always assumed that that was done out of the kindness of his own heart, not because he liked her, especially with how often he griped and grumbled about the trio dragging him to their group hangouts. Seeing him so worried now, though.. It almost made her smile despite herself.

He really did care about them, didn’t he?

Ladybug shook her head and swung down to the street he was on. Whirlwind probably wouldn’t try to harm him purposely, but that didn’t mean the loose debris from the fight a few blocks down would magically avoid hitting him. She needed to get him to safety before the akuma realized that her second opponent had arrived.

“Sir, it’s not safe here.” She said as she landed behind him. “You need to come with me.”

Felix jumped out of his skin and whirled around. His expression was coated with terror and frustration, once again throwing Ladybug off. She’d never seen him this frantic before.

“Oh, thank goodness.” He said after realizing who she was. “Please, I need your help. My friend- her name’s Marinette. She tried to lure the akuma to help us and got kidnapped! I tried to follow them, but they moved too fast. And then I saw her fall and-”

Recounting the events put him in a fresh state of panic, and he ran a hand through his hair as he scanned the streets once again.

“I understand,” She replied softly, placing a hand on his shoulder to hopefully calm him down, “but I need to remain calm for me, okay? We’re going to clear the area, and then I’ll do everything in my power to find her.”

Felix’s gaze snapped to hers. “What? No, I don’t think you understand. She fell! She might be suffocating under the debris or critically injured in an alleyway or on a rooftop somewhere! We can’t just leave!”

Ladybug held back a smile towards his concern, as that would be wildly inappropriate at the moment, and reached down to pick him up. “I’m sure she would appreciate the sentiment, sir, but you being here makes our jobs harder. Please let us handle this. I’m sure she’s perfectly safe somewhere.”

“What are you-” Felix gasped as she scooped him up bridal style, and the mix of sheer outrage and bafflement that exploded onto his features once he realized what was happening made her wish that she had a camera.

“Put me down this instant!” He demanded, scrambling in her hold. “I need to find Marinette!”

“We’ll do that,” Ladybug promised, “just as soon as I get you somewhere safe.”

Jumping over cars and weaving through alleyways, she managed to carry Felix a good few blocks away within five or ten minutes. He was strangely light for being so tall. Even as he continued to squirm in her grasp, she had no trouble lifting him to a sheltered and secluded area.

“This is ridiculous!” Felix hissed, throwing himself off of her when she finally allowed him to do so. “What kind of hero ignores a person in need! Aren’t you supposed to save those injured by the akuma? Marinette could be out there dead while I’m perfectly fine, yet you waste time taking me somewhere I don’t want to go! Have some common sense and prioritize! Listen to what I’m telling you!”

Ladybug pursed her lips to avoid a sigh. If it weren’t for the fact that plenty of other people who were just like this made her job way more difficult than it already was, she would probably be laughing a bit towards the irony of his claims. “Sir, every life is a priority to us-”

A scream echoed in the distance, one that abruptly grew louder as the source grew nearer. Ladybug shifted into a fighting stance, but by the time she pulled out her yo-yo to use as a weapon, a blur of black was flying right past them.

It landed hard in a dumpster near the end of the alleyway, a deep groan erupting from the surprise visitor a moment later. That fall clearly hadn’t been pleasant for whoever got thrown, and Ladybug had a pretty good idea of who that person was. Not many people got thrown around by akumas on a near-weekly basis.

“You okay, Chat?” She asked, putting away her yo-yo as she moved forward to help him up.

Her partner eyed her through a pained, squinted gaze while he rubbed the back of his head. “..My lady? When did you get here?”

She offered a smile and helped him sit up as she answered, “Only a few minutes ago. I was helping a civilian get to safety.”

Chat’s gaze slid to the spot over her shoulder, where she assumed Felix was standing, and a frown tugged at the corner of his lips.

“You’re here too?”

The question was more of muttered, but she heard it all the same, her eyebrows knitting together. What did he mean ‘too’? Did they know each other?

“I’m looking for my friend.” Felix spoke up, jumping at the opportunity to recruit another hero. It was probably for a good thing, since she didn’t want to think too much on who Chat did or didn’t know personally. “She was taken captive by the akuma while trying to protect us and fell from the air about twenty minutes ago. Have you seen her?”

Chat’s eyes widened, confusion and surprise swirling onto his features. Ladybug, for the life of her, couldn’t figure out why. Her alter ego had told him that she risked her life to save her friends. Minor surprise should have been the only reaction he had to that question.

“Wait..” Her partner said with furrowed eyebrows. “Was this girl’s name Marinette?”

Felix straightened, hope rising to his silver eyes. “You know her?”

“I put her in an alleyway a few blocks from here.” Chat Noir answered, gesturing in the general direction. “She was a bit shaken up, but otherwise fine. How do you-”

“No time for chit-chat.” Ladybug interrupted. She wasn’t going to get trapped in another one of Chat Noir’s spiraling conversations. “We kind of have an akuma to take care of.”

Chat Noir pushed himself out of the dumpster, and although he looked reluctant to drop the subject, he nodded. “Right. I’m ready when you are.”

Ladybug gave a satisfied nod and turned back to Felix.

“I know you’re worried for your friend,” She said, “but she’s safe. So I would greatly appreciate it if you went and hid until all of this was over. If you don’t, it’ll only make defeating Whirlwind harder.”

Felix frowned, clearly not on board with the idea, but he agreed anyway. “I’ll.. go back to the café. My other friends should be there waiting for us.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

Felix spun on his heel and started off in the opposite direction of Whirlwind, to her relief. With him out of the way, taking down Hawkmoth’s newest pawn should be a piece of cake.

“You ready, Chat?”

Her partner didn’t respond, drawing her gaze over to him. He was staring at Felix with a quiet frown, watching the blonde walk away. Why did he look so troubled by the sight of the blond?

“Chat?”

This time his ears twitched, and he turned back to Ladybug with a questioning gaze. “Huh? Sorry, I got.. distracted.”

Ladybug tilted her head to the side slightly. “Are you sure you’re okay? You looked upset.”

Chat waved off the comment, plastering on a smile. “Nah, you know me, My Lady. I’m perfect, as always.”

She frowned. “If you’re sure.. I think I have a plan to beat the akuma. Are you ready?”

“You know I am.”

“Good. Then get ready to be the distraction.” She replied, quickly throwing her yo-yo into the air. “Lucky Charm!”

~~~~~~

Adrien ran through the Parisian streets, following the tip of their school building to find his way back. That akuma took longer than he thought it would. By the time he got back to class, it’d probably be over.

So much for gaining more free time to go see Marinette. He thought, sparing a glance down the alleyway that he’d dropped her in as Chat Noir. It was empty now, as one would expect. LB’s miraculous ladybugs would have brought her back to where she was before the fight started. Even so, he couldn’t help feeling disappointed. It was the first time he’d seen her in almost two weeks as Adrien or Chat Noir, and possibly his only chance to talk to her for a long while. Tardiness at Dupont was pardoned when they got attacked by the akuma directly, but running off to video- or even capture -it wasn’t permitted. When Father saw his disciplinary marks, Adrien’s already tight schedule would no doubt coil around him even further.

Adrien paused to catch his breath- running to school was so much easier as Chat Noir -and scanned the street for Alya. They needed to regroup before he got back to class or it might be suspicious on his part, since he specifically said that he was going to keep Alya safe. (Note to self: never use Alya as an excuse again.)

“Alya!” He called out. “Can you hear me?”

He’d wanted to go find that café that the blond guy from Rosemary mentioned, just to see if he could at least spot Marinette and maybe even catch her as Adrien, but Whirlwind ended up taking all of his free time. It was admittedly frustrating, being so close yet so far when it came to talking with her. They lived in the same city, for Pete’s sake! He should be able to drive over to her house and say hi without any struggle at all!

Speaking of which, what was with that blond guy? He totally lied about Marinette attending Rosemary! Unless they hadn’t met yet when Adrien first visited.. but that didn’t make any sense. He visited after Marinette said that she had her new friends come to her house, the same friends that were with her at the café. Meaning the blond guy.

Adrien could give him the benefit of the doubt and say it was an honest mistake. Perhaps that guy really hadn’t met Marinette yet and she was referring to other friends that they were with. It did sound like she had a whole group now. Besides, why would the guy lie for no reason? People don’t usually do that.

Either way, Adrien knew which school Marinette was at now, and that was all that mattered. His plan to go apologize could finally be put into action.

“Adrien?”

A faint reply caught his attention, and Adrien glanced up to see Alya wandering around at the end of the street.

“Is that you?” She asked, looking around for him as well.

Adrien put on a smile and waved his hand as he approached her. “Yeah, it’s me! Where did you go? I couldn’t find you!”

“I was trying to get a shot of the akuma, but by the time I got here, the fight was practically over!” She answered, spotting him a second later and moving to meet him halfway. “Where did you go? You disappeared in, like, the first five minutes! How did you get down here so fast?”

“Oh, uh..” Adrien rubbed the back of his neck, nervousness crawling onto his features. He probably should have come up with an excuse for his absence before he tracked Alya down. “I decided to take a shortcut. I guess I should have told you?”

Alya scrunched up her nose. “A shortcut? I don’t remember any shortcuts around here.. Well, I’m sure there will be other chances to film akumas. It just stinks that I didn’t get to record the hostage situation. Did you happen to see who that was? It looked like a girl from where I was standing.”

“Sorry, Al.” Adrien said, offering a sheepish look. Chat Noir might know it was Marinette who fell, but he did not. “I got there after the hostage was rescued.”

Alya clicked her tongue, displeased. “Drat. Did you see anything interesting while you were out there?”

Define interesting. Adrien thought to himself. Finding Marinette and the blond who was looking for her in the same battle had been extremely interesting to him, but he doubted Alya would feel the same way.

“She had a pretty cool costume.” He recounted as they started their way back to the school together. “It was all blue with a white cloak and this weird, spinning, white skirt thing. She also used a white and dark blue folder as a fan to control the wind. That ended up being the akumatized object, if I remember correctly-”

“Oh, hang on.” Alya cut in, switching to the memo on her phone. “Let me write this down for the blog. I got some of the footage, but it was grainy at best because of the distance. These details are great to add to it. Did you see anything else?”

Adrien thought over what he could tell her and what he should keep secret. Would he be able to know what the lucky charm was if he was watching from a random alleyway or behind a car?

“Not really.” He answered. Giving more information at this point might not end well for him if his lady followed the blog. She was too clever not to put things like that together. “You’re not going to name-drop me on the blog, are you?”

Alya shook her head. “No, no, you know I keep my sources a secret. It would lead other reporters to my scoops.”

“Right.” Adrien replied, relieved. Not only would name-dropping compromise his personal tips, it would also give people the opportunity to look for him through news footage and other things. He didn’t want anyone disproving the excuses that he’d given to Alya about his whereabouts. “That makes sense.”

Once she jotted down Adrien’s comments, Alya pulled out her phone to rewatch the footage. Although the image was being jostled around a bit from walking, he could still see how utterly grainy the video was. He could barely tell who was who, and he was one of the people who actually fought in the battle. The only reason he knew it was Ladybug snatching the akumatized object at the end was because she was the only one who had red pixels.

“I would have just shot the scene without zooming in,” Alya said as she put the phone away, “but doing that made everyone look like specks. I hope Lila can clean it up for me.”

Adrien furrowed his eyebrows. “I didn’t know Lila edited videos.”

“Oh, she doesn’t.” Alya smiled. “She has an uncle who’s this big-time movie editor.”

Ah. Another famous uncle. He wondered if that was the same uncle who was supposed to be an incredible actor or the one that owned a humongous plaza. Gosh, did Lila even have any uncles in real life?

“You think he’s going to have time to do it?” He asked.

“Maybe not, but it couldn’t hurt to ask, right?”

Adrien shrugged. No, it couldn’t hurt. At least not until Lila promises to get it to her uncle and then never gives the video back. How many false promises has she made now? There was the one where she said that she would get a gig for Nino, one to Alex about getting her this special, glow-in-the-dark spray paint, one to Max about getting some high-tech chip for Markov- She’d promised so many things that he couldn’t even remember most of them now! How long until those words buried her alive? How long until his classmates actually started demanding the fruits from her supposed labor? Were they just going to wait on her to deliver for the rest of their lives?

Adrien heaved a small sigh. He would make them see reason eventually. He would.

But first he needed to pay another visit to Rosemary.

~~~~~~

Marinette pushed herself to go faster as she weaved through the different alleyways that led back to the café. Her legs were already aching from the fight that Whirlwind had dragged out, but she imagined the pain to be minor in comparison to how worried sick her friends probably were at this point. As a civilian, she should have made it back to the café about twenty minutes ago, give or take. If it weren’t for the multiple calls and messages asking if she was okay and her frantic responses that “yes, I’m fine, but please stay put till I get there”, then the group would probably be searching the streets for her right now. She would have stayed transformed to get back, but the fight drained all of Tikki’s energy. Marinette was lucky to have found an alleyway to even hide in before she de-transformed.

Come on, come on, She thought, her gaze flicking left and right. I know it was around here somewhere- oh!

Marinette lit up at the sight of the café. She could see the group standing in front of it, huddled together and looking around to try and spot her. Felix was a step or two behind the trio with a deep frown on his lips and his arms crossed against his chest. His fingers tapped rapidly against his bicep, giving way to his nervousness towards her absence, and he glanced from side to side along with the others. His franticness from earlier appeared to be contained now, but still very much there.

“Guys!” She called out, breaking into another sprint despite her body’s protest. She was going to have to grab an ice pack or two once she got home.

The group’s attention immediately snapped to her, and the trio practically sank to the ground with relief.

“Marinette!”

“Where have you been?!”

“We’ve been worried sick-”

They collided into her with a group hug, each sniffing and blubbering about not being able to find her. Claude was out right crying into her shoulder.

Marinette hugged them all back and apologized profusely, the guilt from upsetting them to this point twisting sharply through her stomach and heart. She couldn’t bear to see them this way, and the fact that this was inevitably going to happen again only made it worse.

“I’m so sorry for making you worry.” She said, wiping away a tear of her own. “When Chat Noir save me, I was told to stay put till the fight was over, and-”

“No, don’t apologize.” Allegra interrupted with a watery smile. “We’re just happy you’re safe.”

A scoff brought their attention up to Felix, who was now standing next to them.

“Don’t apologize?” He repeated, glaring at the other three in disbelief. “She almost got herself killed! Are we supposed to encourage that behavior?”

“She was trying to protect us.” Allan defended. “She was only doing what she thought was right.”

“And that’s supposed to make it better?” Felix countered. “She was reckless and idiotic! There were a million other ways to make it out of there safely without getting yourself kidnapped.”

“Hey, lay off!” Claude yelled, sounding surprisingly angry. “She’s been through a lot today already, so just leave her alone!”

“So, you’re willing to just let this slide?” Felix asked, growing agitated himself. “You’re telling me that as long as she dies out of the ‘goodness of her heart’, then it’s fine?”

“She didn’t die!”

“But she could have!” He shot back. “Doesn’t that bother any of you? What if the heroes didn’t get there in time? What if Whirlwind decided she didn’t care for civilians anymore before they even arrived? What would have happened if the miraculous cure couldn’t bring her back for some reason? There were too many variables that she didn’t know about and she went anyway. That’s not something that should be praised!”

Allegra shot him a glare. “Felix-”

“No.” Marinette interrupted, putting a hand on Allegra’s shoulder as the girl trailed off. “No, he’s right. I wasn’t thinking properly, and I jumped in with a plan that half-formed at best and didn’t look for other options until it was too late. I thought I was running out of time and panicked, but that’s no excuse.”

Marinette stepped forward, and Felix quietly stared at her in response. His eyebrows were still furrowed, the grief of the situation reflecting in his silvery blue eyes. She understood why he was angry and upset. She understood why he had that desperate look in his eyes as he tried to explain his displeasure towards her behavior. Felix was the only one to see her fall, after all. The only one to know how close to death she actually was. Seeing Chat Noir sacrifice himself over and over again helped her know exactly what that felt like.

She wanted to pull him into a hug, to tell him that everything was okay now and that she was okay now, but touch wasn’t exactly his thing. So she settled for something she knew was alright and lightly grabbed his hand.

“I really am sorry.” She apologized again. “I promise I’ll be more careful next time.”

Felix’s gaze softened slightly, and he shocked her by lightly squeezing her hand back. “I’d rather there not be a next time.”

Marinette offered a small, sheepish smile, knowing she couldn’t make that promise. She had too many responsibilities as Ladybug to stay away from akumas completely, but she could try to avoid them as a civilian. For his sake and the others’.

Allegra placed a gentle hand on Marinette’s back. “We should head back to the school. They don’t really give us lee-way for being late.”

“Well, they should today since we kind of got attacked,” Allan spoke up, “but I don’t quote me on that. Also, I’m calling my turn on driving Marinette.”

Allegra and Claude put a hand to their chests and gasped, both knowing that Allan hadn’t called a turn yet which made him automatically win. Marinette caught a smirk twitching onto Felix’s lips due to this fact, and she smiled with him, mainly because it was nice seeing him relax again.

“Oh no!” Claude said defiantly. “If you’re taking Marinette, then I’m gonna be riding with you too!”

“Same here!” Allegra agreed. “I’m not leaving her side until the teachers are forcing us to for our next classes.”

Marinette let out a small chuckle. “Is there enough room for that?”

“There is now.”

Allan snorted. “Yeah, we’ll be fine. Our cars are pretty big.”

“Are you going to be riding with us too, Felix?” Allegra asked, glancing at the blond.

Felix’s hand tightened slightly around Marinette’s, but he shook his head. “No, I.. I think I’m gonna drive back alone.”

Claude frowned. “Seriously? After that whole rant you made two seconds ago?”

“Aw, let him be.” Allan said, waving off Claude’s comment. “It’s just more Marinette for us, right?”

Although the frown remained, the brunette made a half-shrug. “I guess that’s true..”

“Cool.” Allegra smiled. “Then I call the seat next to Marinette!”

“What!” Claude scoffed, whirling back to Allegra. “You can’t do that!”

“I just did.”

“Technically,” Allan cut in, “I should get to sit next to her, since I’m the one driving her.”

Allegra and Claude both shot him a glare, bringing out a giggle from Marinette. They did not seem to appreciate Allan’s accurate logic.

Her gaze shifted to Felix, who was silently watching the trio bicker. His expression was neutral again, composed, but the way he continued to hold onto her hand told her that he wasn’t quite alright yet.

“So..” She said, almost awkwardly. Should she try to make him feel better? “I guess I’ll.. see you at school?”

Felix’s eyes flicked to her, and she mentally slapped herself for even speaking. “See you at school”? What kind of dull question was that?

“Yes.” He answered. The response was shorter than usual, but she’d try not to overthink it, since the last hour has been a long one for all of them. That’s probably why he decided to drive back alone in the first place.

Allegra cut into the conversation by looping her arm with Marinette’s and pulling her towards Allan’s. The movement was quick and sudden, and it caused her hand to slip out of Felix’s in the process. She glanced down at her palm, curious at the sense of emptiness that immediately swept over it. It was as though she hadn’t been ready to let go herself.

Marinette looked back to Felix to see if he felt it too, but his back was already turned to her as he walked back to his own car.

Huh.

Maybe it was just her.

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#felinette #Felix Culpa #Marinette #Quantic Kids #Rosemary AU #New Girl on the Block

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monodipita · 3 years

Text

Acts of Love (Yandere!Josuke Higashikata x Reader)

Word count: 4,078

Warnings: YANDERE CONTENT. GORE WARNING.

"Please, no! Don't leave me, [Y/N], I'll make everything right! Just give me a chance!" Josuke's voice was scratched raw from the crying and pleading he did. His knees hurt. His heart hurt. "I'm sorry, Josuke," you spoke softly to him while you helped him off his knees, "but I can't keep going on."

You were moving away from Morioh. As good of a town as it was, there were bigger opportunities for you if you moved to Tokyo. It was heartbreaking. You didn't have the heart to tell him- all you said was that you were leaving him. A long-distance relationship couldn't work between you two. You didn't want him to break away from school to focus on being with you, either, so this was the only way you could actively get him to stay away from you once you broke up. It was horrible, yes, and it hurt you to do it, but you had no other choice.

As you pulled him in for one last hug, you felt his arms tighten around you to the point that he acted more like a snake rather than a human being. "Josuke!" You cried out his name while you squirmed within his grip, "let me go!"

"No... I don't want to!" Josuke yelled back. When he lifted his head from your chest, you could see the tears in his eyes that threatened to spill over again, the warm streaks of tears on his cheeks. The raw pleading that left his lips echoed the desperation in his purple orbs. It was tearing you apart... but you couldn't admit the truth to him. "If you leave me, I'll--"

He never got to finish his sentence.

Your hand collided with his cheek. "That's enough!" You yelled at him. For some reason, you were angrier more than you were upset. Maybe it was the fact that he was behaving so irrationally.

His grip loosened on you, and you took this opportunity to remove yourself from him. He collapsed onto his knees again - the cycle began anew - but you couldn't bear witness to what he was doing again. You hated to see someone you knew as the confident one to begin breaking down. For good reason, but you didn't want to think that you alone were enough to make everything shatter.

You felt your hand be pulled into his. His other hand collapsed on top of it as he weakly tried to pull you down into his arms, but to no avail. You tugged away from him just enough to make sure that you wouldn't fall into him. "Please... will you let me write to you at least? Please??"

"..." if you were only breaking up with him, then why did he want to write to you? Did he not understand that you didn't want to see him anymore? But you couldn't bring yourself to say no to him. "Yes... you can send me letters... Josuke. Please, I have to go now." You began to pull yourself away from him completely. You couldn't bring yourself to say that you wouldn't be receiving any of his letters past tomorrow... the way that he looked already described how he felt about being able to stay in contact with you. There was a smile on his face that stretched from ear to ear, which created an eerie sight when you saw the tears still streaming down his face.

"Thank you, [Y/N]... thank you."

Over the next couple of days, there was a surge of letters sent to your home while you packed to leave. Each letter was stacked neatly on your desk until your desk was packed up, then moved to your seat in the moving truck. You followed your parents into the truck and sat down in your seat, then pulled the slow-developing stacks of letters to your attention. You carefully opened up the first one and took the time to read what it said. Your eyes scanned over the beautiful handwriting carefully...

'Hi! This is the first time I've ever actually written a letter that was going to be sent to anyone. You know about when they make you write to Santa or the Prime Minister about dumb stuff. Well... I'm thinking about what I should put in these kinds of letters, but for now, I'm saying hi! And Okuyasu says hi too. Maybe I'll talk about stuff like my day and how everything went... maybe you'd be interested in reading that?'

The second letter.

'I haven't seen you around school lately, and I've been wanting to go to your house to see if everything's alright.' You furrowed your brows. This one didn't quite make sense. If this was on the second day after you gave him your address, then this meant you were only out of school for a day. 'But I respect your privacy... we aren't together anymore, after all. I'm still worried about you. Just let me know that you're alright when you read this letter, okay?'

The third letter.

'I waited for a really long time this time in hopes that I would see you. I waited until the night. It's 2 AM, I'm growing nervous. Are you sick? I want to check on you but I know I can't. If you get this letter, please write me back and let me know you're ok.'

A deep sigh left your lips as you read the words before gently folding the letter and putting it back in its envelope. You stared at your name printed in beautiful letters on the front while you tried to think about how much time had passed since this letter was given in to you. Guilt began to set in. You were so busy with packing that you never bothered to pick up a pen and write back to him. How did he feel about this?

You glanced back down to your lap. There were two more letters to go. One dated from yesterday, and one dated for today.

'I decided to stop by your house when no one was home. I looked through the window and saw that there were boxes everywhere.

You're moving.

Is it because of me? Is this why you're not writing back to me? Why are you leaving me? Is there someone else??'

You could sense the desperation in his words. His emotions must've gotten the better of him, as his writing appeared to be jumbled. Ink smudged at the end of the sentence and made the last question hard to read. He found out. You promptly lifted your head up to see if you would see Josuke anywhere, in the event that he was casually waiting around to greet you before you went to move. However, you didn't see anything. So ... you turned your attention to the last letter in the stack. Like in the last letter, your name and address were written as if he was in a hurry to get elsewhere. You reached into the envelope and swallowed thickly, hanging your head and gathering your bearings before reading this last letter. You were afraid of what was going to be written.

"Do you have everything, [Y/N]?"

You looked up from the envelopes on your lap and nodded your head. "Yeah, and if I don't, the moving company should be able to give me what I've forgotten." You affirmed them with a smile on your face. "I'm good to go."

Saying those words made you feel uneasy. Everything about reading these letters now happened to make you feel incredibly uneasy. But you needed to read the last letter... so you pulled it up to your eye line.

'I'll find you'

The words were so simple. So frightening. So sobering. You regretted to notice that you were witnessing the detailing of someone spiraling into an obsession, and that signs of it dated as early as when the two of you broke up. How could you imagine that someone who seemed like a regular, devoted boyfriend, turned out to be ripped apart by obsession?

You closed the letter and folded it back up, then placed it back into the envelope. Even with it out of sight though, the words haunted you. I'll find you. He meant it, didn't he? He was going to look for you. He was going to go out of his way to find your whereabouts and where you lived...

...but the more you thought about it, the more you realized that it seemed impossible. There wasn't a way he could reach you - you were going far away from Morioh. As much as it pained you to admit that, you just knew there was absolutely no way he was going to be able to reach you anymore. At least he might've found some solace in writing these letters out to you... as troubled as they sounded, you would cherish these final letters. You could rest, even if it was only a small bit.

Months passed since the incident. Morioh was a town that was far behind you now. You were attending a new school, surrounded by new people and new friends. Though new life was great and easier to get accustomed to in a bigger town as there were people that were more like you, nothing about them spoke volumes to you like Josuke did.

Josuke...

You wondered how he was doing.

"I'll see you later, [Y/N]!" Your best friend's hand went high in the air with excitement as she waved goodbye to you. You waved in turn and headed off the bus. You headed inside and let out a hefty sigh. "[Y/N], love, were you expecting any mail?" Your mom asked as she held up an envelope. You stared up at it in half-shock before you walked over and nearly snatched it from your mother's clutches. You stared at the name and address on the front of the envelope... this handwriting was eerily similar to Josuke's.

But how?

"Is everything alright?" Your mother asked worriedly. You swallowed some of your anxiety to be able to speak to her and put a smile on your face. "Yep!" You grinned, before you hurried away from her to reach your upstairs bedroom. You locked yourself into your room and ripped the envelope apart to see what the letter inside would entail.

'I FOUND YOU'

Your eyes immediately trailed to the window as if you would see him out there, standing and staring at you once you read those words. But to your half-expectant surprise, no one was there. Still, you were anxious. This ominous letter was real. You remembered the letters because you read them on his birthday in remembrance of the memories you shared with him - and if his past words were anything to go by, then these words were real.

You tried not to let the words get the best of you, though. So what if he found you? Was he truly bold enough to act upon his findings, or was he going to stay behind and continue to send you letters, now that he knew where you were at? The latter sounded more plausible in your opinion. Josuke was a level-headed individual who had a grip on reality, at least, that was what you thought. You couldn't let your paranoia impede the date you were going on with your best friend. It was the first one! You couldn't have been more excited. It was going to be a nice day on the town to go to the mall, things that you couldn't do in Morioh, like walk through a park or shop at multiple outlets - basically, you were going to do what you could in the weekend before you had to go back to school.

Your phone rang.

"[Y/N], it's for you!" Your mother yelled from downstairs. Who could it be, you wondered to yourself as you walked over to the phone on the wall. You picked up the phone and held it to your ear. "Hello?"

"This is [Y/N], right?" Their voice was unfamiliar and distorted. It sounded like they were speaking in a room full of people. "Umm, yes?" You responded, "who is this?"

There was no response.

"Hello?" No response.

Your stomach began to flip. Over, and over. The longer they took to respond, the more your stomach began to hurt. "J-Josuke?" You tried his name, and the person on the other end hung up immediately. Dread filled your entire being. "What..." you were baffled. He even knew your phone number, but how? Who did he get this from? You were so far away from Morioh now, how was he able to do anything that he was doing?

"Who was it?" Your mom asked. You couldn't tell her. "No one," you responded, "must have been a secret admirer or something."

You couldn't sleep that night. What happened weighed heavily on your conscience. Paranoia made you close all of your windows, shut the blinds and close the curtains, so your room was disgustingly hot. Compiled on top of losing sleep to fear, you were left feeling clammy and restless when your alarm went off. Maybe a shower will do. You were going to meet your new best friend in two hours, so you had plenty of enough time to take a shower and maybe get in a quick nap.

The phone rang, startling your otherwise eerily quiet bedroom. You turned your attention to the phone on your wall. Who could be calling at seven in the morning??

"Hello?" You asked into the phone. "[L/N] residence."

"You're going out today, aren't you?"

"How??" You asked, "how did you know where I was at??"

"I searched for someone, or anyone who could overhear you talking about your plans to move. I asked everyone at school, even the people who didn't know you, the teachers, the janitors. I must've looked like an idiot, but I don't care, because I finally got into contact with you."

"Who told you??" You couldn't remember talking to anyone about it... someone must've overheard you, but then again, who would you be speaking about it with in earshot of students in the school? No one should've known but the principal... did Josuke really have the gall to ask the principal? "You don't need to worry~. Can you answer my question, please?"

"...I'm going to hang up." You furrowed your brows. "Please leave me alone."

"You wouldn't make me force my hand just to come and see you, would you?" Josuke asked. "I know you're going out ... I just needed a confirmation. And it's with that girl, isn't it?"

"H-how do you know all these things?" Why haven't you hung up yet? The power of his threat couldn't be verified. But... you just found yourself being glued to the phone. You wanted to know what was going to come next. "Does she make you feel safe? I see how close you are with her. You're mimicking the same feelings you felt when you were with me. She can't replace me, [Y/N]. No one can replace me,"

You immediately pulled the phone from your ear and slammed it on the ringer. You began to pace, as you were far too antsy to stay in one place. There were so many things wrong with what he said... what he knew. You needed to cancel the date... you worried for her, but it was far too early to call her, and you didn't want to show up just to cancel the date, because then you'd be wasting everyone's time. What did you do? You walked over to your bed and sat down on it, putting your face in your hands. This wasn't happening, was it? You hoped it wasn't. You wanted everything to be a dream.

"-?!"

You threw your body up in a moment of panic, forcing yourself awake. For a moment you felt dizzy, but you didn't care enough to stop yourself from rushing to get out the door. You threw on whatever could be appropriate for a hot day and headed out to go meet your best friend. You were late - no shit, you were horribly late. The time read 13:21 by the time you looked at the clock on the way out. There wasn't exactly a way to reach her, so the only way you could find her was by meandering the streets in hopes that you'd find her.

You ran down the street as quickly as your tired body could permit. Panic filled your being. What if he caught wind of what time you were supposed to meet her?! What if he did something to her?!

"No!" You shouted aloud. People that were walking nearby were already drawn to you because you were running down the street, but the fact that you were talking to yourself seemed to add extra icing on the cake. You tried to ignore their stares and focused on trying to get to the nearest telephone booth. Maybe you could call her house and see if there was any way of finding out where she could be right now.

You spotted a telephone booth, thankfully, and headed into it. You reached into your bag to retrieve some yen to be inserted into the payphone, then crudely shoved whatever excess you had back into it. You dialed the number to her house and waited with bated breath as you heard it ring multiple times. Her mother picked up the phone. "Hello??"

"Hey!" You blurted, "is [best friend] around? I know I kind of bailed on her, but I wasn't having a good night." You explain and rub the back of your neck.

"Oh! No, she's still out on the town! I hope you're feeling better, [Y/N]. If she comes home, I'll call your home and let you know, alright?"

"Alright. Thank you, ma'am." You hung up. Your heart felt like it was going to implode. This wasn't a good thing - Josuke was still out there, and so was your best friend. He probably already reached her and now he was doing all sorts of despicable things to her ... no. No, you couldn't think that way, not yet. There was still hope... you just needed to find her, and the first place you should check is most definitely the mall. So, you removed yourself from the telephone booth. You exited the claustrophobic space and began your anxious trek to the mall as quickly as traffic could permit it.

Coming face to face with the mall was enough to make you collapse onto your knees and vomit up what you (didn't) eat. Your palms were clammy from the night before, and you must've reeked of sweat and anxiety. You paled before the mall's imposing stature, and swallowed thickly, before you pushed your way inside. She had to be in here, right? But the question would be where, and then who was she with, and if he was there with her...

You began your search. The mall was filled with people, young and old, weak and strong, men, women, and nonbinary people alike. The walkways were cluttered on both sides, which made you increasingly nervous. Even though people recognized you for the mess you currently were as the new student [L/N] [Y/N], you couldn't recognize them. They were nothing more but passing faces that would occasionally stop you and say that they would see you at school. You didn't care about them, you cared about your best friend. She was around here somewhere.

But so was he.

Seeing him in the corner of your eye made you feel increasingly paranoid, but every time you took a double, then triple, then quadruple take, he was there. Your eyes didn't fail you... no, he was right there. You'd recognize that pompadour-donning young man anywhere Leaning on the corner, head bowed, but you could tell those fiery purple eyes were staring at you, following your every move. He wanted you to go to him. No... you wouldn't.

However, he caught up with you before you could walk away from him. Your heart reached into your throat and threatened to choke you as your gaze went over to him.

His hand grabbed your arm and wrenched it tight, making your body flinch in place. "You're looking for her, aren't you?" He asked, "come with me. I'll take you to her."

"..." You narrowed your eyes, "how can I trust you?"

"You want to find her, don't you?" His purple eyes looked... different. They no longer held the spark of life in them, even though his voice sounded no different from what you remembered of him. You tried not to look into them for too long. "...yes."

He began to pull you along. This part of the mall wasn't isolated by any means... so you wondered... how they couldn't hear this girl gargling on her own blood. In the janitor's closet, you stumbled upon the horrendous sight. Your stomach caved in and you lost it, doubling over on her poor shoes and letting loose while Josuke's hand rested "lovingly" on your shoulder, holding it with a grip that would make abusive lovers envious. She was unrecognizable. The only way you could even tell that it was her was because of her hair, and even then, had there not been a familiar pattern you'd noticed from being around her so much in the earlier weeks of your friendship, you wouldn't have recognized her.

"Yes... I know, this looks incredibly bad on me. But I can fix things... and I will, if you just come back. All of this can disappear. She can going back to being a normal girl, you can go back to Morioh, and I can go back to being your loving boyfriend." He squeezed your shoulder. "Do we have a deal?"

"Y-you... you're a monster! Y-you can't fix this!!" You yelled at him. His eyes widened for a moment, and his brows furrowed. He lost his cool for a split second before he calmed down and sought to reason with you again. "But I can, my love. Just watch."

You didn't bother to look... merely turning your head away from this gruesome scene. Your heart was heavy, your throat was scratched, and your knees felt like they would give in at any moment now, but his grip on your shoulder kept you grounded, if that did anything to help at all. "Look at her, she's all brand new. Why don't you look at her, [Y/N]?"

You reluctantly turned your head to see what he did - and he was right. Her face looked... normal. She was no longer this amalgamation of destroyed flesh. She was your best friend, just as you'd last seen her. "And she can stay this way," his hand reached up to cup your chin, using his hand to gently pull your head to his. You were forced to stare into his eyes as he spoke again. "As long as you come back. If not, she will just have the same thing happen to her - and she'll lay in this closet until someone finds her, and then you will be painted as the killer for vomiting all over this poor girl's shoes. You don't want that, do you?"

You didn't respond. You tried to - but you just didn't know what to say in response to the atrocities he'd committed in the act of obsession.

"You don't want to watch her be subjected to relentless torture for trying to be my replacement, do you?? You don't want to hear her crying out for help while you can't do anything but watch, do you? Answer me, [Y/N]!!"

His other hand cupped your face and squeezed it tight, pulling you closer to his body. Your noses were mere inches away from each other. You could smell his cologne... and in that moment of pure lunacy, you had to wonder if you even smelled good.

"N-no..." you squeezed your eyes shut. "Please just leave her alone..."

"Hey, hey, don't cry," he pulled your face into his chest and stroked down your back lovingly, "I'm not a bad person, baby, you know that. You just have to come back to me... all you have to do is let me be your boyfriend again, and all of this will disappear. We'll go back to being together like we rightfully should be, okay?"

"...okay." You squeezed him, "okay."

#jojo x reader #josuke x reader #yandere josuke #josuke higashitaka #diamond is unbreakable #jojo's bizarre adventure #reader insert #gender neutral insert

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smiting-finger · 3 years

Text

alive, and back on my usual nonsense

So after getting preoccupied with other things and temporarily falling off the face of the planet (for like an entire year ಥωಥ), I was thinking about the kdrama Mr. Queen (which I've been meaning to watch), and the Chinese novel it was based on (太子妃升职记, which I read a few years ago and very much enjoyed), and this popped out--

Wei Wuxian’s first thought is that there seem to be an awful lot of female voices around, for a bedroom inhabited by two men. Did he drink too much last night? It wouldn’t be the first time he’s overindulged on a trip to the town and woken up in a strange place the next morning, but that kind of problem has been cropping up a lot less frequently now that he has Lan Zhan around to ferry him home.

(Sometimes literally, on his back. His broad, strong--)

But perhaps Lan Zhan had gotten drunk, too? In which case, Wei Wuxian should consider them lucky to have woken up surrounded by people, rather than chickens, rabbits or, notably, on one occasion, mounds of resentful cabbages.

The chatter around him continues, pitched high with youth and - is that anxiety? It's interspersed with the odd interjection from what sounds like one (calmer, if more exasperated) older woman and a man. Probably not a nunnery, he decides. Perhaps the back rooms of a pleasure house? Although, if that’s the case, this amount of excitement over a mere two men is honestly a little excessive.

He reaches out tentatively, but pats all the way across the mattress to the edge without finding his usual bedfellow. A much less tentative venture towards the other side produces similar results.

Hm.

Wei Wuxian cracks open an eye and heaves himself upright, absent-mindedly scratching at his (unusually soft - as much as he hates to admit it, maybe Nie Huaisang has a point about drinking less and training more) side and squinting into the too-bright light until the person-shaped blur in front of him sharpens into focus.

“Niang niang!” a complete stranger cries tearfully, clutching at the sleeve of his other arm. “You’re awake! Thank Heavens, you’re awake! Physician Liu, quick, quick!”

A cushion is produced from somewhere and thrust expectantly between Wei Wuxian and the elderly man sitting at his bedside.

He sighs. It’s probably not worth fighting.

Wei Wuxian smacks his upturned wrist onto the unusually lavish brocade and is only a little surprised when it’s covered by a cloth before the physician reaches to take it.

(Do they think he’s diseased?)

((Is he diseased?!))

(((Is that why Lan Zhan isn’t here?)))

He looks at the row of young girls (+ 1 matron) kneeling along the wall to his left, dressed identically to the first and also now beginning to prostrate themselves and wail about “Niang niang!” and blessings and deserving to die.

Not a pleasure house, then.

He looks around at the rest of the richly-furnished room and its intricately-carved wooden furniture, the wealth of jade carvings and the obscene amount of gold that's gilding … everything (so shiny). The opulence of it all would put even Jin Guangshan to shame.

So, not a nunnery either.

He looks down at the small hands, delicate wrists and - he clutches one abruptly just to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him - breasts of the body that he certainly was not inhabiting yesterday.

“Well,” he says aloud, unable to stop himself from wincing at the high, soft voice that emerges despite fully expecting it. “It’s not the first time this has happened.”

===

Two days, one diagnosis of shock-induced memory loss and some discreet enquiries (as well as some indiscreet enquiries) later, this is what he knows about his situation:

He’s the main consort (unfavoured) of the crown prince of whatever place he’s landed in;

Three days ago, following a disagreement with one Consort Yun (favoured, main competitor for husband’s affections);

In the course of this disagreement, both women somehow fell into a palace lake and mostly-drowned;

Consort Yun (admittedly quite pretty) was revived at the scene, but Wei Wuxian took a full day to “miraculously” recover;

Angered by the unseemly behaviour of her daughters-in-law, particularly upon learning that the Crown Princess’s first act upon waking was to stumble upon a chance meeting between the Crown Prince and Consort Yun in one of the pleasure gardens and bodily throw herself between them (a tactical error on Wei Wuxian’s part. He’d been trying to throw himself over the battlements to freedom, but he’d gotten lost and scaled the wrong wall), the Empress (Crown Prince’s political opponent, not particularly fond of either consort) grounded both of them to their respective residences for a month, with no visitors allowed.

Which brings him to his current position, feeding the fish in his personal pond as an excuse to be alone. Not truly alone - he shoots a pointed glance at the maids watching anxiously from the other side of the courtyard - because he’s apparently a “suicide risk” now (and honestly, yes, he’d meant to throw himself off that roof, but he hadn’t meant to die - it’s simply that this new body’s cultivation level is not what he’s come to expect even from Mo Xuanyu’s modest abilities), but alone enough to start planning his next move.

Direct escape is out - he didn’t have a plan for what to do once he’d gotten out anyway, and honestly he’s better-resourced for finding out how he got here in the Palace than anywhere else, so it’s no great loss.

“What do you think, Master Fish?” Wei Wuxian asks a gold and black spotted koi with particularly sage-looking whiskers. “Shall I just stay here for the time being?”

It’s not a terrible place to be for the time being, he must admit, throwing more food into the water and watching the fish swarm. Being grounded, he’s at no risk from the Crown Prince’s amorous attentions for a month (a salute of gratitude to the Empress for the inadvertent protection). And thanks to Consort Yun and her voluptuous figure (and if the Crown Prince is more partial to that than the Zhao Feiyan style of willowy fragility that Wei Wuxian seems to have inherited, who can honestly blame him?), he’s at no great risk from them after that, either (a salute of gratitude to the unknowing sister-in-arms, taking one - and hopefully a great many more after that - for the team).

According to his maid (sleeve-clutcher extraordinaire, who even now is boring two holes into his skull with her woeful gaze from across the way while he does nothing more suspicious than scatter another handful of feed towards some latercomer fish), the body he’s inhabiting comes from a powerful military lineage. In particular, her father is (was?) a powerful general who currently commands more than half the nation’s military forces and has the absolute trust of the Emperor. So that more or less keeps him safe from the machinations of the majority of the nest of vipers in this palatial cesspit.

That just leaves the Empress, who - if his servants and the smuggled letters from the Original Goods’s mother (a salute of gratitude to the worthy woman for spelling it out so that even such an interloper as he can understand) are anything to go by - would definitely kill him to damage the Crown Prince’s political standing or throw any sort of roadblock in the way of him from becoming Emperor.

Less immediately - if his secret informants are anything to go by (a salute of gratitude to the resourceful host for cultivating such a valuable resource if not her dantian) - it also leaves the Crown Prince, who, upon cementing his power as Emperor, would also definitely kill his current Crown Princess in order to wedge his beloved Consort Yun into the Empress role.

Really, the only road to any sort of security for someone in his position is to raise the next Imperial heir, outlive the Original Goods’s faithless husband and become the Empress Dowager.

Hopefully Wei Wuxian will be long gone by then, but if leaving means the Original Goods will return (from … Mo Xuanyu’s body? The Ether? Or???) - well, he doesn’t want to repay her hospitality by leaving her house in a mess, so to speak. So he’ll try to set her on that career path, if he can.

But that’s an aspirational goal. First, he has to not-die before he can find out how to get himself home.

And find out how to get himself home.

If getting himself home is even possible.

Wei Wuxian dumps the rest of the fish food in the water and yells.

(It startles the maids, the fish and the poor eunuch the Crown Prince has sent as a spy into falling out of the tree he’s been hiding in and into the prickly bushes below.)

===

The problem with “staying for the time being” is … well, how interminably boring it is. The approved list of hobbies for an Imperial consort seems to consist of: eating (but not too much), sleeping (but not too much), embroidery (which he can’t do), reading (but only texts on female virtue and the occasional terrible novel), playing music (but not the flute), conversing with his maids (who are very sweet, but are all like, 12) and walking in the gardens (which he’s not allowed to do).

Honestly, it’s no wonder all the consorts turn to scheming and murder.

It only takes a week of confinement for him to snap and sneak himself out for a nighttime adventure, setting off to explore the grounds and see … a night-blooming flower, a ghost, a rat, he’ll take pretty much anything at this point.

In the end, he finds none of these things, but the walking is still pretty nice, and he even hears the faint sounds of a guqin wafting over from one of the other consorts’ residences. (He should probably learn who lives where at some point, but it’s not exactly a priority. What’s he going to do with the information when he can only visit during the nighttime? Peep?) When Wei Wuxian wanders closer, the notes resolve themselves into the familiar strains of Flowing Waters, and his breath catches on a sudden surge of longing to hear the same song, played by a different set of fingers.

(First played on a familiar guqin and then, later, accompanied by soft humming between soft, worn sheets, played across the edges of Wei Wuxian’s ribs, along the dip of his spine, and finally lower, into--)

((Is Lan Zhan thinking about him?))

(((Is Lan Zhan looking for him?)))

Stumbling blindly on, he’s so caught up in missing Lan Zhan that he misses the first few stanzas of the next piece, and it isn’t until the music starts to rise in a familiar refrain that he freezes.

He knows that song.

He’s one of the only two people who know that song, which is in fact how he got caught out the last time he found himself in a farce of an identity charade, by the only other person who knows that song, who must be - who must be -

Lan Zhan, his blood sings in his ears as he takes off in a dead run towards the source of the playing. Up ahead of him, small courtyard glows softly with the light of the only burning lamp in their vicinity. Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan-

He scrambles up the wall with the ease of a lifetime’s practice, using bloody-minded determination to make up for the lack of muscle memory.

“Lan Zhan,” he yelps, forgetting to whisper in his excitement as he flings himself over the top and into the branches of a convenient, wall-side tree. “Lan Zhan, it’s me, I-”

This is, naturally, when his foot slips. He manages to catch hold of a branch, but his tender hands and puny wrists, unused to holding up anything heavier than a chicken leg, fail to maintain their hold through his weight, and he tumbles down the trunk into a sad puddle of fabric on the ground.

“Lan Zhan,” he gasps, fighting to untangle himself from the ridiculous train that, admittedly, made a considerable contribution to cushioning his fall. He clambers up onto his hands and knees--

--and looks straight into the wide-eyed stare of Consort Yun.

===

“I cannot believe,” Wei Wuxian growls, palming the ample softness of one exposed breast with one hand, while shoving the other deeper into the many (too many) layers of fabric between them and between Lan Zhan’s splayed legs, “that after everything that’s happened, you’re still taller than me.”

Lan Zhan huffs a laugh that turns quickly into a moan, and Wei Wuxian swallows it, smothers Lan Zhan’s gasping breaths with his own parted lips and sucks them greedily down even as he coaxes out more with twisting fingers here, another tug to Lan Zhan’s poor, abused nipple there.

He slides his fingers back between slick folds and then upwards again, pushing in and out in a few languid strokes before curling them to make Lan Zhan arch harder against the wall behind him, tilt his head back and expose a beautifully vulnerable stretch of neck to Wei Wuxian's teeth.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan murmurs, and his voice is different, the shape of his lips is different, but the way Wei Wuxian’s name fits inside his mouth (tender, beloved), the way he tucks the flyaway strands of hair behind Wei Wuxian’s ear, the look in his eyes when their gazes meet (warm, open, knowing) are the same, same, same.

===

I am entirely too lazy to write the rest of it, but afterwards they regroup and it turns out LWJ has been in this world for exactly one more day than WWX, having woken up in Consort Yun’s body when she was “revived”. Consort Yun is the daughter of a high-ranking Minister in the Treasury or something, so Lan Zhan been using his new position as the daughter of a ~scholarly family~ to build a reputation for being really into Buddhist scripture, and eventually he’s going to request to be allowed to go to a nearby Temple to attain some virtuous brownie points for the Imperial family via prayer as his penitence.

That there’s also an elderly monk living there who’s got a reputation for being super good with the divine mysteries and spiritual lore about curses and whatnot is totally immaterial, if Lan Zhan happens to run into that guy, it’ll be a total coincidence, yeah.

So WWX also starts on the divine penitence route, and if everyone thinks it’s because the Crown Princess refuses to be outdone by Consort Yun, then even better, and two weeks into confinement they wear the Empress down into letting them make the trip, and when they get there, turns out the monk is Nie Huaisang.

(NHS: “OH THANK GOD, I’ve done the research but the lynchpin of this mess is definitely somewhere in the Palace and I could not for the life of me figure out a way to get in.”

WWX: “That's nice, but seriously, how come you got to stay a man?”

NHS: “My friend, I may be a man, but my balls are currently swinging somewhere around my ankles.”

WWX: “...show me.”

And LWJ is like “NO.” except WWX can tell by the look in his eye that he sort of wants to see, too).

So they return to the Palace and WWX whirls into one of their morning audiences with the Empress, distraught about a ~dream from the ancestors~ where they warned him about disrupted ley lines or accumulated resentment or an offended minor god that needs investigation by someone, and “How convenient, because we met just the guy!” And the Empress looks like she was Done Five Years Ago, but the Empress Dowager, who’s old and doddery, is like “oh no, you must bring him!” and the Empress mutters “to fucking what, offend some major gods and really do the job properly?” and that’s how they find out the Empress is Jiang Cheng.

In the meantime, the confinement edict expires and WWX+LWJ are allowed to return to their regular programming, which means that as the legal wife, WWX can continuously summon LWJ to his residence for increasingly tenuous and spurious reasons. The best thing is, it’s not even out of character for the Crown Princess, who used to regularly summon Consort Yun to subject her to not-so-veiled barbs and petty torments. So WWX summons LWJ, and then immediately expels both their entourages from the room, instructing that no one is to enter on pain of death.

So LWJ’s maids are gnashing their teeth helplessly while all sorts of piteous moans, pained gasps and the occasional scream emanate from behind the closed door, and when their mistress finally emerges there are no marks on her body, but she’s weak-kneed and having trouble walking straight, so who knows what kind of terrible tortures the Crown Princess has visited upon her.

The Crown Prince obviously hears about this, so he bursts in one day without warning, only to find the two sitting together, the Crown princess’s arms around Consort Yun’s waist, her cheek pillowed on one heaving bosom, and although she’s smiling besottedly at him now, he could have sworn that he felt killing intent being directed at him only a second ago? And to tell the truth, he’s not really in love Consort Yun either, it’s all an act to keep the two consorts (and their families) pitted in a power struggle against each other until he can finally outmanoeuvre the Empress and cement his position as heir to the throne (and also to protect his actual favourite, a third consort who’s a nondescript nobody with no political backing). So the fact that “It was all a misunderstanding, we’re friends now,” his Crown Princess says sweetly (and did she … rub her cheek against his Consort’s chest? Must be his imagination) is not the worst thing (at least neither of them/their families can be enlisted by the Empress in support of her son, and if they’re caught up with Being Besties, then at least they’re not bullying his actual favourite), but for some reason he still feels kind of … threatened? Like someone’s making moves on his wife, which is absurd because they’re both his wives, but the vibes he gets from the first one in particular are kind of … off?

In any case, the crew solve the mystery, find the lynchpin object (which turns out to be a jade dildo belonging to one of the Emperor’s favoured consorts because of course it is), and wake up in their real bodies, in their real world, to a very apologetic hermit-inventor-cultivator whose property they stumbled onto while pursuing a resentful beast. Turns out they triggered the glamour/enchantment/psychic maze world he created as a security system because, “I just didn’t want to risk people getting into my stuff, you know? I’ve got some things that could be very dangerous in the wrong hands”. WWX is like “oh yeah, for sure” and JC is like “WHAT DO YOU MEAN FOR SURE? HOW IS THIS AN UNDERSTANDABLE RESPONSE, IF YOU’RE AFRAID PEOPLE WILL TOUCH YOUR SHIT THEN JUST ENCHANT SOME FUCKING WARRIOR GOLEMS LIKE EVERYBODY ELSE.”

#CQL #The Untamed #mo dao zu shi #Wangxian #fic #not-fic

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justnerdthings · 3 years

Text

New Beginnings Ch. 8

Female reader x Liu Kang/Kung Lao

Liu Kang has spoken.

Liu had left you to rest in the infirmary. He was confident that you were going to be alright physically, mentally… But maybe not emotionally. Lao had gone too far last night. Stepping out of the infirmary, he sighed.

“How is she?” Lao asked, pushing himself off the wall. He’d been waiting outside.

“You went too far,” Liu told him, stepping out of the way of a passing monk. Liu watched Lao frown… really frown. Lao was genuinely feeling the guilt. “She’ll be fine… Physically,” Liu tried to reassure his brother.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.”

Lao swallowed the lump in his throat.

“She asked me to keep you away from her. I think you should keep your distance for a while,” Liu told him.

Lao opened his mouth to protest, but seeing Liu’s serious expression made him close his mouth without a word. Lao nodded, agreeing to grant your wish.

“Give her a few days,” Liu reached out and placed a reassuring hand on Lao’s shoulder. “The monks want her to rest anyway. She deserves that much.”

“I wouldn’t have let her fall,” Lao admitted, futilely rubbing the guilt from his face.

“I know.” Liu gave his shoulder a small pat before he began walking down the hall. Lao walked with him.

“I left my hat in the sand. I would have teleported back there if it went wrong.”

“I know.” Liu nodded.

“She was right.”

Liu cocked a brow and glanced to him.

“I’m a fucking idiot.”

Liu grinned and looked back down the hall. “And an asshole.”

Lao sighed heavily. He really had been. “I really screwed this up, didn’t I?”

Liu nodded. “Just give her a few days,” he repeated.

Lao had kept his word. He didn’t bother you all day. In fact, you didn’t see him at all after meditation. Liu had talked him out of it every time Lao said that he wanted to see how you were doing--to apologize to you. Liu knew you weren’t ready to see him again. He’d never seen Lao so beat up over himself.

You didn’t go to lunch, and you hadn’t been there now at dinner. Liu watched as his brother idly pushed his food around his plate.

“You need to eat, Lao,” Liu told him.

“I am…” Lao didn’t bother to look up.

“No, you’re not. You’re just pushing your food around to make it look like you are.”

“Do you think she hates me?”

Liu sighed. He’d been dealing with Lao’s guilt all day. “Well, she’s certainly not fond of you at the moment.” He didn’t mean to say that as harsh as it came out. But it was true.

Lao’s jaw hardened and he put his chopsticks down. There was no point in pretending anymore. “Do you think if I told her that I had had a plan, that she wouldn’t be so angry?”

“I think if you go anywhere near her right now, I’ll break your arm,” Liu said impatiently, then pointed to Lao’s plate, not giving his brother even a glance. “Eat.”

Lao stared at his plate. He should eat. But he wasn’t hungry. He wasn’t very hungry at lunch either… or breakfast.

“If you don’t eat, I’ll shove eggrolls down your throat,” Liu threatened.

Lao grabbed his chopsticks. He lifted an eggroll and took a bite. Liu was serious, maybe not literally, but he would make Lao eat before he left the table. Lao hadn’t eaten all day.

“Just think of this as a lesson,” Liu told him before taking a bite of his own food.

Lao just gave a defeated grunt in response.

“I know you don’t like them,” Liu answered. With how close they were, he could decipher Lao’s grunts. “But you can’t skip this one like when we were children.”

Lao sighed in his defeat. He had had a habit of ditching classes when they were kids. The monks were just so boring. He just wanted to train and fool around. Liu never missed his classes though. You had been right earlier: Liu was the smart one.

“Your actions have repercussions,” Liu told him.

“Yeah, yeah…” Lao ran his fingers through his hair. “I get it.”

Liu nodded and continued eating.

“I really am sorry, though,” Lao admitted for the seventeenth time that day.

Liu nodded again. “I know, Lao.”

After dinner, Liu had forgone his evening meditation in favor of checking on you again. The monks had told him that you had been free to go since his last visit after breakfast, but you had opted to stay in the infirmary. Liu wondered why as he searched the makeshift hospital… Until he finally found you.

You were helping a warrior monk who, by the look of it, had injured his foot. Standing back and out of the way, he watched silently as you treated the monk.

“Does it hurt when I put pressure here?” You asked as you pressed gently on either side of his ankle. He let out a pained gasp and jerked his foot back in your hand. Yeah. That hurt. And you did too with his sudden movement, irritating your shoulders and back. You fought back a flinch of your own pain, pushing it out of your head. You nodded to him. “I’m sorry,” you apologized. The monk had trouble moving his foot. He’d explained just earlier that he’d rolled it while practicing a new fighting style. He had to have help getting to the infirmary, but he could put weight on it as long as he did so slowly. He had wobbled though when you’d asked him to demonstrate just a few minutes ago. You were pretty sure it was just a sprained ankle by now.

Letting his foot down ever so gently, you turned and rifled through the various cabinets until you found what you were looking for: compression wraps. You pulled over a stool and sat at his foot.

“Broken?” The monk asked, obviously not knowing much english. You grinned and shook your head as you carefully began to wrap his foot.

“No. Just a sprain,” you told him, happy for him. By the sound of him earlier, you were sure whatever he had been doing could have had the potential to break his ankle. You saw him nod his head out the corner of your eye. He flinched and jerked as you wrapped his ankle tight. “I’m sorry. Just a bit more,” you told him gently as you made sure to wrap it tight enough to give him the support he’d need, but not too tight.

You had finished in no time and secured the end of the wrap with the metal clasp. You carefully let his foot dangle off the gurney and stood, offering him both hands to help him stand. Despite the surge of pain it gave your shoulders and back, you helped support him as he put weight back on his foot. You could win an oscar for how well you hid your own pain, but this monk wouldn’t be winning any awards for his efforts. You frowned to him but helped him over to another monk--the one who helped him get to the infirmary. Looking to the injured one again, you pointed to his ankle. “Rest,” you told him, hoping he would understand. Seeing him nod, then bow graciously, you knew he did. You returned his bow as best you could without hurting your back too much and watched as his friend helped him down the hall.

That’s when you noticed Liu standing out of the way, watching you with a smile. Had he been standing there the whole time? Watching you? Your jaw clenched as you turned away to clean up, expecting him to tell you to rest yourself.

Liu watched as you tidied up. You were a nurse. Of course you looked so natural in this setting. This was you. His smile grew as he realised just how in your element you were. “You look better,” he said.

You scoffed a laugh. “I don’t feel it.”

Liu shook his head as he joined you. “I mean here.” He gestured broadly to the infirmary. You looked to him with bewilderment. “The infirmary. You look better here,” he said. “More natural.”

Oh. Yeah. You nodded and sighed, tossing your gloves into a waste bin. “Feels more natural here.”

“I noticed.”

You glanced at him, then turned to walk down the hall. He followed you. You could feel his eyes on you. “I like it here. Feels…” You struggled for the word.

“Normal?” Liu offered.

You stopped and turned to look at him. He understood you, didn’t he? You let a heavy breath go, as if relaxing for the first time since you’d gotten here. “I miss it,” you admitted.

He nodded. “I’m glad you’ve found something here you like. It must have been a culture shock that day.”

You laughed and let yourself back against a wall carefully, leaning on it to rest your back. “Understatement of the year,” you said. He smiled and stepped closer. Liu debated with himself for a moment. His eyes shifted to the floor, then to his prayer beads. You noticed. “What?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing. How is your back?” He’d changed the subject.

“Still sore, Liu,” You repeated playfully from the other day. He laughed, catching it immediately. “But really, what?” you asked.

He hesitated, but seeing your pressing face, he caved. “Lao’s said he’s sorry.”

You rolled your eyes and rubbed your forehead. Not this again. “Please, don’t…” you begged.

Liu frowned. “I know. You don’t want to hear it.”

“I really don’t.”

“Just one more?”

“Fine. One.”

“I’ve never seen him this upset,” he’d admitted.

You didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know what to think. Last night you were sure you had seen Lao become embarrassed when you called him out on hiding feelings for you. Then this morning Liu had told you Lao had just been testing you. So which was it? Did Lao have feelings? Or could Lao also win an oscar? You rubbed your head again before letting your hand drop to your side. “I don’t want to think about him right now,” you said.

“Fair enough.” Liu nodded. “Do you feel up for a walk?”

“It doesn’t involve unnecessary routes, does it?”

He grinned and shook his head. “Not if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t,” you said, but pushed yourself away from the wall and walked for the infirmary door. Once you two were outside, you were surprised to see Liu offer his arm to you. He really was a gentleman, wasn’t he? You took it. He led you through the halls.

You two had walked the halls and Liu had regaled you with the history of Mortal Kombat. You were sure he knew everything about it. He studied it. He lived it. He breathed it. Liu led you to every mural the temple had and told you the story each one depicted. Even The Great Kung Lao’s. It made you uncomfortable at first, because you ended up being reminded of Lao, but you realized it wasn’t fair to this Kung Lao. They were two different people who just happened to have the same name… and same blood. You now grasped the importance of why Lao was so picky when it came to his future wife. You got it. It was important to him and his family. He was practically Mortal Kombat royalty.

Liu then brought you to the arena he was fond of. The one with the statute of Raiden. He told you the identity of the other statue. It was Raiden’s brother: Fujin, a wind god who had decided long ago to spend his time among mortals, much to Raiden’s displeasure. Liu told you all about Fujin, all about Raiden, all about the elder gods. You didn’t know what to think with all this information, but you were glad to finally have it.

You two had walked in silence after that. You weren’t sure if it was because Liu had finally tired of talking, or because he didn’t know what else to talk about. It was awkward at first, but quickly grew--… relaxing. Almost meditative. Not once did he lead you by any extraordinary views of the ravine. You could trust him, you knew that.

“I need to confess again,” he broke the silence. You turned your head to look up at his face as you two kept walking. He hesitated, as if rethinking his decision, but forced it out, “I have thought of you…”

Your legs stopped. You stared at him. You knew exactly what he was saying. You remembered last night’s fight at dinner. Lao teased Liu for feelings you weren’t sure he really had at the time. But now… He was confessing them to you. Okay, maybe Lao wasn’t deflecting. Maybe Liu had really been a victim himself last night in Lao’s attempts to rile you up. You swallowed the growing lump in your throat.

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same,” Liu said, avoiding your eyes.

You wouldn’t have lied if he’d asked if you had felt something, but you were grateful that he hadn’t asked. Did you? Yes. There was something there. But love? Lust? You weren’t sure. It was more just ‘trust’ right now. “I don’t know what to say,” you told him gently.

He shook his head and forced a smile to his face as he finally looked to you. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to let you know.”

You couldn’t help but frown. “Thanks…” That sounded stupid coming out of your mouth. You didn’t know what else to say. You tugged him along as you continued to walk, looking at the floor. Now the walk was awkward again.

“Are… are you sure it’s not just because I’m the only woman here?” You asked nervously. Maybe he was just confused. Honestly, how could anyone like you? You were a mess. And you weren’t even that pretty.

Liu’s brow wrinkled. That was such an odd question. But, he could understand what you were asking. The Order of Light was an order of monks. Just monks. There were no nuns here. And no other kombatants but you, him, and Lao. He got it. You must have felt vulnerable… maybe alone?

He frowned. “I admit, I don’t have much experience with women. Ever since I became a monk, I’ve been focused on training. I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

“No… It’s not that. I just…” You sucked in a deep breath as your nerves fired up. “Just, I’m the only girl here. You sure you’re actually thinking of me?”

He turned his head to look at her in confusion.

“Like, I could have been anyone. What if I was some other girl? What if she was better than me? What if there were plenty of women here? Would you even notice me?”

Oh. Now it was clicking for him. He shook his head as if to protest, but didn’t say anything. Liu actually thought about it. “Maybe…” he finally answered. “If you were the only one with the mark, of course I’d notice you.” Wait. That wasn’t what he meant. He didn’t want to insult you. “I mean—”

“I get it,” you broke in. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

“No.” He stopped you gently and moved in front of you so you would look at him. “Hold on.” His jaw flexed as he tried to sort his thoughts into words. He wasn’t used to this at all. “If this temple had plenty of women, I’m sure I would notice you. Even if you didn’t have the mark. Even if you were just a quiet nun who never stood out.”

Your brows knotted in suspicion. You weren’t sure if he was just trying to make you feel better, or if he was just struggling to say what he felt.

He’d noticed your suspicion and pointed gently, accusingly to your face. “That,” he said. “Stop that. Listen to me. Not your head.”

You blinked at him. How did he know you were doubting him—

“When I saw you help brother Li back there, I saw exactly who you are. I saw exactly why Raiden was so set on saving you and bringing you here to train with us. I thought I’d seen it before, but I only had half of it. Maybe I still don’t see the whole reason, but I definitely see more of it,” He told you.

But what the hell was he talking about?

“You are amazing,” he said, catching you off guard. “I have seen hundreds of people--of monks try and fail to find themselves. And you just… You just are. I see you second, third, hundredth guess yourself every day, but when you’re in a situation that needs to be dealt with, you jump in and take it into your own hands. Last night? I couldn’t believe that you had caught Lao. I figured you would freeze up when the time came. That is huge. And Lao told me about the man you saved in a fire.” He stepped closer, keeping his eyes locked on yours, his shifting focus from one to the other. “What are you?” he asked, just so simply amazed with you.

“I’m… just a nurse,” you answered sheepishly.

“No. You’re not. Look at yourself. Really look at yourself. You don’t just risk your time to help people. You risk your life. I’m not trying to dismiss what nurses do. But most nurses don’t throw themselves over a cliff to save someone. They don’t run into fires without proper equipment. And what you did with brother Li? Y/N, you didn’t have to help him. There were plenty of infirmary monks that could have done that. You’re injured. You’re in pain. You should be resting, but you helped him anyway.”

“It was just a sprained ankle,” you tried to reason. “It was nothing.”

“What if it was something?”

“What?”

“What if it was an emergency? What if he was dying?”

“He wasn’t—”

“Humor me.”

“I…” Your jaw clenched. You knew what he was doing. Lao had done this several times. “I would have helped,” you admitted. “I would have had to.”

“You wouldn’t have had to.”

“I would have wanted to.”

He smiled to you. You were near tears and he reached up to hold your face gently in his warm hands. Liu’s dark eyes never left yours. “I know you don’t think of yourself as someone who deserves credit. I know you don’t expect to be appreciated for what you do. I know you feel like someone who doesn’t get noticed. Whether you think it’s because you’re not good enough, or you’re not strong enough, or because your head tells you lies about yourself…” Tears had started to trickle down your cheeks and his thumbs wiped them away. “So don’t ask me if I would ignore you if someone better was around. You’re going to be really hard to beat,” he said, smiling to you. And he meant it.

@ancientowlgirl @miss-nori85

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat 2021 #liu kang #kung lao #raiden #reader insert #fanfic #fic #reader x character #ludi lin #max huang #tadanobu asano #new beginnings

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hiswhiteknight · 3 years

Text

Unbelievably Outlandish– Part 8

Summary: Before starting down a new crossroads, the Reader goes onto an adventure of literary traveling. Suddenly tossed into an unbelievable story that has swept the world, The Outlander Series itself. How will a twenty first century woman survive?

Note: I own no characters, except reader, clearly this is based off the lovely book series Outlander by Diana Gabaldon and tv show. This follows more the tv show, but it’s far from accurate. I’m going to try to get better with using less proper English, but who knows maybe I’ll get into Scottish slang.

Pairing: Jamie Fraser x Female Reader

Words: 2345

Warning: Angst, playfulness, cursing, slow start, obviously fighting and such

What Murtagh said and how he stared at you was quite unsettling, what could you possibly mean by a ‘woman’ taking care of Jamie? You were quite sure Laohaire was a woman and could take nice care of Jamie. That thought didn’t settle well either, but you couldn’t understand why. It felt like it was something you had buried deep in your soul, so deep you could only focus on getting back home to your family – Davy. When you were preparing for the gathering, you tried to think about what your brother was doing and whether he felt alone or abandoned. The guilt of your lack of fight or focus on getting home crept into your body and weighed you down.

Angus entered the surgery, “Lass, the festivities are about to be going, let’s make our way up.”

You nodded at him and started to walk up, “Do I look like I’ll fit in up there?”

“You’ll fit in plenty enough, enough for a colony lass,” he muttered to you. “Just stay out of trouble, I’ve got my mind on-.”

You rolled your eyes, putting your hand to stop in from continuing, “Angus, I get you want to find a lady and I promise to not get in the way. I still got a ton of work to do before tomorrow’s hunt. I do not plan to stay long, which is what I told Mrs. Fitz. The laird gave me a job, I intend to do well.”

“Just do as your told,” he pushed you forward. You fought every bone and muscle in your body not to thrash him about. No matter the effort, you could not win the trust of some of the people here Angus and Dougal included. You could only kill someone with kindness so much before you take someone’s throat out with your fists.

Mrs. Fitz passed by you, “You look lovely in that dress, my dear. I told you, now some man will come and sweep you up, though I’ll hate to see the day someone takes you from us.”

You could see Murtagh rolling his eyes, as you looked down at the people prepping from the oath ceremony. You bit the inside of your cheek, “Mrs. Fitz, I told you. I do not intend to marry, I have a family waiting for me back by Inverness. I’m just buying my time.”

“That reminds me, Gale Allister left your payment in the kitchen by the flour. Thought it was best she avoids the surgery with all your business getting ready for hunt,” she shared with you.

“Thank you Mrs. Fitz, I’m not sure what I’d do without you,” you half hugged her. You tried to ignore the suspicious look from Murtagh. You had been finding little chores and such to help the community here, as well earn money that will help foster your escape home. “Murtagh, where is Mister McTavish? I’d assume he’d be here for the oath taking.”

Murtagh glanced down at you, trying to avoid making too much eye contact with you, “Leave the man be right now. He’s best to be not seen during the swearing ceremony. I feel you’ve tortured the man enough for a life time.”

“What are you on about, I do not torture anyone?” Collum entered the room starting the ceremony with Dougal. It was actually quite beautiful, full of tradition, and honor.

“You’re torturing me right now, lass,” Murtagh grumbled under his breath.

Mrs. Fitz pinched Murtagh’s arm to shush him, “If they are all the same, I’m off to get more work done. Keep me posted Mrs. Fitz,” you kiss her cheek and skip away to your work space. Angus caught sight of you and followed, “Angus, I pinky swear I will not wonder away and get you in trouble with Dougal.”

He gripped her arm, “No, no, no – you have to stay up here until I find a lady-.”

“Too much Angus, too much,” you stopped him quickly. “Here,” you pass Angus a necklace given to you by your mother, “This is my necklace given to me by mom before she died.” Angus looked immediately concerned you were going to get emotional, “As long as you hold that necklace, I’m not going anywhere. Go enjoy the gathering.”

He looked at the necklace in his hand to you, “You sneak off girl, I’ll gut you. Stay in the surgery, no wandering off like you like to.”

You put your two fingers up like you were a scout. Angus gave you a strange look before motioning you down to the surgery, “Angus,” you called to him, he looked back at you quickly, “You lose that, I promise no laird will stop me from taking your balls.”

He waved you off, laughing to himself, “A lady with a mouth like yours.”

You were only partially concerned Angus would lose your necklace. You had made your way to the surgery, but stopped on the last stair. You had already prepared for the hunt with your materials and such. You didn’t want to stay at the ceremony because it made you think of your past with the Marines and your brother with your traditions. Davy would be so impressed by seeing some of his heritage. He would probably love this whole experience. Think of the hunt the next day, you grew sick and worried. You were never a hunter; you had a soft spots for most animals. You had trouble killing spiders, though your history with war was quite the contradiction. Your brother constantly made fun of you for it. The thought of animals made you think of your horse. Your promised Angus you would stay put, but it’s not like you planned to escape. You just wanted to drop off your medical supplies and check on your horse. The stable hand made it seem like your horse wasn’t part of the elite, which made you like her more.

On the way to the stables, you used your military expertise to get past the men. You didn’t need Angus to find out you lied to him. A few drunken clansmen tried to take advantage of you being an alone woman. This immediately made you pissed for the lady folk in the area, the amount of women who had to be assaulted made you sick. One guy had gotten a swipe at you and your lip was bleeding. You made it to the stables, nursing your lip. You were going to take your time getting back to the surgery, this was probably the safest place for you outside your surgery space. Lost in your thoughts of consequences, you tripped over a mass. You rolled onto your back with a knife in hand, pressing it to the neck of a person and they were doing the same to you, “Deoiridh.” Jamie immediately released you, sitting up to give you space, “What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask the same to you, sir,” you shot back at him. Your temper was rising with the amount of times you had to keep your guide up during this time period. Jamie stared at you a little longer than you liked, he was hoping for a better answer, “I was checking on my horse for the hunt. I have a soft spot for her and I wanted to drop off my stuff now, so I wouldn’t have to have hungover Angus complaining in the morning.”

Jamie chuckled to himself, “Thoughtful lass.” He paused for a second, “Y/N, you alright?” He put his hand up, leaning in closer to get a look at your bleeding lip, “Did that just happen,” he asked with guilt seeping off his voice.

He took out some cloth and tried to dab at your lip, “I had an issue coming over here with some clansmen,” you mumbled, trying to find the right words. You didn’t need Jamie telling Collum of your violent assault to some of their men. You didn’t kill them, but they will probably be concussed and be missing the hunt the next day.

He shot up, “Did they,” he pulled you up to closer inspect you.

You pushed him back gently, “No, no.” You hesitated and tried to figure out the best way to share it with him, “I knocked them out before anything could happen.”

Jamie’s laugh filled the room, finally dulling down to lean against the horses pen, “You’re a deadly woman Deoiridh. I’ve seen you teaching some stuff to the kids, but I didn’t think you could take out Mackenzie men without more than a busted lip. You sure your alright,” he tried to cup you neck again to look closer at your lip.

His hands were rough, but it a way you’ve never felt. It was like your body was on fire, but wanting to crave more it. Electricity surges your body, “I’m fine,” you whispered, “I’ve had plenty worse.”

“These men are lucky you got to them first,” he said trying to relax his jaw. You should tell a piece of him was bothered by you being attacked. Something inside him wanted to crash out of the stables and slaughter the men who would do such damage to his friend, at least that’s what you were telling yourself.

“Murtagh mentioned you weren’t going to the ceremony for the gathering,” you reached into your bag, “I was going to stop by your hut, residence place,” you weren’t sure what to call his little bed area. You passed him some food from the kitchen.

He shook his head, “Again with the thoughtfulness, you seem to care an awful lot about my wellbeing.”

“Shut up,” you shove him as he laughs at you. You could see he was trying to get a raise out of you since you pushed him to talk to Laoghaire, “You’re my friend Jamie. You were the first one who was nice to me here, well before you tossed me over your shoulder and proceeded to act like chauvinistic tool.”

He grinned at you, “Well, you are probably the most unique, thoughtful, and caring women I know. Besides when you are prodding me and calling me mean names.” He put the bag of food down next to his makeshift bed, “We should get you back to the castle, I bet Angus won’t be taken to kindly to your journey to the stables.”

“I can get back on my own. Murtagh told me to leave you alone, something about the ceremony, which is none of my business,” you mumbled away, trying to push whatever you are feeling way down. “I took down three clansmen and you, I think I can get back on my own,” you look down at Jamie sitting on the ground.

He pulled himself up towering over you, “Me,” he questioned, “I think I’d remember you taking me anywhere,” he pulled your shawl tighter to your body. “Now let’s go, me walking you back is not up for debate.”

You rolled your eyes and jogged up next to him, “Suit yourself, but Murtagh doesn’t like me enough as it is. If you get caught or whatever, I’m not to blame you tell him that.”

Jamie stopped you at the door, leaning in close to your face to whisper, “Murtagh likes you plenty, believe me if he didn’t like you he’d ignore you. Now let’s go before you get me caught.”

“Jamie,” you whispered harshly, holding tightly on the back of his shirt waddling after him. With your face slightly pressed to his back as you both giggled out the stables, there was something about his smell. You’d assumed he’d smell like most rotting, sweating men. Being in the marines and being in the desert for long periods of time, you were pretty much used to it. But it was different with Jamie, your psychology background pushed towards his manly man pheromones. You pushed those thoughts away and tipped toed with Jamie through the McKenzie camp. You and Jamie got back to your work space without Angus knowing any different. You stood at the bottom of your stairs, looking up at the now ever more towering Jamie, who was grinning down at you, “Do you think you can get back without being caught, remember what I said about Murtagh, you wanted me to be nice and make friends?”

He looked down, trying to hold back his amused expression, “Yeah, I think I’ll manage.”

“When are you going to tell me why you are avoiding being seen during the gathering, aren’t they your family,” you questioned, trying to change the subject to something less flirty.

“It’s a bit complicated, maybe one day I’ll tell you. But for now, I’m off before I get you into trouble with Murtagh. You should go up and spend some time with the clan, it might be worth learning a bit more,” he gestured up the stair. He leaned closer again, “Maybe you can butter up Murtagh, get on his sweet side.”

“What sweet side,” you countered. Jamie shook his head, trying his best to not be amused by you, “Plus, I wouldn’t want him to get the wrong idea. He isn’t really my type.”

The look he gave you in that moment was something you rarely got to see in men, “What exactly is your type.”

“Not a dumb brute really, I’m not a picky woman,” you shrug walking further away from Jamie’s glances.

“That I don’t believe for a second. Try to stay out of trouble, hate you save you from Angus again,” Jamie started to make his way up the stairs.

“Jamie,” you call up to him, he turns to look at you one more time before he gets on his way to his hide away, “I never need saving.” Again, he held back a smirk, before trying back up the stairs again. You didn’t know how he did it, but you got to you again with those stupid hidden smiles and teasing. It’s like he knew exactly what to say to get a rise out of you.

Part 9

Taglist: @doctorwhatwhenandwhere @damnedandbroken @blushingpogue @blancastans @slytherinambitious @kinky-asher

#Jamie Fraser #jamie fraser imagines #jamie fraser x reader #jamie frazier x reader #Outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander imagine #sam heughan

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whump-town · 3 years

Text

Minimal Loss AU

This is for @hotchley because I've been saying I was going to do this since just about forever and now I finally did it. Is it really that different? No but I like this version more than the original

Warnings: death.

Pairings: no but like if you want it to be Mortch it can be and you don't really have to squint to see it either way

Summary: Minimal Loss (S4, E3) but I made it so much worse because I like misery

In less than five years Derek Morgan has watched the BAU rebuild from nearly the start twice. Watched it dwindle down to just a few creeping agents but this time… Derek’s not sure the resiliency is there. After Boston, the shift had been fairly clear. Gideon lost it. Hotch stepped up. Now Derek can feel the weight of the BAU settling on his shoulders, wonders if this is the panic that Hotch felt. The pressure of the future looming over him, weighing him down. His chest is trapped between hefty boulders waiting for the impending doom of when his bones can no longer sustain the pressure. Is this how it was for Hotch? Holding his breath and waiting for the snap of release? For the weight to settle and find out if this time it would be too much?

The bull pen’s door swings open and Derek looks up, he’s expecting the gloomy presence of Hotch. His slow, anxious movements drawn out in each of his steps. Before he’d just been gloomy but now he seems to drag the weight of the dead behind him. The groaning of chains shackled to his feet-- he’s got the key to unlock the burden but there’s something too familiar in suffering for him to let go. But these steps are too light. Too unburdened to be Hotch.

With a snapping halt, Dave stops at Derek’s desk. They give one another a look they’ve been sharing a little too much as of late. One of them always carrying the next bought of bad news. This time it’s Dave, next it will be Derek. “He failed his gun qualification.” It may not carry the same weight as the other things they’ve had to speak of but it’s no good, it’s still bad.

Derek supposes he should have known this was coming. He’s a profiler but even emotional intelligence doesn’t negate childish hope. Blind faith in one another has gotten them a long way, it’s the foundation of what makes them a unit. Derek assumed it would get them through this too. “Dave,” Derek calls to the other man’s receding back. “How bad is it?” he asks the floor. Unable to look Dave in the eyes and let the older man see just how crushed he is.

Dave pauses, stands with his back to Derek and his feet still attempting to move him forward. He wishes he knew what he could say to make this better. The tension between the team and, even worse so, that which remains Derek and Hotch is thick enough to choke on, makes the air unbearable to breathe and be in. But he doesn’t know what to do. He’s run out of things to say. All he can do is shrug, offer Derek a simple shake of his head.

There’s no going back. For any of them.

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

Hotch loses his ability to speak clearly, punctually when Benjamin Cyrus targets Emily. His hands start to shake and take a constant flight of motion when he speaks. He’s conscious of their jitters, of the way his own nerves are comprising the mission, but he can’t walk away. A power shift this late into the operation will be disastrous and he won’t put Prentiss and Reid’s lives on the line.

He feels it in his chest before he sees it. His hoarse, powerless scream is swallowed by the crack that shakes the world. By the bomb that upsets his entire life.

He surges forward, guided by cloudy adrenaline. Years of field training have taught him plenty about these scenarios, logically he knows it’s a lost cause. Instinct screams for him to back away from the smoke thrown up in dark, rolling plumes. To get away from where the fire licks out of the building. Yet he moves forward regardless because Reid has overcome too much for all of it to end here. For this to be his final stand.

Arms snag his waist, an instant sharp jerk as he’s pulled backward with more might than which he pushes forward. “No!” he doesn’t recognize the desperate sounds coming out of his mouth. The way he screams Reid’s name into the flames and cries out for Prentiss. “No, let go!” He pushes down against the arms around his belt. “Get the fuck off me, Derek! Get off me!” He manages to throw them both into the dirt and he lands with a breathless thud to the ground, pausing only to his own desperation like a mirror in Derek’s eyes.

This time Derek isn’t fast enough and he’s left panting on the ground, his voice cracking as he yells at his boss’ receding back. All he can do is follow after him.

Dave yells for both of them to stop, italian curses tangled into his frustrated orders.

Derek Morgan hadn’t been there when Adrian Bale bested Gideon and killed their team. Hotch had been preparing the next wave of officers and agents just outside the building. When the bomb went off Gideon thought he was dead. Phoned Derek at the hospital and told him he hadn’t seen Aaron, didn’t know what to expect officers would find. A body, he supposed. But Hotch was alive by some slim miracle. Spent two weeks in the hospital recovering from the shrapnel wounds embedded in his upper torso, from the beating his heart took keeping him alive. Smoke inhalation from laying under burning bits of the building and too many broken bones to be worth remembering. The fact that he had only nearly died set him apart from the others. Nearly wasn’t the same as dead. It could have been worse.

So much worse.

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

Derek never learned or even worked his way up to forgiving Gideon for what happened that day. He’d lost friends within a blink of an eye and then his best friend slowly over the course of the next year. Ripped to shreds by shrapnel and stitched back together only for Jason Gideon to let the job take and take from Hotch until there was nothing left. Until he could no longer smile. Incapable of joy. Carrying on like a robot.

“Hey,” Derek is stepping into the hall when Hotch gets off the elevator. “You okay, man?” He steps forward to place his hand on Hotch’s elbow but the other man moves too quickly, too fixated on his goal. The material of his suit just passes right by Morgan’s fingers. Hotch just keeps ghosting alone. Not so much as blinking in response.

He wants to be pissed. Derek wants nothing more than to feel something so irrational and so consuming that he can lash out and scream and curse and make a scene like a child so much as these feelings are burned through. But those stones keep adding upon his chest. His body just keeps taking the weight and no release comes.

Hotch is a sharp-shooter.

He’s had tactical training and awards all over his office that demonstrate just how good of a shot he is. Give him a gun and he won’t miss his target. So how does a man like that fail his gun qualifications?

Them. Because of them.

Derek moves his eyes down to the floor the second he sees the outlines of the frames. He’d known where they were headed, Hotch always ends up right back here in this one spot. Staring at their pictures like he can will them back to life. Maybe Derek really is no better than Hotch. Unable to bring himself to look at his best friend’s faces memorialized behind glass picture frames. Smiling for the rest of eternity.

Emily had been in the hall. She’d gone back, from what they could tell, and dragged an injured woman with her down the hall. The other woman was already dead before the explosion took place but Emily never knew when to give up. From the diagram drawn up after the explosion, she was three feet from the door that would have lead her to freedom when Cyrus blew up the compound. Three fucking feet.

Spencer had died immediately. Blood dribbling down his chin and a proud smirk on his lips. Gideon had assured him over the years they worked together that he was just enough like Hotch to be a little too resilient. Said they both had that same sort of strange curiosity mixed with unyielding oddness that made them so unapproachable to other people. Reid’s death had looked like defiance, what he thought was at least one more second of distraction to save his friend. As the hammer of the gun struck Reid knew Hotch would be proud, that Gideon was right. It took balls to argue with Cyrus. To back the leader into a biblical corner but his words had struck a new rebellion: doubt.

Cyrus had leveled his Glock to Ried’s temples and torn his genius brain to shreds.

But Reid had never known strength as he did in that moment.

The bomb didn’t even leave them a body to bury.

Derek looks up at Hotch, keeps his eyes trained on the man’s tear-stained eyes. Lethargically swollen with the tears he never sheds. “Cyrus killed them,” he whispers. “They wouldn’t want this Hotch.”

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

Emily had never seemed so small. She was several inches shorter than both Hotch and Derek but he’d never noticed just how small she really was. Not until she was still, limply laid in Hotch’s arms as he gently moved her from fallen debris. His tears splashing the soot off of her pale face. A broken doll he holds so carefully.

Derek steps around debris, working around the largest pieces slowly. Lowering his head in defeat at the way the emergency personal look at him, their sympathy burning the lining of his stomach. He’s standing in the middle of it all, a sea of black body bags measuring out each individual failure committed today. Hotch is crouched on the edge of it, uselessly cleaning soot off Emily’s face.

“Hotch..,” Derek sinks down to his knees. Opens his mouth but no words come out, he just looks at his boss. His oldest friend. “She’s gone,” he manages, thickly. “Emily’s dead, Hotch. You have to let her go.”

“We have to go,” Morgan says and he’s not sure he can do much more than repeating the words that other people have been repeating to him. He’s incapable of thinking past just how broken Emily is. He’d just spoken to her. The flashing light and her boot in the window.

Hotch tears his eyes away and up to Morgan. There are tear streaks on his dirty face, “I can’t.” He looks back down at Emily and holds her closer. Daring Morgan to take her away. “She--” the words get caught in his throat. “She didn’t think I trusted her.”

Morgan shakes his head but… he can’t find the words to form condolence. They’d grown to trust one another. Become friends. Surely Hotch knows that. She loved them all, even him.

“I do,” Hotch says. His chest heaves as he pulls in a broken sob. “I trust her.”

Morgan nods his understanding and places a hand on Hotch’s shoulder. “She knows,” he promises. “She knows, man.”

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

“Dave told me you failed your gun qualification this morning.” Derek isn’t even sure why he leaves the pause in their conversations anymore. Hotch hardly ever speaks. Never reacts to things anymore. Just sort of floats by. He’s not the only ghost in the BAU but he’s the only living one. “It’s not a big deal,” Derek mumbles. Not much is anymore. “You don’t need to go out in the field.” Hotch shouldn’t be anywhere near the field. Not for a long time. Morgan can’t take another Gideon. He can’t watch another friend unravel. He’s tired of losing people.

But that is exactly what’s happening.

Derek looks up and locks eyes with Reid and Prentiss, their unseeing, unmoving eyes. Both funerals had their share of drama. The Ambassador hadn’t come to Emily’s. She’d sent back a letter about being in Moscow, couldn’t get a flight, and informed them not to bother making arrangements for another date. Reid’s mother had slapped Hotch, cursed, and screamed until she was taken away. He’d found this fair punishment, he deserved worse. He couldn’t even act as a pallbearer. He wasn’t even hurt. His hands just haven’t stopped shaking, like the adrenaline never faded out of his system.

“Come on,” Derek mumbles. He turns on his heel and makes for the bullpen, knows from the rustle of fabric Hotch is following closely. His hands tucked deep in his pockets to hide their tremble, his head bowed so no one sees the tears he hasn’t let go. “We’ll be okay,” Morgan tells him, as he holds the bullpens door open. Morgan just needs to work on convincing himself that as much as Hotch.

They’re not but some lies are worth the attempt at making them truths.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #emily prentiss #spencer reid #david rossi

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nikkoliferous · 3 years

Text

Phase One: Avengers (Part One)

With everything being about the LOKI series right now and me dreading it, I figured I'd distract myself by finally posting my thoughts on the Phase One: Avengers novel, which I seem to recall somehow being way worse than the Thor novel? I'm not completely convinced this thing wasn't ghostwritten by Taika Waititi; that's all I'm saying. Anyways, here we go.

(Quick note: please be aware that this overview is significantly Thor-critical. If that sort of thing bothers you, I do not recommend proceeding. You've been warned. Lol)

Let's start off with a friendly reminder that SHIELD had four hours to evacuate before Loki showed up, shall we?

Dr. Selvig read an energy surge from the Tesseract four hours ago,” Coulson was saying.

“I didn’t approve going to testing,” Fury said.

Coulson nodded. “He wasn’t testing it. He wasn’t even in the room. Spontaneous event.”

So either they're grossly incompetent or grossly negligent, but either way those deaths are on them at least as much as they're on Loki. If not more so.

“It just turned itself on?” Hill sounded skeptical. Fury, as usual, was less interested in how they’d gotten there than in what they were going to do next.

[...]

Selvig acknowledged him briefly and then returned his attention to the monitoring equipment. “Director, the Tesseract is misbehaving.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

“No, it’s not funny at all. The Tesseract is not only active, she’s… behaving.”

Fury didn’t comment on the doctor characterizing the Tesseract as female. He also wasn’t interested in Selvig’s notions about its personality. It didn’t have a personality. It was a cube containing energy, and all Nick Fury wanted was to know how to control that energy. “I assume you pulled the plug.”

Fury having no intellectual curiosity explains a lot, tbh. Like how he thinks Loki "kills because it's fun", even though nothing about their prior interaction indicates that. Like, at all. Loki killed only the agents who were attacking him. Because he felt threatened. If he indeed killed for the fun of it, he would have taken them all out and been done with it. Doing so would have both entertained him and made for a much smoother getaway.

“She’s an energy source. We turn off the power, she turns it back on. If she reaches peak level—”

“We prepared for this, Doctor. Harnessing energy from space.”

“We’re not ready. My calculations are far from complete. And she’s throwing off interference radiation.”

Fury watched the Tesseract in its circular containment shell. Eight separate energy sensors built into a frame supporting that shell were designed to measure and conduct that energy. Those sensors in turn rested on stainless-steel support scaffolding. The whole setup sprouted cables and conduits. These were there to supply energy to the Tesseract in a controlled fashion so Dr. Selvig could analyze its reactions. Now they were all shut down, as Dr. Selvig had said, but even so, the Tesseract glowed with a fierce blue energy. It was starting to spill onto the sensors, arcing like electricity. But it wasn’t electricity. It was something much more exotic.

I also find it curious/amusing/something that Fury later accuses Loki of "stealing a force [he] can't hope to control". YOU'RE DESCRIBING YOURSELF, NICK. YOU'RE THE ONE WHO CAN'T CONTROL IT AND HAS BEEN ARROGANTLY PRETENDING YOU CAN.

The man looked up at them and smiled as he stood. He was not a large man, not remarkable in any particular way. He had long black hair and wore black leather clothing, similar to what Fury was wearing. However, he wasn’t a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Fury didn’t know where he had come from.

I beg to fucking differ lmao

Fury had the Tesseract in a steel carrying case and was taking a step toward the door when the stranger turned to him and said, “Please don’t. I still need that.”

Kudos to Loki for not forgetting his princely manners even while completely off his rocker. Lol

“This doesn’t have to get any messier,” Fury said. He glanced quickly around, trying to figure the fastest way out.

“Of course it does,” the stranger said. “I’ve come too far for anything else.”

TELL US WHAT YOU'VE BEEN THROUGH, LOKI. INQUIRING MINDS WANT TO KNOW.

“Loki?” Dr. Selvig said. He stood up from helping one of his fellow doctors, who was barely conscious. “Brother of Thor?”

“We have no quarrel with your people,” Fury said.

Loki acknowledged Selvig and then returned his attention to Fury.

By "acknowledged", the author means he rolled his eyes so hard he saw his own brain lmao

“I come with glad tidings,” Loki said. “Of a world made free.”

“Free from what?” Fury asked.

Turning back to him, Loki said simply, “Freedom. Freedom is life’s great lie. Once you accept that in your heart…” As he spoke the word “heart,” he turned and touched Selvig’s chest with the tip of his scepter, just as he had with Hawkeye. Selvig gasped, and the same change came over his face that Fury had seen in Hawkeye’s. “You will know peace.”

He's not simply deranged, you know. For Loki, this is actually true. He has never been free in his entire life, and won't be at any point after this either. Yes, there was also the torture and the mind control at play, but even underneath all that, is it any wonder he was vulnerable to the Thanos cult's brainwashing?

Hawkeye had been looking around the complex. Now he stepped up to Loki. “Sir, Director Fury is stalling. This place is about to blow and drop a hundred feet of rock on us. He means to bury us.”

Loki looked back at Fury, who said, “Like the pharaohs of old.”

“He’s right, the portal is collapsing in on itself!” Selvig called out from the monitors. “We’ve got maybe two minutes before this goes critical.”

Friendly reminder, once again, that Loki wasn't even aware the PEGASUS facility was on the verge of collapsing—let alone the cause of it.

“Well then,” Loki said. He glanced over at Hawkeye.

Without a word, Hawkeye drew his gun and shot Nick Fury once, dead center in the chest.

Two things:

1) Every time I see this scene in gifs, all I can think of is, "Pull the lever, Kronk." 🤣

2) So how does the direct mind control of the sceptre work anyway? Because Loki never actually gives Barton a command here. So does he sometimes communicate with his minions telepathically (sort of like The Other does with him), or does Barton just intuit his intent here, or what?

Maria Hill saw Hawkeye come out of the lab into the garage with Selvig, a liaison officer, and a stranger carrying a spear. He looked more like one of the people they’d been recruiting into the Avengers Initiative than an ordinary technician or S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. “Who's that?” she asked.

*sigh* In a just MCU, this would have been foreshadowing.

She jumped into a jeep and headed after them. Other S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicles followed, filled with agents. They roared along the underground access road that led up to the surface in the New Mexico desert. She was gaining on them and firing as she drove. Sooner or later, she’d be close enough to have a good shot at the stranger.

He had other ideas, though. When he saw the pursuing convoy get too close, he pointed his scepter at them. The tip of it flared bright blue, and a bolt of energy lashed out from it, striking the vehicle in front of Hill and shattering the right side of its passenger compartment. The vehicle slewed around and flipped, rolling and landing sideways across the road. They were blocked.

Interesting of Loki to go for the passenger compartment instead of the driver. Was anyone even sitting there? Just one more example in a long string of Loki being inexplicably merciful to his enemies, I guess. 🤷

They got around ahead of the truck, and Fury leaned out of the helicopter’s side door. He fired, emptying his clip. He could tell from the sparks that some of the bullets had hit, but he was too far away to see if they’d done any damage.

His real target was Loki, but he was protected by the cab of the truck. Fury couldn’t get a good shot at him.

Did Fury already forget that Loki is bulletproof, or...? I mean, I guess that's fair. Earlier, Hawkeye goes to draw his sidearm only minutes after the narration points out that the bullets already fired at Loki had bounced away harmlessly.

Leaning over the truck’s roof and keeping low, however, Loki could get a good shot at the helicopter. A blue bolt lanced out and struck the helicopter’s rotor assembly. All the control mechanisms went haywire, and the helicopter spiraled down out of the sky. The truck drove underneath them as they were about to crash, close enough that Fury could see the gloating expression on Loki’s face.

Haha, good for him.

“Coulson, you know that Stark trusts me about as far as he can throw me,” she said.

“Oh, I’ve got Stark,” Coulson said. “You’ve got the big guy.”

Oh, Natasha thought. That big guy. She said something in Russian. It wasn’t polite.

This has nothing to do with Loki. It just made me laugh.

Nick Fury had called an emergency meeting of the World Security Council. They needed to know what had happened with the Tesseract, and they needed to know what he planned to do about it. He brought up holographic images of all the WSC members, with their faces and locations hidden. He did not know who they were, but S.H.I.E.L.D. reported to them.

Well, that doesn't sound problematic at all, does it?

“The Avengers Initiative was shut down.”

“This isn’t about the Avengers.” That wasn’t strictly true, but Nick Fury was no idiot. He wasn’t going to show all his cards to the World Security Council when he didn’t even know who they were.

I'm glad he at least recognizes the stupidity of working for people he doesn't know, but uh... debatable, otherwise. Lol

“This isn’t about personality profiles anymore,” Coulson said. He wasn’t giving up, and that irritated Tony even more than the fact he’d showed up right when the celebration of Stark Tower was supposed to be starting.

*cough*DIVA*cough*

Loki watched Dr. Erik Selvig work, preparing the Tesseract for the next phase of his plan. Technicians and soldiers scurried about on various errands. Loki did not know the details and did not care. They were beneath him. He had his eye solely on the greater prize. It was time to consult with the Chitauri and begin the next phase of the preparations.

Really? You expect me to believe that Loki, the master tactician with "a cunning mind far exceeding Thor and Odin’s", couldn't be bothered to know the details of his own plan? Um, how about no?

Deep space and a field of stars surrounded this rocky world. Pale blue lights glowed where the Chitauri had built their fortress. They gleamed in a set of stairs that climbed to the topmost tower. That was where Loki had made his bargain with the Chitauri: They would be his army and he would open a path to Earth for them. Once Earth was his, and Asgard as well, he would turn the Tesseract over to them.

At least that was what he had promised.

1) Who said anything about Asgard...?

2) Indicator that Loki never planned on actually turning over the Tesseract? I don't know why you'd include this line otherwise.

“Let them gird themselves,” he said. “I will lead them in glorious battle.”

“Battle?” the Chitauri warrior snorted. “Against the meager might of Earth?”

“Glorious,” Loki repeated. “Not lengthy. If your force is as formidable as you claim.”

He had intended to anger the Chitauri, and he had succeeded.

Personally, I saw this less as intending to anger and more as "Loki has no self-preservation instinct and literally cannot help himself". What's to be gained by intentionally pissing off The Other here?

“You don’t have the Tesseract yet.” The Chitauri leader rushed at Loki and stopped just short of him, claws raised. Loki did not move.

“I don’t threaten,” he said, though he was doing exactly that.

LOL

The Chitauri leader backed down but only a step. “You will have your war, Asgardian,” he growled. Then he too decided to make a threat. “If you fail, if the Tesseract is kept from us, there will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he cannot find you. You think you know pain? He will make you long for something as sweet as pain.”

Loki flashed back into his awareness of Earth. He took a deep breath. The Chitauri did not frighten him… but he would have been a fool if he had not possessed a healthy respect for their leader, the mad Titan known as Thanos. For it was Thanos who had given Loki the scepter, and Thanos who had rallied the Chitauri to Loki’s cause… and Thanos who wished to possess the Tesseract for his own monstrous ends. One did not bargain lightly with Thanos—and one certainly did not fail to meet the terms of such a bargain.

Love how this book just repeatedly glosses over the obvious fact that Loki was tortured. In the first chapter, it makes zero mention of his stumbling or other signs of being weakened. Here, it completely omits the pain WE ALL SAW The Other inflict on him. Fuck this narrator, seriously.

Steve had a moment to look around. The commanding officer appeared to be a woman with short dark hair reeling off orders from near the center of the bridge. “S.H.I.E.L.D. Emergency Protocol 193.6 in effect,” she was saying after a series of status orders and acknowledgments. Steve didn’t know what protocol that was. At the moment, all he knew was that he was on a flying aircraft carrier… and wasn’t that enough? Amazing.

[....]

The Helicarrier disappeared from view. From the inside, it didn’t look any different, but Steve saw monitors from satellite feeds, and on those, the Helicarrier had simply become invisible. He corrected himself: He wasn’t just on a flying aircraft carrier. He was on an invisible flying aircraft carrier. The future was pretty… cool, was the word everyone used now.

I'm not the biggest Steve fan, but I will admit to finding his childlike awe over the Helicarrier slightly adorable. Lol

Side note: is someone on this thing coordinating with Air Traffic Control? I... really hope so.

“What did it show you, Agent Barton?”

Barton turned to look at Loki. “My next target,” he said.

Loki nodded. “Tell me what you need.”

Barton took one his bows out of a case and snapped it into shape with a flick of his arm. “I need a distraction,” he said. “And a biometric ID.”

Why the change from "eyeball", I wonder? Seems random. Lol

Inside, Loki had been mingling with the crowd, taking on the appearance of an ordinary man with a walking stick. But as the president of the museum, one Doktor Heinrich Schäfer, began his welcoming speech, Loki decided it was time to make a dramatic entrance. He tapped the walking stick on the floor and it became his scepter. Immediately, to get the crowd’s attention, he aimed it at the nearest museum security guard and fired.

This... didn't happen?? At all??

Loki strode the rest of the way down the stairs and manhandled Schäfer over to a stone altar that was one of the museum’s prized ancient Norse relics. He slammed Schäfer onto his back, forcing a machine over his face. Schäfer cried out in pain and surprise as the machine shone blinding light into his face, holding his eyes open.

On the one hand, confirmation that Loki did not actually shred this dude's eye and he's probably fine. On the other hand, the author completely made up what just happened literally two sentences ago, so their credibility is a little suspect at the moment. Lol

A police car, alerted by the commotion, raced toward him. He blasted it with his scepter, and it spun out of control and crashed.

ACAB!

The crowd froze. Slowly the crowd knelt, and Loki reveled in their submission. “There,” he said. “Is this not simpler? Is this not your natural state? It’s the unspoken truth of humanity, that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life’s joy in a mad scramble for power, for identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel.”

He's talking about himself here. We all get that, right?

An old man in the middle of the crowd stood. Loki paused in his speech to regard this individual. Around him, all the copies of himself also looked at this old man.

“Not to men like you,” the old man said.

“There are no men like me,” Loki said.

No lies detected.

But Loki was tougher than he looked. He struck back with the scepter, forcing Captain America to parry until Loki found an opening and slammed the butt of the scepter into Captain America’s midsection, knocking him down. Captain America threw the shield again, but this time Loki was ready. He knocked it aside. It fell ringing to the stones of the plaza, and Loki had the tip of the scepter against the back of Captain America’s neck before the soldier could get back to his feet.

Correction: If he'd actually been trying to win, he would have used the tip. (Narrator: he was not trying to win).

A sudden storm rose around the Quinjet. Natasha looked at the instrument panel. There’d been no warning of heavy weather. “Where’s this coming from?” she wondered out loud.

At first, she thought that Loki was responsible. But that didn’t appear to be the case. He looked more nervous than anyone else on the jet.

Loki has Thor-induced PTSD. Understandable, tbh.

Thor let Loki fall well before they got to the ground.

Because Thor is an asshole.

So hey, as long as we're here, let's review how each member of Loki's family responds to the realisation that he's survived his suicide attempt.

Thor- manhandles him, angrily demands to know where the Tesseract is

Odin- refuses to even use his name, implies he should have either slaughtered him as an infant or left him to die

Frigga- tells him not to make things worse (fucking rich coming from the woman who exacerbated his trauma immeasurably by thrusting the throne upon him when he was at his most vulnerable)

Wild, man. I wonder why Loki's convinced his family doesn't give a shit about him. They seem like such loving people to me.

“I remember a shadow,” Loki said bitterly. “Living in the shade of your greatness. I remember you tossing me into an abyss. I who was and should be king!”

Because you would have destroyed Asgard, Thor thought. Just to impress our father, you would have annihilated all the Nine Realms. “So you took the world I love as recompense for your imagined slights? No. The Earth is under my protection, Loki.”

1) Actually, he was trying to save Asgard... from a war that YOU started, numbnuts. He went about it all wrong because he was having a fucking mental breakdown, but at no stage did he even really endanger Asgard, let alone come close to destroying it.

2) Um, what? Where the fuck in Loki's plan was annihilating anything other than Jötunheim? I see Thor shares his friends' impressive conclusion-jumping skills. Not surprising.

3) Thor, I mean this truly and without reservation: go fuck yourself.

Loki chuckled. “And you’re doing a marvelous job with that. The humans slaughter each other in droves while you idly fret. I mean to rule them, and why should I not?”

He... has a point.

“You think yourself above them?”

“Well, yes.”

At least Loki is honest about his condescension, Thor. You should try it sometime.

Suddenly furious, Loki raged at Thor. “I’ve seen worlds you’ve never known about! I have grown, Odinson, in my exile. I have seen the true power of the Tesseract, and when I wield it—”

“Who showed you this power?” Thor interrupted. “Who controls the would-be king?”

And he will never bring this up again. Ever.

Stepping right up to his brother, Thor shouted back. “Not here! You give up the Tesseract! You give up this poisonous dream!” Then he softened. “You come home.”

“I don’t have it,” Loki said. Furious, Thor brought Mjolnir to his hand, ready for battle.

Thor's sort of a one-solution kind of guy, huh? Somebody help me out here, because he's "changed" but his first instinct when he's not getting his way is still to react with intimidation and violence. Funny how that works.

Tony braked and skidded to a halt as the Asgardian rolled away from him, tearing up trees and brush as he went. He got to his feet and extended a warning hand. “Do not touch me again,” he said.

Oh, what's the matter, Thor? Do you not like being manhandled? That's weird because you sure do seem to enjoy doing the manhandling. 😕

“If he gives up the cube, he’s all yours. Until then…” Tony’s faceplate clamped back down. “Stay out of the way.”

He turned to walk back to a place where he could make a clean takeoff. “Tourist,” he muttered.

That was the last straw, apparently, because the next thing Tony knew, the Asgardian’s hammer had hit him about as hard as he’d ever been hit in his life. The force of the blow carried him through the trunk of a tree and laid him out flat in the dirt.

Please note that Thor was not being attacked. He once again used offensive violence against someone who hurt his feelbads. "Changed", my rear.

“Then prove it,” Cap said. “Put that hammer down.”

“Uh, no, bad call,” Iron Man said. “He loves his hammer—”

The Asgardian interrupted Tony by smashing him out of the way with a backhand swing. “You want me to put the hammer down?” he roared, and leaped high into the air, bringing his hammer down toward Captain America.

And again—not in any immediate danger, simply reacting with violence to something that made him angry.

“Oh, I’ve heard. A mindless beast. Makes play he’s still a man. How desperate are you, that you call on such lost creatures to defend you?”

“How desperate am I?” Fury echoed. He walked slowly over the catwalk to stand in front of Loki. “You threaten my world with war. You steal a force you can’t hope to control. You talk about peace, but you kill because it’s fun. You have made me very desperate. You might not be glad that you did.”

This is called 'projection', kids. Projection, and making up stories about your enemies so they're easier to hate. Fury needs to show his work.

Loki knew he had been heard throughout the ship. He could hear the echoes of the speakers, and even if he had not, he always knew when people were listening to him. That was part of his power, to make them listen… and to make each of them hear something just a little different. Just what he wanted them to hear.

This doesn’t mean anything, does it??

Perhaps he was in a cage right now, but he had been in cages before. Not once had one been able to hold him for long.

This... has to be a reference to his time with the Black Order, right? There's certainly no basis for such a statement pre-2011.

Or the author is just on crack. That's very possible.

Thor took a step toward Bruce. “Have a care how you speak,” he warned. “Loki is beyond reason, but he is of Asgard… and he is my brother.”

“He killed eighty people in two days,” Natasha pointed out.

Citation needed, please.

“Well, I promise a stress-free environment. No tension, no surprises…” As he spoke, Tony walked behind Bruce and gave him a little zap with an electrical instrument.

“Ow!” Bruce said.

Tony looked closely at him. “Nothing?” He’d been testing Bruce to see how well he controlled the Hulk. The little shock hadn’t provoked any kind of unusual reaction, which Tony seemed to find a little disappointing.

Ok, but what exactly was Tony's plan if Bruce had Hulked out here? lmao

“Steve,” Bruce said, “tell me none of this smells a little funky to you.”

Cap looked back and forth between the two scientists. Bruce could tell he was struggling with something… but he also wasn’t going to share it. He was too much of a good soldier for that.

🙄🙄🙄🙄🙄

“Yeah. I’ll read all about it.”

“Or you’ll be suiting up with the rest of us.”

Bruce shook his head with a regretful smile. “No, see, I don’t get a suit of armor. I’m exposed. Like a nerve. It’s a nightmare.”

Bruce has BPD. Lol

No, you guys don't understand. That's literally what it feels like.

Thor watched over Coulson’s shoulder as the agent showed him S.H.I.E.L.D.’s current files on Jane Foster. When he had learned that Loki had captured Erik Selvig, his first thought had been of Jane. Thor had destroyed the Bifrost to save the Nine Realms, but he had also cut himself off from her… or so he had thought. It was a terrible decision to make, sacrificing love for duty—yet Thor had done it. If necessary, he would do it again. He hoped it would not be necessary, though, and that was one reason why he had asked Coulson about Jane.

Oh my god, Thor. You spent like, three days with her, max. And people call Loki the dramatic one...

Thor looked out into the sky, gathering his thoughts. “When I first came to Earth,” he went on, “Loki’s rage followed me here, and your people paid the price. Now, again. In my youth, I courted war.”

“War hasn’t started yet,” Fury said.

1) Correction: when your daddy threw you to Earth like a sack of trash down a cosmic garbage chute. You were not here on vacation, bro.

2) No, Loki's rage followed your treasonous friends.

3) LAST YEAR. YOUR 'YOUTH' WAS LAST YEAR.

4) *committed mass murder over an insult

“You think you could make Loki tell us where the Tesseract is?”

This possibility hadn’t occurred to Thor. “I do not know,” he said. “Loki’s mind is far afield. It’s not just power he craves. It’s vengeance, upon me. There’s no pain that would pry that need from him.”

1) Opposing Thor = being crazy. Noted.

2) Not everything is about you, buddy. At the risk of repeating myself, this is the guy I'm supposed to believe learned humility? Really? Where?

3) Please note that Thor does not object to torturing Loki because it's immoral or because the thought of hurting Loki pains him. He objects because he doesn't believe it will work.

Thor held Fury’s gaze. It was not the first time he had looked at a one-eyed man who posed him a difficult question. “What are you asking me to do?” he asked, wanting Fury to be clear and to own his words.

“I’m asking what you are prepared to do,” Fury said quietly.

“Loki is a prisoner,” Thor said. He thought Fury was testing him, seeing if he would violate his ideals to find out something they all needed to know. But Thor would not.

"I'm okay with physically assaulting prisoners if they make me mad, but I suddenly draw the line at torture. Even though my 'ideals' didn't appear to be a concern two sentences ago."

If I feel like being generous to Thor, maybe he initially hoped Fury would back off if he just said torture wouldn't work, and then Thor wouldn't have to risk appearing... soft? Weak? I don't know.

“But you figured I’d come,” she said.

“After,” Loki said. “After whatever tortures Fury can concoct, you would appear as a friend, as a balm. And I would cooperate.” It was a typical approach. Cause misery, and then let someone appear as a friendly face. The miserable person would say anything to keep this friend. Loki had seen strong men break this way, many times.

I'm not sure why the author felt the need to depersonalize this by talking about other men. Loki knows this experience intimately. It's what he's endured his entire life at the hands of his "loving" family. The torture just wasn't physical then as far as we know.

An interesting story, Loki thought. She has much to atone for. He could hear some of her memories, from before her first encounter with Barton. Little girl, he thought, you’ve done some very bad things. And now you think you owe Clint Barton your life… but there is more to it. Loki could tell there was something in her mind that he was not quite uncovering. He pushed a little more.

Is... is this text implying that Loki can read people's minds/memories even without touching them?

“Can you?” he asked. “Can you wipe out that much red?” He listed for her some of the things he knew she had done. “Dreykov’s daughter… São Paulo… the hospital fire? Barton told me everything.” This was a lie. Barton had told Loki certain things about Romanoff, but he was also guessing some others.

He... guessed the details of these very specific incidents? What? lmao

He pushed ahead. Now that he understood her, he could break her. “Your ledger is dripping, it’s gushing red, and you think saving a man no more virtuous than yourself will change anything? Pathetic. You lie and kill in the service of liars and killers. You pretend to be separate, to have your own code, something that makes up for the horrors, but they are part of you and they will never go away.”

He's talking about himself again. 🥺

For some reason, this book skips right over the part where Loki threatens both Barton's and Natasha's lives. Not sure why; the author clearly has no problem depicting Loki as an unhinged psychopath most of the time. Oh well, whatevs.

Loki couldn’t understand how she had gathered her composure so quickly—and then he did understand. She was a superb actress! Or not even an actress, for he could see through a conscious performance. She was something else. She had been broken down and remade so many times, with so many identities, that she could put them on and take them off at will. And Loki had gotten lost in those emotional costume changes.

He had been outwitted by a mortal. Unthinkable.

Yeah, phew, it's a good thing Natasha figured it out in time. Otherwise, something terrible might have happened—like Bruce Hulking out and rampaging through the Helicarrier. Oh, wait...

“I was wrong, Director,” Cap said. “The world hasn’t changed a bit.” He looked angry and disappointed. Captain America was a big believer in shooting straight and telling the truth. He didn’t like spies and he didn’t like lies, and now he saw he was knee-deep in both.

This novel's hero worship of Steve Rogers is going to kill me. 🙄

“I’d like to know why S.H.I.E.L.D. is using the Tesseract to build weapons of mass destruction,” Bruce finished.

“Because of him,” Fury said, pointing at Thor.

“Me?”

“Last year, Earth had a visitor from another planet who had a grudge match that leveled a small town,” Fury said. “We learned that not only are we not alone, but we are hopelessly, hilariously, outgunned.”

Has anyone figured out yet how this line doesn't conflict with Captain Marvel? Is Fury lying to hide her existence for some reason? Or is this just one of those things that we're supposed to shrug and pretend wasn't retconned?

“A nuclear deterrent,” Tony said. “Because that always calms everything right down.”

“Remind me again how you made your fortune, Stark,” Fury said coldly.

On the one hand, yes, good point. But on the other hand, he... stopped making them? So clearly, he no longer thinks they are a good thing?

And also, not to gloss over his past sins, but wasn't Tony born rich? Lol

“I thought humans were more evolved than this,” Thor commented.

Tony turned on Thor. “Excuse me, did we come to your planet and blow stuff up?”

Didn't Fury say this in the movie? Why did the author give the line to Tony instead? There are all these... weird changes in the story that are so minor I have no idea why the author made them. Very confusing.

Just like that, all of them were arguing. Cap and Tony were nose to nose, while Bruce and Natasha fired remarks back and forth. Thor stood off to the side, contempt plain on his face.

'Cause he also thinks he's superior to humans. 🙃

Tony and Cap squared off over an argument that they couldn’t even remember starting. Tony was still mad about the last thing Cap had said to him… whatever it was.

In case there was any doubt about the sceptre being the reason everyone starts losing their shit with one another.

Cap stood his ground. “Big man in a suit of armor. Take that off, what are you?”

Tony had an answer ready for this one. “Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist.”

Hey Steve? You know he invented the suit, right? Like. The suit is literally him.

“Put on the suit,” Cap said. “Let’s go a few rounds.”

Steve putting out big Joe Biden, "listen, fat..." energy here lmao

Thor laughed. “You people are so petty… and tiny.”

Thor, my dude. You literally started a war over being emasculated in front of your friends. I don't think you get to judge other people for being petty.

Fury could see things were spiraling out of control. He started trying to get them all back on track. “Agent Romanoff,” he said, “would you escort Dr. Banner back to—”

“Where?” Bruce interrupted. “My room? You rented my room.”

Nobody had said it out loud, but they all knew the cell currently holding Loki was designed for the Hulk.

What was their plan for containing the Hulk if necessary after sticking Loki in his cage, anyway? Did they even have one?

“Dr. Banner,” Cap said. “Put down the scepter.”

Bruce looked down. He hadn’t even known he’d picked it up.

Why does that sound familiar...?

Even though he could see what was going on, the hostility in the air was still thick enough that Bruce didn’t know whether he could back everyone down… or whether he could back himself down. He could feel tension rising inside him. He could feel the monster trying to get loose.

And yet none of them so much as considers the idea that the sceptre might be having a similar effect on Loki? Ok then.

But even though he was now refocused on the mission, the others still bickered. Loki had gotten into their heads, sowing discord and setting them against each other.

lmao I'd just like to note that Loki didn't actually do anything. This was all them and the effects of just being near the sceptre. #ThanksLoki

“The Tesseract belongs to Asgard,” Thor said.

Why, though?

“I’ll go after it,” Tony said.

“No you don’t,” Cap said, stepping into his way. He wasn’t ready to forget the way Tony had insulted him.

Ok, first of all, you started it. But also, seriously, Steve, that's your number one priority right now? Earth's mightiest heroes, ladies and gentlemen... lol

I have apparently managed to hit the paragraph limit, so we'll return after this short break, I guess. 🙈

↪️ On to Part Two

#there is a lot of salt here please remember to drink plenty of water #loki meta #loki #thor #tony stark #steve rogers #bruce banner #natasha romanoff #clint barton #nick fury #avengers assemble #mcu #phase one: avengers #thor critical

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