#the episode ended and I just stared into nothing for several moments
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Missed Connection 2
Summary: A flight delay causes a chance meeting between R and Jenna Ortega
Word Count: 2.1K
A/N: Laughing at the fact that I thought I could do a one shot of anything
Part 1 Part 3
“No big deal,” you grumble under your breath, fumbling with the keys to your apartment. “Oh yeah, I was just on SNL, no big deal.”
Your Uber driver, who informed you is named Dani, ranted and raved about Jenna for the rest of the ride home. She then insisted you watch Wednesday before you even thought about texting her. The words “respect on her name” and “so fucking lucky” were cried out several times. Dani refused to drive away before you promised her you would update her on the situation. It seems you were friends now. Against your will, but she appeared serious about not leaving, so you exchanged numbers and made your promises.
Your door opens, and you take a deep breath, happy to be home. The house sitter deep cleaned before he left, and you were grateful for the smell of fresh laundry the moment you stepped in. Your cat sat, perched on the shelves above your head, watching you closely.
“Hello, Mr. Burton, wonderful to see you too,” you smile up at him, and he narrows his yellow eyes at you.
You nod and drop your bags to the side, happy to see nothing had changed in his world. You trudge into the living room and flop on the couch, sliding your phone onto the coffee table. Half of you wants to text Jenna and let her know you know who she is now. The other half is absolutely mortified at the idea of ever seeing her again. You decide you’ll watch one episode of Wednesday, then hit the hay. You can decide how to approach the Jenna situation in the morning.
——
Four hours later, you’re still on your couch, valiantly fighting sleep for just one more episode. It’s 2AM, and you know you need to pack it in. She’s just so brilliant. Her version of Wednesday is quick-witted, hilarious, and naturally, insanely good looking. She’s so different from the person you ran into at the airport. She wears Jenna’s face, but that seems to be where the similarities end. Besides the straight faced sarcasm, that was a strong parallel.
Your grogginess fools you into a sense of confidence, and you finally pick up your phone. You’d already saved her number hours ago, afraid you’d lose the gum wrapper. You open a new message and type out “…” nothing. Nothing comes to mind. What do you even say to a movie star? You remember how she reacted to you calling her a big deal and decide you can’t tell her how great she is in the show. You stare at the phone, sigh, then lock it. Maybe sleep will help.
——
Your phone buzzing on your pillow wakes you up. You forgot to turn on do not disturb, and now you’re paying for it. You crack open an eye and look at the name on the screen. You note that it’s 6 AM and groan as you slide the answer button.
“Sid, are you aware of the hour?”
“Good morning, sunshine! Welcome back to glamorous LA!” Sid’s voice rings through the speaker, her high-pitched singing making you wince.
“Uuuuuugh,” is all you reply, letting her know how you feel about the call.
“So I know you just got back, and yes, I know you’re supposed to be on vacay after your Nat Geo thing, but….”
“Sid, if you ask me for a favor right now, I’ll kill you.”
“Listen! Before you say no, I may have accidentally overbooked myself, and I need a favor.”
You groan, rub your eyes with your knuckles, “You need to get a scheduling assistant dude.”
“I know, but this is big. I have a thing that got moved up, and now I can’t do this Dior shoot.”
You open your eyes, your interest piqued, “Dior?”
Sid laughs, “I knew you’d like that. Uhm, just one thing though, it’s in like two hours so-“
“Sidney, are you kidding me?!” You shoot up and leap out of bed, beginning your search for decent clothes.
“I mean, if you’re late, it’ll be on me, but I knew you wouldn’t be up yet. Can you take it for me?”
You pull on a pair of black slacks and grumble, “I swear you owe me so big, Sid, like we’re talkin' drinks on you for the next month.”
“Okay love you I’ll text you the address you’re the best byyyeeee!”
You sigh as she quickly hangs up the phone and resume your search for clothes. It had been a while since you’d photographed people since you’d moved on to nature photography. The models weren’t bad; you just found the shoots boring. Everything is staged and unnatural, beautiful people in beautiful clothes with beautiful lighting. The biggest challenge to it was dealing with managers and temperamental brand agents.
You brush your teeth and tame your hair as fast as you can, gathering your camera and equipment for the shoot and hustling out the door. You paste the address from Sid’s text into your maps and peel out of your parking lot. If you hurry, you’ll make it with a few minutes to spare.
You should have known LA traffic would play you like a fiddle. You park your car four minutes before the shoot time. You’re not sure why you care if you’re late, seeing as you’re not the one who booked the shoot. But still, somewhere deep down, you want them to like your work, and no one likes a late appointment. It's for this reason you practically sprint through the parking lot and into the studio, your equipment making it nearly impossible to see.
For the second time in two days, you’re barreling into someone, knocking them on their ass and sending you flying over their body. You hit the ground with a grunt, your precious camera safely tucked into your chest. You sit up groaning, ready to spew apologies when you see who exactly you’ve run into. You think it has to be some sort of cruel joke or karmic intervention for sins from a past life.
Jenna sits up, rubbing her head, her oversized black hoodie draped across her frame. When you meet eyes, you both freeze, baffled. You gawk at her. You know you’re doing it, but you can't stop. She stares at you, her eyes narrowed in confusion.
“Is this how we’re always going to greet each other, do you think?” She asks, a smile pulling at her lips.
You grimace, “I can’t believe my luck. What’re you doing here?”
“Uhm,” she sighs, shrugs, “Working?”
You push yourself to your feet and offer to help her up, but she’s already gathering your things and piling them neatly in her arms.
“Thank you,” you tell her with a smile, “I’m working too, a favor for a friend.”
She frowns up at you, handing over your equipment, “I thought you were a nature photographer?”
“Oh, I am. Like I said, I’m doing my friend a favor. She’s an idiot and overbooked herself, so now I have to deal with models and Dior.”
Her eyebrows shoot up, her eyes bright, “Hi, it's me. I’m the model you have to deal with.”
You choke on your spit, coughing and spluttering, “You’re kidding, right? That's a joke?”
She jerks her head back, “Is the idea that horrifying?”
You're kicking yourself internally for sounding like an asshole, “No! Not at all. It’s just…I…well, to be perfectly honest, you make me a little nervous.”
A laugh escapes her throat, and she looks down at her feet, “You managed well enough yesterday.”
“Uh, yeah. I saw your billboard on the way in from the airport. You undersold yourself a bit.”
Her shoulders sag, and it makes you regret admitting it. You scramble to fix the situation.
“But! But I can pretend I never saw it. If that’s what you want. We can just act like this is some weird meet-cute again.”
She lifts her head, smirks at you, “You thought yesterday was a meet-cute?”
You blush, your eyes wide, “Oh. I…uh, yes?”
She nods, and you can see her mull over the idea. She seems to accept it because the next thing you know, you’re following her deeper inside the studio. You spot the door Sid told you to go to and follow Jenna inside. She disappears behind a mass of stylists and a curtain of clothes with a handful of other celebrity models. You work with the brand managers and review Sid’s vision for the shoot, making your own tweaks here and there. As a whole, it goes shockingly well. Like, well enough for you to reconsider your self-imposed exile in nature photography.
When the shoot ends, and you’re packing up to leave, you’re reminded why you left fashion in the first place. A throng of people wait outside the studio doors, flash cameras held high, yelling and jostling each other. They’re choking at the bit to get the best shot of Jenna and the others when they walk out the doors, like vultures waiting for their pound of flesh. It makes you sick. You stand behind the tinted glass doors, watching the mob with clear distaste.
A voice at your side surprises you, making you jump, “Day in the life,” Jenna sighs, eyeing the crowd.
You hum in agreement, looking back out the window. “You deal with this all the time?”
“Every day,” she grumbles, her eyes tired.
You decide to change the subject, turning away from the doors to look down at her.
“You were great today. You’re a natural.”
Her eyes leave the crowd and turn up to you, “I’m glad you think so, but it’s not natural. I’ve had my fair share of lessons.”
You shrug and start to walk toward the back of the building with her at your side, “Well, it seemed natural. So that’s a good thing. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that, though, because, well, you’re here.”
She snorts, “I guess I can’t pretend being in a Dior promotion isn’t a big deal, can I?”
You give her an exasperated glance, “No. You cannot.”
When you round the corner, a man in a black suit is waiting at the back door. He opens his hand toward Jenna and dips his head, ushering her toward the exit.
“Well, this is my ride. I meant what I said yesterday, though. Text me. I’d really like to hang out, you know, when I’m not working.”
You gulp, nervous at the thought, “O-okay, yeah.”
As soon as she’s out the door, you pull your phone out, frantic to tell someone, anyone, about this. For some reason, your first thought is Dani. You get one text through to her, and she calls you immediately.
“Hey! I’m driving, can’t text. Tell me everything. Did you text her? Did you watch the show? Are you in love yet?!” Her voice comes through with road noise in the background.
You laugh, holding the phone to your ear with your shoulder as you push open the door.
“So, actually, I just photographed her at a Dior shoot. I-”
“YOU WHAT?! God, how are you the luckiest person on the planet? Tell me everything.”
And so you do. On your drive home, you tell her about not knowing what to say over text, how you accidentally bowled Jenna over again, how the shoot went, the conversation about the paparazzi, and how Jenna insisted you text her.
“So?” Dani says, and you hear a horn screeching in the background.
“So what? And are you okay? It sounds like you’ve pissed every driver in LA off.”
“Oh, don’t mind them. I’ve got a great Uber rating they can fuck right off. Did you text her? She doesn’t even have your number yet dude!”
“Oh…shit you’re right!” You yelp, not realizing that, obviously, this interaction was one sided because Jenna couldn’t reach out to you even if she wanted to.
“Okay, I know this friendship is new, but I feel like we’re close enough now for me to tell you. That's your in, idiot! You know what, I’m hanging up right now. Text her. Then tell me everything.”
The phone line dies just as you’re parking. You stare at the phone, absorbing the onslaught of information you’ve just been assaulted with. Dani may have been slightly crazy, but she was right. This was your in. You open the phone, pull up Jenna’s contact and type out a new message.
Hey! Its y/n. I just realized I have your number and never gave you mine.
Anyway, I want to take you up on your offer
I’m off for the next few weeks, so just let me know when you’re free
You stare at the phone, watch as the text bubbles turn blue and the delivered mark appears under them. You bite your lip, anxious about a reply. After a moment, you realize she’s probably an incredibly busy person and would absolutely not text you back immediately.
Jenna
Hows tomorrow sound?
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When You’re Hurt
Ot7x Reader- BTS Reactions Pt.2
Jimin, Jin, V, RM
Summary: How each member reacts when you have been harmed or injured.
Warnings 🚨: Mentions of harm, mental health, accidents, and assault
Jimin
I hadn’t been in the best mood recently. I was extremely depressed and couldn’t get out of my funk. I sat around the house most days and did absolutely nothing; however, it was getting noticeable worse.
I was home alone when the depressive episode hit me like a truck. I got up off the couch and decided to go into the kitchen. I grabbed some cucumbers, mushrooms and cabbage and started chopping way. Cooking was the only thing that could cheer me up since it was what I was good at, but that wasn’t even working today.
Suddenly, I was back in my daze- spaced out from everything around me. My body jolted forward as a sharp pain rushed from my hand. I sliced my palm straight through the meat. Blood was gushing out so quickly that I didn’t have time to think.
I don’t like the sight of blood and typically get queasy just looking at it. I started to feel light headed. I grabbed the edge of the counter top, then everything went black.
I woke up in my bedroom with my hand wrapped tightly in a white bandage. Some blood was seeping out, but nothing compared to what happened earlier. I got out of the bed and walked into the living room. I could hear a scrub brush sawing at the floor in the kitchen. I slowly walked in the kitchen to see Jimin on his hands and knees cleaning up the spilled food and blood. He looked up at me surprised. He got up propping himself up with his knee.
“Y/N you should be resting not out here.” He grabbed my waist and kissed my cheek. I could feel his hand start rubbing up and down my back.
“Jimin what happened?”
“I honestly don’t know. Once I got home I saw you on the ground.” He paused for a moment to clear his throat. Jimin’s eyes were swelling up with tears. “I was so scared. Seeing you helpless on the floor. You’d been so down recently and I thought.” He trailed off. My heart sank into my chest.
I turned to face him, stroking his cheek with my free hand. “I would never leave you that way.” He held me in a tight embrace. He pulled away and I used my thumb to move the tears off his cheek.
“Y/N I need you to get better so I don’t lose you. This can’t happen again. I can’t lose you.” I shook my head in agreement. He kissed me one more time, as he walked away he cleared his throat to get his composure back. He got back to cleaning the floor.
“I love you.” Jimin looked up at me and smiled.
“Get your rest. I’ll be in there to take care of you once I get done.” I nodded my head yes and walked back to the bedroom.
Jin
I was on my way home when all of a sudden I felt someone following me. That feeling when you know you aren’t alone. I turned the corner and was met by a dead end. The figure stopped the moment I stopped waiting for me. I turned around and booked it. I moved my feet as fast as I could past him, but he grabbed my waist and stared to laugh. He ripped my shirt and cover my mouth with their hand. I tried to scream but was shoved to the ground. I slammed my knee against the concrete, but I refused to go without a fight.
He bent down and I kicked him in the jaw. I immediately took off running. I let my body guide me to where I was trying to go.
I opened the door to my apartment. Once I hurriedly locked the door I broke down crying. Jin must have heard me because I heard his footsteps rush over to me. He tried to calm me and grabbed my arm to help me get back on my feet. I could tell he noticed my torn shirt and bloody knee. Jin sat me on the couch. All I could do was cry hysterically.
Jin didn’t ask any questions. He moved me into the bathroom and helped me get out of my torn clothes. He fixed up my knee and got me a fresh pair of sweats. I began to calm down some after several hours. My body had been in shock. I honestly was lost for words. I don’t know how or when, but we were back in the living and Jin was standing in front of me near the tv.
“What happened Y/N?” I couldn’t help but to start to get chocked up.
“I was coming home and someone grabbed me and he umm… he tried to… you know.” I began to sob again. Jin rushed to my side and held me. He didn’t say a word, he only held me. We sat in silence for what felt like hours until he spoke.
“I won’t ever let anyone hurt you. I promise” Jin said quietly. I looked at him and shook my head to signal that I understood. “Anything you need, I’ll be here for you.” I faintly smiled. His presence was more than enough. For the rest of the night he sat with me and made sure I ate. Whatever I needed he was there.
V
I was at the coffee shop when all of a sudden some man came up behind me ripping my purse from off my shoulder, nearly dragging me with it. I ended up catching my fall only to hear a snap come from my wrist. I grabbed it in pain. Not only was my wrist broken but my purse was stolen.
I sat in the hospital as the doctors gave me the news I had already predicted earlier. My wrist was broken in two places. I sat on the hospital bed waiting for them to wrap my arm for the cast.
Taehyung walked into my room stunned. He hugged me so tightly that i couldn’t breathe. I winced out in pain and I pointed down at my wrist to show him he was holding me too tightly.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. What happened?” I took a deep sigh.
“Robbery gone.” His eyes widen.
“Robbery? Are you okay? Did anything else happen?” Taehyung began speaking a mile a minute. I grabbed his shoulder to get him to stop.
“Tae, I’m safe and I’m okay.” He sat on the hospital bed and waited with me. The doctors came in and wrapped my arm in a cast. Taehyung kept kissing my cheek and reassuring me the entire time. I was one to express his affection and it felt nice. Once we were done he took great care of me for the rest of the day. He made sure all the credit cards were canceled and that I didn’t get my cast wet.
We laid in bed cuddled up watching a movie. All things considered, I had a great day that was spent with Tae. He was amazing through it all and I almost forgot the events that happened this morning. Tae paused the movie abruptly and I looked up at him.
“I hate that that happened to you today and I couldn’t do anything. I’m supposed to be there and I wasn’t. I guess I am having a hard time dealing with that part.” I sat up.
“It’s not your fault Tae. I didn’t know it was going to happen. I’m okay though. A broken arm hurts but I’m okay.” I stroked his face and gave him a kiss. I noticed a tear swim down his cheek. He smiled at me and pulled me in closer. There wasn’t much he could do and we both knew that. He made me feel safe which was the most important thing to me.
RM
I had been getting threats online. It was nothing new, but it was messing with my mental health. Every hateful thing I was starting to believe about myself. I was becoming consumed with it all. I would get online and another comment about how horrible I looked or how RM could do better. Our relationship was not that public but even a rumor could get you hate.
Namjoon came home late as I starred in the distance waiting for him in the living room. Tears kept flowing down my cheeks, but I kept my eyes on the painting that consumed the wall. Namjoon walked over and kneeled down in front of me. I looked down at him and then back at the painting.
“It’s too much Joon.” He looked at me confused. I could see his heart nearly beating out of his chest. He saw that my phone was open and the long threat that knew every detail about me. The message expressed all the harm they wished upon me. Not all were mean, but this felt different. It broke me.
“I can’t Joon. I wanna give up.” I always struggled with certain thoughts and this kind of attention was making it worse. Joon picked me up and sat me on his lap. I cried into his shoulder. I could feel his heavy breathing as I listened to the pounding of his heart.
“Y/N it’s okay.” I felt extremely vulnerable to the point that it was embarrassing. Joon pulled me away. “I don’t want you reading these anymore. Okay? You are a great woman and I don’t need you believing this stuff.” He grabbed my phone and turned off the comment options.
“Joon, I’m sorry.” He held me tightly again. We sat there for about thirty minutes. I got off his lap and walked into the bedroom. He followed behind making sure I wasn’t alone for a second. That’s when he noticed the printed out messages. He read through them and shook his head in disbelief.
“I never knew it was this bad Y/N. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I was ashamed. It’s been so much and I didn’t want to hurt you.” I sat down on the bed.
“I can handle this. I’m worried about you. I need you to be okay Y/N. I can take stuff like this, but you should have to.” Joon wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed the back of my neck. “This won’t happen anymore.”
#bts fanfic#bts imagines#bts reactions#bts reader#bts x reader#bts#bts v#kim taehyung#bts rm#bts jimin#bts jin#namjoon x reader#kim namjoon#park jimin#jimin imagine#taehyung x reader#kim soekjin#jin imagine#jin x reader#jimin x reader
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(part one here) (part three here)
(CW: character experiences a severe derealization episode)
“D’you want me to order pizza?” Oli asks, somewhat redundantly, because Martyn is twenty-two (according to the police report) and a gamer, of course he’s not gonna turn down free pizza.
“Oh, god, yeah,” says Martyn. And, a second later - “Please.”
He fires up the Domino’s website obediently, pulls up the deals and picks one that’ll leave him some leftovers for when Martyn’s long gone tomorrow. Meateor for himself, as usual, and then he spins the laptop round on his knees to present Martyn with the options. “What are you having?”
Martyn stares at the screen, unblinking, for a few too many seconds.
“... Something wrong?”
He clears his throat. “Yeah, no, just. Um. Been a while.”
“D’you just want a margherita, then? Keep it easy?”
“No, I don’t - I was -” he grimaces, shakes his head roughly, and thumbs at the fabric of his shirt where the tea stain sits “- trying to remember what I liked.”
“Vegetarian?”
“No,” Martyn responds immediately.
“Olives? Mushrooms?”
“I’m not picky -”
“Pineapple on pizza?”
Martyn snorts. “Okay, yeah, I don’t much like pineapple on anything, I’ll give you that.”
“But as a concept.”
“No problem with it.”
“Then, Marty, my friend, you’ve lost the plot.”
He sits another moment, deliberating. Then - “Sweetcorn.”
“Yeah?”
“I like sweetcorn on pizza.”
“Alright,” says Oli, and spins the laptop round again to check the options. “Vegi Supreme or Chicken Feast?”
“I’ll take the chicken,” Martyn says, resolute.
Oli sends the order through, with potato wedges on the side, because it’s his money and he’s gonna pick the extra items for the deal. Then, once the little order tracker with the fake AI has popped up and started telling him stupid jokes to amuse him for the next 25 minutes or so, he turns back to look at Martyn. “Can I ask something?”
He raises his eyebrows. “Ask what?”
“And you don’t need to tell me if it’s, like, personal or whatever, just… what were you eating? If you haven’t seen pizza in however long?”
Martyn makes a face. “Whatever, honestly. It wasn’t a big worry for me - I mean, not like I could - yeah, it was just whatever. Not dead yet, so I’m clearly not malnourished.”
Oli cocks his head. “Whatever like whatever you were given, or whatever like you were scavenging?”
“Like - uh - like - I mean, I wouldn’t say scavenging, that’s - like whatever I could find? I know I’m not explaining this very clearly, it’s -”
“No, no, I said you didn’t need to tell me! Don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.” (It’s not like Oli doesn’t want to know, but he doesn’t need to know if it’s going to make Martyn uncomfortable to explain it.)
“Anyway. It wasn’t bad, it was just… y’know how Covid makes it so you can’t taste anything? Little bit like that.”
“Original Covid did. I don’t know about all the new variants.”
“Ah, yeah, heard about those! Did they ever run out of Greek letters?”
“Don’t think so, thank goodness.”
“Yeah,” Martyn nods.
Beside Oli, the little Domino’s robot lets him know that their pizzas are now going in the oven.
It feels odd, to be sitting here on the sofa, taking an extended lunch break with somebody who he’s only known from Minecraft servers and scratchy in-game prox chat. It feels odd to know that he’s doing hospitality for a man six or seven years younger than him, a friend who’s never answered out-of-character about himself before today. It feels odd to know that he’s actually looking at the real Martyn - not some rat, not some pirate, just… some guy.
Oli swallows and steels himself for what he’s about to say. “Erm - again. Don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. But… besides this whole Doc thing, what was your life like? Your normal life?”
Martyn’s expression flips into something unreadable for a second, then mellows again into neutrality. “Yeah, uh - nothing special, really. Born and raised in Nottingham, did alright at school, got the grades for uni but I ended up deferring. I was trying to get a job in my gap year but I didn’t really wanna end up behind the counter at GAME or McDonald’s or anything, and nowhere else ever got back to my applications, so… spent a lot of time at home, playing video games. No girlfriend, no mates who really stuck after college; not much worth writing home about. I wasn’t much of anything, really, not then.”
Oli is, he decides, going to ignore the implications of that comment. “Family?”
“Mum, dad, sister who’s been moved out for a few years. Dog. Oh, I hope he’s still alive, that’d suck if I never see my dog again.”
“Fingers crossed,” says Oli.
“What about you? What’s the home life of OrionSound like, when he’s not at the computer?”
“Oh, Marty, my entire life is at the computer,” he quips. “I work in software development. I actually did my degree in psychology, but you’d be surprised, there’s not a lot of room in the market unless you’ve done a load of other certifications as well. I guess I could have got a therapy licence, but as it turned out, I’d spent enough time in first year making terrible visual novels that by the time I got into the workforce I technically knew how to code. AI snapping at our heels now, of course, but it’s probably gonna eat itself by Christmas, so I’m not too worried about that.”
“I dunno,” says Martyn, “I’ve seen some pretty advanced AI.”
“So, yeah. I spent a few years freelancing, contracting for one place or another - I’m quick, which people seem to like, although that’s mostly so I can get back to gaming as soon as possible. And then… like two and a bit years ago? Yeah, would’ve been two years this past July… then I got a really nice position at CHESTCorp, it’s mostly remote work, I drive down to London every few months so they can “review my performance in a controlled environment”, whatever that means, and they pay well enough that I can afford this place on my own, which is -”
Oli stops talking when he notices Martyn’s face has gone white as a sheet.
“What’s wrong?”
“I knew it,” Martyn murmurs.
“What?”
“I knew it,” he says again, stronger, “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you, I knew you - I thought - he told me this would happen, I’ve seen it happen, I should’ve just learned from my mistakes the fucking first time, but clearly I’m stupid.”
“Marty, what are you -”
“Didn’t wanna believe this shit could follow me out here, but evidently it - oh. Oh, no, no, you fucking - it’s not over, is it? I’m still - that’s why nobody picked up the phone, it wasn’t real, you couldn’t synthesise my mother’s voice, I’d know! You’re CHEST, of course you’re CHEST, the one person I thought - I mean, I hoped - you’re fucking cruel, is what this is, it’s cruel, and you’re not fooling me twice. Don’t know how you got the food this realistic, but -”
“Martyn,” Oli tries to interrupt, “are you okay?”
“Shut the fuck up,” Martyn says through gritted teeth. “You’ve given the game away now, CHEST agent. Should’ve known it wasn’t real. Should’ve known I couldn’t get out that easy. Or you caught up before I got out, one of you fuckers, planted something, or - I don’t know, made me think I was finally out of this stupid place. Made me think it was fine so I’d start giving up secrets. Well, you’re not getting another word out of me, you fucking idiot. Some interrogation room you’ve got here, huh? This your best simulation? Get a better model for your TV, I’ll tell you that for free, the reflection’s too smooth.”
Well. Er. “Martyn,” he tries again, “I think you might be having a flashback?”
“Nothing back about it, you bastard. Giving me false hope like that. Thank god I don’t actually know Doc’s name, or you’d have been able to track him too, wouldn’t you? Fuck you. Don’t ever bring my family into this again, any of you.”
“Okay,” Oli says slowly, rifling through his psychology knowledge for grounding techniques, “you think this isn’t real, right now?”
“I know it isn’t real,” Martyn spits, “and it’s getting worse the more I’m poking at it. See, look -” he stomps a foot at the floor “- you’re losing resolution trying to keep it running.”
The carpet, which has not changed and is certainly not lower resolution than it was when they got here, endures being scuffed at. Oli doesn’t want to actually lay a hand on Martyn right now, though; he’s got a bad feeling that’ll end in something much worse than being kicked. Instead he dips into the kitchen across the room, pops an ice cube out of the tray faster than he’s ever needed to, and brings it back over to the sofa. “Here,” he says, chucking it at Martyn’s lap, “that real enough for you?”
Martyn catches the projectile reflexively. He stills, silent, both hands cupped around the ice cube, staying in the air.
Then, gradually, his eyes unfocused… his arms lower.
He opens them and stares down at the piece of ice in his palm, and, slowly and almost imperceptibly, begins to rock forward.
The Domino’s tracker chimes again. Their food has finished cooking, and it’s being delivered by Amal. Oli almost wants to laugh at the absurdity of it.
Whatever Martyn’s running from, it must go a lot deeper than he thought.
(part five here)
#reverse isekai au#itlwlore#martyn itlw#oli theorionsound#pirates smp#scurvyblr#vtuber martyn#ilexworks#cw derealization
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Little Parasite
Leon S. Kennedy x AFAB!reader (I tried to make pronouns gender neutral but I might have missed a few)
Warnings: Pregnancy, unplanned pregnancy, Leon needs a hug, mentions of plaga infection, mentions of sex, swearing, hating on the government, takes place after RE4 remake.
Pregnant.
Pregnant.
Oh fuck you were pregnant.
You stared at the positive stick in your hands.
Positive. Positive.
This was impossible. You were on birth control! You and Leon were always safe when-
Spain.
When you were kidnapped, you hadn’t been able to take your pill. You went several days without taking it. That wouldn’t have been much of a problem if the parasites you had been infected with didn’t cause multiple episodes of an intense need to breed.
How many times had you and Leon fucked during your rescue? How many times did he cum inside of you during the plaga induced delirium?
Not to mention when you joined the mile high club on the plane ride back to the states.
If the fetus inside of you was conceived when you both were infected…
What was inside of you?
You put a hand to your stomach. It's been 3 months since you got back.3 months of nightmares, white house funded therapy and multiple visits to a government science lab. When you missed your period you didn’t think much of it. You went through a lot of stress. Plus, the moment you got back you resumed your birth control pills on schedule.
No. You were panicking for no reason. Pregnancy tests come back with false positives all the time.
Deep breath. It was probably a false positive.
Still, you ended up making a phone call to your OBGYN. The receptionist sounded somewhat concerned, your last appointment was only 6 months ago. You couldn’t come up with a proper answer as to why you desperately needed the doctor as soon as possible.
Once the call was over you put the phone down and breathed.
Leon was asleep in your shared bedroom. He had come back from a mission last night, and needed the rest.
You didn’t need to tell him, right? After all this was nothing. There wasn’t any need to wake him up and scare or worry him. After all, you haven’t had any morning sickness. No other symptoms were showing up.
It was nothing! Just a false positive.
Two days later, you were on your back with ultrasound gel on your stomach. Your eyes were trained on the screen.
That was not a false positive.
“Judging by the size, I'd say you're about 11 weeks.” your OBGYN confirmed, pointing on the screen, “Here's the head…”
The baby was conceived in Spain.
Her words were fading off into nothing. Your wide eyes were on the black and white screen. That little blob was an embryo. That would grow into a fetus. From there, a baby.
Baby.
Baby.
“Oh my god.” You breathed, mind unable to cope, “Oh my god…”
How did this not come up on any of those tests the lab ran!?
A sudden thought came into your head. With horror, you realized that the lab most likely knew and deliberately didn’t tell you.
You were under no delusion you could trust the government. Your dad was the fucking president. You knew how cut throat and ruthless everything involved with the country's leadership was. After your kidnap, you were finally informed of the science that was being hidden from the public to avoid a panic.
Most likely you were being watched by undercover agents. You’ve been at this OBGYN for years, and you never saw that receptionist with the red hair. Chances are, both your father and the science lab knew about this appointment the moment you made it.
Your panicked eyes went to your doctor. What would she tell them? Would HIPAA come into play here? How good was the hippocratic oath when the national leader demanded answers?
Who could you trust?
“Is it-...” Your throat felt tight.
Was it normal? Any signs of developmental problems? Did it have a tail and claws? Was it actually a parasite?
“So far at 11 weeks I am seeing normal development.” She talked as if reading your mind, “It’s still too early to know the sex, but I’m seeing normal limbs and head growth. No signs of down syndrome or other chromosomal issues.”
“Blood test?” Your words sounded small, “I mean…Can I get a blood test to confirm? Just to check for anything?” Did a blood test for ancient Spanish parasites even exist? You scrambled for a reason, “Um…I had traveled to rural Spain 11 weeks ago…I drank some of the water there.”
It was a vague but good enough reason for your doctor.
You got your blood taken, the ultrasound photo was printed and you were sent on your way. Your eyes met the new receptionist when you made another appointment for next week.
Agent.
Your father knew.
If your dad knew that you were pregnant, then the government lab did as well.
As you drove, your head was filled with dangerous thoughts. What would they do to the fetus? What would they do to you ? Would they force you to terminate and use the cells for experiments? Would they make you carry to term and take the baby from you?
Unconsciously, one of your hands rested on your stomach. Right now, your brain went into overdrive. You’d fight tooth and nail to keep this life safe inside of you.
Maternal instinct.
Honestly, you thought it was a myth. It probably was, but then you couldn’t explain the sudden need to protect this baby in your belly.
…Baby
There was a baby growing inside of you. A life created between you and the man you loved. A child that you and Leon made together. An act of love and intimacy had formed a whole new existence.
You swallowed thickly.
This…this was hardly the time to have a kid. You had your job and career. Plus, Leon was gone on missions a lot. Dangerous missions that could end up with him dead. Your child might grow up without a father…nothing but a folded flag and a photo to tell them that their dad perished protecting the country.
“Stop it.” you forced yourself to speak, “Just stop it.” Your mind was spiraling. Forcing you to tackle some things you didn’t want to accept yet. No, you had to focus. You were driving, and frankly, panicking behind the wheel of a moving vehicle is a great way to get yourself killed.
You noticed a black car had been tailing you for the last several miles. Secret service. One of your dads agents.
Or kidnappers .
Honestly, with your life now, any of those three were options.
Well, at least you had a concealed carry this time.
You pulled into your driveway, hand resting on the pistol hidden at your hip as you opened the door to step out. The car drove past, most likely going to turn around and set up surveillance somewhere nearby.
Jesus, can’t you have a normal life?
You unlocked the door to your condo, stepping in to see Leon pacing. He was agitated, running his hands through his blonde hair. He perked up, looking at you as soon as you closed and locked the door.
“Leon?” You put your keys down, approaching him, “Is everything-?”
“Where…were you?” He swallowed. You could see his hands shaking ever so slightly.
“I..went to see my OB.” you answered him, holding his face in your hands, “What's going on?”
“The lab…they called…” your fiance put his hands over yours, “You need to go in for further testing. I don’t know why, they said they found something.”
Oh fuck you government!
You sighed, “Great…” You pulled away, “There's something I need to show you.” Your steps went to your bag that you put down by the door.
“Is everything ok?” He asked, following you.
“I..I think so.” You spoke truthfully, pulling out the ultrasound photos. Your own anxiety was spiking now. You knew Leon wanted a family of his own. You two have talked about it. But were you ready to be parents?
You held up the photos.
Leon’s eyes widened. He raised his hands slowly, as if afraid of breaking or ripping them. He rubbed his thumb over the surface. You watched his gaze roam over the pictures, as if committing every detail to memory.
Your fiance stepped back and leaned against the wall. His eyes remained on the photos, not looking up at anything else around him.
The result of your love. Half of you and half of him had created that little blob inside of you. That blob would grow into a baby. A child.
“Really?” The agent sounded quiet, voice almost a whisper.
You nodded, “Yea…really…And i know it's-”
He cut you off by immediately wrapping his strong arms around you. You could feel the tears when he buried his face into your shoulder.
“I love you,” Leon breathed, pulled back to pepper your face with kisses, “Oh my god, I love you. I love you.” One hand cupped your cheek, and the other was on your stomach with an open palm.
You giggled, “Happy?”
“Happy? Happy doesn’t even cover it.” His voice was light and joyful. His fingers brushed over your middle, “I'm ecstatic. Excited. I…God, I love you.” Your fiance knelt burying his face into your stomach to start placing pecks all over and whisper loving words. You weren’t even showing yet and he was already beginning to coo and mumble baby talk.
You couldn’t help but laugh.
#reader insert#leon kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy#resident evil x reader#leon s kennedy x reader#leon kennedy#re 4 leon#tw: pregnancy#tw: unplanned pregnancy#my writing
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Chopra Household: Chapter 6, Part 12
The twins celebrate TV premiere day and Viola ages up to a toddler!
If Viola is attempting to say something it will be in brackets, otherwise you can assume it's just trying out sounds
Mercedes has a speech delay and may get words wrong, correct wording will be in brackets if that is the case
Savannah aka Honeybee
Mercedes aka Little Ladybug
Viola aka Green Bean
Lavina: You want... another one? I should think three are enough of a handful already
Rahul: Mum, Cassandra and I want a big family
Lavina: Well I think it’s a terrible idea. The ones you have are already disrespectful
Rahul: Think what you like, we’re trying
Lavina: I suppose you could get lucky and the fourth one will be good mannered
Rahul: Mum you have GOT to stop talking the kids down, they need to be lifted up
Lavina: All this coddling nonsense-
Rahul: I try to be strict mum, I tell them off when they mess up, but there’s only so much they can understand at their age. If you expect me to send them to bed without supper you will be disappointed
Cassandra: Where’s mama? Where’s mama?
Viola: ga du da (I not know)
Cassandra: Here I am Viola
Viola: gree de na na (that’s impossible) *wails*
Cassandra: Oh, it’s okay. Its okay. Mama is here, mama is fine, you are safe green bean
Rahul: Who’s crying? Viola what’s wrong
Viola: *cries* he na di (I not understand)
Cassandra: Turns out she doesn’t like peek-a-boo
Rahul: Don’t tell me I did all that practice on Milton for nothing. Here green bean, watch papa. Watch papa, I’ll do it slowly
Cassandra: Good idea. She’s looking
Rahul: Papa hides. Where did papa go? Oh! Papa is right here with Viola and Mama
Viola: *giggles* gu fa fa (okay that not so scary now)
Cassandra works on her guitar playing before her shift while Rahul takes the calm moment to spend time with Viola.
Rahul: Would you like a younger sibling? I bet you would. You would have an ally against your big sisters wouldn’t you?
Mercedes: TV new (premiere) day here we GOOOOO
Lavina: What
Savannah: It’s a new episode of The Pride Family nana
Lavina: And what’s that
Savannah: Just the best cartoon show. The family’s last name is Lion so they call it the Pride family because a group of lions is a pride
Lavina: Oh how clever you are, here, have a candy
Mercedes: Where’s my candy nana
Lavina: Tell me something clever and you’ll get one
Savannah: Come on nana, Mercedes is super clever
Lavina: As soon as you get in the habit of saying please when you ask, more candy will appear
Rahul: Has it started yet
Mercedes: Almost, 4 and a half minutes to go
Lavina: Don’t tell me you still watch cartoons son
Savannah: Papa is the best at cartoon watching, he always watches with us
Mercedes: Unless Viola is crying
The premiere goes well and at the end Rahul helps the girls with their homework.
Mercedes: Papa I lost my first tooth today
Rahul: Did you little ladybug
Savannah: Yeah in class. We kept it safe now we can both put our teeth under our pillows together
Lavina: But Savannah you lost your tooth several days ago
Mercedes: She was waiting for me nana so we can see the tooth fairy together
Rahul: So if we tick off today, I think you’ve both earned your first scout badge
Mercedes: Yes! Which one
Rahul: Manual says scholarly aptitude
The twins stare blankly at Rahul and then pull confused faces at each other.
Rahul: It means you’ve been doing your homework
The twins understand this and happily celebrate, exchanging best friend bracelets! Rahul goes and wakes a napping Viola for some playtime.
Lavina: Rahul, she needs feeding
Rahul: We’re just playing right now because she’s bored
Lavina: Don’t let the poor thing starve. Feed her
Rahul sighs but scoops Viola off the playmat for a feeding anyway. It is a bit late for her dinner but she hasn’t seemed hungry.
Cassandra: Why are we awake? I think it’s past bedtime
Mercedes: MAMA!
Savannah: We missed you mama
Mercedes: We wanted to see you before bed
Cassandra: My work shift is a bit tricky isn’t it. Okay, come here. Big hugs then teeth and bed
Mercedes: Mama my tooth came out so-
Savannah: We’re going to see the tooth fairy tonight
Cassandra: Only if you actually go to sleep honeybee
Following hugs, kisses and I love you’s, the twins get to bed and tuck their teeth under their pillows.
Cassandra is woken early by two excited children jumping on the bed talking over each other about fairies and simoleons. Eventually she and Rahul manage to shepherd them towards breakfast.
Savannah: They’re quick, but I know I saw a sparkle as they flew
Cassandra: Fairies do sparkle
Mercedes: We need to think, next time we’ll have to see them
Savannah: Hmm. Maybe we-
Lavina: Girls! It’s an hour until school time, why haven’t you started breakfast? And Savannah you’re not even dressed!
Cassandra and Rahul get started on their chores for the day while Lavina watches over the girls who are far to interested in fairies to eat quickly.
Cassandra: *softly* Viola, green bean, time to wake up
Viola: *yawns*
Cassandra: It’s age up day. Mama will help you with your cake
Viola: pa uh Mama?
Cassandra: *gasps* Rahul! RAHUL! She said her first word
Rahul rushes in from lighting candles worrying he missed it. Cassandra scoops Viola out of the crib and turns her towards Rahul.
Cassandra: Can you say mama again for papa? Hmm? Mama for papa
Viola: Mama *yawns and stretches* lo papa
Rahul: Well done green bean! I knew you could do it *tickles tummy*
Cassandra: Please tell me you didn’t just leave fire unsupervised
Rahul blinks and runs back out of the room. Cassandra laughs as Viola nestles into her shoulder. Cassandra carries her to the kitchen and shows her the cake. Viola is very confused by it.
Cassandra: We blow the candles and the flames will go. Bye bye flames
Viola: Mama fla guu (mama flames go?)
Cassandra: Here we can do it together
Cassandra blows a few raspberries on Viola's tummy until the infant is copying the blowing action. Cassandra turns her towards the cake and spit bubbles go everywhere! But with her help the candles go out and Viola giggles in delight.
Viola is a toddler now, and a wild one! I can’t wait to find out her quirks.
Cassandra: Rahul I think we ought to see if she can potty before we head out
Rahul: Yes, that's sounds sensible
Cassandra: Would you help me with potty time
Rahul: Of course my darling. *switches to address Viola* Does someone need to go potty?
Viola: Ga ra papa (I don't know papa)
Cassandra: Sit down green bean
The couple try their best to explain things to Viola but the two and a half year old isn’t following and has an accident.
Rahul: Oh well, can’t be perfect on the first try. Do you want to go on a trip Viola? Hmm?
Cassandra: Let's go to the rec centre, just until the girls will be due home
Rahul: Sounds good. Okay green bean, time to go explore!
Previous ... Next
#sims 4#the sims#the sims 4#simblr#my sims#ChangingPlumbobStorytime#R0902#RahulChopra#CassandraChopra#ViolaChopra#MercedesChopra#SavannahChopra
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now that In Blossom is over...
i'm going to briefly compare ju jingyi's version of yang caiwei versus zheng hehuizi's version (the first actress) to answer the question of 'is ju jingyi's verson in character according to what we know of yang caiwei in the first two episodes and in childhood flashbacks?'
why? because a lot of people have a reluctance to start this drama due to ju jingyi. i get it, she's not everyone's cup of tea. also, she has a harder task in this drama as the actress that plays the second version of female lead, and many think that she didn't step it up.
but i wanted to throw my thoughts out there in case anyone was willing to give her/the drama a chance. does ju jingyi's version feel in character, and thus, tolerable?
yeah, mostly.
zheng hehuizi's version is just, mature, and sensible. but we know from flashbacks that she wasn't just serious all the time; with her friends, she was cheerful and bright. even at the little kids who bullied her in episode 1, she played a prank on them--showcasing a silly sense of humor and ability to shrug off judgements after years of discrimination. the main reason why she was serious in the first two eps was because she was trying to push pan yue away. (and also she was worried about her sick master.)
ju jingyi's version also was pretty much the same. she was just, smart, and wary of pan yue (rightly so). the reason why she acted extra super cheerful was because she was trying to show to pan yue that she, shangguan zhi, had changed. by doing this, she was hoping to draw his eyes away from her so she could investigate. that's why i accepted the fact that ju jingyi's version could be almost too much with the quirky acts; it was initially for a good reason. once she believed in pan yue, her character wasn't so quirky anymore, because she didn't need to be over-the-top about everything. once the quirkyness disappeared, she felt more attuned to the first version we saw.
so, in terms of whether it's in character and coherent, i would say yeah, it feels enough. it's not perfect, but it's just enough to get through (though the last parts of the drama didn't give much to her character...i say more on this near the end.)
the reality is we really didn't get to see much of zheng hehuizi's version so we really don't have that much as a frame of reference. in fact, we barely get flashbacks to when yang caiwei struggled after her parents died, and her learning coroner skills from her master. because of this, i'm forced by the story to just accept that ju jingyi's version is accurate/correct.
which isn't all bad. ju jingyi's version have several shining moments. (one of my fav scenes of her is when she's drunk and confesses she's not "shangguan zhi" but pan yue doesn't believe her, so she stares at pan yue achingly with these wide regretful sad eyes. we know her conflict, we know why she can't tell him the truth yet! it's heartbreaking.)
but what i've noticed, especially toward the end of the drama, is that ju jingyi's version actually doesn't get that much time to show her character's interiority. we don't get to see her, just by herself, thinking and feeling. the most obvious example of this is when she's in jail! and has been tortured!! and we see NOTHING except she's leaning against the wall and ignoring the food and jail guards. no thoughts, no words about her situation or reminiscing about her family or her master or concerns about her friends or pan yue??? she might die, does she not feel regretful that she hasn't brought justice to her family???? she just silently endures. that might be a testament to her strength of character, but as a viewer, i'm scratching my head. i'm not that compelled by her just sitting there. i need her to say or do something.
now, with the drama all wrapped up, i can definitely say that pan yue has so much more growth and growing than yang caiwei. even his relationship with his father gets a little redemption arc. pan yue becomes the biggest main character. yang caiwei, on the other hand, kind of stops growing once she and pan yue gets together.
whether it's by writing or her own acting or editing, yang caiwei ultimately is an underutilized character. we could've seen more of her character's growth to perhaps appreciate ju jingyi's version more. but we didn't get that, for better or for worse. i liked both versions of yang caiwei in the end. just wanted a bit more for her.
#in blossom#shangguan zhi#yang caiwei#ju jingyi#zheng hehuizi#not sure if this made any sense but like it's writing it's editing it's acting#it's all these things combined to make her version decent but not perfect...#jina watches cdramas
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The Arrangement - Part 1
The Arrangement - Part 1
Fic Summary: Drowning in problems of his own making, Arthur Havisham seeks the aid of the one person in the world who knows him better than anyone else. But what will it cost him this time? (Part 2) (Part 3)
Fic Rating: 18+
Pairing: Arthur Havisham/Male Reader
Warnings: Language, Sexual Content, Mentions of Abuse (physical proof of abuse), Mutual Pining, Oral (Male Receiving and Giving), Anal Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Love, Internalized Homophobia
A/N: Alright so I started writing this when I was watching Episode 4 and then the end of Episode 5 happened and I saw red. Needless to say, I needed to write something to give Arthur the love and comfort he needs.
The night is biting cold, snow whipping around in a swirling vortex of ice and wind.
Late is the hour, barren streets proving Arthur Havisham should not be out. And yet, he is, his boots and walking stick echoing on the snowy stone. He does not feel nor notice the cold, his veins and belly filled with the heat of the gin he downed before leaving his small room. His back still aches, sharp pains every time his shirt brushes against the fresh cuts. It had taken all day to work up the courage to leave, only doing so when he was sure Compeyson would not be returning.
As he approaches the daunting building, he cannot help the cacophony of emotions rolling around in his stomach. It almost makes him sick but he pushes it down. However, that could also be the gin.
Arthur stops just shy of the gates, staring at the manor he hasn’t visited in years.
If it were up to him, he would not be here. He would not even be considering such a path. But as it was, he is desperate. Meriwether Compeyson has proven to be far more dangerous and more trouble than he’s worth. His interests are purely self-serving and if Arthur does not get the help he needs, he will have more than his reputation to worry about. His very life depends on it.
Taking a deep breath, Arthur opens the gate and follows the path to the front door.
A servant answers after several knocks. A young woman, one he’s never seen before. Then again, it’s been ages since he’s stepped foot in this house. She welcomes him in with a bow and offers him a place in the parlor where he can warm by the fire.
“Whom shall I say has called when I speak to the master?” she asks in a soft voice.
“Tell him Arthur is here to see him.”
She nods and hurries off to do as she’s told. Arthur takes off his hat as he stands before the fireplace, the heat of the flames trying to chase the chill away. It’s failing miserably because the chill Arthur is feeling has nothing to do with the winter night. He stares at the clock on the mantle, studying his reflection on its perfectly polished surface. He looks tired, his hair and clothes not as crisp or clean as he’s accustomed to. There are dark circles under his red eyes. He had stopped crying hours ago but it hasn’t yet faded. To him, he looks every bit the desperate scared man he is.
Footsteps sound on the main stairs.
Arthur’s heart races in time with them, listening as they draw closer, his breathing increasing with each second that passes.
“Well, well, well, as I live and breathe.”
Arthur closes his eyes for a moment, bracing himself for the onslaught of emotions as he turns around to face you.
He’s not prepared. He thought he would be, but the moment he lays his eyes on you everything else melts away leaving you the only thing in focus. The state of your clothing suggests he interrupted your evening routine, as he knew he would. A simple white shirt, unbuttoned at the top with the sleeves loose around your crossed arms. Complimented by finely tailored trousers and shiny black boots.
“I apologize for the late hour,” Arthur says, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “Unfortunately, I could not wait until morning.”
“You’re always welcome here, Arthur. I believe I made that clear once upon a time.”
Yes. Yes, you did. Arthur remembers it vividly despite his best efforts. He finds himself fiddling with the hat in his hands. “I didn’t know where else to go.”
You regard him with a carefully schooled expression. He knows you’re taking him in, seeing the same things he scrutinized in his own reflection.
“Come,” you say, motioning for him to follow. “Leave your hat and such here. The maid will take care of it. You look like you could use a hot meal and a large drink.”
You’re not wrong.
Hands shaking, Arthur leaves his hat, coat, and walking stick on a nearby chair before following you out of the parlor. He knows where you’re leading him. He remembers running through these halls when you two were boys, hiding out and listening to your fathers talk business.
Pass the main dining room, down the small hallway to the left, and into your favorite room in the house, the sitting room. Your father made it yours when you grew into adolescence and Arthur remembers the lengthy chats the two of you shared in those comfortable winged-back chairs. Someone, no doubt the maid from earlier, had already brought the fire back to blazing and a silver tray sits on the table between the chairs.
Grateful for the warmth, Arthur takes the one on the right out of habit. It’s so ingrained from his younger years that he doesn’t even think about it. Although, when he means to lean back, he is stopped by pain and must remain sitting up straight.
You close the door behind you. He feels you watching him, feels the intensity of your gaze on the back of his head. When you cross the room and take the chair to Arthur’s left, your expression has changed. As it always did when you were alone.
Arthur envies you for that as much as he hates you for it. It’s a skill he has yet to master and yet you make it effortless. You make a lot of things effortless.
On the tray are two meat pies still warm but by no means fresh from the oven. Along with fruits and cheeses, and a steaming pot of tea which you pick up. You pour him some first.
“Tea isn’t exactly the drink I was hoping for,” Arthur says.
“But it’s what you need. You look chilled to the bone. Is the fire warm enough?”
It’d be easier if you weren’t so nice to him. Arthur almost prefers the opposite, when your personalities clash and that underlying rivalry bred into you by your fathers and their business comes to the surface. It makes what he has to say even harder.
“Yes, thank you,” Arthur says.
You hand him the tea and when he reaches for the cup, your fingers brush.
And linger.
But then you’re pouring your tea and he thinks he may have imagined it.
“Why are you here, Arthur?” you ask. “We haven’t spoken in years. Not at length at least. Not since that day.”
Yes. That day.
Arthur reminds himself of his purpose and does not dwell on the memories. “I am afraid I find myself in trouble,” he says. He’s holding his tea but has yet been able to take a sip. “And I can’t find my way out.”
“What sort of trouble?”
“The dangerous kind.”
You study him over the rim of your cup. After a thoughtful sip, you put it down. Leaning forward, you rest your elbows on your knees and give him your full attention.
“Start at the beginning,” you say.
Arthur does. He tells you everything. About the will, his meager inheritance. His plan to manipulate his sister into signing things over to him. How he enlisted the help of Meriwether Compeyson, and how he’s been blackmailing Arthur to serve his own means demanding money that he does not have.
He does not mention the beating. It is hard enough being so open, he cannot bear the thought of revealing the physical pain his adversary inflicted on him.
By the time he’s done, you haven’t said a word. However, you do pinch the bridge of your nose and hang your head. “Bloody hell, Arthur. What were you thinking?”
“Things are out of hand. It was not supposed to be this way.”
“That is an understatement. Why couldn’t you leave well enough alone?”
Arthur is hanging on by the thinnest of threads and his anger flares at your words. “I don’t need a lecture, I didn’t come here for that.”
“Then why did you come here?” you ask, your voice tinged with agitation. “Why did you come to me of all people? You could have spoken to Amelia, let her know what this Compeyson is planning. But you didn’t. You came, to me.”
Arthur puts his untouched tea down. Doubt seeps into him like the icy winds outside. “This was a mistake,” he says. “I’m sorry. This isn’t your problem. I should not have brought it to you. I thought—”
“What, Arthur? What did you think?”
Arthur can’t bring himself to look you in the eye. Doesn’t want to because he already knows what he’s going to see in them. “I’m sorry to have disturbed your evening. I will take my leave.”
He stands, fully intending to flee back into the cold streets, to flee your warmth, to flee the intensity of your gaze that always seems to burn into his very soul.
A hand closes around his wrist, stopping him. He turns to look at you. You’re standing now, so swift he didn’t even hear you move. “I want to help you, Arthur. I just need to know why.”
Arthur swallows thickly. It’s so difficult when you’re this close. When you’re touching. He pulls his arm from your grasp.
“Because despite the fact that you know my secret, I know yours too,” he says, trying to pull himself together.
You look amused. “Planning to blackmail me as well then?”
“If it comes to it. You’re a confirmed bachelor. You’ve never taken a wife. People talk.”
“I see, so you think planting rumors will do the trick? I’m a powerful man, Arthur. My connections run deep. Ever since my father died, my word is law with my shareholders and it will take a lot to convince them I am anything other than an upstanding member of society.”
Arthur’s temper flares once more, that fire of shame fueled by the inferiority he faces first with his sister, then with Compeyson, and now with you. “How upstanding would they think you to be if they hear you were caught on your knees for another man?” he asks, stepping forward in his anger.
You meet his outburst with a smirk, leaning in even closer, sharing his space. “And whose cock was I sucking, Arthur?”
And there it is. The truth. The dirty awful truth that sent Arthur into a spiral of self-loathing and immense shame. His cheeks flush red and he purses his lips, lacking a response for the mere fact that he has none.
You know you have him. He knows you have him.
Taking a moment, you step away and cross the room to your desk. It startles Arthur to realize you still work from this room, even though your father’s study is yours now by right. You open the drawer and pull out a thick stack of papers. Arthur is rooted to his spot, unable to do anything but watch you.
“Do you know what these are?” you ask, holding them up so he can see yet not turning to face him.
“No.”
“They are your letters. Every letter you ever sent me. Even the ones from childhood, when I was shipped off to boarding school and we were separated. Haven’t gotten any in a few years but they’re all here.”
Arthur’s heart skips a beat. His breath catches in his throat and he finds himself dizzy. “All of them?” he asks in a soft voice.
“All of them. Every single one.”
“Why did you keep them?”
That’s when you turn to look at him. “Why do you think?”
Arthur has no response. He wishes he did. He wishes he knew what to say. Deep down, he knows why he’s here. Why he came to you even as he tells you otherwise. You stand there staring, waiting for him to say what he cannot.
After a moment, you sigh and put the papers back. “How much do you owe Scrooge?”
“Fifty.”
You grab something from your desk before crossing the room toward Arthur. You hold out a bundle of money, far more than fifty. “Take it, it’s yours. Pay off the debt and keep your share of the brewery. It was foolish to put it up anyway.”
Arthur doesn’t allow himself to feel relief just yet. “What will this cost me?”
You sigh and grab his wrist again, this time it’s to put the money in his hand. “Despite what you may think, not everyone in this city is out to get you. Pay off your debt and go back home.”
“I don’t have a home to go back to,” Arthur says hotly. “He left everything, everything to Amelia. All I was left with was a lousy ten percent and told to figure it out. And it’s all because of you.”
You snort with amusement, sitting in your chair. “Tell yourself what you want, Arthur, but I never forced you to do anything you didn’t want. I didn’t force myself on you. And, as I recall, you kissed me first.”
That…is true. Arthur can deny it to himself all he’d like, but this is you he’s dealing with. You who knows him, the real him, better than anyone else. You who have always been there when he needed you.
And you’re here even now when Arthur abandoned your friendship.
“I’m not ashamed of who I am, Arthur,” you say. “Never have been. As furious as my father was, I didn’t backtrack. You may have been able to pin it all on me and that suited your father all well and good, but me? I told my father how I felt. And when he died, I was ready. Fully ready to be penniless. And yet…” You wave a hand to indicate the house around you.
“I’m glad to know your father loved you no matter what,” Arthur says with bitterness in his voice. “While I have been paying for who I am every single day of my life. Suffering, alone.”
“You don’t have to be alone!” you snap, getting to your feet again. “For god’s sake, Arthur! I’m here! I’ve always been here! You were the one who ran away and you were the one who ended our friendship. And I’m sorry that your father couldn’t accept you. But I will not apologize for mine.”
Tears threaten to fall. No matter what he does, Arthur can’t stop them. He turns away so you won’t see. You don’t let him. You slip your hand into his curls and pull him against your chest in a hug.
Despite himself, Arthur melts into the embrace. It’s been long, far too long. He’s forgotten how this feels, how wonderful it is to have your solid frame against his, to feel your hand in his hair and your arm around his waist. He cries, lets the tears go as strangled sobs break through his pursed lips. He does not know how long he stands there crying into your shoulder. But it’s long enough for the tears to eventually fade. He’s too tired, too drained to shed anymore.
Arthur closes his eyes and savors the moment. He doesn’t try to pull away or push you because he can’t bring himself to do either.
Your heat and scent envelop him, triggering memories of years ago when the playful innocence of youth turned into something else, something more.
He was the one to kiss you first, a chaste peck on the cheek in the heat of the moment. Then you looked at him and the next thing he knew, he was covering your mouth with his, yanking you in close and throwing caution into the wind. It never occurred to him in the moment that it was meant to be wrong, that he should not have those feelings. How could it be when you kissed him back with equal passion?
No kiss with anyone else matched it before or has matched it since.
You draw back from the hug, wiping the tears from his cheeks before pushing his curls back from his face. You’re staring at his lips and he aches to close the distance, to give in to the desires he buried deep down long ago.
But he can’t.
He breaks the embrace, clearing his throat and fidgeting with the money still in his hands. “Thank you,” he says. “I’ll repay you as soon as I am able.”
“You don’t have to.” You shove your hands into your pockets. “You haven’t touched your food.”
“It is late. I should leave. I’ve taken enough of your time as is.”
“If you insist. I’ll show you to the door.”
In silence, you walk back down the hall. Hearing your footsteps, the maid rushes ahead to gather Arthur’s things.
“Thank you, Marina. I will see Arthur out myself. You may retire for the evening,” you tell her.
She nods and leaves. You take Arthur’s coat and hold it out for him to easily slip on. When he does, it puts pressure on his cuts and he lets out an involuntary hiss. He can sense your concern but ignores it. While he puts on his hat, you open the front door to reveal the beginnings of a snowstorm. Arthur busies himself with the gloves in his pocket, trying to appear as though he’s putting them on when really he’s stalling. He can’t bring himself to leave yet, doesn’t want to leave your warmth so quickly.
“You be careful out there,” you say, motioning to the weather. “Lord knows we’re due for another blizzard. Are you sure you’re okay to walk? What about this Compeyson fellow?”
“I am sure he’s thoroughly distracted at the moment. I will be just fine.” He hopes.
You study Arthur for a moment. “Do you remember when we were young and would sneak out of the house to avoid our studies?” you ask with a smile.
Arthur smiles back, recalling the memories with fondness. “We’d use the old servant’s entrance in the gardens. Until your father boarded it up.”
“There are many advantages of being master of the house now,” you say, leaning on the door. “For one thing, I can undo things my father did. And, since none of the servants who serve me ever served my father, they are completely oblivious to such facts.”
Arthur’s heart skips a beat. Your tone is casual, however, your words are anything but.
“If someone knew where to look, should they be inclined, they’d be able to sneak in without anyone being the wiser. Food for thought, Arthur. Have a good night.”
He's left on the doorstep without another word.
He has the money, can repay Scrooge, and figure out everything with Compeyson in the morning. Maybe with what’s leftover he can buy himself a few days reprieve from the scoundrel.
Arthur slowly exhales and turns to face the cold winter’s night once more. He gets to the front gate, opens it. And yet, he can’t help but look back at the house, the place where he discovered himself in ways he never imagined. The heat of your hug is lingering and before he realizes what he’s doing, Arthur closes the gate once more.
He leaves tracks in the freshly fallen snow as he follows the all-too-familiar path around back to the gardens. Your thoughts on the weather were accurate. Arthur is in the midst of a full blizzard now and he knows his footprints will be gone in moments.
Where the old entrance once stood is now a wall of ivy, dead and snow-covered. Arthur pushes it aside, his eyes falling on the simple wooden door. He tries the handle and it yields to him.
Arthur pauses, weighing the consequences of what he’s about to do before he steps through.
The hall is dark and cold. He listens for the sounds of movement but finds none. Arthur knocks the snow from his boots before ascending the old wooden staircase. It doesn’t creak as he’d expect it to, like it used to. The boards must have recently been nailed down to prevent such noise.
A single door stands at the top of the stairs and Arthur walks through it. There is resistance at first, which he eventually realizes is because the door is hidden behind a thick tapestry. He finds himself in the familiar hallway that hasn’t changed since his last visit. He doubts it has changed much in generations.
At first, he makes for your room until he remembers you’re not there. Why would you be? You’re the master of the house.
Up the main staircase, quiet as he can be, Arthur ascends to the top floor where the master’s suite is. Like the rest of the house, its dark say for the light on under the door. His heart is racing, has been since you hugged him and now it’s threatening to escape his chest. Anticipation and apprehension are fighting for dominance.
Arthur takes a moment, collects himself, then turns the handle. It is not locked.
This is a room he’s never been in before. He steps into an entrance chamber, draped in tapestries and fine art. The first thing he notices are the shoes you were wearing sitting by the door. Taking your lead, Arthur removes his wet boots. He leans his walking stick against the wall. His hat, gloves, and coat find purchase on the floor as he sheds his outer layer before making for the main bedchamber.
Your back is to him this time. Your bare back.
You’re standing in front of the fireplace, your hand resting on the mantle. All you are wearing are your trousers. Arthur studies you, allows himself to admire and appreciate the image before him. You’re no longer the young man he used to know so well. Then again, neither is he.
When he starts to walk toward you, you turn to look at him.
Your steps match his and the two of you meet in the middle of the room in a desperate kiss.
Your hands cradle his face, your mouth hungrily seeking his. And Arthur lets you, wants you to, can’t help but finally give in to what his body has been craving ever since you were caught that fateful day.
He wraps an arm around your waist and clutches you close. His hand comes up to lay over yours, making sure you don’t stop cradling his face because now that you’re touching him, he needs more.
Arthur’s legs hitting the bed takes him by surprise. He didn’t even feel you push him. Or did he pull you? It may have been a combination.
Your hands reach for his trousers.
He can’t help but moan, mouth still furiously attacking yours in a frenzy of teeth and tongues. His hands freely roam your back, marveling at the soft skin, wishing he hadn’t run away. How could he think he’d be able to live without you? Without the way your mouth nipped at his, or how your quick hands open his trousers with deft fingers.
You draw back, eyes hooded and pupils blown wide with desire. “Is this what you want, Arthur?” you ask in a low voice, your nose brushing his. “Once this happens, truly happens, you can’t take it back.”
“I don’t want to take it back.”
“Are you sure? There will be no hard feelings if you do.”
Arthur cups the back of your neck and tugs you down into a kiss. He wants this. He wants you. Has wanted you for as long as he can remember. There’s been a dark hole in his heart the last few years, ever since he pushed you away and he doesn’t want it anymore.
It’s your turn to moan, your turn to melt against him.
The solid weight of you is thrilling. Arthur can’t stop touching you, his hands exploring your chest while your mouths hungrily seek each other’s.
His trousers are open and now that you have his permission, you slip your hand into them, wrapping around his cock.
Arthur moans, a deep satisfied sound that resonates through his whole body. It’s been too long since you’ve touched him, far too long. His body comes alive, back arching in an attempt to bring himself as close to you as possible. Your free hand tugs down the collar of his shirt, exposing his smooth pale neck to your eager lips.
How can this be wrong? How can the world tell him that your love isn’t real? It’s real to him. You’re more real than anything Arthur has ever known. Your hand starts to pump his cock with sure strokes. You remember what he likes, remember how to squeeze and rub just the right way, the way that makes Arthur a trembling needy mess.
He's wearing far too many layers.
You must have the same thought because you yank his shirt free from his open trousers and slide your hands under the thick material. Arthur suddenly remembers the marks on his back a second too late. Your hand finds one and he yanks away with a hiss of pain.
Your eyes are wide. “Arthur,” you say in a low, careful voice. “What happened?”
The shame is back but for an entirely different reason. Carefully, Arthur pulls his shirt off, eyes trained on the ground and rimmed with unshed tears. He closes them when you gently turn him around.
He hears the sharp inhale when you lay your eyes on the cuts. The next thing he knows, he’s roughly turned back to face you. “Who did this to you?! Was it him? Was it Compeyson?”
Swallowing thickly, Arthur nods. You take his face in your hands, tilt it up so he’s looking at you. Arthur lays his hands around your wrists when he meets your eye.
“He will pay for this,” you say, your tone one he is unfamiliar with but sends a shudder down his spine. “He will never lay a hand on you again so long as I am still breathing. Did he hurt you elsewhere?”
Arthur shakes his head. “No, I swear it.”
“Does it hurt much?”
“I’m far too distracted to feel it at the moment.”
Bare chest to bare chest, Arthur pulls you into another kiss. Teeth nip at your bottom lip before his tongue fills your mouth. He sits on the bed, bringing you with him as he lays down. Your sheets are soft and cool to the touch, easing the aches of his sore back.
With a moan of pleasure, you return the kiss. Arthur takes your hand and slides it into his trousers. You start to stroke him again and heat starts to lick through his belly, hotter than the best drink money can buy. The constriction of his trousers makes it difficult for you to stroke him properly. He hastily shoves them down his hips, freeing himself in the process.
Your lips leave his as you make a trail down his chest. You mark red spots upon pale skin as you do, claiming Arthur as yours. Because he is yours. He’s always been yours. He may have denied it but he’s never forgotten it.
You place an open-mouthed kiss on Arthur’s hip bone. With both hands, you peel the trousers off, sliding into the floor as you do.
“Now, what was that you said about being on my knees for another man?” you tease.
Arthur pushes himself onto his elbows, a stray curl falling into his eyes. He’s too focused on you to notice. “I don’t remember,” he says with a small grin. “It was a long time ago. I must have forgotten.”
“Allow me to refresh your memory.”
You drag your tongue along his weeping length and Arthur’s eyes flutter, threatening to close. He forces them open, forces him to watch you take his swollen tip between your lips. The sudden wet heat is overwhelming and Arthur’s head falls back with a moan.
You’ve always had a wicked tongue. When you were lads, your sharp words and quick wit constantly caused trouble. It wasn’t until you both were older that Arthur fully appreciated it.
Now he appreciates it more than ever.
Falling onto his back, Arthur’s eyes flutter closed and he surrenders to the sensation. Feeling your mouth slide down his cock, deliberately slow, his breathing speeds up. By the time you have all of him, he’s audibly panting. You draw back, almost letting him fall completely out of your mouth before taking him again.
You repeat the motion, one hand holding him at the base. Working him in and out of your mouth, you start a steady rhythm, your hand soon following the same path. Arthur is beside himself, gasping and squirming in the bed, unable to do anything but lay there and feel. When he dares to look down at you, that unbelievable heat courses through his veins at the visual of your lips stretched wide around his length.
It's too good. It’s too much. It’s been far too long and Arthur is not going to last. Already he senses the overstimulation, feels how his hips are trying to meet your mouth, but are unable with you pinning him in place.
He says your name, whispers it before reaching down to grip your head.
To his dismay and relief, you stop, letting him slide out completely before dropping harsh kisses to his thighs.
You smirk up at him. “I’ve forgotten how beautiful you look like this.”
Arthur’s forehead is dotted with sweat already and he needs to run his hand through his hair to push the curls away. “Come here,” he pants, forcing himself to sit up.
You stand, your hands busying with the strings holding your trousers closed. Arthur reaches out and makes quick work of them, desperate to see you. To feel you. His mouth waters and when your trousers fall to pool around your ankles, Arthur immediately slides your cock between his lips.
“Fucking hell,” you swear, digging your fingers into his curly locks. “Always so…ambitious.”
Arthur’s eyes flutter closed as he bobs his head up and down, taking more and more of you each time he does. He’s out of practice, sloppy in his over-eagerness yet determined to make it as good for you as it was for him.
You’re hard against his tongue. He can feel the way you twitch, taste the beads of precum before they slide down his throat. He’s a man on a mission, a man possessed by lust. And by you.
Lord help him, he wants to be possessed by you.
When he draws back, he lets you slip out of his mouth, his chin pressed into your stomach as he looks up at you.
Your thumb traces his full bottom lip and he sucks it for a moment before saying in a breathless voice, “Take me.”
With a guttural moan, you bend down to kiss him, sharing his taste while he shares yours. Both of you move at the same time. Arthur crawls backward up the bed while you step out of your trousers and join him, laying your body over his.
He can feel your cock along his. And then you shift, and you’re ever so slightly grinding against his arse and he doesn’t know how he’s going to be able to handle more. If he even can handle more.
For everything that’s been familiar, this would be new. You two never got this far before. Though judging by the way you move, how you reach for your nightstand to withdraw a small bottle, Arthur suspects it may not be as new for you as it is for him.
There’s a moment, a twinge of jealousy he cannot contain. He pushes it away. Won’t let it mar this perfect moment. After all, he was the one to walk away. He cannot fault you for finding comfort in someone else.
When you draw back, your eyes are shining with love, and Arthur can’t help but smile, his hand stroking your cheek.
One more kiss is placed on Arthur’s lips before you sit back on your heels. “Spread your legs, love,” you tell him, your voice rough with desire.
Arthur does it instantly, letting you see all of him. You groan, eyes taking him in before meeting his.
“Do you trust me?”
“With my life. And my heart.”
The bottle is opened and you pour some of the contents into your hand before placing the glass vial back on the nightstand. Arthur finds his mouth occupied once more with yours as you kiss him. He feels your hand slip between his legs and a warm, wet substance is gently rubbed across his tight pucker.
Arthur freezes for a moment, but your kisses relax him. You make slow, gentle circles with the tip of your finger, spreading the lubricant before pressing ever so slightly against the tight ring of muscle. Arthur’s breathing hitches at the first bit of resistance. However, when he calms again, your finger presses harder until it begins to slide in.
After that, Arthur is unable to stay still. His mouth attacks yours, desire building as you carefully work him loose, first with one finger. His hips move on their own, rising and falling, trying to assist you while also seeking relief. Another finger is added once Arthur is positively grinding against your hand. It’s not enough. He can’t stand to wait any longer.
Drawing back from the kiss he looks up at you with those gorgeous brown eyes. “I need more.”
“I’m working on it. So bloody impatient.”
Arthur kisses you harshly, his teeth briefly tugging on your bottom lip when he pulls away. “Now!”
“Fucking hell I missed you.”
You sit back once more to grab the bottle. Arthur takes it from you, pouring the substance into his hand this time before working it up and down your cock. Your hardness is exhilarating. Just the thought that you’ll be inside him soon is enough to make his own cock weep again.
You grab Arthur’s legs and when he sits back, you push them up against his chest, hands gliding down his thighs. Arthur watches you line yourself up, the head of your cock glistening in the firelight.
Then, you carefully press into him.
Arthur doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until you stroke his hair back from his face. “Just relax, love. Breathe and relax “
Following your instructions, Arthur lets out a shaky breath which turns into a moan as he feels you slide deeper into his body. He has to open his eyes, has to watch your face come closer as you push yourself into his ready and willing body.
He feels the brush of rough hair against his arse and with a loud gasp he realizes you’re now inside him. He’s full of you, finally yours after all these years. What a waste. He could have had you ages ago. Your jaw is clenched and he realizes how much restraint it must be taking for you not to move, to wait until he's accustomed to you.
Arthur is done waiting.
Wrapping his legs around you, he grabs your face and yanks you into a kiss. Your hips draw back slowly before thrusting into his heat and Arthur sees stars.
You take him, first with gentle thrusts but quickly turning into something else. Something more carnal and urgent. He knows you, knows you have fantasied about this as much as he has. Did you think of him? When you were with another or alone with your own hand, was Arthur’s face the one you pictured?
He doesn’t have to ask to know the answer.
Arthur relishes the fullness, groans and calls out your name, forgetting and not caring who may hear. Because there’s no one around to hear. No one to catch you or interrupt. The servants are floors away, blissfully unaware that their master is buggering Arthur Havisham into his mattress.
The secret, forbidden nature of your coupling makes Arthur’s heart race even more. How can love be forbidden? If there is a God, why would He put you in Arthur’s life if the two of you were meant to be apart?
Something inside Arthur snaps and he knows he will never be able to bury these feelings again. He does not want to. He is going to do everything he can to be the man you deserve, the man you know he can be. And at night, when the two of you are alone and away from prying eyes, he’ll have you and you’ll have him.
The thought of it turns him on, makes him want you to take him as hard as you can, make him see stars for hours.
Though, he doesn’t think either of you will last that long.
He can tell when you’re close, remembers the signs well enough though he’s never experienced them from this angle before.
“Arthur,” you pant against his lips. “Arthur, love, I cannot hold back much longer.”
“Come for me,” he begs, blunt nails digging into your sweaty shoulder blades. “I need to feel it this time.”
A moment later, you do. You come inside him, your hand slipping between your bodies to wrap around his hot length. It only takes a jerk or two for Arthur to come as well, coating both your torsos in pearly strips of white. He keeps coming, more than he’s ever had before, vaguely aware it’s been a long time. Longer than he cares to admit.
Your thrusts become sloppy and then slow until you eventually stop.
Arthur’s body is humming and he can’t help the noise of disappointment when you slip out of him and collapse onto your back by his side.
Trying to catch your breath, you lay next to each other, chests heaving. Arthur feels wonderful and uncomfortable at the same time. His wounds are starting to ache and his cooling release is becoming sticky.
You give him a quick kiss. “Wait here, love.”
Arthur smiles at the term of endearment, liking it more and more each time you say it. He watches you cross the room naked to a basin in the corner, where you dip a cloth in water. You bring it back to bed and gently clean him off, first his stomach then between his legs, placing feather-light kisses wherever you can.
Arthur chuckles as you do. “That tickles.”
“Stop being so tasty then.”
You draw back and clean yourself, before tossing the rag aside and climbing back into bed.
Arthur turns to his side so you’re facing each other, his legs twining with yours. He’s more comfortable than he’s ever been in his life. Though sleep threatens to take him, he fights it, wanting to remain awake in your embrace for as long as possible.
“You’ll stay here tonight,” you say, stroking his cheek. “Right here with me. In the morning I’ll mess up the guest room bed and tell the maids you came back when the storm was too dangerous.”
“Thank you.”
“Think nothing of it.” You kiss him tenderly and he smiles, kissing you back. “As for this Mr. Compeyson, don’t you worry about him.”
“Why? What are you going to do?”
“I’m not going to do anything. See, unlike him, I don’t have to resort to violence to get what I want, not that I would not love beating the man within an inch of his life. When you’re rich, you can pay people to do that for you. I daresay, if he’s not careful, he may find himself the victim of an unfortunate accident. This city is a dangerous place after all.”
Arthur feels relief. Still smiling, he runs his fingers up and down your arm that’s draped over his waist. “Would be a shame if he met a most unfortunate end.”
“Tragic. Absolutely tragic. There’s only one thing you need to do for me.”
“Name it.”
“Make amends with your sister.” As he narrows his eyes you place a finger on his lips. “Hush, don’t say anything, just listen. First off, this isn’t her fault. Second, patience is a virtue, Mr. Havisham. The best way to get what you want isn’t to stomp and yell. It’s to play along, bide your time.”
Arthur raises his eyebrow, kissing your finger before kissing your palm and then your wrist. “I know that tone,” he says, dark eyes flickering up to meet yours. “You have an idea.”
“To join our family fortunes and became the most powerful families in London? To plot and scheme for a way to keep you by my side for the rest of our lives? How positively absurd.”
Grinning now, Arthur pushes you onto your back, draping his body over yours. “I think we can come to some sort of arrangement.”
“I believe we already have, my love.”
#arthur havisham#arthur havisham x male reader#arthur havisham x reader#arthur havisham x you#dickensian#joseph quinn
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what are your expectations for the twilight reboot?
i don't know if i can envision a version of twilight that isn't cringe so i have zero expectations.
I have none either. I can make a few guesses but they could end up entirely wrong.
I believe the studio in charge of the reboot is Lionsgate Television, which among other things has co-produced shows like Mad Men, Dear White People, and several others. Notably, the parent company Lionsgate films produced the Hunger Games films.
What I'm getting at here is that this is a large subsidiary studio of a large well-established studio who has gotten their hands on a well-known IP that is primarily targeted to teenage/young women.
Specifically, they're not going to rock the boat. I expect the show to be marketed towards the audience of the books (young women/teenage girls) and not to a broader adult audience (see Mad Men).
More, given the books were so popular, they'll generally follow the plotline and try to tie into book moments they think audience members will like, but they will tone it down a lot. Much like the movies did.
Twilight will probably be kept entirely intact. We'll have the meadow, we'll have Bella nearly be crushed by a van, the blood testing in Biology, the Italian restaurant scene, the James subplot, etc.
However, details like Edward methodically planning the massacre of his biology classroom, will more than likely be dropped or else glossed over.
We're probably going to get an Edward who's palatable. He still has an aura of mysterious darkness, of course, but the audience can rest assured he's their sweet nerd and cinnamon roll and that the vampirism is just an unfortunate, if sexy, affliction.
We'll also likely get a Bella who's more talkative and takes more initiative. Not only does this address common complaints about the character, but it's very difficult to write a show where one of your main character rarely expresses herself out loud. (If you read the books, what Bella narrates versus what she says are two very different things.)
The movies addressed this in part by keeping the voice over narration for Bella with... uh... effect (I personally thought it was very poorly done and mostly hokey).
They might go the same route in the show, maybe Bella will intro each episode and outtro with a diary she writes in, "Dear Diary, today Edward stared at me, he was hot", or we'll get her voice over in pivotal scenes, or she's going to have to start talking to somebody about what she's feeling and thinking.
However, we'll probably get all the major plot points.
After Twilight, is where we might get changes.
It will probably take the film route and blame Edward's religious nature on his dad. They can't remove it, as Edward needs some reason to deny Bella becoming a vampire even when he and his family eat animals, and it can't be the spicy 'you'll probably eat humans anyway'. In the books what he said was Bella would lose her soul, Carlisle disagreed with this in a conversation with Bella. In the movies, they had Carlisle go all in as it ah--makes Edward look like the misguided product of his parents than it being him being religious himself.
Even though New Moon is hilarious in that the romantic lead disappears for an entire novel and Bella spends that novel hallucinating Edward, they're not going to drop it because of the importance of the Quileute characters as well as Jacob being the secondary love interest.
What they might try to do is spice it up and tone it down at the same time. Rather than be a complete depressed blob the entire novel, we might see Bella make significant recoveries to feed the Jacob/Bella side of the love triangle. We'll also probably spend a lot more time on the tribe both to flesh out the characters and to distract from the giant amount of nothing that happens in New Moon.
Bella may or may not hallucinate Edward. It was a large part of the novel, but it was weird, and never to be mentioned again when Eclipse happened. It's also not too fondly remembered by fans, even fans of the Edward/Bella ship. People remember the meadow and the wedding, not the time Bella rode a motorcycle with Edward saying "Don't dooooo iiiiiiiiit". It's entirely possible the producers would find it too spicy.
On the other hand, it's all we see of Edward of what could be half if not an entire season. Given he's the romantic lead that Bella ultimately ends up with, you can't have him on vacation for a fourth of the show.
So, 50/50 on Hallucination Edward.
Eclipse will probably remain mostly intact as well, as we get an exciting love triangle there, but they'll probably tone down Edward again. No longer will Edward kidnap Bella to his house, too spicy, instead he'll look sad and cuckolded as his girlfriend flirts with Jacob. The tent scene will probably be toned down quite a bit as well to remove some of Edward's more alarming statements.
Actually...
I expect all of Edward to always be toned down in every moment. I'm not sure what the hell they'll have him say, but it won't typically be what he says in the books in his more "WHOA" moments.
Now, Breaking Dawn is... interesting. On the one hand, they can squeeze a season out of it and if they're three seasons in and haven't been canceled yet then why not? On the other hand, it doesn't fit in with a typical teenage story that they want to draw people in for.
Bella's suddenly married??? And pregnant??? With a demon??? Their protagonists are out of high school, Bella's pregnant with a demon and dying, there's a war on and all these weird non-teenage people are showing up.
They could choose to end the show with the wedding. Bella and Edward get married, he promises to turn her, they ride off into the sunset.
On the other hand, there are fans who would murder them and cry tears of blood if they don't get the honeymoon/the rest of breaking dawn (even though fans simultaneously hate breaking dawn).
We could get a Breaking Dawn sans Renesmee. The Volturi instead accuse the Cullens of some crime they very clearly have not committed. Irina narks on them for a crime they didn't commit because she was secretly in love with Edward (her character having been merged with Tanya's) or else becuase she seeks revenge for Laurent and didn't act until now. Bella gets her wedding and honeymoon but has to be summoned back because shenanigans are happening again!
However, in that case, they have to figure out how to turn Bella since one of Edward's primary character traits (and one they can't really change as it would alter the entire plot) is that Edward doesn't want to turn her.) And they're going to want Edward to have to do it versus any other character, as it validates that Edward truly does wish to be with Bella forever.
There could be a subplot where Edward tries to hide Bella in the mountains when the Volturi are coming but Bella tells him, "No, Edward, this time we cannot run" despite, you know, the tent debacle weeks earlier where she said "Edward, we absolutely can run"
But again, I really don't know. I'm in the same boat as the rest of you.
#twilight#twilight meta#twilight headcanon#twilight renaissance#twilight tv show#meta#headcanon#opinion#achillean-heartbeat
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carmy + his ego
"why didn't he leave it to you then?"
at first glance, carmy's ego is an unassuming background character compared to his other traits.
for an award-winning, globetrotting, celebrated chef, carmy doesn't carry himself with a sense of grandeur. his ego isn't as severe as his anger, or as detectable as the tension he carries in his everyday movements. but it is there, and at its worse it's ugly and out for blood.
you see it when carmy and richie are arguing in the walk-in. richie's in the middle of a tirade listing all of carmen's recent missteps and deploys the firm reminder that—"this is your brother's house. i was running it fine without you."
there's a pause. the quiet of the walk-in, even if it lasts only for a few seconds, is unnerving rather than tranquil. carmen stares at the floor of the walk-in, not unable but unwilling, to meet richie's gaze.
carmy coldy and rhetorically inquires, "why didn't he leave it to you then?" and that's his ego speaking. this is one of the rare times where carmy approaches confrontation head-on instead of retreating into himself, because he knows richie doesn't want to answer.
for a moment, carmen puts his doubts about his brother's love for him aside. right now, nothing else matters except for the fact that michael didn't choose richie - michael chose him. for the last couple of years carmen has existed as an outsider in his brother's world. richie was a part of michael's life in all the ways carmy couldn't be up until the very end, and still, michael chose carmen.
and carmy fucking relishes in knowing that. it's the one thing he can use against richie that really cuts deep. that line has always stood out to me and i think it's one of carmy's crueler moments, because he attacks richie in the same place where his own vulnerabilities lie.
carmy is intimately aware of the pain that comes from being cast aside by michael. to ask richie that question and lead him to entertain the idea of michael doing the same to him—that's pretty antagonistic behavior from carmen.
you see carmy's ego in smaller ways as well and it doesn't always come from a sense of pride.
when carmy and sydney first meet, one of the things she tells carmy is, "i know who you are."
as soon as the words leave her mouth, carmy tenses his shoulders back like he's ready to brawl. throughout their conversation carmy has maintained eye contact but he also shifts or nods along to what syd is saying, but now? now he watches syd with a glint in his eyes and a small tilt to his head, and he's still. and i don't know if it's the stillness of a startled deer hiding in a wooded underbrush or the hunter who just spotted it.
syd continues and says, "you were the most excellent CDC at the most excellent restaurant in the entire United States of America." and as she says it carmy looks down and makes an expression that's half smile, half grimace—unsure if he has the right to feel joy in his achievements.
you see his ego in episode eight, when the pressure of the kitchen is at its highest. when it feels like it's carmy against the world, you see it when he says "i told you that dish wasn't fucking ready." and "get the fuck off my expo, chef." and "why are you fucking with me?"
the restaurant before this moment was a team, motley and disorganized, sure, but things were starting to come together. carmy would use we instead of i—"we lose one service it could kill us." or he'd ask, not demand, things of his peers. he changes his vocabulary to use the word "whisk" instead of "monter" knowing that everyone might not understand what he means.
but when things get turbulent he shuts off, shuts everyone else out, and carmy's left barking orders and frantically wondering—why now, why me?
#carmy carries himself in such a multi-faceted way when it comes to his craft. he's so many things and when he's in conflict with himself#and his desires it's really fucking beautiful#the bear#the bear fx#the bear meta#the bear analysis#thebearedit#the bear spoilers#carmen berzatto#carmy berzatto#jeremy allen white#s01e01#gif#tvedit#tvfilmedit#mine
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Hiiiiiiiii
Idk if you’re comfortable with hurt/comfort, but if you are I got a request for you! Lol
Basically, the idea is headcanons (or writing) of Jafar with an S/O that suffered SEVERE narcissistic abuse, and him quickly dealing just how much damage behaviors like his can cause. Like, he has to calm them down from a ptsd flashback, and they end up saying something about the “mind games” they were always playing, and how they were always on eggshells, and he’s basically over here like “ohhhh fuk…I do that kind of thing to people…”
Ooh some hurt comfort?? Coming right up 👀
I'm by no means an expert on this topic, so I'll stick with headcannons for now, but if you like 'em I'm more than open to writing a full imagine in future!!
Cracks my knuckles
Jafar with an abused S/O~!
Given the way he speaks, I wouldn't be surprised if it was something he said that triggered the unfortunate episode
A nasty, condescending comment about a hobby of yours, a hissing remark correcting your behaviour, or even deliberately misconstruing something you've said -- Incredibly self-serving, of course, but he's a master manipulator, and can very easily play the victim in even the tiniest arguments
Nothing could prepare him, however, for the sudden fit of anxiety and terror his words would induce
He is WOEFULLY uneducated on such things, and would regrettably have absolutely zero clue how to approach the situation -- He'd more than likely just freeze, simply staring down at you as you crumble
Once he's snapped out of his stupor, his first instinct would be to remove himself from the situation
He's clearly upset you, and he'd rather die than debase himself by admitting to his own wrongs. What a PATHETIC move that would be, huh?? (/sar)
Perhaps not the greatest instinct, but he'd give you time to cool off, to return to yourself, before slinking back in to discuss what caused your 'hysteria' (🙄🙄)
Likely with some warm tea to show in the smallest sense that he does actually CARE about you. It's not much, but it might be enough to get you talking
He would have fully intended to make a half-assed attempt at listening, followed by an empty promise to 'do better' and some kisses to top it off, but, in true Jafar fashion, his interest is piqued when you start describing the shit that he is oh so good at
The insufferable superiority complex, the 'do-no-wrong' mentality, the near constant mind games, manipulation and victimisation -- every single experience you describe he resonates with far too much
He hasn't had much experience with guilt, but you're his beloved. He cares about you. The sickly feeling creeps, resting heavier and heavier on his shoulders the more you manage to tell him
Truly an 'ohhhh fuck... I do that shit' moment if there ever was one
It's become second nature to him, almost a survival tactic -- not any excuse for his behaviour, of course, but he rarely gives a second thought to how awful the effects can be
He hates that it was you who had to tell him. He's supposed to be your biggest supporter, not your worst enemy
His illusion of perfection is shattered -- You aren't lucky to be with him, HE'S lucky you've put up with his disposition for as long as you have. He feels terrible.
All at once, you're wrapped up in a hug. Physical touch isn't his forte, but when you're as bad at apologies as he is, sometimes you have to compromise
This may be the first time you've ever heard a genuine 'sorry' from him
He will make an effort. Not to better himself as a whole, hell no, but to be better for you. The last thing he'd want to do is hurt you the way you've been hurt before. That'd be the WORST thing for his overinflated ego.
He's trying <3
#I GOT RLLY CARRIED AWAY W THIS ONE OH MY GOD#sorry it took so long to get around to 😭#my exams are over!! asks are being answered <3#I popped this one under the cut for mentions of abuse/trauma#but nothing too serious#enjoy!!#fenris asks#jafar#self ship#headcannons#x reader#cw: abuse
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GWG Ramblings
The Tommy Westphall Universe
Within the Harry Potter Fandom, there is a theory that the entire series was nothing more than the escapist imaginings of a severely abused Harry locked in a cupboard under the stairs. It's a theory that Rowling, when asked about it, neither confirmed it nor denied it:
"I think that’s a fabulous point, and that speaks so perfectly to the truth to the books, because I had it suggested to me more than once that Harry actually did go mad in the cupboard, and that everything that happened subsequently was some sort of fantasy life he developed to save himself."
It's a hotly contested theory among HP fans and understandably so.
And while we could argue this theory all day, there's only person who'd really know.
Tommy Westphall.
~•~
Tommy Westphall was an autistic character in the 80s medical drama, St. Elsewhere. He was a minor character, appearing in only 15 episodes.
The show centered around St. Eligius, a teaching hospital in Boston. It was a much loved and highly lauded show, running for six seasons and winning a dozen Emmys. But none of that matters. The only thing anyone cares about anymore is the final scene of the final episode.
In the scene, the medical director, Dr. Donald Westphall and his father (another doctor from the series) enter the living room where Tommy is sitting and holding a snow globe. Donald has just arrived home from work and is wearing construction-worker gear. He and his dad watch Tommy for a few moments, then Donald turns to his father and says, "I don't understand this autism thing, Pop. Here's my son. I talk to him, I don't even know if he can hear me. He sits there all day long, in his own world, staring at that toy. What's he thinking about?"
The camera then zooms into the snow globe, and inside, we see a tiny version of St. Eligius Hospital, implying that the entire series was a figment of Tommy's imagination.
Pretty wild, huh?
Well, it gets wilder.
A doctor from St. Elsewhere, Dr. Roxanne Turner was in an episode of Homicide: Life on the Street.
Not a big deal. Crossovers happen all the time. Except...
If Dr. Turner was made up by Tommy, does that mean he dreamed up Homicide too?
Then, on top of that, Detective John Munch, one of the main characters on Homicide moved to Law and Order after Homicide ended. Detective Munch went on to appear in episodes of The X-Files, Arrested Development, and The Wire.
All of which took place in the mind of one child.
But it doesn't stop there. In one episode, the doctors of St. Elsewhere went out for drinks at a local bar in Boston. The bar in question was Cheers. The Cheers. Making Cheers also one of Tommy's daydreams.
Then Cheers spun off Fraiser, which crossed over with Caroline in the City, which crossed over with Mad About You, which crossed over with Seinfeld. Further expanding Tommy's vast imaginary universe.
Now, at this point, I'm sure you're wondering how Harry Potter fits into all this.
It all has to do with the show Supernatural.
So, remember how Detective Munch from Homicide also appeared in X-Files, thus placing the infamous sci-fi show into the Tommy Westphall's ever-expanding universe?
Well, in X-Files, there is a Lariat car rental company. Later, in Supernatural's episode, "Time is On My Side," we see Lariat Car Rentals, (which btw, is also featured in Breaking Bad and Veronica Mars).
Then, in the Supernatural episode, "Regarding Dean", Rowena MacLeod, a witch, suggests using the Obliviate spell to help Dean with his memory.
The Obliviate spell, of course, comes from Harry Potter, thus indicating that the entire HP universe is just another one of Tommy's countless daydreams.
(Btw, in addition to this connection, there are two others that I haven't yet had time to research.)
- In the show Galavant, which has been linked to Tommy's universe, one of the characters, Xanax, mentions the Petrificus Totalus spell from The Philosopher's Stone.
- Then, in the Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them movie trilogy, a montage features The New York Star, the newspaper that Carrie Bradshaw worked for in Sex and the City (also a figment of Tommy's imagination.)
But that's not all. Three other newspapers are in the same montage, The New York Chronicle, The New York Gazette, and The New York Clarion.
Each of these papers has been featured in other shows and movies linked to Tommy's universe, such as:
-The Twilight Zone
-Beverly Hills 90210
-I Love Lucy
-Citizen Kane
-Growing Pains
-The Pride of the Yankees
-Felicity
-The Untouchables
...just to name a few.
To date, 419 shows have been traced back to Tommy Westphall.
And that doesn't count movie connections, which, btw, includes the entire MC Universe and the Aliens Franchise.
Let's start with the MC Universe.
In Avengers: Infinity War, we discover that Tobias Funke is part of the Collector's collection. Tobias Funke was a character from Arrested Development, which crossed over with Homicide which crossed over with St. Elsewhere.
As far as Aliens goes, it gets a little more complicated.
In St. Elsewhere, the character Dr. Mark Craig mentions that B.J. Hunicutt from the series M.A.S.H. was a former colleague.
Then, as mentioned earlier, the doctors of St. Eligius went to Cheers. One of the characters in Cheers is Fraiser, the titular character of the show Fraiser.
During his radio show, Fraiser receives a call from John Hemingway, a character from the John Laroquette Show.
The bus stop in front of the office in the John Laroquette show was built by Yoyodyne.
Yoyodyne is a client of Wolfram and Hart, a law firm featured in Buffy, the Vampire Slayer (as well as Angel, The Adventures of Buckaroo Bonzai, Star Trek, Firefly, Red Dwarf, Dollhouse and Bones).
Another client of Wolfram and Hart is Weyland-Yutani, which built weapons and ships in Aliens.
So, that means M.A.S.H., Aliens, Buffy and all the aforementioned shows and movies exist within the same universe. Tommy Westphall's universe.
So, yeah...
To quote one reddit user:
"Forget the Matrix. We're all living in Tommy Westphall's mind."
If you're curious, here is a masterlist of all the TV shows that have been traced back to Tommy Westphall.
@milivanili99 @fancy-pantaloons @turvi @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @georgie-weasley @kaysau2510 @hanne-montana @rhunew @greenapplegrass @loca4moony @whotfskai @sierraluvzz @lillisummers
#i don't know how to tag this#tommy westphall#tommy westphall universe#harry potter#supernatural#buffy the vampire slayer#mc universe#aliens#star trek#firefly#and damn near every tv show and movie ever
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“Talk to me, okay? I need to know what’s going on.” please for peaky?? <3 much love
A/N: Spoilers for season 6, episode 4.
Find the OC version of this fic here.
"Talk to me, okay? I need to know what’s going on."
You sat at the end of Tommy’s bed, your whispered words loud in the silence of the dark room. Moonlight poured in through the open windows, highlighting the pensive look on Tommy’s face as he stared at the ceiling. His hands were laced on his lap, legs stretched out across the covers, as he deliberated. Over what, you weren’t sure. He’d been in an odd mood—odd for Tommy, at least—for days now, unwilling to listen to anything you had to say about it, but your concern for him had only grown, so you’d gone to him after the kids had been put to bed and Lizzie had snuck into Ruby’s empty room to sleep.
For a moment, you didn’t think he’d reply, too deep in his thoughts to even comprehend your words...but he spoke after thirty seconds, his voice low, quiet, a hint of pain woven between each letter.
“It’s got me, Y/N,” he spoke into the stillness. “It’s finally fucking got me.”
Though you knew the meaning behind it, it still made your heart clench to hear him admit it so openly. So vulnerably. It solidified what you’d hoped for several days was a lie. It made each tear you’d shed alone that morning, and the day before, and the day before that, real.
Licking your lips, you shifted uncomfortably on the bed, feeling your cheeks heat with pessimistic emotion. You nodded slowly. “I know,” you said quietly, which he seemed to hear perfectly as he lifted his head to look at you. “Arthur let it slip,” you told him, then shook your head. “Why didn’t you tell me, Tommy?”
Tommy lay back once more, pain washing over his features for just a moment, and you wondered if he physically hurt, or if it was just the inside that he was referring to. You vaguely rewound to what Arthur had told you. Well...told was a vast understatement. He’d let you know about Tommy’s illness during a drunk tirade you’d unintentionally caught yourself in the middle of. At first, you’d thought you’d misheard, or Arthur had misheard, or, at the least, his words were the result of an intoxicated mind, a mess of jumbled words and that was all. But everything had started to piece together after that...the reasoning behind Tommy’s recoiling and his sudden rush to get his affairs in order...the early nights and the headaches and the seizures you knew he’d been having...just him. He was a complicated man, but if anyone knew him best, it was you. He hadn’t been your Tommy in a while.
“It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with,” Tommy said. “Sweetheart,” he added, an attempt, perhaps, at familiarity, though it valiantly failed.
Your frown deepened. “Nothing I need to concern myself with? Tommy! You’ve got fucking terminal tuberculoma,” you hissed, leaning forward as though amplifying the need to get your point across. He didn’t reply, blinking at the ceiling, his fingers tightening around each other. You moved towards him, your hand on his chest, searching for the thump of his heart simply as a necessary reassurance he was still alive. “Tommy, this is serious,” you whispered, already feeling the tears well in your eyes. “You’re sick, and you’re keeping it to yourself. Who else have you told? Did you even tell Arthur purposefully? Does Lizzie know? This is something you have to talk about. It’s—it’s not fair to keep it bottled up. For you or for us.” You stopped for a breath of air, the tears rushing down your cheeks. “This is serious, Tommy.”
Your voice broke, and Tommy swallowed at the sound of it. He pressed his lips together and, without looking at you, reached up to grasp your forearm and pull you to lie beside him. “I know,” he muttered as your head found his chest. He put a hand in your hair, still staring at the ceiling, still fighting the knot in his throat and the tears in his eyes. “I know it’s serious.”
And God, did he. God. He was dying. He reminded himself of that every night. He was going. Fading. He wouldn’t be here much longer. And every night, after he’d said the words, jarring whispers in the stifled room, he felt nothing. No stab in the gut or ache in the heart. Nothing.
That was until he was with someone, and he reminded himself something different.
You’re dying, and you’re never gonna see them again.
And that was what sensitised him again. That was what caused the turmoil inside, and that was what broke the walls and let the emotion flood.
He drew you closer to him with a trembling hand and tried to ignore the feeling of your sobs against him. He closed his eyes and let out a slow breath, moving his free arm across to hold your hand.
“I’m dying,” he muttered.
The silence replied.
Peaky Masterpost
send me the first sentence of a fanfic and i’ll write the next five, except i don’t know when to stop writing so i guarantee there’ll be more than five
#peaky blinders#tommy shelby#thomas shelby#tommy x reader#tommy shelby x reader#reader#reader fic#sister reader#sister!reader#teen reader#teen!reader#mine#baby fic#drabble
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The Nightmare of our Dreams?
Okay so I watched a video a week or so ago on Youtube by @sendarya while falling down a rabbit hole working on the Angelic Language a bit. And I had some thoughts after i that I was going to add onto a reblog of this post and then it got all spirally and I had a lot to say all of the sudden, so I'm making this a ✨separate post✨ instead of adding a huge ass reblog. I'm tagging @sendarya anyways because it was their post to begin with and I like to give credit to the people who say things that make my gears start turning.
That being said, enough of this rambling and it's time to move on to the other rambling.
I don't know if anyone has speculated this yet, because weirdly enough I haven't seen much going around about the 'nightmare sequence' Neil talked about. I think my sister sent me a post about it, and I was like 'oh cool neat' then forgot about it and didn't give it a second thought.
So then I was looking to find a transcript or something about Peter Anderson mentioning the Angelic language can be solved (these people word things in the trickiest way and I want to know exactly what was said....because I still don't know) I stumbled instead upon this video of someone (sendarya that's you) talking about Ineffable Con. And that's where I saw it. That's the moment I saw the pictures of the bookshop surrounded by destruction for the first time.
I sat there staring at it for a bit, trying to process it, my sister explained it to me, and then I continued the video and got a bit more explanation.
So when it comes down to it, this post is ENTIRELY about speculation, and my thoughts on it. I have nothing to back this up, and for all I know it contradicts what Neil says about wanting it to be the ending of the episode.
I feel like this image induces a looming dread on its own, especially when paired with the ending of Season 2 (RIP my boys but you're on separate sides again.) But I'm not talking about the end of Season 2.
I'm talking about the end of Episode 2 'The Clue ft the minisode A Companion to Owls.' That's a mouthful.
Neil said that he wishes he would've put this nightmare sequence at the end of that episode, because it didn't have a proper ending. And so I was sitting here thunking about it, trying to figure out how a nightmare sequence would fit in after Bildad and Aziraphale have their silly little moment where they sit on the rock together staring out at the sea. And I realized how jarring it would be from a writing stand point, unless of course there was a scene that segued into it so that it wasn't just BAM them on the rocks then BAM Nightmare time.
Then it hit me. The scene where Aziraphale zones out then comes to only for Jim to tell him Crowley left a while ago. Here's the first shot of his face as soon as we see him again in present day.
I'm not even sure how to describe this look? Pensive? Little bit of pouty girl? Brow furrowed? I don't know, it's just weird.
But then he starts to speak, trying to get Crowley's attention....and something in his eyes...
He also looks to the side and back several times
It's just...there's this look about him that feels like he could maybe be doing more than remembering the happenings with Job.
And Jim says to him 'He went away...while you were thinking' and I KNOW that he's remembering the Job stuff here, because he whips around and follows it up with 'You know you really used to be awful.'
And like...after remembering the Job thing it seems like a perfectly valid reaction.
And I'm aware this scene IS NOT coming out of 'a nightmare sequence' like Neil described. Not to mention we don't even know WHO had the nightmare sequence. But I just personally think this would be the perfect scene to place after a sequence like that.
Think about it, Aziraphale is seemingly all in on the ball, like HE KNOWS it's his last chance. This man is determined to get everyone in the bookshop, telling Maggie and Nina they're safe and I think even telling Crowley such at some point 'We're perfectly safe in here.'
Safe from what, babygirl? Presumably whatever that scene with the bookshop sitting on a destroyed Earth. But also what if Crowley saw a nightmare sequence? It'd make sense for him to have seen it too! I mean like...we obviously don't know who would've been seeing the nightmare sequence.
But maybe Crowley would've going out to try and do something about it. It would make him being uncomfortable in the bookshop with Gabriel all the more emphasized. It would make him willing to go into Heaven and use Muriel to do it make all the more sense. So he can figure out what's going on.
It would make the Metatron telling Aziraphale that 'it's this thing we like to call the second coming' hit all the harder. Because this is something Aziraphale's worried about after having a vision like that. Could you imagine if Aziraphale was the one who had the nightmare sequence, and Metatron says that to him and he realizes how badly he fucked up SPECIFICALLY because he can't make sure the people he cares about (really just Crowley) are safe in the bookshop when that does happen? Could you imagine his newfound determination to go to Heaven and stop the second coming to prevent that from happening.
Could you imagine if Aziraphale came back from Heaven to find the only thing left was his bookshop?
I just, have a lot of thoughts and speculation on this nightmare sequence and it makes my brain go brrrrrr. So just imagine how impactful it would've been if that moment had taken place right before Aziraphale comes to after his long zoning out only to find out that he's been zoning out for a while. And Crowley is gone.
Anyways thank you for coming to my speculation post in which I have to live with these thoughts in my head and now so do you.
But that's just a theory---
Anyways keep an eye out for more posts on the opening sequence and the various other things that have been plaguing the minds of me and my sister.
#good omens#good omens 2#good omens spoilers#good omens season 2#good omens 2 spoilers#neil gaiman#good omens meta#is it meta?#i dont even know#ineffable husbands#crowley#aziraphale#the nightmare sequence#babes in is a sequence of my nightmares aint that for sure
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Imagine: Reuniting With Izzy Hands On The Revenge (And The Crew Finding Out About Your Past)
MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI
Relationship(s): Izzy Hands x gn!reader (implied romantic; possibly platonic)
Warnings: References to (non-real) minor violence and vomiting, swearing. (Let me know if I need to add any)
(A/N: It took me way too long to get around to watching the gay pirate show (in full, at least). I watched the first four episodes ages ago, then spent ages avoiding the show for reasons I don’t really understand. I may or may not have spent a couple of months reading Izzy x reader stuff, which means that I may or may not have developed a fondness for this man prior to me fully watching the show. I had a semi-fleshed-out idea as to the reader and Iz’s backstory, but you can think of your own for this one (I’m trying to cut down on exposition in my reader-insert stuff, especially my imagines and ficlets, which I now realise is an ironic thing to say because of how long this A/N is). Feel free to ask me about said idea, though. [Insert obligatory begging for OFMD requests])
You’d (narrowly) managed to avoid him in Spanish Jackie’z.
Only Lucius noticed that you’d seemingly returned from checking on the hostage, only back away from the bar with wide eyes. He just assumed you were avoiding the conflict between Izzy and Stede (after all, that’s what he was the most focused on).
It wasn’t until Izzy locked eyes with you for the first time that Lucius realised that something was up.
“L/N.” Izzy hesitated.
You wouldn’t have been surprised if only you had picked up on the fact that he was caught off guard. To anyone who didn’t know him like you did, one would have thought he had been expecting you.
You cleared your throat. Your heart hammered with every step he took towards you.
“Alright, Iz?”
Your voice still trembled.
Several confused stares heated up your face. Your eyes darted around to your crewmates until your gaze finally met Izzy’s once again.
“So, how’d you end up with this lot, then?” he sneered. He gestured vaguely to your crewmates.
If they weren’t so awestruck by the presence of Blackbeard and his first mate on board (and somewhat intimidated by them), you were certain they would have protested against the insult beyond muttering amongst themselves. You suspected some of them hadn’t realised they were being insulted.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” you argued.
The confidence of your words was somewhat betrayed by the fact you looked a bit like you wanted nothing more than to lean over the side of the ship and empty the contents of your stomach into the ocean, or, at the very least, scurry below deck and quiver in one of the ship’s dark crevices.
A mocking laugh escaped him in the form of a hum and exhale. The corners of his lips almost twitched into a smirk.
“I don’t know about you, but I’d say going from Blackbeard’s crew to sailing with the fancy man who ran his own fucking ship aground’s a bit of a downgrade.”
You ignored Lucius’ incredulous whisper of, “You sailed with Blackbeard?”
The crew’s eyes were as wide as yours had been when you saw Izzy at the Republic of Pirates. It was a fair reaction, you supposed. You hadn’t protested against Black Pete’s tales of his days of sailing with Blackbeard, at least no more than the others had. For all you had revealed about your history and your past crews, the name ‘Blackbeard’ had never rolled off your tongue.
You took in a deep breath. Exhaling, you forced a smile. Your cheeks felt as if Izzy had just ran the blade of his sword along the contours of your face. He faltered in that moment, knitting his brows.
“It’s nice to see you too, Iz.”
#izzy hands x reader#izzy x reader#izzy hands#our flag means death x reader#our flag means death#ofmd x reader#ofmd#lucius spriggs#stede bonnet#blackbeard#x reader#x gender neutral!reader#x gn!reader#x gender neutral reader#x gn reader
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I'm not happy with it, but I am sick of editing this chapter and I want to move on. Otherwise, I'll never finish it.
⚠️ Trigger warning: PTSD episode, choking
Unrecognisable Part 49
Fire. Everywhere. As far as the eye could see. I tried to find my way out, but all I could see were flames and it didn’t help that every next breath was emptier than the previous. I tried to scream, but nothing came out. I turned back to look at Jake, but where his hand had once been there was nothing but fire creeping up my arm. In that moment my heart stopped as I realised I was done for. I would die in this fire and nothing would be left behind. I didn’t want to die, I wanted to live. Live, damnit, live!
I jumped up in a cold sweat, my heart racing in a panic. My eyes darted around the room, trying to remember where the hell I was. Rundown, abandoned office. Old, ratty leather couch. That’s right, the warehouse. Sighing, I wiped my temple of the sweat and my cheek of the tears. Shit, that was worst and most vivid nightmare I had in ages. If I closed my eyes, I could still feel the heat of the fire. I glanced down and remembered the burns on my fore arms beneath the bandages. That’s right, not all of it was a dream. Some of it, no, most of it was real.
I sunk down and hugged my knees lightly while my mind ran through the events of the night before. I felt the pain of Cyan pinning me to the ground, syringe in his hand, coming so close to injecting me with liquid poison. I remembered hearing the roar of Jake’s voice cut through the room before he tackled Cyan and wrestled him for control. The look in Jake’s eye as Cyan bled out beneath him still sent chills down my spine. It was as if it had been a game – a game with the odds completely stacked against Jake. He won and basked in the victory while his opponent died
However, that moment was brief - that gloat turned to terror.
I winced as I could still taste the smoke on the back of my throat. I wondered how much mouth wash I would have to gargle to get rid of the awful taste. Or was it just one of those things I could never get rid of? Would I regain my sense of smell, or would I only ever be able to smell smoke forever more? Would I always be cursed to remember the night in perfect definition?
My phone beeped several times, which broke my concentration. I stared at it for a minute while I tried to decide whether I would even bother checking it. My curiosity won in the end.
Trix: Holy fuck! What the fuck did you two do!?
Trix: You killed Cyanide!? You actually fucking killed him!?
Trix: What the fuck were you thinking!?!!
Trix: OMFG…
Trix: There’s going to be a power vacuum a mile wide because of you!
Trix: Shit! All hell is going to break loose!
Trix: Why the fuck did you have to kill him!?
I turned the screen off and tossed the phone onto the floor. As if I cared about Colville’s underground politics. They could self-destruct on each other, and I wouldn’t blink an eye. So long as they stayed the fuck out of our way.
I stood up and stretched out gingerly. My crusted burns painfully threatened to weep again if I pushed them too much. I spotted a glass of water on the desk. I knew it was already mixed with Jake’s pain medication. I picked it up and downed it in one go.
‘Or let them come. We could use the stress relief,’ I thought to myself.
Let them come. Let them burn.
I could hear Jake’s dark voice in my head even though he never said those things. Somehow I heard them as clear as day and it made me smile. Suddenly I had renewed strength and was ready to face the day.
Thinking of Jake, I went to check on him. Had he been up all night working again? I expected to find him sitting at his desk as usual, but strangely the desk was vacant. I walked over and found his laptop had been left to run a process, but it had already finished. So where was the user?
A faint sniffle from the far end of the floor caught my attention. Zigging and zagging through the random scattering of desks and chairs, I found Jake sitting on the floor with his head in his knees in the far corner of the loft. His entire body was shivering, no, shaking. I knelt down beside him and put my hand on his back. His entire body jumped at my sudden touch. He raised his head slightly in response. His face was pale and his eyes were wide while his breathing trembled.
“Jake,” I cooed. “Jake, you’re safe.”
No response. The closer I looked, the more I noticed. His pupils were dilated. There was a tiny bit of dried blood on his lip where he had bit it too hard. His fingernails had bent and broke badly from digging them too hard into his pants. How long had he been like this?
“Jake, you’re not in the mines, you’re not in the fire. You’re… here,” I gestured to our surroundings with my head. “You’re home, for lack of a better word.”
“Find R-richy…” Jake shuddered.
“No, Jake, you don’t have to find him. He’s in prison, remember?” I smiled gently. “That was a very long time ago. You don’t need to worry about him anymore.”
I paused for a moment and waited for any sort of reaction from Jake, but he couldn’t hear me. I sighed with regret, knowing that I had caused this new series of episodes. Somehow, I had to get Jake out of the mental prison. It hurt so much to see him suffer like this, especially after having a taste of it myself. But how?
Out of nowhere, Jake snapped around and grabbed my wrist. As if the pain of that wasn’t enough, he twisted it and pushed me off balance. I fell backwards onto the floor with a thud. I screamed out from the searing pain of my burns being so harshly manhandled, but my cries were cut off by Jake’s hand at my throat. Unlike his taunts of the past, he squeezed hard, stifling the life from me, while he stared at me with dead, cold eyes. I clawed desperately at his hand, trying to get him to release me, but he was too strong.
“Jake!” I barely got out.
I stared deep into his cold, blank eyes hoping for any sort of recognition of what was happening, but I got nothing. Quickly strength drained from my body. My vision began to tunnel as my consciousness started to fade. The consideration that I could die right then and there suddenly became a frighteningly real possibility. My heart beat so heavily it felt like it was going to jump out of my chest. With the little vigour I had left, I shot daggers into the eyes of my possessed assaulter. Wake up damnit!
Suddenly Jake’s eyes widened as a wave of realisation washed over him. He immediately let go and jumped off me. I turned over and coughed uncontrollably as oxygen flooded my brain again. I was so deafened by the sound of my own pulse pounding in my ears that I could barely make out Jake screaming in agony until my heart rate started to recover.
“No!” Jake yelled at the top of his lungs. “Why? Why!?”
I tried to speak, but the only sound that came out of my throat was a cracked, broken mess. Jake buried his face in his knees again while his hands pulled at his hair. He let out a tortured wail into his thighs. I crawled over to him and lifted his head up with my hands cupping his cheeks. His expression was so full of pain and remorse that I couldn’t hold back my own tears. I leant my forehead against his and we cried together.
After a while Jake gritted his teeth and spoke up, “I’m so fucked up.”
“That’s why we’re seeing the doctor,” I hoarsely reminded him.
“What if he can’t help me?” Jake bit his lip hard. “Fuck, MC, I was so close to killing you.”
“Jake-“ my voice croaked.
“Don’t you dare say it’s ok because it’s not!” he snapped. “A few seconds longer and…”
I wiped his tears from his cheeks with my thumbs, then kisses his lips. “Tonight, Jake, tonight you’re meeting with the doctor and you’re going to get a handle on this!”
“I wouldn’t need it if it wasn’t for Richy!” he exclaimed. “He’s the reason I’m like this! He turned me into a pathetic, weak, deranged fuck up!”
“And he’s paying the price for it,” I reminded him.
“No…” Jake shook his head and his eyes turned dark. “He’s paid a pittance for what he’s done. His entire existence is a mistake!”
I realised there was no point in trying to argue with him, the best thing I could do was distract him from the topic. I raised my arms and took a good look at the bandages. They got rather bunched up and dishevelled during Jake’s episode, and my wounds wept so much, there was no point trying to salvage these. I needed fresh bandages.
“Did I do that?” Jake anguished.
“Let’s not focus on that,” I glanced up at him. “You can’t change the past, but the now you can change. Will you help me clean these?”
“I caused you so much pain… Only if you would have me,” he said full of guilt. “It’s the least I can do.”
“Then let’s go downstairs,” I stood up carefully.
Jake remained on the floor and with a pained expression, looked up at me, as if he didn’t deserve to stand. I held out my hand to help him up. He took it and pressed his forehead onto the back of my hand apologetically.
“I-I can’t say I forgive you,” I admitted.
“Nor should you. I won’t ever bother asking you to,” he muttered. “This is already much more than I deserve.”
“Jake, that’s not true,” I frowned. “You need help. Everyone deserves help.”
“No, not everyone,” he shook his head.
“Yes, you,” I rolled my eyes.
Jake raised his head and kissed my fingertips, “These are still so clean.”
“No, they’re not,” I sighed.
“They’re cleaner than you think. I don’t deserve this hand. I will only taint it,” he rambled.
“Jake, come on, get up,” I frowned.
Jake looked into my eyes as he put his lips around my pointer and middle fingers and softly lowered his mouth until he was past the second knuckle.
“Something tells me you want to taint it,” I raised my eyebrow.
Jake pulled my fingers out of his mouth leaving a trail of saliva between his lips and my fingers, “I want to corrupt all of you. I will if you keep letting me.”
I swallowed uncomfortably. There was such a darkness around Jake, and it had taken complete control of him. It threatened to engulf and pull me under with him. Oh how easy it would have been to let it consume me. No, my ego had to continue taunting it, thinking I had the upper hand and could control it. I pressed my fingertips against Jake’s lips then shoved my fingers back into his mouth. He eagerly started sucking on them, running his tongue lovingly along their length. I nearly fell into temptation, but the persistent pain on my arms reminded me that there were more pressing matters to take care of. I pulled my fingers back out and then lightly held his chin.
“Stand up, Jake,” I commanded, tugging the invisible leash.
Obediently, Jake stood up and followed me downstairs to the bathroom. I started to go through the first aid kit for the antiseptic solution, but Jake stopped me. He took my left arm and carefully unwound the ruined bandage, then proceeded to thoroughly clean the open burns and blisters. He reapplied the burn cream from the night before and pulled out a fresh bandage to rewrap my arm. After meticulously caring for my left arm, he repeated the process for my right arm just as diligently. Watching him, it was hard to think he was the same person who nearly killed me less than an hour ago. Glancing in the mirror, I noticed the bruise marks already starting to appear around my neck. The juxtaposition was so extreme that if it wasn’t for the physical evidence of Jake’s episode, I would’ve thought that I had imagined it, like it was a bad nightmare. It was too easy to forget how quickly he could snap.
The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully. Jake buried himself in his work, trying to distract himself from recent events. While he was occupied, I checked the news online to see what was being discussed about the fire. Generally the census was that the authorities had no information regarding the freak fire that burnt down the old warehouse, but I knew that wasn’t true. The articles mentioned some vagrants dying as a result of the fire, but that was as much as they mentioned. There was absolutely no mention of who or what they were, or of us. I suppose all things considered, that was for the best. I was sick of being painted as anarchist villains. I guess there was no story to weave so no propaganda to spin.
In the end it was just a fire that some nameless people died in. However, after a while, that started to unnerve me. All things considered, I shouldn’t have cared that Cyan and his cronies weren’t even named, but then I had a fleeting thought. If it was us, would we get a mention? Or would our deaths too be swept under the carpet like we didn’t exist? Would our loved ones even be told we died? Would our bodies be returned to them, or would we be cremated as John and Jane Doe? The fact I couldn’t even answer that made me sick. Suddenly I felt like there was real weight to Jake’s fear of being wiped from existence. It was too frighteningly easy to become lost and forgotten in this world.
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Otaku guardian of gate - Chapter 3
You decided to take the day off. You were in a lazier mood and the research went much easier with the help of the sea snake. That's why you decided it wouldn't hurt if you took a day off.
The sea serpent was already watching your ship, waiting for you to come out. You greeted him and showed him the computer. It was smaller than the canvas, but you needed darkness or shade for that.
After a few hours of the anime marathon, just when it was getting exciting you heard a pop and noticed she was gone. It was strange because he had never missed an episode before. You couldn't even skip a single opening or ending.
You hit it off, grabbed your basic scuba gear and jumped into the water. From a distance, you could see the end of his tail disappearing into his cave.
You swam to the underwater cave and climbed into the anime room with the bathtub. But you didn't see the snake anywhere. However, your eyes fell on the young man who stood with his back to you. The strangest thing about him was the snake marks.
He had a long scaly tail like a sea serpent. Two corals of the same colour were sticking out of his indigo-coloured hair, and his back and overall body were covered in a lot of scales.
Overall, he reminded the humanised version of a sea serpent. The only clothes he was wearing were shorts that looked like they were made of his snakeskin.
You heard him grunt something before he crumpled up the piece of paper in his hand.
"Why now?" he complained to himself as he turned and stopped. Your eyes met. You had no idea what to do and you both stood there frozen. Before you could say anything, he appeared at your side like a bolt from the blue
You yelped in surprise, taking a step back and falling onto your ass. He also took a step back as if he was startled too before he bent down and helped you to your feet.
"How?" you finally breathed out and couldn't think of any better questions. He furrowed his brows and opened his mouth several times before closing it again.
He looked around you before muttering, “Not here.”
You wanted to answer something in the sense of “why?” But you didn't have a single chance, because he took you around the waist and jumped into the water with you. It didn't matter what he looked like. Whether he was a giant snake or a human, he swam just as fast, maybe faster, and you were at your ship in no time.
You leaned against the railing and stared at him. What was he? What was he doing here? How was he able to change? Why did he change now? What kind of paper was that? Before he knew it, you bombarded him with these questions.
"A normie like you wouldn't get it anyway!" he replied, crossing his arms over his chest as if to protect himself from the questions.
“Says weirdo like you!” you snapped. If you're a normie, then he's a weirdo.
"Hey, don't call me a weirdo," he snapped back, his hand defence starting to crumble.
“So don't call me normie, weirdo,” you just weren't going to give up.
"Fine!"
"Fine!" you almost screamed but it looked like you calmed down a bit now. Instead, you sat down and there was a moment of silence.
“For starters, I'm Y/N. I think it would be nice to know our names so we don't have to call each other by those nicknames,” you said, wanting to add weirdo but didn't. You had the impression that you wouldn't get anywhere then.
"I'm Levi," he replied. After that, you asked him what he was and what was going on.
"I don't have to tell you anything" he replied and you noticed how he played with his fingers. Like he was nervous.
"Whatever you want, but say goodbye to the anime," you replied as if it was nothing. You only watched it for him anyway.
"You won't. Now that's exciting!" his eyes widened and he didn't understand what you were thinking.
“I will,” you replied with icy calmness.
“I… guard it here from prying people as punishment,” Levi finally said nervously, watching you hesitantly. You could tell he didn't want to talk about it much.
“Okay,” you replied, taking him completely by surprise. You would have liked to ask him about other things as well, but you didn't want to push the saw. You could see how he was relieved.
"Would you like to finish watching the episode we've been watching?" you asked him after a moment of silence. Levi's eyes immediately lit up and he nodded in agreement. Honestly, it was better this way than watching it with a giant snake.
Since that incident, Levi has been spending more time in his more human form. He was still helping you underwater with your research and you watched anime in the evenings and sometimes had some snacks.
Slowly but surely you found out more about him. You asked him now and then, but he didn't have to answer if he didn't want to.
You found out he was a demon. Under other circumstances, you would have laughed it off, but now? Now you trusted him. In addition, he had 6 other brothers. That's what you called family.
You spent almost all of the previous day underwater and went to bed sometime after midnight. No wonder you didn't want to get out of bed.
You would have liked to go back to your dream, but a strange sound coming from your ship made you give up your sleep and go investigate. It was suspicious since you hadn't come across any other ships in the entire time you were here.
You reluctantly left your bed, noticing that the sun was still relatively low. It barely climbed above the sea. You tiptoed and headed to your study where the noise was coming from. Along the way, you took a heavy relic you found with the plan to use it as a weapon against a potential intruder.
Ready to defend yourself, you walked into the open door. You found out that it was Levi who turned his back on it and was probably studying your documents.
You placed the relic on the table and Levi was startled as it thumped. He jumped up in shock and dropped the papers that scattered on the floor. With a weak yelp, he turned to face you.
"You shouldn't scare others like that," he said, still startled.
“Funny you should say that,” you replied and laughed. It might have occurred to you that it was a demon all along. "Why are you up so early?" you asked him, because usually when you watched anime late at night, you slept much later.
"I couldn't sleep," he shrugged. "I was bored," he explained simply.
"Sure. Will you have breakfast while you're here?" you asked heading towards the kitchen. Levi hesitantly accepted. He was still shy and always thought too much when you were kind to him. He followed you anyway.
You sat down at a small table and had some cereal with milk. It wasn't anything extra, but it was a welcome change for the demon. Out of curiosity, you asked during the meal what he had for breakfast so far.
He answered that he ate raw fish like a giant snake. As a demon, he doesn't mind such things, although he was glad to finally have something more normal.
Then when he told you that he slept in that bathtub when he was in this form, you didn't even want to believe it. You finally decided to invite him to dinner. You had some supplies in the freezer and wanted to treat him to some nice warm food.
Levi was completely taken aback by your offer but eventually accepted it. Then the conversation turned to you and your research. The demon was very interested in what you were working on here and was amazed at how far you had come.
You went diving again during the day, but you ended it much earlier to prepare dinner. You dined on chicken and potatoes in the skins while enjoying the sounds of the surroundings. You even offered to let him sleep on the boat with you so he wouldn't have to sleep underwater or in a bathtub.
You completely disarmed him with that. Levi turned red as a tomato and protested that he couldn't sleep in your bed, he wasn't good enough for that. And where would you sleep? It's your bed, you should sleep there.
In the end, you decided that you would both sleep there, back to back. The demon finally agreed to that. You each laid down on your part of the bed and you said good night.
Before you fell asleep, you felt something wrap around your leg. You carefully turned over your shoulder and noticed it was Levi's tail. You smiled to yourself and rolled onto your side again before falling asleep.
Slowly but surely you started to get closer, and sleeping in the same bed became more regular. You were starting to like being here more than just for your research.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5
Obey me! Masterlist
#obey me!#obey me leviathan#obey me shall we date#obey me! x reader#om! leviathan#sea serpent levi#leviathan#levi x reader#sea serpent#otaku guardian of the gate
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