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yuriisclumsy · 2 days

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Hi im still not sure if this is how you request😅😅

But can you please write a scenario about a reader who is very flirty with cale and always having a way to insert flirty lines into their conversation while cale just ignores it (secretly liking it) but one day he had enough and responds to a flirty line that the reader just said which leads to the reader being shocked. Also bonus if the fam also actually sees it HAHAHAHA

Thanks for reading🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️🙇🏻‍♀️

Who's The Teaser Now?

»»►In this scenario I like to think [Name] has been a servant of Cale’s for years. Like, she saw him when the two were teens , and was like “Well damn, hot momma. You lookin’ fine tonight,” like a high school girl drooling for her crush. And the rest is history.

»»►Having [Name] flirt with you for YEARS makes you unreactive to her remarks; immune to any of her advances. But one day, because he was feeling festive, he decided to reply to one of [Name]’s many flirty lines.

»»►And let me tell you. [Name]. Was. SHOCKED. Pikachu style.

»»►Now we jump to the present.

Cale was on his way to relax in Heris Village, where his villa resided, after the battle with Arm in the Hais Islands. Only to have it disturbed not even two minutes into the carriage ride back to the Henituse Territory, by none other than [Name] the Simp.

She first started soft, asking if he was alright after the battle: “You didn’t get injured, right?” To: “Well, just WHO would even hurt such a refined gentleman such as yourself, Oh young and handsome Master Cale?”

Now Cale was starting to get pissed. He just wanted a nice, AND QUITE, ride back. But no, he just had to hear your annoying voice….

Oh. An idea just crossed his mind.

Let’s see if this will resolve his problem, even if there is a possibility of it backfiring.

“Y’know Master Cale, every girl in the Henituse Territory is now DYING to see your pretty face. Especially after getting that fancy title of yours. A title, which I must say, is rather fitting of you, young master. Honestly, I’m so lucky that I can just admire it whenever you call me. If you asked me to marry you I wouldn’t even think for a second and just say yes. Truly, a dream come true!” [Name] was making his, On’s, Hong’s, and Raon’s ears fall off with how much she was talking.

Ah! Wait a second. This was the perfect opportunity!

“Oh yeah?” Cale started, “If I were to fall on my knee and ask you for your hand, would you accept in a heartbeat?” He asked as one curious gaze and two unsure gazes fell on him.

[Name] just looked at Cale, unsure at why he was asking. Usually he just orders her to do something to get her away, or simply ignores her altogether.

“Uhh-uhh..yeah?” She answered.

“Then you don’t mind if I do this then,” he said, getting down on one knee in the moving carriage.

At this point [Name]’s eyes were wide, almost to the point they might pop out her sockets.

Cale took her right hand and looked up to meet her eyes. With a wide smile he asked, “[Name] [Last Name], will you do me the honor of making me the happiest man alive, and give me your hand in marriage?” He finished.

The children looked at him like he had a loose screw. Had he finally a lost it after not getting a break to be a slacker? Was this his limit? [Name] had an unreadable expression. Almost concerning.

Did I go too far? Cale asked in his head while assessing her expression. What scares me the most is that she isn’t saying anything cheezy inturn, a sweat drop apparent in his face, falls.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!”

A screeching yell was heard from inside the compartment. The carriage stopped and those outside came running to aid–in what their opinion was a threat–those inside the carriage.

“Young Master Cale! Is everyone alright?! What happened—!?” Choi Han asked in a hurry, swinging the door of the carriage wide open, sword in hand. Only to see Cale kneeling on the floor of the carriage with a [Name] crunched up on the corner of the seat opposite to the door.

What happened?

All everyone could see was a girl that looked like she was dying slowly in a corner, and a young Master that probably fell from his seat after the carriage suddenly stopped.

To not make things more awkward, Cale spoke.

“Ah, you guys,” he got their attention, “go back. [Name] just saw a bug. So there is no need to worry.” He skillfully lied, sitting back up.

“...if you insist,” getting a hesitant response from Choi Han, and some worried looks from the others.

All the while Ron is just smiling in the back. We all know he knows what happened.

Going back to their positions, the carriage started moving again. Only this time, it was quiet. Just how Cale liked it. He looked at the source of the blissful peace to see the girl still in a crouched up position.

“Huff, where did that ‘say yes in a heartbeat’ go?” Cale asked the girl, getting that last remark for his triumph.

In response, all he heard was a muffled “Shut up…!” from her.

Red hues adorned her ears, indicating she was blushing. She was trying so hard to hide her face with her arms and legs too.

How cute.

No wonder [Name] enjoyed doing this to him, being the one on the teaser end is certainly amusing.

He smiled, looking out the window, deciding not to tease her anymore to save her from more embarrassment.

He should turn this into a hobby after seeing that expression on her face.

Hello, lovelies! I hope you enjoy this. Surprisingly I wrote this in two days...fascinating.

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: @lureslutes, @cruzerforce4256, @narcise63. Re-blog or Comment if you want to get added into the Tag section for Lout of Count's Family for more updates.

Lout Of Count's Family Master-List

Master-List

#cale henituse x reader #cale henituse #trash of the count's family x reader #trash of the count's family #lout of the count’s family #lout of the count's family x reader #reader input #x reader #manhwa x reader #totcf #manhwa #manhwa fanfic

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fictionkinfessions · 2 days

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I've seen enough asks on here about the topic, so I just want to say:

If you identify as a system, GO GET THERAPY. Being a system is not a "normal" human thing and it definitely means you need fucking therapy. You can't just call yourself a system and call it a day. You cant just say you're KINNING, either, because the kin community goes back decades and it is bigger than some teenager on tumblr picking up kins from your mutual's posts. My honest, genuine opinion is that anyone with 100+ kinds or alters IS NOT ACTUALLY A SYSTEM. You are just young and impressionable and the world is in shambles right now and theres a sense of comfort in being someone else. Everyone wants to know who they really are and you will NOT figure it out until you're in your 40s. If it brings you comfort, fine. But go get therapy so they can tell you how to ACTUALLY cope with the real world instead of using "escapism." Escapism is not the answer to your problems and you still have to deal with them.

I say this as a person who felt inhuman since before I was 10yo. I even told my dad about it back then. And I've been watching the way the "community" has changed over time. You are not a polyfragmented system if you have 100+ kins, you are just trying to find an identity that fits you. Kinning nowadays is a good FIRST STEP. But I cannot stress enough that CPTSD, autism, and ADHD mix together to cause dissociative episodes. Maybe you should all look into it and find peace with yourselves before adding a new kintype to your list

All of this being said, yeah I do think having a bunch of kintypes is fine. It's okay for one alter to kin a handful of different people and shift between them. But you do not need individual listings for each separate one. You do not need to make a new proxy with pluralkit. I see people confessing to only seeing a character ONCE and kinning them. It doesn't work like that. Take some time to think about it. Its IMPORTANT to figure out if these similar kins are actually just the one person instead of assuming they're someone new. If you actually had 100+ kins (that you treat like individual alters) you would not be functional

...

#fictionkinfessions #fictive #ableism cw #gatekeeping cw #ageism cw #fakeclaim #mod party cat #documentary anon getting outshined??

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supercalime · 2 days

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I can’t believe I found people who think about this the exact same way as I do. I don’t get these hardcore buddie stans who suddenly try to make it look like buckTommy shipper are the toxic ones. I haven’t seen a single BuckTommy shipper who was rude without a reason (maybe a bit defensive about their CANON ship). Whereas I’ve seen plenty of incredibly toxic buddie stans who insult everyone who doesn’t ship their ship or share their opinions.

Another thing and don’t get me wrong Im not defending anyone. But I’ve seen many people heavily bullying the marisol actress because she’s apparently homophobic (not saying she isn’t or is) and wanting her to be gone beacause of this reason but totally ignore the alleged racism of ryan (again not saying he is racist or not, i dont know them personally) just because he is part of their beloved ship. By their logic Ryan should leave the show too.

Hey anon, it took me some time to answer your ask (chaotic life stuff lol) but I’m glad to finally have time to talk about this first part with you.

I’ll preface by saying I won’t get involved in actor drama, no matter how true or toxic it is because I don’t have enough information nor am I qualified to talk about the issues they mishandled. I’ll just say that, no matter who does bad things, they should be held accountable.

Okay, back to the main point: yes, it’s very strange how b*ddie st*ns are behaving towards the canon bi!buck thing. Both with people who ship bucktommy but also with the creators and actors on the show. Regardless if they are right or not about b*ddie being canon, this is not how you act with entertainment, specially with the people giving the content.

I hate to bash but it looks and sounds a lot like a toddler throwing a tantrum because they didn’t get a specific toy.

And toddlers only throw tantrums because they are brand new humans who are learning how to behave. They don’t know any better so they react with outbursts and repeated demands because it’s the only way they know to get the attention of the person taking care of them.

If I’m not mistaken, the main audience for the show is 18-45. NO ONE here should be yelling in comment sections “we want buddie! we want buddie! we want buddie!” as if they would immediately get it. It’s not how it works and it’s frankly embarrassing to see a bunch of adults acting like that for everyone to see.

And I can’t stress it enough, I’m not putting myself on a high ground here and saying I’m a better person by shipping bucktommy, as I’m sure there might be a percentage of fans out there being rude and annoying as well. But at least I’m keeping my conscience clear by not acting like me shipping two characters is something big enough in my life to ruin my enjoyment of a whole show in case my favorite ship doesn’t become canon.

I hate how fandoms behave as if they can have control over the content they are consuming. We aren’t entitled to anything and if there is supposed to be ANY discourse about which character was supposed to end with, that should happen AFTER the show ended! The story isn’t over yet! So why are b*ddie st*ns so stressed? If a show is making you this angry and demanding, please step aside a little, give it some distance because that’s not how consuming content is supposed to make you feel.

And I say that last part with sincerity because I too got way too involved with fandom discourse in the past, to the point that I had to distance myself from certain shows because being that involved made me upset.

Im just tired at this point you know. Im trying to protect myself as much as possible. Im not in the bird app, I don’t follow the show or the actors on social media, im avoiding interviews like the plague. All I want from this experience is to watch the show, gather my thoughts, form my opinions, log onto tumblr and reblog the cute stuff I see about my favorite ship without having to worry about whatever the hell is going on outside my pretty little bubble

#lety rambles #ask #911 #911 abc #bucktommy #tevan #firefly #firepilot

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comicarc · 1 day

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𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐄𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐢𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞

A chance meeting with a stranger leads down the road of an inevitable devotion. Breeding a childish love into an obsessive attachment. The devil's temptation is all-consuming, only producing pain disguised as pleasure.

wc: 2906

The grace of his footsteps, despite his enormous figure, had seemed to incite an absurd curiosity within me. His attitude ranged from a spectrum even vaster than that of light, as he got along with almost everyone he met, yet peculiarly, seemed to never lose his morals or beliefs in the face of so many opinions and conversations.

I had paid no mind to him when he first marched through the halls of Gotham high, the whole school was abuzz with chatter, gossiping about this bizarre new character. He never dressed the part of being Bruce Wayne’s ward, often rocking hoodies large enough to drown in, colored a deep blood red that seemed to fuel the fury of the teachers. He was a delinquent in every right, yet he was also as intelligent in the same capacity.

Paid for by the one-percenters of Gotham, the library the size of a Manhattan penthouse was often eerily empty, met occasionally with the presence of a student trying to pay another for answers to an assignment. I was an exception in all such aspects, for neither was I rich nor conceited enough to believe in the fantasy that I would be handed everything in life. I would relish the silence of the library, a place I had made a home of by the second week of high school. Gotham was not a city for me, and the cheap apartment that I called ‘home’ was anything but its namesake, lacking everything that the library could provide.

I had heard the whispers of others, of how the girls were intrigued by the new kid to instantly desire him, and of how the boys spoke nonsense, fueled by a jealous rage. Though these polarized opinions had left me curious, I never thought it my place to ever participate in such an activity of imagining. That was a right reserved for the rich, for those who had time enough to do as they pleased.

Jason Todd sat in front of me, one fine day, in the library, so enamored in The Great Gatsby that he ignored my existence. Although caught off guard, I enjoyed the silent company, feeling as though I was not alone in my fated destiny toward deterioration as I spent more and more time in the library each passing day. Life had only begun to worsen with time, yet his presence had seemed to soothe me with silent comfort.

At first, I brushed him off just as I thought he had done of me, yet the more I saw him, I began to imagine as well. He had made me a rich woman, not materialistically, but rather metaphysically. My mind spent hours trying to reason why he stayed. Was the library his abode as well? Was he trying to read every book he’d laid eyes on in there? Why? Questions only left a hole, a desire to fulfill my curiosity.

“Hey.” Jason's soft voice, like the serpent tempting Eve, left me craving conversation. It was the third month of our silent routine when he finally spoke, soothing months of contemplation with a single word. Oh, how desperate I had been.

The days that followed after that interaction were like a daydream. Unbeknownst to most, Jason had a poetic soul paired with the heart of a hopeless romantic. He would bring my favorite coffee with a pastry to the library and set it beside me inconspicuously. He’d brush off every thank you, pleased by the apparent delight in my expression when I would realize what he had brought. These little gestures enabled us to evolve beyond the library setting, meeting instead at coffee shops near the school simply to study as we normally had done.

Our interactions were intimate, yet physical exchange was always kept to a minimum, with either party fearful of crossing the line and losing the other. But observing the way his massive body could maneuver through the crowds of people on the street, watching him eat with a linger of an animalistic instinct through his gentle facade, and catching his radiant smile whenever he laid eyes on me was fulfilling enough. Until it left me longing for more.

It had taken me a while to muster the courage to make a move to him. I had developed feelings for him that grew deeper with each passing day, and I couldn’t hold in my desire any longer. So, on a sweltering summer day, as me and Jason sat at the coffee shop we would always hang out at, I decided that I would do something. Jason, in his tank top and jeans, sweat shining in the glare of the sunlight, had left me a blushing mess, too embarrassed to think through what I should do to further our relationship. In my state, I had barely recognized how he seemed timider than usual, keeping to himself.

After an awkward afternoon in the quaint shop, I decided my endeavor was a lost cause. I got out of my seat, and walked to the entrance, motioning to Jason that I was about to leave. Together we walked out through the door, yet before we could part ways, he grabbed my wrist with a gentle grip. The sudden action caused me to swing around, crashing into his chest as I did. Before I could apologize, he used his free hand to take hold of my chin and tilt my face upward just enough to meet his lips.

The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us suspended in time. It was a moment of pure magic. In that fleeting instant, I knew with certainty that Jason was the perfect man for me, the one I had been searching for without even knowing it. As we pulled away, breathless and exhilarated, I felt a sense of clarity wash over me like a cleansing tide. In Jason's arms, I had found my sanctuary, my safe haven in a world full of chaos.

And to tie the not on such a precious moment, he had whispered, “Will you be my girlfriend.”

Since that day, Jason established a routine. He’d keep his distance until the night, when he’d knock on my door, littered with bruises, crying for help. The late nights were reserved for peeling away every layer of Jason’s being his traumatizing past and his blissful present. Then, there came days that I wouldn’t hear from him for days, never seeing him at school or at the cafe. He was like a ghost disappearing and reappearing as he wished, toying with my heart every time. Yet, he always managed to make up for his absence, knowing just the right things to reel me back in when I started to slip away. But despite the distance, despite the pain, I stayed because I loved him. I had fallen in love with his fucked up ways, his twisted dreams, a secret life he kept from me.

He wasn’t a bad lover, just an absent one. His appearance had become the highlight of my days, the way he’d caress me when we hugged, the way he’d hold me in his arms while we rested in my bed. Everything he did was able to erect a lustful emotion I never knew I had. He was by all means, perfectly imperfect. Human in all rights.

After we graduated, he became more and more distant. He’d never told me what he was up to, convinced that I would stay by his side no matter what. I felt as though I was more of a token anchor than a person to him. Existing just for him, as if I did not have passions and ambitions of my own. But he was right. His love was intoxicating, leaving me an obedient puppet who’d always wait for him. Yet the summer after graduation, when he left me for months, I finally began to become skeptical of our situation.

It was bittersweet to know that this time, he hadn’t stood me up due to his own volition. Fate was a heartbreaker, leaving love a longed-for feeling buried six feet in a grave that I could never see, even if I wanted to. Jason had a simple ceremony, with his blue roses placed upon the coffin as he was buried. A speech was given, tears were shed, and people departed more disturbed than they arrived. Or at least that was what I was told in a letter. The sender was one who shared the same address, the same life, the same ambitions as Jason, yet hadn’t the heart to allow his girlfriend the privilege of knowing about the late son’s departure from this world.

Bruce Wayne had known loss to a degree incomprehensible to the common man, and no amount of money would ever fix the wounds that bled him dry. Yet, this experience should have encouraged communication. If he was as heartful as the news portrayed him to be, sympathizing with those less fortunate enough to form a family full of grieving children, then how had he glanced over me? The same pain had haunted me, from the moment I felt Jason slipping from my grasp, becoming more and more distant until he left me forever. Bruce Wayne, through Jason, was depicted as a madman driven by an insane drive as persistent as the Joker’s scheming. Jason worshipped the man more than god himself, and yet he often came to me with pained sobs, unfulfilled dreams, and an unbridled rage that his ‘father’ failed to provide for.

Having never met the man before, I had formed a loose persona in my mind that I had assumed the billionaire was. Yet, my assumptions were solidified after receiving the curt letter, rather, note, written with such passive care that anyone would have thought it was merely as insignificant as a to-do list.

To whom it may concern: We gathered to remember Jason at Wayne Manor. It's regrettable you couldn't join us. The Wayne family extends their condolences and offers assistance during this difficult time.

Pretentious, arrogant liars. Gotham’s elite were all the same. I sat in the restaurant for two hours, danced in the street on my way home imagining what I would do for Jason's birthday, and attempted to reason another one of his absences from the date before knowing. The sealed envelope sat on the doorstep, accompanied by nothing but a red seal that indicated its correspondent. It was a strange item to receive out of the blue.

With no notice, no knowledge of the life that Jason led among the elite, I was baffled by the harshness of facing a sudden reality. It felt surreal to imagine Jason of people dead. He was a killer, with killer looks, a killer smile, and a killer attitude. A body built to fight, and an aura as dangerous as a drug. He couldn’t have died, not my Jason.

I couldn’t comprehend losing Jason, enough that in such denial I had ventured to Wayne Manor, forcing my way through the ebony gates onto the gothic grounds of the mansion. At the front door, after incessantly pounding on the grandiose doors, I was finally met with the face of the butler, Alfred. Before speaking I stared at him for a few moments as I cleared my blurry vision from the uncontrollable tears that rolled down my cheeks. He seemed to recognize me, as he let me inside, placing a hand on my back for support as he looked toward me with an empathetic expression.

“Jason can’t be dead. I never saw a body, never heard a lick of what happened to him. You’re liars.” The words left like venom, hurting the old man enough to display his aching heart in his eyes.

“We all have lost someone very special, but we must accept it.” He spoke, attempting to keep a calm demeanor.

“Accept it? What the hell are you on about? A funeral I was never invited to and a body I have yet to see. How am I supposed to accept something that seems too imaginative?” I retorted, my anger laced with sorrow.

Silence hung heavy between us, but I pressed on, seeking the truth I feared. “He didn’t care, did he? He loved something more than he loved me, right?”

Alfred nodded, giving into his grief as his eyebrows softened, and his gaze moved to the floor, tears threatening to spill from the corners of his eyes.

“Can you tell me what it was that he adored enough to give his life for?”

“Justice.”

I laughed. Of course, he chased independence from his family, yet revered the so-called philanthropist guardian he had. Though he might have begun with the pursuit of true moral justice, Bruce skewed into a dangerous endeavor.

Bruce Wayne was a killer, not Jason, no he had a handsome impression, a soft smile, and a hopeful attitude. It wasn’t justice that Jason pursued, it was Bruce’s image of it. He was an imperfect man, his only weakness was the longing for a familial love he was denied by his own parents. One that I could never compensate for. He wasn’t my Jason, never had he been. I didn’t know Jason at all, I was the puppet, toyed with by the father and the son.

After six months of sleepless nights and living nightmares, I finally found a haphazard peace to settle in. I watched the sky every night, wishing that the hope that blessed Metropolis would make its way into Gotham and give me the will to move on with my life. But, as the general populace is fated to remain in the same cycle, trapped in the chains of modern capitalism, all I was able to do was make do with my shitty job, in my shitty apartment, living a lonely life, as devoid of color as the Gotham sky was of the sun. My visit to Wayne Manor had not changed anything, for I was still left in the dark regarding every manner in which Jason’s name was exploited, whether it be a fundraiser in his honor or a gala, I was always the last to know.

But without hearing his name, seeing his face, or feeling his touch for so long, I had begun to forget him. Out of sight, out of mind as the saying goes, and though I had forgotten everything, his soft voice still haunted me whenever I slept. I had fallen into insanity fueled by my imagination, one that left me feeling rich in broken pieces of a heart.

Tonight I sat at the edge of my windowsill, one leg resting on a loose brick outside the apartment, while the other remained crossed beneath me. With my head leaned back against the metal of the frame, I watched the stars twinkle in the night sky, like diamonds. It was a rare night, to hear the sirens go off occasionally. There were no screams, no gunshots no cries for help, only the ambience of the city. I took it as a sign, that change had arrived, that peace was mine to finally be in.

Closing my eyes, I decided that tonight was safe enough to let my guard down. To enjoy Gotham’s raw essence as a mother to the unfortunate. Her touch let my hair dance in the breeze, cooling my body from the heat of the day. Her sounds were a harmonic symphony lulling me into a deep sleep. But her motherly affection was short-lived, as the sound of boots hitting the fire escape had woken me from my lucid state.

The footsteps felt heavy yet sounded as soft as the movements of a ballerina. There was a familiar feeling about the situation, but I couldn’t quite place it, not until his breath hit the back of my neck. Even with the faint light from the neon sign, the man remained a silhouette in the darkness, bigger than what the steps had led me to believe. I didn’t move, waiting for the man to make the first move.

“Hey.” In the same husky voice in which he introduced himself to me all those years ago, Jason had come back, yet again tempting me to be consumed by him. At first, I thought I had finally broken, gone insane from the grief. I was done fighting my end when the weight of Jason's touch settled upon me. It was as though a dark cloud descended, shrouding me in a familiar embrace that I couldn't resist. His fingers traced the contours of my hand, each touch sending shivers down my spine, igniting a flame that I thought had long been extinguished.

I felt the pull of his presence, magnetic and intoxicating, drawing me closer with each passing moment. His breath, hot against my neck, tempted me to abandon reason and lose myself in his embrace. Despite the past, despite the pain, despite everything urging me to resist, I found myself unable to pull away. His hold tightened and his lips brushed against my ear, I knew that I had crossed a line from which there was no return. Swallowed by the shadows of Gotham's embrace, I had sealed my fate the moment I met him. I was fated to die a poor woman, yet the devil enticed me with a taste, and I will die a rich woman consumed by the unending pain of unreal love.

#jason todd x y/n #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd #red hood #red hood x reader #under the red hood #arkhamverse #arkham knight #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #angst #manipulation #toxic love

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punishereditz · 2 days

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The Night The Lights Went Out In Georgia

Pairing: Jack Reacher x f!reader

Warnings: 18 Plus only! Minors DNI! DO NOT COPY! THIS STORY CONTAINS HEAVY SUBJECTS! Mentions of murder. Mentions of trafficking. (Not detailed.) Smut. Unprotected sex. P in V. Oral. (F receiving) Dirty talk. Size kink. Praise kink. Scratching. Creampie.

AN: Reba, you are my queen

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: Well, don't trust your soul to no backwoods Southern lawyer. 'Cause the judge in the town's got bloodstains on his hands

The station was silent expect for the small grunt you let out as you stretched. It was going on 11 pm, everyone had done left expect for you and Reacher. He was determined to keep working. This case was eating him alive. When a man he was stationed with years ago randomly shows up dead, he knew he had to look into it. The more he looked though, he learned just how complicated this whole thing was. The mayor. The judge. Lawyers. Officers. The preacher. All dead in a spam of a couple months. Why were all the men with high power in the town suddenly dying? He couldn't figure it out.

"Where's the files on the preacher?" Reacher asked as he stood with a soft sigh.

"Over at Scott's desk." You answered and looked back down to your papers. With a nod from Reacher, he walked across the room over to the chief's desk. Rustling through the papers before he found what he was looking for. He started to make his way back to your office, but as he walked down the hall, he came to a sudden stop. Taking a step back, he looked at the framed photo on the wall.

A picture of the mayor cutting a ribbon. Then his eyes drifted to the woman standing next to him. She looked familiar. Reacher couldn't figure out where he has seen her though. That's when his eyes moved to the background of the photo. A small child standing behind the mayor. It hit him like a ton of bricks. It was you. The child in the photo having the same scar as you that lines from your eyebrow to your hairline. You're the mayor's daughter? Reacher thought. It was all clicking in his mind. You were the one responsible for this. But... something still wasn't right. He was putting all the pieces together, but there was still a piece missing.

What was your motive? Why did you do it? Questions flooded Reacher's mind as he walked back into your office. Returning to his seat. His eyes lingering on you before he looked to the files. He didn't know what to do yet. He considered locking you in the cell right now, but he didn't have enough proof. And if you really are the one who did all this... will he be able to put you away? He's been in the town for almost a month now working with you and the station. He's grown partial to you. Captivated by you, even. There was something about you... your fierceness... your pretty eyes. It had Reacher longing. And he wasn't the only one feeling this way. You knew the second he walked into town he would be the death of you. That captivating smile and bluntness would get you into trouble. Once you got insight into how Reacher works, you knew he would figure you out. That he would know it was you.

And as you looked at him sitting across from you, you know that he knows now. It finally clicked for him. You're honestly shocked it took him this long. But now that he knows, you're not sure what to do. You thought about just telling him, but what would he do? How would he react? Would it hurt him? You couldn't stand the thought. The thought of him seeing you as a monster. You weren't sure why you cared so much about Reacher's opinion; you didn't care what anyone else thought of you. So why care about he thinks? You were hesitant and you hated it. As the night went on, neither of you said anything. But you both knew. You both thought about what to do.

Reacher tossed and turned in his hotel room. Completely restless. He was trying to find that missing piece, but he couldn't. Why? That was the question that played in his mind on repeat. He didn't know why. Why would you do it? It was starting to bother him too badly. With a sigh, he got out of bed, and he threw on his clothes. Walking out into the cold, rainy night. Walking to your house at 3 am. He didn't care how late it was or the fact that it was pouring down. He had to know. So, he marched up the steps and he banged on the door. The line between your eyebrows growing as you got out of bed and went to the door. When you opened it, the crease between your eyebrows deepened.

"Reacher? What are doing?" You slowly looked him up and down. His jeans a shade darker from the wetness, his shirt glued to him. His muscles showing through it. His hair dripping and his chin quivering. Fuck. He looked so good.

"Why did you do it?" He simply asked and you weren't the only one staring. Reacher's eyes glued to the oversized t-shirt, the outline of your nipples visible and the boxers that were barely visible. Fuck. You looked good.

"What?"

"Why did you do it?" He said more firmly.

"Did you walk here? You're going to end up sick." You moved to the side to let him in.

"Don't change the subject. Why did you do it?"

You sighed and stopped. Looking down. Not prepared for this conversation.

"I was wondering how long it was going to take you to figure it out." Now Reacher was confused.

"You knew I was going to find out?" You simply nodded and handed him a couple towels and a blanket.

"Yeah. Surprised you didn't realize sooner." You started to make a pot of coffee and Reacher hummed. Thinking.

"Why?" He asked again. You took a deep breath. Trying to prepare yourself.

"The mayor... he was my stepdad and when I was a kid... he used to do terrible things to my sister." You paused. "When I got older, I learned that half the men in town, especially my stepfather, were trafficking kids." Reacher's eyes widen as he realized.

"I tried to take it to court numerous times, but because the judge and lawyers were in on it, it didn't matter how much evidence and proof I had, they always dismissed it." Reacher nodded as he listened to you closely. It all made sense now.

"So..., that's why I did it, and I'll do it again." You broke the silence and you slide a cup of coffee over to him before you rested your hands on the counter and looked down.

Reacher took notice of it, and he stood up. Taking the quick step over to you. He gently placed his hand under your chin and tilted your head up so that you would look at him. "Is there anyone left?"

"Yeah... the chief. I think he's starting to suspect it's me." You spoke softly and held back a gasp as Reacher was suddenly so close and his cold hand was still holding your chin.

"Alright. We can take care of him tomorrow." He simply said and he let go of your chin. He still stood close though.

"What?" You grew confused and he simply repeated his words.

"We'll take care of him tomorrow."

You went to speak, but nothing came out. You went to argue with him and tell him that it's none of his business and he shouldn't get deeper into this than he already is, but you knew you couldn't fight him on this. He's too stubborn. He'll help rather you like it or not, so you don't push.

Instead, your eyes travel over his body. At his still soaking wet clothes that are stuck to him. Your eyes going to his muscles and lingering there. You realized you were staring and snapped yourself out of it. "I think I might have some clothes that will fit you. You can shower and get warmed up." You leaned off of the counter and started to walk down the hall. A smirk growing on his lips as he caught you staring. His eyes going to ass as you walked away. Then he quickly followed and watched as you searched for the clothes.

Now his turn to stare. His eyes stuck on your ass. His mind wondering off, but you quickly pulled him back to reality. "Here. These should work." You held them out to him, and he accepted them with a small smile and a soft thank you. He went into the bathroom and got into the shower. The scolding water hitting him. The tension in his muscles easing. His eyes fell closed and he let the water sooth him. When he opened his eyes, he looked down at his hard cock. With a groan of frustration, he let his head fall back. His mind continuing to wonder back to you. But not because of the case. Oh no. His mind kept going back to the image of you in those boxers. The outline of your breast in that shirt. You looked absolutely gorgeous to him. He wanted to jerk those clothes right off of you, but he knew he needed to hold back his thoughts. Although he wanted to bend you over the counter, he still felt the need to stay professional.

Even after solving everything, and being able to have you now, he still feels he should keep the relationship at a businesslike level. But you? You pace around your living room wondering if you should you just go join him in the shower or not. Over the past couple weeks, you've caught yourself staring and your thoughts wrapped up in a dirty fantasy about him. And after seeing him show up at your door in the rain and handle your confession so well, you can't stop the desire that is growing stronger. You let a frustrated groan out and you walked down the hall. You went to knock on the door, but before you could, the door was being opened and you were greeted by a shirtless Reacher. That's it.

You leaned up and captured him in a deep, heated kiss full of desperation. His body quickly relaxing and his strong arms wrapping around you. Lifting you up and carrying you back to your bedroom. His tongue gently brushing against your lips as he tried to deepen the kiss as he sat you down. Grabbing your shirt and pulling it over your head. His hands going to your breast. Gently massaging them. He laid you down on the bed. Kissing down your neck. His lips grazzing over your breast as he kissed your stomach. Kissing each and every scar, freckle and mark he could find until he stopped at your hips. Grabbing your boxers and pulling them down.

Greeted by your wet cunt. He hummed in amusement. "This wet already?" He teased and spoke in a confident tone. Then before you could say anything, he wrapped his lips around your clit. Gently sucking on it. A sharp gasp leaving your mouth as his tongue circled around it. Your slow breaths turning into heavy pants as his tongue kept working your clit. His movements slow and gentle. Making a chill run down your spine, your back arching and your legs shaking. His mouth on your sensitive clit felt so good. He was working you like no one else has before. Bringing you a pleasure you had no idea you could feel. It had you shaking. It had you wanting more. You needed more. Despite how good it felt and how you didn't want it to end, you grabbed his hair and pulled his face up. Moving your legs off of his shoulders and pulling him up so he stands in front of you. You raised up and started to kiss his abs. Your mouth traveling down to his v line. Gently kissing him.

You gripped his sweatpants and pulled them down. When his cock was free, you had to hold back a gasp. He chuckled at the shocked expression that you couldn't hide. "Will... it fit?" You said shyly and Reacher grabbed you by the chin. Pulling you up. "You can take it." He whispered in your ear, and he laid down on the bed. Pulling you down on top him. He gently kissed you. A kiss of reassurances. He carefully rubbed his cock through your folds. Putting the head at your entrance. Then he moved his hand away. Wanting you to take this at your own time. You slowly pushed down on his cock. Gasping as your walls stretched around him.

"There you go... that's it. Good girl." Reacher groaned as he watched as your cunt slowly took all of him. His hands holding your ass. You sat there for a moment to adjust to him, then you lifted your hips. Dropping back down. He bit his lip to hold his noise back. You noticed and pulled his lip out from his teeth, and he softly whimpered. "Don't start holding back from me now." He whimpered again when he heard your dirty words and felt your walls clenching around him. His eyes going down to your breast as they bounced with your bouncing hips on his cock. Your movements getting a steady pace that makes you and Reacher breathless. Yours and his moans growing louder and louder. He couldn't help himself when he let his hands move all over your body. Moving along your sides, your breast, your neck, your hair, over your back and down to your ass.

Gripping it. Helping guide you on his cock. As he admired you, he looked up at your closed eyes. Your head back in pleasure and your hands moving up your own body and squeezing your breast. He completely lost all bit of control he had left. He put an arm around you and with a swift move, he moved your body under him. Getting on top of you. He thrusted deep into you. The breath being pulled right out of your lungs. You dug your fingers into his shoulders and a loud moan slipped from your lips. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he thrusted deeply into you. It was passionate. It was sweet. It was slow. He made each thrust into you mean something. He made sure with each thrust that you knew how he cared for you. How long he wanted this. His groans getting louder and his thrust getting harder and faster. Your walls clenching around him and your nails dragging down his back as the new speed felt sensational.

You didn't even know he could make you feel even better, but he does. Your climax was on the edge. Struggling to hold it back. His climax creeping up on him as well. The volume in his groans increasing as he felt your climax release onto him. Driving him into his climax. Filling your cunt up with his seed. The results of yours and his pleasure dripping down onto the bed. The two of taking a moment to catch your breath. Once you did though, he gave you a grin and thrusted into you again. Round after round. He made you feel the best pleasure of your entire life all into the morning. The sun setting and lighting the room. His arms wrapped around your small body. Holding you close to him before you two have to finish what you started. The reason he came into this town. The reason he was brought to you.

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illusionsofdreaming · 3 days

Text

birds without feet;

Notes: I return to the blog with this monster of a ficlet. This was actually written for @nin-deer who very graciously allowed me to share it on the blog as well. A small imagine that grew out of control haha... enjoy~ Ft: Beacrox

It was but a subtle shift of air that caused him to abandon his project. In an instant, he whipped around, knife in hand, its sharp blade poised just above the intruder's jugular, ready to cut deep with the slightest pressure.

Despite the threat of a blade at your neck, your smile was relaxed as you lifted the roll of parchment in your hand. “Delivery!”

His eyes quickly scanned the kitchen, noting the shifted curtains he pieced together your point of entrance. Only when you wiggled the paper impatiently did he finally drop the knife and swiped the parchment from your hand, ignoring your huff of laughter as he scanned over its contents.

“It’s nice to see you too Beacrox. How have you been?”

Your attempts at casual banter were ignored, but the moment you began reaching for the food on the table, his gaze snapped to yours, promising pain should you attempt further.

You were wise enough to heed his warning as you stepped back, hands raised in surrender. “Sheesh, you’re not going to make any friends if you keep acting this way.”

Crumpling the piece of paper, he threw it into the fireplace as you clicked your tongue in mock annoyance.

Had he cared for your opinion, he might’ve been annoyed, alas it was easy to dismiss as he threw a pouch in your direction, the clink of gold muted as you caught it from the air. He watched as you tossed the bag a few times before pocketing it.

You must have caught the confusion on his face as you glanced up with a grin. “I know you won’t cheat me of my payment.”

Though it was the truth—Molan’s motto was always to repay what’s due—such blatant admission of trust from someone working in the dark underbelly of society puzzled him, and without meaning to, he’d let his displeasure slip through. “It could’ve been filled with rocks.”

You blinked, head tilted as if you’re considering the possibility, then you laughed. “Then I suppose I’ll be a few pretty rocks richer.”

He scowled and returned to his work, grabbing his knife to hide the flush of annoyance he felt by your flippant answer. You knew such responses would annoy him, and he refused to give you the satisfaction of being correct.

One does not survive long in the underworld with their morals and innocence intact. Your deliberate pushing of buttons was another tactic to wheedle information from your targets, and he wasn't inclined on revealing anything. You already know far too much as is.

“Leave,” he ordered, his limited patience well and truly spent.

“Always a pleasure talking to you, Bea~”

He threw the knife in his hand, but by the time he turned around, you were already gone. The only evidence of your visit was the lingering echoes of your laughter and a missing tart from the plate of desserts he'd prepared earlier.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

As you kept the package just out of his reach, he couldn’t help but think: for a grown person jaded by the underworld, you sure liked acting like a child at times.

“You just thought of something rude didn’t you?”

His gaze snapped to yours. “You forget who you’re dealing with.” he warned coldly. The Molan household might have fallen from grace but just because he had traded his daggers for kitchen knives, they were no less lethal in his hands. Was it confidence or foolishness that made you dare to test his patience?

The silence in the kitchens was deafening as your eyes met across the counter.

“I haven’t,” You said finally, “not once.” Your smile was wry and lacked its usual cheer but the heaviness in your tone bore the weight of many secrets, of someone who knew far more than what they’re letting on. He’s faced with an uncanny sense of unbelonging and emptiness that seemed eerily familiar.

But with a blink of an eye, the mask that had slipped had righted itself. “I have a change of mind,” You sat on the edge of the counter island, tension and somber mood shaken off, replaced with an all too sunny smile. “I’d like another form of payment for the information I’m selling.”

He felt anger lick up his throat as his fist clenched above the table. “That was not part of our deal.”

“An amendment to the agreement then, if you will-”

“I refuse.”

Your peals of laughter filled the room, “You didn’t even let me finish!”

“I refuse.” He repeated sternly. Knowing your personality, it would be an amendment that would greatly irritate or inconvenience him.

“I’d like you to cook a dish for me.” You continued, ignoring his words.

There was a sharp snap as the corner of the table cracked under his hand as incredulity stole over his face.

To begin with, payment for your services had never been cheap, each bag of gold was worth more than several months’ worth of food. If all you wanted was a decent meal, then you’ve already been charging enough to dine at any of Roan kingdom’s finest restaurants.

“It’s not a dish that can be found on any menu in the kingdom.” You tutted as if you knew the thoughts that were going through his head. “It’s not something that can be bought with gold.”

You’re pulling his leg. “And why do you think I’d care to create a dish no one’s heard of?” Beacrox asked through gritted teeth.

“I know you don’t.” You laughed, lips slanted with a smile. “It’s something I’ve tasted a long time ago but have no idea how it’s made. I’ll describe what I remember and if you believe it’s impossible to recreate or not worth the hassle,” you shrugged in an exaggerated display of nonchalance, “then I’ll take the usual payment like nothing’s changed. It’s a good deal for you right?”

Nothing about this deal made sense. You’re essentially offering your services for free while he’d benefit regardless of whether he succeeds in recreating the dish or not. His expression was stiff as he crossed his arms.

You set the package down on the table gently and slid a piece of folded paper next to it. “Take your time to think about it.” You offered as you pulled your hood up. You left the kitchens as quietly as you’d arrived, leaving him to brood in the silence left behind.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

“Here.” he sets the completed project on the table with the reluctance of a person who would rather be anywhere else but in the kitchens at that very moment. He folded his arms, pinning his hands to his chest, resisting the urge to snatch the plate and throw it in the trash, calling off the deal.

Beacrox had no expectations of being able to recreate a dish he had never heard of. Yet, from the moment he set the plate down, you stiffened in place, your pleasant smile melting away, replaced by shock.

“Well?”, You flinched as he prompted impatiently. You pulled the dish closer, your smile weak and crooked.

“I was just a bit surprised that’s all..” your voice trailed off.

He filed your reactions away in the back of his mind.

Your grip was uncertain but eventually you picked a piece from the plate and placed it in your mouth.

You froze in place, and he immediately slid a cup of water and bowl over.

But you surprised him when you kept it in and swallowed. “It…” He watched as your face straightened slowly, all visible emotions ironed away into one of careful neutrality.

“..tastes nothing like it.”

When vague subjective descriptions on a slim piece of paper were all that he had to work with, he’d expected this outcome. The bag of gold he had prepared in advance was tossed onto the table as he reached to retrieve the dish, only to be deterred when sharp pain sprang across the back of his hand. The surprise he felt from the fact he’d failed to catch your movements was swiftly replaced by irritation when he realised you’d slapped him.

His eyes narrowed, “What are you-“

“I’m taking it.” you said and to his utter confusion, went on to shove another bite in your mouth.

“You just said-“

“I know what I said.” you huffed, “I never said the dish had to taste right did I? It’s a good first try-“ His eyebrows lifted as you suddenly lost the ability to maintain eye contact with him. “Anyways, I’ll be the judge of what’s accepted and I say this passes.”

You've always been an eccentric character, but just when he thought you couldn't faze him further, you managed to render him speechless yet again. Till now, he’s yet to figure out your intention behind your request, if taste was not a priority then what use was creating the dish you’re looking for?

“Get out of my kitchen.”

“But I haven’t-“

“Out.”

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

Of all the informants in the kingdom, none possessed skills that could surpass yours. It was why, despite the many headaches you induced, Beacrox had chosen to suffer your pestering for so long.

Not one of his sources has ever confirmed how you acquire your information or seen you in action. Yet the intelligence you provide, which has, at many times, sounded unbelievable, had been proven to be true time and time again.

Perhaps the strangest thing of all was that, despite the ease with which you uncover others' secrets, the same couldn’t be said vice versa. Little to no information could be found regarding your background, whatever was found was obviously doctored, being far too mundane for someone of your skills. You were either incredibly thorough at covering your tracks or an experienced fraudster, and Beacrox was inclined on believing the latter.

Your unpredictable behaviour made it hard to judge whether you’re an ally or foe, so it was only natural that he’d sought for leverage to hold against you in case there’ll be a day you’d decide to betray them and sell their secrets to their enemies.

That was the only reason he would consider playing along with your games.

Though he knew not the significance of these dishes to you, he had hoped they would provide some insight on your background or places you’ve been to where other sources have failed to narrow down.

But of course even the meals you’d request would be harder if not just as difficult to trace as well.

It was only a matter of time before you caught onto his intentions, after all, he’d never kept his investigations a secret. Yet instead of pulling back like he’d expected, you had become bolder in your requests, eyes sparkling with mischief as if you understood the frustration he was going through and still remain one infuriating step ahead of him at all times.

He’d considered the possibility that you could be pulling his leg, but there was something about the nostalgia in your eyes as you taste each dish that made Beacrox believe in their authenticity.

He glanced at a small box hidden by the side, within held a small but steadily growing pile of recipes of unknown origins. Not for the first time, Beacrox found himself questioning if all these peaceful days have turned him soft after all.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

A familiar, unwelcome figure was sitting in his fresh crate of produce.

A quick scan around the area confirmed that you were alone and he walked over to assess your state. A splatter trail led up to the crate you sat on and his brows furrowed in distaste. The darkness made it difficult to immediately see any obvious signs of injuries and when you made no reaction to his presence, he kicked the crate below you.

“Ow.” you stirred, complaining with a soft laugh.

Conscious.

“Why are you here?”

Your unannounced visit broke one of many unspoken rules governing their kind. As people maintaining a delicate facade, unexpected visits were not merely discouraged but deemed perilous. No one would fault him should he choose to silence you then and there - such was the severity of your faux pas - yet he stood, only mildly irritated, at the disruption you’ve brought to a peaceful night.

It took a moment longer than he liked before you gathered enough strength to speak. “Sorry,” you apologised and for once, actually sounding it. “I just need a little rest. I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

Your laboured breathing and unfocused gaze suggested otherwise and he folded his arms as the dreadful feeling of his plans for an early night slipped through his fingers like fine sand.

“How bad is it?”

Impatiently he waited for you to process his words, your sluggishness a strange contrast to your usually sharp wit and quick retorts.

“It’s been treated.”

The smell of blood was sharp and acrid, he would have to clean the stains soon if he wished to avoid its scent lingering in the area. “I will not ask again.” He warned.

You were exhausted, it could be seen from your posture and expression. Though he understood the instinct to hide one’s weakness, from the moment you chose to rest here it wasn’t a matter of ‘if’ the truth comes out but a matter of ‘when’ and Beacrox would preferred if it happened sooner rather than later.

Just as he was contemplating the benefits of leaving you to your fate, your lips loosened. “Stab wound on the left, missed vitals. I’ve been tended to but some of the stitches might have opened up.”

That would explain the bloody trail you left. He should count his blessings that it didn’t sound too bothersome, assuming you hadn't foolishly downplayed the severity of your injuries. Your arms came up defensively as he began moving towards you, eyes widening with surprise, “Wait-“

His arms slipped under and around and with barely a grunt of effort, he lifted you up. The sudden motion drew a muffled groan from you and he allowed you a brief moment to collect yourself before he began moving. From this position, he could acutely feel the heat radiating from your skin and the tremors that wracked your body.

Your confusion and trepidation were clear and it was with some hesitation before you decided to open your mouth-

“Save your breath.” He advised and you obediently swallowed your words.

He moved you into the storage shed behind the kitchen. Though dark, he navigated through the small space easily, setting you on the surface of several boxes, he stepped back to note that you’ve lost consciousness. The walk hadn’t been far but you must have exhausted your reserves traveling here.

From the darkness he brought out a small knife and paused, looking at your face, sweat slicked yet slack from tension, having found an escape from the worries troubling you - however temporary. He recognised that this moment might be a rare opportunity to unveil the secrets you hide, yet as quick as the notion flitted through his mind, it was dismissed just as quickly. With methodical precision, he cut open the side of your shirt where red had stained through.

The wound was as you’d described, if not a bit irritated and swollen. Basic first aid had been applied, though the messy stitch work left much to be desired, it did its job in holding your injury closed. A few stitches had come loose and will need to be reworked but nothing that he’s not capable of handling even with his limited medical knowledge.

As his gaze roamed to your face checking, yes, you were still unconscious, he left and returned moments later with a candle, clean water, cloth and a clean shirt.

A dusty shed and mere candlelight were far from an ideal setting to perform any kind of wound care, but he doubted you’d care at this point. Pristine, white gloves snapped on, he made short work of cleaning, restitching and bandaging your wound.

He was about to tilt a bottle of potion into your lips when you mumbled. He paused, waiting to see if you were regaining consciousness. You mumbled again and he frowned. It took him few moments before he realised two things: you weren’t waking up anytime soon and the words you’re mumbling, weren’t in a language from Roan or even any of the neighbouring kingdoms.

As a master assassin, he had learned many languages, so the fact that you spoke one that he couldn’t place piqued his interest. He watched your lips, intent on studying and memorising the unique intonations and pitch, however, it seems your instincts finally kicked in, and though still unconscious, you’d stopped mumbling.

Even out cold, you’d find a way to be bothersome. There was nothing more he could do, he left the folded, clean shirt he brought along by your side and with one final glance at your still form, he closed the doors behind him and locked it.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

He returned the next morning to a broken lock and an empty shed. In place of where you’re supposed to be was instead a piece of paper and a bag of coins.

“Thanks for last night. Sorry about your spuds, I’ve replaced them for you :)”

A glance to the side confirmed the presence of a fresh crate of potatoes and a slip of paper containing the description of a dish never heard of before in the kingdom.

And for the first time ever, a name to go alongside the unfamiliar dish.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

You never mentioned what happened that night and he didn’t pry. Still, something seemed to have shifted between the two of you.

He no longer chases you away the moment you appear, while you've learned to place yourself to avoiding getting in the way of his cooking. He pretends not to notice when you arrive with injuries and you feign surprise at finding mysterious salves appearing nearby.

“Aw, did you miss my company?” you teased when you caught his gaze assessing you after dropping by from one of your longer absences.

Beacrox made no attempt to conceal the dry scowl on his face. “Like one misses a rat infestation.”

“Charming~” you beamed.

Some things, still don’t change no matter what.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

In the end, it was the one question he couldn’t figure out.

“Why me?”

The dishes you've shared are simple, you could've hired any other chef, given the same descriptions and they would’ve achieved similar results. But you chose to badger him, an unknown chef working for a humble count's family instead.

You paused in your devouring of yet another strange dish, blinking as if surprised that he would be the first to initiate conversation.

“Why Bea! You should have more confidence in yourself, you’re one of the best chefs in Roan!”

It was as obvious a deflection as he ever saw. His fingers tightened around his arms and he took a slow breath. So you’re going to be stubborn. Well, two can play that game. He tried another angle.

The words tasted foreign on his tongue, but they were something that turned over and over in his mind since that night. He’d probably horribly butchered the pronunciation but it seemed the meaning was successfully relayed from the way your eyes widened and your pupils shook with recognition.

The utensil held in your hand clattered to the table and Beacrox kept his eyes trained on you, taking in your paling face. When it didn't seem like you would offer an explanation, he continued.

“It’s what you kept repeating that night.“

A myriad of emotions crossed your face: shock, confusion, fear, and finally, resignation.

In the silence, you slowly repeated those same words. Sharp, crisp and wholly foreign.

"“Home,” your voice was soft, but it was the loudest thing in the kitchen. “‘I want to go home.’” you swallowed thickly, a wavering smile on your face. “that’s probably what I said.”

There was a lot to unpack from that revelation.

He was suddenly reminded of how you’d react to the dishes each time, savouring each one, scouring the plates clean despite the differences in tastes. You ate not to fulfil the hunger of the body but to satisfy a craving of the mind. After receiving the recipe with a foreign name, it had confirmed one suspicion of his, that wherever these dishes came from, whether it was a place or a person that you're reminiscing about, they're likely no longer accessible.

You're reliving memories through dishes you barely remember. Chasing ghosts in your memories in search of some semblance of normalcy.

Trust was a limited and rare currency in the underworld, hoarded jealously and coveted by many. You’d handed him the leash he’d sought since he agreed to your little game yet he felt gutted by the weight of the revelation, his shoulders burdened.

“Why me?” He repeated softly.

You watched him. “I don’t know.” Your voice sounded small and so tired. “I thought maybe, if it’s anyone, you’d probably understand.”

What does the concept of home and person mean when they no longer exist? Who are they but displaced people playing roles too big or small to hold their histories? Bearing memories of a place and person, but unable to find an equivalent?

It was a mistake. He shouldn’t have asked.

“But I wasn’t lying you know?” you added suddenly and he looked up in confusion, the smile you wore was weaker than usual but it was genuine.

“You are one of the best chefs in all of Roan.” You declared in that same, familiar confidence which you use to share all those impossible, far-fetched sounding intel that always, turns out to be fact.

For some inexplicable reason, it was that simple statement that dispersed the tempest building within.

Beacrox sighed, ran his hand through his hair, and exhaled through his nose.

And perhaps, there was a small, exasperated chuckle.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

“Bea please marry me.”

It wasn't often, but on rare occasions, he would nail the taste of a dish right.

He didn’t bother with a response but moved to refill your plate nonetheless.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

“Thank you.”

He paused while wiping the dishes. “For what?”

“Just,” Your gaze dropped to the plate before you as your fork tapped lightly against the edge. “Thank you for the food.”

Beacrox watched as you returned to eating, mind filled with memories of all the dishes he's made, of greatswords and bladed edges, and thought of what home and belonging is.

We’re not so different. The idea of it wasn't as horrifying as he had thought. Once, perhaps he would’ve been unnerved by the sentimentality. There are still so many things that remain a secret when it comes to you, and yet, as you close your eyes to savor each bite, he feels as if he knows you better than most.

You ate in comfortable silence. He rolled his shoulders and allowed the tension in them to drop off.

This might not be ‘home’ but for now, this moment was as good a resting place as any for people like them.

“You’re welcome.” he said softly.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

BONUS:

Once again, it begins with a ridiculous request from you.

“Bea please, you have to prepare this for Choi Han. I’ll even sell you my kidneys, I really need to know his reaction.”

What value would owning your kidneys have? That you’d blatantly suggest such things to an assassin like himself was laughable, stranger still was his playing the fool and following along anyways.

He didn't question how you knew about their mansion's new guest, though your sudden interest in the visitor when you’ve shown no such interest in past guests was worthy of note. Even he had unconsciously tensed when the young master had introduced him. Something about the newcomer didn’t seem right. They were strong, but their potential was untapped and raw, like an uncontrollable beast on the verge of lashing out at any moment.

The glimmer of something in your eyes further confirmed his suspicions. You knew something about this stranger though you refused to reveal more, only promising that he’s not a threat to him or Ron.

He frowned at the pot of red he’s stirring, the pungent smell wafting through the room. Footsteps from the doorway had him looking up, but the person that crossed the threshold was not the person he’d expected.

The young master stepped in with a cautious look in his eyes.

“I thought I smelled..” brown eyes narrowed at the pot he held. “What’s that?”

Beacrox glanced down at the strange dish he was asked to prepare, wondering why of all people that could’ve come, it would be Cale Henituse.

“A dish a friend taught me to make.” Then for some reason unbeknownst to him, he offered. “Would the young master like to try?”

Cale hesitated, but eventually slid himself onto a seat, choosing the one farthest away from him. At least the young master seemed sober. Beacrox felt no fondness for the young master he served, even if it was true that he had begun to change recently, raising even the interest of Ron.

Spooning a small portion, he set the dish and utensils down before Cale, ignoring the young man’s flinch as he gauged Cale’s strange expressions.

The young master stared at the dish as if it would leap up and attack him, his strange wariness reminded Beacrox of your reaction when he first presented that first unfamiliar dish to you.

“.. there’s no way..” Cale muttered to himself as he poked and prodded until finally, he tried a bite.

“What.. the hell?”

Beacrox had never seen the young master's eyes bug out like that, and he decided it was quite an entertaining sight, even if the dish’s original target wasn’t meant for the redhead. Still he stifled an irritated sigh as a thought crossed his mind when the young master exclaimed.

“How the hell did you learn to make kimchi?!”

“What the hell did you make me do this time _______?”

Notes: I've had lots of thoughts while writing this imagine turned fic. Nin-deer gave me a simple prompt of "cooking" and I went and turned it into lore- OTL even I don't understand the intricate workings of my brain. I've had to cut out some chapters details as it was growing out of hand so I hope everything's links together properly. I've reached that stage where I've reread a piece of writing so many times, nothing makes sense anymore. I've deliberately left the dishes 'cooked' vague so you're free to imagine whatever cuisine you'd like that Beacrox helped butcher 👍🏼

#TCF #TRASH OF THE COUNT'S FAMILY #IMAGINES #TCF X READER #Beacrox Molan #platonic #pre relationship #multiple identities #after a long hiatus #smacksdown with 4000 worded thesis #believe me when I said this monster got out of control #it was actually longer #i had to cut many parts out to prevent it from turning into a multichaptered fic #this au got out of hand #the lore I had planned...#i would love to see if I'll return to this AU #perhaps post the rest of the 'deleted' moments #would love to hear about everyone's theories on this ficlet

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incorrect-lord-of-the-rings · 1 year

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#there's only one right answer and opinion #lotr #aragorn #the lord of the rings #horse #horse girl #polls #lotr polls

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bluerose5 · 1 month

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Halsin using his magic to heal Bull's wounds after some of their rougher sessions, though. 💙

#pretty sure qunari skin is tougher so Halsin would view it as a challenge #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #dragon age #dai #the iron bull #halsin #ironbear #crossover #bluerose rambles #bluerose headcanons #and before people start posting their opinions #they're switches and vers tysvm for coming to my TED talk #i don't usually get into that because it just os what it is you know #but there's only one right answer here #i tease i tease

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thatlittleegyptologist · 1 year

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didn't think it needed to be said, but: you should absolutely not be sending this blog to teachers/lecturers to try to win arguments with them. That's not good. I'm not a 'good source' for that sort of thing. I am, for all intents and purposes, a random person on the internet with a blog and not an academic source. I can and do get things wrong all the time. Nothing I say should be taken as absolute gospel because a) I'm an internet rando you can't prove the credentials of, and b) you should be doing your own research into things and deciding for yourself whether you believe what I've said or not.

this is not a place of honour etc etc

#pls I'm just one random ass woman who none of you know #you lot ask a lot of ethical shit and I can only answer in the best way I know how #it doesn't mean I'm right about something only that it's my opinion based on how I see things #I do not have only good and perfect takes sometimes they're a crock of shit #or y'know there's multiple view points on things and all of them are valid #it's history baybee there's often no one right answer and sometimes the right answer kinda sucks

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angry-geese · 7 days

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Goose, my beloved my bestie, if I want to get into the Fallout universe, where do I start and what do I need to know?? (pls infodump 🥰 I figured an ask post would be easiest so I don’t lose it)

i had to hop onto my laptop to type this out because i already know its going to be long xD

adding a cut so this doesnt take up the entire dash skdjhfskhj

tbh it's pretty hard to play through the series chronologically because it's not really one consistent story: it's a bunch of different stories being told in the same setting. i think the best place to start kind of comes down to which you enjoy most: rpg elements, story, or gameplay.

the older games (like 1 & 2) grant you the most freedom as far as roleplaying goes, but their top-down aspect can be a little off-putting to some people, as well as (at least from personal experience) they're a lot less forgiving than the newer games. your build has to be pretty particular in the beginning if you want to survive combat. even if I'm playing a speech heavy character, i find that i have to tag unarmed/melee skills just to get through the tutorial sequence in the beginning of 2 if i want to survive the intro. a lot of people like them due to their rpg value. it feels like your choices really matter in the wasteland. compared to the later games, they're pretty lax with what they let you do. there's not really a lot of icons on the map telling you where to go or what to do. personally, i need a little more direction when playing a game, but i understand the appeal. out of all of the fallout games, 1 & 2 are probably the ones i have the least hours into out of all of them

fallout 3 and New Vegas are a little clunky with their combat systems but that can be blamed on their age (and probably nv's shorter development time). new vegas and 3 are quite different but im lumping them together because they came out around the same time. new vegas is a cult classic. probably the most (at least openly) loved of all the fallout games, and for good reason. the story felt like old fallout while using the same game engine as the newer one. a lot of the same people who worked on the first two fallouts went to work for obsidian (who developed new vegas) after black isle studios went under so they took a lot of their ideas for the original fallout 3 (which was meant to be another top down one set in California if I'm remembering correctly!) but made it into the 3d rpg style we know today. the combat can feel a little clunky in fnv, but if you want to play a game that has the feeling of "old fallout" with the gameplay of the newer ones, new vegas would be a good place to start

fallout 3 was the first game i got into back when it came out in like 2008 bc my brother had it for his old xbox xD. compared to 4 and new vegas, the capital wasteland is a lot less populated and more barren feeling than other games. supplies and ammo are rarer (assuming you don't know where to look for them) making the game feel like more of a struggle. it makes sense seeing as you start out as a squishy vault dweller who has never seen the wasteland before. story-wise it's pretty good. you can bypass like the first half of the main storyline by just making a beeline to where your dad is in vault 114(?? I'm blanking on the number rn so this might not be the right vault) and avoiding megaton altogether. i don't recommend doing this though because you will miss A LOT of worldbuilding and experience/levels. as far as rpg elements go, you can either be a savior of the wasteland or a real evil bastard depending on what you choose. it feels like you really make a difference for all the settlements/people you decide to help. part of my gripe with this game comes down to the ending. ill avoid spoilers as much as i can just in case you want to play through the game but im not a fan of games you cant continue playing after the ending especially when there's a workaround with one of the companions. overall fallout 3 is pretty enjoyable if you can look past the limitations of the game engine

If you want something that's a lot more forgiving during gameplay, but still feels like the wasteland, I'd start with fallout 4! the combat handles a lot better than 3 & new vegas, but as far as rpg elements go, you're kind of railroaded into the typical good-guy path which i personally don't mind because that tends to be my playstyle in games anyway lmaoooo. fo4 was one of the first "mainstream" fallout games so the story is made to appeal to a more general audience. it's not nearly as dark as the storyline of the earlier games although you can find these more ominous elements tucked away in terminals and environmental storytelling. this game has some of my favorite companions out of the entire series, and fo4 has one of my favorite dlc's out of the entire series which is Far Harbor. if you're into modding your games, the community for fo4 was still pretty active for it even before the show came out. i know a lot of fans of the series have a gripe with the storyline of this game in particular due to it railroading you down a certain path. not to mention, a lot of the actions you make in the commonwealth feel like they don't really change the outcome. however the gameplay is pretty forgiving to someone who hasn't played this series before. your starting stats aren't really the difference between life or death as they give you a lot of room for error. i personally really enjoy the settlement building system and i'd love to see it implemented in later games with tweaks to make it even better. I'm also pretty biased in what i say about fo4 because i have the most hours into it out of any of the other fallout games and it's very near and dear to my heart xD

also slightly related to fallout 4-- if you're looking for a youtuber with some amazing settlement ideas, i really like the creator IfThenCreate who has a whole ongoing series about different settlement builds around the commonwealth. she's very charming and her videos are very cozy and tbh i could listen to her for hours (which i probably actually have because her videos about sanctuary hills are like four hours combined xD). not all of her content is fallout related but at the moment she has probably one of my favorite fallout related series :3

tbh i can't really speak a whole lot about fallout 76. out of all of the games (ignoring tactics and the brotherhood of steel ones) it's probably the game i have the least hours into. as far as gameplay goes, it seems pretty solid. i enjoyed the way they did Appalachia, but I don't think this is the best game to start with if you're just getting into the series. 4 or new vegas is going to be a better place to start imo

if you have amazon prime I'd say start with the show ksdjfkj I've only seen the first two episodes (as of right now at least) but it looks amazing so far. it's the best way to dip your toes into the series without having to commit yourself to tens or hundreds of hours of gameplay xD

also if you get into the games prepare for them to crash. like a lot xD my poor old xbox one could barely handle downtown Boston in fo4 and while it's definitely better on my computer, it still struggles. i also tend to mod my games to hell so that might be part of my problem lmaoaoao. the games can be buggy at times (especially the Bethesda ones) but if you can look past that they're all pretty enjoyable

#goose answers #ari <3 #its perfect timing you ask this because like all of the fallout games are on sale on steam right now xD #it was like 6 in the morning when i started writing this so sorry if its a little incomprehensible xD #this is all my opinion of course and i think some of the beauty within this series comes with finding out which part of it you like best :)#as far as pc v console goes i dont really have an opinion on it #the first two games i think you can only play on pc #i find a controller is easier to use for shooter games but my computer tends to run fallout better than my console #but console is the one i have more hours on by far #so really it comes down to personal prefrence lol

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