#I Am Not Alone ;; Guest Muse

[chaldeanordeal]

FIVE MILLION BILLION TAG ATTACK!!

[mythvoiced]

@jeoseungsaja | the GBEP

---

Among the many animals to hop and hunt and run about forest floors, foxes aren't exactly the strongest on the list. Take a red fox, it usually shares its habitat with bears and wolves, or even elks and deer not small enough to be prey, large enough to not be competition but certainly threat.

That's perhaps where the legend of the 'cunning fox' had come from, who knows. A small predator who knows its way around quick, small feet, who slinks and rests its chances of survival on agility, and on needing less to survive than other predators in its area much better at killing, much better at eating.

But, being so small, being so nimble, being up against competitors with larger jaws, larger paws... foxes are easily frightened, too.

At least in Yuri's case.

At least in Rang's case.

A fox' cry has been compared to the pained, terrified screeching of a female voice for good reason.

Yuri is looking at Yeo with the large eyes of a cornered animal, not of a predator who thinks itself at an advantage in a fight. Yuri doesn't believe in her prowess to fight against Yeo because she's arrogant, misguided, but because she needs to win against the bigger threat, because her survival depends on it.

Yuri doesn't stare Yeo down because she wants to take him down but because she has to get him to understand, as subconscious as the urge may be, that she will die in an attempt to remove him, if he threatens what little she has:

Rang.

Rang and her, two foxes, sœur et frère, bones exposed, hinds lame, in the woods somewhere.

She doesn't like his attitude at all. He stinks. Stinks of inhuman blood, of healing wounds, of age and expertise, he looks arrogant in her eyes, threatening for the position in Rang's life he occupies, the spot she doesn't understand. Why care about him at all? He looks like he's just waiting for the right opportunity to die.

Good.

Die.

One less thing to worry about, she thinks, with all the malice of a child who doesn't understand what death is.

I hope you die, the child says, thinking death means nothing at all, only understanding 'oh, how quickly adults pale at the word'.

Her gaze flickers between the door and him repeatedly, chewing his words over. She's not particularly witty, words mean little when she has claws and teeth, she's never used them to fight. She doesn't have a good retort, even if her eyes narrow in understanding that she's being target of mockery.

All the more reason to shoulder past him into his den.

She explores his place with her nose first, two steps in - flowery - before turning to stare at him again.

"I'm not scared. Or concerned. I'm bothered. By you. You sound like far more trouble than you're worth."

[ozzgin]

Do you only write Hannibal lecter or do you also write for NBC Hannibal?

Yandere! Hannibal x Reader: The Grand Meal

Gather around for a short story in the spirit of Thanksgiving. You have been invited by Hannibal Lecter to a celebratory dinner, although unexpectedly barren of other guests. He will be entertaining you this evening, carefully describing each dish as he battles his own inner turmoil. (For extra immersion, I suggest listening to Bach's 'Sheep May Safely Graze')

Warning: Cannibalism and detailed gore. I'd advise against reading if you're squeamish. 

[Horror Masterlist]

He politely aids you in removing your coat, folds it over his forearm, and steps aside, expectantly. You glance at him, somewhat confused.

"Your bag, if I may."

"Oh, I...I was planning to bring it with me. I have my phone in it and all the essentials." you stutter, unsure.

Uh huh. Your etiquette seems to be lacking in certain areas. Nothing that cannot be chiseled. 

"You won't be needing it, I assure you." he extends his hand out, waiting. 

You hesitantly place the dark leather Pochette into his fingers. Hannibal has always been rather particular when it comes to decorum. You wouldn't want to upset him, especially given his generous invite to his Thanksgiving celebration. He'd heard your complaint of being alone during the holidays and he encouraged you to join him instead.

As you hurry behind him down the spacious hallway, you quietly marvel at the expensive, tasteful paintings sporadically adorning the walls. 

"I suspected they might be to your liking." He briefly peeks back at you with a faint smile on his lips. 

The heavy wooden doors creak open and your nostrils are quickly overwhelmed by the tempting smell of intricate dishes. You narrow your eyes, taking in the flavors. Once you finally look ahead, you notice that the table, although neatly decorated, consists only of two seats that have been prepared for dining. Two opposing seats, causing the whole setup to seem of ridiculous length. 

"Pardon my intrusion, but is anyone else attending?" You cannot contain your curiosity.

"Oh, no.  Not really." Hannibal pulls your chair outwards before departing to his own designated place. "It's you and me. Does that bother you?"

"I suppose it's cozier this way." You brush it aside with a chuckle. Better than being alone, you tell yourself.

He nods in agreement before settling down. He takes a moment to examine the table, confirming that everything is indeed in its proper place. A final, satisfied incline of his head.

"Allow me to introduce today's dishes. I don't want to keep you waiting for too long." He says as he remembers your earlier little gesture of delight. "It's a little bit of a scattered theme, if I am to be honest with you. I've drawn my inspiration from varied cuisines."

"I can see. How exciting!" You swiftly scan over the diverse plates, enthusiastic and hungry.

"The main course is over there. Balsamic-glazed oven baked ribs. I recommend a drizzle of cranberry sauce to go with it."

As he points to the dish, he can almost hear the dry crack of the bone. Abruptly, he's been taken back to the previous night, to his humble slaughter room - the meat needs to be fresh after all. Shears cut through the ribs with little resistance. The blades go around the thoracic cavity, contouring the ribcage. Once a proper opening has been made, he firmly grasps each side of the ribcage and nonchalantly lifts the bone flap, resting it over the face. 

Wait. He quickly digs through the skin and fat that had been shoved aside with the carcass, searching for the face of the victim. It's you. How delectable and surprising that you've wandered into such a recollection. Well, not quite a surprise that you've invaded his memories; from the very moment he met you he's been plagued by this indecent idea: How would you look on the dissecting table?

His musings are interrupted by the sizzle of the sparkling wine he's currently pouring in your glass. He finds himself back at the dining table, together with his favorite guest. You graciously thank him, and as he gazes over your features, he can't help but continue this game of imagination he's just spontaneously devised. Whoever had been carefully served for this occasion will be temporarily replaced during the theatrical retelling by you. And what a fine actor you'll be, even though you're not aware of it.

Alright, one must start from the beginning. He traces the edge of the autopsy table and inspects the drain just below your feet. He wouldn't want an incident. Would you be mortified if you'd learn your secretions and discharges leaked and clotted against the sieve? Don't worry, you'll be spared of such scenarios. He'd never willingly embarrass you like that. He softly presses the scalpel against your bare skin, going under each breast and stopping at the pubic bone. Now to trim the thick layers of fat sticking to the dermis. You're not making much of a mess, but then again it's a dream within his idle mind. A mischievous grin takes over his expression once he witnesses his clean work. The segments of skin detach smoothly, revealing your glistening, bloated organs. 

He already went over the ribs. That part has been covered. What comes next? His eyes rest on the most obvious: your intestines. Which reminds him...

"This one is a Middle Eastern dish. Stuffed intestines. You gently cut the membrane, like this." He demonstrates on a separate plate. "Don't worry about seeing some additional blood. Naturally there are many capillaries irrigating the walls, so you might open them up in the process. It quickly seeps into the mixture and adds a bit of a stagnant flavor to it, but it's merely noticeable."

You swallow dryly.

Back to the original matters. He searches for his scissors and cuts along the attachment tissue smoothly. Once the bowels have been freed, he fondles them into his hands, cupping them into place, and hurries to the nearby counter. The entrails collapse and spread onto the marble surface, like mischievous tentacles. He languidly eyes them. Do organs resemble their owner? Absurd question, really. Do they reflect one's health - that much is indubitable. Yet he can't help feeling that if presented with an endless row of viscera, he could, without hesitation, point and state which ones are yours. It's a mysterious confidence whose source he cannot pinpoint. You've always captivated him. Just when he thinks he's had you like an open book, you slip and slither between his fingers. Fitting.

What is it about you that preoccupies his mind to such degree? He turns back to the table and scans the remaining options. Your intelligence? The tool drawer opens and his fingers linger over the saw and skull chisel. Perhaps. But there's more to it, really. His analytical, rational self craves for more than what it can grasp. And what it lacks, well...

He pinches the visceral fascia and lifts the translucent membrane, with the same delicacy of unveiling a young bride, and reveals your heart, cold and still. There it is, the answer to everything. A transect to the vena cava near the diaphragm and the organ has been separated from the rest of the body. An angel with clipped wings. Holding it like this, he can almost discern the faintest throb, the fibrous muscle pressing into his skin. 

"And this?"

He purses his lips, taken aback by his own rudeness. Has he been zoning out in plain sight?

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

"The dish, I mean."

He follows the direction of your stretched out index. Ah.

"Heart stuffed with mushroom duxelle. Old English classic with a twist." 

"You sound like a professional chef", you respond as you laugh. "Is there anything you can't do?"

Is there? He considers it. Right before his revelation was discontinued by your inquiry - absolutely not your fault, the ill manners were his - he was wondering if he possesses the capacity to love you. He definitely prefers you over all of the people he's encountered in his life, and your behavior and way of thinking never ceases to make him curious. Yet love is a conclusion he cannot asses with certainty. 

He had hoped a vivisectionist approach would offer him concrete data, palpable reasoning, but his journey only reinforced that some concepts must be tested outside of pure introspection. Or, as one would describe it colloquially, he has to take the bull by its horns. 

"By the way, what meat is this?" You have arranged yourself a platter with a little bit of everything, and just finished chewing a hearty bite. "Ox or something? It's very tender."

If Hannibal is to embark on his expedition of human feelings, he needs to reflect on his choices carefully. Or does he? Hmm. His methodical tactics are what caused this impasse in the first place. 

One can afford to give in, every now and then. How will you react to his self indulgence? He rests his head on the back of his intertwined hands and stares at you with a determined look. 

"Human."

[zablife]

🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️ screeching in here now that my coffee has kicked in and I can type sentences again. Very excited that your requests are open again!

Please could I have something based around ‘Are you jealous?’ with Tommy?

Sorry I know you’ll get a million Tommy requests but I’m just a girl 🙈 I am not immune. Ideally the filthier the better 🤭 but just wherever the muse takes you babe! xxx

Thanks for the request, Alex! I've combined your ask for smut with another lovely anon's request for a Cillian character w/ breeding kink. I hope this is ok! (Slight warning for hints of dark, possessive Tommy, but not to worry bc it turns to fluff at the end.)

All Mine 🔞

Tommy x gf reader

Tommy's nails dug into your forearm as he dragged you away from the party you were hosting. "Where are we going?" you whispered, stumbling slightly to keep pace with his strides. Taking one last glance over your shoulder, you flashed an apologetic smile to your guests, realizing they were as confused as you were.

Once out of earshot, Tommy's composure shattered, rage melting his icy blue eyes. "Why didn't you tell me you'd fucked my new business partner?" he seethed.

You shook free of his hold with an indignant look. "Jesus, Tommy! That was five years ago!" You rolled your eyes as he began pacing the long corridor. In his haste to leave the table, he'd forgotten his cigarette case and without the distraction, his agitation grew.

Throwing your hands up, you exclaimed, "Yes, I have a past! But I didn't think someone like you would hold that against me."

He stalked toward you, narrowing his eyes as he came close enough for you to smell the whisky on his breath. "But I do, especially when you spend half the fucking night whispering in his ear!"

You gathered your long skirt over your arm in preparation to leave, shaking your head at him in disbelief. Every conversation you'd had that evening was in promotion of Shelby Company Limited. Frankly, you were fed up with all the business talk and ready to scream at him for his ungrateful attitude. However something stirred inside when you glimpsed the tortured look in his eye. Your shoulders relaxed, backing down from the fight when you realized he was nothing more than a hurt little boy lashing out.

"Are you jealous?" you asked incredulously, an irrepressible giggle bubbling up from your chest at the idea of him pouting like a child.

"You're the one making a fool of yourself," he grumbled, not in the mood for teasing.

Caressing his face with your hand, you attempted to bring back the confident man you knew. In these moments he needed you to quiet his inner voice of inadequacy. "Where do you get these ridiculous notions and when will you give them up?" you scolded with a peck to his lips. You only intended a brief moment of affection before returning to your guests, but Tommy had other ideas.

Leaning down to hook a strong arm beneath your knees, he lifted you off the ground. Yelping in surprise, you threw your arms around his neck to brace yourself. You couldn't be sure, but you thought you detected a hint of a smirk tug at Tommy's lips as he carried you toward the staircase and away from the noise of the first floor.

Alone in the quiet of the bedroom, Tommy's intentions were clear. Hands roving your body, he hitched up your skirt, squeezing the flesh of your ass appreciatively. His body pressed into yours insistently, slamming your back against the vanity mirror with enough force to break it.

"Tommy, slow down," you begged, unable to keep up with his feverish kisses. However, his ministrations did not stop, his large hand encircling your throat possessively as the other dipped between your legs. He unexpectedly forced your underwear aside to push two fingers into your sopping heat.

"Is this for him or me?" he demanded in a low voice, pumping his digits into you the way he knew drove you wild. You could scarcely think as he worked you into a frenzy matching his own, but you knew he expected an answer.

"You...always you, Tom," you huffed out in uneven breaths, gripping his shoulder for support when he began biting and sucking near your collarbone. With that declaration Tommy abruptly stopped, staring into your eyes to determine the truth. Finding them glossy with unshed tears and feeling the flutter of your desire around his fingers, he was satisfied you were being honest with him. He rewarded you by hooking his fingers against the achingly delicious spot within you that set stars dancing behind your eyelids.

"So perfect," he praised, pressing his forehead to yours. "And loyal?"

"Yes," you whimpered as his thumb grazed your clit, sending sparks shooting through you.

"Then there's one more thing you need to do to prove it," he pronounced, withdrawing his hand and denying your pleasure so as to have your undivided attention. You whined at the sudden loss of stimulation, tears nearly spilling onto your flushed cheeks in protest.

The hand at your throat stroked your delicate skin gently as he fed you his soaked fingers. You sucked wantonly on your own juices while he nuzzled his nose against yours and whispered to you softly. "If you give me a child, there won't be any more doubts."

Your eyes went wide at his request, but he scarcely noticed, rubbing himself against your thigh to show how eager he was to begin. "Take off your dress," he commanded in a low voice.

"Now? We have guests," you reminded him, but he wouldn't hear any arguments.

A growl of frustration rumbled in his chest as he answered, "I don't give a fuck. Take it off now or I'll do it for you."

Apparently you didn't make your decision quickly enough because you heard the snag of fabric before catching the rapid motion of his hands out of the corner of your eye. Within moments the slit at your thigh was torn to your waist, exposing your lower half and sending shivers through your entire body.

With a harsh gulp, you removed the damaged garments as Tommy watched with lust filled eyes, stroking himself before you shamelessly. "That's better," he hummed in satisfaction, palming the globe of your breast. You nodded, biting your lip. You'd learned long ago you were powerless against Tommy's will, his desires becoming your own.

"Have to show that bastard who you belong to," he said through gritted teeth as he pushed you onto the mattress. You could only nod in agreement as he entered you swiftly, setting a brutal pace from the start. It was unlike anything you'd experienced before with Tommy rutting into you with reckless abandon. His hips slammed into yours with punishing force, fingers at your hips wrapped tightly enough to leave crescent shaped bruises.

Your cries soon echoed through the room and he did nothing to quiet you. In fact he spurred you on, demanding to hear how much you wanted his seed. You had no trouble complying, cries falling from your lips with each deep stroke. "Please, Tommy," you pleaded in a high pitched whine you barely recognized as your own, needing his comforting warmth within you instead of spurting across your chest or stomach.

The sight of you with half lidded eyes, begging for his cum was all Tommy needed to tumble over the edge. Quickly losing rhythm, he clutched your waist mumbling, "Going to fill you up." Suddenly his hips stuttered to a halt as he seated himself deep within you. You moaned at the intoxicating feeling of rope after rope of hot cum coating your insides, his release triggering your own. While you rubbed your clit to prolong the waves of pleasure, you heard Tommy moan at the way your cunt continued to milk him. "Such a good girl, taking every last drop," he praised.

He took a moment to admire you, watching your ample chest heaving and plump lips parted in ecstasy. He'd never felt so satisfied, but he soon collapsed upon you in contented exhaustion.

The enormity of what you'd just done came rushing toward you, but you were calmed by the weight of his body holding you down. Running your fingertips through the soft, shorn sides of his hair you mused, "Tommy, what is it you really want?" You could still feel the way his heart beat against his ribcage, transferring vibration through your body. It felt as though you could share anything with each other in this moment, while you were still joined as one.

He raised his face from the crook of your neck to place a tender kiss to your lips. "You," he stated simply. Running a hand down your body to rest over your stomach, he added, "Can you blame me? You're the most incredible woman I've ever met. Of course I want you to have my children."

You beamed at him, heart swelling with pride at his admission. He wasn't normally so effusive. Leaning in to kiss him, he withdrew from you and you let out a whimper at the aching emptiness. As sticky white rivulets of his spend ran down your inner thighs, Tommy scooped it up with his fingers, pushing it back inside you.

You sighed contentedly as he placed a kiss to your temple, aftershocks from your orgasm causing you to clench onto his fingers, drawing his cum further inside you. "Good girl, keep it in," he instructed, peppering your face with kisses as you grew sleepy.

However, one thought lingered in the back of your mind. "How could you have thought I wanted anyone else? You know I'm all yours," you declared, hoping to dispel any lingering worry he might have. As soon as the words left your mouth, you felt Tommy's cock stir against your thigh.

Removing his fingers from you, he replaced them with his cock and began slow, gentle thrusts against your opening until he was hard enough to bury himself into you once more. He groaned at the sight of your tightness split around him, looking as though you were made just for him. Leaning down to cradle your neck and shoulders under his arms, he held you close. Hot breath fanning over your ear, he murmured, "When I see your beautiful body swollen with my child, then I'll know you're all mine."

A needy cry escaped your throat as his cock dragged against your oversensitive walls, your nails clawing at his back to urge him back inside. "S'alright," he hushed, "I'm going to keep you full," he promised with a snap of his hips. You wrapped your legs around him, heels eagerly pressing into his back to accept everything he could give.

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[novaursa]

Legacy (dinner with a lion)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: 1

- Next part: power play

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

Tywin sits alone at the head of the table, his fingers steepled as he waits, his expression as unreadable as the darkness pooling around him. The faint rustling of armor and the heavy door opening signals the arrival of his guest, and a faint smirk tugs at Tywin's lips as Petyr Baelish enters, eyes sharp, glinting with his characteristic cunning.

"Lord Baelish," Tywin greets, his voice a quiet command in itself, and he gestures for Petyr to join him. "I trust the journey from King’s Landing was not overly burdensome."

Petyr steps forward with a slight bow, his expression betraying nothing as he takes a seat. "Lord Tywin," he replies smoothly, "one grows accustomed to the roads in these trying times. Though, it is a relief to find oneself back in civilized company."

Tywin nods slightly, acknowledging the thinly veiled compliment, though his gaze remains sharp. "There is much to discuss, Littlefinger. I trust your recent activities in the capital have yielded… profitable results?"

Baelish’s lips curve in a shadow of a smile, his hands folding on the table before him. "Profitable indeed, my lord. The city is ever a place of opportunities for those with an eye keen enough to see them. But I must admit, I did not expect to find you here in Harrenhal… or to hear of a rather unique guest in your company."

Tywin’s expression remains unreadable, though a glint in his eye betrays his satisfaction. "Ah, yes. The rumors travel quickly, I see. It is true. She’s here."

Littlefinger raises an eyebrow, his tone careful. "The sister of Rhaegar Targaryen herself. I’d thought her lost to the North, tucked away under the Starks’ protection."

"The Starks’ protection can only go so far, especially in times such as these." Tywin’s tone is cold, final. "Lady Y/N’s presence here is… fortuitous, and I intend to ensure she remains under Lannister protection from now on."

Petyr’s face shifts, his surprise only barely concealed. "Lannister protection," he repeats, musing over the words, his fingers drumming lightly against the table. "So… I am to assume her role will extend beyond mere ‘protection’?”

Tywin’s lips thin into a faint smile, a calculated gleam in his eyes. "Quite astute, as always, Lord Baelish. Lady Y/N will accompany me back to the capital, where preparations for our union will commence."

For the first time, Petyr’s mask falters, his expression flickering with a trace of genuine surprise. He recovers quickly, smoothing his expression back into one of neutral interest. “Your union?” he asks, as if testing the weight of the words.

"Indeed," Tywin replies, his gaze unwavering. "A union that will serve to secure her position—and mine. A Targaryen, legitimized under Lannister rule, will silence whispers on both sides. There are… strategic benefits to the arrangement."

Petyr’s eyes narrow, the cogs turning in his mind as he weighs this unexpected twist. “A fascinating decision, my lord. I must admit, I didn’t think you the type to take a wife again.”

Tywin’s gaze hardens just slightly. "One must be prepared to make certain sacrifices, Littlefinger. This is more than a mere alliance—it is an investment in the future stability of the realm."

Baelish gives a small nod, masking his surprise with the smooth, charming smile he so often wears. "And who better than you, my lord, to secure such stability." Yet, there’s a glimmer of something deeper in his gaze—curiosity, calculation, perhaps even a hint of envy. The wheels in his mind turn, each possibility shifting into place.

Just then, the door opens again, and Arya steps in quietly, her gaze downcast as she approaches Tywin with practiced caution. She keeps her movements careful, her head bowed, hoping to avoid the sharp eyes of Petyr Baelish. There’s a stiffness in her posture, a wariness that one would notice if looked closely enough—an instinct to stay hidden, out of his direct line of sight.

She clears her throat, addressing Tywin in a low, subdued tone. “The kitchens have been notified, m’lord. They’re preparing dinner for two as you requested.”

Tywin gives a curt nod, a faint note of approval in his voice. “Good. Remember to relay instructions clearly. I don’t tolerate carelessness.”

“Yes, m’lord.” Arya’s reply is measured, steady, and she bows her head again before taking a step back, hoping to blend into the background.

Baelish glances at her, his eyes narrowing slightly, though he says nothing. Tywin’s attention returns fully to him, cutting off any opportunity for deeper scrutiny.

“Now,” Baelish continues, his tone sliding back to its usual ease, though he seems unable to completely mask his curiosity. “Your decision to bring Lady Y/N back to the capital… and to wed her… It’s a bold choice. But surely, there are risks in aligning with a Targaryen, especially with her brother’s allies still stirring trouble in the North.”

Tywin’s gaze sharpens. "Risks are inevitable in any pursuit worth undertaking. Lady Y/N is no mere Targaryen pawn; she has spent her years with the Starks, understanding the value of loyalty and the strength of alliances. She is an asset, one who will be as useful to us as she is beautiful. I would expect you, of all people, to understand the value in seizing such an advantage.”

Littlefinger inclines his head slightly, accepting the reprimand with his usual grace. “Of course, my lord. It’s clear you have considered all angles… as always.”

Tywin’s lips curl into a faint smile, though there’s a coldness in his gaze, an unwavering sense of purpose. “She will remain under our protection, a union that will secure her future and strengthen our own. And rest assured, Lord Baelish—there is nothing I have not accounted for.”

Arya shifts subtly in the background, watching the exchange with quiet intensity, her gaze carefully averted as she fights to remain unnoticed. But one can sense her unease, the tension coiled within her as Baelish’s eyes flit in her direction once more, though Tywin’s commanding presence keeps his curiosity in check.

Baelish clears his throat, breaking the silence. "It seems, then, that Lady Y/N’s fate is sealed, under Lannister protection, as you say. I shall be sure to offer my… congratulations, Lord Tywin.”

Tywin’s response is a mere nod, curt and dismissive, as if the matter were already resolved. “Indeed. There is nothing more to discuss on this subject. And as for Lady Y/N, she will be prepared for what lies ahead, with or without any further interest from others.”

With that, Tywin’s gaze flicks to Arya, signaling her dismissal. "You may go, Ary. And remember—take care to stay out of trouble. I won’t tolerate mistakes.”

Arya nods quickly, mumbling a quiet “Yes, m’lord,” before slipping out of the room, her heart pounding as she escapes Baelish’s prying eyes. She leaves Tywin and Baelish behind, aware that her role here is as dangerous as it is vital, even as the weight of Tywin’s plans settles heavily over Harrenhal, casting shadows that will follow all who stand in his path.

The chamber is warm, filled with the scent of lavender and rosewater, and for a moment, you almost forget where you are. The tub is a luxury you haven’t felt in weeks, perhaps months—hot water, scented oils, and a rare sense of solitude. Yet even as you sink deeper into the warmth, you’re keenly aware of what this bath signifies: preparation. Tywin's plans have already begun, each detail meticulously arranged, as if even your appearance belongs to him now.

After the bath, you’re helped from the water by two servants, silent and efficient as they wrap you in soft, thick cloth. They don’t look you in the eye, their faces carefully composed, trained not to betray any thoughts of their own. You’re led to a chair by the mirror, and another servant—a younger girl with nimble fingers and a gentle touch—begins to work on your hair, combing it slowly, carefully, her movements practiced.

For a time, no one speaks, the only sound the gentle scrape of the comb through your damp hair, the crackle of fire in the hearth, the whisper of fabric as they prepare the gown laid out for you.

Finally, the young girl ventures a quiet comment, her voice respectful yet tinged with a hint of curiosity. “My lady… you have beautiful hair. Unusual, like silver.”

You meet her gaze in the mirror, offering a polite smile. “Thank you,” you murmur, though the compliment feels hollow, an echo of a different life. In the North, your hair had set you apart, a reminder of your Targaryen blood, a mark of both your family’s glory and ruin. And here, in Harrenhal, that same hair becomes another detail in Tywin’s plan, something to be arranged and polished for presentation.

The girl continues her work, separating strands to braid, her fingers working with delicate precision. She doesn’t ask further questions, sensing perhaps that this is not the place for conversation, or perhaps trained to keep her thoughts hidden.

As she finishes a braid and moves to another, she glances at the woman standing near the door—an older servant, clearly in charge of overseeing your preparation. The woman nods, as if giving silent permission, and the girl reaches for a small box, retrieving something that catches the firelight—a thin golden thread, gleaming against the dull stone of the chamber.

Your breath catches. “What is that?” you ask, though you already know.

The older woman steps forward, her expression unreadable. “Lord Tywin’s orders, my lady. A touch of gold, to complement your gown.” She gestures toward the dress, a rich shade of crimson with subtle golden embroidery, unmistakably Lannister colors. “He thought it fitting.”

You bite back the urge to scoff, keeping your expression neutral. “Fitting,” you repeat softly, watching as the girl weaves the golden thread through your braid with painstaking care. The irony is not lost on you—this thread, this symbol of Lannister wealth and power, woven into your Targaryen hair, a mockery of your heritage. Even here, in this small detail, Tywin’s influence surrounds you, binding you to his house in every visible way.

The girl glances up, sensing your unease. She hesitates, fingers still for a moment, before speaking in a low, cautious voice. “Is… is it not to your liking, my lady?”

You force a small, restrained smile. “It’s… a thoughtful touch,” you reply, keeping your tone steady. “One must always consider appearances, after all.” The words feel brittle, like glass on the verge of shattering, yet the girl seems relieved, resuming her work with renewed focus.

As she finishes, she steps back to admire her handiwork, eyes bright with pride. She’s braided your hair into an intricate design, the golden thread glinting subtly, woven through each plait like veins of sunlight in silver. It’s beautiful, in a way—refined, elegant, and utterly foreign. The girl beams, clearly satisfied.

“It suits you, my lady,” she says, a note of admiration in her voice.

You look at yourself in the mirror, studying the unfamiliar reflection. The gown clings to you in shades of red and gold, Lannister colors draped over Targaryen blood. And the braids, laced with golden thread, feel like a chain, binding you in a way more powerful than any metal could.

“Fitting, indeed,” you murmur under your breath, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of your lips. To anyone else, this might look like elegance, like opulence. To you, it feels like an ironic jest, as if Tywin himself were mocking your heritage, stripping it away strand by strand.

The older woman watches you carefully, sensing the tension but saying nothing. “Lord Tywin values appearances,” she says finally, her voice neutral, almost mechanical. “A mark of respect, my lady, to make you feel at ease.”

“At ease,” you echo, a quiet scoff escaping despite yourself. “Yes, I’m sure his intentions are nothing but respectful.”

The woman says nothing, only inclines her head in a gesture of polite acknowledgment. There’s no room here for rebellion, no space for protest, and she knows it. Her role is simply to prepare you, to mold you into the image Tywin desires. To make you presentable, obedient, fit for his plans.

Finally, they finish, the servants stepping back to assess their work one last time. The young girl looks at you, her eyes shining with pride as if she’s just created a masterpiece. “You look beautiful, my lady,” she says softly, a note of genuine admiration in her voice.

You manage a tight smile. “Thank you.” The words feel hollow, an acknowledgment of her work rather than any reflection of your own thoughts. As you rise, smoothing the folds of the gown, you catch a final glimpse of yourself in the mirror—transformed, adorned in Lannister colors, the last threads of Targaryen fire hidden beneath layers of Tywin’s calculated opulence.

They lead you to the door, and the weight of what lies ahead settles over you like a shroud. Every braid, every glint of gold, a reminder that Tywin’s influence is woven into every part of this encounter. You steel yourself, breathing deeply as you prepare to face him, feeling each golden thread in your hair like the bars of a cage.

The servant by the door opens it, bowing low as she gestures for you to proceed. “My lady,” she murmurs, voice soft with a hint of reverence. You take one last glance at the mirror, the reflection now foreign, then step forward, leaving the chamber behind.

Tonight, you wear the colors of the lion, but the blood of the dragon remains, burning beneath the surface, silent yet unyielding. And as you make your way to the private dinner Tywin has orchestrated, you cling to that thought, holding onto it as your only reminder of who you truly are.

The dining hall Tywin has selected for tonight is secluded, almost intimate, a stark contrast to the grand banquet rooms of the Red Keep. The servants lead you to a table set for two, where Tywin sits waiting, his gaze fixed upon you the moment you enter. He surveys you with his usual piercing scrutiny, noting the golden thread woven through your hair, the crimson gown that drapes over your form—an image carefully crafted under his direction.

As you approach the table, your eyes catch the carefully arranged plates, and you feel a jolt of surprise. It’s a meal reminiscent of days long past—rich dishes that you once enjoyed as a princess, delicacies served at your family’s table in the Red Keep. Each plate a small piece of memory pulled from a life you’ve long since lost.

The first dish is braised quail in honeyed wine, garnished with sprigs of rosemary and roasted chestnuts. Next, a bowl of spiced chickpea stew with saffron and sweet currants, the same recipe your mother once had the cooks prepare for Rhaegar’s nameday feast. A platter of thick slices of duck, glazed with honey and dusted with ground cinnamon, sits at the center, flanked by roasted figs and fresh pomegranate seeds. And beside your plate, a familiar goblet of chilled summer wine, the floral scent wafting up as it mingles with the rest of the meal.

Tywin’s gaze follows your eyes as you take in each dish, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “I trust the menu is to your liking?” he asks, voice cool and unruffled, though there’s a note of satisfaction beneath the surface.

You settle yourself across from him, lifting the goblet and taking a measured sip, the sweet wine coating your tongue in flavors that feel almost foreign after so long. “It seems your memory is as sharp as ever,” you reply, setting the goblet down. “Or perhaps I should say, disturbingly accurate.”

Tywin inclines his head, his gaze unyielding. “One does not achieve much in this world by forgetting details… especially not ones that are so important.”

Your lips curl into a faint, sardonic smile. “Important,” you echo, glancing down at the spread before you. “Yes, I suppose there’s value in knowing how to replicate the past.”

A ghost of amusement crosses his face, and he leans back slightly, watching you with those steady, calculating eyes. “I thought it fitting to make you comfortable, Y/N. You are, after all, accustomed to a certain… standard.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, instead selecting a piece of quail, savoring the tender, honeyed meat. The taste is perfect, achingly familiar, yet tinged with bitterness. “Comfortable,” you repeat, the word tasting strange in your mouth. “And yet, the golden thread in my hair, the crimson gown… it seems comfort isn’t the only thing you had in mind.”

Tywin’s smirk grows, his gaze unwavering. “You always had a sharp tongue. I appreciate honesty, even if it borders on impertinence.”

You place your fork down, fixing him with a steady gaze. “I’m not here to amuse you, Lord Tywin. Let’s not pretend otherwise.”

For a moment, he merely watches you, a faint glimmer of amusement lingering in his eyes. “I didn’t bring you here to pretend, Y/N,” he replies, his voice laced with that unyielding authority he wears like armor. “I brought you here because you are a valuable asset. Because, regardless of your feelings on the matter, our union will strengthen both our positions.”

You scoff softly, not bothering to hide the disdain curling in your voice. “A union?” you echo, your tone sharp. “Forgive me if I find it difficult to see myself as anything but a tool in your grand design. What I think, what I want, seems irrelevant to you.”

Tywin raises an eyebrow, clearly unruffled by your bluntness. “What you think does matter, more than you may realize. I respect intelligence, even if it comes with… resistance.” He lifts his own goblet, regarding you over the rim. “But you would be wise to remember that, in this world, power is the only true form of freedom. I’m offering you that power.”

You feel a bitter laugh rising in your throat, barely holding it back. “Power,” you repeat, your voice laced with irony. “The illusion of control, perhaps. Yet you know as well as I that this marriage would bind me to you, to your family’s name and interests. I would simply be another piece on your board.”

A flicker of something passes across his face—amusement, irritation, it’s hard to tell. “You are correct in that it binds you,” he replies smoothly. “But you are wrong to think that it would leave you powerless. The position of Lady Lannister, bound to both the lion and dragon, is one of influence. You would be free to wield it, to shape it as you see fit.”

You take another sip of wine, letting the silence stretch between you, refusing to yield to his steady, piercing gaze. “So, in your mind, this is generosity?” you ask finally, the skepticism clear in your voice. “A benevolent act, done out of kindness?”

“Kindness?” Tywin repeats, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “No, Y/N. This has nothing to do with kindness. It has everything to do with legacy—yours, mine, ours. Together, we can reshape the foundations of this realm. I thought you, of all people, would understand the value of that.”

Your jaw tightens, and you set down your goblet, meeting his gaze with equal intensity. “And do you think I’m so eager to cast aside the name I was born to? To let it be consumed by yours, to be dressed in red and gold and paraded as your prize?”

Tywin’s gaze sharpens, but his expression remains composed, almost amused. “You think yourself diminished by the name Lannister?” he asks, his voice quiet yet cutting. “You are mistaken. Names change. Blood, however, does not. You would do well to remember that.”

The statement hangs in the air, a reminder of the power struggle woven into every word between you. For a moment, you study him, this man who seems both captivated by your resistance and determined to conquer it. His amusement, his tolerance of your sharp words—it is almost as if he relishes the challenge you present.

“Perhaps you find my bluntness inconvenient,” you say, choosing each word carefully, your voice cool. “But make no mistake, Lord Tywin: I am not some empty vessel to be filled with your ambitions. I am a Targaryen, and that will not change, no matter how tightly you try to bind me.”

He chuckles softly, a sound that somehow both soothes and chills you. “Good,” he says, surprising you. “I would not want a weak-willed bride. It’s your fire that interests me, Y/N. You may resent this arrangement, but I know that you, too, have ambition.”

You hesitate, his words striking a nerve you hadn’t expected. He’s not wrong, and he knows it. You’ve spent your life as a toy in others’ games, yet a part of you longs for something more. Tywin sees it, and he knows how to wield that knowledge.

“If you think flattery will convince me,” you say, voice softer now but still guarded, “you’ll find it a difficult task.”

He merely lifts his goblet again, taking a slow sip before responding. “Flattery?” he echoes, an eyebrow arching. “I don’t waste time with it. I’m simply offering you a choice—join me willingly, and wield the influence you deserve. Or resist and remain a tool of others’ ambitions, a relic of a fallen dynasty.”

His words settle over you like a weight, cold and unrelenting. This is Tywin’s game—a careful blend of power and persuasion, of promises and threats. And though you’d rather cast aside the gown, the golden thread in your hair, the Lannister colors binding you like chains, you know that this is the hand you’ve been dealt.

For tonight, you’ll play along, if only to see what more Tywin Lannister will reveal. You lift your goblet, the bitterness easing just slightly, and meet his gaze across the table, the sharpness in your eyes matching his own.

“To legacy, then,” you say, voice cool, raising your glass in a half-hearted toast. Tywin’s smile deepens, as if sensing the smallest flicker of surrender.

“To legacy,” he replies, his voice as steady and unyielding as the stone walls of Harrenhal, sealing your uneasy alliance with the clink of crystal and the promise of a future neither of you fully controls.

Arya slipped down the dimly lit corridor, her footsteps silent as a shadow. She’d left the kitchens moments ago, her heart pounding with the thrill of sneaking away from her tasks and Tywin’s ever-watchful gaze. She moved carefully, glancing over her shoulder to be sure she wasn’t followed. Finally, she ducked through a small doorway that led her toward the lower halls, where she hoped to find Hot Pie and Gendry.

After winding her way through the damp stone corridors, Arya spotted them near the flickering light of a sconce, their backs pressed against the wall as they whispered together. She crept up, tapping Hot Pie on the shoulder, causing him to jump.

“Ary! Thought you’d gotten caught,” he hissed, relaxing once he realized it was her.

Arya grinned, her grey eyes shining with a mixture of excitement and determination. “Not yet,” she whispered back, casting a glance down the hall. “I’ve got a knack for not getting caught.”

Gendry chuckled softly, crossing his arms. “And where’ve you been? Thought Tywin had you running about all day.”

Arya nodded, her expression sobering. “I’ve been doing what he wants, yeah. But I’m here now, aren’t I?”

Hot Pie shuffled his feet, glancing nervously between Arya and Gendry. “Ary,” he began, voice low, “is it true? That he’s got a… you know, a Targaryen locked up here?”

Arya’s expression softened at the mention, a flicker of emotion flashing across her face. She’d been careful not to speak too much about it, knowing the danger it might bring. But these were her friends, her brothers in everything but blood. She could trust them.

“Yes, it’s true,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. “Y/N… she’s like a sister to me.” Her voice grew stronger, her gaze fierce. “And we’re going to help her escape.”

Hot Pie’s eyes widened, clearly caught off guard by her resolve. “But… but she’s a Targaryen,” he stammered. “Aren’t they… dangerous?”

Arya’s gaze turned steely, and she crossed her arms, giving him a pointed look. “She’s not dangerous, Hot Pie. She’s family. More than most, anyway.” She looked away, her thoughts drifting back to the days they spent together in Winterfell—the shared laughter, the stolen moments of peace in a world that always seemed to be on the verge of war. “If anyone deserves freedom, it’s her.”

Gendry glanced between them, his brow furrowing as he took in her words. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” he said, voice quiet but understanding. “You want us to help her escape, along with ourselves?”

Arya nodded, her jaw set with determination. “She doesn’t belong here, locked up under Tywin’s watch. Once we get out, we’re taking her with us.”

Hot Pie shuffled his feet nervously, casting a wary glance down the hall as if expecting Tywin himself to appear out of the shadows. “But… how? Tywin keeps a close eye on everything. Even if we try, there’s no guarantee she’ll get out in one piece.”

Arya looked him dead in the eye, her tone fierce and unyielding. “We’ll find a way. She deserves better than this. And if there’s even the smallest chance we can get her out, we’re taking it.”

Gendry nodded, giving Arya a supportive look. “I’m in,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “If she’s as important to you as you say, we’ll help her. But we’ll need a plan.”

A flicker of relief crossed Arya’s face, but her voice remained steady. “We’ll think of one. Just keep your eyes open, and stay close. The moment we see an opportunity, we’ll act.”

Hot Pie sighed, shifting uncomfortably but nodding all the same. “Alright, Ary. If you say so.”

She gave them both a small, grateful smile, feeling the weight of her resolve settle more firmly on her shoulders. She knew the risk they were taking, the danger they faced. But for Y/N, for her sister-in-heart, it was worth it.

As they huddled closer, discussing possible ways to slip past the guards and navigate the castle’s many corridors, Arya’s eyes caught a familiar figure in the distance. The shadows played tricks in the dim light, but she recognized the silhouette of Jaqen H’ghar, his silent, calculating gaze lingering on her for just a moment before he turned and disappeared around a corner.

She felt a shiver run down her spine. Jaqen was mysterious, unpredictable—a man of many faces and secrets. And while he’d saved her life once, she wasn’t sure what he’d make of this plan. With a last, wary glance, she turned back to her friends, ignoring the figure as best she could.

“Alright,” she said in a hushed voice, returning her focus to Hot Pie and Gendry. “We keep to the shadows, stay out of sight, and don’t get caught. And when the time comes, we get her out of here. No matter what.”

With nods from her friends, Arya felt a surge of determination. She didn’t know how, or even when, they would make their move. But one thing was certain—they wouldn’t leave Harrenhal without Y/N.

[cryptidghostgirl]

Yo can you do a part 3 of Cover Up where y/n is introduced to the rest of the members of the hotel.

A/N Yes?? I love me some fluff like that. I also had another request for a part three to this series but yours came in first so I am going to make that one a part four and because you didn't super specify anything you wanted besides intros, I am gonna spin this to line up with that request. I hope that is okay.

Cover Up pt. 3 (Alastor x Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Previous Parts:

Cover Up (Human!Alastor x Human!Reader)

Cover Up pt. 2

Warnings: mentions of murder, Angel briefly flirts with you, jealous/minorly possessive Alastor. I think that is it, please correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 1,885

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Alastor Master List

Click here and leave a comment if you want to be added to any taglists or send me an ask about it.

Once Alastor had given Y/n the full tour, she had absolutely insisted that she be allowed to meet the rest of the guests. Alastor could never say no to her and so, he had taken her by the arm and walked her back into the lobby. It did not come as a surprise to him that in the short time they had been away from the hotel's central area, Charlie had managed to set up a welcome party for his darling wife. Y/n on the other hand, gasped in shock when everyone jumped out from behind the various couches.

"I literally... okay, I have no clue who any of you are but thank you? This is so sweet? I..."

Before Alastor could do a thing about it, Y/n was whisked away from his gentle grasp by Charlie. The demon Princess brought Y/n to the center of the room, Alastor watching from the sidelines with crossed arms. She seemed to happy, so absolutely filled to the brim with joy. As much as he wanted to take her away from the crowd, to be alone with her, he allowed the party to occur. Her joy had always been his priority, first and foremost. There would be time.

"Everyone!" Charlie excitedly announced, "This is Y/n! She is going to be our newest guest. Our cook? Our newest maybe guest who is going to work as a cook."

Y/n laughed lightly at Charlie's confused words. She took a slight step forward.

"Hi everyone." she waved with a soft smile.

"Oh she's good." Angel Dust muttered and Husk elbowed him in the stomach, catching the glare Alastor had shot the spider demon's way.

"Ow!" Angel exclaimed, rubbing the spot the cat demon had hit as he turned to him, "What was that for?"

Y/n chuckled a bit uneasily, looking over at Alastor and his wide smile. Vaggie quickly stepped in, breaking the tension she felt slowly building in the group.

"I'm Vaggie." she announced in an unfounded and unexpected display of friendship, "Charlie is my girlfriend, we run the hotel together."

Y/n lit up at her words, shaking the hand Vaggie held out to her enthusiastically.

"I didn't realize she had a partner in all this! And in afterlife too, I guess. That's so sweet!"

Vaggie smiled, letting out a light laugh as Charlie stepped up behind her, placing her hands lovingly on her girlfriend's shoulders.

"She is just the best." Charlie warmly noted as Y/n and Vaggie released their clasped hands, "I wouldn't have been able to come this far without her or any of the other sinners we have working with us."

"I thought everyone else here were just guests." Y/n mused aloud and Charlie shook her head.

"No, no! We tried doing it on our own in the beginning... but then Alastor showed up. He brought along some friends and, well, he's really been such a help. We are so grateful to have him and them on our team."

Y/n shot her husband a sidelong glance, smirking mishceviously.

"You really know how to work magic, princess." she hummed, "Getting Al to be a team player? I'm impressed."

"Oh, no!" Charlie frantically waved her hands, desperate that Y/n not get any wrong impressions, "We didn't pressure him or anything, he showed up of his own accord, actually."

"Really." Y/n laughed lightly as she fixed her gaze back on Charlie, "Well, I'd love to meet these alleged 'friends' of his he brought along."

"Of course!" Charlie exclaimed, smiling brightly once again as she stepped to the side with Vaggie, "Husk is our bartender and Nifty is our maid. She was our cook too but, I suppose you'll be taking care of that now."

Husk nodded his head in polite recognition of the introduction Charlie had given him. Nifty on the other hand, was incapable of such restraint and, her curiosity getting the better of her, rushed up to Y/n. In a split second, she had climbed the demoness' body like a ladder and was perched on her shoulder, messing with her hair.

"You smell nice." she hummed, smiling and Y/n's cheeks flushed slightly pink.

"Why, thank you. That is very sweet of you to say."

"Will you help me in the war against the bugs too?"

"Come on, Nift." Angel sighed before Y/n could respond as he walked over to the pair and grabbed the smaller demon, "Don't freak her out."

Nifty made grabby arms towards Y/n as Angel lifted her into the air and Y/n's smile only widened at the sight.

"No, please don't worry. You didn't freak me out, Nifty. I am actually looking forward to working with you, I like your enthusiasm." Y/n sent Nifty a wink and the little demon's smile grew as her feet found solid ground again.

She shot a look up at Angel, nodding her approval as Y/n fixed her gaze on the spider demon as well.

"And you are...?" she prompted and Angel immediately fell into character.

Stepping forward, he leaned down towards her, running a hand through his hair while resting one of his elbows on her shoulder.

"Angel Dust is the name, but you can call me whatever you want."

He expected her to be flustered, to at least blush a bit. He waited for her to take a step back or even to be teased or jabbed the way Husk did when he was like this, but nothing of the sort came. Instead, Y/n's eyes glinted in the light, narrowing with intended mischief.

"Oh yeah?" she asked, taking a step closer to him and batting her eyes oh so prettily.

"I... uh..." Angel stuttered, completely taken aback.

Y/n dissolved into a fit of laughter, hands clutching at her stomach as she doubled over.

"I'm sorry!" she wheezed, "I couldn't help myself. I'm actually taken."

"You are?" Angel asked, growing more confused as she straightened back up, wiping a stray tear from her eye.

In a split second, Alastor was behind Y/n, his claws wrapping around her shoulders.

"She is." he replied and though his voice was calm and even, it sent shivers down Angel's spine.

Angel took a step back, scratching the back of his head as he looked away in discomfort.

"Oh, uh, sorry. Didn't realize you and the strawberry pimp here were an item."

"Strawberry..." Y/n laughed again, craning her neck to look up at Alastor behind her back, "I am not letting you live that one down."

Angel smiled, regaining his composure and placing his hands on his hips.

"Oh yeah? You shoulda heard what that girl who was in here a few days ago called him. 'Tall dark and creepy' was it?"

"And what girl might that be?" Y/n asked after a moment, crossing her arms over her chest as she sidled her way out of Alastor's grip, turning to face him.

"Mimzy." Husk answered before Alastor could reply, "She's just some lowlife who always hangs around when she needs Alastor to take care of some trouble she's caused."

Y/n let out a gasp.

"Mimz is here?" she asked excitedly, bouncing on her toes.

"She's here, darling." Alastor replied, "But she is no longer welcome in the hotel. Caused quite a bit of trouble for us when she visited after all, can't have her ruining my newest project."

"Well, can we go visit her? I miss her so much!"

"You know her?" Charlie asked, her voice laced with confusion.

Y/n turned to face Charlie, nodding intently.

"Yeah, she introduced us actually."

"Introduced certainly is a word for it." Alastor admitted and Y/n chuckled.

"Back when we were alive, she used to throw these 'singles parties.' As it turned out, Al and I both were using them as a hunting ground so to speak. When we met, he offered to walk me home and then pulled a knife on me. Of course, I already had my gun trained on him so we found ourselves in a bit of a sticky situation. It was so romantic." Y/n wistfully replied.

"Uh, yeah." Angel laughed, "Romantic. That's the word."

"So you guys knew each other when you were alive?" Vaggie asked.

"Yeah, we did." Y/n nodded, "You guys can ask whatever but first, I think there is one more person I have yet to meet?"

She turned expectantly towards Sir Pentious who up until this point had been standing quietly near the back of the group. At the redirection of the rooms attention, he felt his cheeks grow warm.

"This, Y/n, is our other guest." Charlie announced, gesturing towards the snake demon with an outstretched hand.

"Sir Pentious." he bowed lightly, "It is an honor to meet a demon as... as stunning as yourself."

There was a heartbeat, a single tense moment of silence. Then Y/n laughed, waving him off cheerily.

"Oh you, what a charmer."

"So you guys knew each other when you were alive? And you're... you're together?" Angel cut in, drawing Y/n's attention back to him as he lead her by her arm over to the bar.

They sat down beside one another, Husk slipping behind the counter and pouring them each a drink.

"Yep." Y/n replied, downing her drink and meeting Angel's eyes.

"How?" he prompted after a moment and Y/n laughed.

By now the rest of the gang had brought themselves over to where the pair sat and were listening intently. Alastor stood near the edge of the group, all the seats near his beloved having been snatched up before he had the chance. He crossed his arms over his chest, his patience beginning to wear thin.

Nearly one hundred years. It had been a lifetime since they had seen one another and the brief tour of the hotel he had given Y/n earlier was not enough to satiate the rabid hunger in his chest. Still, for her, he tried.

"Well, it was a ruse at first. Just a partnership. I watched for cops and he provided me with the brute strength I lacked. We were actually in the middle of chasing down one of his victims when he finally asked me out."

"You were a killer?" Pentious asked, enthralled.

"I was." Y/n nodded, "Until Al died and I was under too much suspicion to do so anymore."

"So you..." Charlie trailed off, counting on her fingers in deep concentration.

"Have been married for a hundred years give or take? Yep."

"Wait, hold on!" Angel exclaimed, "Married?"

"Did Charlie not tell you anything? More importantly, did Al never talk about me?"

Y/n raised her eyebrows, meeting her husband's gaze across the crowd. Alastro looked away, nearly bashful under her persistent gaze. It was Husk's turn to step in now, taking a sip of his own drink as he leaned across the bar.

"Alastor has enjoyed keeping his secrets." he candidly stated, "But there were one or two times he drank a little too much and let your name slip."

Alastor glared at Husk and Y/n grinned at her husbands reaction to the revelation.

"Always the troublemaker, that one but, god, do I love him."

-----

Next Part -> coming soon

Tags:

@willowshadenox @i-love-jafar @elfyeet @reader3 @lazygirlfanfic0-0@kahlan170@wendyphan01203-blog @fairyv-ice @clarakainda @lunaramune @mcueveryday @luxky-aish @peterpankat @corvid007

[generalsmemories]

Ginkgo leaves

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader

✧ based on the ask: Since reqs are open, you think you could write jing yuans reaction to his lover being Mara-struck? Thank you! - requested by anonymous

✧ contents: established relationship, angst, hurt/almost no comfort lmfao, implied character death, mentions of other characters, pov mostly written in jing yuan's pov, still usage of 2nd pov (referring the reader as you), mayhaps ooc because jing yuan is an emotional wreck.

✧ a/n: when i tell ya'll i legit struggled to be able to write this entire thing. there's been like 3-4 scrapped drafts because halfway through writing i would just NOT be satisfied with the result. to the anon who requested this, i'm so sorry it took this long - but i hope the upcoming trainwreck makes up for it! a trainwreck im still not actually satisfied with LMFAO. but it's better than the other 5 scrapped works. also not beta-read so fellas if u see a spelling error - no you didn't.

p.s: some mara-struck information i give here are totally fanmade for the purpose of this fic alone, as such don't take whatever i write about mara here as what actually happens canonically to characters (then again most of the playable characters have different symptoms of mara themselves).

"Benefactor, am I correct to believe you're asking me if the general has any specific interests?" Tingyun asks with a snicker, the trailblazer looking away from her prying eyes while mumbling a quiet yes.

"Some of the younger... Can I call them younger? Anyway, some of the younger Xianzhou citizens are very infatuated with the general. Seeing as I've been announced as his honory guest, they do often come and ask me various things to try and gain his favor. So yeah, anything at this point will work - so please!" the trailblazer hurriedly explained, clasping their hands together in a desperate attempt to get anything from the foxian amicassador leaning back with a quirked eyebrow.

"Ahh, love truly makes someone go blind doesn't it," she muses out loud, the trailblazers' eyebrow furrowing together in confusion over the foxian's lady choice of words, "... You're not entirerely wrong with that statement..."

"Do you want to know what his favorite flower is?" Tingyun asks, ignoring the confused question that had been uttered to her, snapping her fan open to hide the cheeky smile that spread across her lips - but anyone could still tell that her eyes were gleaming with mischief as the trailblazer nodded their head.

"He doesn't have one."

"Then why did you even-"

"But he likes ginkgo leaves."

The trailblazers' eyes widened in shock, and rightfully so because the very thing ginkgo leaves are associated with are after all...

"He had a lover once, and as far as I'm aware, his last moment with them while they still had their consciousness intact was surrounded by ginkgo leaves."

Jing Yuan whilst having forgotten almost every single moment with you, does unfortunately remember the exact details of the day that your descent into madness started. Because what he witnessed wasn't a futile struggle you had with yourself to not to destroy everything within your vicinity. Instead, he witnessed the slow process of your bright self becoming an empty shell, only capable of uttering a few words.

It's comical really, even when faced with a curse that struck everyone mad - he found out that it oddly fit your character to not go mad, but instead become the complete opposite of your gentle self. A hollow shell of the person he fell in love with all centuries ago.

Jing Yuan knew he had to end your suffering right then and there when you first started to show signs.

But he couldn't - This wasn't something that had to be immediately dealt with, his hand wasn't forced like it was back when he had to slay his own master down before she took more lives.

No, this was a normal afternoon on what would've been another normal, mundane day in both of your lives. But everything went wrong the moment Jing Yuan heard the breaking of glass, and how there was a lone gingko leaf inside the palm of your hand - a ginkgo leaf that you were staring wide-eyed at with a trembling hand.

You were too far from the veranda to have a ginkgo leaf in your hand.

General Jing Yuan would've ended your suffering the moment you turned around to lock eyes with him, your own face twisted into one of utter fear.

General Jing Yuan would've reported you the to Ten-Lords Commissions as the law had stated. But Jing Yuan couldn't - because Jing Yuan knew that the moment he did, he would never see you again.

So he decided for once he would be selfish. Jing Yuan rarely made choices lately that was based off of his own feelings, but his time with you was cut too harshly, so once again he chooses to be selfish. Even if that meant that it would prolong your suffering just a tiny bit more. "... We can figure something out," was the only thing he could muster up the courage to say with a shaking voice. You didn't say anything, your mouth wobbling a tiny bit and your breathing getting harsher by the second.

But still you indulged him - you always did. So with an equally wobbly smile, you only nodded your head slightly, "... Sure."

That wobbly smile and expression of utter fear was the last genuine expression that truly came from yourself.

The descent to becoming fully mara-struck is usually a fast process, the curse able to completely overtake someone's mind within the same day the symptoms appears - rendering the person completely vulnerable with the only alternative to either hand themselves in to the Ten-Lords or wait for the Ten-Lords to come to them personally.

Your usual easy-going smile was gone, in its stead was eyes that kept going in and out of focus. Almost as if you were desperately trying to keep yourself grounded - a battle you both knew would end with your defeat.

Jing Yuan didn't dare to venture outside of the house. One step out and every Cloud Knight would've been on you within seconds to subdue you. He had first initially resorted to just holding you within his arms for as long as he could, to be able to remember how you felt like after your death.

But with the minimal strength you had left, you had wobbled to the garden, every step taken only making you pant heavily. But even with heavy breaths of air leaving your lips, you had refused to take Jing Yuans hand or offer to even carry you out to the garden. When you had managed to reach the ginkgo tree standing tall at the center of the garden, Jing Yuan was sure you were going to collapse in front of it, taking a quick step to catch you.

But instead you had merely reached your hands up, the falling leaves fluttering gently down onto your palms. And while you were in indescriable pain for the last couple of hours - Jing Yuan could only see a serene expression when you looked up at the ginkgo leaves that were continously falling down.

"... They're beautiful... aren't they... Jing Yuan? It's almost a pity... that these beautiful... leaves are associated with our doom," you said softly. Jing Yuan could feel his breath hitch in his throat when you uttered his name.

You're obviously struggling to convey whatever thoughts you still had to him properly, taking a moment in between words to catch your breath, eyebrows furrowed slightly as you fought against the searing pain that was spreading through every nerve in your body.

There's a sudden gust of wind which causes the pile of leaves in your hands to flutter away from your grasp. Your hand stretches out slightly, almost in an attempt to reach out for them - stumbling a bit in your step. The limp causes Jing Yuan to take a quick step forward with his arms outstretched. Perhaps seeing him in your peripheral vision causes you to stop the futile attempt to catch the escaping leaves, arms going limp against your side as you turn to face him - your once blank expression turning into a somber smile instead.

Jing Yuan thinks that it's unfair how normal you look in front of him - almost as if you haven't been becme mara-struck. Like nothing has happened to you aside from the ginkgo leaves fluttering from your lips whenever you cough. The same cough that causes the general of Luofu to flinch every time - without fail.

And perhaps you can see his inner turmoil, the way he tries to make eye contact with you, but is unable to after a few seconds. The way his hands clench too hard into fist to the point droplets of blood fall down to the grass and stains it a deep red while he bites his own lips to not say a word - lest he says something that he will regret.

And you truly wish that you could tell him everything is okay like you usually do.

But for the first time since the day he lost his friends, you can't.

"... I'm sorry," you finally say, the apology making him whip his head up to you again. Mouth opening to say something to comfort you, to tell you that it's not your fault. But the words are unable to leave his mouth when he sees your arms slightly outstretched towards him with a small smile.

And he can't hold it in anymore.

It only takes him a few wide steps to reach you from his position before he cradles you within his arms. The grip is tight, unbearably tight to the point it hurts, but you don't complain. You're limp in his hold, and if this was any day he wouldn't comment, but the fact that you're not moving a single muscle terrifies Jing Yuan to the core. "... Please," he finally manages to whisper, the rustling of ginkgo leaves around you almost drowning out his quiet plea.

"Please don't make me do this again."

He doesn't ask if the tensing of your body is caused by the pain that's rapidly increasing or if it's caused by his silent confession. He can however feel the gentle hand that rests against the lower part of his back and your head resting against the side of his own. The reassurance you try to give him does nothing to help because he's aware that it probably brought you unmeasurable pain to try to move those limbs - instead the general buries his face closer to your neck and squeezes you tighter.

"... You won't." you whisper quietly.

It takes a moment for Jing Yuan to process the meaning behind those two words.

But it's a moment too late, because before he can get his phone out to usher a command, a few resounding knocks can be heard throughout the quiet mansion.

"General Jing Yuan. This is Xueyi of the Ten-Lords commission. I've gotten information that there's currently a mara-struck within these premises."

Jing Yuan feels his blood run cold, he pulls himself away from you to stare at you properly in disbelief.

You're still staring at him with the same somber expression, however he can tell there's a small pitiful smile grazing your lips, "I'm sorry," you whisper once again.

"I asked her... personally," you start, finally letting yourself rest now that the end is near, slumping down onto Jing Yuan's chest, your ear settling itself against his heart to hear his rapid heartbeats.

Jing Yuan loathes the fact that it's at this moment, with the Ten-Lords commission outside of your door and with him completely broken do you actually look at peace - like your battle against time has finally come to its conclusion.

And naturally, the one who lost is you.

"Half a day... with you. Then she would come and bring me there. You won't have to... do this again."

You're not able to see Jing Yuan's face - and Jing Yuan wouldn't want you to see how he looked like right now. The arms around you is trembling, his mind is racing - trying to come up with anything to give him a bit more time with you.

But for once, the general that had a plan for every situation had nothing in mind.

He's lost. And the prize of the loss this time is losing you forever.

"General, I apologize for the rudeness of what I'm about to do, but this is for both of your safety," Jing Yuan hear Xueyi mutter from outside of the door, before he hears the rattling of the door frame start to slide open.

"Wait- no," it's a quiet request that gets ignored as Xueyi strides in alone, the lack of company making Jing Yuan's eyebrows furrow in confusion.

"... Their last request along with the request for my late arrival here was for the Cloud Knights to not see you like this. Naturally I won't tell anyone of what I've seen today."

Jing Yuan doesn't care about that, he could care less about his image right now, pulling you closer to him while his eyes are downcast - he makes no move to hand you over to the judge.

The puppet judge before him does not say anything - nor does she make a move. What she does however is wait, wait for the general before her that has been utterly crushed and broken by the person in his arms start to accept the harsh truth once again.

If he doesn't handle the mara-struck himself, someone else would - but the end result only serves to punish him in the end, the one left behind.

Xueyi hears a silent breath be let out by the general, her once closed eyes opening up to see the general pull slightly away from you, one hand reaching up to cradle your cheek. Your eyes have long since closed, and you're most likely not even conscious to hear what he's about to say.

"My dear... I'm sorry I couldn't do more for you. But I'm afraid you'll have to wait a bit longer before we can meet again," he whispers, bumping his forehead against your own gently, "I hope you won't fault me for that."

A long ginkgo leaf flutters right between the two of you, eventually settling down on your chest.

Jing Yuan sucks in one last deep breath, "I'm sorry I kept you here for so long - I'm sorry you had to be in pain for so long because of me," he leans in to slot his lips one last time over your own, whispering something that Xueyi can't hear before he rises up, your body limp in his arms.

"Thank you for your service Miss Xueyi, please see them off appropiately." Jing Yuan says, voice sounding eerily calm - almost like his usual self.

When he turns around to finally face her, the puppet's lifeless eyes seem to grow a bit in surprise. Before her is the general of Luofu, his usual easy-going smile present on his lips.

Like he wasn't carrying his mara-struck lover in his arms.

"As much as I would want to accompany you to see them off, I'm afraid I have some urgent matters to attend to," he informs, handing your body over to Xueyi - she doesn't comment on how his hands are still slightly trembling or how he immediately turned a bit to the side to ignore staring at her head-on.

Even though Xueyi doesn't want to ask, she still asks either way, "What are your plans from here on, general?"

Jing Yuan only gives her a close eyed smile, turning his gaze towards the large ginkgo tree with his hands behind his back. He gnaws a tiny bit at his lips, finally breathing out.

A couple of seconds passes by before he opens his mouth.

"I think I'll meditate a bit under this tree before heading back to the Seat. I can't leave Luofu without me for too long after all."

5 SCRAPPED WORKS AND I'M STILL NOT ACTUALLY THAT SATISFIED BUT IF I KEEP THIS PIECE LONGER IN THE WORKS THE MORE I'LL BUTCHER IT SO HAHA - THIS IS THE BEST WE CAN DO AFTER 3 MONTHS OF CONSTANT BACK AND FORTH FELLAS. I HOPE IT SQUEEZED YOUR HEART A TINY BIT NONETHELESS.

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

The Danger Zone (Part 7) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 3.6k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy; Secret Relationship; Angst; Undefined Relationships; Overprotective Family; Background Relationships; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: You and Jake take some time for yourselves before you tell Bradley the news.

Series Master List

Master List

About Fourteen Months Ago

Jake glanced around the reception hall. It was Rooster and Emma’s rehearsal dinner and he was more than a little bored. Everyone else had paired off with their plus ones or were trying to get one and Jake just decided to wander around the building to the outdoor bar for a change in scenery.

Walking over, Jake was about to order a drink when he spotted you sitting at the end of the bar, dressed in a dress that hugged your body well and a pair of heels. He had seen your picture before any of the wedding preparations started, and knew that he’d shoot his shot with you if given the chance. He saw that you had a boyfriend, but yet he hadn’t seen the guy around anywhere today.

So, he was going to take a chance.

“What’s a beautiful woman like you doing out here all by yourself?” Jake drawled, letting his Texas accent shine through.

“Trying to get away from my family, actually,” you mused, taking a sip of your drink. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not but Bradley’s a bit of a groomzilla.”

“He’s been a diva ever since I met him.”

“You’re Hangman, right?” you asked, turning in your seat towards Jake. 

“The one and only,” Jake returned with a nod. “And you must be Rooster’s one and only sister. The maid of honor.”

“That’s me.” 

“Well, that makes me even more curious about why you’re out here alone,” Jake remarked, taking his seat. “You didn’t even get to bring a guest to pull you out of the bullshit?”

“Well, I did have a guest. And then I sort of broke up with him a few weeks ago,” you replied, causing Jake to nod slowly.

“That’ll do it.”

“Oh, it did,” you replied, taking another sip of your drink. Turning back to Jake, you offered him a playful smile. “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Why is it that my brother didn’t warn me to stay away from anyone else except for you?” you mused, leaning on the bar top. “What makes you so special?”

“I have a few guesses,” Jake responded, motioning to the bartender to grab a drink for himself. “Your brother and I have a history of not seeing eye to eye on a lot of things. And I have a nasty habit of flirting with beautiful women.”

“He was probably worried that you’d take advantage of me, since he thinks that I’m vulnerable and pathetic right now.”

“You’re not upset about your breakup?” Jake asked, turning to you. 

“It was one of those relationships that you look back on and wonder why you stayed for as long as you did,” you explained before taking a long sip of your drink. “And I think my family was more upset about it than I was.”

“Who cares what they think? It’s your life, your relationship, your decision.”

“I'll drink to that,” you returned with a smile. 

Jake got his beer and the two of you chatted as the dinner dragged on. Laughing at one of Jake’s jokes, you turned around when you heard your name. Penny was standing at the entrance to the hall and motioning for you to come inside. She glanced between the two of you with a look that you would call knowing motherly intuition before heading inside. 

“I should probably go,” you stated, standing up from the bar. “Thanks for the chat.”

“Anytime,” Jake replied, eyes still trained on you. 

“Do you have any plans for after the wedding tomorrow?” you asked, sliding your clutch under your arm. 

“Are you offering?” Jake asked, a smirk overcoming his features. 

“Only if you’re agreeing,” you returned, taking slow steps from him. 

“And if I am?”

“Then if you give me a ride home tomorrow, I’ll see what I can do to repay you for it.”

“I’ll be there,” he stated, nodding in return.

“I’ll be the one standing at the altar in the blue dress next to the bride. Just in case,” you joked, heading inside. Sending him one last smile, you added, “Bye, Jake.”

~~~~~

Present Day

Jake took the initiative and suggested that the two of you take a day trip together away from San Diego where the two of you could talk in peace. And the beach town where you may or may not have accidentally conceived your child together was his first suggestion. 

The two of you walked down to the beach, which was relatively quiet as it was still early in the day. You picked a spot a short walk from the waves where the breeze was present but not too strong and set down your bag. 

“You need help?” Jake asked as you unrolled your beach blanket. 

“I think that I can manage,” you assured him, using the breeze to fluff out the blanket. 

You set it down on the sand carefully before straightening up. Shimmying out of your beach cover, happy to sit in the warm California air in just your bathing suit, you caught Jake’s gaze on you. Tossing your dress onto your bag and slowly lowering yourself to sit on the blanket, you looked up at Jake.

“You know, you staring at me got us into this situation in the first place,” you commented, adjusting your top. 

“I didn’t hear you complaining before,” Jake quipped, sitting down beside you. “And I was staring at your bump, not . . .” You glanced down at your small bump before turning back to Jake. “You hide it everywhere else.”

“Not everyone knows about it everywhere else,” you pointed out softly. You glanced down at your bump again, tilting your head to the side. “Though I guess it is starting to grow, isn’t it?” 

“Has Mav said anything to you since the dinner?” Jake asked, turning to stare out at the waves.

“Not much besides checking in on me. I think that he’s just waiting for us to tell Bradley.” 

“And where are you with that?” Jake inquired, glancing over at you. 

“I know that I have to do it. Mav already invited us over for dinner next weekend, so I have a feeling that he’s getting antsy about it,” you replied softly. “But it’s terrifying to think about Bradley’s reaction.”

“Why? He’s just your brother.” 

You turned back to Jake with a mildly annoyed expression, but he didn’t seem to back down on his opinion. Resting your hands on the towel behind you, you stared out and away from Jake, settling your emotions before you responded. 

“I know that not everyone is close with their siblings. But Bradley and I are close. Because we had to be,” you explained, watching the waves crash rhymically in front of you, helping settle you more. “Look, maybe if my dad lived or my mom lived, we wouldn’t have been as close. But we had to rely on each other a lot growing up.”

“Like with what?” 

“It was usually just us. My grandparents helped out, but they got sick. My mom was there and she took on everything that she could, but she had to work full time. Mav was gone for a lot of the time. Bradley would start dinner for my mom and then help me with my homework pretty much every night.”

You paused, glancing down at your toes and curling them in the sand as a nervous habit.

“Hell, Brad even took me to the father-daughter dance one year. My friend’s dad drove us, but Brad was my guest. There were a lot of times where he was just forced to stand in for someone else for me. And I always feel guilty about it.”

“Why?”

“Because he didn’t have a choice. He was the oldest and Mom couldn’t physically be there for everything. And Mav was busy with his career.”

“Mav wasn’t around that often for you guys?” Jake asked after a moment, a little confused. “How are you guys so close then?”

“He wasn’t around a lot when we were little,” you explained, turning back to Jake. “I think that he didn’t want to spend too much time around us because he felt guilty about it. Like he was taking my dad’s place. But then my mom started to get sick and he took a lot of time off to help with us.” 

“How old were you when your mom . . .?” 

“I was ten, I think, when she got diagnosed. And then I was two months away from turning thirteen when she passed. Brad was fifteen.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“It happened a long time ago,” you replied softly, staring out at the waves. 

“If the baby’s a girl,” Jake ventured after a moment, causing you to turn back to him, “did you want to name her after your mom?” 

“I was thinking of her middle name actually. And it doesn’t have to be ‘Carole’ exactly, but something like it. I don’t want any kid to feel like they have to live up to someone else’s name,” you stated, and Jake could sense from your tone that you weren’t really talking about your baby. “I would want our daughter to have her own name. Or our son too, of course, if the baby’s a boy.” 

“If we had a boy, you’d want his middle name to be Nick then?” 

“No,” you stated, shaking your head slowly. “I, uh, we never talked about it, but I always just knew that Bradley would want to name his son after our dad. And hey, I can’t even remember the man, so I’ll just leave the name for Brad.” Adjusting your sunglasses, you turned to Jake again. “And I kind of assumed that if we had a boy, you would want his middle name to be ‘Jacob.’” 

“Why would you think that?” Jake asked, confused. 

“Most boys have their dad’s name as their middle name,” you pointed out calmly. “Is your middle name your dad’s name?”

“The kid doesn’t need my name,” Jake stated, dodging your second question.

"What about your surname?"

"I just assumed you wanted to name them 'Bradshaw'."

"I wanted to hyphen it actually,” you replied, brushing your hands on your thighs to rub the sand off. “I mean, we’re going to co-parent. So, they can have both of our names.”

Jake nodded slowly, murmuring that he heard you. Staring at the waves again, you knew that it was probably best to not push Jake on the subject of his family. But you literally knew nothing about his childhood except for the fact that he wouldn’t talk about it. And that he was from Texas. That was it.

And if Jake’s family was going to become your family through your baby, you felt like you needed to know more than that. Or at least an explanation for why you didn’t.

“Jake?”

“What?”

“Why do you avoid every question that I ask about your past?” you asked softly, turning back to Jake. “Or your family?”

“Because they’re irrelevant. They’re not going to be involved, I'll tell you that right now. I haven't spoken to them since I was . . . twenty-five," Jake replied, doing the math in his head. "And I'm not going to start again anytime soon."

"Who is 'them'? Your parents?" you asked quietly.

"Why does it matter?"

"Because I'm currently pregnant with your baby and I don't even know if you have a sibling. I mean, that's the most basic information that you share with anyone." Turning to face Jake more, you folded your legs under you. "And I'm not trying to overstep but if we're going to be a team and co-parent, can I at least know something about your past before the Navy? Anything?"

"I'm an only child," Jake replied after a moment.

"Thank you," you returned softly.

"Don't mention it."

Turning back to the waves, you moved to give Jake some space. You clearly struck a nerve with him, though you felt like it was a topic that you had to discuss with him at some point. But it was going to be an incredibly tense drive home if you kept pushing him, so you decided to give him a moment.

"I'm going to go down to the waves for a bit," you stated, slowly getting to your feet.

Jake stopped his staring contest with the horizon and looked up as you walked away and headed down to the wet sand and waves. He watched you as you slowly walked into the water, getting your toes and ankles wet. You set your hands on your hips, which naturally seemed to curve your posture and stick your bump out even further so that when you turned to look down the beach, Jake could see the gentle curve.

Sighing, he held his head in his hand for a moment. He ran his hand through his hair and angrily tugged at the strands.

"Way to fucking go, Jake," he cursed himself, glancing up at the sky.

He always got defensive whenever anyone asked about his past. Coyote was on the receiving end of a lot of it until he finally wore him down. There was a lot of tequila involved, though. And he knew that reacting defensively to you, when you were clearly trying to help in your own way, was not going to be a winning strategy. Not if he wanted to maintain a good relationship with you.

Letting out a groan, Jake got up from the ground. Dusting off his shorts, he pulled his tank top off since he was starting to sweat and made his way down to where you were standing.

You leaned down, picking up a smooth rock from the ground and running your thumb along it. The sound of footsteps made you turn around. You couldn't help the surprised look on your face when you saw Jake approach, though you offered him a small smile as he moved to stop beside you. A wave rolled up and you glanced down at your toes.

"Did you think about what living situation you wanted?" Jake asked, turning towards you. "I'm open to moving into your apartment or you could move into mine. Or we could get a place together."

"We'll definitely need more than a one bedroom apartment at some point," you stated, picking your head up. "When is your lease up?"

"Seven months. I signed it after we got back from our last deployment," Jake replied, staring out at the water. "You?"

"Two months," you stated, causing Jake to turn to you urgently. "I know, it's pretty soon. My landlord is already sending me almost daily texts about renewing my lease."

"And . . . do you want to?"

"I don't think that I want to raise our baby there," you responded after a moment of thought. "So, no I don't think I will."

“Did you want to move in with me?” Jake offered, causing you to turn back to him.

"Do you want me to move in with you?" you asked him, turning the question around on him.

"I don't want to miss anything," Jake stated, causing you to nod. "I know that it's a one bedroom, so that might be a little awkward, but if sleeping on the couch or buying a bigger bed means that I don't miss anything, then I'll do it in a heartbeat."

"Okay," you agreed, trying to keep the emotion stable in your voice. "Then I'll move in with you when my lease is up."

"You're sure?"

"Yeah," you assured him. "Moving in together isn't as big of a commitment as having a baby together."

"I suppose not," Jake agreed, smiling softly. He looked down the beach before turning back to you. "Do you think our baby was conceived on this beach?"

"Jake," you gasped, smacking his chest.

You looked around with pink cheeks, hoping that no one overheard him, which only made Jake crack up more. He had suggested that the two of you go for a walk down on the beach late that night, but you had been the one to suggest skinny dipping, which, of course, led to the two of you getting sand in some awkward places.

"No one's going to hear me," Jake replied confidently.

"I still can't believe that we did that," you sighed, holding a hand to your head. "What were we thinking?"

"We could have a repeat, if you wanted to jog your memory."

Scoffing indignantly, you leaned down and splashed Jake with some of the ocean water that was washing in towards shore. As he turned away from you, you straightened up and shook your head at him.

"Get your head out of the sand, Lieutenant."

The two of you eventually made your way back to your bags. Drying off with your towel, you sat down and laid back on your hands, soaking in the sun. Jake offered you a water, which you took with a quick 'thanks.’ Jake took his seat beside you again and the two of you chatted about the upcoming week.

But you couldn't help but notice how his eyes kept dropping down to your bump.

“Did you want to touch it?” you asked softly, causing Jake to whip his chin up to face you. “My bump, I mean.” 

“You don’t mind?” 

Sitting up a bit more, you reached over and grabbed his wrist. Dragging his hand over, you placed his hand on your small bump before leaning back again. You stared at the waves, letting Jake have the moment to himself. As much as you could anyways. It took a few moments but Jake spread his fingers out and gently cupped your bump with his hand. 

“Did your doctor say how long it would take until we can feel them move around?” Jake questioned, causing you to turn back to him. 

“She said that it’ll be a few more weeks. Maybe months. Depends on the baby, I guess.” 

Jake nodded slowly, staring down at your bump for a moment as he smiled softly.

"Well, here's where you were conceived, little one. I think, anyways."

Jake smirked to himself as you pinched his side in retaliation. Shaking your head at him, you looked down at your bump, which still had Jake’s hand draped over it.

"Just ignore him,” you told your bump.

~~~~~

You and Jake decided to take separate cars to Maverick’s house for dinner. You arrived early to try and scope it out and then Jake would come a few minutes after you. It was an attempt to try and reduce the initial shock of it all, though that wasn’t going to be very easy. Or maybe even possible. Walking into Maverick’s house with a batch of fresh cookies, you smiled when you spotted Emma. 

“Hey,” she greeted you, walking over to give you a tight hug. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m alright,” you replied nervously, returning her hug a bit tighter than normal. 

“Where’s . . .?”

“He’ll be here,” you assured her as you released her.

Emma nodded slowly before Maverick walked over to you. She took the plate of cookies from your hand and slipped away, leaving you and Maverick to talk. Maverick pulled you in for a hug, giving you some silent support. 

“It’ll be alright. He’s been in a good mood today,” Maverick whispered to you, causing you to nod slowly. “We’ll be here.”

You nodded again as Maverick pressed a supportive kiss to your head before releasing you. Taking a second, you composed yourself before walking into the dining area to finally see your brother. He was in the middle of setting something on the table when you approached and turned to you with a smile. 

“Hey, why the long face?” he joked, pulling you in for a hug. 

“Just worried that Emma let you cook again,” you lied, accepting his hug. “I thought I smelled smoke on my way in.”

“You’re the one that actually set the oven on fire last time,” Bradley scoffed, releasing you from the hug. 

“How was work last week?” you asked, helping your brother set the table. 

“Fine. Just some guys breathing down my neck about bullshit.” He glanced over at you from the corner of his eye. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, I’ve been much better,” you agreed, setting down some utensils. “Went to see my doctor.”

“And?”

“Everything’s fine,” you replied quietly. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” Bradley stated, looking at you oddly. “So, what’s wrong then?”

“Nothing. I just have some news,” you spoke softly, looking away from your brother. 

“What kind of news?” Bradley asked, confused. 

“The kind that you should sit down for,” you responded, straightening up as Bradley frowned. After a moment, you added, “I’m going to grab something from my car and then I’ll come and explain it all to you guys.”

Without too much fuss, you turned and walked out the door. Jake was walking down the street, having chosen to park down the street, out of view of the dining room windows, when you stepped out of the house. You walked down a few steps to greet him.

“You ready?” Jake asked you. 

You nodded, smoothing down the front of your dress, before holding out your hand. Jake stared at it for a moment before taking it. Turning to the door, you opened it again and stepped inside, gently pulling Jake with you. 

At the sound of the door opening, Bradley turned away from his urgent conversation with Maverick. He quickly registered the fact that you weren’t alone, the fact that the person you were with was Hangman, and the fact that the two of you were holding hands. 

And Bradley did not look happy about it. 

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[saturn-lia]

~ Our little date 🩸

Character: Scar (Wuthering waves)

Content: oneshot, SLIGHT NSFW (nothing that serious), scar x reader, fem!reader.

Just scar begin obsessed with you, so much that he is going insane.

again, you find yourself face to face with Scar, for the umpteenth time in the last 3 weeks.

Your icy gaze challenges his defiant one.

"don't look at me like that, come on. If you keep doing this I won't be able to control myself, love." Scar chuckled

In a fraction of a second he appeared in front of you, tipping your chin up with his finger to meet his gaze.

"we haven’t met for 2 days straight, why not enjoy our alone time once more?"

“don’t call me love.”

You approach even more to look deeper into his eyes, making sure he knows how serious you are.

Scar's smile widened, looking as if he took pride in your reaction.

"Why not? But that's what we are, hm?" He leaned forward, his thumb gently caressing her cheek, "I mean, I can't stop thinking about you. What more can I call you?"

Scar's touch caused a shiver to run up her spine, but she did her best to ignore it, attempting to move away from his touch.

With all your strength, you push Scar to the ground trapping him with the weight of your body, blade aimed at his throat as your the knee pushes against his stomach.

He lets out a strangled gasp falling to the ground, his left hand trapped underneath yours.

“...Well, this is rather...intimate," he muses with a chuckle, a smirk still playing on his lips, "If this is how you want to start off, then be my guest, darling. I love nothing more than to enjoy these little power struggles of yours."

you push your knee into his stomach, enough to make him struggle to speak, he flinches.

“You’re just trying to get me on your side.”

Scar's body tremulously shuddered from the pressure on his stomach, making his smirk falter slightly as he struggled to speak, his breath hitching.

Despite this, he still tried to maintain his composure, trying his best not to give you the satisfaction you crave to see.

"And if I am?" He manages to retort through gritted teeth, his gaze still fixed upon you with a mixture of defiance and amusement.

“Did they tell you to seduce me so that it would be easier to convince me?” you say without breaking eye contact, your faces are inches apart.

As their breaths mingle, a slight blush starts to form on Scar's cheeks, the proximity between them beginning to have an effect on him. He takes a moment to answer, his gaze unwavering as he looks deeply into her eyes.

"Well, they didn't tell me anything," he finally says, a sultry undertone evident in his voice, "but even if they did, I would still be drawn to you. Seduce you or not, I don't care about any of that. It's just you and me, now."

"Yeah sure" you stay alert, still pointing your sword at him, you stand up letting him go.

Scar stands up, a devious look gleaming in his eyes as he brushes off the dust on his clothes while watching her with a smirk. After a few moments of silence, he finally speaks up, his tone mischievous

"Ah, I do love how you treat me with such passion." He laughs. "But come now, you can't deny the chemistry between us. Why not we take a step back and have some fun together?"

“It would end up with you trying to kill me”

He chuckled at your response, his smirk widening into a full-blown grin.

"Killing you? Now, why would I want to do that when you make such an entertaining plaything?" He said in mock disappointment, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Tell me, love, what's the point of a game if it ends too quickly? Where's the thrill, the excitement? Don't you enjoy a good chase?"

as he approaches, you take a few steps back.

Noticing her retreat, Scar slows his pace, his movements almost languid as he continues to approach her with a wicked smile on his face.

"There, there... No need to back away," he coos, his voice taking on a more seductive tone. "I won't hurt you, my darling. But isn't this so much more exhilarating than just getting rid of each other?"

A chuckle escapes his lips as he notices your blush, his smirk widening in delight. With a flick of his wrist, he disarms your sword, the weapon clattering to the ground with a dull thunk.

He steps forward, eliminating the remaining space between them and pressing his body against her, the heat between them almost palpable. He leans forward, their faces mere inches apart, his breath hot on her neck as he whispers softly in their ear.

"You can't deceive me, my love. I know you want this just as much as I do."

You try to escape from the weight of his body that pins you against the wall, but he is quicker than you to grab your wrists with one hand, and trap them above your head.

Seeing her struggle, Scar's grip on her wrists tightens slightly, a possessive glint in his eyes as he presses them further against the wall, his body trapping them in place.

"What's the point of resisting, my dear? You may deny it for now, but I know the truth. You're here because deep down, you desire me."

He leans in even closer, his breath hot on your skin as he murmurs against your neck.

His words carry a mixture of confidence and desire as his gaze lingers on her, a subtle shiver runs down her spine.

"You're so beautiful, it's almost a crime…and yet, you're still trying to deny us both the pleasure we deserve."

Scar's free hand starts to slowly run down her body, exploring her form with a possessive touch.

"You don't need to be so shy. Let your desires run free. Let me give you everything you crave, my love," he whispers, his breath hot against her skin as his mouth finds its way to her neck, planting soft and lingering kisses along the tender flesh there.

You try in every way not to fall into the sweet trap he set for you, but you've had enough of pretending you don't like it so, you abandon yourself to his touch.

A smirk spreads across his lips as he senses her finally giving in, the way she melts into his touch only igniting a fire within him even more.

"There, there, my dear," he murmurs against the skin, "Let go of your doubts and fears, and just enjoy this moment with me."

Scar continues to shower her with his heated affections, his mouth moving along her neck and collarbone as his free hand continues its exploratory journey over her body.

your arms feel like jelly, when he loosens his grip on your wrists you let your arms fall to his shoulders.

As she moves, he takes the opportunity to slide his own hands around her waist, pulling her closer, their bodies pressing even more firmly against each other.

"You're so responsive," he praises in a low voice, his breath hot against their skin.

He begins to plant soft kisses along her neck, his mouth moving up towards her jaw as he savors the taste of her skin.

A muffled moan escapes your lips as if your subconscious is demanding more from his touch.

A low growl escapes Scar's lips as he hears her soft moans, his hold on her waist tightening.

"That's it," he whispers huskily, "let me hear you, my love."

His mouth trails upwards, pressing hot kisses along her jaw before he captures her lips in a possessive kiss

He moans softly against her lips, the sound muffled by their kiss. Her eagerness fuels his desire even more, his hands beginning to wander lower.

The kiss grows deeper, more intense, his hunger for her apparent in the way he claims her mouth with heated passion.

You break the kiss to move your mouth on his neck, working on leaving a mark on it, while your hands slowly trace his body lower and lower

A sharp inhale escapes Scar's lips, the touch sending a shiver down his spine.

"Oh, you cheeky minx," he purrs with a low chuckle, his breath coming in ragged gasps now. His hands rest on her lower spine, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles as they brush against the soft skin beneath his touch. He lets out a soft groan as he feels her hands travel lower and lower, unable to hide the effect your touch has on him.

“You want me that much, Scar?”

"You have no idea..."

His breath hitches with a mixture of desire and vulnerability, tilting his head back to give her better access.

"You have no idea how badly I've craved your touch," he confesses, his voice almost a whisper. "Every second, every moment, every breath we're apart is torture. I ache to be close to you in every way possible. That's how much I want you."

A sharp gasp escapes from his lips as her touch finally reaches its desired destination, the sound a mixture of shock and raw pleasure. His body shudders slightly, his eyes widening a fraction.

"Oh, sweet hell..." he curses, an involuntary groan escaping his lips. "You're going to drive me mad, my love."

His hands tighten their grip on her, holding her firmly against his body.

“Don’t hold back, wasn’t this what you wanted?” She whispered against the boiling hot skin of his neck, now covered in marks.

His breath hitches at her words, the mixture of her touch and her whisper against his skin fueling the burning desire coursing through his veins.*

"Yes, yes..." he responds, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "This is all I want... All I need."

His eyes shut, lost in the bliss of her touch as he gives in to the tidal waves of pleasure crashing over him.

“they’d kill me if we get caught, I’m supposed to work, you know?” Scar said.

”I know, but enjoy the moment for now, let’s keep this between us, shall we?”

A grin spreads across Scar's face at her words.

"Your wish is my command, my dear," he replies with a chuckle, his voice laced with a hint of teasing.

He presses up against her once more, pinning her against the wall with a strong hold. He leans in close, his breath hot against her ear as he whispers,

"They'll never find out if we keep this between us."

in that right moment, a feminine voice is heard behind them

“Between the three of us?”

Scar's eyes widen in shock as he abruptly breaks away from her his heart racing furiously as he tries to regain his composure. Seeing Phrolova suddenly appear startled him, and he quickly composes himself, straightening his clothes and forcing a calm expression.

"Hey, what's... what's up?" he asks, feigning nonchalance despite the surprise still evident in his voice.

Phrolova's gaze flicks between Scar and him, she raises an eyebrow, an amused smirk playing on her lips.

Phrolova: "What's going on here, lovebirds?"

Scar shoots a quick glance at her. His usual cocky smirk returns as he turns back to Phrolova

"Oh, nothing, just a little bit of... intense conversation…”

He turns to face you.

“Our time is sadly over, my dear, I would have liked to tease you a little more.”

He winks at you as he walks away.

Phrolova chuckles, a knowing look on her face as she eyes the both of them.

He shoots you a last lingering glance, his eyes holding a mixture of hunger and desire before he finally turns away.

Phrolova glances at you with a smirk once Scar is gone.

Phrolova:”Looks like you have the notorious playboy, Scar, wrapped around your little finger."

Hi hello I’m Lia yes it’s my first oneshot, hope you liked ❤️

Requests for WuWa are opennnnn!

I’ll wait for y’all <3

[locomoqo]

Hellooo, i love ur writings so much, please make more of goo smut huhu youre THE BEST in writing him i swear🥺🥺🥺💕💕💕💕 can i req for public sex with him?🥺💕💕 i love you pls keep healthy♡

baby, tell me what's your motive?

— goo kim x reader

details: NSFW content, fem bodied reader, unprotected (he pulls out no worries), quickie, semi public sex, power imbalance

A/N: join goo's secret friends to get tag teamed by goo and samuel in pt 2 (kidding OR AM I) also why was it so hard to describe this position

“One MCN is prepared to do anything for our VVIP.” 

Or something like that, spoken by that bald idiot.

You knew working at ONE MCN wasn’t exactly glamorous. The company was shady—whispers circulated about questionable dealings, powerful VVIP clients whose identities were shrouded in secrecy, and high-stakes investments most employees pretended not to notice. Still, it paid the bills, and your department managed to stay out of the company’s messier affairs. You had always been good at keeping your head down and your mouth shut.

That is, until today.

It was supposed to be a regular day. You were hurrying down the corridors, running a bit late after filing an enormous stack of paperwork. But when you turned a corner, you realized you’d made a wrong turn—right as Alexander Hwang, the ever-smug head of operations, appeared with a visitor in tow. Tall, blond, and displaying a disconcerting mix of arrogance and allure, he looked like trouble dressed in designer fabric.

Alexander’s eyes landed on you, narrowing with irritation before he forced on that fake, oily smile. “Ah, perfect timing!” he called out, waving you over. “Our special guest needs someone to take care of a small request.”

Every instinct told you to bolt, but your boss’s expectant stare held you in place. “Sir, I’m not—” you began, hoping to escape, but Alexander’s grin widened intimidatingly, daring you to disobey.

“It’ll be quick,” he insisted, gesturing with a flourish at the blond man beside him. “Make him feel welcome.” The guest barely spared Alexander a glance, but the intensity in his gaze when it settled on you made your pulse quicken.

You bit back a sigh and forced a polite nod. “...yes, sir,” you murmured, turning on your heel, unaware of how the VVIP’s eyes lingered on you, a smirk forming on his lips. You seethed quietly, determined to complete the task and escape as fast as possible.

As you approached the designated meeting room, Alexander came out, phone in hand, a scowl etched across his face. “I’ll be right back,” he said, waving you toward the door. “Just drop it off.”

The door closed behind you, and an unsettling silence enveloped the room. Your pulse spiked when you realized you were alone with the VVIP. He stood by the window, his back to you, but as you set the tray down, he turned, an amused glint in his eyes.

Just drop the tea and go.

But when you looked up, you were startled to find those intense eyes locked onto yours. The VVIP, up close, was dangerously captivating. His lips curved into a lazy smirk, and he leaned in, voice low and teasing. “Fancy seeing you again,” he drawled, the words a velvet caress.

You swallowed hard, trying to control your nerves. “Can I help you with anything else, sir?” you managed, your voice surprisingly steady.

His gaze lingered, more intrigued than invasive, as though he found your discomfort fascinating. “Y’know,” he mused, “I don’t meet many people brave enough to give their boss that kind of side-eye.” His amusement with the incident earlier was evident, a low chuckle escaping his lips.

“I didn’t—” you tried to deny it, but he interrupted with a grin.

“Oh, you did.” He hummed thoughtfully, never breaking eye contact. “You’re quite a mix, aren'tcha? Nervous and defiant all at once.” He moved closer, and suddenly the tea tray was the least of your concerns. His fingers ghosted over your wrist, light yet purposeful.

Your breath caught. “I–I really should be getting back,” you stammered, the excuse sounded weak even to your ears. His proximity was dizzying, his charm a gravitational force.

“Mister…” He paused, pretending to search for Alexander’s name, “Hwang—won’t be back for a while,” he whispered, his voice low and dangerously enticing. “We’ve got time.” Before you could respond, he shifted, gently backing you against the wall.

Now, you were pressed against the cool wall of an empty office. The room seemed to shrink around you, the air thickening as his body pressed against yours. The VVIP, who you now knew as Goo, had you completely at his mercy. Your breath hitched with each deliberate thrust, and your hand struggled to brace against the wall while the other arm hooked tightly around Goo’s neck, fingers tangling in his blond hair. His hot breath fanned over your ear, his grip unyielding, holding you steady.

“Sayin’ something, sugar?” Goo’s voice was a low, playful murmur, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he paused. His hand slid up from your waist, pulling his tie from between your teeth. His cock was still deep inside you, unmoving, reveling in how your legs trembled, how your breath hitched and lips parted in a soundless gasp.

“Oh, righttt,” he drawled, chuckling mockingly. “Can't make any noise now, can you?” His nose grazed your cheek, his lips barely an inch away, and the heat of his body seared against your back. “Unless you wanna let 'em all know how good I'm fuckin' ya,” he added in a sing-song whisper. You shivered, your head falling back against his shoulder, feeling the thrill of being caught in such a scene with him.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, nails scraping his scalp. He groaned appreciatively, rolling his hips in a maddeningly slow rhythm, each thrust teasing and testing your resolve. His movements were unpredictable, each one leaving you guessing, and you couldn’t tell if he’d pick up the pace or slow down, if he’d kiss you or leave you dangling on the edge.

“You’re so cute when you’re flustered,” he murmured, his voice silky and soft. His hand moved from your waist to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing your parted lips, feeling the tremble in your breath. “C’mon,” he urged, pressing a lazy kiss to the corner of your mouth, his lips warm against your flushed skin. “Let’s hear you beg a little. Maybe then I’ll give you what you want.”

You bit down on your lip, torn between relief and frustration as his grip tightened, his pace shifting, each thrust now sharper, more demanding. You could barely stifle a gasp, his teasing smirk only widening. He reveled in each sound you fought to hold back

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, his husky voice strained. His mouth found the sensitive spot on your neck, nipping and kissing until you were arching into him, your legs trembling. Your muffled moan was lost in the curve of his neck, your body shuddering as the pleasure crashed over you. He followed a moment later, quick to grab some tissue from the nearby table and pull out, his own release drawn out with a low, satisfied groan.

You struggled to steady your breathing, your mind spinning. Your cheeks were flushed as Goo adjusted your clothes with surprising tenderness before straightening his suit.

Ah, convincing Samuel to be his secret friend could come next time. Goo had found something—or rather, someone—to become his new favorite distraction.

Hm, maybe he could pull some strings to keep you close?

[crownmemes]

Questioning Sentences, Vol. 37

(Questioning sentences from various sources to ask all kinds of muses. Adjust phrasing where needed)

"You like reminding me of my past, don't you?"

"So, um, I was wondering if we could sort of start over?"

"Do you realise that I don't usually get out of my pyjamas until five in the afternoon?"

"Too much for a first date?"

"Why do you continue with this preposterous idea of resuming your career?"

"What do you remember about your childhood?"

"I was honest with you, and this is how you repay me?"

"Don't you like this suit?"

"Are you rich? How much?"

"What do you propose to do in way of entertaining your handsome guest tonight?"

"What can I do to stop you from this insane behaviour?"

"Can't we just go some place we could talk?"

"Ever wonder where robots come from?"

"Should one murder be avenged by another?"

"Aren't you afraid of being alone up here with a killer?"

"What's the point in having a safe if you can't open it?"

"Tell me something; how many men have you killed in your life?"

"How badly are you hurt?"

"Do you know what a stomach wound does to a person?"

"Is that how you think the world works?"

"Why didn't you ever ask me out in high school?"

"Now, about this moustache - you don't like it, do you?"

"Am I going to die?"

"There really aren't any normal days in this job, are there?"

"You're pretty cute, you know that?"

"When do you ever worry about doing something wrong?"

"Do you think I'd let you work with something second rate?"

"Hey, are you sure that badge is real?"

"Are you forgetting you tried to kill me?"

"Is there any girl you haven't been engaged to?"

"Promise me that you won't do anything desperate?"

"Well, this is not something I'd planned. How did you find me?"

"Aren't those supposed to be evidence?"

"Does anyone know you're here?"

"How's life in retirement?"

"Why do you insist on provoking him?"

"There's no way I can convince you that you're wrong, is there?"

"Would you be very angry if I kissed you again?"

"You gave me an empty gun?"

"Only virgins can catch unicorns, isn't that right?"

"Touchy, aren't you?"

"Do you have the day off tomorrow?"

"How do you know where I live?"

"Is of this making sense to you?"

"What are you going to do with yourself today?"

"Do you remember the name of every woman you've slept with?"

"I assume I can look forward to another visit in the near future?"

"You still don't approve of my lifestyle, do you?"

"Are you impressed yet?"

"Are you a member of the club?"

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

For the gaslamp au, how is Jason fixing it?

"Gentlemen," Barbara said laying her letter aside and regarding Dick and Jason as they showed themselves into her sitting room, "I assume you're here to see about our friend?"

"How's she doing?" Dick asked, helping himself to a seat.

"Where is she?" Jason asked looking around.

"I thought it best if she went to lie down for a while," Barbara observed, "she's certainly not hiding in my curtains."

"I-" Jason felt himself flush and cleared his throat "I- would she-"

"For heaven's sake, just go talk to her she's in the guest room," Barbara sighed, "Mind you, if you don't behave I'll know and I'll have Alfred box your ears."

"Not Bruce?" Dick mused.

"No one is actually afraid of Bruce doing it," Barbara snorted.

"He'd probably just let Alfred do it," Dick said grinning, watching Jason slink out of the room. A feat for a man that size.

__________

Jason made his way up the stairs to the guest room and took a deep breath. True to his word. He hadn't stopped kissing you in the library. But the kisses on the way home had been... sweeter. Peppered over your cheeks and lips. The palms of your hands.

He would have killed to bury his face in your decolletage and turn you into a flustered puddle. Willing and pliant until he could get under your skirts but... It would hardly be fair. And he didn't want to rush. Not any more than he had to.

You deserved better, frankly.

Besides. There would be time. If you wanted he'd be more than happy to ruin you on the way to the justice of the peace. When he'd have time to ruin you properly. And then do it again on the way home. When it wasn't ruination but a marital duty.

That thought gave him the courage to rap gently on your door. For a moment, when you don't answer, he considered going away. But. The thought of you alone. Scared and alone. Because of him. Because he got carried away. Because he kissed you and you were willing and sweet- because you were too innocent and frightened to think clearly... If he pushed the door open and you ordered him away, he would go. But. He found you asleep.

Exhausted.

Cried out, tear tracks still dried on your cheeks. Dressed for a day at home, no corset. Hair unbound. And his heart twisted. He crossed the floor and knelt next to the bed.

He shouldn't be in your bed chamber. He shouldn't be taking liberties. But. He reached out and stroked your hair anyway. And he couldn't help but smile a little when you stirred.

"It's just me," he said softly, "please don't scream."

"Jason? I-"

"I'm so sorry, wildflower," he murmured, "I never meant for things to get so- out of hand. I never even meant to kiss you. You just started to cry and I didn't know what else to do."

"Do you make a habit of kissing ladies when they're crying?" you ask..

"Only when they're exceptionally sweet looking and they can quote poetry from memory," he answered, vaguely aware that he was on thin ice. And knowing that if you cried he'd have no defences.

"I just- Jason what am I going to do? I'll have to go to California at this rate or-"

"Or you could marry me," he blurted. "If you marry me- all of this- it'll get lost in an engagement and-"

You look at him. Pulling yourself upright, sitting on your knees on the bed. "Jason I can't let you do that-"

"And I can't let you suffer because I took advantage of you," he said, subtly adjusting himself so that he wasn't eye level with your chest and taking your hands.

"You didn't-"

"I did," he said earnestly. "You couldn't have known. You'd never kissed anyone. Never been properly alone with a man. Not like that. You were upset. You weren't thinking. And when I panicked and kissed you you just responded- like any lady would if they liked the man they were kissing."

He took a deep breath and kissed the palms of your hands tenderly. Letting that sink in. Giving you time to think. Hands used to housework. He'd never seen you without gloves. And if he had his way you'd never work like Cinderella again. An unpaid head housekeeper. Minding budgets and brats by day and hunting for a mediocre husband at night.

"You don't want to get married, you told me yourself," you murmur.

"But I don't want to lose you either," he said softly.

"Jason-"

"I don't think there's anyone else I could marry," he said. "And I think if I didn't marry you Stephanie would probably murder me and make my death look like an accident."

"That would make Christmas dinner incredibly awkward."

"Honestly it would probably just be a different sort of awkward."

[maopll]

Hello, hello!

May I request Zhongli, Kaeya, Ayato and Al-Haitham with an s/o that likes to draw them? A LOT. Like, s/o has sketchbooks filled with sketches and drawings of them.

Thank you very much!

My muse I genshin impact !

pt 2 here !

⌗:, where you draw your lover in a secret sketchbook only for it to be revealed....

⌗:, a/n: thanks for the request anon ! it was a creative request actually.I was giggling while writing it. I'm sorry if your request took too long :(

⌗:, warning: mentions of petnames,..love, darling..., mention of Morax,,

,,what can you do when you are an artist and your lover is an absolute delight to your eyes of an artist? just like anyone else you admire his features by sketching portraits of his face, of his body, of his lips. but you are always quick to shut your sketchbook whenever he is near. if he sees it...you would die out of embarrassment....

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

KAEYA

our cavalry captain here is so beautiful you drool whenever you remember his face. if there was any person who had a perfect face it would be him and him only.

you have a shelf that has many leather books and drawing sheets but you never told him what they have. ofcouse he respects your privacy so he never asked but while you were out on some business he was in your bedroom when some books were fallen on the ground. while he was picking it up he came across your pieces of him.

curves drawn perfectly, blemishes that he never knew he has yet your eye captured those. you drew him so well that he found his breath caught in his throat. he stored the little picture you made for him but you never noticed it.

The next day when you visited his office you saw the very portrait of kaeya with a calla lily which you drew on his table. "Where did you find this from kaeya !?". you had such a deep blush on your face which made kaeya burst into a laughter.

No matter how much you insist the portrait will be with him forever now and you will not be able to take it from him.

ZHONGLI

he has a statue of himself in many places. through centuries and millenias devotees carved him from high quality jades, golds and precious stones alike.

No matter how famous or talented the craftsman was he when he was Morax, never found those statues to be made from pure devotion alone. Therefore he never expected for anyone to draw him with the love and devotion one might expect.

But you proved him wrong. He found many sketchbooks while cleaning your shared home which had only his portraits. some were romantic while some were a bit sensual nevertheless from just your drawings of him were enough to let him understand the extent of your love for him and your pure devotion. But there was a certain oil painting on a canvas that was only his portrait with his chin resting on the palm of his hand. it was so beautiful with precise strokes that he decided to hang it on the lounge wall.

After you returned from grocery shopping you were stunned to see the painting you stored away only for the one whom you didn't want to ever see it just saw it and decided to hang it on the wall.

"I must apologise for looking through your sketchbooks, love. But...I am indeed quite amazed to see your masterpieces. this one in particular caught my attention so I decided to hang it on the wall. After all..I need to show the guests how well you draw"

AYATO KAMISATO

Yashiro Commisioner Ayato Kamisato has had many portraits, full body sketches drawn ever since the day he was born. He was the son of the esteemed late commissioner and the former Head of a clan so many pieces were made by talented artists from around teyvat.

While he had seen you on many occasions drawing on a sketchbook with pen and or ink he never asked what you drew as you were quite...adamant to not exactly show him what you create. so seeing your behaviour he never asked but while signing through paperwork one late night he found your sketchbook lying. you must have forgotten it and although he told you he would never see it, curiosity got the better of him and he flipped through the pages.

His eyes widened as he saw the countless creations of yours which only centered your one and only muse, Ayato, your lover. He had literal heart on his eyes because all this time you were only drawing your beloved. He kept that book as a lucky charm.

The following day when you ssked him if he saw the leather book you always had he just held out the same while saying "oh? then you must be talking about this" you were bright red as you saw the familiar smirk he had on his face which was enough to tell you that he saw everything.

He chuckled a little and said "your creations are beautiful darling. allow me to express my gratitude, but can I ask you to let me keep this to myself as a token of your affection?"

ALHAITHAM

Alhaitham never really held a fascination towards performing arts but he knew of your admiration towards the same. Since he loved you he never showed any form of disgust towards arts and he never really had one. He just felt that it was not important.

While he would be working in his temporary Acting Grand Sage office you would sit in a nearby chair sometimes and sketch your way in the sketchbook which you always carry. Even kaveh said that your designs are absolutely fantastic but...how come he has seen what you drew but your actual lover never did?

He should admit that he was a bit jealous that his roommate had beat him to your secret sketchbook but he respected your privacy and never asked for it.

Inside your house while alhaitham was skimming through his library for a new physics book he came across your diary. He opened it a little only to find it filled with him and only him. He was taken aback by how you were actually really good at art but also a bit flustered how he was your inspiration.

Hiding the blush he went to talk to you. While you were quite embarrassed yourself and you apologised for drawing him without his consent, he only said that "there's no need for you to apologise love, rather I am glad that i could be a form of inspiration for you and..I hope you will continue to draw me like how you do..". he managed to tell you that all while fighting a blush that spread across his cheeks.

[siderealscribblings]

Time for Early Access Games of Divinity says I

______

“Do not be accusatory.” 

“Is there a non-accusatory way of accusing someone that I am unaware of?” 

“We are not accusing her of anything, Neuvillette.” 

“If you insist-” 

“I do.” 

“...it’s just rather odd-” 

“Neuvillette-” 

 “That a killer with a Millelith badge arrives in Fontaine hours after the adepti, that’s all.” 

“Everything about this bloody weekend is odd,” Furina sighed. “Let’s not make it worse by aggravating Rex Lapis’ lover.” 

“H-His what?” Neuvillette hissed. 

“Apparently he has a collection of lovers,” Furina mused. “I suppose it’s a draconic thing.” 

“Perhaps for lesser dragons,” Neuvillette muttered, stiffening as the captain he dispatched to retrieve Cloud Retainer stuck her head in the door. “Is she here?” 

“Yes sir; came without a fuss,” the officer said, stepping aside to allow Cloud Retainer to sweep into the room. “Shall I leave a few gardes with you, sir?” 

“Thank you, Vanessa; please leave us alone,” Furina said, waving the garde off. “M. Neuvillette will see to my safety.” 

“Safety?” Cloud Retainer echoed, studying Furina over the rim of her glasses. “Has one given you reason to fear for your safety?” 

“We are…determining that,” Neuvillette said. “I apologize that we must meet under such unpleasant circumstances, Madam Cloud Retainer, but Lady Furina has recently been attacked along with several of our guests.” 

“Attacked?” Cloud Retainer’s confusion slowly morphed into a look of grim realization. “I see…and you believe one had some hand in this?” 

“We currently do not believe anything with certainty, madam,” Furina interjected before Neuvillette could judge too harshly. “However, the assassin in question carried a badge of the Millelith on his person. As such-” 

“You brought one in to be questioned,” Cloud Retainer huffed. “What happened?” 

“An archer fired an arrow that narrowly missed striking the Archon’s throat,” Neuvillette said, eyes narrowing as Cloud Retainer laughed. “Forgive me, did I say something amusing?” 

“An archer fired an arrow?” Cloud Retainer scoffed. “Do you truly suspect that one is involved with such a laughable assassination attempt?” 

“We thought you should be aware that your countryman is awaiting  the prosecutor’s questioning in the Opera detention hall,” Neuvillette said. “Please see things from my perspective; your officer shot one of our guests-” 

“Whoever shot the Archon is no officer of ours!” Cloud Retainer insisted. “Need I remind you that the adepti in your country swore an oath bound by Rex Lapis to not cause trouble while we were your guests!” 

“The man who struck at us is no adeptus,” Neuvillette countered. “I imagine Rex Lapis’ contract says nothing about using other people to cause mayhem on your behalf.” 

“Rex Lapis is not a lawyer that operates on technicalities!” Cloud Retainer sniffed, hair puffing slightly like an irritated songbird. “Besides, if one was alone in a room with Lady Furina for half an hour without the company of her gardes…if one wished her harm, one would have taken the opportunity  to harm her when it presented itself.” 

“You were alone with her?” Neuvillette asked, glancing at Furina. 

“I…needed a moment to speak with her privately,” Furina coughed. 

“And you needed to be unguarded for this?” Neuvillette hissed. “Lady Furina-” 

“I-I am clearly fine!” Furina said, holding her hands up. “But talk had turned to a certain Sovereign and I thought it would be imprudent to have my ladies in earshot…you have to admit it is odd that Cloud Retainer didn’t try and attack me in private.” 

“One can tell you have never seriously contemplated killing a god,” Cloud Retainer sighed. “It is not an easy matter; if Rex Lapis intended to slay you, he would have sent more than one Millelith to say the very least. He has killed enough deities to know that shooting a god is not enough to kill one.”

Shooting a human, on the other hand…, Furina thought, glancing at Neuvillette’s stony expression. 

“I will admit I have seen better attempts on the Archon’s life…but I still cannot say you are above suspicion,” Neuvillette said. 

“Your suspicion befits a judge…even if one finds it terribly tiring,” Cloud Retainer sighed. “Very well; one will assist you in uncovering the truth of this matter so as to put your suspicions to rest.” 

“Assist us?” Neuvillette echoed. “That is kind of you, but-” 

“One cannot allow the honor of the adepti or Liyue to be sullied by reckless mortals,” Cloud Retainer sniffed. “It is intolerable that such a rogue has assaulted one’s host…and spoiled one’s plans to examine Egeria’s handiwork more closely; whoever is behind this must first answer for spoiling one’s holiday before one will permit him to face your judgment.” 

Furina shared an uncertain glance with Neuvillette, weighing her options silently. On one hand, Cloud Retainer herself had done little to warrant suspicion. Liyue was a big nation and the adepti couldn’t be responsible for everyone. The trouble was that if Furina was wrong and Cloud Retainer was trying to kill her, her whole country and every soul in it would be doomed to a watery grave. Such dizzying stakes made even the smallest suspicions matters of life and death and trust a very dangerous thing. 

“...can you prove the assassin is not working with the Millelith?” Furina asked. 

“One has precious few dealings with the humans in Liyue Harbor and is hardly an expert on the mundanity of mortal life,” Cloud Retainer said. “One has not been involved with the Millelith since their inception…but one may be able to summon an expert witness who has overseen the Millelith for a long time.” 

“I think I know of whom you speak…and I am very reluctant to bring him back into my country,” Neuvillette growled. 

“Rex Lapis,” Furina said, the sound of the god’s name deepening Neuvillette’s scowl. “Your god entered our country under false pretenses the last time he was here-” 

“Rex Lapis was invited, as one recalls; or at the very least, you invited the foremost healer of the adepti to assess your dragon’s…condition,” Cloud Retainer bristled. “And given the somewhat complex history between Celestia and Neuvillette’s predecessor, he thought it prudent to withhold certain details. Had Neuvillette not lost his temper-” 

“Had your so-called god not made a impertinent joke about Lady Furina-” 

“Oh enough!” Furina snapped, slamming her hands on the desk forestalling another argument between two self-important immortals. “That is quite enough ‘had-nots’ for one conversation thank you. If we are to accuse Madam Cloud Retainer of nefarious deeds, then the laws of our country state that she may call witnesses to challenge our claims…provided he or the Conqueror of Demons do not assault my Iudex again!” 

Privately, she thought Neuvillette was being a little stubborn about his hatred towards Rex Lapis, but she could always tell him that when they were alone. He never questioned or challenged her in public and she was not about to deny him the same courtesy in front of Cloud Retainer.

“That was…” Cloud Retainer took a deep breath. “...one is certain we can avoid any unpleasantness provided we all mind our manners and focus on the task at hand. Rex Lapis will wish to clear his peoples’ name and ease any suspicion between the Court of Fontaine and Liyue Harbor so he will no doubt be cooperative.” 

Neuvillette looked far from convinced, but he seemed to be biting his tongue, waiting for Furina to speak. It would be bad form for him to decide this for her, so the heavy decision of bringing another Archon into her country fell on her shoulders once again. 

“For the moment, you may enjoy the city and the festivities with a few gardes to ensure you are telling the truth,” Furina said. “The suspect is in custody and will be there in the morning…and I have a dinner party to host in a few hours so I think we will have to pick this up in the morning. How long will it take for Rex Lapis to arrive?” 

“I…one is confident that he will be in the city tomorrow morning if he needs to be,” Cloud Retainer said carefully. “Your Eminence may speak with him when-” 

“I will deal with Rex Lapis,” Neuvillette said curtly. 

“I-I think we will determine who will deal with Rex Lapis later,” Furina laughed, shooting Neuvillette a glare out of the corner of her eye. 

“Lady Furina has many engagements this weekend and guests that demand her attention,” Neuvillette said, returning her glare with a pleasant smile. “I will not allow a hiccup such as this to spoil a gathering she has been planning for a decade now.” 

“Oh you are too kind, M. Neuvillette!” Furina laughed, patting him on the arm with a little too much force. “But I would be remiss in not greeting my fellow Archon!” 

“I am sure Rex Lapis understands that you are a busy woman who cannot attend to every trifling errand.” 

“I would hardly call the Lord of Geo’s presence a trifling thing; such a mighty guest demands the attention of the Archon herself!” 

“Or a servant of suitable pedigree.” 

“One does not care if one or both of you attend to Rex Lapis!” Cloud Retainer huffed, interrupting a building spat between the two. “One will make the proper arrangements and return in time for dinner; one swears upon her dignity as an adeptus that one will not desert you or otherwise betray your confidence while she is contacting Rex Lapis.” 

“Forgive me…through no fault of your own, I find it very hard to trust that,” Neuvillette said. 

“It is only hard to trust us because you lack practice, my lord,” Cloud Retainer said. “And if you do not trust one to summon an expert witness, why should one believe you will trust his testimony?” 

“She has a point…and while I share my Iudex’s reservations, I suppose we must start at least engaging in good faith,” Furina sighed. “Make your preparations…and try not to eat anything too heavy, my chefs have prepared a twelve course tasting menu for the evening.” 

Ever the gracious hostess, Neuvillette thought. “The Archon is placing her trust in you…I hope you understand how rare a thing that is.” 

“One is dutifully grateful,” Cloud Retainer said civilly. “Though one is a touch miffed that one is not able to attend the comedy exhibition in the Grand Pavilion.” 

“Comedy? The Grand Pavilion is due to host a scientific exhibition from some of the world’s leading human scientists,” Neuvillette said, drawing a sharp laugh from Cloud Retainer. “One knows,” Cloud Retainer chuckled. “Is it not just adorable what humans consider impressive feats of science?”

[thedepthsoffandomminds]

The guest PT 9

Masterlist

Jack Dawkins x fem reader

"I'm afraid I, too, have an uncomfortable revelation. About the stolen pay. Now seems an appropriate time to deliver it. My suspicions were first aroused when told there'd been an outbreak of typhoid and I can now confirm..." Gaines is interrupted by a redcoat dragging Fagin into the room.

"Get your hands off me!" The older man squirmed.

"Captain Gaines. Found this vagrant screamin' he's got urgent news. Flog him now or flog him in jail?" The soldier asked.

"Is no one interested in this urgent news?" Lady Jane mused.

"This man is my servant. And as such, I take full responsibility for him and whatever it is he's been up to." Jack says standing up from the table.

" Yes, well, I have vital information about the soldiers' pay. Please. Your Majesties, allow me to unfold a sordid tale of unmatched woe." Fagin began. You sat and listened to his story as a carriage pulled up at the front door. Gaines marched himself out there, finding his wife Peggy and Darius sitting together. The Soldiers pay in a leather bag at their feet.

The members of the party dispersed into separate rooms, you being left in the dining room alongside Sneed.

"Was that true? You helped him make a fool ofme? I knew you did not want to marry me but to go as far as to defame me, to scupper my chances of head surgeon..."

"No Rainsford I didn't mean...I was just-" your cut off by the pain in your chest. It takes over your whole body, making you drop against him, limp and dizzy. You gasp for breath.

"What is it?" He asks you but his words are lost in the fog of your mind.

"I can't...I... Rainsford." Your whole weight drops and you hardly feel as he lifts you into his arms. The rush of the family as they watch him carry you up to your room and lay you on the bed. You don't see the concerned glances between Fanny and Belle as he listens to your chest and checks your pulse. You know nothing until you awake hours later in a darkened room with only a single candle burning on the table, Belle sat close by.

*_*_*_*

"well if you insist on her living in town, I am going to live with her. It is completely uncivilised to expect an unwed young woman to live entirely alone." Belle was arguing with her mother.

"Absolutely not." Lady Jane slammed her hand on the table.

"then y/n should just stay here." Fanny argued.

"of course she is stating here, clearly the girl is unwell and I will not put her out in such a condition." Edmund finalised the conversation.

"I shall work on marrying her off then, I'm sure someone will take her " lady Jane scoffs and turns away. Fanny looks to her sister,

"You've been moping ever since Dr. Dawkins ruined our dinner. Come on. Up!" She demanded. Belle groaned at her and threw her legs off the side of the couch allowing Fanny to sit beside her, "Are you feeling any better?"

"Yes, I'm completely cured of my despair. I have a gift to lift your spirits. A guillotine? Better."

I have a gift for you. A painting made with these very hands. It's the story of us. Our journey here, a house, a kangaroo." Fanny pointed to each thing on the paper.

"What are these?" Belle asked pointing.

"Tree trunks. I keep seeing these in my dreams" fanny said absently.

"Doctor Sneed is here for you." Lady Jane announced through the door. Fanny perked up, "No, not for you for Belle, he wishes to take you shooting." Belle rolled her eyes and left the parlour.

With encouragement from Fanny you leave the comfort of your bed and sit in the parlour. Though she has to leave you some time later you are content for a moment until lady Jane enters.

"I'm sorry, Lady Jane. I can go elsewhere if you need the room." You say.

"No, no. It appears I have been out voted and you are to stay here with us." She grumbled.

"Oh, well, I will endeavour to no longer be a bad influence on your daughters." You said as respectably as you could.

"Yes, good." The older woman turned and left once more, followed only moments later by Belle as she flung herself onto the couch.

"He asked me to marry him." She huffed. You knew it was coming and you'd turned him down, so why did it annoy you?

"You could do worse?" You laugh falsely, knowing well enough Belle would never agree to marry Sneed. Her eyes looked at you, studied your features.

"No, but I could do so much better. Have you ever married?" Her question was breathy, like it had taken much courage to ask it. You shake your head, absentmindedly.

"No, no one ever stood up to the fictional characters that I feel for." You laugh.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"Oh just some light reading." You closing the medical book. Belle thinks for a moment.

"Jack is a fine man." She states.

"Yes he is," you agree. His face instantly popping into your mind's eye. The way he had smiled at you, still fresh in your thoughts

"You say that I should consider him, but what if I want to consider someone else?" Her eyes flick between your eyes and your hands.

"No, you should set yourself on Jack, he compliments you and you him." You say.

"but the way he acted at the dinner..."

"Belle, you were awful to him. You invited him here for your own adjenda and then humiliated him." You chastise her.

"No, I...well I..." Belle sighs, resting her head on her fists. "he was rude to me."

"because you hurt him." You explain. "But don't worry, he'll come round." You assure her. Belle looks to you, a strange feeling bubbling in her stomach that she hadn't felt before.

*_*_*_*

Jack stood at the preparation table when Sneed came marching in.

"I demand to know why you were seeing my patient. I had already made it abundantly clear his condition is inoperable." He scowled.

" He wanted a second opinion." Jack replied almost uncaring .

"From you? Please." Sneed jeered. Jack put down the apparatus he had in his hands, "Wouldn't you want a second opinion if some spoilt, pompous, upper-class prat with only basic medical knowledge told you your career was over?"

"Never cross me again on matters medical, Dawkins. I don't know how things were done on your side of the city, but that's not how we do things here. You will not operate on that man. Nor will you have anything to do with the ladies of Government house." Sneed hissed,

"Ah you true intentions scream out. She'll never be yours." Jack knows he doesn't need to say a name for Sneed to understand.

"And if I find that foul stench has anything to do with you or your illiterate friends, I will see you are all soundly punished."

"That's so strange because, you see, we all thought that that smell was coming from you."

Jack could not concentrate after that, his mind caught back on you, when an idea pops into his mind.

*_*_*_*

"Hello." Jack said as he barrelled through Belle's balcony window.

"Have you completely lost all sense?" She scowled at him.

"Quite possibly."

" If you have come to apologise for your behaviour from now weeks ago, then you must do it formally and at a proper time. I will consider whether or not to accept it. Please go." Belle says arrogantly.

"I'm not here for you." He said walking to the bedroom door and slipping down the corridor, Belle marched behind him.

"Come to steal from my home have you?" She jeered. Jack stopped with his hand on a doorknob.

"on contrary." He pushed open the door entering your room. You sit on the bed. "Do you know about Strabismus surgery?" He asks you.

"What does a criminal need to know about that?" Belle scoffs.

"Do you?" He ignores her, keeping his eyes on you.

"It's the realignment of the eye." You say.

"See? I knew you'd know." He smiled at you

"Would you happen to have some medical textbook that might..." you say to Belle.

" Yes. This way." The two do you follow Belle downstairs, as Jack leans back on the desk you sit down in the desk chair. Belle climbed up to look through the shelves.

"Are you...how are you?" Jack asks you.

"I'm fine Jack." You reply to him, trying to keep your tone flat.

"It was first performed in the 1830s by John Homer Dix. The surgeon needs only three instruments, a fine hook to elevate the conjunctiva, a bent probe to isolate the tendon, and scissors for opening up the conjunctiva."Belle read allowed from an old book as she climbed down.

"Pictures. I need pictures." Jack says standing to his full height.

" Yes. Here." Belle holds the book towards him.

"It is so dangerous." You say from your seat.

" Yeah, but you love that, don't you?" He grins back at you.

"Can you do it?" Belle asked.

" Yes. Maybe." He scanned the pictures.

The three of you start walking back toward the stairs.

"It's important for both of us that we clear the air about what transpired." Belle addressed Jack, "I admit that I said things in that moment that I now regret. And I'm equally sure that you said things that now, in the cold light of day, you wish were-" you feel Jack slip away from your side.

"What are you two doing? Y/n are you feeling any better?" Fanny asked walking up to you both.

"I'm well, Fanny. Thank you." You say quietly.

"You've had eight turns in the last few weeks. I've been keeping count." She said, eyes full of concern.

"All's well, sister. Go on, back to bed." Belle said. You shoot your eyes back to Jack before pulling Belle upstairs with you to dress.

"What is that smell?" Belle asks as you walk into the hospital.

"Fagin." Jack answered with a grin.

"It smells like ambergris." She scoffed.

" Like what?" You couldn't help your giggle at his words.

"Will you wait?" Belle grabbed his arm, " Are you going to apologise to me or not?"

"No. What for?" Jack asked.

" For the way you spoke to me."

"Hang on, Belle we spoke about this." You say.

"No, y/n it's fine. I was hurt. And I'm sorry if I spoke to you abruptly. But I don't know how to talk to women. I've never really had to." Jack admits.

" I am similarly rarely interested in anything a man has to say. And I forgive you." Belle nods her head.

" Good. Don't invite me to any more stupid dinner parties. Your lot will never accept me." Jack implores her.

" Why would you want them to accept you? You have no idea how boring we all are." She grins.

"Not all of you." Jack muses, his eyes momentarily flicking to you.

As Jack is preparing the equipment and Belle is helping the navigator on to the operating table he turns to you.

"So, you know what happens here, right?" You nod to him, "So...can I do it?"

"Jack, you are the most skilled surgeon in the world. You can do anything." You say.

Jack dropped his eyes to the table, a thousand thoughts running through his mind.

"Are you still-" he swallows, "still set on my being with Belle and not you?" He asks.

"Jack, I know.it doesn't make sense to you but that's how it's supposed to happen." You stick to your guns.

"But isn't it all different already? I don't feel for her what you say I should. I feel them for you. Surely just being here has already changed it. What if you're meant to change it?" Jack had moved around the table coming closer to you.

"We're ready in here." Belle interrupted.

"y/n?" Jack raised his eyebrows to you.

"Go, I'll be there in a moment."

@fandomfan-102 @deanstolemydragon @mydeputyghostwagon

[five-miles-over]

Since I am currently obsessed with your Tom Hiddleston character headcanons and I noticed requests are open👉👈 Could we get some soft, fluffy Headcanons of the Tom Hiddleston characters on their wedding day to you?

Aaah, thank you so much for your request, @queen-paladin and thank you even more for your patience! This was fun to imagine, I hope you like it!

Multi-Character Headcanons: Tom Hiddleston Characters On Their Wedding Day

(Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or images. This is just a fun listicle, not designed to offend anyone. As always, please feel free to leave comments and/or constructive criticism below. Thank you, and without any further ado, please enjoy!)

Characters in this list: Will Ransome, King Henry V, Prince Loki Odinson, Loki of Asgard and Jotunheim, Bill Hazeldine, Coriolanus, Jonathan Pine, Robert Laing, Magnus Martinsson, Oakley, Thomas Sharpe, James Conrad, and Jaguar Villain! Tom Hiddleston.

Will Ransome from The Essex Serpent

On his wedding day to you, Reverend Will Ransome would wake up at sunrise, taking his time to wash himself, get dressed, and make his way to the church for his own wedding

He would take advantage of the early hours of the morning to be alone with his own thoughts, except almost all of his thoughts would be on you. Will would mull over how tomorrow, he would wake up as a married man. Instead of an empty bed, Will would find you by his side as his wedded partner, a gift bestowed upon by God for him to cherish for the rest of his life. Instead of spending the morning contemplating in circles, the reverend would be with his newly wed wife, talking to you about his thoughts and eagerly listening to yours. And instead of retiring alone at nightfall, he would be comforted by your warmth and your love, spending hours in your arms until you both drifted off to sleep.

Heavenly father, hallowed be thy name, grant him the strength not to stray from the path of a devoted husband.

After an hour or two of solitude that would finally come to an end after years of longing, Will would politely interact with the guests while taking his rightful place at the altar as the groom.

As soon as Will saw you enter the church, holding a bunch of wildflowers and forget-me-nots, his heart would swell with joy and gratitude. He would silently thank God for bestowing him this gift of spending his life with you. And before the official vows, he would make his own, silent promise to make you happy as possible for as long as he lived.

Wedding superlative: Most likely to get caught in a compromising position right before the ceremony (don't ask me how I know this, I just do)

King Henry V from The Hollow Crown 

On his wedding day to you, King Henry V would remain as stoic as possible in the presence of his servants while they readied him for the ceremony. 

Yet, occasionally his eyes would drift towards the small, intricate portrait of you that stood on his dressing table. Henry commissioned for it to be painted (based on his own description of you) for his personal desire after the first meeting with you. Every morning and every night that he could not be with you, he would look at the portrait and remind himself of the one that ruled his heart, his only beloved. 

And it delighted him to know that one day, that portrait would be replaced with a larger, more grand painting of you and Henry, the rulers of England. Perhaps, if God willed it, you would be holding his future heir in your arms when the time came for your portrait. 

Thinking about the heir would almost make Henry break his stoic facade, not because he would be thinking of fatherhood but because he would be musing over your wedding night. How would you feel after the ceremony? Would you be open to consummating your marriage? 

He would gently lick his bottom lip, remembering the first time he kissed you on the lips. It was on your third meeting, after Henry sweetly asked for your permission to do something so bold as to embrace you. If it weren't for his own restraint, Henry would have been caught blushing like a virgin by his own servants. That would certainly set some tongues wagging about the castle.

"Nev'r has't i seen true beauty until this moment.  How f'rtunate i might not but beest, yond while oth'r men spendeth their whole liveth seeking Elysium, i has't t bef're me", were King Henry's thoughts as soon as he stood in the church, gazing upon you while you entered, wearing a pristine white wedding gown and holding the arm of your father.

(Translation: Never have I seen true beauty until this moment. How fortunate I must be, that while other men spend their whole lives seeking paradise, I have it before me.)

At that moment, all of the royal stoicism the king of England had faded away like the morning dew. He smiled as if he were blessed with everything he could ever want. 

His eyes did not leave you even as you stood beside him at the altar and knelt before the priest. 

Henry recited his vows without flinching or faltering. As soon as the priest gave him permission, the king of England lifted your veil and proudly brought his lips to yours.

Your wedding would be one of the happiest days of the king's life, and one he hoped that you would also cherish

Wedding superlative: Most likely to have a coronation and a wedding on the same day

Prince Loki of Asgard from Thor:

On his wedding day to you, Prince Loki of Asgard would be pacing through the palace in the hours before the ceremony, his hands behind his back

He had already imagined this day more times than he could count, marrying you, the love of his life. And with each day leading up to your wedding, his fantasies would grow so vivid, so exciting, so intimidating that he would hardly be able to sleep

Thoughts would be plaguing his mind every waking moment while the palace was being decorated for the celebrations

Would he be a good husband to you? How would he be able to satisfy you on the wedding night? And what if he displeased you in some way, shape, or form? Would you go to Thor instead and seek comfort in his arms? No…no, no, it couldn't be. Loki shook his head. You loved him. You would never betray him and he would never betray you. 

With a million butterflies in his stomach, he would go to the throne room with Thor by his side, wearing his armor, brand new emerald green robes, and his signature golden horned crown. 

Seeing you standing next to him in a beautiful wedding gown completely took his breath away, and it only strengthened his resolve that he would stay by your side for the rest of his life. 

He would probably struggle to look you in the eye, keeping a shy, boyish smile on his lips the whole time simply because of how much you resembled a goddess of beauty

In the presence of the All-Father, Prince Loki would make his vows to protect you, remain loyal to you, and perform his duties as a husband with utmost respect. And when the time comes, in front of all of Asgard, he would bring his lips to yours, sharing your first kiss as a married couple.

Wedding superlative: Most likely to get shy when putting the ring on his bride's finger

Loki of Asgard and Jotunheim from Avengers: Infinity War 

On his wedding day to you, Loki would probably be overly excited about making sure this wedding was one to remember for the centuries to come

Until he met you, Loki believed he would never be able to find true love, let alone find someone to spend the rest of his life with. But all of that changed when Loki had a crush on you and Thor decided to play Cupid, conveniently leaving his brother alone with you in parks and cafés. Loki and you eventually caught onto Thor's plan, and eventually began placing bets with each other about what stupid excuse Thor would use to leave the situation. The result? Loki fell hopelessly in love with your wit, your humor, and your beauty.

And now that he would finally get the chance to celebrate his union with someone so special, Loki decided to leave no stone unturned in making your wedding as wonderful as possible.

With his brother's help, he arranged to have the magic of Asgard brought to your Midgardian venue, complete with a long banquet, floral arrangements with Asgardian flowers, and even a few lute players to entertain the guests while they dined

Loki even had a special tiara made for you to wear during the wedding - a simple yet elegant golden wreath tiara with diamonds and emeralds. He would've had a more extravagant design made, but every other female in his life suggested that he should choose a tiara that would suit any wedding outfit you chose

The moment he saw you, walking down the aisle in your wedding outfit, his jaw dropped. For a moment, he felt like his heart stopped and he went to Valhalla. When you approached him at the altar, he couldn't help but whisper, "You look absolutely ravishing, my dear…My Queen."

After bringing his hand to your lips, he would recite his vows to you

"I, Loki, prince of Asgard, Odinson, the rightful king of Jotunheim, God of Mischief, do hereby pledge to you my undying fidelity. I promise to always keep you safe, to keep you happy, and to keep you loved. You are my everything, and I will never ever stop fighting for us, wherever our journey may take us. And I swear on all that I hold dear in this life, that I shall never betray you, nor let anyone, man or god alike, take you from me. For as long as I live, you will be my wife and my lover."

Possible first dance song: "The Only Exception" by Paramore

Wedding superlative: Most likely to instigate a brawl between two people at his wedding (and do nothing to stop it)

Bill Hazeldine from Suburban Shootout 

On his wedding day to you, Bill Hazeldine would wake up, giddy as a schoolboy (after being unable to sleep last night until he called you on his mobile). His parents would giggle while he darts about, getting ready at a pace never seen before.

It was no secret that Bill was excited about marrying you. He spent weeks planning the perfect way to propose to you, visiting at least six different jewelry stores for the perfect ring and seeking your entire family's permission two weeks prior. And the night he proposed to you, he surprised you with a homemade attempt of your favorite dessert and your favorite film before presenting the ring to you. 

And of course, you said yes, much to Bill's immense delight. Finally, he would be starting a life with the you, the person whom he loved the most. He would be marrying someone who loved him for who he was and made him feel like he was capable of anything.

When it came to the wedding, Bill would be critical of every single thing about himself, bugging his parents and his best man with questions 

"Is this enough cologne? My tie, is it too short? Please, I don't want her to be disappointed."

"Bill, she loves you," his mother assures him. "She's marrying you. She wants to spend the rest of her life with you. Now stop fretting. You'll sweat through your suit."

After about a thousand assurances and countless intrusive thoughts, Bill would be nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet while waiting at the altar.

But as soon as he saw you, coming down the aisle, all of those thoughts would disappear. All Bill would be able to think of is how gorgeous you are, and how he's going to marry you in front of the whole world. 

Your first dance song would almost 100% be "Wedding Bell Blues" by The Fifth Dimension. It was his mother's choice, and once you heard the lyrics, you couldn't help but approve (seriously, if you haven't heard this song before, look up the lyrics because it's about marrying a guy named Bill)

Also, someone would probably need to make sure that Jewel Diamond doesn't show up and seize the microphone to sing "Part Time Lover" or "Like a Virgin" at the reception. But if that's taken care of, you and Bill will probably have a great time celebrating with your family and friends.

Wedding superlative: Most likely to cry when he sees his bride walk down the aisle

Caius Marcius Coriolanus from Coriolanus

On his wedding day to you, Caius Marcius Coriolanus would put on his armor and his military regalia as if he were going to lead a campaign. His mother insisted that it would make him look distinguished, and send a message that his bride - and their family - ought to treat him with respect. 

Many of his army men and his comrades would be in attendance, some of them even bearing gifts. They all knew of Coriolanus's feelings for you, teasing the general of how reluctant he was to approach you when he saw you for the first time and Cupid struck

But instead of rudely telling them all to shut up as usual, Coriolanus would bear it with gritted silence because deep down, it was all true. Coriolanus deeply loved you, and would never wish to live without you or hurt you in any way. 

Too proud to be caught smiling in public, Coriolanus would simply let his eyes speak his adoration for you when you entered the temple of Mars, dressed in fine robes and jewelry with a veil over your head. 

His eyes darkened with lust when you came closer to him. And in that moment, all he wanted was for the priest to hurry up and stop talking so he could kiss you, claiming you before everyone as his wife

After the ceremony came to an end, Coriolanus would keep one hand on the small of your back, determined to keep you close to him while he musters small talk with the guests…and insults some of them.

At some point, perhaps at sundown, he would cut his conversations short and bid his in-laws good night. Tightening his grip around you, Coriolanus would bring you to his home as fast as possible so he could finally drop his guard and…privately celebrate your union

Wedding superlative: Most likely to get into a fight at his own wedding

Jonathan Pine from The Night Manager

On his wedding day, Jonathan Pine would be extra vigilant, keeping an eagle eye for anything that might go wrong. 

While you were getting ready, he would be pacing along the oceanside and through the rows of seats for a possible threat, or someone who could be smuggling a weapon. Even after Angela Burr assured him that no one knew about his wedding except for the few people in attendance, he would still insist that someone keep a tab on you and give him constant updates while you were getting ready.

Jonathan had already loved and lost someone, and he would never forgive himself if someone took his bride away from him.

Until he saw you, he would not be able to let himself rest for a moment, rubbing the nape of his neck while pacing, adjusting his cufflinks (which happened to be the ones you gifted him for Christmas), and thinking of every single way that someone could sabotage this special day

And the moment you came down the aisle in your beautiful wedding gown, Jonathan would breathe a sigh of relief and beam with pride. At that instant, the only thought in his mind when he looks at you would be how amazing and how happy you look while you approached him. And how every moment leading up to this one was definitely worth it. Nothing would be able to hold a candle to the first time he got to see you as the one he, Jonathan Pine, was going to marry.

Holding your hand, Jonathan would quietly say his vows, knowing that he had already made every single vow to himself when he proposed to you. That in his mind, he had already promised to love you through thick and thin, in good times and bad times, even when the two of you would be miles apart. You would be the one he fights for and stays alive for, every single time.

Possible first dance song: "Iris" by the Goo Goo Dolls or "The Way You Look Tonight" by Frank Sinatra (Or "Shakespeare" by Miranda Cosgrove)

Wedding superlative: Most likely to have a destination honeymoon

Robert Laing from High-Rise 

On his wedding day with you, Dr. Robert Laing would be thinking of nothing but you, simply put. 

("Ruhi, come now…" "You know what, Robert? Somebody had to say it.")

When Robert originally moved into the high rise, he was disillusioned with the thought of being involved with other people. He wanted to be alone, nothing more. But now, three years after that day? He couldn't picture a day without seeing you, without indulging in your witty banter, without giving you a kiss before going off to the medical school, or without you simply calling his name. It had to be magic of some kind, an enchantment Robert couldn't quite explain with all of his scientific knowledge.

And that's how Robert Laing, a doctor of physiology who lived on the twenty-fifth floor of the high rise, let himself fall in love you and share his life with you. 

Sure, Wilder and a few other guys in the high-rise would be pouring drinks and making crude jokes about Robert finally getting a 'ball and a chain' but Robert knew better. You wouldn't be a ball and a chain to him, but rather an angel. 

With you by his side, Robert could begin a new life at the high rise, one where he wouldn't have to be alone. A life of comfort where he could come home to someone who would care for him, and a life where he would have someone to cherish and protect. It would be a new life with a new purpose, all thanks to you

So when he saw you in your wedding dress for the first time, he couldn't help but stare. You looked like an absolute dream, so radiant and so gorgeous. 

He'd continue to steal glances throughout the ceremony, even while reciting his vows. And when the officiant finally says "you may now kiss your bride", Robert would put one hand around your waist and use his other hand to cradle the back of your head, passionately capturing your lips with his

Possible first dance song: "Can't Take My Eyes Off Of You" by Frankie Valli 

Wedding superlative: Most likely to burn the dance floor at his own wedding (and get quite tipsy in the process)

Second wedding superlative: Most likely to eat more cake than the bride

Magnus Martinsson from Wallander 

On his wedding day to you, Magnus Martinsson would be one of those grooms who makes snarky jokes about his life being "over" but is secretly freaking out on the inside

It wasn't helpful that his colleagues at the station kept making jokes about him being 'tied down' and how you were way out of his league. 

Magnus would find himself in a downward spiral of thoughts about the kind of husband he'd be, and whether you really were making the right choice in marrying him when you could have better. 

His comments might get so bad that even Kurt Wallander would have to intervene and tell him to stop unless he wanted to hurt his bride

Wallander would take Magnus aside and assure him that there are many great things about marriage, and that he is lucky to be spending his life with someone like you. That most men, especially those who joke about marriage being the 'end of their life', would desperately want to find someone who loves them as much as you love Magnus

With those words, Magnus would calm down, fix his curls, and go to the altar to wait for you. And as soon as he saw you walk down the aisle, he would realize how right Kurt was. That he, Magnus Martinsson, was the luckiest man in the world because he was going to marry you. That all of those jokes were false, and the only thing that mattered was how much you loved each other

Magnus might not choose to write his own vows, sticking with the traditional "in sickness and in health, till death do us part", but he would be sure to tell you how much he loved you throughout the wedding

Possible first dance song: "My Girl," by The Temptations

Wedding superlative: Most likely to show up to his own wedding completely hungover

Oakley from Unrelated

On his wedding day to you, Oakley would be the most chill groom ever. Seriously, anything could happen and he'd be the one reminding everyone to calm down. The rings are missing? Don't worry, they'll turn up anyway. 

His chill attitude also means that he would be perfectly fine in getting married while wearing a t-shirt and cargo pants. Somebody might need to drag this cocky handsome bastard into a suit, reminding him it's his goddamn wedding day, not some picnic

Oakley really isn't a fan of formal wear, especially anything that requires a tie

He would probably be joking around with his friends, having a smoke during the hour before the ceremony. 

He wouldn't even be freaking out about the fact that he'll soon be a married man because…this is exactly what he wanted the minute he fell in love with you. He knew that he needed you in his life, that you were the one he wanted to love for the rest of his days, and that the best thing to do was to tell you exactly that… before asking you to marry him

And the moment he saw you standing in your wedding dress for the first time, all of those memories left his mind and the only thing that Oakley could think about…was how he would never forget this moment. And that if the world were to end tomorrow, he would be the luckiest guy on the planet just because he would get to call you - this gorgeous, funny, and kind person standing before him - his wife.

Also, Oakley would totally be the type to make his wedding kiss with you totally epic, either picking you up and spinning you around, or turn it into a dip and kiss (which looks something like this)

Possible first dance song: "Teenage Dream" by Boyce Avenue or "Lucky," by Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat

Wedding superlative: Most likely to get drunk during his own wedding and say something extremely inappropriate

Thomas Sharpe from Crimson Peak

On his wedding day to you, Thomas Sharpe would have every detail in its perfect place. From the flowers to the organ playing the wedding march to the seating arrangement, every single thing would be immaculately arranged to your liking.

He would play the part of a doting groom very effectively, almost ignoring Lucille most of the time in favor of talking to your family members. He'd play with the little ones, laugh at your father's attempts at humor, and assure your mother that her child will lack nothing in their marriage

The moment you entered the chapel, a warm smile would spread across Thomas's face and his face would light up as if the in the world darkness was finally gone for good.

As if you were made of glass, he would carefully take your hand in his and lead you to the altar, kneeling before the priest. 

Then, Thomas would make his vows to be with you in sickness and in health, till death do you part, and kiss you slowly, savoring this moment of purity. 

After the ceremony, Thomas would lead you in a waltz - your first dance as husband and wife - with a pace so swift yet so delicate that it would not extinguish a candle

At a specific moment, when the guests are dining, Thomas would lightly tap on his glass with a fork to get everyone's attention. 

"On behalf of the Sharpe household, I would like to thank you all for attending this lovely occasion. I could not be more happier than to be marrying the lady seated right here," Thomas would gesture to you with a proud smile. "She is truly a blessing, and until death parts us, I promise to hold her close and to treasure her always. May our days together be filled with happiness and joy."

Wedding superlative: Most likely to have an eloquent wedding toast that makes everyone go "Awww"

James Conrad from Kong: Skull Island

On his wedding day to you, Captain James Conrad would be silent to almost everyone before the ceremony, pretending to be completely calm about his impending nuptials. But his dark circles and his red eyes wouldn't fool anyone; it would be pretty clear that he hadn't sleeping so well lately

Actually, after he'd finally left Skull Island and settled in the United Kingdom, James had been dealing with nightmares about Kong and other terrifying creatures he'd encountered. Eventually, Preston Packard and Mason Weaver coaxed him to start seeing a professional about his nightmares and traumatic flashbacks. 

That's how James Conrad gained the courage and the hope to start a relationship with you, the beautiful neighbor who lived a few doors from his flat. And now, nearly two years after your first date, he proposed, you and James moved in together, and you were getting married. 

James could not have been happier about your union, but the past week leading up to the wedding had been tough. 

The two of you thought it might be good to have a little separation before the ceremony, and James thought it would make the wedding sweeter, so you agreed to sleep over at a friend's place. 

James found himself deeply missing your touch (and your cuddles - shh, don't tell anyone I told you) and many of the nightmares from his past returned. So after talking to you on the telephone every night, he would hold one of your sweaters like a security blanket while trying to lull himself sleep

When he finally saw you coming to the altar in your wedding gown, it felt like he'd been underwater for hours and was finally coming up for fresh air. From now on, he would never have to sleep alone, or face anything all by himself. Whatever happens, if he ever has to return to Skull Island in his dreams or in real life, he would have you by his side.

He'd be grinning the whole time from ear to ear, just enjoying the moment with you, and would always have his arm around you. Whenever James wasn't trying to stifle a yawn, he would be holding you close and stealing kisses, much to the amusement of everyone else around him.

Possible First Dance song: "Can't Help Falling in Love with You" by Elvis Presley

Wedding superlative: Most likely to never let anyone else dance with his bride because he gets jealous

Jaguar Villain!Tom Hiddleston

On his wedding day to you, Thomas would be dressed to the nines and poised like a prince, wearing a sharp three-piece suit (with a pistol concealed in his jacket) and Dolce and Gabbana citrus cologne

To him, this wedding was not unlike any other important engagement. A place where deals could be made and broken, offers could be extended and retracted, and alliances could be tested

Therefore, only the best of decorations could be present. The cake and the champagne had to be of the utmost quality (no cheap, off-brand liquor allowed), and the floral arrangements needed to be elegant enough for royalty

It would also be an opportunity for Thomas to reward his those closest to him in his inner circle; by inviting them, wining and dining them with a gourmet meal, he could reward their loyalty while also keeping them near should they try anything suspicious. 

But none of that would apply to you. No, Thomas may be emotionless and calculating in matters of business, even at his own wedding, but you were not to take part in any of it. In fact, your innocence was one of the reasons why Thomas was so attracted to you. You gave him something worth living for, something that was worth defending and protecting. He could not afford to corrupt you with his dirty world of schemes and plots

During the wedding, Thomas would be your Prince Charming (like always), making sure that you were comfortable. 

He would hold your hand and tell you how beautiful you looked whenever you got nervous. If you were hungry, he'd make sure that a plate of food was brought to you. And if someone dared to make you uncomfortable on your special day? They had better prepared to have the living daylights pounded out of them.

Also, Thomas would never admit this to you until possibly years after your wedding to him, but he secretly bribed the person who showed you your wedding dresses to only show you designs that he approved of. He knew that you would look stunning in anything you wore, but he always liked to be the one in charge

Possible first dance song: "Fly Me to The Moon," by Frank Sinatra or "Stand By Me" by Ben E. King

Wedding superlative: Most likely to carry out a murder at their wedding 

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