#look me in the eye and tell me this isn’t what happened
Eurydice: If I died, how much would you miss me?
Orpheus: Bold of you to assume that death can get you out of this relationship.
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And as a result, that makes things... simple. Very, very simple.
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and some things you just can’t speak about
a/n: this is the product of me yelling at @evaneddie about what if buck remains in a state of shock the entirety of the next episode and only manages to process what happened once he realizes that eddie is okay, so...here you go i guess :p
tagging some people who might be interested: @malikjavaddzayn @buckstaylor @diazalex @buttercupbuck @matan4il (let me know if you want to be added/removed from this list!)
It happens like this.
Buck feels the warm splatter of Eddie’s blood on his face as he stands rooted to the ground, unable to comprehend the sight of the bullet tearing through Eddie, the way the other man holds his gaze for what feels like an eternity, a moment suspended in time. Even as Eddie hits the ground, Buck is still unable to move. To think. To feel.
He still doesn’t move, even when he hears Captain Mehta yelling at him to get down, even when the sound of the second gunshot ripples through the air. When he is tackled to the ground, he submits to it uncomprehendingly, cheek pressed to asphalt as he finds Eddie’s gaze meeting his, even as the pool of blood beneath him gets larger. It is only when Eddie breaks their gaze, his eyes falling shut, is Buck able to pull himself out of his stupor, a long, tortured gasp coming from somewhere deep within his body as he pushes Mehta’s arm off him, ignoring the man’s protests, stumbles to his feet and over to Eddie’s prone body.
Everything else seems to happen like clockwork.
Buck moves on autopilot as Eddie is loaded into the ambulance, feeling like a mere spectator to the scene even as he works with the paramedics, ripping open Eddie’s shirt, pressing his hand to the wound to stem the flow of blood. Still on autopilot, he watches mutely as Eddie is rushed through the doors of the hospital when they arrive and into surgery, away, away from him.
At some point, he changes out of his bloodstained clothes and cleans himself up, when Bobby arrives in the hospital with a change of clothes for him, looking anguished and ten years older as he claps a hand on Buck’s shoulder and tells him that he is so, so, sorry. Buck can barely register it, nodding numbly and moving away, feeling Bobby’s concerned gaze follow him.
Someone has to tell Eddie’s family what happened. Someone has to tell Christopher. And for a moment, when arriving at Eddie’s house and laying eyes on Chris’ guileless, unassuming face, he thinks he might break, might fall to his knees and scream to the heavens about the unfairness of it all.
But he can’t. He has to hold it together, for Christopher, if no one else.
“Your dad isn’t coming home tonight,” He tells Chris and feels his heart shatter even more—he didn’t even know that was possible—at the way his face falls. Holds him in his arms as he shakes against his chest with sobs. Ignores Carla’s worried looks and manages to say something, he doesn’t know what, to Eddie’s abuela, but clearly, it’s the right thing since she presses a hand to his shoulder and nods at him, tears in her eyes.
He has to go back to work. They’re a man down, after all and there’s a fucking sniper on the loose. He can feel Bobby’s eyes on him, worried about his condition to work, but Bobby doesn’t have to worry about Buck’s feelings getting in the way. Buck can barely feel anything. He can’t allow himself to.
And finally, it’s over, and the sniper is behind bars. Finally, Eddie is out of surgery and the doctors tell them he’s gonna make it. Abuela decides it’s better that Chris, for now, at least not see his dad until he’s awake, worried that the sight of Eddie unconscious in a hospital bed might frighten him. Chris protests, of course, but Buck and Carla back her up, knowing that there’s no need for Chris to be even more traumatized than he already has been.
It is almost midnight, and Buck is slumped in a chair next to Eddie’s bed, the weight of the exhaustion of the past couple days bearing down on him.
He thinks he might just make it…might just survive, if Eddie would just wake up. If he would look at him and get that bright, teasing grin on his face and say something to make him laugh. He can’t stand it, seeing Eddie in this hospital bed, looking so small and pale and washed out in the white sterility of the hospital room, not when he has always known Eddie to be so confident and larger than life, and so brilliant, shining even brighter than the sun, since the day they met. And if Buck could feel anything other than this choked up ball of guilt and regret and anguish that seems to be lodged in his throat, not coming out, not giving him any form of catharsis…just hanging in the midst of it unable to truly feel the devastation that he knows is somewhere encased in his heart.
Buck is pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of a dry cough to his left. He snaps his head to the side and pulls himself up as he sees Eddie moving and automatically reaches out to steady him as he sits up. Eddie turns to look at him, confusion and pain in his face and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse.
And suddenly, this is the moment that Buck breaks.
Everything that he had been holding back until now seems to spill out and he can feel the tears running down his cheeks and hears a low, gasping sound that he thinks, distantly, must be coming from him. He sways, fall forward towards Eddie, who meets him halfway (they’re always in sync, aren’t they), pressing their foreheads together. His eyes tightly closed, he reaches out blindly to touch Eddie’s face and feels wetness on his fingers.
Buck opens his eyes. Eddie is crying too, silent sobs that are wracking his entire body. He doesn’t say it, but Buck knows what he’s thinking. He almost died. He almost left Christopher. His family almost lost him, all over again. It was such a close call.
“Shh,” Finally finding his voice, Buck murmurs nonsensical comfort into the stillness of the room, tenderly brushing away the tears from Eddie’s cheeks, ignoring his own. Eddie is normally so stoic, so closed off and Buck knows what it means for him to be vulnerable like this. It is an honor. And Buck—Buck wants to take care of Eddie, even if he knows that the older man will inevitably try to push him away. He doesn’t care. He just…just wants to be here. In whatever way Eddie will have him.
“We’re gonna be okay,” Buck whispers, echoes of similar words Chris has said to him on the pier, a day that feels like from some distant dream. “We’re gonna be okay,” He repeats and presses deeper against Eddie, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to will it into existence.
They have to be.
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Can I request fluff with Edelgard, Hilda, Ashe and Felix about a gender neutral reader who have a service dog for their disability (Any you're comfortable with writting) during the Academy times ?
(I only know basic information about service animals beside the fact that they are good hardworking furbabies. If anything was incorrect/insensitive of how they’re supposed to behavior, let me know.)
༓☾ Man’s Best Friend ☽༓
Summary: How they react to you having a service dog during the academy.
He has read a bit about service animals but never met one in person before. Ashe knows vaguely what a service animal is for, but not a little so he is going to be anxious when you and your dog go somewhere that pets usually can’t go. Besides that he thinks your dog is the cutest one that Ashe has ever seen and, if given permission by you, might make dog treats. If not told what your disability is, he is going to be curious because he wants to know what to do if something happens but he’ll never ask you. If told, he isn’t going to treat you differently but will get more anxious over your wellbeing. Out of everyone, Ashe is going to be in first place of who your dog likes the most.
She knows what service animals are and what their job is. She views your dog in the highest form of respect possible, it is almost a little funny. Edelgard was so nervous the first time she met your dog, wanting to look good in their eyes, acting as if she was meeting your parents for the first time. Sometimes if you’re fast enough, you might catch Edelgard praising your dog with a full serious expression. Because she stays on top of everyone within her social group’s life, she already knew what your disability was before telling her. Edelgard isn’t going to treat you differently and will never bring up the fact she knows. She will find solutions on how to work around issues. Edelgard is in second place of who your dog likes, but depending on Hilda then Edelgard might become third place.
Your dog is the cutest thing in the world to her and she will give them nicknames, and if allowed, will spoil them. Hilda, unknowingly, might baby talk to them. She’ll try to stop if you tell her not to do that. Hilda is more of a cat person so it may surprise others with how in love she is with your dog. She won’t blink an eye if she sees your dog in places animals shouldn’t be or why your dog is in class with you. It isn’t really her business, all she does know is that they’re a service animal. Hilda is curious of what your disability is and if the two of you guys are close she’ll ask. Otherwise she won’t say anything. She isn’t going to treat you differently after finding out because you are you and you aren’t your disability. Hilda is in third place of who your dog is closest with, unless they loved being spoiled than she’s in second place.
Felix has heard of service animals, but frankly never cared to learn more about them since he didn’t expect to meet someone with one. Felix is more of a cat person so he doesn’t know how to feel about your dog, not fully accepting the fact that this cute creature isn’t just a pet. The relationship between him and your dog is almost like a rivalry of who you like more. Felix does grow very fond of your dog after a bit. Besides all of that, Felix won’t ask what your disability is because it isn’t his business and never was curious about it. He will get more protective of you if told, not dramatically so. Compared to everyone else of the four, Felix is going to be in fourth place of who your dog likes because of how awkward he was in the beginning.
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expect the unexpected | 9
(images in between text + bonus at the very very end!)
“Okay, we’ll make it just in time for our plane as long as there isn’t any traf--” Jin stops and so does your car, following a long line of other cars along the highway. You sigh, rubbing your temples.
“You jinxed it,” you say. “This anniversary trip is going so well.” Sarcasm and annoyance laced your voice.
“Everything will workout in the end, once we get on the island, we’ll be okay,” he says, putting a hand on your lap. “It’s our anniversary, it’s our only time alone, it’s going to be fun and we’re going to enjoy it.” Jin lifts up his hand to squish your face. He mocks the sad, pouty face you’re making. “Don’t. Be. Sad.” He squishes your face with every word.
The flow of traffic started moving, finally, and you can tell that Jin’s a little stressed out. With everything that happened throughout the day pushed aside, there were new problems now. One, will you get to the airport in time? Two, if you don’t, will there be available flights in the next hour? Three, will your airbnb still be available?
Honestly, everything should be fine. There’s a perfectly good solution to each of those problems, each can be solved easily.
You can catch a later flight if you’re late, and at least if you do, you don’t need to rush. And if being late causes you to lose your airbnb, you should be able to find a new one. But it’s not likely since you two booked it for the next few days.
Okay, so the two of you made it just in time!
To miss your flight.
But no worries, you got on the next flight and you and Jin were able to relax for about an hour.
You laid your head on Jin’s shoulder as you two waited for your flight.
His shoulders were relaxed, not as tense as it was earlier when you two were rushing to the airport and you were starting to feel like everything was going to go well.
But something in your mind kept you from taking a quick nap on your husband’s shoulder.
“We didn’t forget anything did we?” You ask Jin as you two were walking to your seats on the plane. You felt like you were forgetting something, and it was bothering you.
“I don’t know, I don’t think so,” your husband answers, following you from behind. “And if we did, it’s kind of too late now.”
“I think I was supposed to buy something.” You sighed as you sat down in your seat. “I can’t remember, I think it was important.”
Jin sits down next to you, looking up as he was thinking of what you could have forgotten.
“I feel like it’s something more important than that.”
“What could be more important than snacks?” Jin replied with an eye roll. You think you just saw Haneul in him just right now.
Now you know where he got it from.
It was no surprise.
“Oh!” you say, remembering something. “The medicine cabinet!” Jin quirks up an eyebrow at you.
“You need.. to buy a medicine cabinet?” He asks you with a concerned expression. You give him the ‘are you kidding me’ face.
“No. It was something IN our medicine cabinet that I ran out of--”
“My allergy medicine!” Jin says, a little too loud, in panic. Your eyes widen and you slap a hand over his mouth.
“Too loud,” you say as if you were talking to your little ones.
“Was it that?” He says, muffled by your hand.
You and Jin finally made it to Jeju island. The two of you rented a car and made your way to your airbnb.
“What do you mean ‘No’.” Jin says. Shocked. Surprised? Maybe even annoyed.
The two of you found a perfect place to stay and booked a few days, and nights of course, but with your schedule and plans changing with today’s events, the place was taken.
“I’m sorry sir, but you were supposed to be here an hour ago and we waited and waited, and someone else came and paid extra just to take your--”
“But we made reservations!” Jin argued, letting out an annoyed laugh. “We paid everything--”
“And we will give you a refund sir.”
Jin turns to you and you just nod, placing a hand on his arm. “We’ll find a better place,” you reassure him.
“Fine.” He says, leaning into your ear and whispering, “I’m leaving them with a bad review.”
After getting a refund, researching for a new place, finding a better airbnb, and booking it, oh and Jin giving a 1 out of 5 stars on their website, you and Jin finally were able to relax and enjoy your anniversary.
“The sun’s setting soon,” you say sadly as you look out the window. “I can’t believe we wasted a whole day of our trip.” You rested your head on your hands. Jin comes by and sits next to you on the couch, looking out with you. Like a couple of kids wanting to go outside and play.
Come to think about it, you’re sure you saw your kids doing the same thing the other day.
You were starting to miss them.
“We can stay an extra day if you want,” Jin says. “I’ll call in, I’ll let mom and dad know too--”
“It’s okay,” you say, shaking your head. “Let’s just make the most of our weekend.”
“Okay,” Jin nods. “Should we just order food and stay in? We had a pretty long day.”
“Sure,” you say. “After we eat, what else should we do tonight?”
Jin turns around and away from the window, looking at you with his whole body facing front and just his head towards you.
“We can plan out our day tomorrow so we can make the most of our trip…” Can you tell you and Jin liked to plan? “And maybe we can watch a movie, I have a few saved on my list on Netflix.” You smile up at him.
“A long night in bed sounds great after today’s ‘festivities’.”
“If that’s what you want,” Jin says with a small laugh, leaning in to give you a kiss. “I’m up for whatever you want to do.”
“I think it’s the only way we should be spending our first night away from the kids.”
♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡
expect the unexpected
♡ part nine: jin stan account ♡
pairings: ceo, dad!jin x interior designer, mom!reader
a/n: stressful day calls for some de-stressing tonight
i wonder what movie they’ll watch
taglist: @silentlyimpractical @jillianmarie @waddlebby @cecedrake2217 @ddofa @samros95 @sope-and-shine @joonjoonsmiles @codeinebelle @aianloveseven @Chamchamcham @princessjazzyjazz @notvantaes @casspirit0705 @ramyagovindraj @brinnalaine @ephyra1230 @betysotelo18 @thoughtfultaledreamer @salty-for-suga @cosmicdaylight @dreamcatcherjiah @kookoo-kachoo @justinetingball @josierosie @jayhope88 @butterflylion @hobiismyhopeu @momma-said-that-it-was-oke @shinyplaidbagellamp @catspancake @somewhereofftheglobe @strawberryforever25 @rjsmochii @prdshobi @beeeb05 @eatjeanjin @taekookcaneatme @Cheeely14 @kookietsukkie @anpanman-sonyeondan @glitteringcoffeefreak @chocobetterknot @alpaca1612 @ohmy-fandoms @liljooniecutie @Jikachoo @preciouschimine @fan-ati--c @Joondala @httpmuffin @dammit-jjk @jikooksgirl19
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♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡
clingy haneul needed some good night kisses
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Here I was geared up for Eddie getting shot. I was prepared-well technically I wasn’t. I’m still freaking out, oh my god. What I didn’t prepare for was:
1) Eye Contact
2) Reaching for each other. They were reaching out to each other.
3) Eddie’s blood splattered over Buck
4) White noise, well silence. Just how the world literally stopped as Buck and Eddie maintained eye contact.
5) Buck watching, Eddie go down, Buck having to be pulled away from his best friend, Buck watching as Eddie closes his eyes.
Guys the 911 writers like fucking gave me what I wanted. And I’m like still “What?!”
And let’s face it, not me, we. Because I’m sure I wasn’t the only one manifesting this!
Saw the promo and you can see Buck crawling under the truck to get to Eddie. And you know he succeeds because they show someone getting to Eddie and it looks suspiciously like Buck!
Guys, Buck having to tell Christopher.
You know, these writers must be on A03
I think I read at least like 5 of these today. The Buddie fan in me is loving this and angsting at the same time.
My dad owes me 10 Bucks. I was like “Dad, we’re manifesting this. Not just me. My friends on my blog will be mad if it isn’t Eddie that gets shot.”
He made a fair point, “It’s Buck, he’s got bad luck, see the things that happened.”
Anyways. Because my dad is someone on the Buddie Ship, just boarding, he hasn’t fully check in. I had to explain the love confession that’ll happen, the parallels dad!
I have to remember my dad can’t remember every detail of the show. I had to explain.
Excuse me now. I may have to wait an agonizingly long week for the finale to find out what happens.
But with A03 I can get a variety of endings now. And then watch as everything I read gets shown on the finale. Because I mean, the writers did it twice already. So third time is gonna be so good!
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💖 your angstiest nightmare fic please
Send me a 💖 and I'll share a fic idea I've had but never written.
Oh...dear. This is not my normal playground. But, that said (evil grin and plotty fingers) good excuse to have some fun.
Alright, I’ve spent some time thinking about universes where Rogue One survives (don’t worry, it’ll get terrible, just give me a second), and those terrifying days when the plans are lost, nobody knows where Leia is. Like, how miserable would that be? You do all that, and then maybe it’s all for nothing, because the person who got your message got scooped up by Imperial soldiers.
What if she never comes back?
You see where I’m going with this, I’m sure.
It got a little long, so the juicy details are under the cut. (TW Death, War Crimes, implied torture)
Luke, Han, and Obi-Wan die before they ever rescue Leia. Jabba’s men rig the Falcon to explode, their infiltration scheme fails, SOMETHING happens and bam, they’re gone. Last of the Old Jedi, gone, first of the New Jedi, also gone. Leia’s trapped, and Tarkin has a fully functional battle station with no known weakness.
And just to make it worse, lets say not everyone made it off of Scarif. Cassian’s gotta live, that man is Pain of Survival made manifest, it’s way worse if he doesn’t manage to sacrifice himself. Kay dies. Jyn too. And...Chirrut. Yes, I think that’s the worst combination. We’ve got guilt-ridden Cassian, traumatized Bodhi, and a completely bereft Baze who lost everything and it counted for *nothing.* Jedha’s still gone. Alderaan too.
They broke ranks, stole half the alliance’s best personnel and then lost half the alliance’s fleet, and they *failed*. The Rebellion tosses them in a jail cell, and figures they’ll decide what to do with the turncoats later.
Now, the upside is, there’s no Falcon to track back to Yavin, so Yavin has until Leia breaks. It’s enough time to evac, at least.
Leia does break, eventually, I’m sure. There’s only so long anyone can hold out, when every lie she tells about where the base is means another planet, gone. Mon Cala, Chandrilla, Nab-
Tarkin changes his mind about Naboo. He’s rubbing at his throat for weeks after.
The Empire runs the galaxy, and there is. no. hope.
Cassian spends the first four hours of his imprisonment carefully drafting a mission report (on flimsi, they don’t trust him with a datapad). And in there is what Erso reported to him. There is a weakness. Somewhere in the core. The plans would show how to access it. But even without the plans...a sufficient explosion, detonated inside the core, should still do it.
Cassian throws himself into planning the mission, scribbling it out on whatever he can get his hands on. He looks more than half-mad. Bodhi feels the failure as entirely personal. He feels helpless, he’s only made everything worse, and the universe didn’t even have the decency to kill him for it.
There isn’t anything he could do in the universe to do right by himself, but he drags the tattered remains of his consciousness together and helps where he can. Ship patrols, comm codes, standard battle station layouts. Baze, from his haze of grief and rage, spits curses and little else, at first. But eventually he realizes there’s some solace in vengeance, and he joins in. Squad makeup and weaponry and everything he knew from his dealings with Guerra.
“Could use him, now,” Baze says, sounding almost regretful.
“He knows how to fight,” Cassian agrees.
Bodhi just flinches.
They look like madmen, and their guards judge them as such.
They’re not separated, though. And one month later Draven throws open the door of the cell and says, “Come on, then.”
Cassian just gets up and follows immediately. Bodhi moves like a whipped dog, expecting to be struck. Cassian turns to him and says, his face made of granite and his eyes entirely blank, “If they were going to kill us, they would have killed us. They’re either going to offer us up to the Empire as a peace treaty, or put us to work.”
“Please don’t say that first suggestion too loud, Andor,” Draven says, sounding pained. “I’ve kept you in the cell this long so they wouldn’t be tempted to lynch or sell you.”
Bodhi, inexplicably, is relieved by that. It makes the sort of heartless sense he’s grown to expect from his superior officers.
The Rebellion is almost entirely ship-based at this point. The remnants of the Mon Cal have nothing left to lose, and their fleet is turned to the Rebellion’s purpose. They are jumping frantically to stay ahead of the Empire that’s burning every safe place to the ground, struggling to find food and fuel and allies that would dare to provide either. It’s a desperate, hungry time, as they plan the counter-strike.
Leia was right, though. The more Tarkin tightened his grip, the more people slip through his fingers. The Rebellion becomes a feral thing, full of soldiers who have already lost all there is to lose.
The counter-strike isn’t neat, or elegant. It’s an ugly trojan-horse of a ground crew, Bodhi knew enough about the Empire’s transport logistics to sneak the soldiers in, along with enough explosives to blow up the moon the the Death Star wasn’t. It’s a slog of a firefight, but they punch their way through, into the core, and they wire up the explosives as quickly as they can.
Next to Cassian, a young tech (seventeen when the Empire blew up her world) starts twitching, choking. Cassian looks up to find a black, looming figure silhouetted in the doorway, holding a shimmering red blade.
Whatever charges they have, they need to set them, now. Cassian is reaching for the switch when a second red blade emerges, this time from the center of the figure’s chest. He collapses with mechanical moan, revealing a slim young woman, clad all in black, behind him.
“Captain Andor,” Leia Organa calls as she steps into view. “Apologies for the dramatics, I’m afraid I’ve grown accustomed to using what I have on hand. If you can set those on a delay timer, I’ve secured our exit.”
Leia is gaunt, sharper than Cassian remembers her. Well, they all are, these days. He dips his head. “I’ll remain behind to ensure they go. Please, do take my team.”
“No,” Baze says, laying his hand on Cassian’s shoulder. “It’s me.”
Cassian looks at the depth of loss in Baze’s eyes, and the grim determination there too. Cassian knows this is one battle he won’t win.
“Of course,” he says, inclining his head. “May the Force be with you.” The words feel alien in his mouth, and Baze flinches.
“Fuck the Force,” Baze declares. “I’ll be with me.” But then he freezes, and Cassian wonders if he’s hearing the same thing, I am one with the Force and the Force is with me.
“Of course,” Cassian says again, and Baze gives him a crooked smile.
“Raze their empire,” Baze orders.
“I will,” Cassian says, and it’s a promise he intends to keep.
He leaves, the last of his team to go, and Leia guides them all to the shuttles. They escape.
Cassian hadn’t planned for an escape. His heart is in his throat as he watches the station, still whole, still whole, and then - white sears across his retinas, and he flinches away from the sight, even as he’s sobbing with the joy of it. He hears Bodhi on his right, breathing slow and steady for the first time since Cassian’s known him. Leia, on his left, just gives a satisfied grunt.
Cassian doesn’t look up, so he never sees the way Leia’s eyes don’t flinch away from the explosion. He doesn’t ever wonder why, if the light from the death star is so white it’s shading it to blue, Leia’s eyes are burning gold.
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all this devotion is rushing out of me
summary: Bucky Barnes is beautiful. No ifs, ands or buts. But there was something exceptionally beautiful about him that you were desperate to see. (bucky x fem!reader)
or; bucky barnes blushing is reader’s kryptonite and all she wants is to see it.
warnings: (hi there is a brief brief allusion to a breeding kink in this but i don’t write smut so it’s nothing graphic) mentions of pregnancy & sex
notes: my second b.b fic also originally posted on my ao3 happy reading! i have more in the works!
Bucky Barnes is beautiful. There’s no doubt about that in your mind.
From his newly cropped hair to the smile lines forming around his eyes. Down to the stunning metal arm and god his thighs.
Bucky Barnes is beautiful.
But your favorite part, the thing of his that you find most beautiful, are his flushed cheeks and embarrassed smiles.
The way he turns red from the tip of his ears to the apple of his cheeks and turns his eyes away with a small, embarrassed smile always makes your stomach flutter. It was so beautiful and rare that when it did happen, you just wanted to bring it back.
So while visiting Sam and Sarah, Mission Blushing Barnes, was born in your mind. You didn’t really want to embarrass him, far from it, so you knew you didn’t want to do anything in front of Sam or any of Sam’s family. But, fuck, watching him play with the boys and make himself at home with the Wilson’s had something growing in your chest.
And you wanted to see him blush. If only to end the day on a high note. So you waited and waited. Until finally, it was you and him sitting on the edge of the dock talking about nothing.
“Louisiana’s nice, isn’t it?” He asks quietly as he watches the sun set. You nod but don’t respond, too busy admiring his side profile.
The slope of his nose and outline of his lips has your mind jumping for joy that he’s yours. That he’s the man you get to wake up to and comfort. You smile when he turns to look at you, bemused by your silence. “What’s up, doll?”
You reach out to place a hand on his cheek. “Just admiring you. So pretty.” You keep your eyes focused on his face, expecting a blush at the term pretty instead of handsome. All that comes though is a snort. You drop your hand with a frown.
Bucky rests a hand on your waist and drags you closer to him. “Gotta do better than that, doll. You’ve been calling me pretty for months now. I’m used to it.”
You open your mouth in faux shock. “I have no idea what you mean.” You say in a pitched voice as you rest your head against his shoulder.
Bucky shakes with laughter. “I know you like making me blush. Gives you some sick power high.” He mumbles the words into your hair as he gives you a kiss.
You smile. You know there’s no menace behind his words. You can tell from his relaxed body language and quiet tone of voice your little mission doesn’t bother him all that much.
“Is that a challenge, Sergeant Barnes?” You glance up and Bucky looks down at you exasperated. For a moment, you think the red will appear and you’ll have won a bet before it’s even begun. But…
A smirk slides onto his face, something cocky and bright, that makes your stomach clench excitedly. “Calling me sergeant outside the bedroom isn’t gonna make me blush, sweetheart.”
You laugh softly and Bucky presses another kiss to your hair. “What do I win if you can’t make me blush by the end of the night?” He asks after a moment of silence.
You purse your lips and think for a moment. “What do you want?” You ask when nothing comes to mind. “Because I know when I win, you’ll be worshipping me.”
“I do that anyways.” He says immediately, making you laugh.
“I mean… I’ll be in charge.” You clarify with a raised eyebrow. Bucky bites down his lip to stop a smile and you hope that the blush appears just from the mention of you taking over for the night.
He shakes his head. “And if I win, you wear that suit Sam made you.” You watch as his eyes flicker over you body, definitely imagining the skin tight suit Sam had made as a joke after your complaints of how fictional heroes dressed. You had laughed and Sam had given you the real suit moments later, the skin tight suit had been stuffed into your closet and all but completely forgotten.
“Sounds like a bet to me.” You pull back from his shoulder and hold your pinky out. “How about it, Barnes?”
Bucky leans down so his forehead rests against yours and with a wide smile he interlocks your pinky with his. “You’re on, sweetheart.”
The two of you just look at each other for a moment, until Sam’s voice breaks the comfortable silence. “Hey, weirdos! Come on, Sarah’s pulling out dessert!”
You scrunch your nose before hopping up. You don’t bother to pull Bucky with you, knowing his strength alone would probably end up sending you into the water. “Come on, baby, maybe we can steal some whip cream.” You wink as you walk backwards.
Bucky only laughs loudly and follows you. He reaches a hand out to stop you from walking off the dock and forces you spin around. “Strike one.” He whispers into your ear before running ahead of you to meet Sam.
You roll your eyes. Strikes weren’t a part of the bet and he knew it. He just wanted to psych you out. But you knew you could get that man to blush, you just had to find new material.
And you tried.
Leaning over when Sarah handed the ice cream and whispering as quietly as possible so only he could hear. “Forget the whip cream, ice cream might be a better bet.” Bucky looked down and shook his head before taking a bite of your chocolate.
Running your hand down his metal arm as you walked back to the Wilson’s. “Wonder what this arm could do to me.” Bucky had just looked down at you disappointedly. “You already know.” He hadn’t turned red, but you felt a little hotter.
You had even brought up the idea of sneaking in some adult time after the house was asleep. That had just gotten you a shocked stare as he pointed out the kids who slept upstairs.
It was getting late and you were getting desperate. It’s not that you really cared if you won or not, you know if there was something you truly wanted to try that Bucky wanted to as well, you would. You didn’t even mind the idea of wearing the suit for Bucky. The thought of wearing it even if you won had crossed your mind. You really just wanted to see his pretty face all red.
Then, the perfect thing happened. The kids were excited to mess around with Sam and Bucky. Both men were equally as excited to show off the shield and metal arm.
You hadn’t even started watching to find something to make Bucky blush, his bright smile and excited laughter as he and Sam pretended to fall to the boys power is what made you think.
Bucky wanted his own family. You knew for awhile Steve had been part of his family and when he come out of HYDRA, Steve was all that was left of it. He had you and he had the Wilson’s. But the two of you had spoken at length about your future and plans for your own family together. He was going on less and less missions and you had a steady job, so starting a family now made sense.
And you knew how you could bring it up and make him blush. It was an obvious win-win situation.
“Buck!” You call out. His attention is immediately turned on you as he stands up straight and finds your eyes. You wave him over and laugh as the boys tease him about being in trouble.
You’re standing on the back stairs and end up being a step above him when he comes to a stop in front of you. His hands come to rest on your waist naturally as he looks up at you.
“What’s up, doll? Not in trouble, right?” He smirks and takes a step closer.
This time, you match his smirk with your own. You rest a hand on his shoulder and one on the back of his neck. “Not at all, Buck. Just wanted to tell you something.”
“Oh yeah?” He laughs gently. “You panicking? Cause I’m gonna win this bet?”
You hum in response and bend so you’re at eye level with him. “Was just thinking of how good you look with kids. I think you’ll make a great dad one day.”
The cockiness is wiped from Bucky’s face and replaced with a look much softer. “You think?” He asks quietly.
You nod excitedly. “Of course. I think you’ll make an amazing dad. I can’t wait to start a family with you.” You take a step down, so now you have to look up at Bucky. His eyes follow you happily. “In fact, I can’t stop thinking about it.”
You pause and Bucky furrows his eyebrows. You can tell he’s a little confused on where you’re going and that now he’s not even thinking about your silly little bet. Then you smile. “All I’ve been thinking about all day is you putting a baby in me, Bucky Barnes. I want it so bad.” You say the words softly as you flutter your lashes and smile alluringly.
Bucky’s eyes widen and he takes a shocked step back before looking down at you. Then you see it, starting from the tips of his ears and spreading over his cheeks. Bucky Barnes turns redder than you’ve ever seen.
“You…” He stutters as he looks around, like he wants to make sure that nobody heard the words that have just come out of your mouth. “Evil woman.”
You take a step forward to press a kiss to his lips. You can tell by his embarrassed smile that he can feel the flush on his cheeks. “Guess I get to be in charge when we get home.” You take a step back and turn to head back inside.
You feel a hand grip your own and look back at him. “Are you serious? About wanting a baby?” He asks almost shyly, like he’s worried the answer might be no.
You can’t even allow him to entertain possibility. You nod quickly and excitedly. “Of course I was, my love. I wouldn’t pull that out just to win some silly bet.” He lets go of your hand and an excited smile spreads across both your faces.
“Yeah? Gonna let me put a baby in you?” He asks, this time more excitement than embarrassment seeping into his tone and taking over his face. He moves to wrap his arms around your waist and you do the same.
“Yeah. I just might.” You scrunch your nose up at him and he does the same in return. “Might even wear the suit for you anyways, since you’ll be doing me such a favor.” You wink and Bucky laughs again. The two of you have gotten the attention of Sam and his nephews, but you’re sure they can't hear anything you’re saying.
“Think it’s you doing the favor.” Bucky leans in close and lowers his voice. “Having my baby. I know you’ll look beautiful. Fuck. I’m about to get us a flight home tomorrow.”
You feel heat on the back of your neck and butterflies in your stomach as you process Bucky’s words. “Gonna build our own little family, Barnes. Better get ready.” You laugh giddily as you lean forward to rest your forehead against his.
Bucky closes the small gap between you with a hard kiss. You press your body against his as he holds you tighter. The two of you are completely unaware of Sam’s shocked face or his hands rushing to cover the two children’s eyes.
“Gross!” He yells out and the two of you spring apart with embarrassed smiles. Bucky’s cheeks turn red again and that only makes you want to kiss him more. “That’s gross. There are kids here. And me. Nobody wants to see that.”
Bucky presses a soft kiss to your cheek before pulling away entirely. “I’ll see you later?” He asks as you begin to head back inside.
You nod with a mischievous smile. “I’m gonna go look at flights. I’m ready to be home with you, Sergeant Barnes.”
You laugh when a light blush graces his face again before he spins around and rushes back over to Sam and the boys. Sam punches him on shoulder and you can see the beginnings of a lecture, so you turn and rush up the stairs and head inside.
You rest a hand on your stomach. You’re unsure if it’s to quell the excited butterflies or because of your new plan to have a baby, but either way it makes you smile as you think.
Bucky Barnes was pretty when he blushed. Even prettier when it was the thought of having a baby with you that made him do it.
You would have fun with this.
notes: try and tell me the idea of only u being able to make bucky blush doesn’t make u warm inside u CAN’T!
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25. “What did you just say?”
48. “You’re so fucking hot when you’re mad.”
notes; climbing-instructor!seokmin(if you dunno what that, its rock climbing lol), not rly a enemies to lovers au but enemies lolol, hate fucking, dirty talk, degradation, name calling, seokmin being an ass man, spanking, shower fucking, hair pulling! 🥴💕 I rewatched the GoSe ep where they were Seungkwan’s emotions so heheh… def pulled this from that except Seokmin’s not as scared of heights LOL 🤣 Also this was queued so I’m hoping it posted at the right time or else I will scream at the air ☠️ As always, thank you so much for requesting! Enjoy!💕
You’d been working at the climbing studio for only three months before Seokmin came along.
“I said, ‘put your fucking left foot on the red one’!”
And he’d been everything but friendly towards you.
“There’s 4 red ones, you piece of shit! God! You’re so shitty at giving directions!” You retort - hands both gripping onto the rocks on the wall as Seokmin attempts to guide you through a training exercise for the new hires.
The two trainees grimace as the two of you continue to argue but it’s Seungcheol, the resident supervisor, that shakes his head and crosses his arms.
“And that, kids, is how you don’t rock climb.”
But you didn’t hate Seokmin. You just found him… annoying.
He was kind to all the other instructors and clients but when it came to you, his lips would always purse and his eyes narrow when you were and weren’t looking.
You weren’t sure if it was because he’d seen you as competition or if he was just picking on you, but eventually you both had turned it into a game to see who could piss off the other quicker.
Usually, it was Seokmin that’d lose his temper first.
And usually, that meant your back pressed into the lockers when he’d kiss you hard, teeth clashing in his wake or your legs up and over your head when he’d fuck you hard and fast in the storage closet after hours.
Neither you nor Seokmin remembered the first time it’d ever happened but it’d become so frequent that you always came to work expecting Seokmin to be at his worst just so you could press his buttons a little more.
Today was no different.
The shower rooms are always eerily quiet once the climbing studio closes and you take your time standing underneath the shower head as you destress and wash away all the sweat and grime from the day’s events.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t little miss know it all, huh?”
Seokmin’s voice bounces off the tiles and you don’t even bother to turn around and spare him a glance before you’re scoffing and running your hands through your wet hair.
“You sound pressed. Upset that Seungcheol chewed you out and not me?” Smirking, you can already tell that Seokmin is even more upset with the way he doesn’t reply as quickly. “Did you finally realize you’re not as good as you think?”
“What did you just say?”
You spin around, stepping from under the water and raising a brow at Seokmin that stands naked across from you - his hard cock curving up against his abdomen.
“Oh, y’know, just wondering if it finally hit you that you’re not as competent as you think?” Giggling, you spin back around, fully ready to continue your shower when you feel Seokmin’s presence at your back in a flash and his fingertips locking into your hair painfully tight as you groan.
“I bet he only chewed me out ‘cause you’re probably fucking Seungcheol too, huh? Trying to get those brownie points somewhere else so he doesn’t realize how incompetent you are.”
Seokmin scoffs, pulling on your hair and forcing your head back as his cock grinds against your ass.
“I will say though, princess,” he leans down, lips at your ear as you shiver, “your ass is so pretty when you’re in the harness climbing the wall. Hah, bet everyone wants to fuck your pretty ‘lil cunt, but it’s me that fucks you how you like, right? It’s my cock that gets you fuckin’ soaked and gets you cumming so fuckin’ fast when I pound your ‘lil pussy.”
You lick your lips, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his cock on your ass.
“G-god, you’re so fucking hot when you’re mad… Now fuck me like you mean it or else I’ll find someone else to do it.”
And Seokmin doesn’t hate you either.
“O-oh, mmh, fuck!”
He actually likes how easily you give into him after he pushes your buttons a little too.
“Yeah? You like that? You like it when I fuck you from behind ‘n fuck you nice and deep?” His hands are on your ass as you bend over in the shower; your own hands pressed into the tile as you work your hips back to meet his punishing pace.
“Mmh, just how you like how fuckin’ tight and wet I am around your cock? Bet you never had anyone like me, right, Seokmin?” You grin at the wall, moans on your lips when he angles his thrusts to slam into your g-spot.
“Fuh--fuck! R-right there!”
“I could say the same for you, princess. What’s it like knowing the only good dick you can get is from someone you claim to hate, huh? Must be so embarrassing for you.” He brings his hand up, only to bring it down fast onto the skin of your ass as you moan and clamp down onto his cock tighter when he slaps your ass three more times. “Just a ‘lil cockslut for me, aren’t you? Always ready to be fucked as soon as I get you a little heated. What would they say if they saw how wet you were while you were climbing the walls, hmm?”
The water beats down onto your back as Seokmin continues his harsh pace and you find yourself edging closer and closer to an orgasm with each snap of his hips.
Your moans bounce off the tiles in the empty shower room and Seokmin can’t help but grin and slap your ass a few more times as you mewl and cry out his name.
“That’s right, let everyone know who fucks you this good, princess~ Let them all know it’s me~”
“F-fuck you, Seokmin… W-we’re probably the last, ngh, p-people in here, ah, a-anyway…”
He smirks at this; taking a free hand off your ass and sliding it up your soaked back before he tangles it into your hair. You wince in return at his tightening grip that has you slowly being tugged towards his equally as wet chest.
His lips ghost across the shell of your ear, tongue peeking out to lick your wet skin before he chuckles under his breath.
“Then I wanna hear you scream when I make this pussy cum. Get those filthy ‘lil fingers of yours on your clit for me too.”
He lets go of your hair as you fall forward and try to find purchase on the slippery tiles before you lose your balance.
“Asshole…” Mumbling, you place a hand on the tile before you use your free hand to slide down your frontside - fingertips on your clit in an instant as you moan and clench around his cock.
“Mmh, fuck, ‘m g-gonna cum…” Your voice is whispered, eyes clamped shut at the way Seokmin doubles his pace.
“Go ahead, princess~ I’m gonna cum in your tight ‘lil cunt too.”
He smirks at your back before his eyes flit down to watch his cock thrusting in and our of your pussy.
“Fuck, your pussy is gonna look so good dripping with my cum...”
And it only takes a few more skillful and quick snaps of his hips before you’re cumming on his cock; walls fluttering around him and urging Seokmin to follow suit.
“Mmh, that’s right, princess. Fuckin’ soak my cock while I cum inside you.”
Seokmin lets the pleasure wash over him - head thrown back and blunt fingernails digging into the skin of your ass while he unloads all of his cum inside your tight cunt.
The warmth pours over your body and the heat from the shower makes you feel lightheaded as the two of you ride out your orgasms together.
Your fingers rub slower, softer circles on your clit as you start to come down from your high sooner than Seokmin but he starts to pull out of you - only to let the last bit of his cum drip onto your ass as he grins.
“Next time, I’ll cum on your face instead, okay, princess?”
You can feel his cum sliding down your inner thighs; soft whines on your lips from the feeling.
“Fuh--fuck you, Seokmin...”
He laughs, airy and tired as he wraps a hand around your midsection to keep you from falling over.
After all, Seokmin wasn’t that mean.
“Fuck me? Think you got that one a little mixed up, princess.”
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@redfieldz : volumes . gaze at my muse in a way that silently says ‘i love you’ .
a long, drawn out sigh gets released into the air. he doesn’t care who looks or who hears him — tired at the end another long day when he’s just trying to enjoy a nice meal with his friend. “ what’s the point of these things if they don’t even do anything?? ” another sigh, this time more frustrated as hand furiously rubs the poor excuse for a napkin against his light gray shirt. the ketchup stain he’s trying to tend to isn’t going away. in fact, it appears to be getting worse. “ — definitely making it worse, ” he grumbles to himself, hand tossing the paper - thin napkin onto the table in a defeated huff.
he glances at the stain, wearing a slight pout on his face. “ i guess you can’t really see if you just . . . don’t look. ” leon finally laughs, unable to deny how silly it all is. of course something like this would happen when he’s with claire because god forbid she sees him in a setting that doesn’t make him look like some tragic disaster. “ i don’t even think i asked for ketchup on my burger . . . ” laughter continues, head shaking as he takes a sip of water and tries to find humor in the situation rather than let it ruin his evening. he rolls his eyes to himself before finding claire’s gaze. they connect in a way that makes him feel like he should look away, but can’t because he doesn’t want to. “ what? ” voice timid, lips cracking into a smile. “ why are you looking at me like that? ” another round of laughter erupts, though this time it’s sounds more nervous and shy.
it feels as though she’s trying to say something to him, perhaps through their unspoken language that they’ve developed over time. leon holds her gaze a few seconds longer and there’s a voice in his head that tells him he knows exactly what she’s trying to say — he's just too afraid to admit it. throat clears, head quickly turning away under the guise of realizing that the sun is setting. “ it’s getting kinda late. maybe we should get going soon? ” he hopes it doesn’t sound like he’s trying to speed things up ; he would even suggest doing something after if he wasn’t so afraid of overstepping boundaries. “ — unless you want dessert? but if you’re thinking about sharing something then maybe i should ask for more napkins . . . or a bib. ”
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“why don’t you take a picture? it’ll last longer.” e2l with taehyung 😩😩🖐🏽
(also hi im so glad ur trying to get in the flow of writing again, please try to be kind with yourself and don't overwork!!! Take your time 💘)
camera roll | kth
Kim Taehyung infuriates you.
You seem to be a bit of a special case in this scenario, because apparently everyone else loves him. Your professors, your friends, even random girls on the street who take pictures of him when they think he isn’t looking and send it to their groupchat with the comment: THIS MAN IS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL PERSON I HAVE EVER SEEN IN MY LIFE!!!
Kim Taehyung is something of a pied piper. A charmer. A wizard who’s fooled everyone into loving him just because he flashes a pearly white smile in their direction. But you know better than that.
At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself as you stare at the side of his head while at a busy pre-game party in the lounge of one of the more expensive off-campus apartment complexes. You don’t go to pre-games so you can get drunk before bouncing around the fifteen different frat parties happening on campus. You go to pre-games so you can get drunk and then be in bed by ten o’clock because staying up late is just not your speed anymore. When the clock strikes twelve, you turn into a zombie. Like a reverse Cinderella.
Someone comes around with a tray of jello shots from which you happily pluck a cup, the neon orange of the jello wobbling as you squish the plastic and slurp it into your mouth. Across the room, you can see him mingling with his friends, laughing and glowing and still looking perfect no matter how many drinks he has. Ugh.
You’re so busy being unreasonably irritated by him that you don’t even notice that you’ve crushed up the little plastic cup from your jello shot into a tiny ball, smushed in your fist as you work out your stress. Maybe you should just go home.
Your eyes scan the room for a trash can, finding a tiny one in the corner by the door. You’re about to scurry over and be on your merry way when you hear a thick voice from behind you.
“Saw you staring from over here,” Kim Taehyung says, snarky little grin lacing his otherwise indisputably gorgeous face. “Why don’t you take a picture? It’ll last longer.”
“I wasn’t looking at you,” you lie like a liar. “I was just… trying to see who had more svedka.”
“Right,” Taehyung says with a nod. “Are you heading out?”
“Yes, I don’t like parties. Or staying up too late. Or people in general,” you snap.
“You’re such a buzzkill, Y/N,” he says, voice smooth like honey, amber ready to trap its prey before fossilizing. “Why don’t you stay out a little longer? I’m sure we can have lots of fun together.”
“Now that I think about it, I think you might be the reason I don’t want to stay out any longer,” you gasp, pretending to dramatically come to this conclusion.
“Ouch.” Taehyung shakes his head. “Guess I better say goodbye then, huh?”
“Don’t let me keep you,” he muses. “Or, wait—”
“What are you—”
Taehyung grabs your phone out of your hand, nimble fingers overpowering your clumsy ones easily and swipes over to your camera. You barely have time to protest this flagrant display of burglary before he holds your phone up and snaps a picture, watches it disappear into your camera roll.
“Here,” Taehyung says with a devilish grin, handing you your phone. “For your memories.”
“You are the worst.”
“Only for you, Y/N,” he singsongs. “Walk back safely, alright?”
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The History of "I Love You"
Warnings: Manga Spoilers, Implied Child Abuse
Word Count: 2278
AO3 Link (Links will be added in a reblog)
It was a completely normal morning when it happened. It was the dead of winter, snow coated the streets overnight and the chill had even managed to creep into Hawks’s penthouse apartment. Perhaps it was a little special, as Hawks had laid in bed with him an extra twenty minutes, forgoing the chilly air to cuddle. Dabi always radiated heat, and Hawks clings to him as a result, nestling against his skin as though he could steal the warmth for himself. He has slotted himself on top of Dabi’s chest, eyes closed and a residual smile on his face. He lets out happy little croons in his delight, which was unfortunately adorable. Dabi has never been more thankful for the scar tissue limiting his expressions, because he’s certain he would be making an embarrassing expression.
And that’s when it happens.
Hawks looks up with him, eyes hazy with sleep and comfort, and says it.
“I love you.”
The words hit Dabi like a slap. There is a horrid aching in his chest, an old wound both inflamed and comforted by the words. It is as though Hawks placed a hand through his chest and around his heart. Dabi is both held and suffocated.
Dabi’s breath hitches. Some of the turmoil must show on his face, because Hawks’s brow creases. Those eyes of his never miss a thing, and even now, Dabi can feel them roving over his face, cataloging every twitch of his reaction.
He had waited too long. How long had it even been? A minute, five? Dabi isn’t sure. The silence is vast, and Dabi needs to bridge it quickly.
“I love you, Touya.” Long, white hair. Grey eyes. Flinches when he walks in the room. Terror-straightened spine when he speaks.
He tries again.
“I love you, Touya-nii! You’re the best biggest brother ever!” Mismatched hair. Mismatched eyes. Whimpers and the sound of vomiting from the gym he was banished from. A tea kettle whistle and screaming from the kitchen he still hears in his nightmares.
His voice shakes.
“You should be better than this!” Tall. Impossibly large. Flames. So many flames. There is no love here, but if he works harder, if he earns it, then maybe-
Someone is moving his hand.
“-name is Dabi. You’re safe. You’re in bed, in my apartment. You’re safe. You’re with me.”
His hand is placed at the base of two wings. He instinctively dances his fingers across the downy feathers. There is a rise and a fall.
“Match your breath to mine.”
Dabi only now realizes he is hyperventilating.
Slowly, he times his breathing with the slow even movement of his hand, and the world comes back into focus.
A very concerned Hawks is gazing down at him.
“Keigo,” he rasps and the brilliant smile he gets warms him more than any fire.
“There you are, beautiful,” he grins and Dabi can’t help but hold him tight.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, but Hawks lifts a hand to his chin and tilts his head, so they are looking eye-to-eye.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say it-”
“I want to,” Dabi interrupts, but Hawks just keeps talking.
“-because I already know.”
Dabi must have heard him wrong.
Hawks softens, and his hand moves from Dabi’s chin to cupping his cheek. Though Dabi can’t feel much through his deadened nerves, the warm weight is still a comfort.
“Oh come on, hot stuff,” he jokes with all the fondness in the world, “You really think I didn’t know? You say it all the time.”
Dabi has apparently lost his ability to speak Japanese, because he can’t understand what the fuck Hawks is talking about.
“You say it when you help me preen my wings after I get caught in a messy fight, when you order me fried chicken after a 12-hour shift, when you listen to my rants about the Bachelor, even though I know you hate it.”
Dabi snorts at that. Hawks has shit taste.
“You tell me you love me plenty,” Hawks continues, a steel in his voice that leaves no room for arguing. “In every act of love, you tell me. Even if you never say it out loud, it’s okay. Got it?”
Dabi nods, throat suddenly too tight for him to speak.
“It’s okay, baby,” Hawks repeats. He leans forward to press the soft words against Dabi’s jaw. “I know.”
And Dabi kisses him, telling him once again how he has always felt.
I love you.
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Falling For You -KK
Warnings: Language, fluff, dehydration, terrible jokes and pick ups lines.
Pairing: Kon Kent x Batsis!Reader
Word Count: 2.7K
Taglist is at the bottom, check out my pinned post if you want to be on it!
A/N: To the Anon who requested this, I hope you love it! I had a blast writing it, and thank you to my proofers. This fic would not be as great as it is with out you. Also this is my passive aggressive way of telling you all to stay hydrated.
You stared at your closet, glaring at the different articles of clothing in there. With a closet as expansive as yours was, it was hard to pick an outfit to wear. Being an adopted child of Bruce Wayne came with many things, most of them were good: you had a safe place to live, a manor full of people who loved you and you loved them all just as much. But it also came with its downsides. Everyone save for Alfred, dressed up and fought crime each night.
You were the most recent to take over the helm of Batgirl. Cass had stepped down and you were trained by Barbara and Stephanie to help you become a hero much like they are. Being in similar age to Tim, you were often paired together to make patrol a little easier.
Your relationship with him was the strongest. A lot of people often thought you were dating only for you guys to laugh about it and inform them that you were in fact siblings saying that you never saw the other as anything but that.
Being so close to Tim, you had gotten to know his friends. And that included a certain super who you took quite a liking to. Being the great detective he was, Tim picked up on your attraction immediately and never failed to pick on you every chance he got.
It was his best friend after all.
He watched in amusement as you paced around your room trying to decide what to wear. Clark was bringing Lois, Kon, and Jon over to the manor to have a get-together. Kara would have joined but she had her own business to attend to.
“Y/N, you are putting way too much thought into this. Just wear something blue, it’s his favorite color.” Tim shrugged.
“But Timetria, I don’t want to look desperate,” you argued.
The look he gave you did not go unnoticed. “I’ll never understand girl logic,” he muttered. “Just wear something you like. Confidence is key, isn’t that what you told me when I started dating Steph?”
You rolled your eyes at him. “That’s beside the point Timberella. Before you and Steph got together, you were a shy nerd boy who blushed at the thought of Steph talking to you. You needed that confidence boost.”
“And you’re saying that you don’t?” he asked. “If you have to think twice about what you need to wear then you really aren’t all that confident.”
Turning to look at Tim, you threw the closest thing you had (which just happened to be a shoe). “Can it, Timantha, I am plenty confident and I’ll show you,” you huffed.
Sensing a challenge, Tim got to his feet and looked at you with a grin. “Oh yeah? Then the second he gets here, ask him out. If you’re so confident, walk right up to him and ask him out,” he challenged. “Twenty bucks says you won’t.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. What was Tim planning? He had that same look in his eyes when he had an elaborate plan in the works and you were scared to know what he was up to. Part of you wanted to decline because even though you would never admit it, you were scared of Timothy Drake when he had that look in his eyes. But you also knew he would never let you live it down if you turned down his challenge and that was almost worse than suffering from whatever plan he had cooking in his brain.
“Alright fine. I will.” You snapped and kicked him out of your room so you could finally get dressed. You were going to beat Tim at his own challenge and make him eat his words.
Within the hour, you were dressed in an outfit that was simple: A t-shirt and jeans with a bright blue bikini underneath, complimented with a pair of sneakers. You exited your room only to see Tim waiting right outside your door with his arms crossed.
“You ready to lose Timberly?” you teased.
Tim rolled his eyes and looked at you. “Is it physically impossible for you to call me by my actual name?” he asked.
You grinned. “Of course not,” putting a hand on his shoulder you laughed. “You should know me better than that Timbertha.”
“That’s the worst one you have ever come up with.”
“Isn’t this what sisters are for?”
Tim reached up to ruffle your hair, only for you to dodge under his arm and lightly punch him in the gut. Stumbling back, Tim groaned softly and held his stomach. “I forgot you have quick reflexes. Seems like Bab’s and Steph’s training has paid off,” he commented.
“All the better to kick your ass in sparring,” you grinned.
“Come on, everyone is already outback waiting for us,” he said and led you down the stairs and out the back doors. It was a hot summer day outside and so Bruce and Clark decided to have an outdoor barbeque to enjoy the nice weather. Dick, Jason, Damian, and Jon were all in the pool playing a game of chicken fight. With Damian on Jason’s shoulders and Jon on Dick’s, they were evenly matched teams.
Jon may have been half kryptonian, but Jason had the extra height and weight Dami needed to try and get the edge on his friend. Duke floated on an inflated ring with a lemonade in his hand just taking a moment to soak in the warm light. Steph, Cass, and Bab’s were off to the side enjoying the sun while Bruce and Clark talked shop while grilling up the food. Lois and Selina sipped on different cocktails and enjoyed the other company while watching the boys play. The only one you couldn’t see was Kon. You couldn’t win your bet with Tim if he was nowhere in sight.
“Looking for a certain someone so I can watch you crash and burn?” Tim taunted.
Turning on your heel to glare at Tim, you didn’t notice a certain super float down behind you waiting to catch you by surprise.
“You know Timberlina, just because Steph is my best friend it doesn’t mean that I won’t--ah!”
A pair of hands came up from behind, catching you by surprise and trying to tickle you. Instinctively, you swung around to punch whoever it was only for Kon to catch your fist before it could hit his nose and hurt your hand.
“Didn’t you learn from the last time you tried punching me? You broke your hand on my face.” Kon chuckled looking down at you.
You huffed and shot him a glare. “Didn’t you learn from the last time you tried tickling me, I can find other ways to hurt you than with my fist.”
Kon’s eyes held a hint of amusement, even after all these years he never got tired of your threats and snarky attitude. Tightening his grip on your hand, he pulled you closer so you were pressed up against his chest. “You wouldn’t want to hurt me though, right?”
One simple action had you flustered beyond belief. His face hovered right above yours and you could feel his hot breath fan over your face. The grip he had on your hand tightened as he glanced at it with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
You knew that look, and it never meant something good.
Of course, you couldn’t ignore the snickering coming from Tim who stood behind you. He really thought that he was going to win your bet? This was your chance to prove him wrong. You opened your mouth to speak, but when Kon placed a kiss on your knuckles the words died in your throat.
“Something the matter, Sunshine?” he teased.
Pulling your hand from his grip, you huffed. “Yeah, you look like you need to cool off hotshot.” With a grin, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him into the pool with a loud splash.
The water splashed all around him as he flailed trying to keep himself above water. Not that he could actually drown. He hit the pool with such force that it knocked waves into Dick and Jason who both almost tumbled over with the boys still on their shoulders. Duke was flipped off his floatie, his lemonade dumping all over himself with a shout of surprise.
At this point, Tim was beside himself with laughter. He knew that Kon could easily get you flustered, but he also knew you could be extremely petty when you wanted to be. Glancing at him, you grinned.
“Since you think it’s so funny Timelina, why don’t you join him!” you shouted as you pushed him into the pool with a laugh.
TIm sputtered as he came up for air and threw you a glare as Kon started laughing at his best friend. “Damn, pushed by your own sister. That has to hurt,” he snickered.
You rolled your eyes and walked over to the chairs where the other girls were sipping on their lemonade. Sitting next to Steph, she brushed your shoulder. “Gonna change and get some sun with us?”
“You girls could come play Chicken Fight with us!” Dick called with Jon still on his shoulders. “I’m sure we can wrangle Duke in with us, can’t we buddy?” he asked wrapping an arm around Duke’s now sopping shoulders.
“I’m already soaking wet, and my lemonade is gone so by all means drag me into a pool game,” he narrowed his eyes at Dick who only laughed at his brother.
“Knew I could count on you.”
You pulled your shirt off as you looked over at them. “What are the teams? Last I checked there is an odd number of us. Someone has to be a referee.” You called out, tossing your shorts and shoes with your shirt.
“I’ll referee and get myself another lemonade.” Duke answered quickly, almost too quickly.
“Convenient Duke, it’s like you don’t want to play.” You called with a laugh.
Duke looked over at you from the drink table, “Maybe because I don’t!” He hollered back.
You stifled a laugh as you, Babs, Cass, and Steph all climbed into the pool. Steph teamed up with Tim, and Jason passed Dami to Cass before pulling Barbara up onto his shoulders. That left you and Kon as a team.
Turning to you with a grin, Kon held your waist and lifted you onto his shoulders with ease. You tried to fight the heat crawling up your neck, you just couldn’t tell if it was from the heat or embarrassment.
“Alright Duke, count us off!” Dick called.
“Three, two, one, go!” he counted.
Kon held a tight grip on your thighs as you went up against Jason and Babs, trying to push her off of his shoulders. Steph was trying to push Damian off of Cass’s shoulders with the help of Jon and Dick. His grip on your thighs tightened as you tried your hardest to push her over. Kon and Jason were roughly the same height but Babs was a little taller than you, so she had the height advantage. But you were on the shoulders of a kryptonian clone, it didn’t matter how much strength Jason had, it didn’t match up to Kon’s.
Shaking off the sudden fatigue, you urged forward and was finally able to push Barbara off of Jason’s shoulders, sending them both down with a splash. You covered your eyes to block out the water and laughed as they both surfaced up and glared at you.
Hearing the splash and your laughter, Tim, Steph, Cass, Damian, Dick, and Jon all turned to look at you. You could hear Duke’s laughter ring around the area and you gulped.
“Jay and Babs are out, Y/N and Kon have made themselves targets. This should be fun,” he grinned, sipping from his new cup of lemonade.
You looked down at Kon as he looked up at you, you gave each other a look before he walked forwards for you to take on Damian with Jon and Dick at your side while Tim and Steph tried to push you off of Kon’s shoulders. The tired feelling hadn’t gone away and now it was accompanied with a headache. You shook your head to try and make it go away, but it wasn’t working.
The hot sun was beating down on your body, the cool water not doing much to cool you off. You hadn’t consumed any water, lemonade, or any other cool drink that was being served. Slowly, you grew more and more exhausted.
Your hands loosened their grip with Damian’s while you still tried to push him off. Watching your face, he could see that you didn’t look okay and gave you a questioning look.
Steph seemed to notice your sudden decrease in energy too. “Y/N?” she asked. “You alright?”
You didn’t get another word out before you lost consciousness and fell off of Kon’s shoulders.
“Y/N? Y/N, wake up.”
Quickly you shot up and coughed, expelling the water from your lungs. Taking a look around you saw that Bruce and Kon were kneeling in front of you. Water droplets fell from Kon’s damp hair, the sun reflecting the ones off his bare torso.
“What happened?” you asked.
“You fainted, fell right off my shoulders. Are you alright?” Kon asked.
You began to nod when Bruce held the back of his hand up to your head and let out a sigh. “You’re burning up, when was the last time you hydrated?” he asked, concern evident in his tone.
You gave your adopted father a sheepish smile. “Before I came outside?” you answered.
Bruce gave you a harsh look. “You should have known better, I want you to rest and drink water,” he said in his best dad voice.
“I’ll sit and keep an eye on her,” Kon said.
Giving him a grateful look, Bruce helped you up before Kon took you into his arms and carried you to lie down on a chair in the shade.
Tim came over with several bottles of ice water and sat them down next to you. He shot you a pointed look that you opted to ignore. Your bet with him was still going, but neither of you anticipated you passing out in the middle of a game.
“Hey Timeline, can you get me a popsicle?” you asked him.
Tim raised a brow to try and hide the grin on his face. “Sure, I’ll be right back,” he said and walked off towards the ice chest. Once he was gone, you turned to look at Kon who was watching you with intent eyes.
You both laughed as he signaled you to speak first. “Go ahead,” he smiled.
Taking a deep breath you looked at him, “I have something to ask you,” you started. “Would you be willing to go out with me?”
The question had left your lips so quickly that Kon didn’t even register what it was you said. He had a look of confusion on his face as he slowly blinked, trying to decipher the words to your question.
He raised a finger and opened his mouth, he went to say something then stopped before he looked at you once more.
“Did you just ask me out?”
You bit your lip softly and nodded.
Kon sat next to you quietly before he started laughing. You could feel the tense smile drop into a frown. Was he laughing at you?
Catching the look on your face, he held his hands out. “No! That’s not what I am laughing at,” he said quickly.
You crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes. “Oh yeah? Then what were you laughing at?”
“I guess you literally fell for me?” he teased.
You couldn’t hold your giggles in, watching his face morph into a cheeky grin. “You’re such a dork,” you smiled. “By the way, Tim owes me twenty bucks.”
Kon laughed harder at your statement. “It’s okay, he owes me twenty as too,” he said. “He bet that I would ask you out first, looks like he lost and has no faith in your abilities.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll get him back.”
Taglist: @kishony-the-geek @unknowntoanyone @subtleappreciation @catxsnow @river-bottom-nightmares @screennamealreadyused @bikoncon @woahjaybird @battlenix @littleredwing89 @offendedfishnoises @batarella @arestorationofbalance
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The thing is, it was the fact that I'd had enough sleep to be fully awake that I was suddenly alert and capable of reasoning, and I spent the next half hour or so not even slightly out of it, which is pretty typical from my baseline state. I was even able to start packing, which is always a big job. For once I had a good excuse, too.
It was a bit awkward being the unwilling courier. There was clearly a script and a sequence of steps, a very ordinary exchange of phrases, that had taken me there. My driver and I got through them and were now prepared for her to lead the way back to her quarters.
In the interim it was a sort of dream.
"Did I just wake up?" I asked.
In my half-sleep state it was startling to start the dream dialogue again. I'd heard, but not been able to say at the time, what the difference was between my last-time-slept and this-time-slept, and now, having woken fully up, I said, "I don't remember how long I was asleep."
I was sitting on her bedroll, sitting up, facing away from her. She was a short young woman, no more than five foot four, and her clothes were very plain. There was a plain brown canvas backpack slung over one shoulder, and a thick, very coarse man-bunch on the back of it, held in place by rope. She was brushing her hair, not for the first time, and turning it over, the back of it covered by a broad-brimmed sable hat, which made her look like a small, jaunty black bird.
"You were dreaming, and now you've woken up again." She said this with her normal cheerfulness, but I could see she still found me annoying, so I found myself instinctively trying not to be annoying. I was starting to hope that whatever had happened to bring me back would also clear up what had brought her back, which was reassuring but also made me wish I wouldn't have to be such a stick in the mud.
She glanced over her shoulder. "If you look like the sort of person who wouldn't have a dream, get up now. No sense wasting time."
She did look, in a pretty unfashionable sort of way, like the sort of person who would refuse to wear a hat. Which probably made the dream even more bizarre, since I hadn't even known it involved a hat til she told me, but she was doing her best to ignore me by now, and if she could, I'd be wasting my time.
I said, "Your hat-wearing ability confers a superpower that has nothing to do with dreaming. Is there some other use for this power we're not aware of?"
She shook her head. Her cheerful black bird look gave way to an irritated scowl. "Not unless I'm doing something very strange. Something like that is, anyway."
She leaned back, turning her face away from me to get more of the hat-bundling done, and sighed, looking at me out of the corners of her eyes.
"You don't really believe that, do you. That you can't wake up once you've passed into sleep? Because, if I'm remembering my own history right, you can wake up at any time, for any reason. You just don't let yourself remember it, because you want it to stop being true."
I laughed. "I'm not totally opposed to 'at any time' as a rule, I suppose. I just get scared when it's too often. I'm usually like this the two weeks out of each month, and when it hits twice a month it starts to throw me off."
She said something unintelligible and looked at me again. "You know, there isn't a standard period of sleep. At all. Everyone's just used to the idea that everyone's sleeping different —"
She trailed off, because I was getting to the point, which was my point the last time I was back. Which she'd started the conversation on, but again, I hadn't known until she said it. In my case, and in many of my friends and acquaintances', the period of sleep was, unlike the day-night schedule, something that was done to everybody at birth. We'd all, for instance, learn at some point that it was necessary to wait an hour after we went to bed for light to be ready for school the next morning.
Our day-night sleep schedule was, as any sleep therapist will tell you, something unusual to the extent that the baseline is about the most regular you can be for any human group.
It's only when you start looking at the normal distribution that all that starts to make sense. At the tails, of course, people sleep as much as they used to, and people who spent a lot of time in very intense white environments suddenly sleep much less, and people are constantly being in environments that burn their bodies and minds out, and so forth. But even there, the normal day-night distribution curves up away from the median of normal sleep, not down toward it, which is why I've lived as a human every waking day for the last four years, and nobody else has lived at all.
The same is true of the species — if you consider the median to be a real thing and the mean to be a trick of variable selection. Once you do that, you see that the amount of sleep in a given month is pretty unusual, but the normal distribution curves up away from the median in the tails. Now, if you think about the tails too much, you start believing in the null hypothesis that nothing weird is going on.
And, in fact, I have, the last time I came back. There are many, many possible explanations for a given amount of sleep, and there are good reasons to be suspicious of the null hypothesis. But if I could wake up at any time, and I could keep my sleep schedule simple by going only to bed at night, or by just never getting up after I fell asleep, I would never even need a sleep studies scientist.
"The only one you should believe and not disbelieve is sleep. Not in your day-to-day life. In a dream. You're dreaming and you're not going back to sleep."
I said that in a tone of voice I might have used if I'd been talking to someone who didn't believe in sleep. The effect was like trying to punch myself in the face. A few minutes later I laughed and said, "I've been trying to convince myself that I'm dreaming for six years now." It was a stupid thing to say, and I was still laughing when the bedroll was hauled away by her driver.
"Did you really think you were losing sleep?" she asked. It was the first question I'd been able to think to ask, since I'd woken up, and there had been so many. I thought so too.
"It seemed a reasonable possibility, yeah."
"That's the thing about that possibility. Which was why I didn't think you were really dreaming the last time the moon was in the sky. If you were, I wouldn't have needed you to come to me the night before the last time it was, and I would have just tried to sleep again. Maybe next time you didn't wake up I wouldn't have either."
"I'm starting to think you were right. I remember thinking I just thought a bad night's sleep was a lot like a bad case of the flu."
"It feels like a bad flu. Not like a night's sleep I might get in a while, after a few days of waking up, but like the one I had at age twelve."
"A bad flu might be the most common disease known. We all have bad flu's in the fall and in the spring, and sometimes in the spring we get the bad flu we call a different name."
"I'm starting to think I've made many bad flu's the last couple of years. Is this what you call a bad flu, or am I actually having a day-night sleep schedule and you're not telling me about it?"
"I wouldn't know about many ways to call it. It comes and goes. A bad flu is the worst. And a bad day's sleep sounds like worse."
"Doesn't it feel like an improvement, though?"
"Well, a bad flu usually does leave you somewhat in the clear, if your immune system is working and you're sure you have some kind of antibodies in your system to deal with it. No, it doesn't sound like an improvement. It's like two steps removed from torture."
We both broke into laughter. We were both still feeling uncomfortable and couldn't really explain why. "I didn't realize this was going to be serious," I said.
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Okay so what happened if Quinn was talking to Paul bear (god rest his soul) like as a imaginary friend or a Guardian angel ￼and Quinn told Shawn,undertaker,Kane and Daniel how will they react￼￼?
(Oooooooooh, their relationship with him was so toxic but so complicated. I just think the conversation would go either one of two ways.)
Quinn Talking to the Spirit of Paul Bearer
Hurt/Comfort below the cut.
Quinn tells her uncle and father who she’s been talking to on the back porch. Undertaker and Kane immediately exorcise the house and kick Paul’s ass back to the underworld, then pour out a bottle of shitty PBR over his grave.
“Quinn honey,” Taker says to their newly-four-year-old daughter. He steps out onto the front porch of the house, followed by Kane and Shawn and Daniel. They were all heading outside to have a nice beer when Taker noticed Quinn was sitting on the rocking chair in deep conversation with something in front of her. “Who are you talking do, little one?”
He doesn’t ask it in a demeaning way, but more so a genuinely curious way. He and Shawn have long since realized that Quinn was more in tune with the spirits that lingered in the Valley, drawing them in close and having light conversation with them. It was just one of the things that made her special to them.
Quinn looks up at Undertaker, her blonde hair pulled back in a tiny ponytail. She points to the air in front of her and says,
“...Grandpa?” Undertaker asks, knowing of many family members who have died in the Valley, the generations that had passed down the funeral home.
“Grandpa George?” Kane offers, sitting on a rocking chair with Daniel in his lap. Shawn sits on the top step and asks Quinn,
“What’s he say his name is, sweetie?” Quinn looks up and stares at the air, obviously seeing a person standing there. Taker cracks open his beer and tries to decide if he has time for a quick exorcism of the house before the game.
“Paul,” Quinn says, then looks at Kane. She points to him and says, “Papa. Big fat man.”
Everyone on the porch feels the sudden drop in atmosphere. Daniel looks to Kane, his hand squeezing his arm. Kane looks from Quinn to the space in front of her, his eyes switching between being wide and narrowed, as if he can’t decide which emotion to settle on. Undertaker stands closer to Quinn now, ready to snatch her away from the chair.
He did not know this man’s spirit could linger in the Valley without his knowledge. But Quinn was seeing him, there was no doubt in his heart. And he was not going to allow that man to influence his daughter. Paul’s influence ended with Undertaker and Kane.
“Why?” Quinn asks in her flute-like voice. Undertaker glances to Kane, who swallows thickly without having opened his beer. Quinn shrugs and looks at her father and uncle. “Sorry,” she says.
“What are you sorry for, sweetpea?” Shawn asks, and Quinn shakes her head.
“Not me. Him,” she says, pointing in front of her. “Sorry for...fire. For hurting. For,” Quinn pauses and looks at the space with a confused expression. There’s a silence, then she nods. “He said he’s going now. And papa and uncle are happy, so that’s good. And he...he says it isn’t his fault you are happy. What?
“Oh. He says good job being happy. He loves...who is that?...Oh, no, his name is Uncle. Uncle and Papa,” Quinn translates, pointing to Undertaker and Kane.
“Quinn, dear,” Undertaker says, laying a hand on her back, but she doesn’t acknowledge him as she stares up into the air. “Quinn, perhaps-”
“Shh! He’s saying bye-bye! He was too quiet before. He says I help him talk. Okay, bye-bye fat uncle!” Quinn chirps, then blinks. She looks up at Undertaker, then to Kane.
Undertaker has so many things to say right then. He wants to tell Paul he has no right telling them that he loved them. He wants to tell Paul that death did not always bring forgiveness. He wants to threaten the man to never step near his daughter ever again. But then Quinn jumps down from the chair and walks over to Kane.
Daniel slides off his lap and puts Quinn up where he’d sat.
“Why sad?” Quinn asks, reaching a hand up and patting Kane’s unmasked face. Her tiny palms mush his face as she wipes away the tears that are falling. “No sad, stop it.”
“I’m sorry baby,” Kane whispers, wrapping an arm around her back. Quinn wraps her small arms around his neck and hugs him. “Uncle is just.... Thank you for helping Grandpa Paul talk.”
“You’re welcome,” she says cheerily, petting the back of Kane’s head. Kane looks up at Daniel, who leans down to kiss his forehead. He then looks to Undertaker, and the older brother cannot make himself seem upset at this message, nor thrilled at the goodbye.
“He likely stayed to have final words for you,” Undertaker says. After all, Paul passed when both the brothers had broken free of his hold, when they were their own men for the first time. There was no farewell or ceremony, no holding the hand of a loved one. Kane was inconsolable, caught between pure joy and pure agony.
Quinn brought closure with her. Another gift she gave without knowing its worth or even that it was a gift to be given.
“Can I have ice sandwich?” Quinn asks, leaning back and putting a hand on Kane’s tear-soaked face. Kane swallows and nods, then stands with his small niece on his side.
“Ice cream sandwich,” Taker says, nodding to the door. “Freezer, under the nuggets.”
“Thank you,” Kane says, walking inside with Quinn. Undertaker sighs and Shawn walks up to him, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing his chest.
“I love you, baby. I know it’s hard,” Shawn says softly. Undertaker cups the back of his head gently and nods, resting his head back on the house.
“...I feel it is finally over now,” Undertaker says, staring out as the Valley grows just a bit brighter, as if the Sun had stepped in front of a cloud. He lets out a huge breath and Shawn’s arms tighten around him. “It’s over.”
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What Must be Done
“You know, Tubbo, Dream’s just misunderstood,” Wilbur said. He stood in Tubbo’s doorway. Tubbo blocked his way inside, arms crossed. “I’ll be getting him out soon. When I do, we could use a nation with your firepower.”
Tubbo glowered at him. “Go to hell, Wilbur. Snowchester will never give you aid.”
Wilbur laughed quietly. “I do hope your mind changes. After all --” he glanced meaningfully at the trap door leading to Michael’s room “-- we wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to that adorable kid.” He gave Tubbo a mocking salute. “King.” Then he walked away, towards the tunnel that would take him back to the SMP. Tubbo had half a mind to make sure he never reached it as he stood, frozen and shaking, hand raised to close the door.
He’d taken to watching the prison from the top of the Red Hotel. Today, his breath stopped as Wilbur waltzed inside. Tubbo leapt up and almost just let himself fall down the ladder in his haste. “Jack!” he yelled.
Jack poked his head out from his office. “Yeah?” he asked, in a voice that suggested he’d been asleep.
“We have to get to Snowchester,” Tubbo said. “Get your key. We’ve got to launch the missile. Now!” He could feel his own key on it’s chain around his neck. Jack’s eyes widened, and he ducked back into the office with a nod. When he emerged, the bit of gold was clutched in his hand so hard a line of blood had appeared.
Tubbo led the way to the tunnel, stumbling over tree roots and loose stones as his mind repeated Michael Michael Michael and protect them protect them protect them. He threw himself into it with so much force that when he shot out he almost slammed into the wall headfirst. He got his bearings back quickly and scrambled through the snow to the control room. Jack followed behind him, mouth set in a grim line.
He didn’t have to put in the directions. Since Wilbur had returned, they’d been preprogrammed. With a quick nod to Jack, they took their respective positions. The necessary switches were flipped. Tubbo took a deep breath and started the countdown. “One… two…”
Everything in him froze. Slowly, Tubbo turned on the spot. Ranboo stood in the doorway, clutching his book to his chest with a bewildered expression. “What’s going on?” he asked. “I was going to visit Michael, and I saw the light…” comprehension dawned on his face. “Tubbo, no.”
“Ranboo, I have to,” Tubbo half pleaded, voice hoarse. “Wilbur’s in the prison. He’s gonna break Dream out. They’ll come for the weapons, Ranboo, and when I won’t hand them over they’re gonna kill Michael.” Ranboo’s eyes widened, the book slipping from his hands. He didn’t pay it any attention.
“Tubbo, think about the SMP,” he said cautiously. “Sam’s probably in the prison. You can’t let him die! And the area around it’s gonna take a hit. More people will die, innocent people.”
“How innocent is anyone on this server, Ranboo?” Tubbo cried desperately. Tears were falling down his face. “The Eggpire? The Syndicate? Don’t tell me you haven’t seen the blood on the path and Big Q’s hands.”
“They don’t deserve to die!” Ranboo took a step towards him. “If taking their lives is worth two deaths to us then we’re no better than Dream.”
“We don’t have time for this,” Jack said. “Start the countdown, Tubbo.”
Tubbo didn’t look at him. He was still staring at Ranboo, who’d taken another step. “I have to protect him, Ranboo. He doesn’t deserve this.”
“We will protect him. Tubbo, you’re not thinking straight. This isn’t the smart move, you have to see that!”
“Why do I have to?” Tubbo yelled. “I’m a kid, Ranboo! Kids aren’t meant to fight wars!”
Ranboo faltered. “I know,” he murmured softly. “You shouldn’t have to do this. None of us should. It isn’t fair to you, or Tommy.”
“It’s not fair to you, either,” Tubbo said. He’d lowered the key to his side. Jack watched, a thinly veiled expression of agitation on his face.
“No, it’s not. But you can’t do this, Tubbo. We’ll protect Michael. We can hide him in Logsteadshire, if it comes to it. I swear to you, we will keep him safe.” Ranboo was in front of him now. Gently, he reached out and pried the key from Tubbo’s fingers. There was a soft clink as he set it on the counter.
“You promise?” Tubbo asked weakly, staring into his husband’s eyes.
And with that, Tubbo snapped. He fell into Ranboo, who wrapped his arms around him. The pair sank to the ground as Tubbo sobbed. “It’ll be alright,” Ranboo whispered. “It’ll be alright, my beloved.”
“Or it won’t.” Jack’s matter-of-fact voice made both look up. He stood over them, Tubbo’s key in his hand. His own was already in the slot. “One thing I remember about Wilbur was that he kept his promises to loyal people. He promised me something I couldn’t pass up. It’s nothing personal, Tubbo.” Before either could react, he inserted Tubbo’s key and turned it. There was the sound outside of the hatch opening, and then the whistle that came with the launch.
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hoseok | angst, hurtfic | 2102 words
Maybe it was out of annoyance. Maybe that's why they snapped. They weren't usually like that, now, were they? Hoseok knew that.
They were in the middle of recording a new track for their album. There were deadlines to be met and everyone was stressed out. They were all practicing their parts together right outside the recording booth, and snapping at each other whenever someone got something wrong.
Unfortunately, Hoseok's voice had decided that today would be the day that everything would get screwed up. He messed up the lyrics, the melody, even though he had tried his best to practice it properly. It caused him a great deal of embarrassment and that horrible feeling was compounded with the angry looks thrown at him from the vocalists. Yoongi and Namjoon looked disappointed and worried, but the others were just mad. Especially Jungkook. Normally, he wasn't this impatient, but today he was.
"Why can't you just get it right hyung?" he asked. Jimin was in the booth.
"I-I... don't know-"
"You need to try," Jungkook said. "We need to get this done."
"Clearly, you're not trying hard enough!"
Hoseok rolled his eyes. "I suggest, Jungkook, that you try to show some respect to someone older than you."
That shut Jungkook up for a while. He nodded, slowly shuffling away. Hoseok smiled in satisfaction, but inside he felt a little worried. He did need to get this thing done.
They got into another disagreement after the demos had been done. Hoseok's voice didn't sound right. Namjoon asked him if everything was okay. Yoongi tried to comfort him and said that it was alright, they could always give it another go. But their feeble attempts of kindness were overshadowed by the others. Taehyung got annoyed and told Hoseok to try harder and to stop being "lazy."
That set Hoseok into a fit of tears which Jimin and Jin laughed at. They told him to leave if he was going to get that emotional about some criticism.
So the dancer stumbled out of the studio and walked back to the dorms to have a break. It wasn't worth it trying to reason with them, he figured.
He did get his lines down eventually. He recorded them at three in the morning with just Namjoon and the producers present. They were gentler with him, providing him feedback that didn't hurt his pride too much. Hoseok avoided the vocalists as much as he could. He wasn't going to talk to them until they had gotten down to their knees and apologized.
Respect. That's all he ever asked for. He didn't laugh at people when they cried.
"Isn't Hoseok home yet?" Yoongi asked.
"He left?" Taehyung asked. "Where did he go?"
"He was told to go with the stylists to do some fitting thing," Namjoon said. He shrugged. "When did he say he would be home by?"
"Eight," Jin said. "It's nearly eleven now."
"Somebody got lost."
"Jungkook, stop it," Namjoon said. "That's enough."
"I just said he got lost! How is that bad?"
"That's not helping the current situation."
"Right," Jin mumbled. "Did you call him?"
Yoongi shook his head. "He isn't picking up."
Namjoon's phone rang. The others jumped. Namjoon fished his phone out of his pocket and tapped on the screen. "It's Sejin hyung."
"Oh hello... yeah, it's me Joon. Hoseok? No, he isn't with us. Yeah. Yeah, he's with the stylists. What? Are-are you serious? Where? Is everyone okay?"
"What's going on?" Jungkook asked.
Namjoon held up a finger to signal him to be quiet. His eyes were wide and his face had turned pale. Jin stared at Namjoon in worry.
"Where is he...? You don't know? Uh... I'll go there, I don't know... yeah, thanks for telling us. I'll go there soon." Namjoon hung up the phone, letting out a deep sigh.
"What happened?" Yoongi asked.
"Sejin hyung says that there was some car accident."
"Was Hoseok in it?"
"Is he hurt?"
Jungkook gasped. "What happened? How?"
"I'll just go down to the hospital to make sure they're all right, okay?" Namjoon shrugged. "That's the best way."
Neither Hoseok nor the stylists were too seriously injured. Other than a few cuts and a few broken bones - and in Hoseok's case, a nasty blow to his head - they were okay. The dancer had to stay at the hospital for a few days, and then came back to the dorms.
Naturally, this made the others act more caring and gentle around him. The doctor told them that he had had a bad concussion and he needed to rest. The agency gave him a few weeks off. Hoseok stayed in his room all day and rarely bothered to interact with the others. The few times that he did talk to them were during mealtimes, and even then, he was hesitant to say anything to the vocalists. Everything he said was directed towards the rappers.
About a month later, a new thing popped up. Hoseok started getting forgetful and tired. He started to have issues recalling the date and the time. All of this was worrying and he was dragged along again to see a medical professional. There were multiple specialists to see and it took some time. Hoseok couldn't get a proper diagnosis, and everyone said the same thing. Something had happened when he had smacked his head during the accident. Multiple scans were done but there was nothing wrong. Everything was completely healthy, there was no damage anywhere.
The most plausible explanation that was offered was that Hoseok had some kind of amnesia. It would hopefully resolve on its own.
It wasn't too major. Hoseok still knew who he was, what he did for a living, the names of his family members, and the members of the group that he was part of. But something had changed.
The brotherhood-like friendship that he had shared with the vocalists was gone. He was still close to the rappers, but it wasn't the same, especially not for the members themselves. Hoseok - the weirdest and most lovable person - was distant and awkward around them. It caused a lot of distress within the group.
The managers said that as long as Hoseok felt fine, there was no reason why he shouldn't be going to practice. It was challenging for the dancer because he forgot things easily and it was hard to progress. The doctors that he saw told him to make lots of lists and make lots of reminders for him, which helped him out a lot.
"Don't you want to stay with us tonight?" Jin asked.
"Where... where did Namjoon go?"
"You want to be with Namjoon?"
Hoseok nodded. He felt uneasy around the others.
"He's not here. He's at the studio with Yoongi."
There wasn't a single threat in Jin's voice, but Hoseok cowered internally anyway. He felt terrible for feeling that way towards Jin, but he couldn't just deny what he felt. He felt more natural and comfortable around Namjoon and Yoongi.
Hoseok felt on edge while him and the vocalists watched a show together. Jimin tried to hug him at one point and he didn't enjoy it at all. He tried to move away and break the hug off as quickly as he could, but Jimin didn't get the hint and Hoseok had to sit in his embrace for a good five minutes.
He counted down the minutes until the rappers returned.
Hoseok didn't dare tell Yoongi anything that had gone wrong. He hoped that he wasn't too obvious in his happiness when the two arrived. He shuffled closer to them and sat with them. Jungkook's eyes turned sad. He sat there and stared at how Hoseok was friendlier with Yoongi and Namjoon, and it made him feel pathetic and upset. A moment's rudeness had destroyed the bond that they had. Jungkook didn't watch the whole show with them. He ran away to his room and locked the door, trying to come up with something that would fix things.
He couldn't come up with any genius plan, except a desperate idea to talk to Hoseok again.
Jungkook didn't reply to Hoseok's sleepy groan. He buried his face into the dancer's sheets and hugged him tightly around the waist. Hoseok usually enjoyed this, right? He used to secretly love the times when the maknaes came over to his room in the nighttime. Especially when Jungkook did that. Especially the youngest. Hoseok had a soft spot for him.
But that soft spot had vanished now. When Hoseok finally came to his senses, he shrugged Jungkook off.
"Don't you have your own room Kook?"
"Why are you sleeping here then?"
Jungkook sniffed. "I wanted to be with you."
Hoseok sighed. The youngest shivered. He did not sound happy. He sounded annoyed.
"Go back to your room and sleep there."
"But I want to stay here."
"Jungkook..." Hoseok began, a warning tone in his voice.
The youngest shook his head. "I want to stay here."
"I need you to leave."
His voice left no room for arguments. Jungkook nodded, feeling his eyes fill up with tears. He got up from the bed and slowly shuffled back to the doorway.
"Please don't do that again," Hoseok called. "If you want to, we can always talk in the morning."
It wasn't the same, Jungkook wanted to scream. He kept his head bowed low as he went back to his room. Once he got back to the safety of his own walls, he let his emotions run loose. His voice was muffled against his pillow as he wept. Everything was so unfair.
"Hoseok, what happened last night?" Yoongi asked.
"Jungkook is crying."
"Right," Hoseok said. "Something probably happened last night, I can't remember."
Yoongi's eyes widened. "Well, it's no shock that he's upset! What the hell did you do?"
"Why are you getting so upset?" Hoseok asked. "It's not like I killed him or anything."
"You, oh my lord. You are weird," Yoongi said.
Later on in the day, Namjoon dragged them together when disagreements started occurring during practice. Hoseok found himself getting interrogated by the others. Jungkook had started crying again.
"I don't really remember what happened," Hoseok said. "Did I yell at you?"
"He said that he came to your room and you told him to leave," Taehyung said.
Hoseok flinched. Taehyung had a scary look on his face. "Um... yeah... oh yeah! I remember now, sorry. I wasn't trying to be rude Jungkook. I don't like it when people come to my room during the night. It's uncomfortable."
"You... you used to like it," Jungkook mumbled.
"I don't like it anymore."
Hoseok shook his head. "I'm sorry."
"But... Yoongi went to your room a few weeks ago and you didn't tell him to leave."
Taehyung held his breath.
"I'm more comfortable around him than around you," Hoseok said plainly. He seemed unaffected by everything.
"Oh... well then," Jungkook said. "I won't bother you again then."
"Yeah, bothering people is bad."
Jungkook sighed. There was nothing to do. Hoseok was either being stupid on purpose or was actually that stupid in real life. This tiny issue would have been really easy to solve had Hoseok been the way he was before.
"I think you guys should spend time together," Yoongi said. "All five of you. Hoseok, if we want to function as group like we used to, you'll have to get closer to them. I'm not saying to become best friends or anything, but just so you can stand each other."
"He doesn't like me," Jungkook said. He shook his head sadly, staring down at the floor.
"I have a great idea!" Namjoon said happily. "Me and Yoongi can go stay at our apartments for a month while you guys sort out your issues."
"What?" Jimin asked. The others displayed a similar amount of shock.
"You heard me. Remember to talk it out guys."
"Yeah, lots of talking." Yoongi nodded. "Lots of talking and no misunderstandings."
Hoseok sighed. He had wanted to come down early to the kitchen to make himself breakfast, but Jimin was already in there. With Yoongi and Namjoon gone, he felt even more on edge.
"Hey Hoseok hyung," Jimin called soon after. "Do you want to help me?"
The dancer was about to say no, but he remembered Yoongi's words. Reluctantly, he nodded.
Cooking with Jimin was the most fun that he had had in a while.
Hopefully, his relationships with the vocal line would recover. It was well on its way already.
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Calling Home (3) | Frankie Morales x Reader
Summary: You are a receptionist at the VA. Frankie Morales keeps calling. Yearning ensues...
Rating: E (18+ only)
Warnings: age gap (legal), dilf!frankie, praise kink, voice kink, low self esteem, discussion of addiction/PTSD/trauma, no use of y/n, no beta reader, female masturbation, PHONE SEX 📞🚨, DDLG🎀
AN: Fwankie has a bouquet going with his sweet pea and Rosie 🥺. Another long chapter. Wee bit angsty folks 😪...Thought about toning down the ddlg stuff but decided nah, all gas no breaks.
Frankie ended up having to buy a new phone. Rosie had knocked his old flip phone into the bathtub one Sunday night. The loss was so much worse because he knew he wouldn’t be able to call you until he replaced it. He briefly panicked thinking he lost your number too but remembered he had the good sense to write it down in his address book (yes he proudly used a paper address book).
“Hey, Will, I gotta weird question to ask.” Frankie walked into the front of the auto shop on Monday, where Will usually sat behind the counter.
“It’s kind of a…” Frankie eyed the kid working behind the register. “question about Colombia.”
“Ah.” Will followed Frankie into a back office. Will crossed his arms. He grew concerned when Frankie closed the door.
“Do you every worry the cartel is still after us?”
“Maybe. What’s left of them. You worried about the money?”
“Not the money. I know that’s safe.” Frankie took one last look at the door to make sure no one was listening in. “I need a new phone and I don’t want to be tracked.”
“This is about a phone?” Will exclaimed. “Fuck, you had me worried, Fish.”
“Sorry.” Frankie smiled sheepishly.
“A phone isn’t gonna do anything. Just don’t talk about stealing cartel money in your texts and you’re fine.” Will patted Frankie on the shoulder reassuringly. "But what is this about, really? Did something happen?"
"No nothing like that." Frankie said, knowing his friend was referring to Frankie's addiction. "I'm...trying to be normal, you know."
Will laughed. "You're telling me... somedays I feel like a fucking alien."
"Yeah." Frankie was relieved to hear he was not alone.
"I think about Tom sometimes." Will sat down on the desk staring at his hands. "He had a kid. A family." Frankie felt his own eyes mist over. Fuck, he missed Tom. "It feels like... He gave us this chance, Fish." Will looked up as if he could see some divine plan on the ceiling. "A chance to be...fucking happy."
"It's all I can think. Otherwise... he died for nothing." Will pushed himself off the desk wiping a tear from his eye. "We gotta do something with what Tom gave us, Fish. We gotta..."
"We will." Frankie promised his friend. "We're gonna take this shop to the next level. Gonna make sure Tom's kid gets through school."
"Yeah." Will sniffled.
"Knock on wood." Frankie gave the desk a couple taps.
"What's that now?" Will eyed his friend with amusement.
"Just a phrase I learned." Frankie smiled coyly. "Supposed to bring good luck."
"Well knock away then." Will clapped Frankie on the back again before getting back to the front.
There were a lot of things Frankie purposefully did to not re-engage with life. He had an old phone, an old car, worn out clothes, and his most extravagant purchase in the past week had been a candle. He needed to get over his irrational fears and their connected excuses. His therapist had told him he didn’t need to rush back to join society. But he wanted to. For his daughter. For Tom. And (even if he wouldn't admit it right now) for you.
Frankie ended up getting an old iPhone 7. Not brand new but used. Baby steps. He texted you as soon as he got home and check the address book.
*This is Frankie. New phone.* He texted.
*Hello!* you replied a few seconds later.
He hovered over your number before deciding to throw caution to the wind and call you. You were curled up on your favorite chair reading when Frankie texted. After nearly two days of silence from him you, you were all too eager to pick up. Who cares if it wasn't work hours.
“Hello?” There was that voice you loved so much.
“Hi, Frankie.” You felt your heart immediately clench with affection.
“I wanted to call yesterday but Rosie dropped my phone in the bath. Hence, new phone.”
“She knew you needed the upgrade.” You snickered. “Yesterday was really boring so you didn’t miss much. I missed talking to you though.”
“Me, too.” He grinned. He sat down on the couch, relaxing to your sweet and steady voice. "What are you up to?"
"I should have known."
"I need to go to the store soon though. I literally have no food in the fridge." You groaned, already dreading it.
"Be safe walking in the dark."
“I will. Oh! I can share my location you now.”
“Only if you want to.”
“Check your messages. I just shared it.”
He maneuvered to the text messages app. He clicked on the icon and stared at your little blue dot come into focus on the map. He zoomed out. He zoomed out some more. God, you were so far away from him.
“I got it.” He said eyes still trained on your little dot. He zoomed all the way in until he could see your dot over your apartment building. “Thank you.”
“Of course. I feel better knowing you’re looking over me.” You admitted shyly.
“Me, too, sweet pea.”
“Y-yeah.” Frankie stammered, feeling his face heat up. “Because of the candle.”
“You remembered!” You squealed. Oh Frankie did more than just remember but he kept that to himself.
“Now how do I share my location with you?” He tactfully switched subjects.
You spent the evening helping Frankie set up his phone finding his lack of tech savvy endearing. He was surprised when you told him about Spotify. Silly man was still listening to songs on a beat up MP3 player. It was hard to believe Frankie had flown planes but he still didn’t understand how emojis work. You spammed him with all your favorite ones, making him laugh.
“Did you add me to your contacts yet?” You pressed.
“Yes…” Frankie confirmed, going to the contacts app and hovering over your name. Sweet pea🌸.
“I’ll send you a picture. To put in my profile.”
“Are you sure?” Frankie froze up. “You don’t have to.”
“Don’t you wanna know?” It was a rhetorical question because you were already sitting up in bed trying to find the best position. You wanted to tease him despite the nervousness coursing though you. What if you weren’t what he expected? What if he thought you were ugly? You eventually settle on an angle so your face was in the light and just enough skin was showing.
Frankie devour the image. Your wide eyes were looking right at him. Your big smile pushing your cheeks up. He could see your cleavage peaking out at the very bottom of the photo, tank top pulled tight. You were slightly flushed across your neck and cheeks. It stirred something in deep in his chest and lower, too. Did I do that? Frankie wondered. You were a thousand times more beautiful than he ever dreamed. Everything about your features was a perfect match with your sweet and playful voice. He couldn’t fight the rush of affection that welled up in him as he noticed the fluffy bed unmade behind you, the unicorn pillow pet, and the books overflowing on a book case against the wall. The only thing that caused him to worry was that you looked too beautiful and too young. You were a thousand feet above him. You wouldn't look at him twice if you passed him on the street.
“So… do I get a picture of you, Frankie?” He snapped out of his thoughts ranging from affectionate to insecure to completely perverted.
“I don’t think so, sweet pea.” He discouraged
“What? That’s not fair!”
“Don’t you already have a picture of me from my VA profile?”
“That’s from sooo long ago.” You complained.
“I looked better back then. You-you don’t wanna see me now.”
“But I do!” You insisted.
When Frankie didn’t say anything you worried he had shut down. It was times like these where it would help to see his expression. Read his body language. Maybe he didn’t want to walk down this road any further.
“Okay." You tried not to pour too much sadness into your words. "You don’t have to.”
“Don’t get blue on me, sweet pea.” Frankie cooed. His own insecurities were overpowered by his need to comfort you. “I'm just a little insecure because you’re so beautiful. I’m just plain old me.”
“You are not plain or old!” You asserted, cheeks burning from his compliment.
“You don’t know how old I am.” Frankie shook his head, running his hand over his beard which was starting to grey in patches.
“I do! It says on your profile page. I saw it the first time you called.”
“And you still wanted to talk to me?” Frankie was amazed.
You couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Do you really think I’m so shallow?” His age made him all the more attractive to you. His competence and his experience is what ignited your curiosity and your lust to begin with.
“I didn't mean it like that, sweet pea.” Frankie mumbled.
“I’m sure you look much more handsome now. I just know it!” You coaxed him.
“Alright…” Frankie relented feeling emboldened by your praise. He moved the camera around until he was in the light and he tried to pat down his messy hair. He should have grabbed his hat. He tried out a few different smiles eventually settling on a tight lipped one that didn’t emphasize his wrinkles as much. He sent the photo without looking it over, for fear he would chicken out. Would you be disgusted? Would you stop talking to him? Would you-
“Wow…” You breathed. Your voice was a tender as Frankie had ever heard. “You’re so beautiful, Frankie.”
Your heart was not ready for his picture. He had the same boyish smile as when he was younger, the smile lines deeper with age. More sincere. New was the scruff along his jaw and his mustache perfectly framing his pouty lips. You eyes closed in on a small patch of grey on his jaw which looked softer than all the rest. You wanted to touch it, lick it. His gorgeous brown hair lay in waves, curling up at the ends. It looked so soft and shiny. His eyes were soft brown, warm, and comforting. It made you think of hot cocoa, firewood, and dark chocolate; all the most comforting things in life. All the things that would have made this shitty DC winter a dream. You admired his flawless tan skin, bringing all those features together. You were jealous of the sun that got to kiss his face when you couldn't. You smiled at his tidy kitchen in the background. He was still wearing his coveralls from work. You ran your finger over the blurry red cursive stitched on the uniform over his heart. Catfish. His nickname.
Frankie's heart melted at your words, the warmth of them filling him up from the inside out. Blood rushing to his face making his senses fuzzy.
“Not as beautiful as you, pretty pea.”
Neither of you said anything. You were trying to get a hold of your rapid heart beat while Frankie tried to figure out how to get your image into the little circle above your name.
"Shit- the store!" You exclaimed checking the time. "It's closed!"
"Oh no! I'm sorry, sweet pea. I guess I kept you too long."
"I'll have to order take out or something." You sighed "It's fine. I hate grocery shopping anyways."
"Let me order for you. I owe you."
"You don't have to!"
"I want to. And this way I can stay on the phone with you longer."
"Okay." You surrendered with a smile. It felt good to be taken care of. You only wished he was here with you to share the food.
"What do you want?"
"Nothing too expensive. I'll leave it up to you."
"Nope. It's your choice, princesa pea." He pressed. You giggled at the nickname.
"Pizza?" You requested after a bit of thinking.
"Pizza por la princesa pea!" Frankie trumpeted enjoying your peels of laughter.
Frankie put down his book, rubbing his eyes. He made a last ditch attempt to catch up with you, bypassing If Beale Street Could Talk and Curious Incident of the Dog in The Nighttime and jumping to Never Let me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro. You told him you started it today. He hoped he could catch up enough to discuss it tomorrow with you. It wasn’t easy. The waiting. He really just wanted to talk to you now.
Looking around his room, Frankie had to admit it was an odd sight. He was a military man. He didn’t have clutter or mess anywhere in the house (which was impressive given he had a baby daughter). Yet he had some new tokens around the house: Your candle on his bedside table, its pink color and gold wrapping standing out against the neutrals of his bedroom, books you recommended sitting on his night stand and coffee table. It was like you were starting to take root in his home even though you had never physically been in his home. Even digitally, you were there. Your goofy selfies saved in between pictures of Rosie. Your playlist on his phone.
On the one hand, Frankie found these domestic reminders of you endearing. On the other hand, it also made him miss you so much he had to sit down and catch his breath. You were like a ghost. It was like you had walked out of the room right as he stepped in. You were always just out of reach.
He pulled out his phone and stared down at your little blue dot. He did this sometimes to comfort himself. Strangely tonight, you were not at your apartment. He zoomed in brows furrowing. A club? You were at a club? Frankie tried to suppress the feeling of betrayal that welled up in him. He didn’t own you. You weren’t his girl. He could never have you like that. It would be too selfish and he had already taken much more than he deserved when it came to you. The half gone candle was evidence of that.
You were in the middle of a crowded dance floor, dancing your heart out to the latest Cardi B song when you felt your phone buzz in your back pocket.
*What are you up to sweet pea?*
*Out with friends*
*Does this mean I’m going to finally beat you? I’m on page 25 of the new book*
Your eyes widened. No way could he be that far.
*I thought you had poker tonight?* You typed back.
Your friends noticed you had stopped dancing.
“You wanna get another drink?” Your friend, Maya, yelled over the music.
“I actually want some water.” You shouted back, looking up from your phone. Now that you weren’t moving the alcohol you had enjoyed throughout the night was starting to hit you.
*Had to reschedule.*
You caved to your friends demanding you go out because you thought Frankie was busy. If you knew he rescheduled, you probably would be at home in your pajamas talking to him. That sounded like so much more fun. You and Maya and your other friend, Bea, navigated your way back towards the bar for water and another drink for Maya.
“Hey!” Maya called your name. “I think those guys over there are inviting us to play pool.”
You followed her finger to a group of three guys who looked around your age beckoning you and your friends over. Bea walked over to them starting a conversation with the tallest one. Maya followed picking up the blonde guy. You had no idea how to play pool so you hung behind watching your friends with amusement.
“What’s your name?” You flinched turning to see one of the guys, a brunette, leaning over you eyes alight with interest. He was cute. Freckles and brown eyes.
You introduced yourself, being polite. He immediately started chatting you up. In your drunken state, your insecurities were fresh on the surface. Even if a man like Frankie would ever want you, he was not here. This guy was. What was his name? You had already forgotten. Steve or something. Maybe you just needed to get to know this guy and you’d see Frankie wasn’t anything special.
“So… how do we play?” You look up at the boy, giving him your best smile. The boy, Steven, was the quietest of the bunch but he made you laugh with his crappy jokes. He was attentive; getting you water when you asked and holding your jacket when you went to the bathroom.
After two games you were ready to leave. The noise and late hour was getting to you. Steven offered to walk you back to his place to sober up. He lived nearby. Of course, you knew what he was implying through the offer. You wanted to say yes. You wanted to want Steven but something just wasn’t right. You had a sinking feeling you knew why.
“I think i'm just gonna call a Lyft.” You felt bad; not because Steven was entitled to sex from you but because you were unwittingly comparing him to Frankie.
To your great relief Steven was nice about it though you could tell he was disappointed. You apologized for wasting his time. He gave you his number just in case you ever changed your mind. You knew you wouldn’t. You went home alone and in a worse mood than when you started the night.
*Did you get home safe?*
*Yes. Goodnight.* You sent your response before collapsing on your bed. One text from Frankie made your heart race faster than it had the whole time with Steven.
The winter days slowly faded to spring. The sun being out made everything better. But the sun was not the only thing playing with your emotions. Frankie Morales was the center of your heart now, like a tiny planet pulling you in every direction by its gravity. You were sad when you said goodbye, jubilant when he would call you. It was a rollercoaster from longing to adoration with no control. It was the fucking scariest thing you had ever felt. You had dated guys in the past that you thought you may have loved but now you wondered if you even cared for them at all? You never opened up to them, never longed for them, their voices never buried deep into your chest and lingered there for hours like Frankie's did.
Would this arrangement go on for forever? Would you talk to Frankie every day until you were both old and grey? It had only been three months since that first call and you already wanted more. Three months in and you knew if he asked, you would drop everything; your job, your apartment, your friends. You knew it wasn’t right. You were taught to be an independent woman who was happy on her own. Dignified. But pride was no match for your desires.
All your words were laced with yearning these days. You wondered if he could hear it. There were times you thought he might feel the same: When he would talk about places in Miami like you were going to see them one day. When he would talk about his friends like you had been at the bar with them. When he would hold his phone up to Rosie’s ear so she could hear your joke.
You really couldn’t debase yourself any further. You already touched yourself to the thought of him almost every day. You used to struggle to take much inside you. Having more than one orgasm used to be a challenge but now... it was like your pussy had bloomed, opened up. The only problem was Frankie wasn’t there to fill it. Your sex drive shot through the roof when you saw what he looked like. He was so blind to his own beauty, rebuffing your compliments at every turn, but that only made him sexier to you.
Though talking on the phone was still the main way you kept in touch, you would occasionally text each other. One particular picture Frankie sent you fueled your fantasies for a whole week. It wasn't even a picture of his face. He was trying to show you the engine damage in a car but all you focused on was his hands in the photo. How big they were. How they were calloused and rough with honest work.
When you had your fingers deep inside of you, you could practically hear his grunts in your ear. Hear him call you “good girl” and “sweet pea” and all the other names he used. You could practically feel his calloused fingers scraping your clit, feel his cock (which had to be beautiful and strong like him) in your mouth and your pussy. You wanted burns between your legs from his scruff, bruises on your waist from his grip. You wanted it all.
When you would come down from that Frankie-induced bliss, the yearning would hit you again because you didn’t just want to fuck Frankie. You wanted the cuddles after. You wanted the whispered conversations after. You wanted every moment after.
Oddly you were channeling this debate into your writing. You were a good 100 pages into your novel. Your protagonist was also longing for someone she could thought she could never have. You weren't sure how the story was going to end for her or for you.
You had enough material to apply to various book agencies. If you were lucky one of them would decide to take you on and get your book published. Even though you hadn't worked up the courage to share your writing with Frankie, he encouraged you to send the manuscript to the agencies. His praise guiding your finger to the send button.
"They're gonna love you, sweet pea."
"Hey..." Ryan approached your desk. You were on the phone with Frankie but you set it down against your shoulder and swiveled in your chair.
"Wondered if you needed any help picking up the posters." Ryan shoved his hands into his pockets.
"No I should be good. It's only one poster." You assured him. "Thanks though."
"I didn't mean it like... you couldn't handle it." Ryan blushed a little. "But if you want some company. I'm not doing anything this afternoon."
"I'll let you know." You smiled. You felt a little uneasy under his gaze. You never suspected Ryan was interested in you. This was the first time he ever went out of his way to talk to you. When you didn't say more he ducked his head and left. His blonde head disappearing down the row of cubicles.
"Are you there, Frankie?"
"I'm here." Frankie said.
"That was Ryan. Sorry."
"He likes you, sweet pea." Frankie teased.
"No he doesn't." You flushed.
"I could tell." Frankie sounded amused but maybe there was some stiffness in his words from his jealousy.
"He's not my type." You were sure your face was beet red at this point.
"I prefer brunettes." You squeaked. One brunette in particular. Frankie doesn't say anything for a very long moment. You were unnerved by Frankie's silence. Only a minute ago you were both laughing about the latest episode of Marimar (the telenovela Frankie recommended). You cursed Ryan for coming in and making things awkward. "And Ryan is a slacker anyways. He probably thought I couldn't handle the job on my own."
"Whatever you say, little pea." Frankie chuckled.
"So what are you and Rosie doing this weekend?" You changed the subject.
"It's her birthday tomorrow."
"Yeah. I can't believe it. She's two." Frankie sighed over the phone. "We're having a small thing in the back yard. Will and some other families from daycare."
"What is the theme?"
"Yeah like princesses or animals. You know..."
"She's two, sweet pea."
"That doesn't mean she can't have a theme." You insisted. "For decorations and stuff."
"Uh... I mean I ordered the cake."
"Frankie!" You admonished. "It's a birthday party, emphasis on party."
"Fuck I didn't realize there were so many rules. Now I see Laura is trying to set me up."
"It's not too late. You can go to the party store after work." You comforted him. "I'll make you a list of things to get."
"Thank you. I'm so happy I talked to you sweet pea."
You felt your heart pick up at his praise. Fuck you loved when he praised you. It always made a deep rumbling sound in his voice that you felt in your chest somehow.
"What does Rosie like? For the theme?"
"I don't know... she really likes Moana. That's all she wants to watch these days."
"Oooh you could do a beach theme. Blue balloons and shells. Have you seen those pool toys? That would be so cute!" You clapped your hands together.
"You're blowing my mind, sweet pea. I hope I can do it justice."
Frankie sent you a selfie the next day with his backyard decked out in the decor you recommended. Blue streamers hung haphazardly from the tree which made you giggle, imagining Frankie trying to make it look aesthetically pleasing. Blue balloons were tied to Rosie's little high chair. The pool was filled with the ice cream cone floaties you told him about. He looked so fucking good, too. Aviator sunglasses pushing his hair out of his sun kissed face. He was in a tropical button up, very on theme, with the top two buttons undone. You stared at that for a bit longer than anything else in the photo. A pink hibiscus lay hanging around his neck. His sheepish smile in the photo was the cherry on top. He was so proud of himself. And for the first time he let some of his own longing seep through the cracks-
*Wish you were here, sweet pea.*
To completely ruin you, when you got home that day you had a package by your door from Georgetown Cupcakes with a note that said 'Thanks for everything -Frankie.' Once you opened the box up you nearly squealed at the half dozen blue and silver frosted cupcakes with little frosting shells on top. Happy Birthday, Rosie! You thought to yourself.
“Congrats to Lieutenant Benny Miller!” Will clapped his brother on the back holding up his beer. Benny with is babyface was center of a small crowd of usuals at the guy's favorite bar. Benny, who was still serving, was finally promoted to lieutenant.
“You take orders from me now, Sergeant.” Benny tried to pull his brother into a head lock.
Frankie watched on with amusement, toasting his friend's success. The small crowd that had gathered for the free beer and toast slowly dispersed. Ben and Will fell into the booth and Frankie sat across from them.
“Remind me again why you never wanted the lieutenant promotion, Fish?” Benny asked.
Frankie shrugged. “A lot of work. More responsibilities.”
“But you wouldn’t have had to deal with our shit.” Will laughed.
“And I would have been bored.” Frankie joined in.
“I assume you’re coming to my lieutenants ceremony?” Benny asked hopefully.
“When is it? I got Rosie on weekends.”
“It’s in a couple weeks in Virginia. During the week. You guys can drive up and crash at my place.”
“I’ll try to make it happen.” Frankie didn’t want to disappoint Benny but he also got away from the military for good reason. The thought of dressing up in his uniform and listening to long speeches sounded like torture. But Benny looked so excited.
“Oh hey!” Will looked toward the door. Frankie looked over. Will seemed to recognize the woman who just walked in.
“Will.” She eyed everyone at the table awkwardly.
“You made it.” Will stood and embraced her before making introductions. She was pretty. Petite, light brown hair, and green eyes.
“I’m Sophie.” She shook Benny's and then Frankie’s hand.
As soon as Sophie had sat down, Will suspiciously pulled Benny away from the booth and off to the pool table in the corner. Frankie frowned in confusion.
“I think Will is trying to set us up.” Sophie said apologetically. “He’s been telling me a lot about you.”
“Oh.” Frankie grimaced and his anxiety crept up. Fucking Will.
“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” She sounded cool about it, clearly as embarrassed as he was.
“I can buy you a drink since you came all this way.” Frankie said wanting to be nice. “I want to be honest though, I’m not looking for anything right now.”
“Oh.” Sophie actually seemed relieved. “I’d actually really like that.”
Sophie and Frankie chatted about the auto shop and his daughter while sipping on a couple of beers. He learned she had lost her husband while he was stationed in Afghanistan five years ago. She hadn’t been with anyone since. She had a young daughter, Malorie, in fourth grade. Frankie could empathize with her loss and her burden as a single parent. It felt good to be able to listen to someone else's problems for once. He wasn't the only fucked up one out there.
“Malorie has been great. She wants me to get back out there. That's why I even started going to the gym in the first place to meet people. I just feel like I'm cheating on my husband.” Sophie admitted.
"You gotta go easy on yourself." Frankie tried to reassure the woman. “You know there’s a spouse support group at the VA.”
“I don’t know. Those kind of things seem 'preachy' to me.”
“They can be sometimes.” agreed Frankie. “But sometimes they can be really helpful.”
“Okay maybe.” Sophie nodded. “Thanks, Frankie.”
“I’m gonna get the tab.” Frankie stood up. “Be right back.”
He left his phone unattended. When it started ringing Sophie ignored it. It was probably not that important. But when it rang again she picked it up seeing your picture and your number. She thought maybe you were Rosie's babysitter or nanny. Her parent instinct warned her there could be an emergency, so she picked up.
A thousand of miles away you felt your heart cracking and fissuring with jealousy and hurt you had no right to feel. You hung up without a word. You checked his location. He was on a date. He was on a date. He was on a date.
You were calling him to tell him you finished your novel. The girl got the guy in the end.
The next morning you ignored Frankie’s call.
*Can’t talk this week. Got a lot of work to do.*
Already anticipating his worries you added, *Nothing is wrong. Just really busy.*
Technically it wasn’t a lie. There was a big event coming up and a lot of the planning had fallen to you. People were dumping all their worst errands on you and still expecting you to be on phones. You had made more calls to flower vendors than you ever thought you would in your whole life. It just so happened to also be a good excuse to take some much needed space.
You didn't want to punish Frankie for your jealously or worse, begin to resent him. Though he told you that the date wasn't his idea and he had no interest in Sophie, it seemed to accelerate all of your worries.
How had you gotten in this mess? How did you delude yourself into thinking you'd be fine with just phone calls? Your anxiety twisted Frankie's words. The nicknames that made your heart flutter could easily be his attempt to belittle you. When he said "I'm too old" maybe he was really implying you just an immature little girl. And here you were acting like one instead of facing your issues head on. Yet how does one start a conversation “Hey I know we’ve never met but I’m in love with you.”
Coincidentally once you stopped talking to Frankie you had also stopped touching yourself. The need was still there but you would just ignore it or wouldn’t have the time. The Frankie withdrawal plus stress at work made you feel needy and short tempered all day. As your frustration grew so did your deviant thoughts. You had gotten spoiled by Frankie’s occasional treats of take out and his constant praise. Your room had devolved into messiness without his reminder to make your bed and tidy up. You nearly died of embarrassment after one wet dream where Frankie spanked you for not cleaning up. Your own voice in the dream saying “thank you, daddy” after ever swat.
You woke up on day seven feeling hot all over. Your pussy was already wet and your lower belly was aching almost painfully. You quickly shucked off your pajama pants and underwear. You rubbed at your clit harshly gasping at the pleasure that shot through you. Your other hand gripped your breast. Just as you started to develop a rhythm your phone buzzed. You sat up and looked quickly. Frankie was calling.
You hadn’t meant to answer. You went to hit the red button but hit the green in your haste. You knew it would be cruel to hang up without explanation.
“Hey, sweet pea.” Frankie answered the phone brightly. Like nothing was wrong.
“Hi.” You grumbled. You reluctantly pulled your hands away from your body.
“I haven’t heard from you in a few days, is everything alright?” He sounded so concerned it made your lip wobble and hot angry tears sting your eyes. No everything was not all right and I don't know how to make it better.
“Fine.” You replied.
Frankie didn’t say anything for a moment. You could practically hear him thinking of what to say, like you were crazy person he had to subdue.
“Did I do something to upset you?”
“No.” You lied through your gritted teeth.
“You stopped talking to me after I told you about Sophie. I just feel like you’re… mad at me or something.”
You ran your free hand through your messy hair unsure how to even explain what was going on without ruining everything.
“Work is just really busy right now. It’s not always about you, Frankie.” You said not all too kindly.
“Well talk to me then.” Frankie cajoled. “Let me help you feel better.”
“I don’t want to talk about it with you.” You snapped.
“Watch your tone, little pea.” Frankie huffed. He walked into his office and shut the door, not wanting anyone to listen in. “You answered my call.” You wanted to scream. Your pussy was still demanding attention and your palpitating heart was suffocating your rational thinking.
“I’m just on edge!” You flopped against your bed in frustration. “You-you interrupted me while I was doing something!”
“Well don’t let me stop you since it’s so important.” Frankie replied, matching your irritated tone.
You bit your lip, staring down at your hand still glued to your thigh. Could you...
“No.” You said petulantly.
“Why not?” Frankie demanded.
“I said keep going or else I’m going to hang up right now.” When he hears nothing but an indignant grunt from your end he said, “Tell me what has you in such a mood?” His harsh demanding tone made you feel small but you liked it. Your pussy liked it.
Lord help you.
“Hey little pea I’m talking to you.”
“I’m-I feel pent up and I was trying to make it go away but you interrupted me.”
“Pent up- oh…”
You closed your eyes ready for everything to fall apart. Your heart was pounding so hard you could feel it against your ribs.
“Were you touching yourself, sweet pea?” Frankie asked, all the frustration gone.
“Yes da- I mean- yes Frankie.” You whispered going red at your mistake. His authoritative tone had slowly worked away at your growing littleness. Maybe if you couldn’t tell him really what was going on you could… show him?
“Then keep going.” His voice dropped an octave. Fuck, how could his voice get deeper?
“Frankie- I can’t!" Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. "We can't."
"You want me to hang up right now and leave you?"
"No." you whispered.
“I’ll help you cum but then you’re going to tell me what’s bothering you.” He spoke with decisiveness, leaving no room for questions.
“Go on, sweet pea.” He encouraged you, his voice dripping honey.
You felt a new rush of arousal soak you. You obeyed, skirting your hand over your thigh before slipping your fingers through your wet folds to rub your clit.
“Are you touching yourself?” Frankie’s voice filled up your ear again. “You have to tell me, sweet pea, because I’m not there with you.”
“I-I am da- Frankie.” You face scrunched up in concentration as you tried to get yourself back to that ledge.
“It’s okay.” Frankie cooed, his voice growing huskier in your ear. His cock hardened at your little slip up. “You can call me that, little pea.”
“Daddy...” You moan unable to keep it down.
Your eyes widened at his words. He sounded so… comfortable with this. Smug almost. You sped up your movements, your stomach tightening.
"You're just a brat because you need to cum, huh?"
"You needed my voice, didn't you?" Frankie ate up your little gasps and whimpers of pleasure relishing your submission to him. All his fantasies were no match for the real thing. He loathed the distance keeping him from seeing this for himself.
"Yes daddy!" Your inhibitions gone out the window. Your eyes were closed as you focused solely on your body and his voice. “I’m touching myself, daddy, but I can’t get close-” Having gone days without your orgasm it felt further away.
“Keep playing with that clit, okay? It will come, sweet pea. It will come. I promise.”
“Daddy?” You hold the phone against your shoulder, your other hand going to work to apply more pressure. “Are you touching yourself, too?”
“Yeah I am.” Frankie had unzipped his coveralls down to his waist and was fisting his bare cock. His voice sounded raspy on the phone. You wanted it against your pussy sending vibrations through you. You wanted that sound all over you. "I wish it was your hands though, sweet pea.” Your head tilted back at his praise, but you had to put it back down to catch the slipping phone.
“I wish I was there.” You felt tears wet the corners of your eyes. “Wanna be with you, daddy!” You felt that familiar coil tighten in your belly. You felt your thighs start to tremble. “I’m close, Frankie!” You sped up your movements. The phone barely hanging off your shoulder. Frankie intensified his ministrations as well, his mouth falling open in pleasure.
“That’s it. Let it happen, sweet pea.” Frankie groaned.
You gasp as your orgasm tore through you. Your pussy snapped around nothing and your eyes rolled back. Days of pent up need made everything so much more intense. You could hear Frankie grunting on the phone. The sound was rough and penetrating and perfect. He was close. You ripped your hands from your pussy as it was still fluttering so you could press the phone against your ear and listen to every single one of those sounds leaving his mouth as he came. All for you. You wanted this moment burned in your memory. "Oh-f-fuck!" He sounded almost as tortured as you. His grunts eventually dissolved to heavy breathing. You licked your lips picturing him sitting holding his spent cock.
A very long silence went by as you both caught your breaths.
Then he spoke, his voice still rough.
“Now do you think you can tell me what’s been bothering you?"
Taglist: @floraandfrost @agingerindenial @heythere-mel @icanbeyourjedi @linnie0119 @pedrosmustache, @thisshipwillsail316 @peterhollandkait, @leias-rebelion, @phoenix-of-loki @prettypedros , @kennedywxlsh, @punkerthanpascal @the-witty-pen-name @twentyfirstcenturyfox
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Gods, that was one hell of a call!
Brienne leans back in her chair and closes her eyes. But it doesn’t help. Instead of pushing him away, it brings him closer. The handsome face she’s only been treated to on zoom thanks to the still ongoing work-from-home policy of their company is in her head now, filling her mind with naughty thoughts. Video calls are rare, but when they happen, they make her day. It might well be her imagination, but she can feel his eyes on her, deep, penetrating, the impact of his gaze going straight down to her—
“I miss you,” she sighs, hand gliding up the inside of her thigh.
During their months as coworkers, they’d never been more than friends. Apart from casual conversations over coffee breaks and lunch together at times, their interactions outside the context of work have been far and few.
“I wish—” She drifts into a fantasy, her fingertips inching closer to her crotch. “I wish I could have you here with me. I wish—”
She freezes. Is it her imagination or—
“I think you’ll want to stop there, Brienne.”
It all happens at the speed of light. Her eyes shoot open to find Jaime closely regarding her from the screen. Her hand is off where it shouldn’t be during work and back to the armrest of her chair.
“If I had known the zoom session was still on…” Cheeks burning with embarrassment, she glares at him. “You were quiet all along,” she indignantly accuses him. “Why didn’t you—”
“I was only waiting for you to spill out his name,” he says. “You know me well enough, wench. You know I’d never barge into a party I’m not invited to.” But for some reason he looks irritated. “Who were you missing so much that you had to...” He exhales like a dragon spewing fire. “It’s Giantsbane, isn’t it? He’s had his eyes on you for ages. The real reason he’s showering you with all his attention is—”
“It’s not him.”
That has him thinking, but only for a moment. “Renly then,” he comes up with the next choice. “You’ve had your eyes on him for ages, but if you think you’re his type—”
“It’s not him either,” she stops him again, blood rushing to parts of her that are beginning to throb.
Jaime takes a bit longer this time to come up with the third option. “Hyle Hunt. He’s another—”
“Shut up! It’s definitely not him!”
Brienne can’t believe her eyes and ears. The man is genuinely lost. Can he not see the way she’s looking at him?
“Brienne, if you don’t tell me—”
“I’m not going to,” she snaps, and shuts the zoom window.
She sits back in her chair again. Gone are the sensations he’d left her with at the end of their previous call. What remains is only frustration, the sinking truth that he’ll never look at her like that.
Thinking it best to leave it at this, she pulls up her spreadsheet to resume work when her phone rings.
“You could have used zoom,” she irritably points out, for once, in no mood to get into a conversation with him.
“Not for what we’re going to talk about,” he tells her in a tone that brings back the throbbing. And along with that a bunch of butterflies in her stomach. “Why didn’t you tell me instead of letting me go on and on about… them?”
Brienne tries not to blush. “Why did you even assume it might be one of them?”
“I miss you, too, Brienne.” His breathing goes from steady to what hers is getting to. “I wish I could have you here with me.”
“It’s tea break now,” she brings to his notice, excitement surging through her.
She can hear the enthusiasm in his silence.
“How about a little catching up over a video call?” she continues, her heart taking off on a sprint. “That party you mentioned earlier - you’re invited.” She can already feel his lips on hers. “Only you, Jaime.”
“That’s—that’s quite...” His voice is huskier. “Why don’t I disconnect this so I can call you back?”
Brienne reaches for her earphones with smile. There are certain perks to working from home.
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Stella @ Whisper: "Eugh," she makes a face "Hey, lady, uh. You aware that your skin is melting off? You look like you're existing fueled by spite alone, and I can respect that! But what happens if your body just croaks? You go down with it? I'm not *trying* to be rude, but I mean... Yikes. You look like you already crawled outta the grave once."
Of all the things for Whisper to forget, her hooded cloak and scarf wasn’t one of the. As much as the ghoul would love to dance Broadway in the middle of Virbank City, terrifying everyone with her rotten body. Even she knew to be discreet. Great as the temptation may be. Eudai, however, wasn’t entirely convinced.
“Whisper, have you ever considered finding more effective methods to conceal your body? I’m sure people can still smell the decay and the hood still offers a clear window into the top half of your face. You could always leave this corpse, learn how to shapeshift-” “NO!,” the ghoul yelled back, her eyes wide and twitching as Eudai just stared back with a raised brow. After a few moments, Whisper composed herself.
“I will remain as long in this body as I can allow it.”
Whisper hissed her words with such venom, it even caught Eudai off guard, if only for a moment. The voice of someone unfamiliar made the two turn their heads abruptly towards the source. A Hydreigon, more slender and agile than usual. Eudai seemed curious about the visitor, but it was Whisper who responded to the dark reptile’s inquiry.
“Ah gee, am I?,” the corpse cackled, peeling off a strand of decaying flesh before popping it into her mouth. Chewing it with twisted delight. “Honestly, I didn’t even notice!” If Whisper’s sarcasm were any thicker, you could cut it with a knife. “My body isn’t my body, if you catch my drift. Having to borrow meatsuits for quite some time now, so long I’m starting to forget what I look like,” the ghoul trailed off, her eye twitching.
“Have you ever died before? Don’t answer that! It fucking sucks, I’ll tell you that much. One day you’re minding your own business, the next, you get nuked because your sister throws a little bit of a hissy fit. Honestly, I don’t know why she got so angry in the first place.” Eudai just turned his head at Whisper and glared at her for a solid minute before returning to his usual demeanor.
“But at the end of the day, when I “die,”, my spirit is whisked away somewhere. Where? I have no damn clue. It’s just dark. But there, I see him, with that stupid, shit eating grin! For a Legendary, at least Fenris has the whole godly ego thing down. Says nothing, does nothing but floats there and smile. But something is off. That darkness, it felt unnatural, moving, alive. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but before I can even think on it. I’m suddenly back in this hellhole of a planet with a migraine as a reminder for what killed me... Trust me, I’ve tried to kill myself more than I can count,” Whisper chuckled in a melancholy manner.
The corpse paused, feeling Eudai prod at her shoulder with a finger. “... Ah, right, where are my manners? We have to go shopping and brother here does like to remain punctual. So I’ll have to cut this short. Until then, too-da-loo!~” Without another word, Whisper headed off into the woods with her brother. Disappearing without a trace.
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