#(vaguely in Vendetta but not really)
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Tabled 3
Hello yet again, @barbarawar ! I swear I’m not dragging this @b-and-w-holiday-gift-exchange out on purpose—the thing is, I always think, “This will be the time I make these loons get it together with reasonable speed,” but I’m (almost) always wrong. This third part follows part 1, in which Myka met Helena for that Boone-mentioned coffee and suffered its consequences, and part 2, in which more coffee caused her to suffer more consequences, leading her to decided that the only way to mitigate the suffering was to cut Helena out of her life, choosing to do so on a busy concourse in Chicago’s O’Hare Airport. Helena for some reason (tragicomedy?) responded to this idea by dousing Myka in coffee.
Anyway, this third part will in turn be followed by at least one more part, because god forbid they work anything out unwordily. (In semi-positive news, I don’t think this will extend to the seven-part opus I inflicted on my poor giftee last year.) (However: I should acknowledge also that, unlike the book Myka consults in this story, I can’t predict the future.)
Tabled 3
Myka’s head tilts down again, involuntarily, to behold her now coffee-stained shirt. Just as involuntarily, she then raises her head, and, yes, Helena’s still looking like she’s proud of herself. Proud and calm and at peace. Myka voices the bafflement in her head: “You... what did you do?”
Helena’s expression doesn’t change. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Obvious? Yes? “You threw your coffee at me?” Obvious but incomprehensible? “You threw your coffee at me... on purpose?”
“Yes,” Helena says, like it’s an accomplishment. “I can do that. I’m not a hologram.”
That’s true, and... good? Important? But... “But you ruined my shirt,” Myka says, which is objectively a fact. Even though the fact makes no sense.
Helena offers a tiny shrug. “So take it off.”
At that, Myka hardens: You don’t get to say things like that to me! she wants to yell. She settles for demanding, “Are you insane?” As the words leave her, she feels their carelessness. But they had come in response to the extremity of the situation, and that was all Helena’s doing. Your fault not mine, Myka thinks, in mulish self-defense.
Instead of objecting, Helena blinks a slow, condescending blink—a blink of I know you know better—and says, “The answer to that question depends entirely upon whom you ask.”
Nobody better ask me. Not right now. Reassembling her outrage, vowing not to fall victim to any impulse to protect Helena (from careless words or herself or anything else), Myka sputters, “I have to get back on a plane!”
Helena gestures, lazily, at the disaster she caused. “In that ruined shirt?” she says, now with a tsk-tsk, as if Myka is the one whose actions are inexplicable, given that they’ve landed her in this unfortunate situation.
“I loved this shirt,” Myka says, and it’s an embarrassingly, tellingly true statement... why did she let it escape? She’s wearing the shirt because of that love, which she feels because it enhances the green of her eyes in a very particular way, a way she has all along admitted to herself she’s hoped Helena would notice: notice and... maybe... regret the loss of.
But choosing to wear it was, she sees, yet another blunder, because of course she’s now the one doing the regretting. Of course she is.
“Did you?” Helena says, with one of those maybe-I’m-just-vain head tosses. It displays her neck. It’s probably intended to display her neck. “More so now.” She follows that with the challenge of a trickster eyebrow-lift.
Myka wants to strangle her, for all the reasons but mostly because she isn’t wrong. Because this shirt, even if the stain washes out, will always now be this shirt. Particularly if the stain washes out: if Myka wears this shirt, or even considers wearing it, on some eventual, otherwise unremarkable day, the this shirt of it will occupy her thoughts.
Hey book, she thinks in the direction of South Dakota. Look at me, predicting a future I didn’t see before today.
Calmly, now, she gazes at that future. She can live with this unspooling, because being reminded of Helena, having to process nostalgia, is something she knows how to handle. So many things in the course of a normal day spark a similar memory walk, and she imagines—no, she sees—that they always will.
That retrieval will always be that retrieval—matteringly large. That aisle will always be that aisle, a place of unfinal goodbye. Quietly, in the kitchen, that tea will always be that tea. Et cetera.
This airport, in fact, will now always be this airport.
This shirt will always be this shirt.
She looks down again; the coffee has fully reached her skin, and the entire scene—the increasing damp chill, combined with the initial splash as well as Helena’s words and face and neck and this familiarly angry need to put hands around that neck—it’s awakened her. And it’s awakened them, or Myka’s sense of them, the two of them together, that perfect entity: Wells and Bering, Bering and Wells...
Myka picks up her (surprisingly) unempty cup from the table and removes its lid. She then lifts her eyes to, and her own eyebrow at, Helena, who smirks. Myka tightens, brightens, and she flings her remaining coffee at the pristine, creamy expanse of sweater, surely cashmere, adorning the perfect body across from her. An uncanny joy floods her as the liquid hits—as a stain blooms, marring what was previously flawless. As, even better, Helena’s smirk enlarges into a smile.
But the moment has no chance to resolve, for they’re interrupted: Myka hears a throat-clear from behind her. Helena widens her eyes, then rolls them like some adolescent book-artifact. Myka, unclear on what that reaction says about who the intruder is, turns herself around... ah. An authority figure. A woman whose badge and uniform identify her as airport security.
“Ladies,” that authority says, tired and resigned, as if that Myka and Helena’s little coffee assaults barely even rank for her as inappropriate behavior but she supposes she’d better intervene before some overvigilant busybody attacks her for not doing what they see as her job.
“I’m sorry,” Myka starts, but that’s a knee-jerk remnant of table-lying. Or, no: hiding. In any case, she’s not sorry. Not at all. She closes her mouth.
“Ladies,” the careworn agent says again. “This is not the way.”
Not what Myka expected to hear. She swallows a laugh at how the words sound like advice from a parallel universe—one in which she and Helena are in couples therapy. The laugh tastes of regret.
Helena shakes her head. She says, with seriousness, as if the agent’s words were what she expected to hear (as if that parallel universe were this one): “I assure you, this is the way.”
And Myka can’t help but confirm, as she suspects she would in that other universe as well, “The only way.”
To that, Helena offers a beautiful, open affirmation: a soft-eyed, beneficent nod.
Wells and Bering. Bering and Wells.
The agent gives them her own eyebrow—pretty effective as chastisement, as far as Myka’s concerned—then makes them show her both their cups, ascertaining their emptiness. She says, again, “Ladies,” cautionary but also long-suffering, like she’s seen this exact scenario play out too many times. Myka finds her jaded view comforting: she and Helena aren’t singular. This isn’t once-in-a-lifetime; it’s over and over in everybody’s lifetimes.
The agent takes her leave, but she stations herself only a gate and a half away, communicating quite clearly that Myka and Helena—Wells and Bering, Bering and Wells—can’t be trusted.
Well. That’s certainly true.
Focused on each other again, they breathe and look for a little. The respite is heavenly. Myka stands in her coffee-spoiled shirt, looking at Helena in her similarly marred sweater. It’s the least complicated span of time she’s enjoyed in months. No: years. She is regarding someone, a non-hologram someone, she wants to regard, at momentary peace, with the next moment (at the very least, the next moment) undetermined.
“I’m so very relieved to have passed inspection,” Helena eventually says, breaking it.
The fracture threatens to let the complications back in, but Myka resists. “You know she’ll be watching to make sure we don’t go back to Starbucks for refills. Or even to a water fountain.”
Helena smiles. Myka feels no need, in that moment, to spare a thought for what the renewed winch of circumstance will bring. Their accord, in that moment, is full. It’s them.
Them, full, beautiful, but it’s not for keeping. This is one last hurrah of their beautiful connection—and it does warm her that Helena would take such drastic, security-attracting action to resurrect the feeling, to call it back into being, as this coda.
That’s all it is, though, for there is Giselle. And there is Pete.
Myka looks, one more time, down at her shirt: ruined. Up at Helena’s sweater: ruined too. Then she says it aloud, what she knows, in the wake of all the destruction: “It’s the end.” Then, because they might as well rule the day, she lists the proximate reasons: “There’s Giselle, and there’s Pete.”
“No there isn’t,” Helena says, enviably serene.
Also obstinate. Myka supposes she should have expected that. “Yes there is. I won’t tell you again.”
Helena’s eyeroll now is no less exaggerated than the one she produced in response to the agent. “Won’t you? Thank god for that. However, my disbelief regarding ‘you and Pete’ aside, my meaning is that there is no Giselle.”
Hope is a muscle, according to cliché. If that’s true, Myka’s will one day blessedly atrophy, for it will no longer be subjected to Helena saying things that make it expand. “You broke up?” she asks, unable to control a traitorous tremor.
Helena purses her lips. It’s distracting. “I should say yes,” she offers.
What does that mean? As Myka wonders, she watches Helena fidget: she has her cup in her hand again, and she’s picking at the label, which refuses to come free. Myka waits out the struggle, until Helena finally abandons the task and says, “I should, but I’m newly committed to pursuing a policy of truth. And the truth is, there is no Giselle. There never was.”
An involuntary “what” escapes Myka’s mouth. It isn’t really a word; rather, it’s her placeholder when she has no coherent response to... anything.
“I made her up,” Helena adds, unhelpfully.
“What,” Myka says again, low and quiet, and this time it’s holding the place of—holding her back from—a scream.
“In that coffeeshop in South Dakota,” Helena says.
Myka registers that she’s touching her wet shirt, wrapping her arms around it, seeking protection from... this. She removes her arms and thinks herself down: What is a rational response? She turns to a nitpick. “That’s... when. When you made her up.”
“Yes,” Helena says.
“But why. Why.” Myka’s arms want to move again, and she doesn’t stop them. They press her shirt cold against her. Cold, so cold.
Helena delivers yet another infuriating shrug as she says, “You wouldn’t connect.”
“I wouldn’t connect.” Nightmare, nightmare. Myka is slogging through a cold, wet nightmare: the dream-logic of it, of Helena saying that Myka did what Helena actually did, makes that so, so obvious. But obvious also is that it isn’t a dream; Myka is awake and confused and if she could just go to sleep maybe everything would be put back where it belongs, but probably not, because her shirt is coffee-sticky and she is tripping, falling, drowning, all these but awake, awake and still stupidly willing to partake of hope, that drug she will never, ever be able to kick.
“I said there was someone else,” Helena says, schoolmarm-severe.
How dare she. “I know. I was there.”
Helena does dare: she dares to look wounded. “Yes, you were. And yet you weren’t, in that you so obviously, so coldly, refused to entertain the possibility that ‘someone else’ might be you. Given that, I had to protect myself.”
Myka had thought it a nightmare only seconds ago—she’d had no idea how much worse it could get. She can’t in any way process that “might be you,” and certainly not followed by the “given that.” The consequences. She can’t. She forces out, irrelevantly, “So you made up your ‘new’ girlfriend right on the spot?”
“Yes. I suppose I took some perverse pride in being able to do so.”
Of course she did. It’s exhausting. “On the spot, you made up someone named Giselle?” Myka is offended by how... believable this is. How if this thing had happened—as apparently it had—this was its necessarily, entirely credible form.
“What?” Helena says, in that familiar there is no reasonable basis for your skepticism tone. “It’s a name.”
“But that’s the name you came up with?” Myka pushes, knowing she’s pushing—seizing on it as exemplifying the absurdity, as if by forcing Helena to make sense of that, she can make everything else fall into place.
Helena’s slight hand-wave isn’t a shrug, but it’s even more infuriating in its dismissiveness. “On the flight to South Dakota I may have read an article about the ballet.”
That’s “making sense,” in a very Helena way, but it sure doesn’t help. “Thanks, ballet,” Myka snarks.
“Does the name matter so much?”
“I told it to people.” And the people she told it to remembered it, because it was memorable. She’d been subjected more than once to Pete “joking” about Helena and her fancy French girlfriend. It had been awful.
“To people at the Warehouse,” Helena guesses. Presses.
Myka isn’t prepared to acknowledge that pain, not here, not now. “To my sister,” she says, because that is true, and, thank god, less painful.
“You told the name of my supposed girlfriend to your sister,” says Helena, not as a question, but with wonder.
Myka had. In a vague “someone I know” sense, in the context of supporting a contention that it was just fine for people to love who they love, and Tracy had been thrilled to connect it to ballet, so obviously everything was a stupid circle. “What does that matter?” she demands, though she has no right to be so defensive; she brought up that telling. Why had she? As a way of pushing the case for Helena’s wrongness in being so misleading... but Myka is now exposed as being overly invested in speaking about Helena... which she is, but... this is all going completely wrong again.
“You spoke of me outside the Warehouse.” Still with that tinge of wonder.
Myka has no way to counter that. Helena’s right about its significance. Myka sometimes finds herself desperate to speak of Helena, simply to savor the saying of her name, and when Steve or Claudia isn’t available or willing to indulge her, she calls Tracy. She tries a shuffle to the side: “I thought it was important. To you, I mean.” That’s a feint. “And I tell my sister about important things.”
“Such as your relationship with Pete?” That’s a taunt. Helena’s the one pushing now.
Myka wishes she could yield.... fall over, soft and easy, and let Helena win. Instead, what emerges from her mouth is an unhelpfully true “Not yet.” Helena smiles, and it’s mean, so Myka follows up with, “At least she’ll believe me when I do. She’s been on that team for a long time.” Now Helena squints. “The ‘men and women can’t be friends’ team,” Myka explains. “You know.”
“I don’t know,” Helena says.
History. Helena has offered a similar deadpan response, with that same dry emphasis on the “don’t,” just about every time Myka has said “you know” like this to her, and Myka used to find it charming. But she doesn’t want to start remembering patterns. Falling back into them. Not when she knows she’ll have to break them again. So she treats Helena’s objection as entirely literal, saying a pedantic, “Men and women can’t be friends without romance getting in the way.”
Helena literally turns up her nose as she says, “The grounds upon which to object to such an asinine generalization are many and varied.” Her upper lip then drifts in the direction of a sneer. “But you know that perfectly well. You know also that it doesn’t apply to you and Pete.”
“It does,” Myka says. It sounds pathetically petulant: an adolescent’s objection to a more-mature figure’s knowing judgment. Great. Now she’s the one aping the artifact-book.
“It does not. You are friends.”
“And then romance—”
“Got in the way? No.”
“Yes.” Myka hears herself say the word, knows it is yet more artifact-book puerility.
“Got in the way? No,” Helena says again, as if repetition is all that’s needed to cancel out Myka’s objection. Myka tries not to concede, even internally, that that might be true. “Occurred at all? No to that as well.”
“Yes it did! Stop making me say it!” Why can’t she just let this be? Myka let her be, back in Boone.
“If it had in fact occurred, you would be delighted to say it!”
That’s so true that Myka desperately wishes she could throw more coffee, or something heavier and more damaging, to get Helena to shut up. “Stop it!” she shouts, knowing that those words have no weight, that they won’t damage.
Surprisingly, Helena does stop it, and the pause rings in Myka’s ears, making her aware of how loud their voices have become. She dares a look around: passersby don’t seem to care, but the agent has turned to look at them disapprovingly again; she’s shifting her weight from foot to foot, most likely preparatory to drifting with intent in their direction.
Helena copies Myka’s gaze, then grimaces. “I don’t wish to be placed under arrest,” she says.
“I don’t think she’d do that. Maybe she can mediate.” The alternate-universe-couples-therapy theory certainly suggests that’s within the realm of possibility.
“I don’t wish to share our discussion with her either.”
Myka knows she shouldn’t ask what seems obvious. Knows, knows, knows. But she asks anyway. “What do you wish?”
Helena inhales and exhales, once and then twice, her shoulders and chest rising and falling, rising and falling—clearly she’s considering, and abandoning, a series of possible responses.
At last, she produces words: “To continue to speak together.”
Myka’s plane doesn’t board for another hour and a half. She can grant this wish. She says, “If we can just keep the noise level down—”
“In private,” Helena says.
“We’re in an airport.” Myka spends so much time in airports. They are so unprivate.
Helena swivels her neck around, as if seeking to confirm Myka’s statement for herself, then focuses on Myka again. She holds that focus, for one beat then two, and this time she obviously already has an answer in mind; she’s trying to pique Myka’s curiosity. Of course it’s working. If Myka could put her hands on that neck and be assured of forcing words from that intentionally withholding mouth, she’d do it.
But she stills her wishing hands, and at last, Helena relents. “An airport, yes,” she says. “But one that houses a hotel.”
Which brings Myka up short. It also opens a chasm. She entertains, for one morally evacuated second, the idea of being in a hotel room with Helena—and, worse, of doing what people do in hotel rooms with Helena. Then she snaps her spine back into place and says, “Absolutely not.”
“For privacy,” Helena says. “Nothing more. I swear it.”
Myka knows what being manipulated by Helena feels like. This... isn’t that. Or at least, it isn’t a “doing what people do in hotel rooms” sort of that. “Privacy,” she echoes.
“Do you dispute the notion that we have more to say to each other?”
In so many parts of the past, Myka’s answer to that would have been an immediate “no.” Now, she pretends she has to think about it—but Helena most likely knows it’s a pointless pretense. Myka gives up and says “no” out loud.
“And would it not be better, in saying that more, to say it freely?”
The answer to that is less clear-cut, despite what Myka would love to believe is sincerity in Helena’s eyes and voice. She would love to believe it. So much... so does that mean she should say no?
As she thinks about it, however, this has all the hallmarks of being another blunder. As foretold by the book. And really, who is she to think she knows better than a predictive artifact?
“Okay,” she says. “Hotel.”
TBC
#bering and wells#Warehouse 13#fanfic#Tabled#B&W holiday gift exchange#part 3#barbarawar#one B&W-interaction possibility of which the show cruelly deprived us#intentionally or otherwise#was how they might have behaved together in actual privacy#(I mean this mostly in a nonprurient sense)#I don't believe we ever witnessed that#(vaguely in Vendetta but not really)#(vaguely in Buried but not really)#although I could be misremembering#as the show itself has for me over time resolved into a series of peaks of beauty#punctuated by shovel-blows to the head#or maybe it's the other way around#anyway I'm saying my mental files are kind of corrupted
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I would've not been so upset about the whole Leon simping over Ada issue on RE6 if Capcom had given us at least some resolution to their decade-long cat and mouse game. If you're gonna center the narrative on Aeon, give us *something* new. But we got nothing. Like what was the point. Same old vague bullshit and Ada leaving and Leon being all aDaAA 😣 exhausting
I swear to god, sometimes I feel like I'm taking crazy pills.
It was resolved.
At this point in the game, Leon is legally dead. Helena gives him the opportunity here to finally escape his hellhole of a life and disappear with Ada.
And he says no. He says no because he realizes, in that moment, that he never really knew Ada at all.
For the entire series, Leon's taken Ada's help and presence for granted, but RE6 makes him realize that he never took the time to wonder why she did that. He assumed it was because they had some kind of special connection, but Simmons is proof that Ada creates "special connections" with whoever's most useful to her at the time.
In the past, her "special connection" was with Wesker, and OG Leon knows this. Now it's Simmons. And he's standing here, at the end of RE6, wondering why she works for those guys and strings them along, only to then turn around and help him when the rubber hits the road.
He asks the question, realizing he doesn't have an answer. He doesn't have an answer, because he doesn't know her.
And Ada has no interest in giving him the answer or being pursued by him, either.
So, in the one singular moment in this entire franchise where Leon and Ada have the chance to finally run away together and be together, they both look at each other and say "no."
That was the point.
The will they/won't they question was answered, and the answer is: they won't.
At the end of the day, their relationship is a professional one. The pretenses of love between them are gone. Their shared arc has reached a conclusion.
That
was the point.
And that is why Ada's been absent from ID, Vendetta, and DI -- and why she was originally planned to be in RE8. Her story with Leon is over. The two of them are now free to pursue independent storylines, even if they do still wind up running into each other again in the future -- they won't be beholden to each other the same way.
And that was the point.
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North and South
part two
pairing: zuko x princess!reader
notes: part two is here! again, there’s some notable changes from the comics to fit Princess into the story but i think it works! hope you guys enjoy :)
summary: team Avatar is together again, but Galik’s vendetta against the Northerners prevents them from enjoying their time at the festival
~ part of the fire lilies series ~
Hakoda and Malina are waiting outside the palace for you when you finally return from your talk with Katara. Both look eager to speak to you, and you’re not sure if that’s a good sign or a bad one. The trio had been vague when requesting your presence for an impromptu meeting, so you weren’t exactly sure what they wished to discuss with you, but if you had to guess you’d assume it has something to do with the oil refinery they wish to build.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with us at such short notice,” Malina professes earnestly as the two escort you to your office. “I know how busy you must be what with the festival being tonight.”
“It’s not a problem at all. I always look forward to hearing new ideas for the improvement of our tribe,” you assure her with a shake of your head. “But I do have to ask, what exactly are you hoping to discuss with me?”
“You said you wanted proof that the construction of the oil refinery would be in the tribe’s best interest,” Hakoda notes thoughtfully as the three of you finally reach your office. “Well, Maliq and Malina managed to bring the proof to you.”
You furrow your brows in uncertainty at his words and open your mouth to ask just what exactly he means by that, but your is question answered when the doors of your office are finally opened. In the center of the room stands Maliq with a content smile on his face, and beside him stands none other than the Blind Bandit herself.
“Toph!” You exclaim in surprise before rushing forward to envelope her in a tight hug. “Oh, it’s so good to see you!”
“I’d say the same thing if I could see,” she notes with a humorous grin. “Nice to know you missed me, your highness.”
“Of course I did! It’s been much too long.”
“Wouldn’t have been so long if you’d told me about that assassination attempt,” she notes wryly before giving you a harsh punch to the arm. “I would have kicked that guy’s butt in an instant if you’d asked.”
“Yeah, my mistake,” you note sheepishly, rubbing the tender spot on your arm from her punch. “What brings you here now?”
“We thought it would be best if you heard from a representative of a successful oil refinery yourself to see just how impactful this project could be for the South,” Maliq answers on Toph’s behalf.
“Representative? I’m an executive partner now!” The girl corrects with a hint of annoyance in her tone.
“Miss Beifong here oversees Earthern Fire Industries and has offered to supply us with the materials needed to extract the oil and build the refinery,” Malina explains animatedly.
“Wait a minute, how are you being offered supplies for a project that doesn’t exist yet?” You retort with a raised brow, looking at the two siblings expectantly. Malina turns meek under your gaze, but Maliq doesn’t seem to have a care about being caught in the lie.
“We may have bent the truth to get Miss Beifong to come here today,” he admits with a shrug. “But does it really matter? Now that she’s here she can tell you all about the success her refinery has had and how important such a project will be here in the South! We figured if you wouldn’t listen to us, maybe you’d listen to a trusted friend.”
“Going behind my back for something like this is unacceptable,” you scold firmly, doing your best to keep your anger at bay. “You have no right to make these types of decisions without my approval. I am Chief, and you two are visitors. Don’t forget that.”
Maliq is stunned by your words, obviously not expecting this type of response from you. He thought you were smart enough to understand how big this project could be, how desperately your people needed something like this. Why were you being so naive?
“I’m sorry, y/n, I didn’t know this was an ambush,” Toph repents, awkwardly grasping at the back of her neck. “As much as I love Malina and Maliq’s work, I wouldn’t have come if I’d known you weren’t onboard.”
“You’re making a mistake!” Maliq tries to argue. “You need to stop seeing things through such a Southern lens and look at the bigger picture here!”
“Southern lens?” You retort in offense. Malina picks up on your displeased tone and quickly steps in for her brother.
“You’re right, we shouldn’t have overstepped,” she apologizes on his behalf. “We just want to do all we can to help lift up the South.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but if you keep going behind my back then I won’t be needing your help any longer,” you warn before turning your disappointed gaze to Hakoda. “I appreciate all you’ve done and all you’re doing as advisor, but this cannot happen again.
“Understood, Chief. We shouldn’t have lied to you,” he repents with a sigh. "Perhaps we just got a little carried away.”
“I don’t want to hear anymore about this oil refinery,” you say with finality before turning to Toph. “I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing, but I hope you’ll stay for the festivities taking place tonight in honor of Sokka and Katara’s return home.”
“Free food and games? I’m in,” the girl replies with a grin.
You’re able to say nothing more as a knock on the door interrupts your conversation. All heads turn to the doorway where your mother steps in, a sheepish smile on her face.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” she apologizes bashfully, “but Chief y/n is needed in the courtyard.”
“No, of course not, mother. Our conversation is over,” you tell her, giving the group a pointed look. “Hakoda, could you please take Toph to Sokka and Katara? They can get her situated while I’m gone.”
After giving your orders, you follow your mother out of the office and into palace hallways towards the front doors. “What needs my attention?”
“You have a visitor is all,” she notes with a giddy smile. “They requested your immediate presence.”
“It better not be another representative,” you grumble irately. You’re still frustrated over the fact that you were lied to by your advisor and that the siblings had tried to go behind your back with their project, but the feeling doesn’t last long when you see who’s standing outside the palace doors.
Bouquet of fire lilies in hand and a tender smile on his face, Zuko immediately opens his arms for you to throw yourself into his embrace. He’s impossibly warm and his hold on your figure is impossibly tight as he hugs you close to his chest.
“Zuko, you made it!” You exclaim, escaping his hold to cup his face in your hands and pull him down to meet your lips in a kiss.
“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” he replies breathlessly after breaking your kiss. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”
“Definitely not as much as I’ve missed you,” you argue with a careful smile, your face growing warm as he hands you the bouquet of flowers before pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek.
“Thank you for hosting me and allowing me to stay in your home,” Zuko says to your mother, bowing in respect to the woman.
“After all you’ve done for my daughter? It’s the least I can do,” she smiles with a passive wave of her hand. Then, looking to you, she says, “I’m going back to the square to finish setting up for the festival. I’ll see you two there.”
Now alone, you eagerly take Zuko’s hand in your own and practically drag him back into the palace.
“Oh, I have the perfect outfit picked for you to wear to the festival tonight!” You exclaim elatedly while Zuko struggles to match your pace. With your back turned to him, you don’t see the way he looks at you as if you hang all the stars in the sky.
It’s good to be back.
~~~
Despite the celebration being held in honor of Sokka and Katara’s return home, you haven’t seen much of the siblings since the start of the festival. You remain glued to Zuko’s side as you stroll through the square and admire all the work that went into putting the festivities together.
“You certainly outdid yourself,” Zuko compliments with a faint smile as he watches a group of children play ring toss in hopes of winning the giant stuffed koala otter on display. The South is warm and full of life, so different from what Zuko was used to, but he enjoyed it all the same. It felt nice to finally spend time with you without having to worry about his sister or his father or any other nonsense that often got in the way of your peaceful life together.
“You don’t think it’s too much?” You ask with a sheepish laugh. “I wanted Sokka and Katara to feel appreciated, but I also just wanted to give my people the chance to have fun for a night and not have to worry about any of their troubles.”
“You’re a wonderful leader, and the South is lucky to have you,” Zuko compliments before giving you an affectionate kunik.
“Y/n!” A voice interrupts. Aang and Katara walk arm-in-arm towards you, and everything finally feels complete when the Avatar greets you with a hug.
“Aang, it’s so good to see you! I’m glad you could make it,” you express earnestly. “I was worried my invitation might have gotten lost before it could reach you.”
“It’s nice to be back in the South,” he sighs happily. “Everything looks great!”
“Everything tastes great, too!” Sokka adds as he and Toph join your group. He holds multiple skewers of meat and passes one off to you and Zuko while Toph trails behind holding a plethora of stuffed animals. “Isn’t this amazing?! Team Avatar back together again!”
“It certainly does feel like old times,” you note wistfully as you think back to your time during the war- how things have changed. “I want to thank you all again for being here, you have no idea how much this means to me.”
“We’ll always be here,” Katara says with a warm smile. “No matter what.”
“Y/n,” your mother calls from across the way, interrupting your little reunion. “It’s time for your speech!”
“Oh, of course. Sokka, Katara, come with me,” you tell the siblings, giving them no time to argue as you take each of their hands and escort them to the front.
Using your bending, you send a blast of ice into the air that erupts into a flurry of tiny snowflakes. The act catches the attention of your people, and they watch in awe as the snow begins to fall over the festival.
“People of the Southern Water Tribe, it is my great honor to have you here tonight to celebrate the return of our heroes Sokka and Katara!” You announce, earning an eruption of cheers and applause for your friends. “It is because of their bravery and sacrifice that I stand here before you today. Our tribe took a hard hit during the war, but we’ve persevered and come back even stronger! Every day that passes brings the Southern Water Tribe into a new era of strength and hope. At this time I’d like to take this moment to also thank our Reconstruction team Malina and Maliq for their help in our rebuilding process. I have great hope we can accomplish great things with the help of our sister tribe, and I’d just like to say that-“
“-Everybody needs to get out of here now!” Toph interrupts frantically as the ground begins to shake beneath you. Panicked gasps and murmurs spread throughout the crowd as you try to gain your bearings only to falter at the sight of the giant drill that emerges from beneath the ground. Your people have scattered away in search of safety, and you’re left standing horrified at the display.
At the top of the drill stands Galik, surrounded by fellow warriors with their battle regalia on and weapons at the ready. His features are angry, his eyes dead set on the Northern siblings as he begins his rant.
“Brothers and sisters, I am Galik of the Southern Water Tribe!” He proclaims. “I am your warrior, your blood, your true brother. So believe me when I say that those scoundrels from our so-called “sister tribe” are not here to help us! They are here to subjugate and humiliate us!”
“Galik, what is the meaning of this?!” You demand harshly as you approach the man despite Sokka’s warning voice begging you to stay put. Zuko watches on anxiously from the sidelines without making a move; he doesn’t want to interfere in water tribe business, but he’s prepared to do what he must to protect you if anyone so much as raises a hand towards you.
“I am sorry to ruin your celebration, Chief y/n. I know you had good intentions when inviting these outsiders into our home, but we can no longer stand by and watch them take advantage of your trusting nature. They tend to strip our land of its oil and destroy everything we’ve worked to build!”
“That oil will bring prosperity to your people!” Malina tries to argue. “These plans are for the benefit of the South!”
“Those plans,” you correct firmly, shooting a harsh glare at Malina, “no longer exist. I shut them down, Galik. No one is taking our oil.”
“So you think,” Galik corrects before producing Maliq’s missing briefcase. “Those foreigners plan to claim our oil for themselves! They plan to colonize our tribe, to have our Chief step down from her duties and allow the North to take control!”
“What? That can’t be true!” You cry indignantly before looking towards Malina. The woman doesn’t meet your eye, and slowly you feel the disappointment begin to rise within you. “Can it?”
“It was true,” she murmurs shamefully. “We never used the words colony or colonize, but we worried that the South wasn’t ready to handle such important resources. We worried that such a young girl wasn’t fit to rebuild an entire tribe.”
“And we were right,” Maliq butts in harshly much to his sister’s dismay.
“No we weren’t! We realized we were wrong and decided to abandon our original plans!”
“No, you decided! I never agreed to a change of plans!” Her brother lashes out before angrily pointing a finger at you. “Your Chief is too stuck in the past to move forward into the future! She can’t handle such a big responsibility, none of you can!”
“That is enough!” You try to interrupt only for his construction crew to block your path. Zuko is by your side in an instant, taking their transgression as his cue to step in.
“Watch it,” he warns them lowly, his eyes blazing with fierce protectiveness for his Princess.
“We’re building that refinery with or without your permission, and once that oil is out of the ground it will be under Northern control!” Maliq declares much to his sister’s trepidation.
“See how they disrespect our Chief?!” Galik counters to the group of onlookers that watch the scene unfold. “Our blood and sacrifice kept them safe during the war, and as if that wasn’t enough, now they want our oil! They want our home! They’ve wormed their way into our affairs like parasites, feeding off of our land for their own benefit! Hakoda has abused his position as advisor and led us astray. I’m sure he’s conspiring with them to take the throne for himself much like that traitor Koa tried to do!”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Sokka cries angrily from the crowd. “Our father would never approve of this!”
“Hakoda is too much of a coward to stand up to his own Chief!” Maliq asserts before turning his critical eyes back to you. “But I’m not. I expected better from a Princess, a girl who’s traveled the world and seen for herself the success of other nations, but I guess you really are just a Southerner after all. You can’t be trusted to know what’s best for anyone, and that’s why the South needs the oversight of an actual civilization!”
“The South needs you to leave! Immediately,” you proclaim harshly, staring down the man until he finally backs off. The air is thick with tension after Maliq’s outburst, and no one knows just what to do or say. Finally, Galik interrupts the silence.
“Your kind heart fails you again, y/n,” he says with a shake of his head and a menacing tone. “After all they’ve done, they don’t just get to leave.”
“For the tribe!” He and his warriors cry before charging at the siblings.
“Quick, we have to help them!” You urge Zuko before discarding your parka to allow you a greater range of motion to bend.
“After everything they’ve done?! He completely disrespected you!” The Fire Lord adduces.
“That doesn’t mean they deserve to be killed!”
You quickly use your bending to procure a wall of ice to block the group from reaching the siblings. You catch Aang and Katara in your peripheral fighting off Galik’s men while Sokka and Toph attempt to crowd control, and beside you Zuko shoots blasts of flames to ward off the attackers.
Suddenly, a heap of rock knocks your feet out from under you and sends you sprawling into the snow after colliding into your figure. You’d been so engrossed in warding off Galik’s men that you hadn’t even noticed Maliq and Malina’s crew sneaking up behind you.
“Don’t hurt her!” Malina protests only for one of them to dismiss her concerns.
“If she was such a “big and powerful” Chief she would have been able to defend herself,” the earth bender argues. “She’s nothing but a Southern bender.”
A ball of fire is suddenly shot in his direction and the quickly man ducks to the ground in fear. Peering up from the snow, Zuko towers over the man menacingly with his hand ready to strike. “Want to say that again?”
“H-Hey, it was just a joke! Honest! She’s a really good water bender!” The man splutters. He screams in terror when another blast is shot his way, but it only lands on the side of him and narrowly misses his head.
“Don’t you forget it.”
While the wind was momentarily knocked out of you from the impact of the rock, you’re quick to recover and get back on your feet to fight. However, you falter at the sight of Galik standing before you. He holds a hand up in surrender to signal he has no intentions of fighting you, and so you do the same.
“This has gotten out of hand, Galik. You need to call off your troops,” you plead breathlessly. “We shouldn’t be fighting.”
“I’ve tried to be patient with you, y/n, but I can only do so much,” the older man admits with a sigh. “They deserve what’s coming to them.”
“I’m just as upset as you are about Maliq’s plan, but this isn’t the way to go. At the end of the day we’re all a family.”
“Family?! Did the Northern scum care when our water benders were desecrated by the raiders? Did they care when our Princess was taken from us by the Fire Nation? Did they care when your father lost his life in battle while their Chief got to hide behind a wall of ice? They are not our family, and you need to realize this before it’s too late.”
“If we continue on this way we’ll be proving them right!” You argue desperately. “We’ll only show them that we can’t handle our own affairs! Just stop this and I’ll make it right!”
“It’s much too late for that now, Princess. The situation has gotten out of hand and needs correction. You’ve done all you can to rectify the problem, but your judgement is clouded by your love for the Fire Lord. The ash maker has brainwashed you.”
“How dare you call him that?!” You yell fiercely, your blood boiling at the insult and your patience just about worn thin. “You’re the one that’s brainwashed if you truly believe such crazy conspiracies!”
“It’s not a conspiracy, it’s the truth! How many times have you let foreigners take advantage of you?! You risked your life to save Zuko’s and yet you are the one that carries the scars on your hands! You opened our home to the Northern scum and yet they wish to take the throne away from you! You’ve had your chance to do things your way, but it’s time for me to take over now, Chief.”
You notice his eyes are no longer focused on you but on something behind you, and you immediately react by whirling around and using a water whip to disable your approaching attacker before they can reach you. Your move sends them flying across the courtyard and into a nearby food stand. Guiltily, you make a mental note to pay the owner for the damages your attack has caused.
“Y/n!” Zuko calls as he rushes towards you. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, but Galik got away,” you huff in disappointment. Surveying the area, you notice that both the Northern siblings and your friends are missing from the square. “Where are the others?”
“I’m not sure, but they must have run after him.”
“I’m sorry things always seem to get out of hand when you visit the South,” you say with a demeaned frown. “I promise it’s not always like this.”
“Hey, it’s much better than the stuff I put you through when you visit the Fire Nation,” Zuko jokes in an attempt to lighten the situation. “You handle the stress of being a leader far better than I ever could.”
Smiling faintly, you give his hand a comforting squeeze before urging him out of the square. “Let’s go find Gilak.”
“Chief y/n, you have to come quick!” A guard calls from the distance, alerting you of her presence and interrupting your conversation with Zuko. The next words to come out of her moth are the last words you ever expected to hear, and they fill your stomach with dread when she shouts, “Hakoda’s been stabbed.”
| atla tags: @niktwazny303 @sirkekselord
| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @lora21 @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy
| fire lilies tags: @emberislandplayers @kikaninchen-2 @music-geek19 @thia-aep @thyunnamed @haylaansmi @nataliahaslosthershit @idkdude776 @aangsupremacy @thirstyforsometea @ihaveaproblem98 @brown-eyed-thang @xapham @misnmatchedsox @chewymoustachio @that-bucket-hat-gal @chilifrylizard2 @kyomihann @kaylove12 @kiwihoee @freggietale @moon-spirit-yue @bubblegum-bee-otch @docackerman @rinalsword
#melzula writes#fire lilies#zuko#zuko x reader#zuko imagine#prince zuko x reader#prince zuko imagine#atla#atla x reader#atla imagine#toph#sokka#katara#aang#north and south#avatar the last airbender
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A Canine and His Cat
Yandere Male Dog Hybrid x Feminized Male Cat Hybrid Reader
(CW: Noncon, male reader, feminization, rimjob, scent kink, non-human genitals, stalking, kidnapping, pissmarking (the reader is not scent marked just a building), bullying, general yandere behavior, heat cycles but not a/b/o and no mpreg)
Word Count: 3.1k
(I wrote this between the hours of 11pm and 7am, not beta read, I proofread this to the best of my ability but I am sleepy and dizzy, please excuse any errors, I hope you guys enjoy this and I am sorry for two dog men in a row, but I had the idea of a dog man bully and a cat man victim and had to write it up immediately. Also I purposefully left the yandere’s description vague because I want readers to imagine him however they want, and I thought if he ever gets fanart it would be fun to see what subspecies of dog hybrid readers see him as.)
You did not know why Shale insisted on being so mean to you, he had targeted you from the moment you had first met in college, he was a junior at the time and you had been a sophomore but you still shared a few classes. And he made those classes miserable.
At first you just assumed it was because he was a dog hybrid and you were a cat hybrid, and sometimes there was an instinctual animosity between certain hybrids, but that theory was quickly discredited when you noticed that he was nothing but civil with all the other members of your subspecies.
Whatever the reason for his personal vendetta against you it would not be a problem for too much longer, the end of the year was now approaching and he was now a senior. Which meant you would only have to keep your head down and avoid the brute for a little longer before he graduated and you would never have to see him or deal with any of his bullshit ever again. It was a happy thought.
You had thought your years in university would have been relatively fun, meeting people with new interests, getting to know other students in your field, and taking part in new clubs and hobbies. But for over a year now it seemed that all of your friendships had simply fallen off and faded away, all your applications into clubs were denied, and no one wanted to be associated with you.
The conclusion you came to was that no one wanted to be associated with someone who had drawn the ire of the star basketball player. And while that was part of it the reality was even worse, Shale was using his connections and influence to make sure no club would accept you and he subtly threatened anyone who even seemed like they were starting a friendship with you.
It was not just that people wanted to avoid someone being bullied by him, it was that he was actively ruining your social life. Shale didn’t know why, at first, but he really needed you to be completely disconnected from everyone and everything. After months of tormenting you he realized that wasn’t strictly true, he just needed you completely disconnected from everyone and everything that wasn’t him.
He was going to break you down until you were a lonely little mess that needed him to come in and clean you up. Over the course of your sophomore and junior years he just could not help himself, and he had no desire to either.
Shale never missed a chance to make fun of you in class, and sometimes he made you do his homework. But the most infuriating thing he did was sometimes leave one of his jerseys or jocks in your locker, typically when they were ripe with sweat after he won a big game. How did he even get them in!? You could tell by scent that it was him, but even if you couldn’t he would always remark to you that you shouldn’t throw away his “gift” because once he went pro it would be the most valuable thing you ever owned. Ugh, the arrogance, it made your fur bristle.
And since you lived alone in an extra small apartment reserved for hybrid students that had to deal with heats, as even male cat hybrids did, singling you out outside of classes was all too easy for your tormentor. The infuriating dog man left mocking notes on your door, sometimes he waited in front of your place just to make fun of you directly, and he even fucking piss marked around the entire outside of the building as if it was his property! You could tell immediately who it was by the acrid stench in your sensitive nose.
Of course you filed complaint after complaint, but the college did absolutely nothing, even implying that you were making it up for attention. Of course they did, what did you expect, he was a star athlete that brought them a ton of profit and prestige. Why would they take any action to ruin that just to make one little cat hybrid safe?
At any rate your plan to avoid him and keep to yourself was at least partially working, it helped that you only had one class with him this term, but you interacting with him less made him decide that he needed to escalate things. During your next lab assignment he made SURE that you would have to be partnered with him.
Your class was dismissed and told to find someone to work on an anatomy project with. You had to pick a subject to study, go into great detail about a specific part of its anatomy and physiology, and explain how and why it had evolved that way.
You looked desperately around the large room for any other free classmate, a lifeboat in the rising tide of dread, but everyone else was already partnered up. All you found was Shale looking at you with his trademark smirk.
“Hey, bet you love this chance to hang out with me, don’t you loser?”
The way he looked at you with those red eyes of his made you want to scratch up his face.
“Yeah, it’s my life’s dream to be subjected to more of your bullshit,” you quipped dryly. “I just want to get this over with, when do you want to work on it?”
“Yeah, whatever, I can come by in a couple hours after practice.” He gathered his materials and went on his way. You knew this would be hell for you. But you had no idea how bad things were about to get for you.
Shale had executed his plan well, he could smell you just starting to enter your heat cycle and he knew you would be slightly more vulnerable during this time period. You were not worried about working on the project tonight though because it was only just starting to happen and you would not have to even miss any classes except for a couple days when it was most intense.
You tidied up your tiny apartment and waited for Blockhead to show up, when he did you opened the door and greeted him with all of the enthusiasm of a kid going to the dentist, and let him in. You could immediately tell by his smell that he had not showered after his practice.
“Jeez, why so cold, girly?” He smirked and looked at you with those red eyes of his, happy knowing he got the reaction he wanted as your ears moved back and you shot him a glare.
That was one of your biggest pet peeves and Shale had sniffed it out like the dog he was, despite very clearly being male he always called you a girl. Sure, you were not really strong or masculine, but you definitely did not appear to be a female either.
“I swear to god! Can we please just do this assignment!? Five seconds here and I am already sick of you.” You growled a bit to emphasize you were not happy.
“Damn, fine, you’re really feisty today princess’” You grumbled under your breath as you both took a seat at the table sitting beside one another and got out your laptops to type and research on.
“What do you want to do our assignment on?” You asked, not looking up from your laptop.
“Well, I wanna do our assignment on a cute kitty girl’s heat and see if a dog man can make it progress faster!” He looked at you suggestively.
“Wh-what!? Uh… how would we even do that? I don’t think I want to do a project on th-”
He interrupted your sputtering reply by rubbing his strong hand up your thigh, your face turned beet red and it took you a moment to come to your senses and swat his hand away.
“I know it takes three days for your cycle to start fully, I can always smell it on you even before it really begins, come on kitten, let’s see if we can jump start it~” He reached for you but you pulled away and got out of your chair.
“I-i’m not a cat girl! I am a man, I cannot even have kids! Uh, so we can’t do that project! St-stay away from me!” You backed up until you were up against the wall and you tossed a small vase with a plant in his direction.
He caught it and put it down and chuckled as he stepped forward, “Hey, don’t put yourself down, have you ever tried making babies? We can try real hard right now if you want to~ Even if you can’t there are plenty of women who can’t get knocked up!”
“Uh, I have a dick! I really don’t think trying to get knocked up will help…” You ran and dove past him and made it to the door but he caught you by the legs and carried you to your bed as you kicked and screamed.
“Come on, there's no harm in just trying~ And that’s kinda transphobic baby girl, plenty of girls have dicks. I bet yours is reeeeeally cute~” In Shale’s mind you had to be a girl, because he was so attracted to everything about you from your feisty attitude, to your cute cat ears and tail, even your lovely smell, and he was not attracted to men. So that must mean you were a girl.
You swiped at him with your claws extended, but he easily dodged the swipes then caught your wrists and held them over your head with one hand. The other hand stroked your face tenderly before softly touching your furry ears.
“So soft~ I always knew they would be!” His tail wagged happily as you wiggled and writhed beneath him. “You really need to calm down kitten, because I really want an A+ on this assignment, let’s see if we can get your heat started and whether or not we can grow some pups in that tummy.”
You began screaming and shrieking as loudly as you could before Shale took a shirt that had been lying on your bed and used it to gag you completely. Then he took his pants off and used them to tie your arms up behind your head after he removed your shirt.
Now you could only kick, but after he pulled off your pants and underwear he used more clothing to tie your legs to the bed posts.
“I was right! Your little cock is fucking adorable~” He leaned down and kissed the tip before climbing on top of you and sniffing you thoroughly. His eager nose probed from your underarms to your neck.
“Fuck, you smell so good, you have no idea how long I wanted to enjoy your scent up close.” You tried growling and wiggling in response but he just chuckled, “Haha, are you that needy to have my cock in you? Be patient, I'll get to it!”
You just struggled harder in response, you did not want his dick in you!
Shale got between your legs and stroked your cock a couple times while licking your nuts before putting your entire dick in his mouth and sucking it like it was the most delicious thing in the world. He went back and forth a while between sucking your cock and licking and kissing your balls.
You could not help but to instinctively thrust your hips towards his warm mouth, though you still did not want this by any means. Though Shale definitely took it as a sign that you were starting to become more willing.
Shale decided that before he tried his best to fill you up full of babies he needed to prep you. So he stayed between your legs and started lapping his eager tongue all over your hole. You squirmed in a mix of defiance and pleasure as his talented tongue lapped deeply at your inner walls. He finished by kissing your hole before spitting on it to make sure it was extra wet and ready for his cock.
The horny dog hybrid removed his underwear and you saw his cock bounce free, it was big, red, slimy, and completely unsheathed. He placed the tapered tip at your hole and slowly slid himself inside you, instantly rubbing your prostate and making you jerk and moan in pleasure through the gag.
Shale wanted to hear your moans for himself and he was sure he had jump-started your heat, judging from how warm your insides had gotten and how you had started twitching with pleasure and letting out muffled moans and gasps.
Even if he did not have any of those cues to go off of he could certainly smell that your cycle had rapidly reached a crescendo under his ministrations. He was correct in his prediction that you would not try to scream anymore, it felt so nice to have a cock in you during your heat.
It was by far the most amazing thing you had ever experienced and it was just too easy to succumb to the pleasure Shale was causing you.
As he continued to lose himself in the sensation of your hot insides his knot swole up and tied the two of you together, you were stretched well enough to accommodate it without any pain, but when it rubbed against that special sensitive spot inside of you you saw stars and came all over your belly with a loud moan.
He could feel your entire body shudder around his cock as he kept plowing deeply into your tight ass. You looked up at him with a pouting expression.
“Please let my hands go!” You seemed like you were about to cry and he trusted at this point that you wouldn’t try anything so he untied your arms and you immediately threw your arms around him and clung tightly to him.
Shale managed to then free your legs too and you automatically wrapped your legs around him, your whole body clinging to his as he picked you up and kept breeding you. You were already hard again as Shale battered your prostate.
You were drooling and whining in his arms, desperate for another release, as he bit your neck possessively and left his mark there. You could feel his cock quiver as it started shooting thick cum and filled up your insides.
"Fuck babe, your pussy is amazing, you really thought you weren't a girl when you have a cunt like this?"
Shale sat down with you on the bed, he knew his kitten needed to cum again so he gently rocked his knot back and forth with slow deliberate thrusts inside you while massaging your balls until you hit your second climax.
You were suddenly so tired, it was as if the energy expended during your previous struggles, your rapid progression through your heat cycle, being fucked into oblivion, and cumming so hard was all hitting you at once.
Your lover could see how tired his girl was so he held the back of your head and nestled it into his strong chest until you fell asleep while he waited for his knot to deflate. His heart melted as you began purring while snuggling up to him and he knew that what he was about to do was the right thing.
When you woke up the first thing you noticed was that you were burning up and aroused, right in the middle of your heat. The second thing you noticed was that you were no longer in your apartment, you were on a strange bed in a strange room. Shale must have cleaned you up because there was no trace left on your body of what had happened before you went to sleep.
You noticed that you had been dressed in a short skirt and thigh high stockings and there was a collar on your neck with a little bell on it. It felt like it was made of leather but it was something much more durable and you had no hope of removing it.
When you got out of the bed to look around at your strange surroundings you noticed it was tied to a long cord, it was long enough to let you move about the room, and get to the adjoining room which appeared to be a bathroom, but you could not get near the door.
In the corner of the room you noticed something unsettling, it looked like someone had made a shrine to you, it was covered in really odd photos you had certainly not taken yourself and laid out in front of the photos were some of your personal things. A brush that had gone missing from your apartment, a pair of underwear, some pages from assignments Shale had made you do for him, and a poem you had written that should have been in one of your journals that you liked to write in.
The implication of what someone had to do to get all those things made you uneasy.
You jumped back in fright as you heard someone unlatch the door. Shale walked in with a great big grin on his face.
“Sorry I was late, baby girl, but I had a morning class today!” He came over to you acting as if absolutely nothing was out of place. Like he had not just kidnapped you after fucking you silly.
“What the fuck!? You can’t just keep me here!” You hissed and swiped at him again.
“Awe, calm down kitten, no need to get all angry. It’s just that I am graduating soon and I could not have my girlfriend leaving me so I bought this house with my signing bonus! You can stay here while I finish up classes and after that I will only be gone to do practices and games.” He pulled you close and kissed your forehead.
“If you behave you can even come with me to those too and we never have to be apart. But this cord is staying on until I am sure you will be good to make sure you don’t try to run off.” His tail started wagging at the thought of always having you there with him, his own personal cheerleader spurring him on during every game and practice.
“What about my classes!?” You looked at him with dismay, he was serious, he was really going to keep you here.
“Don’t worry your pretty little head, you don’t need to work, you’ll be my housewife! Now let’s get you to the bed, I can smell that you’re still in heat and I want to make sure your urges are all taken care of.”
With a defeated sigh you let him take you by the hand and lead you to the bed, there was no way you could escape him, so you might as well make the most of it.
#Yandere teratophilia#yandere terato#male yandere x male reader#male yandere#male reader#cat boy reader#dog boy yandere#yandere dog man#My OCs#My OC Shale
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ok this has almost certainly been done before but i have a drabble req for u
leon catching reader touching herself? maybe he got home earlier than planned from a long mission or something just to find his needy gf getting started without him? 🤲🏻🤲🏻
hi hi! thank you for being patient ilysm <3 and i hope this is okay! i was kinda picturing id/vendetta!leon here, older man kink is always thriving xoxo
eighteen plus, mdni !!
reaching your hand out to stretch across the bed, you feel for his blue hoodie, rpd printed across the shoulder and you pull it into your face, nose nuzzling in and searching for the familiar scent you missed so much. the weeks were beginning to drag and the near no-contact you had with the agent was killing you.
you let out a groan as you stretch more, the early sunrise peeking in through the white lace curtains. letting out a shiver, you pull the hoodie over your head, basking in the scent, musk & his favourite aftershave, and a hint of his shampoo on the lining of the hood. there was so much to miss about him. the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the sight of his stomach when he stretched, the feeling of his hands in yours, or on you… in you.
the ache for him was the worst, everlong thoughts of him rocking his fingers in and out of you, absentmindedly, your own hands travel below the sleep shorts you were wearing, fingers tracing along the arousal you found there, how did just the thought of him rouse you up just like that?
you place the hoodie up more, so it covers your nose, inhaling the scent more as your fingers traced further, steady on your swollen clit, letting out a moan, vaguely muffled by the thick material of the rpd wear. your hips rose to meet the pressure and you moved your fingers down to the opening, sliding two fingers gently in, gasping out at the feeling of your own hands, it really had been so long without him. the palm of your hand was rubbing against your clit still as you continue to fuck yourself, whining into the hoodie, missing him more than ever when-
the warm chuckle from the doorway broke your trance, making you jump and gasp in fear.
“oh my baby, did you miss daddy?” spoke leon from the foot of the bed, moving closer, your hand had stilled in your pants, the blush crept up your cheeks but you gushed more just at the sight of him, another moan leaving your lips.
“don’t you just look beautiful?” he moved closer still, hand coming down to rest of your cheeks, “wearing daddy’s clothes, fucking youself for me” he leant down to kiss you, you’d missed him so bad and a tear rolled down your cheek.
“don’t cry baby, go on,” he sat beside you, his hands running up and down your thighs. “been gone so long, missed this fuckin’ pussy” he moves his hand up to rub against your clit, gathering the fluid there before bringing it up to his lips, groaning at the taste, which sent you into a deep blush again.
“lay back baby, gonna treat myself to just what i’ve been missin” he settled between your legs, tongue darting out as your hands gripped his hair roughly.
#leon kennedy smut#leon kennedy imagine#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy#leon scott kennedy#resident evil imagines#resident evil smut#resident evil x reader#leon kennedy x reader#herbs requests
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omg i love your ethan imagines so yk i have to request one!!! a gf!ethan x reader imagine based on the lines, “never was much of a romantic, i could never take the intimacy. and i know i did damage, cause the look in your eyes is killing me” from the song runaway by kayne west? (ignore that its a kayne west song i dont support his actions, and i do love taylor swift lolol) but its an angst where the reader and him are in like a complicated relationship where they both like each other but aren’t dating, and then the reader is their when he reveals himself in act 3? sorry if this request was long lol!! tysm 💖💖
hiii, i love your request and i love writing angst😫 i hope you enjoy it <3
hoax — ethan landry
word count: 1,686
pairing: gf!ethan landry x fem!reader
summary: y/n finds out the boy she loves is behind the killings, and thinks the love they had was a hoax.
warnings: angst. mention of death.
GROWING A LIKING TOWARDS Y/N HAD DEFINITELY NOT BEEN ON ETHAN LANDRY’S PLAN. He never even considered it a possibility, even though her dizzying smile and angelic laugh should’ve been enough warning signs. Ethan really thought it would be easy. Sure, Y/N was indeed super kind and funny—and she was lucky enough to have been out of Woodsboro during the murders, so the Kirsch family didn’t have a vendetta against her—, but the plan was the only thing on his mind so he never gave her a second thought outside of it.
Having juked the roommate lottery, he ended up sharing a dorm with Y/N, which meant spending most of his days with her as she was also his classmate. The plan was just to infiltrate the group through Y/N’s friendship. But her charm was inescapable, and soon enough Ethan’s eyes started to absentmindedly find her, his heart slowly began to pound faster whenever she was around, and his soul itched to maker her laugh, because he had grown addicted to that magical sound.
He didn’t have time to run, because he had fallen for her like an early spring snow—unexpectedly, shockingly but beautifully nonetheless. Y/N had swiftly entered his heart and mind to show him the romantic kind of love he had been missing his whole life.
No, they weren’t officially dating, but they both knew the feelings were reciprocated. They had difficult lives, and they couldn’t commit to a relationship yet. But neither of them minded that much, the mere presence of the other was enough. A simple etiquette wasn’t going to make any difference.
Ethan loved that Y/N wanted nothing from him, unlike his family—especially his dad, who forced him into a dark plan he never asked to be a part of. Ethan loved Richie, that was never in doubt, but he had it coming. His own decisions pushed him to his death. Was that the rest of the family’s destiny too? The thought of it paralysed Ethan, he didn’t want that to be his ending. He was just nineteen, he had a whole life ahead of him. But he also was terrified of hurting and disappointing his dad and sister, who were still a wreck after Richie’s death.
He had an internal war constantly going on inside his head and painted on his face. Y/N had noticed the anguish surrounding the boy for a couple of days now, and it worried her a lot.
“What’s going on in that pretty mind of yours?” she finally asked one day, wrapping his arms around his waist from behind as Ethan washed the dishes.
Her touch was as calming as a lullaby, and it was the only thing that could make him forget about what was going on in his life. “Family issues” he admitted.
“Everything okay?”
He turned around to face her “It’s just… they expect more from me” his answer was vague, but Y/N would never push him to tell her something he wasn’t ready to share. “They want me to focus more on the family business, and at first I was okay with it, but now I’m not so sure that’s what I want for my life.”
“Did you tell them that?” she asked softly.
He shook his head “I don’t want to disappoint them. This business is really really important to them.”
“I can’t tell you what you do, but you do know it’s your life, right? And you shouldn’t let yourself be miserable to keep someone else happy. If they don’t respect your wishes, why should you?”
Ethan hugged her to his chest and wished with all his strength for a future like this—with no revenge plans, with no fear of disappointing anyone, with not having to lie to the person he loved the most in the world. A future with her on his arms, without having to be constantly worried of losing her.
He knew better, but just for a moment, he let himself believe that future was possible. It was a little hoax that allowed him to keep going.
Y/N FELT LIKE HER BODY WAS GOING TO COLLAPSE FROM TIREDNESS AT ANY SECOND. She was exhausted, scared and tired of running for her life. Tara, Sam and Y/N were now cornered by not one, not two but by three Ghostfaces. Her feet hurt almost as much as her soul—they had just lost Chad, and there were no signs of Ethan and Mindy.
“Just quit the drama and show yourselves for fuck sake” Y/N said in irritation.
Officer Bailey looked at her, showing him a smirk she didn’t like at all. It was evil, secretive, the smirk of someone who knew something crucial that she didn’t. “Oh, kid, this is about to get more dramatic. Especially for you.”
When Ethan felt a pat on his chest, he knew it was time. He took off the mask. He had imagined that scene countless times, wondering what Y/N’s face would look like once she knew the truth. Yet no image could have prepared him for the immense amount of pain he was felt when his eyes met hers.
Y/N stood frozen, but her eyes said it all. They spelt betrayal, astonishment and above all, sadness. A hoax, a sleigh of hand, that’s what their bond had been. It had meant everything to her, and was just an strategic move for him. Ethan could read every thought on her mind, and he wanted nothing more than to cradle her into his arms and sweep all those ideas from her mind.
It all happened in a blur—one second her gaze and mind were focused on Ethan and the next one she was being dragged away by him.
“No!” she tried to fight him, her feet tried to stay firm on the ground but his strength was unbeatable. “Ethan, please.”
“I’m moving you to a safe place” he explained in a calm voice. But she didn’t trust him anymore, so fear crept into her body. Was this how she was going to die? At the hands of the boy she loved? “Here.”
The closet was dimly lit and narrow, their bodies were almost pressed against the other. “Let me go.”
“Y/N, it doesn’t matter to them if you had nothing to do with Richie’s death. They are going to kill you, you need to stay here.” he explained desperately.
Y/N’s eyes went to the knife held in his right hand, then she looked down at the stitches on her stomach, and she swore she heard the way her heart shattered like glass. Had Ethan—the one who had kissed the wound better, the one who had held her hand as the nurse stitched her up, the one who whispered reassuring sweet words on her ear as she looked down terrified at all the blood she had lost—been the one who inflicted that very same wound on her?
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what she was wondering, so Ethan grabbed her by the cheeks as if she was the most fragile thing in the world. The terrified look on her eyes didn’t go past him, and it killed him. “No, baby. No. I swear, I didn’t do that to you. I would never hurt you.”
“Don’t call me baby! And don’t you get it? You already did.” her lower lip trembled. The guy who she had trusted with her body and soul, the one that felt like home to her, was the person whom she should’ve been running away from all along. “Was I just some pawn in your game?”
Ethan’s eyes widened “What?”
“Was I just some kind of Trojan’s horse? The girl you used to get inside the group?”
The brunet wanted to say no, but they both knew it would be a lie. “Only at first…” when Y/N hid her face in her hands to sob, he couldn’t help but bring her into his arms. The action destroyed her, because his arms were the place she used to shelter herself in whenever she felt sad. And despite the fact that he was now the one piercing her soul, his embrace still quieted her pain. “But I fell for you, for real, Y/N. I hate myself for bringing you into this mess, you don’t deserve it. You’re… you’re the one who made me feel happy again after everything that happened last year.”
“Fuck you, Ethan. I hate you.” she cried in his chest. Y/N wanted to pull away almost as much as she wanted to lock her arms around his frame forever.
“I know, I’m sorry” he whispered. “I have to go.”
“No. No, please. Don’t leave me here, stay with me.” the panic in her voice was heavy.
“I’m going to come back for you, I promise. Don’t leave unless I come back, okay?”
What if you don’t come back? was the question that lingered on that small room. There was a high chance that he might not see her again, and that this was the last time she would see him alive.
“If you’re not back within ten minutes, I’ll go find you. And you better be alive, Ethan Landry.” the boy smiled, and pressed a short kiss to her lips. “Please come back to me, okay? I love you, please don’t make me live a life without you.”
“I will, Y/N. And then we’ll go home, and cuddle and everything will be okay. I love you.”
But that night, Y/N walked back to the apartment alone, leaving a part of her back in that shrine. She arrived to the place that stopped being a home and became a house instead. She tucked herself to bed and closed her eyes waiting for warm arms to hug her waist, but they never came. Instead, she had to hug the pillow that smelled like citrus—his shampoo—and let the salt tears fall freely.
She’s got a lot to live without now, and she’s never going to meet what a future with Ethan could’ve been. The battle was over, but the worse was yet to come. Now, she had to learn how to be without Ethan.
#ethan landry#jack champion#jack champion x reader#jack champion x y/n#jack champion oneshot#jackchampion#jack champion imagine#ethan landry fluff#jack champion fluff#ethanlandry#jack champion fanfic#ethan landry x reader#ethan landry oneshot#ethan landry x you#ethan landry angst#ethan landry fic#ethan landry drabble#ethan landry x y/n
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What do you think of Grrm's portrayal of religion?
Hi anon, this is a really interesting question, and it took me awhile to put together what I hope is a coherent answer.
For context, I think GRRM's background is important to keep in mind. George is almost exactly my parents' age and belongs to the same demographic of American anti-war ex hippies who aged into broadly liberal baby-boomers. Their radicalism has largely mellowed over the years, they may not be the most up to date on the appropriate terminology, and they tend to prioritize nonviolent solutions to systemic problems (my mom often tells me the younger generation needs to do another March on Washington). One thing liberal boomers also tend have in common is that often they grew up religious but, as they entered their 20s and went to college, broke away from the churches of their childhood. My family is full of ex-Catholic liberal boomers like George. They might have dabbled in Buddhism or Hinduism in the 70s, New Age mysticism in the 80s or 90s, and ended up settling into statements like, "I'm spiritual, but not religious." Almost invariably, they have a sort of disdain for organized religion, which they associate with a kind of yokel mentality, a place for anti-Choice anti-LGBTQ traditionalists. Although they will profess "to each his own," to the average liberal boomer, the church represents regressive values and they cannot imagine why anyone would willingly return to it. Even those who did remain religious take great pains to make it known they are not like those Christians. And to be fair, liberal boomers have a good reason to feel this way. The churches of their childhoods were not fun places for people whose own ideas and values went against post-WW2 broadly white middle class values. Unsurprisingly, SFF authors tend to fit into this category.
And this sort of bleeds into a lot of 90s SFF. You see a lot of worlds that have religion, but rarely do you have characters that are religious, and even more rarely do you have sympathetic young protagonists who are religious. You might have the occasional kindly priest or nun type, but far more often these characters will be abusive, mean spirited, or narrow minded (think of Brienne's childhood septas). Religion is often treated with the same disdain by in-world characters as it is by the authors themselves. You might even have worlds that are almost entirely secular, with vague references to "The Gods," but without any real religious traditions constructed around them (Robin Hobb's Realm of the Elderlings series, which features two vague dieties, Eda and El, who seem to have no religious traditions surrounding them whatsoever). You might have cultish religions that are actively dangerous and must be stopped, or you might have Catholic church analogues, existing in opposition to everything cool and fun. Protagonists tend to be cynical non-believer types, or they might start off as true believers and lose their religion along the way. Rarely are they allowed to have sincere and abiding faith.
And you can see a lot of this in George's writing, in the way he portrays the Faith of the Seven and other religions, and the way the fandom receives them. The Faith of the Seven is Westeros' answer to the Catholic church, but there are also the Old Gods, the faith of R'hllor, and others, often presented in opposition to each other. George himself sees religion as a divisive force, and in ASOIAF, we see religions in conflict with each other, we see them weaponized to fuel vendettas, we see them used to drive prophesies and start wars. There's a clip somewhere, of George at a panel, where he's talking about religious conflict and his take is very reminiscent of George Carlin's-- you can tell he knows the bit. "Are you really going to kill all of these people because a giant invisible guy in the sky told you too? And your giant guy in the sky is different?" George asks, receiving a round of applause from the crowd. It's a very modern view on religion, which is fair, I think. He's writing for a modern audience who have modern conceptions of the church, and he is making a deliberate point about the harm religion can do. .
What I do think is missing, or at least downplayed, are the ways in which the medieval church was really a driving cultural and social force in medieval Europe. We live in a secular society, so we have the luxury of disregarding the church in a way that medieval people did not. This is one major way in which the worldbuilding of ASOIAF departs from the real world middle ages. To portray the medieval church as a primarily regressive institution that mostly drove conflict is too simplistic. The Catholic church is what culturally unified most of western Europe into what was known as "Christendom." The clergy served political functions, such as providing an important check upon the power of medieval kings, and when the power of the church declined, despotism grew. Socially, for most western Europeans, the church was also the center of day to day life. Insofar as medieval peasants had any opportunities for leisure time and celebrations, most of these revolved around the church. The church was for centuries a driving force behind art, music, literature, and architecture, and it also performed important social functions, such as operating poorhouses and leper-houses, and providing educations for children.
And all of this was just extremely normal. Most people prayed multiple times each day, and sincerely believed in heaven a hell. The state of one's soul after death was such a real concern that the sale of indulgences-- a way that you could pay to get your dead loved ones whose souls were in purgatory into heaven more quickly-- became a major racket for the Church. I've seen the HotD fandom react to Alicent Hightower's level of devotion calling her a religious "fanatic" and I cannot stress enough how absolutely normal Alicent would have been in medieval times. This is where I blame the framing of the show more than George, because it does set Alicent's faith in opposition to Rhaenyra's seemingly more modern values, but does it in a selective way. For instance, Alicent comes off as prudish, and modern audiences hate a prude, but we never see how her faith would have certainly inspired her, as queen, to take other more progressive actions such as giving alms to the poor or bestowing her patronage upon motherhouses. In another post about the fandom perception of Valyrian culture, I talked about how this modern view of devout belief, particularly Catholicism, tends to cast anything that is presented in opposition to it as an unequivocal good, and I see this sort of rhetoric slung around the fandom a lot, "why would you defend the pseudo-Catholics who hate women??" But the pseudo-Catholics are really just normal medieval people, and they didn't hate women, they simply lived in a patriarchal society and the material conditions did not yet exist which would allow them to challenge that in any meaningful way.
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THE DEVIL'S GAME
MATT MURDOCK X VIGILANTE!READER
Summary - Seeking retribution, you find yourself wandering into Hell's Kitchen, only to become ensnared by the Daredevil himself.
Warnings - 18+, broken bones, blood, flirty shit, vaguely suggestive
Word Count - 2.9k
// masterlist // send me your thoughts //
Hell’s Kitchen wasn’t your neighborhood.
But you hadn’t thought twice about it before leaving the comfort of your home, abandoning Queens to fulfill a dream of paltry retribution.
Any other night and you might have considered the consequences of crossing into the Kitchen, but tonight your judgment had been clouded by an opportunity to finally lay your hands on the slippery brute that had gotten under your skin as of late.
And, by the time you realized that you had willingly traipsed into the Devil’s Realm, it had been far too late.
Farlin Costain was a particularly skilled pick-pocket, renowned amongst his fellow New York gutter rats—including petty thieves, drug dealers, and the likes—for his stealth and cunning. Typically, you wouldn’t have bothered with someone so low on the food chain, leaving him for some smaller vigilante to handle.
Unfortunately for Costain, he made a costly mistake when he had made a target of your sweet, innocent roommate last week. And while you once wouldn’t have spared Costain so much as a second glance, you now had every intention of making him regret the very day he was born.
“C’mon Farly! Already giving up?” You sang, patronizing him as you pressed your foot down harder against his breastbone. “I thought you wanted to play! Remember?”
Word spread like wildfire that you were looking for Costain as every back-alley criminal in New York gossiped about what he must’ve done to catch your eye. Because of this, it only took a few days for Costain to catch wind that you were on his trail—and, being an absolute moron, he spent an entire drunken night in Scruffy Duffy’s Saloon bragging to friends and strangers alike that, should you find him, he could easily take you in a fight.
Alas, the bartender at Duffy’s—an old informant of yours—was glad to send you a text detailing Costain’s visit. The pieces fell into place quickly after that, and soon you found out that the asshole was staying in a shitty mid-rise apartment just down the street from the bar.
He hadn’t heard you when you skillfully leapt from the neighboring building, landing atop his apartment to spy him and a few of his cut-purse buddies passing a joint. As soon as you stepped into the light, his friends scurried like roaches, darting for the door to the stairwell.
None of them were particularly recognizable, and since your vendetta wasn’t with them, you gladly let them escape.
But not Costain.
“Fucking cunt!” Costain wheezed beneath your weight, writhing on the gravel that lined the rooftop and spitting blood on your shiny black boots. You grimaced—disgusting.
“Is that the best you’ve got? Blood can be cleaned up—but it’s gonna take weeks for your nose to heal. Do you really want your friends to find out that you couldn’t take me? That you couldn’t even get a hit in?” You continued to chastise him, head cocking to the side as you examined the blood still gushing from his now crooked nose.
To Farlin’s credit, he had tried to fight back, having pulled a switchblade out as soon as you made a move for him. Unfortunately for him, the stealth needed to swipe wallets and watches was as far as his combat skills seemed to go, and it had taken you less than a few seconds to send the blade tumbling over the edge of the rooftop, clanking on the sidewalk below.
But what Costain lacked in skill, he certainly made up for in spirit.
“I can’t fucking breathe!” He rasped; his throat still raw from all the screaming he’d done after the nauseating crunch of his nasal bones. Thrashing beneath you, he lifted his hands to your ankle and began clawing and hitting and scratching, desperately trying to pry your foot off of his chest. “Get off!”
You didn’t so much as flinch as his fists whirled at your calf, nor did you relieve any of the pressure you were applying to his breast. Instead, you pressed even harder, giving him a wicked grin.
“You’re left-handed, aren’t you?” You mused, noting the slight weakness of the punches coming from his right. “Are you ambidextrous?”
Gasping, Costain’s eyes lit with fury as a strangled sound ripped from his throat, growling at you.
“I’ll take that as a no,” You hummed, your cheshire grin growing wider now. “They say that anyone can learn, y’know. How to use both hands.”
Crouching down, you forced more of your weight onto him as you leaned over his face, your loose hair grazing his cheek. The fury in his eyes had already extinguished, replaced with an icy fear. His arms began to fall limp at his sides, his body too oxygen deprived to keep fighting you.
“If you wanna learn,” you droned, tracing a single digit along the curve of his plump, blue lips, “then I’d be glad to give you some encouragement.”
Faster than light, you slid your weight off his chest, rising above him. Farlin heaved at the loss of pressure, miserably trying to fill his aching lungs with air.
Too delirious to fight back, he didn’t even notice when you lunged for his wrist, grabbing hold and hastily yanking him to his feet. You pressed your other hand right above his elbow, giving it all your force as you snapped his arm at the joint, the bones splintering and giving a deeply satisfying CRUNCH!
Farlin had filled his greedy lungs with just enough oxygen to let out a gnarly scream as the pain washed over him like a tidal wave, sending him crumbling to his knees in front of you.
“Damn, my bad,” you huffed, frowning at the sight of him, hot tears streaming down his cheeks as he clutched his right arm. “I was supposed to break the left one, wasn’t I? I can be such a ditz sometimes, huh? But no worries—I can fix this!”
You went to reach for his left arm, taking far too much pleasure in the terror that ignited in his glossy eyes, but the adrenaline now pumping in his veins gave him an edge. Using his newfound chemical courage to try and scramble away from your assault, he managed to just barely evade the quick swipe of your hand, only to then fall backwards onto his ass.
You snorted a laugh at him—useless.
Too terrified to try and make a second attempt at escape, Costain only looked up at you with pleading eyes, silently begging you to leave him alone. You considered it for a second—just one—scrounging deep within yourself for even a trace of pity for the thief.
Unfortunately, you came up empty-handed, as you often did when dealing with trash like Costain.
You went for his left arm a second time, but as soon as you took a single step, something stopped you.
No—scratch that—not something, but someone.
A muscular arm wrapped around your middle, trapping your arms at your sides. You went to make your escape, but before you could tense even a single muscle, another arm wrapped around your throat—not applying pressure, not yet, but effectively trapping you and leaving you incredibly vulnerable.
“I think he’s had enough for one night,” a luscious voice spoke in your ear, the warmth of their breath grazing along your neck, “Don’t you?”
You were as still as a doe in headlights, carefully flicking your gaze down to the arms wrapping around you. Noticing the all-black sleeves that covered them, you sunk your teeth into your cheek. As far as you could tell from your current position, there was nothing discernable about the mystery man holding you hostage.
“Not at all,” you admitted to him, cunning as ever. “I was just getting started.”
The man gave a disapproving grunt. “You’ve already terrified him. He can hardly breathe,” he pointed out as if you weren’t aware of the heaving mess lying on the ground in front of you.
“Even better,” you quipped, trying not to flinch when the arm around your waist suddenly tightened. “I like it when they’re afraid.”
His breath caressed your skin again as he scoffed, shaking his head. “Look, I don’t care what kind of sadistic game you like to play with these men, but keep it your own borough, got it? I’ve heard about what you’ve done in Queens—and my neighborhood isn’t open to being your new playground.”
The declaration gave you pause. Your breath caught in your throat as you suddenly remembered where you were and whose territory you had crossed into and made a mess in. His neighborhood–
Fuck—you swallowed, only to find that your mouth had gone dry—he’s the fucking Daredevil.
Costain seemed to put the pieces together at the same time as you. And, while still weeping over his shattered nose and broken arm, decided to crawl towards the infamous Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, hiding behind him and deciding to take his chances with him over you.
Fucking coward.
“I didn’t realize the Devil kept tabs on the rest of us,” you teased, trying to settle the pounding of your heart as you grappled with the dangerous fact that the Daredevil knew who you were. “You never bother coming to the annual vigilante sleepovers.”
He hummed, but there was no hint of amusement. “I only keep tabs on the one's worth knowing about—and you have been making quite a mess. Last I heard, you were leaving innocent men mangled and bloody on every street corner from Queens to Brooklyn.”
Irritation warmed your veins, blood thrumming in your ears as you howled, “Innocent?!” You gave a dry laugh, “The men I deal with are far from innocent, Devil-boy! The man you just saved is a fucking thief! And last I checked, you and I are supposed to be on the same team!”
“We aren’t even playing the same game, sweetheart.” Daredevil corrected, the endearment slipping from his tongue sounding more like an insult than anything else. “He’s a petty thief. If your only interest was in keeping the streets clean, then you could’ve easily taken him down and left him on the doorstep of the nearest police station.”
You cut your eyes, slumping in his hold. “And where’s the fun in that?”
“You really are hopeless,” He snorted, unimpressed. “One broken arm is more than enough retribution for a pick-pocket. Swear you won’t touch him, and I’ll let you go.”
“Or I could break your arm instead,” you suggested coyly, either in an attempt to flirt with or distract him.
You tried to wiggle your arms at your sides, assessing just how much you were able to move. His own muscled arm rested just above your elbows, leaving some limited motion in your wrists and forearms. You wouldn’t be able to do much with it—nothing spectacular—but maybe…
“If you thought you were strong enough to do that then you would’ve tried it already.” He countered.
“Well, physical strength isn’t the only way out of a sticky situation, Devil-boy,” you reminded him. “But I’m more than confident that I could kick your ass.”
The hold around your neck suddenly grew taut, his forearm lightly pressing against your windpipe in a subtle reminder that he was much stronger than you. “With a single move,” he purred, “I could snap your neck. Your life is in my hands.”
Your pulse throbbed, but you didn’t panic, even as every instinct you had was screaming at you to give in—to stop antagonizing him and vow to never lay another hand on Costain again.
But you were never very good at listening to that little voice in your head that told you what to do.
Taking a hefty bet on your life, you used what limited motion you had in your arms to wiggle them back and slide them around his hips. You felt his muscles tense, readying himself to fight you or choke you or something, but juvenile laughter was already spilling from your lips as you brazenly cupped his backside in your palms.
“My life might be in your hands,” you declared through a fit of giggles, “but your ass is in mine!”
Your confidence grew when you realized that he hadn’t yet choked you out for your insolence—too stunned to react at all—and so you took full advantage of his inability to move without releasing you. Using your newfound grip on him, you shoved his crotch against your ass, grinding back against him just enough to catch him further off-guard.
An involuntary groan slipped his lips at the rough contact, his voice gloriously low and hoarse and absolutely to die for.
Daredevil figured you would try to fight back, but he had been expecting something along the lines of hand-to-hand combat—and not once had he considered that your preferred method of fighting would be grinding your ass against his dick.
Shocked, unprepared, and a little horny, Daredevil took a step back to try and put space between your body’s, his grip turning lax as his blood rushed south. You took advantage of his single moment of weakness, managing to slip from his grasp with some ease now.
“See?” You boasted, holding your arms out dramatically as you stood in front of him, finally face to face. “I told you physical strength wasn’t the only way out.”
Daredevil was quick to regain his composure, and when you noticed a muscle feather in his jaw, you had the good sense to move swiftly into a ready position—just in case the Devil wanted to dance.
But he made no move towards you, even as your fists lifted in his direction. He stayed where he was, clicking his tongue as he said, “You fight dirty.”
A smirk played on your lips. “You don’t know the half of it. But don’t worry, I’m just as much a masochist as I am a sadist,” you teased, blatantly admiring the appearance of his toned muscles beneath the tight-fitting black shirt he wore, “so we can take turns, if you want.”
He laughed, actually laughed. “Never gonna happen.”
You stuck your bottom lip out, pouting at him, but he didn’t react.
“Why not? Looks to me like you enjoyed having me touch you,” you spared a glance to the now sizable bulge in his dark jeans. “Tell you what, Devil-boy, let me break his other arm and I’ll consider taking care of that for you.”
Costain gave a pathetic whimper at that, as if he too could sense the growing tension in the air and worried that Daredevil might be willing to sell-out in favor of getting off.
Ignoring his whining, Daredevil took a step closer to you, and then another. Your body reacted, muscles growing taut as you prepared yourself to strike him. But, when he halted less than a couple of inches from you, you felt as if your bones had all but turned to jelly.
He smelled of expensive cologne and cheap coffee, and even with the black mask covering the entire upper half of his face, you had no doubt that he was impossibly handsome. Your heart thrummed wildly in your chest, and as if he could hear it, he gave you a satisfied grin.
“Your mouth is as filthy as your techniques,” he rebuked, though a hint of amusement and intrigue laced his tone. “Tell you what,” Daredevil mimicked you, “you’re gonna get out of my neighborhood—now. And, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stick to your side of the city from now on.” His breath fanned against your cheeks, and a warmth suddenly crept up your neck. “Got it?”
“And if I don’t?” You felt incredibly small beneath his impressive height, having bent your neck to look up at him.
The Devil seemed to stare down at you—no, he seemed to stare through you, though his eyes remained entirely hidden beneath the mask. You wondered what color they were, if they were as pretty as the rest of him, and how they might look rolling into the back of his head as you straddled his waist—but your fantasies were cut short as he stretched an arm towards you and roughly caught your jaw in his hand.
You grunted at the unexpected contact, the sound making his grin grow wider. His nails scraped lightly against your cheek as you tried to jerk away from the touch, but it was a futile attempt. “If you don’t,” he muttered, leaning in closer as his tongue glided across his lips, enticing you further, “then I’ll make sure that you regret it.”
A bit breathless, you tried your best to sound unaffected, only for the slight wobble in your voice to give you away, “Sounds like a challenge.”
His head tilted to the side, as if he were watching you, listening to the erratic pounding in your chest and the sound of blood rushing your veins. For a heartbeat you let your gaze fall to his chiseled jaw, to his mouth, calculating the risk of leaning in and catching his pouty bottom lip between your teeth.
“It’s not,” he assured you, his voice thick and gruff. “It’s a promise.”
You stifled a hiss as he released your jaw from his grip. He didn’t spare another word before turning away, the gravel crunching beneath his clunky combat boots as he went straight to Costain, heaving the thief off the ground by his non-broken arm.
If it were anyone else stealing away your target, you likely would’ve cut them down right alongside Costain.
But it hadn’t been just anyone—it was the Devil.
Dumbstruck and more than mildly infatuated with the alluring Daredevil, you knew that tonight would be the first of many visits to Hell’s Kitchen.
my brain is rotting because i've written 44+k words in a single month because i decided to rewrite infinitely you and while taking a small break from working on it i created this garbage fire of a matt murdock one shot.
thanks for reading
#matt murdock imagine#matt murdock#daredevil imagine#daredevil x reader#matt murdock x reader#daredevil one shot#daredevil fluff#daredevil smut#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock smut#matt murdock fanfic#mcu x reader#mcu#marvel x reader#marvel imagine#mcu imagine#marvel imagines#matt murdock x you#daredevil born again#matt murdock one shot#matthew murdock#netflix daredevil#daredevil#marvel fluff#marvel smut#marvel one shot
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•The trouble with love•
Pairing : Sidney Crosby x Cherrie!
Word count : 11k
Summary : in which she’s trouble and he really should have known better than to fall in love with his best friends little sister.
Warnings: a Lil angst in the beginning. Nothing too bad. Mentions of using drugs , cherries a party girl who likes to self destruct instead of facing her own feelings. Age gap. If that’s not your thing then simply don’t read! She’s 22/23 though. So legal and nothing wrong about it at all. (My daddy issues coming through big time in this me thinks lmfao). Also, when I write these. I only see them as face claims. I’m not writing their personalities because I don’t know them in real life nor do I want to. So don’t be a numbskull. It’s called fanfic for a reason. I write this shit in my own time for free, for my own entertainment to escape my shitty little life for a while. Writing is supposed to be fun, just like reading it is. Not perfect . So be kind or fuck off! Enjoy xoxo
Sidney knew that she was home as soon as he opened the door to her brothers place and smelt the same vanilla and coconut scented perfume that she had been wearing for as long as he had known her.
A small smile twitching at his lips as he took in the sight of her perfectly pristine , dark red , satin heels at the door. Some designer that he recognised vaguely , alongside her Chanel bag hung up on the rack and her usual leather jacket.
He hung his own jacket up beside hers , then dug his hand into his jeans pockets to pull out a small pack of travel sized haribo bears that he knew she loved , he quickly made work of sliding the small packet into her Chanel bag.
Stealing a quick nosy look inside while he was at it, his eyebrow arching at the sight of her fancy perfume , a row of condoms , cigarettes that definitely weren't just nicotine , some lipstick and then...a amethyst crystal at the bottom of the bag.
He slowly shook his head in amusement to himself as he carefully closed it, running a hand through his hair and smoothing out any wrinkles in his shirt before taking a deep breath, preparing himself to deal with her usual attitude and snarky remarks .
It had been almost three months since he had last seen Cherrie and he had honeslty missed her sarcasm and her bitchiness. Somebody to bicker with that didn't give a single shit as to who he was. She laid into him hard , often leaving his ego and pride in pieces for her own entertainment. No matter how many times her brother told her to leave him alone and play nice , she flat out refused.
Because as long as Sidney had known Jacob , her brother , his little sister had never really been very fond of him at all. He don't really know what he had done at first , wondering if perhaps his disgust towards her favourite boy bands when she was eighteen had pissed her off so badly that she felt the need to form a lifelong vendetta against him.
He genuinely didn't know . He had asked her brother about it once , wondering if he knew why his sister hated him so much and his answer has been simple ,
a Casual shrug with a apathetic "she's like that. A bitch sometimes but she's a good person ...just not a great one." And that was that.
And despite being older than her and knowing better. Sidney couldn't help but snap back at her all the time she gave him her little attitude , couldn't help but bite and give into her goading , bickering with her until she finally got bored and wandered off somewhere. Leaving him with a scowl and fidgeting on his seat , wondering how she could get underneath his skin so easily . Wondering why he couldn't seem to control his mouth or his emotional urges whenever she was around .
He didn't get it, don't want to really. Because Cherrie was annoying , mouthy and had a huge stick shoved up her ass as far as he was concerned . She lived to torment other people , got entertainment when people tripped over , laughed when somebody cried and was all around a little asshole to be around.
So really, he should want absolutely nothing to do with her. And the only reason that he should tolerate her was because he was such good friends with her brother. He should just give a polite hello and leave her alone because she was nothing to him, just his friends annoying little sister . That was all.
At least, that was what it should have been. But this was Cherrie. Stubborn , mouth and insanely beautiful Cherrie that seemed to be heading down a path towards destruction for a while now.
And she got him, because of course she did. She was an little asshole like that.
So despite knowing how wrong it was and how much he shouldn't get involved and how he should just leave trouble alone. He still found himself thinking of her whenever she wasn't around.
He found himself double checking her socials to see what she was up to or who the new boyfriend of the month was (which then he got into a terrible loop of checking out these boyfriends and being horrified by her type: which was assholes. Class A ones that were older and quite frankly not worth a second glance). And then because he couldn't help himself , and knowing how much she didn't want her older brother to know what she was doing , having blocked him on everything and hardly ever staying in contact while she was out of town.
Sidney would snitch on her . Plain and simple. He would snapshot the photo of her with some rich, thirty year old asshole that she definitely shouldn't have been hanging around (especially when criminally convicted wives : yes multiple: we're still involved.) and simply because he couldn't stand the rush of anger and the ugly feelings that would stir within him whenever he saw her with some asshole that want worth her time , but he knew that he couldn't say anything. Couldn't tell her who not to date , he definitely couldn't tell her why he didn't want her to be anywhere near them.
But her brother could. So Sidney told him and then sat back and watched as she got scolded like a little child , all the while she glared at him hatefully knowing fully well that he was the reason her brother knew all of her business .
Then she would turn to him and lay into him too, running off her dirty mouth and cursing him out until her brother had to literally eject her from the room.
And then Sidney would feel a little bit whole again because when she was screaming at him, when she was bickering with him and giving him her attitude, it meant that she was home. She wasn't running around god knows where with god knows who while getting into trouble .
It meant that she was there, with him, giving him her attention again. Even if it was negative and mean, Sidney just liked her being there. Liked seeing her safe and in the flesh, liked seeing the flush to her cheeks each time she got mad at him. Liked seeing her squirm and lie when she was asked what she had been up to lately. Liked seeing the way she swore to hate him but still followed him around, just to annoy him.
And Sidney knew that it was wrong, he really did. He should leave her alone and he definitely shouldn't have been getting involved.
She was trouble . Big trouble. She was younger , mouthy and a mean, little bitch when she wanted to be. And she was also his best friends little sister. That should have been enough to turn him in the opposite direction running.
But either he was insanely stupid or he was ...insanely stupid. Because he kept coming back and hoping that she would be there too. He kept provoking her , kept getting involved and stirring the pot . And he knew exactly why he was doing it, had known for a while now but he refused to acknowledge his feelings, refused to admit what was really going on. Rationalising it as just wanting to mess with his best friends little sister, annoy her a little. Because he could and that was okay.
She wasn't eighteen anymore, she was twenty two and she was giving him just as much hell as she did back then. If not more. Because somehow she had gotten even more arrogant over the years , something he hadn't thought was possible. He was surprised that her head even fit through the door, she was the little princess who always got what she wanted now. Even if she got it in the most unconventional of ways.
Sidney sighed, ran his fingers through his hair again before finally entering the front room. Spotting said princess already on the couch in matching shorts and top, blanket around her legs as she watched Harry Potter on the big tv . Her brother was cooking dinner in the kitchen , giving Sid a grin and nod as soon as he saw him.
"Hey Sid! You hungry? I'm making pasta." He said ever the friendly guy.
Sidney chuckled as he kicked off his shoes, nodding his head . "Yeah. Sounds good." He said.
Cherrie scoffed frown the couch, not even glancing up from her phone as she muttered moodily "sounds boring. He should look up salt and pepper seeing as his spice rack is just that..a rack. Empty and bland . Prepare to choke Crosby."
Her brother didn't even blink , simply slamming the kitchen door shut so he couldn't even see or hear them anymore. Not wanting to deal with her today.
Sidney chuckled as he took a seat beside her "in a lovely mood as usual I see." He commented amusedly , taking in her perfectly curled hair and shiny skin. Even when she was cozying up on the couch, she looked like she just come out of some press shoots. A pampered princess indeed.
Cherrie glanced up from her phone so he could see her roll her eyes at him, pulling a unimpressed face in return.
"What's the point of having your own home if you're never there?" She snarked.
He rose a brow at her then, watching her go back to texting. His curiosity peaked as he wondered just who she was talking to.
"You wouldn't know what thats like though would you? How's living at mommy and daddy's going for you?" He smirked back at her, tongue in cheek to stop himself from laughing when she immediately took the bait.
Scoffing as she threw her phone aside to glare at him, kicking his thigh to get him away from her. She huffed "fuck you. Eat dick asshole." She spat at him.
He snorted "now that you know all about. What happened to the last boy toy? Kill him with your hair rollers?" He teased her , pulling at the gold ankle bracelet on her leg.
The same one that he had gotten her for Christmas . It had stars and penguins on it , a small C charm too. For Cherrie. He had said. Lying to himself because he knew exactly what the C stood for. His chest filled with warmth every time he saw her wearing it.
She was picky with her jewellery , refusing to wear anything that wasn't real gold or diamonds . So to see her wearing the anklet he got filled him with some unfamiliar emotion, because she had deliberately put it on. Did she even take it off? Did she wear it whe he wasn't around? Or did she just wear it when she knew he was coming? His mind ran with a million thoughts, all of which he knew he shouldn't be having.
Cherries eye twitched as she sat up, swiftly kicking his hand off her ankle. She knelt up on her knees and leaned forward on the couch , hands outstretched her in front of her.
"No but I'm going to kill you Crosby!" She threatened him , jumping at him. As though she was going to strange him.
As soon as her small hands wrapped around his neck, Sidney was laughing . Head thrown back as she squeezed his throat with hardly any pressure at all, glaring down at him as he giggled.
Then she let out a sharp gasp as he wrapped his arms around her waist and turned her over quickly so that her back was to his chest , her body sliding down as she wiggled and tried to push him off. But he was too quick for her .
"Ooo so scary princess!" He mocked her as he got her into a loose headlock, ruffling her perfect hair with his fist. Laughing as a she screeched and cursed him out , slapping at him with a scowl on her pretty face . Looking murderous but still so beautiful .
"Fuck you!" She yelled as she tried To get him off, slapping at his thigh, hard. He barely even flinched.
He Just snickered as he hugged his arms around the front of her shoulders, jokingly hugging her as he swayed them from side to side on the couch.
"No thanks. I know where you've been." He snarked. Gasping a laugh when she laid a hard punch to his side, forcing him to let go or be winded.
She rolled out of his lap with a glare , huffing and puffing as she tried to fix her messed up hair .
"Jealous that I'm getting laid? Not a good look on you babe." She tossed back at him. Crossing her arms over her chest, stood in front of him now. Looking down her nose at him.
He just leaned back into the couch lazily, smirking up at her as he got comfortable . Looking up at her in amusement , enjoying how quick to bite she was. She was the only person he could bicker with like this and know that he would 100% be getting that shit back at him. She was nasty.
"I'm babe now am I? Should I call you sweaty? Honey pie?" He teased her. Chest glowing with pride as he watched her face flush as she realised her little slip up .
Immediately rolling her eyes as she looked away from him stubbornly even though his eyes never left her.
"Call me that and they'll have to roll you out on the ice asshole." She warned him dangerously . Stomping around the couch to get away from him.
He tilted his head to watch her leave "it's been a pleasure as always princess!" He called out to her in amusement. Finally feeling relaxed how that she was back where he could see her.
He heard her groan as she stomped down the hallway to her room "eat shit Sidney!" She yelled back at him before he heard her door slam shut.
He grinned just as her brother came out of the kitchen, shaking his head at him with a scornful look on his face as he handed him a bowl of pasta.
"I don't know why you bother syd. She's been extra bitchy since she broke things off with tony." He told him with a sigh as he sat down.
Sidney stopped grinning then, looking at her brother with a slight frown on his face as he nudged his pasta with his fork.
"That was his name?" He muttered unimpressed "the guy looked like a sleaze? He has two gold teeth Jacob.." he pointed out with a look of disgust "two! And two ex wives. And two criminal records . What was she even thinking?" He snapped . Shaking his head.
Jacob rose a brow at his quick mood change , just taking it as him being protective . Like he would be. Completely oblivious to his friends feelings for his little sister . But maybe that was for the best, Sidney would like to keep his kneecaps thank you.
"Are you forgetting what a sleaze my sister is as well Sid? She doesn't care. She'll get with anybody that shows her even the slightest bit of attention." He muttered barely even paying him attention. Gaze on the tv.
Sidney frowned at him "don't say that. She's still your sister man." He scolded him lightly . Stomach turning because he wasn't untrue .
Jacob just chuckled and rolled his eyes "I know she is but it's still true. She's a party animal. I keep trying to tell her to stop and slow down but she won't have it." He said.
He took a bite of his food and sighed "this is your dads fault." He mumbled grumpily after taking another bite , frowning even deeper. "He was a whore who didn't give her any attention. And now she's got daddy issues."
Jacob looked at him defensively, shocked. "dude that's my dad! It's not all his fault. He doesn't make her go out and make bad life choices!" He defended. Daddy's boy.
Sidney rose a brow at him , scoffing a little. Feeling his blood pressure rise just at the thought of her father, he had seen the way the man talked down to her as though she was some silly child that was too stupid to understand anything. Demeaning her feelings and refusing to give her any attention , because in his eyes she was a mistake. She wasn't a boy and she wasn't doing anything good with her life.
Jacob was a successful businessmen with multiple yacht company's around the world. Cherrie dropped out of collage and partied every night and didn't turn up last Christmas. It was safe to say that there relationship was a little more than strained .
"He ignores her unless money is involved. The only time I've ever heard him even acknowledge her was when she was dating that businessmen that he liked." He reminded him firmly , because he hated the man.
"And what did he do when they broke up?" He looked at her brother pointedly , Jacob just sighing loudly in defeat .
"He called her a waste of space and told her that she needed to clean her act up or that she would be servicing men for a living. I mean-" his grip tightened around his fork in anger "what kind of father says that to his sweet daughter who's just trying to navigate the world and doing her best?" He spat before he could even stop himself. Forgetting for a moment just who he was taking to.
Jacob looked at him with wide eyes, blinking In shock. Not realising that his friend felt so strongly about this.
In fact , he had no idea that he even cared at all . "Sweet?" Was all he could repeat , surprised . "My little sister? The one who just tried to strangle you and told you to eat shit? That's the sweet little sister that you're talking about?" He laughed.
Sidney just rolled his eyes and shoved another forkful of food into his mouth so he didn't have to speak. His cheeks flushing from his little slip up that thankfully Jacob didn't think much of , easily getting distracted by the tv again. Leaving Sidney to wallow with his own thoughts, eyes straying to her bedroom door more than enough times.
It was on Friday that Sidney found out that Cherrie had been kicked out of her home . But it didn't stop the air from leaving his lungs as soon as he was told about it, looking at her brother with wides eyes as he entered Sid’s apartment , looking stressed.
"What do you mean they kicked her out?" He voiced incredulously . Mind running with worry as he pictured her slumming it with one of her asshole boyfriends somewhere .
What if she left town and never came back? Sidney felt the panic slowly creep beneath his skin as he wondered what the hell her plan was. Worse, he knew Cherrie , her plan would be terrible , dangerous and maybe illegal.
He groaned.
Jacob sighed , looking annoyed. "They found drugs in her room. So she's out." He simply summed up for him.
Sidney paused by the couch, hands on his hips to stop himself from pacing. He rose a brow at her brother curiously "like..how hard are we talking?" He asked, tilting his head .
Jacob winced "enough to make a horse do the moonwalk." He told him with pursed lips. Not happy at all.
Sidney’s eyes widened "no shit." He muttered with a frown, not happy either. "I thought she only smoked weed?" He was confused.
She had a bad trip a year ago on acid while partying and had refused to do hard drugs after that , she had sworn it to him when he had picked her up from the stupid party and hauled her high ass Back home while lecturing her the whole way. He had stopped for McDonalds for her twice on the way back while she sang a song about ponies to him.
It was a strange night.
Her brother laughed humourlessly "apparently she was dating a drug dealer and was looking after his stash. She's lucky that they didn't call the police ."
Sidney scoffed dryly "yeah . You're dad would just love to see her Locked up." He couldn't help but mutter. Because maybe if he hasn't neglected her, she wouldn't be running around with a drug dealer boyfriends all the time.
"Sidney.." her brother gave him a look.
He ignored it. Running a hand through his hair as he wondered out loud "where is she going to stay?she can't be out there with all her fancy stuff. What if she gets robbed or hurt-?"
Jacob cut him off "I think she's planning on staying at her boyfriends ." Seeing the disbelieving look on Sidney’s face, he quickly added. "A new one. Not the drug dealer." Like that would relax him.
Sidney just tensed up even further, eyes widening. "A new one? Already?" He couldn't believe it. She worked quick.
"And what is this one? A porn director? A 'musician'? Please tell me. Put my mind at ease."He sarcastically said.
Her brother hesitated , then answered him quietly "I think he's a pawnbroker-"
Sidney laughed loudly "oh that's great. Yeah- well she can kiss goodbye to all her designer things then. Don't be so stupid. She's not staying with him." He told him like he had any say in the matter.
Jacob gaped at him, shocked by how hard he was taking this . "What do you mean? Where else could she go? She's refusing to stay with me." He told him .
Sidney thought about it for a long moment then his face lit up. "Oh! She can stay in my apartment next door. That would be perfect right?" He gasped . Grinning at the thought of having her right next door to him, not having to worry about where she laid her head or if she was safe or not.
There was no safer place. Sidney had bought out the entire top floor of the apartment building for his own privacy and the only time that the apartment next door got used was when friends came to stay. So rarely. It was perfect but...
"Just maybe don't tell her that I own it." He told her brother sheepishly "otherwise she'll just tell me to go fuck myself again."
Jacob laughed and relaxed, easy agreeing . Just happy that his sister would have somewhere safe to live now.
True to his word Jacob didn't tell his sister about just who's apartment she would be staying in, leaving her to nearly lose her shit when she glanced up from her front door, where she was dragging In her large box of shoes , only to see Sidney coming out of the door next to hers.
She gasped "what the fuck? Are you stalking me?!" She immediately accused him. Standing straight again. Considering throwing one of her shoes at him for scaring her like that.
Her eyes narrowing when Sidney just chuckled, arms crossing over his chest as he looked her over , taking her in in her athletic shorts set. He smiled.
"I live here." He told her simply . Voice Curt and firm as he asked her next "and how is my favourite criminal?" Smirking at her slyly.
Her face dropped as she cursed "fucking snitch!" She cursed out her brother. Flushing red.
"he's lying!" She lied.
Sidney tilted his head at her in amusement "really? So you weren't hiding drugs for your drug dealer boyfriend then ?" He called out her bullshit.
She hesitated , then mumbled "ex boyfriend." Not denying it. "And it wasn't that big of a deal. I wasn't doing them just...holding onto them for him." She felt the need to let him know.
Sidney wasn't impressed. He took a step closer to her making her look up at him, lips parting a little as he got into her personal space.
"You could have gone to jail. It's a crime Cherrie . You know better than to do shit like that. Especially for some guy that doesn't even respect you." He muttered down to her unhappily.
Her heart was racing as she flattened her expression. Pursing her lips at him . Trying to act unaffected by him.
"He loved me." She weakly muttered.
Sidney chuckled a little meanly "he loved how easy you are." He snapped at her before he could stop himself .
And Cherrie scowled up at him, giving him a little angry shove as she spat "what's that supposed to mean?"
"It means it's Been only twenty four hours and you're already with someone new. Where do you even find these assholes?" He wanted to know. Was it asshole.com or something?
She scoffed and took a step away from him , reminding herself how to breathe normally. He shouldn't be affecting her like this.
And maybe she was easy because she was trying not to squirm in her damp panties as he sternly looked down his nose at her, his broad shoulders blocking her view as she glared up at him.
His eyes Stern and mouth set as he glared straight back at her. Not budging. and she hated how hot he looked then , hated how turned on she got whenever he got like this with her . Hated how much she liked it when he got bossy and when he got strict, his mean comments and firm hand made her quiver in all the best ways .
She liked it when he tried to put her into her place , pointing out her fuck ups and calling her out on her bullshit. Nobody else did it like him.
She was a mess. "At least I can find someone. How's your love life Mr hockey? Find a way to fuck a puck yet?" She snarked at him. Defensive because he was right.
His eyes narrowed down at her dangerously , and he seemed even bigger then. She pressed her thighs together. Wincing.
"I'd rather be alone than tossed around and catching shit." He insulted.
She gasped sharply "I don't have anything! I get regularly rested." She snapped at him. Shoving him away from her but he barely even moved.
Instead he stood his ground and rolled his eyes at her , jaw clenching. "That's not the point. You need to be more careful Cherrie. These guys aren't nice. I don't wand anything to happen to you." He told her firmly .
She just scoffed , swallowing hard . "You would know all about the not so nice guys wouldn't you? Asshole." She huffed at him. Overwhelmed with what she felt then.
Sidney sighed and shook his head, finally backing up a step to let them both breathe again .
"I'm only trying to help." He muttered.
She turned away from him with a haughty sniff, leaning down to pick up her box of shoes. "Yeah well.. I don't need your help. I'm perfectly fine on my own Crosby!" She snapped at him kicking open her door.
He watched her stomp inside to put the box down before returning. Then they both stared at the heavy dresser that she had yet to bring inside .
Sidney hid his smirk behind his fist, clearing his throat instead.
"Want me to help bring it in?" He offered smugly .
She glared at him and shook her head "no." Then she tried to pick it up and failed miserably.
Sidney looked at her, Cherrie looked at everything but him. Then she sighed and mumbled quietly "please."
"Good girl." He mumbled smugly , as he walked over to help her bring it in.
Chuckling a little as he did so. Smirking at the way her cheeks flush red at his praise. "That wasn't so hard to say was it?" He mocked.
She gave him the middle finger. And as soon as she turned her back Sydney finally grinned to himself , relaxing now that she was there. Safe and okay. With him.
It didn't take long for them to settle into a routine . With Sidney staying out of her way and Cherrie going out of hers to make sure that he heard every little thing that she did in her apartment .
He had never realised just how popular she was until he was being kept up every night because of it , with their loud laughters and music all night. The creaking of her bed and the loud moans, the shouts and the drunken cries . The terrible singing and the rambles , the giggling girls and boorish guys who shouted like they were dying.
It had finally gotten to his nerves by week three , she barely spoke to him. Usually just giving him a Middle finger in passing . But he heard her alright .
And as he was staring down at the ridiculous pile of parcels that he had gathered while she was out, he finally had enough. Staying away wasn't working anyways . So he marched over there and let himself into her apartment without even knocking, he owned it . So he decided that it was perfectly fine for him to do so.
"Don't you know how to fucking knock jackass?!" She squealed at Him in shock as she jumped up off her couch. Staring at him with wide eyes.
Sidney just glanced around the apartment, teeth grinding as he took in the sight off all the mess of beer bottles and clothes strung everywhere, half of which he was certain weren't even hers. He glanced down at his foot and saw an empty condom rapper, and that was the last straw.
He snapped "you're a little witch! You've kept me up for weeks with your shit now! What the hell are you doing ? Don't you have any respect?!" He seethed. Pushing away the jealously and nasty feelings in his chest as he threw her parcels down onto the table angrily . Trying to calm down.
Cherrie paused , startled by his anger then she slowly walked over to him.
Scowling back "I haven't done anything wrong." She denied. Defensive.
Sidney let out a humourless laugh "I can hear everything Cherrie." Was all he has to stress for her to understand .
She went red and swallowed hard . Inhaling a little
Too sharply in shock as she let out a startled "oh." Realising just what he might have heard.
"Yeah. Oh." He scoffed shaking his head unkindly at her .
"No more of that shit do ya hear me?" He instructed her firmly . Not joking around this time. And she got it.
And for once in her life she listened. Nodding her head a little, not looking at him as she mumbled a embarrassed"okay." Shocking him into calming right down.
He frowned down at her, surprised by her lack of argument. "Okay? You're agreeing with me?" He couldn't believe it. That much was evident.
Cherrie rolled her eyes at him , annoyed. "Yes. Anything else daddy?" She tested him .
They both tensed for two different reasons. She leaned against the back of the couch to look at him, even more annoyed when she saw how his tight shirt was hugging his muscular biceps perfectly. She hated it.
Sidney inhaled deeply, crossed his arms even tighter against his chest as he tried to keep calm. Something incredibly difficult to do when it came down to miss trouble.
"What even is all this crap anyways?" He changed the subject before she could get him roped into her said trouble.
Looking down at all of the parcels he had been collecting for her, he rose a brow. "How much more do you need? Are they..even more shoes?" He sounded incredulous because he was.
He knew that she had turned the spare bedroom into a closet, and he knew that because he had spent an entire afternoon filling the walls with all of her ridiculously overpriced heels. She refused to let him leave until they were all perfectly lined in order of colour. Sidney had never seen so many heels in his life , he had been overwhelmed and needed a beer to get through it all. She was ridiculous.
Yet his heart still beat fondly for her as he watched her pull out a brand new pair of heart shaped heels, looking almost identical to a pair that he had seen her strut around in bedore.
Her grin was childish as she held up her leg in the air between them for him to see her new shoes, turning her ankle this way and that way proudly for him .
"Beautiful huh? I got them on sale!" She informed him excitedly . Hardly paying him any attention as she slipped on the other heel and started pretending that the living room was her runway , watching herself in the floor to ceiling length mirror as she did so. Flicking her hair over her shoulder confidently .
Sidney exhaled quietly , tucking his hands into his pockets . "Yeah..yeah." He agreed quietly , eyes glued to her smile . A genuine one. No sarcasm or meanness to it. It took his breath away.
So he quickly turned his back to her and changed his tone of voice again, needing to rid himself of this softness that overcome him then.
"Try not to be so annoying tonight alright? No more raging parties. Otherwise I will be calling your brother about it." He threatened her , striding to the door. Needing to leave before her sweet perfume , ridiculous heels and pretty smile made him do something that he really shouldn't do.
He heard her scoff, but he still don't turn around.
"Get fucked Sid." She called after him, laughter evident in her voice. Knowing that there was no way he would be snitching again. Not when he had her right next door to keep an eye on. Not when he could just go there and scold her himself.
Still, he rolled his eyes and quipped back "you're so obsessed with fucking me and me getting fucked lately princess . You sure it's not a you probekm?"
The sound of a heel being thrown against the door as he quickly shut it behind him , echoed alongside his laughter as he went home. Grinning the whole way.
How's my sister settling in? Jacob text him concerned. Not causing you any bother is she?
Sidney didn't hesitate , no bother at all. She's a good girl.
Sidney finally got to meet cherries new boyfriend that weekend , he was already standing by the elevator waiting for it to open up when he heard a familiar voice coming from around the corner, footsteps coming his way.
He tilted his head down to his feet. Straining his ears as he listened in, brows furrowing at the upset whine to her voice. One he recognised all too well.
"I don't see why you're complaining. There's nothing wrong with my dress." She was clearly not happy, sounding put out.
Sids frown deepened . Her dress? He wondered confused. What could possibly wrong with what she was wearing? She looked good in everything and every time sid saw her, she was dressed to the nines. She loved her clothes, loved her fashion. She was trendy and on top of her game, and most the time she looked like a supermodel. Even when she was just at home.
It was something that always amazed Sidney about her. How put together she was, even when she was acting out like a little shit. She always looked good while doing it. Always a new dress and perfect hair , Sidney had never known her to miss a single nail or hair appointment even when she was sick.
A deeper voice echoed back, sounding annoyed. And it instantly had his shoulders tensing.
"A dress?" The man scoffed "is that what you're calling it? I hope you don't bend over tonight then otherwise it's over for you." He said.
Sidney scolded darkly . She did like to wear short dresses. But so fucking what? If the jackass couldn't handle it then what the hell was he even doing around a girl like Cherrie? She was way to good for him. Way out of his league.
If she was mine, Sidney thought darkly . I wouldn't care what she wore because it was her body and her choice , and if any asshole had anything to say about it. He could fight. So She wouldn't have to worry with him.
"Well you definitely won't be bending me over with that attitude mark!" He heard her snap back, but Sidney knew her. And he could hear the subtle hurt tone to her voice and knew that his slut shaming comment has gotten to her. No matter how much she pretended it hadn't.
"I'm just saying!" The idiot continued on talking down to her. And Sidney felt his fist clenched by his side as he waited for the to round the corner, wanting to see this idiot with his own two eyes.
Because why the hell was she doing going out with a guy that clearly had no respect for her? What could he have that she could possibly want?
"And I had to wait over an hour for you to get your nails done again! I've never met a girl as high maintenance once as you before! Can't you calm down a little with it? Life doesn't always have to be diamonds and high heels babe!" He condescended.
Sidney scoffed. Then he straitened up to his full height as they finally came around the corner , Cherrie looking like a deer in headlights as she realised that he had heard every word. Not looking impressed at all.
Crossing his arms over his chest, he felt his eyebrow raise in shock as he looked at the jackass. Wondering what's he saw in him.
Then he did a double take.
Dark hair. Older. Broader . Taller . Looking like a knock off version of Sid, dressed in jeans and a button down shirt . Rolex on his wrist.
Sidney couldn't believe it. His eyes flickering over to Cherrie, only to see her uncharacteristically quiet , eyes staring down at her sparkly heels instead . Looking uncomfortable as she stood stiffly by her boyfriends side.
He looks like me. Sidney thought faintly , biting back a knowing smirk as he came to a realisation then. Looking at her a little longer , almost daring her to meet his eyes. But when she didn't, when she just stayed quiet. Sid sighed.
"I don't think being high maintenance is a bad think. Sounds like she just wants to be looked after." Sidney commented bluntly , looking at the man.
Mark looked straight back, eyed him up and down in distaste. "And who the hell are you?" He scoffed.
Cherrie was embarrassed , keeping to herself as they all stepped inside the elevator . Arms around her waist , shoulder brushing against Sids as he shuffled closer to her. Eyes never leaving the side of her face , anger making him clench his jaw at how upset this guy had made her with his stupid comments.
"He's my neighbour mark. This is Sidney." She muttered.
Mark laughed "ah. This is the guy you were complaining about? The one who's got a stick up his ass?" He repeated her words.
Her cheeks flushed red as Sidney a brow at her, lips twitching . Her eyes briefly rose to meet his own for a moment before quickly looking away and clearing her throat . Embarrassed.
"Yes." She mumbled.
Sidney snorted "you know, I prefer your complaints hand delivered to me. Not second hand." He told her, unimpressed by her shit talking him to this asshole.
Cherrie looked at him with a glare "shut up Sid." She snapped.
He laughed quietly but his smile quickly fell when mark muttered impatiently that they were going to be late because of her, already walking out of the Elevator as soon as it opened, not even waiting for her as he strode off to his car.
Sidney frowned, gently taking a hold of her arm before she could trail off after him. She looked up at him in surprise.
He cleared his throat a little , eyes staring into her own with concern. "Call me if you need a getaway car alright? I don't like him at all. You shouldn't be letting him talk to you like that. He's an asshole." He murmured to her , angrily.
Embarrassed that he had seen her in such a way, that he had seen her as anything other than her usual confident and self assured self. She yanked her arm away from him with a scowl.
"Leave me alone Crosby ! I don't need your help." She hissed at him bedore storming away. Leaving Sidney stood in the lobby of their building with his arms hanging by his side, watching her leave with yet another guy that wasn't good for her. Worry written across huf face , chest tightening as she left.
Fucking hell. He rubbed a hand over his face stressfully. He was so fucked.
It wasn't until the next night that she called him in a fit of tears. Having him be her getaway driver as he picked her up outside some fancy condo. Watching in shock as she wailed in the passenger seat, mascara running down her face. Still in last nights dress.
"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" He rushed out worriedly to her . hands hovering over her as he looked her over for any injuries . Finding none. Just tears falling from her eyes as she scowled furiously , Hand wiping at her tearful face angrily .
She sniffled loudly "it's over! He was a Right cunt Sid !" She declared to him while sobbing .
Sidney cautiously glancing around before starting his car and getting them out of there, heart racing as he kept glancing her at her in concern, not knowing what the hell had happened. Hating that she was crying and hating that he didn't know how to solve it.
"What happened?" He asked her in one breath. Reaching his hand over to wipe at the tears falling down her cheeks, keeping one hand on the wheel as he drove them home.
Cherrie groaned. Leaning down to pull off her heels, sniffling and crying as she mumbled "I overheard him calling me a bitch and a slut to his friends so I..." she hesitated to tell him. Remembering then just who she was talking to.
She crossed her legs beneath her, reaching into the backseat to grab at Sidney’s hoodie he kept there. Not even asking him before she was pulling it over her body. Covering her dress. Inhaling his scent and calming down a little , scrunching up the sleeves in her hand as she turned her body towards him.
Wanting comfort and seeking it in him.
Sidney glanced over at her, then down at his hoodie that she had pulled on, before meeting her tearful gaze again.
He sighed, bracing himself for it. "Jesus. What have you done now?" He asked her concerned. Because he knew that look on her face, knew exactly what it meant.
It was mixture of guilt, fury and shame. Like she couldn't decide what to settle on but she knew that she had fucked up. Again.
"Well..I thought. Fine. I'll show him just how much of a bitchy slut I can be so I .." her voice quietness as she told him in embarrassment "I fucked his dad."
Sidney’s head snapped to her with wide eyes, mouth dropping open in disbelief.
"You did what?!" He almost shouted. Hoping that he heard her wrong.
He hadn't.
She grimaced. Sinking deeper into her seat in shame.
"I went over there and I knew-I knew that he was at least attracted to me . I mean who wouldn't be?l" she missed Sidney’s incredulous look as she started crying again.
Still a little drunk from all the wine she had been pitifully downing the whole night . "So I seduced his dad and then fucked him-which by the way-he fucked so much better than his stupid son did-"
Sidney made a strangled noise, teeth clenching as tightly as his fists did around the steering wheel. He did not want to hear this.
"Okay! That's enough! I don't want to hear it!" He snapped. "God! Why are you like this?" He felt the anger, jealously and frustration in him take over.
Shaking his head in disappointment at her , making her lip quiver as she watched him tearfully . "It's not you at all! Why do you keep doing this? All this sex, drugs and -"
"Rock n roll?" She chimed in weakly. Giggling drunkenly as she held up the rock on sign with her fingers. Only lowering them when Sidney just glared at her. Not impressed At all.
His look of disappointment just made her cry harder, curling into herself as she looked at him with a pout on her face. Chest feeling heavy, regretting all of it. Just wishing that she had stayed home. That she had just stopped doing this and just stuck to annoying Sidney instead . Maybe then she wouldn't be stuck feeling like this.
"You're not funny." Sidney let her know . Shaking his head. "Stop crying." He muttered as he turned into their building. Chest feeling tight at the sight of her tears.
He turned off the car and unbuckled himself . Leaning over the console to cup her face in his hands , gently brushing away the tears with his thumbs . Still glaring at her as he did so. Tense and upset.
She snuggled onto his hand with a sniffle "I'm sorry." She whined , looking up at him with big , glossy eyes.
"I'm going to stop all this. I'm gonna be better." She suddenly declared. Meaning it.
Sidney laughed. He had to. Smirking down at her incredulously . "Oh really?" He didn't believe it and she could tell.
Frowning up at him , upset . Watching as he got out of the car. Jogging around to her side to open the door for her. Unbuckling her and helping her out, grabbing her heels from her hands. Steadying her.
"I mean it Sid." She continued trying to convince him. Letting him wrap his arm around her shoulder as he led them inside safely , leaning into his side with loud yawn. "I'm done being a wild child."
He laughed even harder then , the pressure slowly easing from his chest as he cuddled her into his side. Pressing his lips against the side of her head as they came out of the elevator , stopping by her door.
"Yeah." He chuckled ruffling her hair gently "I'll believe it when I see it." He muttered amusedly.
She just huffed tiredly. Then groaned when he suddenly spun her around and tugged her into him, wrapping his big arms around her back as he squeezed her to his chest firmly. Leaving her to stare wide eyed at his chest, gasping in surprise.
She slapped his stomach "what are you doing?!" She exclaimed, voice muffled against his shirt.
He just squeezed her harder, chuckling on top of her head as he closed his eyes. Savouring the cuddle.
"Hugging you.." he mumbled. Amused. "Don't tell me you don't hug either? Are you too cool to hug me?" He teased her.
Cherrie groaned. Cheeks heating up as she loosely wrapped her arms around his waist , hugging him back. "Shut up." She mumbled. Giggling a little. "You're so stupid."
He chuckled lowly "you are." He stated shaking his head as he slowly pulled away from the embrace . Sighing at the state of her.
He took her keys from her bag and opened the door, taking ahold of her hand gently instead as he led her inside the apartment.
"Come on trouble . Let's get this makeup off you and you can sleep off the hangover." He instructed her gently .
She followed him without a single complaint. Jumping up on the counter as he pulled out her makeup remover .
"Hey Sid?" She spoke up a few minutes later when he was wiping the streaked mascara from her cheeks.
"Yeah?" He looked up at her. Biting his cheek to stop himself from smiling as he saw the pouty look on her pretty face.
"You like my dress?" She wondered quietly.
He laughed lightly , affectionately. "I do. I like all your dresses." He replied. Then "that guy was a idiot and a liar. You're perfect as you are. Don't change." He told her quietly.
His eyes widening in surprise when she suddenly leaned forward and willingly hugged him on her own, squeezing him to her with a long sigh . Her soft smile pressed against the side of his cheek as he hugged her back without any hesitation.
Yeah. He sighed. He was so , so fucked.
Sidney couldn't believe it but things really did start changing for the better after that night.
Meaning that suddenly , she never left him alone. He had almost gasped in fright the first night that he returned home after practice to find her already on his couch, watching tv.
Having let herself in without any shame . She hadn't even looked at his astonished face , merely pointed to the kitchen. And told him that there was some leftover takeout in the fridge for him.
Getting over his shock had been hard but then he was watching a movie with her. Listening to her ramble onto him about all of her favourite scenes , smiling to himself when she told him where he could have seen the actors before. His heart pounding in his chest when she fell asleep with her head against his shoulder , his arm around hers . In disbelief to himself . She stayed the night.
And since then she hadn't really left.
She was there in the mornings, sharing his horrible healthy smoothies with him. She let him drag her along to the gym with him with the promise of getting her ice cream afterwords . Then they started hanging out , going shopping together , or just driving around .
Sidney accompanied her to the bank where she got him to sort out all of her Money problems for her, claiming that she needed an 'adultier adult.' Which she clearly was not.
Then she started coming to see his games. In the family box waiting for him, wearing his shirt with a wide smile on her face each night. Hugging him whether they won or lost and Sidney felt like he was on cloud nine. Yet too scared to break it, too scared to wake up from his dream. So he didn't say anything for a while , didn't question her sudden closeness. Just bathed in it instead.
He ignored his friends knowing looks, told her brother that he was just looking out for her as he cooked her a home made meal . Bought all of her favourite snacks and tried to bake cookies just because she was craving them.
And Sidney could only feel both overwhelmed and amused because he knew what was happening. He wasn't some dumb kid that wasn't aware of his own feelings or somebody else's .
He could see the way she looked at him now, saw the way she lingered and waited impatiently for his attention. The way she would look his way after each dumb joke she said, just to see if he would laugh. The way she went out of her way to prove to him that she wasn't going to be some dumb little shithead anymore that sent his blood pressure skyrocketing just for fun
She finally wanted him her like he had wanted her for so long and it felt so fucking food to know. Even though they hadn't said a thing.
Sidney knew what was happening. And he could only smile despite knowing how fucked he was. He has fallen for trouble and trouble was finally falling for him too.
Then he opened his door one night and could only sigh in disbelief as he saw Cherrie waiting for him, eyes trailing down to the fluffy fur ball in her Arms, a not so innocent smile on her pretty face She cheesed at him.
He just groaned "Jesus Christ Cherrie! I was only gone for a couple of hours!" He breathed out . Hesitantly reaching out his hand to stroke the kittens soft head, eyes never leaving cherries face. Arching his brow at her as he waited for excuse to come.
It didn't disapirnwmnt . She never did.
"I needed a friend! Isn't he pretty? It's a rag doll. I've called him zoomy." She told him proudly. Kissing it's little head repeatedly as it purred away in her arms, big blue eyes slowly blinking up at her. She awwed loudly .
Sidney just sighed, more than amused. Unable to be mad at her. I mean. It was Cherrie. This was absolutely something she would do. Silently move herself into his home and get them a cat while he was at practice .
"Why?" He dared to ask.
She grinned "cause look." She put the little kitten down. Both of them watching as the cat suddenly took off and started sprinting around the room chaotically , fast as fuck.
Sidney let out a mixture of a groan and laugh, rubbing his hands over his face with a disbelieving grin.
"You're unbeblivale ." He said. Fondly .
Then he looked at her and muttered "going home anytime soon?" Already knowing her answer . The little kitten scratching at his heels as it followed him into the kitchen. Sidney pulling out all the ingredients he would need to make her favourite food.
Cherrie threw herself down onto the couch with a giggle. "You kicking me out?" she called out to him. Grinning As she put in his favourite movie for them to watch.
He grinned down at the cutting board , cheeks flushed with happiness as he picked up zoomy and placed the kitten on his chest , kissing its little head .
Heart pounding in his chest as he dared another peak at her, safe and content with him. In his home.
"Would you even leave if I did?" He joked.
Silence.
Then a snort "i don't listen to liars Sid. You've always wanted me here. You're never getting rid of me now." She told him confidently . Seeing right through him. She always had.
Sidney just smiled.
Then her brother text him , my sister doing good?
Sidney hesitated . Then replied. Best she's ever been. And he's wasn't lying. He just failed to tell him that the reason why she was the best she had ever been was because she was with him.
Sidney finally spoke up about them playing house without telling each other how they really felt a month later.
After staring down at the boutique of flowers on the kitchen island that he had gotten her every Friday , signing off his and cherries name as his plus one to his teammates wedding . He came to the startling real stool then that this was really it for him.
They did everything together now. He had met her friends. She hung out with his. They had dinner together almost every night . She practically lived with him. Most of his wardrobe was filled with her pretty dresses and he could barely find his sneakers through the mountain of her heels.
Her makeup sat in his bathroom, her tooth brush next to his. Most nights they fell asleep on his bed while cuddling together, their favourite shows playing in the background.
They were a couple without being a couple and Sidney was getting too old to be playing these games and he knew that if he didn't bring the whole subject up first, then they would be doing this forever . Because Cherrie definitely would not say it first.
She was more of a 'always have the last word' Kinda girl instead.
So looking down at the little cat in his arms. He kissed it's tiny head for courage , sighing into its soft fur as he mumbled . "This is it zoomy. Jacob is going to kill me." Before putting him down carefully.
Then Sidney took a deep breath, gathered his courage and looked at her. She had been browsing gifts to get his friends for their wedding, head snapping over to him mid ramble when he said her name. Firmly .
Eyes widening at the serious look on his face, she blinked at him. "What?" She laughed a little, but the feeling in her gut told her that she knew exactly what was coming. Had been waiting for this moment really.
She slowly put down her phone and faced him, fidgeting with her rings as she sat on her stool. Heart pounding nervously in her chest. This was really it. She realised.
"What the hell are we doing Cherrie?" He breathed out . Slowly walking to her side , bending his head so that she would meet his eyes. Needing her to realise that he was serious this time. No time for playing around.
She laughed a little nervously "what do you mean?" She tried to play dumb but it wasn't working.
Sidney just levelled her with a stern look, shaking his head at her. Tapping his fingers against the counter anxiously . "I'm getting too old for your games princess. What's going on?" He repeated a little more firmly this time. Watching her cool facade crumble just like that.
The sigh she let out was shaky as she swung her legs around to face him, wrapping her arms around his stomach as she pulled him in between her legs. Hugging him, Sidney only hesitated for a moment before loosely putting his hand on the back of her head as she rested her chest on his chest. Running his fingers gently through her hair to keep her calm, grounding her.
Her mumble was muffled ahinst his shirt "you've always taken care of me Crosby." She fiddled with the belt loop of his jeans as she said it.
He gently tugged at her ponytail to get her to look up at him, his face calm despite the rapid racing of his Heart . He knew that this was meant to be. Knew where this was heading and he wasn't scared anymore . He had been waiting for this moment for what felt like forever.
"I have." He agreed quietly "I've always wanted the best for you but you never seemed to go for that." He told her honestly .
Even when they were bickering and arguing , when she was giving him attitude and getting on his nerves . He had always made her his priority. Had always made sure that she was okay, that she was safe and getting everything that she needed and wanted. Simply because he was a sucker for her.
He always had been. That was the problem. Falling in love with his best friends little sister had never been the plan. But when did anything ever go as planned anyays?
And deep down, Cherrie knew it. She knew exactly what she was doing. Knew exactly what he was feeling and how he felt about her. It wasn't hard to see.
How he had spent years making excuses to be around her. Coming to every gathering, every party and event with them. Even though he liked to be low key and kind of hated the rest of jacobs friends. He still came , because he wanted to see her.
He always picked up the phone in the middle of the night , always ready to drive her home from her drunken escapedes . Always ready to be her getaway car. Helping her sneak back in the house , helping her sober up so her parents wouldn't realise what she had been doing . Even when they 'hated' each other. He was always on her side. Always.
She sighed in vague amusement , and fondness was written all across her pretty face as she gazed up at him. Chin resting on his chest as he looked down at her, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard . She rested her hand over his heart and felt how it raced beneath her skin, then she laughed lightly .
"I know that the apartment you gave me is yours Sid. And I know that you paid off my parking tickets and I know that you're the one that got that jackass , who badmouthed me at that restaurant, fired. And I know that everything good that's happened to me has always been because of you." She admitted to him affectionately.
Sidney was speechless. And a little mortified .
Face going red as he realised that he really hasn't been subtle af all. It was one of those times where he thanked the heavens that her brother was so fucking oblivious, otherwise he had a feeling that he would have had his ass handed to him a long time ago.
Was his love for her really that obvious? Who else knew?
She did.
And she was smirking up at him smugly , gently squeezing his waist to bring him back down to Earth.
"You know?" He weakly muttered. Taken aback. Having expected that he would need to lay out a whole love confession to her to get her to understand.
She nodded her head, giggling. "I know old man." She confirmed amused.
"Can't resist a pretty face huh Crosby ?" She teased him.
He gently cupped her face in his hands. Smile softening , face wary as he admitted to her quietly. "I can't. Not one as pretty as yours but Cherrie.." he hesitated for a moment. Not wanting to scare her away but needing her to know that this was it for him.
"This is serious for me alright?" He tells her softly , the colour on his face only deepening. Blushing like a school girl as he gazed down at her , so in love with trouble that it hurt .
"I want forever with you . I don't want to play games or have to worry about you not being mine. I want-" he stumbled over his words for a moment , overwhelmed by her then. Overwhelmed by all that he felt for her. He didn't know that it was possible to love somebody so much. "-I'm not getting any younger and you're still so young ..you have to be sure-"
She cut him off quickly , still smiling .
"I'm sure." Shes more serious than he's ever seen her. Looking up at him like he was her entire world and all the stars intertwined .
He breathed out shakily , hands trembling on her jaw as he pulled her closer . "Are you? Because I'll get it if you're not ready , you've never been serious about a guy in your life. I don't want to be boyfriend number thousand. I don't want to be someone that you regret." He whispered to her .
She shook her head at him, eyes glossy and heart so full for the man that had never let her down. Had never let her go. Realising that he had waited for her to be ready, had let her get all of her stupid mistakes and rebounds out of her system first .
He had let her be young and dumb, had let her live. But now she realised that happiness was what she wanted. And what was life without happiness?
Her happiness was staring down at her like she was his heart . Like she was the shoelaces to his shoes. The bones that protected his heart, like she was the one.
So She smiled "Your not going to be.. you're going to be the last boyfriend that I ever have Sidney Crosby . Because I love you. I have for a while and I'm sorry for being such a little shithead and making you wait around for me." She told him honestly . A little embarrassed but so fucking thankful that he had stuck around .
He laughed Wetly , struck with love for her. Shaking his head in vague amusement , his thumbs rubbing circles into her soft skin as he nudged their noses together gently .
"Don't be. I enjoy you being a shithead . It's what made me fall in love with you , you're trouble. And I love that. Are you sure that you're serious about this?" He needed to know. His future standing right in front of him. Bright eyes and a pretty smile .
It was always going to be her , wasn't it?
"I am." She promised him. Her cheek in his hand. Smiling up at him genuinely. "I want you Sidney." She told him. Meaning it with everything in her. She wanted everything that he could give her.
So he kissed her. Like he had dreamt of kissing her for the last couple of years. Caressing her mouth with his own, his hand cupping her jaw as she pulled him closer. Her fingers scratching lightly into his scalp as he sighed blissfully against her tongue , tasting her. Needing her so bad it hurt .
"Aren't you going to say it back to me now ?" She impatiently mumbled into the kiss, and he could feel her frowning against his cheek , fingers tugging a little harder at his hair in punishment for making her wait .
He laughed breathlessly against her lips, more than amused at the sass she still had. Even in a soft moment like this, she still gave him attitude.
That was his girl.
"I'm so in love with you." He grinned , kissing her again simply because he could now .
Then he groaned in misery "And your brother is going to kill me." He muttered , sighing as he pulled away.
Looking down at her carefully , his lips twitching . Taking in her swollen lips and flushed cheeks , the way she pulled him in. Fidgeting with his belt loops , Puckering her lips up impatiently for another kiss. Greedy for them now.
"Which part of my face do you think he'll break first?" He wondered out loud warily.
She just grinned. Giggling . Kissing all across his face , giddy with love.
"Hopefully not your nose. I really like your face. Kind of want to sit on it soon ." She let him know. Not caring too much about it.
She loved him. He loved her. There really wasn't much her brother could do about it now. No matter what he did or what he said , it wasn't going to change a single thing.
So She kissed him again. Smugly. "I'm worth it through aren't i?" She confidently muttered , giggling as he bruised his face into her neck. His laughter tickling her skin as he held her close, the smile never leaving his face.
He laughed breathlessly as she began tugging him impatiently to the bedroom. The buttons of his shirt flying across the room as she ripped it off him, leaving him panting and watching her with wide eyes . So in love it hurt.
"You are so worth it." He promised. Meaning it.
He would take as many punches to the face as her brother gave him. As long as he got to come home to her for the rest of his life. He would be happy.
She was trouble . But she was Cherrie. And he loved her. So the little shithead was worth every headache and every worry.
Because she was his now.
Finally.
#nhl oneshot#nhl imagine#nhl fic#Sidney Crosby imagine#Sidney Crosby oneshot#Sidney Crosby fic#ice hockey imagine#hockey imagine#ice hockey fic
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Tight Grip, Broken Dam (4)
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You don’t question it anymore, when Miguel appears in your bed at night. He’s not there for sex, no, you’ve never even kissed—though you would be lying if you said you weren’t open to the idea of kissing him. He’s there for comfort. For rest.
If only it could stay so simple.
Pair: Miguel O'Hara & GN!Reader
Notes: for series: slow burn, ambiguous relationship, found family dynamics, reader is in their late 20s. for chapter: action scene, nongraphic injury
Word Count: roughly 3k
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The first time you had held Miguel was in his lab. It was the earlier days, the grief still raw, the man still shell-shocked. You were brand new to the multiverse, to Earth-928.
You had found him watching videos of his daughter.
“Miguel?”
You’d never seen him close windows on his platform display so fast, before or since then. You waited for him to say something, anything, but all you saw was the tension in his shoulders.
“I’ll leave these here, we just thought you'd like to have some food…” you said, glancing up at him while you placed the takeout box on a level surface.
“Thank you.”
The ghost of a wobble in his voice made you pause, look closer at him. A thwip and a swing, and you were suddenly on the platform with him. He turned to look at you, the vague surprise on his face doing little to hide the shine of his eyes.
And then you hugged him, your arms around his waist and your head against his chest as you squeezed him tight. He clearly didn't know what to do, his own arms floated awkwardly in the air.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m returning the favor,” you mumbled. “From when we met.”
His body seemed to relax at that, just slightly, and his hands came to rest lightly on your back.
“...Thank you.”
You wake twenty minutes before your alarm feeling ill-rested and ill at ease, your dream fading rapidly from your mind. Turning your head to look at where your phone is charging on the edge of the mattress (“You really shouldn’t sleep with that thing in your bed,” you hear Miguel say in the back of your mind), you stare at it as if it will miraculously fix your previous night’s sleep, or suddenly announce that you actually have hours left to return to dreamland.
No such luck.
So you drag yourself out of bed, feeling much like a cursed skeleton climbing from a blackened pit, and reluctantly start your day.
When you head out you leave a sleeping Gwen in the apartment, your dimension-hopping watch in your inner coat pocket beside your mask in case she needs to contact you. You don’t have time to get a burner phone for her this morning, but you put it on your mental to-do list.
Like many Spider-People, your day job is in journalism. You’ve lost track of how many Peter Parkers work in photo -journalism, and how many at the Daily Bugle specifically. You’re no stranger to J. Jonah Jameson and his anti-Spider-Person vendetta, being the target of it here in your own dimension, but you couldn't imagine working for him too. No, your main job is writing for the features section of an entirely different paper, often assigned to human interest pieces, community events, and independent art exhibits. This only pays about half the bills, freelance barely covering the rest, but the hours are flexible and your journalism pass has come in handy enough times during Spider-sleuthing that you wouldn’t change a thing.
Well, besides more pay. Obviously. So… yeah, actually, maybe one thing.
But your heart’s barely in it today. While your body sits in the paper’s office floor, waiting to talk with the editor in chief about your latest piece, your head is–
“You okay today? You look about a million miles away,” one of your colleagues seems to materialize before you, her long pin-straight blonde hair tucked behind one ear.
You give an apologetic smile. Even under the terrible fluorescence of the office lights she manages to look like an ethereal elven being.
So not fair.
“Sorry, late night,” you chuckle weakly. “Didn’t sleep well.”
“I’m guessing from the way you say that, it wasn’t for any fun reason,” she attempts to joke, and you chuckle.
“Yeah,” you confirm. “Just uh, one of those nights.”
She glances at the door behind you. “Good luck with Ellison. Ben’s got him in a real mood today, I hear.”
“Thanks for the heads up.”
She smiles, turning to head to the door. “See ya later then.”
You return the smile. “Bye, Karen.”
She’s passing through the office door when the editor’s office opens and a balding, bearded man pokes his head out, fixing you under his bespectacled stare.
“ Please tell me you have good things to tell me today.”
“Mitchell,” you greet, rising from the plastic chair to follow him into his office. “Have I ever let you down?”
“Only about five times in recent memory,” he says, motioning for you to close the door as he turns the corner around to the back of his desk, sitting down.
“Fair,” you acknowledge. “But then did I not totally make up for those?”
He rolls his eyes begrudgingly. “Okay, fine.” He gestures at you. “Out with it.”
“I need an extension.”
He sighs, going to take off his glasses–
“I’m kidding,” you quickly say. And then, “Sorry,” when he glares at you from under his crunched together eyebrows. “I actually finished early, it should be in your inbox, and,” you fish out a thin stack of paper collected in a binder clip, holding them towards him in offering. “I brought you a hard copy for your notes. I know the printer here is on the fritz.”
He raises his eyebrows, reaching across the table to accept the papers. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch,” you say. “Because I'm going to assume you can't pay me for it yet, so I won't even ask. Can I have my next story?”
“I wasn’t expecting you to finish so soon,” he says, plopping the papers down on his desk. “I won’t have more for you for at least a week, since you refuse to cover the Spider.”
“Conflict of interest,” you immediately recite, punching your hands into your coat pockets.
“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you off. “Take the week, use it to catch up on your freelance work, see if there’s anything you wanna pitch to me.”
You nod, the two of you say your farewells, and you exit the office.
Back on the street, a light wind nips at your nose and ears. There’s no aggression behind it, the nips as harmless as a teething puppy, but the chill is there nonetheless. Once again you punch your hands into your pockets to spare your fingers the gummy mouthing of the wind, letting it chase you down the sidewalk and dance around your heels.
With nothing but time to kill, you scan through your mental list of tasks and errands—
Ah. A phone for Gwen.
The simple errand was going very, very wrong.
First, on the way there, you had gotten swept into a car chase as The Spider, at one point narrowly dodging a bullet with your name on it. The unnamed woman from the last night Miguel had stayed over flashed through your mind when it blew past you, throwing you off and earning you a road rash on your hands, knee, and one forearm that you’d be feeling for the next few days, at least. God, you wish you had a better healing factor.
Second, the first phone-related store you happened upon was one of those places with windows pasted with advertisements, the glass behind bars, and the entire storefront covered in bright glittery and flashing signage. Most prominent was the ‘ WE BUY GOLD!!!’ sign dancing with all the enthusiasm of a Las Vegas showgirl.
It was also being robbed. Which wasn’t a problem for you of course, it was just that you were starting to feel pretty damn drained already and it wasn’t even noon.
After some acrobatics that would impress even Gwen, you succeeded in webbing up the four men involved with the overzealous attempted robbery, leaving them hanging from the lampost outside to be picked up before buying a prepaid flip phone with cash.
But no, that wasn’t all that went wrong. You believed yourself to be in the clear, stopping to get a sandwich once back in your civilian clothes, and now you sat on a bench in the square watching manicured bushes rustle in the midday breeze.
“Mm,” you hum, swallowing your first bite of your sandwich, and going for another.
And then, the third thing goes wrong. A portal opens up and spits out a rather tall man, covered head to toe in glowing and moving circuit-board patterns under his hat and trenchcoat. The air buzzes with static even from where you sit nearly twenty feet away, your internal alarm blaring like a bad horror movie.
His head turns with a sudden, jerking motion, looking you directly in the eyes.
“Oh, shit.”
His body turns to face you, moving as jerky as his head had. You barely have time to jump up and run, abandoning your sandwich, before his arm lifts and he fires a goddamn laser ball at you.
“Shit, shit!”
You scatter with the other handful of people who had been in the square, searching frantically for somewhere to pull on your mask and safely ditch your things. It takes a moment, but you manage it, and when you emerge from the tiny alley to slingshot yourself back to the square, the anomaly is walking straight for you, movements jerky and mechanical.
“Ohhh, this isn’t good,” you lift your watch to your masked face as you land on a grassy patch. “I need backup! Anomaly on Earth-”
You don’t manage to get your dimension number out as you speak into your watch, because a second laser blast is heading straight for you. Your internal alarm bell screeches at you just in time for you to dodge and for it to fly through empty air where your rib cage had been moments before.
You land in a roll, scraping your road-rash all over again, standing as the park tree behind where you had stood moments shatters and topples, branches bouncing and rustling against themselves in a way that sounds quite a lot like the blood rushing through your ears.
You shoot a web at the electric man, but his cannon arm— Holy shit, his whole arm? —tears through it like, well, a cobweb.
“Electro!” You shout, taking a wild guess as to his identity. You don’t have an Electro on your earth, but you’ve heard enough and seen enough waiting to be sent home, so you connect the dots. “We don’t need to do this! I can hel-”
“Not. Elec. Tro.” He speaks, voice choppy like his movements, distorted and filtered. “Ven. Ture.”
Dots un- connected.
“Wha-? Who?”
He raises his cannon arm at you once more. You start to run, looking for something with height.
No such luck.
Then across the square a familiar golden portal opens, pulling your attention.
It pulls Venture’s too.
A figure steps out, Venture swinging his cannon arm in the new direction. You call out in warning, shooting your webs to grab his arm. The sudden pull on his arm throws his aim off and the cannon fires into a bench, leaving a charred hole the size of a man’s torso where the laser hits.
You see a piece of charred sandwich wrapper comically flutter away from the blast as a familiar voice calls out to you, using your alias of Spider.
Your head whips to see Miguel. Miguel, who you’ve just saved.
Miguel who could be vaporized right now.
“Wrap him up!” He shouts, and you nod, Miguel charging Venture while you have his arm webbed and unable to aim at him.
You seem to realize at the same time that Venture does that just because he cannot pull against your web to shoot Miguel, doesn’t mean he can’t just turn towards you.
You don't register the words, but you recognize Miguel’s shout as you backflip and narrowly dodge yet another blast from Venture’s laser cannon arm. When you’ve righted yourself you see Venture firing wildly, Miguel’s talons digging into and cracking the cannon as he shoves it aside.
You’re sprinting towards them, shooting webs to pin the cannon arm to the ground before Venture can raise it and shoot Miguel, who’s baring his teeth to bite down on the man’s other arm.
Alarm bells.
“Wait, don’t–!” You cry, shooting webs to pin down Venture’s other arm, grabbing Miguel’s shoulder to pull him back.
“Why not?!” He snarls, whipping his head and shoulders to face you, all adrenaline and teeth and talons as he crouches over Venture.
“He’s not– He’s all– he’s all juiced up with electricity–” you scramble to explain, waving your hands around.
His eyes dart over your face, your body, catching on your scraped hands, knee, and elbow. He stiffens further, breathing heavily from the short fight. In the blink of an eye he whips back around, punches Venture in the face, knocking him out cold.
“Jesus,” you whisper, eyes wide.
Miguel rises and begins to tie Venture up with his own webs, tearing yours off the now unconscious figure’s arms so that they’re no longer stuck to the ground. You’ve seen his talons before, of course, but you can’t help but stare at the quick work they make of your webs.
His mask is back on when he straightens to his full height, turning to look at you.
“Are you alright?” He asks, nodding his head at your scrapes.
You blink under your mask, looking down. Only now do you see that the scrapes on one of your hands and on your knee are bleeding again. As the fog of adrenaline begins to recede the sting of pain comes in to replace it.
“Oh, yeah. This wasn’t him, this was… earlier.” You flex your hands slightly at the growing sting in your palms, glad he can’t see your slight grimace under your mask. “It’s been an… eventful day.”
Miguel stares at you for a moment, before looking down to tap his watch. “Come to HQ.”
You nod.
Miguel insists you get your scrapes cleaned up by one of the medically trained Spider-Men at HQ when you get back. He lurks in the corner, his elbow resting on his other arm crossed over his ribs as he taps at his chin, his bottom lip. He takes brief breaks from glaring at the floor to take the occasional quick glance up at you, his fingers pausing in their tapping when he does.
“No significant debris,” Doctor Spidey says, pushing away on his stool to retrieve bandages where they sit waiting on the counter nearby after cleaning your scrapes. “They’ll heal up fast, just keep it clean for the next while until they do.”
You nod, keeping your palm out for him to wrap. Both of you try to pretend that Miguel isn’t hovering in the corner while bandages are wrapped around your palms, your outer forearm, and your knee.
“Alright!” Doctor Spidey says. “You’re good to go.”
After expressing your thanks you exit the doctor’s office, Miguel’s towering form following behind you.
“How’d you get those anyway?”
You turn to look at him, a brief jolt going through you when you find his eyes already on you. His brow is furrowed, and the muscle in his jaw twitches when he turns his gaze forward to focus on the path of the hall you both journey down.
“Oh, um, car chase earlier,” you say, wishing you had pockets to put your hands into. You finally look away, watching the ground in front of your feet.
Miguel’s form by your side eats up your awareness, even as you pass other Spider-People and exchange passing hellos. Something restless and hot rolls off his body, and it swallows you up like water.
“You need to be more careful,” he says, and his voice is sharp with agitation, frustration.
You bristle at his tone.
“I am careful. I was careful.” You frown, turning to look at him.
The muscle in his jaw twitches again.
“Yeah. Clearly.” He says, glancing at your injuries and looking away just as you frown and start to open your mouth.
“Miguel, hey! Oh-ho, and our little Garden Spider?”
It’s Peter who interrupts whatever it is you're about to say to Miguel. As usual he has May with him in the baby carrier, and her pudgy little hands hold onto his fingers as he absentmindedly bounces them in the air.
You do your best to school your features, your mask clenched in your hand as you try to take your attention back from Miguel and his now crossed arms in the corner of your vision.
“Hey Peter,” you give a close lipped smile, hoping it doesn't look as tense and forced as it feels.
He glances between the two of you, Miguel’s tense body and crossed arms, then your own stiff posture and your bandages.
“Damn,” he raises his eyebrows. “What happened to you ?”
Miguel’s crossed arms tense in the corner of your eye.
“Car chase,” you manage to say. “Slipped.” You shrug, mustering up every ounce of nonchalance in your body.
“Oh,” he laughs. “I’ve been there. Road rash is no fun. Y’know, one time–”
“Peter, as fascinating as I’m sure this story is, I have things to get to,” Miguel interrupts.
“Right,” Peter shrugs it off like it's no big deal, stepping out of the way. “You’re missing out though, it’s a pretty good story.”
“Uh-huh.” Miguel lets his arms uncross as he starts to walk again, and he gets a few large strides past Peter before he falters to a stop, turning to look back over his shoulder.
You want to continue on walking with him, you really do. That new feeling you’re getting all too familiar with, the one that squeezes your ribs, returns when his eyes meet yours. He hesitates, something unsure in his eyes.
“We still need to debrief,” Miguel says.
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
Miguel hesitates still, turning away at last and then walking away, shoulders tense.
Once Miguel turns the corner, Peter turns to you. “I feel like I interrupted something.”
You slump slightly, rubbing your now furrowed brow. “Today sucks, Peter.”
“Aw, hey,” Peter says, stepping closer to put a fatherly arm over your shoulders, May reaching out to pat you. “Wanna talk about it?”
You shake your head. “No, I should…” you trail off and gesture in the direction Miguel had left.
“Right. Baaad idea to keep boss-man waiting.”
You nod. Peter pats your back.
“Listen,” he says, pulling back but keeping a hand on your shoulder as you lift a hand to let May grab your finger. “Whatever it is, it’s just because he cares. You know that right?”
You nod. “Yeah, I know.” Letting go of May’s hand, you give Peter a tired, thankful smile. “I’ll see you around.”
You’re almost out of earshot when you hear Peter mumble to May:
“Those two are killing me, kid.”
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Hello there! I just wanted to say that ive been a fan of yours for a bit and I really really love your work. I hope you keep up the amazing feels and are doing good in general!
I would like to ask for iruma with mom!reader.
WITH RECENT EVENTS! in the manga our boy needs some proper comfort.
I want the reader to hold iruma and tell him that everyone started caring about him because of him, I wanna see along the lies of the reader telling him " they will see the human in you and they will love you for it just like you love them as the demons they are"
( i also want mama reader just going full on quiet rage on kalegos brother to the point her aura consumes the ball room and he feels like his chest to going to cave in)
IRUMA IS SAD BUT ALL HIS ADOPTIVE PARENTS ARE WILLING TO HELP!
But thank you for taking the time to reade this i hope that this isn't too hard for you to do and please keep being awesome!
Thank you very much! I've been doing good, though I'm tired what with starting a new job and all, and I hope you are as well!
Sorry this took so long to get out, but it's finally here! Hopefully you're OK with it, since I did take a little bit of liberties with it.
Boss B*tch
When Narnia tries to put Iruma in his place, it ends up being him who is shot down instead. By you, Iruma's parent, who is none too pleased that an overconfident mutt hurt their baby's feelings. Luckily, if there is one thing humans are good at, it's mimicking that they are much more fearsome predators than they actually are.
TW! The only thing I can think of is the reader does draw a bit of blood and grabs Narnia's hair and threatens him. I don't think there's anything else?
One minute.
You had looked away for one minute, distracted by Alice and Razzbery fighting over Amaryllis, and when you looked back your son was no longer by your side. A frown flitted over your face as you swept your eyes over the ballroom. With so many colourful outfits, it was rather easy to find the blue-haired boy in his near black suit. He was still back where you had been originally, standing by Fenrir, or Fen-chan as he insisted on being called.
Iruma appeared to be sparkling as he chattered on about something. A fond smile appeared on your face as you excused yourself from the group to wander back over to him. Logically, you knew that you had to let him go off on his own, and yet you were incredibly anxious to leave him be when surrounded by so many high-ranking demons. And evidently, as you watched Iruma's face scrunch into confusion before falling into fear as Fenrir said something in return, you had been right to feel so.
Your eyes narrowed, your smile falling as Fenrir started to crowd in Iruma's space. You were close enough now that you could hear what it was that Fenrir was saying. He seemed to be going on a rant about the possibility of humans invading the Netherworld and, from the way he phrased it, made it obvious to you that he was more than aware of their existence and seemed to have a personal vendetta against them. And more than likely he knew about you and Iruma being humans. As much as you had liked his quips, it was obvious.
Fenrir was a danger.
And you wouldn't allow danger near your son. Not after coming so close to losing him in the heartbreaker exam. Your nerves, which had been slowly loosening since then, tightened once more and your teeth were bared before you had even thought about it. Eyes narrowed, you watched as Amaryllis pounced on Iruma from behind out of nowhere, and vaguely wondered how she had got there first, before pushing the thought away. It was obvious from the way her body was tensed, one hand raised, that she was about to attack Fenrir too, but you had got there first.
Before she could strike out, you were there, palm hitting his face, nails digging into his skin as your hand flew out. You watched as he fell to the ground, his eyes widened in shock at the force and his blood splattering out against the ground next to him. You were suddenly very happy that you had grown your nails out to try and blend in with the demons here, as he tentatively raised one of his hands to the shallow claw marks on his cheek, blood still rising to the surface.
It was rather obvious from his dropped mouth and empty eyes that he was in a state of shock, as if he really couldn't comprehend that someone, much less you, had actually struck him. From the corner of your eyes, you could also see everyone else staring at the two of you as well. Amaryllis seemed to be stuck somewhere between surprise and pride, and Iruma had forgone all composure as he stared with eyes wide and mouth open, and all the varying demons around seemed to be imitating him.
To be fair, you could kind of understand why. This was a ball where they were supposed to be celebrating the future, and now there appeared to be two individuals fighting. One of which was a self-proclaimed third most important member of the Border Patrol, a force that most did their best not to make an enemy of. And you had sent one sprawling to the floor with one hit.
There would most likely be consequences, you knew, as more of your anger seeped out of you. Amaryllis could have got away with it easily, being a member of the 13 Crowns. But you? You were just an unknown, unranked, being. Even if you are a child of one of the three greats, you, yourself, held no real power. And you had picked a fight with a demon who was leaps and bounds more powerful than you.
A fight you were determined to win through sheer willpower alone if necessary. Losing was not an option when Iruma was involved as collateral.
"You talk of beings that don't belong so well, and yet don't seem to recognize that the only one here who is out of place is you. You are nothing more than an overconfident mutt at my feet who needs to be retaught manners," He stared up at you, eyes wide at the seeping aura of anger and danger that poured out of your every cell.
Suddenly a giant black wolf materialized above him, with three eyes, and multiple tails raised in anger. All snarling fangs and posture, and while you felt fear tear through your body, you stared up at it as if you were unimpressed, before pulling your lips back and giving a loud snarl of your own at it. You watched it pause for a second, ears flickering in its hesitancy at this tiny being in front of it, before the canine abruptly vanished again. Leaving behind Fenrir, still at your feet.
He appeared to be out of his shock and was kneeling now, likely trying to stand up while you were distracted. Well, you couldn't have that just yet. You quickly grabbed a fistful of his hair and leaned down while dragging him up so your faces were inches apart. A hiss left his mouth at the abrupt action, but he quickly shuts his mouth again at the look on your face.
His mind was racing as he tried to comprehend what exactly was happening. He knew you were a human, and humans were supposed to be weak little creatures. Easy prey that even an infant could catch, so logically you were supposed to be as well. And yet here you stood with all power reeking off of you like you were the Demon King himself. In the face of your fury, he felt a lot like some pup before the raging alpha of an enemy pack.
He could practically see it, instead of your human form, a large wolf with long flowing fur the colour of your hair, that would put his Cerberia to shame. Felt the large clawed paw on his chest with the way he struggled to breathe under the pressure, could hear the low furious growl that rumbled out of your chest, past the large fangs poised to rip him to shreds.
He felt more like he was looking at a deity of wrath than a human. He was as awed at your presence as he was fearful, as he stared up at you.
"If I ever find you talking such drivel to my child again, I will skin you alive before ripping out your eyes, shoving them down your throat, so you can see my claws rip your carcass open while wearing your skin as a dress. Do you understand me?" you growled out at him. He nodded as best he could with your hand still clutching his hair. You leaned in more till you were right next to his ear, and whispered, "I know you know what I am, but you will cease and desist any attempts against me and mine before I show why our two worlds were really separated. After all, it was never for the benefit of human lives that demons vanished off to someplace new," before you abruptly let him go while standing up straight. He collapsed slightly, almost falling to the floor again before he caught himself with his knees. His head stayed bowed, showing his back, suitably cowed before you.
"Good boy, now go on, apologize."
Fenrir staggered to his feet before you, head still bowed. "Please forgive my rudeness, my lady. It will never happen again." He slowly turned towards where Iruma was standing, still flabbergasted at your display, before straightening up when he noticed the demon's gaze on him. Fenrir bowed again at Iruma, "And to you too, milord. I got too carried away, and it was wrong of me. I am sorry for scaring you."
Iruma started to move his hands slightly, to wave away the apology, but one quick shake of your head had him lowering them again. "It's - It's alright..." Iruma said, still startled and somewhat lost at what was going on.
Fenrir raised up from his bow to Iruma, and turned back towards you, lowering his head towards you once again, "If you'll excuse me, my lady, I think I'll go wash my face." He stayed still until you nodded your head, before he turned away and walked off, presumably towards where the washrooms were. Your eyes stayed narrowed on his form until he disappeared from your view by the surrounding crowd. And really, when had it gotten that big?
Shaking your head mentally, you did your best to ignore the crowd as you turned your attention to Iruma. He still looked as shocked as before as you made your way over to him. He straightened once more, though he fidgeted a little bit under the intensity of your look. Likely misreading your determination as anger at him.
Squishing his cheeks in between your hands as you finally made your way to him, you turned his head this way and that, before looking him up and down. Satisfied with your inspection but not still high on nerves, you asked him if he was OK. He gave the best nod he could with his head still stuck in your hands, and you quickly let him go. Seeing a look in his eyes though kept you from fully believing him.
Had you scared him? You generally presented a very calm parental relationship with him. Trying your hardest to never give in to a temper and always think things through calmly when dealing with anything with or near him. You would hate to find out that the one time you let anger consume you had changed his perception of you.
Hearing two shouts of Iruma’s name, you turned towards where two individuals were forcing their way through the dispersing crowd, dragging you out of your thoughts. Now that the show was clearly over, the other occupants were going back to their original groupings, still chattering about what had happened but no longer as interested in watching you.
Focusing back in, you found the two individuals were Amerie and Alice. Both talked over the other as they tried to find out what happened and if everyone was OK. Waving off their concerns, you simply commented that a dog had to be retrained and that it had been handled before grinning at their flabbergasted looks.
Glancing over towards Iruma you noticed he seemed to slowly withdraw into himself. His eyes clouded over as whatever he was thinking slowly consumed his mind. Thinking quickly, you gestured over to where a few tables were and suggested that you took a quick break after all the excitement. Amerie and Alice had clearly come to the same conclusion as you, as they quickly nodded and surrounded Iruma as if trying to hide him from view as you led the small group over. Amaryllis declined the offer, saying she still had some socializing of her own to do, before veering off away from. Judging from her determined walk, she was likely on her way to visit the misbehaving dog from earlier.
With Iruma and you settled at a table hidden to the sidelines, you couldn't help the fond smile that crosses your face as both Amerie and Alice fawned over Iruma. Both clearly expressed worry over how he felt about what had just happened, but were not certain about what to do to make it better. When Iruma shooed them away to have fun and that he simply wanted to have a moment alone, your smile dipped into a frown. Due to the way he was raised, Iruma always jumped at the chance to have others around him. Constantly craving their affection and company. To push others away after something like that clearly said something was wrong. And you had a good feeling what it was.
You were going to kill Fenrir the next chance you got.
You gave the two demons across from you a nod and put a hand on Iruma's shoulder gently. "Don't worry, I have him. Go have fun and make connections. We'll join in again later."
They both hesitated, clearly still uncertain about leaving him, before nodding in acquisition. With a few last words, they left to socialize with the others, and you watched them go before turning back to Iruma.
"How about we get out of here briefly," you suggested with a wink at him.
His eyes widened at your words, staring at you with a dropped jaw, "But we promised Opera-"
"We promised not to leave the Deviculum, and we're not." You nodded to the large curtains strewn along the walls. "I noticed them earlier, but didn't think we would need them. Every one of the curtains leads to a balcony. We'll be out of prying eyes, and you get a space to breathe, while still technically staying within bounds."
He blinked owlishly at you before tilting his head in thought. It was quite obvious there were two sides warring in him, but yours must have won out when he nodded and moved to get up. He followed obediently behind you as you led him to the closest window. Giving a quick look around to make sure no one was looking your way, you lifted the curtain a bit and gestured to him to go through. Technically speaking, you didn't actually know if you were allowed out here.
Iruma didn't need to know that.
Moving to go behind the curtain yourself, you gave one more cursory glance before following him outside. The second you were outside, you couldn't help but take a deep breath of the cool air. You hadn't even realized how stuffy the room was until you made it out into an open area and were enjoying the light breeze blowing through. Opening the eyes you hadn't even realized you had closed, you made your way to where Iruma was leaning against the railing, still looking as downcast as before.
"Will you tell me what's on your mind?"
"I'm just thinking. About what Fenrir-san said. That humans didn't belong here. It made me wonder if I don't belong and-"
At Iruma's clearly lost face, as he suddenly stopped talking, you amended what you thought earlier. You weren't going to kill Fenrir. You were going to absolutely slaughter him.
"Iruma, honey, you, if anyone, belong here the most." He gave you a look, which you returned, before breaking into a small smile. "I'm being serious here. Yes, we're humans, but so what? We might be an invasive species by many people's standards, and it's true they can do a lot of harm."
You gave him an encouraging smile before continuing, "Sometimes those invasive species can do a lot of good too. You've already taken Babyls by storm. Done things that others thought were impossible, and they were good things. You brought together the misfit class, took back the Royal One classroom, and created things no one else has seen here. It was all you that did that." Seeing him open his mouth, likely in protest, you ploughed right on. "And before you argue, yes, I know you had help. But do you think Rome was built by a single person? Or that it was the Emperor alone who ruled Japan? They all had help, and they did great things with that help, as you will do too." You paused for a moment to take a breath before you went on a rant. "Look, what I'm getting at is that both here, and in the human world, there will always be people who hate you for things out of your control. You know what we do to those people, though?"
He shook his head, confusion clearly written on his face. You gave him a sharp tooth grin in response to his look, "We steam roll right over them and prove them wrong. Fenrir said humans don't belong. Prove him wrong by not just surviving, but thriving here. Keep working your way through those ranks until you feel good enough to look him in his face, smile and say 'You're wrong, I do belong here' before walking away from him. Some call it spite, I call it a purpose. Either way, it works." You carefully grabbed his shoulders and looked him in the eyes through his mask, "I know it's harder to do than say, but always remember that I along with Sullivan, Opera and all the others will always be here for you. Whenever you stumble or fall, we will pick you back up till you can walk on your own again. OK?"
He gave you a bright but watery smile and nodded.
"OK. Now let's get back in there and show them just how much we belong here." Iruma nodded again before rushing to give you a tight hug, burrowing his face into your chest. You wrapped your arms around him and squeezed tightly before letting him go and gently ushering him towards the door again.
"Alright, let's do this."
Unbeknown to you, there was a new faction formed that day. Demons naturally flocked to those that held power, and someone who could take down another demon so effortlessly and without magic meant they were extremely powerful.
‘If Sullivan was still insistent on not taking the throne, then perhaps his child could take it in his place,’ they thought.
You had quite a few words for them when you found out. Especially when you found out it was Fenrir who was spearheading it.
#mairimashita! iruma kun#mairuma#welcome to demon school iruma kun#mairimashita manga#mairimashita iruma kun#m!ik#welcome to demon school! iruma kun#m!lk#welcome to demon school#iruma kun manga#mairimashita iruma kun spoilers#mairimashita! iruma kun x reader#welcome to demon school spoilers#welcome to demon school iruma x reader#iruma suzuki#naberius narnia#narnia naberius#iruma#suzuki iruma
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Grounded (Thunk!) - Chapter 2 - Bradley Bradshaw x f! Reader
A/N: You guuuuuys, thank you so much for waiting and for continuing to support the first part of this fanfic. I had a bunch of things to do this past week but I was itching to write this and get it posted! If I made a tag-list would anybody be interested? I’d like to make a formal one if I get anough people to ask. As always, I hope you enjoy!
Blurb: Drinks with Rooster as an apology for throwing a football at your head.
Word Count: 3.4k
Fluff, Eventual Smut (Wink)
Warnings: None (That I know of!)
Read: Part 1
“You’re going to have to go at some point, you know that don’t you?”
With a whine that vaguely translates into something like “Do I have to?”, you flop back onto the cushiony mattress of your bed. Flat on your back, you lift a velvety pillow and simply cover your face with it.
Hey, if knocking your head against a table didn’t work, maybe slow suffocation will.
The idea doesn’t last long.
Before you know it, the comforting darkness is pulled away from you and you’re forced back into reality. Amelia stands over you with her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised.
The way she was so similar to her mother was almost terrifying.
“This is ridiculous.” She points out. “It’s not even a date, he’s just buying you drinks as a sorry.”
You blow a raspberry in her direction and she rolls her eyes. She uncrosses her arms and extends a hand, offering it for you to hold. With a huff, knowing you can never deny her of anything, you take it and she pulls you up. Tries to anyway.
“I just can’t talk to him properly.” You explained. “Seriously Amelia, it’s kind of sad the amount of times I stuttered when he talked to me earlier.”
Pulling you all the way up from the bed to have you finally standing, Amelia shows no remorse on her face. “Well isn’t it great that you don’t have to talk to him then?” She didn’t even wait for a reply before starting her tangent. “C’mon, you have this nice sundress on, you’re glowing from the sun, and freshly freaking showered.” Picking up your shoulder bag from the carpeted floor, she shoves it into your hands. “Can you at least try to enjoy yourself for once? Not put how pretty you are to waste?”
You stare at her for a few moments, and she only responds with raising her other eyebrow. This goes on for a while until you finally sigh. You shake your head and sling your bag over your shoulder. “Yeah alright, maybe I could go out for a drink. Or two.”
Amelia’s face breaks out into a wide smile. “Great, because I was running out of time convincing you.” She confessed. “I have to be at a friend’s place in like, ten.”
She eagerly pushes you out the door and slams it in your face. Before you even move an inch away, she shouts, “Oh! While you’re there, you can convince Pete to make a move on my mom already!” You’re almost certain she shudders from the other side. “The flirting is getting ridiculous.”
When you’re certain she has nothing else to say, you slowly make your way down the stairs.
Talk to Bradshaw and Mitchell in one night?
Yeah, maybe when chickens start flying.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Walking yourself over to the bar hadn’t been as much of a drag as you were expecting. The sun had almost set when you started your journey and being outside no longer felt like the heat had a personal vendetta against you. It was only really a fifteen-minute walk which was perfect because any longer and you probably would’ve started wheezing.
When you get to your destination, the sky was already painted in all sorts of pastel shades. The air was cooling, and the bar, like it always was, was packed.
You were hit with a sea of people. It was interesting for you to see the multitude of uniforms, the different interactions that took place. Despite not liking a big crowd, or rather, not being used to them, coming to Penny’s bar always gave you a sense of warmth. Almost like a big, encompassing hug. Maybe it’s because there’s hardly any trouble due to Penny’s make-shift rule. Maybe it was because of the ringing sounds of laughter heard day in and day out. You can’t really pinpoint why you liked this place so much, but you never really ventured to find out. It just made you feel accepted, and for you, that was good enough.
Making your way through the crowd, you sit on a bar stool and see your aunt on the other side, no doubt flirting away with the Captain that’s making googly-eyes at her. Mitchell is the first to notice you, raising his hand in your direction. You repeat the gesture with an awkward smile.
You watch the two of them for a few more moments and” Amelia is absolutely right. Seeing them dance around each other is almost too painful. Penny tilts her head slowly and turns away from Mitchell with dare you say, a sway to her hips. When she walks to your side of the bar, you meet her coy gaze with a flat look.
“What?” She replied. “It’s no good if you don’t make men work for it first.”
You would agree if you actually believed anybody was interested in you in the first place.
Suddenly, the bell at the door rings indicating someone’s arrival.
“Speaking of men working for it,” your aunt trails off. You’re about ask her what she’s talking about before a booming voice interrupts you.
A gruff man across the room shouts at the newcomer. “You gonna give me a rematch on that pool game or what?!”
An all too familiar voice responds back. “Maybe later.” He suggests. “My damn arms are killing me.”
The man across the room shakes his head with a look of good-nature. “Alright, bring on the excuses.” He teases and continues to immerse himself in the current ongoing game of billiards.
Sure enough, when you swivel your head around, you see Bradshaw in all his tall, sun-kissed, light-haired glory. He’s wearing one of those ridiculous Hawaiian shirts that he somehow pulls-off and tight, tight jeans that are doing wonders for his thighs.
He scans around the space, obviously looking for a familiar face. After a few seconds his eyes land on yours and it makes you genuinely think your heart skipped a beat. He starts making his way to you and something about it is so dangerously dipped in natural bravado. The way he carries himself shows you all that you need to know. Lieutenant Bradshaw doesn’t need to talk about how cool he is because even at a glance, anybody would know he has a charm to him. It’s kind of mesmerizing really.
Stopping in front of you, he gestures at the seat beside you. “May I?”
More alarm bells, holy shit, more fucking alarm bells.
This wasn’t part of the plan. You were supposed to sit here, people watch, and have one, maybe two bottles of beer. The plan was certainly not to talk to a man you’d been thirsting over since the moment your eyes landed on him.
Your eye-candy tilts his head. “Hey, you okay?”
Shaking your head vigorously, you motion to the spot beside you. “Oh yeah, no, sorry-“ you stop yourself and a small chuckle leaves you in noticing how frazzled you sound. “Please, go ahead.”
A small smile of amusement lights his face and it makes your chest feel all warm. He sits beside you and calls Penny over. You suppose you were too busy looking at him to register anything else because before you know it, your aunt places two ice-cold beer bottles on the bar top and says enjoy before returning back to Mitchell.
You’re left alone and you have no idea what to say. Luckily, Bradley does.
Taking a sip of his beer, he apologizes again. “I really didn’t mean to hit you. I guess we all just got a bit too excited.”
Shrugging your shoulders, you dismiss his worry. “No worries, seriously” you take a sip from your own bottle. “Now that you’re paying for my alcohol, we’re definitely even. Besides,” You replay the scene on the beach from this afternoon in your head. “It was nice to see you all finally get along.”
“That noticeable huh?”
“More than the sky being blue.”
He does a singular nod in reply and you both fall silent for a while. It should be awkward, but somehow it’s not. His presence was welcoming. Hard to approach, but comforting you think.
The pilot focuses the conversation on you. “You new around here?”
You survey the patrons of the bar instead of looking at him. “Sure am.” You answer.
“Had a feeling.”
He keeps his eyes trained on you. You try to feign ignorance by continuing to stare straight ahead, but it’s not enough. Heat starts to crawl up your neck.
God, this man hasn’t even done anything worth the abysmal reaction your body has to him.
No. Bad.
You push the absurd thoughts from your brain and stomp them out with a fire. You weren’t getting tangled into anything. You’d be gone in a couple of weeks and that was more than enough reason to stay still. Imagine how awkward it would be to see him again after any sort of entanglement. You already embarrass yourself in front of him and you’ve talked to him a grand total of two times.
Yeah, not your vibe.
A light chuckle escapes your throat. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Were you really that much of a fish out of water?
“Nothing bad,” he reassures “would just remember a pretty face I saw is all.”
The heat crawling up your neck explodes to the rest of your body.
You swiftly turn your head to his direction and was met with a shit-eating grin that almost made your panties drop on site.
Wait a damn second.
Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw was fucking flirting with you and that made all logic and sense go out the window.
Maybe Penny and Amelia were right, maybe you could use a little bit of fun. What was the harm in a little bit of flirting? It wouldn’t go anywhere; you’d just have a bit of banter. Tomorrow, he’ll continue ignoring you again and this whole night will be a stupid memory you get to keep.
So why the hell not?
“You hit all the pretty girls you see with a football, Lieutenant?” The statement was irrationally egotistical and bold.
When he doesn’t immediately reply, you start to panic. Shit, you think. Maybe that wasn’t the right call. Once it slips your mouth, immediate regret washes over you. This is why you aren’t your own hype-man.
Was this supposed to be fun? Did you think it was going to be fu-
“Maybe I do.”
Woah.
“So you lied to me?” You pressed.
“And here I am having a drink with you.”
Silence.
You don’t know whether to be angry or flattered so you decide to be both.
The conversation continues after a small pause from his confession. “Couldn’t just ask me like a gentleman?”
“Do you like gentlemen?”
You scoff. “I like men who tell me what they want.”
You have no idea when the both of you had gotten so close. Not close enough to count every eyelash, but you’re close enough to notice the reflection of the bar’s lights in his eyes. Molten chocolate drizzled with caramel you think.
Bradshaw puts his full weight onto his forearm as he leans over. “Then If I tell you I want to know why you’re so hot and bothered despite not being under the sun, would you tell me?”
“If you did, I’d tell you it was because somebody told me they hit me with a football on purpose.”
His shit-eating grin doesn’t drop. If anything, it gets wider.
The whole back and forth solidifies the fact that Rooster is still very much a cocky fighter pilot. Even if he was one of the humbler ones on the spectrum, doesn’t mean he still isn’t on the cocky spectrum all things considered.
You’d be lying to yourself if you said it wasn’t the tiniest bit appealing.
Amped up on self-confidence, you continue to stare straight into his eyes. Even more silence ensues but it’s different than before. Indescribable, only palpable.
He opens his mouth but before he can get anything out, the same gruff man from earlier calls out to him. “Bradshaw, get your ass over here and give me a rematch.”
Just like that, whatever little spell you were under immediately breaks and you lean back into your chair. You take your bottom lip in with your teeth and glance at the man with the booming voice. “Looks like duty calls, Lieutenant.”
All Bradshaw replies with is a grunt of agreement. If leaving your conversation is affecting him in any way, he does a damn good job of not showing it other than a clenched jaw you would have missed if you weren’t so keen on observing him. Picking up his beer bottle, he then calls out to Penny. “Whatever she gets, put it on my tab.” Penny doesn’t turn away from Mitchell but raises a thumb into the air. The pilot gives you one last lingering look before he strolls away to the pool table.
You can see what Penny finds so appealing about the whole banter thing. If anything, she probably enjoys it even more because she’s miles better at it.
This you think, is definitely going to be at the forefront of your memories for a very, very long time.
- - - - - - - - - -
It isn’t long before the hours bleed into the early morning. It had finally slowed as the people exhausted themselves, drunk on the alcohol and atmosphere the Hard Deck delivers. Slowly, in groups, the patrons exit the bar until only a few are left. Glancing around the room, you inadvertently match gazes with Bradshaw once more.
This time, you aren’t the first one to look away.
For a moment, a fleeting second, you think that maybe he’d make his way towards you once more. He moves an inch and almost immediately stops. Suddenly, his focus changes. You follow the trail of his stare and it lands on Pete Mitchell coming your direction.
Re-focusing your gaze, to the blatant flirting that was happening right in front of your face, you shake your head. “You kids have fun, I can close up shop.” You inform your aunt and her pilot before they can tell you any differently. Penny is about to refuse, but you hold up a flat palm. “I’m serious, I don’t mind.”
If he had plans to talk to you again, it certainly wasn’t happening anymore. He snaps his attention back to the other aviators around him. You’ve seen them around. Bob and Phoenix were their call names if you remember it correctly.
Not sparing another glance your way, he follows them out the door.
Penny turns to Pete, and he only shrugs with an impressed smirk.
Before you know it, you’re completely alone in the bar. Cleaning up is fairly light, Penny did the most of it when things started to slow down. You wipe down the bar counter and pick up a few beer bottles and glass mugs. The whole thing takes you a little under half-an-hour to finish.
As you spot polish a few extra glasses, you notice a missed bottle on top of the piano. You make your way over to it with the sole intention of picking the bottle up but once you do, you lightly set it back down. Instead, you sit on the piano bench and start fiddling with the keys in front of you.
Why do you build me up, buttercup baby. Just to let me down?
The chords come back to you in a haze. It’s been a while since you’ve played something and you surprise yourself in the fluidity of your hands. Fond memories of your mother listening in behind you replayed in your mind as your fingers danced. You can’t say you adored the piano. There was never really a reason to want to learn it until University, but in time, when all the hard work and hours of late night practicing were finally starting to pay off, you grew attached to it. It was something that you were proud to play because prior to that, you didn’t even know what a treble clef was.
“That’s sounding good.”
You nearly fall off the bench from how hard you jump, a yelp escaping your throat. After the initial scare, you turn your body swiftly to learn the identity of your intruder.
This has to be a fucking joke.
“Bradshaw?!” You nearly scream, “Jesus, you scared me! What the hell are you doing back here?”
He lifts a crumpled button-up Hawaiian shirt in his hands. “Forgot this. Came back to see if the bar was still open so I could get it.”
You shake your head in disbelief. “Don’t you have like, four-hundred of those things?”
He doesn’t answer your question with an answer, but he does answer it with another question. “Where did you learn how to play?” He switches the topic on you.
With a deep sigh, you turn your body back to the piano. “It was my minor.” You explained. “I didn’t start picking it up until maybe around three years ago.”
He steps closer beside you, and you feel the heat radiating off his skin despite the cooler temperature outdoors. “It sounds good, but what if you try this.” He plays a new chord and you can’t make out how well it would actually sound. “Just humour me.”
You don’t know who makes the first indication that you both should play together it just kind of happens naturally. You scootch to make more room for him on the bench and he sits down beside you, letting you get a whiff of the scent that surrounds him.
He smells like summer. All sun, and sweat, and expensive cologne.
You start playing the beginning of the song again, but you let him handle the chords. He presses down on the same keys he did earlier and damn he was right, it did sound better. The both of you continue to play your separate parts and as the lyrics of the song start, you hear his warm voice start to sing.
“Why do you build me up, buttercup baby. Just to let me down?”
He sings loudly, care-free, like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
Amusement passes through you and if you had the chance to look at yourself in the mirror right this second, you know that you would have a smile as wide as the ocean. He’s so into singing, so lost in the melody that it’s hard not to join in.
So you do.
You start to sing at the top of your lungs and in the brief glances you make in between, you see Bradshaw with a smile that probably mirrors your own. Seeing him like that, with you, makes the thump in your chest double.
“I need you!”
“I need you!” He sings the adlib.
God, you both probably look drunk off your assess right now because you certainly feel like you are. You feel loopy, and sweaty, and that feeling in your chest certainly feels like indigestion.
“So build me, buttercup. Don’t break my heart.” You end the chorus portion of the song strong while looking at each other.
When you both finish, his eyes are scanning your face and you do the same.
This time, you’re close enough to count every eyelash. Hell, you could probably count every single hair on that moustache of his.
Your breathing starts to deepen and so does his.
His gaze lands on your lips and by now, you can hear the thrum of your heart in your ears.
You expect him to kiss you. You want him to kiss you.
But he clenches his jaw and moves back.
He may have distanced himself from you, but the intense gaze doesn’t leave the glint of his eyes. Like there’s a battle going on in them, in him.
“Can I drop you off?” He offers.
Swallowing thickly, you don’t know how you manage to find words, but you do. “Yeah- um, sure. If you don’t mind.”
“Wouldn’t be asking you if I did.”
He slowly lifts himself up from the piano bench and heads for the door. You’re still sitting and reeling as you keep your eyes locked on him. He turns and notices you still immobile. Bradshaw cocks his head.
“C’mon buttercup, it’s late, don’t keep me waiting.”
That’s when your heart flatlines instead.
#bradley bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x reader#rooster bradshaw#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw fanfic#bradley brashaw fanfic#top gun maverick#top gun#top gun fanfiction
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Knives for Commoners
Precious daggers are cool and all, but I’m very fond of simple pocket knives, made to get shit done. So here are a few farmer / peasant knives, ranging from penknife- to sickle-sized.
1. Grafting knife (greffoir) from Thiers, France
This little multi-tool has a curved blade (very used and sharpened, it was originally wider) and a smaller wavy blade. It’s primarily for cutting the stock plant and the plant shoot (or bud) that you mean to graft, though it’s also good for small pruning jobs and general utility. It locks by slipjoint, the standard pocket knife locking mechanism that you’ll find in Swiss army knives. The small flat thing is a bark lifter, it’s made of bone and it’s used for bud grafting: when you insert a bud beneath the bark of a stem, you have to be extra careful to not injure the bark, so you don’t want sharp edges there.
The handle has scales of bone, carved like this in order to look like stag (which is rarer and more expensive). A similar way to accomplish this is “jigged bone” scales, found in a lot of old/classic American and English knives:
Sheffield hunting knife by Joseph Allen / American folding knife by Camillus
which I honestly think is too... regular, sometimes it looks machine-made even when it’s handmade. But this handle here is sculpted, it’s a work of art, I love it.
Manufactured sometime in *waves vaguely* the 20th century (probably 1930s-1960s) by the cutlery A. Bardin-Dozolmé. The blade is stamped “57 BARDIN Garanti”, which tells us nothing useful, this stamp’s been around since the 18th century. It’s 9.2 cm closed and 14.7 cm open. (3.62 / 5.79 inches)
2. Pruning knife (trinxet) from Mallorca, Spain
I’ve shown you this before, it’s got a curved carbon steel blade, a horn handle, and “friction lock” as they call it nowadays i.e. no lock whatsoever, it’s a clasp knife. And it’s the simplest, most convenient tool, I adore it.
Made by the cutlery Hermanos Campins in Consell, Mallorca, stamped “HNOS CAMPINS / CONSELL”, mid-20th century, 9.7 cm closed and 17 cm open. (3.82 / 6.7 inches)
3. Shepherd knife (couteau de berger) from Corsica, France
Another clasp knife (doesn’t lock), different shape, with a ram horn handle. Shepherd knives look like utility or bushcraft knives, their blades are not usually curved but they often have a clip-point shape, and they’re quite sturdy.
This is an outlier, it wasn’t really made for work, it’s for tourists or collectors. However, it’s handmade in the tradition of Corsican knife-making (as opposed to the more famous vendetta knives which were manufactured in mainland France, though I should clarify this shape isn’t uniquely Corsican either, it was widespread in both France and Italy), with a couple of modern touches: the blade is forged with a decorative flair, and the horn is first carved at the ridges (to emphasise it’s ram, I’m guessing) and then polished like a mirror.
It’s a strong, solid knife, and absolutely gorgeous.
Made by a local knife-maker (unfortunately I don’t know the name, the blade is signed but with a symbol) in Sartène, Corsica, maybe a decade ago. 11.5 cm closed and 19 cm open. (4.53 / 7.48 inches)
4. Folding billhook (roncola) from Italy
Billhooks are farming tools for cutting and pruning, though usually they have fixed blades. This one isn’t just folding, it’s an actual picklock, like a switchblade. (I mean with the same locking mechanism, it doesn’t open automatically or anything). The blade is carbon steel (that’s a lot of carbon, folks!) and the handle is beautiful, made of carved wood, with brass (I think) insets, and with a fancy external backspring.
Folding billhooks were exported from Italy to the UK. From 1961, a lot of them were imported by Whitby Knives, stamped “Whitby”, and were made in Maniago by Mauro Mario, a prolific knife-maker who also made a ton of switchblades. They looked like this:
The one I got looks earlier to me, but honestly I have no idea when it’s from. Early 20th? Late 19th? *uncertain noises* In any case, it’s 12 cm closed and 22.5 cm open. (4.72 / 8.86 inches)
5. Huge pruning knife (saca tripas) from Guanajuato, Mexico
And last but not least, a big fuck-off pruning knife, which locks securely with a ratchet and unlocks with a pull-ring. This is basically a folding sickle, you reap stuff with it, and can cut thick branches. The very curved carbon blade (it’s not over-sharpened, that’s its original shape) is stamped with a “J”, and the handle is made of horn, with an iron backspring.
The name is extravagantly bloodthirsty, it means “disemboweller” (saca tripas = “pulls out intestines”), and is of course a misnomer: this isn’t a weapon, it’s a farming tool. (Could it be used as a weapon? Well of course, but so can kitchen knives.) I’m not entirely sure if it’s really called that way, or only as a jest, or for the express purpose of selling one of them to bloodthirsty types, i.e. to morons. [Pet peeve: mislabeling work knives as “military” or “fighting” or “tactical”, when they’re clearly for utility, and often for some specific farming job. I even saw an ad for a knife like this describing it as a torture implement, for fuck’s sake people, IT’S FOR CUTTING PLANTS.]
So anyway, these knives can be found all over Mexico, and this one hails from the city of Guanajuato, or at least it was bought there at some point. It’s 16 cm closed and 28.5 cm open. (6.3 / 11.22 inches)
The lot of them
Despite the fact that all these are work knives (except the Corsican, but only technically: it emulates a specific, older work knife, and it’s still 100% functional), a clear effort has been made to make them pretty. And I LOVE this. Even the trinxet, which has a monochrome handle and no frills at all, is elegant in its simplicity, and they all have something going on, carvings, decorations, handles shaped to please the eye, materials chosen for their nice colour.
Aesthetically speaking, I think knives went to shit when plastic was adopted. (Practically speaking, I admit plastic is a lot more resistant to the elements; a handle of horn or bone must be kept dry or it shrivels, wood must be kept from dryness or it shrinks, bugs and mites eat it, it’s a mess.)
Not one blade here is stainless steel, and it shows.
Only the handle of the grafting knife (the smallest one) has scales riveted on a metal frame. Not coincidentally, it’s the most industrial production, it came out of a Thiers factory. (Thiers is a major cutlery centre, like Sheffield and Solingen.) The rest were hand-made in a workshop or at most a cottage industry (a bunch of people in a village construct parts and someone assembles them), and their handles are solid blocks of material (horn or wood), with a slit in the middle to fit the folded blade. That’s the simpler, older construction.
Folding knives are cool.
@tuulikki. And @victoriansword, @petermorwood, @peashooter85, I know you’re into the fancy stuff, but here I am plying humbler wares and hoping. :)
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Sometimes, war is the province of women.
An alternate take on the battle for air dominance over the skies of Europe during World War Two, as told through the stories of an American all-female bomber crew and the people around them.
This is a collection of standalone works that all interlock to form one big patchwork quilt of stories. It will see new additions every so often, especially because a lot of it is written to prompts. The collection on AO3 is my best attempt at organizing it in chronological order.
[click here for the WIP story collection!]
Want to know a little more about the OCs featured in this collection?
Please click the readmore below!
Charlotte “Lottie” Rivers-Mayhew
Fighter pilot turned bomber pilot
Can fly anything, will try anything. Big mouth, little heart. Lives in the land of innuendo and crude jokes. Loud about her whole existence. Very smart, but downplays that like whoa.
Julie “Jules” Langdon
Bomber pilot
Runs this gig and everyone else just needs to get with her program. Great at reading people the riot act. Comically unimpressed by everything that lands in her path. Nosewrinkles at any and all delays. Known for slipping people an extra bite to eat.
Christina “Tiny” Heartfield
Bomber co-pilot
Needs five hours to get ready for any kind of social event. Silver spoon baby. Knows all the gossip and all the good songs. Gets a little bit stressed about flying in warzones. Loves a good ghost story.
Eleanor “Nora” Graham
Navigator
The Mom Friend. Prone to giving hugs and peptalks. Bossy and quite rude when things don’t go her way. Cannot flirt her way out of anything. If you see her running, that’s just standard procedure.
Valerie “Val” Hodges
Radio operator
Absolute poker-faced ballsy liar. Most innocent face in the whole crew. Smokes more than her job should allow. Will try to wiggle out of any lectures by offering the most inane excuses. There’s not a puzzle she can’t solve.
Genevieve “Two” Hodgson
Tail gunner
Shows up late to everything except the war. Always chewing gum. Queen of half-hearted salutes and vague politeness. Keeps saying she’s too poor for this level of bullshit. Has a mean right hook.
Madeleine “Push” Perrault
Flight engineer
Making lists calms her down. Can and will call you stupid in four different languages. Thinks planes are better than people. Voice like a foghorn with the attitude to match. Believes she can fix anything.
Evelyn “One-Eye” Carter
Ball turret gunner
Happy-go-lucky baby of the group, rolling with life’s punches. Will talk your ear off. Could probably get away with murder. Best gunner in the crew. Can be painfully naïve.
Dorothy “Dee” Llewellyn
Waist gunner
Born a pessimist. Genuinely thinks no man should ever sport a mustache. Has a limitless supply of stories about her family. Very protective. Would inspire a riot if anyone ever let her talk long enough without interruptions.
Maxine “Max” Morrison
Waist gunner
Bold and brash and crackling with energy. Cracks more bad jokes than anyone alive. Has developed some rather complicated handshakes. Will interrupt any event or conversation. If you see her running, something’s probably chasing her.
Stella “Frosty” Lombardi
Bombardier
Icy calm in any crisis. Can calculate any bomb drop. Complains about the food. Is a true girl’s girl and refuses to so much as speak to most men. Never wants to miss out on the fun.
Lucille Dorrance-Jones, goes by Lucy Jones
Nurse
The singlemost stubborn person on the planet. Thinks some injuries are fascinating. Harbors a healthy distrust of bureaucracy and paperwork. Can probably drink you under the table. Encourages anyone to sing.
Cressida Dorrance-Jones
Interrogator
Sharp as a tack. Does not forgive, does not forget. Secretly more big-hearted than people would give her credit for. Really wants to fly a plane. Has an ongoing one-sided vendetta with Meatball.
Darlene Mayfair
Mechanic
Cheerful and spirited. Very gifted storyteller. Turns shy when complimented. Ride or die for people and sticks with them longer than they might deserve. Marches to the beat of her own drum.
Georgina “George” Campbell
Mechanic
Has a soft spot for strays. Suffers no fools. Is here to win a war, not ogle cute men. Perpetually fighting a losing battle against the grease stains on her uniform. The best co-conspirator you could ask for.
Imogene “Genie” Chapman
Clubmobile girl
Very outgoing people-person. Better at giving advice than at taking it. Designated hair-cutter. Loves movies and dancing. Knows just about anybody by name.
Jack Ellis
OSS
Doesn’t miss a beat. No-nonsense natural leader. Very determined to do what he believes is the right thing. Talks about the war in terms of “the game”. Warm and caring once he lets his guard down.
#masters of the air#mota oc#basilonefic#teirbm story#oc: lottie#oc: jules#oc: tiny#oc: nora#oc: val#oc: two#oc: push#oc: one-eye#oc: dee#oc: max#oc: stella#oc: lucy#oc: cressida#oc: darlene#oc: george#oc: imogene#oc: jack#meet my girls & the lone guy!#OC problem? me? more likely than you think
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okay i’m officially obsessed with robin’s high school band experience (i say officially, i’ve been thinking about this for a while and now i’m finally caving and writing about it), so here are my Robin Buckley Band Geek(TM) headcanons for you to enjoy or ignore at your leisure
Robin is actually surprisingly into basketball. did you see her at that game? yeah, she’s there to shred the melody line on 25 or 6 to 4, but she’s also here cheer on/laugh at the Hawkins High team
you bet your ass she has had a crush on like half the girls’ basketball team btw
some of her first jabs at Steve were actually about some of his worst moments on the court. until she saw that those actually hit kind of hard, and then she laid off and started mocking his inability to talk to girls instead
once she and steve become friends, he’s actually surprised when she can keep up with his and lucas’s basketball chats. they ask her to practice with them exactly once, and it goes as terribly as you’d expect. but she still hangs out sometimes and gives lucas pointers when steve isn’t there
her favorite pep band song is Sweet Caroline. it just is.
sweeeet carolliiiiiiine. dun dun DUNNNNNNN
she is not supposed to be standing next to Vickie during Lucas’s game (seriously what even are their lines?? trombone trumpet clarinet? a random baritone row behind them? @ hawkins pep band wtf is going on here)
but she’s a senior and she can do what she wants
Vickie lets her, which is very cute imo
she has a vendetta with the percussion line
this is band kid law. you have to have a vendetta with either the percussion line or the trumpet section, and since she plays trumpet, she only has one option
she’s actually not bad at marching band. she has the discipline, she can think on her feet, she can focus on her steps and the angle of her trumpet and the set list and everything all at once with no issue. it takes her a while to stop stumbling over her feet freshman year, but once she has the fundamentals down, she’s absolutely fine
she took a french horn solo to state contest her junior year and actually ranked pretty high. but between the stress and the ptsd, she just didn’t have the motivation to do it again her senior year
it’s just as well. contest would’ve been after the events of spring break, and even if hawkins high had the resources to send a group of band and choir kids to contest after the “earthquake,” she definitely would’ve backed out
speaking of spring break, the first time she tries to play trumpet again after facing vecna hurts. that’s a lot of air to get through a throat that’s been nearly crushed by upside down vines. she fakes a lot of her playing for a few weeks, and by the time graduation rolls around, she’s mostly just going through the motions
it’s another thing the upside down has taken from her, and it makes her livid
Nancy absolutely understands why Robin is pulling away from band, but sometimes she thinks back on her vague memories of Robin in the bleachers--the crisp jacket, the clean white gloves, the sharp angle of her shoulders as she snaps her horn to attention--and she wishes she’d paid more attention to her back then
Will joins band his sophomore year! he wants to try something that’s just for him. he asks Robin for advice and she tells him how to get on the director’s good side as well as which kids to avoid. she also tells him that if he joins percussion she’ll never forgive him.
i think he’d play sax personally--lots of melody, great for solos, but also not the center of attention and really good at blending in
Robin finds herself going to a lot of hawkins high games during her gap year, which is completely unexpected but also a lot of fun. she and Steve sit in the stands and cheer Will and Lucas on in equal measure
(Will being there for all of Lucas’s games, too <3 it’s what he deservessss)
Robin’s parents are broke and she never ever spends any of her money on herself, so she doesn’t actually own any of the instruments she’s played. which means after high school, she has no access to any of it even if she wanted to keep playing
Nancy, Steve, and all the kids pitch in to get her a really nice trumpet a couple years after high school. we’re talking King brand, silk-lined case, the works. she cherishes that thing like it’s the fucking crown jewels
if/when Robin goes to college, she won’t join band but she’ll befriend a lot of the band kids. they’ll find out she used to play a couple different brass instruments and encourage her to pick it up again, even if it’s just in her free time
she does, and she joins some small groups--not class related, just having fun and performing with her friends
(steve goes to every single performance, even if it’s not even a show or anything. he’s been known to sit in on practices and grin at her with the proudest, dorkiest look on his face)
(Nancy also goes to every performance she can. she surprises Robin once, flying in at the last minute to go to one of her concerts. she shows up with a bouquet of flowers and it takes all of Robin’s willpower not to fall to her knees and propose right there)
#robin buckley#band headcanons! we as a fandom should talk more about band geek robin buckley#and by that i mean i as an individual am prepared to keep talking about band geek robin buckley#also some crumbs for#ronance#writing things#band geek robin my beloved
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I get the impression that Lute had it out for Vaggie long before she made the "mistake" of sparing a cannibal child. Her mutilation of Vag seemed way to calculated and pre-mediated for it to have been a spur of the moment act of brutality. Considering how Vaggie was apparently one of Adam's best Exorcists, she may have had one of the higher individual kill counts among the Legion, something that Lute may have been jealous of her for despite being Adam's number 2. I get the feeling that she was waiting for Vaggie to screw up in some way so she could "cut her loose". She probably kept a close eye on her during Vaggie's last Extermination, saw her spare the child and jumped and was like "opportunity".
art by: reicav97 I really love this scenario and hope it makes it to the show.
Hello again.
Lute is a stoic character yet at the same time so very aggressive and hostile.
Despite her belligerent demeanor, she very loyal to Heaven and appears to have no ill will to the other angels. One can argue that reason Lute is so venomous to Vaggie is because she views Vaggie as a traitor and Lute is very loyal to Heaven and their cause.
But I agree. I think Lute has a personal vendetta against Vaggie. I would guess it was because Vaggie was originally the number 2 to Adam but in the flashback of Vaggie backstory, it still seem clear that Lute had the position then Vaggie. Perhaps the second in command was open and the two were recommended for it at one point. (But then what happened to the angel that had it before if angels were believed to be unharmed?) Veggie just being really outstanding in battle with her numbers. But Vaggie heart wasn't into commanding...and more so of working closer with Adam. While Lute numbers weren't as high but her belief in the cause, and desire of the position and qualities of leading had her qualified. Lute won out at the end by Adam decision, only because Lute had better chemistry and similar views with him about their task and Sinners. Lute just seem to vibe better with Adam which what won him over. (we see how in sync they are...Adam making lewd gestures to emphasize the point the Lute sung about at the trial) Lute, still sees Vaggie as a threat for her position. It only thing I can think of at the time being.
It could be just pure jealousy. Lute seems to be a very jealous girlfriend type. She probably hated Adam admiring Vaggie skills to the point that Adam name her Vaggie after the best thing ever. Lute jealousy also extending to Adams (previous and current((?))) wives.
But I think there's more to it. I know the exorcist thing is the x over the eye but the way Lute brutally cut out Vaggies eye seem a hell of a lot more personal. It seem quite literally. "an eye for an eye". It seem that Lute felt wronged by Vaggie on a personal level and this was her chance to enact the brutality of punishment that Lute believed she deserved. Then move on on a more professional note to strip Vaggie of her wings and halo, the very symbols of a heavenly angel for failing to perform her heavenly duty. But the eye,to me, felt personal.
Lute does seem to have a vendetta against Vaggie. But the reason is a mystery. Lute was definitely keeping a close tabs on Vaggie during the extermination. Since she swooped in nearly immediately when Vaggie refused to kill that child sinner. (Seriously, is it really that kids fault that he was a cannibal? I mean...he was a child...he was probably eating whatever he was fed not really know what he was eating.)
If we do, get more backstory, which I doubt, I think it be revealed that Lute and Vaggie use to be really close. Similar to how Vox and Alastor use to be close. But there's a hell a lot more of venomously animosity between Lute and Vaggie then there is between the overlords.
But we can't really know. The whole exorcist thing is pretty vague. We would know more about Lute and Vaggie if we know more about the exorcist in general. I would like to know more of it in general.
I remember Vaggie fact use to say she died 2014 when there was only the pilot out, but that been completely omitted now.
So is Vaggie and the other Exorcist were humans prior? I don't think that the case. It doesn't seem like a rewarding end life after living as a virtuous person. Waking up to Heavens gates then task with a job (I for one don't want my afterlife to have a job) to be in a secret killing force? Also, if we used the omitted Vaggie death day, plus guessing the time of the story is 2019, when the pilot came out...and Vaggie was with Charlie for three years...it only makes Vaggie an exorcist for two years. It seems unlikely the exorcist were humans at one point.
So I assume...the exorcist as always been angels. That Adam had a hand in? He gives them names apparently. So, like Lilith and Eve are the exorcist (all woman) also came from his ribs? That he regenerates to create more. The dickmaster father all of human and all the exorcist? If Vaggie has always existed as an angel...How long has she been one and took part of exterminations. Be interesting she caught glimpse of the hotel residence in the past during the exterminations only for them to become her found family later. Questions and more questions.
What's with the missing eye motif on the exorcist mask. I know, its more eye for an eye theme. In 'Hell is Forever'
"Did I hear you imply they don't deserve death? Are they winners, are they sinners? 'cause it cut and dry. Fair is fair, an eye for an eye..."
So what EXACTLY was he referring to? The sinners previous life of them committing their sins and the exorcist fulfilling the punishment? Or there something more...the uprising that Sera referred to Emily like was fact. The supposed uprising being the reason the exorcist came to exist to stop. What...actually went down (up?) with this uprising.
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel headcanon#hazbin hotel theory#hazbin thoughts#hazbin theory#hazbin lute#hazbin hotel lute#lute#hazbin adam#hazbin hotel adam#hazbin vaggie#hazbin hotel vaggie#hazbin hotel thoughts#hazbin exterminators#hazbin hotel exorcists
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