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summary: in which jungkook comes home drunk but bam can’t speak.
> fluff / wc: 2.6k
> warnings: jungkook almost throws up once 😭
note: hello school has been so hectic so i just wrote this to relieve my stress for a bit </3
—
jungkook releases a sigh, scooting closer as if he hasn’t already crossed every inch of distance between the two of you. just by the smell of it, you can tell that he had soju and beer.
“close your eyes, baby.”
he complies with a hum, eyelids softly fluttering shut. as gentle as you can, you wipe off his eye makeup with the makeup remover.
“cold.” he mumbles, sinking deeper into his pillow to avoid the uncomfortable feeling.
you take a hold of his face with your free hand to keep him steady, moving on to his other eye. “stop. don’t want your face to feel all itchy later, do you?”
he frowns in response, opening his eyes again when he feels the wet wipes running over his cheek next. he lazily watches you concentrate on the task at hand. loving hands with the most tender of touches. blurry eyesight tracing over his skin to allow his pores to breathe after an exhausting day.
you squint under the warm glow of the lampshade, and his hand instinctively lands on top of your head, holding back the hair falling over your vision. you press an appreciative kiss on his temple as you pull out a fresh wipe. you clean the remaining thin layer of makeup on the right side of his face before sliding down to his neck, making sure to clean his skin thoroughly.
he feels so much better with his face bare, cleaner and comfier. almost like he can finally breathe after taking off a mask that covered his entire face while he was running a marathon. don’t get him wrong— he loves makeup, and he loves experimenting with different looks to showcase various sides of himself. he considers makeup products to be artistic tools that help him express the entirety of his being, just like paint on a canvas does. but the clock says it’s 1am on the dot, and right now, he’s drained. he just wants to be the human, jeon jungkook.
his eyes glitter with fondness as he watches you take care of him as if he is your most treasured cluster of atoms in the universe. his hand falls on your nape to pull you in for a soft kiss, staying still for a second before puckering up his lips for another. he allows you to assist him to the bathroom after, leaning his weight on another person for the first time in a while.
—
you practically brushed jungkook’s teeth and did the rest of his night routine for him because he claimed that his hands weren’t working, demonstrating it by dropping his facial wash on the tiled floor. you leave him on the bed after helping him into his pajamas to freshen yourself up next. however, upon exiting the bathroom, you’re rudely greeted by an empty bed, the blanket messily pushed over to your side.
“jungkook!”
you heave a sigh, padding out of the bedroom. you flick the main light switch of the living room, and the first part of jungkook you see are his feet, which are propped on the couch. you walk closer and find the rest of him sprawled out on the carpeted floor. you click your tongue and put a hand over the curve of your waist, staring down at him with a questioning look.
he looks back at you with a wide grin, extending his arms to raise the puppy he’s holding. “say hi, bamie!”
oh, so now he has the arm strength to carry a dog? when he couldn’t even raise one to hold his toothbrush earlier?
you meet bam’s drooping round eyes, slowly blinking at you as he is suspended in the air. poor thing.
“you know it takes me like two hours to make him tired and sleepy, right?”
you’d think spending an hour outdoors would tire a puppy out, but no. somehow it makes him more energetic, and you have to play with him for another hour at home before he walks away from you to curl up in his bed and rest.
jungkook pouts stubbornly, his slurred words the same plea he’s been uttering for the past two days. “but i want to teach him how to speak.”
“baby, he’s too sleepy for that right now. look.” you gesture to the puppy slowly falling asleep on his hands, his relaxed limbs hanging out and swaying lightly. “we can train him again in the morning.”
he whines as he kicks his feet on the couch, abruptly waking up bam because of the sudden harsh movements rocking his body. your boyfriend stills, and he lowers down his hands above his face to make eye-to-eye contact with his beloved son.
he faces bam to your side. “he’s awake now.”
“oh my god,” you cry out with your face buried in your hands, knees suddenly feeling weak because you’re so sleepy and he can’t be fucking serious right now.
he should’ve drank more. that way, all three of you would be peacefully asleep by now. bam would be chasing a butterfly in his dream, and you would be getting chased by a dinosaur or a shark with legs. but no, if one is awake, everyone is awake. apparently, that’s just how it goes in this household.
and so, you drop down on your knees and make yourself comfortable on the floor, pulling out the bag of plain popcorn sitting on the lower compartment of the center table.
“just five minutes, okay?”
he only giggles in response, setting down bam on the floor before lying down on his stomach beside the puppy, his hands cupping his smiling face. a young and radiant flower in the midst of spring, and you as the bright and yellow sun.
“so cute,” you pat his head tenderly, his smooth hair pleasing to the touch.
he shyly scrunches his nose. “hurry, before he falls asleep again.”
you both revert your attention to bam, who has now zeroed in on the opened bag of popcorn on your lap with an alert posture, head tilted to the side as he watches your every movement.
you bring out a piece of popcorn, holding it up between jungkook and bam. “okay- bamie, speak!”
you and your boyfriend wait for a few seconds, before you turn to him next. “jungkookie, speak.”
he snorts, pressing his lips into a thin line to swallow down his laughter. compared to yesterday, he handles it better now.
“woof!”
“good boy!” you beam at him with a dramatically enthusiastic tone, feeding him the little treat and patting his head again. bam watches him chew and swallow with satisfaction, and he turns to you again to inch closer— the tip of his paws poking your shin.
“your turn, baby.” you say to him sweetly, petting his head before grabbing another treat. “bamie, speak.”
he blinks at you, his stance and expression unchanging.
“jungkookie, speak.”
jungkook uses his elbows to drag himself as close to you as bam is. “woof!” his lips stay in a big pout with his bunny teeth showing, and you playfully slot the piece of popcorn in the space between.
he grunts when he fails to catch it with his mouth, covering the popcorn with his hand when bam makes a move to steal it away. “yah, i earned this! go get your own!”
he hides the dirty popcorn under his stomach, and you feed him a fresh one. bam barks in protest, standing up on his four paws.
“bamie, i said speak, not yell.”
jungkook laughs while clapping his hands, head falling on your lap in self-orchestrated slow motion. he rolls on his back to lie down properly and to watch bam try to earn his first popcorn. but then his vision goes black, and the world blurs and spins in brain shattering motions. he covers his mouth when he starts to feel the nausea creeping up, keeping his eyes closed until his stomach calms down.
meanwhile, for the sixth time . . .
“bamie, speak.”
bam’s tail wags, and he barks loudly. again.
“not like that, baby. quieter, and calmer. okay?” you mellowly attempt to help him understand, making lowering gestures with your hand. “just a little woof! like this, bamie.”
your voice seems to ease him down as he sits back down politely. jungkook, on the other hand, is straightening out your legs. he took a pillow from the couch and lied down beside you while you were preoccupied with teaching bam. his ink-free arm tugs you closer by your thighs, keeping it there as he nuzzles his face against your side.
he sighs in relief, basking in the comfort of having his lover as close as humanly possible. drowning, even. with the way his body is currently floating. he proves his theory right time and time again: cuddling you is the cure for any type of discomfort or pain that he feels. works like a charm. never failed him. not even once.
you grimace. “are you sleeping now?”
he hums raspily, tightening his embrace.
“but you’re the one who asked for this. i’m not even sleepy anymore.” you complain.
and let jungkook’s response be loud snores as he falls asleep as an exhausted heap on the floor, his limbs holding your body prisoner to his.
your sour expression turns into an endeared one when you feel bam’s little paw tapping your forearm to gain your attention. your heart grows three times its size as he looks at you with his dark and round eyes beseechingly.
you jut out your bottom lip, scratching his chin. “aww, my bamie. daddy bothered your sleep then left us all alone, huh? sorry. he’s a bit drunk. but i’ll give you treats to make it up to you.”
you return the bag of popcorn to its previous spot, grabbing an unopened pack of dog treats you hide in the small box beside it. you rip it open, and bam’s tail wags excitedly, more than ready to be fed.
you return his smile as you wave around the dog-bone-shaped treat.
okay, one last try and you will give up for the night.
“bamie, baby, speak.”
silence.
one more. the last time, you swear.
“bamie, speak. woof. like this, remember?”
still nothing.
“speak, bamie.”
“woof!”
it’s almost like he just said goodnight to you. calm. quiet. casual. and scarily identical to the tone of jungkook’s woof.
you gasp in surprise, eyes as big as saucers as you feed him the treat with your trembling hand. for context, jungkook has been tirelessly trying to teach bam the command speak for the past month after watching a bunch of tiktoks of adorable dogs doing it. his fiery determination deserves to be acknowleged and recognized, especially when he resorted to acting like a dog as a teaching method.
jungkook fought a dog his size at three years old and twenty years later had another fight with a random dog in the countryside when he and his hyungs went strawberry picking. and somehow everything boiled down to this. from barking contests to an anticlimactic woof. it has been entertaining and . . . painful to watch.
and then it dawns on you.
jungkook missed his son’s first word.
his drunk ass just had to deflate and fall asleep five minutes before it happened. you sigh in frustration, watching your child lick and chew on the treat before swallowing.
“can you do it again?”
he sits infront of you in his good boy pose once again, licking his lips, obviously asking for more.
“stay, bamie. i just need to get something, okay?” you say to him as you carefully free yourself from your boyfriend’s heavy arms and thighs.
you quickly grab jungkook’s newest camcorder in the bedroom (still carrying the pack of treats because you’re not as dumb as you were two weeks ago) before coming back to find bam licking jungkook’s cheek. he quickly approaches you again when you sit back down.
focusing the camera on bam, you start filming with jungkook’s snoring in the background.
“bamie, speak.”
“woof!”
the innocent puppy gazes past the camera expectantly, and you break out into a smile.
“ohh? that’s my good boy! good boy, bamie! you finally got it! i’m so proud of you. here, baby. here.”
you extend your arm to give him the treat, and he jumps to feast on it to his heart’s content.
oh, to marvel at a ball of fur made of curious senses and perplexing stamina for simply existing. to form a sacred bond using only single words and hushed caresses. to have such a creature love you unconditionally and co-exist with its guard down despite having sharp teeth that can make you bleed, does it not make you want to become a kinder human?
—
“are you crying?”
“no. why would i cry?” jungkook’s voice cracks, tear-stained eyes trained on the video he’s been watching on loop for the past ten minutes. he’s still in his pajamas, bare-faced and hair disheveled from sleep. he most probably doesn’t even remember that you woke him up and practically dragged him back to the bedroom after getting bam settled back in his bed.
the hangover soup you prepared is half-eaten and neglected, and you’re positive teardrops have fallen into the bowl so you move it over to the side.
any chance that he’s still drunk?
“he really learned it! and we sound the same, don’t we? that’s cool. it really worked.” he rambles on as the video restarts for the nth time, the hand not holding the camcorder tugging at his hair in an attempt to dull his throbbing headache.
you stand behind his chair, hugging him from behind as you watch the screen together.
“you tried to make it sound like it was the first time, didn’t you?”
you sheepishly hide your face on his neck. “bad acting?”
“if my hangover was a bit worse than this, i would’ve believed it.” he chuckles, squeezing your hand reassuringly. “i love you, baby.”
“i love you more.” you say quietly, kissing his cheek before breaking away. “now go give him his breakfast so you can experience it yourself.”
he springs up on his feet almost immediately, speeding towards bam’s food bowl. you shake your head with an amused smile, letting him have his quality time with bam as you finish your breakfast.
“baby!” jungkook yells from the living room as you put away your empty plate in the sink.
“whaaaat?”
“come here!”
“wait!” you yell back, washing your hands before heading to where he is.
you find him sitting on the floor with his legs crossed while holding up bam’s bowl. bam is standing infront of him, patiently waiting for his breakfast.
“what’s wrong?”
“look at this!” your boyfriend pouts at you. “bamie, speak.”
silence.
and then he- “woof!”
and bam responds, “woof!”
you look at them back and forth in confusion, before trying it out yourself. “bamie, speak.”
“woof!” he follows your command without missing a beat.
jungkook’s mouth hangs open, feeling utterly shocked and betrayed. you cover your mouth to stifle your laughter.
they can invent their own language if this carries on.
“this is so wrong. help me do it too! i’ve been working so hard!” he wails in agony and disappointment.
you sit beside him, breathing deeply to compose yourself because you feel too guilty to make fun of him further.
damn it, he was already happy earlier. guess you still have more work to do.
you rub his hunched back soothingly, kissing away the defeated look etched on his face. “aw, my love, i’m sorry. he’s a fast learner, so don’t be sad! he’ll respond to you in no time. but first-”
you gently pry away the bowl from his tight grip, warily side-eyeing the starving puppy drooling at the sight of its first meal of the day.
“let’s give him his reward before he yells at you.”
—
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#jungkook#jungkook fluff#jungkook drabble#jungkook imagine#jungkook scenario#jungkook one shot#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#bts fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook smut
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TCG - Chase The Mirage
pairing -> Cyno x Adventurer!Reader x Tighnari; poly
word count -> 1.7k+ words
themes -> fluff, established relationship, scenarios and headcanons, lots of card game terminologies
(masterlist) (previous) The two Kings of Invokations, infatuated and hooked to a simple adventurer from the Adventurer’s Guild. Thankfully, in this universe, there is no need to duel each other for your heart.
"What a peculiar move, especially this far in the game already." Looking up from the light novel you picked up from Inazuma in your last trip, you shift your attention to the playing field before you.
"We're testing your new deck, I think it's only appropriate to see how well it works against slow build up players." Tighnari would notice your stare and send you a smile, before concentrating once again to observe Cyno's turn.
Shaking your head with a smile, you go back to reading as their chatters and occasional bickering turn to background noise.
It's one of those rare days where the three of you had the 'day-off' to enjoy time together. Emphasis on day-off seeing as your two lovers are still technically on the clock due to their positions, but here under the shade of a tree in the forest, only you three matter.
And for today's date, Cyno eagerly challenged Tighnari to a Genius Invokation TCG duel to try out his new deck. And the latter decided to humor him.
When it comes to his favorite card game, the General exudes the same seriousness when he deals with Matra work. This thought passes you as you sneak a glance at the way he strokes his chin with squinted eyes.
So focused in fact that he didn't see your hand approach his face until you're shoving the apple slice between his lips. He says a muffled thanks as he eats the slice whole, mirth in his eyes at your antics.
"Hey, why does he get hand-fed when I'm the one winning here?" Tighnari looks at the two of you with a mock glare and pout, prompting you to throw a grape at his face which he expertly evaded with a laugh.
"You're not a winner until you defeat all my charac- oh." Looking at the field, Cyno realized that all of his character cards are indeed defeated. "Must you really finish me with my own card?"
Unlike Cyno, however, Tighnari simply plays the game for fun (or when his lovers ask for a game) while being good at it still. The forest watcher only shrugs in response as he cradles the fruit bowl.
Thinking that would be the end of their game, you yelped when Cyno suddenly yanked you to his side to sit between his legs, book pried out of your hands and laid pages down to save your progress. "What the -"
"Since I lost, then it should be (Y/N)'s turn to duel you, right?" Cards upon cards fall into your grasp in your still confused state. Tighnari who now sits across you scowls at the man behind you. "Don't worry, I'll be assisting you the whole time since you're using my cards."
"And they say I'm the sly vixen here." Tighnari scoffs as he shuffles his deck, this time he seemed to be sitting up straight to show how he's taking this game more seriously now.
"I didn't even-" Your words were interrupted at Cyno's hands offering the 8-sided dice to you. You sigh. "I hate you two." And your hand throws the die to start your turn.
With your combined powers (aka Cyno's relentless backseating), you managed to defeat Tighnari with a score of 2/3. But when he then pulled you to his lap to assist YOU on defeating Cyno, you doubt that you actually won that last round.
"You two are such idiots." You grumbled as you draw the exile artifact card.
"You're also an idiot by association."
You throw the die to whoever said that.
About TCG: Introduction
It was inevitable that you got wrapped up on the TCG scene too when you have Tighnari and Cyno as lovers.
Like some kind of initiation, prerequisite to your relationship, the game was the first thing you were taught after you became official.
However, that doesn't mean you're good at it - then again, those two aren't really the best comparison to your beginner skills. There's just a lot of mental gymnastics involved that you can't keep up with.
So no, just because you're in a relationship with the kings of invokations doesn't guarantee that you're immediately a pro.
Your first deck was actually given to you by their combined cards. Extra cards they pulled or cards that don't fit their meta, it looked like an absolute mess when you knew better.
But it was endearing inheriting their cards, especially when you can see their genuine desire to share this hobby with you. Well, obsession for Cyno.
You realized this as the one who runs into Cyno a lot due to your wandering occupation, he would ALWAYS ask you if you want to play a round whenever you cross paths.
At first, you can't find it in your heart to decline since you're still learning. It wasn't until Tighnari caught wind of what Cyno was doing that he pulled you off to the side, lecturing you and reiterating that you CAN say no.
Turns out Tighnari also deals with Cyno's dueling addiction, and that if he doesn't decline, it would end up with him skipping important forest watcher duties.
To think you were lectured about the importance of consent over a trading card game.
The first time you opened a pack of cards was also a memory worth remembering.
While on a date in the city, Cyno pulled you and Tighnari to Dori after hearing that the merchant had a new batch in stock.
Paying for your respective packs, the three of you made a whole fuss to open up your cards at the same time. Somehow, while their packs were full of mediocre cards and duplicates, when they turned to you -
"What god did you sell your soul to?!" "What?" "This is the first time I've seen three meta cards in one pack!"
As a beginner, you only look at what design looks good or shiny, so you did not understand why they're breaking down on the floor then.
Dubbed as their archon of luck, it became tradition that if you were in the area, they would force you to open their pack for them.
You wish this luck of yours were for something else, honestly.
About TCG: Habits
Before you got into the game, they would always show you their new packs, showing off the beautiful designs and the rarities. At that time, you didn't know how expensive or 'meta' each card was. If it's shiny, it's probably good.
When Tighnari lets you peruse through his deck of unused cards, he would pay great attention to the cards that you took interest in even just by design.
And then he'll let you keep it! Doesn't matter if it's shiny or a really good card, you can have it, keep it in your home or in your wallet if you want.
Even if he only has one copy of a particular card, seeing you happy makes the sacrifice worth it.
It was also hilarious to see Cyno make a fuss about seeing said cards on your person when you catch up when crossing paths.
He'll look at your tiny but growing collection and throw in random facts here and there. "Ohh, you even have this card? What else do I expect from my lover, such good taste." He praises with a nod, exaggeratedly.
They both have their personal playing mats that matches their aesthetic greatly, and one that has the the limited edition Adventurer's Guild design because it reminds them of you! It's not the best looking one out there, but it's special to them.
Mats are pretty bulky so you don't really like bringing one around so when a game is expected, they bring their spare for you to use like the sweethearts that they are.
Cyno, still with his absurd spending habits when it comes to Genius Invokation, commissioned someone for custom deck boxes as a gift to you and Tighnari. It was definitely expensive seeing as he had to save up for it.
When Cyno is crafting a new deck, he urges you to do the same. Spice things up, you know? He likes to hear your opinion despite knowing more than you, to the point that he made a whole other desk made with your favorite cards and play style.
He uses that deck for casual games with the Matra, and they don't fail to notice how he seems to have a wisp of a smile on his face the whole time he plays.
Tighnari, on the other hand, is a meticulous player with a penchant for detail.
All of his cards have sleeves!!!! He likes taking care of his things and that includes his cards, some of them even have double sleeves! You can find him taking his sweet time putting each card in sleeves on a slow day.
Sometimes, you join him on putting sleeves if your hands aren't dirty, at least.
"Do you have a favorite color?" The next time you see him, he gives you a pack of sleeves in that color for your own deck. Do you want him to help you with that, actually? I think he finds it relaxing.
He also has fancy dice of his own which he changes around depending on his mood. Of course, you also get your own! There's a marbled set, a set that's galaxy-themed, oh oh this one refracts light to make a rainbow -
You don't participate in tournaments unlike your boyfriends, but they always encourage you to play with other players besides them for practice.
Tighnari doesn't give Cyno one tho, he's sure that he can buy it himself. Or lends him a set at least, one that's violet with gold accents, and had since 'forgotten' to take it back from him.
But if there's one habit that they share, it's that whenever you're around during a game, they are always guaranteed to win. It's because you're their lucky charm, they say, but it's as simple as wanting to show off when you're cheering for them so supportively.
"No, you shouldn't expend all your energy cards this turn." Your fingers twitched before moving to an artifact card instead.
"Are you sure you want to pull that out now? You're not really attacking this turn."
Your opponent, Amir, stares at you in sympathy as you pinch the bridge of your nose. Behind you, Cyno and Tighnari started a whole new conversation about strategies and what your next move should be.
"Um, do they even realize that they pretty much revealed your hand to me?"
"I think we should reschedule."
Amir let out a horrified gasp when you turned around and smacked your beloveds over the head with your deck box.
Maybe he should exercise how to say no to an invitation, too.
My TCG knowledge from my card game enthusiast seniors back in college has finally been put to use
@chuusposts @ireallylikehamsters @maehemthemisfit
#tighnari x reader#cyno x reader#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#exile.flower#gender neutral#chase the mirage#genshin impact fluff#sumeru arc#tighnari#cyno#poly cynonari
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“He hates the days where his hours are long.”
Pairing: CEO!Jungkook x f.Reader
Genre: Slice of Life
Warnings: Koo is a lil grumpy from working late, but he is also cute
Wordcount: 1.7k
a/n: just a lil something about our cutie’s day at the office. I had this scene in my mind and I wanted to write it. Have fun besties! ❤
Jungkook has been up since four. He didn’t choose to be up that early, but work made him do it. He crawled out of bed, wishing for more sleep and washed himself, regretting ever becoming a CEO. Not that this had been his choice, but goddamn, he cursed his parents for putting all of that on his shoulders as he took the warmest shower ever to fight the sleepy shivers. He let you sleep because waking you up just to kiss you goodbye seemed beyond cruel in his eyes. You didn’t have to suffer with him. So he kissed your sleeping form – one kiss on the cheek and another on your forehead – and then left the bedroom to get dressed. He drove to the office himself, not wanting his driver to crawl out of bed for him. He arrived at the company building at five forty and despite the early hours, the building was buzzing with life.
“Good morning Sir!” his employees all greeted him as he passed them on his way to the office.
He greeted them all, despite wanting to curse at them. They didn’t do anything wrong, but he is always terribly moody when he has to get up early.
His assistant wasn’t present yet as he starts work at nine. Jungkook was envious of him. He can still sleep for so many hours. Jungkook huffed out air and then kicked an imaginary stone. He really wanted to be back in bed with you in his arms and sleep keeping him hostage.
But he couldn’t. Not today. He had too many meetings today and his schedule was way too tightly packed lately. The company’s associates from Osaka flew in early today and he promised to welcome them at six ten. That is why he had to get up early.
Jungkook prepared each of them a cup of coffee and makes one for himself as well. He stores a coffee machine in his booze cabinet these days. It came in handy on many occasions and Jungkook not once misses what was once waiting for him in there.
Jungkook also laid out some chocolate cookies in case they were hungry and then he waited whilst almost falling asleep on his chair.
They stayed until nine, discussing the plans of the newest camera model the Osaka branch was responsible for developing. The meeting was very successful and lots of progress was made. They thanked him for his hospitality once they left and agreed on going for a round of karaoke later tonight and while Jungkook was excited to go, he was also very much not in the mood for it. He really wanted to spend the evening with you at home and not sing with his employees. He knew better to deny them however. His father always tells him that as the CEO he often has to do things he doesn’t want to do and that he shouldn’t whine about them and do them like a man. Jungkook doesn’t agree with this statement. He will most definitely whine about them to you later when he’s on your lap. He feels much more like a man that way then when he bottles up his frustrations like an idiot.
By ten after nine his assistant showed himself in Jungkook’s office, asking him if he needed anything to which Jungkook told him to prepare the big meeting room for ten o’clock. His assistant left after cleaning up the empty coffee cups. Jungkook spent the time making two phone calls and going through five documents. He then checked his calendar and groaned for twenty whole seconds. Six more meetings, one telephone conference and a stupid zoom meeting with Mister Johnson in New York. Jungkook hated today. It’s the worst day ever. Stupid work.
Jungkook doesn’t have lunch that day. Given that he didn’t have breakfast either because he felt nauseous in the morning, by the time the clock struck three, Jungkook could honestly murder people. He was tired, hungry and stressed and every single thing annoyed him. When Miss Park set her water glass down just a little too hard during his twelve AM meeting, he almost yelled at her. When Mister Lee asked him a question with the most obvious answer ever, Jungkook almost called him a fucking idiot. And when his assistant dared to tell him that he was going on lunch break at around two thirty, Jungkook almost considered firing him.
He would never really go through with all those urges as he knew that his employees weren’t responsible for his bad mood, but he really, really wanted to. He did proceed to send you a very angry message however, reading as followed.
- Jungkook: Today sucks so much :( stupid work I hate it so much…
- My Love ♡: oh noo poor baby :/ what happened?
Jungkook already felt better reading your name on his display. He loved knowing that in this short second of his day, you and him were doing the same thing and thinking of each other. He typed his answer with a slightly fluttering heart.
- Jungkook: Yamasaki wants to go to karaoke after work and I don’t wanna :(
- My Love ♡: nooo my poor baby. sending you lots of hugs ❤❤❤
Jungkook felt better instantly, kicking his feet under the table and giggling because you just send him hugs. You proceeded to send him one more message, asking him if he had already had something to eat to which he said he hadn’t. Jungkook had to leave it for another meeting before he could read your answer to it and by the time he came back, his brain was so scrambled from the meeting that he totally forgot to check what you texted him.
Jungkook still didn’t eat anything by the time the stupid zoom meeting with Mister Johnston was over and during the last meeting of his day – it was around seven thirty by now – Jungkook almost wanted to break down and cry. He was so hungry. He just wants to eat and not listen to Park Hyungsik from production talk about the millionth battery model. He still pretended to be highly interested however.
Hyungsik was very excited to be in the big boss’ office this evening. He was never in here before and he thinks that it is even cooler than he imagined it to be. He also always thought that Mister Jeon was a very strict boss, and while he was very strict, he wasn’t mean. Hyungsik was very scared that he would be yelled at for something, but Mister Jeon listens to him and gives good answers. He also never raises his voice at him. Hyungsik had to admit that he hadn’t expected Mister Jeon to have such a voice. It was very deep and he spoke very slowly. He liked the way he talked because he was a little bad of hearing, but Mister Jeon made it easy to understand him. He wonders if Mister Jeon knew about his hearing imparity and therefore talked slower. He was very grateful for it and felt very comfortable in his presence.
Hyungsik thought that Mister Jeon was very cool and he knew why someone like him became the CEO.
Mister Jeon was just in the middle of talking when someone opened the door. Hyungsik turned, watching a woman strut in. She wore jeans and a t-shirt and didn’t seem to be working here. She also carried containers of what seemed like food.
“Oh”, she lets out and stops abruptly.
“___!”
Hyungsik turns in shock upon hearing the high-pitched exclaim. Mister Jeon made that sound, currently standing up to beam at the woman with sparkly eyes. He giggles, scrunching his nose up before jumping into full sprint to get to her.
“Hello my love. What are you doing here?” he speaks with his voice totally changed. It’s all high and squeaky now and not at all like the deep, calm voice from before.
“You didn’t answer my text if you were planning to come home before karaoke. So I’m bringing dinner to you. I didn’t know you had guests. I’m sorry”, the woman answers him, tilting her head as Mister Jeon leans in for a big smooch. He even makes a little “mwuah” sound for it.
Hyungsik was highly confused by Mister Jeon’s cute public display of affection.
“That’s okay my love, waah I’m already so hungry. What did you get me?”
“Jjajangmyeon with beef. I made it myself. Also kimchi for your tummy”, she rubs his tummy as she says that, “and some pickled radish too.”
“Woow you’re the best, thank you so much”, Mister Jeon gasps, voice even higher than before.
Hyungsik feels as if he is witnessing a moment he was never supposed to witness. He clears his throat, calling his boss’ attention back to him.
Hyungsik looks at Mister Jeon’s hands around the woman’s waist. She must be Mister Jeon’s wife. He heard that Mister Jeon got married two years ago. It was all over the news. But this is the first time he sees her. She is a very beautiful woman. Hyungsik knew why Mister Jeon liked her.
“Mister Park please excuse me. This is my wife”, Mister Jeon speaks to him in the deep voice again.
“No worries. Uhm, good evening Misses Jeon.”
“Good evening to you too Mister Park”, she smiled at him then looked at her husband, “I’ll wait outside, yeah?”
“Mhm yeah. The meeting should be over soon.”
“No, I was finished either way. Thank you for your time Mister Jeon Sir, I will go over the changes with my team and then report back to you”, Hyungsik says, scrambling to his feet to hurry out of the office. He doesn’t want to intrude any longer.
“Of course, thank you for working hard Mister Park”, Mister Jeon says his goodbyes and then turns to his wife, “I missed you so much, my love. Oh my god, today sucked so much. I could cry. I’m so hungry and tired and my lower back hurts too and it’s just the worst”, he whines.
“Yeah? Poor baby, tell me all about it. Come let’s sit down and eat something and you tell me everything.”
“Yeah but I wanna sit on your lap for it. Like okay, listen. First of all…”
Hyungsik leaves the room before he can hear any more of the conversation. He won’t ever forget this evening. How can someone as cool and powerful as Mister Jeon act so cute?
#jungkook fluff#jungkook drabble#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#ceo!jungkook#bts fluff#bts drabble#bts fanfic#bts x reader#bts x you#ceo!bts#bangtan fluff#bangtan drabble#bangtan fanfic#bangtan x reader#bangtan x you#fanfic: aaol
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Resurgence.
Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five: Chapter One, Part Five: Chapter Two, Part Five: Chapter Three, Part Six: Chapter One, Part Six: Chapter Two, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen
Summary: You grin when you step off the elevator and see Lin waiting down the hall, in the doorway of her apartment.
She smirks when she sees you, then smiles faintly when you jog down the hall to greet her. “Someone’s eager.”
“What, you didn’t miss me?”
She hums into your kiss, one strong arm banding around your waist. “Well,” she murmurs against your lips, “maybe just a little.”
You giggle, then let her usher you inside as she kicks the door shut behind you both.
-
AKA you and Lin meet up for an evening to blow off steam. Unfortunately, things don't go as planned.
Pairing(s): Lin Beifong x Reader.
Rating: M for sexual content, panic attacks, PTSD symptomatology, vomiting, and arguing.
Word count: 5.9k.
Author's Note: Me? Posting more than once a year? Surely not.
In other news, my CFS/other body and brain shit is still overwhelming. It basically took dragging myself through editing to be able to post this latest round of fics (for those of you who don't check out my other works, no worries, but I like to post in little caches so that everything is updated mostly together). I'm not trying to vie for pity; I'm really fucking proud of myself for pushing through and being able to post. I had an unofficial goal of wanting to post more fics before April was over (because April is my birth month), and I did it! I am that bitch!
Thank you all for your patience -and all the comments! They really kept me going when the grind of editing was starting to wear me down.
Happy Reading!
P.S. Shout out to the commenter who pointed out how guilty Lin must feel for not saying anything about the locks. I hadn't even thought of that.
Wake up. Stretch. Get ready for work. Catch the 8:30 morning tram.
Get to work. Clock in. Review client roster for the day. Confer with reception Start off with your first patient for the day.
Clock out for lunch. Eat lunch. Talk to coworkers. Take a short walk during break.
Clock back in for the afternoon. Work with more patients. Confer with an assistant on upcoming scheduled appointments. Take your afternoon break. Drink some tea.
Wrap up your last scheduled appointment. Update client progress charts. Tidy work space. Clock out.
Catch 5:45 evening tram. Stop by the market to pick up food for dinner. Go back home. Make dinner. Do chores and general “life maintenance.” Try to relax. Get ready for bed. Go to sleep.
And on, and on, and on, and on…
You like your job. You love the field of work you’ve picked. Carrying on your grandmother’s legacy –the tradition of the Northern Water Tribe’s healing work–gives you reason to hold your head high each morning.
You have purpose. Passion. You help people.
Maybe you’re a workaholic in denial. Or maybe it’s the fault of your mad idea to also work at Yue General as a trauma recovery specialist and on-call surgical assistant. Whatever the case, at least once a year, you hit a point where the daily grind of your life starts drilling through your head and draining your will to live.
In years past, you’d usually take a few days off, after about the fifth week of dragging yourself through the motions. You’d promise to “refresh” your life –clean up your apartment, take care of responsibilities left to the side in the wake of your waning motivation–then spend your time off eating your weight in take out and napping on your couch.
Well. It works. Each year, you’re able to return to work after a few days living as a shut-in hedonist with renewed joy and drive.
This year, however…
You grin when you step off the elevator and see Lin waiting down the hall, in the doorway of her apartment.
She smirks when she sees you, then smiles faintly when you jog down the hall to greet her. “Someone’s eager.”
“What,” you say, somewhat winded, as you slow to a stop in front of her. You wind your arms around her neck and curl your fingers into her curly, short hair. “You didn’t miss me?”
She hums into your kiss, one strong arm banding around your waist. “Well,” she murmurs against your lips, “maybe just a little.”
You giggle, then let her usher you inside as she kicks the door shut behind you both.
…
The second the deadbolt slides into place, the weight of your daily grind melts away.
Technically, the second you got a phone call from your darling girlfriend, and thus received the invitation to come over for an evening, a lot of the drudgery bearing down on you had abated. But you’d still waited, balancing electric anticipation, looming over your head as you counted down the days, then the hours, then the minutes…
You moan into Lin’s mouth as she grabs your ass with both hands.
Bliss.
You’ve always hated waiting for what you want –for anything, really.
Lin shoves you against the nearest wall. She growls when you squeeze her ass harder than necessary, then grabs your hands. “Behave.”
“No.” You take the opportunity to nip at her lower lip –which makes her gasp gloriously–then utilize her shock to fight her grip. “I–”
Lin all but slams your hands against the wall, over your head. She brushes her lips along your jawline –which makes you tremble–then murmurs huskily in your ear. “Enough. Be patient.”
“Patient?” you sputter. “I’ve been patient the whole damn week–”
“I called you only three days ago.”
“It felt like a week!” You whimper when Lin nips at the side of your neck. Feigning submission, you tip your head back and melt against her –until she loosens her grip on your wrists.
“You little–” Lin catches your hand halfway on its journey up her shirt with one hand, then grabs your face with the other. She forces you to look her in the eye and glowers down at you. “What did I just tell you?”
“You called me three days ago.” A cheeky, self-satisfied grin stretches across your face when she growls at you. You smile up at her, the picture of innocence, then use her moment of distraction to jam your thigh between her legs.
Lin lets out a choked gasp of your name and stumbles against you.
“Aw, baby, did you miss me?” you purr. “You could’ve called me so –FUCK!”
In one fluid motion, Lin tosses you over her shoulder and marches down the hall, towards her bedroom.
A short grunt escapes you when she tosses you on her bed, and then you squeal when she yanks you over her lap. In short order, your pants are yanked down around your knees. You mock-glare at her over your shoulder when she pulls roughly on your underwear. “Don’t rip these! I like them!”
Lin grabs a fistful of your hair and pushes your head back down against the bed. “Shut up.”
Blissful pain shoots across your scalp. Your eyelids flutter shut, and you moan into her bedspread.
(Regardless, she heeds your demand and doesn’t ruin your underwear.)
Your underwear follow the trajectory of your pants in short order. Anticipation and arousal pulse through your cunt, prompting you to squirm atop Lin’s lap.
She pins you down by barring one strong, unyielding arm across the small of your back. Her free hand gently smooths over the swell of your bare ass –almost worshipful, in contrast to her ire with your bratting. “Last chance. Behave.”
You can’t resist. “Or what?”
Her hand cracks down against your skin.
You yelp –then whimper when she kneads your asscheek, drawing out the underlying ache. “Lin–”
“Be. Good.” She leans over your back to growl in your ear. “Or I won’t let you cum tonight.”
…Come on. She practically set that up on a silver platter for you.
“What makes you think you can make me cum to begin with?”
SMACK!
A delighted sob rips out of your throat. You writhe –well, as much as you can, anyway, since Lin’s always bound to win any contest of strength between the two of you–then moan when she spanks you one, two, three more times. Stars burst behind your eyelids, dazzling and transcendent as all coherent thought leaks out your brain through your dripping cunt. “Fucking spirits–” You groan, low and ragged, when Lin’s hand cracks down against your ass for a fourth time. “Oh shit!”
She keeps spanking you in irregular intervals, until your ass feels hot and you’re a whimpering, slick mess. Lin brushes her fingers against your labia, then pulls away when your hips push against her fingertips. “What? Nothing smart to say now?”
And you don’t. The ability to speak has since left your brain, drowned out by arousal, and endorphins, and the feeling of your girlfriend’s hand against your throbbing skin. So, in lieu of saying what’s on your mind, you opt for a physical demonstration.
“You little fucking brat–”
Or, well, you try to.
You manage to twist your arm and get half a hand on Lin’s chest –her beautiful, soft chest that you would never take your hands off, if you had things your way–before the bottom drawer of her nightstand flies open and a familiar glint of silver whizzes past your head.
Your stomach lurches, akin to airsickness, when the first metal cuff closes around your wrist.
“You never listen, never learn–”
It’s like you’ve toppled into the Northern Ocean in the midst of winter. Every muscle in your body seizes, practically frozen solid. You’re sinking, slipping beneath the surface as La drags you into their depths, theirs forevermore.
“–okay? Talk to me–”
You can’t breathe right. There’s a burlap bag over your head. You’re tied to a chair in a dank basement, there’s a bag over your head, and you’re going to die–
“Breathe.” Lin undoes the cuffs with her metalbending, then tosses them aside. She lifts you into her arms, turning you so that you’re sitting in her lap. “What’s wrong? Did I–”
“Don’t leave me again!” A broken sob tears from your throat. You throw your arms around her, clutching her close as you bury your face into her neck. Shudders wrack your body as you cry louder. “Don’t –don’t leave me–”
“Okay! Okay.” Lin cups the back of your head with one hand. “I won’t leave you. Just breathe for me, alright?”
You’re trying. But it’s like you’ve been punched in the gut. You can’t catch your breath, can’t get your diaphragm to open up properly.
“What does she taste like?”
The back of your throat burns. Your mouth tastes like acrid metal.
“I want you to tell me. What does she taste like when you use your tongue on her?”
Clammy sweat beads along your forehead.
“I guess I’ll have to find out for myself.”
You shove yourself to your feet, then clap one hand over your mouth when you retch.
Lin’s reflexes succeed where yours fail. When you double over, she grabs you by the shoulders and rushes you to the bathroom.
The first heave makes your eyes water and burn. You cough, stomach roiling as your whole body rolls. Putrid bile spews into the toilet basin on the second heave, burning your throat on the way out. You sob when you can breathe again, falling to your knees on the hard, cold tiles of Lin’s bathroom floor.
Lin’s hand is strong, yet gentle on your hair. She quickly tucks a few stray strands away from your face. “Easy. Just let it happen.”
Like I have any control here. Panting, you clutch the rim of the toilet bowl. “I–” You retch, then curl over the toilet again.
…
Things go fuzzy. Once your stomach is empty, you collapse against the side of Lin’s bathtub. You’re gasping, clammy and trembling as you try to suck down enough air to stop the feeling of drowning.
A cool glass of water is pressed into your hands. You take a small sip, rinse your mouth, then spit into the toilet bowl before slumping down again.
At some point, you wind up in Lin’s bed, tucked carefully under the covers. Your knees and hips ache from the harsh, unforgiving tile floor. Still shaking, you wince as you curl up on your side. Short, shallow breaths puff past your lips. I’m okay. It’s okay. Everything is okay. You’re safe, Lin’s here–
Except she’s not.
You bolt upright, terror coursing through your veins. The bathroom’s empty, there’s no light peeking out beneath the door to her home office, and the kitchen is silent. Your stomach drops into your feet, and you lunge out of bed. “Lin?”
“What’s wrong?” Her feet hit the floor in her living room, and then she appears at the end of the hallway, expression pinched from concern. “Are you–” She stumbles back a few steps when you careen into her. “What the –hey!”
You lock your arms around her waist and bury your face in her neck. Your pulse pounds in your ears, racing and erratic. “You left me again!”
“I–” Lin’s hands grip your shoulders tightly. “I stayed with you while–”
“Not then! Earlier! You left me!”
Lin tightens her hold on your shoulders, then forces you back so she can see your face. “I don’t know what we’re talking about!”
You lock your jaw to keep yourself from rambling and gibbering like an unhinged loon. Throat tight with fear and anguish, you force yourself to breathe as deeply as you can. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Bile roils in your empty stomach; you swallow hard, then pull away from her. “You left me. After the warehouse. After Kim.”
Lin goes perfectly still. Her wide, green eyes lock onto your face, then quickly focus on the floor instead, before finally drifting to the empty kitchen. Her scarred cheek twitches minutely. “I don’t understand what that has to do with right now.”
“I’m trying,” you spit out between clenched teeth. Frustrated –with her, with the situation, with yourself–you close your eyes and scrub at your face with your hands. “I’m not –you aren’t –I don’t want to–”
“Breathe.”
You do as Lin says, relaxing minutely when her hand brushes against your upper arm. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Use the diaphragm and abdominal muscles to control things. Deep inhale, even slower exhale.
Once you’re visibly calmer, Lin speaks again. “Why did you panic when I cuffed you?”
“I…” You swallow hard, then shrug small and sad. “I flashed back to –to the warehouse fight.” A pang of anxiety makes your voice crack. “When Kim had me tied to a chair in the basement.”
“Shit.” Lin rakes one hand through her short, wavy gray hair. “I’m sorry, I should have thought–”
“Of nothing,” you cut her off, suddenly weary.
“I should have checked in before restraining you–”
“And I would have said ‘go for it.’” You level her with a firm stare. “I didn’t know it was going to happen, either. It just… came out of nowhere.” The anxiousness crests higher, and you compensate by stepping into Lin’s space and wrapping your arms around her waist. You bury your face into the crook of her neck. “Thanks for helping me when I freaked out.”
“Of course,” Lin says as she wraps both arms around your shoulders. “What, like I was going to leave you like that?”
“I know, I know,” you reply automatically.
She left you after the warehouse.
It’s a poisonous, traitorous thought. Cold, nauseating ire roils in your gut. It turns hot as it swirls up your spine, until it breaks over your head in a tidal wave of rage and indignance.
It’s not fair. You and Lin have talked about the whole Kim aftermath fiasco. It’s been put to bed.
Has it? You chew on your lower lip as your mind turns the issue over. If you’re still upset about it, has it really been laid to rest?
How many times have you lectured your patients, after all? Some small injuries or aches, if left unattended, can morph into much bigger problems.
The tell-tale sensation snaps back –almost like vertigo, your head spins as the room suddenly feels miniscule around you. You can feel the walls of Lin’s apartment closing in around you, feel your scalp pressing against the plastered ceiling, even though your girlfriend is still holding you and your head is still comfortably pillowed against her chest. The urge to curl in on yourself, to find somewhere dark and small to hide claws up your legs and back, snarling and demanding your immediate submission. Breathe. Your eyes slip shut, and you press your forehead against your girlfriend’s shoulder. I deserve to exist. My feelings deserve to exist. Teeth clenched against a fresh wave of nausea, you breathe through anger and frustration and pain. Ask, don’t accuse. You swallow around the lump in your throat. “Why –why did you leave me after I got kidnapped?”
Unsurprisingly, Lin freezes again.
You can hear her swallow nervously. When she doesn’t speak, you decide to keep talking. “I needed you. I–I was so fucking scared, and hurt–” Your voice cracks as hot, stinging tears well up behind your closed eyelids. You press the heels of your hands against your eyes, trembling all over as you try to compose yourself. “Sorry. Just –give me a second.”
Lin says nothing, simply waiting in patient silence.
Outside, down in the street below, a Satomobile door thumps shut. The engine revs, then settles into a steady purr before fading away. The familiar rattle of the city tram breaks through the autumnal winds that rip off the harbor. The sound of the tram’s bell soars higher, sailing into the night air like asclepias puffs in the wind.
You flex your feet against the hardwood floors of Lin’s apartment. Pretty grain pattern, part of your brain notes inanely. Must’ve been expensive to refine and install. “Why did you leave me?” you whisper hoarsely, once you finally manage to scrape yourself together. You swipe at your face with the cuff of your sleeve; you hadn’t even managed to get undressed before everything went to shit. You clear your throat. “I… I don’t understand.”
For several long, tense moments, you think she might not answer at all. Then, Lin sighs. “I… I panicked.”
You watch Lin sharply, trying to read her often inscrutable expression and posture.
She walks away from you, over to the window in the living area that overlooks Republic City. She stares out at the night skyline –despite the sun having already set, the city glows from all the electric lights. She braces her hands against the white windowsill; she almost looks like a pensive, noir-style detective from the murder mystery radio shows you like so much.
You tuck your tongue in your cheek to keep from giggling hysterically.
“It was my fault.” She doesn’t look at you. “The nature of my job creates enemies.” She steps back from the windowsill; her hands curl into fists at her sides. “I should’ve known better. I do know better. And despite that, I didn’t keep you safe.”
“It’s not–” With a long, heavy sigh, you shake your head. “You can’t possibly predict every–”
“I did.” When you sputter disbelievingly, she faces you –but her gaze doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “The security on your building is shit. And you’d be a lot better off with platinum locks.”
After a moment of your best river carp impression, you manage to close your mouth and shake your head. “Lin…” You hold up one finger when she opens her mouth to argue. “That’s not the same thing as knowing that Kim was going to kidnap me.” When Lin’s unconvinced, pinched expression doesn’t lift, you sputter, flabbergasted. “Okay, look –Lin. Baby. If I don’t expect you to make sure every aspect of my life is safe, what good does it do to hold yourself to that kind of standard?”
“I still–”
“‘Still’ nothing, Lin! You’re not a fucking god! Okay, so you thought about my locks; that –that doesn’t obligate you to do anything,” you insist. Sweat beads along your back, soaking into your shirt. You sigh, then sweep your hair off the back of your neck to try and cool off. “As it so happens, I’m an adult; I’m ultimately responsible for myself, and that includes my own safety. Besides, it’s a nice enough neighborhood!”
Lin stares at you, flat and unimpressed. “Bad things happen anywhere.” Her jaw tightens. “You would know.”
You sputter, caught flat-footed by her audacity to use your own assault against you. “I –how fucking dare you!” You clench your hands into fists at your side, fingernails biting into the meat of your palm. “I am not –I cannot believe–” Sense takes hold before you cavalier too far down the road of rage and indignance; as angry as you are, you don’t want to spew vitriol all over Lin. Even if she’s kind of earned it. You glare at her, jaw locked tight. “Even if you have a logical point,” you spit out through clenched teeth, “the woman who skipped out on me after I was assaulted does not get to use that trauma against me in an argument!”
Lin’s lips press into a thin line. She looks at the floor, expression somewhat chastened. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.”
“Yes, yes it was. And thank you.” In a testament to your self-control –which, normally, you’d pass off as lacking at best–you inhale deeply and try to yank your temper back into some semblance of calm. Your head is starting to throb dully. So much for a relaxing night off. You rub your temples as you struggle to process and respond to Lin’s adamant self-blame. “I don’t –I don’t walk around with this notion that being your girlfriend comes with some sort of pass to perfect protection! I don’t expect you to package me up all nice and safe so nothing bad ever happens to me!”
“I know–”
“Then what, in Yue’s name, is the fucking problem!” You fling your arms wide, voice rising as your frustration mounts again. “There are associated risks with living in the real fucking world, and I have never asked, or intoned, or suggested that you safeguard me from every bad thing that could ever happen! Why…” When your mind finally runs blank, anger petering out, you throw up your arms before letting them fall back to your sides. Your palms hit your thighs with a light slap. “What’s the point? What’s the point of putting yourself through all that, Lin?”
Lin scowls. She turns partly away and rakes one hand through her thick, curly hair. “It’s still my job.” She sighs harshly. “I know you don’t expect me to protect you.” She looks back over you, expression solemn. “I know. But it’s still my job. I don’t–” She presses her lips into a thin line, frustrated, then crosses her arms over her chest. “I believe in police work. I believe that doing my job keeps people safe. Even when I’m ‘off the clock,’ my duties to the people I care about don’t stop, and that includes keeping them safe.”
“Okay.” You nod along, choking back retort after retort through sheer force of will. It matters to her. It matters to her. It matters to her. “Okay.”
Lin fully turns away from you –but even without seeing her face, you can still tell she’s on edge. The line of her body is rigid as she stares out the window of her living room. She takes a deep, audible breath, shoulders rising and falling as she does. She clasps her hands behind her back and bows her head; for a moment, she looks exactly like the countless press release pictures of the indomitable Chief Beifong (which you may or may not have clipped out of the newspaper and tucked away for your own edification, you’ll claim the fifth if asked to testify, presumed innocent until proven guilty). “I didn’t know if we were going to be serious or not. It was more comfortable, for me, to keep you at arm’s length. And that included not making an issue of your building’s security problems.”
It stings, you can’t lie. Her confessed, deliberate indifference to your safety –when it’s apparently a big deal to her–hurts. You swallow hard, then tuck the inside of your cheek between your teeth to keep from firing back before she’s done talking.
“It was my fault,” Lin states, voice flat and final. “After Kim… I couldn’t deal with it.” Finally, she turns and looks you in the eye. Her expression flickers for a moment, nearly giving way to anguish, before locking down to something more neutral with what you know to be an insurmountable, bone-deep reserve of will. “I’m sorry.” She stiffens, then frowns slowly when you start shaking your head. “What? What is it?”
“I–” Hot, stinging tears trace down your cheeks. Your palms are clammy, and your back is drenched in sweat. “That –thank you. Thank you for being honest. But–” You draw in a shaky breath as you try to school your thoughts into something more coherent. “I don’t –the locks wouldn’t have changed anything, Lin. They –no.” You hold up one finger and glare harshly at her when she opens her mouth to argue. “No. We both know that Kim had a very particular goal in mind. Better locks wouldn’t have stopped him. He would’ve had his goons just, I don’t know, kick in my door, or some shit.” You shrug, defeated, then rub your hands over your face. “I –I don’t care about the stupid locks. I get that it’s important to you, and that’s fine, but the locks don’t make a difference to me.”
The locks wouldn’t have held your hand in the hospital, after all. The locks wouldn’t have talked to you on the phone after you woke up from yet another nightmare. The locks wouldn’t have rubbed salve into the rope burn on your wrists from where you’d chafed your skin trying to wriggle free. The locks–
Your face crumples, but you manage to keep going as you start crying. “I needed you.” Your whole body shudders as you draw in a shaky, broken breath. “I was so fucking scared, and hurt, and I didn’t know what was going to happen to me–”
Lin presses her lips together in a tight line, then holds her arms out to you.
You choke on a sob, then rush into her embrace. “I was so fucking scared!” You bury your face into her shirt, trembling as you weep. “I felt so lost, and small, and you just left me–”
Lin tucks your head beneath her chin. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“It was cruel,” you insist, voice pitiful to your own ears. “And selfish.”
Lin draws in a shaky breath. “It was,” she agrees, her own voice wavering. She hugs you close, as though she can squeeze the pain and suffering right out of you. “I was wrong –and cruel, and selfish. I’m so, so sorry.”
Something inside you releases, like a locked muscle finally relaxing after a good, thorough healing session. You melt against her, hurt yielding to assurance and peace. A shaky exhale floats past your lips. “Thank you.”
…
Once you stop crying and settle into the post-panic attack-argument-meltdown, Lin disentangles from you and sequesters herself in the bathroom.
You can hear the sink tap running; if you felt up to it, you could probably extend your bending and feel the water swirling down the drain.
Exhaustion has you feeling hollowed out. You peel your shirt away from your skin with a grimace. The stress of the evening made you sweat. You try to adjust your underwear under your skirt. All of your clothes, frankly, feel uncomfortably, grossly stuck to your skin. This is not how I wanted to get wet tonight.
You drop down onto Lin’s couch gracelessly. You slump into the dark green cushions and close your eyes.
Your whole body feels raw. Your skin almost feels like you’ve been scraped along the pavement outside. Throbbing and tender, you shift restlessly, trying to find some position that will agree with you.
Outside, a Satomobile honks loudly, which is quickly followed by the sound of tires screeching.
Flinching, you curl forward and comb your fingers through your hair. Fuck me. Quickly, you flip on Lin’s radio, then let out a sigh when instrumental music starts droning through the speakers. You turn up the volume dial, just until the crushing feeling of overstimulation starts to abate. That’s better.
Eventually, Lin emerges from the bathroom. (It’s probably not very long, but your poor, fatigued brain has settled into the muddy state where time starts moving like molasses.) She heads straight for the kitchen and starts quietly puttering about; a few cabinet doors open and close, the tap for the sink runs briefly, and the range hisses as Lin lights it with match.
You borderline drowse as you half-watch her work, half-melt away into the syrupy ooze of reality.
Hours, maybe minutes later, Lin joins you at the couch. She sets down a tray with a fresh pot of tea and two cups onto the coffee table, then reaches over and turns the radio down. “Here.”
You force yourself into a more upright position and accept the cup of steaming, fragrant tea she holds out to you. “Thanks.”
Lin sets down next to you, and makes no protest when you immediately invade her space and curl up against her. She wraps one arm around your shoulders, then picks up her cup of tea with her free hand.
The tea is nice –no doubt some very expensive, well grown blend. You wish you could do more than sip tiredly at it, but your head feels heavy (probably from the swelling in your sinuses, on account of all the crying).
Distantly, the healer part of your brain starts noting all the facets of recovery after crying. Parasympathetic nervous system takes over. Brain releases endorphins. Muscles release tension from build up of stress. Autonomic nervous system reins in heart rate, respiration rate, and blood pressure.
“You alright?” Lin murmurs when you let out a shaky breath..
Nodding, you hum, then tip your head back and kiss her softly. Even though you’re tired, your head feels clearer. The consuming static of terror and rage have finally been swept out, leaving subdued peace and clarity.
Speaking of…
“Hey.” You crane your head back so you can see her face better. “If… if something happens to me again–” You pause when Lin grimaces and looks away. After waiting a moment, you press your fingers against her jaw and gently guide her head until she’s looking at you again. “If something happens to me again,” you repeat, “don’t… don’t push me away.” A lump rises in your throat, but you push past it. “I won’t ever be angry at you if something bad happens to me, okay? And it’s –it’s so much worse–” Your voice breaks; you have to take a moment to pull yourself together before you try speaking again. “It’s so much worse with you not around.”
Blinking rapidly, Lin nods. “Alright.” She looks away for a bit, gaze distant. She swallows hard, jaw rolling as she lets out a sigh, then asks, “Would you consider getting platinum locks?”
“They’re expensive.”
“Victim’s Assistance fund should pay for them, considering your apartment was broken into during the course of an abduction,” Lin fires back, almost like she’s reading the fine print straight from the page. “All you’d have to do is submit a request form and a copy of the police report to their office. And if they don’t pay for platinum locks, I will.”
Part of you wants to protest the notion of her paying for any of it. It’s your apartment and your responsibility. Feasibly, you could scope out some options, compare prices, and then allot the necessary savings into your monthly budget.
A quiet, wiser voice in your head whispers, ‘It’s okay to let her help you.’ “Would you feel better if I had platinum locks?”
Lin’s reply comes without hesitation. “Yes.”
You sweep your tongue along the back of your teeth; part of you chafes at the thought of acquiescing. You can take care of yourself, after all. You moved here on your own, put yourself through university and therapeutic certifications, built yourself up as a reputable and capable physical therapist and surgical assistant. While Lin’s compensated you for ruined clothes and the odd day when she’s worked you over enough that you needed to take a day or two off work, you’ve never needed –or expected–her to bankroll your life.
If the Victim’s Assistance Fund comes through, she won’t have to pay, you remind yourself. And it’s just one set of locks, and she’ll feel better knowing you’re safer.
That’s the clincher, in the end. Stubborn pride isn’t worth your girlfriend’s peace of mind –especially over something as non-invasive as a good set of locks.
You nestle back against the warmth and comfort of Lin’s embrace. “Alright. I’ll start figuring out the Victim’s Assistance fund stuff tomorrow.”
“I can give you the number for one of the department heads.”
“Okay,” you murmur, cheek squished against her shoulder. Part of you thinks it’s a little ridiculous –there’s no reason you can’t go through the same process as everyone else–but you’re too tired to argue (and, honestly, bypassing some of the formalities and traditional run-around will be nice). You sigh, then nuzzle against her and close your eyes. “I’m sorry for freaking out at you earlier. I know –I know you were just taking a moment to breathe, and you weren’t actually leaving me; I just –I was still so out of my head from the cuffs, and the panic attack, and I–”
“It’s okay.” Lin wraps one strong arm around your shoulders. “You were scared; it’s okay.” She kisses the top of your head, then squeezes you a little closer. “Stay here tonight. I’d rather you go home once you’ve had a chance to rest.”
You sniff, then nod. “Okay.” Melting into her embrace, you tuck your head into the crook of her neck. “That sounds nice. Thanks.”
“Of course.”
The radio croons on; the singer –a woman with a smooth, low voice–drawls on about the ocean and the land meeting as lovers. Down the hall, the gentle, intermittent rumble of the elevator interjects between the radio and the sounds of the city at no particular rhythm. Outside, the distant, waning sounds of Republic City’s nightlife echo into the air.
The two of you lapse back into comforting silence.
…
Once the two of you finish your tea, Lin tidies up before shepherding you to bed.
You rinse off in the shower first. You worry about washing your hair, or anything too involved, but getting the sweat off your skin is essential if you don’t want to wake up irritable and itchy.
Your stomach still feels shaky –no doubt from all the mucus and drainage from crying. You turn down the water to a comfortably cool temperature (helps with the inflammation), then mechanically work through the steps of washing up as quickly as you can.
You borrow Lin’s toothbrush (and, fine, it’s really not the grossest thing, especially since you’ve made a point of burying your face between her legs whenever she lets you), and she lends you another baggy, Republic City Police Academy shirt to sleep in.
The gray shirt feels exquisitely soft between your fingertips, against your skin. You tuck away the notion of “borrowing” it for future you to ponder.
It’s nice, slipping beneath the covers on Lin’s bed. Her sheets are luxuriously soft –no doubt a vastly higher thread count than what you can afford.
You stretch your legs like a polar bear pup. Something pops in your lower back, and you groan. “Ugh, finally.”
“You okay?”
“Cracked my back.” You wait for her to turn off the lamp, then cross the space between you and curl up against her side.
Lin obliges you by slipping her arm beneath your neck and winding it around your shoulders. Her fingertips slip beneath the collar of your shirt and stroke along the base of your neck.
The familiar sounds of the city dwindle as the night drags on. The surrounding apartments are equally still. Here, in Lin’s bed, in her arms, you’re enveloped by safety. By warmth. Every breath you take is filled with the familiar scent of Lin –traces of the cologne she favors, the fresh mint of her toothpaste, even the fragrant tea you both had earlier. The blankets are cozy, exquisitely soft, and the perfect weight to help lull your frazzled mind and body into slumber.
Just for a moment, right before you drop off into sleep, your body relaxes into a state of perfect contentment. It’s almost like you’re floating, perfectly supported and enveloped, much like floating in a pool for a moment of rest before swimming again. Tranquility seeps through your veins, washing away any remaining tension and panic from earlier in the evening.
You fall asleep to the gentle thumping of Lin’s heart and her steady, deep breathing.
#sass writes#lin beifong x reader#legend of korra#hands that heal#hurt/comfort#tw: panic attack#tw: ptsd#tw: vomit#heavy on the emotional hurt in this one
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Warm Me Up
Dark!Boss!Tony Stark x Assistant!F!Reader
Summary: Your boss’ seemingly innocent offer of warmth is not one you expected.
Warnings: 18+ content, noncon/dubcon undertones, power play, fingers at play, tell me if I missed any, Tony is his own warning. The fic is DARK, please consume responsibly.
At long last, my first Tony Stark fic has finally been made! Been really wanting to write him for a while now and I finally found the passion to do so. It’s a short one but I hope it’s a good one.
As always, your comments and likes are deeply appreciated. Reblogs would be amazing for it would help share my work and let this piece flourish. I hope you all enjoy! I love you guys 3000! ❤️
You hit the steering wheel again as your car refuses to start. It’s your third attempt and each time you think it would, the engine stalls.
You check the time on your dashboard and curse at nothing upon seeing that it’s almost midnight. You saw the warning on the weather app and even heard the other employees talking about leaving as soon as the shift was done. But you had to be kind, not wanting to disappoint your boss, and you had to accept the task Mr. Stark gave you thirty minutes before clock out.
You thought you would finish on time. Thought it was something menial that wouldn’t require you to request overtime. But each folder you opened contained the mission sheets of the Avengers, having to enter each and every detail to the dot into the database.
You don’t even understand why they are still being printed. With Tony Stark’s cutting-edge technology, you’d have expected everything to be paperless. You avowed to ask Mr. Stark for a raise since taking care of Avengers’ matters is beyond your job description as his assistant.
Nonetheless, you finished your task and logged out of your computer. Tucking the folders in your drawer and made your way to the elevator in hopes of making it on the road before the snow starts to fall. But alas, you failed, a thick blanket of ice already covering the pavement and now you’re stuck in the parking lot of the Avengers tower with no way home.
You grab your phone from your bag and worry your lip as you try to book an Uber. It doesn’t surprise you that no one would take your request with the weather acting up. You sigh, your breath fogging in the confines of your car as you hit your head on the back of your seat.
A yelp of surprise then leaves your lips when you hear a knock on your window. The image behind the fogged-up glass is blurry. You wipe away the moisture and blink when you see Mr. Stark in all his three-piece suit glory waving to you from outside, a smile on his lips, before pointing at the length of your car.
“Car trouble?” He asks when you step outside, snow crunching underneath your shoes, hugging your coat around your frame tighter to shield you from the cold, a useless attempt as you already feel it creeping in your bones.
“My engine won’t start.” Your voice shivers as you respond.
You watch him walk toward the front of the vehicle, leaning down into the seat of your car to pull on the lever when he gestures for you to open it. He peeks inside and you round the car to peruse all the same. You stare at him when he clicks his tongue, his hand reaching inside to poke at the huge contraption.
“It’s frozen.” He exclaims before looking at you, his hip leaning against the lip of the hood. “Might take a while for it to thaw out with this weather and I don’t think there are any open shops at this time.” He hums before closing the hood. “Do you have any means of going home? I’d ask Happy to take you but he’s out on an errand.”
You shake your head and quiver from where you stand. “I think the weather has scared the Uber drivers.” Your laugh comes out dry and it’s only because you find yourself screwed by the situation you’re in. “I can probably call my frie—”
“Nonsense.” Mr. Stark shakes his head and walks back to you. “You can stay here for the night and we’ll have your car checked in the morning.”
“Oh, Mr. Stark, there’s no need.” You protest. “Really, I don’t think my friend would mind picking me up.”
“Well, if you insist.” He hums, picking out his phone from his pocket before tapping on the screen. “You could at least wait inside than stay here and freeze to death, you’re already shivering, Sweetheart.” He says teasingly and you chuckle at his joke before nodding in agreement, looking at him when he closes your door and places a hand on the small of your back.
-
You blink when the elevator passes the floor to his office, the floor where your desk is, and swallow thickly when you see it head over to the penthouse, Mr. Stark’s personal floor.
You’ve only been here once when he was too beat up to get out of bed and you had some urgent papers that needed his signature. It wasn’t as pleasant as you thought as you caught him walking across the floor with only his boxers when the doors of the lift opened.
You push the memory to the back of your mind and peek into the foyer when the metal barrier parts. You step out when you feel Mr. Stark’s hand press against your back and you carefully pad through the carpeted floor, standing by the two steps on instinct, and wait for him to fully welcome you in.
You smile softly when FRIDAY greets you in her sweet, monotone voice, answering her back before folding your hands in front of you.
“Please, make yourself at home.” Mr. Stark calls out as he makes his way to the bar. “You’re not my assistant at the moment, you’re my guest.” He gives you that usual Tony Stark charming smile and you return a soft one before making your way to the couch and taking a seat, crossing your legs as you smooth the skirt of your dress against your thighs. “Would you like anything to drink?”
“Hot water, please. If you have it.” You tell him, your body visibly shakes as the heat of his private quarters and the chill in your bones begin to clash within.
You scan the place as you wait for Mr. Stark to join you. The view from the outside still looks immaculate with how it’s framed by the floor-to-ceiling windows, the muted light from the bulbs that hang above adding to its picturesque state. You notice that his usual desk is gone, one of his Iron Man suits taking its place, making you curious if it’s the one he uses on missions or simply a decoration.
The bar, as always, is full of liquor. Almost anything you ask can be made with the various selection your boss has. You see Mr. Stark pouring some hot water into a mug and you give him a smile when he meets your eyes, looking back at the coffee table when he strides over to you.
“Your water.” He says with a flourish and you take the mug with both hands. You whisper your thanks before lifting it closer to your face, basking in the heat that slowly bleeds into your skin.
“Still feeling cold?” He asks as he looks at you, sipping from a tumbler that’s half-filled with amber liquid before resting it against his knee. “Whiskey could help, you know.” He grins and you shake your head as you lift the mug of water.
“The water is fine. Thank you, Mr. Stark.”
“Please, call me Tony.” He chides with a chuckle. “I’ve told you that countless times and yet you still won’t humor me.”
“I just feel it’s inappropriate to call my boss by his first name.” You reason, taking another welcome sip of the hot liquid.
“Alright. I’ll give you that.” He hums, animatedly tapping his cheek before tilting his head to the side, playfulness touching his lips. “When it’s work hours, Mr. Stark it is. But outside work, it’s Tony. Friends.” He hums, holding his hand out to you. “Deal?”
Even when he says it’s okay, you can’t help but feel weird about it. Yes, you know that your boss is friendly. Heck, you think he could win a Mr. Congeniality pageant with just a wink. But threading that fine line between boss and subordinate to friends just doesn’t sit well with you.
He’s kind. You’ll give him that and you think he’d be a really funny friend if circumstances were different, nevertheless, being friends with your boss just doesn’t bode well, especially with a man such as Tony Stark. He’s already working you to the bone with him being your superior and you dread that he would abuse the friendship he’s offering for you to stay later than usual in the office.
But who are you to reject him? You’re just an assistant. A speck in his world and easily replaceable. You fear that if you deny him of simply being friends he’d put up a job ad with your position on it and you don’t even doubt that it would be flocked with applicants who dream of simply breathing the same air as the man. And job hunting isn’t listed on your to-do list as of late.
Huffing away your anxiety, you smile and take his hand, giving it a light shake. “Deal. Friends.” You agree and you can’t help the shiver that runs through your body when the cold feeling of his hand seeps through your own.
“You’re shaking.” He frowns as he looks down at your hand, placing his glass atop the low table in front of the couch before taking your mug from your other hand and sitting it beside his. “Come here.” Your eyes widen at his words and you try to move away from him but his grip on you tightens and he pulls you closer, your body pressing against his chest as he wraps an arm around your shoulder. “There. Feeling better, Sweetheart?”
You shiver once again but not from the cold this time, but from how close he is to you. The anxiety spins within your nerves once again when he holds your shoulder a little too tight, flinching when his other hand caresses your knee.
“Mr. Stark—”
“Ah ah, what did we agree on?” He reprimands you lightly.
“Tony.” You correct yourself, your voice shaking as you speak.
“Very good, Sweetheart.” He grins and jostles you, feeling his hand reach up to peel your coat from your shoulder.
“Tony—what are you doing?” You say as you grab his hand and try to stop him, fear slowly creeping up your spine when you see a dangerous glint in his brown eyes.
“I just want to keep you warm. That’s all.” He grunts and tugs harshly on your coat, the force making you release his hold on him, letting the garment slip from your body.
As soon as you’re free from its confines, you get to your feet and make a beeline to the elevator. But you don’t make it as Tony quickly grabs your hand, pulling you back on the couch. The air in your lungs gets knocked out when you land roughly on his lap, your back hitting his chest—his arc reactor making you wince in pain.
You try to wriggle free from his hold, your hands reaching over to the armrest to pull yourself away from him. But you stop fidgeting when his hand rounds your throat, feeling his fingers dig into the side of your neck, making you cough and choke as you grab onto his wrist, panic surging through your veins.
“Mr. St—Tony!” You gasp, your legs halting from kicking when he slaps his hand hard against your thigh. “Please—let me go.” Tears pool in your eyes from not only the pain but from the fear that fills you.
“You’re not being a good friend right now, Sweetheart.” He growls against your ear before pressing a kiss on your shoulder.
His hand rests on your knee once more and you push your legs together when you feel him hiking up your skirt, fingertips grazing against your bare skin. You gasp when he pinches hard on the meat of your thigh, obeying his silent command for you to part them.
“Why are you doing this?” You cry out as his fingers graze your inner thigh, gasping when he rubs a finger against your panties, a moan escaping your lips as his thumb presses hard against your clothed clit.
He rolls his thumb slowly and you grab his wrist as you attempt once more to stop him. You don’t understand why he’s doing this, confused why he’s chosen to torture you with such perversion when you’ve done nothing to deserve it. When you’ve done everything to be a good employee.
He’s an Avenger. He’s supposed to be kind. He’s supposed to be one of the good guys. They don’t do these kinds of things but rather prevent them.
“I already told you, Sweetheart,” He hums against your ear, pulling you back to have your head press against his shoulder, his goatee prickling you as he trails kisses on your skin, the act making you quake once more in terror.
“I just want to keep you warm.” His voice makes your stomach roil in disgust, his finger pushing your panties to the side and you close your eyes as your body goes rigid from his unwanted touch.
You clamp your lips down to prevent another moan from escaping you, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your body responding to his touch. But it’s once more a failed attempt as your lips part when he slides a digit through your pussy, your mind fighting yet your body succumbing to his depravity.
#tony stark#tony stark x reader#tony stark x female reader#tony stark x you#dark tony#dark tony stark#dark fic#iron man#iron man au#tony stark fanfiction#boss au#mcu#mcu au#coconut bun stories#dark!tony stark
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[Shadow and Bone AU] The Morning After (the Sharing a Bed + Assassins Prompt)
To show my gratitude to everyone who voted on the Dreamling Shadow & Bone AU poll, I have written for ✨️both versions✨️ under the cut. Enjoy! 🖤
This entire AU is, of course, dedicated mainly to @issylra , who made this wonderful GIF set that serves as my primary inspiration for this AU. 😊
(sad wet cat) Darkling Dream in the position of power
"You grind your teeth in your sleep."
Dreem freezes and turns his gaze from adjusting his horse's saddle to the side, where Hob is feeding his own horse with an apple he got from the inn. He is studiously not looking at Dream.
Dream had woken up with a sore jaw this morning, but as he periodically wakes in a similar manner ever since he was a child, hundreds of years ago, the pain is familiar and expected. He had thought nothing of it. And no one, not even Calliope, who shared his bed hundreds of years ago, has mentioned anything to him.
"My apologies," he says. "If I kept you awake--"
"Don't worry about it," Hob says. "My sister Johanna is the same. It's how her stress manifests."
"I am not--"
Hob's unimpressed side-eye makes him close his mouth. He does get stressed due to his duties and responsibilities, but it's not that bad. He cannot call himself stressed when there are other people like Lucienne working round the clock just like him, trying to keep Ravka afloat.
"It is no matter," Dream says, "as we have only shared a bed for a night due to necessity. I will not keep you up at night again."
Behind them, Matthew trips a little as he's passing by, eyes wide. He fumbles with the firewood he's carrying and walks faster.
Dream resists the urge to pinch his nose. Now he's going to have to deal with that, as well as Jessamy's knowing smirks after Matthew inevitably tells her about it.
Hob watches Matthew's progress, and when he's out of earshot, he shrugs and says, "I just held your jaw when it woke me up. That stops it, and you didn't even wake. I was kept awake staring down at your pretty face."
Dream flushes, and reddens even more as it's now Jessamy's turn to pass near them, carrying a couple of dead rabbits. She maintains her graceful walk, not breaking in stride, unladylike shit-eating grin on her face. She waggles her eyebrows at Dream when they make eye contact.
For saints' sakes, there are literally Fjerdan assassins on their tail. They do not have time for...smirks and fumbling firewood and flirting.
Dream sighs after Jessamy walks far enough from them. "Mr. Gadling," he says, unable to address Hob so familiarly by his nickname at the moment. "I thank you for your assistance, but you need not worry any longer. Like I said--"
"Honestly, it's fine," Hob says. "When we were children, I used to do the same for my sister."
Ah. Of course. Hob is a naturally caring person, and Dream's...problem is similar to his sister's. Hob just did what he did out of brotherly concern.
Hob continues, "When she got older though, she decided that it was too embarrassing for me to help her, so she gagged herself every night with a length of silk tied around her head. It prevented her teeth from grinding, but not her jaw's movement. So she still wakes with a sore jaw, but now she has drool around her mouth and she has to wash the silk handkerchief too."
Dream does not know how old Johanna Gadling is right now, but he feels compassion for her. "Has she found a cure?"
Hob smiles sardonically. "No cure, apparently. And trust me, she tried everything."
Dream's heart drops. Of course. Incurable. Yet another thing that is wrong with him. "I see."
"But Rachel, her wife, now helps her with it. Just holds her jaw like I used to when we were kids. Massages her cheeks in the morning when it hurts. That sort of thing." He looks pointedly at Dream. "Sometimes you just need to ask for help."
Dream bites back his instictive 'I don't need help,' and instead says, "I do not have the time to find myself a partner, nor the space for them in my life."
"Good thing I'm already here, then," Hob says, and before Dream could protest that, he has stepped closer and reaches for Dream's face. "May I?"
"Jessamy and Matthew--"
"Can go get eaten by volcras. My priority is your comfort. Let me." Hob's eyes are magnetic in their intensity. Dream finds he cannot look away. "Please," Hob adds.
Dream looks away and nods. If it's only for a moment, then it should be fine.
Hobs fingers are exceedingly gentle when they start to rub Dream's cheeks and jaw in a circular motion. It hurts, on Dream's end, but it's the good kind of hurt brought on by a massage. Dream sighs contentedly. He never thought...
"Feels good?"
Dream opens his eyes to find Hob standing closer to him. The man is focused on his task, but his gaze have strayed to Dream's lips.
Meanwhile, Dream didn't even notice that he has closed his eyes.
"Enough."
He steps away, dislodging Hob's skillful fingers from his face. They could have been attacked while Dream is getting his cheeks held like a pathetic child.
He scans the forest around them. Nothing at first glance. A couple of yards away, Matthew stands watch while Jessamy is roasting the rabbits. At least the two of them are doing their duties, unlike Dream who can't even be trusted to be vigilant for dangers against the sun summoner standing right beside him. "Thank you," he says, belatedly, awkwardly. "It feels better."
It does not. His cheeks still feel sore and painful.
Hob hesitates before obediently stepping away. "Look," he says. "Just...just call for me when your jaw hurts again. I'll help."
"I think I can massage my own jaw, Mr. Gadling," Dream says. "But thank you for alerting me to the cause of the pain. I would not have known otherwise."
It was a mistake to divulge that, Dream realizes as soon as the words leave his mouth. Hob's jaw has dropped, and he looks...offended, for some reason. He also looks like he has a lot to say about that, but is struggling to choose what to say about it exactly.
"I'm going to take care of you," are the words that win out. Dream opens his mouth to protest but is cut off by Hob continuing to speak. "I don't know why no one seems to be doing that, but I fucking will. I swear."
Dream glares at him for his audacity. "I can take care of myself," he says coldly, then turns and walks toward where Jessamy and Matthew are.
Is he not the one who took care of everyone when they were ambushed? What more must he do to prove that he is capable?
The day isn't over yet, but Dream already feels exhausted.
--
(soft dom) Sun Summoner Hob in the position of power
Dream wakes in an empty bed, surrounded by General Gadling's scent, but not by his strong arms. He reaches over to touch the sheets where the general's body used to be. Already pleasantly cool. It had been some time since the man rose.
Rose and left Dream on his own.
He does not begin to cry because he understands. The general is a busy man, after all, and he cannot reasonably spend all his time with Dream. It would be unfair to everyone else who needs him. Someone has to check on the progress of the Grishas-in-training, meet with the king of Ravka, advise troop formations to border skirmishes, and saints knew what else.
Dream, his incompetence wielding his own powers, and the assassin from last night, are just minor problems in the grand scheme of things.
He rubs his eyes and tries not to feel bereft, glad that at least he did not get kicked out as soon as the general woke.
"Good morning, my darling Dream."
Dream whips his head to the side in surprise, and sees General Gadling looking over some reports as he drinks some caf. They lock eyes, and the general smiles kindly at him behind the lip of his cup. "Did you sleep well?"
Dream nods mutely. His eyes have zoomed in on the general's hair and its less than perfect state, with endearing locks falling over his forehead. Dream wants to run his fingers through the dark strands and brush them until they lie neat and flawless once more.
Wait. Hair.
His hands fly to his hair as he frantically tries to wrangle them flat. How untidy he must look. His siblings have often teased him about his hair in the morning. Delirium, for instance, liked to compare his hair to various things like baby birds with their beaks open, crab claws, and once, an uncontrolled forest fire.
What must General Gadling think of him? He looks like a savage. Probably smells like one, too.
He blushes in shame, suddenly wanting to get out of the general's bed so as not to sully it even more. "I...may I..."
General Gadling gestures to the door at one side of the room where the ensuite bathroom is, and Dream rushes to it before the general could say anything else.
He does not see General Gadling's gaze follow his progress, nor the way his eyes darkened when he caught a brief flash of Dream's pale legs, revealed when his nightclothes parted as he clambered out of bed.
--
"I've had food sent over from the kitchens," General Gadling says once Dream emerges, feeling (and smelling) more human, the clothes he changed into once more belonging to the general.
The fabric is light and soft and cool, and it hangs off his thinner frame, almost falling down one shoulder.
"You didn't have to, General," Dream says, eyes widening a little at the various breakfast items now arranged on the General's desk. There was too much food for just two people. The amount would have fed him and his siblings well for a couple of days. "We could have just eaten with the others."
"Perhaps. But the staff has yet to finish their thorough sweep of the grounds," General Gadling says. "And besides, I would like to spend more time with you, if that's alright."
Dream flushes and nods. He doesn't know why the general would want to spend more time with him. Unless...of course. He must want to ask Dream about the assailant. It would certainly help in the investigation, and Dream had been too shaken up last night to be helpful. "I...yes, General."
"You could just call me Hob, you know."
Dream shakes his head. As far as he knows, only the General's closest circle calls him that. His sister, the Lady Johanna, their uncle, Duke John, the general's childhood friends and now second-in-commands, Jessamy and Matthew. Dream would not dare claim to have the same level of familiarity with him as the aforementioned people.
Before the general could say anything else, there was a knock on the door. It opened before the general could bid the person on the other side to enter.
The person turns out to be Eleanor, the most powerful Inferni in the Second Army. She enters languidly, eyes spotting Hob in his golden kefta immediately. "Search is finished," she says, her voice not sounding like it's usual acerbic way when she talks down at Dream. It sounds, sweeter, somehow. Low and suggestive.
"Thank you, Eleanor," General Gadling says, sounding just like he always does when addressing the other Grisha. "I will be down shortly."
"Oh," Eleanor says, now noticing Dream standing next to the desk laden with food. Her eyes are cold as she assessed his clothes, her eyes lingering on his exposed collarbones. Her voice is still sweet, but there was a hint of her familiar hatred in them now. "He's still here."
"He is," General Gadling says affably, though the smile did not reach his eyes. "Go on, run along. Tell the others I'll be down in about ten minutes."
"Don't sell youself short, Hob," Eleanor says, the gentle laughter in her voice laced with poison. "I'm certain you'll need at least an hour." She turns her unfriendly smile at Dream and walks out the door, not bothering to close it upon her exit.
General Gadling sighs and pinches his nose. "I'm sorry about that. She's a bit..."
"It's alright," Dream says, and starts to pick at the various berries on one of the plates. "I know she does not like me. But I'm glad that she cares for you enough to allow you ample time to eat breakfast."
General Gadling is looking at him strangely, but then he huffs a smile and kisses the top of Dream's head. "I like that you always see the best in people, darling. Shall we eat?"
Dream nods, and keeps his attention on his food, taking care to look as neutral as he could. He's not stupid. He can take a hint. And Eleanor has just given him a lot.
General Gadling might be kind to him, but he's kind to everyone. He's just getting temporary special treatment because of his unnatural powers. The novelty will fade soon enough.
He knows the General does not really mean for Dream to call him Hob. That term is reserved for his closest inner circle. A circle that apparently also includes Eleanor. Now there is someone who actually deserves to stand by the General's side, and yes, share his bed.
Dream fights down the urge to vomit.
"Finished already, darling?"
Dream barely holds back a flinch as he hears the endearment. How can General Gadling sound so sincere when he obviously doesn't mean it? He nods. "Yes, General," he says to the plate of food that's still three-quarters full. "Thank you for the food."
"Oh," General Gadling says, looking charmed. Dream doesn't know, or cares to know why he's looking at Dream like that. Like he's something wonderful and precious. Dream knows he is not. "You're very welcome."
Welcome.
A strange phrase, often used as a reply to someone's gratitude, but also to make someone feel like they belong. Like they're wanted and meant to be where they are without anyone kicking them out for being dirty or unworthy.
Dream stares down at the delicate painting on the border of the ceramic plate in front of him, its fine details the work of a master craftsperson, easily worth more kruge than he has ever held in his entire life.
It's a plate meant for royalty to eat off of, and an orphaned street rat from Ketterdam has no business eating from it with his grubby fingers.
Dream places his hands neatly at his side and wills the shadows to retreat from his fingertips.
#shadow and bone au#i'm gonna post an alignment chart soon as a guide for readers and as a reminder to myself#to everyone who has bruxism like dream in the sad wet cat version you have my sympathy and my prayers 😭#my writing#dreamling#the sandman#good job my thumbs
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I've been revisiting your stargazing posts on here and wanted to know if you'd give us some insight into something you posted in response to a previous ask about Tommy breaking the news to Alfie. You mentioned the "almighty showdown"--what did that look like? And likewise, the moment they both realize that Tommy's not actually going to do anything about it (despite saying otherwise)? <3
Thank you for this ask! Trigger warnings a plenty - it's Tommy/Alfie! (ABO, mpreg, unhealthy attitudes to pretty much everything, mentions of rough sex, violence and possible termination)
It was a Thursday afternoon in late May when Alfie decided to hell with this shit. He’d been uncomfortable all morning, like a knuckle was lodged against his ribs, and every time he sat back for a moment it dug a little bit deeper. (Had nothing to do with his breakfast neither, he won’t have a word said against the cafe on Greenland Street.) He summoned Ishamel with a loud yell, threw his pen across the slew of papers and demanded to be driven, immediately, back to my fuck ugly rural abode. His chair hit the floor with a crash as he stood to leave. He didn’t bother to pick it up, only glanced at the disarray on his desk and roared at Ollie to, “clean up that fucking mess.”
Being at least 24 hours earlier than scheduled, he weren't surprised, upon his return, to find Tommy’s study empty. He was probably still in his Digbeth office. Or out at some overpriced dinner attempting to prize something valuable or useful from people who were, most likely, neither. Could be visiting Pol, that was another option. Though given the cryptic call she’d made to the bakery earlier, that didn’t seem terribly likely.
It weren't that Polly’s questions had prompted Alfie’s early departure, they'd merely preceded it — a small but important distinction given he made it a point of principle not to pry into Shelby business.
This meticulous lack of prying had given him the distinct impression there was trouble in paradise. Or Small Heath. Or wherever the fuck it was they all lived these days in their gaudy rural mansions. Alfie neither knew nor cared (except when they turned up on his doorstep to drink too much and yell at each other). Though both mercifully and suspiciously, they hadn't done so in weeks.
He looked out of the large windows at the final moments of dusk, the dark pink remnants of daylight hugging a horizon of green. He liked to catch the sun’s final blink, the bright flash before the day disappeared beneath the unbroken line of fields. Not that he ever admitted that to Tommy. To Tommy, his presence in Warwickshire was an inconvenient, and frequently lamented, personal sacrifice.
He wandered back out to the hallway to drop his hat and coat on the stand, dismissing the maid who offered to assist him (as if he hadn't been perfectly capable of removing his own hat and coat, all by his very lonesome, since the age of three and a half). She must be new – most of 'em knew better.
A warm glow from the parlour drew him across the hall. He was poised to call that new maid back and enquire as to why the fire was lit in an un-fucking-used room, when he stuck his head round the door and spotted a dark head resting on the back of the sofa. Took a moment to clock it was Tommy, and a moment longer to be sure he was sound asleep, tie tugged loose at his throat, shirt tails untucked from his trousers.
As it happened the maid appeared again, hesitating when she spotted the boss. Bosses. S’pose Alfie counted as one of ‘em now. He waved her in and she crept about, closing the curtains and lighting more lamps before scurrying out like a scared mouse.
Tommy didn’t stir; his hands lay either side of him, palms towards the ceiling. Alfie might’ve been beguiled if this weren’t the third time he'd caught Tommy napping since Easter. Or retreating to bed after dinner. And not with a glint in his eye neither, but with some weary half-baked excuse about tax inspections and early starts. Not that he didn’t look tired; the flame shadows dancing over his face, accentuated every hollow. Alfie stared at the clock on the mantle: nearly half past eight.
He'd had his suspicions for weeks — like midges hovering nearby, vaguely irritating but eminently ignorable if you swiped at 'em once or twice. Now he'd walked into a cloud of the bastards — too many to bat away.
The smell in the room weren’t helping — that awful cologne Tommy'd taken to wearing. Claimed Ada had sent it from Boston, all the rage with the Yanks. Too sweet, Alfie’d told him. Same as their fucking gin. And yet Tommy’d continued to douse himself in it, day and fucking night.
There was some other stench besides, above the woodsmoke and the aftershave. Stale and sort of creamy... a lot like the pubs by the docks. He scanned the room, tensing when he spotted the barely touched pint of stout.
He took his hands out of his pockets, rubbed them the length of his face, smeared a day’s worth of grime into his beard. The carriage clock on the mantle chimed the half-hour.
It’s not like Alfie was usually one for avoiding difficult topics. Preferred to attack with his horns — head down, plough on, look up when it’s done. Which begged the question, didn’t it, why he’d let this go on so long. Incredulity, mostly. Cowardice, perhaps. All washed down with a healthy slug of good old-fashioned fear. Couldn’t even say it in his head, could he? The word sat on his tongue like a pill he couldn’t swallow. Filled his mouth with bitterness.
"When the fuck were you gonna tell me?" His voice came out a good deal louder than it had any need to be. He was only standing three feet away, between the sofa and the door.
Tommy opened his eyes. Didn't bother to lift his head off the back of the sofa.
"Evening Alfie."
"Thought you weren't back till tomorrow."
"Only just." Alfie glared at the clock again.
"I asked you a fucking question."
Tommy's eyebrows dipped, formed an expression that were meant, presumably, to convey confusion. As if Alfie were some fucking underling too green or too intimidated to read defiance into the accompanying pout.
"Nothing to bloody tell."
Alfie spoke with deliberate slowness. Balled his fists at his sides. "How long do you plan on taking me for a complete fucking imbecile?"
"Not taking you for anything, Alfie." Tommy pulled his shoulders forwards, the movement just shy of a shrug.
"No?" Alfie cocked his head. He picked up a marble ashtray from the table beside the sofa. "Still off your smokes I see." He tipped the single stubbed-out cigarette onto the carpet, paltry quantity of ash and all.
Tommy sighed and rubbed his eyes, dug two fingers into each socket and left them there for several seconds, as if he were some hard-pressed housewife who was gonna have to clean that up.
Alfie reached for the glass. "Why the fuck're you drinking stout?" Alfie reached for the glass and held it aloft before pouring it onto the carpet in a long, slow stream that made a rather satisfying noise as it splattered Tommy's shoes.
Tommy looked up at him, eyebrows raised, muscles twitching in his jaw.
Alfie dropped the empty glass and let it bounce on the carpet. "How many fucking weeks?"
"You want me to drink and smoke more?" Tommy plucked his cigarette case from the coffee table and placed one between his lips. "Fourteen," he said, reaching into his pocket for a lighter. "Fifteen, maybe. Thereabouts."
The floor swayed beneath Alfie's feet. How'd it taken him so fucking long to put two and two together—
"Fifteen?" The maths simply didn't add up.
"It doesn't matter," Tommy said, staring at the table.
"Course not. Only a baby innit? Why would it fucking matter?"
Alfie looked over at the fireplace, at the paintings of horses and dogs, the pair of Tiffany lamps, and had the strangest sensation he'd been tipped into some weird dream. Except that in dreams you know where's where and who's who because dream-world rules apply. No-one needs to look familiar for you to be sure who they are; a house you’ve never seen before can stand in for your childhood home. Alfie looked at this room he knew and didn't recognise it. Looked at Tommy, elbows on knees, and couldn't accept him as the man he was bonded to. His dream-rules had been inverted. Nothing made fucking sense.
"February. You was closing that Caterham deal. Stress, you said. I remember.”
Tommy flicked the wheel of his lighter and stared at the little flame. "Stress can mess with me heat—"
"March. You was in Scotland. Edinburgh or Aberdeen—"
"It was business. I had no choice."
“That’s bollocks and you fucking know it.”
Tommy snapped the lighter shut. "Male omegas aren't likely to carry. I thought it'd" —he made a flailing gesture with the unlit cigarette— "deal with its fucking self."
"Right." Alfie nodded. "How very adult of you. You know the fucking risks."
Tommy got to his feet, flames dancing in his eyes. "Yes, I know the risks. And I will fucking deal with it!"
Alfie’s chest felt tight — his heart a claustrophobic thing, banging to get out. "You're fifteen fucking weeks, Tommy, no one’s gonna touch you.” He almost wished that were true, even as his mind conjured unhelpful images of meat hooks and blood-spattered aprons. Not that the alternative looked much better… his mind couldnt conjure that. “What do we fucking do?"
"We aren't fucking pregnant!" Tommy hissed the words, a wary glance towards the door where, no doubt, the maids were gathered.
Alfie's hands began to shake with the sort of rage that usually ended with blood up the fucking walls. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath — in through his nose, out through his mouth. Count to twenty-five. "You've made that very fucking clear."
"I’m going to bed." Tommy nodded towards the door.
“Nah, I ain't finished.” Alfie widened his stance. “What the fuck happened three weeks ago?”
Tommy sighed, attempted a glare. “You’re in my way.”
"February. Stress, you said." Alfie held his thumb in the air. "March,” —he uncurled his forefinger— “you was in Aberdeen. You said." He added his middle finger, watching as Tommy paled. “So that leaves us with Apri. What the fucking fuck was April?”
A crimson tide crept up Tommy’s throat.
"You fucking faked a heat."
A small part of Alfie was hoping for denial. Any less painful explanation, but Tommy went deathly still, thumb and forefinger paused over his eyes. Was he seeing the same things Alfie was? Replaying them in his mind? They’d been brutal with each other. And Tommy had begged for more.
"My desire was real,” he said, when he finally dropped his hand.
“You let me fucking choke you…” Alfie’s stomach contracted violently. To the left of the door was a dining chair propped against the wall; he slumped into it and hung his head in his hands.
The things they’d done. Used. The marks he’d left on Tommy...
“You weren’t even in heat.” Alfie’s legs were trembling. His nose dripped onto the floor.
“I asked for all of it.”
“Why?” Alfie looked up at him. “You had a baby inside you.”
He’d gone all taut, Tommy. Hands in his pockets, shoulders stiff. “Doesn’t change what I want.”
Alfie shook his head. “D’you honestly think I’d have done any of that if I’d—”
“No! I don't fucking know—”
“Please, Alfie, harder, Alfie…” He hated the sound of his imitation, hated the spite in his voice. Yet he couldn’t stop himself. The images crashed into his field of vision — desperate, pornographic: Tommy’s mouth slack and bleeding, eyes rolled back in his head… taking and fucking taking it. “All them whores you’ve fucked. Guess you must’ve been taking notes. Make it look good for the punters, eh? Keep’em good and riled.”
Tommy was breathing hard, chest rising and falling as if he’d run a lap of the grounds. His mouth twitched like he was about to defend himself, but Alfie didn’t want to hear it. He exploded out of his chair, finger poised in accusation.
“What were you fucking hoping? That I’d fuck it out of you?”
He looked down at Tommy’s waist, tried to imagine a life in there, beneath all them bloody clothes.
“Would it matter if you had?”
The words forced a pained sound out of Alfie, like he'd taken a kick to the guts. “Guess not,” he managed to say, before he turned and left the room.
#tommy/alfie#my fic#stargazing#answered asks#asks#have I answered the entire ask?#no I have not#is there more to come?#hopefully#thanks for poking my muse#muse
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KH OC Week 2023 - Day 7
*Rubs hands evilly* I've been waiting for this prompt. It's focused on Eileen because she's the Keykid that actually gets a happy ending. There was a different version of this oneshot, but I liked this one way better. It's been really amazing to see everyone's OCs. I can't wait for next year.
@khoc-week
Day 7: Happily Ever After
Three years had passed since the destruction of Daybreak Town. Eileen wounded up at what once used to be her home. Miraculously, Ephemer had as well. She hoped that their companions had too, but they hadn't. Gathering pieces of Daybreak Town, she and Ephemer reformed it into what was now called Scala ad Caelum. The silent and lonely streets gradually filled with more residents.
The painful moments of the past lingered but Ephemer and Eileen found solace in each other. Often times, Eileen would catch Ephemer staring off into the distance with a melancholy expression. Whenever she asked him if he was alright, he would smile and act like nothing was wrong but Eileen knew that something was bothering him.
"Are you okay, Eileen?"
Ephemer's question caused the brunette to blink and tear her gaze away from the sky, turning towards him. They were standing near the ocean, the breeze ruffling their hair. As Eileen stared at Ephemer, she noted how his appearance had changed over the years. He had grown a few feet taller and his hair was still messy as ever. He no longer had the round and chubby cheeks of a young boy. Instead, his face was chiseled and sharp as stone. As for Eileen herself, she had grown taller as well and let her hair grow out to her waist.
Smiling, Eileen nodded. "Yeah. I'm okay. Just thinking."
"Of what?" Ephemer asked curiously.
"Of how long we've been here. It's been three years."
"It really has been that long, huh?"
Eileen saw a flash of emotion in Ephemer’s eyes. Sorrow. Once more, she gazed up at the sky. Her mind drifted to a memory from the past: A memory that had brought them to their current fate.
Eileen was taking a stroll around Daybreak Town when she saw a rift of static energy manifest above the Clock Tower. She decided to investigate, bumping into Ephemer and Ophelia in the process. It seemed that they were doing the same thing she was as well. The trio went to the Clock Tower, meeting the other Union leaders there. After a discussion of what to do regarding the strange occurrence that were glitches, Ephemer and Ophelia traveled to a world within the database while the others remained in the computer room.
After minutes of awaiting the news, Ephemer returned. Trouble arose then. Lauriam argued with everyone about the whereabouts of his sister, Strelitzia. He attacked Ventus when the younger boy said that it was him who had killed Strelitzia, prompting everyone to stop Laurium from attacking him. Suddenly, a shadowy figure emerged from Ventus and explained that it was Darkness and the reason for Strelitzia's death. This started a fight, but the Union leaders and Eileen couldn't defeat it. It was too powerful. However, Ophelia arrived to provide assistance.
The group split up for some time, eventually regrouping along with a girl named Elrena. Returning to the computer room, they saw the destruction of the real Daybreak Town. There were eight of them but only five lifeboats were available. Brain, Lauriam, Ventus, and Elrena went back while the other four stayed behind.
"You should've gone back too, Eileen." Ophelia said.
In response, the brunette shook her head. "No. I'm a Dandelion, but I'm your friend first so I'm staying."
"Do you think they made it back safely?" asked Skuld.
"Of course. Brain's with them." Ephemer replied.
"Yeah. He's always got a plan unlike someone I know." Ophelia chimed in.
Ephemer seemed offended by that statement, his eyes blown wide as he glanced at the blonde from over his shoulder. "Hey!"
Bursts of laughter then filled the room. Eileen hadn't felt like this in forever. She couldn't remember the last time she had fun. Like every other Keyblade wielder, she was going on missions and collecting Lux so they didn't have much opportunities to do anything else.
A few minutes of silence passed before Skuld spoke up. "I can't believe the world is ending."
Ephemer nodded in agreement. "Yeah. It's so quiet."
Eyes widening, Ophelia quickly turned around. "Guys." She summoned Starlight in her hand. "Guys!"
Four Darknesses had surrounded the group. One asked them to open a gate, but Ephemer refused. He and the other Keyblade wielders were going to engage in battle when Ophelia suddenly attacked Ephemer. Their Keyblades clashed as the silver-haired boy quickly defended himself.
“Ophelia! What’s wrong?!”
Skuld’s Keyblade vanished and she rushed over to Ophelia, putting her hands on her shoulders. “Stop!”
Ophelia elbowed the girl hard enough to send her crashing to the ground. Eileen watched in confusion and terror. It didn’t make sense. She was fine just moments ago. What had made her behave this way?
“What happened to you, Ophelia?!”
“Ophelia’s heart has been lost to darkness.” Ophelia declared, her usual delicate voice becoming monotone.
Skuld raised her head, despair wavering in her eyes. “No…”
Ephemer couldn’t believe it. There was no way that his friend would fall to darkness that easily. “Ophelia!”
“She cannot hear you.”
“Wait. Are you—?”
“I am formless. You cannot destroy me.”
Rising to her feet, Skuld turned to face Ophelia. “I thought we’d dealt with you…”
“Ophelia…” Without warning, Ephemer was struck by the blonde and collided with the floor.
Ophelia walked towards him, her expression holding nothing but emptiness. “Open a gate and she will be returned.”
Ephemer weakly stood up, brows furrowed. “No.”
Skuld and Eileen joined him to fight Ophelia, but it was futile. She had bested them. All three Keyblade wielders laid on the ground, breathing heavily from the intense battle. Ophelia walked behind an unconscious Skuld and stared down at her.
“If only you’d gotten in the lifeboat.”
Using his arms to sit himself up, Ephemer pleaded. “Stop… Ophelia…”
"Snap out of it…" whimpered Eileen.
“Let your hatred grow.” Ophelia mused, raising her Keyblade over her head. “It fuels us.”
Realizing what she was going to do, Ephemer screamed. “No!!!”
A beam of white light formed from the tip of his Keyblade which pierced Ophelia’s heart as she prepared to slay Skuld. All of a sudden, a portal appeared behind her and the four Darknesses.
It was like everything had happened in slow motion. As Ophelia and the Darknesses were being drawn into the portal, Eileen could’ve sworn that Ophelia was looking at her and mouthing something. Then, she and the enemy vanished.
Ephemer blinked, his expression morphing into horror upon what he had just done to his dear friend. “I’m sorry.” He shut his eyes, lips pursed as he attempted to keep his composure. “I’m so sorry…”
“... leen? Eileen? Hey. What’s wrong?”
The brunette lifted her head from staring at the ground, her eyes widened slightly as she gazed at a concerned Ephemer. “Huh?”
“You’re crying…”
Placing a hand onto her cheek, Eileen felt something wet. A sniffle escaped her and she soon broke down. She couldn’t hold it in anymore. It was too much.
A look of surprise appeared on Ephemer’s face before he smiled and brought Eileen into a hug. He allowed her to cry into his chest, his arms around her body tightening. “It's okay. Let it all out."
They had both suffered a great deal. They lost their previous home and allies they once knew. Things would never return to how they used to be.
Ephemer lightly patted Eileen on the back. "I'm glad you're here, Eileen."
Eileen's cries and whimpers increased by the minute, her tears staining Ephemer's jacket. Ephemer didn't mind one bit as he rubbed circles onto her back, trying to comfort her as best he could. Eventually, Eileen calmed down and took a step back, rubbing her eyes.
“You should go."
“Right. Do you want to come with me?"
“Sure.”
“Okay. Let’s go, then.”
Ephemer held his hand out to Eileen who took it without a second thought. Then, they started to head to their location. As they walked, Eileen smiled as she looked down at their intertwined hands. Even though they had been through so much anguish, she was happy right now. They soon entered a building with a massive room and a group of adolescents sprinted towards them with bright smiles.
“Master Ephemer! Eileen!”
“What are you going to teach us today, Master Ephemer?!”
Ephemer laughed at their enthusiasm. “Settle down. We’ll be starting soon.”
“Eileen,” One of the students, a girl, began. "Are you and Master Ephemer going to get married?”
Eileen almost choked. “W-What?”
"It's just that the two of you are very close. Master Ephemer treats you like a lady.”
“Yeah!” A male student agreed.
“Um… Well…” Eileen felt heat rise to her cheeks and she scrambled to find the right words to say. She and Ephemer were just friends. Nothing more, nothing less. At least, that was what she kept telling herself. “It’s true that Ephemer and I are close, but we're just friends."
“What? Really?”
A female student slumped forward, disappointed by Eileen's reply. "Aw. I think you'd make a good couple."
“All right, all right. That’s enough.” Ephemer chuckled. “Let’s start training, shall we?”
Eileen waved a hand in farewell to the apprentices, then faced Ephemer, her lips curled slightly. "I'll see you later, Ephemer."
The young man returned the smile and nodded. "Yeah. I'll see you later."
Turning on her heel, Eileen left the training grounds and made her way home. Her gaze flitted to the cobblestone road as the words of the apprentices rang in her ears.
She and Ephemer were both at that age where marriage was possible. Their relationship was close-knitted to the point where one could call them lovers. Deep in her heart, Eileen wanted them to be. Yet, she feared being rejected and ruining what they had now.
“Hey, Eileen. Where are you heading off to?”
She froze and glanced over her shoulder, noticing a young man with mid-length turquoise hair. The top section of it was tied into a short ponytail. His eyes were orange. If Eileen remembered correctly, his name was Gavin. He was arrogant and never cared for anyone else but himself so Eileen avoided interacting with him. However, she forced on a smile. "Hi, Gavin. I'm going home. Why?"
Gavin shrugged his shoulders. "Just wondering. Wanna hang out with me for a bit?"
"No, thanks. I'm tired."
"Sheesh. You're such a killjoy. Come on. Just this once. I'm so bored."
"Fine..." Eileen sighed defeatedly.
A grin broke out onto Gavin's face. "Great! Follow me!"
Eileen reluctantly followed him, spending the rest of her day in the city. Gavin dragged her around like luggage to his favorite spots, talking her ear off while doing so. Before long, the sky was tinged orange from the evening sun. Eileen and Gavin were seated on a bench that overlooked the ocean, gazing at the sunset as it disappeared into the line of the horizon.
"I've been wondering about this for a while." Gavin said, breaking the silence. "How long have you liked Ephemer?"
Eileen whipped her head towards him, astonished. "Huh?"
Gavin looked at the young woman with narrowed eyes. "Don't play dumb. I've seen the way you look at him."
For a few minutes, Eileen was silent. She furrowed her brows, a slight blush on her cheeks. "Yeah. I do. I've liked him ever since we were kids."
"You should tell him that."
Eileen averted her gaze to the ground. "I probably won't."
"How come?"
"You're really annoying."
Gavin smirked. "Yeah. I get that a lot." He placed one of his hands behind his head, humming quietly. "Seriously, though. Why aren't you gonna tell Ephemer?"
"Because he would never like someone like me. He never will." Eileen let out a sigh before continuing on. "I had a friend named Ophelia. She liked Ephemer too. I was jealous of her. But compared to her, I... I'm just..."
Before she knew it, tears pooled at the corner of her eyes. She let out a shaky breath, trying to not let them fall. However, it was no use. The tears built up until they couldn’t be contained anymore and rolled down her cheeks. Eileen sniffled, wiping her face with the back of her hand.
Gavin sat in silence, not knowing how to ease her worries. All of a sudden, a voice from behind him and Eileen caught their attention.
"Eileen?" Ephemer stood a few inches away from the bench, concerned.
Rising to his feet, Gavin maintained eye contact with Eileen. "Well, I guess that's my cue to leave. Bye, Eileen. Good luck."
Eileen watched as his figure disappeared from view. She tensed as Ephemer replaced him, turning her head the opposite way so that he wouldn't see her tears. Ephemer frowned and cupped her face with both hands, making her gaze into his eyes.
"I've been looking all over for you. What's wrong? Did he make you cry?" The silver-haired man declared, brushing her tears away.
"No..."
"What happened?"
Eileen went quiet, considering whether or not to tell him. A deep sigh then left her mouth. “I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve to be with you. Ophelia should be here. Not me.”
Ephemer was bewildered. "What? Don't say that, Eileen. Ophelia has a special place in my heart, but I like having you here." He smiled, gently grasping her hands in his. "You've kept me company and reassured me when I needed it. I wouldn't know what to do without you. So, thank you. Thank you for staying with me."
Pursing her lips, Eileen pondered yet again if she should voice out her thoughts. “I... I love you. I’ve always had. You're so nice. You gave me courage to fight and hope for a better future. But there's no way you would like me. I wasn’t like Ophelia. I’m boring, stupid, and useless.”
For a couple of minutes, Ephemer was silent. He had a serious expression on his face which made Eileen nervous. Why was he staring at her like that?
"That's not true." Ephemer announced.
"Huh?"
"You're the complete opposite of what you said.”
With a smile, Ephemer caressed Eileen's knuckles with the pads of his thumbs. “You’re the nicest and strongest girl that I know. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I’m glad that you’re here, Eileen. When I'm too focused on other things instead of myself, you're always looking after me. I'm grateful. To be honest, it should be me that doesn't deserve you. I've caused you, Ophelia, and so many others a lot of trouble." A shade of pink engulfed his cheeks. "Remember that question about us getting married earlier? I… I wouldn't mind if that happened."
"What?"
"I'm serious. I want to spend the rest of my life with you."
Eileen could've pinched herself at that very moment. This wasn't a dream, was it? "Really?"
"Really."
"You’re not joking, right?"
Ephemer swept a loose strand of Eileen’s hair away from her face, resting his hand on her cheek once more. "No, I'm not. I want to be with you as more than a friend. If you'll let me."
Eileen was at a loss for words. This had to be a dream. However, she didn't want to wake up. After a few moments, she spoke. “Is it really okay for me to be with you?"
"Of course it is. Can I… kiss you?"
Blushing, Eileen nodded and replied in a quiet voice. “Yeah.”
Closing the distance between them, Ephemer pressed his lips onto hers gently. The hand that was on the brunette's cheek trailed down to wrap around her waist and tug her closer. Eileen placed her free hand on his shoulder, wondering if he could hear the rapid thumping of her heart.
Soon, Ephemer pulled away and leaned his forehead against hers, giving her a sweet smile. "I hope that was okay."
"Yeah. I liked it." Eileen giggled.
Ephemer chuckled, eyes crinkling in pure glee. "No matter what happens, I'll still be by your side. I don't know what else is waiting for us, but we'll face it together."
In the warmth and safety of each other's embrace, the newfound lovers shared another kiss. Everything would be alright. They had each other. As long as that remained, they could overcome any obstacles.
#kingdom hearts#kingdom hearts oc#kh oc#keykid#khocweek2023#kh oc week#This is so cringe but I like how it turned out#OC: Eileen
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Do you know about All Access Technologies 402-699-2575?
Exploring the Versatility of All Access Technologies 402-699-2575: A Comprehensive Overview
In today's rapidly evolving technological landscape, accessibility and connectivity are paramount. From seamless communication to efficient information dissemination, businesses and individuals alike rely on innovative solutions to stay connected and productive. Among the myriad of companies catering to these needs, one name stands out: All Access Technologies. With their commitment to excellence and a wide array of services, All Access Technologies has become a trusted partner for individuals and organizations seeking reliable connectivity solutions.
The All Access Advantage
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Advantages of Electronic Insurance
Electronic insurance, also known as e-insurance, revolutionizes the insurance industry by leveraging digital technologies. In today's fast-paced world, where convenience and efficiency reign supreme, electronic insurance offers a myriad of benefits over traditional methods. Let's delve into the advantages of embracing electronic insurance in our lives.
Convenience
Embracing electronic insurance grants policyholders unparalleled convenience. With electronic insurance, individuals can conveniently access their policies anytime, anywhere, through online portals or mobile applications. Managing insurance portfolios becomes a breeze with just a few taps on a smartphone.
Cost-Effectiveness
One of the most appealing aspects of electronic insurance is its cost-effectiveness. By eliminating the need for physical infrastructure and streamlining administrative processes, insurers can offer lower premiums to policyholders. Additionally, electronic insurance reduces paperwork, saving both time and resources for insurers and policyholders alike.
Coverage
Electronic insurance offers comprehensive protection tailored to individual needs. Policyholders can choose from a wide range of flexible policies that suit their lifestyle and preferences. Whether it's health, life, auto, or property insurance, electronic platforms provide diverse coverage options to safeguard against unforeseen circumstances.
Quick Processing
In today's fast-paced world, time is of the essence. Electronic insurance ensures swift processing from policy issuance to claims settlement. With automated systems and digital workflows, policyholders can obtain insurance policies instantly and experience expedited claims processing, minimizing downtime during critical situations.
Customization Options
Electronic insurance empowers policyholders with customization options, allowing them to tailor policies according to their specific requirements. Additionally, individuals can opt for add-on benefits such as roadside assistance, travel insurance, or cyber protection for enhanced coverage.
Risk Management
Digitalization enhances risk management strategies for insurers and policyholders alike. By harnessing data-driven insights and analytics, insurers can assess risks more accurately and offer proactive solutions. Moreover, electronic platforms enable robust fraud detection mechanisms, safeguarding policyholders against potential threats.
Accessibility
Electronic insurance transcends geographical boundaries, offering accessibility to a broader demographic. Whether you're a frequent traveler or an expatriate, electronic platforms ensure global coverage, providing peace of mind wherever you go. Moreover, digital accessibility promotes financial inclusion by reaching underserved communities.
Security
Security is paramount in the realm of electronic insurance. Digital transactions are encrypted to ensure secure exchanges of sensitive information. Additionally, stringent privacy measures safeguard policyholders' personal data from unauthorized access, instilling confidence in the digital insurance ecosystem.
Environmental Impact
Electronic insurance champions eco-friendly initiatives by reducing paper consumption through paperless transactions. By embracing digital documentation and communication, insurers contribute to environmental conservation efforts while enhancing operational efficiency.
Customer Service
Exceptional customer service is a hallmark of electronic insurance. With round-the-clock support and online assistance, policyholders can address inquiries, file claims, or request assistance conveniently. Responsive customer service fosters trust and loyalty, ensuring a positive experience for policyholders.
Competitive Advantage
For insurers, embracing electronic insurance offers a competitive edge in a crowded marketplace. By differentiating themselves through digital innovation and enhanced customer experience, insurers can attract and retain customers effectively. Electronic insurance opens new avenues for growth and prosperity in the digital age.
Future Trends
The future of insurance lies in seamless integration with emerging technologies. Electronic insurance is poised to embrace advancements such as the Internet of Things (IoT) and artificial intelligence (AI) to offer personalized services and predictive analytics. As technology evolves, electronic insurance will continue to evolve, providing innovative solutions to meet evolving needs.
Conclusion
In conclusion, the advantages of electronic insurance are undeniable. From convenience and cost-effectiveness to enhanced security and environmental sustainability, electronic insurance offers a plethora of benefits for insurers and policyholders alike. Embracing electronic insurance paves the way for a digitally empowered future, where insurance becomes synonymous with efficiency, innovation, and peace of mind.
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Service Now Virtual Agent | Epic Force
ServiceNow Virtual Agent revolutionizes customer support by integrating artificial intelligence with ServiceNow’s robust platform. This cutting-edge solution automates and streamlines support processes, offering instant assistance to users round the clock. Powered by advanced natural language processing (NLP) algorithms, the Virtual Agent comprehends user queries and delivers accurate responses promptly, reducing wait times and enhancing customer satisfaction.
With ServiceNow Virtual Agent, organizations can optimize resource allocation by diverting routine queries away from human agents, allowing them to focus on more complex tasks. Moreover, its seamless integration with ServiceNow’s ecosystem ensures a unified support experience across channels, including web, mobile, and messaging platforms.
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❤️🩹
Thank you for the request! This one got a bit long.
❤️🩹: Reunited after a long time apart
Robert stood on the platform and looked eagerly into the distance as another trick of light caught his eye. The autumn wind nipped at his neck—for it was September, and very nearly October—as he rooted around for his pocket watch once more. Of course, he had arrived rather early. But now, nearly an hour later, the clock in the station chimed eleven and once more he craned his neck to watch for any sign of an approaching train. Nothing—still nothing except a grey-blue sky and the near-constant chatter of others awaiting their arrivals and departures.
He shoved his hands into his pockets then, the cool air making his fingers stiff, and felt for the wrapped lemon candy wedged between a cotton handkerchief. Two young children bounded in circles around him, tapping one another on the shoulder between shrieks of glee. Their parents, roused to attention by the noise, called for them in the same breath as an apologies, Milord. Robert shook his head, pleased for the distraction, really, and shook the man’s hand. Radcliffe, he thought, or possibly Radlett. No—Radcliffe. He’d met the man only a week before in the village; Cora had introduced them. He was a doctor, brought in from York to assist Clarkson, and had just moved his family to Downton Village.
Robert thought to inquire politely about their travel plans but then, oh—as if he’d willed it from his own ceaseless imaginings—the wail of a train whistle sounded in the distance and drew the attention of everyone on the platform.
He stood precisely at the place where the first-class cabin doors would open; it was easy enough to recall, though he couldn’t quite think of the last time he’d stood on the platform rather than exited the train itself. His foot tapped impatiently against the ground until finally, finally, a porter materialized and opened the gleaming red door.
“Darling.”
Cora’s grin of surprise was enough to warrant the time spent waiting in the early-morning cold—and her grin widened even more when he reached for her gloved hands and pressed a kiss to her cheek, at the edge of her mouth, really. He couldn’t quite manage to care that, as he bundled her away from the train and more fully onto the platform, the crush of people waiting to board gazed at them with some curiosity. It was rare enough to see the Lord and Lady beyond the gleaming gates of the estate, and rarer still to see Lord Grantham standing quite so near to his wife, whispering something into her ear as he took a small suitcase from her hand and kissed her cheek once more.
“—I told you on the telephone not to come.” Cora nodded to Baxter, who had emerged from the third-class car, before turning back to take in her husband’s face. He wore a grin she knew matched her own. “It was only five days,” she added.
“Of course I’ve come,” he replied. They passed through the station waiting room, the warm air in the small room a respite from the breeze, and nodded in greeting to those they passed.
Little more was said until they were safely ensconced in the car, Cora’s trunks deposited at the back, and Baxter in the front with Stark. It was warmer in the car, much warmer, and finally he could look at her properly.
“Really,” she began, tilting up her lovely face at him, “you shouldn’t have wasted your morning.”
Robert shook his head. “It wasn’t wasted.” And then, once the car pulled away from the station and the rumble of the engine offered them a bit more privacy, “I’ve missed you.”
“And I you.” Cora exhaled, the sound barely perceptible, and reached a hand up to the hair at the back of his neck. “Shorter?”
“Bates cut it this morning,” he answered. Cora hummed in response, turning her attention to the window as the car rounded the last corner in the village before home. Her fingers made absent passes through his hair, bumping occasionally against his hat.
“And you?” Robert’s voice was quiet; he looked not at his wife but to the front seat. He eyed Stark and Baxter who appeared to be speaking about something or other. Cora kept her gaze fixed on the passing landscape. He could still taste the bitter lemon candy on his tongue.
“Cora.” His voice was louder than he intended—and sharper, too. Her fingers stilled against him, and she turned, wide-eyed.
“Robert?”
“That is.” He cleared his throat. He hadn’t meant to be sharp. “You—you’re well?”
She nodded, had begun nodding before he could even get the words out, and the vigorous motion made her hat seem almost comically large. “Of course. Of course I am. I said so last night.”
“I know, but—” They were turning up the drive now, and Robert found himself momentarily distracted by the gleam of the house and the clearing midday sky.
“It’s so good to be home,” Cora interrupted. She reached for his hand just as he’d reached for hers, and they laughed lightly at the fumbled contact. Smiling indulgently at him, for he looked so worried just then, Cora pulled the tight leather glove from her left hand and offered her open palm to him. He’d not worn gloves, having forgotten them on the hall table on his way out, but his large fingers were still warmer than her own.
Silence settled between them until they exited the car, Cora giving a final nod of thanks to Baxter, who promised to meet her upstairs, and spilled into the entryway.
“Ah, Mama. I’m glad to see you looking well—”
Mary’s cool voice greeted them as Robert moved to help his wife remove her heavy coat from her shoulders. Cora kissed her daughter’s cheek and inquired about the house and children in quick succession. Mary, who had entered the hall with a bundle of letters in her hand, had not noticed Cora’s wince of pain when she gripped her mother’s arm in a brief embrace. Indeed, Robert, who had stood near constant watch over his wife these last months, seemed to be the only one to notice the tightening of her smile, the way she shifted on her feet.
“There’s tea in the library,” Mary said, already heading off in another direction, and Carson, who stood in the background, just by the door, nodded in affirmation.
“Actually, Carson, could you have a maid bring up a tray to her Ladyship’s bedroom?”
At this, Cora’s smile faltered. “Oh, but I’d like to see the children.”
“We can pop into the nursery later, darling.”
That she put up no fight at all, and simply followed behind him up the stairs, would have been indication enough that all was not alright. But Robert waited until they were safely behind the bedroom door before returning to his earlier line of questioning.
“Are you really well, my dear?”
Cora looked at him through the glass of her mirror and removed a large hat pin from the back of her head. “I’ve already said so.”
He watched as she made light passes over her mussed curls and looked at her reflection with a frown of concentration.
“It’s just—” He was sitting now, in the chair nearest to her, and waited for her to stop fussing with one particularly contrary piece of hair. “Rosamund said—”
“Rosamund?” Now it was Cora’s voice that wore a sharp tone. “When on earth did you speak to Rosamund?”
“Last night. I spoke to her before I spoke to you. I only wanted to know how everything went.”
“So, you asked Rosamund.”
“I asked you, too, if you recall.”
“Yes.” Cora spoke evenly, but Robert could tell that the affection building between them at the station and in the car had cooled considerably.
“Isn’t it my right to ask?” Robert stood, feeling awkward, suddenly, and he bit back a wave of annoyance at her. It wasn’t fair—wasn’t fair for her to be cross with him when he only wanted to know that she was well. But when she didn’t respond, and only fiddled with the clasp of her watch, he knelt beside her and tried again.
Taking her wrist and unclasping the blasted thing himself, Robert placed the silver timepiece onto her vanity table before returning her hand to his own.
“I asked Rosamund,” he repeated, still kneeling before her, “because each night when we spoke you were so vague about it all. I won’t have you suffering or in pain all alone, Cora.”
Her eyes were gentler, then, and he knew she was swayed by his quiet declaration. She leaned down, ever so slightly, and pressed her lips to his forehead.
“Everything went perfectly fine,” she answered carefully. “The treatment was just as Dr. Clarkson described: I went for the injections in the mornings and then rested in the afternoons. Though, I’m sure Rosamund’s already told you that; she watched me like a hawk, which I suppose was your doing.”
He grinned in the boyish way he always did when he was found out. “Maybe.”
“Yes, well. As I said last night, they’ll send the results to Dr. Clarkson. They said the patients in the American hospitals have been nearly cured of the anemia after the injections. It’s a marvel, really.”
Robert stood, for his knees had begun to protest. “Still—I could have come. Mary and Tom didn’t need me. In the end, I signed all the paperwork and they sent me home so that they could speak to the builder in the village and show him the site.”
“I’m not a prisoner, Robert—you can’t keep watch over me like a jailer. And, anyway—injections make you woozy.”
He grumbled at that. “Still. I could have come.”
Cora shooed him toward the dressing room, then, just as someone knocked lightly on the bedroom door. He looked back at her from the antechamber and watched as she directed Baxter to deposit the tea tray onto the bed and said something, the words too low for him to catch precisely, about changing before dinner.
Robert loosened his own tie and slipped off his brown leather shoes, kicking them beside the narrow bed. He listened for the sound of her voice, which seemed, to his mild alarm, quieter than it should be. He took off his own suit jacket, already envisioning the afternoon spent sitting in bed next to Cora, talking and drinking tea, and waited another moment so that she might get out of her traveling clothes.
Yes, he waited the time it took to dust off three snuff boxes before he wandered back through the half-closed door to their bedroom. Though, in retrospect, he likely should have waited a bit longer; he entered, already asking some question about the train journey, just as Baxter slipped the white silk blouse from her body and revealed a horribly mottled blue-black pattern up and down both her pale arms.
“Good God—Cora, what on earth.”
Flushed with embarrassment, she dismissed the silent lady’s maid and then reached for the robe Baxter had already set out on the bed.
“It’s nothing,” she said, looking down at the floor as she slipped on the garment.
“Nothing?” He took four quick steps across the room and pulled up the loose sleeves. “You’re covered in bruises. I’m calling for Clarkson,” he said, his voice dangerously low.
She rolled her eyes at that, which did little to tamp down his anger. “Robert. It’s perfectly normal. They’re from the injections.”
“Perfectly normal.” He repeated the words as though she’d spoken them in some unidentifiable language. “Perfectly normal? You look as though you’ve been attacked.”
Cora sighed and looked up at him. His eyes swam with tears, though his jaw was set in anger. “Dr. Clarkson said to expect bruising. The injections were…” He waited as her voice faltered. “…They were a bit painful,” she said finally.
“You should have told me. I would have come.”
“I didn’t want to worry you over nothing.”
“Cora.”
She shook her head, feeling her own eyes well, and cleared her throat. “I’m so happy to be home,” she answered. “Can’t we just?” She nodded at the tea tray at the edge of the bed.
Robert knew she would say no more about it. Already she moved toward the bone china. He watched as she tugged at her left sleeve, forcing the fabric back down her arm, and reached for the teapot. Indeed, she said nothing at all until she offered him a cup of tea. He accepted it, carefully, and sat back down in the chair beside the vanity. Cora stood before him until he took a sip.
“I promise I’m alright,” she said, watching him take another.
“You wouldn’t tell me if you weren’t,” he said, though the anger from moments ago was already absent from his voice.
At this, she knelt beside him and pressed her palm (warm, he noted) to his cheek. “I will tell you,” she said seriously—and then, more seriously still— “I love you.” And before he could reply, she urged him closer and kissed him soundly, the sudden movement jostling the delicate cup in his hands.
He knew when she stood and drew in a sharp breath that she was lying—of course she was. She would be alright, Clarkson had assured them of that months ago, and continued to assure him each time he surreptitiously stopped in at the hospital under the guise of some other business. She needed time, he said, time and rest.
And perhaps it would be enough, at least for today, to let her tell him that she was perfectly well, and to let her put two scones onto a plate for him, and to sit beside her and nod along as she spoke about her time in London and the things Rosamund was up to. For, she was home, and she was sitting beside him, brushing a crumb from his collar, and looking up at him with her eyes bright as they ever were. Yes, perhaps it was enough for now.
#drabbles#Cora Crawley#Robert Crawley#Downton Abbey#asks#thank you for the request!!#I really enjoyed this prompt#cobert
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Database Dynamics: Unraveling the Secrets to Affordable and Trustworthy Homework Help
In the intricate world of academia, students often find themselves grappling with the complexities of database-related assignments. The demand for proficient individuals in this field has led to an increased need for quality education and support. As the phrase "do my UML homework" echoes in the minds of students, seeking reliable assistance becomes paramount. This blog aims to shed light on the dynamics of finding affordable and trustworthy database homework help, ensuring that students can navigate the vast landscape of online resources with confidence.
Understanding the Need for Database Homework Help:
Before delving into the secrets of finding the right assistance, it's crucial to understand why students seek help with their UML homework and other database-related tasks. The world of databases is multifaceted, encompassing various concepts such as data modeling, SQL queries, normalization, and UML diagrams. As coursework becomes more intricate, students often require guidance to bridge the gap between theoretical knowledge and practical application.
The Keyword Dilemma: "Do My UML Homework":
The quest for the right database homework help begins with the articulation of the student's needs. The keyword "do my UML homework" encapsulates the essence of the assistance required. It signifies a plea for support in understanding and implementing Unified Modeling Language (UML) concepts, a fundamental aspect of database design and development.
Secret #1: Thorough Research is Key:
Embarking on the journey to find reliable assistance involves meticulous research. Start by exploring online platforms that specialize in database-related subjects. Pay attention to websites that showcase their expertise in UML and other relevant areas. Read reviews and testimonials from previous clients to gauge the efficacy of the service.
Secret #2: Legitimacy Matters:
To unravel the secrets of affordable and trustworthy homework help, one must decipher the legitimacy of the service. Legitimate platforms provide comprehensive information about their operations, including the qualifications of their tutors, certifications, and affiliations. A transparent service is more likely to deliver on its promises.
Secret #3: Tutors' Qualifications Speak Volumes:
The heart of any database homework help service lies in the qualifications of its tutors. Look for platforms that showcase detailed profiles of their tutors, highlighting their academic and professional backgrounds. Tutors with a wealth of experience in UML and database concepts are better equipped to provide meaningful assistance.
Secret #4: Balancing Affordability and Quality:
Affordability is a critical factor for students seeking homework help. However, it's essential to strike a balance between cost and quality. Opt for services that offer competitive pricing without compromising on the standard of assistance. Some platforms may provide discounts or packages for regular users, ensuring cost-effectiveness.
Secret #5: Sample Work and Guarantees:
A reliable database homework help service often exhibits samples of its work. Analyzing these samples provides insight into the quality of assistance you can expect. Additionally, look for services that offer guarantees such as plagiarism-free work and on-time delivery, ensuring a stress-free experience for students.
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In the dynamic realm of academia, the need for support can arise at any time. Choose a database homework help service that provides 24/7 customer support. A responsive support team ensures that queries can be addressed promptly, fostering a collaborative and efficient learning environment.
Conclusion:
As students navigate the labyrinth of database dynamics, the secrets to finding affordable and trustworthy homework help become invaluable. By conducting thorough research, ensuring legitimacy, evaluating tutors' qualifications, balancing affordability and quality, reviewing sample work, and securing reliable customer support, students can unlock the full potential of their educational journey.
So, the next time the phrase "do my UML homework" reverberates in your academic pursuits, armed with these secrets, you can confidently choose a database homework help service that aligns with your needs and propels you towards success in the fascinating world of databases.
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Maximizing Efficiency, Minimizing Risks: The Value of VAT Compliance Services
Navigating VAT compliance can be a labyrinth of complexities for many businesses, making it imperative to have a seasoned team managing these responsibilities while you concentrate on your core operations. Our VAT Compliance Services offer a lifeline, ensuring your adherence to regulations in a timely, accurate, and efficient manner.
When it comes to VAT registration, showcasing compliance with the laws is paramount. This entails meticulous record-keeping of financial transactions, timely filing of VAT returns, and fulfilling VAT liabilities as per UAE regulations. While not mandatory, availing of VAT compliance services is highly recommended to streamline the process and mitigate potential challenges during filing.
Our experts delve deep into your financial dealings, offering invaluable insights and benefits:
Understanding and managing current VAT requirements specific to your business.
Unlocking financial benefits while avoiding penalties and fines.
Enhancing your company's credibility by fostering compliance and trustworthiness.
Our VAT Compliance Services entail a thorough examination by our experts, aimed at optimizing your company's financial health, addressing non-compliance issues, and fortifying against potential fraud. With a reliable team at your disposal, navigating the ever-evolving landscape of VAT laws becomes a seamless endeavour.
Our seasoned professionals specialize in claim filing, ensuring accuracy and compliance every step of the way. With us by your side, you can rest assured that all your VAT-related needs and requirements will be met with precision and efficiency. Our goal is to simplify the process, ensuring your adherence to regulations to steer clear of hefty penalties and legal entanglements.
To kickstart your journey towards VAT compliance, registration with the FTA is the initial step. Our team facilitates a smooth implementation and transition process, providing professional support round the clock. For further insights and assistance regarding VAT Compliance Services, don't hesitate to reach out to us. We're here to provide comprehensive guidance tailored to your business's unique needs.
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Understanding the Core Services of a Newport Beach Plumbing Company
When people think about Newport Beach, the stunning coastline and surfing spots may immediately come to mind. However, behind those attractions lies an intricate network of water and sewage systems that make everyday life seamless and comfortable. At the heart of ensuring efficiency and functionality of these systems are the professionals from a Newport Beach plumbing company.
The Essential Role of Plumbers
In a region as populous and dynamic as Newport Beach, reliable plumbing services play a critical part in maintaining comfort, hygiene, health, and even safety. Experienced plumbers can address complex concerns related to water heating systems, pipelines, drains, septic tanks and more – tasks that would otherwise be risky or challenging for ordinary people.
Broad Range of Services
A seasoned Newport Beach plumbing company won't just specialize in mending leaking sinks or unclogging toilets. The breadth of their services is usually wide-ranging - from preventative maintenance to extensive repair or large-scale installation projects.
For instance, homeowners who find deleterious substances in their tap water can reach out to these companies for water quality solutions. They assist clients with installing water softeners or filtration systems to ensure safe and clean drinking water.
Similarly, homes experiencing issues with their hot water supply can rely on them for efficient fixes. These experts discern whether your heating system entails repairs or replacements by thoroughly diagnosing it before suggesting required solutions.
They're also well-versed in mitigating concerns directly tied to California's climatic features like installing sewer lines safer against seismic activities.
Emergency Plumbing Solutions
When critical plumbing issues arise at inappropriate times – such as late-night pipe bursts or blocked drains causing flooding – it is crucial to have immediate access to professional help. A responsible Newport Beach plumbing company understands that swift response to emergency situations determines mitigation success. With round-the-clock service availability, they ensure relief from urgent plumbing complications without a stressful wait.
Work Ethic and Business Approach
Experienced Newport Beach plumbers not only offer technical expertise but are committed to delivering quality customer service. Valuing transparency, they provide clients with clear, comprehensible estimates before starting any work to prevent surprise costs at the end of a job. They respect customers’ properties by leaving it clean after service.
Trustworthy plumbers in Newport Beach also prioritize safety by strictly adhering to professional standards and local codes during operations. This adherence ensures the longevity of their work while keeping residents safe – an essential factor to consider when choosing your plumbing partner.
Wrapping Up: The Hampton Bay Plumbing Company Impact
The utility and versatility of services from a reliable Newport Beach plumbing company cannot be over-emphasized. These businesses help preserve the integrity of both residential and commercial buildings in the area, ensuring comfortable and efficient living for inhabitants.
From providing scheduled repairs and maintenance, handling large-scale installations, offering disaster-proof solutions according to local dynamics to being available during emergencies - these professionals make significant contributions in keeping Newport Beach flowing smoothly every day.
All said, when picking a Newport Beach plumbing company, remember that their range of services ought to cover your specific needs alongside servicing with integrity driven by industry standards for more sustainable results.
ePIPE - Pipe Restoration Inc.
Address: 2926 W Pendleton Ave, Santa Ana, California, 92704
Phone: (714) 888-7758
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