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just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace · 2 months ago

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Defied (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which Celebrimbor manages, with his dying words, to unearth some truths which you and your husband are desperate to deny

Warnings: evil!reader, that Celebrimbor scene in 2x08, so torture and death (the description isn’t too graphic and reader doesn’t torture him directly but she plays good cop to Sauron’s bad cop) angst + comfort, biting, some manhandling, mention of reader killing people

Note: one more fic in the evil!reader collection. Works on its own too but reader’s backstory is more detailed than here in Old Wounds. I think I broke myself writing this.

Celebrimbor awakens to a damp cloth gently brushing the blood and sweat off his feverish brow. A touch kinder than he had imagined he would ever feel again. He groans weakly, awash with relief as he opens his eyes.

Any trace of comfort vanishes when he sees it is the wife of Sauron who is administering the merciful treatment.

“Shh,” you murmur as he tries to lift his head. The soft pillow on which it’s resting are your thighs, your legs folded beneath you as you sit sideways on the floor. It takes only the lightest push for you to hold him down by the shoulder, but it still sends pain shooting through his tormented body.

“We do not have long,” you whisper, throwing a slightly nervous glance towards the door. “He will return soon.”

Frowning and too weak to do anything but lie there, Celebrimbor searches the room with his eyes, finding that the two of you are, indeed, alone. He also finds that you have removed the arrows from his body while he had been unconscious, his wounds still painful but at least more bearable than before. To his surprise, they don’t seem to be bleeding as profusely as one would expect.

“I’ve done what I could,” you say regretfully, gently pressing the cloth to his temple. “I can do more.”

Your voice leads him to raise his gaze to yours. There’s a shaft of light pouring through the window at just the right angle so that it bathes your face in an ethereal glow. Looking at him from above, all beauty and light in the midst of his forge’s ruins, you seem like a gift from the Valar themselves. You could be his salvation, his way back to freedom, if only he would—

“If only I would give you the Nine.”

His voice is so weak and hoarse, he barely hears it himself. Your brow furrows, as sympathetic as the small smile you grace him with.

“There is no other way,” you whisper.

Despite it all, the weakest of chuckles escapes his parched throat.

“After he is done inflicting his torment,” he says, somehow finding enough strength within himself to pour into his voice, “you come to me with a kind word and soothing touch. Seeking to melt my will, rather than break it.” He shakes his head once, meeting your gaze unwaveringly, even from below. “I see through the illusions now. His... and yours.”

You breathe in. Slowly, deeply. As you exhale, the divine light dims and vanishes, leaving your expression as it truly is—cold and utterly frustrated as you give a sharp sigh.

“And how is that to your benefit?” you deadpan. You cast the bloodied cloth aside and remove your legs from under him. He groans in pain as you maneuver him so that he’s sitting up against a column, standing to your full height beside him. There’s nothing soothing whatsoever about the sight of you looking down at him now.

“Seriously, Celebrimbor,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’re only delaying the inevitable. You’ve already sacrificed those poor guards of yours to do it. I mean,” you shake your head, chuckling with pity, “trying to have my husband arrested, like some common Elf? What did you imagine that would accomplish?”

“Does it not pain you,” he ignores your taunts, voice trembling as it grows in despair, “to see me tormented as the one you claim to love once was, at the hands of Morgoth? You said you were there. You said Morgoth had you mend him with your gifts, only so he could begin his tortures anew. Did you not weep as you told that story? Does it not pain you, then,” he cries out, “that your beloved husband would force you to relive that past by having you do the very same to another?!”

“It’s not him that is forcing me!” you scream out in return.

He had said that word—husband—which you use so often, and with such delight, as if it were the greatest poison known to Middle-Earth. That cracked something within you, tears of anger burning in your eyes as you begin to pace like an animal in a cage.

“Do you think this is what I would have chosen? Do you think this is what I’ve always wanted?”

Before you know what you are doing, you grab a piece of rubble and flung it against the pillar, above Celebrimbor. He gasps and flinches as pieces of shattered stone rain down dangerously close to him, though he’s lucky enough to only become covered in dust.

“There was a time,” you say, practically trembling with anger as you rush to Celebrimbor’s side, “after Morgoth was defeated, when he and I were perfectly content to simply... exist! That was enough. More than enough. We were finally free from Morgoth, finally free to be together.” You shake your head and close your eyes, breathing to regain your composure. After that, you are no longer shaking, and your voice is grim. “But we both had been free before. And we knew how easily that can be taken away. The only being who truly has freedom... is that who controls all else. And so that had to be us.”

“Perfectly sound logic.”

His words drip sarcasm. Your jaw clenches.

“Mock me all you want,” you say, crouching to his level and forcing him to look straight your merciless gaze with a firm knuckle beneath his chin. “Which one of us has their freedom now?”

Celebrimbor meets your ire with a sympathetic smile.

“Neither, my false friend,” he murmurs. “Neither.”

A mirthless chuckle escapes you. You have truly underestimated his willpower. But he has done the same with your ruthlessness.

“We’ll see,” you hiss. “Love,” you call out, the word fierce but ragged on your tongue as you release Celebrimbor’s face and stand up. He hasn’t noticed your husband walk into the room, or come to stand no longer than an arm’s length away from you. Most likely he had been lingering in the shadows, waiting for a sign from you to reveal himself. Even as you turn to him, you’re still glaring daggers meant for Celebrimbor.

“I think he likes you better,” you say.

Sauron looks at you, impassive. “Perhaps you’ve lost your touch.”

What might have otherwise been simply another tease cuts into your chest. He is a particular kind of distant now, has been since you have lost the Nine. The setback angered you as well, but your husband seems wholly consumed with the need to have them in his grasp again. Perhaps because he had poured part of himself into the making of those Rings. Not like that is any consolation. There’s a strain between you now, and nothing playful about it—only a sense of dread sinking its claws into your heart.

At an uncharacteristic loss for a snide reply, you clench your mouth shut and step aside to let him do the work.

But Celebrimbor does not relent. No matter how many arrows your husband plants in him, how much pain he endures, his lips remain sealed and the location of the Nine firmly withheld. Your husband speaks of the Orcs ravaging his city, and Celebrimbor speaks of the birds that used to fly to the river who are now silenced. Your husband pleads with him to let him share the wonders of the Rings with the world, and Celebrimbor speaks of the peace he is soon to find in death.

“There are ways to keep you alive,” is Sauron’s grim reply. “My wife’s skill being the most efficient of them.”

“Is it?” you question quietly. “I thought I’d... ‘lost my touch’.”

You don’t bother to look at him as you speak the bitter words. For a while now, you’ve been leaning against the wall near the window, staring out at the darkened horizon. You don’t need to see your husband to picture the piercing gaze he turns towards you, or the tick in his jaw as he grouses, “Now is not the time—”

“It’s never the time.” Your head whips to look at him, and you flinch when you find him closer already than you had expected, staring you down. But you’re long past being intimidated by such gestures. You only meet your husband’s gaze defiantly. “I no longer wish to do this.”

There is the smallest furrow of his brow, equal parts surprised and disturbed. You hardly ever refuse each other. Especially in moments as critical as this. Glancing at Celebrimbor, you see his bloody brow is knitted in confusion, as if he hadn’t truly expected you to give heed to his words. And it is not for him that you are doing this—but your husband follows your line of sight, and his gaze has gone from displeased to wrathful as it returns to yours.

“I’ve never known you to shy away from a little blood,” he says, voice low and menacing as he steps closer, crowding you into the wall. “Or perhaps it is not the torment, but the Elf on whom it is being inflicted that stays your hand?” He takes hold of your wrist as he speaks, lifting it between your chests as he closes his fingers over yours with misleading delicacy. “Is that it, my love? Has our dear Celebrimbor grown on you at last?”

“Don’t be absurd,” you huff out, making to walk past him—but he slams your hand into the wall and presses the full length of his body against yours, trapping you as you gasp and glare. Your free hand pushes against his chest to no avail, while his cups your cheek to make you look him in the eye.

“Is this why you tell him of our past so freely?” he growls, his breath hot and heavy on your lips. “Why you justify yourself, hoping to find forgiveness, perhaps? Compassion?” He trembles with rage as he presses his thumb to your bottom lip. “...desire?”

Rage blinds you, raw and animalistic—and like an animal, you bite onto his finger, shoving him in the chest at the same time. He stumbles back, glaring down at his hand. Your teeth have drawn black blood, and you furiously wipe it off your lips with the back of your hand.

“How dare you?” You charge for him and hit his chest again, putting enough of your powers behind it that he almost doesn’t catch himself and tumbles to the ground. “How dare you accuse me of such treachery?” you scream. Tears of rage gather in your eyes, while his are a mix of disbelief and anger. “After all I have done for you. All the ways I have proven my devotion, the oaths we swore, the centuries we have lived for nothing but each other—”

“You speak as though I were a stranger to your jealous anger,” he retorts. “As if you did not pierce me with your rageful glare each time as I so much as looked Mirdania’s way—”

“I did not mean it as you do!” you cry out. “It was a game, it’s what we do! You know that.”

For a moment, only your heavy breathing fills the room. Yours and your husband’s as you stare each other down, neither willing to yield. But there is also the faint sound of Celebrimbor’s, who lies nearly forgotten in the rubble. It reminds you what it was that had been gnawing at you in the first place. You shut your eyes briefly, willing your voice to be calm and composed as you speak.

“I’ve done my fair share of dark deeds, most in the name of our love,” you say, this time heading towards your husband in a peaceful manner. “I shall do more, if needed. Worse. But this—what is happening here...” You nod your head, infuriatingly helpless as you admit, “He’s right. It means something to me. To us. This is exactly what Morgoth put us through. You are asking me to do what he made me to do you.” Your voice begins to tremble with long-suppressed grief. “And you, in your greed for those Rings, could not care less what it does to me to think of that time, let alone reenact it.”

Your husband stares as though you’ve said something incomprehensible.

“All depends upon the Rings,” he all but whispers, willing you to understand. This time when he takes one of your hands in his, the gesture is somehow both tender and desperate, as if you’ll slip away. “All of this... is for us,” he vows.

That sliver of doubt in your chest is enough to break you.

“Is it?” you breathe out shakily, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Because it is your blood you have poured into the Nine. Not ours.”

You pull away from him—to his devastation, written plainly on his face. Your hand shakes as you wipe away your tears. A deep, aching desire burns in you to be away from this place, to start anew. You feel it is the only way to fix what has been broken, even if you can’t even tell where the divide between you lies or where it has begun.

“We shall soon have an army,” you try to reason. “Power beyond imagining, even without the Nine. No doubt, with time the Rings will find their way to you—”

“And you would have me wait for them even one moment more?” he says in disbelief. You give him a sorrowful smile.

“I have awaited your return for an eternity,” you say. “Perhaps it is your turn to wait for my sake.”

His voice is so faint you barely hear as he asks, “Or what?”

A terrible pause follows. There’s a threat in your eyes, which you don’t dare to speak out loud. You are not even sure you would be capable of doing such a thing—if, even just as another game between you, as an attempt to rile him up, even just for a brief time, you might truly find the strength or the will to turn and walk away—

It’s as if he senses the shape of those words in your mind, and they clip his breath. In an instant, he takes your face in his hands, his hold on you desperate and his eyes feral.

“If you betray me... if you forsake me...” he breathes out the word like it’s poison, planting daggers in his throat as he speaks it, “I shall forget all thoughts of healing, and raze Middle-Earth to the ground so that I am all that is left in the world for you to return to.”

“Even the Rings?” you ask, gripping his wrists to keep him close, every inch of you weak at the tortured yearning in his declaration. “Would you vanquish them as well, if it meant I would return to you?”

For a moment, his eyes widen as though you have stabbed him. Then they darken with determination.

“I shall have you... and the Rings,” he swears. “Nothing less.” His lips meet yours roughly, briefly, like he wants to prove they are still his to kiss. “Nothing...” He does it again. “...less.”

And this time, you believe him. You are desperate to, and mad with longing, ready to lose yourself to your husband’s touch and let it purge this new fear that has crept inside your heart, whispering insidiously that peril for the love you share lies on the path ahead of you. But your embrace is cut short by Celebrimbor’s voice.

“Shadow of Morgoth!” he calls out. You and your husband break away and turn to him, and the sheer defiance in his gaze chills you to the bone. “You shall have neither,” he says fiercely. “The Rings of Power shall destroy you. This twisted... mockery of love shall be snuffed out like a candle in the wind. And in the end,” his voice grows to a guttural cry, “I foresee it is the very fruit of it that shall be your utter ruin!”

You gasp in horror. It’s as though the dread within you has spoken from his mouth. Your husband is equally affected, though he is moved to rage rather than fear. In an instant, he has picked up a spear, reached Celebrimbor and impaled him in the stomach, lifting him up against the pillar.

“You’re wrong!” he growls up at the Elf moaning in pain. “We shall rule together,” he declares, almost in a craze, “and be masters of our own creations.”

Even now, even like this, Celebrimbor smiles defiantly. “No,” he says. “You shall be slaves to them. And to each other. Sauron... the Abhorred... and his Accursed Bride. Lord and Lady of the Rings.”

And so, Celebrimbor gives his last breath.

You’ve seen beings die before. You’ve been responsible for it. You can’t remember the last time it’s left you as hollow as it does now, Celebrimbor’s final words still lingering in the air around you.

“It’s only words,” you murmur in the silence, to convince the both of you. “They mean nothing.”

Your husband drives the end of the spear into the ground, leaving the body propped up against the pillar.

“I wanted to do worse,” he says blankly, staring at the ground. “But you wished for this to be over. So I did as you asked.” He lifts his gaze to yours. “How could his words be true... when there is nothing I would not do to keep you?”

His words steal your breath—but what truly claws at your heart, leaving it raw and trembling within your chest, is the fact that a lone tear has swelled in his eye, and slipped down his cheek.

“You are weeping,” you whisper, awe-stricken. “I have not seen your tears since...”

Your throat closes around the words.

“Do you doubt me, my love?” he murmurs. “Do you doubt us?”

His voice, weak and pained, undoes you.

“No,” you breathe out. “No, no, no!”

You all but run to him and throw your arms around his neck, whimpering as he wraps you in a desperate embrace. He releases a ragged breath, his heartbeat rampant against your chest, and he presses a kiss to your shoulder that makes you shiver. “We will have all that we have been striving for,” you promise against his neck, then pull back to look into his eyes. “Soon. Together.”

“My love,” is all he whispers in return. You cup his face with the most gentle touch, fingers brushing his fair hair before you press your lips to his cheek, cherishing each drop of his tears that you are kissing away.

“My love,” you repeat as if in prayer. You rest your hand on the back of his head, fingers gently nudging at the bow made of his hair as you simply stand there, holding him with his cheek to yours.

Celebrimbor was wrong. You were wrong to fear. No feeling so soul-consuming in its might could ever be shattered. Not by powers of flesh, not by those over flesh. You are sure of it now.

It’s like this that the Orcs find you as they barge into the forge room with bloody weapons in their hands. One gestures for the others to halt while you and your husband face them, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Are you him?” he asks, some semblance of hope in his gruff voice. “Are you Sauron?”

“I have many names,” your husband says, as always. “But her...” he wraps his arm around your waist as you hold your chin high, “you shall call ‘my Queen’.”

Previous fic with same reader -> Kill and make up

Next fic with same reader -> The Two

#annatar x reader #sauron x reader #the rings of power

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gguk-n · 3 months ago

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Chapter 2- Secret and Surprises

Unravelling Max's Mystery (Max Verstappen x Online Friend!Reader)

Series Masterlist

Summary- Y/N has lost out on a few of her publication dreams while juggling 2 jobs. Her crush on Max has only led to failed relationships. She dreams of one day meeting and being with Max. But Max has a girlfriend and a career she knows nothing about.

{Reader's POV}

I finally moved out from my parents's place a few years back when I decided to pursue Literature. It was a very difficult time for me but I had Max by my side. Trying to convince my parents that I want to understand the art of writing and then doing what I love was very challenging. I moved to a another city with my dream university. Even today, they detest my choices and hope that I would take my life seriously. It has been difficult but seeing them once or twice a year only has made it easy.

Max and I are still very close. I still have a crush on him; it got worse after we started video calling each other after I moved out. I wasn't about to get 'caught' talking to a guy under my parents's roof. The consequences would be disastrous. Max is still the same, slightly older, has a stubble. I still don't know his full name, but he doesn't know mine either and I don't mind keeping it that way.

Having Max as a friend has hindered quite a few relationships either because they weren't him or they were jealous of some guy I would drop everything for. He still has a horrible sleep schedule, I've scolded him a couple time, but he doesn't listen. However, he has the cutest cats, Jimmy and Sassy. They love their dad a lot; I really wanna get cats too but I'm barely keeping myself alive, I'll kill my pets.

My job pays shitty, I'm a primary school teacher and freelance editor. I had hoped that being an editor for bigger and well established authors would help me improve my writing and get my book or poems published; has yet to happen. All my clients are kind people and very understanding of my predicament. Alas, this doesn't leave me much time in the day; teaching, lesson planning, correcting papers, editing other's stories or poems, talking to Max. Max has gotten pretty good about not disappearing like he did a couple years back. I still have no clue what he does, not like he knows what I do specifically. But he said he does something along the lines of cars; I knew he loved cars. I hope his job pays him better since he moved a few years back when I was still at home. His place looks lavish, either he gets paid well or it's from the company. I will never know. He's seen the shit hole I live in, but has yet to comment on my poor living conditions. I have too much of an ego to let my parents know I am struggling; I would rather starve then let them know. All I would hear is that they were right and I should mend my mistakes. What mistakes should I mend when these were my choices and I'm happy with them.

I've compiled 20 of my poems and even wrote a book, I've sent it to so many publishers in hopes that it will get picked up. This is like my fourth or fifth time. I mean, I haven't exhausted my resources and till the day all the publications shut down I'm not giving up. I've been rejected quite a few time, sometimes at the initial stages or after first reading and preview. They make publishing a book look so easy on shows and movies. I wish it was that easy in real life, but it isn't.

Being on spring break makes it so much easier for a while, till I have to return. However, I can focus on my book and the editing gig since it pays better than teaching. There's this guy I'm editing for currently and he's so annoying. I want to stop working with him except he pays the best. The life of being chained to capitalism. I was fixing up his errors when my phone rang, it was Max on video call. We spoke on video call a lot after I moved out. He's attractive, blue eyes; truly all my weaknesses combined. When the screen popped up, he almost fell out of frame when Jimmy jumped on the phone. Max placed Jimmy on the floor. Max- Hey, Schat. Sorry about Jimmy. Y/N- Hi, honestly I would rather talk to Jimmy. (I laughed) Max- Sometimes, I think you are friends with me for my cats. Y/N- Yeah, I would've stopped being your friend had you not adopted them. Max- Wow! I'm hurt. (He placed his hand on his chest) Y/N- Stop being dramatic. I'm just living vicariously through you. Max- You should get cats too, you seem lonely. Y/N- I wish, I'll end up killing them since I'm so busy. Max- hmmm, I hope you find a companion. I did find a companion Max, every time I get a boyfriend, we break up directly or indirectly because of you I thought. Max- What happened to Finn? I thought he was smitten for you. Y/N- Yeah, things didn't work out. We both were too busy with work. In actuality, when we finally got close after months of talking and the first time we had sex I moaned out Max's name. He left immediately. I wasn't about to tell Max this. It would ruin everything, I believe. Max- What were you doing? Y/N- Editing that ass's book. Max- You know maybe, you should leave some blunders, not the most obvious ones but one's that would make him look stupid. Y/N- I wish Max, he pays me a shit ton to do my job. (I laughed bitterly) It's fine, honestly. I'll be done soon and I'll never have to see him again, hopefully, fingers crossed. Max- I hope so too. Y/N- Max, you should date someone. Instead of worrying about me. I've never seen you date anyone in all the years I've known you. Max- ahh, yeah, I'm too busy with work to do that. Y/N- If we lived closer, I would've set you up with someone. That someone being me, but he doesn't need to know that. We haven't even met yet; we never even spoke about meeting each other honestly. Max scratched his neck, shaking his head. Max- I'm good, schat. You should find someone, maybe you'll stop being cranky. Y/N- I'm not cranky, at least not with you. Max let out a deep laugh. Max- Well, I've got to go. My sister's visiting. I'll talk to you later. Y/N- Sure, say hi to Victoria for me. Bye Maxie!! Max- bye Y/N.

Talking to Max always brightened up my mood. But since, Victoria's visiting, he won't be available to talk as often. That means I'm gonna have to spend all my free time scrolling through Instagram. It's all fun and games until I'm on hour 6 of some random video on Youtube. I spent the next couple of days cooped up in my home, just to enjoy waking up late. There were still a few months still summer break and I intended on enjoying them to the fullest.

School started way to soon for my liking. Max would send pictures of Jimmy and Sassy to cheer me up. It did cheer me up. Max travelled a lot for work, I've seen quite a few hotels and I think they are 5 star hotels. So, his work place is rich rich. I wish Max would hire me, I lamented, maybe then we might meet. I've thought about meeting him but he never showed any inkling that he would like to meet me. I wasn't about to seem desperate; I would probably jump him if I did. I mean he is single, so it's fine.

When the school started after spring break, I got handed a new author to help edit her work. I spoke to her and she was very nice to talk to. The book she was writing was based off a sport. On further questioning, she told me it was Formula One. I had heard about it when my city hosted a Formula E race a couple years ago. I don't remember much because I'm not sure if they held it again but what I can tell you is that traffic got so bad, I hated leaving the house for a couple of days. I don't really see the appeal of watching people go around in a circle in fast cars. I think I would panic if I found out how fast they drove. The author asked me to do some research on the topic. I was a good student and I wanted to be of help, so I decided to spend the next couple of hours going through Formula One and their rules.

There's something I have to clear up, I have a type of blindness bias. If I'm not interested in a topic, it would be like I live under a rock. Nothing could phase me and I couldn't care less. That's how I ended up on the wikipedia article of Lewis Hamilton, Micheal Schumacher and then current champion Max Verstappen. Schumacher and Hamilton were very good, reading about them made me awe struck. What really shocked me was a guy named Max Verstappen, who looked awfully like Maxie. I've stared at Maxie more than I would like to admit, so I'm sure they look alike. As I went through the article, my heart seemed to beat harder; not sure why. I felt like this was my Maxie however I believed that Maxie would've told me if he was a Formula One driver. I had to lay my doubts to rest, so I ended up on Youtube with the search bar reading Max Verstappen. My doubts laid to rest in a place I didn't want them to; Maxie was Max Verstappen. I could recognise that voice anywhere. He talked a lot, I could recognise his voice in a crowd of people or in my sleep. All my suspicions were cemented when I saw a picture of 2 cats who looked like Jimmy and Sassy and were called by the same name. My heart was ready to jump out of my chest. Max had lied to me; but was it really lying when I never prodded him for answers. Worst of all, he had a girlfriend and a kid. That's when I felt I was lied too. How could he not tell me? I would've genuinely been happy for him. We would've celebrated his 2 championship wins. My throat felt dry and my eyes wet.

Life wasn't fair when I've been trying to get my book published while my best friend, don't even know if I can call him that, is a 2 time world driver champion. He never even told me, while he has been in Formula One almost all our friendship and karting all his life. I felt the ground slipping from under my feet. Was I that unimportant to not share such a crucial part of his life or huge accomplishment in his life? Was I even his friend? All these questions raced through my mind, while tears streamed down my cheeks. The pillow wet from my tears when my phone rang. It was Max on the other line, and for the first time in 10 years I did not answer his calls even though it rang for a 4-5 times. He finally stopped after sending me a couple of worried messages; asking how I was and where I was?

[Max was freaking out. Y/N never missed his calls, no matter the time or place. Worst of all, she didn't even reply to his messages; not after 5 minutes or 10 minutes or 20 minutes. Max didn't know where she lived, he didn't know who to call, or who to ask about her. His hair was a mess, he was pacing the room so much so, that his girlfriend’s daughter asked him what happened. He couldn't tell them, no one knew of this secret internet friend he had. Who was he supposed to contact to file a missing person's report? He tried to calm himself down and think happy thoughts but all his thoughts were Y/N]

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padfootagain · 22 days ago

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Love in Verses (XXIV)

Chapter 24: ‘Sometimes, when I’m pleased, I let out a little sound. A poet noticed this and it made me feel I might one day properly be loved. Because no one is here to love me, I make tea for myself and leave the radio playing’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Some cute moments for you all :)

I’m also making a reference to a documentary in this chapter, I was thinking about Brainwashed directed by Nina Menkes, you can check it out if you’d like!

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3096

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Tea

Five times a day, I make tea. I do this because I like the warmth in my hands, like the feeling of self-directed kindness. I’m not used to it— warmth and kindness, both—so I create my own when I can. It’s easy. You just pour water into a kettle and turn the knob and listen for the scream. I do this five times a day. Sometimes, when I’m pleased, I let out a little sound. A poet noticed this and it made me feel I might one day properly be loved. Because no one is here to love me, I make tea for myself and leave the radio playing. I must remind myself I am here, and do so by noticing myself: my feet are cold inside my socks, they touch the ground, my stomach churns, my heart stutters, in my hands I hold a warmth I make. I come from a people who pray five times a day and make tea. I admire the way they do both. How they drop to the ground wherever they are. Drop pine nuts and mint sprigs in a glass. I think to care for the self is a kind of prayer. It is a gesture of devotion toward what is not always beloved or believed. I do not always believe in myself, or love myself, I am sure there are times I am bad or gone or lying. In another’s mouth, tea often means gossip, but sometimes means truth. Despite the trope, in my experience my people do not lie for pleasure, or when they should, even when it might be a gesture of kindness. But they are kind. If you were to visit, a woman would bring you a tray of tea. At any time of day. My people love tea so much it was once considered a sickness. Their colonizers tried, as with any joy, to snuff it out. They feared a love so strong one might sell or kill their other loves for leaves and sugar. Teaism sounds like a kind of faith I’d buy into, a god I wouldn’t fear. I think now I truly believe I wouldn’t kill anyone for love, not even myself��most days I can barely get out of bed. So I make tea. I stand at the window while I wait. My feet are cold and the radio plays its little sounds. I do the small thing I know how to do to care for myself. I am trying to notice joy, which means survive. I do this all day, and then the next.

Leila Chatti

Your conversation with Andrew was exhilarating.

Of course, you were aware that he was smart, you knew him well enough by now to be very aware of that. And of course, as he studied literature for a living, you knew that he was extremely knowledgeable in that field. Still, it was just so… exciting, to talk with him. About anything, really.

You were in his home to watch the documentary you had spotted about the male gaze in cinema, the film was just over. There were remnants of tea and biscuits on his coffee table, and Andrew’s dog was curled at his feet, on the carpet. Outside, the weather was moody but dry, there was a lot of wind though, and it made a strange sound as the air hit the windows. And now, even if the documentary was over, you kept on discussing the subject, bouncing ideas and examples. And he was listening to you, paying attention to what you were saying, he was even interested in what you had to say. He wasn’t contradicting you, more like asking deeper questions, debating in a productive way. You had already been commenting during the film, but it had been half an hour now since the documentary had ended, and he still seemed perfectly content with talking about it more with you.

You couldn’t help yourself as you drew a parallel with Frank, how you knew he was faking interest when you talked about your work. You thought he was making an effort back then, but perhaps you were being too kind to him. As you listened to Andrew agreeing with you, offering more arguments, his hands moving as he spoke with an obvious interest that was almost passion… you couldn’t help but question yourself. If Andrew was so enthralled by something you were passionate about, perhaps Frank should have been too… or… perhaps he could have at least properly listened to you.

You were interrupted by Elwood though. Andrew was cut mid-sentence as his dog woke up from his nap, and immediately rose and put his front paws on Andrew’s knees, looking at him with an impatient look in his eyes while waiting to get attention. Andrew couldn’t refrain a chuckle as he scratched the dogs head, making the animal happily wiggle his tail.

“Your dog is so cute,” you chuckled fondly at the adorable sight.

“Yeah, he’s a very good boy,” Andre nodded.

“Oh, God! I almost forgot, wait! I brought you something!”

Andrew frowned hard, staring at you while you stood up from the couch and hurried towards your bag.

“Y/N, there was no need… you shouldn’t have brought anything…”

“It’s not for you. It’s for him.”

Andrew merely frowned again, and you couldn’t help but find his puzzled look adorable.

“For… Elwood, you mean?”

You nodded proudly, taking a toy out of your purse.

Andrew rolled his eyes.

“I told you not to buy him anything…”

“I wanted to!”

It was just a little something, much like a ball, but it was shaped like a frog. You had seen it in the supermarket the day prior while buying groceries, and thought of Andrew immediately. So, you bought it, thinking his dog could like it.

You handed it to Andrew, who chuckled happily at the sight. His fingers brushed yours as he took the toy, his fingertips calloused because of years spent playing the guitar. You shuddered, your heart skipping a beat. You watched how ridiculously small the toy looked in his large hand…

You shook yourself out of these thoughts, cleared your throat.

“I just saw it yesterday in the store, and just… had to buy it! It was so cute!”

“Christ… thank you so much, Y/N. This is adorable.”

He pressed on the toy, a little squeaky noise coming out of it that immediately caught Elwood’s attention.

“You didn’t have to, though,” Andrew admonished, but you brushed off his remark.

“I was happy to buy it for him.”

Andrew let the toy drop to the floor and Elwood immediately hurried after it as it rolled away, happily chewing on it too to make it squeak. Andrew smiled fondly at the sight.

“Thanks Y/N.”

There was something else in his eyes too, something fond and almost tender as he looked up at you. You tried not to think about it too much, rekindled the conversation so your brain would focus on something else than the green in his eyes…

“I’ve never asked you… when did you get Elwood?”

“Oh, way back! I was in college. I found him on the road with my parents when he was just a puppy. He didn’t have a tag or anything, it was pretty obvious he had been abandoned. We tried to find out if anyone was claiming him, but no one was, so we kept him. He moved back with me when I got my job at Trinity, instead of staying with my parents.”

“That’s kind of you to have kept him.”

“We always had a dog around at home. I really love dogs a lot. It wasn’t an effort, really. I was hoping no one would claim him, to be honest.”

“Why ‘Elwood’ though?”

Andrew laughed, watched as you crouched by his dog to pet his head. Elwood dismissed his new toy in favour of getting more scratches, making you giggle happily.

“My father thought that he had a spot on his neck that looked like a tie. So, it made him think of the Blues Brothers. So, Elwood it was.”

“I have to admit, I’ve never watched that film.”

Andrew raised an eyebrow.

“Wow… and I thought you were a respectable person.”

You laughed at that, bright and happy, and you noticed that Andrew smiled because of it.

“We all have our flaws, I guess. I would love to watch it with you though, if you want to.”

His smile turned into an excited grin.

“Yeah, totally. Like… that would be grand!”

You checked the time, it was late already. Almost 7pm, you ought to go home and have dinner. You had spent most of your afternoon at Andrew’s already.

He saw your gesture, but you didn’t say anything. Truth was, you didn’t want to go home. You were happy with Andrew. You had not thought of Frank this afternoon, except when you noticed that he should have done better. It was a drastic change, to have someone who was nice, funny, and actually interested in things you adored. The fact that he looked gorgeous in a blue and white striped t-shirt and a black cardigan, with his hair up in a casual bun, didn’t help you will yourself out of his flat. But you reckoned that you had bothered him enough for one day, you ought to go home…

“Y/N?”

You looked up again, silently questioning him while you kept on giving his dog some well-deserved love.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?”

You raised a surprised eyebrow.

“I mean… like… unless you have something planned, of course. It’s just… it’s late, and… I was going to order some take-out anyway, so… if you want, we could order something. But if you’d prefer to go home, like… that’s totally fine.”

You noticed how he nervously rubbed at his palm, his shy side coming back to the surface.

You broke into a grin.

“I’d love to stay, Andy. But only if we split the bill!”

He grinned, stopped rubbing at his hand, and you noticed that he was blushing a little.

“Grand!”

You were about to ask about what he wanted to eat when his phone buzzed, and he took a look at who was calling.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I have to take this. I won’t be long though.”

You nodded with a smile, while Andrew was picking up his phone and hurrying out of the room. He closed the door of his second bedroom behind him, and you heard his voice only as muffled sounds you couldn’t decipher.

You waited for him to come back, playing with Elwood and his new toy. He seemed to really like you, and you couldn’t refrain a sense of pride at the thought. He kept on coming back for scratches and attention, even after getting side-tracked because of the toy.

A few minutes later, Andrew was opening the door again, but he hadn’t ended his call. He walked to his kitchen to look at the tiny calendar hanging next to the fridge.

“Yeah… okay. No, I can do that in four weeks. So, a reading, then? Okay. No, no, I don’t mind if there are questions at all, on the contrary. What about the journal then? Four poems! Wow… I thought they just wanted to publish one! How many? Okay. No, no, it’s okay, I’ve got some that are ready to be published, maybe I’ll add a couple new ones… we’ll see. Yeah, I know… okay. Alright. Thanks so much, Caroline. Yeah, have a nice one too. Bye.”

He wrote something on his calendar, then came back to the living room to join you.

“Sorry about that.”

“I didn’t mean to eavesdrop… but… you talked about poetry?” you asked, and Andrew visibly blushed.

He nervously ran his fingers through his beard.

“Yeah… erm…”

“Sorry, that’s none of my business…”

“No, no… that’s… I just…”

He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable, but he answered anyway.

“I write poetry.”

Your eyes grew a little round, but you didn’t try to hide your excitement. And Andrew seemed surprised by it.

“That’s amazing! Have you ever been published?”

“Erm… yeah, like… I have a couple of collections published. I publish regularly in journals too.”

“Wow! That’s so cool!”

He raised a surprised eyebrow.

“It’s nothing particularly good or anything…”

You rolled your eyes.

“I’m sure you’re downplaying your art a lot. That’s amazing!”

“Yeah, I… I’m quite proud of that, to be honest.”

“Why do you look all shy, then?” you asked, wondering if you were a little too direct as Andrew stared at you in surprise.

He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. But then he shrugged.

“I don’t know… you’re right, it’s silly. It was my agent… on the phone, I mean. I’m booked for a reading of some of my poems next month.”

“That sounds grand!”

“Yeah… I get a little nervous with those, but I really like doing that too.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t know you were a poet.”

“I didn’t tell you before.”

“I’m supposed to be an expert in literature,” you replied, making him chuckle.

“Not in contemporary Irish poetry though. That’s my jam, back off! Soon, you’ll take my job as well as my dog’s love.”

You laughed at that.

“Nah, I’m just bribing him so he will tolerate me in his home,” you argued, right when Elwood was reaching to lick your cheek.

“Yeah, of course… he clearly hates you,” Andrew replied, “look at him, he’s this close from biting your head off.”

You giggled, tickled by Elwood’s tongue, and you almost fell over as Elwood rested his paws on your chest.

You laughed loudly, and Andrew did the same.

“Alright, Elwood, that’s enough. Come here, boy. Come here,” he ordered, and Elwood obeyed in an instant, earning some scratches and praises as he reached Andrew.

You walked back to the couch to join Andrew.

“Andy?” you asked, trying to think of the right words to ask your next question.

“Hmm?”

“Would you find it weird if I read your poetry? Or can I?”

He froze, his hand stopping all movement on Elwood’s head, who looked up at his owner with a questioning look.

“Like… I don’t know… poetry can be really personal, so… If you don’t want me to read it, I’d understand. But, I’d really like to read it.”

He looked at you then, blinking, like he was trying to process your words. He looked adorable like this, with a confused look on his face that made his lips part and his eyebrows knit together.

“You… you want to read it?”

“Yeah! Of course!”

He blinked again.

“Oh… okay.”

“Unless you don’t want me to…”

“No, I… I don’t mind. You can read it if you want.”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

He clenched his jaw, but kept on looking at you.

“I don’t know… it’s just… Sam never really cared about that. Like she… she didn’t get it, you know? She didn’t really like what I wrote. It’s… it’s quite political, most of the time. Or about love. Or… I don’t know… she didn’t like it. She wasn’t interested in it.”

“I’m not Samantha, though.”

He stared at you then, intense and a little stunned. His voice was so soft when he spoke.

“No… no, you’re definitely not Samantha.”

If the phrasing was rather emotionless, his tone made it sound like it was a compliment. As if he was acknowledging the fact, your differences, and that he was happy to find them. You gave him a smile, a little lost, not knowing how to respond.

You saw that he was struggling to swallow, that he looked impossibly nervous again.

“You… you could come to the reading, if you want,” he offered in a breath. “Like… if you’re not busy and you want to, of course.”

But you grinned.

“That would be amazing! Yes! Of course, I’d like to come!”

He grinned back at you, looking excited too now.

“Grand!”

“Should I have read your poetry first, or is it better if I discover it then?”

“Ermmm… I don’t know. I like listening to poetry readings a lot, it’s not the same. There’s something very… melodic, about poetry, that you don’t really have when it’s only on paper. So… you can definitely discover it at the reading. You’ll have to sit through it even if you don’t like it though.”

You took his last remark as a joke and laughed, but his surprise showed you that he was being serious.

“Andy, I’m sure I’m going to love it! Why wouldn’t I? God, I can’t wait now! Can you send me the details then?”

“Sure, yeah. I’ll send you everything.”

“Thank you!”

He chuckled.

“Thank you, for being interested in that.”

“We’re friends! Of course, I’m interested!”

He grinned again, slowly nodding.

“Well… what do you want to eat?” he changed the subject.

“Pizza?”

“Oh! Yes!”

Andrew got you some pizza, and you spent a long time chatting, drinking beer while you ate. Soon, it was already 11 pm, but you didn’t want to go home. Instead, you had moved back from the kitchen to the couch, and you admired him like this, relaxed and babbling away about Breath of the Wild and the last movie he had watched.

He took off his cardigan at one point, and before he could readjust his t-shirt, you noticed dark traces on his upper-arm.

“What’s that?” you asked, making Andrew laugh.

“My tattoo.”

Your jaw dropped.

“You have a tattoo?”

“Yeah…” he chuckled, rubbing at his neck. “Nothing special though.”

“Let me see!”

“No!”

“Come on! Let me see!”

He rolled his eyes.

“It’s only two words, that a friend of mine tattooed on me when we were in College.”

“You know a tattoo artist?”

“No, he did it like… prison style, you know,” Andrew joked. “Just… with a pen and a needle and just…”

He mimicked the gesture of repeatedly stinging somebody with a needle. You blinked at him.

“Wow… you will never cease to surprise me, Andy.”

He laughed at that.

“You’re actually a delinquent,” you joked, making him laugh even harder.

“Of the worst kind, I’m afraid.”

“Can I see?”

He hesitated for a second, and then he pushed his short sleeve up, until you could read the words painted there on his arm.

Noli Timere

“It means ‘never be afraid’,” he explained, blushing.

“Why that phrase?”

He blushed some more.

“It was Heaney’s last words to his wife.”

He seemed to expect you to mock him, but you didn’t.

“I should have known, a fan till the end,” you smiled, and he nodded. “It’s a nice reminder to have. Very meaningful.”

“Yeah… yeah, I think so too.”

You stared at him to speak again, diving into his hazel eyes. At such an hour, Andrew was growing tired, and so his eyes wore a vivid shade of green, like leaves in the summer sun.

“Besides, tattoos are sexy.”

He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t look away despite his obvious blush. He slightly tilted his head to the side, and his tone was flirtatious when he answered.

“Are they now?”

You merely nodded and hummed along.

What the fuck were you doing? Were you flirting with Andrew? Your colleague?! Your friend?!

“Even if they’re made with a pen and needle by a drunk friend?”

“Especially if they’re made like that, yeah. That sounds very bad boy of you.”

He winced at that, making you laugh.

“Christ, I hope not…”

“The reference to a poet and the incredibly romantic meaning behind it kind of balances it out but…”

“I’m a sap, I know.”

“Unsalvageable, I’m afraid…”

“Who’s saying I want to be saved from that?”

You exchanged a smile, and as you sat there, on Andrew’s sofa, staring at him and how gorgeous he was, and how tender his gaze was and… you just…

You would have let him kiss you if he had tried to. You would have let him…

“It’s quite late, I should go home,” you let out in a breath, unable to hide your reluctance to actually do what you said.

“Yeah… yeah, you’re right.”

You didn’t get up though. Instead, you leant forward to kiss his cheek, resting a hand on his chest to steady yourself, and you could have sworn that under your palm his heart was pounding.

“Good night, Andy,” you whispered against his ear, and you heard how his breath caught in his throat.

You were pulling away when he stopped you, hand reaching to cradle the back of your head. He turned his face to kiss your cheek as well, but his kiss landed on the corner of your lips, almost on your mouth.

“Good night, Y/N. Tell me when you’re home, okay? It’s late.”

“Okay.”

You stared at each other for a moment longer, his fingers still in your hair, your hand still on his chest.

You would have let him…

You pulled away, got up and finally walked out of his flat.

The skin he had touched with his lips was burning still when you got home.

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier x fem!reader #hozier series #hozier fanfiction #hozier fanfic #hozier au #hozier professor au #professor au #fanfiction #fanfic #series #writing

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fckeddiemunson · 1 month ago

Text

Wrestle | Elwood Dalton

Summary: Dalton teaches you how to wrestle on the beach

Note: This isn't exactly how I pictured it in my head and I couldn't get it right - it also took me ages to write because I wasnt happy with it and I still dont think its my best work but please enjoy😊

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, creampie, public sex, unprotected sex, MAYBE ooc Dalton a little

From the day Elwood Dalton showed up in Glass Key, you were intrigued. You had never heard that name before but from the minute he stepped foot in the Road House, rumours begun simmering. Being a bartender meant you were near Dalton at most times when it was a quieter night. You watched him mostly from afar at first. Serving him coffee with only a shy smile shared between the two of you. Billy had told you that he used to be a fighter, one of the best. A local patron had told you he was disgraced from the sport for killing a guy. Another time you heard he was unhinged, really got some few screws loose, especially if you got on his bad side. Sure, he stopped all the bar fights from breaking out, but you couldn’t believe that he was insane.

He had started teaching Billy and the other guys how to fight and wrestle, so when he was gone, the Road House would be alright against fights that needed to be broken up. You had been eagerly watching them from a distance each morning before open, pretending to read but you couldn’t take your eyes off him.

You had asked Billy if he would teach you how to wrestle once Dalton was gone, you were too nervous to ask him yourself. You barely got the chance to talk to him, most nights were busy in the bar, and he was rather occupied with stopping fights. Your stolen glances were no stranger to him, he had often caught you staring, and it made you even more nervous to ask him to teach you to wrestle.

You had your back turned, leaning up against a pole as you dried cutlery. It was a quiet night and you were filling your shift with menial tasks. Dalton had crept up behind you, his breath fanning your ear, “Slow night, huh?”. You jumped, back colliding with his front and dropping the fork you were drying.

“You gave me a fright.” You mumbled, bending down to grab the fork and turning to look at him. He had a silly little smirk on his face, stepping back a little seeing you tense with him so close.

“Sorry honey, just trying to amuse myself. Theres not much else going on right now.”

“There must be more interesting things than scaring me.” You huffed but it turned into a grin when you met his eyes.

“Not really, you’re kind of the only interesting one here.” You blushed; despite knowing he didn’t mean it.

“Nah, you broke someone’s arm your first day. It’s hard to top that.” He shrugged and laughed; his big toothy grin was intoxicating to look at.

“So, you want to learn how to wrestle?” Dalton asked you, now leaning against the same pole as you, his crossed arms brushing against yours.

“Oh. Yeah, I do for self-defense if I needed it. I was just going to get Billy to teach me.” You rubbed your arms sheepishly.

“Yeah, he told me. He thinks it’d be better if I taught you.” You were going to kill Billy. There was no way you’d be able to cope having Dalton teach you how to wrestle.

“Umm, I mean if you’re sure you have the time.” Drawing out the ‘umm’ you felt his eyes piercing into you.

“Of course. Meet me outside my boat tomorrow at dawn. And don’t wear any loose clothing, don’t want anything your opponent can pull on.” You nodded as he walked away, secretly excited.

The next morning you stood outside his boat, waiting. It was quiet, only the soft sound of the waves sloshing filling the peace. Listening to Daltons advice, you had turned up in a sports bra and tiny little shorts. The door of the boat slammed open, Dalton stood there shirtless, also only in little shorts. Trying to tear your eyes away from his bare chest proved difficult and you could feel his eyes watching yours. A blush formed on your cheeks as you waved a hello to him.

“Alright so I’m going to basically tackle you first and show you where to put your hands and then you’re going to attempt to wrestle me down.” You nodded, feeling your breath catch in your throat with him coming so close.

“The easiest way to get somebody to the ground is a leg takedown. You basically grab onto one leg and throw yourself to the ground.” Dalton knelt down beside you, patting your thigh.

“I’ll do it real slow ok, honey?” You breathed out a sigh as Dalton stood up and took a step back.

“Ok so you’re going to dive at me, latch onto my leg, like this.” Daltons strong arms wrapped around your thigh and lurched forward. Your head landed on the sand, a dull throb travelled down your stomach as Dalton landed, half his body on yours, his arms still draped over your thigh.

“Oh well you made that look easy. Billy said you go super hard on him.” You pushed yourself up, readying yourself for another go.

“I can’t go too hard on you sweetheart, you’d break.” Dalton hovered over you, his voice sounding amused.

“Are you and Billy seeing each other?” You perked up at the question, a curious look in his eye.

“No, I’m not, just mates.” You narrowed your eyes up at him, but he shrugged, stepping back to show you another move.

“Okay, I want you to try that move on me.” He chuckled, seeing the look of hesitancy across your face. You readied yourself, crouching down and putting your hands out in front of you. Giving yourself a little runup you grabbed his leg and tackled him to the ground. You landed with a soft ‘oof’, arms like an iron grip on his thigh. He lifted his leg up, your grip faltered, you landed on his abs, leg thrown over the thigh you were gripping.

A playful smirk delighted his lips as you placed your hands on his chest, pushing yourself up, sitting on his thigh. You smiled, excited to have put him on the ground.

“See, you can go rougher with me.” You cheekily retorted to him, sticking out your tongue. Dalton’s eyes rolled, suddenly thrusting his hips upward, in one maneuver, throwing you off and pinning you to the ground, your hands above your head and his leg snug between yours, keeping you in place.

You gasped and struggled in his grasp, his knee nudging the softest parts of your thighs.

“See you’re fucked if someone gets you in this position. Go on, get out of it.” Dalton was speaking but your head was empty. You couldn’t focus on anything besides the feeling of him against your body. You were scared to move in case you accidentally grinded yourself on his leg. Dalton searched your eyes, trying to see if you heard him or not. He noticed the way your breath tightened and the way your stomach muscles clenched with him so close.

“Unless this is something you like? Being pinned down like this.” Dalton’s knee inched further up and you dug your heels in the sand, an overwhelming sense of embarrassment settling upon you. You thrusted back, throwing him off balance and kicking your leg over, kneeing him in the side. You lurched up, now pinning him to the ground, straddling him and holding one wrist each in your hands. His face inches from yours, he was letting you pin him there.

“Maybe you’re the one who likes to be pinned down?” Your voice was breathy and heavy, feeling Daltons eyes fixed on your chest you coughed, his eyes flung up to meet yours. For once it was him being caught staring and not you. In a rush of confidence, or madness, you let his wrist go and let your fingers run through his hair. A moment passed; you could feel your heartbeat in your chest thumping loudly. Daltons free hand slid up yours and pulled you down by your neck, your noses now bumping each other. Daltons other hand broke free of your grasp, cupping your face. His lips connected with yours, your eyes fluttering shut as he pulled you closer to him. He pulled a strangled sound from you feeling his hips roll against yours. A delicious feeling began to spread as you kissed him again, he nibbled at your bottom lip, his hands settling on your hips, kneading and squeezing. The lust in your eyes was palpable when you looked at him again, he couldn’t stop smirking at you. You grasped his hair, his teeth grazing at your neck, making his way down your sternum, to your stomach, nipping and sucking as he went. His fingers hooked delicately under your shorts, pulling them down and throwing them down the beach. The cool sand hit your butt, and you gasped, rolling your hips upwards. Dalton placed a kiss on your hip bone, sending chills through your body. His arms wrapped around your thighs and pulled you closer and nuzzled his face in your thighs.

“Are you sure you want to do this right here in the open?” your face flushed at the prospect; his eyes met yours from between your thighs.

“We’re secluded here, nobody can see us.” You nodded and moaned, feeling him move your underwear to the side and pressing a hot kiss to your exposed cunt. His grip tightened on your thighs, licking a wet stripe into your pussy. You fisted the sand, a string of breathy moans leaving your mouth as he continued licking and sucking, sending shockwaves through you. You could feel yourself practically dripping onto the sand for him. Daltons eyes met yours as his middle and ring finger slipping inside you, immediately tugging upwards. Dalton groaned against you once he felt how wet you were for him, his hard crotch, grinding against the sand.

“You’re so wet.” Dalton whispered, his fingers picking up the pace, your heels dug in the ground, trying to bring yourself back to earth, you felt like you might float away.

“I need you, please.” You rolled your hips again, shuddering underneath the pleasure he was giving you. Dalton held you flush against him as he kissed back up your stomach, his hand brushed over your hardened nipple in your sports bra and pinched. You keened against him, nudging him up towards your mouth with your knees. He kissed you eagerly, right hand still kneading your boob and the other gripping firmly on your thigh, spreading you for him.

“You know I wanted to take you out to dinner, or lunch – anything. Thought you’d say no though, you’ve been a quiet little mouse. But now look at you, all spread out waiting for my cock.” Dalton slid your underwear to the side, leaving your pussy exposed as he pulled down his shorts. His fat cock slapped against your clit and you mewled at the feeling.

“I would have said yes if you asked me.” You whispered, feeling your cheeks warm, barely looking into his eyes. Dalton ran the tip of his dick over your wet pussy and chuckled.

“Doesn’t matter, you’re mine now.” He grinned but it fell away as he pushed his cock into you. You breathed heavily when he bottomed out, the pinch and stretch overwhelming.

“It’s okay, baby, I’ll go real slow.” He smirked, mimicking his line from earlier. Dalton pulled out slightly and pushed back in agonizingly slowly. You let out a low quiet moan, adjusting to the feeling. Dalton hugged your thighs and lifted your legs up flush with his chest. His slow thrusts deepened at the new angle, his cock perfectly hitting that soft spot inside of you. All you could do was close your eyes and roll with his deep rhythm. He wrapped his arms around both your legs, his pace quickening. Your little moans turned loud breathless as his hips pounded into you. He wrapped his hands around your legs, completely locking you to his chest and raising your ass off the sand in the process. You all but dangled there as he hit the same deep spot in you over and over again. A warm flame was forming in your stomach, an explosion threatening to burst at any moment. Daltons pace did not relent and you moaned, grabbing fistfults of sand again, needing something to grab onto.

“I can feel you getting closer, honey.” His molten voice filled your ears and you nodded, too flushed and fucked out to speak. Dalton’s pace slowed, his hips now rolling deep and slow against yours as he released your legs and pushed them against your chest. His thumb lazily stroked your clit, his thrusts doing most of the work moving you back and forth over it. You came suddenly with a gasp, waves of pleasure rolling through you. You tried to smack Dalton’s hand away, but he kept stroking your clit, turning your moans to breathless pleas as he fucked you into overstimulation.

“Where can I finish?” Daltons groans were louder now, his pace rapid and erratic as he neared his end.

“Inside me.” You whined and wrapped your legs around him, pulling him to your chest. His moans muffled in your neck as he came, hips stilling in a final thrust, pushing himself all the way in. He pulled out, watching as his seed spilled out of you and grinned.

“Would you like to have breakfast with me?”

#jake gyllenhaal fic #jake gyllenhaal smut #jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal x reader #elwood dalton smut #elwood dalton x reader #det loki #donnie darko #fanfic #presumed innocent #road house 2024 #jake gyllenhaal fanfic

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wishful-thinking64 · 3 months ago

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One Hell of an Unpopular Opinion #03

Characters like Barbie Wire, Chaz, Crimson, Octavia, and Stella only exist as plot devices to garner sympathy for other characters. _______ I knew fully well that Chaz and Crimson were going to merely be plot devices for Moxxie the more I watched Exes & Oohs. And sure enough, Chaz was killed at the end of that very episode and Crimson is yet another wacky cartoon villain that the narrative expects for you to take seriously. Both of these characters existed so that the audience could gain sympathy (or at least pity) for Moxxie being raised in a Mafia family and having been abused as a child along with being betrayed by his ex-boyfriend (who also happened to be Millie's ex-boyfriend for some reason.) Other than Moxxie's Mafia family upbringing making zero sense the more you think about it, Viv has basically done this exact backstory before in the form of Angel Dust (with the whole mobster backstory who was also abused by his father.) However, the Exes & Oohs episode and title actually stems from one of the HH mockup episodes that was originally about Charlie and Vaggie coming across Charlie's ex, Seviathan (yes, that's what Viv named him), and his sister, Helsa, while they were at a dinner party.

Now, do I think Chaz and Crimson could've had the potential to be good characters? In all honesty, no. Especially not Chaz. The guy is a harmful stereotype of pansexual people and how, "They'll sleep with anyone," which no, they won't. I'm not pansexual myself but that thought process is as gross as it is fucking stupid. The only person who I've seen even re-writing Chaz has been Loves Art23 (I mainly know her for YouTube videos being critical on Hazbin Hotel + Helluva Boss along with other shows like the disaster known as High Guardian Spice) and I think she's done a fairly good job so kudos to her for making him work. Personally, though I'm scrapping him as that gives me one less character to worry about when re-writing HB. Crimson would have to be heavily and I mean HEAVILY reworked/re-written in order for him to make any actual sense. That and I'm tired of every character having some variation of the same daddy issues in the Hellaverse. Which means he's also gonna get axed from me. Moving onto the ladies I mentioned, let's start off with Barbie Wire.

Having been foreshadowed since the pilot of I.M.P. (as seen when Tilla was still Barb's and Blitzo's older sister rather than their mother) Barbie Wire was an anticipated character by fans for years! And then her actual appearance finally happened in Unhappy Campers, an episode hated by practically everyone who saw it, and no one really cared about her showing up, other than the fact that the writers thought that having her seduce a BARELY legal adult would make for a good joke, when in reality, it only made everybody uncomfortable and several people dislike Barbie because of it. Sure, near the end of the episode she had that "emotional" scene with Blitzo that wants the viewers to feel bad for him and Barbie before she left but in the long run it didn't matter as fans barely even talk about it because of how uneventful it truly was. So, with that out of the way, would I keep Barbie Wire around for a rewrite of HB? To that I say, yes! There are several paths Barbie Wire's overall character could go in. If you're mainly sticking to canon, then what you have to work with is a former circus performer who lost her mother in a fire caused by her twin brother that left his own best friend to rot and be disabled for the rest of his life. It's very likely that this very fire, caused her to be out of a job and probably even homeless for a bit which could explain why she ended up becoming both a drug attic and a drug dealer. Homelessness is one of the few things that nobody wants to experience. It causes people to be filled with a sense of overwhelming loneliness and desperation as many of them either believe that there's nothing they can do or they do anything and everything that they can to get out of it even if that means resorting to crime. If you wanted to have her be loosely based on canon instead, you could make it to where she never learned about who started the fire and actually stuck with Blitzo well into adulthood. Have her become one of the members of I.M.P. and later down the line have her learn through someone like Fizz or maybe Cash (her and Blitzo's father) what actually went down that day. Have her be rightfully pissed off at Blitzo for screwing over multiple people along with being the one responsible for killing their mom. Anyway, let's proceed onto Stella and her daughter Octavia.

As much as the narrative wants me to hate Stella with a burning passion cause she hurts Stolas, I can't do it for multiple reasons but I'll list my top three. #01.) Stella's just as (if not even more so) stuck in this arranged loveless marriage as Stolas is. #02.) If the man I had no choice in marrying not only cheated on me with a man from one of the lowest classes in all of Hell but IN OUR OWN HOME & SHARED BEDROOM NO LESS? OH, FUCK NO!

#03.) This woman had to spend 9 months having to nourish and care for a baby inside her stomach that she had with a man that didn't even want to sleep with her. On top of that, she had to have become pregnant with Octavia when she was a young adult since current day Stolas and Stella are only in their mid 30s. I need you to let that information sink in.

In short, I can't hate Stella for loathing Viv's pathetic self insert bird twink with every fiber of her being.

Having said that, would I have Stella in my HB rewrite? Well, considering that I plan on keeping the war that happened in the bible that caused Lucifer and several angels to fall from grace, one of which being Stolas. Kind of. Allow me to elaborate, I would keep Stella as Octavia's mother but I wouldn't have her marry Stolas. I'd have her be a surrogate mother that way Stolas still gets an heir and Octavia could still exist. Speaking of Octavia...

We all know that she exists to make Stolas look like a better person as several stans of this show love to say how much of a good dad Stolas is when he isn't. He neglects Octavia frequently in favor of Blitzo and only pays attention to her when she's gone although EVEN THAT doesn't last long as shown in Seeing Stars where HE KNEW Octavia was missing on Earth but rather than ACTIVELY look for his daughter, what does he do? HE SITS THROUGH A STUPID LIVE COMEDY SHOW CAUSE BLITZO IS PERFORMING! HE COMPLETELY SIDELINES HIS OWN DAUGHTER IN FAVOR OF A LIVE COMEDY SHOW!

God, Octavia deserves so much better than to have a dad like him. I'm keeping Octavia for my HB rewrite so that this poor girl not only realizes how much of a bastard her dad is but eventually gets the found family she deserves. I don't plan for it to be through I.M.P. though. In closing, the characters of this show deserve to be better developed but especially the women in them.

_______

That was a long one to get through cause it's been on my mind for a while. Thank you all for reading through it and bye for now everybody!

#vivziepop criticism #vivziepop critique #helluva boss critical #helluva boss imps #helluva boss criticism #hellaverse #hellaverse critical #anti vivziepop #anti stolas

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outlaw-apologist · 29 days ago

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Memory of You {Chapter 1} Sabertooth x Reader

Enemies to LoversFem reader Summary: Mind games come with a price. You're a mutant with the ability to influence plants and animals. Victor Creed is about to find out the hard way, that the beast inside of him, is included. Contains: Graphic violence, dark themes. 'I can fix him' trope. A/N: Sometimes I just wanna break a big sexy beast man. I can't help myself. Belle is much kinder than I. I rather tame the monster another way. This is purely indulgent and may eventually contain smut. :3 ~~~~~

Memory of You {Chapter 1}

The forest is thick tonight, blanketed in towering pines that claw up toward the bruised twilight sky. Long shadows spill across the forest floor, eerie and motionless, as if even the wind’s afraid to disturb the silence. Everything feels too still, too quiet. No birds. No rustling leaves. Just the muffled thud of your heart, keeping time in the oppressive hush. It was jarring. When a place that would usually bring you peace instead offered a sense of danger.

You take a slow breath, grounding yourself in the cool pine-scented air. But it doesn’t last. In the space of a heartbeat, everything changes. A heavy rustle snaps through the silence, and suddenly, Sabretooth crashes down on you, his ambush as swift as it is brutal. A surprised cry escapes Scott’s lips somewhere behind you, muffled in the violent rush of adrenaline that explodes through you as you hit the ground hard. His claws pin you in place, digging into your skin, close enough to your throat that you feel the electric threat of each razor-sharp point. He’s grinning, leering down with amber eyes that gleam like a predator savoring the thrill of the kill.

You swallow against the fear clawing at your ribs, telling you this is it—that there’s no escape. But you refuse to give him that satisfaction. Biting back the panic, you reach out to the trees, the roots hidden below, the branches above, pleading for anything to hold him back. They respond, creeping toward him in a brittle crackling of bark and twigs—but he’s too fast. With a brutal growl, he smashes down harder, his body a weight of iron pressing you into the cold earth.

An energized blade of red cuts across the dark of night, lighting up the surrounding bushes and trees. Scott’s optic beam hits Sabretooth hard enough to send him reeling back, claws loosening their grip on you. Gasping, you roll away and struggle to your feet, watching as Scott squares himself, sending another blast in Sabretooth’s direction. It lands, but barely fazes him. Sabretooth just laughs, brushing off the attack like it was nothing.

That primal gaze slides back to you, his eyes dark with amusement and blood lust. He raises a dirty claw to his lips, licking the blood from its edge. Your blood. Something sick churns in your stomach, but you refuse to look away, even as he smirks. “You taste delicious, sweetheart.” He drawls, voice as low and rough as gravel. He’s toying with you. Enjoying every second of it. Every muscle in your body is screaming at you to run. To get away before it’s too late. The hair on your arms standing on edge as adrenaline pumped through you so hard you couldn’t hear anything but your heartbeat. And yet you stand your ground, forcing yourself to meet his eyes, voice barely a whisper. “Fuck off.”

The tiger’s laugh is sharp, scraping against your nerves like broken glass. You reach out again, feeling for anything in the forest—anything that might answer your call for help. You sense a family of foxes hidden at the edge of the clearing, their small minds vibrating with awareness of the threat lurking in their woods. You send them a plea, a wordless call for aid. They chirrup nervously, their cries piercing the silence, as if asking you ‘what could we even do?’. They were right, you realized. Before you was a predator so great, no fox could out wit it. So what does that mean for you?

“Run!” Scott’s voice breaks through your helpless realization. “I’ll cover you!”

But you can’t bring yourself to move, like a deer in the headlights. You were too scared. Your body too heavy. Sabretooth’s gaze is fixed on you with a demented kind of fascination, his body coiled with anticipation. He’s not here to scare you; he’s here to finish you off. To carve his name into your soft skin. Scott’s shout rings in your ears, an urgent lifeline cutting through the chaos as he screams your name again. Something clicks this time and you take off running, feet pounding over uneven ground as you dart into the forest’s shadows. Branches whip against your face, sharp rocks slice into your palms when you stumble, but fear and adrenaline override the pain. You barely feel it, the rush of blood pumping so loud it drowns out everything but the heavy thud of Sabretooth’s footsteps closing in.

Every glance back only worsens the terror. Sabretooth is on your trail, relentless, his form nothing more than a hulking shadow in the dusk.. The forest animals scatter as if sensing what was to come. You reach out instinctively to the surrounding nature, but your powers are fading, your connection to the forest weakened by the exhaustion settling into your bones. Just as you push forward, a large hand clamps onto your shoulder, and in a violent tug, you’re yanked backward, hitting the ground so hard it forces every last bit of breath from your lungs.

Before you could register what happened, Sabertooth is on top of you, his claws biting into your shoulders with a brutal grip. You could feel the warmth of blood pool around the wounds. “Thought you’d slip away?” His voice is a low, guttural growl, and his claws slice down your side, igniting waves of pain that nearly drown you. You choke back a scream, your breath strangled, head spinning as his claws sink deeper, ripping through muscle and skin. Sabretooth leans close, his breath hot against your cheek, carrying the metallic tang of your own blood. “I love the noises you make,” he sneers, his voice a sickening purr.

Somewhere in the trees, Scott’s voice shouts your name, panic fraying his tone. He couldn’t keep up and he was fearing the worst. As he should… Sabretooth pays it no mind, his attention locked onto you. He raises his claws, poised to strike, when a searing red beam slashes across his shoulder, searing his fur. Sabretooth recoils, roaring in pain like a wounded lion, his grip loosening just enough for you to take a shallow, agonizing breath.

Scott’s shout breaks through the fog of pain. “Jean! Get to Jean!”

The words bring you back, anchoring you. There was no way for either of you to run back to his car, to get to a communicator. You weren’t a telepath but if you tried hard enough, desperate enough, you could probably reach her. Pushing past the white-hot pain, you reach for her mind with everything left in you, letting your mind stretch out as far as it can.

Jean… Your mental voice is weak, barely holding steady. Please… we need you. Sabretooth…

The connection falters, a wave of exhaustion and pain dragging you under, but you hold on, projecting all the desperation, all the fear you can muster. This is your only chance. If no one reaches you or Scott… Then you both will die. Sabretooth’s growl reverberates through the forest as he bears down on Scott, each swipe of his claws slicing the air where Scott was only moments before. Scott moves with fierce precision, dodging and retaliating with blast after blast, relying on years of training and excruciating experience. But Sabretooth barely flinches, his grin widening with each hit he absorbs. To him, this isn’t a battle; it’s entertainment, and you’re all the more helpless as you watch it unfold.

“Come on, Cyclopse! You can do better than that!” Sabretooth taunts, his voice laced with dark amusement as he inches closer, his claws gleaming in the fading ruby light. Scott’s jaw tightens as he fires again, the condensed energy scorching through the air, sending Sabertooth stumbling.

Please, Jean, hurry, you mentally plead, the desperation mingling with your fraying hope. Then, like a steady heartbeat, Jean’s presence returns, soothing yet firm. I’m here. Hang on—we’re almost there.

Relief rushes through you, but it’s quickly sullied by the realization that it may not be fast enough. Every second feels like an eternity, and your vision begins to blur with each breath as you bled out, your grip on consciousness slipping away. Sabretooth’s eyes shift toward you, sneering as he senses your weakening state. “Dying already? How pathetic,” he sneers, glancing back at Scott.

Scott shifts, stepping protectively in front of you, his fists clenched. “You’re not getting near her again,” he vows, voice low and edged with fury.

You press a shaky hand to your side, feeling the warm wetness of your blood seeping through your fingers. The forest around you darkens past the night, the world swallowed by shadows, each breath a struggle against the pain threatening to pull you into the abyss. Through the haze you watch as Scott remains a steady shield. Destermined to protect you, his long time friend. Scott fires off another optic blast, each strike forcing Sabretooth back steps at a time, but the strain is taking its toll, his movements slowing with exhaustion. For every inch Scott gains, Sabretooth’s strikes grow fiercer, his wild strength tearing away at Scott’s powers.

The stars above you began to spin until you could no longer keep your eyes open. Scott dodges another swing, barely avoiding the deadly swipe of Sabretooth’s claws. He holds his ground, firing another blast, but you can hear his breathing become ragged, his focus strained.

A deep chuckle bites through the clearing, cold and mocking. Sabretooth lunges again, faster this time, catching Scott off guard. With a brutal strike, he sends Scott crashing to the ground, his glasses knocked askew. Before Scott, with his eyes squeezed shut, could recover, Sabretooth lerched onto him, claws raised and gleaming in the moonlight as they came down upon Scott’s chest with a sickening skurrt.

You try to call out, but your voice is barely a whisper, lost in the cold hold that’s closing in. It was over, you thought. You were dying, Sabertooth was right. The earth around you muddied with dark crimson, coating you in a pool of liquid iron. The last thing you see is Scott, struggling against Sabretooth. Fighting for his life. The days after the attack drift by in a haze, punctuated only by the ebb and flow of pain and a gradual, agonizing recovery. At first, you’re only vaguely aware of your surroundings. A foggy blur of white lights, medicinal scents, and the hushed voices of the med bay. When you surface from the feverish darkness, it’s to Jean’s gentle reassurances or the grounding weight of a hand, steady and warm - Scott’s or Logan’s, though you’re rarely lucid enough to know which. That small touch anchors you, pulling you back from nightmares that leave your heart racing, lingering memories of claws and snarling teeth.

As the days go by, you start to piece yourself back together, physically at least. Slowly, achingly, your body begins to cooperate again, each day a tiny milestone. By the end of the week, you’re able to sit up, then shuffle a few steps on your own, feeling each ache left by the brutal attack. However, there was an unease that won’t leave you, even as the bruises fade. Haunted by big glowing pools of amber. His eyes.

The eyes of a wild cat, filled with malice, chase you through each restless dream, pulling you back to the memory of lying helpless beneath the hulking body of your opponent. The cruel gleam in them, like he was savoring your fear, is always there, lurking in the shadows of your unconscious mind. More than once, you awake at night with a start, heart pounding, the remnants of his sadistic grin burned into the back of your eyelids.

One morning as you make your way down the hall, Logan appears from around the corner, his gaze flicking to you with a mix of relief and something guarded. Without a word, he falls into step beside you, his silent presence a comforting weight as you walk together.

The nightmares... The feeling of being stalked… It’s all too much, and after days of carrying it alone, you finally break the silence. “Who is he, Logan?” You ask, your voice rough from disuse. “You know him, don’t you?” You’ve heard whispers from the others. Bits and pieces of Victor Creed.

For a moment, Logan’s steps falter, his jaw tensing as he keeps his gaze forward. Silence stretches between you before he finally sighs, casting a sidelong glance your way. “Yeah. I know him,” he says, his voice low, rougher than usual. “Knew him, more like.

He looks ahead, eyes distant, weighed down with something raw. “Name’s Victor Creed though he goes by Sabretooth. He’s…” Logan’s voice trails off, a grim line settling over his mouth. “He’s a mercenary, a killer… a monster. More than that, even.”

A chill settles over you, a cold dread sinking in. Colder than the blood that had chilled your skin that night. “More?” You whisper, trying to understand. There was a weight behind Logan’s words. Something you couldn’t read between the lines.

Logan simply grunted, his expression turning distant and angry. “We got history, him and me. Worked together once. Partners, sort of.” He pauses, and you see the dark weight of memory flash in his eyes. Partners… You could tell it was only a half-truth. “But Victor… he’s different. He doesn’t just kill; he enjoys it. Pain, fear… He gets off on it. He’s more beast than man.”

Logan’s words land like lead, heavy in your chest, but they bring clarity. You see now why Sabretooth had reveled in your fear, drinking it in the way he toyed with you and Scott, drawing out the terror. He was truly a monster, his cruelty twisted and intentional. And though he’s gone for now, his shadow still hangs over you, leaving you with a lingering chill seeping into your dreams.

Little did you know, that was only the beginning. ________ The battlefield is a storm of energy and chaos optic blasts and the clashing of adamantium against metal merge in a symphony of violence, harsh against the ears. Magneto had rocked up, demanding something – you weren’t quite sure – before all hell broke loose. You stay close to the edge, eyes burning as dust rose from multiple attacks happening at once. Scanning for threats, heart hammering, until the smoke clears just enough to reveal a familiar massive figure. Sabretooth.

He prowls through the destruction like a predator unleashed, his piercing yellow gaze sweeping the scene until they lock onto Logan. A twisted smile curls across his face as he watches Logan wrestling with one of Magneto's men, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. He moves toward Logan with that terrifying grace, claws flexing, every step an unspoken threat.

A chill washes over you, a visceral reminder of your last encounter—the pain, the terror, that predatory glint in his eye. If not even a bear would attack Creed, what could Logan do? Logan was powerful, you knew this, but still. The fear you felt overpowered any rational thought in your mind. Logan’s words suddenly came to: He’s more beast than man. The thought gives you pause, igniting an idea that drowns out every instinct to flee. Maybe, if he’s more animal… maybe you can reach him. Afterall, that’s what you did best.

Ignoring every impulse to stay back, you center yourself, closing your eyes and sending your energy outward. Tentatively, you reach out toward him, your mind brushing his the same way you’d approach a wary, wounded creature. The connection is strange, chaotic, but you can sense that raw, wild animal simmering just beneath his skin.

Easy, you think, letting your words flow to him in a soft, calming rhythm. I’m not here to fight you. Your thoughts reach the beast within him, the instinct lying coiled and wary. In the distance, you feel a flicker of almost imperceptible hesitation. You press on, soothing the wild part of him, coaxing it to surface.

For a moment, Creed stills, the tense lines of his body softening as he scans the battlefield with confusion. His gaze finally finds you, and something unguarded glints in his amber eyes, a spark beneath the cruelty. He tilts his head, almost curious, as if struggling to understand why, in the middle of this battle, he suddenly feels calm. Logan’s gaze followed his, knowing something was happening but wasn’t quite sure what.

Around you, the battle blurs, sounds fading as the moment stretches between you and Victor. You take a slow, tentative step forward, feeling the brittle truce hanging in the air. Sabretooth lets out a low, guttural sound that’s not quite a growl, but close. It’s a warning, a reminder that this calm could shatter in a heartbeat. But he doesn’t lunge, doesn’t raise his claws. He just watches, his eyes softening into something that looks almost… understanding. You had reached him. Stroking the animal inside of him. And as you held out your hand, as if he were a scared dog, Victor stepped closer. The gaze that once haunted you now looked as peaceful as a black bear’s.

Logan’s voice cuts through the air like a whip. “Hey! Get the fuck away from her!” He’s sprinting towards you, claws flashing, a fierce protective anger in his stance, and in that instant, the moment between you and Sabertooth shatters.

Sabretooth’s eyes flash with something dark, almost like betrayal, and his familiar wild gleam snaps back to life, the brief calm swallowed by aggression. With a snarl, he turns toward Logan, muscles taut with rage. But before he lunges, he casts a final, questioning look your way, an unreadable expression flickering in his eyes, then charges toward Logan with renewed fury.

The battle ends eventually, but Logan’s anger doesn’t. His voice reverberates down the corridor of the X Mansion as he catches up with you, and you brace yourself against the tension radiating from him.

“What the hell was that back there?” He demanded to know, crossing his arms. “You went face-to-face with Sabretooth on your own. Are you out of your damn mind?” Seeing you do something so reckless pissed him off. Not only because of your actions, but the helplessness he felt knowing that if Victor lashed out at you he wouldn’t have been able to reach you in time.

You shift anxiously, meeting his gaze with wide eyes. “I just thought maybe I could reach him, Logan. You said it yourself. He’s more beast than man.”

Logan’s growl deepens as he runs a tense hand over his face in frustration. “Doesn’t mean he’s some stray you can tame,” he snaps, his voice sharper than you’ve ever heard, “Victor Creed doesn’t stop. He doesn’t feel. He just… destroys.”

His words sting, but you don’t back down. “I know exactly what he’s capable of, Logan.” The memory of claws tearing into your skin flashes across your mind, but you push it down with a hard swallow. “But I felt something in him. He hesitated. I got through to that instinct in him, the part that recognizes friend from foe. For a moment, he was calm. He wasn’t angry. He was… something else.”

Logan’s expression hardens, his jaw tense and his shoulders square as he searches your face. “You’re telling me you got in his head?”

You nod, carefully choosing your words. “Not his mind exactly—more like his instincts. I reached out to him like I do with wild animals, letting him know I wasn’t a threat.”

Logan looks away, his gaze troubled. “He’s not just an animal, kid, he’s worse. You’re lucky he didn’t rip you apart for trying to mess with him.”

“Maybe,” you admit, a slight tremor in your voice, “but I had to try. I thought if I could reach that part of him, it might give us an advantage next time, make him hesitate.”

Logan lets out an aggravated sigh, rubbing a hand through his hair, frustration softening into something closer to worry. “And what if he doesn’t hesitate next time? What if he’s even more dangerous because he knows you tried to fuck with his head?” You hesitate, Logan’s words filling you with doubt. It always hurt you, the way the other X-Men doubted you. Because you wield the wilds, but you don’t command it. Never forcing it. You couldn’t summon storms like Ororo or fling objects like Jean. You were at the mercy of nature’s kindness and willingness to help. But that didn’t mean you weren’t damn good at what you do.“I’ll be careful. But I’m not afraid of him, Logan. He’s no more dangerous than a puma with a thorn in its foot.”

He stares at you, a mix of frustration and something softer lingering in his gaze, and finally, he shakes his head. “Damn stubborn,” he mutters, though there’s a trace of admiration in his tone. “You got guts, I’ll give you that. But promise me one thing.” He leaned down to meet your gaze, tone turning serious. “Don’t ever face him alone again.”

You nod, offering a sheepish smile. “I won’t. I promise.” ________

Victor Creed carried ghosts proudly. Viewing it like a collection of trophies. Each broken bone, each scream, each flicker of fear was his kind of keepsake. Something he fed off of. His history dripped with blood, and he relished in every memory, gnawed on it like a wolf savoring the marrow of a kill. The world was simple. A brutal hunt where only the strong survive. Mercy was weakness. Fear was power.

But now… Now, something new clung to him like a fever he couldn’t shake. No matter how hard he tried to shove it down, it lingered- the memory of you. Not just the fight, not just the thrill of claws and blood, but something that went deeper. Something that burrowed under his skin, haunting and maddening. Mocking him every second of every day.

It had started with that look you’d given him. That strange, unflinching calm when he lunged at you. Sure, there’d been fear, but layered beneath it was something else, something sharper, like quiet understanding. And then you reached for him, your mind brushing against his like a whisper. A memory that should’ve faded by now, but instead it was rooted there, scratching at him every time he closed his eyes.

He dismissed it at first. Just another fight, another soul who’d end up bleeding out beneath his claws. He’d felt your blood on his hands, seen the fear in your eyes, but then - just for a heartbeat - he felt something in him recoil. A split second. A hesitation. You’d found some part of him he’d thought was long dead.

Victor sat alone in the dark, his muscles taut, every breath shallow, trying to chase away the sensation that you’d left in his bones. The shadows felt different now, offering no solace, no escape. He’d always been alone, surrounded by the gnashing of his own rage, but now there was something else. A quietness, a sliver of peace threading through his mind like a shard of sunlight. It lodged itself there, no matter how hard he tried to shake it off, a warmth he couldn’t unfeel. He clenched his fists until his claws bit into his palms, trying to drown out that maddening feeling.

The worst part? The part he wouldn’t admit even to himself? It wasn’t entirely unwelcome. Something in him wanted to understand this feeling, this ease that left him hollow and wary. Something fragile had broken through the layers of anger and violence that his very being was cocooned in. It felt more dangerous than any mutant he had ever faced.

Letting out a low growl into the empty room, Victor wished he could tear you out of his body. Remove you like the parasite you were. “You did something to me.” The words tumbled out, a raw confession spoken to the darkness. His jaw tightened as emotions flickered, emotions he couldn’t put names to. He knew hatred, he knew rage, but this…this left him lost, a torment he didn’t know how to fight. Because as much as he fought it, some buried part of him wanted to know what it was about you that had struck this peace, however brief, into his soul.

And then, like a wound reopening, the memory of the battlefield surged back to him. The way you’d looked at him; not with fear, not as some monster, but as if you’d seen something else. Him. He snarled against the thought, but he could still feel your words, gentle yet firm, guiding him, pulling him back just enough to see himself through your eyes. Flawed, broken, yes, but human. It was that part that terrified him the most.

Human. That damned word hung in the air like a curse. You’d seen something human in him—a part he’d killed, buried, silenced, because weakness wasn’t for men like him. But that part was waking up now, stretching in the darkness no matter how fiercely he tried to stamp it out.

He paced the room, each step heavy, his mind spiraling. You’d touched something in him that wouldn’t let go, like a splinter he couldn’t dig out. No amount of bloodshed would scrub him clean of this stain, this gentle infection. He was a creature of shadow, of rage and violence. A creature, damn it! But you had shown him something else, something that lingered like a fire in his soul. And it was eating him alive.

He saw your face in his mind, those wide eyes that had stared past the monster to something deeper. He tried to summon the anger, tried to let it burn away the strange warmth left in him. But it didn’t work. He couldn’t stop seeing you, couldn’t forget the way you’d looked at him.

What have you done to me?

#x men #sabertooth #victor creed #victor creed x reader #sabertooth x reader #sabertooth xmen #wolverine #cyclops #jean grey #logan howlett #scott summers #my writing

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anthurak · 8 days ago

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So I watched the new Death Battle earlier today, and speaking as someone only BARELY familiar with/interested/invested in either Sonic OR Mario, I actually found myself vibing more with Team Eggman over Team Bowser and was even rooting more for them by the end for some reasons I find rather interesting.

Mostly because I feel like Team Eggman had a more interesting and varied team composition and dynamic throughout the fight. Namely in that they get more shared and balanced focus and attention.

You see, for basically the entire fight, Bowser is very much the center of attention for his team. He’s the lynchpin, the keystone. He’s both the leader AND by far the heaviest hitter of his team, with everyone else mostly just working to support him. And because of that he gets most of the cool moments of his side.

Meanwhile, Team Eggman is nowhere near as focused on one guy. Eggman is the leader, yet Metal Sonic is the heaviest hitter, and even he isn’t so much so compared to Sage, Nemesis and Eggman himself. And because of that, I feel like they all get a broader spread of attention and cool moments in the fight.

Like some might say that Bowser always fighting front and center of his army might make him the ‘better’ or ‘more-noble’ leader/dad compared to Eggman spending more of the fighting hanging back and having his decoys, minions and kids do much of the heavy lifting, but personally I feel like that makes Team Eggman more interesting?

Like I think it’s pretty interesting that while Eggman is the leader, he isn’t the heaviest hitter of his team. He may not even be the real keystone of his team (more on that later…). And again, this leads to broader spread of attention and cool moments. Like how the fight starts with Eggman fighting Bowser through a decoy, and through the rest of the fight, Bowser is having to fight Infinite, Metal Sonic and even Sage just as much if not moreso than Eggman directly.

It feels like Team Bowser very much a case of ‘the Main Character does everything’, while Team Eggman is very much a subversion of that trope. Some might say Eggman is making his kids do most of the work, well I say he’s giving them time to shine. Like how the climax of the fight very much feels more like a 3v1 battle of Eggman, Metal Sonic and Shade versus Bowser, rather than a 1v1 or 3v3.

Again, I feel like that gives Team Eggman the more interesting dynamic throughout the fight. I mean remember what I said about Eggman not necessarily being the real keystone of his team? Well I imagine (coming from someone with admittedly not much familiarity with the source material) that Team Eggman COULD very much continue the fight without him if necessary, whereas the same very much could NOT be said for Team Bowser.

Like imagine an alternate narrative of the fight where Bowser Jr gets killed in the crossfire, which sends Bowser flying into the expected rage and killing Eggman to avenge his son…

…only for Sage, Metal and Infinite to take down Bowser to avenge their father. Which technically would still be a posthumous win for Eggman.

Obviously I’m not saying that’s how the fight should have gone, I’m not nearly that petty/headcanon fixated. I just think it’s a fun idea to imagine.

Particularly as I feel like ‘cooperative revenge’ is a quite underused trope XD

Also, given the episodes underlying theme of parents and children, I think there is something interesting to be said of how Bowser's kids are very much stuck within the shadow of their father, while Eggman's children can, and in some respects arguably have, surpassed their father.

#death battle #death battle rambling #sonic the hedgehog #mario bros #bowser #dr eggman #bowser vs eggman #ramblings of a less-than-casual non-fan of sonic AND mario #personal thoughts on team dynamics in a fight

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maxiemumdamage · 10 months ago

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You know what AU I’d like to see (read: will possibly con myself into writing)?

The 75th Hunger Games, the Third Quarter Quell, is announced. Haymitch and Katniss are desperately trying to get Peeta out alive, having already accepted that Katniss herself will be killed by Snow’s arena and Mutts if the other tributes don’t manage it.

The reaping begins. Effie Trinket struggles and finally manages to draw the one name in the ladies’ bowl. Katniss Everdeen is reaped for the first time, a tribute for the second.

“I volunteer as tribute,” sings an old lady in the audience.

District 12’s only other female Victor. Lucy Gray Baird, winner of the 10th Hunger Games. She survived Coriolanus’s fit in the woods, dodged the gunfire and made her escape. Barely, she managed to survive on her own. And when the Quell was announced, well….

Somehow, let’s say the news of it made its way to her wherever she was living. And Lucy is in her eighties, now. She’s lived a long, good life even though her love wasn’t as Pure as the Driven Snow after all. She avoided the suffering in 12, lived happily, and dodged the fate of the many victors who followed her. She’s ready. Besides, she’s got some unfinished business in the Capitol.

Most people would argue against it. But Effie Trinket has two kids she would like to see live, thank you very much, and she is the escort for the district, hm? Thread may argue, but with the cameras rolling what can he do? What right does the Head Peacekeeper have to intervene in the reaping when the Mayor and Escort both sign off on it? Effie offers to instead redo the drawing with Lucy and Katniss’s names both in the bowl…but what would that accomplish when it’s clear one will volunteer even if her name isn’t called? This, of course, means that when Haymitch is still called, Peeta has no reason to volunteer. No, it’s Lucy and Haymitch who will go to the arena.

Maybe the 75th Hunger Games still go on. Or maybe they’re rather delayed when President Coriolanus Snow drops dead of a heart attack after the reapings are broadcasted.

#Coin meanwhile is having a small stroke in 13 #which could never hope to rival the MASSIVE heart attack Coryo suffers seeing his old flame back in the Games and back in the Capitol #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #a ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas #lucy gray baird #the hunger games #hunger games #catching fire #imagine Lucy getting her interview with Caesar Flickerman #effie trinket #katniss everdeen #haymitch abernathy #max.txt

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mistmarigold · 5 months ago

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Lovely runner fic (that should’ve been in ep 16)

Preview: Featuring married soljae with a small glimpse into Sol’s trauma and Sunjae’s memories of the original timeline.

In the middle of the night, Sunjae wakes up to get a glass of water, draping the blanket over sleeping Sol before stepping out of the room to refill the pitcher. In his mid-sleep state, he knocks over a glass of water, the shards going all over the place. His eyes open more attentively but before cleaning up, he goes to check on Sol, just in case.

In their bed, Sol was tossing and turning, shaking like a leaf with her hands in small, tight fists. Sunjae sits on the bed and touches her lightly to calm her down only to find her face wet from tears and sweat. He brings her closer to him, almost cradling her against his body, and lightly hums Sonagi to her. Soon enough, Sol’s writhing calms down and her hands loosen to rest atop Sunjae’s heart.

With a peaceful Sol in his arms, Sunjae eventually doses off too.

The next morning, he finds Sol staring at him with an almost vacant gaze. As if she was timelines away, even though her body was still snuggling against him. He drops a soft lingering kiss on her forehead, lightly caressing her face, still in sheer awe that she was with him, in his life, in his home, in his arms. He would never be grateful enough for her.

“What are you thinking?” He asks, booping her nose.

She smiles - it’s the one where she’s worried but still assuring herself that things will be fine.

“Nothing, I was just thinking.”

“About?”

She doesn’t answer for a long moment, Sunjae doesn’t rush her either but rather keeps cuddling her.

At last, she finally answers.

“I wonder if it will ever stop,” she takes a breath before continuing. “Now that I have you, we are together, we are literally married, and yet our past keeps haunting me. Sometimes I get into the accident and lose myself, other times I see you getting murdered. Like clockwork, over and over again. It doesn’t matter how much time has passed, it still feels so vivid, as if I can almost touch it.”

Sunjae clutches her tighter.

“And I know you’re there, I know that if I reach out my hand I will find you next to me. Even in that state, I know that. Yet, I can’t bring myself out of it. It feels so real. It was real, it happened once. I wonder if it’ll ever stop - if I’ll ever stop fearing your death.”

This time around, she inches up and brushes her lips against his cheek, so light as if it was barely there.

For a long moment, both of them stay silent. She taps her fingers in tandem with his heartbeat while he tucks her hair against her ear, his fingers curving over the lobe before resting against her neck for a deep, gentle kiss.

“I wish I could take away your pain and all the hurt that you faced in our past, all by yourself. I wish I could do more for you. But Sol-ah, know that it was never, ever your fault. It was always my choice to make. Don’t carry the burden and guilt for whatever happens to me, in any timeline, including our future.”

She was about to interrupt but he kisses her again.

“No, listen to me. I am fated to love you in every timeline. And if the consequence of this love is for me to make choices that might kill me, then I am making that choice by my own will. Yes, it might be selfish. But just because you love me doesn’t mean you get to decide my life for me. You did that once but look where we are? Together, married, in our bed. I know it’s hard, that I’m asking too much of you, but it’s time you start letting go of your guilt - it was never your fault.”

He sits up and takes her hands in his before kissing them both, reverence and love shining through his gaze.

“But thank you for jumping over time and space to save me, over and over again. I love you, Sol-ah.”

Sunjas wipes away her tears and kisses her again, falling over her and letting his kisses convey the feelings he doesn’t have enough words for.

***

After a glorious breakfast in bed (with flowers!) and lounging around some more, Sol finally steps out of their room. She finds Sunjae cleaning up in the kitchen, picking up the broken glass.

“I’m almost done and then we can watch something,” he said with his back to her.

Sol spots a big shard of glass and goes to pick it up, “Sunjae-ah, you missed-“

“Huh?” He turns around, “Oh no, did you get hurt?” When she doesn’t hand over the piece to him, he looks at her quizzically, “Sol?”

She looks up and gives it to him who promptly cleans up once more, just in case he missed any pieces.

“You know, when you first called me in the hospital as Ryu Sunjae, I had a glass piece similar to that one, clutched tightly in my hand,” Sol smiles while Sunjae freezes.

“And then the phone rang and it was so annoying I had to pick it up,” she chuckles. “Lo and behold, it’s Idol Ryu Sunjae on the other line, thanking me for being alive and telling me to live another day.”

Sunjae leans against the counter, patient and curious.

“I really wanted to strangle you. Or maybe not you but just ….that call. I didn’t want to listen or talk or do anything at all - I just wanted it all to stop, for the numbness to go away, for the regrets, grief and anger to just leave. To return to my old life. But I couldn’t have that - see, I didn’t have a special watch of my own to go back and fix things!” She laughs again.

Sol continues, “But you, as always, saved me again. Just as we are fated to be lovers in every timeline, I suppose, we are fated to save each other as well. And that’s how, by the way, I became your fan. Aren’t you just lucky?”

A lone tear drops from his eye, “the luckiest. But Sol-ah, I’m glad you didn’t do it, that you chose to hold on even when it was so hard to get through another day. It must not have been easy, I’m proud of you. And I am so, so sorry that I didn’t protect you back then. Please forgive me.”

Sol gets off her chair and walks over to him, “stop that. I literally just told you that you saved me even back then. Before I even knew of you let alone love you, you had already overstepped and saved me, not once but twice. What are you apologising for even?”

She grabs his hand, takes him to the couch, and faces him sideways while he leans against it, looking up at the ceiling, tears leaking out from the corner of his eyes.

“Sunjae-ya,” she calls out to him softly, wiping away his tears with the pad of her thumb and holds his hand in both of hers, squeezing three times.

“For 15 years, every day without fail, I thought what if I had woken you up at our stop that day. It would never leave my mind. Some days it was more intense, other days more mellow but still there. And every single day, I wished I could go back in time to wake you up and make sure you get home safe,” Sunjae takes a deep breath.

“And then, I saw you that night after the concert. You reminded me of the first moment we met - your smile…” Sunjae turns to look at her, his eyes wide and excited.

“It was so bright, the same as when we first met. It almost felt surreal, as if I was dreaming.”

Sol interrupts, “the feeling was totally mutual, by the way. Imagine meeting your fav idol like that? It seemed like a fanfic.”

Sunjae smiles but it lacked the excitement from before, “but it was short-lived. Seeing you helpless, stuck in the middle of the bridge and realising that you didn’t remember me - it was a cruel reality check that I wish I could’ve ignored.”

Sunjae looks away.

“There was so much I wanted to say to you that night but all I could do was just ….look at you and ensure your safety as some stranger. When I gave you that hot pack, I wanted that moment to freeze so I could hold your hand a moment longer.”

Sol brings up their intertwined hands in front of him, “well, that Sunjae (and Sol’s) wish came true!”

He gives her a small smile with a raised eyebrow, “that Sol didn’t even remember me. I doubt she wanted to hold hands with me.”

She hits him on his shoulder, “please you were her #1, she would’ve done everything to spend a moment longer with you. You should’ve asked her out for dinner!”

He laughs for real this time, “So she can think of me as a creep? Yeah, no thanks. As if it wasn’t bad enough already.”

“Come on, I would’ve never considered you a creep. Maybe a bit weird because why would Ryu Sunjae want to spend time with plain old me? At best, I would’ve thought you were pitying me,” Sol makes a face at him.

He momentarily pauses, “why would I pity you? Even if we keep aside the fact that you have been my first love, you were absolutely stunning, sweet and thoughtful. I don’t see a single pitying thing here.”

Sol tucks some strands behind her ear, “well, my glaring wheelchair was right there. Besides, you wouldn’t have been the first or last to pity me because I couldn’t walk.”

Sunjae turns toward her fully and holds her by her arms, “Sol-ah, your disability would’ve never been a hindrance to me. It would’ve never made me pity you because you were still a strong force of nature despite everything. You were happy, passionate and determined. You reminded me of warm sunshine on a chilly day. With those attributes, you think anything else would’ve mattered? If I could, I would’ve carried you and ran away!”

He puts his finger under her chin to get her to look at him, “I spent almost half my lifetime in guilt, regret and longing for you. That wheelchair was a glaring reminder of my own flaws, not yours. It didn’t reflect on you but me. I’m glad that you protected yourself from that accident but know that if it wasn’t the case, there wouldn’t have been any difference between my feelings for you. I’ve always loved you.”

Sol closes the gap between them and hugs him tight to herself as he buries his head in her neck.

“Just the way you told me earlier to try and let go of the guilt, I’m asking you to do the same. I wish I could’ve told this to that heartbroken Sunjae too: that nothing was his fault, that he saved me not once but twice. That he was loved by the woman he had loved for half his lifetime and she would do everything in her power to make sure he lives, and he lives well.”

In response, Sunjae crushes her to him even tighter, soft sobs racking through his body as Sol peppers kisses all over him, wiping away her own tears.

#idk how I’m here again #but had to give myself the acknowledgment for og soljae #wanted to include more things #i guess i’ll save them for another time #if there’s another time #(i know it’s a bit rusty)#it’s been a while #since I’ve written fiction #lovely runner #lovely runner fic #my fics

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gcslingss · 6 months ago

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hello👀👀 kinda nervous sending this bec idrk how you send prompt asks but.... for the gentleness prompts that you reblogged, would you like to do recovery with luke glanton, or breathe for officer k?

thank you for this request omg ive been wanting to write for k for so long

i havent watched place beyod the pines yet, so i went with option 2 :)

hope you enjoy!!! <3

real | officer k.

prompt: breathe (find the prompt list here)

summary: he wishes he could tell you all the things you made him feel, but there just weren't enough words for it.

pairing: officer k x gn!reader (slightly inclined to fem but maybe it's just me)

warnings/content: swearing, weapons (gun), gunshots, death of an animal, death of a character, slight violence, kissing, lots of touching, albert camus mention, so many thoughts :)))

word count: 895

notes: ngl this stuff hits hard, even if I do say so myself - k just needs some love poor guy :( also thank you @laff-nelson for requesting, i really enjoyed writing this! hope you like ittt <3

“Don’t - you don’t have to do this, I know you can-“

“I’m sorry.”

There was a void look on Officer K’s face when he shot the old replicant down, and watched his body thud on the floor.

The chained dog on the side started to howl, scratching at the floor to get closer to its dead owner. It was thin, barely skin and bones, but it seemed loyal.

He has a pet, I’ve gathered, he remembered Lt. Joshi saying. If you see it, kill it.

The dog seemed to know it’s end was near. It ceased to bark and looked up at him. It looked as if it was begging.

He raised his arm with practised aim.

If you see it, kill it.

K didn’t mean for his eyes to close when he shot the animal.

_______________

“Your baseline is admirable, but not your best, K.”

K lowered his head. “I apologize, ma’am. I-“

“Was it because of the dog?”

There was silence. K looked up, only just meeting Joshi’s eyes. He opened his mouth to reply, but she spoke before he could.

“You’re a fucking Blade Runner, K,” she said, staring rather uninmpressedly at him. “This is pathetic.”

K’s skin prickled. A heavy feeling of guilt weighed down in his stomach. He didn’t divert his gaze, but only because he was far too ashamed to do anything.

He didn’t like being disappointing her in any way. It hurt. That was the only way he could describe it.

For a moment, he felt like the dog he killed.

Obedient. Loyal. Docile.

At the mercy of his owner.

“I apologize, ma’am,” he said again, but quietly.

Joshi waved a dismissive hand. K nodded, and exited the office.

________________

K was tired.

Tired of what, he wasn’t sure. But he could feel the exhaustion heavy on his shoulders, in his mind, his synthetic joints sore.

K unlocked the door to his house and stepped in, noticing only the dining area’s lights were switched on. He peeked, and saw you sitting at the table, reading something.

You looked up from the book and when your eyes met his, your face lit up in a way that caused his heart to flutter, his shoulders to relax, lips automatically pulling into a smile that spoke to yours.

“Hey,” you said, keeping the book aside and walking over to him.

“Hi.”

You observed him for a moment, and he knew nothing escaped your scrutiny, but he hoped you wouldn’t say anything.

And you didn’t, only reaching to remove his coat, placing it on one of the chairs, before giving him another one of your lovely smiles.

“I’m not hungry today,” he said, glancing at the utensils on the table. “Is that alright?”

You looked taken aback, but nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

“I’m gonna get a shower.”

“Okay.”

He kissed your temple, before walking to his room.

_________________

When K stepped out of the shower, he felt bad.

He’d gone over the conversation he’d had with you earlier, and he was sure he’d been unnecessarily rude, and crisp.

You were always there for him. It wasn’t fair for him to do that.

He could see you sitting in bed, still reading the plainly covered book, and his breathing eased.

K removed the towel round his waist and threw it on the bed, before changing into his clothes that you had got him a few days ago, telling him it would be comfortable to wear while sleeping.

He crawled into the covers beside you, hand instinctively taking yours.

You squeezed it and leaned into him, placing your head on his shoulder.

“You seem to really like the book,” he said. “What is it?”

“The Stranger, by Albert Camus,” you replied, as you closed it and kept it under your pillow. “It’s an old book.”

“Hmm.”

You got closer to him, sitting up straighter, letting his arm rest on the covers over your thigh.

You seemed to be drinking him in, your gaze drifting over his face.

“You alright?” you asked casually.

K nodded, managing a smile.

You smiled back, but your eyes were still concerned.

I don’t think you are, they seemed to say.

K couldn’t help but wonder at times like these how you ever ended up here, with him, in his house. He wondered why you loved him so much, a replicant with bloody hands, a synthetic being made to obey.

How you, a human, ever found him, a skinner to be enough for you.

But then your hands glided across his cheek to stroke his hair so lovingly, so gently, and every such doubt disintegrated, his mind only aware of your touch, your affection.

“K,” you whispered, a soft plea.

Things like this made him feel real.

When his fingers found purchase in your hair, pulling you close enough that your bodies were pressed against each other, he felt real.

When his mouth pressed against yours in a soft yet feverish kiss, his lips tingling with heat, he felt real.

When he heard you mumble "oh," and clutch onto the neckline of his shirt, head tilting into the kiss, nails faintly scratching against his skin, he felt real.

When he felt your arms wrap around his back and embrace him like he meant the world to you, he felt real.

Every fibre of him felt real.

And he could never thank you enough for that.

tagging: @laff-nelson @hollandstrophyhusband @hollandsbabygirl @zsuo @bimbocoreblonde @barbiehandlrr @fleursial @officer-kd6 @webbo0

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 1 year ago

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I'm Sorry

Young!Haymitch Abernathy x Reader

Summary: Moments of Haymitch having to mentor his ex-girlfriend

Warnings: Canon-level violence, implied smut, cheating, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 5.1K

Masterlist

“Haymitch!” I called my boyfriend’s name as he stepped off the train. He had just won the Hunger Games. Not just the Hunger Games, the second Quarter Quell. Where he competed with 47 other tributes. When he had won I was ecstatic and couldn’t wait for him to come home. But then I went to his family’s home and found nothing but the bleeding bodies of his parents and younger brother.

When he finally reached me, having to fight through the throngs of excited District 12 citizens, he wiped away my tears with a smile, mistaking them for tears of joy. “I’m back, sweetheart,” he smiled, pressing his forehead to mine. But as he pulled away he noticed my lack of a smile. “What?” he asked, fear creeping into his throat.

“I’m so sorry,” I cried, handing him his parents’ wedding rings. He immediately knew what that means.

“No,” he tried to deny, shaking his head. “No.”

“Y/N L/N,” the district escort’s voice rang out as he called my ex-girlfriend’s name. I was honestly surprised I had managed to comprehend it at all given that the crowd was a blurry haze and every word was melted together in my brain. But I saw her clearly as she walked up to the stage, fear and rage on her face. I assumed fear for the games, rage for me.

She had been there for me as I grieved my family’s death. Even when I pushed her away she was there for me. She was killing herself for me while I poisoned myself with booze and hate. All until I couldn’t handle her care and my rage anymore so I picked a fight.

“Can you not?!” I yelled as she tried to clean up my new house a little. “Just fucking leave it.”

Her sad expression, I regret to say, brought me satisfaction. I loved to hurt her for no reason. A small part of me was pained to hurt her, I think that’s what allowed me to push her away rather than trap her with my hate. “Sorry,” she murmured softly.

“Yeah you’ve said that before,” I spat, poison dripping from my words. “Why are you still here?”

She sighed, biting her lip. I could see she was silently debating whether or not she’d open herself up to being attacked by my again. “Because I love you,” she admitted painfully, tears pricking her eyes.

I scoffed. “Well I don’t love you anymore.” A small piece of my heart broke as I watched her shatter. I had spent weeks abusing her, something a part of me reveled in, but I had never hurt her this bad.

She nodded her head compassionately. “I understand.” And with that, she walked out of my life for what I thought would be forever. The part of me that had reveled in her pain immediately became regretful as I watched her go. My regret only continued to grow as I kept tabs on her throughout her life.

I tried to catch her eye as she took her place next to our escort but she refused to spare a glance at me. I understood, I had tortured her when I got back and had spent the better part of a year borderline stalking her.

I glanced at the crowd, finding her new boyfriend of five months, Rune, standing there, slack jawed. I rolled my eyes at the oaf as the male tribute’s name was called, Landon Caleban. Of course Rune didn’t volunteer to protect his girl. I would’ve. Eleven months ago I would’ve laughed at her reaping but now that my anger had faded a little, I would give anything to take her place.

As she was escorted into the capital building, I followed, immediately going into the room she went into. She had barely sat down by the time I entered and it broke my heart that she looked so surprised to see me. “Y/N…”

“What are you doing here, Haymitch?” she asked coldly.

“Well,” I began, taking a seat across from her, “I am your mentor. And… I also care about you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah well you sure as hell didn’t care about me when you told me you didn’t love me anymore.”

I looked down at my shoes, ashamed. “I know and I'm sorry. I’d take back everything if I could. I was hurt, and angry, and god… I felt so powerless.”

“And I was your helpless punching bag?” she finished for me, disgust in her eye.

I nodded regretfully. “I made you, the girl I love who did nothing but support me, into a punching bag,” I confirmed, still looking at the ground in shame.

“Loved,” was all she said. I looked at her quizzically causing her to roll her eyes again. “You said ‘girl I love.’ You should say loved.”

“No, I still love you,” I insisted.

“You’re the one who said you didn’t love me anymore.”

“That’s because I had a lot of misplaced anger,” I insisted. “Yes, I know it’s not fair that I took everything out on you and I have no right to try to tell you I love you but I do.”

“Well what good does that do me? I’m being marched to my deat-”

“Don’t!” I cut her off “…fucking say that. You’re not fucking dying. I’m your mentor, I’ll get you out of there.”

Before she could respond, the door creaked open. I knew even before he spoke that it was Rune. “Babe, oh my god.” I cringed as I knew she hated being called that. He rushed over to her side, taking her hand in his. “I don’t even know what to say… I just…”

She shook her head dismissively. “You don’t have to say anything.”

“I promise I won’t date anyone else for a while,” he said genuinely, as if it were a touching thing to say. Even I knew that was probably the worst thing he could say. Y/N also stared up at him, a baffled look on her face. She made no verbal indication she heard him so I did. I scoffed, catching the little twerp’s attention. Upon seeing me, his face immediately soured. He knew who I was, what I had meant to Y/N. Everyone in 12 knew we were a couple. “Don’t you have a bottle of whiskey to down yourself in, Haymitch?” he sneered.

I just chuckled at his attempt to tell me to stay out of it. “Maybe you should try treating her decently and saying goodbye instead of planning your next random hookup.”

“You’re one to talk about ‘treating her decently,’” Rune immediately mocked.

Before I could respond, Y/N stood up. “Both of you shut up and get out.”

I started to say her name, hoping she wouldn’t kick me out too but she cut me off, insisting we both go. So I went reluctantly, making sure Rune left too. I’d be damned if I ever let him have a moment alone with her ever again.

As soon as we stepped into the hall, a woman I recognized as Y/N’s mother rushed in, tears in her eyes. As the door closed, Rune stepped close to me. “I know what you’re planning, Abernathy. But she’s not going back to you. You’re just a useless, 17 year old drunk who broke her heart. And I’m not gonna let you break her again.”

Some part of me knew he was right, I shouldn't be inserting myself in her life again but I had been missing her for the past eleven months. And now it was also my job to keep her alive despite only winning last year.

Not one to let Y/N’s rebound talk me down, I retaliated. “At least I actually believe in her and actually want to see her come out of this alive.”

Offense crossed over his face. “You don’t get to say that. You got lucky. We all know the odds, especially with you as a mentor. I’m her boyfriend, you blew your chance!” he yelled before storming off. I wanted to yell after him but I didn’t know what to say that hasn’t been said already so I just clenched my jaw before heading to the train.

I didn’t see Y/N again until we arrived at the Capitol. Probably for the best, I spent the two day journey sleeping and getting shitfaced. I hadn’t been back to the Capitol since my victory tour and I had absolutely no desire to go back but I’d be stuck doing this shit until there were two more victors.

When we all finally got off the train I finally saw her. She looked exhausted, like she hadn’t slept since she was reaped. I honestly understood. I tried to catch her eye but she seemed determined to look everywhere but me. And before I could try to approach her, she was whisked off to styling. So reluctantly I went to the penthouse until the tribute parade.

I stood with the other mentors, watching the tribute parade. My heart stopped when I saw the District 12 chariot. The camera never bothered to focus on them long but from the glimpse I saw, Y/N was hardly clothed. As was typical for District 12 tributes. The stylists were a big fan of just dumping black powder on us.

By the time the tributes were re-entering the building, all the mentors were waiting to bring their tributes back upstairs. Heading over to the last chariot I found Landon helping Y/N down from the chariot. She struggled in her stilettos and mini black skirt. I averted my gaze from her mostly bare torso, the only thing covering her was a lace top shaped to look like smoke. Along with an unhealthy dose of black powder to portray the coal-mines. Something they did practically every year. I kept my gaze firmly on her from the shoulders up. It felt like a violation of her privacy to ogle her like all the Capitol citizens or how I would have back when we were together.

I managed to meet her gaze but she quickly looked away, refusing to look at me again. Even in the elevator I caught myself staring at her longingly, just wishing she’d at least look at me. But she never did. As we stepped into the penthouse I let her go to her room. Remembering how exhausted she must have been, I had sleeping pills sent to her room along with a steak.

The next morning I sat at the table in the main room of the penthouse, eating breakfast. My attention was caught by Landon and Y/N heading to the elevator for training. I couldn’t help but admire the way the athletic clothing hugged her body. But as I noticed what I was doing, I averted my gaze back down to my food. It wasn’t until I heard a throat clearing that I looked back up at the pair. Y/N was looking at me, a conflicted and grateful look on her face. “Thanks for the uh… stuff, last night,” she thanked quietly.

“No problem,” I replied, in slight awe that she was talking to me. She just gave me a slight smile of acknowledgement before stepping into the elevator and disappearing.

I spent the next several minutes just staring at my plate grateful that I was finally getting somewhere with her.

I watched anxiously as Y/N took the stage for her interview. She looked absolutely stunning. Of course I always thought she was stunning but I had to admit, some of the Capitol glamours I could get behind. She was practically glowing under the lights, makeup drawing attention to her best features.

As always, everything was in a slight haze but when Caesar asked her a certain question, it sobered me up a bit. “So is there anyone back home that you’re fighting for?”

Y/N did her best to give a graceful smile. She knew how to appeal to the audience. “Well, my mom is back home rooting for me. I can count on her for that.”

“How sweet. Any boys?” he suggested cheekily.

I watched as uncertainty crossed her face before she answered. “Yes,” she answered, her voice noticeably weak, “my boyfriend, Rune.”

“Aw, well isn’t that so sweet, huh folks?” The crowd made coos of sympathy. “Tell me, did he visit you before he left?”

“Yes,” she answered, her voice cracking slightly again. “He said…” she trailed off before she seemed to decide what to say. “He said he couldn’t wait to see me after the games and that he loves me.” She gave a weak smile and my heart broke. I couldn’t believe she was lying to make this guy look good when I was the one who was actually there for her. Ever since she had thanked me for the food and sleeping pills, our relationship had improved. She no longer ignored and avoided my presence and conversation attempts. We had engaged in a few polite conversations and had even slipped back into old habits. One night, at dinner, Landon mentioned wanting to ally himself with the careers. To which Y/N and I instinctually shared a look of ridicule. I could feel my heart swell every time we interacted more like we used to. But an unreasonable amount of hurt rang in my chest as she essentially defended her dirtbag boyfriend.

I didn’t even bother to finish watching her interview, I just went straight upstairs to my room in the penthouse, bringing a bottle of vodka with me.

I don’t know how long I was laying there watching some stupid reality tv show when the door opened. In stepped Y/N in a sweater so long it looked like her legs were bare. Her face was cleaned of makeup, leaving a fresh look and I could see the exaggerated curls in her hair that remained from her updo. She just stood in the doorway, hugging herself, until I spoke. “Y/N,” I said a little too eagerly, having never expected to see her in my room again after I ended things. “Wh-what’s up?” I tried to ask casually.

She shrugged. “I’m here to drink,” was all she said.

Sitting further up, I held the bottle out to her, simultaneously gesturing to the bed to offer her a seat. She took both, perching herself at the foot of the bed, her legs crossed so she was looking at me. She took a deep swig from the bottle, cringing as she pulled it away. I couldn’t help but chuckle at her expression, she never got used to the taste and burn of alcohol. She noticed my expression and smiled slightly. “You know I hate the taste,” she explained, the slightest teasing tone in her voice.

“I remember,” I smiled fondly. “The only thing you liked was that flavored shit we got off that peacekeeper.”

She smiled, looking at the bottle in her hand. “Yeah, that was good. I got so drunk that night,” I got a genuine laugh out of that comment and it made my stomach do cartwheels.

“So what brings you here tonight?” I asked as she passed me the bottle.

“Well I’m being marched to my death tomorrow,” she laughed bitterly. Before I could try to console her she met my gaze. “How did you feel before you went in?”

I pondered for a second, trying to recall. “I was afraid,” I admitted. “I thought that there was no way in hell I’d survive but I wasn’t ready to die.” She hummed, nodding. I took another swig of vodka before passing it to her. “Why’d you lie about Rune during your interview?”

“You saw that?” sha asked. “I didn’t know you watched. The other mentors were there but you weren’t.” She noticed I wasn’t there? “I guess I just wanted them to think I had a reason to live,” she sighed. “I don’t really know what I was thinking but I figured bashing my-still-technically-boyfriend on national television wasn’t the best idea.”

“‘Still-technically-boyfriend?’” I questioned. “Y/N, he basically said that when, not if, when you were gone he’d be dating other girls. He’s not your boyfriend anymore.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. We never officially said that we were broken up so it feels wrong to bash him.”

“Fuck him, fuck his feelings!” I insisted. She laughed a little at my exaggerated outburst.

“I guess I just feel like I still have an obligation to him. Like I can’t move on before we have the conversation and I may never get to have the conversation,” she mused ruefully.

I scooted closer to her, placing my fingers under her chin to make her look at me. A move from when we were together. “Hey, what do you mean obligation?” I found pain in her eyes as I asked.

She hesitated before answering me. But as she did she averted her gaze as if in shame. “You said you still love me?” she asked meekly.

My heart broke at her doubt. “Of course I do,” I promised, bringing her gaze back up again. “I never stopped. Yeah, I was angry and I took it out on you and I never should have. But I love you.” She hesitated with her next words and I took the chance to kiss her. She immediately melted into my lips much to my relief. I pulled her closer until she was practically perched in my lap, the bottle of liquor on the nightstand long forgotten.

The automatic alarm controlled by the Capitol went off at 6 am. As I shut the damn thing up I rolled back over, resuming my place cuddled up to Y/N. Both my arms were wrapped around her waist, my head cuddled into the crook of her neck. She groaned at having been woken up, probably a little hungover. “Morning,” I murmured into her bare shoulder. She just groaned again. This time I figured it was a groan of remembering what day it was. “C’mon,” I said, pushing myself up to rest on my hands, “you need to eat breakfast.”

She rolled over reluctantly, finally meeting my face. “Can’t even think about eating.”

“I know but you’ll thank yourself for eating later,” I advised, getting out of bed and throwing some clothes on. She followed suit, heading to the door. As I tried to follow, she stopped me.

“Wait, come out in a couple minutes.”

“Why? Are you embarrassed of me?” I asked only mildly genuinely.

“No,” she dismissed genuinely, placing a hand on my arm. “How’s it gonna look to Landon when I come out of your bedroom with you? With terrible bed head?” she added jokingly. I just hummed in agreement, gesturing for her to continue.

A few moments later I joined both Y/N and Landon before they were both ushered off.

The entire games I was a mess. I was ashamed to admit that I couldn’t remember most of it, too wracked with worry. I only ever sobered up enough to watch the rundowns of what had happened that day, listening for Y/N’s name when they listed the deceased.

I thanked whatever cruel deity was out there that Y/N survived another day. And when they told me she won, I wanted to break down crying in relief.

By the time I was able to see her, she was still very injured. She laid in the hospital bed, asleep, and it took everything in me not to shake her awake for reassurance that she was still in fact alive. But instead I settled for grasping her warm hand and listening to the rhythmic beep of her heart through the monitor. They kicked me out periodically to work on healing her and a day later, when they let me back in the room, her eyes were fluttering open.

“Y/N,” I uttered. My voice had an unexpectedly broken sob but if she noticed, she didn’t care. She sat up as best as she could as I enveloped her in a hug as tightly as possible without hurting her. “You’re alive.”

“I’m okay,” she assured me. I could feel her fingers in my hair, her other hand rested against my shoulder as she hugged me as close as possible. With as much strength as her weakened, malnourished frame would allow.

I finally pulled away, my hand cupping her face as I admired her face. She had scrapes on her face and a bruised jaw but it was otherwise unmarred. “I love you,” I whispered before pressing my lips to hers.

I stood behind Y/N as she stepped off the train, smiling down at her as the crowd cheered. She just stood there on the platform for a moment, seemingly in a daze. I couldn’t be more thrilled in this moment. Of course we were both shattered, both fragments of who we used to be before the games. But we were holding each other together nonetheless. I was just so grateful she made it. The picture-perfect happiness was shattered by a shout.

“Y/N!” Rune’s voice broke through the crowd. My mood immediately dropped. Ever since that night we spent together I had forgotten about the twerp.

Y/N seemed to hardly register his presence as he jumped up on the platform. He was immediately kissing her, dipping her into what would be a picture-perfect photo if it weren’t for what happened and the fact that she was visibly uncomfortable. When they broke away, he pulled her back up to her feet before pulling her in closely once again to pose for the camera. All the while, Y/N looked visibly uncomfortable from even just the rear.

I wanted to punch him. I wanted to rip the douchebag away from her and inform him that she didn’t love him. But for the sake of not creating an incredibly public, embarrassing scenario for her, I kept my fists at my sides and my mouth shut.

Y/N managed to pull away from him, disappearing into the crowd with peacekeeper escorts. Rune tried to follow after her but I stepped up to him quickly. “Hey, don’t count on this five second of fame,” I informed him in an admittedly snide tone.

He looked deeply unhappy to see me. “She’ll be my wife soon enough. She declared her love for me on national television. You didn’t do that for her,” he remarked smugly.

I glanced around, noticing most of the crowd and cameras were gone. “She never said that she loved you,” I corrected. “Besides, why’d she spend the night in my bed after that interview then?”

A dark look crossed over his face. “You didn’t. She would never.”

I admit that it’s juvenile but pride swelled in my chest as I watched him become increasingly indignant. “She did. She told me she only said that because she felt obliged to and then we slept together.”

Rage filled his features. “You’re lying, Abernathy. I know you are. What’s your game? Are you hoping that if you tell enough people you slept together she’ll just come back to you out of shame? That’s pathetic.”

I took a step closer to him, getting in his face. “You’re the one refusing to accept the truth. That makes you the pathetic one.”

Rune just looked at me with disgust. “Whatever, I guess we’ll both just have to get the truth from her tonight.”

I shrugged with a smirk. “I guess we will.”

I hardly even caught a glimpse of Y/N the entire day as she was too busy being pulled in every direction. Her mom was all to eager to welcome her back into her home while the district officials were trying to get them moved into their new home in Victor’s Village next to mine. Then, of course, there were the people she didn’t really know who were all too eager to suck up to the newest victor, hoping to gain a little bit of fame and wealth. And then finally, there was Rune who was practically stitching himself to her side. I was debating whether or not I should go to her and rescue her from the overwhelming-ness of being a victor and Rune’s attempts. But I decided against it, not wanting to add to her stress and because I feared that if that little bitch opened his mouth I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from punching him.

It wasn’t until the welcome back party a few of her friends threw for her that I got a chance to speak with her.

As I approached her in the crowded room, I held out a shot glass. “Grapefruit vodka?” She smiled, taking it from me.

“Where did you get this?”

“I requested a bottle before we left the Capitol,” I smiled down at her. “Congratulations, Y/N, seriously. I know the party and the drinks are a meager consolation but you deserve it,” I professed, bringing her into a hug.

She hugged me tightly in return. “Thank you, Haymitch. For everything.”

“Of course,” I returned, pulling away from the hug but still keeping her in my arms. I reached a hand up to her face. “I love you,” I professed, kissing her. Which she returned. Until she was literally ripped from my grasp. As I was wrenched back into reality I saw Rune holding Y/N by her arm.

“What the hell, Y/N?” he yelled at her.

“Hey, back off,” I told him, moving to get his grip off of her arm. But he just stumbled back, tugging her along with him.

“No, what the hell is going on?” he demanded, looking at Y/N. “I thought you hated him.”

She shook her head. “Maybe for a bit I did but you don’t get to act all incredulous, Rune. After I got reaped you said you wouldn’t date anyone else ‘for a while,’” she mocked his words. “You couldn’t even wait until I was dead. I know about Selene Ducote. While I was fucking fighting for my life you were more concerned about getting your dick wet than seeing if I’d survive. You were depending on my death.”

Rune stood there, still gripping her arm, flabbergasted. “Yeah well, you slept with Haymitch.”

“Yeah, I did” she freely admitted, “and now I don’t feel guilty about it.”

Rage filled Rune’s face as he clenched his jaw. His free hand moved to grip her jaw, “Here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna end things with him,” he nodded to me with disgust, “and we’re gonna get married because I know that you are in love with me.” He sent a final glare to me and I noticed his grip tightening. “Am I clear, you fucking slut?”

Now it was my turn to be filled with rage. Before I knew what was happening, I was throwing a punch at Rune’s face. He crumpled and would have brought Y/N down with him if it weren’t for the fact that I caught her around the waist. By now, the rest of the crowd had noticed us and were unsure of who’s side to take. Because while everyone had known Rune and Y/N were dating, they had also been aware of our relationship and took notice of the way she was huddled against my chest.

Rune got up, intending to punch me in return but Y/N pulled out of my arms, stepping up to him. “Enough, Rune,” she chastised him. “We’re over. We’ve been over. You’re making this so much more pathetic for yourself.” Seeing as the guest of honor had clearly made her allegiance known, the other attendees began booing him out. I only caught a glimpse of him walking out in shame because Y/N was stood in front of me again. She cupped my jaw, reaching up to kiss me.

Later that night we were both sat in her kitchen as she attempted to heal my hand that had admittedly been a little banged up when I punched Rune. We were both a little drunk so I was grateful her mom was back at her old house.

I hissed as she dabbed rubbing alcohol against my split knuckles. “If you take a swig maybe it won’t hurt so much,” she giggled.

I chuckled, admiring her blissful expression. “You can’t drink this type of alcohol sweetheart,” I explained gently. She pouted softly but didn’t say anything else as she focused on my hand.

When she deemed my hand disinfected enough, she pulled away. “I need something to wrap it with. Maybe there’s some cloth?” she suggested. She went to the cabinets, rummaging through them. Most of them were empty but a few had supplies that came with the house.

As she was looking, I quickly began to miss her touch so I got up. I wrapped my arms around her from behind, trapping her between my body and the counter. I pressed my face into her shoulder and the crook of her neck, pressing kisses into her skin. “I don’t need a bandage,” I slurred in assurance. “I won the 50th Hunger Games.”

“And I won the 51st,” she countered.

“I beat 47 others,” I argued playfully as she spun in my arms so she was facing me.

She wrapped her arms around my neck. “Shut up,” she laughed before kissing me.

Masterlist

#haymitch #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch x reader #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #thg #young!haymitch #young!haymitch x reader

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the-fiction-witch · 1 year ago

Text

Good News

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Flirty

Requested: can you also do one where yns father sold her off to Jack

I hummed to myself as I worked in my little patch of the garden, digging and planting little flowers. I saw my father approach and almost immediately I had a bad feeling about this.

"Good News!" He gleamed,

"Ohh?" I glared,

"I have very good news for you dear."

"Oh? am I being shipped back to England?"

"Better."

"You're killing me?"

"Don't talk like that dear, it's good news."

"I stand by what I said."

"I have found you a husband."

"This is terrible news." I sighed returning to my flowers,

"Ohh for-" he sighed picking me up from the dirt and forcing me back to the house "You are to have a bath, wash and brush your hair, and put on your prettiest dress to meet your new husband."

"And what if I refuse him?" I asked as he threw me back into my room,

"You will not refuse him, it's already been agreed your dowry paid." he said "Clean. Now," he demanded shutting my door,

"What happened to me having a choice!" I yelled,

"You turn away ten suitors, you give me no choice you're marrying him."

"UUuuuughhhhhh!" I yelled in frustration, I had a quick back and fixed my hair to the minimum my father would allow putting on my dull blue dress, nowhere near my best dress but I highly doubt this is anywhere near the best man.

I went out and met with my father outside as he wore his good suit, I held my fan in my hand trying to both fan myself and hide myself from this whole situation.

"Straight." He demanded forcing my back straight, "And smile."

I rolled my eyes and forced a smile for him,

"That's a good girl" he smiled kissing my head "Where is he?" he muttered,

Luckily at that moment, the carriage came into view, I noticed immediately it was our carriage meaning Father sent it to pick him up rather than him coming to get me, well that's a red flag.

Once the carriage stopped my mind ran through with who on earth my father could ever convince to marry me. And then he stepped out.

My eyes went wide, as I saw The Dr Jack Dawkins step out.

He hadn't even dressed up, in his usual attire hell he even still had blood on his sleeves!

He was the new surgeon in town, we hadn't met yet I had just heard of him in passing and such,

I glared at my father and he just smiled back.

"Miss Y/l/n" He smiled at me,

"No." I snapped turning to go inside but my father stopped me and forced me back to my place,

"Do excuse her Dr Dawkins, overcome with emotion."

"Yes ange-" I began but my father slapped my hand silencing me,

"Shall we retire to the parlour for the celebratory drink?" he asked,

"That sounds lovely" He smiled,

My father then forced me to walk with them.

I sat in my chair pouting as they discussed me as if I wasn't here.

laughing and drinking between themselves,

"I'll leave you two to... get acquainted." My father smirked before he left the room leaving us alone,

"So? We're going to get married."

"It appears we are."

"I take it... you're not thrilled about this?" Dr. Dawkins asked,

"Should I be?"

"I thought every little girl dreamt of her wedding?"

"Not me."

"Alright,"

"What are your intentions?"

"... to marry you, oldy enough."

"Why?"

"Why not? you're cheaper than a maid"

"How dare you!"

"Look, you're a maid, I don't have to pay, live in my house, and I can fuck. This is a win-win for me"

"I will make your life a living hell."

"So would every other woman."

"So you're just fine with marrying an unwilling woman?"

"I'm unwilling, your unwilling, most we can do is make the best of it."

"And what am I meant to get out of this?"

"You'll be married so your father will stop bothering you, you get out of this house, bragging rights of having a well-renowned surgeon and doctor as your husband and given I work so much I'll barely be home so you can just... do whatever you want."

"Fine." I sighed I wasn't happy about this but he had a point, my father would stop bugging me and as a doctor, he wouldn't really be around that much. "So you're a doctor?"

"Surgeon yes."

"Let me guess military?"

"Ex-Navy"

"That'll be why father likes you," I sighed, "So you'll be working at the hospital?"

"Six to ten most days." He nods "Eleven to five is all for you."

"Fine, you get days off?"

"If I'm not busy yes."

"time with friends?"

"Friday night down the cat and bagpipes"

"I'll allow it so long as you don't come home drunk enough to be hung over Saturday morning"

"...Alright." He nods

"Do you expect children from me?"

"Four."

"One."

"Three?"

"One."

"Two?"

"I'll allow two."

"Good, one needs to be a boy."

"I'll see what I can do." I sighed, "One boy one girl?"

"I can find that agreeable." He nods, "social events?"

"Avoid at all costs."

"Well we agree on something." He smirked "You dance?"

"No."

"Thank god neither do I." he smiled "You cook? clean? laundry?"

"I'll cook and do laundry, you do dishes and handy work."

"Ohh no handy work is gonna be your forte."

"I meant fixing things."

"Ohh. Fine Anything you insist on in our home?"

"Give me a garden and I'll stay quiet."

"I can agree to that." He nodded getting up and coming over stroking my face, "Once we are married shall we start working on our baby?"

"I can agree to that Dr Dawkins."

"Just jack buttercup" he cooed giving my lips a soft sweet kiss, "Pleasure to meet you."

"Pleasure to meet you too" I smiled

#tbs imagine #tbs imagines #thomas sangster imagine #thomasbrodiesangster #thomas brodie sangster imagine #tbs smut #thomas brodie sangster smut #thomas brodie sangster #thomas sangster #tbs #thearttfuldodger #theartfuldogger #the artful dodger #jackdawkins #jack #jack dawkins

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ewanmitchellcrumbs · 5 months ago

Note

what are your thoughts after tonight’s episode? Some people think Aemond was plotting against Aegon from the beginning but other think the brothel incident merely made him angry and embarrassed.

I have so many thoughts on this.

I don't think what happened at Rook's Rest was at all premeditated by Aemond, or an act of revenge.

Aegon humiliated Aemond at the brothel, but Aemond knows that Aegon lacks the intelligence that he has, and he used that to his advantage to embarrass him in turn at the meeting of the small council.

First, by displaying well thought out battle strategy, that Aegon had no knowledge of and hadn't been included in. Second, by speaking flawless High Valyrian that Aegon struggled to understand and then could barely respond with.

I firmly believe that if Aegon had have remained at the Red Keep then Aemond would have considered the matter settled.

Aemond is clearly frustrated by Aegon's arrival at Rook's Rest and wasn't expecting it. He hangs back, because he knows to involve himself would be disastrous, and likely cause Aegon to be more reckless as he'd have an attitude of "I can do this myself!"

He waits until Aegon is in serious trouble to intervene, and he simply wants to eliminate Aegon as an obstacle - Rhaenys and Meleys mean to kill Aegon and Sunfyre, and he wants to prevent that. He has Vhagar breathe fire, rather than clamp her jaws around Sunfyre's neck, as that's less likely to result in death, and with Aegon out of the way, Aemond and the rest of the army can get on with what they need to do.

As for when Aemond approaches Aegon and Sunfyre, I believe he has his sword drawn in order to fight any enemies that may mean to attack on foot. He is slow to sheathe his sword when Criston approaches as he likely wants to be certain it's an ally not a foe that's approaching before rendering himself defenceless.

I don't think the reality of the situation or any feelings of pride/ambition begin to dawn on Aemond until he picks up the dagger.

In short, I don't think Aemond was plotting against Aegon, he was just fed up of his idiot brother acting without thinking first.

#asked and answered #lovely moots 💕#hotd spoilers

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larluce · 8 months ago

Note

Have you ever thought of the episode A Servant of Two Masters with a scene like Ella Enchanted when she breaks her curse? If you don't know the scene or the movie, that's okay because I have ✨a vision✨

Like that:

Merlin inside is dying because he's trying to kill Arthur and that's his worst nightmare, but Arthur decided that needs to be open and honest to Merlin and just tries to confess. I don't know how they got there, but just imagine that Arthur is talking sweetly to Merlin, holding his face with love and going to kiss him, but Merlin is crying because he's with a knife in his hand and trying to stab Arthur in the back. He breaks the curse, but Arthur saw the knife and assumes the worst.

I did watch that film! "A Servant of Two Masters" had the pontential to be very angsty indeed. But of course they decided to make it comedy. Not that I didn't like it anyways, but a more serious take like the one you are proposing would have been GOLD.

I recently saw a post similar to this, not quite, but kind of captures the same idea: LINK

But you inspired me. So I'll add this to your vision:

Just as the movie, Agravaine orders for Merlin to be arrested before he can explain anything, proclaiming he's in alliance with Morgana. However, Arthur, though still very hurt and confused, starts to analyse the situation. Why would Merlin try to kill him now? Is not like he didn't have better chances before. Has he done something to make Merlin change his mind about him? What did Morgana offer him? And why a knife? Merlin literally serves him his food, he could have poisoned him, find a more discret way to do it, he's a physician apprentice for gods sake! Was his servant this dumb? Then he remembers, Merlin was crying through all of it, and he seemed like he was trying to tell him something but couldn't. He thought it was due his emotional confession that his servant had tears in his eyes, but now... could it be that Merlin was forced to do it? Maybe Morgana threatened someone dear to him? Like his mother or Gaius. Or maybe he just can't bare the thought of yet other person betraying him, specially if is Merlin, that now he's making excuses for him? Doesn't matter, he can't execute Merlin, even when his uncle keeps insisting on it. So he just keeps him in the dungeons ad pospones his death sentence as much as he can.

Just as Arthur gathers the caurage to go visit Merlin to ask for answers, against his uncle's wishes of course, Gaius aproaches Arthur and tells him Merlin was under the fomorroh's control giving him the burned cut head of the snake as a prove. He explains he went to visit Merlin and Merlin gave him that and told him Morgana put it in his neck to control him when he was captured, but somehow he managed to break the spell. His uncle intervenes, telling him is all lies, that Gaius just wants to save the boy because he's dear to him and accuses him right then and there of being the traitor they were looking for. For Arthur, however, there was never a doubt, his Merlin is innocent, he never wanted to betray him. He almost cries of relief and, ignoring his uncle and his physician's dicussion, he runs to see Merlin.

His smile fades once he gets there though, cause Merlin, his Merlin, is hanging from a rope. Horrified and in full panic mode, he puts him down as quickly and as carefully as he can. He yells desperately for the guards to fetch Gaius and starts making CPR, but even when Gaius later appears to help it's too late. Merlin's dead and Arthur's whole world is put upside down.

There's a note Gaius finds hidden in Merlin's clothes, it says: "I'm sorry, Gaius. I couldn't fight it much longer, I could feel it, growing back again, trying to control me and I couldn't let it, not again. I would rather cut my own arms and legs and being burn in the pyre a thousen times than hurt Arthur, much less kill him. I won't go through that nightmare again. Please tell him I love him too, that i never mean to do it. I love him more than I love myself. But if he doesn't believe you, if he hates me forever, it's alright. I don't blame him, so don't blame him either. Keep protecting him, please. Specially from Agravaine. Loves you, Merlin".

Gaius shares this letter with Arthur and of course he breaks all over again, but then he asks, "Why did Merlin told you to protect me from my uncle, Gaius?". Gaius doesn't want to answer at first, but Arthur commands him and Gaius answers carefully "he believed he was the traitor, sire". Arthur responds after a pause "And you believe that too?". There's a silence before the physician says "I gave him the pergamine and the ink, he said he wanted to write a message for you that later I would deliver. I was a fool, I should have known..." he sighs. "But I wonder... where did he get the rope?". And that's when when all clicks to Arthur. Agravaine was the one insisting on killing Merlin inmediatly amd Merlin didn't have access to any rope. He confirms it when the guards tell him Agravaine visited Merlin once, they couldn't hear what the man was telling to the boy, but it sounded like he was threatening him.

Agravaine was the traitor, Agravaine gave Merlin the rope. Agravaine is the reason his Merlin now is gone.

Arthur goes to his uncle a sword in hand and demands answer with the blade on his throat. First he dinies it, but then he laughs. "You killed my sister. You and your father" he admits. Arthur's expression remains as a stone "What did you tell him?" Arthur demands. "I just offer him a less painful way to die". Arthur kills him, but finds no satisfaction. He's dead inside. His Merlin died thinking he hated him and he let him believe that. He didn't visit him for days after all, he didn't confront him inmediatly for answers, he let his uncle cloud his mind. This was his fault.

Arthur looks at his sword and puts the point of the blade on his heart. He's about to push the blade when suddenly the doors open and the sword flies from his hand. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" a familiar panic voice shouts at him and Arthur turns. A Merlin with golden eyes is running to him and then hugs him tightly. "Are you mad?!" Merlin's still scolding him, but Arthur's just watches him in shock. "Merlin" he's only capable to mumble.

It turn's out Merlin's magic saved him somehow. It just put his body on the verge of death enough to make the fomorroh believe that the body was uninhabitable so it left his body completely. His mortal body was now too weak though, so his only vital energy left is his magic. That's why his eyes are constanly gold now. It takes a while for Arthur to understand it. Specially the magic part, but honestly, he's far too happy and relief to have Merlin back that he can't be mad about Merlin lying about his magic. In fact, if anything, he's thankful for it, since it saved Merlin's life.

"But you didn't plan that, did you? You did actually try to kill yourself" he accusses however, still heartbroken at the fact.

"It was the only way I could think of-"

"Never, Merlin" he commands him very serious. "Never do that again"

"I can't promise you that"

"Then any harm you do to yourself, I'll do it to me"

"You can't do that!" the warlock shouts horrified. "You are the king! You have a kingdom-"

"Our kingdom, Merlin! We built it together and it's nothing without you either"

"I'm just a servant, an illegal warlock now. My life doesn't matter."

"Don't ever say that again!" Arthur holds Merlin fiercely. "Didn't I tell you're the most valuable person to me? The only person I could trust with my life" tears run down his eyes.

"But.. I lied to you. I even tried to kill you"

"Lie to me then, kill me. You have my permission"

"Arthur-"

"No, I just got I glimse of what a life without you would be and I won't live it again. Not for a second. I can't lose you again".

"I can't lose you either". Merlin cries too. "My magic, everything I am, is yours. It has always been yours". Arthur caresses his cheek.

"Then let me take care of what it's mine"

Between tears, they kiss. Is not really tender or passionate, but pure necessity for the other.

"I'm sorry" Merlin snifs separating the kiss "Gods! My eyes won't stop shining" he says embarrasssed and tries to cover them.

"Don't" Arthur says while he uncovers his eyes gently. "They're beautiful" Merlin smiles but then sighs, sadly.

"The rest won't think the same"

"You don't have to worry about that"

Arthur gives Merlin a royal pardon so he's the 'only legal sorcerer' unless until he can make magic legal again completely. Gwen and the knights accept him inmediatly. The rest are wary at first but eventually they accept him too, when they realise he's the same clumsy servant they always knew. As Merlin recovers from his near death experience, his eyes glow less, but Arthur loves to see Merlin's eyes turn gold everytime.

Aaaand that's all I got. My imagination can't do much.

#merlin bbc #bbc merlin #merlin #merthur #merlin fanfic #merlin prompt #merlin fic #merthur fic #arthur and merlin #merlin and arthur #ask me anything #ask #i got carried away

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