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ladyfocalors · 3 months ago

Text

To Drown or to Breathe

(Inspired by The Little Mermaid and this prompt)

summary: You are a merperson who yearn for the human world and to trade your tail for legs, but you aren't a strong mage, so you seek the help of one of your acquaintance, Azul Ashengrotto. The octamer strikes a deal with you, but the price is steep: you have to lose your voice when you are a human, turn back to a merperson once the sun sets and to stay as a human forever you have to make a human fall in love with you in a month. While you are trying your best to woo a fisherman, you and Azul grow closer.

pairing: azul ashengrotto x gn! reader

warnings: not canon compliant, slightly detailed about body transformation, reader's mer counterpart is not mentioned except they have a tail.

word count: 4.7k

okayyy so this one is bit of a doozy imo. it could have been better, could've been worse. lot of angst opportunity that i gave up on, i am trying to embody the disney spirit of happy endings here. i want this out of my drafts so i am throwing this at you and running away.

The sea remembers everything. It tucks stories into the folds of its waves, hides secrets in the shadows of its reefs. It cradles forgotten wishes like pearls inside oysters, waiting for the right hands to pry them open.

You have always been a creature of longing. The tide carries your dreams like driftwood, washing them ashore where they do not belong. You press your hands against the rocks and watch the world above. You have a dream.

You want to trade the sea for the shore.

It is a foolish dream. A dangerous dream. A dream fit for a child spinning fantasies in the coral reefs, not a merperson who has outgrown such naive longing. But still, the desire festers like a wound that will not heal. You watch ships cut across the horizon and wonder what it would feel like to stand upon one, to feel the wooden planks beneath your feet instead of the gentle tug of the tide. To listen to sailors laughing on the docks and wonder what it would be like to speak their tongue, to laugh with them, to be one of them.

But wishes alone do not reshape flesh.

And you are not a strong mage. If you were, perhaps this would have been simpler. Your magic is weak, and you know you cannot do this alone.

And so, you seek him.

Azul Ashengrotto.

He isn't difficult to find. His parents own a restaurant, a fine establishment that draws in customers of every kind. The place is always bustling with merfolk seeking fine food and some finer deals. You are, of course, here for the latter.

Somewhere in the back, laughter erupts—loud, unrestrained, the kind that makes your fins bristle. You know who it is.

Floyd. And if Floyd is here, then Jade is likely nearby, and where Floyd and Jade is, Azul is likely to be nearby.

And you are correct.

When you arrive, Azul smiles at you. "Ah, what a rare guest. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You hesitate before you speak.

"I need a deal."

Jade tilts his head, curiosity gleaming in his mismatched eyes. "How intriguing," he muses. "You must want something terribly if you’re coming to us."

Floyd swims towards you, grin lazy and sharp. "Ooooh, what’s it gonna be? Love? A curse? Maybe you wanna get rid of someone?" He laughs, teeth flashing. "I hope it’s that one. Those are the most fun."

You shake your head. "I want legs. I want to be a human."

There is a beat of silence. Then, Azul chuckles. "Inspired by the Princess, aren't you?" He says. "But you should know that transformations are no simple matter. The body is stubborn. It does not like to change."

"I know," you say.

Azul exhales. "And what are you willing to offer in return?"

Floyd’s grin widens. "Ne, Azul, let’s make them do something fun."

Azul ignores him. He regards you carefully.

"My voice." you say.

His eyes gleam.

"How poetic, just like the Princess," he muses. "A merperson like you without their song. But I suppose that is fitting, isn't it? If you wish to walk among humans, you must learn to live without the things that make you what you are."

He moves back, contemplative. "There will be conditions, of course. You will shed your tail at sunrise, but when the sun sets, you will return to the sea. And if you want to remain human forever, well," His smile sharpens. "Love is a powerful kind of magic, don’t you think? Within a month, you must make a human fall in love with you. Only then will you be free."

The words settle into you, but you don't back away. The price is steep, but you expected no less from him. This was Azul, after all.

"And if I fail?" you ask.

"Then you return to the sea," he says simply. "As you are. As you were meant to be."

The words echo in your head. You think of the shore, of the laughter you have only ever heard from a distance, and the thought of steady land beneath your feet.

"I accept." you say.

The three merfolk grin at your words, and soon your name is on one of Azul's contracts.

Becoming human is not gentle. The transformation is agony.

It is drowning in reverse, a pressure that crushes and pulls, bones shifting, flesh reshaping. You fall, or maybe you rise; water and air blur together, indistinguishable in your pain. The sea roars in your ears, but it is not the familiar call of home; it is something distant now, something you cannot hold onto.

And then, you are gasping for air.

The first breath of air is like swallowing the sun. It burns. It sears down your throat, filling your lungs in a way the sea never did. It takes you a moment to adjust.

When you finally open your eyes, the first thing you see is the sky.

You are lying on the shore, the tide lapping at your ankles, and when you move, the weight of your body feels strange. Your legs tremble with each movement. It takes you longer than you’d like to stand.

You stumble when you take a step. And when you try to cry out, nothing escapes your lips.

But you do not have time to grieve what you have lost. You knew what you were doing when you signed the contract.

You take a step forward, hopefully towards your forever. You have one month to make it true.

You are not alone for long. A fisherman finds you on the beach.

His eyes are kind, he is gentle as he helps you stand. He has hands rough from years of working with nets, a voice like the low rumble of a tide, and eyes the colour of driftwood. He asks questions you cannot answer, speaks words you cannot repeat. You point to your throat, shaking your head, and he understands.

He assumes you are lost.

You cannot tell him the truth, so you let him believe what he wants—that you are a human from another place, shipwrecked and silent from the shock of it all.

He offers you a place to stay. He does not ask for anything in return.

He lives in a small house by the shore, a modest thing with salt-stained windows and nets hanging from the walls. The scent of fish and seaweed clings to the wooden planks. He gives you blankets, food, a warm place to rest. He does not pry.

You try to smile in gratitude, but it feels strange on your lips. You are used to baring your teeth in the water, not softening your expression on land.

Still, he smiles back.

At dusk, he yawns and stretches, rubbing the back of his neck. "Long day," he murmurs. "I should rest. You should too."

Then he retreats to his room, leaving you alone in the dim candlelight.

You wait.

You wait for the sun to slip beneath the horizon. And when the last light dies, you go back to the shore.

It is just as painful the second time.

Bones crunch, reshape; your legs collapse beneath you as the transformation takes hold. Your skin shimmers, scales blooming like stars across your flesh. The moment your tail fully forms, you drag yourself into the sea, where the water welcomes you like a mother greeting a long-lost child. The pain lingers, but the relief of the familiar dulls it.

You do not linger. You do not weep into the waves for the loss of voice. The first night, you are determined.

For the first seven days, you spend your seven nights alone.

You swim through the reefs, tracing old paths, but the world slowly seems different. The tides do not carry the same comfort. The water talks to you, but you do not respond back.

It is on the eighth night that you seek Azul out.

You hesitate at the entrance, but only for a moment. Then, you push forward.

Jade sees you first. His gaze flickers towards you with sharp, knowing amusement.

"My, my," he muses. "How unexpected."

Floyd is lounging at a table nearby, upside down in his seat, one arm dangling lazily in the water. At the sound of his brother’s voice, he twists his head toward you, a slow grin spreading across his face.

"Ne, did you mess up already? Need another deal?"

You shake your head.

The truth is, you don’t know why you’re here. Or maybe you do. Maybe the loneliness is getting to you. Maybe you are tired of waiting for something to bloom between you and the fisherman while knowing you cannot even ask his name.

Maybe you are here because you miss your own kind.

Azul emerges from a side room, flipping through pages of a ledger. "What is all this noise about–?" His sentence cuts short when he sees you.

There is a flicker of something in his gaze—surprise, perhaps, or curiosity. Then it smooths into his usual smile.

"Well," he says, snapping his book shut. "I did not expect to see you again so soon."

You lift your hands, trying to explain. You gesture to the sea, to the shore, to yourself.

Jade hums. "Ah. You’re lonely."

Floyd laughs. "That’s kinda sad! You gave up everything to be a human, and now you wanna hang out with us instead?"

Azul tsks. "Don’t tease," he chides, though his own amusement is evident. He studies you, tapping his fingers against his arm. "I had a feeling you would come back. What brings you here? Surely not second thoughts?"

You shake your head. You are not here to break your deal. Absolutely not.

Jade studies you for a moment, and then with polite curiosity, asks, "And how is your fisherman?"

You blink at him, startled.

The twins laugh at your reaction, Floyd’s voice bright and unrestrained, Jade’s more measured but no less amused. Azul only sighs.

"Really now, did you think we wouldn’t check in on you?" Azul says, a smile on his face. "I am a businessman. I like to ensure my clients are following through with their agreements."

You frown, crossing your arms. But your shoulders relax, though your lips press into a thin line. Of course, they know. Azul never makes deals without keeping an eye on his clients.

Floyd swims closer, and grins at you. "Sooo? Is he in love with you yet?"

You glare at him.

Azul, sighs and comes closer to you. "It has been a week, hasn’t it? Progress takes time, of course, but I do hope you haven’t wasted too much of it."

You glance away. Seven days, and the fisherman has been nothing but nice to you. But it is not love. You do not know how to bridge that distance.

You shake your head.

Azul exhales. "Then I suppose you have your work cut out for you."

You nod, but you do not leave.

And perhaps Azul notices, because after a moment, he gestures toward an empty seat. "Stay, then," he says, like an afterthought. "If you wish."

You take his words, and you are back again the very next night. The Leech twins aren't around when you arrive.

"You look troubled," Azul points out.

You sigh, tipping your head back. How could you explain that this was harder than you expected? That love was not something you could pluck from the air like a starfish from the reef? That you, who had traded your voice for the chance to belong, felt more out of place than ever?

Azul, sharp as ever, seems to understand your expression. "Making a human fall in love with you is not as simple as fluttering your lashes and looking forlorn, you know." He says. "Especially when you cannot speak to them."

You shoot him a glare. Does he take you for a little child who doesn't even know that?

He ignores your offended look. "Well," he says, thoughtful. "If nothing else, I suppose I can offer some… assistance."

You blink at him, tilting your head.

Azul exhales, as if exasperated with himself. "I merely mean that if you’re struggling, it may be wise to refine your approach. You cannot speak, true, but communication is more than words." He taps his fingers against the table. "There is body language, expression, action. All of these can be just as effective, if not more so."

You sigh. This is silly, you think.

You are a merperson trying to woo a fisherman, a man whose hands are calloused from pulling creatures like you from the water. You are breaking yourself to fit into his world, folding the edges of your existence just to slip into the spaces where he might notice you.

And here you are near Azul, seeking comfort from him of all people.

A breath of laughter escapes you in form of bubbles which is enough for Azul to look up. His brow furrows slightly. "What?"

You shake your head, pressing your lips together.

You can not tell him. You only gesture that you don't require his assistance. Besides, who knows what sort of debts you will be in if you agree to take the help of the octamer that is responsible for putting you in your current predicament.

When the sun rises, it paints everything in soft gold, filtering through the open window. You try your best to sneak back in to your bed to not raise any suspicion.

You lay under the blankets until you hear a kettle whistling over the fire, the scent of steeped herbs curling through the air. The fisherman's voice is gentle when he speaks.

"Sleep well?" He asks. You nod, and he doesn’t press for more when he notices your damp hair.

Breakfast is quiet. He hums as he eats, an old tune that fills in the silence. You listen, hands curled around a clay cup of warm broth, the heat seeping into your fingers. He slides a spare coat over your shoulders when the wind picks up and points out toward the docks.

"Thought you might like to see the sea from above."

You follow, the rough wooden planks of the pier sturdy beneath your feet, the water below impossibly blue and glistening. Everything looks beautiful. You only hope that you can succeed to remain as a human at that moment.

At night, Azul hands you a notebook.

You blink at him. He sighs. "You cannot speak," he says, as if this is news to either of you. "But you can write."

You glance down at the book. Back at him and then at the twins.

He lifts a brow. "You can write, can’t you?"

You exhale sharply, bubbles rising in the water. You throw him the most offended look ever.

Azul huffs, unimpressed. "I’ll take that as a yes."

You scrawl out large words across the page while looms over your shoulder.

I am not an idiot!

Azul smiles in amusement. "I never said you were."

You narrow your eyes. Then, slowly, you flip the page and write, What else can you offer me?

Floyd grins, and without missing a beat, he says, "A kiss, probably."

Azul nearly chokes on his own breath. "Absolutely not!"

Your face warms as Floyd snickers, the water around him rippling with his amusement. Jade decides that he too will loom over your shoulder like his brother.

You tap your fingers against the page, pretending to consider it. Then, carefully you write, A kiss would be easier.

Azul looks bewildered. "Why do I even bother with you?"

You only grin, feeling proud of yourself for making him flustered.

The fisherman does not ask where you go at night.

He is not unobservant—you have seen the way his eyes flicker toward the door when he notices damp footprints on the wooden floorboards in the morning, the way his brow furrows when your hair still smells faintly of salt despite the dryness of the air. But he says nothing, only placing a towel nearby with quiet understanding.

When you hear the man talking to himself, you decide you will communicate, so you reach for a pen and page. The fisherman eyes you curiously when you write, Do you always speak this much?

The fisherman raises an eyebrow, reading over your shoulder. Then he grins. "Someone’s feeling bold today."

You tap the page expectantly.

He hums, sitting back on his heels. "Maybe I do," he admits. "You’re so quiet, I feel like I have to fill the space."

You pause, fingers hovering over the page.

He chuckles. "I don’t mind, though. Sometimes, it’s nice to just have someone around."

You give a pleased look at his words, then you write, What do you do when you aren’t fishing?

The fisherman blinks, then grins, clearly pleased. "Finally curious about me, huh?" He wipes his hands on his shirt, thinking. "Well, when I’m not fishing, I mend nets, fix boats, cook. Sometimes I go into town, sell what I’ve caught." He tilts his head. "Why? You interested in fishing?"

You wrinkle your nose.

He laughs. "Yeah, figured."

But you are interested, just not in the fish. You are interested in what other human activities he does.

To satiate your curiosity, he teaches you how to mend a net later in the day. The fibres are rough beneath your fingertips, the pattern feels intricate but methodical. He works beside you, hands moving with the kind of practiced ease that only comes with time.

"There’s a rhythm to it," he says. "Once you get used to it, it’s like breathing."

You listen, your hands move carefully, mimicking his motions. You think he is proud when you finally get it right.

You were excited to share about your new experience with Azul.

You did not notice that things have changed between you and Azul.

You lingered longer than necessary, looming over his shoulder to look at his work or mindlessly float around his space and brushing your tail against him to enjoy the look of irritation on him while he worked.

You hardly noticed that you naturally moved closer to him. But the twins did.

"How cute," Jade muttered, watching you. "Like a little fish who have found a reef to settle in."

The teasing started when the twins found you, more than once, dozing near Azul’s side.

The first time, you had curled up in a corner, exhaustion dragging you under. When you woke, Azul was a short distance away, busy pretending not to notice the way you stretched languidly.

The second time, you had drifted too close, your head nearly resting against his body. You were half-asleep when you heard Floyd’s delighted cackle.

"Aww, look at this! They really trust you, Azul!"

You startled awake, eyes blinking blearily at Azul’s flustered expression. His tentacles dragged his body away from you.

Azul shot a withering glare. "Don’t be ridiculous," he snapped, his voice sharp but lacking true bite. "They’re just tired. It’s hardly noteworthy."

"Maybe they’re looking to court ya, Azul~" Floyd singsonged, spinning lazily through the water before stopping right in front of you. "Hey, you wanna be our boss’s little guppy? He’s all soft on ya already!"

You ignored everything else and decided you will focus on the fact that he ruined your nap time. You huffed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes while Azul turned a different shade, his tentacles coiling as if physically repelling the thought.

"Don’t say such absurd things," he snapped, but his voice held no weight. The twins, of course, latched onto his reaction immediately.

But before anyone could say more, you flicked your tail to send a ripple of water towards Floyd. Then, Floyd decided to tackle you, and that's where the topic ended.

The days slip by.

The fisherman sometimes leaves before dawn, returns after sunset. You wave at him from the dock, watch as he vanishes into the more dense human population.

Soon you find yourself at the docks, gazing out into the distance as you contemplate why you aren't satisfied. Are you an ungrateful merperson?

You sit in your human form, dreaming of your life back under the sea, thinking of what the octamer must be doing now. You did not think human life would be so dull. You no longer know what the Princess saw in trading her tail for legs back in the day.

Now, you really feel like an ungrateful merperson.

On the twenty-ninth night, you do not seek Azul.

You sit alone by the rockier shore instead, watching the moonlight high over the sky. The waves sigh against the rocks, rhythmic and ceaseless, yet your thoughts crash far more violently.

You should be with the fisherman—he is kind, steady, human. He is the future you wanted. But your heart is fickle and uncooperative, betrays you. A glance held too long, a touch you wished had lingered. The warmth of Azul’s voice, the way you wish he only kept looking at you.

You feel foolish. Azul is cunning, he stole your voice. Yet, when you think of him, you think of comfort.

You like Azul. And you do not know what to do.

You do not want to be a human, either.

"You look miserable." A familiar voice cuts through the silence.

Jade perches on one of the rocks, his smile all sharp edges and quiet amusement. Floyd, circles around, bored.

"You should’ve let me teach you how to woo someone," Floyd drawls. "This fisherman of yours sounds boring."

You glare at them both.

Floyd pouts. "Aw, don’t be like that~" He leans in, swimming closer to you. "You know, you could always ask us for help. I bet we could be real useful."

You now glare into the distance, arms wrapped around yourself as the twins circle around the rock you're on like predators circling their prey.

Jade hums, propping his chin against his palm. "Or perhaps," he says, "you already know what you want, and that is why you look so distraught."

You stiffen.

Floyd's grin widens, sharp teeth glinting in the moonlight. "Ohh, is that it?" He asks. "Then why don’tcha just take it?"

You bite the side of your cheek and say nothing. You will do nothing for now and just think.

You have one day left. Tonight you will just think of what to do.

The sun is golden and warm. The fisherman is outside while you sit on the floor and write down everything you think is necessary onto a piece of paper.

He has been good to you. Gentle and patient. You owe him this much.

You write the truth. That you are not what he thought you were—not a lost soul, not a shipwrecked wanderer, not someone meant to stay. That you are something else entirely. That when night falls, you will return to the sea, as you always have.

"I was simply curious," you explain in careful script. "I wanted to know what it was like, to be human. And you showed me kindness when I had no voice to ask for it. Thank you."

You hesitate to add the last part, but you still write it. You speak of an offering of sorts—an hour after sunset, if he wishes, you will return once more. You will bring him something from the sea, a token of gratitude.

A shadow moves near the doorway. You snap the parchment close, pressing it to your chest as the fisherman steps forward. His eyes glance toward the letter.

He doesn’t ask. But the curiosity is there. You offer him a wavering smile and shake your head. Not yet.

He exhales softly, ruffling your hair like one might a younger sibling. "Alright, alright," he murmurs, letting it go, though his eyes linger a little longer than usual.

That night, after he has retired, you slip the letter near his hands and leave without looking back.

The waves then welcome you with open arms. The water rushes up to greet you, swirling around your tail as the last remnants of human skin fade into scales. The spell is broken.

"Hello?" you test out your voice, to check if what you had lost have returned. But you don't celebrate just yet, you have something else to do.

Azul.

It took you thirty days to learn that you cannot force someone to fall in love with you, nor can you force yourself to love them. But, now, you do love someone, and you won't let this slip past you.

You drift deeper, thoughts spinning. You could find him and say it outright, but it won't feel right. So you will give him an offer, not unlike the one he gave you.

The thought of it sends a thrill through your veins, a boldness that you did not have when you first signed your contract. You are quick to go home.

Throughout the years you have collected many things that caught your eye—pearls, shells, sea glass and shiny objects from shipwrecks. Last night was spent rummaging through your treasures and finding what was best.

All these were objects provided by the sea. The last was a parchment with something only you could offer.

A proposition.

It reads:

Azul,

You are a businessman, are you not? Then allow me to propose a deal.

If you wish to see me, meet me at the shipwreck near your parent's restaurant. If you do not, then leave my gifts where they lie, and I will not trouble you again.

But should you come, then perhaps we can discuss something important.

You do not sign your name. If he does not know who it is by now, then he does not deserve the answer.

You have Azul's routine memorised, so it's easy for you to sneak in and arrange your treasures carefully when he is away.

You then retreat and go to the shipwreck to wait.

And you wait. The minutes stretch, water shifting in quiet currents. You don't know how long you wait before you feel a movement. You immediately move and see Azul with your proposition in his hands.

"An intriguing proposition," he says, a smile on his face. "And what, pray tell, do you intend to offer me?"

You smile. The first time you had come to him, you had given up your voice. This time, you offer something else entirely.

Your honesty.

"I love you."

The words are free, without any hesitation. No conditions. No negotiations.

You take delight in the way he becomes flustered by your words. His mouth opens, then closes, as if his usual silver tongue has failed him. He looks a shade darker.

"That is quite the bold declaration. Rather unlike you, I must say." he says after a long moment of silence.

"You barely hear me talk. But, do you disapprove?"

Azul huffs, attempting to regain his composure. "I never said that. But, what do you expect in return?"

You shake your head. "Nothing. There is no price. Just a choice."

Love is not a transaction. Love is the fisherman’s quiet patience for his craft, the Leech twins’ unruly devotion, the way the sea cradles you even after you left it behind.

And love, you realize, is also this: waiting in the dim glow of a shipwreck while Azul processes the words you have laid bare before him.

"You have made quite the gamble," he murmurs.

You tilt your head. "And?"

"You’re a fool," he tells you, his voice fond.

But before you can respond, he closes the space between you. His hand, careful and slow, takes yours.

"You’ve made your offer," he says. "Allow me to make mine."

Your pulse stirs and your heart beats louder. "And what might that be?"

"Well," he echoes, with a fond smile on his face, "if you are offering your honesty, I suppose it is only fair that I offer you my devotion."

Your breath catches and Azul leans forward, leaving just enough space for you to close the distance if you so choose.

You do.

The ocean hums around you as your lips meet his. The shipwreck, the sea, the night itself fade into the background, leaving only the coolness of his touch, the curl of his fingers against your jaw, the soft exhale of breath between you.

And when you separate, you know you are content.

#[𓇼] The Steambird's latest #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto #twst azul #azul ashengrotto x reader

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ozzgin · 2 years ago

Note

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."

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #hannibal x reader #hannibal lecter x reader #yandere hannibal lecter #yandere #yandere x reader #tw cannibalism #tw body horror #horror x reader #slasher x reader

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zablife · 2 years ago

Note

🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️ 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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#peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #Tommy Shelby fanfic #Tommy Shelby imagine #Tommy Shelby x you #Tommy Shelby x y/n #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby smut #Tommy Shelby #Cillian Murphy

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novaursa · 8 months ago

Text

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.

#game of thrones #a song of ice and fire #fire and blood #asoiaf x reader #asoiaf #house of the dragon #got x reader #got x you #got x y/n #got tywin #tywin x reader #tywin lannister #tywin x you #tywin x y/n #house lannister #house targaryen #legacy

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cryptidghostgirl · 1 year ago

Note

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

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crownmemes · 6 months ago

Text

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?"

#rp meme #rp memes #roleplay meme #roleplay memes #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #sentence starters #assorted;#questioning;

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madhatterbri · 4 months ago

Text

Wrong Guy, Right Savior | D.P.

Summary: Or OC didn’t want to spend Valentine’s Day alone. She ends up on a date with a guy she met on a dating app. He’s terrible. She secretly messages for help. Like Rhea or Finn. But instead Damian shows up because he’s been in love with her for forever.

Requested by: @teamchasez

Damian Priest Masterlist

WWE Masterlist

Taglist: @theworldofotps @smallestsnarkestgirl @mrsarcherofinfamy @terrortwinunicorn @brideofinfamy @miss-kuki-nz @hotwheels1108 @new-zealand-chic @magicalbuttertarts @missbmc94 @surdelcielo @hodgepodge-musings

Lena couldn't believe the guy sitting across the table from her. Her cheeks flushed at how angry he made her. The man was a walking example of a red flag. She cursed herself for ever agreeing to go out with this man. She only agreed to a date because she didn't want to be alone for Valentine's Day. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine she would go on a date with this type of guy.

He was thirty minutes late to their date. She wouldn't have minded if he had let her know that he was going to be late. He sat down like nothing was wrong and immediately started to talk about himself. Whenever she was given the opportunity to speak, he would scroll on his phone and simply nod or say uh huh. The wait staff took pity on her. They came by frequently to make sure they were okay. Except, they usually focused on her. After the third time of checking on them in five minutes, the man snapped at them. Now the wait staff came once in the past thirty minutes. This wasn't even the worst part.

"Hey, D, stop the movie," Rhea sighed and grabbed her phone from the coffee table.

The final straw came when he started to compare her to his ex-girlfriend. Her mouth dropped in shock as he mentioned her split ends and the fact that she could afford to lose a couple of pounds. Politely excusing herself when she picked up the phone, she knew she had to text one of her best friends for help.

💞

Damian paused the movie and looked at her. "It is just Bloody Valentine. You wanted to watch this, remember? No chick flicks only blood and horror."

Rhea rolled her eyes as her eyes swam through her cellphone screen. A look of concern on her face. "The bloody movie isn't it. We have scarier problem going on."

"Buddy won't be able to make it tomorrow?" Her best friend asked. Buddy is Rhea's husband. A snow storm kept him away for longer than expected. The two of them found themselves alone on Valentine's Day and decided to meet up for a movie night.

Damian felt himself tense as Rhea listed some of the things Lena's date was telling her. The list went on and on from her teeth, to her clothes, to her personality. He had to be the one to save her to make her see that he had been there all along.

"Worse, poor Lena is on a date with a jackass," Rhea answered. She sighed and started to text her friend that she would be on the way to get her out of there. "I am going to go save her. The guy started comparing her to his ex."

"I'll go," Damian spoke.

Rhea gave him a side eye. "You finally going to admit that you love her?"

Damian felt the butterflies in his stomach. She always had that effect on him. There was something about her that made him feel giddy on the inside. "I think I am, yeah."

💞

Lena checked her phone. Finn couldn't make it since he was out on the town with his wife. Rhea insisted that she was on the way, but that was twenty minutes ago. The date was getting worse by the second. She needed someone, anyone to get her out of there. When all hope felt lost, she perked up at seeing a familiar face. Damian.

Her savior locked eyes on her from across the busy restaurant. He maneuvered his way through the busy crowd. A couple of times, he excused himself from bumping into a worker or guest. He stopped at the middle of the table.

"Lena, it's Valentine's Day, and I find out you are cheating on me like this?" Damian asked.

Her mouth dropped open in shock. The handsome man stood before her in sunglasses and an all white suit. She had a crush on him for ages. Now, he was accusing her of cheating on him in front of everyone. "I-this isn't what it looks like, darling, I thought you wouldn't be home from work until tomorrow night."

He spread out his arms and waved his hands up and down. "You got the whole meal right here, baby. If you are going to cheat on me, at least do it with someone better looking than this loser."

Her date stood up as if to say something or fight. Damian stepped closer to him. He easily towered over him at 6'5. The tinier man smiled and sat down slowly.

"I'm sorry, love, it won't happen again."

"Go wait out by my car. I will be out there momentarily."

Lena scurried towards the exit door. Her heart pounded in her chest at the sight of freedom. She had no idea that Damian was threatening the guy if he ever texted her again. His voice raised slightly at the man's insults about her looks. When the manager threatened to call the police, he left to meet Lena at his car.

💞

"Thank you, D, I just didn't want to be alone for Valentine's Day, and he wasn't this bad over the phone," she admitted. Her hands ran down her face. This was definitely going to be an ice breaker to tell her therapist.

"You wouldn't have been alone. I-," Damian pointed out.

"I know. You and Rhea were having a movie night, but it's Valentine's Day. I haven't been alone on this day in forever," she explained.

Damian shook his head. "You wouldn't have been alone because I would have been your date."

Lena's face flushed. She bit her lip nervously and looked at him. "Do you mean that?"

"The night is still young. Why don't you and I find a little quiet spot and talk?"

She grinned widely. "That sounds like the perfect date."

#fanfiction #wrestling fanfiction #wwe fanfiction #damian priest #damian priest fanfic #damian priest fanfiction #damian priest x oc

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generalsmemories · 2 years ago

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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.

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail imagines #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr imagines #star rail x reader #star rail imagines #star rail x you #honkai star rail angst #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #hsr jing yuan #jing yuan angst

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yingdu-lover · 3 months ago

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MDZS extras are heavenly crumbs I can NEVER get enough of. I wish one day she writes more (as she did with TGCF two years ago).

Last night, I picked MDZS volume 5 for a 'lullaby reading' (max 30 min I expected) but ended up being awake till 2 am lmao (I am a fast reader but I was annotating, commenting, musing - basically it took a lot of time). I read the Extra 4 titled Gate Crasher. In this post, I specifically want to talk about a scene I loved so much.

If you read the story you will know the full context but basically just keep in mind that Wangxian were sitting inside a room (supervising, deducting and waiting in case Sizhui needed any help) and Lan Sizhui was fighting with a fierce corpse outside. Now here is the interesting catch : by listening to Lan Sizhui's sword movements, Wei Wuxian realised he was not following pure sword techniques of the Gusu Lan clan, rather a few attacks aligned with the Yunmeng Jiang clan's swordsmanship. Both deduce that it might be Jin Ling's influence on him as the two juniors frequently went to Night Hunts together. It was of course easy for Wei Wuxian to tell but he asked Lan Wangji how he deducted the same.

Lan Wangji's answer is really impressive. He remembered Jiang swordsmanship from the (very few) sword fights he had with a rebellious guest student in Gusu (when they first met), namely Wei Wuxian over violating rules. Lan Wangji remembered that. Not only that he remembered but also he could tell it just by listening to the sword movements. The next scene is simply cinematic.

Wei Wuxian brings a candle closer to Lan Wangji to see his (probably blushing) face, Lan Wangji is alert and tries to push the candle back, grasping Wei Wuxian's hand (it proves that he indeed was blushing). The candle flame flickers and Wei Wuxian- okay let me paste the section

"...And yet you can remember the techniques and identify them from sound alone. Isn't that impressive?

As he spoke, he pushed the candle flame over to Lan Wangji in order to see if his earlobes had gone red. However, Lan Wangji saw through his wicked intent and grasped Wei Wuxian's hand, pushing the candle back toward him. The candle flame wavered like it was drunk as it was pushed to and fro, its light flickering across Wei Wuxian's smiling eyes and curved lips. The sight made Lan Wangji swallow hard.

The other extras have a bounty of explicit intimate scenes (which I love equally) but this particular scene...I can't get it off my mind. Think in terms of image, or moving image, cinema or animation. A scene of gradually shifting chiaroscuro frames and Wei Wuxian speaking in a low voice, almost whispers (because there was a third person in the room completely ignorant of their chemistry) the words in low raspy teasing voice. The bright candle. I am a sucker for a play of light and shadows which are visually very sensual itself, it leaves a long impression on your mind, and how they create multiple layers of meanings in terms of exploring the psychology of the subjects in the frame. The candle, on one hand is literally used by Wei Wuxian to expose Lan Wangji's emotions, and on the other hand it symbolises sensuality, passion and desire initiated and ignited by Wei Wuxian. This is a subtle yet tantalizing game, a sensual 'back and forth' told through flame imagery. The moment when Lan Wangji grasps Wei Wuxian's wrist in order to save himself, he actually looses. He is discovered. The candle flame reveals the intoxication of passion Lan Wangji is very poor at concealing. Lan Wangji's desire reflects in Wei Wuxian's eyes, ah the great Hanguangjun is caught red handed, and the victorious smile adorns Wei Wuxian's lips; he has successfully won the game of seduction.

I can't tell you enough how artistically brilliant and sensual this scene felt like- omg. IB extras ok but Lan Wangji grabbing Wei Wuxian's wrist in panic, that touch in desperation sends my mind elsewhere. Throughout the extras, both Wei Wuxian and us, the readers keep discovering how Lan Wangji had been obsessed with Wei Wuxian in the past in various ways. To remember an outrageous student's swordsmanship to the point of identifying its signature moves two decades later...is indeed awesome. One among a million other things I would always thank The Untamed for is portraying the homoerotically charged sword fight during the first meeting. Purely iconic. There is a sense of chase, Wei Wuxian's playful defiance is infuriating to Lan Zhan who is trying to subdue Wei Wuxian but is not able to do so. Lan Wangji is losing to Wei Wuxian till this day. The fact that the topic of sword fighting literally and metaphorically connects to this play of desire and Wei Wuxian, for the nth time, finds Lan Wangji's weak points and pulls his heartstrings as he pleases is promptimg the butterflies in my stomach to wreck a wild dance.

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 2 years ago

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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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locomoqo · 7 months ago

Note

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?

#lookism #goo kim x reader #lookism x reader #lookism manhwa #lookism webtoon #fanfic #fanfiction #goo x reader #lookism goo #goo kim #kim jungoo #kim joongoo #lookism joongoo #lookism kim jungoo #lookism kim joongoo #lookism smut #smut

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 2 years ago

Note

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."

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #ask answered #minors dni #reader insert #gaslamp!au

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twilight-deviant · 2 months ago

Note

THOUGHTS ON EPISODE 8??? SO MUCH FISKMATT/FISKDEVIL CONTENT I WAS SHAKING!!!!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

Yeah, itwasgood. Hhhhnnnnnn. Also, hello new friend? 👀💕 And thank you for asking.

You KNOW I want to talk about THAT ENDING. But I'll say my thoughts in order so I don't miss anything. Haha.

The Invitation

I know people have been like "Ohhh, when Fisk finds out his therapist is Matt's girlfriend!" Hah, baby girl, he knew the whole time. I'm so unwell over how obsessed Fisk is with Matt, how they mutually cannot let each other go. He knows who Matt's dating. He knows where Matt lives. He knows Heather stays over. He knew Heather was there that morning.

Fisk and Matt are so creepy for each other. Never change.

Buck: "Morning, Mr. Murdock."

Why does just THAT excite me?! The entire exchange makes me wonder if Buck also knows Matt is Daredevil. If not, he's gotta be like, "Okay, Mr. Fisk has given me homework to know all about this random blind lawyer. Know him I shall. It's cold out. When do I get to stop sleeping in my car across the street from Murdock's apartment?"

Buck: "The mayor wanted me to deliver this to you personally. Along with his deepest admiration for your strength and courage in facing that madman, Muse. 'She is a municipal treasure.'"

I think that's a nice, taunting touch to have Buck pass on this sentiment because Fisk knew Matt would be there and knew he would hear it. "Yes, Matthew, I know you were also there being a brave little boy, but you broke our agreement and I know you did."

Matt: "Hold on a second. How did you or Mayor Fisk know she was staying here?"

Already mentioned Fisk is a creepy Matt Murdock stalker. But I do want to point to him saying 'Mayor Fisk.' It doesn't seem like something Matt would do, show him respect and use the proper title. Might have been because he was speaking to an audience that would expect it, but... eh. Also feels like Matt surrendering to the reality that Fisk won the election and is mayor. Which is actually a very different take to the comics where he's certain for so long that it was fraud.

[Daredevil (2015) #595]

Writing for Heather in this whole scene is bad, but there's something in her siding with Fisk over Matt. It makes Matt seem like a crazy person. Like he's irrational when everyone else is on the same page.

Matt: "Besides, I wasn't invited."

+guest I know making Matt a plus one is supposed to be a little dig at him, somehow pretending he isn't important despite, ya know, all the stalking. But I can't help thinking about Fisk sending him a personal invitation. Mmmmmm. Of course, making him a plus one is like saying, "I didn't even invite you, but you can't help yourself, can you? You had to come."

⫐⫐⫐⫐⫐⫐⫐⫐⫐⫐

The Gala

Okay, I am... disappointed they didn't get a proper, private conversation between them. I feel a little robbed. Not just because it's something I want but also because the narrative needs it. They HAVE to have a discussion. (Please, oh episode 1x09, have Fisk come to Matt in the hospital.) I get tptb said they're limiting their interaction so it feels "explosive" when they are together (haha firearms), but no, they actually need to speak.

I do like Matt rushing in, bumping into so many people, in this desperate need to find Fisk. Listening to the room for him. They do this brief shot implying Vanessa sees Matt first. And idk there's a subtle Mona Lisa smile, like she's excited Matt showed. You know she expected him as much as Fisk. The way she asked Heather if she was alone and all. (Fisk/Vanessa playing cat-and-mouse with Matt is something so important to me actually.)

And then Matt FINDS FISK! And Fisk SEES HIM! A straight tether of sight and sound connecting them across the great room. Matt does a nod to the side, indicating they take it elsewhere and have a private conversation. And then........ friggin Heather! I feel so c*ckblocked in this Chili's tonight. The way they take us to this climactic edge and then drop it, the teases. Matt turns to Heather. Fisk turns to his guests.

Not that Matt even pays attention to Heather. Fellas, is it gay if you're at an event with a gorgeous woman and all you care about is stalking another man across the room? Ladies, you will always come second to Wilson Fisk. I'm sorry. ¯\_( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_/¯

Matt to Heather: "I don't expect you to understand, but I need you to know, he sought you out to get to me."

While I know this is potentially true and the timeline does work, I also love that Matt has no idea of how long it's been going on. He is elevating his own worth to Fisk. Has been the whole episode. And while it is true that Fisk is obsessed with him, I think Matt also wants it to be true. I think I could ramble on and on and still not find the words. But the way BA has framed Matt's life, he lost all other important relationships to him, Foggy and Karen, all minor DD characters (except very minor Josie). Even though he hates Fisk, the strength in that relationship is the greatest thing Matt has left to cling to. It ties him to a past he longs for and prefers. One where he felt needed. (As even his legal life becomes increasingly meaningless.) I think the result of the overhaul from the original vision for BA made this a little abrupt (they might otherwise have built to it slower), but Matt very suddenly needs Fisk back in his life. He becomes acutely obsessed after barely acknowledging him since 1x01. He feels useless as Matt Murdock, attorney, but felt good as Daredevil, and Daredevil needs Kingpin. There is, of course, his sudden belief Fisk was responsible for Foggy's death, but he was spiraling even before that revelation.

Anyway! I love Matt like "Nah, I wanna make a scene today." And starts charging towards Fisk again to confront him. (And again, we get a shot of Vanessa all 👀) I like Cole starting to step in, and Fisk is

He wants it as bad as Matt. And AGAIN they edge us and drop us! I actually wonder if this one was Vanessa running interference. The way she's suddenly at Fisk's side pulling him away for a dance. Fisk and Matt would have been banging in a coat closet if these women let them. Banging their fists of course. Why, what did you think?

And Matt is STILL like... "Nah, I'm dancing over there." Fellas, is it gay to use a woman as a prop to get closer to another man?

⫐⫐⫐⫐⫐⫐⫐⫐⫐⫐

Just Us Whispers

Fisk: "What were you looking for, Devil?"

(Calling him "Devil," hehe~)

I loved Fisk speaking during his dance in a somewhat hushed tone, knowing Matt can still hear and taunting him a little. That was so goooooooood. Like them having a secret in a room of 500 people. (✪ヮ✪)

Unfortunately, I also have to admit that including it feels like an oversight from writing. Yes, Fisk knows Matt is blind with something else giving him an advantage. To my knowledge, it was never established for his character that the "something" was the heightening of Matt's four other senses. (I say "to my knowledge" but I be knowin.) Fisk's lack of understanding what allows Matt to be Daredevil is a great little frustration I've enjoyed between them. I think about the beginning of episode 3x05, as he's watching the prison footage of Matt jumping around, Donovan reminding him Matt was blinded at 9, and he's soooo frustrated to not know how it's possible. And he never gets that answer. When Fisk is a character obsessed with knowing everything, it's been a great little tease Matt unknowingly had over him. (I know I've written in fics a couple times where Fisk is like, "Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me…" xD)

So I think Fisk whispering to Matt is going to be something I continue to freak out over and call beloved, but I don't know if I accept it as my canon. Because I have a better one. Where it's been years and he still doesn't know. LOL!

I do like Vanessa all, "I have something to tell you," and Fisk won't let her talk there. He knows Matt would hear.

⫐⫐⫐⫐⫐⫐⫐⫐⫐⫐

Rise My OT3

ALL FOR ME!

As a Fisk/Vanessa/Matt OT3 shipper, knowing the three of them (and Heather) were at a dance was killing me! While I think Fisk and Matt dancing together would have been funny and also the most deliciously tense thing (excuse me, Matt admits he doesn't lead when dancing???), I'm also a realist and knew that was never going to happen. Hahaha.

But I was equally excited at the possibility of Matt/Vanessa dancing. I don't know if I mentioned it on my blog anywhere, but leading up to this episode, I was absolutely biting the furniture over the idea it could happen. AND LO! 🙌 I wanted Matt and Vanessa to dance, and I wanted them to have a conversation. And I got it, babeh! Sometimes, I get nice things!!!

(I also would have accepted Vanessa/Heather dancing, but my true silent obsession is Vanessa/Elektra.)

Oh, and btw, we're just not going to talk about Vanessa wearing Daredevil's color? Really??? There's more gay symbolism than ya girl can shake a stick at.

⫐⫐⫐⫐⫐⫐⫐⫐⫐⫐

Your Boyfriend

Fisk: "Your boyfriend seems a little... overly exercised this evening." Heather: "At first, I was pissed off, but now, I'm worried. This isn't like him." Fisk: "You know, it's been said that keeping secrets can make us sick."

Fisk talks about Matt, so I want to give this moment a quick shout-out.

I am simultaneously reminded of S1 Fisk saying he would never lie to Vanessa (+S3 Fisk saying he would have no secrets from Vanessa +beginning of this episode where he reestablishes no secrets) and Fisk's words to Dex about Julie in S3: "If it were honest and true, no one could have destroyed it." (Even though that relationship was not romantic. Fisk possibly thought it was at the time.)

It feels one part Fisk mocking the relationship, that Matt/Heather isn't real because it's shallow, superficial, and dishonest. Nothing like what he has with Vanessa. Other part is him sticking his finger into this divide to tear it further. I'm reminded of the first Typhoid Mary arc in the comics where Fisk hires her to break Matt's heart.

I saw someone theorize that Heather could be Mary based on the curly hair, and while I'm not in love with the idea, it's an interesting concept to remember. (Not only should Mary exist in her own right, but doctor to manic woman would feel like a Harley Quinn ripoff. No, I want to start fresh with Mary, even separating from the Iron Fist version.) I know S3 did "Born Again" the comic arc, so I guess chronologically, by the comic timeline, a good next step would be Fisk hurting Matt by breaking his heart. I'd like to see something so deliberate but probably won't.

(I have no legitimate reason to include these panels. I just like reminding people they exist. 😈)

[Daredevil (1964) #261]

Fisk: "Have you ever wondered why Mr. Murdock has a thing for vigilantes, Doctor?"

In the meantime, the idea of Fisk taking another relationship away from Matt, until he is the only person in Matt's life, mwah~! The fact he was seemingly seconds away from either revealing Matt's identity or leading Heather to the idea on her own is good. It's goooood.

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Bang Bang

And OF COURSE!!!

Does this count as holding hands?

Hnnnngghhhh! The spoilers teasing me that this moment might exist did not make it ANY LESS amazing!

Look at the spotlight on them. 😍 Lowkey art?

I 👏 am 👏 DYING 👏 inside! 👏

I like the way Fisk instinctively just... caught Matt in his arms before the shot even hit. He hasn't had the time to process the sound of the gunshot yet. For all he knows, Matt was doing a surprise trust fall. lol!

Fisk/Matt but it's this meme I guess?

Ahem, anyway...

Watching with my family, they were so confused. "WHY would Matt take a bullet for Fisk?!" And I have trouble explaining it to people who aren't down bad for this ship or at least their overall relationship. For their sake, I tried to say, "Oh, maybe he was protecting Heather." But when they played it back, no, Heather was not in the line of fire. The truth is undeniable.

This was Matt. risking his own life. saving Fisk.

I hesitate to say too much and get myself too excited. Soon as I do, 1x09 will come up and contradict everything I want to say. But screw it.

Does anyone remember the museum scene in Hannibal where Will says, "We're conjoined. I'm curious whether either of us can survive separation." Okay, keep remembering.

First, I gesture to what I said above, about Fisk being the last real relationship Matt has in his life. Second, I want to mention how Vincent and Charlie have repeatedly said that Fisk and Matt are "inseparable" and "need each other to exist." (I have a post here where I uploaded the audio of one such interview.) Matt knew where the gun was pointed. He knew where the bullet was going to land. He knew if he did nothing, Fisk would die.

I think a lot of DD fans will reach for the surface level explanation that Matt doesn't want anyone to die. (After all, we can look at the S3 finale and see how much Matt defended Fisk and Vanessa, even though he wanted to kill Fisk himself.)

But nah. Just this once, I think I, the crazy person, have the more accurate interpretation. I will obviously factor in that Matt had no time to think rationally. But that's the point, in a way. An immediate response is an honest response. He didn't weigh a life where he did nothing versus a reality where he did something. He didn't stop to consider another option. All he had time to think was, "Fisk is going to die. I can stop Fisk from dying."

So now I cash in on how I feel and how Vincent/Charlie have spoken. When Matt has nothing else in his life to give him meaning, Fisk IS his reason to exist. He needs Fisk and needs him alive. Matt undeniably does not want to be in a world where Fisk is dead and he loses that last person, his one link to a better past, the one person who gives him purpose. It's so toxic and codependent.

GAAAAH! Words can't do my thoughts justice! I just want to SCREAM, but that wouldn't get it across either!!!

Just listen when I say Matt has no idea Foggy is totally alive and in WitSec. He doesn't know Karen is coming back. In his mind it's just THIS! Only more of this. There's only Fisk. And if he lost that too, I don't doubt he would slip into a powerful depression. He is poised to give up on his law practice. He could potentially throw himself into being Daredevil (once the anti-vigilante mayor is gone), but it still wouldn't be enough. It'd be hollow gestures because there's no one left.

He needs Fisk so much. Enough to risk dying himself. Because maybe in that split second, maybe not, he thought a life without even Fisk wasn't worth it. So he risked it all to save that one thing.

PLEASE TELL ME if I even sort of explained what's in my head. OTL

ngl, I do think it's funny that I kinda REALLY got my wish list I was rambling about in this one post. (Kinda spoilery for S2, kinda not anymore. Maybe don't click. I give highlight here.)

My power to manifest, it is so strong. I will use this for evil. o_o

I mean YEAH! I guess they really got my number. 🤣 I didn't foresee Fisk catching Matt but dropping him that last foot, but okay. lol. We'll call it the middleground of my fantasy versus realistic predictions.

Admittedly, Fisk is also in shock. He and Vanessa still appear to be in shock in the next episode, judging by the shot from the trailer.

Oh, I just noticed he's taken off his jacket, waistcoat, and tie here. Nice. That means Matt's blood must have really soaked through. Niiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiice. In that case, they should have made him hold Matt longer. LONGER, I SAY!

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I would love to see Matt have a moment of dread where he confronts what made him save Fisk's life, but there's no way we're getting it. The man has no emotional introspection. Even if they tried to include something, I don't think they could make the audience understand in our limited time left. I'm curious what they'll have him say, if anything.

On the flipside, I would like just a moment where Fisk is unsure whether Matt is alive or dead. Look at aaaaaaaall I said above and realize that even though Fisk has Vanessa and is on top of the world, Vincent/Charlie say the feeling is mutual. Fisk can't suffer a world without Matt any more than Matt can suffer without him. Please just give me some brief show of relief when he's told Matt's alive. (Even though it seems he will be sending the task force to Matt's apartment. Reasons unknown.) But also someone write an AU fic where Matt dies and Fisk has to live with it! Not only suffering in the loss of a person who gives him meaning but never understanding why Matt did it! I'll write it myself if I have to!!!

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Okay, I think I've gone on long enough. But you asked, so I answered. My feelings for this episode were never going to be brief. I've been bottling up my FiskMatt feelings since their last interaction in the premiere. 😂😐

No, but really, thank you for asking. I was undoubtedly going to say all this anyway, but I like someone asking. Makes me feel there's interest in what I have to say, which is a very validating feeling for this very niche ship. (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

#I'm sorry #I can only speak through prolonged rambling #I look at posts where people say their thoughts in like 100 words in bullet points #I am not one of those people #My bad #Marvel #Daredevil #Born Again #FiskMatt #TD watches DD

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thedepthsoffandomminds · 1 year ago

Text

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

#jack dawkins x y/n #jack dawkins x reader

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